"Nope. There's concordances but that's not the same."

"I guess I'd miss my family."

"If it's people we want to see - although I don't have any angel friends, angels are racist - we just have to arrange to be summoned together."

"All angels are racist?"

"Maybe some of them aren't? I've never talked to one."

"How do you summon them, same way?"

"I think it's the same principles, yeah, just 'angel' for 'demon' and swap the names if you put a name."

"Timothy's probably got it covered." The passage slopes downwards.

"Do you have to concentrate to keep the light or anything?" she wonders.

"No, but it'd go out if I tried to cast something else, unless I told it to hop off my wand and trail us or something, and that's a more complicated charm."

"I could just make a flashlight - or, no, Cam was saying something about stuff not working here -"

"My chip seems to not have killed me, so that's good. But yeah, electricity doesn't work in Hogwarts, Minor's been super upset about it since forever, we think one of the lightning wards is a little too broadly set."

"Weird," she says, shaking her head. "Maybe they'll fix it when it's more properly invented."

"Yeah, probably."And here they are in the basement of a potions shop! It looks very delightfully like a mad scientist's lair in a cartoon, which Michael cannot appreciate; there are bubbling cauldrons full of glowing substances, and flasks everywhere, and mysterious objects suspended in very viscous liquids. 

He makes himself and the rest of her invisible.

"Oooh, I want photos, does electricity work here -" She tries it.

The first camera she attempts won't turn on. The second turns on and then promptly crashes.

Pout.

"Huh, I think Minor thought it was just Hogwarts. If you make a canvas I can have a drawing quill copy it?"

There are footsteps on the stairs. "Or we could do that later," he adds in a whisper.

"Okay," she whispers back.

"How indestructible are you exactly?"

"...Totally? Unless I feel like letting something hurt me more than a little. I guess I don't know about magic stuff."

He takes hold of her arm, furrows his forehead, twists - 

- and they're standing in a quaint little village square at sunset, where their appearance barely causes the passing pedestrians to blink. "Ha, got it," he says smugly. 

"Ooooh."

"I've never tried taking someone with me before and if you get it wrong you leave part of them behind but it's not a magic injury - dunno if I did it carefully enough or if you're just invulnerable to that but either way -"

"Even if I did lose a bit I'd heal in a few seconds," she assures him.