Author's Note: Thank you to all who decided to give this story a go. I'm very excited that the idea I had actually blossomed into this, instead of remaining a small note on my phone...as most of them tend to do. I enjoy any form of reviews, and try my best to respond to each and every one because I'm always touched when people take time to leave me a message. Enjoy the story!
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any characters original to JK Rowling's stories. However, I do own Bernie and all the wonderful things that come along with her (her friends and changes to the plot line because of her). I'm only stating this at the beginning of the first chapter, though it applies to all chapters within this story. This story is rated M for drug use, drinking, and swearing. It probably could be set to T, but I feel safer with an M rating.
THE MAGIC OF THE MUGGLE: BERNIE MAY'S STORY
Her feet were freezing. A disgusting sound came bubbling up when Bernie pulled one shoe from the mud, and an equally gross sound when her foot disappeared back into the soft ground. She took a few slow deep breaths and for once in a long time she was able to stand and enjoy the smell once the icy cold air was done numbing her nose and throat. There were no fumes from city buses or scents from nearby bakeries and pubs, there was only trees and earth and stagnant water that was somewhat refreshing. But most of all Bernie was freezing.
Her jeans were soaked up to her butt and rubbed uncomfortably against her legs when she turned around. Her entire body shook and her teeth clattered but it wasn't until she looked around that any numbness disappeared, and she really felt how cold she was. Bernie was lost. She was standing in still water, that wonderful earthy scent greeted her when she took in a sharp breath, and through watery eyes she could vaguely see a shoreline of trees. A small amount of light coming from somewhere behind her made it possible to see, but Bernie had to squint to make out anything useful.
A lake. She was standing in a lake, that much she knew for sure.
Taking in another breath only when her lungs demanded it, Bernie took a few difficult steps toward the shore. It was a little hard to see, and at first she thought the weather had taken a dramatic shift away from the beautiful spring sunshine to a foggy day. The fog hung low to the ground and was thin, Bernie was familiar with this, at the very least. Most mornings in the spring in London were weighed down in morning fog until the sun burned it off. Bernie wrapped her arms around herself, the chattering of her teeth the only sound aside from the sloshing water around her knees. Her foot caught in something unyielding and Bernie had just a moment to recognize the feeling of falling before her head was underwater. Her hair swam around her face and Bernie immediately wanted to gasp as water flooded her nose and the rest of her dry clothes, but she fought the feeling and after flailing for some time Bernie was able to find the surface. She gasped for air and violently wiped the wet hair from her face. Water ran down her back and she shivered, locating the shore again and with every careful step Bernie got closer.
She felt victorious when she reached the shore and landed hard on her butt. The grass was cold but it wasn't wet and Bernie was a thousand times grateful for that. She pulled her feet out of the water and wrapped her arms around her legs, breathing warm air into the small space between her chest and her knees that she had created. Her legs felt colder outside of the water than they had been before, but Bernie banished the silly idea to put them back in out of her mind. She had to find out where she was; where her idiotic friends had left her this time.
It wasn't that Bernie was accustomed to waking up in strange places, it was just that she was normally the first one to fall asleep when all of her friends got together and decided a party was in order. As they often do, her friends must have decided to party somewhere else and (in their stupor) forgot that Bernie was sleeping somewhere nearby. On a bus stop bench, on a child's slide, a friend's lawn...it had all happened before. But a lake? This was a new low and her friends would get a earful when Bernie got her hands on them.
Bernie let herself laugh, but it came out as a breathy cry. Her friends were forgetful and ignorant at times, however, they were still her closest people, and even if she did manage to get her hands around one of their necks, the rest would easily pluck her off and laugh off her attempted murder. But first, before she could revel in the ideas swirling around her head of murder and strangulation, she had to find out where she was and how she could get home.
Trees and a lake. Neither were useful in helping Bernie figure this out. She couldn't see much on the other side of the lake; from this distance the fog looked thick and uninviting, so Bernie craned her neck to see around her, unwilling to move just yet. More trees, more trees, more trees...and a light. A few, actually, higher up in the air than what Bernie would have expected from some lonely cottage. When Bernie blinked a few times to clear her vision, it dawned on her that those lights were impossibly high, and the weak light from the sun that hadn't risen yet lit up the grounds of what looked like a castle. Looked like, Bernie emphasized in her mind, because all of the castles in and around London had been covered clearly in high school. She didn't remember one having a lake of this size nearby or one so big. Several large towers reached to the brightening sky with sharp tops and a few lights on shined with different hues of colors.
Her curiosity was peaked at that; Bernie had always been such a fan of stained glass windows.
A violent shiver shook her entire body and Bernie's priorities were getting questioned. Light meant life. Bernie rubbed her hands together vigorously until she could feel the pins and needles on the tips of her fingers again, and she quickly pushed herself up.
The faster she got to the castle the faster she could get whoever was in there to help her. The thought had never occurred to her before now, but Bernie looked down at her feet and thought of frostbite. She was sure she was wiggling her toes, but her sneakers didn't move in the slightest...nor could she feel the sharp stabbing pain of feeling in her feet. As soon as she looked up, black and white static took over her vision like a veil. She got one last glimpse of the castle with beautiful stain glass windows before she fell.
THE MAGIC OF THE MUGGLE: BERNIE MAY'S STORY
Lines surrounded his mouth. Coupled with the creases at the corner of his eyes, the man looked at if he had had many years of laughter but with the bags under his eyes, they appeared sad. Frown lines, rather than laughter lines. In an instant his eyes fluttered as if he were waking up and Bernie froze, caught in the act of inspecting a stranger, but he took one long breath and his eyes remained shut and his face looked more relaxed than before. Whatever it was that had spooked him in his dream was gone now and he looked to be resting peacefully.
Bernie hadn't even heard the clicking of shoes against the floor when a cup was thrust in front of her face. The man was out of her mind as her vision was now occupied with a thick dark purple liquid sloshing around and old fashioned goblet. It made her feel sick but the feeling passed and she was left with a bitter taste in the back of her throat.
"Drink it, it will warm you up." The voice was kind but firm, and left little room for Bernie to argue. The liquid looked disgusting but there was a cold, sinking feeling in her gut that hadn't left her since she realized she was lost. She desperately wanted that feeling to go away, so she grabbed the cup from the strange woman and gulped it all in one go. The flavor wasn't bad but the texture left her gagging. "There. Wasn't that bad now, was it?"
Bernie pushed the cup away and the woman's high-pitched laugh echoed around the room. The woman's footsteps were silent, though when Bernie looked closely the floor was made of stone. That should have definitely made a noise.
The man laying in the bed across from Bernie suddenly jerked and one of his hands escaped the confines of the sheets to reach out and grasp desperately at something. Bernie was taken aback by this sudden movement and tried pushing herself further away, though her back merely hit the bars above the bed and she wasn't able to move much. The man's hand remained in the air for a moment, just long enough for the light streaming in from the windows to catch the light scars over his palm and fingers. His arm dropped back to the bed and Bernie was left holding her breath, afraid to wake him or spark anymore outbursts.
For several minutes Bernie was left alone (aside from the man in the bed across from hers) to look around the room she had woken up in. Despite the originally cold appearance of stone and a high ceiling, the air was warm and dry, and Bernie then noticed the fire near where the woman had disappeared to. She kicked the sheets off of her legs and swung them over the side of the bed. Her feet hit the floor with an audible pat, but what Bernie noticed first was that she was still wearing her own socks. Her own, dry, socks that had been soaking wet with dirty lake water hours before. Her jeans were dry as well, and her dark jacket that she had been wearing earlier was folded neatly on the bed beside hers. She grabbed it and held it for a moment. It was too warm to wear now but Bernie wanted to find whoever it was that had found her and thank them...then find a way to get home.
After looking around for a moment, Bernie found her sneakers laying under her bed. When she got up from her knees her head seemed to rush and the sound of blood pumping through her ears left her feeling nauseous. She sat on the edge of the bed and willed the bile back down, and took deep calming breaths until the feeling had passed entirely. She grabbed her shoes and wondered how on earth anyone was able to dry sneakers so quickly. The laces were tucked nicely inside and Bernie wondered who had the time to take care of such small details. She shoved her feet into the shoes and tied them quickly, eager to give a quick and very honest thank you and leave to find something to eat. Toast, maybe. It was the one thing Bernie was able to stomach after a night of drinking. Not to mention just getting out of the castle. This place felt strange and foreign. Even in her grandparents house, they didn't have candles hanging from the ceiling. And who the bloody hell had time to light them all? Not to mention all of the beds that lined the walls. Each and every one was made flawlessly and had perfectly white sheets and pillows. Just how many guests did the owner expect to have?
Bernie took care to not be too loud as she stepped away from the bed, giving the sleeping man across from her one final glance before she turned away. There was something so familiar about him, but she couldn't place him. Maybe once she found out where she was and what this gigantic castle was all about then she would realize where she had seen the man before.
She had made it most of the way to the large doors taking up the wall across from the fireplace when one slowly opened. It made a long, low creaking sound and Bernie quickly looked over her shoulder to make sure it hadn't woken the man up. The woman from before stepped in, and Bernie could clearly see she was wearing an old-style nurse's outfit. This place could win an official award if they were to set up some spider webs and let children walk through it during Halloween. Behind her, an old man in long robes followed and Bernie felt like she had been hit by a train.
A joke. This was all a joke. Bernie took a deep breath to calm herself before she was allowed to take a closer look.
A long white beard, half-moon glasses and a mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes. Something more than a vague feeling of recognition tugged at her. She knew this person, and she had seen him before. In fact, she had spent hours upon hours watching him on her parent's old TV screen. She was standing in what was now looking like the Hospital Wing of Hogwarts...and Dumbledore was walking towards her calmly.
"Hello, miss. I'm sorry we couldn't have met under different circumstances. I believe Madam Pomfrey would like to give you a final check over before we send you on your way." His voice was kind and every word sounded carefully chosen. The entire presence of Albus Dumbledore left Bernie floored and at a loss for what to say. She opened her mouth, but as she did a familiar feeling rushed over her. Her toes and fingertips tingled and her entire body seemed to have lost control. The veil of black and white static was forced over her eyes again. She vaguely realized it was her own voice swearing out loud before her hearing, too, was taken from her.
"Well fuck."
THE MAGIC OF THE MUGGLE: BERNIE MAY'S STORY
Author's Note: Twice in one day. Sad. Really, really sad. It doesn't look like Bernie is getting a very good start after a night of debotchery and partying with friends. Maybe next time she'll get a better start, so stay tuned for the next chapter!