Author's Ramblings: The title originated from a sign I saw at the train station that said 'Mind the gap.' My version has a double-pronged meaning, if you can see it. (Oh for God's sake, looked at the use of the semi-colon.) Enjoy, my friends!
Disclaimer: At this moment, I own nothing to do with Harry Potter. This will change after I persuade J.K. Rowling to leave it to me in her will. My means of persuasion involve a very large, thick, heavy, and entirely non-magical wand, and a sample of her handwriting.
xxxx
Mind; The Gap.
Chapter One.
The Hogwarts Express coasted along the track, silent, but for the chuff chuff of wheels, and the occasional squeak of brakes. There were fleeting flashes of the countryside that surrounded the moving train; undergrowth, hawthorn and the wild rose bushes that produce the weather worn roses, which outgrew even the most well tendered garden flowers. Moreover, the bent and twisted trees frequently flew by, their knobbly branches tapping against the windows of the train in an irregular chant. Grass and fields and hills and mountains in the distance, all these and more could be seen from the glass panes that ran along the train's length. But, though those inside could see the vastness of the ever-changing countryside, if you were to look inside, you would see the vastness of their ever-changing lives. When you look inside, and begin to observe the people aboard, don't forget, to mind the gap.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"Have you seen a toad around here? Neville's lost it again," asked a bushy-haired girl, standing in the doorway of a compartment on the Hogwarts Express.
"Again?" Harry laughed, "Every year, it's like a tradition!"
"Yes, well, as head girl, I have an obligation to help him find it. Every year. It is a tradition I'd rather do without. So have you seen him? I have other duties you know."
Ron looked up, mouth full of chocolate frog, one leg poking out the corner of his mouth, twitching slightly. He shrugged his shoulders in answer to Hermione's question, at the same time slurping the exposed leg into his mouth.
Hermione looked at him disapprovingly, "That's disgusting and unhelpful. And shouldn't you be doing your rounds, as I recall, you are a prefect."
Ron chewed frantically, swallowed too fast and choked, coughing for a good minute before he emerged, red-faced and breathless.
"Um, I finished my duties. Well, almost. But I thought I'd stop in and visit Harry, seeing he's alone and all," he said.
"Mm Hmm, and I'm sure chocolate frogs had nothing to do with it." Hermione said sceptically.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"What's that then?" asked Ginny Weasley, sitting down next to Neville.
"It's a Fa-lovru Seduceious, very rare. I don't even know what it does."
Ginny looked down at the plant on his lap. It was the most beautiful flower she'd ever seen. Red and gold-flecked petals of silken peach surrounded a lavender centre. Curly green tendrils sprouted from the middle, bursting forth in random bouts, flowing over the petalled edges, and dangling over the flowerpot rim. Leaves, hundreds of tiny delicate miniatures, ranging the expanse of the green-coloured spectrum, exploded from underneath the plant, cupping it in a soft nest.
Neville held the bloom like it were the most precious thing in the world, cradling it in his lap.
Ginny stared open-mouthed at its beauty. "Whu-where'd you get it?" she asked.
Neville turned to her, excitedly.
"That's just it! I have no idea where it came from. Someone, my great second cousin, or whatever, sent me it for my birthday. It just came in the post; there was no return address or anything!"
Ginny was barely listening, it was all she could do not to stare at the magnificent floral, sitting on his lap. She bent over in a trance, as he spoke. Eyes fluttering shut, she breathed in the plant's scent, letting it waft around her in a glorious honey-flavoured cloud.
With a snap she straightened, shaking her head ruefully, clearing her thoughts.
"You okay?" Neville asked, worried.
She nodded and looked up at him, "Yeah, I'm fi-"
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Draco Malfoy glanced up as someone walked past the compartment door. It was only Granger and Weaselby, the boy muttering darkly about quitting being a prefect if it meant he had to spend less time with his friends.
Draco followed them with his eyes as they passed, listening to the snippets of conversation. He almost laughed, that mud-blood was telling Weasley off again for being disrespectful towards his duties; honestly, all they ever did was argue. You'd think something was going on between the two.
When they rounded the corner, throwing opinions and insults at each other all the way down the hallway, Draco resumed his stance.
Calmly folding his arms, eyebrows raised, sneer situated in its usual place, he observed the two boys in front of him.
"Well?" Draco asked.
"Oh…um…er…."
"Out with it man!"
"I – I dunno where ta' start, um."
Draco sighed; this was the problem with Slytherins. They were either all brain and sneak, or all muscle and infuriating stupidity. It was either, or. No middle way.
"Um…er…oo…"
None at all.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"Who's to say Brynortheol's theorem isn't correct? In an infinite universe, where time and matter are one and the same, and sounds mean nothing if not heard by the eyes-"
"- and the further you are, the less time it takes to change a light bulb-"
"- and that green matter is an unnatural fluxuation in the fourth and three quarters stratosphere; then who are you to say that trans-dimensional jeopardy loftiness in a nautical objective to the theory that all magical greenhouse effects were caused by the kink in the proverbial space tail-trail, in accordance with Brynortheol's second theorem of hypersensitivity, is wrong?"
Professor McGonagall frowned at Professor Flitwick and Madame Hooch.
"But it has no relevance to today's society, in which Hooliane's seventh subdivision of particle alignment of the para-quadrant variety, is more appropriate. Obviously."
Madame Hooch scowled, eyebrows knitting together.
"Don't you mean Hooliane's sixth partition of atomic positioning on a molecular level? Para-quadratics is invariably continuous in a spliced movement, which totally eradicates the Krominaff conjecture that maroon plus five-point miles to the south by 50 percent equals 4 o'clock. You just don't seem to be catching on here, Minerva."
Professor Flitwick nodded sagely, "If you want, we can discuss something simpler like-"
"They've gone now, we can stop."
Professor Flitwick sighed, relieved.
"Those boys think they can spy on us, do they?! We sure fooled 'em, didn't we stubby!" said Madame Hooch, nudging the smaller man.
Minerva McGonagall smiled thinly. She adjusted he hat in a prim manner, replacing loose pins so that the bun at the back of her head was as sturdy as ever.
"Was it just me, or did no-one have any idea what they were talking about?"
"Not a clue! Although I do say, that speech about para-quadwhatsit was really good! I'm impressed, you sure you just came up with it on the spot?" asked Hooch, grinning.
"Just popped out my mouth, I'm sure. But what was the meaning of that last comment, how dare you suggest I wouldn't under such things as puce molecular bi-polar versions of jumping llama chronometers?"
They all laughed; little did the children know what really went on behind the desk.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
-ine," said Ginny.
She looked at Neville. He looked back.
"You okay? You look a bit um, funny…"
Ginny leaned closer, her eyes glazing over, mouth hanging slightly open in a gormless fashion.
Neville backed up slightly against the wall, pretending he wasn't trying to get away.
"G-Ginny? You're acting awful strange-"
Ginny advanced. And two boys watched from outside the compartment door. Watched, and listened.
xxxx
A/N: Well, that's chappie 1! Done! Suspense all over the place! Sorry! Bye!
P.S. Chapter two is in progress, so I'm posting this while I do it. Expect it some time soon (ish).
This is Squibakou signing out.