When Portkeys Go Wrong: Chapter 2; Problems and Distractions
POV: 3rd limited, Harry
"So, you're a wizard…" Aang's friend, Sokka, mused, "And you took a 'portkey' to get here…." Harry watched as Sokka's facial expression changed several times in response to their question. After having introduced themselves ("Hi, I'm Harry." "I'm Aang!"), Harry had told Aang and his friends of their predicament. Namely, they needed to get back where people didn't shoot fire and make air balls. The eight now sat in a cozy igloo trying to solve the problem. Sokka's face contorted a few more times before he came to a conclusion. "I've got it! Just take the 'portkey' back!"
"Really!" Fred exclaimed.
"I never thought of that before!" George sarcastically added.
"Well do you have a better idea?" Sokka began to lose his temper, "Because in case you haven't noticed, this is your problem, not mine! If you don't want my help just say so."
"Well if it's useless, then we don't want your help." Ron said.
"Ron!" Ginny scolded, "Have tact!"
Harry decided it was time to intervene. "We do need your help Sokka, and your sister's too. And yours Aang. Aang?"
"Huh?" Aang had been absentmindedly using his air abilities to play with the snow. Harry made a mental note to ask these kids about their powers and their world.
"We need your help getting back to the wizarding world," Harry said, "and since you're from around here, you might know about something from this world that will help us get back to the old one, I mean our world."
"Oh right. What was wrong with Sokka's idea again?" the young boy asked.
"Yeah, what was wrong with my idea?"
"Well," Harry began, "The thing is that portkeys are one way. You put a spell on the object and it takes you to one place only."
"Then why can't you just put another spell on it and go back?" Katara wondered.
"None of us know how," Ginny explained, "We're all just students at Hogwarts."
"Well, we'd love to help you, but the thing is, Aang, Sokka, and I are heading to the North Pole," Katara explained.
"We'd take you with us, but Appa can't carry so many people," Aang put in.
"Eh, that doesn't matter," Fred said nonchalantly, to Harry's surprise.
"We can fly too," George finished.
"Er, we can?" Ron shared Harry's surprise.
"I thought that toad Umbridge confiscated your brooms," Ginny said, "And even if she hadn't, how would you know to bring them here? I didn't see you carrying brooms when you left."
"Umbridge does have our brooms," George told her.
"But that doesn't mean we couldn't nick some of the school's. George and I used the Christmas hype to our advantage; it was the perfect time to sneak into the broom shed and shrink a few to fit in our robe pockets," Fred grinned mischievously. The same grin spread across Ron's face.
"You're a bloody genius!" he exclaimed.
"That's great, but how many do you have? We need five to all go," Harry pointed out.
"Don't be such a downer, Harry," George scolded lightly, "besides, we have enough. Fred and I had a game of quidditch in mind during our—er—theft, so we took brooms for the two of us, you, Hermione (we were going to force her into a game when she came around), and Sirius. That makes five."
"So you're coming with us then, right?" Sokka interrupted the wizards' conversation.
"I guess," Harry said. "We don't really know what else to do…"
"Then you'd better help us pack some stuff," Katara told them, "It's a long way to the North Pole."
"Ok, what help do you need?" Harry asked.
"Wait a minute," Aang interrupted, still playing with the snow. "Did you say you could fly?"
"Yeah," Ginny spoke before Harry could answer, "on brooms."
A wide smile grew upon the bald boy's face.
-POV: 3rd omniscient
Sirius Black became more and more impatient by the second. It had been almost an hour since the portrait of his great-great-grandfather had told him that Harry and the others would be over to spend the holiday. His initial excitement had faded into impatience, and was now growing into worry. Shouldn't they have arrived by now? Sirius got up from his waiting chair and climbed the stairs to the room with the portrait of his great-great-grandfather, Phineas. Luckily Phineas happened to be in it.
"Tell Dumbledore that Harry and the Weasleys haven't arrived yet," Sirius instructed the painting.
"What's the magic word?" Phineas mocked in a sing-song voice.
"Now," Sirius growled. "This is urgent."
"Because urgency makes it okay to lack manners," Phineas huffed, leaving the frame. He reappeared in Dumbledore's office. The wizened wizard sat at his desk with a basin of silver material in it. He was pulling silver strands from his head with his wand, when Phineas spoke.
"Headmaster," portrait Phineas attempted respect, "My great-great-grandson has informed me that a certain 'Harry and the Weasleys' have not yet arrived."
The headmaster froze for a fraction of a second before turning to face the portrait.
"What?" Dumbledore's slight tone of surprise implied trouble. Nonetheless, Phineas dropped his show of respect and replied insolently.
"Deaf already? I said that—"
"I heard you," Dumbledore said quietly. "I merely intoned a disbelief in your statement. The portkey should have arrived about an hour ago."
"Well it obviously hasn't come, or else I wouldn't be here," the portrait said.
"Thank you, Phineas, but I don't think I'll need your services at the moment," Dumbledore dismissed. Phineas took the opportunity and left, apparently more interested in Grimmauld place than the office.
Dumbledore began to scrawl something on a piece of parchment. When he finished, the aged wizard turned to his faithful phoenix. "Fawkes," he instructed, "I want you to get Professor McGonagall and give her this note. Something about the portkey has gone wrong."
-POV: 3rd limited, Aang
"How can you fly on something like this?" Aang stared at the skinny broomsticks that two of the red-headed wizards had procured from their robes. I didn't make sense. Something so skinny would never catch enough air to be suspended for long. It would take way too much energy to airbend up an object so contrary to the laws of aerodynamics.
"Magic," one of the twins—Fred or George?—wiggled his eyebrows. Before he could say anything, the younger brother, Ron, spoke up.
"What do you use for flying then?" he asked. Aang help up his staff. Seeing the unimpressed and mildly confused looks on the foreigners' faces, he whirled the staff open and launched himself in the air. Laughing at the wind in his face, he bended himself higher, curving steeply right and left. For fun, he loopty-looped a few times before landing to a small smattering of applause.
"Not bad," the girl, Ginny, smirked, "but Harry here's got pretty awesome flying skills too, right Harry?"
The boy with the black hair, Harry, gave her a look for volunteering him. "I guess."
"What? Afraid your tricks aren't as cool as mine?" Aang teased. He was in the mood for a challenge. After all, it had been a hundred years since he'd flown head to head with someone else. A little competition could be fun.
Evidently, Harry Potter did not back down from challenges. The boy began to grin slyly as he mounted his broomstick. Aang watched skeptically as Harry kicked off.
To Aang's surprise, the broom flew. He watched from the ground as Harry flew up, circled around, and barrel rolled. Though the movement wasn't entirely fluid, Aang had to admit that this boy was good in the air. Upon closer inspection, Aang noticed that the broom seemed to act a bit on its own. When the boy, Harry leaned right, the broom turned right seconds later. It seemed to respond to Harry's movement. The broom, Aang concluded, was doing all the work. It had, as one of the twins told him, magic inside of it. The magic made it fly, no air involved.
Unable to resist, Aang opened his glider. In a heartbeat he was back soaring, triple looping as he went. He waved to Harry as he glided by and pushed the air faster. He barrel rolled, and snaked his way through the air. Looking down, he saw the redheads watching the show. Then, out of the corner of his eye, Katara, emerging from an igloo with supplies for the trip. He decided to land.
Seeing Aang's descent, the wizard boy plummeted steeply into a dive. Show off. Two could play at that game. Aang tilted the glider downward and bended the air as fast as he could. He and Harry sank like stones. By a second, Aang touched the ground first. He lightly landed as Harry followed with a smooth snow-crunching landing.
"Nice flying," Harry complimented Aang.
"You too," Aang returned the compliment, already distracted. Without another thought, he walked over to help Katara pack for the journey ahead. The time for distractions was over…for now.