I do not own Harry Potter (written by JK Rowling). This piece of writing is fan fiction! It contains original characters and content, as well as information, content, and characters from the Harry Potter series (which, again, I do NOT own). Thank you for reading!


Chapter 2 – The Portkey

Nana Blackridge was worried. She had never seen Phoebe in such high spirits as she had been for the past three days. She had noticed something was wrong the instant she had heard Phoebe happily whistling while vacuuming the living room, and then afterward getting the mail, mopping the bathroom, and dusting the hall without complaint.

It was now Friday, and Phoebe was frying eggs on the stove, smiling to herself as if she was holding in a great, juicy secret. Nana Blackridge could not take her granddaughter's happiness any longer. She turned from her television and looked at the teenager with contempt.

"What have you been smiling about?" she growled, upset that her burning of the letter on Monday had not destroyed Phoebe's summer for long. "Is it a boy?" she sneered, squinting at Phoebe's back.

"No, Nana," Phoebe said truthfully, turning to pile the finished eggs on the two plates sitting on the square table.

Nana Blackridge growled forcefully, glaring at Phoebe lividly. What could it be? She thought, searching the girl's face as if for a visible sign of what had caused her sudden happiness. A new friend? Drugs? Or perhaps a fatal flaw she had thought to have discovered in her impeccable grandmother? Something like that would amuse her little pea-brain? Anything but that fear that had slowly began to gnaw at the back of the old woman's mind, that Phoebe had discovered something about herself that had been kept a secret for so long...

Phoebe tucked into her bacon, eggs, and a gravy-smothered biscuit. She finished before Nana Blackridge could even snap out of her thoughts to start eating, and the girl dashed out from the kitchen, up to her attic bedroom.

I will find out what is going on, Nana Blackridge thought with conviction. Well, after breakfast. And the morning show. I can't miss my morning show...


Phoebe kept her limited wardrobe neatly stacked on two of the five of her makeshift shelves. Her sneakers and flip-flops were usually stowed beneath her bed. But right now, the girl was busy loading the clothes and shoes into a dusty leather backpack that she had wrestled out from beneath a massive stack of her grandmother's old rubbish in the attic.

Today would be her day of freedom! She could hardly keep still. Every moment she found herself needing to do something. She was sure Nana Blackridge had noticed, but she didn't care. There was nothing she could do to stop her once the wizards came. Their powers could surely change her mind!

After she had stuffed all of her clothes into the leather rucksack, Phoebe stood up and scanned the room. Everything seemed extremely ordinary now that she was anticipating so much. There was only one more thing she needed to pack; the wooden box in which she stored the damaged photo of her family, and now, the precious Hogwarts letter.

Just as she had pushed the small box into the leather back pack, there was a loud rapping at the trapdoor that led into the attic. Phoebe grabbed the bag and stuffed into a nearby box full of empty photo frames just as Nana Blackridge burst through the hole into the room, huffing and puffing from her ascent.

"What's going on here?!" She breathed loudly, although she hadn't really seen anything. Phoebe knew the old woman was extremely near-sighted.

"Nothing, Nana," said Phoebe in her most innocent voice. She backed up until she fell back onto her bed as the old woman advanced on her. Nana Blackridge lowered her wrinkled face until it was level with Phoebe's. Lunch had just passed, and her hot breath smelled like leftovers.

"Don't think I don't know what you're planning," she breathed, her black eyes quivering. "You will not leave this house. You have college to go to. Think of your poor old Nana! I'm spendin' a fortune on your tuition!" Her voice was filled with frightening cheer.

"W-what are you talking about?" Phoebe asked, her voice cracking. She knew!

"I know what goes on in those Salem schools! They'll teach you the devil's work, they will! Oh, no! You'll not be tarnished any more by those evil people!"

"Salem?" Phoebe whispered in honest confusion. She was pinned to her bed by Nana Blackridge's round arm.

"Yeah, the same damned..." but Nana Blackridge never finished her sentence. A loud pop filled the room with sound and silenced her. She spun around quite fast for a woman of her size and age, her arms stretched out in front of Phoebe, almost protectively. No, not protectively, Phoebe decided. It couldn't be.

Phoebe peered out from beneath the body and saw two of the strangest men she had ever seen. One was a dark, bald man dressed in deep indigo robes, a small, round hat of the same color perched on his head. The second was tall, so tall that he had to crouch in the attic to be able to stand. He had round, red cheeks and a big, black beard that matched his hair. He was sweating under his massive mole-skin coat. The giant man held a pink umbrella in one hand, while the dark man clutched a slender stick carefully by his side.

"Good afternoon, Madam Blackridge," said the dark man, bowing slightly. The large man did the same. Nana Blackridge's eyes were wide. Her mouth kept opening and closing as if she was going to say something, but no words escaped her lips. "We are here for Phoebe Blackridge." He gestured with one hand toward the bed, where Phoebe was looking at the men intently. Nana Blackridge backed away from him as if he was diseased, and she fell on the bed on top of Phoebe.

"Gerroff me!" Phoebe mumbled from underneath her grandmother's voluminous body, feeling like she would be crushed. The dark man reached out a hand to help Nana Blackridge up, but she refused it and instead rolled over into a defensive position in the corner of the bed, trembling as if the devil himself had reached out to her. Phoebe colored with embarrassment at the pitiful sight of the aged woman. Phoebe took the hand that was offered by the man in the indigo robes, and he hoisted her up with one quick pull.

"My name is Kingsley Shacklebolt. I am the acting Minister of Magic in Britain. This is my good friend, Rubeus Hagrid, gamekeeper at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." The half-giant grumbled a hello, smiling cheerfully while keeping an eye on the old lady that was sputtering on the bed. Phoebe was still speechless, dazed at meeting actual wizards. She only managed a quiet hello back.

Kingsley Shacklebolt pulled up his sleeve and looked at a large golden watch on his wrist. Phoebe saw that, instead of numbers, what looked like tiny planets moved around the edge. "Oh, dear. It seems we're a bit short on time!" he concluded, and looked up at Nana Blackridge apologetically. "We must be out now. Please, Phoebe, your things."

Phoebe nodded and pulled her packed rucksack from the cardboard box full of empty photo frames. As she slung it on her back, she saw Nana Blackridge's eyes narrow angrily, as if she had been betrayed by the act.

"You may say your goodbyes now," said Kingsley, "but quickly, mind you!" He motioned for Hagrid to turn with him to inspect the collection of things filling the attic, pointing out with exaggerated interest an old broken radio, but Phoebe felt that even that little privacy was too much. She looked at her grandmother coolly. Nana Blackridge scowled back, sweating a little. She was still curled on the bed in a fearful position.

"Bye, Nana," said Phoebe at long last, after the pair of dark eyes had stared into one another long enough. "I'll be seeing you."

"Blasphemous..." That was all the reply the old woman could manage. She crossed her arms over her chest.

"I- I suppose I'm ready," said Phoebe to the two wizards.

"All right, then!" Kingsley replied brightly, and the two turned around. Hagrid frowned at the old woman, who was being very discourteous in all possible ways. She seemed to remind him of someone else he knew as he mumbled under his breath, but all Phoebe caught was the phrase "...rotten Muggle..." which she did not understand.

"Now, have you ever used Side-Along Apparation, Phoebe?" asked the dark man, holding out his arm as if for her to grab hold of it.

"Er... no." she replied uncertainly.

"Ah, of course. Well, it's quite simple. Here, grab hold of my arm here, yes, that's it. Now, hold on tight, and think of the American Ministry of Magic building. It's in Boston," he said, smiling down at her. "This might be a bit discomforting. Don't forget to hold on tight! Here we go!"

Phoebe saw her bedroom for one last time, her grandmother huddling on her bed, the stacks of boxes, her desk and her makeshift shelves, and then everything became a blur around her. A loud crack permeated throughout the room. The sensation was uncomfortable, but all the while thrilling as, quite suddenly, Phoebe felt herself lurch forward as if she had been sucked through a straw.


Phoebe clung to the robed arm, trying to concentrate on Boston, on the American Ministry of Magic, but it was hard to think of anything for long as light rushed past her at dizzying speeds. And then they jerked to a stop, Kingsley Shacklebolt's arm the only thing supporting her weight. She felt like she was swaying on the spot, her eyes crossing and uncrossing.

"Apparition don' agree with some," she heard someone mumble. It was the deep voice of Hagrid.

Kingsley held her still for several long minutes while she leered in her head, both him and Hagrid asking her if she was all right twice before she could speak. But all she managed was a jumbled, "how do we getting to Britain?" She could hear Hagrid chuckling uncertainly at her befuddled wording.

"Well, we must hurry, and you'll see," Kingsley said, but his tone was a bit uncertain as well.

Phoebe held on to his arm as they walked along several glossy, wooden halls. They had Apparated into a multi-floored building with what appeared to be an infinite number of doors along each new hallway they passed. Phoebe felt like she was already lost in the massive building, but Kingsley led her on confidently. Along the way she regained her balance and was able to walk on her own as they dodged busy workers levitating stacks of papers this way or wheeling cauldrons the other. Although the activity unfolding around her was foreign to Phoebe, the sight of witches and wizards openly practicing magic was not in any way discomforting. She excitedly took in everything she could as they flew down hall after hall.

The trio finally reached the end of dark hall where they stopped at a door that looked just like all the others. It had a round golden doorknob, and a golden plaque nailed to it that distinguished it as room G1002. Kingsley turned the knob and they entered a room wallpapered with stripes and with a curtained window at the far end. A single table stood in the center of the room, a chipped wooden yard stick sitting on its polished surface.

"We're traveling by ruler?" The words had spilled out of Phoebe before she could stop them. She immediately blushed, but Kingsley and Hagrid didn't seem to notice. On the contrary, the statement had seemed like a normal response the way the Acting Minister of Magic responded.

"Essentially, yes," he said, moving towards the table while checking his watch. Phoebe followed slowly with Hagrid at her back. "Ah, good! And with five minutes to spare!" He looked up to see Phoebe's brow scrunched up in confusion, and a bemused smile spread across his dark face. "This is a Portkey," he explained. "At the right moment, it will transport us straight into an empty room we have set out above the Leaky Cauldron."

"The Leaky Cauldron's where you'll be spendin' tonight," interjected Hagrid. "And tomorrow, I'm takin' you to Diagon Alley for a bit of shoppin'!" He beamed, and Phoebe smiled back. Hagrid hadn't spoken as much to her as Kingsley since they had met, but she felt like he would be a great companion for the next two or three days. She had hundreds of questions boiling in her mind, and he seemed eager to tell her everything she wanted to know about the wizarding world.

"Ah! It's time!" exclaimed Kingsley, and he motioned for Hagrid and Phoebe to come forward. All three placed their hands on the broken yard stick. Phoebe grasped onto the middle, while Hagrid and Kingsley took hold of either end. "Hold on tight!" Kingsley said for the third time that day.

Phoebe looked around, expecting them to fly out the window or something similarly pleasant, but instead she felt another great lurch. She flew backwards, as if an invisible hook had grabbed her by the bellybutton. She knew she had soared out of the American Ministry of Magic building, but where they flew for such an overlong moment, she wasn't sure. Finally, she felt the blur of light rushing past her slow down, and the next thing she knew, she was sprawled across a scrubbed wooden floor.

As Phoebe stood, she noticed that she was in a square room that held a single bed, a table with a chair, and a tall dresser with closed doors. Hagrid and Kingsley Shacklebolt stood near the door, Hagrid letting Kingsley out. Kingsley smiled as he waved goodbye, and she waved back as he disappeared down the hall.

Hagrid helped Phoebe get to her feet, accidentally lifting her off the ground as he grabbed her by the arm. "Sorry," he grumbled meekly, setting her down gently. "Sometimes I forget me own strength."

"That's all right," said Phoebe, taking off her rucksack and throwing it on the neatly prepared bed. She walked a bit unsteadily toward the window beside the room's small table. She drew the curtain aside and to her delight saw a long, twisting street below, lined with countless shops of all sorts, and many, many witches and wizards in bright robes scuttling like ants between them. She thought she caught a glimpse of Kingsley working his way through the crowds, but was not sure. It was sunset, and everyone's face was hidden in shadow.

"Shacklebolt had to get back to the Ministry. Tons o' work goin' on for the folks there, after all that's happened, as you know." Phoebe did not know, but she resisted the urge to ask questions as she was suddenly overcome by hunger and weariness, her stomach growling noisily.

"Lets head down fer some dinner," said Hagrid, as if reading her thoughts. "An' then it's to bed with you! You need to get ready for an excitin' day tomorrow!"

Phoebe followed him out of the room without hesitation. Everything was shocking and new, but her heart felt warm. She felt like she was finally somewhere where she was accepted, somewhere where she belonged.