I hit the ground hard. So hard I could feel my teeth rattle in my jaw and my arm bend in an uncomfortable angle. Fuck, give a girl a warning. I think I hit my head on something. I wrenched open my eyes and attempted to clear the silver dots dancing before them. Usually I'm really good at Portkey landings—I've been doing them since I could stand on my own, but the abruptness of the situation mixed with shock made me not realize we were Porting until I hit the ground. It all happened too fast.
A gentle pair of hands grabbed my upper arms and aided me to a standing position before gently setting me in a chair. "Addison?" they questioned. My vision was still swimming. Now I'm positive I hit my head. I brought a tentative hand up to my forehead and prodded. There was already an egg sized bump above my right eye. Perfect, I hope it doesn't go all black and blue. "Addison?"
"Don't effing call me that," I growled, the words finally funneling to my brain.
"I think she'll be okay," the voice sighed. I blinked and my vision finally came into focus. Dad's face was hovering in front of mine, a concerned look coating his features. When I looked past him I had barely enough time to take in the richly wood paneled walls, map with flashing red dots, and the large mahogany desk strewn with papers before my eyes focused on a tall African American man with a shiny bald head and rather iridescent purple robes. He was peering around Dad with an impassive look on his face. Dad was feeling at the bump on my head, his eyes filled with concern. Unfortunate genetics, really.
"What the fuck, Dad? Could you not warn me we were Porting?" I grumbled, snapping my eyes back to Dad's. They hardened—the concerned look disappearing.
"Language Addison. And I figured placing your hand on a glowing blue object would be warning enough," he hissed, turning around and facing the man behind him. "Thank you very much for doing me such a favor."
"What favor?" I cut in quickly. Dad shot a look back at me for a second before turning back around.
"I figure some outside discipline and rules will do the trick."
"You didn't!" I shrieked, the whole situation finally coming to fruition at those words. "You can't!"
"I had our house elf, Minnie, send her things along. I suppose if anything was forgotten she could simply Owl us and we'll send it along. I've left some extra gold for her to pick up an owl, I'm afraid the one her sister and her shares will be back at home."
"Dad! Where the hell are you leaving me?!" I snapped, jumping from my chair and striding over to him. He didn't even look at me—he just continued speaking to the man like I wasn't right there tugging on his arm. "Will you quit ignoring me?"
"I really can't thank you enough," Dad sighed, finally finishing his explanation of how he wired money over to an account and how I would be given a 20 galleon allowance per month. I stopped tugging then. 20 galleons? I can hardly live on 30. Dad acknowledged my cease fire and turned to me as the man began to speak for the first time, his deep baritone vibrated through the room and straight to the pit of my stomach.
"It's my thanks to you for being so understanding earlier this week about our fugitives. Head Auror Potter wrapped it up rather nicely but it was only through your cooperation that it was successful," he replied, giving Dad a warm smile and flicking me a hesitant look. "From what you told me, I believe she will be quite an asset to our school. It will be interesting for the students to be able to see another Wizarding culture first hand."
Dad gave him a curt nod and flipped towards me. My jaw was slightly hung open as I realized what exactly was going on. I just couldn't believe it. Honestly—I'd rather have my wand snapped than this. I'm being dramatic of course. I didn't I even know where I was exactly—despite the man's accent being somewhat of a giveaway.
"Dad," I whispered, looking up at him. His face was grim.
"Addison," he started. I automatically opened my mouth to dispute the name but my words dried in my throat and panic was settling around me. "Do you honestly think you've left me a choice?"
"There's always a choice," I snapped. "But this isn't the right one."
"Addison, dear, this is the only one. I'll see you at Christmas—please remember to write your sister. I'm afraid she'll be very upset," he answered curtly, giving me an obligatory kiss on the forehead and walking over to the abandoned cereal box. He tapped it with his wand and it glowed blue.
"Dad! You can't do this to me! Screw Audrey, I'm upset!" I declared, starting over to grab him as he placed a finger upon it. The man behind me put a firm hold on my upper arm and I knew that even if I attempted to wrestle my appendage from his grasp I wouldn't make leeway. He was a rather burly man. And with a blink of my eye Dad whirled into the air and was gone.
I ripped my arm away and the man let go. I wanted to kick something. I wanted to punch something. I wanted to hex my Dad until the next century. How could he? How could he just leave his daughter in a strange place without any sort of explanation? How could he just give up on me? I let out a frustrated grunt and kicked a sharp one to the leg of a chair. Pain shocked up from my toes to my hips but the chair gave a satisfying 'crack' as the one leg collapsed and the chair fell to the floor. I continued to kick the trodden piece of furniture—cursing everything with every time my foot made contact.
Fuck my Dad.
Fuck my sister.
Fuck whoever this dude was.
Fuck the world.
Fuck my Dad's job.
Fuck everything.
When I was sure my foot was bleeding and the chair sufficiently destroyed, I collapsed to my knees and put my face in my hands, tugging at the roots of my hair in the frustration that still coursed through my veins. My (rightful) temper tantrum had taken more out of me than I thought. I don't think I could stand if I wanted to. Now that the great adrenalin rush was over I could feel the pain in my foot full force. Oh fuck me now, I probably broke it. There was a throat cleared behind me and I allowed my groan to be muffled. I forgot he was here.
"Now that you're done Addison—"
"Do not call me Addison. I hate the name Addison," I snapped—cutting him off effectively.
"Excuse me. What would you prefer to be called?"
I locked my jaw as the silence stretched over the room and pressed upon my ears. When I couldn't stand the awkwardness anymore, I begrudgingly allowed myself to grumble 'Adder'.
"Well Adder—now that you're quite done. How about I introduce myself," the man stated. I still hadn't turned around to face him and I was going to avoid such. I busied myself with ripping off my boot and examining my foot. My sock was stained a bright red—I was right about the bleeding—and with the amount of pain I felt I knew I was right about the breaking. My eyes flicked to the chair, it wasn't recognizable any more. "I am Minister Shacklebolt, the Britain Minister of Magic. And by your rather—erm—colorful rant, I believe you've worked out for yourself exactly why you're here."
"Because my father is a coward that can't face his own problems. If it makes him look bad he heaps it off on someone else," I spat.
"In your view—yes. But I see it as a change of scenery for you," he sighed. I refused to turn around and look at him, but he didn't seemed phased by it. He just continued on speaking to me as if we were having a face-to-face interaction.
"I don't know how you could see anything in regards to me. You don't even know me," I snapped. He mumbled something, something along the lines of what sounded like 'teenagers' and suddenly there was a hand on my shoulder. I roughly jerked it away and sent myself overbalanced and crashing into the pieces of the chair.
"Why don't we get your foot mended and then I can take you to where you'll be staying until the school term begins? You can recuperate," he stated—his voice slightly edgier than before. I looked down at my foot and debated refusing his help, but it really did hurt so I hefted myself to my feet with much difficulty. The splinters of the chair dug into my palms and I could feel a few slivers pierce my skin. Minister Shacklebolt didn't help. I bet I scared him off with the whole shoulder thing. Finally I made my way up and leaned heavily upon my uninjured foot. The Minister handed me my bag and frowned down at the chair before looking up at the man's stoic face. I felt a small smirk grow upon my lips before I reached into the bag and grabbed my wand, mending the chair in one quick motion.
"I know you took it upon yourself to have free reign of magic back home but here we take matters of underage Sorcery rather seriously and underage magic will not be tolerated," he stated—his voice even.
"What are you going to do about it?" I smirked, grinning up at him. Suddenly his hand flew down and he plucked my wand from my fingers before I could even react.
"You'll receive your wand when you board the train for school," he stated, pocketing it and opening the door. I gaped at him.
"That's mine!" I snapped, attempting to rush over and tackle this six foot whatever man. Man the pain must be getting to my head. I lost my balance from my one good leg and started careening forward—this time the Minister caught and righted me before striding towards the door.
"I'm afraid I'm not adept enough in Healing to aid you in that foot of yours. That's beyond any Episkey I can do," he started, strolling right along at an even pace. It took me a few seconds to realize he wasn't going to slow down his pace for me to catch up. I scowled at the back of his head and debated hurling the decorative marble ball that was resting on the shelf beside me at the back of his head.
Probably a bad idea in the long run—considering I don't think Dad's position could save me from murdering a minister. Plus I probably couldn't throw something that heavy thatfar, and while I did have a good arm on me, it was honestly no Quaffle. The minister paused at the mouth of the hallway and shot me an impatient look so I swallowed my curses and hobbled down to him; at this point I was avoiding being a pain in the ass mostly because I wanted to get my foot fixed. It fucking hurt.
"As I was saying—I'm going to transport you down to the Auror department where a full time Healer resides and after that you will be sent to Head Auror Potter. He will assign you your—guides—for until the school term starts."
"My guides," I snorted as he ushered me into a gold gated elevator. "Don't you mean babysitters?"
"If you wish to put it that way—yes. Now I suggest you hold on. The lifts are difficult to ride with two good legs," he sighed, holding onto a leather strap hanging down from the ceiling. I eyed it with a scowl—like I would be able to reach that high—and suddenly was thrown against the back wall of the elevator as it shot straight backwards. Shacklebolt merely reached up and pulled down on the strap so it became elongated and handed it to me as we were thrown sharply to the right. I clutched onto it for my life and clamped my teeth tight. The major motion along with the ever increasing pain in my foot was causing me to become rather nauseous. Suddenly the elevator stopped throwing me forward and on my face. What the hell? Was it 'beat Adder to a pulp day'?
I only just managed to hoist myself up and out of the elevator before it zoomed away and looked ahead to see the Minister's shiny robes whip around a corner. When I gimped my way along to him he was waiting in front of a lime green door—the same color that Healer's usually wore. There was a small brass name plaque on the door that read 'Healer Sabrina, personal Magical Maladies and Injuries Expert to the Ministry' in curly cursive. The Minister gave a healthy rap on the door and it swung open.
"Did those bloody trainees curse each other again? I swear this group is stupider than a daft donkey," a small harried woman groaned, starting to barge out the door. She paused though and blushed furiously. "Although I'm sure you picked them for a reason."
"They have their moments," the Minister shrugged—taking me by the shoulder and gently edging me forward. "No this matter, is her."
"In the name of Albus Dumbledore! What happened to this poor girl?" she gasped, taking my chin in her hand and giving me a sharp once over. "She looks like she got in a fight with a hippogriff and lost. Not a fitting look really."
"She can hear, you know," I growled, looking up at her with a steely expression. The woman blinked once and continued to look me over.
"It wasn't so much a hippogriff as a chair and some bad Porting. Can you fix her up so I can get her to Potter?"
"Of course—come on in dear," she cooed at me like I was five before ushering me into the room. She patted a small bed and I sat down, elated to get pressure off of my foot. Quickly she buzzed around me—healing the (supposed) bruise the size of a bludger on my forehead, removing the fat splinters from my palm, refilling a chipped tooth, and finally patching the bones in my foot whole. It took around a half hour and I was beginning to fall more irritable at her buzzing around me and making stupid little comments.
"Am I done?" I questioned harshly, probably more harsh than I originally intended. She blanched a bit and handed me back my shoe with a small nod.
"Yes—of course. Just take this potion tonight so that tooth doesn't become infected," she declared, handing me a small bottle of yellow liquid. I slipped it into my bag and mumbled a small 'thank you'. She did remove all my pain, after all.
"You're quite welcome, dear. You're free to go," she smiled, opening the door for me. I trudged out—dragging my feet and not looking forward to coming in contact with that man. I looked around, scanning over all the cubicles and huffed a sigh. He wasn't even waiting for me anymore. How rude.
"Oi—you Adder?" a voice called out. I snapped over to look in the direction and noticed a tall red haired man striding over. I frowned. "I'm supposed to take you to Harry—or erm—Auror Potter," he announced, stopping in front of me. I deepened my scowl.
"Right then—the quite type. Let's—well, let's get you going, yeah?" he sighed, clearing his throat uncomfortably and starting through the maze of mini offices. "I'm Ron Weasley—suppose you're supposed to call me Auror Weasley, huh? Anyways, heard you're joining school in September. My kids go there—well one does. The other one will be going the year after. So does Harry's—erm—Head Auror Potter's children, two of them. And all of our other nieces and nephews go there too—again besides Lily and Hugo, too little, see. Two will be in your year—suppose you can tag along with them."
I curled my lip at him and let out an indignant snort.
"Do you always talk this much?"
He blinked at me for a moment and stopped walking.
"Just filling dead air," he shrugged before starting up again. I noticed the heavy edge to his shoulders and the red tinge to the back of his neck as I followed along.
"Don't suppose I'll be making any friends since I won't be staying for long," I spat back. His shoulders tensed further.
"Heard it's not much of your choice. Well here we are—just go on in," he grumbled. I distinctly heard him call me a rather impolite name as I shuffled into the office. It was smaller than the Minister's, but the décor was similar. The only difference was the explosion of pictures all over the room. The man that walked me over was in a good many of them, smiling and waving at the camera or arguing with a bushy haired woman.
"You must be Adder," the man behind the desk grinned. I merely scowled. I don't think I've scowled this much in my life. I sized up this new guy—tall, scrawny, disgustingly messy black hair, glasses—was this guy honestly the Head Auror of Britain? Talk about lack of security. "Welcome to England."
"Wish I wasn't," I shot back. He didn't seem phased.
"I suppose you would like to know about your school a bit," he barreled on. I made a face to show I wanted just the opposite. "It's called Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You'll be a seventh year—of course. I got your transcripts and courses and you'll be continuing in your same classes and your house will be decided once you reach the grounds. Term starts in about three days on September first and I've got you a room at The Leaky Cauldron for the time being. You'll be able to obtain your supplies easily that way. Any questions?"
"Can I go home?"
"No," he shot back automatically as he pressed the tip of his wand upon a small box receded into the desk top. "Can I get Franklin and Dubbins, please?"
I could hear his voice echo out into the floor beyond and suddenly the door swung open to reveal two robed men that couldn't be older than twenty-two. The eyed me—their eyes alighting slightly as I gave them a simpering smile. I might as well charm my babysitters early on in the game—it makes it easier in the end.
"This is Steven Dubbins and Miles Franklin—they're both final trainee Aurors and are assigned to be at your side until school resumes," Potter explained, pointing them out briefly.
"So you two have babysitting duties, huh? Well I promise I won't be too naughty," I purred, looking up at them through my lashes. Both of them blanched slightly.
"Remember you two, this is your final exam," Potter warned, making them sober up slightly. The taller of the two kept sliding his eyes in my direction. Potter cleared his throat and he jumped to attention. "I've been informed she doesn't—well she handles authority in a rather different manner so just keep your eyes on her. She doesn't have a wand so it shouldn't be much trouble."
"In other words I'm quite sneaky and hate doing what I'm told so don't let me get away. I'm a dog, get me on the leash," I snorted, shooting the Head Auror a contemptuous look. A grin flitted across his face and he quickly glanced down at the stack of parchment on his desk.
"You're excused," he stated finally. "And Miss Ryan, please enjoy your visit."
"Doubtful," I snarled. Potter hefted a loud sigh as his two little monkeys' opened the door and ushered me out of the room. I followed out at a slower pace, contemplating my options. With the looks they kept shooting me, I was thinking that the seducing route might be the way to go. With a slight skip, I edged my way between them, giving a covert glance a piece.
"So—tell me about yourselves," I cooed, looking up between my lashes. One of them stiffened and stuffed his hands in his pockets.
"You're not going to trick us, miss," he declared. I rolled my eyes.
"Who say's I'm here to trick you," I questioned, grabbing tight to the strap hanging from the ceiling.
"Head Auror Potter was quite clear on his warning," the second one coughed. I really should figure out which was which.
"Yes, your Head Auror is very in tune to my personality. So which one of you is Miles and which one is Steve?" I questioned, running a finger up each of their arms in turn. The tall blonde one visibly blanched and averted his eyes from my face. Merlin, it was easy to make these guys uncomfortable. You'd think an Auror would have more tolerance of things of this caliber.
"I'm Miles," the brunette one coughed, raising his hand slightly. I grinned at him.
"Well it's very nice to meet you. I look forward to touring this new country with you," I sighed, skipping out in front of them as the lift clanged to a stop. "I'm lucky really—getting two such capable trainees such as yourselves and you're quite handsome too. But excuse me for being so forward, it's in my nature and I just can't help myself."
They both blinked at me for a second or two—clearly confused as to what route I was going.
"Well—uh, thank you. That's very nice of you to say," Steven coughed, putting a hand on my lower back and guiding me towards a hallway lined with ornate fireplaces. "Would you like to just head to your room or start shopping for school supplies right off?"
Hook, line, and sinker.
"You mean I get a choice in my endeavors?" I questioned, widening my eyes innocently. They both smiled fondly.
"Why wouldn't you? You're a guest, yeah?" Miles questioned, stepping into the fireplace. I pondered his words for a moment as he was sucked up into the flames. They must not know I'm here against my will. They must just think I'm to be kept an eye on because my father is a great politician in an allied community. Absolutely perfect.
"It's The Leakey Cauldron—just pop out when you see Miles," Steven instructed, telling the fire such, and smiling warmly. I gave him a coy grin and stepped into the flames, waggling my fingers before it could suck me into the Floo Network. I landed lightly in a dimly lit bar. It was packed at the moment—pretty much every table and bar stool occupied by witches and wizards weighted down by packages and bags.
"Right then," Steven stated from behind me. I turned around and raised my eyebrows slightly as he and Miles convened at my sides. "Would you like to see your room?"
"That would be wonderful—I believe I would like to change." I replied kindly, holding in my laughter as they both jumped to attention. One strode over to the bar while the next did a rather obvious search of the room. Head Auror Potter much not think them very capable if this is their final exam. He's probably humoring them.
"Right—Mrs. Longbottom is getting her key and the booklist McGonagall sent over. I'll go to Gringotts and get some money from her account. Meet in front of the bank in 0800 hours?" Miles questioned sharply. I burst out laughing but covered it as a cough. I think my assumptions about them being the bottom of the training class was correct.
"You do know 0800 hours is 8 am?" I questioned with a suppressed smirk.
"It's code?" Miles coughed, his neck flushing red as he hurried out of the bar. A woman with a round face and yellow hair came winding over through the tables to us. She was smiling brightly and holding an envelope and an old style key on a red ribbon.
"Hullo there! Welcome! You must be Adder. I've got you in Room 3A. It's got a lovely view of the alley and you can hardly hear the train from the Muggle side of the street," she chirped as she walked purposefully towards a set of stairs to the side.
"Sounds just wonderful," I grumbled, putting an extra edge to my words to show my dislike. She didn't seem to pick up on it though because she continued on down the hall and stopped at a door. With a flick of her wrist it swung open to reveal a simple hotel room. My trunk was resting at the foot of the bed already and I could barely help myself from sighing.
"Just make yourself comfortable and pull that rope if you need anything. It alerts me downstairs," Mrs. Longbottom grinned, doubling back and heading down the stairs.
"I'll just leave you to change then," Steven grinned, shutting the door behind him. I pressed my ear up against the wood and frowned. He was standing directly outside. I strode across the room and peered out the window. It opened out to a crowded street below. Anyone could see me if I attempted to fly out on my broom, plus the window was too small for me to fit through and without my wand I had no way to widen it. I heaved a sigh and debated kicking my trunk in frustration but the pain was still too fresh from my earlier bout of aggression. Instead I opened my trunk and shifted through the neatly organized items inside to find something—well suitable to wear. As I was pulling out a rather lacy bra (very important to my master plan) I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and almost recoiled. I forgot I dyed my hair red. Was that really today?
Shaking off the regret I yanked on my under clothes and a pair of black lace shorts before pulling on an asymmetrical gray crop top and my leather motorcycle jacket. I was just tugging on the knee high gray leather boots when there was a knock on the door.
"Are you ready yet, miss?" Steven questioned from behind the wood.
"Just a moment, Steve darling," I cooed, straightening up the liner around my eyes. The blue of my eyes popped gracefully and I grinned at my reflection, musing up my hair and wishing it had body to it. It was just so pin straight. I looped my bag over my shoulder and opened the door, strutting out and effectively ignoring Steven. I could hear his footfalls behind me and he caught up, placing a hand on my shoulder.
"You're ready then?" he questioned. I avoided rolling my eyes. No, I'm walking downstairs for the hell of it. I guess he picked up on the obviousness of his question because he cleared his throat awkwardly and motioned for me to walk ahead of him. We pushed out into the street and I blinked in surprise. I expected it to be dark outside, it was rounding on midnight when I made my escape back home, but here it was bright and cheery out—I assumed sometime mid-morning. It was also packed with people. I grinned to myself. Could these people make it any easier for me? Steven was directly on my heels as we wound our way through the thick crowd towards a snowy white building set into the fork of two streets. I could see Miles searching the faces suspiciously as we walked up to him.
"There you are! I thought you might've been attacked," he stated in a low voice.
"Because I have such a hit on my head," I piped up.
"Of course you don't. Miles is just being paranoid," Steven remarked quickly. I raised my eyebrows at him in a cool manner.
"I would suggest you lose that point of view—you are trying to become Aurors, no?" I quipped, examining my fingernails. I heard Steven clear his throat uncomfortably. I took a moment while the two of them were conversing in low voices to peek around the long street. It was narrow and flanked with storefronts on either sides and from our position we were at the very tip of the street, giving me ample view of my surroundings.
"So we can go get your uniform, your books, or potion supplies, or even your owl," Steven was prattling on. I gave him a short look and his words died down. I bit my lip and looked at him through my eyelashes.
"Why don't we split up? I feel the time catching up to me and would like to get this done as soon as possible," I replied with a gusty sigh. They looked uncomfortable at this prospect so I just fluttered my eyelashes at them. Finally Miles shrugged and handed a sheet of paper to Steven.
"I'll go to Eyelops with her and you hit Botts," he stated, heading into the crowd. I followed at a leisurely pace, testing how many people I could get between us before Miles would stop and hurry back to me. It wasn't enough so I suppressed a sigh and followed him into a dim shop that was filled to the brim with dark and rustling cages. I looked around at the winding shelves and turned abruptly to Miles.
"You know what sort of owl I've always wanted?"
Miles opened his mouth to reply but I plowed on, not giving him opportunity to answer.
"A completely snowy one. Like pure white, nothing else. Will you check that side of the store while I cover over here," I questioned, pointing to the corner that had the tallest shelves of owls. Miles looked skeptical so I bit lightly on my lower lip and bent over to tug up my boot, making sure my top gaped just so. When I slowly came back up I noticed his eyes had been lingering where my chest was so I allowed a simpering smile and brushed past him to the opposite end—making sure to let my fingertips brush along just the right places. The effect was instantaneous, he grinned (in what he probably thought was a charming manner) at me and disappeared behind the shelves. Why is the male species so easy to manipulate?
I waited a second or two to make sure he wasn't going to pop back out and slipped after a rather plump woman out into the busy street. I didn't slow my pace until I was sure I made a good amount of distance between the stores and I, and that I was sufficiently hidden in the crowd. I didn't have my wand so I didn't know my exact plan—but all I needed for some time was thankfully in my bag. So I took a deep breath and made my way down the street—contemplating to myself the options I could pursue.
A/A: I had a lot of trouble with this chapter. It just seemed to drag along—but I promise that this is going to be the last Adder-centric exposition chapter. Fred joins in the next one, which you should get tonight because I finally have time to update! Enjoy!
Forever yours magically,
Emily