CHAPTER 11: CLASH AT THE CAULDRON
O'Bannon nibbled on his bagel. He wanted to eat more, but jolts of nervousness stabbed his stomach. In less than an hour he'd be port keying to Great Britain. How would his friends over there greet him? What if they didn't forgive him for running out on the Wizarding World?
Come on. You had a lot more successes than failures here. Britain should be no different.
No matter how many times he told himself that, he still couldn't fully believe it. His British friends had been at ground zero in the war. How many of them had been tortured by the Carrows when they lorded over Hogwarts? What sort of fear did Ginny Weasley and Ernie MacMillan and Michael Corner live in, knowing one wrong word would earn them a Cruciatus Curse?
He shivered, remembering the night he received that curse from Merek Mather.
O'Bannon forced himself to take another bite of his bagel. In the nine months he and his friends had protected the children in the Appalachians, how many days had they faced real danger? A handful?
The boys and girls who'd been at Hogwarts had faced it every day. They stayed in the Wizarding World, while he ran away from it.
"Jimmy, are you okay?"
He stared across the table at Mom, her face a mask of concern.
"Um . . . yeah, I'm fine. Just a little anxious about the trip, you know?"
Mom nodded, though she didn't seem convinced. What he said hadn't been a lie, but neither had it been the whole truth and nothing but the truth.
After breakfast, O'Bannon went to the bathroom, then into his room where his suitcase laid on the bed. He opened it and did one final check of the contents. A smile passed over his lips. He'd forgotten how nice it was to have a magical suitcase bigger on the inside than the outside, and to need just a couple minutes to pack all his stuff with a wave of a wand. It made him wonder how he got along for all those months spending fifteen to twenty minutes jamming everything by hand into a normal suitcase for road trips with the Komets.
He headed downstairs. Mireet and his parents stood near the front door. Mom let out a long sigh, er eyes glistening behind her glasses.
"You . . . You got everything?" She nodded to his suitcase.
"Yeah." He shifted his weight from one leg to the other. After exhaling, he looked Mom in the eyes. "Thanks for letting us stay here. And . . . thanks for being so understanding. I know you would've rather had me just stay here in the Muggle World, so . . . thanks."
Mom forced a smile, though her jaw quivered a bit. She reached out and cupped his cheek. "I know the last couple of years haven't been easy for you. If going back to the Wizarding World can help you get over what happened to you during that war, I can accept that."
O'Bannon swallowed against the lump in his throat and hugged her. "Thanks, Mom."
As he went over to Dad, he saw Mom step over to Mireet. She stared at the tall French witch for a few silent seconds, then took a deep breath. "Thank you for all you've done to help Jimmy. I appreciate it."
"You are welcome. I would do anything for Jimmy."
Mom leaned forward, hesitated, then put her arms around Mireet, who hugged her back.
After another round of good-byes, Mireet picked up her suitcase and Sirona's cage and followed O'Bannon out the door. The port key had been set up two blocks away, at the edge of a pond in a small wooded area. He knew it well. He'd grown up skating and playing hockey on that same pond.
He kept quiet as they walked through the suburban neighborhood. Mainly he thought about his game plan for when he got to England. Much as he wanted to, he decided not to see George Weasley first. No way in hell would that meeting be easy, if George even wanted to see him at all.
Plus, he wanted some momentum going into that meeting. If he could square things with a few other friends first, he would feel more confident dealing with George. But who to see first? Dean Thomas? No, not after what he endured as a prisoner at Malfoy Manor. Seamus Finnigan? No. Aside from being hot-headed, his half-blood status had made him a favorite target of the Carrows at Hogwarts. How would they react to someone who fled the Wizarding World not having gone through a quarter of what they did?
The Hufflepuffs might be a good start. That was the house of friendship and understanding and holding hands and singing "Kumbaya" after all.
Don't make fun, O'Bannon. Remember, the Sorting Hat almost put you in Hufflepuff.
So Ernie MacMillan, Susan Bones, Justin Finch-Fletchley and Gordon Summerby would be first on his list. If all went well with them, he could move on to George. If they managed to patch things up, he could apologize to the rest of the Weasleys plus Harry Potter. They would undoubtedly be more willing to forgive him if George did. The same with Lee Jordan and the Gryffindor Chaser girls, Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell.
It sounded good in theory. Having it actually work was another matter entirely.
O'Bannon and Mireet turned the corner and walked down the dead end street. A wooden clapboard house in need of a new coat of red and white paint marked the end of the asphalt and the beginning of the woods. Using his wand, he flattened the knee high weeds, making a path to the pond. At the bank, next to a little outcropping of rocks, was the port key, disguised as a blue plastic milk crate.
Standing around it were three familiar people. O'Bannon stared at Rosa, Jared and Artimus, mouth agape.
"Oh my God. What are you guys doing here?"
"What do you think?" Jared said. "We're here to say good-bye."
"I did that with you guys last night."
"Hey, who knows when we're gonna see you guys again?" Rosa stepped forward. "What kind of friends would we be if we didn't show up here to give you a proper send off?"
O'Bannon felt his throat constrict. A sliver of shame cut through him. How could he ever have thought about abandoning three friends like these?
"Thanks, guys. I really appreciate it."
They exchanged handshakes, backslaps and hugs, and in Mireet's case, kisses on the cheek.
"Everything will work out fine in England," Rosa said as she hugged him. "You'll see."
"I hope you're right."
"Hey, positive thoughts." She gently slapped his shoulder. "Isn't that what you used to tell us before hockey games at Salem?"
"Yeah, I did."
"So then take your own advice."
He couldn't help but smile as he hugged Rosa again. After he let go of her, Jared came over.
"Tell the gang in England we all said hi."
"You got it." O'Bannon nodded. A wry grin formed on his lips. "Anyone in particular you want me to say hi to for you? Like certain DA members of the female persuasion?" After their mission involving the Longathian Tunnel, every time the subject of England came up, Jared couldn't help but talk about all the hot girls at Hogwarts, especially Angelina and the Patil twins.
The veins in Jared's neck stuck out. He gazed at the dirt and grass around his shoes, then looked back up at him. "Um, no, that's okay."
O'Bannon's brow crinkled. He noticed Rosa's face ablaze with shock. He studied Jared closely, noticing how he didn't smile, how he avoided eye contact with anyone. The old Jared would have said something like, "Tell those British girls I'm still available. First come, first serve." The fact he didn't proved to him there was a long way to go before he saw that Jared again.
"Well . . ." O'Bannon gazed at his three friends. "I guess we better get going."
"Best of luck over there," Artimus said.
"Thanks, man."
"Au revoir." Mireet waved to them. "I hope we see you all soon."
"You keep him out of trouble," Rosa said with a grin.
Mireet softly chuckled. "I will."
O'Bannon crouched, Mireet doing the same next to him. Taking a deep breath, he looked over at her. "You ready?"
"Oui." She nodded.
He looked back at the milk crate, bit his lip, then took hold of it. Mireet then reached out for it.
Gale force winds howled around him. His fingers tightened around the crate as the world spun. He tried to glance over to make sure Mireet was all right, but could barely keep his eyes open against the wind.
Suddenly it stopped. O'Bannon opened his eyes. Rolling green fields stretched before him. Numerous white cottages dotted the countryside.
They were in England.
"Well, we made it." He straightened up and rubbed his head.
"Are you all right?" asked Mireet.
"Yeah, just a little dizzy. Never was a big fan of port keys."
"I think a few moments of discomfort is better than spending hours on a Muggle aeroplane to come here."
"Yeah, I guess." He scanned the hill they stood on. Any second now someone from the Ministry of Magic should Apparate here and –
Crack!
He turned to the left and saw a young man with dark hair and wearing navy blue robes.
"Good afternoon. On behalf of the Ministry of Magic, welcome to Eng-" The young man's mouth hung open. His eyes widened. "Merlin's beard. Jimmy? Mireet?"
O'Bannon's jaw dropped when he recognized the young man standing in front of him.
It was Terry Boot. Ravenclaw House, and a former teammate of his on the Triad.
"Bonjour, Terry," Mireet greeted him. "It is good to see you again."
It took O'Bannon a few seconds to find his voice. "Um . . . hey, Terry."
Anxiety twisted his insides. He never expected to run into one of his British friends as soon as he landed in this country. What should he say? Should he apologize right off the bat? How would Terry react? Would he be understanding, or pissed off?
To his surprise, a broad grin stretched across Terry's face. He bounded over to them.
"Bloody hell! I can't believe it's you!" Terry shook O'Bannon's hand so vigorously he feared his shoulder would be pulled out of its socket. He couldn't say a word, shock paralyzing his tongue. He never expected this sort of greeting from anyone in Britain.
"And a pleasure to see you again, Mademoiselle."
"Merci." Mireet hugged Terry and pecked both his cheeks. "It has been too long."
Terry swung his head back and forth between them. "So what brings you two to England? For that matter, what are you even doing here at all, Jimmy? That last letter I got from you, it sounded like you were going back to the Muggle World for good."
"Yeah, well, that's one of the reasons I'm here."
Terry's face scrunched in bewilderment.
"I had to see you guys again. Just set things right."
Terry looked to the sky in thought for a moment. His eyebrows rose in understanding. "Oh. Right then. Well, before you do any of that, you'd best let me get on with my job."
"Huh?"
"Why do you think I Apparated here? I'm working for the Office of Documentation of International Magical Visitors." Terry cleared his throat and spoke in a mock officious tone. "Passports, if you please."
Both he and Mireet grinned as they handed over their passports. After quick taps with his wand, Terry handed them back. Words scrolled under O'Bannon's moving photo. The Ministry of Magic hereby grants permission to James Michael O'Bannon, a wizarding citizen of the United States of America, to move freely within the borders of the United Kingdom.
"So where are you two off to now?" Terry asked
"Um, I figured we'd find a hotel to check into," O'Bannon answered.
"Oh, there's plenty of time for that." Terry gave him a dismissive wave. "Apparate back with me to the Ministry. There are some other people there who'd like to see you."
His insides tightened with anxiety. He hadn't expected to meet with anyone he knew here so soon. He hadn't expected Terry to be so enthusiastic at seeing him. And who were these other people he wanted him to see? What if they weren't as excited to see him as Terry?
He turned to Mireet. She regarded him for a few quiet seconds before nodding.
Exhaling through his teeth, he looked back at Terry. "Um, yeah sure. Let's go."
Three sharp cracks split the air. Moments later the trio Disapparated in an alley next to an overflowing dumpster. O'Bannon saw Mireet's face wrinkle with disdain. He couldn't blame her. The raw, stale odor from the dumpster was almost overwhelming.
"Ugh!" Terry waved a hand in front of his face. "Let's go, before I vomit."
They followed Terry out of the alley and toward a dilapidated gray office building stained with graffiti. They went through the door, down the grimy hallway, and into a very old-looking elevator that looked like it couldn't support the weight of one person, let alone three.
Despite that, they entered it. Terry slid the rusted grilles closed and punched a big red button on the side.
O'Bannon jerked as the elevator suddenly dropped. He gritted his teeth, his stomach shooting up into his throat. Any moment he expected to fly off the floor and smash into the ceiling.
The elevator jerked to a halt.
Terry yanked the grilles back and spread out his arms. "Welcome to the Ministry of Magic."
He and Mireet stepped out of the elevator.
"Whoa." O'Bannon gawked at everything around him; the peacock-blue ceiling with constantly changing gold symbols, the shiny dark walls with numerous gilded fireplaces, the large fountain with golden statues.
"This is a very impressive facility you have," Mireet said with breathless appreciation.
"Eh, it's all right," Terry shrugged, giving them a mischievous wink.
They proceeded to the security desk, where O'Bannon and Mireet checked in their wands and were issued a silver visitor's badges. The three then took an elevator to the fifth floor, and the International Magical Office of Law.
"This way." Terry waved them forward. "Do try and keep up."
O'Bannon couldn't help but grin. It amazed him that despite all he must have gone through during the Carrows' reign of terror at Hogwarts, Terry still managed to hold on to his sense of humor.
The Ravenclaw made a sudden turn to the left and pounded on the side of the door frame. "Oi! Anthony! Break time."
"I'm busy, Terry."
O'Bannon's eyes widened when he recognized the voice.
"Too busy to see an old friend?"
"What are you on about?"
Terry waved them over. Hesitating for a moment, O'Bannon headed over and peered around the doorframe.
Anthony Goldstein leaned back in his chair, mouth agape, eyes unblinking behind his glasses.
"Um . . . hey, Anthony."
The former Triad player, and Ravenclaw, shook his head, trying to regain his composure. "Jimmy? Well this is certainly a surprise."
"Not just Jimmy." Terry moved aside to let Mireet stand in the doorway. "Bonjour, Anthony. It is good to see you again."
"You too. Both of you." Anthony got up from behind is immaculate desk and walked over to them. He gave O'Bannon a hearty handshake, while Mireet gave him a hug and kisses on the cheeks.
He stared at Anthony, completely baffled. Where was the outrage at his leaving, at his insensitivity to what his British friends went through?
"Here, have a seat?" Anthony waved his wand and conjured up two chairs. Meanwhile, Terry plucked a small piece of parchment off the desk and wrote something on it.
"So how have you two been?" Anthony asked as he sat behind his desk.
"Okay," O'Bannon muttered. "All things considered."
A flicker of movement caught his eye. Terry chucked a paper airplane through the air. It banked left and disappeared down the hall.
"What's that for?" Anthony asked.
Terry grinned. "Just fetching someone else who I'm sure would like to see Jimmy and Mireet."
Anxiety crept through O'Bannon's stomach. Who did Terry want him to see now? Would he, or she, be as pleasant toward him as the two Ravenclaws?
No way can my luck be that good.
He chewed on the inside of his cheek, his eyes flickering between Terry and Anthony. "Um, so what's new with you guys?"
"What's new?" Terry snorted. "Mate, we're just minor functionaries in the massive entity that is the Ministry of Magic. Not much exciting in our lives."
"I don't know," Anthony said. "I'm currently helping with a resolution for the International Confederation of Wizards to regulate the sale of Yeti hides. Countries like Nepal and China make a good amount of money off them, but it means those creatures are in danger of being hunted to extinction. The legal arguments, cultural considerations, recommended oversight measures, it's all very interesting."
"Yeah, you would find that interesting." Terry gave his friend a lopsided grin.
Anthony scowled at him. O'Bannon softly chuckled to himself.
Jeez, it's like being back at Hogwarts again.
"So, Mireet." Anthony turned to her. "Are you still working for your embassy in The States?"
"Oui, though I am currently on a leave of absence to help Jimmy."
"Help with what?"
"Um, well, after what happened, I mean, with me leaving . . ." O'Bannon drew a deep breath. "I just feel like I owe you guys an apology."
Terry's beaming face transformed into a look of concern. "Well, this sounds serious. Maybe we should wait for Mike to get here."
O'Bannon's eyes widened. Mike? Mike as in . . .
A young man with shaggy black hair strode into the office.
"All right, Terry. What's so bloody important I had to rush up here and . . ."
Michael Corner's voice faded as he gaped at O'Bannon and Mireet. Tension seized O'Bannon's entire body. He clenched the armrests of his chair, wondering, dreading, how Michael would react.
To his surprise, the Ravenclaw smiled. "Well now. Here I thought you'd gone off to the Muggle World forever. Just couldn't stay away, could you?"
O'Bannon stood as Michael shook his hand and slapped him on the shoulder. "It's good to see you again, Jimmy. You too, Mireet."
"And you, Michael." She hugged him and kissed both his cheeks.
"So what brings you two back to England?" Michael's brow furrowed. His eyes darted between the two of them. "Hang on. You two aren't . . ."
A smile flashed across O'Bannon's face. He glanced at Mireet, then back at Michael. "Yeah, we are."
"Ha!" Terry barked. "About bloody time. You can only pine for one another for so long before you have to get down to some snogging."
Anthony groaned. "Real class, Ter. Real class."
Terry just smiled triumphantly.
O'Bannon laughed quietly, then gazed at the three Ravenclaws. His smile faded. His heartbeat increased, fueled by nervousness.
"So, um, Jimmy." Anthony leaned forward in his chair. "You said you had something you wanted to say to us?"
"Yeah, um . . . yeah." He inhaled slowly. "Look, we went through all kinds of hell during the war, and I . . . I'm sorry for what I did. I'm sorry I left this world. I'm sorry I tried to forget about you guys, about everyone here. You three endured a lot more here than I did in the US. To just up and leave, it was like a slap in the face to you guys. It was a mistake, I shouldn't have done it, and I'm sorry. I hope you understand . . . and I hope you can forgive me."
No one spoke. O'Bannon held his breath, his eyes jumping from one Ravenclaw to the other. He tried to gauge their expressions and figure out if he'd get an apology or an ass-chewing.
Terry finally cleared his throat. "So you really think we'd be mad at you for that?"
O'Bannon blinked, trying to digest what Terry had just said. "Why wouldn't you be? I abandoned you, this entire world, because dealing with all the stuff that happened during the war got too hard for me. I didn't see anyone else do that."
Terry snorted. "You think so? Mate, me grandparents are Muggles. After the war I spent six months with them. No Quidditch matches, no Floo calls, didn't even pick up my bloody wand during the whole time." His face sagged as he continued. "More than once I considered staying at their house forever. Any thought of doing magic just made me remember the war, all the stuff the Carrows did to us, the final battle."
"At least you came back," O'Bannon muttered.
"So did you."
"And Terry wasn't the only one to leave this world behind." Michael pressed his back against the wall. "A couple months after the war, Cho and I went over to Ireland, rented a little Muggle cottage in Kilcoole and stayed there for a while. Didn't do much of anything, 'cept take walks around the countryside, around the town, or just sat and talked about, well, anything. Everything. It helped a lot."
"It makes me wish I'd done the same." Anthony slowly rubbed his hands together. "Do you want to know how I coped with everything after the war? By getting pissed out of my mind at the pub almost every night."
O'Bannon nodded, knowing "pissed" in Britain meant getting drunk. "Yeah, I know that feeling. Believe me I do."
"When drinking didn't work, I tried throwing myself into work. But I still couldn't get the images of that night out of my head. Seeing Mandy . . ." Anthony's Adam's apple bobbed up and down. He stared at his desk for several seconds before continuing. "Seeing Mandy Brocklehurst lying . . . lying dead in the Great Hall, cursing myself for never having the courage to tell her how I felt about her. And Reginald Davidoff . . ."
O'Bannon furrowed his brow. "Who?"
"Another Ravenclaw, same year as us." Anthony nodded to Terry and Michael. "Quiet kid. We'd always gotten on quite well. During the battle we were near the greenhouse throwing curses at the Death Eaters when I saw a horde of acromantulas coming our way. I turned to warn Reginald. I barely got two words out of my mouth when a curse hit him. Took . . . took his head right off." Anthony visibly shivered. "Blood . . . Merlin, his blood hit me right in the face."
Again silence hung over the small room. Cold needles pricked O'Bannon's spine as he tried to imagine the scene Anthony descried. It didn't prove hard. He'd seen enough horrible death during the war. In a couple instances, he'd even caused it.
"I'm sorry, man."
"Thanks." Anthony kept his eyes glued to a spot on the desk.
O'Bannon shifted in his chair. "So, um, how did you wind up dealing with it?"
Anthony responded with a sardonic laugh. "I'm still trying to deal with it."
He just sighed and nodded, unable to think of anything to say.
"We all dealt with the war in our own way, mate," said Michael. "Terry goes off with his Muggle grandparents, Cho and I run off to some isolated cottage in Ireland. How can we be mad at you for doing what you did?"
"I didn't plan on coming back, Mike. That's the difference. I ran out on you guys."
"Bollocks." Michael's tone grew sharper. "You did your part during the war. You want to talk about people running out? Let's talk about those bastards from Slytherin. They couldn't get out of the bloody school fast enough when V-Voldemort and his bunch were storming the castle. And that was after that slag Pansy Parkinson tried to convince everyone to hand Harry Potter over to Lord Sucker-Of-Dragon-Balls."
"Oy! Don't forget about Zacharias Smith," Terry chimed in. "While the rest of us in the DA stayed behind to fight, that cowardly little plonker hoofed it to the evacuation point. Even knocked down some First Years he wanted out so bad. He ran away when it really counted. You didn't, Jimmy."
O'Bannon lowered his head, dwelling on Michael and Terry's words.
I may not have run away during the fighting, but there were a lot of people who were hurting after the war. I could have stayed and helped them.
And how could I have done that when I couldn't even help myself?
He lifted his head and stared at the three Ravenclaws. The looks on their faces told the story. They had no need to forgive him. They never felt betrayed by him.
But maybe, O'Bannon thought, he needed to forgive himself.
"Thanks, guys. I really appreciate it."
"Oh don't get all mushy on us, Jimmy." Terry grinned. "It's been nearly a year since we last saw you two. We need to do some catching up, starting with how, after five bloody years, you finally got together."
O'Bannon and Mireet took turns relating that tale, with Terry – being Terry – letting out a whoop when they got to the part of snogging on the living room couch at his parents' house. After that, the three Ravenclaws updated them on how they got their jobs at the Ministry and how their families were doing.
Before they knew it, it was quitting time at the Ministry.
"Why don't we continue this at the Leaky Cauldron?" Terry suggested.
"I'm up for it," Michael said. "Though I can't stay too long. I'm having dinner at Cho's place in an hour. She won't like it if I'm late."
"Oh bloody hell." Terry rolled his eyes. "You two aren't even engaged yet and she's already leading you around by your John Thomas."
Michael scowled at Terry while O'Bannon snickered. Mireet's face scrunched in bafflement.
"Who is this John Thomas?"
Anthony blushed while Michael rubbed the back of his neck and looked to Terry. O'Bannon made it a point not to look at Mireet. His eyes happened to meet Terry's, who said to him, "She's your girlfriend, mate. You tell her."
Grimacing, he turned to Mireet. "Um, well, here in Britain it means . . ." He pointed to his waist, then waggled his index finger.
Mireet's eyes widened in realization. She aimed a scolding look at Terry. "Terry. Must you be so crude?"
"C'mon, hon," O'Bannon said. "This is Terry we're talking about."
Terry gave the French witch a semi-apologetic smile. She just shook her head.
"Come on, let's get over to the Cauldron," Anthony said.
The five left the Ministry and Apparated to the Leaky Cauldron. Several of O'Bannon's friends had talked about the famed wizarding pub during his year at Hogwarts. Anticipation welled up inside him. He pictured a crowded, boisterous place with barmaids with, to borrow from Monty Python and the Holy Grail, "huge tracts of land," and maybe even a band playing in the corner.
Instead he followed his friends into a dark and shabby pub with wooden tables and chairs that looked on the brink of collapse. While there were many people sitting and drinking and eating, their conversations were muted. He also noticed no busty bar maids, and note a single note of music played.
Talk about not living up to the hype.
They found a circular table near the far side of the room and sat down.
"So . . ." Michael looked around at them. "Five pints, then?"
O'Bannon felt his insides tighten. A drink sounded good, a nice way to celebrate, to . . .
He closed his eyes, summoning up his willpower.
"Jimmy? You all right?" Anthony asked.
He opened his eyes and exhaled. "Um, actually, I think I'm gonna go with butterbeer."
The Ravenclaws looked to one another and nodded. O'Bannon had told them about his bout with alcoholism back at the Ministry.
A thin, wizened witch took their orders and shuffled off to the bar. As they waited for their drinks, Terry leaned forward. "Okay, Jimmy. So let's hear what it was like to be a professional hockey player."
"Sure. Let's see, where to begin? Well, why don't I start with the open tryout I went to, 'cause I ran into bunch of former Bruins who -"
"Angelina!"
Brow furrowed, he turned to Mireet and followed her gaze. His eyes widened when he saw the tall, dark-skinned woman with long curly hair.
Angelina Johnson stood behind Anthony's seat. The three Ravenclaws said hello to their former Triad teammate and DA comrade. She ignored them, her eyes locked on O'Bannon. He tried to read her face. Angelina tended to wear her emotions on her sleeve. But this time, her expression was indecipherable.
"Um, hey, Ang."
She said nothing, just continued to stare at him.
He got out of his seat and slowly walked around the table toward her. "It's good to see you again. Um, actually, I wanted to talk to you si-"
O'Bannon never had a chance to react as Angelina's fist smashed into his face.
TO BE CONTINUED
