Chapter 114 – Rude Awakenings

A modern-day shepherd in the American west, Sam had fallen asleep when the spell hit him over two months ago as he prepared his midday meal. He was in the little hut that served as shelter when he had his flock up in what would become their summer pasture. His blue eyes blinked open, and he experienced a few moments of disorientation.

Why was he sleeping on the floor, rather than the small shelf built into the wall opposite the door to the hut? That was where he usually spread his bedroll, at least until the warm weather of summer arrived and it was possible to sleep under the stars. And speaking of summer, why was it so warm all of a sudden? It had just snowed this morning, as he'd been a bit early to reach this high-altitude pasture with his sheep. His last memory was of fixing lunch; why had he fallen asleep in the middle of the day?

The young man slowly sat up and looked around him. The supplies he had brought up with him were all there, on shelves affixed high up the wall to make them less accessible to wild animals. Everything seemed to be as it had been, except for the fact that he was suddenly dressed far too warmly for the weather. Sam stood and shed the warm jacket, and then pulled the heavy sweater he'd been wearing over his shaggy light brown hair. Clad now only in a t-shirt, well-worn blue jeans and his boots, he went to the door to see if his animals were alright. His horse was lazily munching on some hay not too far from the door, which was remarkably lucky, given that it appeared that he'd gotten free from the reins that had tethered him near the hut.

As he stepped out of the hut to greet his horse and reaffix the tether, he was stunned to see clear evidence of early summer all around him, even this far above the tree line. The meadow just a short distance away was a riot of color as wildflowers were in full bloom, where there had been a heavy dusting of snow when he'd gone into the hut for some beans just a few minutes ago.

What really brought him up short was the sight of his sheep out in that meadow. He stumbled over to the edge of the meadow for a better look. The sheep had all been shorn before he took them to the summer pasture, and the late spring snowfall had been of concern because their bodies no longer had the protection of their heavy coats of wool. Sam quickly counted and found them all there; actually, it seemed some lambing had occurred, because there were at least three lambs out there. The lambs were young but not newborn, and the sheep themselves were clearly no longer recently shorn – their wool had begun growing.

The shepherd was really shaken by what he saw, and he retreated back to the small camp he'd set up around the year-round hut. He grabbed a canteen and went to sit on one of the rocky outcroppings that had always been one of his favorite spots to keep an eye on the flock, to try to sort this all out. He took a sniff of the contents of the canteen before taking a sip of water, fearing that the water might have gone bad or rank on him; maybe that was what caused . . . well, whatever this was. The water smelled fresh, and a cautious sip confirmed that it was as fresh as when he'd gotten it from the stream just that morning, except now Sam was starting to think, maybe it wasn't just that morning.

The animals all looked fine – healthy, fed, watered. Of course, he chose this remote pasture because it was a reliable source of grasses and had ample water nearby. As he thought on it, and pushed his confusion aside, he realized that he himself felt just fine, too. He wasn't terribly hungry or thirsty, and his clothes fit him just as they had when he last had memory; he hadn't been starving. He carefully checked his head – had something happened that caused him to black out? He felt no bumps or soreness, but also realized that if he'd become ill, or fallen and hit his head, and remained unconscious for the time it took for spring to become summer, he'd be dead by now.

Maybe he'd hit his head, and just lost memory of a time? He might have been functioning, tending to his flock and horse, taking care of himself, but for some reason, he simply now had no memory of the months that had passed? That answered some of his questions, but did not explain that he was wearing the exact same clothes he last remembered having on, and it was now clearly too warm to be wearing them. It also did not explain why his food stores were exactly as he remembered them; he did not seem to have eaten from them since he was last awake.

He sat on the stone and watched his flock for many hours that day, and never did come up with an explanation of what might have happened. With a deep breath, he finally decided to just get on with the summer. He had no idea how it had come to be late June or maybe even early July, when last he knew, it had been April, but everything here at his camp seemed to be just fine. Why go looking for trouble?

He momentarily wished this camp was closer to a town or something; he did not get cell phone service up here, and he could not afford to herd the flock back down the mountain now, losing his summer wages. Besides, the sheep had food and water up here, while their wool grew longer; down off the mountain, the wool crop would be lost and most of the sheep would be sold for slaughter rather than maintained for the entire summer.

Sam was puzzled and confused, but he decided to stay where he was. This was the best place for him; he'd just pick up and carry on. Everything would be OK.

X X X X X X X X X X

Melinda blinked her eyes open, surprised to find herself sprawled on her kitchen floor, right by her sink. She had been looking out the window right above the sink, watching her husband play with the kids on the swing set in the yard. Bradley had gotten home from work a few minutes early, and gone straight to the backyard when he'd heard Brad Jr. and the twins, Emily and Emma, squealing as they played on the swings and teeter-totter. Why on earth was she on the floor?

She cautiously stood up, and looked into the yard, searching for her family. Bradley was kneeling by the swing set, looking incredibly disheveled and almost soiled, and the children were all clinging to him, looking equally messy. She immediately ran to the door, her auburn hair streaming behind her. Melinda's focus on assuring herself that her husband and three children were well enabled her to ignore all the many things that were wrong with the world. It wasn't until she had held each child in turn and determined that they were well if quite dirty, and then did the same with the love of her life, her Bradley, that her awareness of everything else reached the point where she could react.

She had insisted that the children wear sweaters when they said they wanted to wait outside for their father to come home, but it was very warm now. The sun was wrong, much too strong and the wrong angle for April. And then she saw her prized rosebushes, the most glorious roses in all of Little Hangleton. They had just been starting to leaf out, after she'd spent several days gently removing the mulch under which they'd spent the winter. They were in full bloom now. How on earth could that be?

Melinda took a closer look at Bradley. He looked as healthy and handsome as ever, but his clothes – what had happened to them? They looked sodden, and even faded out in places. And that was his good suit! The children were the same. Their cheeks were pink, and they looked well-fed and rested, but their clothes had bits of wilted flowers and leaves stuck to them. The remains of what looked like the azaleas from along the back fence were on all the children, but the azaleas weren't going to bloom for another week or two – how could their fallen blooms be on the children?

Bradley was conducting the same inventory, and clearly becoming as puzzled as Melinda was. "Come along, little ones, let's go into the house," he urged. He wasn't at all sure what was happening, but it certainly seemed prudent to get his family into the safety of their home, and he wanted to get out of the sodden suit that hung uncomfortably from his lanky frame.

Melinda led the children into their room and helped the little girls get out of their oddly soiled and sun-faded clothes and into fresh things. Brad Jr. was able to change himself, and he handed his mother his soggy clothes. She stared at the three piles of clothes that had been fresh and pressed when the children set out just a few hours ago. How could they look too soiled for even her most careful laundering, and too worn to even go into the charity bag? She wadded them all up and deposited them in the garbage bin near the back door.

That was when she noticed the thin layer of dust all over the kitchen counters and table. She wiped those down multiple times every day, but she could clearly see her own handprint in the dust, from where she'd rested her hand as she looked out into the backyard after she stood up. Now alerted to the dust, she looked through the kitchen, and saw that even the leaves of her plants bore a layer of dust, although on inspection, they appeared to have been watered.

Bradley had gone into the master bedroom and had flicked on the television as he stripped out of his ruined suit and changed into some dry jeans and a fresh t-shirt. He had taken a seat at the end of the bed to watch the news, surprised to see the two princes addressing the nation. That was unusual enough to catch his eye, but the message they were sharing, they and another young man with unruly dark hair and bright green eyes, left Bradley absolutely dumbfounded.

Melinda and the children found Bradley still sitting on the bed, watching a loop of this announcement for the second time. He looked up at them as they gathered around him.

"I don't know if this is some kind of hoax, or prank, or what. The princes are saying its July 2, but it was just April. They say this is all the result of magic, both us all being asleep for over two months, and being fine now as we've woken." Melinda was as stunned as her husband, and settled in numbly beside him to watch the announcement for herself, not knowing what to think or do. The children would have preferred to watch cartoons, and after a few minutes, they lost interest and began to jump on the bed behind their parents. Bradley and Melinda continued to sit mute, shaking their heads every once in a while in disbelief.

Finally, Melinda realized that it was dinnertime. The message from the princes said that their food should be fine to eat. Everyone joined her in the now-dusted kitchen, and they each inspected the different items she retrieved from the fridge to prepare dinner. The meat and vegetables all smelled fresh, and she was quite surprised to find that even the milk was still drinkable. It took just a few minutes for her to get dinner assembled and into the oven, where it would need at least half an hour to cook.

Brad Jr. and the girls were ready to go back out onto the swing set. Bradley nodded his approval, and Melinda took up her usual spot to supervise from the window by the sink. Bradley spoke softly to his wife. "I'm going to take a quick walk up the street, to see if everyone else has woken up, and if they are OK," he said.

Bradley had worked as an estate agent in Little Hangleton for the past five years, and knew just about everyone in town. He also volunteered with the local ambulance service, so he'd had more than the basic first aid training. Melinda gave him a quick peck on the cheek, and whispered "Be careful." With a nod, Bradley headed out from their home, walking along the quiet street that passed in front of the house, walking toward the town, and away from the looming Riddle Mansion at the far end of the road.

This part of the street looked like it did most evenings in early summer. A few children were in the yards playing while parents got dinner ready, a dog here and there joined in chasing Frisbees or sticks, a few adults were visiting with neighbors over the fences separating their yards. Bradley stopped to chat with a few of his nearest neighbors, but after confirming that they were all fine, and just as puzzled by everything as he and Melinda were, he pressed on, toward the larger street that went directly into the small village.

Things were not so fine as Bradley got nearer to the village.

As he walked, he heard a baby crying, and went a few steps into the woods by the road to investigate. He found a slightly banged-up pram tipped on its side, and a small baby who had just awoken from its sleep in the shelter of the fallen pram. Bradley righted the pram, adjusting a dented axel to allow it to continue to be pushed, and settled the baby back in as he lifted it back onto the road. There was what looked like a diaper bag that had been under the pram, and he found a bottle for the baby. A sniff indicated it was still fresh, so he offered it to the squalling baby, who accepted it contentedly as the evening stroll continued.

There was a car smashed against a tree a bit farther on, possibly the car that had struck the pram? Bradley investigated, and found the driver groggily trying to get himself out of the front seat. He'd apparently been protected when the airbag went off, but the car was a total wreck, and the driver's door was not going to open any time soon. Bradley recognized Phil – he'd sold Phil and his wife Helen their home just a few blocks from here. He helped guide Phil through to the passenger's side, and helped him climb out the broken window on that side. Phil was fine, but became frantic when he realized that Helen was no longer seated in the passenger's seat. There was something that might be blood pooled under the seat.

"Look, Phil, something really strange has happened. Get to a telly. They are running announcements from the two princes about what went on. They are saying it's already July, not April anymore. If I see Helen, I'll tell her you're looking for her. Maybe she's already walked home." Bradley wasn't sure what to believe, but Helen certainly wasn't here, which had to be a good sign. Phil needed to go look for her.

The next block brought into view the charred remains of what had been the Carter home. His training and instincts had Bradley putting the pram safely on the walk and sprinting to the home, in case someone needed help, but as he neared the ruins, he realized from the spell that this fire had occurred some time ago. The air was clear, not smoky, and no heat emanated from the charred wood and heat-crumbled bricks. Still, he had to check, to be sure.

"Is anyone in there? Caroline? Harold? Are you here?" Bradley called out. He'd handled the Carter's purchase of this home just over five years ago, his first sale after getting his license and starting his career as an estate agent. Caroline and Harold and their children – Bradley thought there were three, but there might be more now – were so excited to move into this lovely old home, with magnificent flowering shrubs and towering trees. The house was nearly just a shell at this point, and the shrubs were not all dead, but very deformed from the effects of the fire. Only the towering trees remained, although he saw signs of fire damage on the sides that faced the house.

At least one question was answered as Bradley walked around the Carter house, still looking for someone he could help. A car had veered off the road and crashed into the opposite side of the house. All indications were that the car had exploded on impact, and the fireball had ignited the house. But no one came to help them! There was no sign that firefighters had been here, no evidence of the axes used to break down doors or walls, no evidence of the damage caused by water pumped out under pressure. There was a fire hydrant right in front of the property, and the flower bed surrounding it showed no sign of having been trampled. And most oddly, there was no one, no remains, in the car.

Bradley came across several more car crashes as he pushed on to the village itself, but the drivers and passengers were getting themselves out and all seemed to be fine. He told everyone who asked him what had happened to turn on the television and see the announcement that the princes had taped. He had no information other than that, and frankly, the explanation that was offered for what had gone on was too bizarre for him to hope to repeat it to anyone. Several people joined him in his walk into the village. At times like this, the pub was likely to be the best place to connect with others and get the most current news, and The Dented Plowshare was just up the road a piece.

The barman at The Dented Plowshare had woken a short while ago, shocked to find himself asleep behind his bar, of all places, and there were several patrons gingerly picking themselves up from the floor where they'd fallen off their barstools. Everyone was apparently fine, and the barman put on the television over the bar to see if there was anything on the news. By the time Bradley and the people who'd joined him arrived at the pub, it held a good-sized crowd, milling about, with a buzz of conversation as people discussed the astonishing news that was still playing as the prince's message repeated itself.

It seemed that Helen was not the only person who could not be located. Several people in the pub were very anxiously asking after family and friends. When Bradley pushed the pram into the room, a young couple immediately approached, and cried in relief upon seeing their infant daughter. "Did you see Mrs. Gallagher with her? She was babysitting Amanda, and they usually went for a walk right before we got home from work. We were frantic when we woke up and neither Mrs. Gallagher nor Amanda was there," the young mother asked.

All Bradley could do was shrug. The baby, Amanda had been alone. "No, ma'am. The little one was sleeping in the overturned pram. I did not see anyone nearby."

At that very moment, a big barn owl was swooping over the nearby woods toward the village of Little Hangleton.

The British Ministry of Magic had maintained meticulous records of all the muggles its teams of Ministry workers and volunteers had moved, either because the muggles were sleeping in places that might subject them to danger while they slept, or because they were injured and needed treatment, or because they had died in the aftermath of the sleeping spell. In some cases, the Ministry was able to determine the names of the muggles. In many other cases, it just knew the location and circumstances under which the teams had found the person. A master list was maintained at the Ministry in London. While wizards were waiting to help people in the cities and larger towns, the decision had been made to handle the numerous small towns and villages differently. Charmed quills produced lists that captured the names or identifying information of all muggles organized by the village from which they'd been moved, and owls were on their way right now to deliver the parchments with the village lists to all the publicans and clergy in each village.

The people in The Dented Plowshare were startled and a bit frightened when a big barn owl swooped into the bar, but the owl seemed to know exactly what it was doing. It landed on the bar in front of the shaken barman, and offered its leg, to which an old-fashioned parchment was rolled up and tied. Gingerly, the man undid the twine that held the parchment, at which point the owl took flight again and left as suddenly as it had appeared.

All eyes were on the barman as he unrolled the parchment, and in the quiet that followed, interrupted only by the drone of the princes speaking on the television, he began to read.

"To the non-magical citizens of Little Hangleton:

In the aftermath of the terrible events caused by the casting of the sleeping spell of which you have now been made aware, representatives of the British Ministry of Magic visited your community. Most of you were sleeping in places deemed to be sufficiently secure, so you were left in place.

Some of your fellow citizens had been injured in the aftermath of falling asleep and required treatment, and we moved them to places where appropriate assistance could be provided. Once they were treated and well, we brought all injured non-magical citizens found within the village precincts to the nave of St. Barnabas Church, where they were left to sleep on the pews. Likewise, we moved those of your fellow citizens who fell asleep in dangerous or precarious places to the same location.

Sadly, we must also report that several of your citizens did not survive the immediate aftermath of the spell. Their remains had to be interred.

Below you will find the names or identifying information of those who were sleeping in the Church, and those who have passed away."

The barman looked around him. "There are not many names here. I'll read them off, starting with the people we can find at the Church."

As he read, there were sobs of relief, and a few whoops of joy. People began leaving the pub for the Church as soon as they heard that their loved ones were just a few blocks away, probably starting to look frantically for them. When the barman got to the list of those who had not survived, each name was met with sobs of anguish as family and friends received the news that a loved one was gone.

Bradley was shaken by the experience. It was really awful, but there was nothing he could do. After a few moments, he left the pub and headed back up the road to his family, who were just then getting the dishes on the table for dinner.

X X X X X X X X X X

At the Ministry of Magic's Infirmary, the few dozen muggles who had been moved there in the aftermath of the spell had been showing signs of awakening for a full day now. The mediwizard in charge of the care of the muggles, mostly leaders of the government and several members of the royal family, had heard from Madam Pomfrey at Hogwarts that she was observing the same thing from her charges, so it was not a great surprise on Wednesday when they began to awake.

The princes had expressed some concern to Albus Dumbledore about how their grandmother, the Queen, would react when she awoke in the unfamiliar and (to muggle sensibilities) very strange sights of the Ministry Infirmary, a week or so earlier. He had shared those thoughts with the Minister at their meeting the same afternoon.

"Really, Albus, they're that worried about the woman? She's a young thing, can't be over 70! Well, if the young men are so distressed about this, I guess they know her better than we do. I wish we still had a magical attaché to the royals, so we'd have one of our own who know them well and would be able to confirm this sort of thing. Gave that up after the big war when all the bombs fell. Pity – now we just have someone working in the Prime Minister's office. I'll speak to the head of the Infirmary and see what we can do."

"I can make some rooms available at Hogwarts, if the mediwizard agrees to send the Queen and her husband here by portkey. Our Madam Pomfrey is very confident that she and her staff can manage two more muggles, or the Ministry may wish to send along one of your own staff. The young men are quite concerned that their grandmother will become very upset, and isn't it lovely that they want to save her that discomfort?"

The Minister responded noncommittally to Albus' observation, already directing her thoughts to the next item on her long list of things to discuss with him, standing in as he still was for Harry Potter.

The very next day, after a quick consultation between the mediwizard in charge of the Ministry's Infirmary and Madam Pomfrey on behalf of the Hogwarts Infirmary, the arrangements were made. The house elves at Hogwarts created a small suite of rooms right near the Infirmary, and an auror accompanied the two older royals via portkey to Hogwarts. Kingsley Shacklebolt accepted the two new royal charges into his area of responsibility, and assisted Madam Pomfrey in getting them settled into the new rooms. The princes were advised, and prepared to visit them the next day.

When Madam Pomfrey detected that the muggles were near to awakening, she dispatched a house elf to alert the two young men, who arrived at their grandparents' rooms just an hour before they awoke. A helpful house elf had transfigured the standard bedside chairs from the infirmary into more comfortable club chairs, and the two young men were there when their grandmother's eyes first opened.

She was clearly immediately aware that she was not in her home; the grandchildren were never allowed into her bedroom while she was asleep. Where was her Lady In Waiting? Before she could get agitated, the older Prince spoke to her.

"Relax, Grandma. You are fine. We are at a special school in Scotland, and you and Grandpa are here, safe and sound. Harry and I have been here for a couple of months already, and we asked them to bring you here to be with us when you woke up. You've had a very long sleep, is all. It's a really long story, so let's wait for Grandpa to awaken, and we'll explain it all to both of you."

As if on cue, in the bed against the window, the Queen's husband stirred. She looked over and the relief that her beloved Philip was well was very clear on her face. Wills helped his grandmother sit up and get her legs over the side of the bed. He wasn't entirely certain about allowing her to stand and walk so soon after awakening from such a long sleep, but she wanted to get to her husband, so he kept a strong but gentle grip on her arm as she stood. The Queen stood firmly in her sensible shoes, and smoothed out her dress, before taking a slow step toward the bed by the window. She was fine – she tolerated her grandson's show of concern, but clearly was quite able to move on her own.

The boys moved one of the club chairs next to their grandfather's bed, but the Queen preferred to stand, where she could better see her husband's face as he cleared the cobwebs of sleep from his mind and woke up.

Before any explanations could commence, the woman the princes now knew to be the medical director of the Infirmary, flitted in. The Queen was agog – she had not seen anyone in clothing like this, the winged starched cap, belted apron, long dress, since she was a small girl. Even then the person wearing it, a nurse in a remote Welch hospital, was regarded as someone far behind the times. This woman appeared without the usual assortment of devices and clipboards that seemed to be ubiquitous in most medical establishments these days, but she had the no-nonsense mien of a family doctor. Most curious.

"Ah, yes," the little woman said to the Queen, "my alarms told me that you'd awoken. Are you feeling well? Our scans indicated that you are in fine health, but it's always prudent to be cautious, don't you agree? And the gentleman, here, also in fine health, although a bit arthritic and some constricted arteries, no? Men seem to take a few extra moments to awaken, so we'll just give him a few more minutes. If your grandfather wants to arise, young men, try to discourage him for a bit. He might be a bit woozy, not as steady on his feet as your grandmother."

With that, the woman left the room. The Queen as a bit nonplussed. Not so much as a curtsy, or any reference to herself or her grandsons as "Your Majesties." It was almost as if the little woman did not know who she was! And the nerve, leaving her and Philip to the care of their grandsons, rather than with qualified medical professionals!

Harry seemed to see where his grandmother's thoughts were heading, and he quickly intervened.

"Like Wills said, we've got an amazing story to tell you. Let's wait for Grandpa to wake up, and we'll tell you the whole thing. And you'll probably find this hard to believe, but it is very likely that Madam Pomfrey, the little lady who was just in here, has no idea who you are, aside from being a patient in her Infirmary."

X X X X X X X X X X

Word spread through the castle on Wednesday morning that it appeared that the muggles would be awakening that very day.

Professor Sprout had spoken to Petunia and the other squibs with families in the castle the day before, about their living arrangements once the families awoke. "Professor Dumbledore has secured a number of tents in which families can live together until it is safe for you to return home. We do recommend that you stay on at least a week after everyone awakens, as we don't know how long it will take the muggle world to come fully back to its former order. Food will have to be delivered to your stores, fuel will need to be shipped in, your police will need to organize, things like that. Since you are in a safe place, where there is plenty of food and such, we invite you to stay on as long as you like. You can pick up a tent from behind the greenhouses. Most of them are two and three-bedroom tents, with a few larger four and five-bedroom ones for really large families. They are furnished, very comfortable for a week or two. One of the house elves can help you assemble the one you choose, in any spot on the front lawn of the castle. I'm afraid all the courtyards are already filled."

Petunia had spent the morning selecting a nice two-bedroom tent, with two baths, a small kitchen and a very large sitting room/den, all with oversized windows. It took Professor Sprout's intervention to get a house elf to (grudgingly) help her get it set up and the wizard space activated. When it was done, it appeared from the outside to be a very ordinary camping tent, but once entered, it had all the space and comforts (except the electronic ones, of course) of a large suburban home. She wasn't entirely sure how long Vernon and Dudley would be willing to stay, if they didn't demand to be brought home as soon as they awoke. If they could stay here as a family for a few days, at least they could do so in comfort.

Petunia went up to the Infirmary straight away after lunch, and sat nervously on the wooden guest chair between her Vernon's and her Dudley's beds. It was curious – this was a big room and yet there was remarkable privacy around the various beds, more than one might have expected from the simple white linen hangings that now separated the beds.

Those were new, and hadn't been here just a week ago, when the space was an open dormitory. Probably easier to tend to everyone in a large open room, and if everyone was sound asleep, what was the need for privacy? At least she, Vernon and Dudley now had private space just beneath a looming window, from which Petunia could see the blue sky above. She would never get used to the cramped and dark feeling of the castle; the only thing that made it even remotely livable were the huge windows.

She got misty-eyed thinking about how much she'd missed her husband and her son, and how wonderful it would be for them to awaken.

It seemed like others were waking up outside their little linen-walled room. Petunia was certain that she heard people walking in the corridors, and began to get concerned. Moments after she had begun to worry in earnest, the curtains were parted slightly and the little nurse person entered. She waved her wand over Vernon first, and then Dudley before addressing Petunia. "Your family is the last in the castle to awaken, but they finally appear to be close to waking up. I suspect that body mass figured into how the spell was metabolized, which would explain the slowness in their shedding the spell. It ought not be more than half an hour now. By the way, I compared the scans I did of them when they arrived to the ones I took this morning. They are in significantly better shape right now than they were on arrival. Unfortunately, the spell that protected them these last months shielded them from the need for any caloric intake – it would have been ideal for them to have fasted this entire time while their bodies used up some of all that stored fat. Even without weight loss, though, their bodies were spared the need to continually process all the unhealthy food they obviously consume. Their livers, gall bladders, kidneys, even their blood and the gentleman's heart, are all much better for the rest."

With that, the little woman left Petunia alone with Vernon and Dudley. Petunia was furious now at the suggestion that she fed her family unhealthy food! How dare she! Vernon loved his meat and potatoes, with just an occasional vegetable, and of course, a cake or pie for dessert with his coffee or brandy, but most men were like that. And Dudley was just a growing boy! When his growth spurt came, the weight would be redistributed and he'd be fine. That woman didn't know what she was talking about!

Before Petunia could work herself into a true snit, the pattern of snores emanating from Vernon and Dudley began to change, and mere moments after that, the snores became snorts. A few snorts on, the two Dursley men were awake.

Petunia could not help notice that they both seemed quite panicked as they awoke, but she immediately stood where they could both see her, and sought to calm them.

"Oh, my two darling boys! I am so glad you've woken up! I missed you both so!" she began, interrupting herself to quickly kiss her husband and then her son in greeting.

Dudley was looking very dubiously at the linen curtains that hung around the beds. "Are we in hospital, Mummy? Are we alright?" he asked, his panic growing.

"No, no darling. We're all safe, nothing to worry about. Something terrible did happen in the world, everyone was sent to sleep, for a very long time. It's already early July, do you know? Right after it happened, there was fear that people who were sleeping might die of dehydration in their sleep, so some were brought here to be kept safely alive until they awoke. But they found a way to make everyone sleep safely, even without care, so it was just a matter of waiting."

She beamed at Vernon and Dudley, just so very happy to finally have her family back.

Vernon was clearly trying to process what she told him, and get his bearings. He really hated to be off-kilter or feel uninformed, she knew.

"Where exactly is "here," Petunia?" he asked warily.

"I'm not entirely sure on the map, but it's Harry's school, Hogwarts."

Vernon snorted derisively. Petunia smiled sadly at him, and continued her story.

"When this terrible thing happened, wizards and just a few other people were able to wake up. The people here at Hogwarts weren't sure if they could help everyone else, so they brought the families of the students who had not woken up to stay here, prepared to keep them alive until they did wake. I was one of the non-wizards who woke up. I was so frightened – I tried to call the police, the firemen, the army, but no one was answering the telephones! I was fully prepared to care for you both at our home, of course, but in the early hours of the catastrophe, the people who came from her to get us said you could not survive without medical help. I was so scared, and I had to do what was necessary to be sure you both were safe!" Her voice broke slightly at that point, and she dabbed at tears in her eyes with a small handkerchief.

"Anyway, you are both fine now, and awake, and this is just wonderful! We're a family again!"

Dudley had rolled to his side a bit to be able to push his bulk into a sitting position, and he put his feet over the side of the bed, looking up at the leaded glass window. "What kind of place is this? It looks ancient!"

"It is an old castle, about one thousand years old, I understand. It's an interesting place, even if you might not wish to associate with some of the people who live here." A small belch escaped from Petunia at that observation, a reminder to her to watch her tongue or suffer the consequences. Vernon had never known Petunia to make such an . . . unfeminine noise, and he looked at her strangely. She looked very stricken at his disapproval.

"It's not been easy being here, but I've had food, a place to sleep, some activities to keep me occupied, and of course, I've been able to visit you both while you slept. I offended someone with a negative comment about wizards, and ever since, whenever I make a critical comment about them, I suffer a bout of flatulence. I have to watch what I say."

Vernon looked outraged that his wife had been treated that way, although Dudley seemed more amused that his mother, of all people, might be capable of making the kind of noises that he and his friends found so funny.

"Come along – it's nearly supper time," Petunia went on, changing the subject as she helped her husband get into a sitting position. From up close, she had to admit, his florid complexion looked healthier than it often did, and he did not seem to be wheezing.

"I have gotten us a tent to stay in as a family. I've been in a dormitory with other women, and they offered tents to those who wanted to live as families. Don't worry, Dudders, it's not like that awful camping tent you had back in Scouts! It doesn't look like much from the outside, but inside, it has two nice-sized bedrooms, two full baths, and a lovely sitting room with the most incredible windows, all fully furnished. They serve three meals a day in the Great Hall, family-style. Lots of food, although I have to admit, my taste buds still don't work. The teachers have suggested that we all plan to stay on for at least a week here, as the stores will not have food, and police need to get reorganized, things like that. Once the world is functioning, we can go back to Privet Drive, but for now, we'll be taken care of."

Vernon stood carefully, wanting to be sure he wasn't dizzy and that he could remain upright. Seeing his father able to stand comfortably, Dudley stood as well. "I don't like this, Petunia. They are all freaks! Dishonest, shifty! What if they are up to something? Are they emptying out our home as we stand here? Have they destroyed my business? I don't trust them, reprobates all!"

"There, there, dear. They have treated me rather well, and you've been looked after. What they say makes sense, when you think on it. Everyone here just woke up today, and I've heard this is what is going on all over the world. We will be fine here for a week or so, and when we get back, there will be stores with food, and petrol stations with petrol, and security and safety. Our lives will be back to normal. Right now, it would be difficult and we'd be on our own."

Petunia had struck a chord with that last observation. Vernon did not like things that were unnecessarily difficult; ease and comfort were his watchwords.

Petunia swept the hair off Dudley's forehead in a motherly gesture, as she took each of her men by the arm and led them out of the curtained room.

"This is the Infirmary. They kept all the people who were sleeping here, where they could be monitored. I'll show you down to the Great Hall from here, and then when we leave the Great Hall, it's just out the front door to the lawn, and I've got a nice spot set up with our tent, with a lovely view of the lake."

They no sooner got to the hallway outside the Infirmary when Dudley squeaked and grabbed her arm. "That painting is moving, Mummy," he whispered in alarm.

"Oh, yes, you do need to get used to that here. The paintings move, and they'll speak to you, too. You can ignore them, if it bothers you, although you can also chat with them if you like."

Vernon looked at his wife as if she'd gone completely mad. Talking to paintings? What had they done to her?

When they reached the staircase to head downstairs, they passed near dozens of paintings, the occupants of which were most interested in the influx of muggles at Hogwarts. Unfortunately for muggles who had never seen a talking and moving oil painting, the painting occupants were also most anxious to speak to the muggles and learn about their world.

A wizard in a turban pictured reading a book was watching Vernon lumber along, and called out "Hello, there, my good sir! Welcome to Hogwarts! Have you traveled far to join us here today? Is this your first visit?" Vernon gripped the heavy banister with both hands as he pulled as far away from the portrait that was speaking to him as possible. That was a perfectly civil greeting, similar to ones he got regularly at his club and in business settings, but it was being offered by an oil painting, and even worse, by some freak in the painting with a bed sheet wrapped around his head! He whimpered slightly in response.

Petunia stepped in. "Thank you, sir. This is my family's first visit here, and they've never seen talking portraits before."

The wizard nodded benignly in acknowledgement, and Petunia herded Vernon and Dudley along. Fortunately, aside from some waves and curtseys offered in greeting as they passed, no other portrait attempted to interact with them.

They finally were down the stairs and about to cross the large vestibule toward the enormous wooden doors of the Great Hall when Vernon and Dudley both noticed the Vikings. Three burly men, none shorter than seven feet tall, were standing by the doors as if to guard them. They were wearing kilts and thin shirts, but their maces and swords were gleaming and terrifying.

"Petunia, what are those men standing by the doors?" Vernon asked in a very quiet voice.

"I've been told they are called Warriors from the Winter Lands, but for all intents and purposes, they are Vikings. They've been here since I got here, to protect the people. Don't worry. Come along."

Petunia led her men over to the doors and nodded to the men as she approached. One of the men opened a door for the Dursleys, and they entered the Great Hall for the first time.