The Story of a Lifetime, Part 2
I'd just gotten home from King's Cross Station when the mail arrived. Nothing but junk, of course. Then my landlady, Mrs. Leighton came in. She was a motherly woman, fifty or so, who was really very kind to me.
"There were some odd fellows that came to see you," she said. "I told them you weren't here, and they said they'd come back."
"Odd how?" I asked, a quiver of fear in my stomach.
"Oh, they were dressed sort of funny, you know. Proper, but, well, not the sort of clothes you'd put together. Oh, well, I suppose none of them had wives to do for them."
"Thank you for telling me. Did they say where they were from?"
" 'The Ministry' is what they said. You working on a big story?"
"Enormous." I said nonchalantly. Inside, though, I was all a-quiver. Mrs. Leighton left, and I stood, frozen like ice.
They were after me, I was sure. What should I do? I made up my mind quickly.
An hour later, I knocked on Mrs. Leighton's door. She had the flat below mine.
"I'm afraid I have to go away for a few days."
"On your story?"
"Exactly. The thing is, my cousin Bert's birthday is next week. Can I give you this package and have you post it on Thursday if I'm not back?"
"Why can't you take it with you?"
"I have to go abroad, and I want it to get there on his birthday." I shifted it round. "I addressed it already, to his business."
"I didn't know you had a cousin who was a lawyer."
"Albert Fenric, attorney at law. That's him" In reality, it was a firm that I had used before. I'd enclosed specific instructions about what to do with the contents. I'd rationalized that the agents would be sure to ask Mrs. Leighton if I'd given her a suspicious package. But I knew how her mind worked. If someone asked, 'has anyone been here?' she'd say no. But if you asked, 'Have the mailman and cleaning girl come?' she'd say yes. A birthday present would never comment with a bundle of suspicious papers. It was the best plan I could think of on such short notice.
I boarded a train for Scotland. I hoped to throw them off me.
Three days later, though, I was in Germany. There was a tail on me, I knew. My best idea now was to hike the three miles over the mountains to the border. There, I'd catch a train for Iraq. Or Egypt. Anywhere far away.
Something made me look up. I saw three dark shapes, high in the sky. They came closer. I realized, suddenly, that they were men. On broomsticks. They came closer. I knew that it was hopeless to run, but I did anyway. I saw them approach, come lower. I threw aside my bag and drew the gun I'd bought two days ago. Two landed ahead of me; I heard the third behind me. I aimed the gun. I didn't think it'd do much good, but…
"Expelliarmus," called the man on the right. He had a wand pointed at me. The gun flew from my hand. He pointed his wand at me. "Now, will you come quietly?" I knew when I was beat.
"I'll be reasonable."
"Good." He nodded to the other two. "You can go back now." They mounted their brooms and flew off. I stared at them.
"Mountaineers" he explained. "I recruited them to help me get you. That was quite a chase you led me." He sounded admiring.
"Who are you?"
"Well, it won't hurt to tell you that." He gave a laugh, rich but short. "My name is Roy Johnson, and I'm a special operative for the Ministry of Magic. Muggle Affairs department." He was about five inches taller than I was, and had dark hair and eyes. He couldn't be more than two years older than my twenty-four, and wore no beard. His robes were black, well-made but well-worn.
"I know who you are, of course," he continued. "I received a dossier on you before setting out on my mission. I'd say you are the kind of Muggle we most fear."
"Fear?" I asked, incredulous. "With that kind of power? Why on earth would you fear us?"
"Well, there are a number of reasons. First of all, there are a lot more of you than of us. If you really wanted to, you could probably kill most of us. A lot of Muggles would die, too, of course, but you could manage to take out some of us. And more than that, Muggles would want magical solutions to every problem. It's just better that we don't reveal ourselves."
"But surely some Muggles must know."
"Oh, heavens, yes. All the rulers of nations, and the parents of Muggle-born wizards, and one or two others. Lots of us marry Muggles. Like my mother," he said.
"So your father is a Muggle."
:"Was. He's the reason I became a special operative. I wanted to help Muggles who came into contact with the truth."
"Help us?"
"Of course. Most Muggles don't take it as easily as you did. Some are driven mad by the knowledge. Others try to tell other Muggles, and are thought mad. One or two get resentful and try to kill us."
"Gosh."
"But do you understand why we must not let people know about us?"
"Yes. But will you have to wipe my memory? I know you can."
"Do you want me to?"
"No! It's difficult, to keep a secret this big, but I'd rather know."
"I think I can manage to get that granted. It may be useful to have a talented journalist on our side." I think I blushed there. "But will you help me now? Did you tell anyone about us?"
"No, I didn't."
"Good."
"But – did you get the package from my landlady?"
"What?"
"I gave her a parcel full of information."
"I read the interview! We talked to her Friday, and she didn't know anything, so we wiped her memory."
"Friday? I gave her a package to post on Thursday. I told her that it was for my cousin, but I sent it to a lawyer I know."
"Oh, not a lawyer." He groaned.
"Why not?"
"Lawyers are so hard to deal with. Their training gives them slight immunity to certain spells we use to convince people to talk."
"Great."
"Look, give me the address of the lawyer."
"He'll have read it by now, and given it to someone else."
"Wonderful. I can see it now. My name in the Daily Prophet, the Ministry worker who let half of Muggle England know about us."
"Look, he may be resistant to you, but I sent him that package. I'll help you."
"You will?"
"I got you into this mess, didn't I?"
"Thank you."
We decided to use Muggle transportation, and so we spent the night at a German inn. Roy knew all about me, so I asked him about himself.
"My parents died a few years ago. I have a younger sister, Angelina, who's still in school." His voice softened, and he pulled out a locket. "That's her," pointing to a teenage girl holding a broom. I saw the resemblance at once. She was laughing heartily. "I must say, I'm very proud of her. She's a Chaser on the Gryffindor team."
"Really? I know about Quidditch, of course," I said.
"Oh, yes. Harry Potter's on that team."
"That's the son of the people who lived next door to me?"
"Oh, gee…I'd forgotten, all your information is year out of date. Look, you know about You-Know-Who?"
"Yes."
"Well, Harry Potter is not only the only person ever to face him and survive, but also the one who somehow defeated him."
"Oh."
"Which makes him quite a hero to us."
"Tell me, does he look just like his father?"
"Aside from green eyes and a lightning scar, yes."
"I see." And I told him what I'd seen.
"Yes, we heard something about that in my department. That was old Arthur Weasley's car. He's head of Department for the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts, you see. I had heard that he had a flying car. The boys crashed it, see, at Hogwarts. Angelina wrote to me about it."
"Right."
"Two of the Weasley boys are on the Gryffindor team as well."
"What an interesting world you have."
"I suppose so. I get to see a lot more exciting things than the average wizard, though. This kind of job is dangerous, but interesting." He looked at the clock. "My goodness, it's getting quite late! We'd best be off to bed."
Evening of the next day, we were back in England. Now we had to travel to London to get the package from Albert Fenric. Roy told me,
"I'll get us transportation from here. Just don't say anything once we get on."
"On where?" I began to ask, but he stuck out his wand suddenly. With a huge bang, a purple three-decker bus appeared. The door opened. We climbed on. The bus was full of beds, rather than benches, and the bed were full of wizards. And witches, too, I supposed. Roy paid our fare and led me up the stairs to the top, which was empty but for us.
"I'm glad no-one noticed you were a Muggle. Somebody'd've been sure to raise a fuss." I nodded. The bus moved off with a bang. I looked outside. We were in the middle of a forest now, barreling down the road. I sat back and tried to relax, but the bus kept banging and leaping hundreds of miles. I was quite glad when our stop came.
'Good, we're only a few blocks from Fenric's office," I said, leading the way. The office was like the lawyer; small, a bit grimy-looking, and slightly disreputable. Like I said, I'd dealt with him before.
"Ms. Brown, how nice to see you. What can I do for you?"
"You can give me that package I sent you," I said pointedly. He frowned.
"I'm afraid I can't do that."
"Where is the package?" Roy growled, and Fenric was lifted off his feet by an invisible hand.
"My-my brother! Let go!" He dropped a few feet to the floor and lay there in a heap. Roy nudged him with a toe.
"Do you know this brother?"
"Oh, yes. That's how I know Albert here. Eric is quite different. A bit eccentric. He certainly won't tell anyone about the magical world; he hates most people. He doesn't mind me, for some reason.
"What about Mr. Slimeball here," Roy asked disgustedly. I laughed.
"Albert, if you tell anyone what happened here, they won't believe you, and they'll lock you up in a loony bin for the rest of your life. If I don't give the police that info on the deal with Marco…" Fenric curled up into a fetal position.
"We don't need to worry about him," I said once we were back on the sidewalk. "He'll never tell anyone. He knows that I have information that can put him behind bars."
"Then why haven't you turned it over to police?"
"He's useful enough, in a pinch. Besides, I keep him on the straight and narrow now. One hint of shady dealings, and it's jail for him."
"Where will we find this Eric?"
"He's a hermit, lives in the mountains of Scotland. I interviewed him in my first successful piece.
"Oh, the 'Hermit of the Glen', of course."
"You read that?"
"I read all your stuff. It was in your dossier."
"I'm a bit embarrassed. That was sheer sensationalism."
"It must have taken some doing, tracking him down."
"It did." So I told him, as we boarded a train for Scotland, about the weeks I'd spent tracing Eric down, and convincing him that I didn't want to hurt him. "He's shy, but very nice once you get to know him. He just doesn't like people."
"But he likes you."
"There's no accounting for taste."
"I don't think it's that surprising." I blushed. No one had ever said things like that to me. No one I liked at all, anyway. Interesting, I thought, how the most intelligent man I've ever met is from a whole different culture. Almost an alien, I'd say.
It took a full day to hike to Eric's cabin. When we got there, it was empty. There was a note on the table, gone fishing.
"He still clings to traditions like that one," I said. "It's not like he expects visitors. But if someone comes, he wants them to know where he is."
"Fishing where?"
"No idea. I think this is where you come in." Roy performed a lot of intricate motions with his wand, muttering under his breath. He straightened up.
"He has a three day start on us, and he took the papers with him." He pulled out a funny sort of compass, played with it, and grinned.
"This'll find him if he's three counties away." The needle pointed northwest. "And it's direct, as the crow flies, so we may catch up to him if he rambled at all."
"Are you kidding? Eric walks three miles sideways for every one forward!"
"Wonderful! Let's go."
"It's almost dark."
"You're right. Do you think he'd mind if we used his cabin?"
"Not as long as we keep it neat."
"Excellent."
The next morning, we set out, following the compass. At midday, we crossed a ridge and stared down at a little village.
"Oh, good. We can get something hot for lunch."
"Of course!"
"What?" Lunch was a pleasant thought, but nothing to get that excited about.
"Turn left, there, see…" I gasped.
A mountain rose amidst a lake. There was a castle perched atop it, and a forest too.
"Wow," I breathed.
"That is a sight that few Muggles have ever seen. That is Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
"Wow," I said again, though in a slightly different tone.
"Hogsmeade is the only entirely wizard village in England," Roy said. "It also has one of the best pubs in England. Let's go." So we headed toward the village. I kept looking at the mountain. Up there, children were learning to be wizards. I wondered what that would be like.
The Three Broomsticks was not very full. Roy approached the counter.
"Two pints of butterbeer," he said. The barmaid nodded. We sat at a table near the door. Roy kept looking around.
"Nostalgia," he said, as I looked at him curiously. "The last time I was in here, I was a student at Hogwarts." The butterbeer arrived. I sipped some cautiously. It was indescribably heavenly.
"Don't worry, there's no alcohol in it," Roy said. "All the students love this place." As he spoke, children began to drift in, placing orders and waiting to be served.
"Must be Saturday," Roy said. "Usually the Hogsmeade weekends start later in the year, though," he added. Suddenly, there was a girlish shout.
"Roy!" Next second, the girl from his picture ran over. "Roy, what are you doing here? Is it business? Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"
"Angelina! I'm glad to see you too. Yes, it's business. I wasn't sure I'd be coming, so I didn't write."
"Who is this?" she asked, turning to me.
"Miss Amanda Brown. She's helping me out."
"Brown, Brown…let's see, there's a Lavender Brown at school. Are you related to her?"
"Brown is a fairly common last name," I smiled. "I don't recall being related to a Lavender, but perhaps I am mistaken."
"Sit down, Angelina. I'll get more to drink." She did as her brother bid. When he was at the counter, she turned to me.
"So, why are you really hanging out with Roy?" she asked. "Are you planning on marrying him?"
"I don't think so."
"Too bad." She grinned at my perplexity. "He needs someone to settle him down a little. I keep telling him, find a nice girl, even a Muggle, settle down and have four or five kids…." Roy returned, bearing butterbeer and food.
"So, what's been going on up at school?"
"Oh, Wood's got some crazy new ideas, so we're already practicing. Slytherin's got a new Seeker, Draco Malfoy." She grimaced. "His father's gone and bought the whole team Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones! That stupid git."
"Angelina!"
"He deserves it. You know Hermione Granger? That brilliant Muggle-born? Well, he called her Mudblood!"
"He didn't!"
"He did. It was all I could do to not hit him. Ron Weasley tried to curse him, but his wand backfired and he belched slugs for hours."
"Malfoy?"
"No, Ron." I listened to this exchange with great interest. It was much like listening to a speech in a language you have just begun to learn; some of the words sound familiar, and you can almost make out what's going on, but that's it. Roy and Angelina continued to talk for some time. Then Angelina looked up.
"My goodness, it's late! I have to get back to the castle." She stood up. "I'm glad I got to see you, Roy. I'll write to you soon." Then she turned and left. We also stood and walked to the door. Roy pulled out the magic compass.
"I think we're gaining on him."
"Good."
"Well, we'd best be on our way."
To Be Concluded…..
AN: I promise, just one more piece of this. Disclaimers, well, yada, yada, yada. I didn't make up the world or most of the characters in it, Harry Potter and his friends/enemies/admirers are property of JK Rowling, and I'm not trying to make any money off of this anyway, so there.