Disclaimer: Again, I only own Hex Holmstrom and his little part of the world. JK Rowling owns Hagrid and his part of the world, as well as the entire Knight Bus Group of Companies. I also don't own the names "Cheerios" (from Chapter 1) and "Egg McMuffins."
Epiphany
He didn't know what time it was when Hank finally got tired of his game and went off to watch some TV. He didn't know how much more time passed before his foster father's snores began to rattle the walls of the apartment, before he could finally drag himself to his room.
Chris's whole body hurt and his face was sticky in some places. There was a salty, metallic blood-taste in his mouth. In the dim light he could see the dark smears on his pillow, adding another chapter to the history told by the faded stains that were already there.
There was a burning, a throbbing over his right eye. Chris felt gently to see if his eyebrow piercing was still there, finding that it was and wincing from the stab of fire that lanced through his brain. Tonight he remembered to protect his head, so he still had all his teeth — a miracle, considering how many times Hank had hit him in the mouth in the past.
Also, he didn't break any bones this time. Maybe the beatings were finally toughening him up.
A harsh sob escaped the boy, followed immediately by a gasp of pain from the effort it took to cry and try not to cry at the same time. He wasn't sure he wanted to find out how long before he'd stop feeling any pain. Maybe you had to be dead first.
Chris half-wished he could die. What he wanted more was to get out of this place. But where could he go?
He heard a soft crackling when he tried to move his head. There was something under his pillow. Chris frowned as much as he could without hurting himself, reached under it and withdrew…
…a yellow envelope.
The next day Chris felt dead inside. He lay in bed, thinking about how much he wanted to get out of here. He hoped he could.
It was already really bright outside. Chris guessed it was already noon or even later than that, but it hurt to move, much less get up and call in sick. He wasn't worried about that, though. Tiny would understand why he didn't show up at work today.
He could hear his foster father moving around outside. What was he doing home? Chris wondered, then remembered he'd gotten fired…He pulled the blanket over his head and went back to sleep, wishing he would never see Hank again.
It was evening when Chris woke up again and could get out of bed. It still hurt to move, but not as much as it did before.
Hank was out. The check from Social Services had probably come and he had gone to spend it. Chris walked slowly to the bathroom and washed his face, ignoring the sting from the soap and cold water.
His letters were still scattered on the floor. He swept them aside with his foot on the way to the refrigerator, which gave him nothing but a single, slimy slice of bologna for dinner. Tomorrow, Chris promised himself, he was buying two Egg McMuffins.
He jumped when the lock turned and Hank stalked into the apartment. "'Bout time you got up," his foster father said shortly. "Didn't go to work today, did you?"
"No," Chris replied coldly. His grip tightened on the week-old newspaper beside him.
"You should have." Hank tossed his jacket on a nearby chair. "I'm not paying for that busted car window."
"I didn't break it."
"Like hell you didn't. If you don't pay, I get sued."
"Tough." Chris had no idea why he was trying to provoke his foster father. Maybe his brains were scrambled.
"Dammit!" Hank growled, unbuckling his belt. "Do I have to teach you another lesson?"
"I think I've learned enough from you." All kinds of thoughts were running through Chris's head when his foster father grabbed him by a handful of his T-shirt. Foremost in the jumble in his brain was the thought of just getting out of here.
Chris whacked his stepfather with the newspaper, which of course didn't do anything but make Hank angrier. The belt buckle hit him, sending fresh explosions through his still-sore body, but Chris managed to land a few punches of his own to his foster father's greasy, rubbery face.
He was getting out of here. Why was he so sure? Was that the kind of feeling you got when you knew you were going to die?
The boy poked Hank in the eye with the rolled-up newspaper and his foster father, bellowing in exaggerated pain, wrapped his belt around Chris's neck and squeezed.
His body hurt and he couldn't breathe, but all he could think about was getting out of here.
There was a loud BAM and they both froze. There was another and Hank glared furiously at Chris. "You called the cops, didn't you?" he hissed, and began to squeeze again.
The loudest BAM of all echoed throughout the apartment. There was a sound of splintering wood, a strange voice crying "Let 'im go, yeh stupid great oaf!" and the next thing Chris knew he could breathe again.
When the spots had cleared from his eyes, he saw the biggest man he had ever seen holding a terrified Hank by the seat of his pants a few feet off the ground. "Try pickin' on someone yer own size," the man growled, giving Hank a hard shake after every word. When all his foster father could do was whimper in terror, the man tossed him aside impatiently.
Chris watched Hank scramble away and out through the pulverized front door, then found himself looking into the hairy face and kindly beetle-black eyes of his rescuer. "Yeh all righ', son?" the man asked gently.
He nodded dumbly and unwound the belt from around his neck, staring in disbelief at the huge man.
His enormous hand could have easily crushed Chris's whole head, but it was gentle as it turned the boy's face this way and that, inspecting the damage. "Looks like I got here jus' in time."
"Wh-who are you?" Chris finally asked.
"Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of the Keys at Hogwarts," he replied, lifting Chris easily to his feet.
Hogwarts? "You mean it's real?" he demanded, hope beginning to burn again inside him.
"'Course it's real!" Hagrid waved his enormous hand at the letters beside the refrigerator. "Yeh got yer letters, didn't yeh?"
"I-I thought they were just a joke…"
"No joke, son! Headmaster Dumbledore sent me here ter come fetch yeh — figgered yeh didn't know how ter get ter Hogwarts from here. Great man, Dumbledore…always thinks of everythin'…'Course he told me ter ask yeh if yeh wanted ter come…thought maybe yeh wanted ter stay here…" Chris shook his head vehemently and Hagrid laughed. "But I knew yeh'd want to come!"
Suddenly, Chris stopped shaking his head and looked at Hagrid with a new worry. "But I don't have any money and I don't know a single thing about magic."
"Don' worry abou' the money, son," the huge man told him firmly. "Didn't I jus' tell yeh Dumbledore thinks of everythin'? And yeh're a righ' smart 'un, yeh are…yeh'll catch up fast enough."
Chris grinned, ignoring the pain from his sore muscles, so happy he could just bust. "Wait 'til Tiny hears this! When do we leave?"
"Tiny! Tiny!" Chris called as he burst through the door of the repair shop.
"Back here, boy," his boss replied, emerging from the stock room, scratching his big belly. "You're on time today."
Tiny's wry observation was lost on the boy. "Hey, Tiny, you know all those weird letters I've been getting?"
Tiny frowned. "You're all bruised up. 'Your old man been bea—"
"They're real." Chris laughed. "Can you believe it?"
"Are you all right, Chris?"
"I'm fine. The letters are real!" the boy repeated. "Hogwarts is real. I'm going to a new school!"
"What?"
"Yeh done in there ye', son?" Hagrid asked, his hairy head appearing in the doorway.
Tiny goggled at the huge man. "Who's that?"
"That's Hagrid," Chris explained. "He's taking me to Hogwarts."
"You mean Hogwarts is real?"
"'Course it's real," Hagrid said, exasperated. "You Muggles are too suspicious."
"Us what?"
"Non-magic people," the huge man explained briefly. He reached in through the doorway to shake Tiny's hand. "Rubeus Hagrid."
"Tiny Thompson," the shop owner replied, dazed at the appearance of a man even larger than he was. "'You really taking Chris to this Hogwarts?"
"Yep. Best school fer witchcraft and wizardry in the world. But the boy said he wanted ter say goodbye to yeh firs'."
"We're leaving in a while," Chris explained.
"How will you get there?"
"Don' yeh worry," Hagrid said before Chris could start stammering for an answer. "He'll get there. An' he'll be jus' fine."
"I've never heard of this Hogwarts," Tiny said, finally taking Hagrid's word for it. "But I think going away to school would be the best thing for Chris right now."
The huge man nodded assent. "I know what yeh mean."
"Someone gave you a chance, boy," Tiny told Chris sternly. "Better not let them down."
"He'll stay in line," Hagrid assured him.
"Good."
"I'll write you," Chris said to his boss. Perhaps Hogwarts had a postal service.
Tiny nodded curtly. "Do that." Finally, he gave the boy a brief hug. "You take care of yourself. Maybe you can come stay with me in the summer."
"Where is Hogwarts, anyway?" Chris asked, following Hagrid down a deserted alleyway, carrying the bulging knapsack that held all his possessions.
"Er, I think the Muggles would call it England," Hagrid said.
"England?!" Chris exclaimed. "Are you nuts? How'd you get here from there?"
"Yeh'll find out." He stopped in the middle of the alley and stuck out the flowery pink umbrella he carried, as if flagging a taxi.
"Uh, Hagrid, if you want a cab, you have to be standing on the str—whoa!!!"
There was a loud BANG and Chris yelped. A gigantic purple bus had appeared from out of nowhere. On the side, in swirling gold letters, were the words The Knight Bus: International Edition. (A/N: I know PoA says the words are on the front of the bus, but this is the international edition!)
The door slid open and a gangling, pimple-faced youth in some kind of uniform appeared. "Welcome to the Knight Bus, the International Edition, emergency transportation for the witch or wizard stranded abroad—"
"Hello, Stan," Hagrid said. "Can we come in now?"
"'Course you can," Stan said, crestfallen because he couldn't deliver his little speech. He looked curiously at Chris as they got on the Knight Bus. "New 'Ogwarts student?"
"Yep. Dumbledore sent me ter fetch him."
"'E looks kind of old to be new," the young man said dubiously as the huge man gave him some silver coins.
"He's entering as a fifth year."
Stan nodded as he guided them down the center aisle of the bus. On either side of them, instead of the usual seats, were beds. Their occupants snored peacefully as they passed by. "'E must be real important, for Dumbledore to send you to get 'im."
"Dumbledore wanted me to make sure he knew how ter get ter Hogwarts," Hagrid said lightly.
"I 'eard the only other student Dumbledore sent you to fetch was 'Arry Potter," Stan persisted. At Hagrid's dark look, he paled and changed the subject. "Woss your name, anyway?" he asked Chris.
"He hasn't got one yet," Hagrid said before Chris could answer.
"What?" Chris and Stan asked in unison.
"He doesn't have a proper wizard name yet," Hagrid said, his tone impatient.
Stan gave Chris an odd look. "All right, then," he said as they stopped at two beds near the back of the bus. "Well!" he said in a brighter tone, "'ere you are. Enjoy your trip. If you need anything, I'll be in front with the driver."
"What's all this about a wizard name?" Chris asked Hagrid when Stan had gone.
"I'll explain it to yeh later," he replied as he got into bed, which groaned under his weight. "Crikey, I'm tired. Couldn't sleep las' night. Yeh better get in bed, too, son," Hagrid said, gesturing toward the other bed.
"But I'm not—" Presently there was another loud BANG and Chris was thrown backward, almost falling into Hagrid's bed as the bus began to move at a breakneck speed. He got into the other bed and sat up against the pillow, looking out the window as they left Brooklyn behind.
"Yeh better get some sleep," Hagrid advised sleepily, bundling himself into his blankets. "It's a long way ter England."
"Yes, I know," Chris replied as Hagrid began to snore.
"Wake up, boy," a rough voice said in the darkness.
Chris jolted awake as he felt someone prodding his shoulder. However, the face looking down at him didn't belong to his foster father, but to Hagrid. "We're here, son."
"At the airport?" he asked sleepily.
Hagrid looked confused. "In London."
"London?!" He sat up in bed and looked around wildly. "The bus took us all the way to London?!"
"'Course it did," Hagrid replied, still confused. "That's what we paid for."
Something tells me I'm not in Kansas anymore, Chris thought as he followed Hagrid out of the bus and onto the street. Sure enough, there were large red double-decker buses on the streets and people driving on the wrong side of the road. "Far out," he whispered. He wished it were morning so he could see everything better.
"Come on, son," Hagrid said, ignoring the loud BANG and disappearance of the Knight Bus, "let's go into the Leaky Cauldron."
The Leaky Cauldron was a tiny hole-in-the-wall place, but it was packed with people having dinner. They were all wearing weird cloaks and things, the way witches and wizards did in story books.
Hagrid went up to the bar. "Some dinner, Tom," he told the balding bartender, "and a room for the night."
"I told you I don't have any money," Chris said.
"Hogwarts will take care of it," Hagrid told Tom.
His face flamed as Tom took them to a small private dining area where a short, plump man in a pinstriped cloak was having some tea. "'Evening, Minister Fudge," Hagrid greeted the man, who only nodded briefly and went back to his tea.
"Don't say hi or anything," Chris muttered.
"What's that yeh said?"
"Just talking to myself," he said as they sat at another table. Tom brought them bowls of soup and a platter of sandwiches. Chris's stomach growled loudly, reminding him that he hadn't eaten anything for the entire day, and Hagrid motioned for him to dig in.
In between bites of sandwich and spoonfuls of soup, Hagrid filled him in on the magical world. "OK, I think I understand that now," Chris said, interrupting Hagrid's discussion on how Muggles ignored magic, "now what's all this about a wizard name?"
The huge man took a sip of tea and turned deadly serious. "Now, son, I reckon Dumbledore'd be better at explainin' it all to yeh, but he tol' me yeh should never tell anyone yer real name."
"Is this true for all the Muggles that enter the magical world?"
Hagrid nodded. "A new policy o' Dumbledore's."
"But why?"
"I'm not too clear on the details meself. Dumbledore'll explain it better than I ever could. He jus' says it's very important."
"So what will I tell people when they ask me what my name is?"
Hagrid looked reflectively at the boy seated across the table. Unlike his previous charge, this one was tall and lanky, with blond hair, startlingly dark brows, and clear blue eyes. There was a strange metal post piercing through his right eyebrow. "Hex. I think Dumbledore suggested yeh call yerself Hex. What d'yeh think?"
Concluding A/N: Ha! Two chapters in about twelve hours! How about that? Actually, I finished the entire story early this year and am just feeding it to you in installments **evil laugh** At least I refine each part a bit before you get to see it. Hope you like how it's going so far – it gets better! And mad love goes to Taracollowen, for my first-ever review! ~ Ara Kane
