Chapter Six
Upside Down and Backwards
Voices and colours seem to blend to a confusing kaleidoscope vision. Meg tried to focus on thoughts and the images that were before her. Just as she thought she could grasp what they were they flitted out and a new puzzle was set before her. In complete exhaustion she let herself fall into the comforting darkness of oblivion
Any secret in Hogswarts was a well-known fact before the sun set that day. Within the hour every student in Hogswarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry heard of the greatest taboo that could occur in their school. A Muggle was at Hogswarts! To stir up more trouble, Harry Potters' name was linked to "The Muggle" as she was referred to as now. The Slytherins were protesting their complete distaste for such a circumstance to occur. Wasn't it bad enough that Mudbloods were allowed in the space as themselves but a Muggle fouling their air was preposterous! The other houses were flabbergasted at the thought their concern was not expressed as harshly as the Slytherin counterparts. "Can't they use a memory spell or a forgetfulness potion?" Questions were mummers as students traveled from class to class. Various rumors of "I heard that she is really not a Muggle at all! She was an expelled student from the old colonies!" And that "She was the daughter of the Muggle parents was attacked from Canada during the summer." "I heard that she and Harry Potter was an item this summer, spend the whole summer together until, poof! She disappeared into thin air."
Hermione watched as Harry's jaw clenched as they passed a herd of first years whom scuttled past whispering theories of various possibilities.
"Are you doing okay Harry?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
Hermione sighed, "Oh, I don't know. Maybe it's your mood."
"What . . . oh, my mood?" He wasn't paying any attention to Hermione, or anyone else. He was wondering about Meaghan. No one was allowed to go visit her. Only Dumbledore was in allowed in, and he was their only once. Madam Pomfrey was there of course, but that didn't count.
"So will you? Aren't you listening, Harry?"
Harry looked blankly at Hermione's expected face. Ron had joined up with the group; he'll explain what she asked him. "Sure Hermione. Whatever needs to be done." Her beaming smile that he gave her the answer she wanted.
"You are the best Harry." With a peck on the cheek she hurried up into the girl's chambers.
Harry and Ron started up the stairs to the Gryffidor boy chambers. "Why am I the best?"
Ron gave his famous half smile, his blue eyes twinkling merrily. "You have no idea, do you?"
"About what?" Confusion and a hint of panic lit up in him.
"You know when Hermione found that old play book, mis-shelved in the restricted section? 'Won't You Be My Canary'?"
"Yeah, by the guy that was prosecuted by Muggles?"
"That's the one," Ron opened the door to their room. "You just agreed to appear into it. You're the Prince."
After gapping for several seconds Harry found his voice. "Ron, you better be pulling my leg, 'cause there is no way I'm being cast in Hermione's play. I can't act!"
"You get no arguments from me, but the Hufflepuff boy who was to play the part backed out. You gave your word, and Hermione is not going to let you back out."
With a groan Harry flopped onto his bed. What did he get himself into? After a moment of silence, Ron paused for a second. "Why did you think I was going pulling on your leg?"
" 'If I could fall, into the sky, do you think time will pass me by? 'Cause I would walk a thousand miles if I could just see you tonight . . . '" Meg quietly sang out the song, her fingers playing the air piano over her bed. Her fingers flying over the invisible keys, carefully keeping the beat, with the left hand moving slower than the right hand, slowly then a hard, medium fort. Usually the left hand, with its deeper notes is used as a based, with the higher notes bringing out the melody.
"Lets have a look now," Madam Pomfrey said hustling to the bedside. Meg looked over her shoulder as she did whatever magic was necessary at the moment. Her eyes rested on a portrait of a nurse helping an ailing man, and his rusted suit of armor was in a haphazard pile at the feet of the bed.
"Madam Pomfrey?"
"Yes," came the brisk answer.
"Um. Wasn't there a female patient in the painting this morning?"
Madam Pomfrey glanced up and gave a quick laugh that was just as harsh as her voice. "I'm glad The Young Girl with Flowers, is feeling better. She's always in here complaining about something. Well, you're as fit as can be. A wee bit tired, I believe but nothing some rest wouldn't cure. I'll have Servus, Professor Snape to ye now, brew up a potion with you to stop that headache that pounds between your eyes every now and again. There's a uniform for ye that Professor Dumbledore has left. Nothing fancy but it'll do you right. Probably hungry, too? You can go to the dining hall and have a bite to eat. Put some colour back into your cheeks." She left, and with a pull of the curtain the painting was out of sight.
Meg slowly sat up in the bed. Whoa, that woman is like a hurricane. After being in a sick ward nightgown, the soft shirt and blouse felt soothing against her skin. She slowly knotted up her gray tie that had the Hogswarts crest on it. Tears were making her eyelids blink rapidly. A clear memory of her father showing how tie a tie flooded back to her. She shrugged on the over black robe, the single stone on her finger glimmered. A daughter pride ring. She was truly alone. Until she could go home to her parents.
It was the tiny crack in the door, with the hinge of the huge, heavy door squeaking into the hall with the clinks of utensils on plates and chatters of the day's events. As if by their own magic, the noise paused and the door swung open. Dressed in a Hogswarts school uniform, not identifying, the young lady to be about in her 7th year. She definitely wasn't a witch, or a squib if need be. The look of complete wonder, horror and panic plagued her eyes, and tensing up of her muscles as she brought her arms to her chest, hands clasped under her chin. Fight or Flight? Her first instinct was to run, who wouldn't? Hundreds of pairs of eyes were looking at her as if she had two heads. Perhaps having two heads as a witch was more accepted than what was the word? Muggle? In their school?
"Ah, Ms. Meaghan Fountaine. It's such a pleasure that you could come and join us tonight."
Meg gazed down the hall, to the head table were around a dozen teachers sat. From there were four long tables that ran to her at the other end of the great room. Each table had specific colours, as well as the uniforms that the young wizards and witches were wearing. Similar to her own she noted. Not sure of how to address the statement, Meg lowered her head and her eyes. There is magic in this world, I see that, but if it is truly here . . . please let the floor swallow me up. Oh please . . . oh please.
She glanced up to lock eyes with a familiar green pair. They quickly looked away, a stab of hurt and humiliation hit her hard. What did I expect? He doesn't even know me. The headmaster's voice broke through her disturbed thoughts.
"Since I'm standing, I have another announcement to make. Most definitely, you have heard of Oliver Wood, member of the international Quidditch division." Cheers echoed through the hall. "Many of you probably remember Wood from his days here at Hogswarts." More cheers, and the loudest from the table where Harry sat. "Wood has decided to return to Hogswarts to replace Madam Hooch's positions. Madam Hooch has been accepted in the Senior Women's division, and will be playing with the group in the new year." Cheers and congratulations were in order all round.
Meg, who still couldn't find a sit, was thankful for the diversion taken away from herself. To her surprise she felt compelled to join the table at the far wall, silver and green banners told her that the house was Slytherin. As she approached the glares and malicious looks increased. Puzzled at their outward reaction as well as her own confused senses. Everything was so different, beautiful and strange and so damn confusing! It was entering primary all over again, only with more insecurity. She was different.
Squaring her shoulders a little, she threaded between two tables keeping her eyes at the blank spot that appeared between two teachers, or professors as they called them here. Meg reached the end of the line, and then hesitantly turned to her right. Pausing before Professor Dumbledore, and a professor with deep green robes, she cleared her throat. When attention was given she quickly excused herself. "I. I'd better go. Thank you for the invitation to join you but I must decline. I am still not feeling well, and the smell of the food . . ." She was rambling. "Excuse me, again." Her compete composer was crumbling around her feet. The tears were coming, sting her eyes, threatening to stain her cheeks. Horrified, she placed her hand to her mouth to stop the sob rising from her throat. Down the middle aisle, she fled, trying to out run the laughter and the jeers. A hand came out and grabbed her other hand.
The force of her speed and the steadiness of the grip had Meg fling around. Her vision was blurred but the jaded green eyes and slightly-to- long black hair were clear amongst the chaos.
"Don't touch me!" Her voice quieted the room. Meg tried to struggle but the grip on her wrist was too tight. "You bastard," she hissed. "You brought me here. You brought to this damn hellhole. I don't belong anywhere. I'm going home to my family! To people who love me."
The well timed marked had Harry back away.
And she was gone.
Voices and colours seem to blend to a confusing kaleidoscope vision. Meg tried to focus on thoughts and the images that were before her. Just as she thought she could grasp what they were they flitted out and a new puzzle was set before her. In complete exhaustion she let herself fall into the comforting darkness of oblivion
Any secret in Hogswarts was a well-known fact before the sun set that day. Within the hour every student in Hogswarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry heard of the greatest taboo that could occur in their school. A Muggle was at Hogswarts! To stir up more trouble, Harry Potters' name was linked to "The Muggle" as she was referred to as now. The Slytherins were protesting their complete distaste for such a circumstance to occur. Wasn't it bad enough that Mudbloods were allowed in the space as themselves but a Muggle fouling their air was preposterous! The other houses were flabbergasted at the thought their concern was not expressed as harshly as the Slytherin counterparts. "Can't they use a memory spell or a forgetfulness potion?" Questions were mummers as students traveled from class to class. Various rumors of "I heard that she is really not a Muggle at all! She was an expelled student from the old colonies!" And that "She was the daughter of the Muggle parents was attacked from Canada during the summer." "I heard that she and Harry Potter was an item this summer, spend the whole summer together until, poof! She disappeared into thin air."
Hermione watched as Harry's jaw clenched as they passed a herd of first years whom scuttled past whispering theories of various possibilities.
"Are you doing okay Harry?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
Hermione sighed, "Oh, I don't know. Maybe it's your mood."
"What . . . oh, my mood?" He wasn't paying any attention to Hermione, or anyone else. He was wondering about Meaghan. No one was allowed to go visit her. Only Dumbledore was in allowed in, and he was their only once. Madam Pomfrey was there of course, but that didn't count.
"So will you? Aren't you listening, Harry?"
Harry looked blankly at Hermione's expected face. Ron had joined up with the group; he'll explain what she asked him. "Sure Hermione. Whatever needs to be done." Her beaming smile that he gave her the answer she wanted.
"You are the best Harry." With a peck on the cheek she hurried up into the girl's chambers.
Harry and Ron started up the stairs to the Gryffidor boy chambers. "Why am I the best?"
Ron gave his famous half smile, his blue eyes twinkling merrily. "You have no idea, do you?"
"About what?" Confusion and a hint of panic lit up in him.
"You know when Hermione found that old play book, mis-shelved in the restricted section? 'Won't You Be My Canary'?"
"Yeah, by the guy that was prosecuted by Muggles?"
"That's the one," Ron opened the door to their room. "You just agreed to appear into it. You're the Prince."
After gapping for several seconds Harry found his voice. "Ron, you better be pulling my leg, 'cause there is no way I'm being cast in Hermione's play. I can't act!"
"You get no arguments from me, but the Hufflepuff boy who was to play the part backed out. You gave your word, and Hermione is not going to let you back out."
With a groan Harry flopped onto his bed. What did he get himself into? After a moment of silence, Ron paused for a second. "Why did you think I was going pulling on your leg?"
" 'If I could fall, into the sky, do you think time will pass me by? 'Cause I would walk a thousand miles if I could just see you tonight . . . '" Meg quietly sang out the song, her fingers playing the air piano over her bed. Her fingers flying over the invisible keys, carefully keeping the beat, with the left hand moving slower than the right hand, slowly then a hard, medium fort. Usually the left hand, with its deeper notes is used as a based, with the higher notes bringing out the melody.
"Lets have a look now," Madam Pomfrey said hustling to the bedside. Meg looked over her shoulder as she did whatever magic was necessary at the moment. Her eyes rested on a portrait of a nurse helping an ailing man, and his rusted suit of armor was in a haphazard pile at the feet of the bed.
"Madam Pomfrey?"
"Yes," came the brisk answer.
"Um. Wasn't there a female patient in the painting this morning?"
Madam Pomfrey glanced up and gave a quick laugh that was just as harsh as her voice. "I'm glad The Young Girl with Flowers, is feeling better. She's always in here complaining about something. Well, you're as fit as can be. A wee bit tired, I believe but nothing some rest wouldn't cure. I'll have Servus, Professor Snape to ye now, brew up a potion with you to stop that headache that pounds between your eyes every now and again. There's a uniform for ye that Professor Dumbledore has left. Nothing fancy but it'll do you right. Probably hungry, too? You can go to the dining hall and have a bite to eat. Put some colour back into your cheeks." She left, and with a pull of the curtain the painting was out of sight.
Meg slowly sat up in the bed. Whoa, that woman is like a hurricane. After being in a sick ward nightgown, the soft shirt and blouse felt soothing against her skin. She slowly knotted up her gray tie that had the Hogswarts crest on it. Tears were making her eyelids blink rapidly. A clear memory of her father showing how tie a tie flooded back to her. She shrugged on the over black robe, the single stone on her finger glimmered. A daughter pride ring. She was truly alone. Until she could go home to her parents.
It was the tiny crack in the door, with the hinge of the huge, heavy door squeaking into the hall with the clinks of utensils on plates and chatters of the day's events. As if by their own magic, the noise paused and the door swung open. Dressed in a Hogswarts school uniform, not identifying, the young lady to be about in her 7th year. She definitely wasn't a witch, or a squib if need be. The look of complete wonder, horror and panic plagued her eyes, and tensing up of her muscles as she brought her arms to her chest, hands clasped under her chin. Fight or Flight? Her first instinct was to run, who wouldn't? Hundreds of pairs of eyes were looking at her as if she had two heads. Perhaps having two heads as a witch was more accepted than what was the word? Muggle? In their school?
"Ah, Ms. Meaghan Fountaine. It's such a pleasure that you could come and join us tonight."
Meg gazed down the hall, to the head table were around a dozen teachers sat. From there were four long tables that ran to her at the other end of the great room. Each table had specific colours, as well as the uniforms that the young wizards and witches were wearing. Similar to her own she noted. Not sure of how to address the statement, Meg lowered her head and her eyes. There is magic in this world, I see that, but if it is truly here . . . please let the floor swallow me up. Oh please . . . oh please.
She glanced up to lock eyes with a familiar green pair. They quickly looked away, a stab of hurt and humiliation hit her hard. What did I expect? He doesn't even know me. The headmaster's voice broke through her disturbed thoughts.
"Since I'm standing, I have another announcement to make. Most definitely, you have heard of Oliver Wood, member of the international Quidditch division." Cheers echoed through the hall. "Many of you probably remember Wood from his days here at Hogswarts." More cheers, and the loudest from the table where Harry sat. "Wood has decided to return to Hogswarts to replace Madam Hooch's positions. Madam Hooch has been accepted in the Senior Women's division, and will be playing with the group in the new year." Cheers and congratulations were in order all round.
Meg, who still couldn't find a sit, was thankful for the diversion taken away from herself. To her surprise she felt compelled to join the table at the far wall, silver and green banners told her that the house was Slytherin. As she approached the glares and malicious looks increased. Puzzled at their outward reaction as well as her own confused senses. Everything was so different, beautiful and strange and so damn confusing! It was entering primary all over again, only with more insecurity. She was different.
Squaring her shoulders a little, she threaded between two tables keeping her eyes at the blank spot that appeared between two teachers, or professors as they called them here. Meg reached the end of the line, and then hesitantly turned to her right. Pausing before Professor Dumbledore, and a professor with deep green robes, she cleared her throat. When attention was given she quickly excused herself. "I. I'd better go. Thank you for the invitation to join you but I must decline. I am still not feeling well, and the smell of the food . . ." She was rambling. "Excuse me, again." Her compete composer was crumbling around her feet. The tears were coming, sting her eyes, threatening to stain her cheeks. Horrified, she placed her hand to her mouth to stop the sob rising from her throat. Down the middle aisle, she fled, trying to out run the laughter and the jeers. A hand came out and grabbed her other hand.
The force of her speed and the steadiness of the grip had Meg fling around. Her vision was blurred but the jaded green eyes and slightly-to- long black hair were clear amongst the chaos.
"Don't touch me!" Her voice quieted the room. Meg tried to struggle but the grip on her wrist was too tight. "You bastard," she hissed. "You brought me here. You brought to this damn hellhole. I don't belong anywhere. I'm going home to my family! To people who love me."
The well timed marked had Harry back away.
And she was gone.