Disclaimer: Harry Potter and most related characters, locations and indicia belong to Joanne Kathleen Rowling (not, I stress, Warner Brothers, who only hold rights over the film.)
A/N: I am very sorry about the length that it took to prepare this climatic chapter. I was a slave to my Standard Grades (the Muggle Scottish equivalent to O.W.L.s.) I am also somewhat depressed due to Personal matters; so excuse if my writing is not up to the small standard that even it should be capable of reaching. You will need to read the following chapter extremely carefully if you do not want to get lost.
The Parting of the Twain (PG)
Chapter 12: The Convergence of the Twain
... Before he opened his eyes, George could have sworn that his soul had been ripped from his body, so abused did he feel. However, when his eyes did open to his surroundings, he realised with a jolt that something far more precious had been stolen. His immediate thought was for Padma's safety, but as selfless as George Weasley was, his mind soon returned to his own situation.
What had happened? He had been with Padma, had kissed her, had for one priceless moment felt part of something great, possibly even greater than being a twin... Then he had felt Padma being taken away from him, had heard her scream, her cry his name. Though he hadn't felt his feet moving, his body had been forced to apparate to here.
Here was a pitch-black, freezing cold, slimy, rough-sided cranny of a room. With a jump (half because of the temperature, half because of sudden inspiration) he realised that this was the place he and Padma had been brought to on Halloween. Surely that must mean she was here too? He could bear it if he could only hear her voice!
"Padma?" he called in an excited whisper. "Are you there?"
He hated the Sound of Silence so much. Why had they separated them? They had both been taken to the same place on Halloween, so surely Padma must be here too? Perhaps she was unconscious, shaken by the journey. He began to claw his way around the cell (much to his surprise he had not been pinioned), but soon found that he was the only object in the room.
Why was he on his own then?
Padma would have been brought here as well, unless... unless he was the only one they wanted. He gulped. Had he dragged her into all this? He selfishly shook his head, denying it. Padma had had dreams too... she had supposedly been born under the Dark Mark as well...
Time had not split again, had it? Was she in a different reality?
George's mind jumped from one conclusion to another like flames dancing on wildfire. He could almost hear her comforting voice calming him down. It's alright, George. Be brave.
He relaxed, allowing the tension in his muscles to lessen. She would be calm, he thought. Act like her. She would be calm.
*
"What the fuck am I doing here?" Padma yelled. She had forgotten that she had been brought up as a lady, forgotten her composure and, perhaps most importantly of all, forgotten she was the only person in the "room." The room was a midnight black cell, judging by the bars that could faintly be made out.
"I will blame you, George Weasley, if I don't get back in time to sit my O.W.L.s," she muttered in contempt. Her face brightened. "Now there's an upside! No exams!" she exclaimed. Padma realised that she had been talking aloud to herself. "I really am getting delusional..."
*
The door creaked open, casting rays of fierce light onto George's pale, drawn face. Against the brilliance of the illuminating light, George could only make out the outline of the tall, broad figure he was faced with. However, as soon as he heard the all-too familiar, greasy voice say, "Follow me, Mr. Weasley", he was overcome with recognition. "You..." he muttered, getting to his feet.
"I am indeed myself," came the cold, curt retort. "Would you follow me please?" He held the door open for George.
"I always knew you were a bastard," swore George, still in the doorway. "I knew it the first time I laid eyes on you."
"Will you follow me or will I have to use force?" the other demanded, cooly. George knew it was pointless to struggle, so reluctantly stepped out of the cell into the brightness and allowed the door to be shut and locked behind him. The man who George had hated for so many years walked briskly ahead and George had to practically run to keep up.
"I always knew Dumbledore was wrong to trust you again," spat George. "It just goes to show that even he can be wrong." Here, the man stopped and stared at George, baffled. Then, thinking it was some ploy to trap him continued walking.
"So are you going to tell me who - or what - I'm up against, or am I going to have to use the little knowledge you taught me in Defence Against the Dark Arts?"
"I am a good teacher!" the Professor retorted, hissing.
"Sure you are..." mocked George. "Why does everyone drop Potions as soon as they get the chance then?"
"Because you ignorant twerp," replied Severus Snape. "No-one in this stupid school has any sense. When I taught Potions years and years ago..."
"What?" asked George, distracted.
Snape turned on him."I can tell you're going to be just like the others, Weasley. Easily distracted, no concentration..."
"Okay, so now I'm thinking you've got amnesia. You know I have no concentration."
"We're here," said Snape, abruptly and swung open a door.
*
"I am so glad to see you, Professor," gasped Padma.
"As I am you, Miss Patil," replied the erect woman, but she continued walking apace.
"So, er, not to be impolite, but where are we?" asked Padma, struggling to keep up. The Professor stopped walking, looked surprised, and pushed the glasses further up her nose. "I should have thought that it was obvious. We are in Hogwarts. Honestly, have they taught you nothing?"
"They?" asked Padma, blankly.
"Your teachers."
"But you're my... oh never mind." Padma laughed nervously and changed the subject. "So has Hogwarts been refurbished then? Glad to see the Ministry's been paying us some attention, but I really preferred it the way it was, didn't you, Professor McGonagall?"
There was no reply, so Padma assumed her question had been taken rhetorically.
"As much as I love school and everything," she tried again. "Why am I here?"
"Why are you here?" asked McGonagall, completely astonished. "Why?"
"Yes... I went home for the holidays. I told Professor Vector I was going." They had stopped walking and were next to a door. McGonagall grasped the handle. "I thought all had been explained," she gasped. "Where else would the ceremony take place but at Hogwarts?"
Padma was beginning to shiver and for the first time in her life, doubted the woman in front of her. "What - what ceremony?" she asked, steadying her voice.
"The one you've been subconsciously preparing yourself for all your life." McGonagall consulted her Witch Watch. "And the one for which you are now late." McGonagall turned the handle.
*
Both of them entered at the same time. Padma's heart felt much lightened by the sight of him, but George felt immediate relief that she was alright and delayed fear of what would happen to her - to them - now. She ran over to him (glad that neither McGonagall nor Snape tried to stop her) and considered throwing her arms around his neck, but thought better of it.
"I take it you know something weird's going on..." he muttered to her. As petrified and alarmed as Padma was regarding their immediate fate, she did feel a bit putout. "Nice to see you too,"she muttered under her breath.
"What?" asked George.
Padma shook her head. "I know, McGonagall acted as if she didn't know me... it's weird."
"And Snape thinks he hasn't been teaching Potions for years."
"Didn't anyone ever teach you not to whisper?" asked a voice. Both of them looked up and were astonished to find that the hall they were in was full of the students that they knew, that they worked, played and slept alongside.
However, it was clear that the students had no recollection of ever having met Padma and George. Their so-called friends were surveying them with looks of wonder and suspicion. Padma gulped as she felt the eyes of a hundred familiar boys look her up and down.
"Now I understand," continued the voice, and (as Padma's jaw dropped) they saw that it belonged to Mandy, "You can't speak above whispering, can you?"
The hall echoed with laughter. Padma shook her head, bemused. Was this her best friend? She sounded like Amanda Brocklehurst, but the way she held herself was completely different... she resembled Pansy Parkinson. Though she had Mandy's appearance, several things had changed in what appeared to be an hour. Mandy's wavy, brown hair had been straightened so that it was sleek and shiny. It had golden highlights in it. She also had more confidence, the trait that Lisa had always posessed. Lisa... Lisa was standing away from Mandy; in fact she was standing away from everyone, shying away in a corner. She joined in the laughter occasionally, but was careful not to allow anyone to overhear her giggles.
George's keen eyes, meanwhile had scoured the hall and found Lee. George was equally as surprised as Padma - Lee's dreadlocks were gone and for once he did not seem to be the centre of attention.
"So it's you - is it?" asked a familiar voice. George followed its sound. This speaker was altered too. She still had fiery red hair, but it was worn in a neat bob, not in plaits. She walked with grace, not her naïve little run and she did not look at George in the affectionate way that he was used to. "Mum always said she had a fourth son. I thought it was a joke for a while but then... well here you are, living proof." She stopped and shook her head, grimacing. Even this weak attempt at a smile did not have the appearance of his little sister.
"Ginny," stammered George. "I - I don't understand... where are we? Why are you acting like this? Is it the Imperius spell?"
Another boy came forward and took Ginny's hand. "The Master said you would be like this," he said leading Ginny forward, closer to George. "Dazed, confused, disbelieving. Eventually though," he whispered to George. "You're forced to believe, made to accept."
George saw what they were doing now - it was a joke, all an act. He prayed that he was right, but could not convince himself.
"Accept what, Ron?" asked George. "If this an attempt to make me accept that you're a prat, then there's really no need. I already knew that." George caught Padma's eye and she swallowed a laugh.
An older boy came forward and stood next to Ron and Ginny. "Deep down, you know it's not a joke, don't you?"
"A joke?" asked George, although he was less amused now. "Of course it's a joke. I mean, come on, you're not even wearing your glasses! Since when has Percival Weasley been known to face a person without his good ol' specs?"
Another boy came to stand next to Percy and they acted as though George had never spoken. "Deep down, you know this is reality."
George rolled his eyes. "Do shut up Charlie," he sighed shaking his head.
The final brother came forth. "You know this is reality, the reality that you've been defying all through that empty space of time you know as your life."
George blinked and exchanged a glance with Padma. "God, Bill, who died and left you Poet Laureate?" Then George did a double-take. "What the hell did you do with your hair?" he asked, even though it was pretty obvious that Bill had shaved it off.
Padma took George's arm. "Is that it?" she asked quietly.
"Must be..." he muttered. "No hold on." He began counting his siblings. "One, two, three, four, five. Six including me so that's still missing one. Who's not here?"
Padma smiled at him. "Your twin?"
George jumped. How could he have forgotten him? He was a part of him. When he looked at old photographs, it was near impossible to tell who was who. "Yeah," he challenged his brothers and sister. "Where's he?"
"He?" quizzed Bill, tilting his shaved head.
"Yeah, you know, him. The fourth son in our family... my twin? You know... Padma, what's his name again?"
Padma jumped with shock. "I - I can't seem to remember - " she stammered. George, completely lost, looked to his feet for answer. One came. "Padma," he muttered. "Look at the floor." She did as he asked and was completely and utterly taken aback. The ground they were standing on was bewitched to look like the sky above: a grey sky with a storm coming.
"I can't believe it," muttered Padma. "It's - it's upside down!"
Ginny let go of Ron's hand and walked over to George and Padma. "What is?"
"Everything," said George and Padma in unison.
"Everything is the opposite," said George, the realisation filling him with excitement. "Bill's long hair is gone - "
"Mandy's hair is straight -" exclaimed Padma.
"Percy doesn't have his glasses-"
"Lee doesn't have his dreadlocks -"
"All rise for the Master," announced Snape, interrupting them. At once the crowds of pupils fell to their knees and bowed their heads.
"What's Dumbledore got them on?" asked Padma in whisper to George.
"Something tells me," replied George. "That "the Master" isn't Dumbledore."
Something informed George correctly. The doors opened to the hundreds of crouched pupils, bowing down before their master, and he entered. His pearly white beard was even longer than Dumbledore's: it dragged behind the man, but somehow he managed not to trip on it. He was dressed in magnificent mauve dress robes, which ended in a long train held by two neat house-elves, which George recognised to be Winky and Dobby. He came to stand where Padma and George were and ordered the elves to fetch his golden seat. It was brought and he sat whilst ordering his pupils to rise to their feet.
"So," he finally announced, looking erect. "You have come."
"We were dragged," replied Padma, coldly. The pupils gasped at such forwardness, but the Headmaster looked amused. "That is one way of putting it," he agreed. "Tell me, Miss Patil, do you know where you are?"
Padma paused, trying to conjure up her wit. "Judging by the way the other pupils prostate in front of you as though you were God, I'd say a surreal world in a nineteenth century time warp." Again, there was a murmur of astonishment.
"Wrong on both counts," replied the Headmaster, satisfied. "Firstly, we are in the twentieth century and the date is now the 26th of April, 1996. Secondly, this is the real world."
"But that can't be!" came the retort. The Headmaster held up a small bottle of perfume and sprayed it around the room. "Why can't it be, Parvati?" he asked sincerely.
"Because we've come from - what did you just call me?" she asked, curiously.
"I called you Parvati," replied the Headmaster smoothly. "Have I pronounced your name wrong?"
Parvati shook her head. "No," she replied slowly. "That's how Ammi and Abbu (my mum and dad) say it..." She trailed off. "What do you think?" she asked her friend.
Fred looked baffled. "I don't know," he said. "Maybe I call you Ti for short or something?"
"I don't think so Fred," replied Parvati. She looked up at the Headmaster. "I'm sorry - where were we?"
"I think you were telling us how you arrived here," replied the Professor.
"Oh yes," said Parvati and she resumed her story. "We've come from... from..." She trailed off, uncomfortably. "Er, Fred, maybe you should continue.
"Um, okay." Fred took in a deep breath, but had to let it out again. "I can't seem to remember!" he exclaimed, kicking himself inwardly.
The Headmaster smiled. "That's perfectly alright. You're both very tired. It makes no difference, anyhow, the letters that we've received from your parents explain everything - you Parvati, have just returned from India where you have lived for five years looking after your aged grandfather."
"Oh," said Parvati uncertainly. "Yes, of course."
"And you Fred," continued the Headmaster, "finished your education at Beauxbatons Academy and have returned in order to apply for the post of Games Master."
"How could I have forgotten?" exclaimed Fred, smiling.
"Well, all that's settled then," replied the Headmaster. "All that remains is for me to introduce you to the Head Boy and Head Girl."
The door opened once more and a boy and girl of about Parvati's age entered the hall. The boy had neat hair that was Parvati's dark colour and eyes of dazzling green. His hand was held by a girl with short, chocolate brown hair. "May I present Harry Potter and Hermione Granger?" announced one of the house-elves.
The couple (obviously very much in love) walked over to Parvati and Fred. "Have we met?" asked Parvati to the Head Girl.
"I don't think so," replied Hermione Granger with a laugh.
"Don't you have some sort of - of mark on your head?" asked a confused Fred, to the Head Boy.
"Ssh!" hushed Harry Potter. "Don't let my girlfriend find out I have acne!" The hall echoed with laughter.
"It is late," announced the teacher who had brought Parvati in.
"Quite right, my dear Minerva," replied the Headmaster. "Goodnight my pupils!"
"Goodnight Professor Riddle," they chorused.
Parvati jumped at this and had a sudden feeling of déjà vu. She was sure she had heard that name before. However, in an instant, it had gone.
"Your room is upstairs to the left," smiled Hermione. "I'll leave you to say goodnight to Fred, first."
The hall slowly emptied and the chatter died away. Fred and Parvati were left, alone at last. "How do you feel?" he asked.
"Drained," she muttered. "Really, really strange."
"Must be the jetlag," he said. "But I feel empty as well." There was an awkward pause. "Well I guess I'll see you in the morning." He took her hand to kiss it goodnight. As he did so, a turquoise bracelet slid down her slender wrist and his eyes dilated at what was written on it.
"Padma?" he asked. She jumped.
"George?" she asked in turn. In that instant, their memories came flooding back to them, and the horror of their immediate situation finally became apparent.
A/N: Hope you're not too confused. Thanks to Fledge, Ginny, Lara, Princess Katrina and loads of others.
A/N: I am very sorry about the length that it took to prepare this climatic chapter. I was a slave to my Standard Grades (the Muggle Scottish equivalent to O.W.L.s.) I am also somewhat depressed due to Personal matters; so excuse if my writing is not up to the small standard that even it should be capable of reaching. You will need to read the following chapter extremely carefully if you do not want to get lost.
The Parting of the Twain (PG)
Chapter 12: The Convergence of the Twain
... Before he opened his eyes, George could have sworn that his soul had been ripped from his body, so abused did he feel. However, when his eyes did open to his surroundings, he realised with a jolt that something far more precious had been stolen. His immediate thought was for Padma's safety, but as selfless as George Weasley was, his mind soon returned to his own situation.
What had happened? He had been with Padma, had kissed her, had for one priceless moment felt part of something great, possibly even greater than being a twin... Then he had felt Padma being taken away from him, had heard her scream, her cry his name. Though he hadn't felt his feet moving, his body had been forced to apparate to here.
Here was a pitch-black, freezing cold, slimy, rough-sided cranny of a room. With a jump (half because of the temperature, half because of sudden inspiration) he realised that this was the place he and Padma had been brought to on Halloween. Surely that must mean she was here too? He could bear it if he could only hear her voice!
"Padma?" he called in an excited whisper. "Are you there?"
He hated the Sound of Silence so much. Why had they separated them? They had both been taken to the same place on Halloween, so surely Padma must be here too? Perhaps she was unconscious, shaken by the journey. He began to claw his way around the cell (much to his surprise he had not been pinioned), but soon found that he was the only object in the room.
Why was he on his own then?
Padma would have been brought here as well, unless... unless he was the only one they wanted. He gulped. Had he dragged her into all this? He selfishly shook his head, denying it. Padma had had dreams too... she had supposedly been born under the Dark Mark as well...
Time had not split again, had it? Was she in a different reality?
George's mind jumped from one conclusion to another like flames dancing on wildfire. He could almost hear her comforting voice calming him down. It's alright, George. Be brave.
He relaxed, allowing the tension in his muscles to lessen. She would be calm, he thought. Act like her. She would be calm.
*
"What the fuck am I doing here?" Padma yelled. She had forgotten that she had been brought up as a lady, forgotten her composure and, perhaps most importantly of all, forgotten she was the only person in the "room." The room was a midnight black cell, judging by the bars that could faintly be made out.
"I will blame you, George Weasley, if I don't get back in time to sit my O.W.L.s," she muttered in contempt. Her face brightened. "Now there's an upside! No exams!" she exclaimed. Padma realised that she had been talking aloud to herself. "I really am getting delusional..."
*
The door creaked open, casting rays of fierce light onto George's pale, drawn face. Against the brilliance of the illuminating light, George could only make out the outline of the tall, broad figure he was faced with. However, as soon as he heard the all-too familiar, greasy voice say, "Follow me, Mr. Weasley", he was overcome with recognition. "You..." he muttered, getting to his feet.
"I am indeed myself," came the cold, curt retort. "Would you follow me please?" He held the door open for George.
"I always knew you were a bastard," swore George, still in the doorway. "I knew it the first time I laid eyes on you."
"Will you follow me or will I have to use force?" the other demanded, cooly. George knew it was pointless to struggle, so reluctantly stepped out of the cell into the brightness and allowed the door to be shut and locked behind him. The man who George had hated for so many years walked briskly ahead and George had to practically run to keep up.
"I always knew Dumbledore was wrong to trust you again," spat George. "It just goes to show that even he can be wrong." Here, the man stopped and stared at George, baffled. Then, thinking it was some ploy to trap him continued walking.
"So are you going to tell me who - or what - I'm up against, or am I going to have to use the little knowledge you taught me in Defence Against the Dark Arts?"
"I am a good teacher!" the Professor retorted, hissing.
"Sure you are..." mocked George. "Why does everyone drop Potions as soon as they get the chance then?"
"Because you ignorant twerp," replied Severus Snape. "No-one in this stupid school has any sense. When I taught Potions years and years ago..."
"What?" asked George, distracted.
Snape turned on him."I can tell you're going to be just like the others, Weasley. Easily distracted, no concentration..."
"Okay, so now I'm thinking you've got amnesia. You know I have no concentration."
"We're here," said Snape, abruptly and swung open a door.
*
"I am so glad to see you, Professor," gasped Padma.
"As I am you, Miss Patil," replied the erect woman, but she continued walking apace.
"So, er, not to be impolite, but where are we?" asked Padma, struggling to keep up. The Professor stopped walking, looked surprised, and pushed the glasses further up her nose. "I should have thought that it was obvious. We are in Hogwarts. Honestly, have they taught you nothing?"
"They?" asked Padma, blankly.
"Your teachers."
"But you're my... oh never mind." Padma laughed nervously and changed the subject. "So has Hogwarts been refurbished then? Glad to see the Ministry's been paying us some attention, but I really preferred it the way it was, didn't you, Professor McGonagall?"
There was no reply, so Padma assumed her question had been taken rhetorically.
"As much as I love school and everything," she tried again. "Why am I here?"
"Why are you here?" asked McGonagall, completely astonished. "Why?"
"Yes... I went home for the holidays. I told Professor Vector I was going." They had stopped walking and were next to a door. McGonagall grasped the handle. "I thought all had been explained," she gasped. "Where else would the ceremony take place but at Hogwarts?"
Padma was beginning to shiver and for the first time in her life, doubted the woman in front of her. "What - what ceremony?" she asked, steadying her voice.
"The one you've been subconsciously preparing yourself for all your life." McGonagall consulted her Witch Watch. "And the one for which you are now late." McGonagall turned the handle.
*
Both of them entered at the same time. Padma's heart felt much lightened by the sight of him, but George felt immediate relief that she was alright and delayed fear of what would happen to her - to them - now. She ran over to him (glad that neither McGonagall nor Snape tried to stop her) and considered throwing her arms around his neck, but thought better of it.
"I take it you know something weird's going on..." he muttered to her. As petrified and alarmed as Padma was regarding their immediate fate, she did feel a bit putout. "Nice to see you too,"she muttered under her breath.
"What?" asked George.
Padma shook her head. "I know, McGonagall acted as if she didn't know me... it's weird."
"And Snape thinks he hasn't been teaching Potions for years."
"Didn't anyone ever teach you not to whisper?" asked a voice. Both of them looked up and were astonished to find that the hall they were in was full of the students that they knew, that they worked, played and slept alongside.
However, it was clear that the students had no recollection of ever having met Padma and George. Their so-called friends were surveying them with looks of wonder and suspicion. Padma gulped as she felt the eyes of a hundred familiar boys look her up and down.
"Now I understand," continued the voice, and (as Padma's jaw dropped) they saw that it belonged to Mandy, "You can't speak above whispering, can you?"
The hall echoed with laughter. Padma shook her head, bemused. Was this her best friend? She sounded like Amanda Brocklehurst, but the way she held herself was completely different... she resembled Pansy Parkinson. Though she had Mandy's appearance, several things had changed in what appeared to be an hour. Mandy's wavy, brown hair had been straightened so that it was sleek and shiny. It had golden highlights in it. She also had more confidence, the trait that Lisa had always posessed. Lisa... Lisa was standing away from Mandy; in fact she was standing away from everyone, shying away in a corner. She joined in the laughter occasionally, but was careful not to allow anyone to overhear her giggles.
George's keen eyes, meanwhile had scoured the hall and found Lee. George was equally as surprised as Padma - Lee's dreadlocks were gone and for once he did not seem to be the centre of attention.
"So it's you - is it?" asked a familiar voice. George followed its sound. This speaker was altered too. She still had fiery red hair, but it was worn in a neat bob, not in plaits. She walked with grace, not her naïve little run and she did not look at George in the affectionate way that he was used to. "Mum always said she had a fourth son. I thought it was a joke for a while but then... well here you are, living proof." She stopped and shook her head, grimacing. Even this weak attempt at a smile did not have the appearance of his little sister.
"Ginny," stammered George. "I - I don't understand... where are we? Why are you acting like this? Is it the Imperius spell?"
Another boy came forward and took Ginny's hand. "The Master said you would be like this," he said leading Ginny forward, closer to George. "Dazed, confused, disbelieving. Eventually though," he whispered to George. "You're forced to believe, made to accept."
George saw what they were doing now - it was a joke, all an act. He prayed that he was right, but could not convince himself.
"Accept what, Ron?" asked George. "If this an attempt to make me accept that you're a prat, then there's really no need. I already knew that." George caught Padma's eye and she swallowed a laugh.
An older boy came forward and stood next to Ron and Ginny. "Deep down, you know it's not a joke, don't you?"
"A joke?" asked George, although he was less amused now. "Of course it's a joke. I mean, come on, you're not even wearing your glasses! Since when has Percival Weasley been known to face a person without his good ol' specs?"
Another boy came to stand next to Percy and they acted as though George had never spoken. "Deep down, you know this is reality."
George rolled his eyes. "Do shut up Charlie," he sighed shaking his head.
The final brother came forth. "You know this is reality, the reality that you've been defying all through that empty space of time you know as your life."
George blinked and exchanged a glance with Padma. "God, Bill, who died and left you Poet Laureate?" Then George did a double-take. "What the hell did you do with your hair?" he asked, even though it was pretty obvious that Bill had shaved it off.
Padma took George's arm. "Is that it?" she asked quietly.
"Must be..." he muttered. "No hold on." He began counting his siblings. "One, two, three, four, five. Six including me so that's still missing one. Who's not here?"
Padma smiled at him. "Your twin?"
George jumped. How could he have forgotten him? He was a part of him. When he looked at old photographs, it was near impossible to tell who was who. "Yeah," he challenged his brothers and sister. "Where's he?"
"He?" quizzed Bill, tilting his shaved head.
"Yeah, you know, him. The fourth son in our family... my twin? You know... Padma, what's his name again?"
Padma jumped with shock. "I - I can't seem to remember - " she stammered. George, completely lost, looked to his feet for answer. One came. "Padma," he muttered. "Look at the floor." She did as he asked and was completely and utterly taken aback. The ground they were standing on was bewitched to look like the sky above: a grey sky with a storm coming.
"I can't believe it," muttered Padma. "It's - it's upside down!"
Ginny let go of Ron's hand and walked over to George and Padma. "What is?"
"Everything," said George and Padma in unison.
"Everything is the opposite," said George, the realisation filling him with excitement. "Bill's long hair is gone - "
"Mandy's hair is straight -" exclaimed Padma.
"Percy doesn't have his glasses-"
"Lee doesn't have his dreadlocks -"
"All rise for the Master," announced Snape, interrupting them. At once the crowds of pupils fell to their knees and bowed their heads.
"What's Dumbledore got them on?" asked Padma in whisper to George.
"Something tells me," replied George. "That "the Master" isn't Dumbledore."
Something informed George correctly. The doors opened to the hundreds of crouched pupils, bowing down before their master, and he entered. His pearly white beard was even longer than Dumbledore's: it dragged behind the man, but somehow he managed not to trip on it. He was dressed in magnificent mauve dress robes, which ended in a long train held by two neat house-elves, which George recognised to be Winky and Dobby. He came to stand where Padma and George were and ordered the elves to fetch his golden seat. It was brought and he sat whilst ordering his pupils to rise to their feet.
"So," he finally announced, looking erect. "You have come."
"We were dragged," replied Padma, coldly. The pupils gasped at such forwardness, but the Headmaster looked amused. "That is one way of putting it," he agreed. "Tell me, Miss Patil, do you know where you are?"
Padma paused, trying to conjure up her wit. "Judging by the way the other pupils prostate in front of you as though you were God, I'd say a surreal world in a nineteenth century time warp." Again, there was a murmur of astonishment.
"Wrong on both counts," replied the Headmaster, satisfied. "Firstly, we are in the twentieth century and the date is now the 26th of April, 1996. Secondly, this is the real world."
"But that can't be!" came the retort. The Headmaster held up a small bottle of perfume and sprayed it around the room. "Why can't it be, Parvati?" he asked sincerely.
"Because we've come from - what did you just call me?" she asked, curiously.
"I called you Parvati," replied the Headmaster smoothly. "Have I pronounced your name wrong?"
Parvati shook her head. "No," she replied slowly. "That's how Ammi and Abbu (my mum and dad) say it..." She trailed off. "What do you think?" she asked her friend.
Fred looked baffled. "I don't know," he said. "Maybe I call you Ti for short or something?"
"I don't think so Fred," replied Parvati. She looked up at the Headmaster. "I'm sorry - where were we?"
"I think you were telling us how you arrived here," replied the Professor.
"Oh yes," said Parvati and she resumed her story. "We've come from... from..." She trailed off, uncomfortably. "Er, Fred, maybe you should continue.
"Um, okay." Fred took in a deep breath, but had to let it out again. "I can't seem to remember!" he exclaimed, kicking himself inwardly.
The Headmaster smiled. "That's perfectly alright. You're both very tired. It makes no difference, anyhow, the letters that we've received from your parents explain everything - you Parvati, have just returned from India where you have lived for five years looking after your aged grandfather."
"Oh," said Parvati uncertainly. "Yes, of course."
"And you Fred," continued the Headmaster, "finished your education at Beauxbatons Academy and have returned in order to apply for the post of Games Master."
"How could I have forgotten?" exclaimed Fred, smiling.
"Well, all that's settled then," replied the Headmaster. "All that remains is for me to introduce you to the Head Boy and Head Girl."
The door opened once more and a boy and girl of about Parvati's age entered the hall. The boy had neat hair that was Parvati's dark colour and eyes of dazzling green. His hand was held by a girl with short, chocolate brown hair. "May I present Harry Potter and Hermione Granger?" announced one of the house-elves.
The couple (obviously very much in love) walked over to Parvati and Fred. "Have we met?" asked Parvati to the Head Girl.
"I don't think so," replied Hermione Granger with a laugh.
"Don't you have some sort of - of mark on your head?" asked a confused Fred, to the Head Boy.
"Ssh!" hushed Harry Potter. "Don't let my girlfriend find out I have acne!" The hall echoed with laughter.
"It is late," announced the teacher who had brought Parvati in.
"Quite right, my dear Minerva," replied the Headmaster. "Goodnight my pupils!"
"Goodnight Professor Riddle," they chorused.
Parvati jumped at this and had a sudden feeling of déjà vu. She was sure she had heard that name before. However, in an instant, it had gone.
"Your room is upstairs to the left," smiled Hermione. "I'll leave you to say goodnight to Fred, first."
The hall slowly emptied and the chatter died away. Fred and Parvati were left, alone at last. "How do you feel?" he asked.
"Drained," she muttered. "Really, really strange."
"Must be the jetlag," he said. "But I feel empty as well." There was an awkward pause. "Well I guess I'll see you in the morning." He took her hand to kiss it goodnight. As he did so, a turquoise bracelet slid down her slender wrist and his eyes dilated at what was written on it.
"Padma?" he asked. She jumped.
"George?" she asked in turn. In that instant, their memories came flooding back to them, and the horror of their immediate situation finally became apparent.
A/N: Hope you're not too confused. Thanks to Fledge, Ginny, Lara, Princess Katrina and loads of others.