2. To England
A/N: Oy! Talk about obsessed! I've already finished another chapter! Sandra tells Tracey the truth and they head to England to find a certain wizard.
"Why are we going again, Mom?" Tracey asked, even as she sorted through her belongings.
Sandra sighed as she opened a suitcase. "Your father may be alive after all, Tracey."
Blue eyes wide, Tracey stared up at her mother. "Are you serious?"
Sandra nodded, hazel eyes somber. "Yes, Tracey."
"How do you know?" Tracey asked as she handed clothes to her mother. "Because of the letter from the American Magic Academy?"
"Yes." Sandra nodded as she packed the clothes in the suitcase. "Because of the letter."
Tracey handed the last of her clothes to her mother. "But why would the letter give you hope?"
Sandra sighed again as she finished packing Tracey's clothes. "I was actually born on March 21, 1845, Tracey."
"But you don't look a day over thirty," Tracey pointed out as Sandra shut the suitcase and opened another.
Sandra smiled slightly as Tracey began placing her books in the suitcase. "I grew up with two boys named Albus and Aberforth Dumbledore."
"Those are interesting names," Tracey commented, packing another layer of books.
Sandra nodded her agreement, handing her daughter more books. "Yes, but they were very nice, although Aberforth was fascinated with goats for some reason."
Tracey giggled as she finished packing her books. "So, why are you telling me this?"
"Albus Dumbledore is your father," Sandra told Tracey as the girl closed the suitcase and zipped it shut. "When he began courting me, he told me that he and Aberforth were wizards. I didn't care. I loved him and that's what mattered. We were married for only a few months when I became pregnant with you."
Tracey smiled, curling up on her side with her head and Sandra's lap. "You must have been about nineteen."
Sandra nodded. "Both of us were. When I was about seven months along, I went shopping for baby clothes. I have yet to figure out how I went from walking along the street in the nearby town, to falling on top of Ryan." Sandra sighed and shook her head. "He was a blessing in disguise, Tracey. Nothing was familiar to me. The weather was warmer and dryer than I was used to, the fashions were a far cry from what I'd grown up with, and the technology had advanced beyond what I knew."
Tracey sat up and hugged her mother tightly. "It must have been scary for you, to be confronted with the unknown like that."
"It was," Sandra agreed, hugging her daughter back. "Luckily, Ryan offered to take me in and help me. We married within a week of our first meeting, because I was uncomfortable living with him without the benefit of marriage."
"But what about my father?" Tracey asked curiously. "Weren't you still married to him?"
Tears appeared in Sandra's eyes. "I had no way of determining if there was magic in this place I'd found myself in. I was Muggle--what wizards call non-magic people--so I couldn't very well try casting a simple spell. As far as I knew, Albus was dead. I annulled my marriage to him so I could marry Ryan."
"So, the letter from the American Magic Academy confirmed that there _is_ magic," Tracey commented thoughtfully.
"Yes." Sandra nodded as she pulled out a tissue and dabbed at her eyes. "Since I know there's magic, there's a chance your father is alive after all."
Tracey frowned as she pulled a small duffle bag out and began packing stuff she would take on the plane with her into it. "He must be pretty old by now, though. Wouldn't he have died anyway?"
"No, he wouldn't, because witches and wizards live longer than Muggles do," Sandra explained, watching as Tracey tucked a dog-eared book into the bag. "I would have died longer before now if I hadn't gone forward in time."
Tracey nodded as she zipped the duffle bag closed. "I think I understand now. You want to go to England to find my father."
"Right," Sandra tossed the used tissue into the trashcan. "I'm not surprised that you're a witch, Tracey. Your father promised to be a powerful wizard, even when he was nineteen."
Tracey smiled. "Let's hope we can find him."
"If we don't find him, he'll find us, I'm sure of it."
* * *
"Albus, is something wrong?" Minerva McGonagall's voice drew Albus Dumbledore from his thoughts.
He shook his head. "No, Minerva. I was just...thinking."
She looked curious. "About what?"
"Nothing, my dear." He waved a hand dismissively. "Only about the past."
She frowned at him, but didn't push the issue. She'd known him long enough to know when to push and when not to. This was not the time. "Well, we have the present to think about right now."
"Yes, I know." Albus sighed softly, banishing thoughts of Sandra Cooper to the back of his mind. "There is still much we need to do to prepare for the Quidditch World Cup."
Minerva nodded. "I know there will be Ministry personnel there to deal with any potential problems, but I, personally would feel better if we had someone there, just in case."
"Are you volunteering, my dear?" Albus asked, blue eyes twinkling.
Minerva's cheeks turned pink and she dropped her gaze to her lap. "Well, I, er, this is--"
Albus held up a hand to stop her. "All you had to do was tell me you'd like to go."
"Well, I _would_ like to go, Albus," she admitted, "but only if you can spare me."
"Oh, I'm sure Hogwarts can do without you for a day or two," Albus assured her with a smile and a wink. "Go ahead and go."
She smiled at him. "Thank you, Albus, but wouldn't you like to go as well?"
He shook his head. "No, I'll listen on the Wireless."
"Very well."
* * *
Tracey looked around with interest as she and her mother walked along a London street. "Wow, Mom. This is so cool."
"So different," Sandra murmured, looking around with as much interest as her daughter. "So very different."
Tracey glanced up at her mother. "It's been well over a hundred years, Mom."
"Hush, Tracey." Sandra glanced around; worried that someone had overheard her daughter. "You never know who might be listening, or watching.
Neither noticed the silver tabby cat jump down from a wall and begin trailing after them. "Do you have any idea where to look for my father?"
Sandra sighed and shook her head. "I'm afraid I don't, Tracey. Albus and I never discussed that much."
"Excuse me." The female voice had a slight Scottish brogue to it and it brought mother and daughter around to face a tall, slender woman with long black hair pulled back into a braid, wearing an emerald green dress and a black coat, since it had been a rather cold summer in England so far. "Would you two happen to be looking for Albus Dumbledore?"
Tracey opened her mouth to reply, but Sandra's hand on the girl's shoulder stopped her. "Who would like to know?"
"I am Minerva McGonagall," the strange woman replied. "I can take you to Albus Dumbledore, if you tell me who you are and why you're looking for him."
Sandra glanced at her daughter. The bright blue eyes were pleading. Sandra sighed. "I am Sandra Andrews and this is my daughter, Tracey Cooper. Albus is her father."
Ms. McGonagall's dark green eyes widened for a moment. "Come with me."
Holding tight to her mother's hand, Tracey and Sandra followed Ms. McGonagall back the way they'd come. Within a few moments, they reached a dingy-looking pub and Ms. McGonagall led them inside. The bartender hailed her almost immediately. "Hello, Professor! Looking for a little something to warm you up?"
"No, sorry, Tom," Professor McGonagall replied, ushering Sandra and Tracey through the room. "I do not have time for a drink. Some other time."
"Right you are, Professor," Tom nodded to the professor and turned to his other patrons.
Tracey kept turning her head every which way in an effort to see everything as they were ushered into a quiet parlor with a crackling fire. Drawing a drawstring pouch from her pocket, Professor McGonagall strode to the fireplace and threw a pinch of some glittering substance onto the flames. "Albus Dumbledore."
Sandra and Tracey both gasped when a head appeared in the flames, a long beard sweeping out of sight. "Minerva? Why are you calling me? I thought--"
"Albus, you need to come to the Leaky Cauldron right away," Professor McGonagall interrupted the man quickly. "There is some pressing business that needs your attention immediately."
He gazed at the woman over the tops of the half-moon spectacles perched on the bridge of his long and crooked nose for a long moment. "Very well, I am on my way."
The head disappeared with a 'pop' and Professor McGonagall turned to Sandra and Tracey. "Was that Albus?"
"Yes, Miss Andrews, that was," Professor McGonagall confirmed with a nod as she pulled a piece of wood out of her pocket and pointed it at her clothes. Muttering a few words, the dress and coat became what could only be described as robes. Pointing it at her hair, the ebony tresses rearranged themselves into a bun on the top of her head.
"Missus," Sandra corrected as four wooden chairs and a matching table appeared.
"I beg your pardon?" Professor McGonagall looked curiously at the smaller woman as she sat down at the table. "Won't you sit down?"
Tracey scrambled into a chair while her mother remained standing. "I'm married."
A black brow rose and the dark green eyes went to Tracey. "Not to Albus Dumbledore?"
"A long time ago," Sandra answered softly, slowly sitting down beside her daughter.
Before the professor could ask any more questions, the door opened to admit a tall, thin man with long sweeping silver hair and a matching beard. He, too, wore robes, though his were a rich, deep blue with silver stars embroidered on them while Professor McGonagall's were emerald green. His eyes, though, were the same bright, piercing blue as Tracey's. "Minerva, what is--Sandra? I thought you were dead."
A/N: Oy! Talk about obsessed! I've already finished another chapter! Sandra tells Tracey the truth and they head to England to find a certain wizard.
"Why are we going again, Mom?" Tracey asked, even as she sorted through her belongings.
Sandra sighed as she opened a suitcase. "Your father may be alive after all, Tracey."
Blue eyes wide, Tracey stared up at her mother. "Are you serious?"
Sandra nodded, hazel eyes somber. "Yes, Tracey."
"How do you know?" Tracey asked as she handed clothes to her mother. "Because of the letter from the American Magic Academy?"
"Yes." Sandra nodded as she packed the clothes in the suitcase. "Because of the letter."
Tracey handed the last of her clothes to her mother. "But why would the letter give you hope?"
Sandra sighed again as she finished packing Tracey's clothes. "I was actually born on March 21, 1845, Tracey."
"But you don't look a day over thirty," Tracey pointed out as Sandra shut the suitcase and opened another.
Sandra smiled slightly as Tracey began placing her books in the suitcase. "I grew up with two boys named Albus and Aberforth Dumbledore."
"Those are interesting names," Tracey commented, packing another layer of books.
Sandra nodded her agreement, handing her daughter more books. "Yes, but they were very nice, although Aberforth was fascinated with goats for some reason."
Tracey giggled as she finished packing her books. "So, why are you telling me this?"
"Albus Dumbledore is your father," Sandra told Tracey as the girl closed the suitcase and zipped it shut. "When he began courting me, he told me that he and Aberforth were wizards. I didn't care. I loved him and that's what mattered. We were married for only a few months when I became pregnant with you."
Tracey smiled, curling up on her side with her head and Sandra's lap. "You must have been about nineteen."
Sandra nodded. "Both of us were. When I was about seven months along, I went shopping for baby clothes. I have yet to figure out how I went from walking along the street in the nearby town, to falling on top of Ryan." Sandra sighed and shook her head. "He was a blessing in disguise, Tracey. Nothing was familiar to me. The weather was warmer and dryer than I was used to, the fashions were a far cry from what I'd grown up with, and the technology had advanced beyond what I knew."
Tracey sat up and hugged her mother tightly. "It must have been scary for you, to be confronted with the unknown like that."
"It was," Sandra agreed, hugging her daughter back. "Luckily, Ryan offered to take me in and help me. We married within a week of our first meeting, because I was uncomfortable living with him without the benefit of marriage."
"But what about my father?" Tracey asked curiously. "Weren't you still married to him?"
Tears appeared in Sandra's eyes. "I had no way of determining if there was magic in this place I'd found myself in. I was Muggle--what wizards call non-magic people--so I couldn't very well try casting a simple spell. As far as I knew, Albus was dead. I annulled my marriage to him so I could marry Ryan."
"So, the letter from the American Magic Academy confirmed that there _is_ magic," Tracey commented thoughtfully.
"Yes." Sandra nodded as she pulled out a tissue and dabbed at her eyes. "Since I know there's magic, there's a chance your father is alive after all."
Tracey frowned as she pulled a small duffle bag out and began packing stuff she would take on the plane with her into it. "He must be pretty old by now, though. Wouldn't he have died anyway?"
"No, he wouldn't, because witches and wizards live longer than Muggles do," Sandra explained, watching as Tracey tucked a dog-eared book into the bag. "I would have died longer before now if I hadn't gone forward in time."
Tracey nodded as she zipped the duffle bag closed. "I think I understand now. You want to go to England to find my father."
"Right," Sandra tossed the used tissue into the trashcan. "I'm not surprised that you're a witch, Tracey. Your father promised to be a powerful wizard, even when he was nineteen."
Tracey smiled. "Let's hope we can find him."
"If we don't find him, he'll find us, I'm sure of it."
* * *
"Albus, is something wrong?" Minerva McGonagall's voice drew Albus Dumbledore from his thoughts.
He shook his head. "No, Minerva. I was just...thinking."
She looked curious. "About what?"
"Nothing, my dear." He waved a hand dismissively. "Only about the past."
She frowned at him, but didn't push the issue. She'd known him long enough to know when to push and when not to. This was not the time. "Well, we have the present to think about right now."
"Yes, I know." Albus sighed softly, banishing thoughts of Sandra Cooper to the back of his mind. "There is still much we need to do to prepare for the Quidditch World Cup."
Minerva nodded. "I know there will be Ministry personnel there to deal with any potential problems, but I, personally would feel better if we had someone there, just in case."
"Are you volunteering, my dear?" Albus asked, blue eyes twinkling.
Minerva's cheeks turned pink and she dropped her gaze to her lap. "Well, I, er, this is--"
Albus held up a hand to stop her. "All you had to do was tell me you'd like to go."
"Well, I _would_ like to go, Albus," she admitted, "but only if you can spare me."
"Oh, I'm sure Hogwarts can do without you for a day or two," Albus assured her with a smile and a wink. "Go ahead and go."
She smiled at him. "Thank you, Albus, but wouldn't you like to go as well?"
He shook his head. "No, I'll listen on the Wireless."
"Very well."
* * *
Tracey looked around with interest as she and her mother walked along a London street. "Wow, Mom. This is so cool."
"So different," Sandra murmured, looking around with as much interest as her daughter. "So very different."
Tracey glanced up at her mother. "It's been well over a hundred years, Mom."
"Hush, Tracey." Sandra glanced around; worried that someone had overheard her daughter. "You never know who might be listening, or watching.
Neither noticed the silver tabby cat jump down from a wall and begin trailing after them. "Do you have any idea where to look for my father?"
Sandra sighed and shook her head. "I'm afraid I don't, Tracey. Albus and I never discussed that much."
"Excuse me." The female voice had a slight Scottish brogue to it and it brought mother and daughter around to face a tall, slender woman with long black hair pulled back into a braid, wearing an emerald green dress and a black coat, since it had been a rather cold summer in England so far. "Would you two happen to be looking for Albus Dumbledore?"
Tracey opened her mouth to reply, but Sandra's hand on the girl's shoulder stopped her. "Who would like to know?"
"I am Minerva McGonagall," the strange woman replied. "I can take you to Albus Dumbledore, if you tell me who you are and why you're looking for him."
Sandra glanced at her daughter. The bright blue eyes were pleading. Sandra sighed. "I am Sandra Andrews and this is my daughter, Tracey Cooper. Albus is her father."
Ms. McGonagall's dark green eyes widened for a moment. "Come with me."
Holding tight to her mother's hand, Tracey and Sandra followed Ms. McGonagall back the way they'd come. Within a few moments, they reached a dingy-looking pub and Ms. McGonagall led them inside. The bartender hailed her almost immediately. "Hello, Professor! Looking for a little something to warm you up?"
"No, sorry, Tom," Professor McGonagall replied, ushering Sandra and Tracey through the room. "I do not have time for a drink. Some other time."
"Right you are, Professor," Tom nodded to the professor and turned to his other patrons.
Tracey kept turning her head every which way in an effort to see everything as they were ushered into a quiet parlor with a crackling fire. Drawing a drawstring pouch from her pocket, Professor McGonagall strode to the fireplace and threw a pinch of some glittering substance onto the flames. "Albus Dumbledore."
Sandra and Tracey both gasped when a head appeared in the flames, a long beard sweeping out of sight. "Minerva? Why are you calling me? I thought--"
"Albus, you need to come to the Leaky Cauldron right away," Professor McGonagall interrupted the man quickly. "There is some pressing business that needs your attention immediately."
He gazed at the woman over the tops of the half-moon spectacles perched on the bridge of his long and crooked nose for a long moment. "Very well, I am on my way."
The head disappeared with a 'pop' and Professor McGonagall turned to Sandra and Tracey. "Was that Albus?"
"Yes, Miss Andrews, that was," Professor McGonagall confirmed with a nod as she pulled a piece of wood out of her pocket and pointed it at her clothes. Muttering a few words, the dress and coat became what could only be described as robes. Pointing it at her hair, the ebony tresses rearranged themselves into a bun on the top of her head.
"Missus," Sandra corrected as four wooden chairs and a matching table appeared.
"I beg your pardon?" Professor McGonagall looked curiously at the smaller woman as she sat down at the table. "Won't you sit down?"
Tracey scrambled into a chair while her mother remained standing. "I'm married."
A black brow rose and the dark green eyes went to Tracey. "Not to Albus Dumbledore?"
"A long time ago," Sandra answered softly, slowly sitting down beside her daughter.
Before the professor could ask any more questions, the door opened to admit a tall, thin man with long sweeping silver hair and a matching beard. He, too, wore robes, though his were a rich, deep blue with silver stars embroidered on them while Professor McGonagall's were emerald green. His eyes, though, were the same bright, piercing blue as Tracey's. "Minerva, what is--Sandra? I thought you were dead."