7. To Hogwarts

A/N: Here we are. I had to refer to GoF and SS a bit for this chapter and I enjoyed writing it, particularly the scenes with the Creevey brothers. Thanks to Filodea for the idea of having Tracey talk like a valley girl. *grin* I'd just finished watching The Two Towers when I wrote the first scene, so I kept hearing Sam instead of Albus. Heh. I edited this and the previous chapter because the original sequence of scenes at the end of the last chapter and the beginning of this one didn't quite seem right.

Minerva attended the Quidditch World Cup and cheered until she was hoarse for Ireland. Rather than camp out, she chose to return to Hogwarts directly afterwards. As a result, she was not present during the chaos that reigned later that night. When she awoke the next morning, she found Albus waiting for her in her sitting room. "Albus, what are you doing here?"

"I have some distressing news, my dear," he replied, standing and crossing to her. "I'm glad you left the game when you did."

"What?" she took the copy of the Daily Prophet he held out and scanned the article. "Oh, no, this is not good at all."

He shook his head, taking her in his arms. "No, it isn't."

She clung to him, thankful that she had that privilege now. "History's repeating itself, Albus; first the disappearances, now this. What's next?"

"I don't know," he replied, kissing the top of her head. "I just don't know."

She blinked furiously to keep the tears at bay. "Should we call off the Triwizard Tournament?"

"No, Minerva," his voice was firm as he eased her back enough so he could look into her eyes--her beautiful dark green eyes. "That would be giving in to the Dark. We must be strong. We must not let them win."

"Who, Albus?" she asked, fighting a losing battle with the tears that wanted to spill down her cheeks. "Who are we fighting?"

He pulled her close once more, his arms tight around her. "Those who would ruin everything that is good in this world, who are willing to kill someone just because their blood isn't 'pure'." He sighed, kissing the top of her head once more. "There's more to the Triwizard Tournament than three students competing for the glory of their school. It's a way to unite witches and wizards all over Europe. United we stand, divided we fall."

"Albus." She pulled back, smiling in spite of the tears trickling down her cheeks. "That's what the Americans said."

He smiled, wiping away the last of her tears. "They have a good point, my dear."

She sighed, burrowing into his embrace once more. "That they do, Albus. That they do."

"Mmm," he agreed, scooping her up and walking over to sit down in front of the fire. Rather than object, she nestled closer to him. This time he kissed her temple. "I love you, Minerva McGonagall."

She tilted her head up to look at him. "I love you, too, Albus Dumbledore."

He lowered his head to hers for a kiss that was more to reassure them that one thing would remain constant in their lives in the days to come: their love for each other.

* * *

Tracey and Sandra were lost. They'd reached King's Cross Station just fine, but had no idea how to get on Platform 9¾. The rainy weather didn't help, either. Tracey was studying the barrier between platforms nine and ten and frowned when three teenagers, each with a trunk and accompanied by two owls in cages and a wicker basket that was hissing and spitting, leaned against the barrier, chatting amongst themselves. The bright blue eyes widened when the teenagers disappeared into the barrier. Tracey reached up and tugged on Sandra's sleeve. "Mom."

"What is it, Tracey?" Sandra asked, bending her head to speak to her daughter.

"I think I've figured out how to get on Platform 9¾," Tracey informed her mother, watching as a redheaded girl, two redheaded young men, and an older redheaded woman disappeared through the barrier.

Sandra followed her daughter's gaze. "What, you mean the barrier?"

Tracey nodded, leading Sandra over to it. "I saw two groups go through."

"Watch where you're going," a teenaged boy with white blonde hair snapped as he strode past them, two hulking boys on either side of him. A tall man with long, white blonde hair followed in the boys' wake.

Mother and daughter watched as the four of them disappeared one by one through the barrier. "I guess that's it, then. Shall we give it a try?"

"Yes, Mom." Both of them pushing the trolley, they headed straight at the barrier. With a swishing sound, they passed right through it. Both stared with wide eyes at the hustling, bustling platform. A scarlet steam engine waited on the tracks, with 'Hogwarts Express' painted in gold letters on the side. "It's beautiful, Mom."

Sandra nodded her agreement. "Yes, it is. Let's find you a seat now." In no time at all, they had stowed Tracey's luggage and settled her in a compartment towards the end of the train. "You be good, Tracey. Send me an owl when you get settled in, okay?"

"Okay, Mom," Tracey agreed with a nod before hugging Sandra. "I love you."

Sandra gladly returned the hug. "I love you, too, Tracey."

Sandra left and Tracey settled into her seat, staring out her window at the rainy weather. She wasn't sure where she would be going, but it was bound to be interesting. "Excuse me, but is anyone sitting here?"

Tracey smiled at the two small boys. "No, go ahead and have a seat." The two boys exchanged looks, but entered and sat down anyway. Upon closer inspection, it became obvious that the two were brothers. "I'm Tracey Cooper. What are your names?"

"I'm Colin Creevey," the taller of the two replied. "This is my brother, Dennis."

"I'm pleased to meet you," Tracey answered politely, her eyes bright with curiosity. "Did you grow up in the wizarding world?"

Both shook their heads vigorously. "No, our dad's a milkman. We were so excited when Dennis got his letter this summer."

"You already attend Hogwarts?" Tracey addressed this question to Colin.

He nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, I do. I'm on my third year." He lowered his voice conspiratorially. "There's a boy in the year above me who's very famous."

"Oh?" Tracey raised an eyebrow in an unconscious imitation of her father. "What's his name and what did he do to become famous?"

Colin glanced at the glass door of the compartment before replying. "His name is Harry Potter. He's the Boy Who Lived."

"The Boy Who Lived?" Tracey repeated, curious. The boys nodded. "What's that mean?"

Colin lowered his voice to almost a whisper. "There was a bad wizard, a long time ago, who wanted to take over the wizarding world. He killed Harry's parents, but, when he tried to kill Harry, the curse he used somehow was deflected and hit him instead. All that happened to Harry is that he has a scar shaped like a lightning bolt on his forehead."

Tracey considered that for a moment. "Does he ask for attention?"

"What?" Colin and Dennis stared at her. "No, he doesn't _ask_ for attention."

"Hmm." Tracey sat back in her seat, considering what she'd just been told.

After a moment of silence, Dennis spoke up. "You talk funny."

"I do?" Tracey asked, startled.

Despite an elbow to the ribs, Dennis persisted. "Yeah, all fast and everything. As if there's a time limit on your sentences."

"What if I, like, talked, like, this?" Tracey asked, grinning. "You know, like, a valley girl? Totally."

Both boys stared at her. "That's scary."

"I'm from California," Tracey told them by way of explanation. "I could just as well say that _you_ two talk funny. All British and everything."

They exchanged a puzzled look. "But we _are_ British."

"Yes," Tracey conceded, "but I'm not, so I'm bound to talk differently."

They had the grace to look abashed. "Oh, er, good point."

* * *

Wearing her new Hogwarts robes, Tracey exited the train into a steady downpour. She was thoroughly soaked in seconds and wished she had an umbrella. "Firs' years this way!"

"First years! That's us!" Dennis exclaimed, wriggling all over like an overexcited little puppy beside Tracey. "C'mon, Tracey!"

As Dennis grabbed Tracey's hand, she glanced over her shoulder at Colin. "See you at the Feast, Dennis, Tracey!"

"Bye, Colin!" Tracey called as she was towed over to a large man with lots of bristly black hair and a matching beard.

She was unprepared to have him stoop down and look into her face. "Are yeh Tracey Cooper?"

"Um, yes, uh, sir," she replied, unsure how to address him.

He smiled behind his beard. "Not to worry. Professor Dumbledore just wanted ter make sure yeh got here alrigh'."

A warm glow sprung up inside her at the thought of her father looking out for her. "Thanks, uh, what's your name?"

"No time now, but take care," he patted her shoulder with one huge hand, nearly sending her to her knees. "Firs' years! Follow me!"

Stumbling and slipping on the wet path, they followed the lantern he was carrying. It was little more than a wet blur in the rain. "Tracey?"

"Right here, Dennis," she replied, wishing her cloak shed rain rather than absorbed it. "You okay?"

"Never better!" he chirped, sounding almost painfully excited. "Any idea which House you're going to be in?"

House? "Um, no, haven't really thought about it. What House is Colin in?"

"Gryffindor," Dennis told her eagerly. "I'm hoping I'll be in Gryffindor, too."

Tracey made a noncommittal sound, wondering what Dennis meant by Houses. Before she could ponder for very long, they reached a lake where a fleet of small boats waited. "No more 'n four to a boat!"

Tracey and Dennis climbed into one, along with another boy and girl. Tracey huddled in the bottom of the boat, wishing they were at their destination already. Dennis, however, leaned over the edge of the boat, as if he was trying to peer into the water. About halfway through the journey, he toppled right into the water. "Dennis!"

Before Tracey could try to dive in and save him, a long, rubbery tentacle plopped Dennis back in the boat. He was no more soaked than he had been before. "Wow! That was so cool!"

"Are you okay?" Tracey asked him, concerned.

He nodded vigorously. "That was brilliant!"

"Don't do it again, please," Tracey requested. "I thought you were a goner for sure."

"Goner?" he asked, puzzled.

"Um, dead," Tracey clarified.

He blinked. "Oh."

They didn't say anything more for the rest of the boat ride, but Dennis _did_ stay inside the boat, contenting himself with trying to see something through the curtain of rain. "Heads down!" Tracey and Dennis didn't really need to duck; they were the two smallest first years. It was a relief to get out of the rain at last as the boats slid through a curtain of ivy and into a dark tunnel. Tracey pushed her wet hair back from her face as they glided along and looked around as they reached an underground harbor of sorts and everyone climbed out. "Yeh alrigh' there?" the large man asked, pulling his moleskin overcoat off as he walked over to Tracey and Dennis.

"Are you Hagrid?" Dennis asked as he draped the overcoat around himself. "Colin's mentioned you."

"Yes, I'm Hagrid, let's go." He turned and led them through a passageway in the rock. Tracey sighed in resignation as they went back out into the rain, this time standing on a smooth flat expanse of grass in the shadow of a castle, presumably Hogwarts itself. Slipping and sliding on the wet grass, the first years straggled after Hagrid as he walked to a set of wide stone steps and up them to a set of huge oak doors. He glanced back as they clustered close behind him. "All here?" Raising his huge fist, he knocked three times on the doors.