Disclaimer (applies to all chapters): JK Rowling owns Harry Potter, Colin and Dennis Creevey, The Leaky Cauldron, and the rest of the characters, settings, etc. from the Harry Potter series. I didn't invent and don't own any of them. She also owns the plot from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, which this story will be rigorously based on. She doesn't own the British National Rail or the route I looked up online that gets the Creeveys to London, so any mistakes in that are my fault, not hers.

A/N: I've placed Colin and Dennis's village somewhere vaguely between Stafford and Birmingham (Birmingham, UK, of course). I've never been to England, a deficiency I'll really try to remedy someday, so I hope there's some "countryside" in that area that resembles what I've described here.

Chapter 6: The Railway

Colin's alarm clock rang at five the next morning. He lay still for a moment, staring at the ceiling, his eyes wide as he savoured a single thought: Diagon Alley today. The excitement in his chest quickly grew too much for him. He sat up—

"Ow!" he yelped, falling back onto his pillow. Every muscle in his body was screaming in protest, and his skin seemed to be cracking whenever he moved.

"Y'alright, Colin?" asked Dennis sleepily, sitting up—"Yow!" he cried, flopping back down. "Argh! Stupid crazy Twit..."

"All right, boys?" came Dad's voice from the doorway. They looked at him mutely. He gave a rueful smile. "Yes, I was afraid you might be a mite stiff."

"Er, yeah, a mite..." mumbled Colin, sitting up again—much more carefully this time.

"Yeah, bit stiff," agreed Dennis, gingerly feeling his face, which ranged in colour from salmon to tomato.

"Hmm," said Dad, scratching his head. "Well, we'll see how you feel after baths again."

Sure enough, Colin and Dennis's muscles were much less stiff after baths. Their sunburns and blisters were still stinging as they toweled themselves off, but their excitement about Diagon Alley was rapidly overwhelming their discomfort.

"Omelets!" cried Dennis as both boys, bathed and bandaged once more, hurried into the kitchen. They wolfed down the omelets and porridge Dad had made. Their hair was scarcely dry by the time they were standing by the door with their knapsacks. Dad grinned down at them, shouldering his own knapsack.

"All right, then, boys," he said, "We're all very excited. We'll be in Diagon Alley in about four hours." He now assumed a more serious expression. "But, as you know, we have to ride the train with ordinary Muggles to get there. So, what does that mean?"

"We can't talk about magic!" said Dennis, bouncing on his toes and edging towards the door.

"Right," said Dad, putting a hand on Dennis's shoulder. "So, no talking about Diagon Alley, even though we're going there. No talking about the Leaky Cauldron, or about Hogwarts. No talking about wands, or Quidditch, or Muggles, or brooms."

"No talking about robes, or dragon-hide gloves, or potions!" Colin chimed in.

"No spellbooks, or phials, or pointy hats!" added Dennis.

"Exactly," said Dad. "And why are we going to London, if anyone asks?"

"We're taking a holiday before we go back to school!" Colin answered dutifully.

"And we might pick up some school supplies while we're there!" Dennis finished. They had been practising this version of the truth for a few weeks now.

"Alright then!" said Dad, finally allowing himself to grin excitedly also. "Let's go!" And they headed out the door into the growing daylight.

It took about half an hour to reach their village's tiny train station. Colin and Dennis trotted eagerly all the way, the soreness in their legs wearing off quickly. Colin breathed in the early morning air happily, thinking of mornings at Hogwarts. He also thought of his friend Tommy, waking up somewhere far away in a tent and waiting for the Quidditch World Cup that evening. Can't talk about Quidditch, he reminded himself, and kept looking around at the sunbeams slanting through misty tree branches, the flowers and spiderwebs covered in dew, the grasses ruffled by soft breezes. Somehow, everything he saw reminded him more and more of Hogwarts. The excitement in his chest swelled so much that he thought he just might float to London.

The train station was mostly empty, which was a good thing since Colin and Dennis's nervous pacing took up most of the available space. It was also a good thing that they only had a few minutes to wait. Even Dad was starting to look a bit jumpy by the time the train to Birmingham pulled in. The Creeveys sat close to the front of the train, a few rows away from a man in a business suit reading a newspaper.

Colin and Dennis didn't stay seated for long. Less than five minutes after rolling southward out of the station, Dennis was standing on his seat to peer out of the window, anxiously watching for the outskirts of Birmingham. Colin sat for a few minutes longer, working on a crossword puzzle that Dad gave him, but couldn't really concentrate. He got 6 Down, "one who turns lead into gold" ("alchemist"), but gave it up after staring for a long while at 5 Across, "dangerous liquid." All he could think of was "potion," which didn't have the right number of letters. He joined Dennis, who was bouncing on his toes, in staring out the window. However, as Birmingham showed no sign of appearing, Dennis soon reverted to his usual habit of jumping from seat to seat. The businessy man behind them gave an audible sigh.

"Boys," Dad said mildly, "no jumping on the seats, please."

Dennis, on the floor now, bounced across the train to stare out of the other window, although he had to stand on his toes to see.

"Come and look, Colin! Cows! I think it's the same ones we saw last year!" he shouted. Colin joined him quickly and watched as they rode past the herd of cows.

"Horses over here, boys," Dad let them know. They both rushed back to look out of their original window. The man in the suit stared at them and shuffled through his newspaper forcefully.

"Ooh, a rabbit!" said Dennis, pointing.

"Look, there's that farmhouse!"

"There's that little river!"

"I think there's a hawk over here, Dennis!" said Colin, back on the far side of the train.

"Neat!" said Dennis, running to see. "Hey Colin, what's that thing you said is part horse and part eagle?"

"It's a hypp—"

Colin froze as he realised what they had just said. He looked at Dennis, who also stood frozen, his mouth open. They looked nervously at Dad, then at the businessman, who was glaring at them.

"We're taking a holiday before we go back to school!" blurted Dennis.

The man harumphed, folded his newspaper violently, and stomped out of the compartment.

"Er—" said Colin uncertainly. "D'you think we should—"

"If I had to guess, boys," said Dad with the corners of his mouth twitching, "I'd say he'd prefer you left him alone. Here, come look, I think we're getting into the edges of Birmingham."

Sure enough, the scenery was changing from countryside to streets lined with houses. Colin and Dennis dashed to the window again and watched eagerly, spotting landmarks they recognised from previous trips. It wasn't too long before they were pulling into the New Street station, where they made sure to avoid the man in the business suit while waiting for the train that would take them to London.

The Birmingham-to-London leg of their journey was much more crowded than the previous one. This meant that Colin and Dennis had to restrict themselves to one seat each, which their excitement at this point made extremely difficult. Fortunately, this time they were seated next to a cheery sort of woman with curly gray hair, who said that they reminded her of her grandchildren. She gave them cookies and fussed over their sunburns.

"They sure do grow up quickly, don't they?" Colin heard her say to Dad as they parted ways.

"Yes, ma'am," Dad answered quietly, "they sure do."

The tube ride from Euston station to Charing Cross was very nearly more than Colin and Dennis could stand. Even though it was actually the shortest section of their journey, it felt by far the longest. They managed to stay in their seats, although Dennis never actually sat down. For some reason, their fellow passengers kept giving them irritated looks and moving away.

The brothers burst out of the door when they at long last arrived at the Charing Cross stop. They might have run all the way to Diagon Alley had Dad not put a hand on each of their shoulders just in time. In fact, Dad was quivering with excitement himself, but the three of them resigned themselves to walking at a pace where they at least would avoid running into other pedestrians. Nonetheless, Colin and Dennis couldn't keep themselves from breaking into a run as they approached The Leaky Cauldron.

They led Dad into the pub—being a Muggle, he couldn't see it until he was inside—where the usual warm, cheery hubbub surrounded them. It didn't take very long to find Tom the landlord, who looked just as ancient as ever.

"Well, if it isn't the Creevey boys," he said, beaming toothlessly at them. "And Mr. Creevey," he added, shaking Dad's hand. "I've reserved room eight for you gentlemen, if you'll follow me up."

The boys and Dad put their knapsacks down in their room but lingered only long enough for Colin to carefully take out his camera and wand. A few moments later, the three Creeveys stood in the pub's backyard, staring at a brick wall and a trash bin. Dennis was hopping frantically from foot to foot, and Dad was rubbing the back of his head impatiently.

Colin took a deep breath, pulled out his wand, and tapped the third brick from the left.

A/Ns:

Duj: Thanks for all your reviews! Yes, I love the Creeveys' enthusiasm about the magical world also, and yes, that's part of the reason I decided to write about them—it's what I would be like if I were there. And yes, dealing w/ the Twit is character building for dealing with Snape. Re: your review of my Susan fic, you're very perceptive! Susan in that fic did indeed keep channeling Jane while I was writing it. I've read nearly everything of C.S. Lewis's. :-)

Cecelle: Yeah, I like the dad too. I'm trying hard not to make him too nice. Anyway, we get the idea he's pretty interested in Colin's school life way back in Book 2, so I'm working with that. You'll get some more insight into him in the next few chapters.

Shading in Grey: Good luck w/ everything; hope you get the time to write something sometime.

Namith: You're right about the Twit—she started channeling Aunt Marge when I wasn't looking. She's also got characteristics of Aunt Petunia (w/ the unreasonable chores) and, oddly enough, Prof Binns with the name difficulties.