Chapter Five: Deep Breath
I've got the time
But I'm wasting it slowly...
Here, in this moment,
I'm halfway out the door;
I wanna do the next thing,
I'm searching
For something that's missing...
There's gotta be more to life
Than chasing down every temporary high
To satisfy me....
- "Temporary High," Stacie Orrico
Dumbledore set his peacock quill down with a sigh and looked out of his office window, wizened blue eyes marking the change of color in the Forbidden Forest trees. Slowly the aldars, beeches, oaks and elms were beginning to show signs of autumn. Hogwarts was readying itself for a new batch of students.
And yet... it was not on his own students that the Headmaster's thoughts dwelt on.
He sighed againand shuffled a stack of papers together. It was amazing, it truly was, that Wet Carpets had gone for five weeks without providing the wizarding world with another scandal. Through Dumbledore's own efforts, the owl delivery had hushed up, but it was a tendency of the three Founders to provide insanity where it was least wanted.
Of course, as soon as their school year started, something was bound to go wrong. Dumbledore knew Keith, Oyster, and Janet Starlight too well to expect anything otherwise, though he did hope that they might aim for discretion this time. The last think they needed was more publicity, the year after Voldemort's demise. In fact, the last thing Harry Potter needed was more publicity.
It could be disastrous, really.
"I think Keith will help," he told Fawkes, reaching out to ruffle the brilliant plumage. Thinking back over that statement, he amended himself: "It doesn't even have to be Keith, just someone to step in when things start to go wrong."
Fawkes crooned.
"That is true." Dumbledore's eyes misted slightly. "Miss Granger will do everything in her power."
He paused for a long time, fingers steepled. Thinking.
"What are your views, Phineas?"
One of the portraits in his study stirred into life, his voice dry and reedy. "You've never doubted yourself before, Dumbledore."
Albus sighed. "I did study Necromancy and Divination with professionals born after your time, Phineas, and there are corresponding rules."
"Do tell."
"Fragments of the future are attracted to someone who will have a pivotal role in it."
His unnerving blue gaze went out the window again.
Phineas coughed slighly. "I realize that you are not accustomed to explaining your thoughts, but you know, I'm a few miles behind you and I'm a bit out of shape, so..."
"Someone, somewhere, already knows how this venture will turn out, even though they have yet to experience it."
There was a lengthy pause.
"Sir?"
"Yes?"
"Who, exactly?"
"We have no way of knowing. I'm more concerned with the poor person who will act as the medium, the go-between for the realms of the living and the dimensions of Hell, so to speak."
Phineas was getting seriously annoyed. He wasn't used to being two steps behind every conversation. However, the "I'm the Headmaster, damnit, give me respect" routine didn't exactly work on, well, another headmaster. Politeness wasn't his style either. He settled for "So, we're looking for a medium and a Seer..." His voice faded as he struggled around another concept. "Really? Hell?"
"Yes, Phineas. Harry Potter's world."
Marie managed to get a leg up on top of her suitcase. Dragging herself up, she got unsteadily to her feet and tentatively bounced a couple of times. Snoopy squinted. "Nope, still isn't shut."
"Damnit!" She slammed her whole weight down. The abused suitcase groaned.
"Seven inches to go," Kayla said encouragingly.
"Let me handle this." Nose in the air, Tessa pushed her way through the crowd of spectators and hauled herself up next to Marie. "On three, okay?"
She nodded, face screwed up in concentration.
"One - two - three!"
They landed heavily and had to clutch at each other to save themselves from falling off. Tessa squealed as the suitcase's lid was lurched down another inch.
Marie paused to catch her breath and disentangle Tessa's hands with her ginger hair. A furrow appeared between her eyebrows as she stared down at her suitcase. "I don't understand it. I filled two bookbags to the brim with about half of what was in here before and this thing still won't shut."
"Nothing breakable in there, I hope," Snoopy commented dryly, cynism in mortal form.
"Duh. I'm not stupid. I packed all my shampoo, lotion, body creme, nail polish, conditioner, Aveda, bubble bath, facial cream, nail polish remover, estringent, body wash, soap, hand cream, and toothpaste in a separate suitcase," Marie informed her. "And I spelled everything else against breaking."
She eventually became aware of their blank stares.
"What?"
"Marie, we are going to a college, not a spa."
"Obviously. If I'd have thought that we were going to a spa, I wouldn't have brought anything," said Marie cheerfully. "That way I'd be obliged to replenish my supplies." She bounced again on the suitcase. It sank another two inches. Kayla and Kate started to clap.
"Shea, we need you," Tessa called.
Obediently the girl clambered up beside her. The three of them, arms linked for stability as they teetered, looked almost comical on the bulging luggage.
"One - two - three!"
The seams burst a couple of stitches as the suitcase finally crunched shut. Snoopy mustered all the courage she had to lunge forward and grab the zipper, dragging it around the splitting corners until the thing was bound closed. Everyone exhaled slowly.
"Well, that was fun," Tessa remarked. Cautiously she sat down on the edge and slid herself off. Marie followed, with slightly less grace. There was a long pause while each girl looked at the others, silently asking "what happens now?"
" 'The last suitcase is packed, the last tears are shed.'" Shea sighed, gazing at Marie's luggage with open nostalgia. "I never thought we'd come to this day. Do you realize that we are entering a new chapter in our lives?"
"Not quite yet," Kate admonished, glancing at her watch. "We're leaving for the train station at half-past twelve."
Marie winced at that reminder. Taking a firm grip on her suitcase handle, she dragged it out of her room, bellowing "Mommm!"
"What?"
"We got the last suitcase shut!" The girls heard a distant cheer. Marie laughed as she vanished into the hall, luggage bouncing along behind her. "I'll take it out to the car."
"I don't understand why we have to take the train," Kayla grumbled. "I know it's traditional, but we could just Apparate or take a Portkey, instead of spending all that money on train tickets."
"You know what?" said Tessa thoughtfully. "I don't think we are taking the train. Do any of you have your tickets?"
There was a general shaking of heads, and a meditative silence fell, broken only by the sound of a slamming car hatch. Shea leaned forward, the August sun slanting through the windows on her face. "Did anyone get a Portkey in her acceptance-letter envelope?"
"No," the others chorused.
She shrugged and flopped back against the pillows, blowing the whole thing off. "I'm sure it'll be fine, Tess. They wouldn't strand us right before term."
"I wonder," Snoopy muttered. Shea threw a pillow at her.
Twelve-thirty came and went.
Janet Starlight waited next to her lime-green Bug, drumming her fingers on the spotless rearview mirror. Others in the parking lot were eyeing her aggressively; she flipped her blonde hair back disdainfully and ignored them. She wasn't about to be shooed out of a conveniently-placed handicapped parking space by a bunch of Muggles.
Her uncanny silver eyes traced the outline of the Denver Union Station against the sky. Slowly, her regard was turned to focus on the others in the parking lot. There was an unlikely-looking cyberkid maneuvering his laptop on the curb; a pregnant woman patrolling the sidewalk behind him; a family with three young boys; and a gang of six or so teenaged girls unpacking their minivan. The latter attracted most of her attention, and she watched them drag their bulging suitcases all the way across the asphalt and into the Union Station. Her lips compressed in an uncertain scowl.
Turning back to her car, she shaded the window with her hand and squinted through the glass, trying to make out the digital numbers.
12:47.
She unfolded a much-creased piece of paper and examined it, then crumpled it in one impetuous fist. Shifting her weight, she resumed drumming her fingers.
A train roared in, rattling down its track and blowing steam every which way. Janet eyed it coldly. In spite of her tight schedule, she had been enjoying the silent noon air, and this was an unwelcome distraction. She was more than a little pleased when it rolled out again about ten minutes later.
Then a thought struck her, and she winced, checking the clock again.
12:59. Even as she watched, the red lines flickered and reassembled themselves: 1:00.
Now she was late.
"Come on...." she murmured, fingers beating a tattoo into the metal of her car. Nerves made her shift her weight from one foot to the other. Back and forth, back and forth...
Her students wouldn't actually have boarded a train, would they? Even if it was a one-o'-clock departure? She should have said something before they went in. Oyster should have told them in their letters that she was -
Loud and distressed voiced broke into her reverie, and she looked up in relief. The six teenagers had returned to the parking lot, shouting at each other in obvious panic.
"Well, what was I supposed to do?" a redhead barked. "They said there was no direct track to Canada. I'm not about to spend hundreds of dollars on a ticket to Idaho!"
"They should have sent us directions," the tallest groused.
The shortest was nearly in tears. "We have eight minutes before one! We're going to miss our train!"
"There is no train, Tessa!" the redhead bellowed in exasperation, and a fight broke out among the girls.
"If you had-"
"Why the hell didn't they-"
Janet had heard enough. These were definitely her students. Tucking the paper into her jeans pocket, she stepped onto the sidewalk, moving purposefully towards the girls. Two stopped arguing to gape at her. She knew she was a formidable sight... she was wearing low-slung bellbottoms, a gray tube top that accented her frightening eyes, and dark lipgloss that gave her an almost vampirical look. The length of her glossy fingernails probably didn't help either.
First year students couldn't be expected to know her - she knew that - but she wasn't in the mood for prolongued explanations. Stopping a few feet away from them, she waited to speak until she had their full attention.
One by one, astonished gazes were turned to examine her. She sighed.
"We're late, so just get in the car without questions, okay?"
A few jaws hung loose. She waved her hands impatiently. "The car? You know? Metal thing on wheels?"
Still no response.
Had she been wrong, then? No - no, they just didn't understand. Oyster really should have said something...
The fact that they were running late made her snappish. "Look, are you enrolled at Wet Carpets or not?" Taking out her paper again, she checked the list of names. " 'Denver Union Station: Virginia (also known as Snoopy), Marie, Tessa, Kate...'"
"That's us," the tallest said weakly.
Dear sweet Father, give me patience. "I know it's you! So get in the goddamn car!"
"Are you..."
"Head of the House of Cynics, professor of Spell Configuration and Construction, at your service. Janet Starlight's the name. Sharp of tongue and short of temper. Will you please get in the car?"
"I thought you went to Hogwarts," someone grumbled quietly.
"Shea, shuttup!"
Janet's sharp ears had no mercy. "I did. Does it matter?"
"Your British accent is totally fake," she complained. Seeing the color rise in Janet's cheeks, the girl quickly added, "I know, I know. The car. I'm on my way."
The blonde rolled her eyes as she pointed them in the direction of her Bug. Turning back to their suitcases, she tried to lift one and failed.
"They packed bloody bricks. Oh, fabulous."
Shooting a quick, irritated glance around the parking lot, she saw no eyes on her. The family with the boys had vanished into the Union Station; the pregnant woman was loading her suitcases into a red Toyota. Perfect.
Slipping her wand out of her back jeans pocket, Janet muttered a quick incantation. The luggage vanished. She turned smugly and started after her students, only to see the cyberkid - temporarily forgotten - staring wide-eyed at her. His laptop slid from his unresisting fingers and crashed on the asphalt.
Her wand was still out.
Damn.
There was no time to think.
"Obliviate, reparo!"
He blinked and shook his head as if to dislodge a thought. The busted laptop reassembled itself and returned to the curb. He stared at it, then at Janet. She winced under his suspicious gaze. Time to get out of here.
Her searching eyes pinned the girls where they stood, obviously bewildered, by her car, and she growled to herself. If the rest of the day was going to be like this, she should just resign now. "Now what is it?"
"Um... you know that we won't all fit in there, right?"
"Well, obviously!" The Head of House glowered at them. They looked away, and she relented a little. "Just open the door, you - Marie, is it?"
Marie obeyed and stuck her head in. Her gasp was muffled, but everyone still heard it. The rest of her body vanished into the backseat. Suspicions slightly allayed, the others followed her.
"Oh my God!" One stuck her head back out to goggle at Janet. "What did you do to it?"
The blonde smirked to herself, opened the door to the driver's side, and climbed in. A minute later, the engine roared into life, and they peeled out of the parking lot.
The cyberkid stared after them for a long, long time.
Ron stuffed a last pair of orange-and-purple striped socks into his suitcase, closed it, and snapped the hatches. "I think that's everything," he told Pigwidgeon. The miniature owl peeped cheerfully, in a way that suggested the peep might have been a hoot in a bigger owl, but, hey, it's the effort that counts.
Ron got up and paced to the window. Resting his forehead on the glass, he stared out over the Burrow grounds and sighed.
"I still can't believe we're going to a bloody college. A nutty, psychotic, bloody college. What was Hermione thinking?"
Pig peeped again, sympathetically.
"I know," said Ron absently. "She's crazy."
Peep, peep.
"She can't help it; it just shows through sometimes. Like that spew thing, and her third-year boggart-" The redhead snorted with laughter. "That was priceless."
Peep.
"But enrolling us in college is about as bad as it gets," Ron conceded. "I wouldn't mind it so much, if I could only understand her motive."
There was a soft chuckle behind him and he turned to see Hermione herself lounging in the doorway, dark eyes laughing at him. Seeing his distress, she let her smile widen as she entered the room.
"I love it when you talk to Pig. It's so cute."
"Oh, God help me. I'm 'cute,'" Ron groaned, but there was a smile on his face as he watched her examine his trunk. Hefting it, she raised an eyebrow at its weight, or lack thereof.
"This is all you're taking? No spellbooks?"
A frown creased his gingery brows. "I've been kind of wondering about that. In our Hogwarts letters, we always got a list of textbooks that we needed. But from this college?" He turned to his desk and rummaged in the papers, finally coming up with his envelope. "First, our acceptance letter." He held it up as proof; Hermione nodded. "And then..." He fished out the second slip of parchment and read it. " 'Please bring your pewter cauldron, hide gloves, and all previous Divination supplies.'"
"I know they didn't ask us to bring any spellbooks. I'm asking why you didn't bring them anyway," Hermione retorted.
"Why would I, if they're not required?"
" 'Not required.'" The witch repeated the words with obvious distaste. When Ron caught sight of her face, she looked annoyed. "Dumbledore told me that the Heads didn't believe in 'book-learning,' but I didn't want to believe him." Then she brightened a little. "But I hear they have an excellent library anyway."
"Hermione." The redhead caught her by the arm as she made for the door. "Just tell me. Why are you doing this?"
"Doing what?"
"Taking us to this... school. One that you obviously don't approve of." Ron paused as something else occured to him. "You just mentioned Dumbledore again!"
"Oh, don't be silly, Ron. It will be a gratifying experience. Dumbledore just wants the best for his students." She bustled past him, avoiding his eyes. "I'm going to put your luggage downstairs. We should be leaving for King's Cross any minute. Harry?"
"I'm ready, 'Mione." The Boy Who Lived set down his trunk in the doorway, pushing sweaty hair out of his eyes.
"Did you bring spellbooks?" Hermione demanded.
"Spellbooks?"
"She's going on about how they don't believe in 'book-learning' in Wet Carpets," Ron explained.
The haggard face broke into an unusual grin. "Genius."
"I know. Dumbledore could learn a thing or two from them," the redhead replied, feigning cheerfulness - but his eyes suddenly stung. He turned away, blinking hard. The rare sight of Harry smiling and joking as though the last four or so months had never happened made it unreasonably hard to swallow. As young boys, they had mocked Trelawney, tortured Snape, and driven Filch up the wall: good times. Good times buried in the past. Too much had changed for them to resume the roles of innocent (well, not really, but you get the point) kids.
He glanced up to find Hermione's eyes fixed knowingly on him, and a small part of his skeptism melted. Was this her motive, then? To try to change Harry back into the boy he had been?
Harry coughed, bringing them out of their shared reverie. "I hate it when you do that," he commented ruefully to Ron.
"What?" Hermione was motherly concern in an instant.
The young man waved his hand expressively. "Vanish like that, and leave me behind. What was that? A telepathic conversation about the shameful misuse of textbooks in colleges?"
Ron cleared his throat a couple of times and tried to grin. "It started out that way, but then Hermione started a round of strip tennis."
"Ron!"
Harry's lips twitched. "I'm... taking these downstairs," he said hurriedly, gesturing at their assembled suitcases. He could sense Hermione's disapproving frown, but wouldn't risk looking directly at her - he would explode. Picking up a trunk in each hand, he started from the room, when a thought seemed to strike him and he turned back.
"Oh, and Ron - tell me who wins, won't you?"
He'd barely ducked in time; Hermione's well-aimed slipper thwacked against the wall behind him. They heard him go chuckling all the way down the stairs.
The bushy-haired witch slumped onto the bed, eyes uncommonly bright. Ron stared at her. "Are you okay? The tennis thing was just a joke, you know. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings-"
"Oh, Ron, shut up." She rested her head against the bedpost, a wistful expression crossing her face as she listened to Harry's receding footsteps. "You're incredibly egotistical sometimes."
"I thought we agreed that you would give me a dictionary before you start insulting me," the redhead protested.
"I mean you think too much about yourself," she snapped. "I bet you didn't even notice what just happened."
"He was.... acting happy?" the wizard ventured.
"He laughed. He actually laughed," Hermione murmured in wonder. Her gaze left the doorway to find Ron's eyes on her, and she hastily sniffed back the tears. "Now do you believe that Wet Carpets was a good idea?"
"We haven't gotten there yet," he reminded her. "It could turn out to be a total disaster. And laughing at a joke is a normal reaction, you know."
"I despair of you."She stood briskly, grasped the last suitcases and lurched unsteadily to the door. Her voice floated back to Ron.
"And every little bit helps. Are you coming, or not? We should have been at King's Cross five minutes ago."
He grabbed Pig's cage and followed her down the stairs.
Grr. I thought I'd get to the actual journey in this chapter, but what can you do?
I am SO SO sorry that this took me so bloody long. Still, nine pages, eh? pats self on back It's Snoopy. She guilted me into finishing it. Marie and Kate helped too.
Megan, haven't introduced you quite yet. Kisses better?
Happy elongated birthday to Ethan. I'm mad at you, you know. Your present is turning into an epic. It's very sad. I have no control over my own stories.
Love you all!
Till the next update,
-T
Oh, by the way, the chapter title "Deep Breath" comes from Gandalf's line "the deep breath before the plunge." I thought it could be interpreted in so many ways that it was perfect for this chapter ;)