A/N: This is just sort of a "test-run" on this story; feedback of any sort would be graciously received. Should I continue, or not? In the mean time, on with the story!
Chapter 2—Going to London
A week later, they all stood in front of Fireplace 21 in Starway Park's Floo Station, all carrying everything in the apartment that wasn't nailed down. They were far from the only ones; the family using the fireplace to the left of them had three girls, all younger than Bernie, and the girls had two large bags each. The parents had even more, it seemed. One girl had a Sweetwater team bag, with the stars flashing red, white, and blue. Jordan smiled, thinking of Jolie, and fingered the friendship bracelet that Jolie had given her. Jordan's father readied the pouch of Floo powder they had been given.
"Ready, everyone? We're going to the Ministry of Magic Atrium, London. I want you to say it very clearly, so you don't end up in another country. Understand? Glen, I want you and Bernie to Floo together, so he doesn't get lost. Jordan, you go after the boys, and your mother will go last. Be sure to hold on to your luggage!" Then, with a cheery smile, he took a healthy pinch of the powder and threw it in the fire. The flames flashed bright green. He stepped in, holding an assortment of bags. "Ministry of Magic Atrium, London!" Then he whirled out of sight.
"My turn!" called Glen, as he took a generous handful, just to make sure, and held Bernie's hand, along with his own bags. "Ministry of Magic Atrium, London!" He, too, was gone. Now it was Jordan's turn. She helped herself to the powder and threw it in. She didn't like Flooing all that much; it was far too messy. Perhaps that was why her brothers liked it so much.
"Ministry of Magic Atrium, London!" she called, in as loud a voice as she could. Then she was spinning, spinning out of control, it seemed. She kept a death grip on her suitcase, hoping nothing got lost. She squeezed her eyes shut, wondering why it was taking so long. Probably because it's long distance.
She shot out of the fire like a rocket and sprawled face-first on the hard floor, her suitcase being unfortunate enough to break her fall.
"Daddy, Jordan made it!" called a black-smudged Glen, happily trying to pick his sister up. She brushed off his arms and staggered up, trying to get as much soot as possible out of her hair. Her dad came over to help.
"I don't know, Jordan, I think you look pretty nice with black hair like that."
"Ha ha," she laughed sarcastically, pulling a brush from her suitcase and running it through after liberally shaking every bit of soot out, until it turned to its original brown. "I just want a shower as soon as we get to this apartment."
"Anything for the princess. Oh, here's your mother. Before we go and get settled in, I'd like to meet my associate, Mr. Shacklebolt."
"I can't meet people looking like this!"
"Trust me, I'm sure he's used to sooty people showing up to work. Now, let's get going. Follow me!" It was then that Jordan examined her surroundings.
The ground she had so recently gotten acquainted with was dark, polished wood, and the fireplace they had emerged from was one of many that lined a magnificently large hall with a vivid blue ceiling decorated with moving golden symbols. The fireplaces were constantly in use; the one they had just used had seen three more witches and wizards since the Havers family. In the middle was a wrecked and ruined fountain. It was so badly messed up, she couldn't even discern what the original design had been.
"Ain't this something, y'all?" her dad said admiringly. Jordan winced. Since most Houstonians were thankfully bereft of the Texan drawl, she had hoped greatly that they would be able to blend in normally. Then her dad had to pull something like that.
"This place is a lot cooler than our Supervision, dad," observed Glen. Bernie nodded.
"Except for the fountain."
"Yeah, what's up with the fountain?" asked Jordan. Her dad shrugged uneasily.
"I…I think it might have something to do with Sirius Black…well, come on, kids, let's go." Jordan was following, when someone Apparated literally on top of her suitcase. It was a witch, a relatively young one, who went sprawling on the floor. Jordan looked at her, then realized the lady had bright pink hair.
"Oops! I'm so sorry about that, I just can't Apparate on-target to save my life!"
"How did you get your hair like that?" asked Jordan admiringly.
"Magic," she said, somewhat evasively. "Say, I don't ever recall seeing you around here…" Then her eyes widened. "Wotcher! Are you the American blokes Kingsley is meeting?" Jordan's dad decided to make an introduction.
"Good morning! My name is Kevin Havers, an associate of Mr. Shacklebolt's from the United States. This is my family: My wife, Anna, my two sons, Bernard and Glen, and the young lady you squashed would be my oldest daughter, Jordan."
"So good to meet all of you! I'm called Tonks." Bernie sniggered, and Glen kicked him. "Let me take you to Kingsley; I was on my way there, myself." Jordan was occupied with thinking of how odd it was to hear an honest-to-goodness English accent and of why their new acquaintance was called Tonks. She let Glen pull her along as she looked around the large room. She decided that the ceiling was her favorite, with it's nice color and the little golden symbols.
At the end of the hall, they entered through small golden gates, bearing a sign that said "Security". A bored-looking wizard in robes the same color as the ceiling.
"Step this way," he said, noticing that he had company. He passed a small golden rod over each of them, then asked for their wands. Her dad proffered up his wand first. The guard plopped it on a sort of set of scales. Then a piece of parchment spat out, like a receipt. The security wizard examined it.
"Beech, nine inches…spruithean spine?" This appeared to be a new term for the man.
"Yes. Spruithean. It's a desert gnome. You don't have them here?" The wizard's silence was enough confirmation for that, never mind the look on his face. "It looks like a cactus with legs. Disguises itself like that, you see? We use the spines for wands instead of unicorn hairs. No unicorns in Texas, I'm afraid…" Her dad laughed. The wizard didn't. Her dad stopped abruptly. "I assure you, it's a legitimate wand core. Would you like me to show you?"
"No need for that, sir. It's been in use for 48 years. Correct?"
"Yes, sir! That's correct. Jordan, now you. My wife's a Muggle, sir," he explained. The security wizard eyed her mother, but accepted Jordan's wand without comment. Just as before, a little slip of parchment came out.
"Ten inches, oak, phoenix feather, just two years of use. Correct?"
"Yeah," she said, taking her wand back. The security wizard merely ushered them through the gate, as though determined not to let foreigners with odd wands ruin his day.
"Where to now, Ms. Tonks?" asked her father politely. Tonks laughed, her shoulder-length pink hair swaying…Jordan blinked. Her hair hadn't been that long when she had Apparated on her…had it?
"Just Tonks, please! We'll have to use the lifts, and I'll take you to Kingsley's office; he's been expecting you."
"Lifts?" asked Bernie, puzzled. Jordan was a bit unsure, as well, until she saw that the lifts were merely elevators. They boarded, along with a small group, and Tonks pushed a button. The lift descended, until it shuddered to a halt, but not at their floor.
"My stop," grunted a wizard, and he shuffled through the crowd, carrying a small tin that was glowing slightly, as though radioactive. The golden grilles slid open.
"Level four, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, incorporating Beast, Being, and Spirit Divisions, Goblin Liaison Office, and Pest Advisory Bureau," said a female voice, like a television announcer telling you what show was on next. Some paper planes flew in, purple paper with purple letters along the side.
"Dad, this place is so awesome!" said Glen, jumping and trying to catch one of the planes. The plane in question hovered maddeningly just out of his reach, obviously teasing him.
"Stop jumping, Glen," their mother scolded.
"Level two," said the announcer once again, "Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters, and Wizengamot Administration Services."
"This is us!" said Tonks in her ever-cheerful tone.
"Are you an Auror?" asked Glen, with wide eyes, as they departed the lift. Some of the planes flew out; others boarded.
"I am, actually; I work with Kingsley. Except I'm terrible at stealth, so they always give me desk work to do. I don't go out in the field much." She rubbed surreptitiously at her lower back, where she had landed on Jordan's suitcase. Jordan grinned.
They walked through large wooden doors, and stood in a large room separated into cubicles. Paper planes zoomed around, one narrowly missing Jordan's head on its rapid journey. People in the cubicles talked and laughed at each other, creating an almost unbearable din. Tonks led them over to a place that bore a lopsided sign reading "Auror's Headquarters".
"Shacklebolt! Your friends from America are here!"
Kingsley Shacklebolt turned out to be an extremely large black man, with an earring in one ear, and bald as a cue ball. Jordan felt her eyes widen slightly. He was quite an impressive sight.
"Mr. Shacklebolt! I'm Kevin Havers, from the Sirius Black Tracking Committee, Texas Division, American Ministry of Magic."
"Of course," he said, in a deep, smooth voice. "You're right on time. Is this your family?"
"Yes, yes! This is my wife, Anna, she's a Muggle. These are my children, Jordan, Glen, and Bernard."
"Pleased to meet you all." Kingsley took a good look at Jordan. "And how old are you, young lady?"
"Thirteen," she replied, somewhat nervously. She appeared to be the only one, however.
"I'm ten!" said Glen, without even being asked.
"I'm six!" piped up Bernie, loath to be ignored.
"Have you talked to Albus Dumbledore about enrolling them in Hogwarts?" he asked her father. "It would be an odd situation for your girl, to be sure, but little Glen here would just be starting…"
"Well, I intend to be back in Texas before the summer is through, but thank you for asking."
"Don't be so sure," said Kingsley, somewhat cryptically. "There's more going on here than Fudge lets out."
"Which is precisely why I'm here," her dad said briskly. He then turned to her mother. "Anna, why don't you go find the apartment with the boys?" Jordan stood a bit straighter.
"What? I want to go to the apartment, dad! I want to get all this soot out of my hair, remember?"
"You'll have a chance, don't worry. I just want you to stay with me."
"You mean that's not your natural color?" joked Tonks. Jordan gave the woman her best glare.
"No, what's yours?" she asked impudently.
"Jordan! You will not be rude to people you hardly know, in my hearing or out of it. Apologize, please." Jordan sighed, embarrassed at being chastised in front of adults.
"I'm sorry, Ms. Tonks. I meant no disrespect."
"Of course you didn't," she said gently.
"I'll…see you at…home, then," said her mom tentatively. "Come on, boys. Glen, stop chasing that paper plane and come with me. Bernie, stop climbing on your brother! Come here, you two…" she left, herding her youngest children back towards the lifts. Glen, it appeared, had successfully intercepted a plane, with Bernie's help. After being pried out of his fist, the slightly-crumpled message flew in a decidedly lopsided manner towards its original destination.
"I'll show you and your daughter Diagon Alley when we're done talking," said Kingsley. "She should like that."
"Diagon Alley?" she asked, rolling the new term around in her mind, "what's that?"
"It's like Starway Park, only in London."
"Oh. That doesn't sound too bad," she conceded.
"Now then. Come into my office, and I'll answer an preliminary questions for you."
Kingsley's cubicle was completely wall-papered in pictures of Sirius Black, which had a decidedly creepy effect. Jordan didn't like the way he looked at her from all directions, even if he was dead.
"Well, Mr. Shacklebolt, I'll be frank with you," said her dad, once they had all squeezed in and sat down, "I find this all very fishy. Last report from your office, Black was in Tibet. How is it that he ends up dead in your Ministry?"
"He was killed by You-Know-Who," said Kingsley, just as frank as her dad had been. Jordan cringed and scooted closer to her father.
"Maybe I should have sent you with the boys. You-Know-Who? Are you sure?"
"By a Death Eater under his command. But he was in the building."
"It's true, then. You-Know-Who is back."
"Yes." Jordan held her dad's hand, and he gave it a squeeze.
"I was afraid of that," he said. "You're sure? Of course you are. You wouldn't say that if you weren't. But I don't understand; didn't Sirius Black work for You-Know-Who?" Kingsley and Tonks let out a sigh at the same time.
"No," said Tonks. "Sirius Black was completely innocent of all charges."
"He was…innocent? Then why on Earth where we supposedly chasing him all over the planet? You've cost my department untold amounts of Galleons and work hours—"
"Please, Mr. Havers, we had our reasons. Do you remember the Order of the Phoenix?"
"I've heard of it, yes."
"It was formed again, while our Minister was in denial. You-Know-Who has been back since last year."
"Last year!"
"There was no proof of Black's innocence, not while Fudge refused to budge. Black was actually working for the Order. He was killed by his cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange, while Harry Potter was battling You-Know-Who."
"Harry Potter. Of course. How old is he?"
"Nearly sixteen. He attends Hogwarts, as well." Kingsley and Tonks traded glances. "Mr. Havers, why don't you come with us? Take your daughter, if you wish, but she won't be included in the discussion." Jordan thought that was unfair. If glorious Harry Potter could battle You-Know-Who at sixteen, why couldn't Jordan join their talks at thirteen?
"I understand. Go where?"
"Our headquarters. The Order's headquarters. But, please understand, Mr. Havers…if you want your answers, come to the Order. If you come to the order, you'll be enlisting in our effort to fight You-Know-Who."
"But…but that means…"
"That means your vacation might go on a little longer than you planned. You have two choices: Join the Order, or go back to America. When it comes to You-Know-Who, there is no middle ground." Her father slumped back.
"I'll…I'll have to discuss this with my wife…my boys…"
"I understand. We'll be here when you've made your decision."
"Would you like me to show you out?" asked Tonks. "It's the least I can do, after landing on your daughter like that."
"Thank you very much, but we can find our way out on our own." Her dad sounded older than she had ever heard him sound. They were silent in the lift, and they were silent in the Atrium, until Jordan finally spoke when waiting in line for a fireplace.
"So…dad. What are we going to do? You promised we could go back to Texas."
"I said we'd go back when we were done."
"Dad, no, you're not going to join this Order, are you? I mean, fighting You-Know-Who? You could get…" she couldn't bring herself to say the word "killed".
"Nothing's decided yet. I'll have to talk this over with your mother." Jordan knew that couldn't bode well. What did her Muggle mother know about You-Know-Who? Jordan tried to think of how she was to explain this to Jolie.
"Dad…I want to go home. I don't want you to fight…him. I mean, if you get killed, what's going to happen to Mom? And me, and Bernie, and Glen?"
"I know, Jordan, I know. Let's just get you to the apartment; you can wash out your hair." Suddenly, sooty hair didn't seem so earth-shatteringly important anymore. She pulled her suitcase along behind her, ignoring the few odd looks she got, pulling a bright yellow suitcase down the streets of London. What if You-Know-Who came after them? Evil wizards were just fine when they were across the ocean from you, but it was something different being on their home territory. Why would he want to send her to school in a country with a terrible wizard that seemingly couldn't die coming back into power? Surely he would see the sense in sending her back to Texas, to live with Jolie and go back to Southern Day-School. Her dad was a sensible enough man; he wasn't seriously considering risking his life and that of his family's, especially Glen and Bernie's. Most especially hers. She felt somewhat better, now. If she could reason all this out, she was confident that he could, too. In fact, she was sure that as soon as they had re-bought their apartment and sold this new one, they would be in the next fireplace back to Texas. She picked up her pace a little, not wanting to get lost on these busy streets. Don't worry, she told herself, we'll all be leaving soon. I'll never have to learn my way around London.
The apartment - they called them flats here, just like elevators became lifts and sweaters became jumpers - wasn't all that bad, she had to admit; it might even have been a little larger than their old one. She set up her room as sparsely as she could because, as she told herself, she didn't want to spend too much time re-packing. She jotted a quick note to Jolie, telling her that they would probably be coming home soon, and not to worry. Then she remembered that the family owl, Sonnet, was currently on a delivery. She sighed and put the note aside. Her father came into the room after dinner, and looked at her silently. She looked at him, also silent, waiting for him to say it…
On September 1st, she stood at King's Cross Station, in between platforms 9 and 10, holding Glen's hand.