Chapter 5: Dumbledore
A few hours later we stood at King's Cross station with me puzzling over Charlie's directions.
"Platform 9 ¾" I murmured to myself again, and looked confusedly from the obviously labeled "9" and "10."
I had already asked an attendant, and been laughed at.
I looked around desperately. Mystic was sitting quietly, but I knew that she wouldn't be able to stay still much longer—we had, after all, been there for an hour.
It was also really cold, and my jacket was buried deep in the suitcase at the bottom of the luggage cart.
It figures that I would obey the whims of my three-year-old daughter and wear a sleeveless top in the middle of an English winter.
I unconsciously rubbed my arms, and again looked around for anything that might help me.
Without thinking, I honed into the conversation of a middle-aged woman and her teenage son.
"Mum, we're thirty minutes late!" The teenager complained.
"Calm down, Ron. The train wouldn't just leave her there."
"Mum, Ginny's going to freak." the boy replied.
The two came into my direct vision, and I grew hopeful as they stopped next to the barrier between platforms nine and ten. There were no trains leaving either in the next hour, and the woman was talking about being late. Hmmmm…
My suspicions were further developed when the red-headed son prodded his mother, saying, "Can't you do something about the muggles? You know we can't go through with them just staring at us."
The older woman looked at me. She also had red hair, and her face seemed very kind and vaguely familiar.
I took a deep breath and pushed my luggage cart over to her.
"Excuse me," I articulated carefully. "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation, and I was wondering if, perhaps, you were trying to get to Platform 9 ¾?"
The woman's soft expression softened further. "Is it your first time, dear?"
"Um…yes?" I replied.
"We're picking up my daughter Ginny. She's home for winter holidays. I suppose you're here to pick up a student as well?" She didn't give me time to answer. "Well, it's not that difficult—just walk straight into the barrier."
I stared at her like she was insane.
She must have seen my incredulity. "Here, Ron, show her; it hasn't been but a year since you had to do this annually." She nudged the reluctant teen, I suppose a graduate of the school, into action, and he lethargically trudged toward the wall and—right through it!
"Now you try dear, best to do it at a bit of a run." She smiled encouragingly at me, and I turned back to get Mystic and the luggage. I took a deep breath and began to jog toward the barrier, pushing the luggage cart with one hand, and my other clutching Mystic's, her tiny legs pumping to keep up with mine.
Suddenly we were clear, and I saw a new platform. The teen named Ron was hugging a red-haired girl with her back to me. When she pulled back, my breath hitched, for she looked very similar to…
But I had promised myself I wasn't going to think about him today.
The rest of the platform was deserted, and I saw a man I guessed was the conductor, based on his attire, call out from one of the compartments, "Are they here, then, Ginny dear? I'll be heading back to Hogwarts, then. Happy Christmas."
The train began to pull away.
But I had to get on it! The directions were very clear…
I picked Mystic up, ran, and leapt onto the slowly moving train. I looked back to see three red heads gaping at us and probably imagining that they had brought the downfall of Hogwarts by giving access to the school to two muggles.
Well, one muggle, I thought as I turned around and saw that Mystic had magicked our luggage onto the train with us.
A couple of hours later, the train slowed to a stop. Mystic was glued to the windows, having never experienced anything like the beautiful Scottish countryside we'd ridden through.
It was evening, quickly approaching night, and the oncoming darkness was intensified when the lights in the compartment went out.
I waited an extra fifteen minutes before detraining to ensure that the conductor would have left the station, which seemed to have been built only for this train. Charlie had written that we ought to try to avoid contact with any magical person until we had made contact with the headmaster—or Dumblemore, as he'd named him in the dream.
We got off the train, and fortunately the station was well-lit.
I pulled out the directions, and sat down on one of my suitcases to scrutinize them.
"You should see a big castle. Walk to it."
I looked around, and saw the ruins of a massive castle, but they were seriously ruins, as in no-way-in-hell-was-I-letting-my-daughter-near-all-of-the-potential-hazards-that-site-could-contain ruins.
I looked at Mystic, and wondered at her look of amazement, as she looked at the ruins.
"Mystic? What do you see?" I asked, thinking that this might be another one of those witch-things.
She looked at me and impulsively grabbed my hand.
I gasped as I saw a glorious castle where before I'd seen only ruins.
It was lit and friendly, and I began to walk towards it. I picked up my daughter, and turned around once to see our luggage floating along behind us.
I followed a path around a giant lake and towards the massive structure, which had me remembering every fairy tale that I'd ever loved.
It was a clear evening, and the myriad stars seemed only to add to the magic that so obviously abounded in this place.
I was shocked out of my pilgrimage by the voice of a man.
"Can I help you?" The voice was polite but firm, and I turned to see another kind face. It wasn't handsome, nor was it unpleasant. It was a comforting face, framed by slightly graying hair. The man was dressed in strange attire—kind of like a loose long jacket. He was gripping what I could only assume to be a wand in such a way that I could tell he wouldn't hesitate to take action if he thought I was a threat.
"I need to speak with Dumblemore." I said, mustering all of the command and purpose that I could into my voice.
His brow furrowed a bit, and he smiled a bit. "Do you mean Dumbledore? Do you have business with him?"
I nodded.
"Well, I'll take you right up to the castle, then." We began to walk. "I'm Remus Lupin—I teach Defense Against the Dark Arts."
Dark Arts. I unconsciously held Mystic a bit tighter--to imagine that she was going to have to deal with dark arts. It reminded me that Charlie had spoken of some sort of civil war in the dream. I wondered if it was still going on. I knew that Remus was expecting my name in return, but I thought it might be prudent to withhold it.
You know, because I was definitely the master of prudence—following an unknown magical person to God-knew-where in the middle of the night and bringing my daughter along with me.
Anonymity was definitely going to help me. I rolled my eyes at my own sarcasm, but our guide didn't notice in the dark.
After a few moments of quiet walking, I could tell that he was uncomfortable with the silence.
"I was out patrolling…" He trailed off. A few minutes later, he tried again. "Is this your daughter?"
"Yes." I replied tersely.
Mystic smiled at him, and he smiled back.
By now we were closer to the castle, and I was even more awed by its sheer gargantuan size! Once inside, it was no longer the architecture that amazed me, but the examples of magic that could be found everywhere.
The suits of armor lining the walls would move and several paintings actually addressed me!
Remus acted as though this were commonplace, so I tried to act nonchalant.
Mystic's eyes grew wider and wider as we continued to walk through the castle, and I held her still yet tighter, unable to imagine her in this world when she so obviously belonged with me.
At last we came to a stop next to a stone gargoyle, and Remus whispered, "Pineapple Sherbet."
This sent me over the edge. Pineapple sherbet was mine—it was from my world. Mine and Charlie's. And now this was Charlie's world, and Mystic's, and I felt just as out of place as pineapple sherbet seemed in this magical castle.
We stepped onto a rotating stone staircase, and arrived in a grand office, full of instruments I couldn't begin to think of the uses for. Behind a huge, antique desk sat a wizened man (not even close to his thirties) who seemed to be dressed in some type of richly hued toga.
"Headmaster, I found this witch and her daughter wandering on campus. She insisted upon seeing you." Remus said.
Huh. I thought. He thinks I'm a witch. I looked behind me, and seeing our luggage still bobbing in the air behind us, I figured how he might have made such an assumption.
"Thank you, Remus." The headmaster said, having stood at our introduction.
Remus nodded and left the room.
There was a bit of an awkward silence, then Dumbledore asked us to please take a seat.
I put Mystic into one of the two comfy armchairs facing the Headmaster across his desk, and was relieved that the school didn't turn to ruins again at the breach of contact with my daughter.
We all took a seat, Mystic wide-eyed and looking about the room, me looking at the Headmaster, wondering what to say, and him looking back and forth between us, with a scrutinizing gaze.
"You could start with your name." He said kindly, seeming to guess my thoughts.
At once I felt completely safe. He reminded me of my grandfather, and I knew that Charlie was right in directing us to him for help.
"Um…I'm Gypsy and this is my daughter, Mystic." I said quickly.
"And I'm Albus Dumbledore, as you probably know. Now that the formalities are out of the way, would you like some tea?" He asked with a twinkle in his eye.
"Um…would coffee be possible?" I looked at my daughter. "And maybe some chocolate milk?"
"Of course," he replied with a smile. With a flick of his wand, I was holding a steaming mug and Mystic held a lidded glass.
"Um…" I needed to stop beginning my sentences this way. "I…"
Even though I didn't feel like I had to hold anything back from this man, I didn't know where to begin in telling him everything. I realized that I had still been somewhat guarded in my introduction, despite the blatant fact that if Charlie had directed me to this man, he was obviously fighting on the side of good—if there was even a war still being waged.
I took a deep breath. "My name is Gypsy Weasley, and—"
I stopped as I heard him give a slight gasp. It surprised me, as this didn't seem a man to be easily ruffled.
"Weasley?" He asked.
I nodded, confused.
"Are you a Weasley by birth? Marriage?" He asked, leaning forward a bit in his chair, as though working on a particularly difficult algebra problem.
"Marriage." I replied. "Did you know my husband?" I asked in return.
He smiled. "There are many Weasleys, as you know, in our world, Gypsy. I'm afraid you'll have to clarify."
"Um…" Accursed nervous habit! "That's the thing. It's not my world. I'm a muggle. I was married to Charlie Weasley. He…um…told me in a dream to come to you. He didn't tell me when he was alive that he was a wizard." By the end of my statement I was almost whispering. Even to a wizard my story must sound completely ridiculous—no! Especially to a wizard. I was uninvited, intruding into their world without asking permission and even going so far as to thinking I had a right to it.
Dumbledore got up and began to pace around. He stopped when he saw our still-hovering luggage. He raised his eyebrow.
"My daughter…" Yay! At least no 'um' this time. "She can…do things like that."
He looked appraisingly at Mystic. "Most witches and wizards of her age cannot focus their magic so acutely—rather, they display it at moments of necessity, mostly in large bursts."
My heart sank a bit. I had thought that there was a place for Mystic—that the strange occurrences that set her apart in the world we'd been in would be commonplace in this new one, but now I was being told that she didn't even fit into this world.
"Charlie said that you might be able to tell me about…the nature of her powers. Maybe that implies that they're something…special?"
My speaking Charlie's name out loud seemed to change Dumbledore's train of thought again.
"Ms. Weasley, I pray that I heard you incorrectly, but is Charlie dead?" He asked, staring at me intensely with twinkle-less eyes.
I nodded. It didn't seem enough, so I spoke. "He was killed. He told me that he'd run away from a war here. He said the enemy found him."
"I'm so sorry." He was one of the first people who seemed to actually mean those words. "Have you met any of the his family?" He asked.
"Family?" I inquired, puzzled. "He said that he was an only child—an orphan." It hit me then that that had probably been a part of severing all connections with this world.
"I assure you that they exist--would you like to meet them?" He asked, glancing at Mystic as my thoughts dwelled on her.
I didn't even have to think. "Yes!" I said, perhaps a bit too eagerly for my age.
Mystic was smiling. I knew that she'd always wanted grandparents and aunts and uncles, but unfortunately, I was in a similar situation to Charlie's previously supposed one.
He smiled and his eyes twinkled insanely.
But, in a good insane way.
"If you'll wait outside, Ms. Weasley, I'll call them in and explain the situation to them. I'm sure they'll be more than happy to meet you."
I picked Mystic up, and walked out the door, shutting it softly behind me, and standing on the stairs.
"Isn't this exciting, dear? You'll get grandparents, and maybe uncles and aunts—all special like you!" I blithered on for about fifteen minutes, smoothing my daughter's hair and dress to make her appear acceptable to her newfound family. At last Dumbledore cracked open the door and I breathed a sigh of relief at his smiling face.
"You can come in, now." He said. How the hell could eyes twinkle that damn much!
I walked in, holding Mystic's hand tightly, and saw a sea of red heads.
Time seemed to freeze. Before anyone could react to our entrance, I began to pick things out—there was Charlie's nose, his eyes, his smile, and his posture. I felt like I belonged with these people—no matter their strange abilities.
I realized right then that this change wouldn't only benefit Mystic—by discovering this new world, I was rediscovering my husband.
Author's Note:
Wowsers, but that was a long one! I've got finger cramps! Unfortunately, I'm leaving Thursday for a big family road trip of fun!
(attempt at exuberance fails miserably)
So, updates will be few and far between, as my relatives' internet connections come and go. In any case, I'm trying to get a lot of chappies up for ya'll in the meanwhile, so I hope they don't lose their polish! Thank you all so much for reading, and I hope you're enjoying this story as much as I'm enjoying writing it!
Review Replies:
Fly-Away-Free: Thank you so much for your faithful reviewing! I'm sorry to say that Harry doesn't really play a romantic role, as Gypsy's about 8 years his senior, and I don't really have a Demi-Ashton plot in mind for this story (sorta freaks me out a bit, actually!), but there will be romance, because I am a disgusting, incurable romantic. Thanks again for giving your time to review!
PixieGirl100: I'm glad that you could picture Mystic well—I always have trouble describing characters when I'm writing in first person! Thanks again for reviewing, and I'll have you know that some of my more brilliant thoughts have been exposed to me through a good bit of babbling!
TheDarkLadyOfRavenclaw: Thank you so much for sticking with this story! I love seeing reviews of people who're watching the story progress. I too have a sister, who often thinks me insane when I laugh out loud at stories. I'm glad that my story is one that has bolstered your reputation of insanity! ;b
PreciousOne: Thank you, and I hope this met your standards!
Gboyary: Oh dear! Your review scared me quite a bit—the whole, "now that's annoying," introduction may have stopped my heart for a second! But I'm honored that you think so highly of my story. Thank you for reading and taking the extra time to review!
Angelina Johnson: Yay! Fowler, you read! I'm glad I gave you something more productive than religion to focus on! Times like these when I'm glad I suffered through two semesters of Deskins this year! Muahahahhaha!