1The Ghost Roads
Chapter Two
Author's Note: Hello, again! My interpretation of the Ghost Roads is slightly different from most, I think. I don't know! But I hope you enjoy, and that you like my character. :)
-X-
The barman at Dawson's Pub came to work each evening at eight o'clock, and spent his shift pouring drinks for the inebriated customers seated at the polished oak bar. In the decade that he'd worked there, everything was ordinary. Just the same old crowd, ordering the same old drinks, telling the same old stories, as the same old jazz flowed from the same old jukebox.
But there was that odd gentleman... the one with thin, light brown hair that hung to his frail shoulders, whose skin always had a slight gray tinge. He didn't appear to be quite healthy, that one, but his bright, cornflower blue eyes showed intelligence, and his face, although tired, had strong, handsome features that made him attractive. He always wore a tired-looking gray sweater and brown slacks that were old but clean.
He met the strangest people, the odd gentleman. An old man with the longest white beard and half-moon spectacles, or a plain, aged woman with a harsh expression, her dark hair pulled into a tight bun. They would hesitate with their money, and speak in hushed tones. Once, a very large man with a very hairy face, carrying a frilly pink umbrella, had ordered a 'fire' whiskey. He'd assumed the man wanted the strongest possible.
It was safe to say, anyway, that this odd gentleman was always good entertainment, and the barman watched closely each time he visited. Tonight, the man was in the back corner, seated casually, gazing at the front door. The barman observed him out of the corner of his eye for nearly half an hour, then followed his gaze when the man stood to greet his guest.
A young woman, about twenty years of age, had entered the pub, a long, black leather coat belted around her waist. She was petite, many inches shorter than the odd gentleman, and had a slim, fit figure. What caught every man in the pub's attention was not her body, and not even the silky, honey blonde locks that fell in neat waves to the middle of her back, though- It was her face.
Heart-shaped with smooth, flawless ivory skin, her features were perfect. Almond eyes the color of jade sparkled, framed by arched blonde brows and long, lush amber lashes. Her cheekbones were high, the apples tinted a light rose. Her nose was small and straight, and her lips plump and pink, slightly upturned in a natural grin. She offered the odd gentleman a straight, shiny white smile, complete with dimples, and the barman was reminded of a porcelain doll.
The doll-like young woman and the odd gentleman shook hands, then moved closer to the bar. He wiped the surface in a small circular motion, creeping down to the area where they stood, speaking in hushed tones.
"-Related to Dumbledore, I presume?" The odd gentleman inquired politely.
"Yes, he's my great-uncle," she spoke with an American accent, and he thought he heard a bit of an Irish lilt behind her words.
"And the Professor said that-" the doll-like young woman interrupted the odd gentleman.
"If anything ever happened to him, I was to continue his... line of work," she said significantly. She seemed reluctant to offer much information about herself, the barman noticed.
"Why weren't you present previously?" The odd gentleman asked curiously.
"I was studying. I attended school in America, at the Salem Academy for Magically Gifted Young Scholars. After graduation, I studied with a group of Wiccans, which was very interesting. No wands and all," she explained.
The barman frowned in confusion. Magically gifted? Wiccans? All the good women were crackpots, it just went to show you. He'd known there was something not right about that odd gentleman, too, he had.
"Yes, Salem Academy, I'm familiar with it. A few of the senior members of the Salem Witches Institute teach there, correct?" The odd gentlemen asked.
"That's right," she agreed.
"Now, Professor Dumbledore did speak of his brother quite often-"
"I'm sure," she interrupted blandly. "But I'm a descendant of his sister, Abeline Mae Sunday Gertrude Dumbledore."
"Ah, yes, he spoke of her on occasion," the odd gentleman nodded.
"Yes. Grandmother never quite approved of Uncle Albus's 'adventures,' she was afraid he'd get the entire family blown up or something. She died a few years ago," the doll-like young woman added.
"And she was the mother of your father?"
"No, my mother," the young woman said impatiently. "But I told you this all in my letter."
"Yes, but I wanted to be sure," the man informed her. "Now, are you sure you want to be conducted into the Order?"
"Positive," she assured him dryly.
"Right then, you won't object to being questioned under Veritaserum?"
"No," she responded, bored.
"Meet me at the Burrow tomorrow at midnight, then, please," he requested.
"Of course," she agreed. "By the way, the bartender has been listening in on our entire conversation, Remus."
"Ah, thanks very much, Abby. Shall I modify him?" The barman quickly looked up, and began to walk away.
"Obliviate!" Abby muttered, waving a long mahogany stick. "No need."
And as the pair exited the pub, the dazed barman called out after them. "Would you like chips with that, Madam?"
-X-
Two days later, the Trio and a reluctant Malfoy were told to wait for Lupin in the kitchen.
Draco has spent the three summer weeks in the top room of the Burrow, after the Order discovered that Narcissa Malfoy was too valuable for Voldemort to kill. He Apparated with Lupin to his bedroom and took his most valuable possessions, and someone from the Order fetched gold from his personal account at Gringotts that his parents had set up. He has acquired new clothing and such by owl order.
The Trio has relentlessly researched Dumbledore's books for any sign of the remaining Horcruxes, and have sadly come up empty.
"What in Merlin's name is taking Lupin so long?" The Weasel asked for the third time, leaning his elbows on the scrubbed table in the minuscule kitchen. Honestly, how could anyone eat in here?
"We don't know, Ron," Granger said, exasperated. "Here, look in Amazing Amulets of the Nineteenth Century, Dumbledore could've written something in it..."
"I checked days ago, 'Mione," Potter informed her. "No need to look again. But seriously, Ron, pick up a book."
Malfoy raised a brow. Potter, telling someone to read? He'd expected as much from the Mudblood Granger, but Potter?
The Chosen One and his Chosen Sidekicks had been doing an enormous amount of reading lately, though, and it all seemed to be from Dumbledork's old literature. Draco was undoubtedly curious as to what they were looking for.
"Now, now, Potter, don't tease because the Weasel can't read. It wasn't that long ago when you, yourself had trouble sounding out two syllable words. He just hasn't had the opportunity to progress to three syllables, yet, like am-u-let and mug-gle-born..." He counted on his fingers with a smirk.
Potter clenched his jaw, as he always did when Draco gave him cheek, and the Weasel's ears turned redder than the paint on the walls. Draco felt a rush of satisfaction when Potter told him to shut up.
"Well, I would, but this is just so entertaining, and you need a grammar lesson, besides. Let's see, there are compound words, too, like mudblood-"Granger interrupted him, how rude.
"Yeah, Malfoy, you're so accomplished in your grammar. Your parents must have spent a lot of time with you, in between killing and maiming and kissing the Ministry and Voldemort's arses..." she faded, glancing at him with a triumphant smirk.
"You dare to say his name, do you, Granger?" He challenged, raising a brow.
"I just did, dimwit," she pointed out. "We aren't all cowardly idiots that can't stand up for themselves, like you are."
Malfoy set a cold glare on the girl, then spoke slowly and meaningfully. "You have never been in the presence of the Dark Lord, therefore you have no idea whether I am cowardly or not."
Her chocolate eyes widened, and that seemed to shut her up for a moment.
And then she spoke again. "But Harry can, can't you Harry?" Not pausing to let him answer, she continued. "So that means that you certainly aren't brave."
He rolled his eyes, feeling a stab of great annoyance at her having a point. "Right, Granger. And if I am so cowardly, than what am I doing here?"
"Running from your master, of course," she said defiantly.
"Yes... I went against my orders from the most powerful wizard on Earth and didn't kill a man because I am a coward, not because I knew it was wrong and was offered an alternative. You are, once again, correct Miss Granger. Full marks on your analysis of my life," he awarded sarcastically.
Draco turned away, leaning back in his chair and crossing his muscular arms over his chest. He glanced up, searching for the clock, only to find the Trio staring at him. The Weasel had his mouth hanging open, and it made his resemblance to a redheaded troll even stronger.
"What!" He questioned harshly, and all eyes quickly returned to their books. "What are you doing there, anyway?"
"We're-"
"Nothing," The-Boy-Who-Lived-to-Make-Life-Miserable answered quickly, cutting off Granger and sending her a meaningful glare.
"Fine, then," he answered. The kitchen returned to dead silence, save for turning pages, until the door opened with a loud squeak.
The Trio turned curiously, and Draco lifted his eyes from his nails long enough to see Lupin walk in, followed by a very attractive blonde woman a few years older than him. He stole a glance at the Trio- the Weasel and Scarhead were drooling, and the Bookworm was staring at her friends like they were mentally challenged. And she finally got the picture...
Lupin cleared his throat, and Malfoy knew it was to get his attention. Right, like he wanted to look at a werewolf. He felt a few pairs of eyes on him and fought a smirk- they certainly should look, no need to waste his attractiveness.
"Excuse me?" Lupin said after a moment. Malfoy rolled his eyes and looked up expectantly.
"What?" He asked, bored already.
"I would like you four to meet the newest member of the Order of the Phoenix, Abby Bristol. Abby, meet Harry Potter," her eyes traveled to his forehead, of course. "Ron Weasley," customary pause to identify him as the son of the poor blood traitor. "Hermione Granger," flicker of eyes over her face, taking in her intelligent eyes, and wondering why she was here. "And Draco Malfoy."
Draco got more attention than Scarhead, surprisingly. This Abby woman raised an eyebrow, surveying him closely. She locked her dark, blue-green eyes with his, and Malfoy instantly closed his mind. Her eyes clouded in confusion, and flew to his left forearm. His lightweight, black silk robes hid his Dark Mark from view, however, and she was disappointed.
"Malfoy?" She asked, bemused.
"That's right. Draco Alexander Malfoy, would you like to see my birth certificate?" He offered sarcastically.
"Sure, do you have it on you?" She returned, equally as condescending.
"Who is she?" Malfoy asked, turning from Abby to Lupin.
"Professor Dumbledore's great-niece," the werewolf explained.
"And he is here why?" Abby questioned.
"Protection," Lupin answered simply.
"Right," she replied, as if she knew there was more to the story.
"Abby has kindly agreed to do whatever is in her power, and she has a great amount of power, to assist the Order," Lupin informed them.
Potty and the Weasel wasted no time in welcoming Abby to the Order, shaking her hand and battling for her attention. Malfoy rolled his eyes- the young woman was clearly too old for them. Granger obviously saw the situation the same as he did, as she was frowning at her friends.
Finally, she stood and tossed her chestnut curls over her shoulder, sneaking between the two barbaric teenage boys. "Hello, and welcome to the Order."
"Thank you. So you're Hermione Granger, hm? You sent a letter inquiring about the Salem Wiccans' Coven last year, I recall?" Abby asked.
Granger flushed a bit. "Yes, that was me."
"I questioned Uncle Albus, you seemed to know quite a bit about our ways," Abby complimented. "Well studied, especially on the Ghost Roads."
The Redheaded Rodent sniggered. "There a problem?" Abby inquired.
"It's just... the Ghost Roads aren't... real. Only weird people believe in them, everyone knows ghosts are little transparent beings that stay here," he explained sheepishly.
"You mean 'an imprint of a departed soul left upon the Earth,' Weasley," Draco said eloquently. "And they do exist."
"Oh shut up," the Weasel ordered.
Abby raised a brow. "I assure you, the Ghost Roads are real, I've been on them. It's still a mystery as to why some ghosts are trapped on the Roads and others are bound to the place they died on Earth, though."
"You've been to the Ghost Roads?" Granger asked eagerly.
"Yes, I have," Abby assured the brunette.
"What was it like? Did you meet the Guardian?" Granger interrogated.
Abby smiled at Granger. "It was fascinating. So many ghosts were there, they all wanted to follow me through the portal and it was pointless to explain they needed to complete their tasks to return to Earth," she chattered. "The Guardian was... intimidating."
"Excuse me, but what are the Ghost Roads? And what portal? And who is the Guardian?" Potter questioned.
Draco leaned closer, listening intently to her explanation. Granger did choose interesting subjects, he had to hand it to her.
"The 'Ghost Roads' is a name for another dimension, where ghosts are held. As for the Guardian, no one knows who he is, but people suspect he is an ancient wizard that reached immortality because of his good deeds to mankind. The ghosts appeal to the Guardian, and he chooses whether to send them beyond, keep them on the Roads, or allow them to come back to Earth," she explained.
"Occasionally, Wiccans and supernatural beings will use the Roads to travel long distances in short times, as I did. This involves a portal to enter and a portal to exit. It's very difficult and takes quite a bit of energy to complete, and it requires wandless magic to perform," Granger looked excited at the prospect.
"The most interesting facts about the Ghost Roads are that if a human enters the Ghost Roads to plead for the return of a ghost, the Guardian can set a number of tasks the human, and usually their Coven, can complete. If they are successful, the soul will return to the body, which is at full health, and live for decades due to the protection of the Guardian. And I find it intriguing that there are entrances, not portals, entrances to the Ghost Roads all over, where the walls between dimensions have grown thin. That usually occurs when a great deal of magic, either by a Wiccan using wandless magic or a witch or wizard like yourselves with a wand," she finished.
"Oh, really?" Granger squealed. "Where?"
"Well, there's one at the Salem Witches' Institute," she frowned. "But the nearest is an arch... at the Ministry of Magic."
-X-
And to my reviewers, who all get... uh... banana splits! (tosses out the ice creams) Enjoy!
Eniptsu: Thank you, thank you, thank you! You have no idea how much I enjoyed your review! I was starting not to mind Snape as much either, but now I would much rather him take a very long walk off a very short bridge with very sharp rocks in the very cold water. ;)
I usually don't describe the scene before the section, so I was glad to see that you liked it. I was very iffy about it, but it turned out being a lot easier than going off in long rants about the past few days in one of the character's point of view. And yes, R. A. B. is a they, lol.
Thank you again, for the lovely review!
Moony's Puppy: Thanks for giving me so much support, even if you DO usually read romance and comedies and all. I've always got mistakes all over the place when I write, it's great to have someone to point them out for me, and even better to have an opinion about where I'm going with it. Thank you, and Malfoy will (eventually) be nice to Moony! (Note the eventually)
Review please! I know you want your name on the list!