CHAPTER 25: BARRIERS

A/N: Really sorry for the impromptu hiatus! I was dealing with some issues irl. And also, I had to change my manuscript somewhat. Initially, this bit had Ron as a one-time character, but I thought that was just sloppy writing and decided to take him out entirely. Also had three OC's later on, but I've trimmed it down to one. So changes.

P.S: I don't hate Ron. I just find him tough to write because he's a refreshingly well-rounded character.


After much hugging and kissing on Adelaide's part, which honestly made Sparhawk feel uncomfortable, he was a middle-aged man for God's sake, he was sent to a room that had been prepared for him. It was a cozy little affair, it's entrance hidden beneath a moving, talking portrait. It swung open on its hinges when the password, "Jellybeans" was spoken to reveal a good-sized room with two beds, a fireplace, and a desk. It looked like he would be sharing the place with Adelaide. Scandalous.

Once Hagrid had left him with a few parting words, he rushed to take out his wand. As soon as his hand touched it, he felt a tingle in his arm and Aphrael's vast consciousness slid into his mind. "Finally!" she exclaimed, the feeling familiar and strange all the same time, "I was beginning to think you'd never get around to touching your wand!"

"Aphrael," said Sparhawk, "What's happening here? Why did you not answer me before?"

He felt a vague sense of frustration from the entity invading his mind. "I'd lost too much strength, father" she muttered, "I couldn't reach you."

"But now you can?"

"The wand, father. It is something very familiar, and equally unexpected. It is a fragment of the Bhelliom," Sparhawk took a sharp breath at that, "It serves as some sort of conduit. And it also amplifies my powers somewhat."

The Bhelliom. Once more, it had surfaced in his life. Would he never be free of the accursed stone?

"Now, now Father. Is that any way to feel about one's parents?"

Sparhawk started. "You can read my thoughts?"

He could feel the mental equivalent of a sigh. "Oh, Sparhawk!" Aphrael breathed out in exasperation, "I basically reside in your mind. How could I not read it? And speaking of that, the old man tried to read your thoughts"

"He did what?!"

"I could feel his presence at the edges of your mind father, like an oily stain trying to seep its way in. But I'm not a Goddess for nothing. I threw so much garbled memories at him, he's pretty sure your brain is scrambled."

"Thank you" he replied dryly.

"You could stand to be a bit more grateful father" she huffed.

Sparhawk said nothing. People trying to invade his mind. The very thought sent a feeling of wrongness deep within his being.

Aphrael sensed his discomfort. "Think nothing of it, father. I won't let anyone defile my home"

Sparhawk tried to feel cheered by that, but there was always the possibility that the Goddess wouldn't be around to protect him all the time. He needed to find a way...

Aphrael sighed. "Oh, you Pandions. Like a dog with a bone! Alright Sparhawk, while magic may change, the mind remains the same as it did all those years ago. I suppose I could teach you how to recognize any mind probes and repel them"

"Alright. How do I do it?"

"Nothing much to it, Sparhawk. Although, being a Pandion knight, you would already feel anyone trying to enter your mind, you missed Dumbledore because he was so sneaky in his methods. We just need to fine tune you a bit and you're ready to go!"

"Alright" said Sparhawk expectantly.

A minute or so passed.

"Aphrael?"

"Oh, we're not starting right now."


Sparhawk's disappointment had been immeasurable the previous day, but he let bygones be bygones as he and Dumbledore walked the tree shaded path that led to the little cottage.

They had apparated from outside the school grounds to a little village called the Ayerie and then, after much inquiry with the locals had finally managed to find their way, following a dirt path, that led all the way to a cottage hidden in the woods on the outskirts.

Geezering up to the door, Dumbledore raised a wrinkly had to knock. A minute or so passed, and Sparhawk was letting his eyes wander over the environs, when a slit opened at the side of the door and a little scope thrust its way outside. Moving in a way that was eerily fluid, for a metal pipe anyway, it turned to view the pair of them. "Who is it?" called a voice from inside. "I'm Albus Dumbledore. And this young lad here is Ha..."

"Sparhawk" he grunted out before the old man could finish that aggravating sentence.

The scope looked them up and down a few more seconds and then the voice called out again. "Fine. You can come in. But the lad has to leave the knife outside. In that basket by the door."

Dumbledore turned a disappointed glare to Sparhawk. "Why, Sparhawk, I believe I made my position on hidden knives very clear yesterday!"

"Must have missed it in all the excitement sir" he replied blandly as he reached inside his shirt and deposited a silvery knife in the basket.

The door opened with a creak and on the other side stood a plain man with a mustache. On his eyes, he wore gold-rimmed spectacles, ever so slightly tinted, hiding the light of his eyes. Where everyone else would have done a mild form of prostration when faced with the venerably senile Dumbledore, this man stood, shoulders thrown back, the arrogance of a master of his craft oozing from him. And Sparhawk knew this was the right choice.

"Do I have the pleasure of speaking with Mr Prime?" asked Dumbledore, the mask of pleasantry never dropping, though Sparhawk thought that the man opposite them was aggravating the old man greatly. That tended to happen when people used to deference and reverence suddenly found themselves staring up at arrogance.

The man grunted in the affirmative.

"We were referred here by Healer Parson. We would like to get some spectacles for young Sparhawk here."

Opticus Prime looked Sparhawk up and down. It wasn't anything condescending. Just assessing. And apparently the man wasn't very comforted by what he saw. "Are you sure he can afford it?"

Sparhawk could almost taste Dumbledore's relish at the little victory he would savour then. "Oh, I assure you he can. Despite how he looks, he his the heir of the Potter estates."

Opticus started in surprise. He was a silent for a moment, and when he spoke there was a change in his tone. "So, then, this is..."

"The same."

He seemed to ponder a moment, and then he shrugged. "Well, none of my business. So, the very best, then?"

"Well I think a more affordable..." began Dumbledore but was cut off by Sparhawk. He'd been bothered by this matter to a degree that he was not comfortable expressing. "The best. All the works. Whatever it costs."

"It'll take a few days."

"Term starts soon. Can you do any faster?"

"You can't rush art. But I can try, I suppose. If it's for you."

"What are all the works, anyhow?"

Half an hour and a very enthusiastic Opticus later, Sparhawk walked out of the cottage a massive sum of galleons poorer, but as the prospective owner of two pairs of glasses that would apparently stay on his head unless somebody ripped is face off, were damn nigh unbreakable, did not fog or smudge at critical moments and had a nifty night vision feature. Very high end. Dumbledore was looking at him in a rather disapproving way though.

"I'm beginning to think I should have brought Adelaide along, young Sparhawk"

Sparhawk was too busy being happy with the prospect of improved eyesight.

"You're burning through your galleons faster than an alcoholic gambler, my lad"

"This was an essential purchase" objected Sparhawk

"The magic glasses? Yes, Sparhawk. The night vision, zooming and all the other things? I believe not."

Well, Sparhawk had been a man of influence back in the day, and that sort were very free with their purses. He appeared to give this some thought. Finally he declared in a solemn voice, "Poverty is good for the soul"

Dumbledore appeared pleasantly surprised.

"But a pair of great glasses are better."


The scant days that remained before term started flew by in a haze. During this time Sparhawk spent more time with Hagrid prising out the secrets of Harry Potter. Of which the giant knew nothing much more it seemed. They just ended up recounting the little time Hagrid and the boy had spent in each other's company while he'd taken him on his Diagon Alley shopping trip the first time around. During their maddeningly repetitive conversations, Sparhawk tried to subtly bring up the issue of the Gringotts incident once more, but Hagrid bulldozed through it with all the grace of a bull in heat.

The only other people he socialized with during this twilight of the summer holidays were Adelaide, of course, and Dumbledore. The former was holding strong despite all the sudden and startling changes in her life, but she seemed to be attached to Sparhawk more than ever now and he suspected that she was using him as a sort of familiar anchor in this strange new world. As for the latter, apart from volunteering the cost involved in the making of his rather expensive, and as Sparhawk was rapidly finding out, damned impressive glasses to Adelaide, who had not been very amused, he was irritatingly tight with information, and seemed to be trying to constantly invade his mind while at the same time trying to figure out the riddle that was Sparhawk. Aphrael was having the time of her life feeding Sparhawk inane answers that he used to frustrate the Headmaster to great effect, though the sly fox never let it show.

All too soon, the time for boarding the Hogwarts express was upon them. There wasn't much time for goodbyes. Sparhawk would be taken to King's Cross and then Adelaide would be taken somewhere safe. After some argument, they had decided that Adelaide would be relocated to a different part of muggle Britain. She had reasoned that wizards being who they were, the environs would provide a degree of anonymity. Dumbledore conceded the point but argued that she would then be far away from wizarding help. Hooking up the fireplace to the floo was a sure-fire way to advertise that here be wizards, so, in the end, with some reluctance on the part of Sparhawk's parent, it was decided that Adelaide would have a life in bodyguard. Someone skilled that Dumbledore knew and trusted and with a degree of anonymity that would throw off any seekers. That sounded awfully like an assassin for Sparhawk's tastes, but he would take what he got. They could hash out the details later. As for upkeep, the Potter family inheritance was more than sufficient for the two of them and one bodyguard on retainer. Adelaide had also wanted to look into his finances to make sure Sparhawk was not being shortchanged.

They were still hashing it out when the time came for Sparhawk to leave. The Headmaster excused himself saying he had some business to attend to and that Professor Snape would be taking them to King's Cross. So that was how the three of them ended up apparating to a little-used alley near King's Cross. It wasn't a pleasant experience the second time around.

They trooped together up to the entrance of King's Cross, where Snape promptly abandoned them, without a word of explanation, pressing a ticket into Adelaide's hands. "This says Platform 9 3/4" she said, suspiciously, only to find that Snape had disappeared. "How're we going to find platform 9 3/4?" she asked, disbelief colouring her words.

Sparhawk muttered the activation phrase for the zooming function on his glasses and systemically ran his eyes over the station. Platform 9 3/4 was not forthcoming.

"Maybe it's hidden," Sparhawk suggested, "and we have to be wizards to find it. Like Diagon Alley."

"If that's the case," she said, handing him the ticket, "Then you're the one who's going to have to find it."

Sparhawk gave her an incredulous look. "You're trusting the boy who couldn't remember what trains were when he woke up to find a platform 9 3/4?"

"I've taken you on the tube a few times." she replied defensively, "And you're a smart boy, Sparhawk. Go figure it out."

He shrugged and headed over to a security guard. When he posed his question, the guard shot him a suspicious look. "This supposed to be a joke?" he asked.

Sighing, Sparhawk turned back to Adelaide. "No luck."

A group of three, a couple and their daughter were standing opposite a pillar. Now that by itself wouldn't be anything odd, were it not for the fact that Sparhawk recognized the sign on the trunk she was pushing along. "Sweetsack" he muttered under his breath. Adelaide looked at him funny. "Eh, what?"

The girl whose hair seemed to share characteristics with dense shrubbery seemed to be steeling herself for something as her parents watched uncertainly on. Her eyes were fixed on the pillar and she was muttering to herself under her breath. Just as she took a determined step forward, Sparrhawk smoothly slid in front of them. She abruptly reared back. "Pardon me, neighbour" he greeted, inclining his head. "Her father, a well-built man wearing spectacles, muttered a tentative, "Hello". Now Sparhawk was dressed in what would be considered rather somber muggle fashion and wasn't looking out of place, but anyone would be quite unnerved when they were accosted by an eleven-year-old calling them neighbour, especially when they themselves were recently redefining their notions of sanity.

Before things devolved further, Adelaide stepped in. "Sorry to bother you, but are you here for…" and she trailed off, unwilling to speak it out loud. The father glanced back at his wife, who was beginning to look rather uncomfortable.

"Yes…We're here for, you know, it." Ah, a sound counter.

"Yes, it."

A few more moments of awkwardness ensued. Then the daughter piped up. "We're here to board the Hogwarts express" she declared helpfully.

"Bless the beasts and the children," thought Adelaide, turning around to peer at the youngling. "Well, Sparhawk here is looking to board the Hogwarts express too. But, we just can't find the platform! Could you be a dear and show me the way? " The girl brightened and puffed up a bit at that. "Sure! I've never been there before, but the instructions that came with my letter said that there was a pillar in between platforms nine and ten that you had to walk through. It's probably that one" she finished, pointing at a rather solid-looking concrete construct that she had been making a dash for before Sparhawk interrupted her.

Sparhawk eyed it critically. "And what if it's not?"

"It is" she insisted.

"You're rather confident"

"I just watched a rather large family walk through it"

Sparhawk turned to the parents, who seemed rather discomfited by what they had allegedly witnessed. "True" confirmed the gent, almost. as if he was afraid to say it out loud. "Well, that's that then," Sparhawk muttered, turning to Adelaide.

"But where are my manners?!" the older lady exclaimed, grabbing Sparhawk and pivoting him around. "I'm Adelaide Baker, and this is my grandson Sparhawk" Sparhawk grunted in the affirmative. Adelaide gave him the gimlet eye and turned to the girl. "And you, you lovely little thing! What might be your name?"

"I'm Hermione Granger"

"That's a lovely name."

She straightened up from the subconscious half-bent pose that adults assume when sweet-talking children and congratulated the Grangers on having a lovely daughter. The mother preened and the father looked embarrassed. "I'm Dent" he introduced himself, "and this is my wife Gingiver" Handshakes were had and the happy group moved to the pillar only for the parents to stop a foot away from the pillar.

"Why are we here anyway?" asked Dent, his face scrunching up in confusion.

"Don't we need to shop for a new mattress?" asked Gingiver, moving away.

Adelaide was shaking her head like a wet dog, before Sparhawk gently grasped her hand. Then her eyes seemed to clear. "What…" she began, brows furrowing. Hermione was quick to react and grabbed both her parents hands too and their faces cleared. "What just happened?" asked Gingiver, her face hard.

"I've only read about this, but I think they're muggle repelling charms to keep non-magical people from noticing the entrance" replied Hermione, though she didn't sound as chipper as before.

"So, you two can get in, but we can't?" asked Dent, his face clouding.

"So can wizard parents apparently, judging by the family that came before" Gingiver observed frowning.

"So, we can't see you off on the train?"

Dent was getting more restless by the second. Adelaide was frowning too, but she placed a hand on the agitated father's shoulder. "I'm sure there are reasons" and before Dent could protest, she ploughed on, "And we need to see the children off, don't we?" Gingiver gently touched Dent's arm and he sighed. Then straightening up and looking at Hermione with a smile, he spread his arms wide. "Come give Daddy a hug, sweety" Hermione flat out refused. Dent looked like a whipped puppy. "Well then, I'll be going ahead, Mum, Dad." And with that, she once again steeled her features, walked through the solid-looking stone and was gone.

Hermione's parents stood looking at the spot where she had passed through for a long moment and as one, they let out a little sigh. "There there," Adelaide said reassuringly, "I'm sure they'll be back in no time", and turning to Sparhawk and not quite adhering to the same gentlemanly conduct as Dent Granger, she swooped Sparhawk up in a fierce hug. As Sparhawk squirmed, she squeezed him even tighter and whispered in his ear, "Be careful, Sparhawk" Finally Spahawk squirmed free and slid down. With suspiciously glistening eyes, she brushed some imaginary lint off his shoulders. "Now go on. And keep an eye out for Hermione, won't you" she said, giving the Grangers a quick smile. Sparhawk nodded and walked through the wall.


As always read and review. Your reviews give me the strength to keep going. Also, Dent. Gingiver. Get it? Hur hur hur.