Hilda groaned and opened her eyes. A small figure was picking itself off the ground about six inches in front of her nose. "Goodness," Alfur said. "That was unpleasant," he looked around in confusion.

"Are you alright?" Hilda asked.

"Yes, only I seem to have lost my hat. What about you, Hilda?"

"I'm fine," she said, sitting up. "How long were we falling?"

Five minutes, the Voice informed her. Luckily I couldn't feel a thing.

"Good for you." Hilda turned to look at the rest of the party. Harry was seeing to Ron, who appeared to have knocked his head on a rock and was out cold. Draco was coming to; besides some cuts to his face and some skinned wrists, he seemed alright. Filch was sitting against a rock, biting his tongue as Ginny tested his leg. "Broken," he muttered. "Blast."

Hilda noticed something at her feet. Bending over, she came up with a length of rope in her hand. "Where's Lockhart?"

At your six. Roll.

Hilda cartwheeled aside as a stunning spell passed inches from her head. "Everyone take cover!"

Gilderoy swore and fired off another. Hilda dove behind a rock and reached into her robe. Panic struck as she realized her wand was missing. "Looking for something, Miss Dahl?" Lockhart called out. Harry and Draco drew their wands and returned fire, their shots going wide and bouncing off the walls. The cave shook, bits of rock falling from above. "It didn't have to be like this, you know!" Lockhart called out. "You should have taken the galleons and let me leave."

"Surrender, Gilderoy!" Filch shouted, pushing himself to one foot, his face pale from the agony of a compound fracture. "You're outnumbered: either face us or face the basilisk: which way do you want to go?"

"I like my chances here better, thank you very much."

"You won't get away with this!" Hilda shouted, poking her head up. She ducked as a spell chipped the top of her cover.

"I think I will, Miss Dahl. If I'm lucky, you won't remember a thing."

Hilda, the Voice commanded. Rock.

Hilda's hand began to glow. She punched the stone she was hiding behind. It exploded, a large chunk striking Gilderoy in the chest and bowling him over. He somersaulted several times before hitting the far wall. Hilda stood and raised her hand: her wand stopped mid-fall and zoomed across the room. She grabbed it and grinned.

You're welcome.

Show off.

Harry slowly walked over to Lockhart and knelt beside him. "I think he's knocked out," he said. A second later a fist caught him under the chin and knocked him back. Gilderoy crawled furiously across the floor towards Ron and pulled the boy's wand from his robe pocket. "Nobody move!" He jumped to his feet, blood running down his face. His smile was gone, replaced by an angry snarl. He aimed Ron's wand at Harry. "Drop the wands or I start using the Unforgivables." Harry, Draco and Hilda obeyed. "Now, I think I'll start with you first, Miss Dahl. Don't worry: this won't hurt a bit. Or maybe it will, but you probably won't remember. Obliviate!"

There was a loud crack as Ron's taped-up wand exploded violently in the Defense professor's hand. Lockhart dropped like a stone. A second later, the ceiling above their heads gave a final, heaving groan and collapsed, burying the professor and the kids in a mountain of rubble.

The Floo network is a marvelous, complicated piece of spellcraft. Like the telephone, it has brought the Wizarding World one step closer to the modern era: short-to-medium distance travel could be done without the danger of apparition, the discomfort of portkeys, or the exposure of the broomstick. Of course, it wasn't without its faults: like any good bureaucratic operation, the Floo connection network was an overly-complicated, understaffed mess that broke down if someone so much as sneezed mid-Floo.

In light of this, Floo Operator-in-Training Mildred Hubble was feeling intensely nervous. It was her first day at work on the network unsupervised, and a mishap earlier that day involving the misdirecting of a group of Belgian tourists to the Hall of Prophecies had her on very thin ice, both from her supervisor and the Unspeakables. She had been swiftly reassigned to the Trolheim-Britain Regional Center, and was told in no uncertain terms that one more slip-up would have her sacked.

A frantic buzzing made Mildred glanced up from her paperwork. Someone was trying to get through to the operator. Mildred took a deep breath as she adjusted her headset before plugging in. "Good evening, this is Commuter Services, how may I help you?"

Level with Mildred's face was a small, gas-fired lantern. The lantern turned green, and a woman's face appeared. "Thank goodness, I've been on hold for ages!" Johanna said. "I need to be directed to Hogwarts immediately."

"That may take a few minutes, Ma'am," Mildred said, eying the switchboard warily. "That's a controlled line: I'll need to get permission from my supervisor."

"No! No supervisor! I need to get through now, do you hear me?" Johanna shouted. Mildred flinched and lowered the volume on her headset. "My daughter is in terrible danger!"

"Ok, ok," Mildred found Johanna's extension. She then looked for the Hogwarts line. "Three up, two across," she whispered, trying to remember the location of the jack. She plugged Johanna in, and the woman's face vanished from the lantern.

Johanna tumbled out of the fireplace, landing in a graceless heap before a large four-poster bed. "Ow," she muttered.

"Hello?" One of the inhabitants of the four-poster sat up, removing her face-mask. "Who's there?" Johanna peered over the footboard, quickly ducking down as she recognized the speaker. "Philip! Wake up!"

"Mmmm? Lizzie? What's wrong? Are we being blitzed again?"

"No, there's someone in the room with us?"

"Again? It'd better not be that bloody Irishman. I should've shot the little Potato-muncher when I had the chance."

"I'm calling the guards."

"Don't, I'll get the shotgun."

Johanna heard the cocking of a hammer. Before the old man could get his slippers on she scurried across the floor and dove back into the fireplace.

"Hello again."

Mildred gave a start and looked up. The woman from before was staring out of the gas flame at her, looking rather put out. "Did I not send you to Hogwarts Castle?"

"Balmoral Castle."

"...Oh." Mildred winced. "A thousand apologies, I'll put you through now."

"Thank you."

Johanna stumbled on her feet as she came through. For some reason, she felt as though she'd been squeezed through a grate.

"Onslow! Someone's come through the space heater!"

"Bloody 'ell! Get the cricket bat."

BANG!

Johanna leapt aside. The shot destroyed the space heater in a shower of sparks.

"Daddy, no! Help me, Onslow: he thinks he's back in the Ardennes!"

Johanna grabbed the Webley from the old man's hand and raced through the grubby flat and into the front garden. As she ran past an old sedan on blocks a dog's head appeared through the driver's window and snarled. Johanna nearly fell into the shrubbery, but quickly recovered and kept running, stopping only when she felt she'd put a mile between herself and the flat. It was then that she realized she was still holding the Webley. She stuffed it into her purse for later before walking up to the nearest flat and knocking on the door.

A man answered in his pajamas and appraised her suspiciously. Johanna waved. "Good evening, may I use your fireplace for just a moment?"

Mildred was counting the dots on the popcorn ceiling when her the gas jet lit up again.

"Really, now, this is intolerable!"

Mildred nearly fell out of her chair. "I'm sorry?"

"You sent me to all the way to damn West Ham!"

"West Ham, ma'am?"

"West Ham."

"Damn, sorry, ma'am. Let me try again!"

"Wait, on second thought I would like to talk to your supervisor."

"Kssh—Sorry, ma'am—ksssh—bad—kssh—connection—ksssh—

"You know I can see you, right?"

Mildred hurriedly put her through another line.

Johanna stepped through the fireplace and looked around in confusion. She was in a large chamber of some kind, its walls marked with glowing round tiles and bookshelves. In the center of the room, a white-haired man in a black Crombie-coat stood hunched over a control console, his back to her. "What on earth?"

At this the man turned and looked nonplussed. "What?"

"Where am I?"

"What?"

"Is this Scotland? Your accent sounds pretty close."

"...What?!"

Johanna shook her head and turned back to the fireplace. "I'm just going to go," she said. "Sorry for bothering you."

As the man watched, the impossible woman turned and threw a handful of powder into the fireplace before stepping in and vanishing. He turned back to the console. "How long have we had a fireplace?" he muttered.

"I'm starting to get very cross now."

Mildred glance up at the gas jet and groaned. "Where did I send you this time?"

"...An excellent question, and one I don't have an answer to."

Something seems to be wrong with the network," she lied. "If you'd just wait a moment I'll place a call to the Floo Technology office for their assistance."

"Don't you dare put me on hold—"

Mildred winced as she paged the Floo Technology office.

"Hello, FT," a bored Irishman said upon answering. "Have you tried turning it off and on again?"

"Rats!" Mildred hung up and switched back to Johanna. She searched the switchboard frantically. Her eye finally fell on a bank of jacks labeled 'Scotland'. "Putting you through now, ma'am," She said, just crossing her fingers and picking one at random.

"Isn't this romantic?" Petunia asked.

"Sure is," Vernon said, pausing to grab a sausage roll from a plate beside the sofa. "Room service, satellite television, a roaring fire. Almost makes Scotland palatable."

"You worked hard for that promotion. You deserved this." Petunia settled into her husband's arms. "Tomorrow I was thinking we could put the top down on the car and drive along the lake."

"Sounds lovely. Pass the Scotch eggs, love?"

Petunia had only just picked up the plate when the fireplace suddenly turned green and belched a young woman, who rolled across the floor to stop at their feet. Petunia screamed and threw the plate clear across the room. Vernon swore and jumped back, overturning the entire sofa and dumping him and his wife onto the floor.

Johanna picked herself up and looked around. By now, her face was nearly black with soot, and she could swear that her hair was singed. She looked around at the room and swore. "That girl is going to hear from her supervisor," she muttered. She grabbed Vernon's napkin and wiped down her face, stopping to grab a sausage roll.

Petunia and Vernon poked their heads out from behind the sofa. "You!" Petunia screeched. "Get out this instant!"

"I'm going, I'm going!" Johanna reached into her purse for another handful of Floo powder, but came up dry. "Oh, damn."

"We came all the way to Scotland, and the freaks still found us!"

"Scotland?" Johanna perked up at the mention. "That's it! Where are we?" She pulled a map of the Floo network from her pocket and consulted it carefully. "Only ten miles from Hogwarts." She looked up at the Dursleys. "I need your car."

"Absolutely not!" Vernon climbed to his feet and picked up a floor lamp, holding it before him menacingly. "You're going to get out of here and leave us be."

"You don't understand!" Johanna stepped back as the fat man took a swing. "Oh, for Merlin's sake. I was hoping it wouldn't come to this." She reached back into her purse and came up with the Webley. Petunia and Vernon screamed as she fired a warning shot into the ceiling. Johanna stepped forward, open hand outstretched. "Give me your ****ing keys, Fat Man!" When Vernon was too slow, she loosened off a second round. "I am not ****ing around! KEYS! NOW!" Petunia grabbed the key ring from her paralyzed husband and tossed it to Johanna. "Thanks very much. I'll try and have it back by morning."

Johanna tore down the emergency stairs, through the lobby (where she body-checked an unfortunate security guard who had gotten in her way), and out into the parking lot. Standing among the identical beige sedans, she pressed the key fob and followed the flashing headlights. "Good grief," she said as she caught sight of Vernon's car. "Men and their toys."

Johanna didn't know much about cars, but the red orange sports car in front of her looked fast, which was all she needed. Climbing behind the wheel, she leaned over and fished around in the glovebox until she found a survey map of Scotland. With a penlight, she overlaid the Floo Network map over it and grinned as she pinned down the general location of Hogwarts. "Too easy," she muttered as she turned the key in the ignition.

Vernon emerged from the hotel lobby flanked by hotel security. "There she is! Stop that witch!" A guard grabbed Vernon and pulled him back as the Triumph roared past them and out of the lot, leaving the smell of burning rubber and its fading tail lights behind it.

"Sooooo," Tontu said, fiddling with his hands. "Would anyone like some tea?"

In the sofa opposite him, Cornelius Fudge and the aurors sat, looking equally uncomfortable. Cornelius blinked at the Nisse in confusion before lighting up. "Yes, yes. Tea. Lovely," he muttered. Tontu nodded before squeezing between the couch cushions and vanishing with a flash of light.

A sudden burst of horns startled everyone. The aurors drew wands and looked around for the source. The Woodman looked up from the record player, snapping one finger to the smooth Jazz drifting from the speakers. "Sorry," the Woodman said, not sounding sorry at all. "I thought some music would lighten the mood." He walked over to the fire and sat down next to the big black dog, who was dozing peacefully in the warmth.

One of the aurors leaned in towards the Woodman. "How does your head stay on?"

"Magic."

"Ah, I suppose that makes sense."

Cornelius's gaze landed on the billiard table. "Anyone fancy a game of snooker?"

The Woodman stood up. "I'm down, provided there's money on the table."

"We start the pot at ten knuts?"

"I won't go any lower than ten galleons," the Forest Spirit replied with a scoff.

"Deal." Fudge stood up and turned to the aurors. "Which one of you's the best shooter?" The middle one raised his hand. "Ah, Shacklebolt! You're with me, then."

The Woodman cracked his knuckles. "Game on."

Hilda awoke to darkness. "Lumos," she was in a small cavity surrounded by rubble. She raised her hand to the large rock above her and gave it a tentative push. "Help!" she cried out.

"Hilda!"

She heard footsteps clambering towards her. A moment later the rock overhead was pulled out of the way, and two pairs of hands reached in. Harry and Draco pulled her out and dusted her off. "Thanks," she said, wincing as she touched her side. "I think I cracked a rib," she muttered. She looked around. "Where's everyone else?"

"Well, Lockhart's probably at the bottom of this pile," Harry replied. "The rest are on the opposite side of the cave-in."

Hilda noticed a crack of light emanating from a fist-sized gap at the top of the mound. "Ginny, Mr. Filch?"

"Hilda!" Filch called out. "Don't worry! We're fine. Well, not fine, per se; I think my other leg is broken now, too, and Weasley's still conked out. Don't worry, we're acceptable!"

"Can you get through?"

"I don't think so," Ginny replied. "Alfur probably can, should I send him up?"

"No, but I do want to speak to him!"

Alfur's head appeared in the hole. "Hilda?"

"Alfur, go with Ginny to the owlery and get help."

The elf stood up straight and gave the girl a salute. "You can count on us."

"Good, now go! We have a friend to save."

"Good luck, Hilda."

"Thanks, Alfur."

"You know," Filch called out, pausing to cough. "In hindsight maybe we should have gone for help in the first place, rather than blindly jump down a hole into a monster's lair."

She climbed back down the pile and joined Draco and Harry. "Are you ready?" she asked. The two boys shook their heads. "Good, neither am I."

It was a quiet winter's night in Hogsmeade. The door to the Three Broomsticks opened, the yellow glow from within illuminating the dark streets. Madame Rosmerta came out, pushing along a stumbling inebriate. "Come on, Zonko, you've had enough."

"Gist wan moor," the man slurred.

"Absolutely not. Are you walking home?" Zonko shook his head and gestured to a broomstick lying against the wall. "I don't think you're sober enough to fly."

"Nunsince, I flea batter when I'm drink."

"I'm going to Floo your wife." Rosmerta turned to head back inside when she stopped her in her tracks. There was a strange roaring noise in the distance that was steadily getting louder. Although long an establishment of Hogsmeade, she had still been born to a muggle family in the West Midlands. Therefore, she recognized the noise. "Is that...an engine?"

The two looked to their right and spotted a pair of headlights quickly growing closer and closer. Rosmerta grabbed onto her hat and pulled Zonko back as a bright red blur shot past them, striking a pothole and going airborne momentarily. At the end of the high street, it pulled a ninety-degree handbrake turn and shot off like a rocket, the noise of its engine qucikly diminishing.

"****ing ****!" Zonko shouted, suddenly several degrees more sober. "What the bloody hell was that?"

"I believe that was a 1975 Triumph TR7 drophead coupe," Rosmerta replied "It's heading straight towards Hogwarts."

Zonko shook his head. "I need a drink."

"Don't start that again!"

I probably should have gotten to the big battle, but the idea of Johanna hopping around England in the Floo made me chuckle, so it sort of turned into a big thing. I hope you enjoy this mildly comedic interlude. Up next, the Chamber of Secrets, I promise.

One of my readers has shown some disappointment that I chose to reveal Tom's treachery early on. While I respect his opinion, I personally feel that that scene has been played out. Everyone by now knows that Tom is evil (If you don't know, why are you reading this?), so why should I go through the motions? Although the book is a template, ultimately it is my playground, and I'm going to go up the twisty slide, thank you very much.

Please follow, favorite, and hit that comments section if you are enjoying the story. Feel free to message me if you have any questions, comments, or have noticed any typos or mistakes (My thanks to the same reader from above for informing me that Fawkes was a boy. Don't know why I thought otherwise).

Update: Some keen readers noticed a certain Timey-Wimey reference in this chapter. There are several other references. Can you find them? If you can, post them in the comments below.