There was a blinding light, and when Fitz could see again he instantly knew that he was no longer in the Shield lab where he had just been.
He hurriedly looked around him trying to figure where the hell he was and what had just happened. The sounds emanating up from the floor, the size and rhythmic sway of the room he was in, the rush of scenery passing by outside the large window on one side of the compartment, and the bit of hallway he could see through the glass door on the other side of the room, combined to make him think that he was most likely on a train. And sitting across from him in the presumably train compartment that he was in was a young redheaded boy, maybe ten or eleven, who was rambling on about trying to turn something yellow but it not working, before reaching into his trunk and pulling out a carved wooden stick.
Suddenly, Fitz remembered that Jemma had been sitting right next to him when the 0-8-4 that they had been studying together had unexpectedly gone off without warning, and that she was next to him no longer. But before he could jump up and start looking for her, the compartment door slid open and he saw her. Despite being behind the person who had actually opened the door she was still easily visible, standing a good half of a foot taller than the person in front of her despite her shorter stature, since the boy who had actually opened the door looked to be about the same age as the redhead sitting across from Fitz. As soon as she saw him, Simmons slipped past the round-faced boy and rushed over to Fitz, hugging him tightly, as he had jumped up as soon as she started moving towards him.
But before either of them could say anything to the other, a voice behind Simmons said in confusion, "Harry?"
FitzSimmons let go of each other and turned to find the redhead staring at them in confusion.
Simmons looked back over at Fitz and raised a curious eyebrow, whispering quietly in his ear so that only he could hear her, "You're 'Harry'?"
Fitz shrugged, and whispered back into Simmons' ear, "No idea, just got here. You?"
"Less than a minute — and no idea my name," Simmons answered.
Thankfully though, at that very moment the round-faced boy still standing in the doorway said in his own tone of confusion, "Hermione?"
Simmons gave Fitz a 'well, there you go' look, before turning back to the two boys. "If you'll excuse us for a moment, I need to talk to Harry alone."
Then she immediately pulled Fitz out of the compartment and into the hallway with her, and set off down the narrow corridor.
As they hurried out of the compartment they heard the redhead shout at Fitz, "Harry! HARRY!", but they ignored him, needing to figure out what the hell was going on before they started trying to interact with anyone, and especially anyone twenty years younger than themselves.
Crossing over into the next train car, Simmons came to a stop.
"What the hell is going on? And why am I wearing robes and a witch's hat from an animated Disney film?" she asked, taking off said hat and straightening out her hair with her fingers.
"We're on a train, surrounded by children based on all of the compartments we just walked past, possibly in Great Britain somewhere based on the accents of the two we've heard talk, but other than that I have no clue," Fitz answered. "We were in the lab looking at the 0-8-4, there was a blinding light, and when everything cleared I was in that compartment. You showed up less than thirty seconds later."
"Same for me," Simmons replied. "Only I was walking down the corridor behind the boy who opened the door. Whose name I have no clue."
"So what do we do now? And I have no idea what the redhead's name is, either."
Simmons pulled her robes away from her body enough to look down the front of them, before saying, "First, I get rid of these ridiculous robes and hat since my real clothes are still on underneath, and then we go look for other adults and try to figure out where this train is going, but obviously without raising any suspicion that we don't know who we are or what's going on — easier said than done, of course."
As Simmons began pulling off her robes, she suddenly paused and began rummaging inside of them for a second, before pulling out a long, thin stick of ornately carved wood.
"This looks an awful lot like a wand wizards carry in magic stories and Disney cartoons," she said, holding the stick up. "Harry have one by any chance?"
"Now that you mention it —" Fitz said, quickly pulling a thin stick of wood out of his trouser pocket that he hadn't consciously felt was there until she mentioned it. "And I'm ninety percent sure the redhead had just pulled one out to poke his rat with or something right before you showed up — I was only half paying attention to what he was saying since I was trying to figure out what was going on."
"Pointed hat — robe — wand — did we transport somewhere where magic is real?" Simmons asked.
"Maybe," Fitz shrugged, having no more clue what was going on than his wife did, as they both stuck their wands back in their pockets.
As there was nothing left to discuss until they learned more about the situation that they had found themselves in, Simmons finished taking off Hermione's robes and set them and her hat neatly in the corner on the floor out of anyone's way, and they set off down the hall again. But train car after train car they saw no one but children, ranging from about ten or eleven years old like the two whom they'd seen when they first found themselves wherever they now were, to around seventeen or eighteen years old. Finally they arrived at the very front of the train, where they found an old man who looked like a conductor and an old woman with a cart full of food.
"Want something else to eat, dears?" the woman asked them.
"No thanks," Simmons answered. "We were just wondering how long it was going to be before we arrived."
"About two hours," the conductor answered. "We'll be there soon enough, and it'll be well worth the wait."
Thanking both of them, FitzSimmons headed back out into the train car that they had just come from.
"That didn't help much," Fitz said. "All we know is that we're stuck on a train for another couple hours going who knows where, surrounded by nothing but children and two adults who aren't doing anything to watch the children."
"And I think everyone here sees us as children," Simmons said. "I'm not a hundred percent sure on that, but if we're really the only two adults on this train besides those two, I think we would have seen some kind of reaction from the kids we've passed, and a different reaction from those two. But that's just a guess, don't hold me to it, and I don't know our supposed ages."
"I hold everything to you, wifey," Fitz smirked, before asking seriously, "But what do we do for the next couple hours until we get to wherever we're going and hopefully figure out what the hell is going on when we get there?"
"Well...I'd rather not go back into the compartment you arrived in since that redhead clearly knows Harry, or any other compartment for that matter because we don't know anything about ourselves, but I also don't particularly want to stand in the corridor the entire rest of the ride, either."
"Can we just go to the very end of the train and sit on the floor against the back wall or emergency exit door?" Fitz suggested. "We should be out of the way of everyone until it's time to get off, at least."
Simmons nodded her agreement to his plan, and they headed back down the train, quickly skirting past the compartment that Fitz had shown up in order to avoid the redhead seeing them. Safely arriving at the end of the train they sat down on the floor against the back wall, and Simmons leaned her head on Fitz's shoulder as they clasped their closest hands in Simmons' lap. They passed the next hour and a half talking about their various solo projects that they had going on at Shield that they hadn't had time to really talk to the other about with all of their combined projects and everything else that came with being a Shield agent and saving the world every other day and twice on Sundays, until three boys about the same age as the redhead and round-faced boy swaggered up to them.
While the two on the sides were thick-set and rather bullyish-looking they were still only kids, so FitzSimmons didn't feel enough reason to stand up yet, confident that they could take all three of them from the ground should the newcomers make the fatal error of attacking — knees could be a very fragile thing under a well-placed kick, especially in growing children.
At the moment, however, the middle boy — a very pale, proud-looking boy who was clearly the leader — was merely looking at Fitz with interest.
And after a second, he asked, "Is it true? They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's here. So it's you, is it?"
"Maybe?" Fitz answered honestly.
"This is Crabbe and this is Goyle," the pale boy said introducing his friends, or bodyguards — FitzSimmons weren't sure which was the more apt description. "And my name's Malfoy — Draco Malfoy."
"Nice to meet you," Simmons replied politely. She seriously doubted that they were going to be friends with him anytime soon based on his standoffish nature that she was observing, but no reason to be impolite.
"And you are?" Malfoy asked in reply, looking directly at her for the first time, and not in the most warm, friendly manner, either.
"Hermione," Simmons answered.
"What kind of blood?" Malfoy asked coolly.
"Red," Simmons replied, seeing no reason to tell this random boy that she was AB+, and surprised that he would even know that much about blood types or want to know what type she was, let alone have a good reason for needing to know.
Malfoy just stared at her for several seconds, before finally sneering, "I'll take that to mean you're a muggleborn." Turning back to Fitz he said haughtily, "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."
He held out his hand for Fitz to shake.
Fitz raised an eyebrow at the boy. "Did you just insult the girl I'm sitting with, and then expect me to be friends with you? You really need to learn how to make friends better. Hint number one — don't insult the friends they already have the first time you meet them."
Malfoy stared at Fitz in surprise for several seconds, but eventually turned his shock into a sneer and said, "I'd be careful if I were you, Potter. Unless you're a bit politer, you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you."
FitzSimmons glanced at each other at hearing that something had happened to Harry Potter's parents, before looking back indifferently at Malfoy, having no clue who Hagrid was, why or even if he was actually 'riffraff', and now strongly suspecting that Malfoy had already met Harry Potter sometime before, likely when Harry was with this Hagrid fellow that Malfoy had just mentioned.
And for several long seconds there was nothing but silence between the three of them (and the two bodyguards who hadn't spoken a word the entire time), before Malfoy finally said with a hint of confusion in his voice, "Didn't you hear what I just said? If you keep hanging around riffraff like Hagrid and that mudblood" — here he pointed towards Simmons while keeping all of his attention on Fitz — "you'll die the same as your parents did."
"Been there, done that, didn't enjoy it," Fitz replied truthfully, knowing that it would serve to only further confuse the boy, which seemed to have been an effective plan of action so far.
He also assumed that 'mudblood' must be this world's version of nigga (and its original, nigger), and didn't particularly appreciate Malfoy's use of it towards his wife, but both he and Simmons were adult enough to handle twelve year olds on the internet anonymously hurling insults in video games and comment sections without rising to the bait, which is essentially all Malfoy was, only at least with the balls to do it to their faces. And in truth, they had no clue what mudblood or muggleborn actually meant, only a strong guess that it was offensive.
As expected, Malfoy stared at Fitz in confusion at his comment about dying once already, while FitzSimmons simply looked back at him boredly, wondering how long he was going to continue trying to get a reaction out of them that he was never going to get. The answer to which was apparently none, as after several more seconds he finally just glared at them before turning around and stalking back off down the corridor to whatever compartment he'd come from, his bodyguards plodding along dutifully behind him.
Once he was out of earshot, Simmons turned to her husband and said, "That was interesting — and probably the most informative interaction we've had so far, even if it was the most unpleasant."
"He's definitely a dick, but he does know a lot about this Harry Potter fellow that I've replaced," Fitz agreed. "Including the fact that Harry's parents were apparently murdered — or at least, that's the impression I got."
"It's possible he meant something else, but that is what it sounded like to me as well," Simmons said. "Also, 'muggleborn' is apparently 'bad', has something to do maybe with family, I'm guessing that's what he meant by 'blood', and 'mudblood' is apparently the slur version of 'muggleborn'."
"And there's someone named Hagrid who apparently Harry was with when Malfoy saw Harry at some earlier point," Fitz added.
"Is he a mudblood, too? But Malfoy never called Hagrid a mudblood, or even muggleborn," Simmons replied. "Just riffraff — but he could have simply not had time to get all of his insults in."
But at that moment a voice came over the train's intercom system, saying, "We will be reaching Hogwarts in fifteen minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."
"Well that's good — we don't have to worry about going back into Harry's compartment with the redhead to see if Harry has any luggage, and I have no clue where Hermione's luggage might be," Simmons said.
"But it does mean we need to move from here, or we're going to get trampled," Fitz replied.
"Or we stay here at the door, be the first people off, and disappear into the shadows while we see what's going on," Simmons proposed. "We're already here, and with this many kids, it can't be anything dangerous waiting wherever we stop. And maybe there'll be an adult, or lots of adults, waiting on the train that we can try to figure out what's going on from — beyond being at a school named Hogwarts."
So they stayed where they were, children starting to line up in the hallway behind them, until the train finally screeched to a halt and the door swung open. FitzSimmons stepped out onto a small, dark, open air platform, nary an adult in sight, let alone lots of adults to supervise the literally hundreds of children who were on the train. Quickly glancing around they found a nice patch of shadows to hide in, and began watching everyone pile off of the train.
A few minutes later they saw a lantern come bobbing over the heads of all of the students, and a Scottish voice call out, "Firs' years! Firs' years over here!"
Simmons gasped as she tried to peer through the darkness.
"Is that a really small giant?" she asked in shock.
"I can't see, but looks like something big," Fitz answered. "And if this really is a magical world, I guess they could exist."
As the smallest of the children scrambling off of the train headed towards what might be a giant, the rest of the kids headed in the opposite direction towards the long line of stagecoaches just visible on the dirt road that led to and from the train platform. Clueless as to whether Harry and Hermione were first years or not, and just a little hesitant to walk towards the possibly children-eating giant — after all, if they really were in a magical world, what's to say that all of the normal magical tropes weren't accurate as well? — FitzSimmons decided to join the majority of the kids getting in the horseless carriages, finding one all to themselves near the end of the line. As soon as the carriage in front of them started moving, theirs followed it and began bumping and swaying down the rough dirt road. They soon passed through magnificent wrought iron gates flanked on each side of the road with stone columns topped with winged boars and flaming torches, and a little while later they began seeing turrets and towers appear above and through the trees ahead of them.
"We're heading towards a castle," Simmons said excitedly, head stuck out of the carriage window looking at the approaching abode. "An absolutely ginormous castle, like royal palace-sized compared to most of the castles scattered across our respective countries. Not quite Buckingham big, but big."
Soon after that they rounded a corner and could see the stone structure that they were approaching in its entirety, which as Simmons had said was an absolutely massive castle, seven stories high not including the towers, and sprawling across the top of the hill that it was built upon.
"Unless there's already ten times as many people inside this castle as there were on the train, like all of the adults we haven't seen yet for example, that is way bigger than the number of people who are presumably going to be living here," Fitz commented.
"It's bigger than any base we've had since the fall of Shield, hangers not included, though nowhere near as secure," Simmons replied as they climbed out of the carriage that had come to a stop in front of the castle.
Following the crowds inside, they walked through a giant entrance hall into an even greater hall, one with four long tables set with plates and silverware; a table perpendicular to those four tables on the far side of the hall from where they were entering, where they saw the first adults that they'd seen since arriving, just sitting there waiting on everyone to come in on their own; and what looked like no ceiling, the clear black sky spreading out gloriously above them. Since they didn't know what they were doing, FitzSimmons walked to the corner-most seats in the hall and sat down to wait.
As everyone else took their seats as well and began talking amongst each other as they waited on whatever was coming next, FitzSimmons looked all around them taking in everyone there. Down the table from them they saw identical twin redheads who looked like they were probably related to the redhead in Harry's compartment, along with another slightly older redhead than the twins who also looked to be related. But they didn't see the redhead from Harry's compartment, the round-faced boy who was with Hermione when they had arrived on the train, or Malfoy and his bodyguards, making them guess that all of those were first years who had gone with the possibly children-eating giant and might never be seen again — or would show up later after whatever introductions were done for the first year students, presuming that there actually were any.
Meanwhile, sitting up uselessly at the staff table were all of the professors of this odd, and so far highly irresponsible, school. Most of the professors were just talking amongst themselves completely ignoring all of the entering children whom they were responsible for, but the one at the very end of the staff table furthest away from the table that FitzSimmons were sitting at, was looking out over the hall, low-key scowling at everyone. They watched him for a while as he seemed like the professor most needed to be watched out for during their time there, until he looked in their direction and locked eyes with Fitz. His general scowl of displeasure instantly hardened into a glare of pure hatred, until after several seconds of being stared right back at by an unintimidated FitzSimmons, he finally looked away again and resumed scanning the whole hall.
"Did you see that?" Simmons whispered to her husband once he had looked away. "The sallow-looking professor at the very end was staring at you like he not only already knows Harry, but loathes him."
"Yeah, I saw it too," Fitz answered, still discreetly watching the thoroughly unpleasant-seeming man. "Wonder what happened between him and Harry, and how much trouble it's going to cause us not knowing Harry's history? It's going to be like a woman being mad at you for something that you did but refusing to tell you what it was, only worse."
"I'm more worried about how he's going to treat you in class if we have him because of whatever happened between him and Harry," Simmons said. "Though you do have a point about not arousing suspicions that we're not who everyone thinks we are."
"We'll just have to deal with it when it comes," Fitz replied. "Surely he can't be worse than Ward, Hydra, Aida, or any other of the plethora of bad guys we've faced in our world."
"Yeah, we have way too much experience dealing with bad guys," Simmons sighed, leaning her head on her husband's shoulder.
But she hadn't been relaxing there long when the door to the entrance hall opened and a small giant strolled in.
"Hey, that's the giant you thought you saw on the train platform, isn't it?" Fitz said quietly.
"Unless there's more than one, I'd imagine so," Simmons answered as they watched him walk up to the staff table and take the end seat on their side, leaving just one more empty seat at the head table.
Not too many minutes after that Simmons gave the cutest little gasp. For twenty pearly-transparent spirits had just floated through the stone wall and began floating down to the four tables.
"I would remind myself that there are no such things as ghosts, but those sure as hell look like ghosts, and this is a magical world," Fitz said, staring around at all of the ghosts, five of which had settled in various seats at the table that they were sitting at, though none particularly close to the two Shield agents hiding in the back corner.
"I think we have to assume anything is possible until we know the rules of this universe better," Simmons replied, before smirking lightly, "Except clowns with knives in the dark — those definitely aren't possible."
Fitz rolled his eyes. "Just because I'm more afraid of them than of Ward, Hydra, and Aida having a baby together doesn't mean they aren't possible — they're the one thing that definitely is possible."
But they had no more time to think about the ghosts or knifed clowns in the dark as the door to the entrance hall opened again, and a stern-looking older woman led in a line of eleven year olds, including all five boys whom they had personally had contact with since arriving, up to the front of the hall and lined them up in front of a stool that she placed an ancient, tattered witches hat on.
All of a sudden, the brim on the hat split open and began singing. From what they could make of the song, FitzSimmons discovered that the hat's name was the 'Sorting Hat', and when you put it on it told you what House you were going to be in. It also gave brief descriptions of the requirements to be selected for each House before finally stopping, and the hall burst out in applause.
Then the stern witch stepped forward and said, "When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted. Abbott, Hannah!"
One by one, the woman called the lined up kids forward. Somewhere between instantly and several minutes after being placed on their head, the hat called out the name of one of the four Houses that it had sung about and the kid went to sit at said table. And at the fifth child, FitzSimmons learned which table they were sitting at — Gryffindor.
But a handful of students later, the woman called out, "Granger, Hermione."
When no one in the line of first year students moved, Fitz looked at Simmons and asked quietly, "Is that you?"
Simmons gave him a look and a shrug that said 'I guess so', before standing up and walking towards the front of the hall and the stool with the hat. Fitz stood up and followed her, both because they never left each other's side unless they absolutely had to, and because he figured based on everything that they had seen and heard so far that if Hermione Granger was a first year, it was most likely that Harry Potter was as well, and so his name would soon be called, too.
As soon as they made it up to the front the stern woman fully noticed them for the first time, and demanded sternly, "Where are your robes and hats?!"
"In my luggage, maybe?" Fitz answered honestly with a shrug, operating on the assumption that Harry more likely than not had luggage in the compartment that he had been in with the redhead, or less likely in some other compartment on the train. "Nobody told me anything about wearing robes."
"Last I checked mine were in the corner of one of the cars on the train, where I left them and the hat after I took them off," Simmons added equally politely. "And like Harry, no one told me I had to wear them. Or why everyone's wearing stupidly impractical robes to begin with — this is a school, not a courthouse."
They both knew that they were bluffing slightly by saying that no one had told them that they were required to wear robes, as it was completely possible that someone or something had informed them of that requirement before they had arrived, but it was also possible that they hadn't ever been told that, as the voice over the train intercom system fifteen minutes before arrival hadn't reminded everyone to put on their robes like it could have, so it was a bluff that they were content to make, and if they were wrong, perhaps they would learn something new.
The woman just stared at them in shock for several long seconds, as the rest of the Great Hall watched with varying degrees of understanding of what was going on depending on how close they were to hear the conversation and how much they were paying attention to begin with.
But after several seconds, the woman collected herself and snapped, "Go get your robes and put them on right now!"
"Get them where?" Fitz retorted, rolling his eyes at the woman.
He had no clue where his or Hermione's luggage was, if they even had any to begin with, and while he was happy to walk back down to the train if it was even still at the station to get Hermione's robes with Simmons, he highly doubted that's what the woman meant.
At Fitz's reminder the woman apparently realized her mistake and the impossibility for them to get their robes at the moment, and so simply snapped, "Granger, go put on the hat."
Simmons casually strolled over to the four-legged stool and daintily set the hat on her head so as not to muss up her hair when she took it back off again soon. Fitz watched in curiosity as she sat there, until not even thirty seconds later the Sorting Hat shouted out, "GRYFFINDOR!"
After setting the hat back down on the stool, Simmons walked back over to where Fitz was standing and whispered in his ear, "Just tell it you want Gryffindor," before walking over to the wall to wait on her husband before they both took their seats in the back corner again that they had been sitting at before 'Granger, Hermione' had been called.
As Fitz waited for the surnames to finally get to Potter, the redhead from Harry's compartment slowly shuffled his way over to where Fitz was standing.
"What happened to you after that girl dragged you out?" he whispered. "I kept waiting on you to come back. I stored all your extra lunch in my trunk."
But Fitz, who could tell a glaringly obvious situation in which they weren't supposed to be talking, simply put his finger to his lips as he glanced down at the redhead, to tell him to be quiet. And fortunately, before the boy could ignore him and try saying anything more, the woman in charge called out, "Potter, Harry", and Fitz walked over to the stool and put the hat on his head.
As he'd walked over to the hat the hall had filled with hissing whispers that it hadn't for any student before 'Potter, Harry', but as soon as Fitz placed the hat on his head it all disappeared into a dead quiet — the hat apparently had some form of noise canceling device built into it.
And the next moment, he heard a whisper in his mind. 'Hmm. Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes — and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting... So where shall I put you?'
Since it didn't sound like Leopold or anyone else whom he might hear or hallucinate, and remembering what Simmons had whispered to him after she had tried on the hat, he thought back, 'I'm doing everything with Hermione Granger regardless of what you say, so you might as well save us all some trouble and put me in Gryffindor. Also, she told me to tell you I want Gryffindor — which I guess I just did, to be honest.'
The hat seemed taken aback by Fitz's blunt reply as it didn't say anything for several seconds, before finally replying silkily, 'That's a much more Slytherin attitude, if you ask me — demanding, crafty, self-important.'
'I really don't give two shits where you put me, I'll still be with Hermione all the time,' Fitz answered. 'We have a rule that we never leave each other's side, and we're sure as hell not breaking it for some talking hat that really needs cleaned. And what kind of school is this anyway to segregate ten year old children based on character traits that may not even be their real traits, just what they're showing at ten years old? This seems like a really bad way of splitting up students at this age. If there's no previous knowledge of the students' academic abilities, then first year they should be separated randomly, and then every year after that, at only forty students or so, split into probably two, maybe three groups based on how they did academically the previous year, so the smartest students are with the smartest students learning quicker, and the lower half of the students who are struggling with mostly the same things are together so that the professors can directly address what they're all struggling with, instead of having to try to balance students way ahead and students way behind with students in the middle all in the same class. What doesn't make any sense is separating them based on character traits regardless of whether you can actually accurately determine their traits, and more importantly their traits in five to ten years. Because 'traits' is irrelevant in this situation. It's knowledge and intellect that matters in a school.'
Once again the hat seemed to have no idea what to say, as it was completely silent for several seconds before finally just shouting out, "GRYFFINDOR!"
The Gryffindor table went nuts as Fitz took off the hat, set it back down on the stool, and walked over to where his wife was waiting for him.
"That took you a lot longer than me," she whispered to him as they started walking down the table towards their seats, ignoring everyone's cheering. "What happened? It not want to give you Gryffindor?"
"It wasn't that, I just lectured it way too long on the stupidity of separating students based on 'traits'," Fitz answered. "I'm not sure what it actually thought about me going in Gryffindor, it did try to tell me I should be in Slytherin, but I don't know where it was actually leaning. Most of that time was just me lecturing it on how stupid it was, until it finally just gave me what I'd started out by telling it I was going to do no matter what House it put me in — and that was stay with you."
"Oh — okay," Simmons replied. "Since I didn't care what House it put me in, I just let it talk a bit and then put me wherever it wanted to. I only told you to tell it to put you in Gryffindor because it did sound like it could be reasoned with, and at that point it mattered that you got in the same House as me, regardless of what House that actually was."
"Of course," Fitz said as they sat back down in their seats and turned their attention to watch the remainder of the sorting.
As 'Weasley, Ronald', the redhead from Harry's compartment was called up to be sorted a few minutes later, Fitz said to Simmons, "On one hand I think we kind of screwed Weasley over, I think he and Harry were friends before I arrived, but on the other hand he called you 'that girl' and said you 'drug me out' in what seemed to me at least like a rather rude tone, so I'm not sure he was the best kid for Harry to have been friends with to start with."
"I saw he made his way over to you before you were sorted, and when we were leaving his compartment on the train he was shouting out your name," Simmons replied. "Any idea if they were friends before coming here, or met on the train and became friends?"
"No idea," Fitz said shaking his head. "But he also said he 'kept waiting on me to come back', almost like he thought I owed it to him to come back or something. And maybe I'm just projecting adult intent on a ten year old, maybe he just didn't really word it the way he actually meant it, but we should probably watch him — he might be expecting something out of Harry."
Simmons merely coughed slightly in reply, subtly nodding her head down the table — to where Ronald was walking straight towards them on the opposite side of the table.
Plopping down in the seat across from them, Ronald began talking the moment that his arse hit the seat. "I knew we'd end up in the same House, Harry. I mean, it was practically a given you'd be in Gryffindor with me. But where were you? You never came back to our compartment, and I looked for you when I got off the train and getting into the boats, but I couldn't find you — I ended up having to ride with Neville."
But fortunately at that moment 'Zabini, Blaise' was put in Slytherin and the woman in charge began packing everything away, so Fitz could just mumble, "Wanted to spend time alone with Hermione," and leave it at that.
Shortly, the old man who was seated at the center of the staff table and looked most likely to be in charge of the school, stood up and said, "Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"
And with that he sat back down and food magically appeared on the tables in front of them. Wondering what exactly they had found themselves thrown into, FitzSimmons began eating.
Ronald dove in like he hadn't eaten all day, but after several peaceful minutes he asked through a mouthful of food, "So where were you all train ride and the boats, Harry?"
Still unsure of exactly what kind of kid Ronald was, Fitz decided it was best for the moment to play along and at least partially answer the kid's questions, and so replied, "Like I said, I wanted to spend time with Hermione. We wandered up to the conductor, and then back down to the very back of the train where we just talked for the rest of the ride. Once the train stopped, we got pushed along with the crowds to the horseless carriages and rode up in them. What are these boats you came by?"
Through continued mouthfuls of food Ronald explained, "We walked down a path through the woods until it opened up on a giant lake, where we climbed into little boats that carried us across the lake until arriving in a cave below the school. Then we climbed up a passageway and across the lawn to the front doors, where McGonagall was waiting for us. Then she eventually led us all in here to be sorted."
Storing away the information that the stern woman who had called out all of their names was named 'McGonagall', Fitz turned to Simmons and in hopes that Ronald would leave them alone if they were talking with each other about something that he would have no clue about, asked, "So have Daisy and Coulson officially said they're dating yet, or are they still trying to pretend like they aren't?"
"Daisy told me they were several weeks ago when we got lunch together off base, but otherwise when she and I are talking alone I still only hear her ever call him Coulson and AC, and never 'boyfriend' or anything like that, so I'm not sure," Simmons answered. "It could just be because of their age difference that Daisy feels weird calling him 'boyfriend', but it could also be because they're trying to pretend that they aren't an item. And to be completely honest, I think there's as much a chance as anything else that they won't admit they're anything until one of them proposes to the other, and they can't deny any longer that they must be something. Platonic married Director and Second-in-Command who share a room and sleep with each other isn't a real thing."
"That would be them," Fitz chuckled with a shake of his head. "They've been dancing around each other for as long as we've known them."
But Ronald apparently wasn't willing to be left out of a conversation with Harry Potter, as he butted into their private conversation asking, "Harry, did you hear about Gringotts? It's been all over the Daily Prophet, but I don't suppose you get that with the Muggles — someone tried to rob a high security vault."
After storing away that the Daily Prophet was either a news source or a social media outlet (but she repeated herself), and that Gringotts was most likely a bank, though possibly a military base, Simmons said, "Interesting. What happened?"
"Dad just said that whoever did it hadn't been caught yet, and they don't think they took anything. That's why it's such big news. But dad says it must've been a powerful dark wizard to get round Gringotts. 'Course, everyone gets scared when something like this happens in case You-Know-Who's behind it."
"Who?" Fitz and Simmons asked at exactly the same time in identical confusion.
"You know — You-Know-Who! He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named?!"
"No clue what you're talking about," Simmons replied. "Break it down for us like we're idiots."
"Harry, you know who You-Know-Who is!" Ronald exclaimed, looking at Fitz. "You've got your famous scar from where he tried to kill you and everything! You told me all you could remember was a bunch of green light!"
"Oh, right…" Fitz lied smoothly, still having no clue whom the boy was talking about, but not wanting to raise any more suspicions than they already had.
He was also 99% sure that he didn't have whatever famous scar it was that Ronald was talking about, or else Jemma would have mentioned him having a new, unexpected scar, but perhaps whatever made everyone believe that they were eleven year olds instead of mid-thirty year olds also made them see a scar that wasn't there, or perhaps it was hidden somewhere underneath his clothes, which would also explain why Jemma hadn't mentioned it if he did have it now.
After Fitz's agreement that he had a clue whom Ronald had been talking about they were all silent again for a while eating, but eventually Ronald asked Fitz, "What's your quidditch team?"
"Quidditch? What's that?" Fitz answered, never having heard such a word before.
"What?! You don't know what quidditch is?!" Ronald gasped, looking dumbfounded and completely flummoxed.
"Assume we know nothing, and always start from there," Fitz replied.
Apparently quidditch was something that Ronald was quite passionate about, as he immediately launched into a longwinded monologue about what was apparently a sport of some sort, that was easily tuned out by FitzSimmons as they finished up supper and then dessert.
He was still rambling on when the old man in charge stood up again and after clearing his throat said to the hall, "Just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well. I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term, so anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch before then. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."
As Fitz muttered under his breath to Simmons, "That doesn't seem very safe — almost as bad as keeping Ward in the basement," the man continued on, "And now, before we go to bed — let us sing the school song!"
Once the song was over the man said, "Ah, music. A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"
Almost immediately, the oldest redhead they had seen began calling all of the first years to him. Assuming that he was leading them to wherever they needed to go, FitzSimmons walked over and joined all of the eleven year olds surrounding him.
Once they were all there, the redhead said pompously, "My name is Percy Weasley, and I am one of the Gryffindor prefects, and I will be leading you up to Gryffindor Tower. Stick close to me, and there will be no trouble."
Then he began leading them out of the hall and up through the castle.
After the second secret passage that they went through, Simmons pushed her way to the front next to Percy and asked him, "Is there a map or something so we can find our way around this place?"
Even with her and Fitz's memories, she could already see that this was going to be a hard place to navigate blind.
Percy turned and stared at her like he'd never heard such a question before. But after a few seconds he managed to reply dismissively, "You will learn your way around the castle soon enough."
Able to see that Percy was going to be completely useless for anything helpful, Simmons dropped back to the end of the line where Fitz was waiting on her and whispered to him, "Maybe an adult will be more help."
"If they were, wouldn't they be the ones leading us to wherever we're staying, and have already given us a map to this place?" Fitz whispered back grumpily, so far less than impressed with the adults whom they'd seen since arriving.
Simmons just kind of shrugged back, the thought having crossed her mind as well but there being nothing to do for it but wait and see what happened in the morning.
They continued following Percy Weasley for several more staircases and hallways until he suddenly came to a halt in the middle of a long corridor. In front of them, hanging in the air in much the same way that bricks don't, was a bundle of walking sticks. FitzSimmons quickly flattened themselves against the wall to reduce their surface area, and therefore the chance that they would get hit if said sticks decided to stop floating in the air. And it proved to be a smart move a second later when Percy stepped towards the bundle of sticks and they began throwing themselves at him.
As several whizzed past his head, inches away from giving him a concussion or possibly killing him, for some reason he seemed to think that it was a good idea to take the time to turn and whisper to all of the first years standing behind him, "Peeves, a poltergeist," before turning back around and addressing Peeves directly, saying, "Peeves — show yourself!"
The air made rude, farting sounds until Percy said, "Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?", at which point there was a pop, and a poltergeist suddenly appeared in front of them sitting cross-legged in the air.
"Oooooooh! Ickle Firsties! What fun!" he cackled evilly, before swooping down at them.
As all of the first years ducked in fright, Fitz stuck his arm out and clotheslined the supernatural creature, causing him to tumble over and over through the air, dropping all of his sticks on the ground with a loud clatter as he clutched his throat.
Everyone in the vicinity except for Simmons turned to stare at him in shock, Percy and Peeves included — apparently no one had ever considered fighting back before.
So before anyone could say anything stupid and ruin the progress that he had just made against the supernatural bully, Fitz stepped towards Peeves and looked him dead in the eyes, ordering coldly, "Scram, Peeves — and don't ever let us catch you bullying any more students, or we will hurt you a whole lot more than that next time."
It was a bluff at the moment as they didn't know any magic yet to actually stop him, and it was always hit or miss whether you could physically attack a flying being, but he hoped that Peeves would be scared enough of him for long enough that he and Simmons could learn enough spells to actually back up his words before they had to stop him again. And at least at the moment Peeves seemed to be, as he quickly turned and zoomed away from them, leaving his sticks still lying in a pile on the ground behind him.
Percy, on the other hand, after staring at FitzSimmons for several more seconds finally said weakly, mostly to the other first years as he resumed leading them all down the hallway, "You want to watch out for Peeves. The Bloody Baron's the only one who can control him, he won't even listen to us prefects."
FitzSimmons rolled their eyes at each other, wondering why some people had such a hard time accepting the possibility of taking matters into your own hands, especially matters of personal safety, when the people who were supposed to be upholding the rules failed to do so, as was clearly the case with a spirit that was being allowed to fly free about the castle bullying students and physically hurting them.
Arriving at the end of the hallway Percy stopped in front of a painting of a morbidly fat woman in an archaic pink silk dress.
"Password?" she demanded.
"Caput Draconis," Percy answered causing the portrait to swing forward, revealing a hole in the wall and a secret room behind it.
Climbing through after everyone else, FitzSimmons discovered a round room that was clearly larger on the inside than any tower that they had seen from the outside of the castle as they had ridden up. Squashy armchairs were scattered all about, there was a couch in front of a fireplace, and several tables were set around the room for doing homework on.
"Girls' staircase on the left, boys' staircase on the right," Percy told them, pointing at the pair of staircases next to each other on the opposite side of the room. "You'll both be at the very top."
As all of the other first years headed up their respective staircases, FitzSimmons walked over to one of the many windows overlooking the grounds and leaned against the wall on either side of it, looking out into the darkness.
"These sleeping arrangements aren't going to work," Simmons said quietly.
"And taking one of our rooms for both of us probably won't work either — at least, I assume everyone's probably in one room at this age, and not separate dorm rooms," Fitz replied.
"We would have to check to know for sure, but I'm assuming not," Simmons answered. "Though there's certainly room in this castle given the actual number of people here versus its size. But even if we had our own room, we'd still have to deal with all the other students going up and down the stairs, who might not understand why there's a cooties-carrying girl in the boys' dorm, or a boy in the girls' dorm. Or they would understand, and disapprove of two eleven-year-olds doing it."
"So what do we do?" Fitz asked. "And where is the luggage we presumably have? The person on the train intercom said they would be brought to the school, but not where, and we haven't seen them yet."
"Maybe they're up in our rooms already, I don't know," Simmons answered. "But as for what we do — let's go scout out our rooms first, and make sure we can't stay in one of them. It'll also let us figure out clothes and luggage and stuff. Then meet back down here, and we'll figure out where to go from there."
When Fitz nodded his agreement Simmons leaned towards him and pecked him on the lips, before they walked over to the two staircases. Upstairs, they both found a room with five four-poster beds, and trunks next to each one. Between those students already in bed (including Ronald and the round-faced boy) and the rest getting ready for bed going back and forth between the room and an attached room that was presumably the bathroom, it didn't take either of them more than a minute of loitering by the window pretending to look out at the view to deduce which beds were supposed to be theirs, and therefore which trunks must be theirs as well.
Walking over and opening his trunk, Fitz found three sets of robes, a hat like the one Simmons had been wearing when she had appeared in this world, thick gloves of some type of scaly material, a cloak, eight books, several assorted pieces of equipment that he assumed were for different classes, and clothes that were most definitely his own from their world. Which was extremely convenient, but a bit odd. Then again, the robes and hat that Simmons had been wearing when they had arrived fit her properly despite her replacing an eleven year old, so who knew. Perhaps it was the 0-8-4 that presumably sent them here, perhaps it was some magic in the world, he didn't really care at the moment. So long as all of Simmons' clothes were hers as well, they were at least set on that front. Quickly shoving some clothes and toiletries in the backpack that was also in his trunk, Fitz hurried back down to the common room to see if things were the same in Hermione's dorm.
Simmons was already waiting for him on the couch, her own backpack sitting on the floor next to her feet. As soon as Fitz sat down next to her on the couch, she said quietly, "My dorm's definitely out for sleeping in, but found my trunk and somehow all my clothes are mine, which is lucky. You?"
"Same. Five beds in one room, what's presumably an attached bathroom, and a trunk with books, supplies, and my own clothes," Fitz answered.
The unasked question of what they were doing that night, and for the foreseeable future until they figured out how to get back to their world or if they were sent here intentionally to be a shield for this world, hung heavily in the air for several minutes as Simmons leaned into her husband's side and they both stared into the fire.
But eventually Simmons said, "Tonight we can just sleep on this couch, and set one of our watches to go off at 0600 so we're awake hopefully well before anyone else is up — though now that I say that, I have no clue what time breakfast is or classes start since no one bothered telling us any of that, at least since the point in this timeline when we arrived. But I don't know what to do going forward, and especially in regards to having sex."
"Well...maybe I'm crazy here, but this castle is way bigger than the number of students it currently houses, right?" Fitz said.
"Yes, and possibly bigger on the inside than the outside, at least based on this room and our dorm rooms," Simmons answered.
"And if it's way bigger than the current number of students, then it's also reasonable to assume that it was built to house and teach more students than it currently does, right?" Fitz continued.
"Makes sense to me," Simmons replied. "What's your thought here, husband?"
"That there has to be more bedrooms somewhere," Fitz answered. "Unused bedrooms that we could have all to ourselves. Where no one would question why a scruffy guy and the prettiest girl in the castle are living in the same room, and where we won't permanently scar any kids who aren't old enough to have learnt yet what married adults get up to when they're alone."
"Because if the castle is designed to sleep more students than there currently are, then there must be vacant bedrooms for all of those extra students somewhere — that would be a logical conclusion," Simmons agreed. "But where are they? Because on my way up to my dorm I only saw six doors, each labeled with a year between two and seven, nonrepeating, and then the first year dorm we're supposed to be in at the very top."
"Off the top of my head I would say there's either more Houses than are currently active, more staircases somewhere off this common room like the two that are visible and used, or there is a second part to Gryffindor House hidden away somewhere else, like down the corridor we didn't come up getting here, that isn't currently used," Fitz answered. "Or it could be something totally different, I have no real clue, but that's how I would do it off the top of my head if I was the one in charge of housing more students — or housing less students, as I guess is really the case here."
"That all makes sense, and I'm certainly not disagreeing with any of it, but the hall we ate supper in tonight was completely full, which is throwing a wrench in this whole theory," Simmons said. "Although it actually throws a wrench in everything, because it doesn't match with the size of this entire castle, which is a visible fact unless most of it's actually just a magical hard-light hologram."
"Yeah…" Fitz sighed, stumped himself on that one. But after several seconds of thinking he said, "Okay, I've got two possible solutions to that. One, each House has its own dining hall somewhere, that like everything else is no longer in use. Or two, the hall we dined in tonight is not actually the dining hall for this castle. This entire castle is much different from most, as it was clearly built as something more like a school than anything defensive, so its layout isn't going to be the most predictable anyway. But what if the hall we ate in tonight was originally more of a formal meeting place than a dining hall, designed for smaller crowds as people came to visit the castle, and there's an actual, size-appropriate dining hall somewhere else, that once again, is no longer in use and possibly or likely hidden by magic?"
"And the hall we ate in just being more of a focal point of the castle, so when their numbers shrunk to what they are now, they made that the new dining hall — that could work," Simmons replied. "Makes as much sense as anything else we've seen so far in this place."
"Now just comes the difficult part of actually finding one of these abandoned bedrooms," Fitz sighed.
"I actually have an idea on that," Simmons replied. "Don't know if it'll work, but it's worth a shot and the only thing I have at the moment, since going and asking any of the professors who might actually know is obviously right out. But since this is a school, there must be a library here. And a library in a magical castle just might have old books about this castle that were written when this place was actually at capacity, that if we're just lucky enough might tell us where these extra bedrooms are located. From there we still have to figure out how to actually get into them, but we'll at least be a step closer. So I suggest we try that tomorrow, whenever we have an opportunity."
"Sounds as good a plan as any," Fitz said, yawning and stretching. "But for now, I say we go to sleep on this couch like we planned. I'm tired. Between our world and this, we've been awake for more consecutive hours than normal — or at least a really long day during a world-ending catastrophe."
Simmons turned to look over the back of the couch at the rest of the room, to see if anyone else was still awake and down there. Being the first night back and fairly late at that, it was empty except for them.
Looking back around at Fitz she said, "Agreed. Which means we need to change, because I'm not sleeping in this."
"Umm…now that you actually say that out loud — where exactly are we supposed to do that?" Fitz asked. "We clearly both brought clothes, but there's nowhere to change."
Looking around the room, Simmons muttered as much to herself as to him, "There has to be, though. There has to be a bathroom down here somewhere, or else we would have to go up seven flights of stairs every time we need to pee when we're in the common room. Which isn't too bad for anyone living on the first couple floors, but anyone four or five plus stories up, especially if they're like us and don't want to stop working until we absolutely have to go? There's got to be something."
And with that she stood up and began walking around the stone wall of the room, her fingertips dancing along the stone looking for any kind of secret hidden door. After making a lap and not finding anything, during which Fitz had stood up and begun walking along the wall as well searching himself, Simmons opened the door to the girls' staircase. There was a square flat landing just wider and longer than the door itself, before the spiral stairs started their ascension upwards.
Feeling along the two walls, she suddenly shouted, "Fitz!"
As Fitz came and stood in the doorway, Simmons turned an invisible doorknob and swung open a secret door that presented them with a small bathroom.
"Well, we found your common room bathroom," Fitz said. "I assume there's no shower, though?"
Simmons poked her head in and looked around the small room. "No, but it's good enough to change in and brush our teeth. We'll just have to sneak up and shower in our assigned dorms in the morning. Go check your staircase, I assume there's another one there, and this is just the girls' since it's in the girls' staircase."
As predicted there was an identical door in the boys' staircase, and soon FitzSimmons had changed into conservative sleep clothes that wouldn't scar any students too badly if they came down during the night and caught FitzSimmons sleeping on the couch. Setting the alarm on his watch for 0600, Fitz lay on his back on the couch and Simmons lay on her stomach on top of him.
After a long, slow kiss they said goodnight, and were soon fast asleep.