Chapter 2: Departure

Christina looked up at the clouding sky and winced. "umm… Mr. Po- I mean Harry?"

"Yea-um?" Her new bodyguard replied, still half in outer-space. She looked over at him. Maybe it was just the outdoor lighting, but he seemed different somehow. Rough-shaven face, greasy hair, simple black robe, dark circles under the eyes; he looked nothing at all like the youthful pictures from the paper. He looked worn, dirty even, like an old broomstick, or a doll found outside after a rainstorm. Then there was something else weird she noticed. Harry Potter wasn't wearing any glasses. Strange.

"Er- I dunno, but I think it might rain," she said, starting to get bothered by the way his presence, however untidy, kept her sheepish.

"Huh? Oh, well look at that," he said, unfazed, as two fat drops plunked down on his clearer-than-crystal windshield. Another strange thing for a man so gruffy to be driving such a nice set of wheels, Christina thought, admiring the Italian-leather interior of Harry's prize flying Ferrari. He pulled out the infamous phoenix-feather "ol'reliable" and tapped the dash twice with its glowing tip. "All hands inside," he smiled, and the previously nonexistent roof glided over their heads and clicked into place. He smiled, but his eyes were empty. Why hadn't she noticed that before? After, his attention returned to driving, and they didn't speak the rest of the way to the Station. For Christina, it was the most awkward forty-five minutes of her young life.

"You got your things?" He asked. His weather-worn face was ruined with the same plastic smile he'd shown her before. Christina couldn't meet his eyes. Waaay too awkward.

"Yeah," She replied. She and Mum had taken care of everything. Yeah, it'd been a shitty past couple weeks, but somehow she'd managed to scrounge up everything needed for the upcoming school year. What with her father "taking a break from everything" at Uncle Eli's place in up north and Jem getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar, literally (he stole a jar of magic mushroom cookies from Willie Jean's not-quite-so-legal "Pharmaceutical Magic Bakery"), it was a shock to everyone, herself included, that she was finally ready and rearing to go when September came around.

A lot of her stuff was second hand, except for her books and fabulous new wand. It was Christina's pride and joy, and even Harry had a surprised smile when she managed to control it. It was 15 inches and made from a notoriously rare material, rare only because of its instability. While dragons may be useful for various things, it's a known fact that dragon scales make poor wands not only because of the irregular shape, but also because the scales have a will of their own. Dragon scale wands are always pickier than other wands and tend to sputter and sparkle spontaneously. Only real show-offy celebrities in the wizarding community tend to buy them and even then they're only for show, seldom as real working wands. So overall wands made from dragon-scales really aren't worth the trouble of making and selling in large quantities. To work properly in everyday instances they require patience and training so that they don't act up and spontaneously set fires everywhere, but with Christina it was different. The minute she saw the pulsing glow at the back of the store, the light in her own eyes sparked. It was a match made in heaven. Ollivander tried to dissuade her by warning of past problems with the wands, burnt houses, lost carpeting, angry house elves, but Harry had promised her ANY wand she wanted, and this was the one. The wand never backfired on her. In fact, it seemed to take to her the minute she felt it warm her palm. It just felt right.

"Well, I've really got to get going now if you want me to be at the school on time to greet you," Harry said, snapping Christina back to the present.

"Oh. Okay. You mean you're not coming with me?"

"God no. I've got business to attend to, other clients to see, and paperwork to fill. I've done my time on that bloody train," he laughed weakly. "Don't worry, that thing's guarded as tight as a drum, you'll be fine. Just don't talk to anyone stupid. Trust me, you'll find 'em. No school's complete without a few idiots, and no magic mushroom cookies!"

"Okaaay Mum!"

"Very funny. I'm serious. Mind your friends, Miss Gunwail, trust no one. My ass is on the line if something happens to you, and we can't have that now, can we?"

He was joking, obviously, but there was something to his words that made Christina uneasy. A dark something, almost an empty cruelty, had emerged from the kind-eyed gentleman she first shook hands with two months ago, and it was growing. Or maybe she was growing. Maybe the sad darkness had been there before, lurking in his after-five shadow and the dark circles under his eyes, and maybe she'd been so star-struck she just hadn't noticed. She nodded and looked up. He'd backed away a few paces now, and was in the shadow of platform 9.

"Alright then, you know what to do," he said glancing tentatively at the clock above the platform. "It's a bit early, yes, but I'll feel better leaving you here once I know you've crossed through. Have a nice trip, Miss Gunwail."

"It's Christina. Really, it's okay."

"Right then, Christina it shall be."

"Um, Harry," the question'd been itching her for the last hour.

"Yeah?"

"How come you don't wear glasses anymore?"

He smirked, "Contact lenses, of course! Not very good for an auror of my standing to be risking blindness because glass shattered in my face, and besides, everybody's got 'em. Merlin's beard, I'm not that bloody old." Christina felt a wry smile creep over her face as well.

"Makes sense."

Christina picked up her things and turned to go. A quick run and a jump and she'd really be there, platform 9 ½; next stop, the rest of her life.

"Oh Christina! Just a sec." She whorled around.

"Here, this is for you," he opened her palm and she felt something heavy and cold plop lazily into it. She eyed the funny-looking purple wristband, confused. There was a sundial-like protrusion on one side. "Wha-"

"It's a trustwatch," he continued. "A clever little device made by yours truly that not only tells the time but can also take a turn as a kind of personality-detector. See the thin red line above the dial? That's the 'liar' line. Just keep the watch on the hand you use to shake with and mind the shadow. If it crosses to the right of the line, you've met a good heart. If it turns to the left, well, get the hell away from him or her, got it? Good. Come on now, don't gimme that look, I know it's a bit out there, especially since you seem to be a good judge of character yourself, but just know that it's not you I don't trust, Christina," his eyes glimmered darkly, "it's them. An entire clan of assholes is looking for you, not one person, a whole, goddam clan of them. Everyone is suspicious, everyone. I'll do my absolute best to protect you- no, I will protect you, but I need your help. Please don't do or say something stupid around them. In fact, stay anonymous if you can. Give only your first name until you've made some real friends, and use the trustwatch to find them. Be careful who you piss off. I made some pretty nasty enemies my first day and it's haunted me ever since. I will NOT let them hurt you, my life's work is keeping people like you alive, but you can't let them hurt you either, got it?"

"Eh God, Harry- you haven't said that much to me in two whole months!"

Harry rolled his eyes, and looked down, shocked, as if suddenly aware that he'd been violently gripping her shoulders throughout his little speech. He backed away and sighed. The fighting darkness was gone, and the weariness that scattered like dust from his bones as he spoke of her safety had settled back on him once again. "Okay though? You promise you'll be on your best behavior?"

"Yep."

"Is that a 'yes'?"

"Yes, Harry."

"Do you have enough money for a few chocolate frogs or something?"

"Chocolate frogs? They still sell those?"

"You know what I mean."

"Yes, Harry," she afforded the troubled bodyguard one final sly smile for the road, then took off through the wall. More than enough to keep him worrying the whole way there, as if he hadn't been already.

Harry stood in the shadow of the platform for a long time, thinking. Then, with his auror's nerves firmly lodged in the back of his throat, he whispered, "This is going to be a long year back," and made for the car.

Sooo- how was it?? Good enough for a third chapter? Reviews please! All questions and comments are greatly appreciated... ps- I review back ;) Thanks for reading!