My morning was dark. Not literally, of course; the sun was high as anything above Dallas and hotter than heck at 101 degrees Fahrenheit. I wonder what that would be in Celery—I mean Celsius! Boy am I feeling that breakfast I skipped. My mood was just too bleak to get anything in me. You see, from now on, Celsius measurements will actually matter. Typical of the United Kingdom to have their own snooty system.
Mama says we're taking the airplane to England, but it's more for our dog, Lucy. Apparating with animals can be tricky alone, and that much more difficult when it isn't the only passenger.
Oh! Sorry, that probably needs some explanation.
I'm a witch.
It's not an insult! I'm not awful mean or anything (usually), but I have magic. I have a wand, and I go to a boarding school in New Mexico to learn how to use my magic.
Or so I used to, before the accident.
It was around 8 months ago (8 months, 17 days, 6 hours and 20 minutes, but who's counting?), and it put my daddy in bad shape. He's been in Baylor University's magical injuries unit. It's not open to muggles—people who don't have magical abilities—it reminds me of like those secret rooms when America banned booze… Speakeasies? Sure, that sounds about right! It's a lot like those, with a whole Undetectable Expansion Charm in the back of the hospital. It really is huge, with the added touch of a few hidden entrances.
Daddy's been out cold for some time now, so they decided that transferring him to St. Mungo's in England was the best idea. And where Daddy goes, the family follows.
So now, I have to say:
Goodbye, Texas.
Goodbye, eternally sunny school days.
Goodbye, best friends since forever.
Hello, Hogwarts.
Hello, rain and snow for three quarters of every year.
Hello, strangers with accents and ridiculous words.
15 hours later, after a break between flights in New York (Dumb Yankees don't know how to clean their airports! Nasty!), we landed in London. In those long hours, I came upon a discovery: airplanes are absolutely awful! How am I supposed to sit in one place for so long? First class is supposed to have more comfortable seats, but how could anyone tell? They seemed mighty hard to me!
Finally, after ages of standing in lines for customs, we collected our bags, and then our German Shepard. Mama had plans for finding a more permanent place once my stuff and I were off at Hogwarts, but we booked up a hotel suite in the meantime. I can't say I blame her; knowing the size of my wardrobe, I'd want less to move, too.
The time hit 4:30 in the morn and our hotel wouldn't be ready for check-in for at least another 11 hours or so. Taking our bags and Lucy (she really is a gorgeous dog, so soft and comforting as a nighttime cuddle buddy), we made our way out to the streets of London.
Shouldn't people be asleep? They're British! They don't do anything exciting, right?
Regardless, the city was still vibrant, busy with people of all sorts— oh those shoes were cute! I wonder where she got them!
I have to give credit where it's due, and I was wrong this time. London seems like a pretty groovy place to be. Exploring would have to wait for another day though; Mama had a plan.
"We're gonna head to Mungo's. Hold the leash?" Mama whispered, passing Lucy's leash to me. As usual, despite the phrasing, it wasn't really a question. Demanding the deed sweetly didn't make it any less of a demand, but that was the way Mama worked. You know, the catching more flies with honey than vinegar philosophy.
Together, we made our way into an alley so she could shrink our bags. We'd bring them back to normal size once we got to our hotel. I still started. Until then, she would keep them tucked in her purse.
"I'm takin' Lucy first, an' I'll be right back. Don't you move an inch!" She told me, taking back Lucy's leash. Her look said it all. So I can't stay in one place forever! No one ever told me exploring was a crime!
Mama apparated away with Lucy, returning not five minutes later to do the same with me. And to think I was so close to talking up the cutie just down the block! No time now, I guess.
For those of you who haven't experienced the feeling, side-along apparition isn't a fun ride. It's known to make you awful nauseous and claustrophobic, no matter how much time you spend in broom closets during the year. It's still the quickest way around, though, and it's great for pop up sale shopping, and none of the pain of getting Floo soot on new shoes (trust me: never again).
A swish and a pop later, we were in an incredibly white waiting room.
St. Mungo's was a very clean, very busy, very... White place. There really wasn't a nicer way to put it. It took a little while and the help of a nurse to find our way to his room. It was plain, a light shade of blue here and there, but it was basically monitors and chairs and a bed in the middle, Daddy laying in it.
He never used to be this pale. My head keeps trying to convince me it's the harsh light, and the too bright white walls reflecting, and that horrible hospital gown, but my heart knows that's not it. I never remember him being nearly this thin either; Daddy couldn't resist a good plate of steak and potatoes. He was the nice one— not to say Mama is mean! She's just... Less relaxed. Daddy took care of the money and the big decisions, Mama took care of the house and me mostly.
But out of everything I miss about him, I miss seeing him turn to me and smile his his big ole grin, with all the lines around his mouth and crinkled eyes, saying "Hey darlin'!" every time he came home.
And now he's so lifeless.
I sat with him for a few hours while Mama got through all the paperwork and talked to the healers. I won't be able to see him again, starting September 1st, and it's already August 27th.
I take that back, it's August 28th at... Look at that, 12 in the afternoon. That means we'll spend most of the day resting with a bite for dinner, adjusting to... everything new in England on the 29th, school shopping on the 30th, and back to St. Mungo's on the 31st before I have to go to Hogwarts. There's just not enough time!
Mulling this over, Mama had to shake me out of my thoughts.
"Time to go, hun, we need t' check in," she told me, minding her voice in the echo-prone room. Right, the hotel is waiting.
"Alright... I'll see ya real soon, Daddy, promise. Just a couple o' days." A kiss on his head, his hair thinner than even I remember, and we walked back out the way we came. I'm never sure whether I want to walk faster to get away from this hospital nightmare or slower to stay with him. Do I walk faster to get away from the over-sterile smell, or slower to make sure everything is going to be alright for him? Do I run away and pretend I can't hear all the people in pain like him, or stay to hold his hand until he can squeeze right back?
Before I find any real clarity, we've already reached the front desk of the floor. A gentle-looking receptionist, Mrs. Plotters I think her name was, showed us back to the entrance where we could apparate freely. Apparation had to be restricted for patient safety, we learned. People couldn't apparate directly into rooms, and patients couldn't apparate themselves out, or more appropriately, attempt to apparate themselves out.
Heeding her instruction, Mama and I headed over to the free-apparation post. I took once last look at the place, the people, and then it was gone.