Chapter V
The Barrier

"Aunt Petunia, may I speak with you please?" Rapunzel asked, approaching her Aunt like a scared puppy.

"Make it quick," the woman snapped, as she aggressively cleaned the kitchen counter.

"Well," she hesitated. "The thing is, Aunt Petunia… It's about school."

"You are going to Stonewall." Petunia's tone was deliberate, suggesting she was not up for any sort of argument. "I don't want to hear another word about it."

Rapunzel cast her eyes downward and steadied her breathing. She was beginning to feel quite sick. "No, I'm not," she whispered.

The blond woman wheeled around, a murderous look on her face. "Oh, yes you are."

"I'm not, I… I'm going to Hogwarts," she said, in a far more confident tone than she felt. "I went to…"

"You what?" Petunia seethed, backing her niece into the wall.

"I went to get—"

"I heard what you said. How?"

"I have a friend—"

"You don't have friends," she sneered, turning away and, if only for a brief moment, Rapunzel thought she might have been let off the hook. Suddenly, Petunia whirled around once more. "It's him, isn't it? It's that rotten Headteacher!"

"He isn't rotten," Rapunzel replied, certainly not denying that she had become quite close to the man. "He's a very nice man."

"He's a freak; just like my oh-so-perfect sister and her lot. Your father was a freak, his friends were freaks, her 'friend' was a freak and so are you."

Rapunzel could scarcely comprehend the complete hatred in her Aunt's tone. It perhaps wasn't so much what she was calling people but she even spoke of her sister in such a manner.

"Aunt Petunia," she said, pitifully.

"She'd still be alive if that stupid boy had stayed at home and let his father batter him to death. Put everyone out of their misery!"

A wave of emotion overcame Rapunzel. How could her Aunt speak so cruelly of a child; wishing a boy's death at the hands of his own father?

"Don't you dare cry!" Petunia demanded, her finger in Rapunzel's face, prompting the girl to try and shrink into the wall. "Insolent wench! Never did know what was good for you, did you? No, you had to go behind our backs just to go to that freak school. Just like your mother — Oh, and she was stupid enough to go and get herself pregnant while she was there, wasn't she? Yes, of course she was! Then we got lumbered with this bastard child in front of me when she and her husband got blown to bits! How convenient!"

Despite her own sorrow, Rapunzel couldn't help but notice that her Aunt's eyes were filled with more than anger. No, there was something more than just outright loathing, though she didn't know quite what it was.

"You will not be going to that freak school," Petunia said, her word final, as she grabbed Rapunzel by the hair and pushed her into the hallway. "You even think about it; you're on the streets. Get out of my sight," she threatened, as she yanked the cupboard door open and threw her niece into the darkened room, slamming and locking the door.

Rapunzel made her way to the floor, leaning against the wall. "Why?" she asked herself.

Why were the Dursleys so cruel? Why did it feel as though Aunt Petunia's words cut deeper than Uncle Vernon's belt? Why did she live in a cupboard when there were four bedrooms — Vernon and Petunia's, a guest bedroom for when Vernon's sister came to visit and Dudley had two bedrooms? Why did a nine-year-old boy need two bedrooms? One to live in and the other to use as a junk room for all the toys he had broken over the years and gifts he had received for birthdays and Christmas that never been used?

It was one thing to dislike family members (that, she could understand) but if roles were reversed she could never see herself depriving the Dursleys of comfort and basic needs. Did they really take such pleasure in starving her every chance they could get? Did they get something out of it every time they threw her in the cupboard — a victorious sensation? That they felt justified in their actions? She doubted she would ever understand it. All she thought in that moment was that they can't be very happy people, despite the personas they portrayed to outsiders. Perhaps she'd been spending too much time the last few days with Alan; that was something he'd say.

"I feel sorry for you, Dudley," she found herself whispering. But why did she feel pity towards her cousin? When he could become a noble, outstanding member of society, his parents, in a way, were holding him back by encouraging bad behaviour and ill-treatment of others.

Despite the biting, punching, kicking and hitting she had received from Dudley over the years, she really did feel sorry for him.

"I am going, Aunt Petunia," she told herself. "I'm going to Hogwarts."

Alan's bedroom was a mess.

Typically a tidy man, he found himself rather disorganised that morning.

His wardrobe was wide open, shoes all over the floor. Of course, it was unusual for a man to have so many shoes, but they didn't all belong to him and there was no way he could bring himself to get rid of them.

The contents of his cabinets were thrown haphazardly, socks and underwear hanging over the edges of drawers, some on the bed; some even under the bed. (He'd surely find those ones in a year's time. Ever since he was young he'd had a fear of looking under beds. Perhaps he was nervy about beds in general. His first night in the Hufflepuff Dormitory he had sat awake, knees curled up to his chest; fearful that something might come out and snatch him. It didn't, but in a world where even books could attack he would just as soon not have one jump up and bite him in a delicate place.)

On the bed was a mound of books. Grabbing a handful each turn, he sorted them into piles — library, Hogwarts and Rapunzel.

"Hambledon Quince?" Alan was utterly confused. "Why do I even have your book, sir? What a load of twaddle!" he said as he tossed it into the doorway. "Little Women? Punzie—" he trailed off, engrossing himself in his activity.

By the time he was finished, he had three nice neat piles; Rapunzel's considerably larger than the other two. He had a load of old storybooks, both magical and non-magical. He considered that perhaps they might provide Rapunzel with inspiration for her own imagination. There was also the fact that, just like the shoes that didn't belong to him, he couldn't very well give those books to a library. Maybe he was overly-sentimental, but he'd just a soon give them to a child who'd appreciate them.

Cleaning up his own mess, he fell upon the first book once more. Lifting it from the floor, he scrutinised it in great detail. "You know, I think I will keep you, Hambledon Quince." There was a mocking tone in his voice. "If only for a good laugh. Your theories are, at best, questionable."

The click of the lock roused Rapunzel from her daydream.

For the last three hours she had sat in a daze, thinking about Hogwarts. Excited to attend, however, there was a part of her that questioned the validity of her musings. What if it were all just a really nice dream? What if Alan was only a figment of her imagination? Well, she was sure she'd find out for sure by ten o'clock that night.

Getting to her feet, she quietly opened the door and stepped into the kitchen.

"Aunt Petunia?" she began. "It's the First."

Petunia said nothing; instead, hastily washing the dishes, her back to her niece, and acting as though Rapunzel hadn't spoken at all.

"I, erm…" she hesitated. What was she say to a woman who appeared to hate her and generally couldn't care less whether she went to a magical boarding school or not? "Well… I'm going to King's Cross today… to Hogwarts." Her words were slow, a definite air of uncertainty in her own voice. "I came to say goodbye. I know Uncle Vernon and Dudley aren't up yet… but I want to wish all of you the best… and perhaps I might see you again in June?"

Petunia continued working, giving no indication she was listening to her niece.

"Goodbye for now, Aunt Petunia. I hope you have a good year." Biting her lip, she retreated from the kitchen, took a slow walk down the picture-lined hallway and left quietly through the front door, stopping only to watch her Aunt bustle about the kitchen.

Rapunzel slowly made her way to Wisteria Walk. It was a lonely trek, but it gave her time to think of her relatives (the only family she knew) she was leaving behind for her first year at this magic school. She may not have thought them very nice people, but she had hoped there may be a chance in the future for all four of them; that maybe, somehow, magic could help the Dursleys and they mightn't be quite so resentful anymore — even grow some level of acceptance for her. It may have been a foolish thought, but the Dursleys were more than aware she was a fool anyway.

Stretching her hand out, she knocked on Alan's door.

"Hiya, Punzie," came a smiling voice, as Alan stood on the other side, beckoning her to enter.

"I imagine you must be fed up of seeing me," Rapunzel said, trying to lighten her own mood in way of a joke.

"Of course I am," he teased in response. "You drive me nuts, girl. Antagonising acromantulas, hiding in bookcases. You drive me crackers." He finished with a laugh, though Rapunzel didn't find it very funny. Upon seeing her expression, his face fell. "I was only joking," he said, softly. "I'm sorry, Punzie. I didn't mean anything by it. Just playing."

Wrapping her arms around him, she silently wept.

Somewhat confused, he returned the affection. "What's wrong, honey? I thought you were excited about Hogwarts."

"She never said goodbye."

It was, perhaps, a little strange that the child would have appreciated a farewell of sorts from a woman who hated her, but even a 'Good riddance' would have been appreciated by Rapunzel. Instead, Petunia had said nothing.

"Maybe she's fighting a battle," he said. "It isn't always easy to say goodbye."

That, Rapunzel knew rather well. She never got the chance to say goodbye to her parents.

"Come on, darling," he chuckled, gently pushing her away from him. "You're going to Hogwarts. I reckon you'll have one heck of an adventure there."

"Don't know about that," she replied, an intonation of doubt in her voice. She could hardly say primary school had been much of an adventure for her. She'd been more inclined to just try and get some semblance of an education without drawing much attention to herself, though the latter she had failed with.

"Come on," he beckoned, with a smile, as he led her to the staircase. "I've left some clothes for you in the bathroom. Go and clean yourself up and we'll spend some time together before we drive to London."

"We're driving?" she asked, stopping on the stairs.

"Well, I thought you might prefer to travel by car than by floo powder or apparition after…" he trailed off, a somewhat guilty expression on his face.

Rapunzel's face turned rather red with embarrassment before she spoke. "Thank you, Alan." With that, she ascended the stairs.

They had spent the better part of the next hour and a half simply sitting on Alan's sofa and talking, Rapunzel now cleaner than she had been before she left Privet Drive and wearing new muggle clothes that Alan had confessed to buying her. She could hardly go out in public, he thought, wearing what her relatives had provided her with. She didn't exactly dress like a little girl.

However she had looked before, she looked considerably better now that her hair had been tamed somewhat, as two curly, black pigtails now fell down to her waist.

Her face was cleaner, her teeth didn't look quite so yellow (she'd never brushed her teeth properly in all the years she'd been at the Dursleys. They'd never provided her with a toothbrush, or even toothpaste for that fact. Instead, she'd just had to use a wet rag, though it was often questionable where that rag actually came from.)

She had clothes and shoes that fit (and even socks had previously been a luxury item for her) and she, for once, felt as though she'd not be too out of place in the local park among all the other children that lived in the area.

She'd felt both grateful and guilty to her generous friend, though he'd accused her, jokingly of course, for her not-so-gracious attempts to inflate his ego.

Alan had been kind enough to give her breakfast. "In preparation for the long journey ahead," he had said.

Given her upbringing, Rapunzel wasn't a very big eater and had learned to not be quite so fussy over the years ("Get what you're given and like it" was the general attitude of the Dursleys) but that didn't mean she was exempt from a desire to gorge on a full English breakfast, complete with fried bread.

"I've taken a few liberties, Rapunzel," Alan said, a rather sheepish expression overcoming his features.

"Liberties?"

"Books. Now, I know you enjoy reading generally, but I feel as though I probably got a bit over-zealous in the fiction section. They're all in that cupboard waiting for you," he said, indicating a cabinet that wasn't at all unlike the Dursleys' CD rack.

At his offer, Rapunzel rose from the sofa and anxiously approached the furniture in question. Wondering what she was so fearful of, she took a deep breath and, with the greatest level of confidence she had felt that morning, opened one door, only for the contents to spill haphazardly onto the floor.

"A bit?" Rapunzel asked, a slight smile in her voice.

"I confess, Your Honour," he admitted, holding his hands in such a position that suggested he was expecting a police officer to charge through the fireplace and arrest him (not that any self-respecting police officer would generally tumble through a fireplace; that privilege was usually reserved for Father Christmas) "that I am the World's Most Awful Shelf-Stacker."

Looking at the pile of books strewn all over the floor, Rapunzel spoke again. "Did you set enough aside?"

If there was one thing to be said it was, perhaps, that Alan Lowe, former Headteacher of St. Grogory's Primary School, had brought about a confidence in the girl that she was scarcely aware of herself. In fact, she might have almost called her tone that morning 'cheeky,' though Alan had not attempted to reprimand her for it.

"If nothing else, I've never been particularly organised," Alan confessed.

Looking around at the otherwise-spotless house, Rapunzel looked inquisitively at him. "It looks so tidy, Alan?"

"That's because the rest of this house is not that cupboard."

Even during the hour-long journey, conversation was in no way dead between the pair. On the contrary, she still didn't know a great deal about the man she'd grown so close to, and was subconsciously learning her future from his own past with the more questions she asked, not quite so shy as she had been initially.

"I'm very grateful to you, Alan," she said, rather out-of-the-blue. "You've been so kind to me."

"Oh, for goodness sake, girl, please," he laughed. "Let's not bring all that gratitude lark up again. You'll make me cry. I've got a reputation to uphold, you know."

Rapunzel smiled. When the Dursleys called her 'girl' (which was a frequent occurrence) it did hurt that they didn't consider her to be anything of significance, but coming from Alan she couldn't possibly feel that way. She'd learned that he was of considerably-different character than Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. Alan seemed to have a sense of humour, something that Vernon and Petunia appeared to lack — at least in Rapunzel's presence. There was no animosity from Alan, like there was with her relatives. After all, had he not even given her a nickname? Punzie? Surely he'd never have done so if he didn't have some tolerance for her? He'd certainly been more than patient with her, unlike numerous other teachers she'd had over the years.

Having pulled into the carpark, Alan and Rapunzel made their way through King's Cross Station, even going so far as stopping off for a ham and cheese sandwich for Rapunzel's journey.

"I know they sell sweets on the train, but you need something slightly substantial, don't you?" Alan asked. Of course, it was a rhetorical question, which Rapunzel noted warranted little in the way of a response. "Do you still have some money?"

Delving into her skirt pocket, Rapunzel produced a handful of the gold, silver and bronze coins left over from her trip to Diagon Alley. "I promise not to spend it all on sweets," she said, softly, prompting a chuckle from her companion.

"Come on, boys!" a female voice called out, as Rapunzel's attention was drawn to a family of redheads, headed by a plump woman. "You'll be late."

"Well, are you a sight for sore eyes?" Alan grinned to the woman, who stopped dead in her tracks and spun on her heel.

"Alan Lowe! Well, I never!" At this, the woman jogged to meet him, enveloping him in something reminiscent of a bear hug.

"What's this, Mum? An old flame?" the oldest boy, perhaps sixteen or seventeen, asked with a cheeky grin, as his younger twin brothers exchanged mischievous looks.

"Oh, hush, Charlie. This is Alan. He was a few years below me at school. In fact, he's the reason you're all here."

"I was twelve, Molly," Alan said, disbelievingly.

"Age is just a number," she said. "Now, what are you doing here, Alan? I haven't seen you since—"

"Yes," Alan interrupted, desperate as he was not to think of that, an action that didn't go unnoticed by the girl at his side, who surveyed the scene with subtle curiosity. "Well, anyway, this," he indicated the dark-haired girl to his right, "is Rapunzel."

"Rapunzel?" the woman's daughter exclaimed, in wonder. Her older brothers, all five of them considered the girl in question with varying expressions of astonishment. "Rapunzel Potter?"

In that moment, Rapunzel just wanted to hide in a vending machine or climb in a Royal Mail sack conveniently situated on that very platform. It seemed like a good idea until the postman heaved it up and threw it on the next train to Amsterdam. That would hardly get her to Hogwarts, but she might see a fair few windmills, at least.

"Don't goggle, you lot," the redheaded matriarch reprimanded her brood, as Rapunzel resorted to hiding behind Alan.

These people, like the rest of Wizarding Britain, as she had discovered from Alan, knew exactly who she was. She was famous for something she couldn't remember; for, as a child of only three, she defeated the darkest wizard of modern times.

There were books written about her, though Alan left this detail out. Those books weren't exactly full of facts; primarily events of her birth, defeat of 'You-Know-Who,' as he was dubbed, for a great many wizards and witches feared the very name, and had even gone so far as to fabricate a current history for her, despite having no idea of who she really was or her status. He'd long-considered it to simply be a way to make money.

"Is she alright?" the woman asked, with concern.

"Of course she is," Alan smiled, looking behind him. She was still there, of course, though he'd considered the possibility that, when out of their line of vision, she considered herself invisible. "She's shy." Of course, it was more than plain timidity, but he wasn't about to spill all her 'secrets.' "You can come out, Punzie. They don't bite."

"Not much," one of the twins said, as his doppelgänger laughed along with him. The pair were shushed by their mother.

"We're going to be late," sounded a pompous voice. He appeared to be the second-eldest of the bunch, who was eagerly approaching the nearest wall.

Rapunzel was not ignorant to this action. Why was he walking towards a wall? At the very least, he'd surely lose the contents of his trolley.

"Yes, Percy. Off you go," his mother agreed. "Are you coming, Alan? Rapunzel?"

Cautiously, Rapunzel took her original stance at Alan's side, feeling rather self-conscious, hoping that the boy, now known as Percy, had created enough of a distraction for his younger siblings to cease ogling her. Rapunzel had never much cared for attention.

As the redheads spun around, Percy walked, with great confidence, at the wall and Rapunzel winced, preparing for poor Percy to hurt himself. He didn't. Instead, he had walked straight through the wall and disappeared from sight.

"Is that how we get onto the platform?" she asked, quietly, looking up at Alan.

"Yes. I'm sorry I never mentioned that."

"Off you go, Charlie," his mother (Molly, was it?) instructed.

"Would you like to go first, Rapunzel?" Charlie asked the non-ginger-haired child.

Rapunzel looked somewhat like a deer caught in the headlights. Slowly, she shook her head, as Alan stifled a laugh at her expression.

With a nonchalant shrug, Charlie also made his way through the barrier, and was shortly followed by the twins, announced by their mother as Fred and George.

"Shall we, my dear?" Alan teased, playfully, holding his hand for Rapunzel to take.

Leading the way, he gently pulled her behind him and she felt herself enter and leave darkness before she could scarcely blink.

The platform had changed; that was certain. Gone were the vending machines and rubbish bins. Even the benches had disappeared. In place of the double-ended electric train now sat a scarlet steam locomotive, looking more like something from the Victorian era. As she peered down past the platform, squinting to focus at such a distance she noticed there were no tall, telegraph pylons, as there had been not ten seconds before. She assumed this must now be the noted Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters (though she had contemplated if, in fact, this was the last quarter of the platform.)

"Brings back memories," Alan smiled, gazing up at the train, which released a loud stream of smoke, jerking Rapunzel from her musings. Reaching into his pocket, he procured a small chest that might have fit in a doll's house. "Engorgio," he said, now finding himself sprawled on the floor with Rapunzel's school trunk on top of him, having neglected to set it down before casting.

"Are you alright?" Rapunzel asked, moving to heave the trunk off him. While she wasn't particularly strong, he managed to push it off and wriggled free from his inanimate captor.

"Next year we get a trolley," he stated, getting to his feet.

As the pair walked the length of the platform, Alan and Rapunzel stopped before the train entrance.

"Would you like help with that?" Charlie asked, a pleasant grin on his face.

"Oh," Rapunzel was rather taken aback by the boy's offer. "Yes, please. Thank you, Charlie," she smiled, as the teen effortlessly hoisted her trunk (along with his siblings' school things) onto the train.

"And this is where I leave you," Alan said, smiling. Rapunzel was unsure whether his expression was one of sadness or relief.

Rapunzel felt awful for having to bid farewell to the man who had introduced her to the Wizarding World.

"Do you have to leave, Alan?"

"Of course," he chuckled. "Fine first-year I'd look on that train, Punzie. I've got a few things to take care of."

"I'll miss you," she said, leaning in for a hug, which he happily returned.

Alan never said anything about missing her in return, though he had informed her "Until we meet again" before they pulled away from each other and Alan walked back through the barrier to the Muggle world, leaving behind him a rather tearful dark-haired child.