The Runaway Train

Imogen sat under the Eiffel Tower as the sky went dark. Getting on the train had been fine. It wasn't until she was in Paris, heading towards a row of desks with people taking little booklets from departing passengers, that Imogen had to stop and take stock of what was going on before moving forward. Her solution hadn't been exactly foolproof either. First she pulled one of those little booklets from the back pocket of a woman who'd been on the train with her. She duplicated it and threw the original by the woman's feet. "This keeps falling out of my pocket!" she exclaimed, bending down to pick it up.

There were people along the edges of the walls, looking as the passengers came through. One was wearing a strange combination of muggle clothes, including a grey plaid vest with a green and purple checkered tie. She kept him in the corner of her eye as she approached one of the queues in the middle. Carefully, she handed over the book and the man opened it up. It was only then Imogen realized there was a picture inside and the woman she'd copied her booklet from looked nothing like her. The man was looking back and forth between her and the picture. In a moment of panic, Imogen raised her palm a little, confunding the man. "Zair you go, Mademoiselle," he said with a smile, handing it back. "Enjoy Paris!"

As she was jostled through the crowd, Imogen noticed the man along the edge narrow his eyes, stepping down and following her. She ducked down between two flows of traffic, disillusioning herself in their midst. She still ran low, getting out into the streets, running until she found an abandoned alley. Imogen peeked around into the crowds for half an hour, until she was sure he wasn't still tailing her.

The only other problem was how much of her money it took for a ticket. When looking for tickets all the way to Belarus, she realized that she would have to exchange all her galleons to afford it and that would only work if she starved from here on out. Going into a bakery in the square, she bought a baguette and some kind of small chocolate pastry that wasn't terribly expensive. Eating half the bread, she wrapped the other half and stuffed it into her satchel. The pastry was too good to have restraint.

Wiping her hands on her jeans she tried to think of what was next. The trainyard could be anywhere in this country. There were other countries that used French as a main language as well, which made her stomach sink to think about. No, Imogen thought, no it must be here somewhere.

Also, she'd have to put aside any guilt in going on trains without paying or she'd be out of money in a few days. There had been a park not far from here. With any luck, the orb would find her and start leading her in the darkness, so she should try and get some sleep now.

She had just passed a couple snogging under a bush when she heard the song.

Just before the sun will rise

Imogen looked frantically around her. She ran towards where she thought it was coming from.

Meet me there and find a rainbow

There, in the middle of a pond within the park, she found the source. Her mother's figure glowed, standing inside the gazebo surrounded by water. Imogen looked around. Was there a path? Did she need a boat? She shuffled in her mind through spells that may help—secrecy statutes be damned—when her mother walked towards her, over the rippling water. So many impossibilities, but Imogen just watched. Imogen froze as the figure came closer, still singing with a small smile. She reached out, brushing her fingers against Imogen's cheek as she passed. Imogen closed her eyes, the smell of lavender lotion and the feel of soft petals overwhelming her. But her mother, or whatever ghost of her mother this was, continued. Imogen followed.

In our spot
Beside the meadow
Underneath the willow's leaves

They were lyrics she hadn't heard. Imogen's mother moved faster, down a street where the houses were becoming large, old brick buildings with dirt and soot everywhere. Imogen was trying to keep up, desperate to hear and memorize these new words.

We will sway
So soft and mellow
For what's left of summer eves

Her mother turned right, walking straight through a chain link fence and Imogen turned, pressing against the fence. "No! Wait!"

She watched as her mother became a ball of light, floating in the same spot she had stood. The melody still hung on the air. Imogen breathed heavily, looking around for a break in the fence, but there wasn't one. She had never been one to scramble up and down obstacles and as she looked up, there was barbed wire on the top. Looking around again, this time to make sure she was alone, Imogen turned back, holding out her right hand to the metal in front of her. "Peribit," she said. The metal links broke, one by one, until there was enough space for Imogen to crawl through. She ran, trying to catch up to the greenish glow, which was losing its shape quickly.

Imogen didn't notice where she was until she was in the midst of train cars. She was running on tracks and she looked around. This is where the orb showed her yesterday. "Mum!" she shouted, but it wasn't her mother anymore. It had become the vocan orbis. Still, she walked towards it.

"Tu! Arrêtez!"

Imogen turned around. A light bounced, trained her as a man chased after her, shouting in French. Her heart pounded, following the track and the now zooming orb. It took a left, passing between cars. Imogen followed. The man was getting closer. She was between two trains, the one stationary on her right and the other just jerking to a start. The orb followed this, the screech of metal-against-metal ringing in Imogen's ears as she felt a stitch in her side. Twenty yards up, the orb zoomed into the open door of a car. Imogen pushed herself. Her legs protested as she went faster, trying to keep the man well behind her and get into that car.

A boy hung out of the open door, holding out a lantern. Imogen could only hope he was better than what was behind her. He disappeared for a moment. Imogen thought everything was over. She'd be caught, sent home, and probably expelled from Hogwarts; especially if the man had seen how she broke through the fence. A moment later, the boy appeared again, a complete silhouette with his arm outstretched.

Imogen pushed beyond all pain from running. She could hear the man's foot fall in the gravel behind her now. The train sped up. She was ten feet from the door, then three, then it looked like she wouldn't catch up. She lunged for the boy's hand, missing it and losing ground. He only leaned out further. With a mad dash she found his hand grasping her forearm, she did the same with both hands wrapped around his arm and jumped.

Imogen nearly fell back to the ground, but his other hand reached for her waist, pulling her the rest of the way in and swinging her against the wall. The lantern was on the floor, casting a glow on the two of them. Imogen was still holding his arm and relaxed. "Thank you," she said.

He smiled, but rather than reply he lunged in, kissing Imogen on the mouth. Her whole body tensed, eyes widened, but before she could react he had pulled away with the same smile. That's when Imogen noticed others in the car with them. Two boys about her age, against the other wall of the car, laughed.

"Excuse Paolo," a third person said. This one a girl. She was thin with long arms and legs, sitting crosslegged in the corner with curly auburn hair and an Irish accent. "He's Italian, so he thinks everything should be said with a kiss." Paolo was still holding onto Imogen. She stepped sideways out of his arms. "I'm Ennis," she added. Paolo had decided to lean against the wall, facing Imogen.

"Like I said that's Paolo," Ennis said. Imogen looked wearily at him as he winked. "And this is Théo—he's French, so he'll wait at least an hour before kissing you—and Hal."

Théo reminded Imogen of a boy she knew at Hogwarts with Indian descent: dark hair, naturally warm skin, and dark eyes. He simply nodded, leaning back with his arms hanging over his knees. Hal stood, tossing an apple up and catching it easily. He was eyeing Imogen with one eyebrow raised, sizing her up.

"So what's your name, Snow White?" Hal asked, the heavy Scottish accent placing him farther north than the others. He was tall and pale with hair as dark as James's, though it was more tamed. He took a bite from the apple, still looking at her.

"Snow what?" she asked.

"Snow White," Ennis articulated the words as though Imogen just hadn't heard properly. Imogen still looked between them, confused. "You haven't heard of Snow White? Hell, she may be the most screwed up one we've come across. It's a fairytale. You know, singing duets with birds, walking around with seven little men… really? You've never heard of it?"

"She liked apples, too," Hal added, tossing his apple to Imogen. She caught it, turning it to find that the surface had been chewed off in a ring around the middle. "But you didn't answer the question of what we call you?"

"Imogen," she replied. As soon as she said it she realized she should have lied and come up with an alias. Really, what were the chances that these four had given their real names? And after what happened in Diagon Alley, there was a paranoia that somehow Harry and Ginny were going to figure out where she was. She kept going through everything she had told Lily or Lorcan and she couldn't figure out how that was possible, even if either of them spilled everything they knew. The mirror was a risk, but she felt better knowing she had at least some connection to Lily.

"Imogen," Hal said. "Pretty far from home aren't you? Couldn't have taken a train all this way?"

"I've been living in London the last couple years," she answered.

"Chill out, Hal, you can interrogate her later," Ennis said, then turned to Imogen. "We scored some cans of pudding. Have a seat."

Imogen sat nearby as Ennis took some contraption out of her bag and clamped it onto the edge of a tin. Imogen was confused and almost offered to open it herself, but the girl twisted a knob along the back and the metal was cut in a circle as she continued. They're Muggles, Imogen realized. As they passed around the tin of vanilla pudding, each taking bites, Imogen felt guilty taking the little food they had. She pulled out the other half of her baguette.

"Bonne!" Théo exclaimed.

"We don'ta get bread as dis," Paolo said, taking it from Imogen and turning it over in his hands. "How did you, ah, find?"

Imogen licked her lips. "Er, the woman who worked at the bakery saw me on the bench. Gave it to me." She didn't think telling them about her money was a good idea. She couldn't lose it, just in case. "I'm alright, so… share the rest. I'd have been caught if you hadn't helped me."

"That's just what we do," Ennis said with a shrug. "Code of the road. You'll learn. So why'd you run away?"

Imogen thought it was strange that they didn't know about the orb or that they wouldn't have connected her to the seemingly random source of light. She wondered if they had explained it away or if only she could see it, but didn't want to ask. Certainly she couldn't say she was following a floating green light to a bunch of muggles. That would just be strange. "I—" she tried to think of a legitimate reason. She'd apparently have to get better at lying. "Well, my grandmother was a tyrant." She felt guilty stealing Taylor's own story, but was glad that everyone was nodding as though they understood. She just hoped they didn't ask for details.

"Yeah, my stepda got real heavy handed when he was drunk," Ennis said. "Couldn't take another payday rage. Might as well travel if we're on the street, right?"

"Right," Imogen agreed.

"Théo just got kicked out of so many boarding schools his parents were threatening a military academy. Paolo's parents were always fighting. And Hal," Ennis looked towards him.

"Hal's just weird," he said for her, as though this speech had been given before.

"Yeah, just weird," Ennis confirmed, turning back to her chunk of the baguette and nibbling a small bite from it.

"Did you leave anyone behind?" Hal asked.

Imogen thought of all the people she left behind. But she hadn't… not really. She would go back. If they'd have her. "Just gran," she said. "But that's not much of a loss. Where is this train going to anyway?"

Ennis looked over to Théo. "Eh… end zin Brussels," he said, looking at a paper. Imogen moved, looking over his shoulder.

The paper was covered in blocks with little symbols and shorthand. Or perhaps it was French rather than shorthand and she just couldn't read it. Maybe Ennis couldn't either, which was why she defaulted to Théo on that matter.

"So where are you trying to get to?" Ennis asked Imogen, tearing off another small bit of bread.

"Belarus."

James was on the hill just above his grandparents' house, though he wouldn't be visiting them today. Instead, he walked down the path towards the Scamander home. There in the back was the barn. Just seeing its red exterior made his blood boil. He swallowed, trying to think of how his dad might do this. James imagined him walking up to the door, calm and collected, hand wrapped around the handle of his wand, ready for action. His dad would give Lorcan the chance to confess, then take him in if he didn't cooperate. In, here, didn't really apply. Maybe James could make Lorcan come back to his house, make him spill everything Imogen told him. Imogen and Lorcan had been so secretive between them that past week that he must know something.

Lorcan came out of the house when James was still a hundred feet off, ruining any entrance he'd been thinking through. James put one hand on his wand. "I was surprised you weren't with your parents yesterday," Lorcan said.

"What is that supposed to mean?" James sneered.

Lorcan looked taken aback. "That I was surprised you didn't come when they asked if I knew where Imogen was," he replied. "Did she come back?" he added anxiously.

"I think you know she didn't," James said. "What did my parents ask you yesterday?"

"They just… came to see if Imogen had come here. I told them I hadn't seen her since—" Lorcan tinted pink, "—well, I haven't seen her. I was hoping maybe you were coming to tell us she'd been found."

James wasn't sure what to make of Lorcan. He was embarrassed and nervous. Was he really this good an actor? "Enough games," James said, he stepped forward and grabbed the front of Lorcan's shirt. Lorcan raised his hands. "What did Imogen tell you about where she was going?"

"Nothing," Lorcan said. "I swear, mate!"

"Don't call me mate," James growled.

"You're not… seriously still mad about the other night?"

Tempted to jinx him, James pushed him away. "You may have Imogen fooled, but I'm not an idiot." He glared at him. Maybe he was hiding Imogen. In his room, perhaps. James looked up at the house.

"Look, I don't know what you think happened, but if you're not going to believe me why ask me anything in the first place?"

James pulled a small vial of clear liquid from his pocket. In his fifth year, when Albus had information James wanted, he made his own batch of veritaserum. Nearly expelled from school for spiking Al's milk, James had to get rid of most of the potion. He luckily managed to keep this small amount while the rest was confiscated by the Headmistress, and James had never been more glad he'd held onto it.

"Seriously?" Lorcan looked ill. "Veritaserum?"

"What do you have to hide?" James asked.

Lorcan swallowed, looking around. "Alright, I guess, but s-somewhere that it's just us."

James nodded in agreement and Lorcan lead the way. James sorted through questions in his mind by priority. A few drops and he'd have half an hour. He probably had enough for a full afternoon, but he didn't want to waste it if he didn't have to. Who knew when he'd be able to get hold of some of the ingredients again without a special license. James stopped as it became clear where they were going. Lorcan turned back towards him. "What?"

"You're joking, right?" They were close to the barn, Lorcan obviously heading toward the door.

"It's the best place for some privacy," he said. James scowled and it took Lorcan a moment before he realized what he had just said. "I mean… well, it's true. Not that… anything really… just—"

"Fine," James cut him off, pushing past him and going into the barn first. He chose a spot in the ground level, back in a corner and as far away from the steps leading to the loft as possible. James sat on a bale of hay, leaning forward on his knees.

Lorcan sat across from him, rubbing the palms of his hands on his jeans. James reached out with the vial and told him to put a few drops under his tongue. Lorcan complied and James took his time recorking and pocketing the rest of it. "Where's Imogen?"

"I don't know," Lorcan said steadily. "I wish I did."

James wondered about loopholes with the potions. If anyone could figure out how to get around the questions, it would probably be a bookie Ravenclaw, like Lorcan. "Did Imogen ever tell you where she might go if she left?"

"No."

"Tell me what you talked about last week. The types of conversations you had when you visited us at the Borrow," he clarified.

Lorcan concentrated. "We talked about O.W.L.s, until Imogen said she was going to be sick if she heard one more word on it. We talked about her mum and the dreams she's been having, and—"

"What dreams?" James interrupted.

Lorcan's mouth opened and closed a couple times as he apparently struggled to change responses. A side effect from the potion, James figured. "Her mum kept coming to her in dreams. Singing to her. Imogen was humming the song a lot."

James thought back to that week. Imogen often mindlessly hummed, but he couldn't remember any specific song she seemed keen on last week. "Why was she talking about those dreams?" he asked.

Lorcan shrugged. "I don't know. She's been thinking more about her parents lately, I think. She brought it up a lot starting March or April."

"Then why wouldn't she talk to me about it?" James asked.

"Because you don't listen." Lorcan said it so matter-of-factly that James had to blink to clear his head.

"Excuse me?"

"You don't listen to her," Lorcan said. He swallowed and seemed to be gaining a head of steam. "Imogen doesn't just start talking about herself or what's on her mind. Usually she says things after it's been quiet for a while. But you… you never shut up."

James ground his teeth, feeling his face getting hot. "That's not true," James growled.

"Yes it is," Lorcan said. "That night in the barn, she came to me crying because you wouldn't hear her out."

"What else did she say that night?" James was gripping the edge of the bale to keep from punching Lorcan. He needed more answers first. Then he'd knock him out cold. Or hex him into the next decade.

"She asked me if I thought her parents had loved her."

Of the myriad of topics that he imagined Imogen and Lorcan sharing in the privacy of the barn under the starry night, that was not even on his radar. Did she really wonder that? His stomach lurched with guilt. "What else?"

"She told me that you said she wasn't really part of your family."

"That's not what I said," James said defensively. "I said it wasn't weird for us to date, because she's not really… I meant not technically..." He had said that. "Did she talk about breaking things off with me?" This was not a question he'd planned on asking.

"No," Lorcan said. "She never said anything like that."

"But she told you I never shut up?"

Lorcan shook his head. "That's something I noticed. I've never heard her say an unkind word about anyone, least of all you."

"Have you ever kissed her?"

"No," Lorcan said incredulously. "Of course not."

"How long have you fancied her?"

"I don't fancy her, I fancy Lily," he said. His face paled and his jaw tightened as he swallowed. "Please… just… I didn't mean…"

Lorcan continued to stumble through justifying his last statement while James tried to grapple with what he'd just heard. He didn't know why he was shocked. Imogen had claimed as much. And perhaps that's what hit James so hard. She'd told him the truth and James had kept yelling. Lorcan bumbled along, running his hands through his hair and begging James not to tell anyone; not to tell Lily. "I won't," James said, distracted. "Have you ever asked Lily out?"

"No." This time Lorcan was downright emphatic. "I-I couldn't. S-she'd never…"

James wasn't listening anymore though. He stood from the hay, pacing. He finally stopped and turned around. "Do you have any theories about why Imogen left?"

Lorcan swallowed, clearly still concerned about his previously revealed secret. "She said she had something to do right? I think her dreams have been getting to her. So she might be trying to find who they were or see if she can find where they're buried… but personally, I don't understand the urgency since, you know, they're dead."

James nodded. He suddenly wished he'd spent more time thinking about what her note actually said. He couldn't seem to remember. All he could remember is that it was maddeningly short. "Yeah," James said. He looked over at Lorcan. His knee was bouncing and he was biting his bottom lip. Just friends… and what James said to Imogen the night before she left came into sharp focus for him. He had to find her. "Thanks."

James walked out of the barn leaving Lorcan there alone. He needed time to sort through an avalanche of understanding.

Rather than going directly home, James apparated into the field up the road, sitting in the grass. He tried to remember all the conversations he'd had with Imogen over the past several months. With exams there had been issues spending time with one another. They hadn't talked about much of anything. At least anything of importance. James, admittedly, liked to use the little time they had together to get in some decent snogging. Imogen was fine with that.

Or maybe she wasn't. James was seeing a strange new version of their relationship—one where Imogen went through the motions and just went along with whatever was going on. He shook himself out of this. No. Imogen loved him, at least she did. He loved Imogen. He could figure out how to shut up more for her.

The afternoon dipped down into evening and James still couldn't conjure anything useful from his memory. Still, he sat in the meadow, replaying long afternoons here with Imogen, if for no other reason than because he couldn't face his parents.

Hi Lily,

I don't know who else to write to about this, but I want to know what's happening with Imogen. If you can.

Lorcan

Lorcan looked over the paper again, then crumpled it up and threw it in the trash with the other half dozen drafts he'd already tried. All he knew is that he was going to be left completely in the dark unless he got in touch with someone. James didn't seem likely to warm to him anytime soon and Lorcan was pretty sure he was still in trouble with the Potters, too. They'd been nice enough when they came to ask if he'd heard from Imogen, but he'd been grounded for two weeks after being found with her in the barn. Lorcan's mum wasn't too strict, generally forgetting he was in trouble, but his dad certainly was enforcing the punishment when he was home. Between his mum and dad, Lorcan figured the Potters were more like him.

Maybe he could write to Albus. He knew Albus about as much as he knew Lily, and then he wouldn't risk making an absolute fool of himself with what he said. He'd just started on a new owl when someone knocked on his bedroom door. "Come in," he said.

"Hi." Lorcan recognized the voice and froze at his desk before slowly turning around. Lily stepped inside his room—she was in his room!—closing the door behind her. Her perfect red hair was thrown up into a bun on the top of her head, though she still tucked the little strands of loose hair behind her ears as she turned toward him. She had something in her hands, turning it in her fingers. She was looking at him, waiting.

"Hey," he finally threw out of his mouth.

"I told my parents I wanted to spend the night with my grandma," Lily said. "I don't have long, but I needed to talk to someone."

"Oh," Lorcan said. Oh? He was a moron. He should be kicked out of Ravenclaw straightaway. "I-I'm guessing it's about Imogen?"

Lily nodded. "I need to tell you something, but you have to promise it stays between us."

Lorcan was worried. He stood, trying to coolly lean against his desk, but missed the edge, tripping. He settled himself on the bed instead. "Have a seat," he said, indicating his desk chair.

Lily strode over and sat. "Imogen gave me this before she left," Lily said, handing over what was in her hands.

Lorcan took it from her, opening the compact mirror. There was a girl's image in the reflective surface. She had short brown hair and looked vaguely familiar. "Who is this?"

"That's Imogen," Lily said.

"She's...transfiguring herself?" he asked.

Lily nodded. "I was with her right before she left. She said she could make me forget or I could have that mirror to keep an eye on her. Only… I can't tell my parents. Besides the fact that they would murder me for not telling them she was going, I promised I wouldn't. But I need help figuring out what she's up to."

"H-how am I supposed to help with that?" Lorcan asked.

"You're the smartest person at our school," Lily said. Lorcan's face flushed hot. "I thought, you know, if we could be in touch, I could tell you what I see and… I don't know, we could figure what she's doing? Maybe help her, if it's needed?"

Lorcan was extremely grateful that Lily had come after James. He was still paranoid that the potion hadn't worn off yet, but at least he had legitimately known nothing when James was here. "I guess I could try."

Lily let out a breath of relief. "Thank you," she said, leaning forward. "First, there's this green light that shined on her a few times. Right when she left and then again last night."

"Green light?" Lorcan knit his brows.

"Yeah," Lily said. "I don't know how to describe it, exactly. But… it's like she was trying to use it or follow it."

"Did you see it when she left?"

"No," Lily said. "But as soon as she climbed out the window it tinted her face."

They discussed the light and Imogen's movements as best as possible for the next hour. "I thought I saw the Eiffel Tower behind her at one point last night, but it's hard to tell."

"Yeah," Lorcan said. He was looking in the mirror when Imogen started talking to another girl with auburn hair. The girls' face barely came into the picture, mostly being filled with Imogen and too small to depict much. "I bet that's why she didn't mind giving you this."

"I better get back to Grandma's," Lily said. "I don't know the next time I'll be able to use the floo, so we can just send owls?"

Lorcan thought about the papers all sitting in the bin. How long would it take him to write more than a sentence to Lily? Even with her saying she wanted him to? To top it off, an owl had the potential to be seen and read by James. "I have a better idea," Lorcan said, going to his closet and digging through an old box. He pulled out two old, rusty tin cans and handed one to Lily.

"What's this?"

"My mum had them with her mum when she was little," he said, raising his can to his lips. "If you talk into one, anyone who has the other can hear it."

Lily looked down at the can in her hand, Lorcan's voice echoing from it. She smiled. "Brilliant!"

Lorcan blushed. "She gave them to Lysander and me when we were kids."

"No, this is perfect!" Lily was examining hers in her hand. "I'll just have to make sure my family's not around when I use it. Thanks!" She turned around, heading for the door. Her hand was on the knob when she stopped, looking at the poster on the wall to her left. "You like the Blood Traitors?"

Lorcan gave something between a nod and a shrug. "Yeah," he said.

"Great band," she said with a smile, then walked out of his room.