Untitled Ravenclaw Story

(c)2005 by Josh Cohen. May not be reprinted, except for personal use. JK Rowling owns the Potterverse; I\'m just visiting.

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YEAR FOUR: THE JOURNEY AND THE DESTINATION

Warning: Serious chapter. No sex. Sorry.

There are very limited ways to travel across the ocean, even for wizards. We could’ve taken an airplane, but I don’t think Mum was willing to wait that long. I didn’t have my Apparition license, so we couldn’t Apparate, and Mum’s limit is five hundred miles anyway – Da could probably have made it to Japan from our house, but it would’ve left him crumpled in a heap. Brooms were impractical. Boats were even slower than planes.

Instead, from the IMC office, we were hustled by Mr. McCann and Bartemious Crouch, the head of the IMC, followed by Percy Weasley, who had secured a job as one of Mr. Crouch’s assistants, down the hall and into an elevator. “Traveling Level,” Mr. Crouch ordered, and we descended quickly. The elevator didn’t stop for anyone else; in fact, I don’t even know if it was a regular elevator used by others at the Ministry. I’d never been here before.

Soon enough, we were in what had to be a deep, deep area of the Ministry. I’d felt my ears pop several times on the way down. Mr. Crouch, Mr. McCann, and Percy escorted us down a long hallway and into a huge, cavernous room. “Da,” I said quietly, “where are we?”

“Hold that thought,” he replied, just as quietly. “I think we’re about to find out.”

The six of us walked across the tiled floor, our luggage floating behind us thanks to a muttered spell from Percy – who I guess wasn’t completely useless, come to think of it – until we reached what appeared to be a chain of sleds.

Mr. Crouch waved a third sled into position, and as it attached to the other four, Percy sent our suitcases into it and secured them in place with magical ropes that shot out of the end of his wand. “Thank you,” Mr. Crouch said absently before turning to us. “Welcome to the Transportation Level. This is how you’re getting to America.”

Mum looked a little surprised. “What are we supposed to do?”

“Get into the sleds, secure yourselves, and we’ll handle the rest.”

“What’s going to happen?” I had to ask.

Mr. Crouch waved me toward the third sled with his wand; Mum took the second, Da the fourth, and Mr. McCann the first. A witch in a dark green robe went to the front of the first sled and poured in what looked like a combination of several different Floo powders. “This is a long-distance Floo device. There are outposts all the way up to Iceland, and then across to Greenland and through Canada. You’ll end up at the Office of Magical Interests in Washington, DC.”

“But…”

“No more questions,” Mr. Crouch said. “Get in.”

Percy helped me into my sled and showed me how to fasten the restraints. “You’ll have to use Alohomora to open them, unless there’s some sort of emergency. If the sled leaves the tracks, the restraints will open automatically.”

“Percy,” I said in a low voice, “have you ever done this before?”

He shook his head. “Don’t worry, though. Mr. Crouch says it works perfectly.”

“I hope so.”

Mum’s long brown hair was fastened into a bun at the back of her head by a quick spell from Mr. Crouch. “Sorry about that, Mrs. Goldman, but it’s for your own safety.”

“I understand.”

All I could see was the back of Mum’s head.

“Everyone, please put on your goggles. Just in case.”

The goggles were hanging from a hook in front of the sled. I pulled them onto my head and adjusted them on my nose; there was a slight hissing sound as the soft edges molded themselves to my face.

“Now, hold on, please. Weatherby, if you would?”

I think I heard Percy try to correct Mr. Crouch under his breath just before the sled jolted and started to rise. It moved ten feet to the right and came to rest on a track, and then there was a sharp clank as – I’m guessing here; I couldn’t see – the skids locked onto the track itself.

“Mr. McCann, please give the word.”

The American wizard gave Mr. Crouch a thumbs-up. “Everyone hold on!” he called.

“Why?”

I shouldn’t have asked.

The first thing I became aware of was a huge jolt; my head snapped forward and then back, bouncing against the padded headrest. I braced my legs as I realized we were moving forward, faster even than Potter had moved on his Firebolt during the last match of last year.

Then I saw it up ahead: a huge archway with bright-orange flames dancing in it.

“What’s going on?” I tried to shout, but my words were pulled away. I assume Da heard me, but if he replied, his words were long gone before they left his mouth.

I did, however, hear a soft voice coming from a speaker at the front of my sled. It was repeating, over and over, “Office of Magical Interests, Transportation Level. Office of Magical Interests, Transportation Level. Office of Magical Interests, Transportation Level.”

We were growing closer to the flames. In fact, it was alarming how quickly we were coming up on them.

“Oh shit!”

The flames turned green at the last instant, and I felt the whirling feeling of Floo travel.

My stomach lurched as I realized what was about to happen.

With a final whirl and blast of hot air, the sled zoomed into another huge room, although this one didn’t appear to be nearly as cavernous. There was a loud squeal as we lost momentum and eventually came to a stop. The speaker on my sled stopped talking.

“Last stop. Everybody out.”

I slid my wand out of its forearm holster and pointed it shakily at my chest, where the restraints were locked together. I managed to gasp out an Alohomora and the buckle released. I pulled the goggles off my head and dropped them as I stood up and climbed carefully out of the sled.

And very nearly fell to the ground. Only a quick catch by a stocky wizard wearing a black sweater and black trousers kept me from planting my face on American soil. “Careful there, young man.” The voice had what I’d heard on television and the Wizarding Wireless and learned to identify as a ‘southern’ accent. “Don’t want to get hurt, now.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said as he held me by the shoulder and elbow. “I…” I swallowed. “I think I’ll be all right.”

“Good.” He pointed his wand at me and murmured Accio Dirt; all of the Floo powder and assorted detritus that had fallen on me on our trip lifted off my body and zipped toward his wand. He caught it, formed it into a ball, and sent it to a bin a few yards away.

Mum, Da, and Mr. McCann were performing their own cleaning spells on themselves. “Everyone in one piece?” McCann asked.

We all nodded. “Can we please just take an airplane back? I don’t think I ever want to do that again.”

Da nodded. “If it’s at all possible.”

Mr. McCann released our luggage with a wave of his wand, and Mum Accioed it to us. I took hold of the handle of my bag and waited for Mr. McCann to lead us toward an elevator. It took us up, presumably to the surface – I felt my ears pop again – and disgorged us in a large room filled with people. “Where are we?”

“OMI,” McCann said. “Office of Magical Interests, just outside Washington, DC. Welcome to America.”

The OMI provided us a long, black car and a driver for it – he was dressed in a black suit similar to Mr. McCann’s, but he was also wearing a beret and dark sunglasses that hid his eyes. The four of us got into the back of the car and I felt it accelerate.

“We’re on our way to the Anderson Center for Magical Healing. It’s a wing of Bethesda Naval Hospital designed as a quarantine ward for infectious diseases. We should be there in about a quarter-hour.”

I looked down at my watch, and then out the window. “What time is it?”

“5:00.”

I pressed the “set” button and the hands of the watch turned to the proper time. Given that we’d left home at 9:00 and it was now 5:00, I appeared to have misplaced a little less than an hour in transit. “Please pardon my language,” I said, “but what in the hell just happened?”

“That, my boy, was a long-range Floo. The sleds repeat the destination, the front one sends out Floo powder, and you pass through a series of fireplaces close enough to allow Floo travel. It’s the fastest way, other than Apparition, to get from England to America.” Mr. McCann shifted positions. “Sorry that it’s a bit uncomfortable.”

“You can say that again.”

“David!” Mum scolded, but Mr. McCann shrugged.

“It’s all right, Mrs. Goldman. I understand. If it’s possible, we’ll provide your family airplane accommodations to return to England.”

“Thank you,” Mum said.

“Now that we’re here,” McCann continued, “I can give you a little more information. Or I can wait, if…” He pointed toward me.

“No, he’s already here,” Da said. “Go ahead.”

“Very well.” McCann folded his hands in his lap. I felt the vehicle turn a corner and accelerate; from the look of things, we were on some sort of multi-laned highway now. I wondered what it was called.

“I was Natalie Stein’s second-in-command for the past five years. When she left the Bureau, I was put in charge of her squad, but she came back and I relinquished the role to her on a temporary basis. I was the person who was forced to leave her behind, and I was the person who led the team to bring her back.”

“You… left her there?” Mum’s face was white.

“Look, Mrs. Goldman, I’m sorry, but I had orders. We were there to retrieve the documents stolen from the MBI, and to apprehend the wizards and witches who took them. My superiors made the call, not me.”

“You left her there.”

Da put his hand on Mum’s forearm. “Melissa,” he whispered, “it wasn’t his fault.”

“I wish it had been me,” McCann said sadly. “I respect and admire your sister. But she was the one captured, not me, and I had to do what I was told.”

Mum’s mismatched eyes were like daggers boring into Mr. McCann, but she managed to rein in her temper. “I understand,” she said quietly. I could tell she was fighting the urge to clench her teeth and her fists. “Thank you for bringing her back.”

McCann wasn’t completely dim; he noticed. “I truly am sorry.”

We rode the rest of the way in silence. The car drove into a garage, and the door closed behind us before the driver stopped the vehicle and stepped out to open the back door. We filed out and followed McCann to another elevator. This one moved at a more sedate pace and opened onto what looked like a normal hospital – the same kind of hospital I’d been to when my kidneys stalled out the first time, before I could be transferred to St. Mungo’s. We stopped at a nurse’s station and McCann touched his palm to what appeared to be a glass panel. It glowed white, then green, and a keyboard appeared from a compartment that had been hidden. He typed on it a while, and then four badges printed out. He placed one on his lapel and handed us the rest of them. “Wear these while you’re here. They’ll make sure you don’t get into any trouble if we get separated. It’s a big hospital.”

We pinned the badges to our clothes – me to my shirt, Mum to her robes, Da to the light jacket he’d grabbed from the front closet back at our house. Then McCann led us down the hall even further, until we came to a door guarded by another black-suited individual with two wands, one strapped to each forearm. “Sergeant Kinney,” he said, “this is the Goldman family. They’re here to see Captain Stein.”

Captain? I mouthed to Da; he remained impassive.

“Very good, Lieutenant.” The wizard slid out his left-hand wand and waved a complex pattern at the door; it slid back and he moved aside. McCann waved us in, and the door closed behind the four of us.

Da caught Mum before she hit the floor. I had to settle for grabbing at a door-handle.

We all stared at Aunt Natalie.

From the midsection upward, she actually looked normal. She was hooked up to several muggle-style medical monitors, but otherwise, nothing was different. Her hair was a little grayer, her face a little paler, but she was still the same.

Starting at her stomach, though, her body was encased in a semitransparent tube. We could see inside it as spells set themselves off at regular intervals, but past the spells, we could see her legs. They were almost stone-gray, and her skin looked as if it would flake off at the slightest touch. The tube was dark enough around her waist and hips that it couldn’t be seen through – a touch of privacy, said a small part of my consciousness – but spells were firing off enough to change the color of the tube.

“What…” Mum was now crying, silently, her face tracked with tears. She never made noise when she cried, and her voice, except for a slight hitch, was exactly the same. “What’s going on?”

“I told you about the Petrification Curses,” McCann said gently. “By the time my team got to her, the damage had spread from her nerves to her muscles and her bones. We were lucky that it hadn’t spread so far as to damage much of her internal organs.” McCann was being clinical, but it wasn’t helping. Da led Mum to a chair as McCann continued speaking. “We were able to fix the parts of her bones and muscles and organs that had been affected, but even we couldn’t do anything about her back. Her legs were considered a lesser priority. We don’t think she’ll lose them, but even if they can be turned back to living tissue, she will probably never regain the use of them.”

“Oh God,” Mum whispered. “Oh, Natalie.”

I managed to recover enough to wipe my face – I had been crying, too, not even noticing – and shuffle over to the bed. Her eyes fluttered and then opened, dark blue but bleary. “Hi,” she whispered, hoarse. “What are you doing here?”

Mum practically vaulted out of the chair and came to Aunt Natalie’s bedside. “Nat,” she said, cupping her sister’s cheek, turning her head. “Oh, Natalie.”

My aunt’s blue eyes started tearing up. “Don’t you worry about me, little sister. I’ll be all right.”

Mum reached down to take Aunt Natalie’s hand. “Of course you will.”

“Help me up,” she said to me, and I searched the side of the bed until I found what appeared to be a tilt control. I pressed it and the bed started to bend her into a sitting position. “Thank you.”

“Sure.” My voice had all but finished changing, but now it was cracking. “Sure thing.”

“Lieutenant McCann,” Aunt Natalie said, a little louder but still hoarse.

“Yes, ma’am?” He came to attention, but she used her free hand to wave him off.

“Thank you for bringing them here,” she said. “I appreciate it.”

“Yes, ma’am.” His voice was cold as steel; I knew he was controlling his own emotions. “I only wish I could have saved you sooner.”

“It’s not your fault, Tom,” Aunt Natalie said in as reassuring a tone as she could manage. “I don’t blame you. And I order you to not blame yourself.”

He nodded. “I’ll be outside. If you’ll excuse me?”

She nodded back. “Go ahead.”

McCann left the room. I found a spare chair and pulled it up to the side of the bed; Da pushed a chair behind Mum, and she sat down in it. He stood behind her, one hand on the back of the chair, the other on Mum’s shoulder.

“Well, David, you ought to look at the bright side.”

“W… what?”

The old twinkle returned to her eyes for just a moment. “You won’t have to deal with me at Hogwarts next year, will you?”

“You’re not coming back?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so. I think the MBI’s going to want to keep an eye on me here.”

I smiled, or tried to. “Hermione will be crushed.”

“She’ll get over it. She can write me if she wants.”

“I’m sure she will.” Aunt Natalie turned back to Mum. “Melissa, I’ll be all right. You don’t have to worry so.”

“You’re the last of my blood family, except for David,” she said, folding her arms and resting her chin on them. Her mismatched eyes still brimmed with tears, and her cheeks and nose were red. “I don’t want to lose you like I lost our mother.”

Da looked like he wanted to say something, but Aunt Natalie flicked her eyes up at him, and he chose to stay silent. “You have nothing to worry about. I promise.”

For the next few hours, we stayed by Aunt Natalie’s bedside until the Witch Doctor assigned to her case came in and announced that she had to go for more intensive treatment. We bid them farewell and Mr. McCann led us back to the elevator. “We’ve got rooms for you at a hotel across the street,” he said as we rode down to the parking area. “Just tell the people at the front desk who you are.”

“Is it a wizarding hotel, or a muggle one?” Da asked. Mum was still in no condition to even think about it.

“It’s run mostly by squibs,” McCann said. “There’s a few witches and wizards on staff. You can use magic inside if you feel comfortable doing so.”

“Right, then.”

We got into the car. McCann made as if to close the door, and Da held out his hand. “You’re not coming?”

“No, Mr. Goldman. I have duties to attend to. But if you need me, call me.” He took a small device out of his pocket and passed it to Da. “Just open this and say my name. It’ll find me.”

“What is it?”

“Let’s just call it a phone.” McCann closed the door gently and rapped on the roof, and we set off to the hotel.

Da dropped the device into his pocket and put his arm around Mum. “Everything will be all right, Melissa.”

“I hope so.”

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A/N: Yes, Sgt. Kinney is also named after a shoe store.

For anyone who wonders what happened to the book that David stuck in his pocket at the end of the previous chapter, let\'s just say for the sake of argument that he stuck it in his luggage before they left. I think you the readers can understand if, as he reflects on these years, he omits a detail or two.

Next chapter: \"The Letter\"