ENIGMA

Plot, new characters, new magical terms and abilities etc. are my intellectual property. If you want to borrow then please kindly ask. JK Rowling's characters and Wizarding Universe are all uniquely hers.



Summary: AU: What if everything we ever read in JK Rowling’s books was real – including the people characterised? What would you do if you found yourself caught up in that reality knowing what was to come? SS, RL, OC



Fantasy/Drama



This story is rated R/M.



ENIGMA



Chapter 003: Brave New World



Jessica slowly came to as cold wrapped itself around her body. She groaned and found it difficult to move. Once, twice she blinked her eyes trying to focus as she forced herself to a sitting position and looked around. She was in a ring of standing stones very similar to those near Loch Looemond. She looked around once more just to be sure.



These were the stones of the Loch; the dark waters of the Loch sparked ever so slightly as fine beads of rain drizzled down.



She heaved herself up and stumbled forward. Her eyes took in a sight that her mind hadn’t registered before. In the distance was a picturesque village ablaze with light here and there. Further on looming great and wondrous over the whole of the valley, was the most spectacular castle she’d ever laid eyes on.



These were the stones of the Loch, of that she was most certain.



But the rest of it – whatever it was it was not the environs of Loch Looemond; it wasn’t the place that she had come to know.



Jessica was cold, tired and hungry. And she needed help – she desperately needed help.



“I am losing my mind,” she whispered to herself as tears started streaming down her face. Her friends were dead, butchered by some Satanic gang and what the hell would she say to the police about any of it? No one would believe her. She just happened to be the lucky one to escape leaving her friends to be slaughtered. Jail. They would lock her up and throw away the key.



She looked around the stones again and then at the village and castle. There was one thing to do first.



She needed to go home.



…xxxXXXxxx…



Nothing was as she remembered it, not exactly. It was home, and yet it wasn’t. The path was there, thank God. But the scenery – everything was just so…different. As she neared the spot where she should be able to see the light from her house, Jessica gasped.



There was no light, no vibrant gardens – nothing.



“No…NO!” she cried out loud trying to run, but only managing to stumble forward through her tears.



There was nothing but a ruin.



The wall demarcating the boundary of the back garden was derelict along with the gate that had been in pristine condition. The house had clearly not been inhabited for many years and wasn’t quite the expansive property she had been lucky to find when she bought it. It was a fairly large cottagey affair – exactly as it had been before being extended and renovated by the previous owners.



A shiver not belonging to the cold of the night coursed up her back cooling the warmth of her blood coursing through her body. Jessica sank to her knees and howled out of anger and frustration.



“SOMEBODY HELP ME!” she screamed as she raked her fingers through the impoverished soil that had not cradled the life of flora for an age. “Oh God! Somebody help me – please!”



She leaned forward, crying and shaking her head in disbelief. She was alone, confused and lost – unbelievably lost.



…xxxXXXxxx…



Jessica had made her way back to the summit where the stone circle stood and then headed back down in the opposite direction. She needed to get to help and the most likely place to find it was the village.



But what the hell could she say? People would think her stark-raving mad! Murder, standing stones and a life that seemed to have never been…



Jessica had always been a practical woman; the reality was that she had no money at the moment, no job and most importantly no home. She had nothing. Perhaps there was an internet café in the village and she could go online and check her bank accounts? After all she did have bank accounts.



She did.



Just like she had a home.



And friends…



But did she?



Did she really?



…xxxXXXxxx…



There was a sign up ahead, but the rain was falling heavily now and Jessica couldn’t make it out. It wasn’t until she reached the sign that it became clear, not unusual considering she ought to consider getting a pair of glasses.



‘WELCOME TO HOGSMEADE’ it read.



Jessica laughed hysterically and sank to her knees. The laughter quickly turned to tears.



Hogsmeade was the only entirely-wizarding settlement in the whole of the British Isles according to Potter lore.



“That’s it – it’s official – I have fucking lost my bloody mind!” she railed at the inanimate object. “I’ve gone mad – yes I have! It’s shock you see… I can’t… I can’t… No…”



She rocked herself back and forth, muttering under her breath.



“This isn’t real; this isn’t happening… I’m home and I’m safe in my bed. And the girls…we’re all find…yeah…we’re all fine…”



Jessica shivered in the cold. If this was a dream, it was certainly the most vivid and realistic one she’d had in ages. She had always dreamt a lot, even as a child. Dreams of colours, smell, tastes, sounds and feelings. God help her, the feelings…



But this was no dream.



Was it?



…xxxXXXxxx…



Jessica moved forward slowly in the rain not believing what her senses were telling her. The wizarding world of Harry Potter had come to life. It was as real as the life she had lived. As she walked along the High Street she could make out the shop fronts of names that had come to be like old friends: Zonko’s which she knew was a joke shop and the resident hangout of the Weasley twins and their friend Lee Jordan; Honeydukes beloved by many a Hogwarts student for its dizzying variety of scrumptious sweets; and Gladrags a sort of wizarding version of Top Shop amongst others. There was a tea shop nearby where Harry Potter had an ill-fated date with Cho Chang in his 5th year. From what Jessica remembered from the ‘The Order of the Phoenix’ it wouldn’t be her sort of place to go on a first date.



If those shops were there, then so was the Three Broomsticks and its antithesis the Hog’s Head. The Hog’s Head; Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry who was also thought to be the Greatest Wizard of the Age, had a brother who just happened to be the barkeeper there according to one of the more plausible theories of those she had ever read about things mentioned but not explained by Ms. Rowling. If all else failed, she would go to him.



If this was what it seemed to be, then she was going to need Dumbledore. But the idea of it got her back up; as far as she was concerned he was a manipulator of the worst kind. He used people as much as the other side did. It didn’t matter that the cause was a good and just one – people should be able to chose freely, unencumbered by indebtedness. But that was something clearly outside the real of Albus Dumbledore’s consideration as far as she was concerned.



“Jesus H. Christ…” Jessica snorted shrilly. “I am fucking mad – bonkers – loony as Luna Lovegood!”



She looked up the High Street and there it was, just as she expected. The Three Broomsticks with that fabled drink, Butterbeer. Funny how one can get drunk from drinking too much of it, but the underage students have no problem in buying it in Rowling’s Universe, she thought fleetingly to herself. Butterbeer wouldn’t do; she needed a shot of Firewhiskey. Where there was Butterbeer there was also the other wizarding drink of choice.



She looked up at the building looming in the distance.



Hogwarts.



If she was in Hogsmeade about to step into the firing line of the Three Broomsticks, then no doubt that had to be Hogwarts, a core part of the Rowling universe.



Jessica pushed thoughts of the fabled fictional wizarding school from her mind and moved towards the enticing warmth of Madam Rosmerta’s pub.



…xxxXXXxxx…



Jessica moved through the doors hesitantly. Fortunately the weather being what it was it seemed most of the customers were staying home. She couldn’t have faced doing what had to be done if the place had been heaving with business.



“Och – what a night eh?” came a lilting voice to her left. Jessica couldn’t find the voice to speak. That had to be the landlady herself, the one and only Rosmerta. Funny how in the film of ‘Prisoner of Azkaban’ they cast Julie Christie – still a blonde bombshell not looking a day out of her thirties even though she was edging to 60, Jessica thought to herself. She looked hesitantly at the proprietress again. Rosmerta was definitely more than a bit attractive, but she just was who she was – nothing like her cinematic counterpart.



“Are you alright?” Rosmerta asked walking over to Jessica and touching her arm lightly. She could that the stranger had been through something terrible. Her clothes were ripped and she had scratches and bruises on her face and arms. The woman looked like she was in pain too – whatever had happened to her, it was definitely bad.



Jessica shook her head ‘no’ and tears started streaming down her face.



“Please…” she croaked. “Please help me… I… I don’t know what to do!”



Her face crumpled and she burst into tears.



Rosmerta helped Jessica over to a chair and gestured to the man seated at a table in the corner.



“Hagrid, could you do me a favour and get down the Ogden’s and pour a shot for the lass aye?”



The mind works in mysterious ways. Of all denizens of the wizarding world, Rubeus Hagrid would never be someone un-noticeable. He was half-giant and stood well near 7ft in height if Jessica’s memory served her correctly. It was a testament to just how bad things were that she hadn’t picked him out right off the bat.



A couple of big stomping strides put Hagrid within arm’s distance of the Firewhiskey. He poured the shot and then brought it and the bottle over to the table where Rosmerta was seated with the stranger who now seemed to be having some sort of fit.



Jessica was shaking uncontrollably and crashed to the floor. Her eyes were glazed over and she was breaking out in a cold sweat.



“Is everything alright Rosmerta?” came distinctly female voice with a heavy Highlands accent. “I thought I heard…”



“Something’s wrong with the lass here, Minerva!”



“Ye ken who she is?” asked Minerva McGonagall as she stooped low and placed an aged hand on Jessica’s forehead. She had a tendency to lapse into her native dialect around Rosmerta as they were from the same part of the Scottish Highlands. It was something that had never been noted in any of the books, but would be become fairly obvious as Jessica got to know her.



“No – never seen her before,” Rosmerta answered quickly before launching into an explanation as to what had happened while the professor was in the ladies room.



“Stand back Hagrid and give her some air. She’s coming around,” McGonagall said crisply in a manner that definitely seemed familiar to Jessica as she struggled to gain control of herself.



“I think it’s best we close up for the night and get her up to a private salon aye?” Rosmerta said as she locked the front doors and closed the shutters to the windows.



Before Jessica could utter a word of protest Hagrid scooped her up and followed Professor McGonagall up a steep staircase leading to the sitting rooms where customers could have a bit of privacy if they wanted. Considering all that was about to be revealed to them, it was just as well there were no other patrons about.



…xxxXXXxxx…



“I am Professor Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress and Head of Transfiguration at Hogwarts,” McGonagall began.



Jessica almost said “I know” but thought better of it and remained silent.



“Are ye ok young lady?” Hagrid asked as he stoked the fire.



Rosmerta had brought up a tray after locking up. There was hot tea and toasted sandwiches along with a refilling hot bowl of chicken noodle soup.



“I…I don’t have any money,” Jessica croaked as her eyes filled with tears.



“Don’t worry about that,” McGonagall said crisply. “It’s not important…”



“Yes… yes it is! I don’t have any money! I don’t have my home or my friends anymore! I don’t have anything and I don’t understand what’s happening to me!”



Hagrid, McGonagall and Rosmerta exchanged startled glances.



“Yes – I think I have lost my mind too!” Jessica wailed.



Her face crumpled once again and she burst into heaving crying jags.



“There, there; everything will be alright,” McGonagall said sitting down next to the stranger on the large comfortable sofa. She was operating on her own formidable instincts. The woman was not crazy; she’d seen enough people who genuinely were. No – the lady was in shock, a deep and terrifying shock. She’d seen enough of that in the First War. Whoever she was – she needed help, and badly.



“No – it won’t…” Jessica sobbed as McGonagall put an arm around her. “I just… I don’t know what’s happening to me! I don’t know what to do!”



Rosmerta shifted the tray and sat on the low table in front of the professor and the stranger.



“We can’t help you unless you tell us what’s going on. You’ve been hurt…badly…”



Blood had been seeping through Jessica’s shirt and jeans.



“Oh – I’m so sorry!” Jessica wailed. “I… I should go…”



“You are not going anywhere; certainly not tonight,” McGonagall chided gently. “You are amongst friends here – let us help you aye?”



Jessica nodded faintly and then told her story of all that had happened that day. Her audience was rapt and paid close attention. But it was the part about the stones and the dress of the murders in particular that seemed to hold sway the most. Something wasn’t right what had happened and McGonagall was determined to get to the bottom of it. And while she had no doubt that Jessica was telling the truth, she had the feeling they weren’t being told everything. There was something to this – a very important something.



“So these…people… They burst into your home and did those horrible things?” Rosmerta said through a frown. “You are lucky to be alive!”



“You are too beautiful to look so upset – I’m so sorry,” Jessica said as Rosmerta took her hand.



Rosmerta visibly reddened. “Don’t mind me… It’s nothing…”



“Sounds too much like…” Hagrid began before McGonagall cut him off.



“That is a discussion for another time…” she said darkly.



Jessica knew that Hagrid was actually quite naïve in many respects and tended to open his mouth about the wrong things around the wrong people. He wasn’t malicious, at least not what she knew from the books; he just didn’t have a clue sometimes. The Groundsman and Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts had no doubt been ready to make a connection to the Death Eaters, the misguided and very dangerous servants of Lord Voldemort – the Dark Wizard who had marked Harry Potter as his enemy in his quest to rule the wizarding world according to Potterverse.



But the woman was already seeing certain things about these three people she thought she knew enough from fiction that could have more to do with what lay undiscovered in Jo Rowling’s many notebooks rather than the published works. It was too much to take in; the world of fiction had become a factual reality.



Her reality.



“You need medical attention,” McGonagall said urgently. Despite her best efforts Jessica was still bleeding. “We need to get you to Hogwarts.”



She turned to Rosmerta and gave her some money to cover the cost of the food and drink. Rosmerta being Rosmerta, she declined it.



“No – wait; I can’t – how will I pay you back?” Jessica asked worriedly.



“You need help,” McGonagall said sternly. “And I would wager you would be far safer at Hogwarts under the auspices of the Headmaster and myself rather than roaming around the countryside unable to fend for yourself!”



Jessica shrank back and considered herself told.



“I’m not used to not paying my own way…” she mumbled. “I’m not your problem…”



“Well ye seem to be a long, long way from what ye know! There comes a time when ye have to let people help ye,” Hagrid said wisely. “Not everyone’ll always be lookin’ fer payback, right? One day ye’ll have yer turn to help someone else… that’s the way it should go I reckon.”



“Hagrid’s right and so is the professor,” Rosmerta said warmly. “I’m always here if you need me, Jessica…just remember that…”



Jessica nodded; trying hard not to think about the Imperious Curse the proprietress had been under thanks to a Hogwarts student named Draco Malfoy in ‘The Half Blood Prince’.



“Erm – can I ask a question,” she asked as a lightbulb suddenly went off over her head.



“Of course,” McGonagall said with a wave of her hand.



“What year is this!”



…xxxXXXxxx…



Jessica still hadn’t got a straight answer to her question. Hagrid had gone ahead to the school to inform the Headmaster of what had happened. Dumbledore wasn’t around and Hagrid could be heard grumbling to himself as he stomped-walked back to the school’s entrance.



“Is something the matter, Hagrid?” came a voice interrupting his brooding.



“Oh – Hullo Professor – didn’t see ye there!”



“Is anything wrong? You seem a bit upset.”



“I’m jest needin’ to see the Headmaster is all. Got a bit of a situation…”



“He was called away by the Ministry – rather last-minute. I had a meeting with him, but we had to postpone it. Can I help?”



Hagrid thought for a moment.



“Actually I think ye can! Seems like it might be one right up your street so to speak…yours and Professor Snape,” Hagrid said as he led the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor down to the school gates where he knew McGonagall would be Apparating with the stranger shortly. “Jest have to send the signal…”



The Professor pulled out his wand and sent three bursts of red and gold sparks followed by three bursts of green and silver.



“So can you tell me anything…”



Before the professor could finish asking his question there was a loud CRACK. Standing before them was Professor McGonagall and a woman he’d never seen before. The Deputy Headmistress was struggling to support the weight of her charge.



“She’s lost a lot of blood and nothing I’ve tried seems to be doing much good,” McGonagall said in a rush as the DADA Professor rushed forward to help relieve her of her burden.



The stranger lurrched forward and he could swear there was a fleeting moment of recognition in her eyes before she passed out cold in his arms.