The Rose of King's Cross - continuation story

[Bara]

Sitting at their feet, unnoticed, the old she-cat yowled ...

[Bara]

Deb looked down, called the cat. Mrs Norris looked suspiciously at her for a moment, then retracted her claws and leapt onto Deb's lap, purring and kneading like a kitten.

Deb stroked the cat's back.

"Well, gentlemen?" she said. "This is all too cosy. You do know, don't you, that the Dementors have their orders?"

Heiro shrank back into his cloak and hood.

[Bara]

Back in the Slytherin dorm, Lynne was becoming worried. After the try-outs and the excitement of her flight with Rad, she had lost track of Bara.

Bara hadn't been at dinner (Demerits for Slytherin!) Lights out was 9 o'clock. Lynne reckoned it was about an hour later that she heard the smothered commotion in the next bed. She waited until it went quiet again.

"Pssst! Beee!" she hissed.
"Hmmmm?" came a dreamy voice.
"BARA!" Lynne groped under her pillow, found her torch, shone it full in Bara's face.

"Hmmm?" said Bara. "Oh Lynne! I have met my broom..

It was like this ... " Bara went on ..

‘Yippee! I can fly!’ cried Terrie. Lynne, you were laughing. You were intoxicated with the speed and riding the perfect horse.

"I can run..” breathed Brooks. As Rad, she glanced at her escorting brooms. ‘Hold on,” she thought to Lynne, and she found another gear.

Two hours later, the beaters found Bara. She was still flat on her back in the bracken, but she was still grinning. The school try-out broom was idly sweeping the clearing, occasionally snuffling back to its erstwhile rider, gently brushing her chest, then grazing around again. It really was a good-tempered broom. It made no attempt to fly off or to leave its rider.

“Oh, for heavens’ sake,” protested Bara, as the rescue team hoisted her vertical. It had to be said that she was swaying a smidgeon. But the grin never left her face. The broom pogo-d over to her, anxiously brushing her face.

Bara grabbed it around the handle. “GOOOD Brooom,” she said.

The broom curled its bristles over her, seeming to search her pockets. The Para-Psychics raised eyebrows at each other.

“I shall call you Pegasus, or maybe Porry,” announced Bara, slightly drunkenly – or perhaps she was concussed.

The rather homely and none-too-young school broom, with its ragged and none-too groomed twigs, its well-worn and slippery handle and its worn and fraying grip seemed to stand erect and almost prance for a moment. For just a second, it was a Nanobolt, at least in its own bristly mind.

And Bara and Porry became a team.

Lynne sighed. "You could do better ...?" She suggested. "What makes you so sure?"

Bara smiled, beatifically. "I fell off." she said fondly.

Lynne looked at Bara's face. "OK." she admitted, "you have found your broom."

She switched off the torch.

"G'night.' she said.
"Gniggghhhhhhh" snored Bara happily, dropping into dreams of Porry.

[Bara]

Lucy Malfoy was perplexed. In her study, annexed to the 6th Form dorm in Slytherin, the candles burned low.

Lucinda stood, threw down her quill, stretched and rubbed her eyes. Nothing was making sense. She glanced at her time-goblin. “12.10 a.m.” he trilled.

Lucy smiled wearily and tapped him on the head. He fell silent – or slightly stunned. She patted him gently, and tipped him into his little truckle bed and pulled the tiny coverlet over him.

She turned to her study door, then turned back and slipped off his pointy hat and his miniature shoes. Shelved his hat, ranged the shoes neatly under his cot-let, and covered his feet with his little blanket. The goblin let out a little snore. Lucinda smiled.

Her father was right. She should consign her goblin to the scrap-heap and invest in a ‘Wiz-a-net-alarm’. Daddy would pay.

Instead, Lucinda turned down the lights and checked again that her goblin was comfortable. He whiffled happily in his sleep.

Picking up her torch, Lucinda prepared to fulfil her duties as dorm prefect, checking that everyone was in bed and asleep.

6th Forms, her own age group, did not take much effort for a dorm prefect, not like the littlies, thought Lucinda, smiling fondly. But before she could go to bed, she had to check on everyone – newest Form 1 to her own sub-prefect, in dorm 6.

Only then could the Head of House seek her own, much-wanted bed.

But tonight, Lucinda was perplexed, her mind wasn’t on her final rounds. Finishing her prep, (Advanced Mythology, Pseudo-chronology, Potiontology and Runology) she had started on a review of the first term. Nothing was making sense….

She decided to start with Dorm 1. She had a feeling that the answers to her questions (and worries, she admitted to herself) began with her new Muggles.

Lucinda’ torch was set on ‘Non-Illuminato’ as she shined it in the Muggle faces. SHE could see clearly enough, but the light was reflected before it could awaken the faces it lighted on.

Lynne was sleeping neatly and peacefully. Her long, blonde hair spread across her pillow and a faint smile on her sleeping face, she looked to be 10 years old.

Lucinda moved the torch beam. Bara was spread-eagled across her bed, mouth open, snoring faintly. It seemed the non-illuminato penetrated momentarily. She half-woke. “Porry?” she murmured.

Quickly Lucinda moved on through the silent, dark dormitories …

[brian]

Heironmous propped open the door to the girls bathroom and began cleaning. Old Filtch had designated all the most unpleasant jobs to him years ago.

As he scrubbed the toilet bowl Moaning Myrtle broke through the silence.

"He called the big snake with the parselmouth . I heard it . I saw it. It was here. "

" So? " Hissed Heironmous " Sssso? What's that got to do with me ?"

" I see him in you . The others weren't here. I was and I remember ............"

Mrs Norris glared at them through the doorway and was gone.

[Bara]

Only the memory of the cat’s furious spitting and hissing lingered in the echoing bathroom.

“Oooh, DON’T mind Myrtle,” wept Myrtle, “SHE doesn’t matter, SHE’S dead!”

Filtch ignored her.

“And I remember YOU,” continued Myrtle, now in her false, caressing tones. “You’re Fatty Filtch. You were in 1st year, the year I died in 4th Form. The year that he....”

Myrtle moaned and disappeared into the U-bend, her pitiful wailing following her. Young Filtch hissed through his teeth, continued scrubbing, scrubbing…
____________________________________________________

Outside the Leaky Cauldron, late that night, a figure clung to the shadows.

It watched the rollicking locals bursting through the doors, alive with smiles and bonhomie. Arm in arm, they disappeared into the lanes of Hogsmeade. The occasional quarrelsome voice rang out, but always a voice of reason shushed and calmed. The locals went home.

The watching figure waited.

Eventually, the lights went out. One by one, the lanterns were extinguished in the old Inn building. Through the windows, the Watcher could see Merenisha Girth gathering glasses, sweeping and polishing, occasionally yawning and stretching. She was all on her own tonight, no-one to help.

The last lantern was extinguished.

Still, the Watcher waited and watched.

At last, the old lych-gate behind the pub was heard to creak.

The Watcher stiffened. A hooded figure stole out, glanced right, glanced left, then fled towards Hogwarts.

The Watcher smiled.

It was another hour, before the front door edged open. A large shape loomed in the doorway, hurriedly pulling the door shut behind him. He pulled his hood low over his brow, then laboriously huffed his way behind his predecessor towards Hogwarts.

When the lych-gate creaked again, The Watcher had all but dozed off. He pushed himself erect from his dark corner, never breathing awareness to his quarry.

The Elf looked quickly to either side. “I think it’s clear ..” he breathed. Deb, behind him, stopped dead in her tracks. The cat hissed.

“There are Watchers.” She said.

“A Watcher?” whispered the Elf, terrified.

“WatcherS.” Said Deb. “More than one.”

The Watcher hissed between his teeth, shrank farther back into the shadows. Deb hesitated. Almost she seemed to perceive the shadows and see the Watching figure. Almost, but not quite.

“I think,” said Deb, loudly and brightly.. “I think, My Dear, I would like a trip to London.”

The Elf’s head swivelled and he stared at Deb as though she had gone mad.

“NOW! Dear,” insisted Deb. “LONDON would be nice?”

The Free Elf gaped for a moment, then : “Ah. Yes. King’s Cross or Waterloo?” he asked.

“I hear that Ronnie Scott’s is the trendy place to go?” said Deb.

In a second, The Watcher was left in cold darkness, the two before him had gone.

He curssssed and groped for the Portkey they had used.

[Bara]

“Albus?” Lucinda whispered, shaking her sub-prefect on his blanketed shoulder. “Albus?”

Albus swam into wakefulness, as always, mentally shaking away the vivid dreams of the past. He saw the torch, beam stopping just short of his face.

“Lucy?” he whispered. “What is it?”

Lucinda sat on the edge of his bed, Albus wriggled to give her more room. Sat up, clasped his hands around his knees.

Lucinda dimmed her torch.

“Albus,” she whispered, urgently. “I think it’s happening again…”

A heartbeat. Then.

“Noooo …” breathed Albus Potter. “But he – He – ??“

“No, no,” said Lucinda impatiently. “Not … Him. But perhaps just as bad …”

In the half dark, the two children stared at each other.

“There’s something, Albus,” said Lucinda, “there’s something… I think the Muggles – The Marekins – they’re here for a reason….” She slumped for a moment. “I hope it’s a good one,” she said.

Albus looked at her defeated silhouette in the half-dark. Almost he reached out a hand.

“You’re worried for Slytherin,” he said flatly.

He heard a half-sob. “Oh, Albus, I'm worried for all of us.”

“Lucy.. Lucinda!” he almost gave up. “Loose – I’m here, now. YOU are head of Slytherin. Whatever it is – we won’t let it happen.”

He heard another half-sob.

“Night, Alb,” she said. The torch switched off. He felt the weight lift from his bedside.

“I’m here, Loose,” he said into the darkness.

[brooks]

Meanwhile back in the muggle world many things were happening. There was a massive search going on for 6 persons who were all last seen at King Cross Station. 5 Americans and English women. Across the pond 2 husband were wondering what had happen to their wives and in California friends of the Law family were very confused. When searching the Law farm it was discovered that all the animals were gone. Of course they could not know that they were safe and well cared for at Hogwarts being used as examples of non-magical animals in Muggle studies program.

[brian]

Mrs Norris got up from her resting place by the huge stone fireplace in the Slytherin dorm . With a sudden sense of purpose she padded as swiftly and noiselessly as any of the wraiths that occupied Hogwarts. She waited for the staircase to come to the landing she stood on and then went down the stairs and into the hall .

She stopped momentarily - remembering that this was where she saw the giant serpent that left her petrified all those years ago . She leaped up to a window and out into to the cool night air.

Age and wisdom dictated that she give the Whomping Willow a wide berth . She made her way down the hill to professor Law's hut . She knew a way in through the cellar.

The Laws were listening to the gargantuan Gramophone they had borrowed from the academy , sitting in matching wing backed chairs , surrounded by and covered with sleeping animals .

" Must it be so loud ? " Implored Brooks.

" Yes." Professor Law replied.

The parakeets fluttered about nervously when Mrs Norris suddenly appeared , sat directly in front of the professor and let off with a yowl that caused every synapse in his central nervous system to malfunction in a most disturbing way .

" My God - what does she want ? "

" It's old Filtch's old cat " Was the non sequitur Brooks offered by way of a reply as the yowling continued and intensified .

" I know that " Shouted professor Law irritably " But what the HELL does she want from me?"

Brooks shrugged her shoulders. With a sigh professor Law lifted the two cats that had deposited themselves on his lap as comfortably as two bowling balls and put them on hers , put on his hat and coat and followed old Mrs Norris outside.

Brooks tossed the cats out of her way , poked the old , deaf dog so she awoke with a start . As he trudged up the hill , he heard the Who's masterpiece Tommy get replaced by Mandy by Barry Manilow with the volume turned down low.

[Bara]

Brilliant - where is this going, Professor!??

By my reckoning, we have 36 pages , Mrs Norris is about 60 years-old - and Sarah has a lot of catching up to do!!

[Bara]

The atmosphere in Ronnie Scott’s nightclub in Soho, London, (not SoHo, NY) was smoky, fuggy and loud.

The 250lb Bouncer at the door was leaning up against the doorway, being fanned by his friends and colleagues. They’d loosened his funky, back-lit flashing tie, which read : ”Fancy a FCUK, Doll-Face?”.

It was in the logostyle of French Connection UK, and Bouncer thought it was very clever and trendy.

They’d opened the collar of his black, silk shirt. He was a bit wobbly on his size 12, Mock-Croc feet.

“I dunno,” he kept saying. “They was MASSIVE! I didn’t stand a chance! They wuzn’t on the list – and then they just WUZ!”

His companions stroked Bouncer’s shaven pate, consolingly. The small, Italianate man in the pink cat suit was patting his hands. “There, there, Bouncy-Boy,” he kept cooing. Bouncer pushed himself off the wall, glaring at his smaller friend.

Inside, the massive eighteen inch elf and his 5’2” companion had found a corner table, as far away from the band as possible.

It wasn’t that Deb hated jazz, she knew enough about it that Ronnie Scott’s had leapt to mind.

But as the next hysterical brass trumpet solo syncopated off the walls, resonating through her brain and jamming with her nerve endings, she closed her eyes and sighed. “Why is there no nice Country venue in London?” She thought. “I could concentrate much better to Johnny Cash.”

Axiom was staring at her, anxiously. Deb patted the Elf’s hand reassuringly.

The next moment, an old cat stalked through the bar, staring accusingly left and right, her tail an indignant question mark. She leapt into Deb’s lap, closed her eyes and commenced to purr, out-jamming the trumpeter.

Deb’s eyes shot wide – she laughed incredulously and began stroking Mrs Norris. Axiom leapt to his feet, knocking over a small, stolen plant-stand.

Brian, trailing in the cat's wake, leaned over the table.

“I’m Professor Law,” he said. “Mrs Norris insisted that I come here. You must be Deb?” he enquired. Deb nodded.

“You’re Brooks’ husband,” she affirmed.

Brian turned to the Elf..

“I suggest,” he shouted against the trumpeter’s latest solo onslaught, “I suggest, we adjourn somewhere quieter..?”
Deb nodded gratefully.

[brian]

" Let him finish his solo first...." Said professor Law.

[Bara]

Grabbing the ash-tray Portkey, Deb clutching Mrs Norris to her chest, the three were whizzed away from Ronnie Scott's to the Wembley Arena...

Deb sighed contently and placed the cat on the floor ...

There was a sudden blare of electronic sound.. Mrs Norris shot claw over claw up Deb's leg ...

!'m a pinball wizard..." started the elderly rockstar on stage ...

Deb screeched... still clutching the cat, she grabbed Brian and Axiom by the arm...

The group finished up in a quiet club. On-stage a figure in a cowboy hat was crooning about his wumman doin' him wrong... Deb sighed, contentedly.

Brian, apoplectic with rage, was still pointing in the opposite direction.

Axiom visibly relaxed. Mrs Norris was either purring or snoring...

"Now," said Deb.

[Bara]

Hermione would never have believed that she would be so nervous, returning to her old school.

But, wearing Harry's Invisibility Cloak, which she had borrowed 'for a party', she found it bizarre to be skulking through the Hogwarts corridors at night once again. What would Ron say? She shuddered, praying that, as usual, poor dear, he would never realise that he had been "Sorporised."

'Mione paused, with a moment's guilt. "But I NEVER Sorporise him for a BAD reason," she argued with herself.

'Until tonight ..?' argued her other self.

Hermione took the moving staircases to the Gryffindor dorm. But on the landing, the Fat Lady, opening one eye, looked down at her regretfully.

"Hermione! Dear!" she mumbled, grumpily.. "Do you KNOW what time it is?"

Hermione smiled. "Hello, Dawn!" she said brightly. "May I go in, please?"

The portrait frowned. "Now, Hermione, dear," she said. "You know better than that."

"But my children ..." protested Hermione...

"Are fine.." concluded Dawn. "Goodnight, dear." She closed her eyes again and her snores started up once more.

Hermione pressed her hand against the solid wooden door. "Goodnight," she whispered. The Weasley children slumbered on.

Hermione turned, the staircases grinding slowly back into place.

________________________________________________

Somewhere in the castle, a face peered at the 'Marauders' Map'.

Hermione's footsteps appeared clearly.

"Granger?" muttered The Watcher. "Weasley? Which??!"

She watched Hermione's footsteps descend the stairs, cross the quad, disappear in the direction of The Whomping Willow. Or perhaps Hagrid's cottage. Or perhaps the Laws' married quarters.

The Watcher threw down her pen. Sighing. Hermione was off her map. "And who," she wondered, "is Hermione?"

[Bara]

Sarah? SARAH! SAAARRAAAHHH???!!