Comfortably Numb

Southern California/London, August-September 2011

1

The remainder of the summer had returned to its normal routine. I wrote about heinous murder scenes and burnt out detectives, while Jason filled his daily quota of surf and sun. It was all very regular and familiar and yet as the end of the season approached I grew increasingly pensive. It wasn't so much that I was dreading the trip to England, which I was, or even the memories Jason's Hogwarts letter had dredged up. It was more due to the fact that in eleven years, the longest Jason had been away from me was the week he had spent at summer camp when he was nine, and both of us had been so miserable for those seven days that we had made a pact never to embark on such an experiment again. Jason is my kid, but he is also my buddy, and the one person on this earth that I can count on to love me. No one knows me like he does. Now he would be separated from me for a full school term, and I was already feeling the loss keenly, even though it had not yet occurred. I kept picturing myself alone in our house until Christmas holiday, with only our pug, Rincewind, to keep me company. I began to clutch the pooch to me and look gloomily about at the large and airy rooms, now become overwhelmingly big, glaring at the sheer size of them. Jason, on the other hand, grew more and more excited as the day of our impending departure approached.

He began packing a full week before we were due to leave. Besides feeding my dread, this also resulted in repeated toothbrush hunts each evening. I kept reminding him that we would get most of his things in London; he kept insisting that he absolutely needed this or that, and that, whatever the object in question was, he would be bereft if he left it behind. The night before we left, he was trying to shove his Star Wars action figures into the small bit of space still vacant in his suitcase. Very little remained on the shelves lining his walls. His room- by default, since it was almost emptied- was the cleanest I'd ever seen it. I had to laugh.

"Jason, I think Darth Vader will be all right if he stays here until Christmas."

He pushed his hand through his fair hair and scowled. "I want to, er, decorate my area in the dorm. I can, right? Besides, I already packed the Death Star, so it would look pretty stupid if Vader wasn't there," he answered with implacable logic. He pushed the black plastic figure into his suitcase and tugged the zipper shut triumphantly.

I nodded wisely. "Oh, good point." At his returned scowl, I threw up my hands. "Whatever. Just know that you're the one who has to lug that thing through three airports then. Don't look to me for help, mister." I stuck my tongue out at him and he responded in kind. "Anyway, it's time for lights out. We have a long day ahead of us, babe."

The flight from San Diego to Philadelphia would be six hours. From Philly to London, another eleven. Nothing about this journey was meant to be pleasant. Seventeen hours in flight, beginning at 7:00 am and ending some time the next day due to all the time changes, would be positively grueling. I made sure Jason's alarm was set (5:00 am- I nearly groaned out loud), planted a smacking kiss in his forehead, and padded down the hall to tuck myself into bed.

My sleep was troubled by dreams of the past all night long.

2

5 am came far too early. I forced myself out of bed, and rubbing the sleep from my eyes, stumbled down the hall to shake awake my son, who was happily snoring through his alarm. Once I steered him in the direction of his shower, I headed back to my room for the same. 45 minutes later, after some longing looks back at the Spanish style house we had lived in together for so long, we were on the road, having gotten a lift from Ken from next-door, who was also dog-sitting for us. God bless the man. He even took us through a Jack in the Box drive-through, since old Bad Mom was too tired to make a decent breakfast. Somehow we made it onto our flight in time, even with a long wait at the security checkpoint, and a dash down to our gate. One thing I have to say in favor of Lindbergh Field- since it is so small, the gates are easy to get to. Once we were safely in the first-class seats I was glad I had splurged on, I relaxed enough to give Jason a grin as the plane took off.

He grinned back broadly. "We're on our way, Mom!"

"Oh, yeah, only seventeen hours to go..." I groaned.

"Spoil-sport," he shot back, as he flipped through the in-flight magazine. "Hey, at least they're showing good movies!"

"Hah! I'm going to try to sleep," I retorted.

Jason rolled his eyes, indicating what an old fuddy-duddy he found me, and slipped on his headphones. I tried to sleep, but despite the plush seats, I couldn't get comfortable. Ironically, Jason was out like a light, despite the temptations of Terminator 5. Of course, this was the kid that had slept his way through Disneyland the first time we went. He could sleep anywhere, at the drop of a hat. I envied him the ability, but I took advantage of the opportunity to try to memorize his face, to fix it firmly in my mind. He looked so innocent and untouched in his sleep, with none of the fallen-angel-carved-of-marble countenance that had been his sire's even in repose. A soft smile curved his lips. I wondered what he was dreaming about.

The flight attendant came by and offered me a drink. I asked for herbal tea, to help me fall asleep, and pulled out my sketch pad to take advantage of Jason's obliviousness, since he grew irritated nowadays when I tried to draw his portrait. I'm not much of an artist, and I've never been formally taught, but after Jason was born I developed the habit of sketching him. I found scratching my pencil across the pad a way to clear my head and soothe my restless nerves; everything else disappeared but the subject of my drawing. So, while my clumsy work would never hang in a gallery, I found it an invaluable way to escape for a little while. Eventually, the hot tea did its work, and I grew sleepy. I put away my pad and drifted off into the ether.

Some time later, the plane began jolting wildly, shaking me awake. Jason, also awake, looked unperturbed as he thumbed through a magazine. I looked at him questioningly.

"Turbulence," he said, sounding absolutely bored. Silly me. "We're landing soon, anyway," he added, cocking his fair head toward the lit seatbelt symbol.

"Oh, thank the gods," I said, stretching as much as I could. "I can't wait for a chance to stretch my legs properly."

"Thank the gods, Mom? I thought there was only one, if there was one." He shot me an inquisitive sideways glance, still keeping his eyes mainly on the photo biography of Kelly Slater.

Now it was my turn to sound bored. "Wizarding expression. You'll get used to it."

His response was bemused. "Guess I will."

Finally the plane taxied up to the runway, and we were able to deboard. We had a half an hour layover, which gave us just enough time to grab some coffee and some more reading material, before we were once again waiting in line to board. This time, I could hear the distinctive sounds of various British accents mingled in the chatter of the other passengers. I wondered how long they had been away, and if they were as mixed up about going home as I was. Above it all, I heard a posh, upper-crust voice, demanding to know when the bloody plane would board, and my knees nearly went weak. Just when I thought I had a handle on the situation something kept coming out of left field to smack me. I knew Jason had no idea of the enormity of what I was doing on his behalf, as he listened to the accented voices with a dreamy expression on his face. I knew his days with a laid-back California drawl were numbered.

Finally the flight attendants graciously swept us onto the plane, and soon Jason and I were snuggled into our seats. This time I fell asleep almost immediately.

3

(July, 1996, Scotland)

"Who d'you suppose lives there?"

Harry pointed at an imposing castle, rising out of the heather. I drew to a halt next to him.

"I dinna ken. I've never explored so far past the village before. It doesna look like anyone lives there." Indeed, no electric lines led into the castle, and nobody stirred on the grounds outside. I was intrigued. I knew of no aristocrats that lived in the area, and most highland castles were in ruins, laid to waste in harder times of famine and clearances. "Let's go see."

I pushed my fringe out of my eyes and strode purposefully toward the mysterious dwelling. After a moment, Harry came running after me.

"Cat! You can't just go nosing about some-one else's house." He tugged on the back of my jumper, but I shrugged him off.

"Why not, if nae one's at home? You're the one who wanted to know. I'm just after finding ye your answer."

"It's... it's not polite."

I snorted. I made my way over the wall meant to keep such as us out and landed neatly on the other side. I noted to my immense satisfaction that Harry had done the same. I dropped down and crept over to the side of the huge stone building where someone had installed glass windows. I stood on tip-toe, but even though I was tallish for a girl, I couldn't quite see in. "Gie me a boost, will ye?"

Harry sighed but bent down and made a step for my foot with his hands. He hoisted me up, and I gripped the edge to the stone and peered into the window. The castle *was* occupied. The room was softly lit with candles burning in wall sconces. I found that strange and said so to Harry.

"Maybe it's a wizard dwelling," he answered, surprise evident in his voice.

This intrigued me even more. Besides Harry and my parents, I'd never seen other mages before. I didn't have long to wait. A tall, powerfully built man with long, wavy blonde hair swept into the room. He flicked his hand and even more of the wall sconces blazed to life. I whispered a description to Harry.

"Wizard, all right," he replied. "Can we go yet?"

"No-- ooh, there's a boy in there, too, now." I sucked in a breath. He was the most beautiful male I'd ever seen, even handsomer than Harry, and I hadn't thought that was possible. His face was carved like the Renaissance statues I'd seen in Mam's art books, with high cheekbones and brow, sensual lips, and a straight, aristocratic nose. His fair hair, so pale it was nearly platinum, fell dashingly across his forehead, just above his eyes. I wished I could see what color those eyes were from my vantage point, but he was on the other side of the room, too far to tell for sure. I could tell he was unhappy with whatever the man, probably his father, was saying. I strained my ears, and faintly I caught his name. "Harry," I whispered urgently. "His name is Draco. Do ye know him?"

Harry dropped me. My butt hit the ground hard, and I stood up rubbing it, ready to chide him when I saw the panicked look in his eyes.

"Cat? We have to go. Now."

And he took off running. I had no choice but to follow him, but all the long run home, my thoughts lingered on the beautiful boy. I wondered why Harry disliked him so.

4

"Mom?" I felt someone shaking my shoulder. "Mom?"

"What, Jason?" I said sleepily.

"We're going to land soon."

"Huh." I cracked an eye open.

"What were you dreaming about?" Jason peered at me closely. Grey. That was the color of the eyes of the boy in my dream. "You have the funniest smile on."

"Mmm. The handsomest boy I ever saw."

"Really? Who?" He sounded a bit squicked by the thought.

I grinned. "You!" I answered, and leaned over to kiss him loudly on the forehead.

He turned red, profoundly embarrassed by this display of maternal affection in view of the other first-class passengers. He looked away from me, diligently buckling his seatbelt and returning the seat to its full upright position. I did the same. I peered out the small oval window as the plane began to circle its descent. As we flew around the outside of the curve, Heathrow airport came into view. A small shudder ran through my body. For better or worse, I was nearly home.

Jason grinned widely in his seat next to me.

5

"Mom, are we going into a *bar*?" Jason asked incredulously the next morning.

I laughed out loud. "Sort of. Not really. This is the Leaky Cauldron."

After a decent night's rest, we had taken the Tube, and then walked a few blocks to stand before the weather-beaten wooden sign that marked the entrance to hub of wizarding London. It did look rather disreputable from the London side of things, but I suspected Jason would overcome his misgivings once he was inside. I beckoned to Jason to follow me into the dimly lit pub. Sure enough, as soon as we stepped into the main room, he let out a gasp.

"Oh, wow, look what everyone is wearing!" His eyes traveled wildly over the interior.

Almost every patron in the Leaky Cauldron wore some variation of traditional wizarding costume. Robes and capes were abundant in an entire prism of colors. Many pointed hats were present as well, some decorated quite extravagantly with spangles, sequins, or stuffed animals. The pub itself was lit by candles and wall sconces, and decorated with the banners of the different Quidditch teams- the Cannons, the Harpies, the Wasps, and others. Broomsticks were lined up by the door, cloaks hanging on the coat stand. It was definitely completely different from any place Jason had ever been before. He drank it all in, and I couldn't help but love the awed expression on his face.

"C'mon, let's grab a table," I said, repressing a laugh Jason would have taken the wrong way, and steered him to a table not too far from the busy bar. In a flash, the barkeep was there to take our order. It wasn't old Tom, who had been a fixture at the Leaky Cauldron in my own Hogwarts days, but a younger man, maybe 30 years old, with tousled brown curls and a rakish gleam in his dark eyes. I ordered two baskets of fish and chips, which when they arrived on the heavy oaken table were thickly battered and perfectly drenched in vinegar, and two pints of butterbeer, which was just as good as I remembered it and Jason declared even better than Mountain Dew.

Finally, when Jason had inhaled every last morsel on his plate, I caught the barkeep's eye, inclining my head meaningfully towards the back room of the pub. He nodded at me, smiling and winking cheekily, as he cleaned another of the seemingly endless supply of dirty glasses. I placed my palms on the table and pushed my chair back to stand up. "Time to go shopping."

"Um, aren't you going to pay first?" Jason asked, looking mildly scandalized.

"Of course," I said, though in truth I had nearly forgotten, patting my pockets. Oops. I *had* forgotten something... My wallet was full of lovely pound notes, having visited the exchange first thing upon arrival, but it was utterly devoid of anything even resembling wizarding currency. Sheepishly, I glanced at the chuckling bartender.

He flapped a hand at me. "'S all right. See me after you've been to Gringotts."

"Thank you," I murmured softly. Jason looked at me quizzically. I was completely embarrassed; I couldn't believe I had forgotten such an important detail. To Jason, I explained, blushing a little, "I need to exchange some of these pounds for wizard money. Especially if we're going to buy everything you need for school."

On that note, I began to make my way toward the back room, Jason right at my side. When we arrived at the brick wall that seemingly had no exit, I reached in my handbag and withdrew a long, slim case that I hadn't opened in quite some time. I flipped the lid on the case to reveal a polished length of wood: my wand, 10 inches, holly, with a core of dragon heartstring. I plucked it out of the case, Jason looking on in rapt attention. As I wrapped my hand around the base of my wand, I felt the familiar thrum of connection and shared energy. I also felt unexpectedly relieved; I hadn't realized until that moment that I had been worried I wouldn't feel anything. That after so long, I had lost my touch. But it still worked, and beyond that , it felt wonderful. With my wand in my hand, my body felt suffused with power, waiting to be released. Purposefully, I tapped out the key pattern on the bricks. Then I turned to watch my son, not wanting to miss one second of his expression as the bricks rearranged themselves into the arched entrance to Diagon Alley.

He was suitably impressed. Eyes wide, Jason followed me into the hustle and bustle that was Diagon Alley the weekend before a new Hogwarts term started.

First stop was, naturally, Gringotts. After issuing Jason a warning not to stare at the goblins, I walked through the enormous bronze doors that were the entrance to the wizarding bank, fishing in my handbag for the key I had never used- the key to my Da's vault. I knew at least that there was more than enough Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts, the remains of the reparations the Ministry of Magic had had to pay my father after pardoning him, which had remained untouched since Da died back in 1997. This was confirmed after the wild ride down to the vault, which Jason pronounced "awesome."

Once I had filled a pouch with a mixture of coins, I ducked back into the Leaky Cauldron to pay our tab, and then asked Jason what he wanted to shop for first.

With absolutely no hesitation, Jason responded firmly, "My wand."

Remembering his rapt expression when I had gotten my wand out, I had suspected as much. With a joy I hadn't thought would be possible, I led my son over to the shop marked Ollivander's: Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 BC. The dusty shop was as hushed as it had been when I had come, at the ripe old age of fifteen, with Harry and Da to get my first brand new wand.

Mr. Ollivander stood at the counter, as if he had waiting for us to get there. His silver eyes lit up with the mania that took him when he knew he had the opportunity to find the perfect wand for its owner.

"Ahh, Miss Black. It's been many years since I've seen you," the tiny old man said in a soft voice. "And who is this? I daresay it's a young man in need of a wand."

I smiled. "Yes. This is Jason; he's to be a first year at Hogwarts."

"Jason," Mr. Ollivander said thoughtfully. "Yes. Hmmmm." He turned and began plucking boxes from the shelves behind him, setting them almost absentmindedly on the counter.

Jason dug right in, waving the wands with gusto, growing disappointed when nothing happened. Then, on his fifth try, green sparks shot out of the tip of the wand he held, and his face lit up.

"This is it. This is the one," he claimed happily.

Ollivander nodded. "A good wand, that one. Ebony, 11 inches, with a core of dragon heartstring. Same core as your mother if I recall correctly, and I always do."

Ollivander rang us up, and we were quickly on our way. The shopkeeper had put the wand in a bag, but Jason asked if he could hold the slim box that contained the most important thing we would purchase that day. Of course I agreed.

As Jason and I made our way from Ollivander's to Madame Malkin's, him clutching his new wand tightly in both hands, and me with a big idiot grin on my face, I saw the horrific vision of a tall, willowy blonde coming directly towards me. I recognized her immediately. Narcissa Malfoy.

In one of the three owls I had received during my self-imposed exile, Harry had mentioned the fate of Lucius Malfoy, Jason's grandfather. He had neglected to mention what had happened to his grandmother. Apparently she was just fine and dandy, and enjoyed shopping in Diagon Alley. She was also now so close to us that in another moment she was sure to notice Jason, if not me. Unthinking, I grabbed Jason by the upper arm and dragged him into Quality Quidditch Supplies, the nearest shop to hand.

He gaped at me. "Mom, are you all right? Who is that?" he demanded, plastering his face against the shop window.

Caught unprepared, I blurted out the truth, nearly always a mistake. "That woman is your grandmother."

"What?!" he nearly shouted, whirling to face me. "What?!" He was drawing the attention of the clerk near the racing broom display, jostling the pads we were standing by as he pulled away from me towards the door. I tugged him back.

"Jason, no." I said firmly, trying to keep the desperation out of my voice. I was the furthest thing from ready to deal with a confrontation with Narcissa Malfoy. I was so far from ready I was approaching it from the other side. And I wasn't even sure Mrs. Malfoy knew that she *was* a grandmother, much less if she would be welcoming to the idea of meeting her grandson. I had a strong feeling she wouldn't be very happy about it; she didn't seem the grandmotherly type.

"No?" Jason asked sharply, his eyes narrowing dangerously and his mouth thinning out. The clerk peered at us owlishly, probably wondering if we were going blow up her store with the tension threatening to explode between me and my son.

I pulled Jason closer to me and whispered urgently, "No. She's not-" I stopped, unsure how to explain without hurting him. I tried again. "Narcissa Malfoy is-" But I faltered once more. I gave up. "I'll explain later," I concluded lamely.

He huffed angrily, but by now Narcissa Malfoy had long gone past, and the opportunity was lost to him. For a moment, I was sure our lovely day together was at an end. I ached for him, I truly did, but there were elements of this situation that he simply didn't and couldn't understand. Most importantly, I wouldn't stand to see him hurt. Although, if I was truly honest, I would admit that I was afraid for my own sake, as well. I chewed on my bottom lip, trying to formulate words to make everything better. Luckily for me, I was saved from the task when Jason finally noticed his surroundings. His eyes were even wider than they had been in the Leaky Cauldron, if that was physically possible.

"Mom- these are flying broomsticks, aren't they?" He raced over to the largest display.

Sensing her opening, the clerk, an athletic looking brown haired witch in her early twenties, pounced. "Care to have a look at the latest in the Nimbus line?"

Jason's eyes gleamed hungrily as he turned to me, full of unspoken question.

"You can *look*," I emphasized, "but first years aren't allowed

broomsticks."

"Okay," he agreed hastily, as the clerk lifted the sleek broom from its display stand.

Forty-five minutes later Jason and I left the shop with a brand new Nimbus Infinity in tow. Bribery? Well, sure, but you try saying no to a Malfoy when they've got *that* look on their faces. Honestly.

The rest of the day was much more uneventful. We picked up Jason's books, but there wasn't much in Flourish and Blotts to attract his attention- Jason was not what you might call a reader. We also grabbed all of the standard equipment: cauldron, telescope, scales, and phials. I didn't think a pet was a good idea just yet, but promised Jason we'd take another look in the pet shop after the winter holiday. After that, we just returned to the hotel to turn in early. Tomorrow morning we were due at King's Cross Station, and we both felt the need to be well rested.