The Muggle of King's Cross

John Royce is a very common man, walking through a very common train station, on a very common Wednesday morning. On such a common day as this, John has just arrived at platform ten where his train is scheduled to arrive at eight o'clock. He glances at his watch; it reads 7:30. He's earlier than he had thought.

John glances around the platform but finds no available seats. Ah well, he thinks and strides in the direction of the steel barrier. As he walks he unfurls the paper he bought on his way here this morning and begins to read the headline story as he settles his back against the barrier.

He has just started grinding his shoulder blades against the metal in hopes of settling in a more comfortable position when John realizes, slightly too late, that there is no longer anything behind him. He topples over backwards, finally landing with a great 'ooff' of sound, lying on his back staring at the ceiling.

John lay there for a few moments gathering his courage to face the many people he knew was staring at him without humiliation. Finally, he pushes himself up off of the ground, heaves a great sigh and spins around to see...absolutely no one.

John blinks in surprise a few times and begins to whirl around searching for someone, anyone who is still there. There is no one. He stops spinning and rubs the back of his head, and begins to wonder if he had bumped it harder than he had originally thought.

He begins to worry slightly about where he is exactly, for he knows it is not the same place. John's surroundings are different than they had previously been. He has no idea what could possibly have happened, but he is definitely in a different place.

Just as he begins to wander further out upon the platform, a man meanders his way around the far corner. He is whistling loudly; something that sounds oddly like an upbeat Christmas tune even though it is the middle of May. He has long, shaggy black hair that falls to his shoulders and sharp grey eyes. If John had to guess, he would say the man was no older than twenty.

The raven haired man is also wearing...robes? This seems excessively odd as well, as it is no closer to Halloween than it is to Christmas. Certainly no time for costume parties and the like.

As John stands there scratching his head and puzzling about this strange stranger, the man looks up and finally notices him.

"Why, hello there," he greets as a huge grin spreads across his face, "On your way to dear old Hogwarts as well?"

"On my way to what that has warts, now?" John asks, slightly baffled.

"Oh ho, that joke never gets old," the man laughs. John begins to suspect that he is mad.

"Er, what joke?" John asks.

"As if you don't know," the man replies as he walks forward and grabs John's arm and begins to tug him towards a bench. "Come and sit. Looks as though we're the only two catching this train; might as well get the introduction out of the way. Name's Sirius." John stares down at the proffered hand as he is pushed down upon the hard wood.

"John," he mutters while trying to squeeze himself into the corner of the bench as Sirius plunks his self down beside him.

"Hmm, one of my best mate's middle names is John," Sirius replies as he scratches his chin. "I doubt there's any relation, though, as you don't look much like him at all."

Sirius looks at him expectantly. John gapes like a fish.

"Er -" John finally replies, "nope, sorry. Don't have any relations with the middle name John. Well, I do suppose I should go -," but Sirius interrupts him.

"So, what business do you have with old Dumbledore?" Sirius asks with a slight maniacal grin upon his face. "It's about the war, I suppose."

"I'm sorry, did you just say bumble door? And what war? I haven't had any bloody idea what you've been talking about this entire time," John exclaims, exasperated.

"That's not an uncommon occurrence," Sirius replies in an offhanded manner, waving his hand through the air. "No, I said Dumbledore. D - U - M - B - L - E - D - O - R - E. Brilliant man, absolutely genius. Slightly mad, though."

Like you, John thinks desperately.

"Wait-a-minute," Sirius says in a rush, "did you just ask 'What war?'? And how in the name of Merlin can you not know who Dumbledore is?" Sirius finally pulls back and looks down the length of John's body.

John, however, squeaks out a weak reply of "Merlin?" and feels like fainting. Sirius' eyes widen.

"Let me ask you one thing," Sirius says after a contemplative couple of minutes, "do you - oh, no, sit up straight there, there's a good lad - now, do you have any idea what a Muggle is?"

John's eyes bug out. That's it, he thinks frantically, my eyes have finally just popped out and now this mad, maniac of a man is going to take them and keep them. He will regale them with daring tales of how he had to wrestle them from me to all of his mates and they will cheer for him each and every time, as they have to be just as mad as he is.

Sirius stares at John and awaits his answer, completely oblivious to the turmoil taking place inside John's mind.

"No, I do not know what a Muggle is!" John exclaims hysterically, his voice squeaking in nervousness. "Is that some sort of new type of sweet or fashion trend? It certainly sounds like it."

Sirius, however, isn't listening. He is mumbling something that sounds like 'no bumble door', Muggles, and something about a hog having warts. John feels like crying.

Sirius finally turns to John and grins his maniacal grin once again.

"So," he says in a nonchalant manner, "how exactly did you come to be here?"

John gapes at him for a few seconds before bursting out with, "I have no bloody clue! One second I was leaning against the barrier, waiting on my train and the next, I was lying flat on my back, staring at the ceiling! Now where am I?"

"King's Cross," Sirius replies. "Just a different area of it. You know, I really should contact the Ministry about you, but...they are awfully busy lately. If I were to, sort of, send you back along your way, would you feel compelled to mention this little incident to anyone?"

"No," John squeaks then clears his throat for a slightly more masculine response. "They'd all think I'd lost my mind, which I probably have, come to think of it."

"Wonderful!" Sirius exclaims while he smacks his hands together. Then he reaches down and grabs John's elbow to haul him out of his seat. As he is pulling him back towards the barrier he says, "Now, I'm just going to give you a slight push and you should be right back to where you started. So long as you don't make a scene, no one should notice you at all."

John stops three feet from the barrier and cries, "Are you insane?"

Sirius shrugs as he stops as well. "Many think so, but it's never actually been proven. Well, it was so very nice to meet you and I hope you have a wonderful life, John." And then Sirius gives John a mighty shove and he is flung back through the barrier.

John lands face first upon the cold floor. He glances up to see his train just pulling into the station and startled stares fixed upon him from the onlookers close by.

"Er - "he says as he pulls his self up from the ground, "- I tripped."

As the eyes slowly move away from his general direction, John slips his self as far away from the barrier as possible. As he boards his train, he forcefully pushes the incident out of his mind, hopefully to never be thought of again. John Royce never comes within seeing distance of King's Cross station ever again.

A/N: I know that Sirius seems a tad silly here, but I meant for him to. Sirius was in no way stupid in the books and I'm not implying that he was. I can really see him wanting to have some fun, though, prankster that he is, and taking it out on some poor, unsuspecting person he just happens to come across. I believe he would find some enjoyment out of making someone think he was, in fact, slightly insane. ;-)