The End

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related books, movies, folding chairs, sticky notes, and erasable pens are not mine. Additionally, I don't own anything that has anything to do with Alias. All I own are my ideas, but they might actually own me. This chapter title is lifted from the song "Ramble On" by the Led Zeppelin.

Chapter 5: Magic Filled the Air

By the time they reached King's Cross Station, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Sydney, and Michael were still struggling to even have a decent conversation. In fact, they'd hardly even spoken since Hermione suggested that Harry send Hedwig to McGonagall, letting her know that they would be coming. None of them were especially looking forward to the nine hours they were about to spend on the train together. No one spoke at all as they carefully arranged their possessions and Pig and Crookshanks' cages on a trolley, not even when one of the trunks slipped off and nearly crushed Ron's foot.

When they reached the barrier between platforms 9 and 10, Harry took a moment to explain what was supposed to happen. They opted for the casual approach, leaning through the barrier instead of running at it. Harry and Ron knew what it was like to hit it at a dead run and not be able to get through.

Watching the trolley roll through the wall had gone a long way toward convincing the Muggles that it was possible to get through the barrier, but Sydney and Michael still looked skeptical as they leaned up against it. They didn't seem at all surprised when nothing happened. Harry stepped up beside them and touched the wall. As he'd expected, he felt nothing.

"I suppose this feels just like any other wall to you," Harry sighed.

"Yes," Sydney coughed.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked.

"Do you smell that?" she replied.

"Smell what?" Harry said.

"I guess there is a Muggle-repelling charm here," Sydney gasped.

"There must be a way," Harry said desperately.

Sydney and Michael were now leaning heavily against the wall: it was getting difficult for them to breathe. Frantically, Harry ran his hand over the stones. It still felt like nothing more than thin air. In his haste, his hand must have touched one of Sydney's arms because for a moment it felt like they were stuck to each other and then they fell through to the other side. Hermione must have caught on to this fairly quickly, because a moment later she and Michael appeared with Ron following shortly after.

Since there were other wizards around, Sydney and Michael tried to look as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened, but their thoughts were betrayed by the way their eyes kept flicking to the wall they had just walked through. They were still gasping for breath.

"Guess we found the solution to our transportation problem," Hermione said. "One of us just has to be touching them and it works like normal."

"I don't see anything normal about this," Michael muttered quietly.

"Like a trunk couldn't go through the floo network on its own, but if there's a wizard with it..." Ron said, more or less ignoring Michael's statement.

"I'd still like to see if there's a way that they can travel by themselves," Harry said. "They aren't trunks, they're people. What if they get in trouble and need to get out fast but one of us isn't there?"

Sydney and Michael exchanged a look. They suspected the wizards didn't notice they were doing it, but they didn't appreciate being spoken about as though they weren't there at all. The wizards had only barely redeemed themselves when Harry said that they weren't trunks.

Hermione might have noticed their mutinous looks, but whether she did or not, she said, "What do you think?" She directed her question at Sydney and Michael.

"I agree with Harry," Sydney replied. This seemed to satisfy the wizards, but Sydney thought that was the only way she could answer, after all, their knowledge of this Wizard transportation was woefully inadequate, as the barrier had just proven.

A train whistle sounded, startling the group out of their discussion. They pulled their luggage on board the train, found a compartment to themselves, and proceeded to spend the first half of the ride hashing out the details of Sydney and Michael's cover story and demonstrating wand movements, so it would look like the Muggles were skilled with their wands even though they couldn't actually use them.

Sydney and Michael seemed to catch on easily enough, although it couldn't have been plainer that they felt completely idiotic waving a stick around and expecting sparks to fly out. Still, there seemed to be something fundamentally wrong about how the Muggles behaved with their wands. Hermione was the first person to determine what it was.

"Wait, no one holds their wand like that."

"Like what?" Sydney asked, following Hermione's gaze back to her own hand, which was resting limply on her knee, lightly holding her wand.

"With the wand between the fingers," Hermione clarified. "We always grip it with our entire hand."

"Alright," Sydney said as she and Michael shifted their grip.

"Remember, wands aren't pencils," Hermione continued. "They aren't easily replaceable. They are your lifeline."

"Alright," Sydney repeated scornfully.

Hermione seemed likely to continue her lecture anyway, but Ron interrupted her, saying, "What's a pencil?"

"Oh dear," Hermione breathed as she, Harry, Sydney, and Michael straightened up, suddenly realizing their problem. She dug around in her pack for a moment then straightened up with two quills, an inkwell, and some parchment, which she handed to Sydney and Michael.

"You write with quills?" Sydney asked skeptically as she examined the feather.

"You know what they are?" Hermione replied, sounding relieved.

"Sure," Sydney said with a shrug. "But they went out of style about two hundred years ago."

"Then you don't know how to write with them," Hermione sighed.

"It can't be that hard," Sydney muttered, dipping her quill in the inkwell and setting it to parchment, leaving an almighty blot. When she glanced up at the Wizards she noticed that they were all purposely looking somewhere else and biting down their laughter.

Things didn't get much better from there. Sydney constantly had to force herself to write big enough to read her words in the thick ink trail, the feather tickled her whenever she wasn't expecting it, and the loud scratching sound the quill made did nothing to ease her encroaching headache. However, no matter how much trouble Sydney was having, it was nothing compared to the left handed Michael's difficulties. The entire side of his hand was covered in black ink from all the times he'd placed it in what he'd just written and he'd finally taken to writing completely sideways, with some very lopsided results.

It was nearly an hour before the Wizards agreed that Sydney and Michael were skilled enough at writing with quills to stop practicing.

After the witch came by with the food trolley, Hermione and Ron spent some time catching up on their sleep, using each other as pillows. Sydney and Michael hadn't slept in over a day, but used the time to check their equipment instead, sitting rather closer together than mere coworkers might and whispering a playful argument about something. Harry was staring absently out the window when a particularly large click startled him out of his reverie. He turned to find Sydney putting a gun back in her suitcase.

"Sorry," she said when she saw him watching her. "I was just checking the cartridge. It can be kind of loud."

"It's alright," Harry said and was about to turn back to the window, but before the silence got too awkward he added, "I was thinking, and I want to apologize."

"Apologize for what?" Sydney asked without looking up from her electronic bug killer. She didn't quite manage to hide the hopeful note in her voice. Maybe now they'd get an explanation about why the Wizards tended to ignore them.

"For bringing you both into this," Harry sighed. He looked like he had something else to say, but either he couldn't pin it down or he didn't want to bring it up.

After shooting Michael a look and fighting off the urge to pretend to fall asleep, Sydney stopped fiddling with the bug killer and looked up at Harry. "This is our job."

"I know that," Harry replied, "but..."

"We can handle ourselves," Sydney said, cutting him off. "This might not be like any mission we've ever been on, but we've faced danger before and we'll face it again, and if you really think we're not up to this, then I would like to know why you asked us here."

"That's not it," Harry said defensively. "It's just that, if this plays out anything like last time, the situation is going to get pretty tense, and these Death Eaters are ruthless, I just didn't want anyone to get involved who didn't have to."

"We were asked to do a job and we're going to do it," Sydney snapped. "If you have a problem with something, why don't you just come out and say it?"

"No problem," Hermione said. Harry, Sydney, and Michael whirled around. Both Ron and Hermione had woken up without their noticing. Hermione was giving Harry a look that clearly stated she was annoyed with him for starting an argument with their companions.

"Well, since we got that settled," Ron said, checking his watch, and discretely trying to change the subject. "I suppose we're almost there; we should get changed."

"Ron, not that your Mum's cooking isn't excellent, but I can't wait to have some of that Hogwarts food again," Harry said, shiftily. In fact, now that he'd had time to think on it, he wasn't looking forward to returning to that terrible battle against Voldemort at all.

Hermione looked like she wanted to say something about house elves and slave labor, but she restrained herself.

"Ah, dinner," Ron said. "I'd thought you forgot about food altogether. How long ago were those Cauldron Cakes anyway?"

"About five years according to my stomach," Harry said with a forced laugh.

"Mine seems to think it was ten," Ron replied.

"After dinner we can find Flitwick and talk about those charms," Harry said.

"What about Muggle-repelling charms as we go into Hogwarts?" Michael asked.

"Yes," Sydney added. "We can't afford to run into charms like that last one at every turn, so if you know any more specifics about these..."

"Go ahead, Hermione," Ron said. "You're the one who has Hogwarts: A History memorized."

"Alright," Hermione replied, adopting her usual 'just swallowed a dictionary' tone. "First you will feel like you have forgotten to do something terribly important, and be compelled to leave and do it immediately. From the gate, Muggles only see an old broken down castle and a sign that says 'Do Not Enter.' After we pass through the gate, if you have a radio you will hear a bulletin warning you of a severe storm entering the area, then it'll go to static. None of your electronic equipment will work in Hogwarts: all the magic interferes with electricity." Hermione paused momentarily, a troubled expression creeping over her face. "There's something else. I think they called it the last defense, but it hasn't been used in a thousand years. I don't remember what it does."

"Will we be able to see the castle normally once we're inside?" Sydney asked.

Hermione sat thoughtfully for a moment then said, "I don't know, I can't think of any record of a Muggle who's been inside Hogwarts."

"I guess we'll just have to find out ourselves then," Michael said.

"What about Hogsmeade?" Ron asked suddenly.

"Damn," Hermione said. This was a great indicator that something was up; usually Hermione was the one who told others off for swearing.

"What?" Harry asked. "Is it really that bad?"

"That's just it," Hermione said frantically, "I don't remember. We studied Hogsmeade in History of Magic; I should know what it is."

"Well, no one can blame you for forgetting something from that class," Ron replied.

"And we did Muggle-repelling charms in Muggle studies," Hermione continued.

"Which you only took for a year," Ron reminded her.

"We'll figure it out as we go," Sydney sighed. She was beginning to wonder if the group had done any sort of preparation or research at all about the needs of Muggles in the magical world.

"But Hogsmeade is the only all magic settlement in all of England," Hermione cried, "they've got to make sure that any Muggles who find it don't want to stay."

"We'll find out when we get there, its okay," Michael assured her.

"Anyway, if it's too bad, we'll figure out how to stop it or get you out of there as soon as possible," Harry said.

The train began slowing down, so any further discussion was put on hold as they pulled on their robes, gathered their baggage and prepared to disembark.

When the train stopped and everyone got off, but Sydney and Michael felt immediately lost.

"I thought they said this was a city," Sydney said.

"They did," said Michael, failing to hide the apprehension in his voice. "Maybe it's on the other side of the trees."

"Funny place for a train station, then," Sydney replied, "it looks like these trees go on for miles."

"Maybe this is that Muggle-repelling charm," Michael suggested.

"Could be. Hey, Harry-" she trailed off. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were nowhere to be seen, nor were any of the other passengers from the train.

"It must be the charm," Michael said. "We'd better wait for them to sort this out."

"I am not going to stand here and wait for them to figure what's wrong," Sydney muttered. "There must be something around here somewhere."

She chose a random direction and began foraging her way forward, and, knowing that he wouldn't be able to stop her, Michael followed.

"You hear that?" asked Hermione as she watched Sydney wander aimlessly around Hogsmeade station. "They definitely can't see us."

"How long would it take you to come up with the counter charm?" Harry asked.

"I'd need to know exactly what they're looking at first," Hermione replied.

"Sydney said something about trees going on for miles," Ron pointed out.

"Yes, but that's not specific enough," Hermione sighed. "Muggle repelling charms are very powerful; I need to know exactly nature charm does before I can counter it. I'm not sure if I could counter the charms on Hogwarts, and I know what they do."

"Then let's try a more direct approach," Harry said.

He stepped between Sydney and Michael and grasped them both by a shoulder. The result was instantaneous.

"Harry!" Sydney exclaimed. "Where are we?"

"Hogsmeade station," Harry replied. "You still can't see it then?"

"No, just a lot of trees," Vaughn explained. "I'm guessing you can't see that."

"No," Harry replied. "Hermione's willing to try and come up with a counter charm, but it will take her awhile. There's a carriage waiting for us about three meters away; could we just guide you to them?"

"Alright," Sydney sighed. She didn't like the idea of being so out of control, but she couldn't see any other way to deal with this.

Harry called Ron over and together they guided Sydney and Michael as though they were blind. The pair couldn't even see the carriage until they were inside of it and they had to travel several meters before it looked like they were clear of the trees. After that, based on Sydney and Michael's descriptions, they could see everything normally except for a dense forest in place of the village.

Sydney was looking around out the windows when something must have caught her eye, because she started staring intently out the window to the front and asked, "What's that?"

"You can see them, can you?" Harry asked tiredly, not looking out the window himself. "It's a thestral. A winged horse that is invisible to everyone except for those who have seen someone die."

"Oh," said Sydney, her curiosity in the morbid creature greatly decreased.

As they came closer to the castle, Sydney and Michael became much more agitated, spontaneously moving to check their bags then forcing themselves to stop. Eventually, Michael took to chanting, "It's the charm, it's the charm," under his breath.

As they came around a bend, Harry, Ron, and Hermione craned their heads so they could look out the windows to see Hogwarts, all three battling urges to both wince and smile. Sydney and Vaughn looked up as well, but the site they saw was a sad, broken down castle, not at all the glorious image that met the others' eyes.

Observing this, Hermione took hold of Sydney's arm then asked, "Can you see the castle now?"

"No, everything looks the same," Sydney replied.

"The charms around Hogwarts must be too powerful," Hermione sighed.

"What about that final defense?" Sydney demanded.

"I still don't know," Hermione cried.

"Don't worry," Harry assured them. "Just describe everything you see so Hermione can start on a counter charm."

When the carriages rolled to a halt in front of the main door they grabbed their bags, trunks, and cages and stepped off. Sydney and Michael looked with apprehension toward what they still saw as a broken down castle, but they followed Harry, Ron, and Hermione to the front doors. Just before Hermione pulled the door open, Harry put a hand on Michael's shoulder and Ron, catching on, took Sydney's arm.

Feeling much reassured, Sydney and Michael stepped over the threshold, but the wizards seemed to disappear as soon as they were inside. The Muggles shot confused looks at each other, but they knew from experience that Harry, Ron, and Hermione were still there and they started describing what they saw as quickly as they could. Sydney was just starting on the roof when a beam came loose and a huge block of wood came swinging toward them. She would have screamed for help, but there was no time. A fraction of a second before they would have been hit, the world changed. Strangely, Ron still had her by the arm and Harry hadn't moved from Michael's shoulder. Sydney's breath caught in her throat as she looked around, finally able to see that this place was every bit the fantastic castle the wizards had described.

Sensing Sydney and Michael's wonder and amazement, Harry said simply, "Welcome to Hogwarts."

"Wow," Sydney said, allowing herself to display her emotions for the first time since she'd arrived in London.

"What happened?" Michael asked. "Why did you disappear like that?"

"It was the charm," Hermione explained. "Being in contact with you didn't help; Professor McGonagall had to do a spell."

The Muggles spun around to face a tall witch in green robes who inclined her head politely at their stammered words of thanks.

"What happened to you?" Harry asked. "You looked terrified."

"The ceiling collapsed," Sydney explained. "We were about to be crushed."

"Of course!" Hermione exclaimed. "That's the last defense. It's designed to knock out any Muggles who come inside so they can be sent back to the Muggle world."

"That beam could have killed us, not knocked us out," Michael said.

"But remember the beam wasn't actually there, that way you could be knocked out by a spell, wake up in a hospital, have some doctor tell you you're lucky to be alive, remember only the beam, and vow never to explore broken down castles again," Hermione said thoughtfully.

"Very astute, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said.

"Thanks," Hermione replied, looking very much as though the headmistress had just told her she'd earned twelve N.E.W.T.S.

"You may let go," McGonagall said, turning to the others. "They will be able to see the castle normally. Mr. Potter, your owl arrived here several hours ago. I believe she can be found in the owlery."

"Thank you, Professor," Harry said as he let go of Michael's shoulder and Sydney and Ron released the death grips on each other's arms.

"We were about to come and find you," Harry stammered, adrenaline still coursing through him.

"My office?" McGonagall asked.

At that Ron's stomach gave a particularly loud rumble.

"Or perhaps the Great Hall," McGonagall suggested. "Dinner is no longer being served, but I'm sure the house elves won't mind sending something up."

The vote for the Great Hall was almost unanimous, with only a little argument from Hermione, but she gave up when she saw how excited a house elf looked when McGonagall summoned it to request that some leftovers from dinner be sent up. When they stepped inside, Harry, Ron, and Hermione moved automatically for the empty Gryffindor table, but caught themselves when they saw McGonagall walk straight toward the head table. They shot one another uncomfortable looks but followed her.

"What's the problem?" Sydney whispered.

"It's nothing really," Ron replied. "It's just that we only graduated about three months ago, it feels weird to sit at the teacher's table."

McGonagall didn't seem to notice or care whether the former students were feeling embarrassed, because she simply sat down and poured herself a cup of tea while the others cast wary glances around the room as they helped themselves to the soup in front of them.

"I am aware of the details of your mission," McGonagall started. "And now that you're here, I'd like you to consider staying at Hogwarts for as long as you need."

"Are you sure that's wise?" Sydney asked. "This is a school. If we're tracked back here the Death Eaters might try to attack. That would put all the students in danger."

"Hogwarts has faced far worse dangers in the name of resisting evil," McGonagall sighed. "You need to be based in a location central to the wizarding world."

Since Hogwarts was a nine hour train ride from London, arguably the physical center of England's magical community, most of them decided she probably meant her statement figuratively.

"Why not the Ministry of Magic, then?" Ron asked, a little slower on the uptake than the rest. At any rate, he didn't actually require an answer. The look McGonagall gave him served that purpose quite efficiently. "Never mind," he muttered.

"We can't Apparate from here directly," Hermione said. "We'd need to leave the grounds first."

"That never seemed to slow down Professor Dumbledore," McGonagall pointed out solemnly.

No one wanted to argue that Dumbledore tended to create portkeys whenever he wanted despite Ministry regulations, or that he wasn't in the company of Muggles who likely couldn't use the floo network. Thus, it was decided that until their presence became impractical or too much of a danger to the students they would stay at Hogwarts.

"I don't seem to remember asking you to come here," Professor McGonagall prompted a few minutes later. "Is there something you thought you could find?"

"Yes, Professor," Hermione said, taking up the initiative. "There is the problem of Muggle-repelling charms. We were hoping that Professor Flitwick might be able to do a counter charm that would take care of them all at once. I couldn't think of a way." She added the last statement with a note of regret in her voice.

"That's quite understandable," McGonagall said, "The Muggle repelling charms were developed by Wizards who studied charms their whole lives, and it would take a charms master to create a spell that would resist all of them. Fortunately, Professor Flitwick is always up for a good challenge."

"There was also the question of transportation," Sydney reminded them.

"We were hoping you might know if the floo network and portkeys work on Muggles," Ron continued.

"Unfortunately, I don't," McGonagall replied. "No one does. Muggles are not lab animals."

"And there's no way to find out?" Sydney asked.

"Not without subjecting you to several dangerous tests," McGonagall replied.

"We're willing to try," Sydney maintained.

"You can't," Harry said adamantly. "If something goes wrong you could end up a thousand miles away from where you wanted to be, or even die. You're too important to us to risk that."

"Some wizard had to try it first," Sydney muttered, feeling inclined to track down the nearest book that could tell her what this floo network was and figure out how to use it herself.

"Can we figure this out tomorrow?" Ron asked with a huge yawn.

Sydney looked like she wanted to continue the argument anyway, so Harry said, "Maybe Flitwick's charm will help. Besides, Ron's Dad said you didn't sleep at all on the plane, so you haven't slept in two days."

"Your belongings have already been brought up to your rooms," McGonagall said.

"Where are we staying?" Hermione asked.

"Substitute teacher's quarters," McGonagall replied.

Ron had chosen this inopportune moment to take a drink of his pumpkin juice and choked on it in his surprise.

"Where?" he coughed, reaching for a napkin.

"We have a couple spare rooms usually reserved for substitute teachers," McGonagall explained.

"Then I guess if anyone asks, our reason for staying here is substitute teaching," Harry said reluctantly. "Is that really a good idea?"

"As long as the teachers you substitute for take a few days off every once in a while, your presence will remain justified, and you will only have to take a limited amount of time away from your actual mission," McGonagall continued. "Harry, you'll teach Defense Against the Darks Arts, Ron, flying lessons, and Hermione, Charms..."

"What about us?" Sydney interrupted. "We can't teach something we don't know."

"Not a problem," McGonagall replied. "We have a number of subjects that don't require the use of magic. Miss Bristow, you can teach Muggle Studies, and Mr. Vaughn, History of Magic. I'm sure both the professors and-"

"Wait, History of Magic?" Hermione stammered, her interruption delayed because she'd been struggling to comprehend the Headmistress' statement. "But Professor Binns is a ghost, he can't get sick. Legend says that he hasn't taken a day off in a hundred years."

"Actually, I believe it is closer to a hundred and fifty," McGonagall replied. "However, as I'm sure you're aware, History of Magic courses at Hogwarts have been substandard for approximately the same amount of time, something which I won't allow to continue. This is the perfect opportunity to help Professor Binns get used to the idea of exploring other ways to spend the afterlife before I let him go."

"Alright then," Hermione said uncertainly, shrugging at Harry and Ron.

"As I was saying," McGonagall continued, turning back to Sydney and Michael. "I'm sure that the Professors and your companions will be more than happy to tutor you. You'll find your rooms behind the picture of Bertie Bott on the third floor. The password is Grindelwald."

"Good night, then," Harry said as they got up to leave.

As soon as they were out of the Great Hall and relatively alone, Michael sighed, "We've got to teach."

"Don't worry," Hermione assured him. "History of Magic isn't much different from the history you're used to, there's just new people and dates. I'm sure the students will be happy to have you teach them, too. It'll be a nice change from Professor Binns."

"Muggle Studies," Sydney said, "Should I be offended?"

"'Course not," Harry replied.

"I'm the one who should be offended," Ron muttered, "Flying lessons, honestly. She does know I was about to start Auror training, doesn't she?"

Harry shot a look at Ron, which he hoped dared him to come up with a subject he'd rather teach, then turned to Sydney and continued. "You may actually have a harder time of it than Michael. He only has to learn more history, something you have been doing since primary school. You have to look at your own technology and way of life through the eyes of a culture you hardly know, and you have to do it well enough that the students don't spot you for a Muggle."

"And you will only be teaching years three and up," Hermione added. "Even the Muggle born students will be familiar with wizard culture by then, so you will have to be very careful not to slip up."

"Professor McGonagall said our rooms were behind a picture, and that there was a password," Sydney said. "What did she mean?"

"Oh, that," Ron laughed, suddenly in much higher spirits. "You'll see." He stepped through a doorway and spun around to face them, arms outstretched. "Welcome to the grand staircase, home to the most moving pictures in all of England."

The subjects of the pictures in the area nodded their heads in agreement, catching Sydney and Michael off guard even though Ron had warned them. They stared in contained awe at the multitude of pictures, all of which were moving.

Harry led the way up the nearest staircase, but before they were even halfway up, the staircase started moving. He sighed and caught Hermione's eye, who seemed similarly annoyed. They hadn't been away from Hogwarts for that long, how could they forget that this was the very staircase that led someplace different on Fridays? They'd never caught in the act before, but it shouldn't have been that difficult to guess that it would have to physically move in order to perform its trick.

"Bloody hell!" Ron exclaimed. He aimed a kick at the next stair, but thought better of it at the last moment, and spun around to sit on it instead. "We'll have to take the long way now."

It was nearly all that Sydney and Michael could do to keep their wonder under wraps, but Sydney managed to ask, "You mean there's no other way to get there using the stairs?"

"Not unless you're keen on going via the seventh floor," Hermione replied.

"It's a wonder you ever made it to class on time," Vaughn said as the staircase came to a halt and they stepped onto solid ground.

"Actually, this sort of thing usually doesn't happen," Harry muttered.

The trip back to the other side of the school was relatively uneventful until they saw Mrs. Norris slip around to the corridor they were about to enter. They could hear Filch's hacking cough from down the hall."

"Oh no," Ron moaned.

"Oh, come on," Hermione sighed. "We've got to stand up to him eventually. Besides, we're not students anymore."

"No," Ron cried, "we're substitute teachers. What makes you think he'll take any kinder to us now?"

"Unless you've got a better idea," Harry said, "double back and take the stairs perhaps?"

"What about the secret passage behind the statue of the one armed wizard?" Ron suggested.

"That's two floors up and on the other side of the castle," Hermione reminded him.

"Oh," Ron said. "Well there's got to be some alternate route."

"Just the stairs," Harry replied. Ron gave him a skeptical look, so he added, "Trust me; I've got the Marauder's Map memorized."

"Fine," Ron sighed.

Filch was at the end of the hall, nearly through with mopping the floor, Mrs. Norris weaving around his feet.

Looking completely impressed with himself and his plan, Harry cleaned everyone's shoes with a charm then swept past them into the corridor. Ron and Hermione followed reluctantly, and Sydney and Michael brought up the rear, attempting to hide their confusion with confidence.

As they approached, Harry called, "Evening, sir."

Filch looked up, confusion etched over his grizzled features. They were nearly past before he gathered himself enough to call them back.

An uncomfortable silence ensued. Filch looked from their questioning faces to their lack of dirty footprints across his recent work, searching for something to punish them for.

He must not have found anything worth a detention, because he looked at Sydney and Michael and said, "Who're they?"

"Sydney Bristow and Michael Vaughn," Sydney replied with rather less hesitation than Harry, Ron, and Hermione would have preferred. The teachers and staff had proven themselves trustworthy, especially those who had been there while Dumbledore was headmaster, but they'd always had some reservations where Filch was concerned. "We're all to be substituting this year," Sydney continued.

"Five substitutes," Filch muttered to himself, "unheard of. No point in keeping them here at all. Well, go on, get out of here!"

"Good night," Harry replied with the slightest hint of a bow.

As soon as they were out of earshot Ron let out a sigh of relief, "For a minute there I thought he was going to forget we already graduated and chuck us in detention for being out after hours. Nice plan, though, be nice to him. I never would have thought of that."

"He knew something was up," Hermione said nervously. "He was right too. Why would there be five substitutes all the time?"

Harry and Ron cringed as they realized the implications of this flaw in the plan. It wouldn't take most students five minutes to realize that something strange was going on. Even though they'd been reluctant to use Hogwarts as a base at first, now that they were back they couldn't help but wish that the end of their stay hadn't suddenly become much sooner than they had anticipated.

"Why don't we all say we're apprentices, then?" Sydney suggested. "We'd be here training to become teachers."

"Part of some new Ministry program," Michael added.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked first at the Muggles, then at each other, their confusion slowly melting away into excitement.

"Brilliant!" Ron exclaimed.

"It would make perfect sense!" Hermione echoed.

"That's why we brought them along!" Harry said.

"But it shouldn't be a Ministry program," Ron decided. "That lot would never be able to come up with something that brilliant."

"We should tell McGonagall," Hermione said. "She could convince a few people that she came up with it. That'd be good enough for most. She might even want to start a real program like that. It'd keep dolts like Umbridge from becoming professors at least."

"Grindelwald," Ron said suddenly, causing the portrait of Bertie Bott to swing forward to reveal a large archway into another room.

Harry and Hermione looked at him, somewhat surprised. Sorting out the final details of their cover story had distracted them so much that they couldn't remember reaching the portrait.

"We've been standing here for at least a minute," Ron explained, sensing the reason for their confusion.

The group stepped into a large common room with a hallway stretching off to the right. Under different circumstances, Sydney might have allowed herself to express some wonder at the nature of their living space and the means by which they could access it, but she was too busy smoldering at the fact that the Wizards had taken her idea and not even allowed her any input into how to implement it.

"I guess our rooms are down there," Harry said, pointing to a hallway connected to the large common room.

"There's only two," Ron announced, glancing down the hallway and counting the doors.

"They probably usually don't need more than two substitutes at a time," Harry replied. "It shouldn't be a problem; we're all used to sharing space."

"That's odd," said Hermione, glancing down the hallway.

"What?" Harry asked, following her gaze.

"The house elves left our things outside the rooms," Hermione replied as she approached the neat piles of trunks and bags left outside the two doorways. "It's as though they didn't know how we wanted to divide it- oh..." she trailed off.

If waiting for Filch to let them leave was uncomfortable then this silence was torture. Were they to divide up with men in one room and women in the other? Or give Sydney and Michael their own room. Whenever they were on missions together, Sydney and Michael always tried to keep their feelings for each other buried, it was a time to be objective, not emotional, but evidently either they weren't doing as thorough a job as usual or these young Wizards were far more perceptive than they had yet been given credit for. At any rate, both sides seemed reluctant to suggest a solution.

Finally, Hermione said quietly, "I think it would be best if there were at least one Wizard or Witch in each room, in case something happens."

As usual, Hermione's logic was impeccable, although neither group was entirely happy about it. After all, this arrangement would separate the two groups of friends from one another. However, there was no complaint from either side as Harry, Ron, and Hermione sorted out each person's belongings and levitated the bangs and trunks into the appropriate rooms.

After a hasty good night, they went to their rooms and divided up the beds. However, exhausted as they were, sleep came easily to none of them, and the air in both rooms was occasionally filled with stilted and uncomfortable conversations.