A Muggle At Hogwarts

The Adventure Begins

by Mae Silverpaws

Being summoned to Mum and Father's house always gave Rabaz an ominous feeling; ultimately something would happen that was totally out of his control. This visit would be no exception, he just knew it. A deep sigh starting at Rabaz's toes quickly made its way up his long body and out into the world. Coke, his old yeller dog, was sitting in the passenger seat of Rabaz's beat up VW van and turned to look at his master.

"It's okay, ol' boy," said Rabaz, patting the dog on the head. "We are almost at Mum and Father's house now." Coke too sighed and placed his nose between his paws. "Yeah I know, guy. I feel like that too."

Rabaznaz Lincoln Eserbalac turned his yellow 1969 VW van onto the quaint lane of the Boston suburb his parents called home. The rolling front lawn of the Eserbalac estate loomed up in the foreground.

Many years of training caused Rabaz to signal to turn into the long curving driveway. One quick glance, however, at his new navy suit and Rabaz smoothly pulled the van up to the front curb. Giving one last shudder and a grinding protest, the car shut down, waking Coke, who had fallen asleep on his seat. Spying the large brick house, Coke whined and hid his nose between his paws.

"Hey, come on, man," said Rabaz holding the passenger door open for his companion. "It shouldn't be that bad. Maybe Mum will even let you visit the poodle's kennel this time."

Ignoring the front walk, with Coke at his heel, Rabaz walked straight up the front lawn.

"Sorry Ricky ol' man," said Rabaz to the empty front yard. "I know that you don't like anyone traipsing through your front show case, but a guy can only conform so much."

Rabaznaz raised his hand to knock on the shiny black doors with the heavy brass knockers but stopped short. Reaching into his pants pocket he pulled out a hair band and secured his long brown hair at the nape of his neck. "There!" he sighed. "At least Mum can't complain about my hair being all over."

A distinguished older gentleman with greying temples and horned rimmed glasses immediately answered his sharp rap on the door. "Why, Jamison," said Rabaz, with a hint of a smile sparkling about his eyes, "were you waiting right by the door for me?"

"Oh no, Mr Rabaznaz, sir, I was just passing by the door when I heard your, ahem, van, pull up to the curb. Your mum will be very upset if your vehicle leaves oil on the street, you know. Oh yes sorry, your mum and father are in the sunroom sir. They have been waiting for you." Jamison paused to remove a pocket watch on a long gold chain from his vest pocket, "for two and three quarter hours now, sir. If you were much later you would have held up supper."

"Yeah, I know. It was an unavoidable delay. I had to get some new threads ... I mean clothes." Rabaz self-consciously ran his hands down the sides of his suit and shuffled his feet in the new Cordovan Wing Tips.

"Your mum will be quite delighted by your attire, sir. Though, isn't your tie, ahem, a bit busy for that look?"

Rabaz glanced down at his tie with its bright splotches of primary colours against a butter yellow background. It was the brightest and most colorful one he could find in the shop. Smiling Rabaz said, "Well you didn't expect me to give in to everything she wants now did you?"

"I have known you for the last thirty-five years, Mr Rabaz, and the one thing I can count on with you is that you have never completely given in to your mum once in your life-that I know of."

"Jamison!" came a crisp, feminine voice from behind the butler. "Let Rabaznaz in, please."

Jamison stepped aside to allow Rabaz the first glimpse of his mother in almost three years. Her coiffed hair, in its usual crisp short cut, was perfect as always. Sara-Jayne Zanzabar Eserbalac looked as if she had not changed one bit. She was still the risk-free pillar of Boston society. Her grey wool suit and pink blouse were impeccably pressed and tailored perfectly.

Sara-Jayne smiled to herself as she looked at her grown son. She was proud of him for making a success of himself in the art world and the writing world, but would he ever grow up? He still had the long hair, almost to the middle of his back now, even though he had pulled it back and secured it with a hair tie. His suit looked brand new. The navy went well with his complexion and made his already lanky six-foot-four frame even taller. But that tie. She sighed; he would never totally conform to hers and society's expectations.

"Mum, you look wonderful," Rabaz said as he stepped onto the highly polished hardwood floors of the front entryway. A quick glance around and Rabaz realized that his mother had again redecorated the main entry of the house. "I'm sorry it's been so long."

Sara-Jayne placed a proper, quick kiss on her son's cheek and said, "Yes dear, those things happen. You are quite late you know. Actually over two and three quarter hours behind schedule. Your father is rather upset."

Sara-Jayne turned and headed toward the interior of the house. Rabaz followed his mother, feeling a bit like a small child.

Lincoln Eserbalac looked up from his financial section as his wife and son walked into the room. He quickly glanced at his son. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he took in the new suit and shoes that had been adorned for the mission. But oh, that tie. Lincoln shook his head slightly as he stood to greet his son.

"Rabaznaz," Lincoln said in a deep, scratchy voice, "nice of you to finally visit us here at home. Been well son." The last being said more as statement then a question.

"Yes, Father, quite well, thank you." Rabaz shifted from foot to foot like a small boy before the head master. "And yes it has been quite a while. But we did see each other last fall in Maine at my showing."

"Oh yes, quite right. Sit down boy, you are making me nervous. Your mother and I have something we wish to talk to you about."

"Jamison, would you please take Pepsi-"

"That's Coke, Father," interrupted Rabaz.

"Oh yes, whatever, would you please take Rabaz's dog to the back kennels and see about food and lodging for him?"

"Certainly, Mr. Lincoln," said Jamison. "Come along Coke," he called to the dog as he left the room.

Rabaz moved himself to sit in one of the delicate wicker chairs in his parents' sunroom and sighed again, suddenly remembering why he visited his parents' home as infrequently as possible.

"Now dear, if you are quite finished, your father and I have taken the liberty..." Rabaz sat up straight and his mother's words to begin to blur together. Sara-Jayne had a way of taking over a situation and in his almost forty years, Rabaz had learned it was best to just ride the wave and then go about his own way. A single word brought his attention back to the present and his eyes to snapped to his mother's face. "...with the help of your aunt Minnie, your father and I have secured you a professorship at a little boarding school in Scotland. It starts in four weeks. It seems you will be teaching history, art and something called Muggle Studies; must be a Scottish term. Would you be taking your van? Maybe you should borrow one of our cars. How about the silver Volvo? Or we could purchase you one when you get over there."

"Mum please," interrupted Rabaz, looking at his parents in total disbelief. "If I wish to purchase a new van, I am more then financially able to do so on my own. Besides, my van can go anywhere. It's been across the country at least four times and down into Mexico at least once that I can remember. My van will have no problem in Scotland."

"Excellent, I'll go phone Minerva right now and say you're on your way." Sara-Jayne quickly rose from her chair and headed out the door.

Rabaz opened his mouth to protest, but the sound of his father's deep rumbling laughter caused him to turn in that direction instead.

"Well, boy," his father said still chuckling. "Your mother can still play you like a concert pianist. Come on, Professor Eserbalac, join me in my study, you look like you could use a drink. Oh by the way, nice tie."

"Oh yeah, thanks, Father. I liked it better then any of the others in the shop. And no thank you, I don't drink anymore. But right now I could probably be tempted," he mumbled to himself as he followed the equally tall lean figure out of the room and into the sanctuary of his father's study.

The next three weeks flew by for Rabaz. His mother completely organised the trip. She held a party with all the right people attending to celebrate her son's proper new job, a visit to the tailor for new clothes and even poor Coke was sent to the vet to make sure all his records were up to date and then off to the doggy beauty parlour for the works. Sooner then Sara-Jayne liked, it was time for Rabaz to leave for Scotland.

Upon his mother's insistence, Rabaz allowed the old van to be tuned, new tires to be put on and the poor old thing washed, waxed and detailed. When the time came to leave, Rabaz smiled upon seeing Coke sitting in his co-pilot's seat, tongue hanging out and tail wagging, waiting for the open road.

"Goodbye, dear. Are you sure that thing will be ok? If you would like, you may take the Volvo or even my new Lexus."

"No, Mum," Rabaz said firmly. "My van can get me anywhere. And besides, I am just driving to the airport. The van is being shipped in a week or so. Coke and I will be fine and we'll call when we get there." Rabaz kissed his mother's soft cheek and shook his father's hand before climbing into the van. The soft chuckle of his father left a sinking feeling in Rabaz's stomach. He shook his head. Mum had gotten him again.

Rabaz pulled the shiny, yellow VW van out of the driveway and turned toward the turnpike. The lack of clacking, clattering and general protests from his normally grumbling old van made Rabaz wonder what kind of situation his mother had gotten him into this time.