Divined Intervention

Chapter Two: The Exchange

Ron sat in the garden behind the Burrow, looking forlorn. Three days, and no news from his father's friend at the Ministry about Maggie. Hermione watched him from the doorway, chewing her lip in worry.

"Oi, Hermione...what's gotten into ickle Ronniekins?" Fred asked, making her jump.

George grinned from her other side. "Did you two have a spat?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "We did not have a 'spat'...and we aren't dating, so get off it. He's worried about that Muggle he told his father about."

Fred and George looked at each other, unusually solemn. George cleared his throat and looked uncomfortable. Fred studied a point somewhere to the left of Hermione's head.

"You two know something and haven't told him." Hermione locked eyes on George. "What is it?"

George backed away two steps, having heard about the Wrath of Hermione several times from his younger brother. "I..." He looked out the doorway and dropped his volume to a whisper.

"We didn't want him getting his knickers in a bunch over it. Dad talked to the Ministry, the Ministry talked to the American Magical Association, and... well, they don't have the resources to help her. Apparently, their Chief Divination Officer in New York State saw a Grim in his teacup and died three months ago. They don't have anyone to train their Wizard Reclamation Officers, they've been understaffed already, and right now they've got their hands full finding new witches and wizards under 13 years old...they're easier to find, as they don't repress it yet." George looked nervously out at his brother. "They won't help her. It'd crush him, and you know it as well as we do."

Fred was watching Ron in the garden. "For once, it's not something we can even properly hassle him about. So we've been hassling him about..." George cleared his throat significantly, and Fred continued. "...anything else we can think of. Trying to distract him, y'know?"

Hermione looked away, a lump in her throat. George and Fred looked at each other in panic.

"Hermione, don't cry, please...oh, drat..." George patted her on the shoulder, looking to his twin in mortal terror.

Hermione looked up at him, a sudden flash of inspiration lighting her face. "Do you think your parents would mind if I borrowed their owl." They looked at her, confused. "Ron'd miss Pigwidgeon, and I need to owl Professor Dumbledore. If anyone would know a way to help her, it's him."

***********

"It's an unusual situation, Albus, to be sure. But is it wise?" Professor Minerva McGonagall sat primly in her seat in Professor Dumbledore's office, eyes wide behind her spectacles. "They say she's got some skill in Divination, but an untrained witch... here..."

"We have plenty of untrained witches here, Minerva. We are a school, after all." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled merrily, despite the gravity of the discussion. She looked at him sternly.

"They're all adolescents! This woman is full-grown. And to entrust her..." Minerva shook her head.

Dumbledore strode forward, resting a hand on her shoulder. "I've entrusted our students to Professor Trelawney for years for the same subject." He let the thought trail off.

Minerva smiled despite herself, then forced the stern mien back. "Really, Albus. Do you think we can get her up to snuff enough before the year starts? We only have a month and a half. And she's little more than a Muggle now." She looked him in the eyes. "We've never even had a Muggle-born instructor at Hogwarts!"

"We can get her to a basic understanding, if I have your support and aid." He expanded his gaze to encompass the rest of the people in the room. Hagrid nodded enthusiastically, looking around at the others. Professors Sprout, Vector, Sinestra and Flitwick looked at each other with uncertainty. Madam Hooch and Madam Pomfrey sat off to the side, watching the proceedings intently. Professor Binns hovered to the side, more interested in Dumbledore's bookshelf than the conversation. Professor Snape sat in the back of the assembly, arms crossed, an obstinate look in his dark eyes.

"This woman needs our aid. The American Magical Association needs it as well. I know we will all terribly miss Sibyll," Dumbledore paused to allow them to finish coughing, sneezing, and otherwise concealing a fit of giggles. "But, in the spirit of cooperation between magical communities worldwide, I see this as a situation that can only have people coming out on top. American children will be found in time to attend schools and gain proper training, and one lost soul will finally gain the training she has missed."

Everyone but Severus nodded enthusiastically. He rose, arms still crossed.

"And just how do you propose to convince Sibyll Trelawney to go to America and aid them?" he drawled, eyes fixed on Dumbledore.

Dumbledore smiled. "Actually, Severus, I wished to speak to you on that matter. Privately, if you would." Severus's lips twisted in a smirk as he nodded and took his seat.

Minerva looked at Severus nervously before continuing; that grin of his always left her feeling a bit unsettled. "All in favor?"

All hands raised, Severus's the last up. He looked annoyed.

"Very well. Severus, Albus, we leave the details in your capable hands." She looked to the rest of the faculty. "Lunch, everyone?"

As the rest of the faculty filed out, she leaned in close to Dumbledore and whispered, "Dare I ask?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled merrily. "Not only is Severus Snape one of the finest potions masters in the world, he's also the only man I've ever met who can stack a tarot deck." He winked and shooed her out of the office.

*********

"What do you mean, 'She's been taken care of?' How has she been taken care of? What's happened to her?" Hermione twisted the edge of her blouse as Ron ranted at her, pacing the length of the living room.

"She's in very good hands. The best." She bit her lip anxiously, praying silently that she was telling the truth. "Apparently, someone intervened for her on a higher level, and all information is being held confidential, for her sake..." Her look turned stern. "And her privacy, Ron."

Ron stopped pacing abruptly. "Oh. Oh, damn." He sat down on the edge of the living room table. "I'm just..."

"...worried about someone you've come to care for." Hermione placed her hand on his shoulder. "I know the feeling, you know." She smiled at him warmly, and he felt the warmth spread to the tips of his ears. "No need to be embarrassed. Heaven knows the number of times you and I have worried about each other and Harry...oh!" She looked over at Pigwidgeon, hooting contentedly on his perch and pecking at seeds. "I wish we could owl him. Considering how enthusiastically he got invited to Hogwarts, he'd probably find this whole situation absolutely fascinating."

Ron put his hand over hers on his shoulder. "Actually, right now, I'd rather be distracted." It was Hermione's turn to blush, but Ron didn't see it. "Let's go down to Diagon Alley or something. Get out of the Burrow. Wait!" He looked at Hermione, who had composed herself abruptly and was smiling blandly. "I still need to pick up some Muggle clothing for the trip. Can you help me? I'm hopeless when it comes to clothes shopping, and Mum always puts me in maroon. I've borrowed some money from Fred and George. We can exchange it at Gringotts and you can give me the crash course in Muggle clothes shopping." He looked at her imploringly.

"No wonder your brothers think we're dating..." she sighed softly. They both blushed, then looked away, Hermione studying Pigwidgeon, Ron looking at the old, chipped vase on the mantlepiece. "Let's go, shall we?" she chirped, a bit too brightly. Ron nodded and began to build a fire in the fireplace.

************

Maggie looked at her watch and groaned. It was very nearly 12:30. The last bus to downtown left at midnight. And she'd just shooed her last co-worker homeward with chipper assurance that "I'll be fine...get on home!"

"Dammit!" She kicked a chip of concrete from the worn sidewalk towards the empty parking lot. One of the lamps flickered ominously. "Oh, just cut it out already!" she shouted at it. It buzzed and fizzled to darkness. "Hell."

Stars twinkled in the sky above, and the air was balmy. She stripped off the white button-down shirt she wore, revealing a slate-gray tank top, and tied the cast-off shirt around her waist. She plucked a knot of multicolored threads from where they had adhered to her khaki shorts, and began the long march with grim resolve. Her long brown hair quickly began to adhere to her shoulders as the humidity took its toll on her, and she found herself longing for the air-conditioned sanctuary that was her place of employment. With a final grunt of annoyance, she stepped off the sidewalk, striding across the vast parking lot towards the main thoroughfare and, eventually, home. It was a two and a half hour walk. She'd done it before, but usually not after a full 8-hour shift, plus a restocking and sale-sign-setting party. She pulled a pen out of her pocket, and paused by a street lamp to twist her ponytail into a knot and pin it up... or pen it up, as it were.

"Heavens, it is warm in this part of the world, isn't it?" Maggie dropped the pen and spun around. She goggled at the three people who had most definitely not been standing behind her a moment before. On the left, a tall, thin man with dark, oily hair and a dark, oily expression on his sallow face. On the right, an elderly woman who looked like a very uptight librarian. The one whom she guessed had just spoken was the oddest of the three. Tall, thin, wizened, and looking all the world like she'd always imagined Gandalf from The Hobbit. His eyes and smile were kindly, but his sudden arrival had triggered the 'flight' portion of her fight-or-flight reflexes. She backpedaled into the nearest lamppost.

Her head spun. Her right arm spasmed in a new flood of pain. Then, chaos broke out around her. Three parking lot lamps exploded in a hail of glass and sparks. A veritable demolition derby of shopping carts from around the parking lot took place about five feet in front of her, showering her in sharp plastic fragments and prompting a lot of strange, garbled shouting. The trio of strange people stepped from behind it, shaken but otherwise apparently unharmed, and all carrying short lengths of dowel rod. The older pair tucked theirs into their sleeves. The younger man began to wave his like a conductor before an orchestra.

Instinct won, and Maggie took off running towards the main thoroughfare. She heard a man's voice yell "Petrificus..." and the older man shouting, "No, Severus...not yet."

Not yet? She glanced back, curiosity warring with self-preservation, and tripped headlong over a concrete parking-space marker. She slid ten feet into the ditch by the edge of the lot, which didn't surprise her considering how fast she was moving. The total lack of pain or abrasions wasn't even that shocking. That she was hovering about three inches from the grass, face down, looking into a water-filled ditch... now that was a show-stopper. She screamed, and found herself with a faceful of grass and muddy water.

A hand appeared next to her, and she rolled away from it, breathing hard and fast and shallow, eyes wide with panic. The dark-haired man stood next to her, breathing fast from his own exertion. Apparently, he'd sprinted after her. She gripped the grass on either side of her tightly, trying not to slide backwards into the water.

"You put up a good resistance, Miss Carter. I can respect that." His smile matched his eyes... cold, glinting, and very, very unsettling. She leaned back a little and spat a mouthful of sod to one side, away from him. Her hand shot up faster than he expected, and it wasn't empty. The canister in her hand hissed, and he was on the ground, screaming and gasping for air, writhing in agony.

"Who, or what, the hell are you guys?" she snarled, trying to look more fierce than she knew she could while sitting in a mud puddle in her retail gear. "How did you make me float?" Her hazel eyes flashed through narrow slits in the dim light, gleaming almost gold.

The man writhing on the ground before her managed to free the stick from his sleeve and point it at his eyes. "Aqueous Casicare!" he choked, and water gushed from the end of the stick, rinsing over his face and washing the pepper spray away.

The other two stepped up, and Maggie shrank back a little, bravado fading fast as she found herself outnumbered again. She brandished the canister, which flew from her hand and across the parking lot. She growled slightly, fear, frustration and anger at the whole situation washing over her. One cryptic reply from anyone, and I'll... rack 'em! Swift kick, right to the jims. She looked at them a little more closely. They were all wearing some sort of flowing robes, and the older man and woman were wearing some sort of pointy hats. Wizard hats. This is too surreal. If Ray decided to make good on that threat to slip LSD into my lunch, he is worse than dead...

"Terribly sorry to startle you, Miss Carter." The bearded one smiled, then looked down at his compatriot, who was now blowing warm air out of the end of his stick...wand. It's a frickin' wand. This is not real... and drying himself off. He looked a little less oily, but a lot more irritated. "No lasting harm done, Severus? Good. Perhaps we should begin at the beginning." The older gentleman smiled, extending a hand cordially. "Introductions, then. Professor Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. This is my assistant headmistress, Professor Minerva McGonagall, and the Master of Potions, Professor Severus Snape." Snape rose and rearranged his robes, and they both bowed in turn. Severus's eyes never left her, burning like dark coals rimmed in red.

Maggie didn't blink. She just stared. "Ummm...hi. And how do you know my name?"Her voice was feebler than she'd liked. Rational thoughts flooded her mind, drowning away the shopping cart pileup and fizzling lights and definitely the whole wand nonsense. "Are you friends of Tina's? Is this some...." She froze, then glared. "Is this a joke? Did the guys put you up to this? Jeez, make one comment about wishing Gandalf would show up at MY door to lead me off on a wild adventure, and suddenly they hire half the drama club to scare the piss out of me. Good job, you three. Oscar-winning performance. Now, if you'll excuse me, I gotta wring the mud off myself, eat some pride, and walk about two and a half hours before I get to go to bed and rest up to beat the hell out of people. 'Night. Sorry about the pepper spray." She struggled to her feet unaided, glowering at the trio.

The three looked at each other in wide-eyed curiosity and shrugged, looking confused as to what on earth she was talking about.

"I'm afraid we're not from the... drama club, did you say?" Minerva stepped forward. "We are here on a request from the American Magical Association."

Maggie gave her a doubtful look. "Then why the Scottish accent, lady?"

"The what?" Minerva paused, then closed her eyes, shaking her head. "This is not going well at all," she whispered to Dumbledore and stepped back.

"We are here on request from the American Magical Association, who is working in conjunction with the Ministry of Magic of the United Kingdom to aid you in learning more about what you are." Dumbledore smiled. "You seem to have created quite a stir, Miss Carter."

Maggie looked at him as though he'd just told her he was from Mars, then snorted. "Yeah, right. Two whole countries are suddenly utterly fascinated by a 27-year-old fabric clerk," she spat disparagingly. "This is quite the elaborate story, guys, but..."

The lamp across the street fizzled out. She snarled. "Dammit!" Despair replaced the attempt at menace, and she looked around at her surroundings for more shopping carts. Her right arm was twinging like mad, and tears were starting to form at the edges of her eyes from pain and fear.

"That happens often, doesn't it?" Dumbledore looked at her sympathetically and shook his head. "I'd imagine other strange things have happened as well. Things disappear, or appear, just because you wish they would, or because you are upset, or angry. You feel a force within you, fighting to break free, and you need to hold it back, not knowing why."

"Because I don't want to hurt anyone, that's why," she heard herself whisper. He closed his eyes, nodding solemnly.

"As I thought." He stepped forward. She didn't step back this time.

"You see the future as well, do you not? Tarot, tea leaves, crystal ball..."

"NOT crystal ball." Her voice was firm, abrupt, and her own eyes widened in surprise at it. "I mean, I stopped reading that, years ago," she amended weakly.

He looked faintly amused. "Why?"

She looked away.

"You saw too much, didn't you?"

She closed her eyes and nodded quickly, feeling tears pricking at the back of her eyelids. Why am I telling him this? She swallowed. He reminds me of...

"When did you stop?"

She choked, then answered through clenched teeth. "Five years ago. Six months before my dad passed."

She felt warm velvet and strong arms around her. A part of her screamed Run! Who the hell is this guy anyway? The rest of her leaned into the embrace gratefully. Her voice sounded distant to her. "What the hell am I, then? What's wrong with me?" She was shaking uncontrollably and feeling horribly like a little kid for it. Everything inside her had dropped away, and she felt so lost. The velvet in front of her face was wet.

"You are a witch. And we're here to help you." He smiled down at her. "Will you come with us?"

She jerked back a couple steps, wiping her eyes. "Go where? Waitaminnit...where are you taking me?"

Minerva produced a long, slender stick from within her robes and waved it over a puddle on the pavement. It shimmered, then glowed softly. Maggie's eyes nearly bugged out. Cautiously, she approached the glowing water and looked in.

A castle. An honest-to-God castle stood on a green hill, shimmering in the early morning sun. "Whoa," she gasped, an amazed smile lighting her face. She looked up at Minerva. "You guys are really for real, aren't you?"

"Indeed, Miss Carter." She extended a hand. "Shall we?"

"Tina's gonna flip." She swallowed. 27 years of city reflexes, distrust, and 'don't talk to strangers' training warred with mind-blowing curiosity. The battle was lost quickly. She reached out and took Minerva's hand with a wince. "I should know better, but... what the hell. Here's to a life less ordinary." She smiled bravely and shook her hand. "Where to?"

Dumbledore's voice was crisp as he unrolled a scroll of parchment. "Hogsmeade, Scotland."

Without warning, she found herself standing on a bustling street in what looked like a Renaissance fair. In bright, early-morning sun, no less. The streets teemed with people dressed in robes and pointed hats, carrying bags and parcels and broomsticks and chatting merrily about charms and spells as if they were the latest baseball scores.

"What...the...hell?"

Dumbledore was wiping ash from his hands with a handkerchief. Minerva released her hand. "Welcome to Hogsmeade, Miss Carter. Hogwarts is only a short way away. Let me call the carriage."

She whistled, and a towering man with a shaggy beard who looked like something out of a fairy tale ducked out of one of the nearest buildings. He smiled broadly.

"Professor McGonagall! Professor Dumbledore, sir!" He nodded to each, then looked a little sour at the third. "Professor Snape. This'd be the lady, then?" He offered a hand the size of her head, and Maggie gingerly put her own hand out. If nothing else, the mighty jostling she received convinced her that she was indeed awake. "Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of the Keys and Grounds and Care of Magical Creatures instructor. It's a pleasure, ma'am." He straightened himself up proudly. "Welcome ter Hogwarts."

"Perhaps the welcome is a bit premature, as we are still in Hogsmeade, Hagrid." Snape sneered at the towering man, who looked away and muttered, embarrassed, as he strode towards a carriage nearby and opened the door, bowing awkwardly.

Maggie smiled as she walked up to the carriage and began to step in. "Nice to see they have gentlemen around these parts. Thanks, Mr. Hagrid. It's good to meet you," she whispered to him as she climbed in and slid over. She hid the grin as his face turned beet red and he fixed his attention on the horses harnessed to the carriage.

************

"So what you're saying is, I'm in a castle somewhere in Scotland that isn't on the maps. I'm a witch with funky magical powers. And you want me to teach kids divination?" She looked up and out a window in Dumbledore's office. She could only see the sky from her seat, bright and blue and very early-looking. "And it's 8 in the morning." She rubbed her eyes. "Jeez, all of the jetlag, a hundredth of the time to get it. This is a big load to land on a girl just after work, you know. And, crap... Tina's gonna wonder where I am. I didn't even call." She slumped into the chair a little, hands in her lap. Dumbledore and Minerva exchanged sympathetic looks. Severus continued to watch from the wall, where he leaned in the shadow beside a bookcase.

Maggie had been studiously avoiding looking at him the entire time. Something about his eyes just screamed his disapproval of her presence, and she trusted her judgement when it seemed that someone immediately disliked her. Half the time, she was right. The other half... just got awkward, so either way, it was better not to look at him just yet. Considering she'd maced the poor guy, she was pretty sure it was the former. Y'know, Ryan used to give you that same look... sizing you up, figuring out what to make of you... She shrank further into her seat, trying to quash the thought, and stole a glance his way. Their eyes met, and it felt like she'd been caught between cymbals. A crashing sound rang through her ears, and her heart caught for a moment, as she saw something in his eyes.

Darkness. Pain. Chaos. A high, shrill laughter, his own mingling with it. Hatred. Then, light. Purpose. Strength. Meaning. But still darkness, clinging to the edges of everything. Loneliness.

She blinked hard, and he looked very annoyed for a moment, then looked to Dumbledore. Crap, did he see that? Did I just do something? Psychic invasion or something? She gave an inward snort. You're just projecting and being a flake, kid. Knock it off. He's not a crystal ball. He's probably still stinging from the pepper spray and trying to find some neat way to turn you into a toad. She looked down at her hands, then up at Dumbledore. The two were talking about something, and she'd completely tuned out.

"I would love to, Professor, but I really must get back to the dungeons. I must prepare for the incoming shipment of herbs. Perhaps Professor McGonagall can see it in her schedule?" Severus bowed to Dumbledore, who sighed and looked to Minerva, who nodded and smiled.

"I'd be happy to show her around, Albus." She turned to Maggie, looking almost motherly for a moment. "Madam Carter, you must be absolutely exhausted. Perhaps you'd like to rest for a little while?" Her smile was a nice change to the stern look she'd worn nearly the entire time she'd seen her thus far. Maggie felt her eyes go wide again.

"Huh? I mean, sure!" She blushed, then grinned. "And call me Maggie. Where I'm from, 'Madam' has a whole other connotation."

"It's what we call our non-doctoral professors, dear." Minerva cocked her head and studied her with interest. "What does it mean in America?"

Maggie blushed harder. "Umm, never mind." She changed the topic quickly. "The teacher thing's going to take some getting used to, too. I mean, I didn't finish my college degree..." She rose and waved timidly to the two men in the room. "Umm, see you later?"

"We'll see you at lunch, then. I'll see if I can't convince the rest of the faculty to join us." Dumbledore waved. Severus bowed, still studying her with dark, unblinking eyes. Maggie smiled wanly and followed Minerva into the hall.

Maggie froze as soon as she stepped out of the office. The gargoyle by the stairs slid to conceal the door, then looked down at her curiously. With a squeak, she scampered after Minerva. The Fat Lady looked down at her from the portrait she was visiting, then glanced to the elderly woman in the frame with her over her teacup.

"Poor thing... you'd think she'd never seen a gargoyle before!"