Divined Intervention

"At least the bedroom's not as bad as all that," Maggie sighed in relief, opening the windows to the classroom. "The blue velvet curtains with silver stars are actually something I always wanted to get for my apartment." She caught Minerva's look and blushed a little. "Seriously. They're pretty, I think." A warm breeze rushed in, carrying out a little of the heady incense smell. "MmmmÂ…airÂ… dear god, how much of that crap did this woman burn every day?"

"Enough to make me wonder if perhaps that was why she was such aÂ…" Minerva cut herself off with a wave. "But, I try not to speak ill of my colleagues. Even when they so richly deserve it." She sat on a pouf by the door, watching for the custodian's approach. A pile of silky red scarves lay folded neatly on the table before her. In the plain white light of the mage-lamps in the room and the streaming sunlight from outside, the classroom looked less hokey and more homey.

"Maybe I can find something to counterburnÂ… cloves might cut back the stickiness of it all." Maggie pondered, pulling up an armchair She missed sitting in it by a few inches, yelping in surprise as she caught herself on the arm of the chair. "What theÂ…?"

A scraggly-looking cat poked its head through the hole in the floor. It was closely followed by Argus Filch's head and shoulders. Both looked somewhat mangy and had the same lamp-like yellowish eyes. "Ach!" he sniffed. "That barmy witch probably soaked the woodwork with that foul-smelling tripe. Afternoon, Professors." He pulled himself through the hole, surveying the room with discomfort befitting a man in a room full of frills and fluff. "Yer lookin' for the back door to this place, then?"

He stepped across the round room to the window Maggie stood by and kicked aside one of the oriental rugs. Beneath it was a small trapdoor. He tugged at the ring, back muscles straining. Maggie looked away, a little embarrassed. Filch was a bit ancient to be checking out while he worked. Finally, with a heave, the door gave way on creaky hinges. With a grunt, he pulled a small bottle of oil from a pocket and diligently lubricated the hinges. "Here, you try."

Maggie leaned over and grabbed the ring with her left hand, lifting the door easily. She looked down into the hole and gasped. There were a lot of cobwebs, but beneath them wasÂ…

"A slide?" Maggie looked at Filch and cocked her head. "Where does it go?"

"To the dungeons." Filch looked at her shocked face and chuckled. "Not too far from my office. It's easier than trucking yourself down all those stairs to get to yer meals. Ye'll only have the one up to deal with then. That's the quickest way down. As for getting back upÂ…" He walked to the stone wall beside the fireplace and knocked on a stone three times. A thin panel of stone slid away, revealing a cagelike brass dumbwaiter, with dusty red velvet cushions that looked as though rats had bedded down in years ago. He pulled the cushions off, grumbling, and reached over to one of the armchairs, snatching up another cushion to replace it. "I can get it working, no problem. Lets off on any floor, just say which one you want. I'll show you the doors on the other floorsÂ… they're all behind portraits that will be pickled to have someone talkin' to them again."

Maggie looked at the dumbwaiter anxiously. "Riiight." It seemed very small and none too sturdy. Something brushed against her leg. The cat stared up at her with its eerie eyes, purring. Absently, Maggie reached a hand down and stroked her.

Filch looked at her, startled, then gave a reluctant smile and nodded. He turned his attention back to the dumbwaiter, working a bit more briskly. "I'll have it done before you can blink." He whistled tunelessly as the two women bid him farewell and headed down the ladder. When they were gone, he looked over at Mrs. Norris and squinted.

"Turnin' traitor and making nice to the witches now, are ye, girl?"

Mrs. Norris curled up on a pouf and licked her tail at him.

*********

Dumbledore re-rolled the parchment on his desk and handed it to Minerva. "This should get you to the States without incident. It's another Trans-Atlantic Travel Talisman scroll. The Ministry anticipated we'd have need of it, thankfully, but it's the last one they have granted us. I have faith you can perform it without me." Minerva nodded solemnly. Dumbledore slipped her two thin envelopes. "These are the tickets for your transport back. The Ministry couldn't assure me that the luggage wouldn't interfere with the spell, and I didn't want to risk it, so the Americans are arranging a transport back."

Minerva tried to look confident at this, but Maggie saw her brow furrow. She fidgeted with the collar of her prim high-collared blouse, looking uncomfortable in Muggle street clothes that only emphasized her stern features and made her look unsettlingly like Maggie's fifth-grade English teacher. Despite the sudden detention flashbacks, Maggie sympathized, looking at her own discarded robe with a sigh of relief. Dumbledore sighed and nodded at an unspoken statement from Minerva.

"I'm certain it will all go well. If not, contact me, and we will find another way out for you both."

With that, Minerva rested her hand on Maggie's shoulder. "Ready, then?" Maggie nodded, and she unrolled the scroll. "Rochester, New York, United States of America," she said crisply.

They were standing in an abandoned parking lot. Maggie looked around herself, startled. The noon sun blared down on them both, and it took her a moment to get her bearings.

"We're on South Clinton. It's only a few blocks from my place, that way." Maggie sighed in relief. Familiar territory boldened her a little, and she started trotting along, Minerva in tow. Suddenly, she stopped. "Shoot. Tina's going to want to know who you areÂ… ack!" She closed her eyes, leaning against a lamppost. "Think, Mags."

"Perhaps I should be less conspicuous?" Minerva chewed her lip thoughtfully, one hand on her chin. Maggie looked up, but Minerva was gone. Where she had been standing, a slim tabby cat sat, looking up at her. Maggie stared. The markings around the eyes looked a little oddÂ…almost like glassesÂ…and it was the primmest looking cat she had ever seen in her life.

"MiÂ…nerva?" Maggie cocked her head. So did the cat. Slowly, the cat nodded at her and stood up, looking down the sidewalk then back up at Maggie. Maggie shook herself, then chuckled. "I shouldn't be surprised at anything you guys do, I swear. This is so freaky." A man walking towards them on the sidewalk looked at her and crossed the street abruptly. Maggie swore and whispered "I also shouldn't be chatting with a cat while walking down a city streetÂ…someone'll have me locked up for a nutcase." She laughed as Minerva swished her tail and meowed at her.

The apartment looked just as she left it. Maggie sighed. Of course, it had only been a day, but it felt like a lifetime. Minerva watched the birds hopping around the front yard with a hungry eye. "Will you be ok?" Maggie whispered. Minerva nodded, then stalked over to a hole in the front porch. Maggie watched uneasily as a fluffy squirrel tail disappeared through the hole before her. NaaahÂ…. She climbed the stairs quickly and popped the front door open. It was unlocked.

"Tina?" Maggie left Minerva under the front porch and headed inside. She was almost knocked off her feet by her roommate as soon as she was through the door.

"OH MY GOD!!! Are you OK? You JERK!" Tina alternated hugging Maggie and punching her none-too-lightly on the arm. Maggie held up her arms in surrender, covering her face. "I was scared to death! You never came home, and your job just called and said you were a no show this morningÂ…I thought about your tea leaf reading last night and IÂ… dammit, you could have CALLED!"

"TÂ… c'mon, calm down. I'm sorry. I didn't want to wake you up, and I thoughtÂ… I didn't think the meeting would run over this late. The Zone's probably pissed, but I don't care. Sit down for a secÂ…I've got a lot to tell you." Maggie caught her friend's hands in hers and guided her over to the living room. "Remember that internship opportunity I had last year?"

**********

"So this is what a computer looks like up close. Wicked!" Ron sat in front of the glowing monitor, picking up the keyboard and tilting it every which way. Hermione sat behind him, arms folded, trying not to laugh as he poked the mouse with a tentative finger and gasped as the arrow on the screen flinched a couple inches. "Did I hurt it?"

Hermione couldn't stifle it anymore. She laughed and patted him on the arm. "No, it's fine. Really. It's a machineÂ… not magic. They don't feel anything. Slide over, I'll show you how it works." She picked up the mouse and slid it in a circle. The arrow moved with it. Ron goggled, impressed.

"Now, if you put it over this and push the little button hereÂ…"

"Let me try!" Ron took the mouse and slid it over cautiously, tongue poking out the corner of his mouth. "AndÂ…pushÂ…which one?" Hermione placed her hand over his and nudged his index finger with hers.

"What are you two doing?" Hermione's mother poked her head into the study, smiling. "Not homework, Hermione? Hardly fit entertainment for a guest." She surveyed the two with an amused eye.

Hermione sprang away from Ron and grinned awkwardly at her mother. "Ron's never gotten to use a computer, Mother. Is it alright if we dial in?"

Her mother looked thoughtful for a moment. "I'm not expecting any calls, and my pager is onÂ… go ahead, dears. No racy sites, you two!"

Hermione looked scandalized. "Mother! I'd neverÂ…!"

"I know, dear. Have funÂ…just don't stay on too long in case your father calls." She turned to leave, pointedly leaving the study door open.

They watched her go, and Hermione shook her head. Ron nudged her. "Racy sites? What kind of thing is this dialing in? And you yelled at me for using a SpyglassÂ…"

For a moment, Hermione could have been Professor McGonagall. "I only use the Internet for research, thank you very much Ron Weasley." She looked so prim he couldn't help but laugh.

"A day without research is a day without sunshine for you, isn't it? Well, let's see this, then!" He watched, relenting the mouse reluctantly, as Hermione clicked on little pictures of telephones. A picture of a box with a line that grew and shrank flashed before them, as a strange high-pitched whine blared out of the box by his knee. Ron backed his chair up, startled and afraid it would go off like a Howler or something. Hermione just tapped her fingers against the mouse, looking impatiently at the screen.

"There. We're on. I wonder if Harry has managed to sneak on today?" She clicked on a little picture of a man in a blue circle and another box popped up, this one with a list of strange words in it.

"Your spell list for the summer, Hermione?" Lummox27, PersephoneJ, RizaSuiren, SmeltingKingÂ… Ron read down the list of words, shaking his head. "Odd stuff."

Hermione shook her head, looking disappointed. "Drat. Dudley's on. He's 'SmeltingKing'." She tapped the screen. Surely enough, he was on the list right beneath a heading that said "Horrible Annoyances." Ron chuckled. "He's always onÂ… Harry says he's been playing some multi-player game called EverSmack or something horrible like that."

Ron leaned in closer. "So, how do you use this?"

Hermione clicked the button twice over RizaSuiren. Another little box appeared, and she placed her hands over the keyboard. They moved with the grace of a pianist as she clicked several buttons. The words Hello, Marjorie! Enjoying your holiday? I'm showing a friend how to use the chat appeared on the screen like the school song banner from Dumbledore's wand. She hit a large button labeled Enter, and a dinging sound came from the box by his knee. The top box now had her words, prefaced by HermioneG. She pointed at the various parts.

"That's my nameÂ…rather dull, I knowÂ… that's my friend Marjorie, who's studying in Japan. Oh look, she's responded!" Sure enough, the words RizaSuiren: Hello, HermioneÂ… things are well here, but it's very late right now, so I must go to bed. Sayonara! had flashed up beneath hers, accompanied by another ding from the box. Hermione looked at the little clock in the corner of the screen and sighed. "Dratted time zones."

Ron looked at the clock and thought a moment. "What time would it be in America now?"

Hermione chewed her lip. "About one in the afternoon, I'd suppose, on the East CoastÂ…why?" She blinked. "RonÂ…"

He looked at her imploringly.

"Don't, Ron."

His blue eyes gazed into hers with that look that made her want to do anything to help him. The one that made her knees melt. She turned away with a groan and grabbed the mouse, clicking on a picture on the screen.

"First, we have to set you up with your own name. Hold on a moment." She shot him a look. "How's PeepingRon for you?"

He glared. "Very clever, Hermione. Remind me to stuff a flobberworm down your shirt sometime."

She stuck her tongue out and slid her chair aside so he could reach the keyboard. "Each key represents a letter. The long one at the bottom puts in spaces. If you hold these down when you push a letter, it capitalizes it. Type in what you want with the keys and hit the Enter button."

Ron stretched his fingers and looked at the keys. Timidly, he extended one finger and poked at the R. Slowly, Ron Weasley. made its way onto the screen. Hermione reached over and pushed a button, removing the space. "CanÂ’t have those in the nameÂ…sorryÂ…should have said that. Now, hit Enter."

He did, and a box popped up, welcoming him and asking him if he wished to add new friends to his list. He nodded at the screen. Hermione snorted and hit the Enter button for him. He looked at the box and pondered, then typed in MarginalProphet and hit Enter.

It blinked up in his Friends column immediately. Hermione gasped and sat up very straight. "She's on, Ron. What will you say to her?"

All the color drained from his cheeks. He swallowed hard and clicked twice on the name.

**********

Old sweaters and piles of mismatched socks lay in disarray in the center of Maggie's room as she upended her footlocker. The contents were swiftly replaced. Stacks of CDs and a portable player with small speakers. Herbals, well-worn paperbacks on fortune-telling and scrying, a handful of old fantasy novels. Photos of her parents. Her sewing kit. She looked through her dresser and closet and chose her favorite shirts and jeans, praying she'd get to wear them once in a while. Her hand ran across the red velvet gown that she had made for her college formal, and she sighed. I'll never wear it. It went into the trunk anyway.

"Hey, you got some mail!" Tina stopped into Maggie's room as she swiftly tossed clothing and books into her footlocker.

Maggie paused. "Huh. Thought I'd taken care of theseÂ…" But there they were. Student loan company, credit card company, and her old doctor's bills. "Payment's not due for a month." She began opening them, and sat down on her trunk very quickly.

Tina gasped and rushed over. "Oh no. No. They're not trying to call the full payment in, are they? You're current!"

Maggie just choked, mouth moving silently. Tina looked over her shoulder and screamed, both hands over her mouth.

"Forgiven. FORGIVEN?" Tina's eyes were roughly the size of dinner plates. "What the HELL kind of grant did you get, again?"

Maggie just shook her head, still in shock. They were all gone. The bills that had plagued her, made her pace every night, made her ration her paycheck until she couldn't even afford new socks. Credit card bill, gone. Doctor's bills, paid in full. Student loans, forgiven byÂ…she looked closer. Forgiven by AMA Grant. Tina was still ranting her amazement, dancing elatedly around the room and slipping on strewn papers.

All of my bills, gone. I'm off the hook. This isÂ… Another thought occurred to her, bringing her back to earth with a thud. I'm off the record. All debts ended. My creditors will never look for me again. No one will look for me ever again. An empty feeling settled in her stomach. She knew she should be dancing with Tina right now, butÂ… Is this what it's like to not exist on paper?

"Â…absolutely, freaking AMAZING! Who the hell did you sleep with?" Tina tossed papers up into the air, hugging Maggie tight until she wheezed for air.

Finally, Maggie laughed. "Wish I knew. Maybe I have a fairy godmother." Well, wizardÂ…fairyÂ…tomato, tomahtoÂ…

A knock on the door stopped them. Ray poked his head in, eyes red and bleary.

"Jesus, who died? I've got a hangoverÂ… couldja not screech, Tina?" His voice was slurred. "Hey, Mags. Party hard last night or what? I didn't see you come inÂ… but then, the boys and I were riding the bong pretty hard."

Maggie rolled her eyes. "I didn't. I'm moving, Ray. Tina said I could stash some stuff in the atticÂ…you cool with that?"

Ray blinked, then scratched his head. "Uhh, sure! You taking your machine?" He nodded at the computer, a hopeful look in his eye.

Maggie looked over at the computer. A chat window had popped up on her screen with a small fanfare of trumpets.

Tina glared at the screen. "If it's Ryan, tell him he's a total prick for me, will you?"

"Huh. No one I know. Do you know anyone called Ron Weasley.?" Maggie looked closer at the name, running it through her head.

"Probably some random freak." Ray sighed. "If you don't wind up bringing it, mind if I borrow it?" Maggie nodded absently, and Ray wandered back to his room and closed the door. Tina leaned over her shoulder, intrigued.

"Maggie's got a seecret admiiiiiirer!" she crooned, giggling. Maggie swatted her.

"Do notÂ…"

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

"Now that was dumb." Ron clunked his head against the screen in despair. Hermione snorted.

MarginalProphet: OK? Why wouldn't I be? The reply was quicker than he expected. He sat back, eyes wide.

"What now?" he gasped, panicking. Hermione nudged him aside.

We'reÂ… "It was Hermione's turn to panic. "Drat. We can't say that we're wizards, now, can we? What to say, what to sayÂ…" Her fingers flew across the keys.

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

"Street lights?" Tina looked at Maggie, who had turned ghostly pale.

"Umm, TÂ…could you give me a minute?" Tina nodded and stepped out of the room, watching Maggie as she went. Her friend's head was bowed over the keyboard.

***********

MarginalProphet: Who the hell is this? Ron could almost hear her voice in his head. Usually, when she typed, she spoke, and she'd seen this exchange before. It was usually loud and involved a lot of very creative expletives. He winced and took the keyboard from Hermione.

"Thanks, Hermione. That made everything better." He poked at the keys a little faster. Hermione shrunk in her seat, biting her lip and looking contrite.

Hermione hissed at him. "Ron, what are you doing? What if they haven't contacted her yet?"

"UmmmÂ… oh bollocks." RonWeasely: My father works for the Ministry.

Ron looked to Hermione, confused. She was giggling behind her hand. "It's a Muggle story about a man who goes and saves the world from evildoers by snogging every woman he meets and using intricate Muggle contraptions... pens that turn into explosives and the like. He works for Her Majesty's Secret Service." Ron nodded, grinning.

RonWeasely: No. He does play with interesting contraptions, but he saves the snogging for my mum. He hit the Enter key, then turned beet red. "I don't believe I just said that," he groaned, thumping his head against the screen again.

"You'll break the glass if you keep that business up." Hermione pushed his head aside as new text appeared.

"Don't even think about it, RonÂ…" Hermione warned as his finger hovered over the '2' key. He sighed.

Hermione gasped again, and Ron smacked himself hard. "Augh! I'm an idiot!"

MarginalProphet: *laugh* That obvious, huh? I should have guessed you were by the accent, too. "Snogging" should have been a dead giveaway. (I used to watch a lot of British TV.) Where do you live?

Ron looked at Hermione. "No way! The Ministry'd bring her over here?"

Hermione shrugged, just as curious as him. "Maybe Fudge wanted to meet her or somethingÂ… international relations and all."

Before he could type another word, she sent another message.

They looked at each other silently for a moment.

"I can't believe we actually did that!" Hermione exhaled, then shrugged. "She seems quite nice."

"Oh, she is." Ron agreed, then smacked himself again. Hermione fixed him with a glare for no good reason. He shrank back in his seat. "UmmÂ…sorry?"

She turned around and began clicking buttons on the computer. The box clicked as the phone line released, and she flounced out of the room. "I'll be right back," she said in clipped tones. Ron watched her go, utterly confused.

"What did I do?"

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

Maggie hauled her trunk down the stairs with a lot of banging and crashing. The noise was therapeutic. After her strange chat conversation with the ubiquitous Mr. Weasley., things had gone downhill. Tina was getting more and more skeptical about what was going on. Her supply of cardboard boxes from when she moved in ran out halfway through her stuff, leaving her to cram her belongings into trash bags and pile them in a wobbling heap in the attic. The squirrels who infested the space would have fresh bedding for years. The phone call to the Fabric Zone went about as well as she'd hoped. They'd fired her before she could quit. Good riddance there, at least. And now she was faced with trying to explain to the already-concerned Tina how she planned to move out without a waiting vehicle.

"I'm calling a cab, T."

"The hell you are." Tina stood, fists on her hips, looking determined. "No way are you escaping the country without me at least giving you a lift to the airport."

Maggie gave her a pathetic look. "TinaÂ…I hate goodbyes." A lump grew in her throat, genuine and hard. I'm really doing this. I'm leaving. "IÂ… dammit." The floodgates burst, and the two of them hugged tightly, bawling.

"DuuuudeÂ…chick on chick action! AwwRIGHT!" Ray grinned dopily down from the railing upstairs. Tina flipped him off, sniffling. "Party hard in the UK, Magnum! And get up to AmsterdamÂ… the grass is cheap, and so's the serious perverted action." He flashed her a lewd grin.

Maggie sighed, wiping her eyes. "You're sick, Ray. Besides, that's in Holland. I'm going to Scotland."

He made a dismissive motion with his hand, almost toppling over. "Scotland, HollandÂ… hey, Scotland! Scotch! Send me some, k?" He grinned. "Seriously, though. Take care, girl."

"I will." A loud noise behind her made her turn quickly. Outside, a large VW bus had pulled up, painted purple with gold and silver stars. "Hey RayÂ…expecting the boys?" She choked on the words as the driver hopped out. A seven-foot-tall black man wearing a gold turban, red vest, and poofy purple pants stepped out and waited expectantly, leaning in to beep the horn. It sounded like a snake-charmer's flute.

Tina looked fixedly at Maggie. "This isÂ…something. You expecting this?" Her eyebrow arched.

Maggie gaped out the door, then faked a wan smile at Tina. "I have a feeling I should have." She sighed hard. "I swear I'll be OK" She placed her hands on Tina's shoulder, smiling bravely. "I have to do this."

Tina looked at her, concern warring with confusion. "You're a big girl Mags. JustÂ…be careful. DonÂ’t drink the water. All that stuff." She picked up the ferret box of divination supplies and walked towards the door, opening it for Maggie and her trunk. A cat darted from under the porch and zipped into the front seat of the van.

Maggie stepped down the stairs. The man looked her over and smiled. "Your transport awaits, madame." He bowed with much salaaming of hands, and she smiled nervously, dragging the trunk. He stepped over to the porch and lifted it easily onto his shoulder. She grabbed her last two bags, eyes wide, and followed him, Tina in tow.

They loaded the bags and ferret box into the back of the bus and hugged again. "You've never been normal, Mags. Ever. I should count on that," Tina whispered as she released her friend.

"More than you know, babe. Paint this sceneÂ… it'll sell. Promise." She waved and stepped into the bus through the door the driver had opened.

As it drove down the block, Tina could have sworn another person appeared in the front seat. With a teary sigh, she headed back into the house and walked into the now-empty room. "What did you get into this time, Maggie?" she asked the air, sitting on the edge of the abandoned futon. A crinkle beneath her caught her attention.

She unfolded the piece of notebook paper and began reading.

"Holy shit, Mags." Tina pulled her lighter from her pocket when she'd finished reading the rest of the note. "Leave it to you."

The letter crumpled to ashes in an abandoned incense burner, but she didn't stop staring at it for a very long time.

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

"What is this thing, anyway?" Maggie looked around herself. The back of the bus was carpeted with an oriental rug that extended to the front seat. Cushions lined the interior instead of regular bench seats, and the driver sat cross-legged behind the wheel. A hookah pipe sat next to her.

Minerva turned in her seat and smiled. "Genie Express. The American Magical Association arranged it for us. We should be back at Hogwarts in a moment."

Maggie looked out the window. They were driving towards what seemed to be a completely abandoned factory lot. Minerva smiled approvingly. She nodded to the driver, who crossed his arms, releasing the steering wheel as they headed towards a crumbling concrete wall. Maggie screamed and braced herself as he nodded his head briskly at the windshield.

The bus dropped five feet, bouncing Maggie into her foot locker with a yelp. She sat up again, gasping and gripping her ribs painfully. Everything seemed to be intact, except for her bruised rear and rib, and any sense of serenity she may have ever had. Minerva was straightening her glasses and glaring at the genie, who looked at her haughtily.

Maggie looked out the window. Three wizened faces stared back at her. She yelped and skittered backwards on her hands. They were wearing pointed hats and chatting to each other, gesturing around themselves animatedly. Hogsmeade again. The engine of the bus started up again, startling the staring wizards away, and the bus began rattling up the road to Hogwarts.

She closed her eyes and leaned back against the trunk, trying hard not to cry as reality sank in.