Muggle In Paradise

Chapter 2

By the time the Hogwarts Express ground to a halt, Natasha had to work hard to conceal her anxiety. Initial excitement was beginning to wear off, replaced gradually with some rambling emotion that kept repeating 'what-the-hell-am-I-doing.'

She stepped off the train with Harry, clutching handfuls of chocolate frogs that he had bought for her when she had feigned surprise at only having muggle money in her pockets.

"Well, I think I'll look for Ron and Hermione before they disappear on me," he said. "You have visited the castle, I suppose? So you'll know where to go?"

"Oh, sure," Natasha said automatically, "you go ahead."

Surely she could just follow everyone that was milling about, be inconspicuous.

Harry disappeared out the train door and she followed him, stepping into the flush of people.

Natasha felt like a white king in an army of black pawns. They had all changed into the school uniform she had seen hanging out of the suitcase at King's Cross.

It was very like every other school uniform she had ever seen, aside from one rather unmissable detail: The long black robes over their school sweater, emblazoned with the school crest. Complete with hoods, even.

She found it bizarre that someone included, as part of a school uniform, a garment that was more associated with witches and druids than academics. Perhaps it was similar to the little cloaks university graduates wore to signify their area of expertise. She made this guess because on closer examination, there were splashes of colour in the drab monotone of the uniform.

Natasha herself had never been to university - of those years she had unpleasant memories of being so scatterbrained about jobs that she was in and out of them all the time. She had seen a prospectus, though, and remembered that each colour meant something. Definitely.

The colours were red, green, yellow and blue respectively on these uniforms, only those four she could see. Perhaps they signified what year the pupils were in, or something.

No, they'll be house colours! The little blue badge Natasha had worn back in school to signify her house, Apollo, came back to her.

Gosh, that was a long time ago. All she could remember is that Apollo lost the house singing competition with a terrible rendition of "Summer of '69".

I never kept in touch with anyone from school. Then again, there was nobody to keep in touch with, so no guilt about lost friends. Ahaha. There were none.

She darted about the crowd, trying to look as though she knew where she was going. Perhaps there was a person of authority about she could ask, as the students might be suspicious if a teacher asked them where to go. She felt she could lie more efficiently to an adult, as they were less critical than young people tended to be.

"Firs' years over here! FIRS' YEARS!"

The voice was deafening even over the hubbub of talk, and at first she thought it was someone with a megaphone - but there was no echo. Someone had one hell of a voice. She spun on her heel to find whoever was yelling - if they were looking to collect the first year students they had to be a teacher.

But she couldn't just wander up, there had to be some way to...

Her eyes fell upon a tiny nymph of a girl standing seemingly bewildered in a large throng of young adults twice her size. Her school skirt reached almost to her socks so that only a small crescent of knee showed through. The robes were almost swallowing her whole. Natasha approached her with a brisk, welcoming air.

"Hello. Are you a first-year?"

The girl nodded.

"Do you know where to go?" Easy as pie.

The girl shook her head. "Nan told me to look for Hagrid when I got off, but I don't know who that is."

Natasha nodded sagely. "Yes. Hagrid. Right. Let's go find Hagrid, shall we?"

A man with a voice like that shouldn't be too hard to find, whoever he is.

The girl nodded again, mute once more. Natasha led her vaguely through the crowd, waiting for another yell to follow. "What's your name?" she said in an attempt to buy time.

"Ophelia Parker. I had a grandmother named Ophelia. She named me."

"Not very original of her."

"No. But she had to name me in a hurry, because mum died giving birth to me."

Natasha faltered at that, went over a few sympathetic comments and decided they all sounded too mawkish. Instead she said, "I think Ophelia's a lovely name."

Ophelia frowned and her steps slowed. "It's okay," she said finally, "but it's not a very lucky name."

"Names are lucky? Or unlucky?"

"Some are," she shrugged, "But I don't think there are any lucky names. There are only normal names and unlucky ones."

"And why would your name be..."

"Why are you wearing muggle...?"

They spoke at the same time and a roar cut them both off. "Firs' years..."

Both of them looked up sharply. "I think that's Hagrid," said Ophelia, peering through the forest of legs in front of her. Natasha, at head-level, couldn't see anything.

"Where?" she asked.

Ophelia crouched. "I can see his boots. Grandpa described them to me once. Like stitched-together animals."

Natasha's brow creased at the description, and she opened her mouth to ask another question - but no sound came. In front of her, over the heads and hoods, loomed a figure, an elephantine figure. A gargantuan figure. And it was humanoid.

Or at least some kind of bear-human hybrid.

She had never seen a man as enormous in her life outside of the circus, and she was sure that even then it had just been one guy on another guy's shoulders under a big coat. This man was real - and they were about to talk to him. She purposely slowed by sheer weight of appearance.

As they approached through the crowd, she thought vaguely that his beard would be great for concealing drugs at an airport. Any security guard that went in to look for any might never come out again. The fur overcoat he was wearing alone would house a hundred homeless orphans.

A battalion of moles must have gone into making that thing.
The great man turned when he saw them and Natasha was guiltily relieved to see a warm smile creeping through his beard like a hairy sunrise. "Ah, is this a firs' year we 'ave here? What's yer name?" Definitely the same voice.

Ophelia strode forward, undaunted, and offered a tiny hand. "Ophelia Parker."

"Aye," seemingly pensive about a handshake, he offered three of his fingers for her to take, then noticed Natasha. "An' who migh' you be?"

"Professor Natasha Shiloh," she said without a beat's hesitation. "Defense Against the Dark Arts." Whatever the hell that is.

She hadn't counted the number of times she'd repeated her new titles on the train. It was the first time she'd done anything like that since repeating French verbs before her last exam at school. It didn't help that she hadn't passed that one.

"Oh?" Up shot the eyebrows like twin black hedgerows. "I didn' know Dumbledore had hired anyone, he told me he was givin' the job to Snape this year."

Dumbledore. Sounds important. Remember that for later. Dumbledore is the man that supposedly hired you. Dumbledore. Dumbledore. Remember.

"I believe it was last-minute, yes," she replied, defensive ice creeping into her tone. "However, I don't believe Dumbledore is one to make rash decisions, so hopefully he's made the right choice." A bluff, I do declare.

"Oh, o'course," Hagrid puffed up. "Never a wrong decision wi' Dumbledore. Great man. Great wizard." A creaking nod.

She wasn't sure about what the word 'wizard' meant in the context. It seemed corny to use in that way. "Anyway, I've been told to help with the first years, seeing as I rode the train," she said. Lies were slipping off her tongue like ice cubes. It was so easy. A vomit of falsities, and everything was working so well.

Because you're taking advantage of their kindness and sincerity. Oh, shut up.

"That's good, I'd appreciate the help. They do get a bi' rowdy," Hagrid grinned - or at least she thought so. It was hard to tell what his expression was most of the time. The smiles were easier, though, because they always reached his eyes. "One of 'em always seems ter fall out of a boat on the way. I swear someone's gonna drown sooner or later."

Ophelia lowered her eyes to the ground. Natasha folllowed her gaze, but she didn't seem to be looking at anything. There was no time to question her, though, because Hagrid was moving off with the crowd of milling first years. "Professor Shiloh, would'ya mind taking up the back?"

She herded the children along, nervous and excited, wondering where on earth they were going next. Hagrid had mentioned boats, so she supposed that that was the next part of their journey. And indeed soon they came to a dock where many little rowboats were tethered, hung with glowing lanterns. Natasha hadn't noticed it getting dark in her anxiety but the soft glowing lights woke her up to the fact.

There didn't seem to be any oars in the boats, and even if there were, how could children this young have the strength to row them?

Shaking her head in puzzlement, she got into a boat with Ophelia and a few others. The moment the last boy had stepped in, the boat shuddered to life and began to move. It made her heart leap. What on earth was happening?
She tried not to look around too frantically as the boat began to glide off over the ink-watered lake. What was pulling the goddamn thing? What was pulling it?

She couldn't see any oars or ropes or strings. No poles or pulleys or gears.

So how?

"How?" she whispered, her lips moving soundlessly in the dark when the word was gone, moving in wonderment. The children seemed unconcerned. They were talking, oblivious. Ophelia wasn't joining the conversation. She was staring into the water, her sprightly mood of before sapped.

Unable to contain her curiosity, Natasha, trying to look casual, slipped a hand beneath the water at the front of the boat, pushed it underneath the hull and rubbed it about for as long as she could stand; she felt like it was piercing her skin.

Nothing. No underwater mechanism. She had thought it was similar to a log flume at first. And if it was, her hand might be crushed. She pulled it out.

Nothing. She cast her gaze across the lake to where Hagrid was loading the last of the children into the boats, and watched them as they drew away. Everything seemed to blend into the dark, only barely illuminated by the pale orange of the lights. Chips of white highlighted the water, matching the gloss of Ophelia's hair and the reflection of her wristwatch. She listened to the echoing creak as Hagrid lowered himself into the last boat on his own.

There was a sudden intake of breath from the children opposite her. "Oooh!" one little girl breathed. "Look! I can see it! I can see Hogwarts!"

"So can I!" said a boy. "I saw it before you, though. I swear I did."

Ophelia turned and Natasha saw her eyes widen and begin to glow. There was a shadow in her pupils - tall and strong, a glorious straight edge. The reflection of a building across the lake.

Natasha knew that if she turned, she'd see it.

But she paused. It was a moment, a turning-point, and despite her lack of knowledge about everything in general, she knew that if the turned to see this Hogwarts there would be no turning back the other way. She didn't think it in words, she felt it in an organ - maybe her heart or her stomach - just some tiny piece of intuition telling her that this was it. An action and she was gone.

Natasha turned, her throat contracting, and saw Hogwarts.

It towered over the trees rimming the lake and seemed to lean over them, circling above them in as perfect an arch as the velveteen sky, clear tonight, with hardly any stars to light it. Her eyes flashed from one detail to the other - a turret, a lighted window, a silver steeple - before she could take it in in its entirety.

It seemed to leap towards her, to envelop her, even as a night shadow of its true self.

She had never wished more for day. But she could see it well enough. Well enough to bask in the very sight of it. She gripped the side of the boat. Her eyes watered, though they were on fire. Her hands trembled like they did whenever she saw a bird flying high.

And for a place she'd never even seen.

But she didn't need to have seen it. It had always been there, just a feeling inside her with no shape or physicality. It was that place everyone wants to go. That place people might say is fantasy. And fantasy means unreal. But this is real. This is a real place and I'm seeing it right now. A dreamworld.

So this was Hogwarts.

A secret school, boats that move without motor or sails, chocolate frogs and robes.

People called Hagrid and Harry and Hermione.

It was the strangest thing the world had ever given her. And it was also the most beautiful. So much so that she felt that if she looked at it any longer, her heart might burst and run down through her body to her feet.

That place everyone wants to go. That...fantasy world.

Awe consumed her and something snapped. Things tied together in her mind and began to work, began to make sense in a new way, as she looked at the Castle.

Natasha tasted magic.