...And Justice For All?

     C&C & MSTs are welcome.

     ...AND JUSTICE FOR ALL?

     by Scott K. Jamison

     Chapter Four: A Train Bound For Glory

     King's Cross Station was covered in scaffolding. Duncan had seen in the newspaper that it had been scheduled for demolition, but a last-minute political deal had saved it for renovation instead. Knowing what he now did, Duncan wondered if wizards had something to do with that.

     Dodging construction workers, he and Mum went in search of Platform 9 3/4. As Duncan had half-expected, there was no such place. But the crowd was thicker between Platforms Nine and Ten, so there was probably some trick to it. Sure enough, a teenage girl in robes suddenly walked through one of the dividers and vanished.

     "Over there, Mum," said Duncan, pointing in that direction.

     "But there's nothing there, Duncan. It's just a stone wall." Even as Mum said this, a boy walked through the divider. She didn't seem to notice.

     "Hey Duncan!" A waving arm in the crowd turned out to be attached to Cuchulain. The dark-eyed boy was accompanied by his mother and a teenaged girl who bore a strong family resemblance to them.

     "Cuchulain, hi! This is my Mum, you remember her."

     "Good morning, Cuchulain," said Mum, a bit curtly.

     "Top of the morning to you, Ma'am." Cuchulain was looking freshly scrubbed, and the glance he shot to his own mother suggested he'd been told to mind his manners. "This is my mother, and my sister Morrigan."

     Morrigan, dressed in an uncomfortably-formal dress, said, "Pleased to meet you, I'm sure." The expression on her face spoke of inutterable boredom.

     Mrs. O'Shaughnessy, who seemed to think that she had been invited to a costume party as a gypsy queen, with an extravagant dress and even more jewelry than she'd worn in Diagon Alley, smiled broadly. "I'm so pleased Cuchulain will have a friend with him at school."

     "I suppose so," said Mum uncertainly. "But--aren't you worried about this? It's so far away."

     "Bright Lady, yes, I've worried. And shall worry still. But I've read the prospectus, and Hogwarts is safe as houses, so it says. And my boy will owl me every week, right Cuchulain?"

     "Yes, Mother," he said in a long-suffering tone.

     "But how do we get to this Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, anyway?" asked Morrigan. "I don't see a sign."

     "May I help you with that?" The speaker was a tall redheaded man pushing a very overloaded baggage cart. Beside him were four red-headed children descending in size from nearly as tall as the man to just shorter than Duncan. "I'm Ron Weasley."

     The mothers introduced themselves and their children. "We're looking for the platform," said Mum, still oblivious to the steady stream of people walking through the wall.

     Mr. Weasley looked a bit embarrassed as he said, "If you're not wizards, you can't get there from here, so you'd best say your goodbyes now. Oh, and these are my lot, Thomas, Richard, Peggy and Martin." He pointed from oldest to youngest.

     "Very pleased to meet you," said Morrigan, looking directly at Thomas with a large smile. The tall boy seemed embarrassed as he mumbled "Likewise."

     "Martin's just starting this year, like your boys," added Mr. Weasley.

     "So many children!" said Mrs. O'Shaughnessey, "how did you get that approved? I had Morrigan and Cuchulain before we moved to England, or we'd have been in big trouble."

     "The Population Restraint laws don't apply to wizards, as such. We fall under the 'minority' loophole."

     "Oh." Mrs. O'Shaughnessey did not look pleased.

     Duncan looked at Martin. The other boy shyly hid behind his father. His robes looked too large for him, as though they'd been handed down from one of his siblings.

     "Come on, Martin, I know you miss your mother, but you know why she couldn't be here." Mr. Weasley pushed his son forward. "Say hello to Duncan....did you say 'Dursley?'"

     "H'lo," said Martin, and promptly hid again.

     "Don't know where he gets it from," muttered Mr. Weasley. "Certainly not from me, and his mother could never be called timid. But as I was saying, 'Dursley'?"

     "Yes," replied Mum. Duncan hadn't told her that the name was unpopular; perhaps he should have.

     "Not *Dudley* Dursley?" Mr. Weasley was frowning and staring straight at Duncan.

     "He's my husband," Mum admitted.

     Mr. Weasley stared at Duncan a bit longer, his frown deepening. Then he burst into laughter.

     Everyone looked at the redheaded man as though he'd gone mad.

     "Serves him right! Who says there's no justice in the world, eh?"

     "You don't mean he's related to--?" asked Richard, pointing. He had a nasty smile on his face.

     "I do indeed," replied his father. Then Mr. Weasley looked thoughtful. "That's going to cause problems. Thomas, you're a prefect this year, look after young Duncan this year, would you? Make sure any trouble doesn't get out of hand?"

     "Yessir," said Thomas, tearing his attention away from Morrigan. She looked unhappy with the interruption.

     One more round of 'goodbyes' later, Mr. Weasley lined the children up facing the divider. "Thomas, you've had the most experience, show them how."

     The tall boy took the cart at a brisk walk, and vanished into solid stone. Mum gasped, and Morrigan looked around confusedly. "Where'd he go?"

     "The platform," assured Mr. Weasley. "Peggy, could you take your nose out of that book for *one* minute? It's not even a schoolbook!"

     The Weasley girl, who'd not said one word so far, snapped the book closed and stuffed it away too fast for Duncan to read the title. She too swiftly passed the barrier.

     Cuchulain didn't even wait to be told, whooping a bit and going at a dead run. His mother flinched and seemed relieved when he didn't turn into a red paste. Richard strolled more dignifiedly.

     "Your turn, Martin."

     The small boy shook his head. "Don't want to."

     "Come on, my boy. Gryffindors are brave. Even when they're afraid, they find the courage to do what has to be done. You'd like your mother to be proud of you, right?"

     Martin nodded, and straightened up. He wiped his face with a sleeve and marched into the wall.

     That left Duncan. Mum hugged him once again and gave him a big kiss. "I love you, Duncan, and your Da does too, no matter what he says."

     "I love you too, Mum." He had his reservations as to what Da's feelings were. Duncan pried her arms off and took his luggage cart in hand.

     Surprisingly, he didn't feel anything as he went through the barrier. It just suddenly wasn't there, and he was on a bustling train platform that looked like he'd stepped backwards in time. Duncan knew that no one had run engines like that on a British railway in nearly fifty years, and the cars were similarly old-fashioned, especially with their bright red and gold paint jobs.

     A man in blue robes with brass buttons and a funny-looking hat was shouting, "All aboard the Hogwarts Express! Ten minutes until departure!"

     Duncan left his luggage with the porters, and looked around. Not far down the train, Cuchulain was sticking his head out a window and waving. "This way, Duncan!"

     The old-fashionedness of the train extended to semi-private compartments with cushiony seats. Cuchulain and Martin were already in one, Duncan's friend firmly occupying a window seat.

     As other students passed by, Duncan could hear fragments of conversation.

     "--owls just aren't the same as email. And I think this is the first time I haven't been carrying a cell phone since the beginning of holiday."

     "I'll be just as happy to be a little out of touch, but my brother had better be recording Prince of Denmark like he promised, or I'll show him what new Charms I've learned this year."

     "Eww! Keep that stupid toad away from my face, or I'll make you eat it!"

     "Like your polecat is such a great familiar, I'm so sure."

     "--more Muggleborns every year, it seems. I'm working on why that is for my NEWT thesis. "

     "I suppose it's better than yet another 'how Harry Potter beat Voldemort' paper; I hear the teachers are getting really tired of those." Duncan sat up and paid attention at that, but the older students had already moved on.

     He heard the conductor make the final call, and shortly thereafter, the whistle blew as the train began to move.

     "Hey, Martin, your dad's out there, you want to wave?" asked Cuchulain.

     The shy boy got up and smiled as he waved.

     Since Duncan was looking that way, he didn't see whoever came in and sat down with a thump beside him.

     "Hoo! Just made it! Imagine, missing the train to Hogwarts, no one would ever let me live it down." It was a girl's voice.

     Duncan turned to see it was indeed a girl, about his age, with messy black hair tied off with a red ribbon. She had a pleasant, open face with rosy cheeks and a friendly expression. Of course, the rosy cheeks might have come from running, and she was breathing heavily.

     "Uh, hi." She seemed familiar. "Didn't I see you flying a broomstick in Diagon Alley a couple of weeks ago?"

     "You...saw that? Yes, but I think I'm getting the hang of it now. Maybe I can even make the Quidditch team someday. Oh, I'm Kirsten Kinnock, and this is my cat Jinx." The girl indicated a black cat that was emerging from behind her.

     "My name's Duncan," and he pulled out the carrying case, "This is my chameleon George." The lizard was almost black in the shadows.

     "One of my uncles is named George," mentioned Martin. "But I'm not sure which one."

     "Cuchulain O'Shaughnessey at your service, and pleased to meet such a pretty colleen." Kirsten frowned a bit at that. "My owl, Mountain High, is in the luggage car."

     "Mountain High?"

     "He's a *big* owl."

     Kirsten rolled her eyes. "And you?"

     "Oh, me? I'm Martin Weasley. I haven't got a pet."

     "Wait a minute, you said your uncle was named George, so...George Weasley?" Kirsten looked very interested.

     Martin said, "Yes. He and my Uncle Fred run a joke shop."

     "Weasley's Wheezes! That's my favorite shop! Except my parents won't let me go there unless one of them is right there with me." Kirsten sounded a little resentful.

     "Same here," said Martin. "My father says my uncles are 'irresponsible and childish.' But they've been running their shop just fine."

     "What does your father do?" asked Kirsten.

     "Something with the Ministry, like Grandfather. He doesn't talk about it much."

     Kirsten nodded. "My mother does potions and herbal remedies."

     "My father is an engineer for a construction firm," said Cuchulain. "And Mother is an artist. She paints unicorns and fairys onto rocks and such."

     Duncan admitted, "Da sells drills."

     At this point, the sweets trolley, navigated by an ancient-looking witch, arrived. Duncan didn't recognize any of the brand names on the candy, but it all looked mouth-watering.

     "Oh, it does an old woman's heart good to see eyes getting so wide. What'll you have, loves?"

     Duncan's first impulse was to buy one of everything, but he knew that he'd have to make his spending money last at least until Christmas. He focused on remembering that Mum had made him a bag lunch that was oversized even by Dursley standards.

     It seemed that the other children were similarly impoverished, with Kirsten having the most discretionary funds. They pooled their Knuts and bought two items each. There was much haggling over who got how much of which thing, though Martin didn't take any of the Every-Flavor Beans.

     "I always get spinach flavor," he explained.

     "Yuck," chorused the others.

     Duncan decided, after the tasting, that he liked the Fizzing Whizzbees best.

     There was a knock at the entryway, which proved to be Thomas. "Everything all right in here?" he asked. Duncan saw that he'd attached a shiny-looking badge to his robes that read "Prefect."

     "Fine, Thomas," said Martin quietly.

     "Oh, I see you found a pretty girl for your compartment."

     Both Martin and Kirsten got redder cheeks. The boy sputtered "I-it's not like that, Thomas!"

     "He's just teasing," said Cuchulain. "And it's not as though he's above a little flirting with my sister, eh?"

     Thomas grinned. "Right you are, lad. But none of that cheekiness when you're at school. I'm a respected figure, I am. And you want to be careful around the teachers. Some of them have no sense of humor at all."

     After getting Kirsten's name, the tall boy went on to check the next compartment.

     Polishing off the candy, the children started talking about Quidditch. Apparently it was a sport played on broomsticks, with multiple balls, some of which attacked the players. It sounded horribly confusing to Duncan, but then he couldn't figure out cricket either, and he'd *played* that.

     Despite having presumably ruined their appetites, when lunchtime arrived, everyone in the compartment was hungry. So it was out with the lunches.

     Martin looked disconsolately at his single sandwich. "Spam. Father really isn't a very good cook."

     "Stuffed pancakes here," reported Kirsten. "Oh, and apples."

     "Beansprouts and tofu." Cuchulain sighed. "Mother's a vegetarian."

     Duncan felt guilty about his five sandwiches (two peanut butter and jelly, one tuna salad, and two roast beef with lashings of horseradish), three bulbs of soda pop, and chocolate cake. "Would anyone like to have some of mine?" he asked. It was odd, he'd never thought of doing something like that before. But then at Fallstone Grammar School, the other kids had just grabbed his food without asking.

     "May I please?" said Martin, and when Duncan nodded, tore his own sandwich in four pieces. "Then I'll share too."

     The other two put their food up as well, Kirsten a little reluctantly. "I actually *like* stuffed pancakes."

     They'd made good progress in demolishing the lunch when Richard appeared in the doorway, with a couple of other boys his age behind him, peeping in.

     "Hullo, Martin. My, you're eating like a pig, aren't you? Or perhaps I should say 'like a Dursley?'" Richard had that nasty smile on his face again.

     Martin paled and shrank against the seat.

     Kirsten glared at the intruder. "There's no need to be rude, you know. We all put in some food."

     "Oh, that's nice. But don't you realize who you've got in your compartment with you? That's a--Ow!" Something had bounced off his head.

     "I should have known you'd be teasing the little ones," came a sharp girl's voice. "Can't leave you alone for a moment, can I?"

     "Oh come on, Peggy, we were just having a bit of fun. Martin doesn't mind, do you, old fellow?" Richard's face bespoke later hurting if Martin disagreed.

     Martin shook his head, but didn't speak.

     Peggy's voice came again. "I know you better than that, Richard. Shove off, or I'll tell the firsties *your* nickname. And that goes for you too, Wellington, Chapman."

     The two boys behind Richard backed up a bit. One, Duncan thought it might be Wellington, said, "C'mon, Richard. It's not worth it to upset your sister. You know she casts spells like a seventh-year. I've got Exploding Snap back in my tote bag."

     Richard shrugged. "It's not as though I haven't got a whole year, I suppose. See you kids later." He and his entourage left.

     A moment later, Peggy popped in. "I hope my brother didn't upset you too much. Honestly! Does he think that just because I like to read, I don't pay attention to what goes on around me?"

     "Thanks, Sis," said Martin.

     "Is it true that you cast spells at a seventh-year level?" asked Kirsten. "You don't look older than a third-year."

     Peggy looked both proud and bashful. "I'm not really *that* good, but I am better than my big brother. Father says I remind him of Mother when she was my age. She was really, really smart."

     Duncan noticed Peggy was holding the same book as she'd had in the station, but now he could see that the title was "Introduction to Quantum Physics."

     "I thought your father said that wasn't a school book."

     "Oh, not at Hogwarts it isn't." Peggy smiled a little dreamily. "But I want to go to a Muggle university after Hogwarts, so I can use science as well as magic. Great strides have been made, but I can make greater ones."

     "You get out from under my skirt!" was heard from down the corridor, and Peggy sighed.

     "Someone's familiar has gotten loose again. I'd better go see if I can help. Stay lucid, kids."

     "Lucid?" asked Cuchulain when the older girl was gone.

     "You got me," said Martin.

     "I think it means 'clear-headed'," said Duncan.

     Martin thought about it for a moment. "Sounds right."

     After they finished the meal and cleared up the rubbish, there was a lull in the conversation, and the gentle swaying of the train made Duncan sleepy. He dropped off for what he assured himself would be just a short nap.

     It was already dark when Duncan was shaken awake by Cuchulain. "Time to get up, sleepyhead! We're almost there, and we're supposed to get into our robes."

     Kirsten had worn hers all along, so she went out into the corridor while the boys changed.

     Duncan looked out the window. The stars were brighter here than he'd ever seen them before. The countryside was nearly completely dark, only distant glows from cottages and a large one that must be a village visible. The train's whistle sounded again, and Duncan thought it both lonely and proud at the same time.

     There was a hushed whispering throughout the train, with only one phrase common to all: "We're almost to Hogwarts!"