An Australian in Hogsmeade

***

The next day I checked out of the youth hostel where I'd been staying and headed off for King's Cross Station. The train I was catching didn't leave until 11:30, but I left myself plenty of time for getting lost in. Which meant that I arrived at the station with an hour to spare.

I'd enjoyed the trek to King's Cross; it was the first day of autumn and already the air was coolish. Not like home, where summer hung on as long as possible. Not so much in Bridgetown, but in Perth, where I'd gone to high school, it always took ages for any signs of autumn cool to arrive. We'd still be swimming - quite happily and not just in PE lessons - at Easter and in second term we were allowed to wear the summer uniform for the first two weeks if we wished. Which the majority of the school did wish, even though for boarders it meant sacrificing some precious packing space for the extra skirts and blouses.

I made my way to platform ten, where my train would leave from, and considered what I could do to kill an hour. I could sketch. I could sit and simply watch the rest of King's Cross Station go by - which, if I was honest with myself, would probably lead to me pulling out the sketchpad anyway. Or I could sit down and doze in an attempt to recover some of the sleep I hadn't got the night before, for one reason and another. Including a rather late-night cup of coffee.

I took my pack off, lay it on the ground next to the barrier between platforms 9 and 10 and sat on it, leaning back against the barrier. It was my bushwalking pack; waterproof, so the near-continual London rain wasn't a problem, and far more convenient to travel with than a suitcase. And of course there was the added advantage of being able to use it as a quite comfortable seat. I was also wearing my bushwalking boots; unfashionable they may have been, but they were comfortable, I could walk forever in them and, like the pack, they were waterproof - an undeniable advantage in all the puddles on the streets.

I set the alarm on my watch for quarter past eleven, then closed my eyes with the full intention of having a nice, three-quarter hour catnap.

The next thing I heard was a cry of "Look out!" Before I could do anything I was on my back on cold cement. My head felt like it would soon be sporting a nice lump at the back, just as soon as it stopped ringing. My pack was under my knees and there something hard and heavy on one of my feet. My shins, like my shoulder blades, felt like they were going to be sporting several colours not normally found on the human skin. There was someone sprawled over my legs - presumably the one who had cried out - and I could hear hooting from somewhere nearby.

It was obvious that someone had crashed into me and knocked me over, so I decided to forego the usual mutterings of "What happened?" as I opened my eyes. The first thing I saw was the person on my legs getting up.

"Sorry about that, lost control of the trolley… I did try and warn you but it was a bit late. Need a hand up?"

I looked up at him. He was resettling glasses on his nose with one hand, which then moved up to flick messy black hair away from his eyes.

"I should be fine, if you could just shift that trolley off my foot… Thanks." I struggled up and gingerly felt the back of my head. "Ouch." True to my prediction, there was a lovely egg already forming. I sat on the ground and righted my pack. Near the top was a frozen water bottle wrapped in a cloth. I like to drink water cold, so whenever I can I have two water bottles; one frozen, the other normal. I wrap the frozen one with the normal to keep it cool.

"You okay?" That was the boy who'd run into me.

"Yeah, just hang on a minute… got it!"

I pulled out the frozen water bottle, held it to my head and sat back down on my pack. I suddenly noticed that the hooting had been getting louder. Looking over at the trolley, I saw a cage which contained beautiful snowy owl.

"Is that your owl? You'd better check it, it's sounding a little stressed. Not that I'd be cool, calm and collected if my cage had been tipped on its side."

He grinned at that and went to reassure the owl. I checked my watch; it was ten to eleven. Wonderful. My nice little catnap had been rudely interrupted not even halfway through. I started looking around. There were people everywhere, mostly kids with a few adults here and there. There was a train in front of me - a bright red steam engine. I was about to ask the boy why on earth there was a steam train here when I heard a yell.

"Harry!"

I would have ignored it if it hadn't been for the sound of approaching feet that went with it. I looked up and saw two people running towards where the black-haired boy and I were. It was a tall, red haired boy with a long nose and freckles who'd yelled out.

"Harry, you made it, we were getting worried you wouldn't, you might have missed the first day of classes!"

That was the other person who'd run up; a girl with bushy hair, brown eyes, and, judging by what she'd just said, an incredible lung capacity. The boy who'd knocked me over looked up at them.

"Ron! Hermione!"

The two caught him up in a three way hug, arms going everywhere and glasses getting knocked askew once again.

"Never mind that Hermione, he's here and who cares if he'd missed classes? It's the feast that's important. Harry, you ok? I saw your sudden entry."

Hermione looked a little annoyed at Ron's easy dismissal of classes but didn't say anything.

"I'm fine, I had a landing pad, although I'm not so sure about… I'm sorry, I never introduced myself to you, I'm Harry."

I was a little surprised - a teenaged boy with manners? Granted, he had been polite enough before, but I'd put that down to shock. Wonders will never cease, I thought.

"No problem. I'm Jenna. And any contributions to the involuntary landing pad cause are welcome, all donations over two dollars are tax deductable."

Harry and Hermione laughed while Ron just looked confused and said "Two whats?" Hermione sighed and just said "Oh honestly…" Then she glanced at her watch.

"Oh my god, we've got five minutes to get all this stuff on the train!"

She seemed to be including me - or rather my pack - in this. I was about to protest and say I wasn't catching the same train as them and that mine was leaving from platform ten in half an hour. As I thought of the number I looked up to check that I was still on - or near, at least - my platform. Instead of the familiar, normal, black one-zero I saw a sign just above the red steam engine that proclaimed to the world the existence of platform nine and three quarters. Beneath it was another sign that said "Hogwarts Express, 11 o'clock." The writing on both was more elaborate than the plain, stark signs I'd seen in the rest of King's Cross Station, but I didn't notice that so much at the time. I was preoccupied with trying to figure why the management of King's Cross had deemed it necessary to have fractions in platform number.

Then I noticed that I couldn't see any of the other platforms or their trains or even their passengers and guards, and I decided that fractions weren't that important in the face of this latest revelation.

I came to the only possibly conclusion, logical or otherwise. I was not where I had been. I had no idea how to get back or even if it was possible.

I thought about my options. I could ask how to get back to platform 10 so I could continue to Scotland as planned. Harry, Ron and Hermione seemed nice enough, but if they realised I wasn't supposed to be here they might act completely differently. It would, at the least, probably lead to a string of questions.

Or I could play along and see what happened. I was on holiday, I had no set timetable beyond eating when hungry and sleeping when tired. I had ample cash on me and all my stuff in my pack. And besides, wasn't the point of my coming to Europe in the first place to see what I hadn't seen and didn't know? If this new place didn't qualify as "unknown", I didn't know what would.

I knelt and returned the water bottle to my pack, pulling the straps tight. Harry and Co. were already putting his stuff on the train.

"Need a hand?" Ron had come back.

"Nah, I'll be right."

I hoisted my pack up, resting it on my thigh before swinging it onto my back. I buckled the waistband, feeling the weight of the pack shift from being mostly on my shoulder to being mostly on my hips and legs, and followed Ron onto the train.

As I stepped onto the carriage, I silently blessed the London rain for the first time since I'd been in the city. It seemed that Harry's trolley had run over my toes and my boots had protected my toes from more than puddles that morning.

Once on the train, I separated myself from the trio. They were obviously school friends who hadn't seen each other for a while. Come to think of it... The British school year started at the end of their summer, didn't it? Which meant now, evidently. So these three hadn't seen each other for a couple of months, which was all the more reason for me to leave them to rediscovering and reaffirming their friendship.

As they wandered down the carriage I heard Ron repeat "Two whats?"

"Dollars, Ron. Muggle currency."

"But I thought that was pounds?"

I turned away and walked in the opposite direction, leaving the explanations to Hermione, who seemed perfectly capable of explaining dollars to Ron. If nothing else, she seemed to understand why he hadn't heard of dollars. I wondered if anyone in the US realised that there was at least one kid in England who didn't know of them.

I started looking for a seat. This train seemed to have compartments; I'd never seen such a thing in a train before, only read about them. For that matter, I'd never been on a steam train before, so for all I knew they were standard issue in these things.

I managed to find myself an empty compartment, despite the number of people on the train. Shedding my pack, I shut the door and drew the curtain across the little window in it. Then I stepped back and considered. I wanted privacy to think about this situation I'd found myself in and that meant ensuring no interruptions. I knelt and opened my pack once again; it seemed I couldn't keep it closed for five minutes straight that morning. I pulled out a few pieces of clothing, rolled them up and stuffed them under the door. Then I picked up my pack and leaned it against the door for good measure. It wouldn't stop anyone who really wanted to get in, but it would suffice against the idly curious. I pulled out my sketchbook, pencil case, the unfrozen water bottle, and my CDs and discman. Closing the pack once more, I went and settled myself in the corner of the seat by the window.

We were just leaving the platform. I could see some parents and young children waving from the platform. One plump, short woman had hair as red as Ron's; his mother, I thought. She looked friendly enough, but formidable in her own way. As if she would be as equally capable at wielding a rolling pin as a club as for its intended purpose. If she were Ron's mother it would certainly explain his manners. There was a tall, thin man next to the woman, balding but what hair he had was again as red as Ron's.

Then the Hogwarts Express in all its bright red glory entered a tunnel and Platform Nine and Three-Quarters vanished from view.

I turned my mind to my more immediate problems, starting with Where on earth am I? and moving right on to Where am I going?

I decided to leave those for a bit. Food at least wouldn't be a problem; these kids had to be fed somehow, after all. Besides, I had my own lunch - and a few other food essentials - in my pack. And it wasn't like I'd been dumped in the middle of the Great Sandy Desert. Instead I was on a train to a school with kids - or a kid, at least - who were worried about missing and probably some other kids who thinking things that would make teachers and some prefects reach for a detention slip. All perfectly normal and civilised, if you chose to ignore a few minor - and some not so minor - details.

Like that I'd already finished school. I'd sat my TEE, got a decently high rank, and passed my English subject. I'd even endured a final night of speeches, stockings, blazer and tie to get the little bit of paper that said I'd graduated from high school. So I really had neither reason nor wish to be on a train going to a school.

Like that train had left from a platform with a number that had no logical business being a platform number. Nine and three-quartes? It made no sense. Nine and a half I could have - maybe- understood; they'd needed a platform between nine and ten for some reason and hadn't wanted to renumber the entire bit of the station that had platform numbers that came after ten. Even 9.1 I could have dealt with; same as for nine and a half, just reflecting the ever increasing influence of computers and software companies in the world. But nine and three-quarters was completely illogical and nonsensical no matter how fancy a font it was written in. Besides, all those hypothetical explanations ignored a fairly major point; the disappearance not only of platforms nine and ten, but of King's Cross Station in all its entirety, people and trains included.

There were a few other things as well, like since when were steam engines used as transport in a developed country other than as a tourist attraction, and why on earth would a schoolboy have a gorgeous snowy owl as a pet? Quite apart from the whole owl factor - unusual enough in itself - I was fairly sure that snowy owls were under threat as a species, and possibly endangered.

These things, however, seemed fairly insignificant compared to the disappearance of a station. I considered all sorts of possible explanations, including mass teleportation. That one seemed as likely as some of the things I'd come up with; after all, scientists had managed to teleport a little particle - an electron or alpha particle or something - a considerable distance in relation to the particle's size. Although as far as I knew they hadn't got much beyond that.

Finally I gave up for the moment; where I was was constantly changing as the train progressed, and I'd find out at least the name of where we were going when we got there. I turned to me CDs and sketchbook. Boots off my feet, I curled up and immersed myself in starting Tom's picture to the sounds of the Red Hot Chilli Peppers.

***

I woke suddenly as the train began slowing. I had evidently dozed off at some point after lunch, finishing the nap that Harry had interrupted. Outside my compartment I could hear people moving around, older students with deeper, more mature voices telling the shrill younger ones to put their robes on right now, please, we're almost there and the carriages won't wait long. I started putting my stuff back in my pack, but I left it leaning against the door. I didn't feel like explaining that not only did I have no robes, I wasn't a student either. I could hear someone asking people if they'd seen his toad. Responses ranged from confused no's to a groan of "Oh not again! Come on, we'll check the next carriage." That one actually sounded remarkably like Hermione. I just wondered why anyone would want a toad for a pet.

A voice came over the PA system - or equivalent, I wasn't going to take anything for granted at this stage and I hadn't noticed any speakers - saying that luggage was to be left behind as it would be taken up to the school separately.

Eventually the train stopped. I looked out the window as I waited for the carriage to empty somewhat. There was a small platform outside which was gradually filling with black-robed kids and teenagers. A sign said "Hogsmeade Station" and I assumed that Hogsmeade was the town the school was either in or near.

Eventually I decided it was time to get off the train, before it decided to do something like vanish as the ones at King's Cross had. I hoisted my pack onto the seat and then my back, doing up the waist- and chestbands. I left my little haven and emerged from the carriage into a sea of black robes.

In the midst of all the black, I saw a few flashes of that bright red hair and realised Ron must have a few siblings. Or cousins, maybe. On one side a huge man was calling for "Firs' years! Firs' years this way!"

Definitely not me. I turned away from him and saw for the first time some of the odd looks I was getting. The platform by this time was beginning to empty a little, the little first years going off to the giant man. They really were little, far smaller than I remembered year eights being. Possibly this school started younger than thirteen. The other students were going to what I would have called horse-drawn carriages, save for the lack of horses. Now that there were fewer people, I realised I stood out quite a bit. I was the only one in "normal" clothing - cargoes, a bright blue t-shirt and my hiking boots, which I'd put on again after I woke. I was also the only one carrying my luggage with me

I looked around the station. Whatever else, I flatly refused to consider going to the school. A strong case of been there, done that, if you will. There was a sign with "Hogsmeade" and an arrow on it, swinging gently in the light breeze. I began to make my way over to the path it pointed to when I heard a croak.

Down by my feet was, unmistakably, a toad. I sighed. I do not like toads, possibly a legacy of the horror stories of cane toads that my mother used to tell my sister and I. However, England, to the best of my knowledge, did not have cane toads, and this toad probably belonged to the kid on the train who'd been looking for one. I sighed again. I did not want to get involved with this school any more than necessary. On the other hand, the kid had sounded fairly upset at losing his toad.

I saw another glimpse of that red hair, which was longer this time. If Hermione knew the toad-kid, as it had sounded like from what I'd heard, then this girl who was presumably related to Ron possibly did as well. Picking up the toad, I headed towards her.

"Hey!" I called.

She looked around at me.

"Could you give this to the kid who was looking for his toad?" I handed said creature to her, giving her credit for not dropping it, despite being surprised.

"What? Oh… that'd be Neville."

Then she looked at me, curiosity written on her face.

"Who're you? And why aren't you in your robes?"

Questions. Questions that, for some reason, I didn't feel like answering.

"Never mind. Just give the kid the toad."

I left her looking a little confused - welcome to my world, I thought - and started on the path to Hogsmeade.

***

The main street of Hogsmeade, which I could see in the distance, was darker than I'd expected it to be. The sun had almost completely fallen by this time - it'd taken me a good half hour to get to where I was, most of it uphill, and I was maybe ten minutes from the edge of the town. Come tomorrow, my calves would be aching, unless I could give them some tender loving care tonight. Something along the lines of a nice, long soak in a hot bath.

The air against my bare arms was a lot cooler than in London. I was comfortable in my t-shirt, but if I hadn't just been exerting myself, I would have needed a reasonably thick jumper. Sighing, I kept on trudging, hoping to find a good dinner, a bath and a comfortable bed.

As I drew closer, I noticed something peculiar about the street lights. They were spaced further apart than what I was used to, but that wasn't it. They were shaped more like lanterns, as if the town planners had been trying to create an atmosphere of Olde England, but again that wasn't what was really bothering me. In place of an electric light bulb, each street lantern had a dancing flame caged within the glass, and those flames simply floated in the middle of their lanterns, seemingly having no need for wick or candle.

I moved on down the street to the one place that seemed open. A sign welcomed me to The Three Broomsticks.

Well, well, well. The second pub with an interesting name in as many days. I walked up to the doors and pushed one open, letting in a draught of cool air and letting out some warmth and noise. It was the only place I could see that looked like it might have rooms and was open.

Someone yelled at me to stop dilly-dallying in the doorway; to come or go but either way shut the blasted door!

I made my way into the room, letting the door close behind me. As it swung to, a stand which held several cloaks and odd hats - again!- was revealed in all its glory. Like the main street, The Three Broomsticks was lit by floating flames, save that these were not in glass but bobbed freely around, well above the heads of the patrons and away from anything that might catch alight.

I made my way over to a counter that seemed to serve both as reception and bar. On the way, I noticed a lot of people wearing similar robes to those I'd seen on the students, only with more variety in colour and style.

A woman looked at me from behind the bar.

"Hello! Welcome to the Three Broomsticks... wait a moment." She looked up at me. "Shouldn't you be at the school?"

"No, I shouldn't." I was aware that my tone was flat, but I was irritated and too tired to play the part of the nice guest. I know I look younger than I am, but honestly! Although I did have to give her credit for realising that the time was about right for me to have walked from the station after arriving on the Hogwarts Express. I made an effort be a little more friendly - after all, I had no idea where I was nor how long I'd be there. "I'd like a room, please - and some dinner also."

She pulled out a thick, heavy book from under the counter. It looked reasonably old; it was a hardback, covered it what looked like leather, and when she opened it I saw that the pages were thick and slightly yellow, as if from age.

"How long will you be staying?"

I thought about it, realising that I had no idea.

"Umm... I honestly don't know beyond tonight. Can I say at least a week, with the option of extending my stay at the end of that time?"

That would give me some time to sit and try to start figuring out answers to those annoying questions, at least.

"Hmmm. That should be fine; we don't have many guests at the moment, it being the start of term and all" She gave me an intense look, as if she wasn't really convinced that I shouldn't be part of the start of term. "Let me see... rates are five galleons a night, but if you stay a full week it's only thirty. That includes the house dinner and breakfast, but lunch is an extra fifteen sickles a day if you want that included. If you pay the thirty galleons for the week tonight? - and if you stay longer you can pay the outstanding amount at the end."

My brain stopped receiving information at the mention of galleons and sickles. What on earth were they? Obviously money of some description, but they weren't part of a denomination I'd ever heard of. I wondered how to get past this one, then remembered the similar situation in The Leaky cauldron and decided to try the same thing.

"I'm sorry, but I've only got pounds and I don't think I'll be able to get any... galleons for a while."

"Pounds? What... oh, yes, of course. That's quite alright; I'll find out the current exchange rate from Gringotts' tomorrow and you can settle your account then."

I nodded, thankful that pounds, although not the norm, were acceptable here and that the woman hadn't noticed my slight pause before the word galleons. She came out from behind the counter and I followed her into a hallway and up some stairs. After a few flights of stairs, a right turn and some more hallway, she stopped outside a door and opened it. Then she turned to me and handed over a heavy, old-fashioned key.

"There you are, dear. You look about done in - would you like dinner sent up here for you?"

I just nodded gratefully, feeling like some sort of mechanical toy.

"Right then, it won't be long. Oh, good heavens! I nearly forgot - I'm Madam Rosmerta. And can I have your name for the books, please?"

"Jenna Curlew. And thankyou for letting me have dinner in my room."

"No problem. Sleep well."

With that she left the room, shutting the heavy wooden door behind her. I shed my pack and boots and turned to survey my room. The carpet was thick underfoot and I took off my socks as well, wriggling my toes happily in the pile. A large four-poster bed was against on wall and there were two doors other than the one that led to the hallway. One proved to be the entrance to a walk-in wardrobe. The other led to a bathroom. Only it was far more than that word can convey. Near the door was a sink and bench, with a large mirror behind them. In the back left-hand (to me as I looked in from the door) corner was a large shower, enclosed in glass. The truly wonderful thing, however, was on the right-hand side of the room. A large bath set in the floor, with several taps set into the wall beside it and - luxury of luxuries and something I'd often wished for but never actually seen on a bath - a comfortable-looking head rest at one end. The whole room was in cream and gold, going well with the red and cream of the bedroom.

What the Three Broomsticks lacked in electric lighting, it more than made up for in plumbing.

I turned and wandered back into the bedroom, noticing my dinner on the table by the window. It scared me a little that the maid or whoever had entered the room and I hadn't noticed; I'm normally much more observant, and while the thick carpet silenced footsteps, I should at least have heard the door handle turn. I made my way over to the door and pushed the key into the lock, hearing the tumblers fall as I turned it.

Then I turned back to the dinner tray. I could smell lentils and fresh bread and pumpkin, and I lifted the cover from the tray. There was a bowl of thick lentil soup, with a crisp bread roll on a plate beside it. A jug proved to contain some pumpkin juice, not icy cold this time, just cool in deference to the colder air up here.

I weighed up whether the wonders of a nice, hot bath were worth risking the dinner getting cold. The I grinned: what was there to stop me having a bath and dinner at the same time? I proceeded to put this plan into motion, discovering why so many taps were on the wall in the process.

My soup bowl empty, I lay back in a sea of purple, sandalwood-scented froth, sipping the last of my pumpkin juice. The water stayed hot, and I assumed that there must be some heating system around the bath. Eventually I decided I should get out before I fell asleep where I was.

Washed, dried and happily full, I padded over to the bed and crawled beneath the doona., blowing out candles on my way. My last thought was more of an observation; it was a good thing they used normal candles and not those floating flames to light the rooms, because I would have had no idea how to douse them.