An Australian in Hogsmeade

In the end I only read the first four chapters of Philosopher's Stone that afternoon. Those I read while eating lunch, holding a sandwich - curried egg on thick home-made bread - in one hand and using the other to flip the pages. When I finished with eating however, I glanced out the window and thought that the weather was simply too nice for me to spend the afternoon indoors. So I decided to resume my explorations of Hogsmeade. I also decided to take my sketch up to the castle - no matter that I knew it was a school, I still though of it as the castle - for Mr. Dumbledore to look at. I hadn't taken it that morning because I figured it would have been a bit early. Before I left I hid the books underneath some clothes in the wardrobe; I had no idea whether or not the Harry Potter books were known in this world and I didn't want to find out the hard way that they weren't.

This time I went into some of the shops, since I had some useful money. Hogsmeade was still reasonably busy; it hadn't lapsed into that early-afternoon sleepiness that I remember finding in a lot of small towns at home. As I stopped to open the door into Honeydukes, I could just detect the faint scent of chocolate.

Once inside I stopped from sheer amazement. In the centre of the store was a fountain - with melted chocolate instead of water. Chocolate poured from a tilted cauldron and fell into a pool below, frothing and splashing a little. What had left me standing like a moron in the doorway was that the cauldron was completely unsupported. It just floated in mid-air as the chocolate fell from it.

Quite aside from the anti-gravity thing, why didn't the cauldron run out of chocolate? There was no way for the chocolate in the pool to reach the cauldron.

A gong sounded softly as I finally let the door close behind me and a person straightened from behind the counter at the back of the shop. My face must have reflected my thoughts, because he chuckled a little.

"Impressive, isn't it? Took forever to get the charms to circulate the chocolate right, we only just got it working properly this morning."

Oh, right. Magic. Of course cauldrons could hover in mid-air and chocolate circulate from pool to cauldron without pipes.

"Er... yes, very impressive. Are you planning on selling it? The chocolate, to drink, I mean?"

I was just speaking to try and hide my shock at being presented with something that was so blatantly magical, but as I did so I recognised where the idea came from. The little waterfall - or chocolatefall, really - reminded me of Willy Wonka and how he mixed chocolate using a waterfall, giving a cup of the liquid chocolate to Charlie to drink. And maybe whoever had been with him as well; it had been a long time since I had read the book.

The man just stared at me.

"Of course, it might be a bit rich... maybe if you mixed it half and half with heated milk, probably be the best hot chocolate ever-" Suddenly I realised I was babbling and stopped talking.

"That," the man declared, "sounds like a brilliant idea. Why didn't I think of that?"

I didn't answer, recognising a rhetorical question when I heard it even in my currently slightly stunned state. He disappeared briefly behind the counter, re-emerging with two small cups. He came out from behind the counter and tilted his head on one side as he looked at me.

"Now, where would you suggest we fill these up?"

"Umm... the bottom of the fall there? Be frothier that way."

"Yes, I agree. Would you like to try first?"

I leaned carefully over the edge of the pool, holding my cup under the flow of chocolate. The man followed suit once my cup was full and for the first time I actually managed to register what he looked like. Evidently I was recovering from my earlier shock.

He was middle aged with hair that was starting to go grey at the temples. Medium height, for a man; he was just a little taller than me. Like every adult I had seen in this town, he wore robes. His were a light brown colour that reminded of nothing so much as original-flavoured fudge.

"To the best hot chocolate ever!" He raised his cup in a toast and I followed suit before taking a sip.

It was even better than I'd imagined it would be; hot, thick, frothy pure chocolate - most definitely the best hot chocolate I had ever tasted. Rich too; I was glad the cups were only small.

The man seemed to have had the same reaction I had, as he was looking at the fountain with an awed expression on his face.

"I could charge a galleon for half a glass and still never be able to serve it fast enough!" he muttered. Then he turned to me.

"I am eternally in your debt; Terrance Honeyduke, at your service."

He gave a low sweeping bow, very overdone, and I couldn't help laughing.

"Jenna Curlew," I said, and curtsied. It seemed an appropriate response to his bow, although it probably looked a little odd given that I wasn't wearing a skirt. "Think nothing of it, I can't really claim all credit for the idea anyway. I read about something similar in a book once."

Terrance Honeyduke grinned.

"Maybe, but you managed to remember it in the right place at the right time. Here," he stepped behind the counter again and pulled out a small, flat package wrapped in gold paper and handed it to me. "Honeydukes finest, I only sell it to a select few. Least I can do in thanks. Unless you have any other brilliant memories from books?"

"No, not really. Thanks for this, although I doubt it will last long!"

The only other thing I remembered from the book was chewing gum flavoured like a three course dinner and I didn't think tomato soup would be an appropriate flavour in a sweet shop. Although considering that there was a label on one of the jars reading "Cockroach Clusters", tomato soup might have been an improvement.

"You're new here, aren't you? I haven't seen you before."

"Yes, I'm just visiting, I'll probably leave at the beginning of next week."

I turned to look at the rest of the shop as I spoke. Half of it was devoted to chocolate, caramel, toffee and fudge. The other side contained every other type of confectionary imaginable and then some. I wandered over to this side of the store.

Nothing on the shelves was familiar, although a few had familiar names. Sugar quills looked identical to real plumes and came in a variety of shapes, sizes, colours and, presumably, flavours. I wondered what it would feel like if I brushed one with my fingers but didn't try to find out. They were each and every one of them a confectioner's work of art and I didn't want to destroy them.

A jar with condensation on its sides was labelled "Ice Mice" in ornate calligraphy. The mice themselves were completely transparent, although they remained inanimate, unlike the Jelly Frogs next to them.

The Fizzing Whizbees I guessed to be sherbets of some description. I didn't want to think what the "Whiz" part of the name might refer to; names in this shop seemed to be very literal. As I turned to locate the source of a faint humming noise, this observation was re-affirmed; Humbugs, it seemed, were no longer round and generally cylindrical. In a jar on the bottom shelf were some incredibly realistic, though still, ladybirds. I knelt to look at some fine print on their label and read that Humbugs came in a variety of preset tunes, but for just eight sickles extra you could custom-record them to whatever tune you wished.

Literal names indeed. I left Honeydukes with a quick goodbye to Terrance and a promise to let him know of any other ideas, book-inspired or otherwise.

I continued down the street, bypassing Zonko's; I had never been much of a person for practical jokes and I had no reason to become interested now. Gladrags Wizardwear I also gave a miss as I had no wish to start wearing robes.

Dervish and Bang's, however, looked like it might be interesting. There was nothing on the outside of the shop to suggest what might be on the inside, so I pushed the door open to find out.

If Honeydukes was a six-year-old's heaven, Dervish and Bang's was mine. The shop smelt of paper, ink and leather, which, when I looked around, was no surprise. Like Honeydukes, this store was divided into halves; one side contained shelves and shelves of books, the other had stationary. Not things like biros and gel pens, but quills, inks, nibs and other old-fashioned things. Abnormally for me, I completely ignored the books, choosing instead to investigate the paper and inks. The paper was strange, heavier than the standard 80gsm used by photocopiers, and also had an odd texture. It reminded me of the "parchment" cardboard that I'd seen in stores, but it wasn't quite like that either. The other odd thing was that it was sold in rolls; the only other paper I've ever seen sold like that is fax paper.

The inks came in little glass bottles and there was a variety of colours, from the fairly standard black, blue, red and green to things like "Rainbow: changes colour even as you write!" Further along was a collection of nibs, silver, gold, copperplate, italic, shadow - this place was a calligraphy writer's dream. Next to the nib selection were things to care for the nibs - "Helen's Nib Cleaner - guaranteed to make your nib write better than ever", "Sparkle Bright Nib Polish" and "Nib Sharpener - Perfect Every Time" were what some of the labels proclaimed. There were other products as well, including a nib engraver ("make your nibs unique") and The Complete Charms for Nibs - New Edition.

I decided to leave the store for the time being; I could have happily spent the rest of the day there (even without investigating the books) but I did want to get up to the castle to see Mr Dumbledore and I felt it would be polite not to arrive in the middle of dinner.

I set off up the hill for the third time in two days. This time, instead of turning to the lake once I passed through the gates, I kept following the path to the front doors. Like the castle gates they were made of thick, iron-bound wood; fortunately one was partly open, as I doubt I could have moved them.

I had assumed that Hogwarts would be like all the schools I had ever seen before in that it would have an easy-to-locate reception. I was wrong.

The foyer behind the doors was impressive. High ceilings lent a sense of space to the medium sized room. Two banners were on each of the side walls, while a shield hung off the back wall. In the centre of the shield was an H, which was surrounded by a lion, an eagle, a badger and a snake. Or possibly it was a serpent. Underneath the shield a cloth hung in a semicircle, carefully arranged so that the writing on it was clearly visible: Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus.

The school crest, I guessed, and the words would be the school motto. I had no idea what the words translated to; that "Domine" was "Lord" was pretty much the extent of my Latin.

I heard the sound of trickling water and turned to find where it came from. In a corner was a small fountain, hidden behind the open door. Water fell from a badger's mouth and into a small basin. A simple stone plaque on the wall read "Cedric Diggory, In Memoriam." I bowed my head for a moment in respect, then dropped a silver coin in the basin. There were no other coins there, but it seemed appropriate, somehow.

Turning away from the basin, I glanced again around the room, but it still lacked any signs pointing the way to reception or administration. There were several doors in the walls - including another double set below the shield that looked almost as intimidating as the front ones - and I decided to go through the glass ones in the far corner. I could see a hallway extending behind them and hallways, I thought, often had offices along them. Maybe I'd find a door labelled "Reception." Or perhaps "Administration." Or even, if Lady Luck was feeling generous towards me today, "Mr Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster."

The hallway was light, with windows at frequent intervals down one side. Pillars ran down the same side, with the occasional statue, bust or suit of armour between them. The wall on the other side was home to several portraits and yes, there were doors from time to time. Normally I would have paused to take a closer look at the paintings but this time I just walked quickly down the hall, checking doors for signs out of the corner of my eye as I passed by. Soon enough I reached the end of the corridor, having been entirely unsuccessful in achieving my aim. In front of me was a set of stairs and another hallway extended away on one side.

"You'd think they'd have some directions for visitors," I muttered as I stood there wondering whether to go up, down or to the right.

"Were you looking for someone?"

"Who-?"

Shocked -I had been sure the hallway was empty - I spun around to face whoever had spoken. Behind me - or rather, in front of me, now that I had turned - stood a woman dressed in emerald green robes.

"I asked what you were muttering about. You seem a little lost - and why aren't you wearing your robes?"

"I was looking for the headmaster's office," I said, my tongue and mouth moving on auto-pilot.

"Perhaps I could help you? I am Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts."

I looked at her, unable to shake off a sense of familiarity. Those robes... oh. I'd nearly crashed into outside the Leaky Cauldron the day before I ended up in this world. I inwardly cringed when I realised this and hoped she didn't remember me.

"I'm Jenna Curlew, and if you could show me where the headmaster's office is, I would greatly appreciate it."

"And why would the girl who nearly ran into me the other day want to see the headmaster?"

There went that hope. This woman was probably a very effective deputy; I hadn't done anything wrong - I wasn't even a student here! - and already I felt like I should be apologising profusely and thinking up plausible excuses.

"He asked to see me, actually. Or to be more accurate he asked to see my sketches next time I was up here."

"Hmm, yes, that does sound rather like what he would do. Where are you from?"

"Western Australia. I've been travelling for the past couple of months."

"Oh? You don't have an Australian accent." She started walking as she spoke.

"So I've been told before," I replied dryly. I followed her, neither of us talking anymore, through several hallways, up and down stairs, until I was quite thoroughly lost .

After a time I saw her pause by a stone gargoyle in the middle of a corridor. As I quickened my pace to catch up, the gargoyle slid aside to reveal yet another staircase.

"Ah, Minerva, I see you brought my guest up. Very kind of you, I must say. Now, I believe that Fred and George Weasley are trying to acquire one of the toilet seats from the second floor bathrooms and while their efforts are commendable and certainly ingenious, I would rather that the seat stayed attached to the toilet..." Albus Dumbledore trailed off, having no need to say anything else. Minerva McGonagall had given him a brief nod and had disappeared down the steps as soon as she knew where the trouble was.

"Very good, that woman; I do like to give the Weasley twins a challenge from time to time." He smiled down at me; I had stopped, three-quarters of the way up the stairs, when he had started speaking. "Do come in. Would you like a cup of tea? And maybe some lemon drops?"

I walked up the rest of the stairs and followed him into his office.

***

Mr Dmbledore's office was nothing like I expected. For one thing, it was round. Which made sense when I thought about it, as it was probably in one of the towers. It was also cluttered, but not with the usual stuff one might expect in the office of a headmaster. In the normal world, there would be a metal filing cabinet or two, a computer on the desk, a couple of biros scattered around. Nearly all the paper would be A4 and sterile white in colour.

There was no computer on Mr Dumbledore's desk; instead, there was a inkwell with a quill in a stand beside it and a couple of rolls of that funny yellowy paper I had seen in Dervish and Bang's. There was also a strange spinning top, made of glass; strange because it was spinning by itself and didn't look like it was going to stop any time soon. The desk itself was made from dark wood and was decorated with carvings. Behind the desk was a perch for a bird, with a shallow dish of what looked like ashes beneath it. There were shelves all around, filled with books, quills and all sorts of strange things that I couldn't even begin to identify.

Mr Dumbledore sat in a large, comfortable-looking armchair behind the desk. I took a similar chair and sat facing him.

"Ah, now, did you want that tea?"

"Yes, thank you, Mr Dumbledore."

He pulled out a long, tapered, slender piece of wood - about the length of my forearm - and murmured something as he waved it. A tray of tea thing appeared, complete with honey, sugar, milk and a dish of lemon drops.

I tried to keep my expression neutral, as if I saw people conjure teapots everyday, while he set about pouring the tea.

"Actually, it's Professor Dumbledore, but I'd prefer just Albus. You take Earl Grey, don't you? With honey?"

"I knew someone was investigating the breakfast tray," I muttered with a small smile.

"Yes well, it does make things a little more efficient, you must admit. Lemon drop?" He passed me my tea, leaving the lemon drops where they were when I shook my head at the offer of them.

I put my cup down on its saucer, then bent to get my sketchbook from its bag. Straightening, I flipped the pages until I came to the sketch of Hogwarts and passed it to Mr - er, to Albus. I suppose I really should have realised he was a professor after hearing the deputy's title, but I'd been thinking of him as "Mr" and it just didn't click. Besides, I'd been occupied with trying to keep up with Professor McGonagall and not get lost in this maze that passed for a school.

"This is really very good - may I see the others?"

I nodded, sipping my tea and wondering what he was planning. Given the thoroughness of his spy network, I highly doubted that he had wanted to see me again just to view my sketches. That, I felt, had just been a convenient excuse.

I was nearly to the bottom of my cup when he finally looked up.

"Miss Curlew-"

"Jenna," I interrupted. "Please. No one's ever called me Miss Curlew in my life."

Except for air hostesses, I added to myself, but that was beside the point.

"Really? How odd... Well, Jenna, all your work is excellent. However - "

"- I find it curious that you have left all your pictures still. With a couple of them I can see how that would add to the effect, but I'm sure they would all do very well with the Life Charm."

I stared, utterly confused. Left them still? Life Charm? What on earth was he on about?

"Ah, yes, I thought so," he murmured at my blatantly obvious confusion. "Tell me, how did a Muggle come to be in Hogsmeade?"

I continued staring blankly.

"A non-Wizard," he explained. "Or a non-Witch, as the case may be."

"Oh," I said. I wasn't really surprised that Mr Dumbl - no, Albus - had known I didn't belong. "I was wondering how long it would take someone to realise, I'm surprised no-one did before now. It's a bit of a long story, but if you've got time..." He nodded, so I continued. "But you know, you could have just asked me and I would have told you. You didn't have to go through the thing with the sketchbook."

"Maybe, but it confirmed things for me and besides, I did want to see your sketch of Hogwarts."

I raised my eyebrows a little but decided not to push the point. Instead I began to tell Albus how I had managed to find myself in Hogsmeade.