Harry Potter and the Tome of Shadows

            Chapter 4: The International Gateway

    Ron fell as if his knees completely gave out on him; he fell limp to the ground. Harry heard Hermione scream from somewhere next to him; he noticed that the crowd in Diagon Alley had looked at them in fear. Aunt Petunia came running over.

    “Dear Lord, what happened?” she exclaimed, her hands covering her horse-like mouth.

    “He passed out,” Harry said panicked, crouching over him, slapping Ron’s face gently to see if he would wake up.

    “The shock must have been too much,” Hermione said in a panicky voice.

    “I’ve got an idea,” Aunt Petunia said quicky. She ran back into the Leaky Cauldron and returned with a glass of water.

    “What, is he thirsty?” Harry asked thickly.

    “No, you fool,” she snapped and she splashed the water all over Ron. Ron sputtered awake, wiping the water off of his face, his eyes fluttering open.

    “What happened? I just had the strangest dream,” Ron choked out. “Percy was the Minister of Magic.”

    “That was no dream,” Harry said quickly, helping Ron up.

    “But that’s nutters! Absolutely crazy! He’s too young! He can’t be Minister! That great prat running the wizarding community? It’s ridiculous! It’s...it’s...”

    “Ron, calm down or you’ll pass out again,” Hermione said worriedly. Aunt Petunia was clicking her tongue as she pressed her hand to Ron’s forehead.

    “You have a temperature,” she said in a motherly voice. “You’ll have to relax.”

    “Relax? The country is going to fall apart! How can Percy even think of taking the job!” Ron sputtered.

    “Ron,” Hermione said soothingly, patting his arm, but he jerked it away and let out a groan of frustration that disrupted the crowd even more.

    “What is Mum and Dad going to say about this?” Ron asked the sky.

    “Look, we’re having a crazy day. Let’s just get your school stuff and get out of Diagon Alley,” Aunt Petunia said, giving Ron a nervous look. She clearly disapproved of such a public outburst, no matter what the cause.

    “A good idea Mrs. Dursley,” Hermione said. She grabbed Ron by the arm.

    “Let’s go to Flourish and Blotts, we can buy our books,” Harry said, cottoning on. The four of them entered the book store, consulting their lists to find their books. Hermione picked out more books than she needed, insisting that she wanted to do some light reading over the course of their vacation. Harry expected a sarcastic comment from Ron about this, but Ron was muttering the entire time about the ridiculous government, not noticing that he was grabbing the wrong school books.

    “We’ve already got that book,” Hermione hissed to Ron.

    “Oh, right,” he said distantly. Harry exchanged nervous looks with Hermione before consulting his list again.

    “Which book is for Defense Against the Dark Arts?” Harry asked Hermione.

    “I think it’s A Guide to Surviving the Dark Arts, by Matilda Grotard,” Hermione said.

    “This book?” Ron asked in disgust, looking at the book. He was leafing through it, looking at the pictures of weeping witches and sobbing wizards, next to which were accounts of their survival in dark situations.

    “It is an odd choice for a school book,” Hermione said, her eyebrows furrowed.

    “It’s dreadful! My mum reads this every night, she says it helps her not to worry when Dad comes home late. She sobs over it all the time, reading the stories and such. We tried taking it away from her but she said she needs it to cope,” Ron muttered.

    “I don’t know how much we’re learning this year in Defense Against the Dark Arts,” Harry said worriedly. “And with Voldemort” -the entire store gasped-“sorry, I mean You-Know-Who back we should have a competent teacher.”    

    “Well, we learned loads from Mrs. Figg,” Hermione said knowingly. “We went into sixth year stuff without even knowing it. We won’t be too far behind if this teacher is a complete waste.” They went on, paying for their books, discussing Defense Against the Dark Arts, when Ron noticed a man reading the paper. He snatched it out of the man’s hands and read.

    “Hey!” he said.

    “I’ll give it right back,” Ron muttered.

    “Ron, what has gotten into you?” Hermione asked in shock.

    “Listen to the dirty great prat!” Ron said, reading aloud. “ ‘ In a press conference last night, newly sworn in Minister of Magic Percival Weasley announced stirring changes in the current system. The youngest Minister of Magic in a century unveiled his plan to hunt down suspected followers of You-Know-Who. In his statement, Weasley said, ‘It is You-Know-Who’s supporters who must be apprehended. One man alone cannot disrupt an entire country, but a man with dangerous followers can do so. Therefore, if we take out his support system, he will fall alone. We will hunt them down one by one, until all have been apprehended. The first to be hunted for is the escaped murder Sirius Black.’ In a startling change of policy, Minister Weasley and his supporters in the Wizengamot have enacted new laws giving the Minister unprecedented control over law enforcement, rendering the head of the department into nothing but a lieutenant of Weasley. A Ministry insider, who wished to remain nameless, confided in the Daily Prophet that he plans to bring more of the offices under Minister rule, going so far as to starting plans to bring the Department of Mysteries under his thumb.’”

    “Sounds like he wants control of everything,” Harry said, his mind reeling from the news. Then, in an undertone, he whispered to Ron and Hermione. “Doesn’t he know about Sirius’ innocence?”

    “Doesn’t look like it,” Ron said furiously. He shoved the paper back at the disgruntled wizard who muttered about rude kids and exited the book store. “And what’s this Department of Mysteries rubbish? It can’t be a Department of Mysteries if it’s not a mystery.”

    “This is ridiculous,” Hermione exclaimed. “Taking out the supporters? Vol...You-Know-Who will just claim more every day. He should be sending envoys to the giants like Dumbledore said.” All around the book store Harry heard muttering about the new Minister.

    “I guess no one’s that enthusiastic about Percy’s new job,” he said, listening the murmur spread through the store.

    “I wonder why?” Ron asked sarcastically. “Oh this is ridiculous, let’s get back home. I can’t take any more mentions of Percy.”

    “A good idea. I’m tired, and we all have to be up early tomorrow for the trip,” Petunia said, her lips pursed. “I don’t fancy having to make a trip to Egypt while still tired.”

    “All right. Are you sure you can manage the Floo Powder, then?” Harry asked with a smile. Aunt Petunia looked severe for a moment.

    “I will not tolerate sarcasm on this trip Harry,” she said, but she couldn’t fight the smile emerging from her pursed lips. “I can’t mess up Privet Drive, I’ve lived there for so long. Although...it was a nice change of pace to have an adventure.” Harry caught Hermione’s eye and stifled a snigger. Ron was busy staring at other wizards, almost daring them to mention his brother Percy. Harry was about to say something when he felt Hermione’s hand slip into his.

    “Ron,” Harry warned in an undertone. Hermione gave Harry a curious expression and let go of his hand.

    “Right,” she said in an oddly formal tone. The two of them said nothing until they got to the fireplace of the Leaky Cauldron.

    “Let’s try this again, Aunt Petunia. You go first,” Harry said.

***

    Harry lay awake on his bed, staring at the ceiling. It was two o’clock in the morning and he could not get to sleep. He was eager to go on his trip, but something was clawing at his mind, desperate for his attention but not yet willing to surface to the top. He reached for it, probing his thoughts, but he got nowhere. He sighed; this happened almost nightly. He’d wake up from the awful nightmares only to have strange ponderous moments of blank images and soundless words. He listened to the uneasy murmurings coming from Ron, who was once again having a nightmare about spiders. Harry smiled and got up from his bed, careful not to step on Ron and wake him up. He walked downstairs quietly, remembering to avoid the creaking step, and he walked into the kitchen; his throat was parched and he desperately wanted a drink. He poured himself a glass and started to drink slowly, mulling things over as the dryness in his throat slowly faded away.

    “Need some company?” a voice asked in the darkness. Harry recognized Aunt Petunia as she entered the kitchen.

    “Sure,” he said, taking another sip. “You can’t sleep either?”

    “Right in one,” Aunt Petunia responded, pouring herself a glass of brandy. “Too many thoughts in my head.”

    “You ought to get a pensieve,” Harry said without thinking that Aunt Petunia may not know what one is.

    “Yes, maybe,” she said dubiously. “But I find that all my thoughts are better kept where they originated.” Harry gave a small chuckle.

    “So what bothers a sixteen year old boy in the middle of the night that he comes down and has a drink of water?” Aunt Petunia asked.    

    “Hermione,” he said at once, not afraid to admit this sort of thing to Aunt Petunia. It was weird; ever since Aunt Petunia discovered her latent magical heritage, the two of them understood each other very well. Harry thought it was their shared connection to his mother, but it maybe had to do with the fact that she did, in fact, raise him. Harry couldn’t help but smile when he saw her lips purse.

    “Ah yes, the lovely Hermione. Tell me what’s bothering you.”

    “Well...” Harry said uncomfortably. He didn’t know if kissing was a proper topic to discuss with his aunt, especially when the thought of Aunt Petunia kissing was a bit nauseating. “How do you know if a girl likes you?”

    “Well, I’d assume that since she goes out with you that she likes you,” Aunt Petunia said with a chuckle.

    “No, I mean. How do you know if she is satisfied?” Aunt Petunia spit out her brandy.

    “Satisfied? Explain yourself at once.” Harry didn’t understand her outburst, but when he did he spit out his water.

    “Not like that!” he said quickly.

    “Dear, dear, I don’t know. Are we supposed to have a talk about this? I never had one with Dudders, I think Vernon may have just bought Dudders a book ro something...”

    “It’s ok, Aunt Petunia, I think I know how the whole thing works,” Harry said, heat rising to his face. Harry heard the sigh of relief from Aunt Petunia and gave one himself. He definitely did not fancy a talk with her about you-know-what.

    “So what do you mean satisfied?”

    “Kissing, I suppose. I should have been more clearer about what I meant,” Harry said apologetically. Aunt Petunia gave him an odd look; her lips pursed even more and her eyes narrowed.

    “Well, I’m going to be completely honest with you, Harry. Your kisses are only as good as your feelings for Hermione.”

    “Oh,” Harry said, not entirely sure he believed it.

    “Sometimes the worst kiss, with the right amount of love, can be the best kiss in the world,” Aunt Petunia said. “That was how your uncle Vernon swept me off my feet. He was always a terrible kisser in the beginning.” Harry was torn between sniggering or gagging. He was certainly not interested in how Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon got together; the story would be sordid and very much creepy.

    “Aunt Petunia, I have a question,” Harry said quickly, wanting very much to change the subject.

    “You want to know where our first kiss was?” Aunt Petunia asked eagerly.

    “Erm...not exactly. You said awhile ago that we’re waiting for some school stuff in the mail, but we got most of the stuff yesterday at Diagon Alley. What’s coming in the mail?” Harry saw, now that his eyes had adjusted to the dark, that she looked uncomfortable, as if searching for the right way to get out of telling the truth.

    “It’s a surprise,” she said quickly. “Now you better be off to bed, we leave early.”

    “Right. Goodnight,” Harry said, putting his glass in the sink. He exited the doorway, but before he completely left the kitchen, he turned to Aunt Petunia.

    “Thanks,” he said.

    “You’re welcome,” she responded, taking another sip of brandy. Harry walked upstairs and saw Hermione standing at his doorway.    

    “What are you doing?” Harry asked, but Hermione held a finger to her lips.

    “Come to my room, we need to talk.” Harry followed Hermione nervously, not wanting to get caught in a situation like this by Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon, especially after the talk he just had. He entered Dudley’s room and Hermione shut the door behind him.

    “We need to talk,” Hermione said again.

    “You said that already,” Harry said with a slight smile on his face.

    “It’s about Ron,” Hermione said simply, looking at Harry and expecting to see him wince.

    “Look, I know things are weird, but I don’t want to make him angry about this. Once he’s used to it,” Harry said, but Hermione shook her head.

    “I don’t know. I know we can’t go snogging all over the place, and we definitely shouldn’t, and I know I wouldn’t, but all the same I think that Ron can handle a bit of hand holding.”

    “I don’t know, he gets really jealous,” Harry said nervously, remembering Viktor Krum in their fourth year.

    “I think he’s moved on,” Hermione said, biting her lip uncertainly.

    “You don’t know that,” Harry said. “Last year was really mixed up. So much happened in between that I think we all got distracted from it.”

    “I just don’t like the tension, is all,” Hermone said simply. “I don’t want to have a sordid love triangle or something.”

    “It’ll get better,” Harry said. “Let’s just ride it out.”

    “All right. Good night, Harry,” Hermione said and kissed him on the cheek. Harry felt anxiety twinge in his stomach. That was the second time Hermione kissed him on the cheek in the last two days. Was he really bad at kissing?

    “No,” Hermione said, looking at the expression on his face.

    “No what?” Harry asked, confused.

    “You’re not a bad kisser,” she said with a smile. She closed the door to Dudley’s room, leaving a very confused Harry outside.

***

    “Harry...” A voice was whispering his ears; it sounded like it was coming from very far away. Harry opened his eyes and saw Ron standing in his room, fully dressed, wearing an impatient expression on his face.

    “What time is it?”

    “Nearly ten, and we’re supposed to be at the terminal at ten thirty.”

    “Terminal? We’re taking a plan?”

    “You mean in one of those Muggle death traps? I don’t think so,” Ron said with a scoff. Harry chuckled and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. “You’re uncle was about to blow a gasket when he heard you were still sleeping. I reckon we’ll have to get to the terminal by Floo Powder, but he wanted to drive to London.”

    “He’ll have to live with it,” Harry said. “I’ll be down in five minutes.” Harry unlocked Hedwig’s cage, and the beautiful snowy owl perched on his arm. “You need to stay at the Burrow for a couple of days, while I’m away.”

Hedwig hooted, nipped his finger and then flew out of the open window. Harry got quickly dressed, dragged his suitcase with his cloths in it and clunked down the stairs. Ron too had his suitcase, while Hermione had a suitcase and a backpack that was strangely empty.

    “I’m buying a lot of books,” she said. She must have noticed Harry giving the empty bag a curious look.

    “I’m buying nothing, I hardly have any pocket money,” Ron said glumly.

    “Don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll be able to get you something,” Aunt Petunia said. “Our meals and our stay are complimentary, so you won’t have anything else to pay for.” Ron’s face lit up like a Christmas tree and he looked eagerly at Harry.

    “I can’t wait. Sixteen year olds are allowed to do magic in Egypt.”

    “Just because you’re allowed doesn’t mean you should,” Uncle Vernon said grimly. “Imagine the ruckus you’d cause with your ruddy wand and not being able to use it.”

    “Don’t worry, we won’t cause a ruckus, Uncle Vernon,” Harry said. Vernon gave him a stern look.

    “Most of the time you three will be out of our hair, but remember that when you’re around us you need to keep on your best behavior. You reflect on me, and if this goes badly...”

    “I know, Uncle Vernon,” Harry said, rolling his eyes.

    “Too right you know,” he said. “Now what’s all of this Floo rubbish I’ve been hearing about? We’re traveling through the fireplace?”

    “Just like a few years ago, when we got stuck,” Ron said brightly.

    “Need you have brought that up?” Hermione hissed, and Ron grinned sheepishly.

    “I will not spend my morning stuffed in a bloody chimney,” Uncle Vernon said in outrage, but Aunt Petunia put a pacifying hand on his arm.

    “Don’t worry, I did it yesterday, and it went swimmingly.” She shot Ron a warning look, in case he decided to correct her. Ron nodded and winked, none too subtly, and then strode forward, carrying his trunk and grabbing a fistful of Floo Powder.

    “The International Gateway!” he said clearly and stepped into the fire. The emerald green flames swallowed him up.

    “This is absolutely mad,” Uncle Vernon said, looking at the fire with a dubious look on his face. After Hermione went through, Harry looked at his uncle.

    “You next, Uncle Vernon.”

    “If Aunt Marge ever saw this she’d die of a heart attack,” he said, grabbing a handful of powder. “If this goes wrong, boy, when I get back I’m going to throttle you.”    

    “Unless you’re in fifteen pieces,” Harry responded with a smile. Aunt Petunia looked as if she was trying hard not to laugh, while Uncle Vernon’s eyes looked as if they were about to pop. He threw the powder into the fire.

    “The International Gateway,” he said, and stepped into the fire. For one moment, Harry had the extraordinarily funny image of Uncle Vernon getting stuck in the chimney in his head, and he let out a burst of laughter.

    “What’s so funny?” Aunt Petunia asked, grabbing her handful.

    “Nothing. Be careful this time.” When Aunt Petunia had gone, Harry grabbed his Floo Powder. He was about to enter when he saw something odd out of the window. He looked through it and saw Dudley leaning on a nearby fence, talking to a man that Harry had never met. Dudley was gesturing towards the house, but the man had put his hands up, as if he didn’t know where he was pointing. Harry wanted to watch longer, but he didn’t have time to do so; he threw the powder into the fireplace and shouted his destination. He stepped through the fire and felt the familiar whirling and hot ash as he hurtled through the Floo Network, his suitcase banging against him uncomfortably. Not soon enough, Harry fell out of the fireplace, his suitcase bouncing out after him. He stood up and straightened his glasses, and as soon as he recovered his vision, his jaw dropped.

    He was in the largest room he had ever seen. The room looked as if it could fit an entire building inside. The walls were lined with large, stone archways, each with light as bright as the sun streaming out. Wizards and witches were lined up in front of a long line of ticket booths, asking for destinations and handing out protective eye ware to protect against the light. Harry noticed that above the archways read a clear sign:

                    Egypt

    “This is absolutely amazing,” Harry said, amazed. He watched entire families stroll up to the archways and nearly shouted in shock as what seemed like a bolt of lightning strike out from the light and then hit the families, making them disappear.

    “Don’t worry, it’s not painful,” Ron said, noticing the expression on Harry’s friend and grinning. “Instantaneous travel. Of course, it’s time elapsed, so when we get to Egypt, it’ll seem like four hours have passed. The lag is terrible, of course, but it’s very convenient and faster then broomsticks. The Floo Network only works locally, and Apparition from too far away is very dangerous. So we have the International Gateway. Of course, there is the rare disappearance after using it, but of course that hasn’t happened in years...”

    “What disappearance?” Uncle Vernon said, looking around at Ron. His face was in shock as he watched several lightning bolts strike out from the many different archways.

    “Well, a long time ago people used to get lost in between,” Ron said casually, as if this was a normal thing. “It takes a long time to get them back, and they nearly always turned funny. My brothers, Fred and George, were telling me; they heard it from my Father. Of course, they could have been making it up, but Dad didn’t correct them, so I assume it’s possible.”

    “Erm, Petunia dear, perhaps it’s not too late to book a flight,” Uncle Vernon said, trying to keep his voice straight. Aunt Petunia was about to respond, but a particularly large lightning bolt struck out, flashing very intense light and causing such a large boom that Aunt Petunia was surprised into silence.

    “It’ll be fine,” Ron said, waving his hand. “I’ve done it before, and look at me.”

    “You don’t exactly fit the mold as right in the head,” Uncle Vernon said under his breath. Ron didn’t hear, however, as he was pointing towards the ticket booths.

    “They take our names and our destinations, and the duration of the visits. That way if we don’t come back, they know something’s happened. That’s especially important, considering You-Know-Who is back,” Ron said.

    “Do we have to pay?” Uncle Vernon asked as they moved up in line.

    “I don’t remember,” Ron said thoughtfully.

    “I didn’t when I went to France,” Hermione said. “I’ve read about this in a book, I think it was From Here to There: A Wizarding Guide to Transportation. My parents were nervous too but they turned out all right. There was a bit of a fuss letting them through, as they’re Muggles, but since I’m a witch and they already know all about us, they let them through in the end.”

    “So, does it say anything about this in-between place in that book of yours?” Aunt Petunia asked nervously.

    “Yes,” Hermione said promptly. “The last person that went through and got stuck was a man named Frederico Mendebeth. He had an extremely bad limp, his eyes turned a funny color, and when he came out, I think he turned insane.”

    “Insane?” Uncle Vernon responded weakly.

    “Well, overexposure to another realm can do that,” Hermione said simply. “He was in there for three months. He said it was something like being in all dark, I don’t know. Insane ramblings.” Harry didn’t know about the gateways, they looked extremely dangerous. He kept it to himself, however, when they finally got to the ticket booth.

    “Names and destinations please,” a bored witch asked Uncle Vernon. He gave them their information and waited. “Duration of visitation, please.”

Uncle Vernon gave their information again, and waited once more. The witch looked at the information that Uncle Vernon had written down, and yawned. “Very well, please proceed to the security check out for identification verification. Next?” Uncle Vernon looked very chafed indeed when he was shunted aside by the next waiting wizard.

    “Bloody rude, these lot,” Uncle Vernon said under his breath. Harry turned and saw a sign that said “Security Checkpoint”. Underneath there were what seemed like hundreds of metal detectors that had some sort of plastic wrap in between them.

    “I don’t want to know,” Harry said simply when Hermione was about to explain. “Just as long as it doesn’t kill me.” The group went to the security checkpoint, where Uncle Vernon gave their information once again. This time, a very enthusiastic wizard showed them to the line.

    “Ok, it’s very simple. Just step through the checkpoint and wait for the all clear.”

    “I’ll go first,” Hermione said, volunteering. She carried her suitcase and bag and stood in front of the checkpoint. She closed her eyes and her mouth and walked through the plastic wrap. It seemed to stretch as she walked through; Harry thought she would suffocate, but at the last moment, it seemed to turn into liquid; Hermione came out perfectly dry and unharmed. The wizard read a slip of parchment that came out of the side of the security check.

    “Hermione Granger, is it? Well Ms. Granger, you have no traces of Polyjuice or Transfiguration, as well as...” the wizard went through what seemed to be dozens of possible ways of disguising. “And you have no Metamorphmagus powers. Very well, you’re all set.” He twirled his wand and a red spot appeared on the back of her hand. “Wait by the checkpoint for everyone else’s clearance.”

    One by one they went through. Ron went through without incident, as well as Aunt Petunia. Uncle Vernon started to walk through the plastic, but at the time when it usually melted away, it remained plastic. Uncle Vernon, sensing mortal danger, started to claw at the material, trying to get unstuck. The plastic snapped back and sent him shooting across the floor.

    “Sir, sir!” the wizard said, running over. He helped Uncle Vernon up, who was positively spitting with rage.

    “What...bloody hell...ruddy wizards...effing magic...”

    “Sir, Muggles are not allowed through the security checks. I don’t know how you got through, but I’m going to have to Obliviate you.” Harry started forward, ready to explain, but Uncle Vernon started to panic.

    “Oblivi- what now? You aren’t pointing that wand at me! I’ll have my lawyer all over you so fast that it’ll make your head spin!”

    “He’s with us,” Aunt Petunia said clearly, her eyes wide with shock. Ron was clutching his suitcase in laughter, while Hermione clearly looked as if her side was about to burst from her trying not to laugh. She spoke with security wizard, and after a few moments, he seemed to agree. He tried to insist that Uncle Vernon go back, but Uncle Vernon was refusing. His face was almost as purple as it used to be when he got mad at Harry.

    “Vernon, you have to,” Aunt Petunia said. It was only after her suggestion that they go home and forget his business meeting when he stepped through the security check. Harry went through last; the only delay here was when the wizard performed the familiar eye flick towards his scar. Once Harry was through, the group stood at the Egypt gateway. They clamped their protective goggles over their eyes and looked straight into the light. Harry could barely make out the outline of a giant pyramid emerging from dunes of sand when he heard a voice in his ear.

    “We’ll be ready for transport in 10...9...8...”

    Harry’s stomach clenched. He grabbed Hermione’s hand and gave it a squeeze. He closed his eyes.

    “Ouch, Harry,” she said with laughter.

    “3...2...1..” There was an intense flash of light and, moments later, an ear-cracking roar of thunder. Harry opened his eyes and wished he hadn’t. They were moving extremely fast, faster then anything remotely possible. It was if he was in a beam of light, moving at light speed, and he felt as if he was going to throw up, if that was even possible. But only a moment had passed since the deafening roar that the trip was over, and he was standing on a platform. Harry felt his stomach unclench when he heard a voice next to him.

    “Welcome to Egypt,” a wizard said. Harry smiled weakly and took a deep breath, thinking to himself that he couldn’t wait to get his Apparition license.