United We Stand, Divided We Fall

Chapter 2: Explanations And Expectations

"I'm what people in the magical community call a Muggle - before I was recruited on this 'mission', I never knew that magic even existed. In my time I'm a musician; I play in a band with two of my brothers. We're called Hanson and I'm the lead singer; I also play piano and some percussion, and I'm learning to play harmonica." He fished out his harmonica from one of his pockets and held it up; the candlelight and flickering firelight glinted off its shiny metal surface. He pocketed it again and continued his spiel. "We're on our first world tour, or we were until I got dragged back in time three entire years."

"How many brothers and sisters do you have?" Ron asked.

"Six," Taylor replied. "One older brother, two younger brothers and three younger sisters. It's a madhouse when we're at home. There's Isaac, Zac, Jessica, Avery, Mackenzie and Zoë, plus my parents."

"You and Ron will get on well then," Hermione commented. "You said earlier that you're from America."

"As if you couldn't tell from the accent," Taylor confirmed. "Tulsa, Oklahoma to be exact. And I don't go to school; my mom teaches me."

He leaned forward slightly. "I may be a Muggle, but I am far from stupid. Your world is in danger. Call it instinct, intuition, whatever you like, but I know danger when I sense it. I'm here to help save an entire world, and if I have to sacrifice myself to achieve that end, then so be it. I couldn't care less. It's...it's what I've been called to do, I guess you could say."

He fell silent for a short while, and had just opened his mouth to speak again when Hermione broke in with, "Oh my, look at the time!"

"She's got a point there," Ron yawned. "We can finish this tomorrow."

With a few stifled yawns, they wandered over to the main staircase and started their ascent; Hermione farewelled the boys at one point, leaving Harry, Ron and Taylor to make their way up to the fifth-year boys' dormitory.

Dean, Seamus and Neville were already in bed when they stepped inside. A few whispered 'goodnight's later and they too had climbed into bed, drawing the curtains of their four-posters closed behind them.

Taylor lay on his back in bed, staring up at the stone ceiling, smiling slightly. He could literally feel every nerve ending in his body tingling from all the magic that filled the air, entwined with excitement and anticipation. But...he couldn't help but think back to a few days earlier, when everything he believed in, everything he knew to be fact, had literally been turned on its head.

Sirius crouched down, so as to be eye level with Taylor. "Taylor...we need your help."

"Why me?" Taylor asked. "I'm just some kid; I'm no-one special."

"We'll deal with that later. Right now..." A look of intense concentration settled on Sirius' face. "Ah, yes. You'll need some of your belongings..."

"I didn't unpack my suitcase when we first got to the hotel," Taylor put in. "Would that be all right?"

Sirius nodded and drew a long cylinder of wood from a pocket in his cloak - a magic wand. He raised it into the air and said, "Accio suitcase!"

A near-new navy suitcase came flying at them right out of nowhere, and Sirius stopped it short of slamming into them with a mere wave of his wand.

"Whoa," Taylor said, completely awestruck. "How the heck..."

Sirius chuckled. "You'll learn how to do that soon enough. But right now...you wouldn't happen to have the time, would you?"

Taylor shoved the left cuff of his jacket up around his elbow and squinted at the face of his watch. "It's..." He pressed a button on the side of the watch, and a little light flashed on. "Eleven-ten."

"Thought as much." From another pocket in his cloak, Sirius extracted a crumpled chocolate bar wrapper. "It's a Portkey," he explained. "Grab your suitcase and take the other end; it's perfectly safe. I can't tell you where we're going, but I promise, I will explain everything when we get there."

Reluctantly, Taylor did as instructed; out of pure instinct, he closed his eyes tightly. Within seconds he felt as if he were hurtling through time and space, yet his feet were still firmly on the ground. He only opened his eyes again when Sirius' voice cut through the darkness.

"We're here."

He opened his eyes again and looked around. "Where are we?"

"The Leaky Cauldron," Sirius replied, moving around the small room and lighting the lamps set into the walls with his wand. He then turned and aimed his wand directly at Taylor, who flinched. "Calm down; I just need to put a spell on you. You've missed out on four years of magical education, and you'll need to catch up on everything you've missed; a spell is the best way to do it. Tomorrow I'll take you down into Diagon Alley and help you buy everything you'll need."

"Just a question...how long will the spell last?" Taylor asked timidly.

"Only as long as you're in this world. The spell will negate itself the moment you return to your own world and time, and you will have no knowledge of any of the spells you've learned."

Taylor nodded, and Sirius spoke the incantation. "Donare Magicus."

A series of sparks, all colours of the rainbow, shot from Sirius' wand; they were visible for less than a minute before disappearing into nothingness. After waiting a few seconds, Sirius said, "Give the incantation for a Levitating Charm."

"Wingardium Leviosa," Taylor replied automatically, and Sirius grinned.

"It worked. That's one of the spells you learn in first year." He pointed to one of the beds in the room. "Get some sleep; I have a distinct feeling that you'll be needing it."

~ + ~

The next morning saw the commencement of classes; Hermione, Ron and Taylor went down to breakfast together, Harry catching up with them about five minutes after they'd taken their places at the Gryffindor table. The ceiling of the Great Hall this morning was a dull, miserable, overcast grey.

"Still thinking about trying out for the team?" Harry asked Taylor.

"What?"

"The Gryffindor Quidditch team," Harry answered. "Tryouts are Friday at five o'clock; you could borrow Ron's broom if you wanted."

"As long as someone shows me how to actually ride one of those things first!"

Hermione shook her head as the three boys launched into a somewhat heated discussion about Quidditch, which ended with both Harry and Ron offering to show Taylor the finer points of riding a broomstick and actually keeping it under control. By this time, the timetables for the new school year had been distributed, and Ron was already complaining about it; he, Harry and Taylor were on the same timetable this year.

"Look at this, would you? We've got History of Magic, double Potions, Divination and double Defence Against the Dark Arts...great, just great..."

"Defence Against the Dark Arts shouldn't be too bad," Hermione said. "We've got a new teacher-"

"The fifth in as many years," Ron interjected.

"Professor Laurel looks to be a good teacher, Ron."

Taylor laughed at this. When the other three looked at him, he explained. "One of my sisters, Avery, her middle name is Laurel." They nodded.

"Hermione, how would anyone know if someone is a good teacher by looks anyhow?" Ron asked. "You thought Lockhart was a good teacher, when all he turned out to be was the world's biggest prat, useless at magic and ended up Obliviating himself!"

"Ron, put it this way," Taylor said. "Hermione is a teenage girl. Don't fault her for that. My brothers and I have girls screaming at us left right and centre, mostly because of the way we look rather than for our music. After more than seven years of playing for crowds, I'm used to it; I have to be."

Hermione looked gratefully at Taylor, and he smiled at her. Don't get involved. Whatever you do, do not get involved, he warned himself. He was here to help defeat some recently-resurrected Dark Lord, not to make out with his fellow students - male or female.

The sound of a bell reverberated throughout the castle, and the Great Hall slowly emptied as the students moved off to class - the new school year had officially begun.

~ + ~

"Take it easy, you're doing great!"

The quick flying lesson was going well; Defence Against the Dark Arts had been the final class of the day for the fifth-years, so when the final bell rang Harry, Ron and Taylor didn't go up to Gryffindor Tower to drop off their books, they went straight to the Quidditch pitch. Ron had managed to talk his brother George into parting with his broomstick for about an hour. They had swiftly progressed from rudimentary broom control to actually racing the length of the pitch; even though Harry's Firebolt easily outstripped both Ron's Cleansweep Seven and Taylor's borrowed broom (George's Comet 180), Taylor managed to outrace Ron four times out of five. The only time Ron beat him was when Taylor accidentally lost control of his broom and fell off, grabbing hold with a hand moments before falling hundreds of feet to the ground.

"You know, if I get on the team I'll need my own broomstick," Taylor said as they walked back up to the castle.

"What do you mean, 'if'?" Ron said. "Mate, you're a natural. I can see that there'll be some fierce competition on Friday."

"You're trying out too?" Ron nodded. "Well, may the best flier win."

Dinner was almost over by the time they finally entered the Great Hall and joined their classmates. Hermione flashed Taylor a smile as he slid onto the bench beside her and pulled a platter of chicken towards him. "Settling in well, I see," she said.

"Yeah, I am, thanks," he replied, returning the smile. "I never realised how much fun actually going to school could be; my mom's taught me since the third grade. Even Potions wasn't too bad." He shrugged and attacked his chicken as if he hadn't eaten in a week. "But I'm not looking forward to all the homework we've got; it'll take ages to work through it."

"Tell me about it," Ron agreed from across the table.

With dinner over and done with, homework was the next item on the agenda - a foot and a half of parchment for History of Magic on giant wars; twelve inches for Potions on the properties of moonstone and its uses in potion making; a month's dream diary for Divination; looking up various curses for Defence Against the Dark Arts. Curses had already been touched upon in fourth year, according to Harry, Ron and Hermione, but not in-depth, and they needed to be up to speed for the exams that came at the end of the year.

"I'm done," Taylor said, yawning and dropping his quill into his lap; he leaned over and scratched Crookshanks behind an ear. It was nearly one-thirty in the morning. "You guys nearly finished?"

"You're kidding me, right?" Ron asked.

"I'm a fast worker," Taylor shrugged. He shook his stiff fingers out and packed his books away. "I'll probably see you guys in the morning; g'night."

He was asleep well before Harry and Ron entered the dormitory; no sooner had he changed out of his robes and into pyjamas and climbed into bed, he had fallen asleep, dreaming of home with a sleepy smile on his face.