FicWad

-I-I-I-

Friday, September 1, 1991

-I-I-I-

Kaze carefully folded another set of black robes and placed them in the trunk, then stepped back. "Alright, that's everything for clothes," he said absently, turning towards the pile of books that still lay on his bed. "New compartment, please."

Obediently, the Luggage closed its lid on the clothes, and opened it again to reveal an empty compartment. The young mage picked up an armful of volumes and dropped them inside with a loud /thud/.

"Still packing?" Taka asked from the doorway, leaning back against the doorjamb with his arms folded.

Kaze looked up with a smile. "Yes, sir. All that's left are the books, now."

The Guardian moved into the room, silently picking up a much larger armful of books than the boy could manage and gently dropping them into the large, iron-bound trunk. It seemed to eye him warily as it sidled away, though it was without eyes of the common variety, and he chuckled to himself. Yes, his heir would be well protected at Hogwarts.

It had been difficult to get hold of a carpenter with enough skill to make something like the Luggage on such short notice, but it had been worth it. Young Xander had truly surpassed himself, though the one-eyed young man had admitted it was much easier when the wood was so willing to be worked. Taka wasn't surprised at the statement, since he'd been the source of the wood for the project. All he'd had to do was go for a little stroll among the Citadel's small forest of sapient pearwood trees and ask if any were willing to be felled so they could accompany and protect the child who had played among them for the past few years.

There had been plenty of volunteers, so many that the mage had actually had to turn away offers.

"Thanks," Kaze said as he dropped in the last of the books, bringing the man out of his thoughts. Taka watched sadly as the Luggage closed its lid for the last time. All the packing was done- now there was nothing keeping Kaze from leaving but a short time that grew ever smaller.

The boy seemed to be having similar thoughts, as he stared at the now-empty bed. "What... what now?" he asked quietly.

"Basically... I 'Port you to London, we go to King's Cross station, and you get on Platform..." Taka absently waved his hand in the air, pulling the ticket that had come with the phoenix-borne letter out of the personal pocket dimension that he kept important documents and items in. "...platform nine and three-quarters to take the Hogwarts Express," he finished with a frown, staring at the small bit of paper. "Wait, that can't be right."

Kaze blinked. "What? What isn't right?"

"Train platforms don't come in fractions... Either this is a misprint, or there's something they didn't tell us about getting to the Hogwarts Express." Taka frowned at the ticket for a moment more, and then sighed. "Wonderful. Remind me to recommend their planning abilities to the school board."

The boy absently put a hand down to scratch the Luggage's lid as it rubbed plaintively against his leg. "What do we do, then? It's kind of late to contact the school about it."

Taka bit his lip in thought. "I suppose... there's nothing we can do except get there early, and hope things go our way." He shook his head, turning towards the door. "In which case, we'd best get moving."

Kaze nodded and followed him out, the Luggage tagging faithfully along at his heels on its hundreds of miniature legs.

-I-I-I-

They 'Ported into a dirty alleyway inhabited only by dustbins not far from the entrance to the train station. Kaze checked behind him to make sure the Luggage had made it safely, and then started to step towards the street, before Taka caught him by the arm. The boy gave him a startled, questioning look, and the mage gestured at the Luggage.

"There aren't many trunks wandering around with legs," he said dryly. "It might be best if you ordered it to change."

Kaze turned and looked at the trunk, and couldn't help but agree. Even to one used to magic and the strange, wondrous happenings that accompanied it, the Luggage was an odd sight. He nodded. "Could you hide your legs, please?" he asked apologetically. "Perhaps wheels might be better?"

The Luggage seemed to consider the request for a moment, then acquiesced, as its many legs blurred, then faded from sight, leaving only a normal, wheeled trunk in its place.

Which then proceeded to roll over and nuzzle Kaze's hand, but then you couldn't have everything, could you?

Taka chuckled. "Well, we'd best be moving, then." He led the way out onto the street.

The trio attracted very little attention from those crowding the streets, with the Luggage safely disguised and being nominally pulled by the eleven-year-old, though of course it was mostly providing its own momentum. At ten in the morning King's Cross was utterly packed with businessmen and families, all rushing to go somewhere else. Kaze stuck close to his master's heels, not wanting to be even momentarily lost in the crowd.

And at last they stood between platforms nine and ten, looking around with an increasing sense of confusion. Two perfectly normal train platforms stared back at them, with no indication whatsoever that there was a third somehow nestled in between them.

"So, is this when we cross our fingers?" the boy asked wryly, stepping to one side to keep from being jostled by a man in a hurry.

Taka shook his head, peering over the multitude of heads. "No, we want to find witches, not ward them off..." he replied absently. (1)

Kaze blinked at him for a moment, then shook his own head bemusedly. Sometimes, he just didn't want to ask... Sighing, he put a hand on the Luggage's lid, pressing down a little so the trunk would get the idea he wanted it to stay where it was for now. Once he was sure it had gotten the message, he walked over to platform nine.

An ordinary, modern electric train sat on the tracks collecting passengers, though he couldn't help thinking with a smile that it was incredibly primitive compared to some of the bullet trains he'd been on during those few visits he'd made with Taka to universes in the Rikou Constellation. But then, you really couldn't beat antigravity or supersonics when it came to locomotive technology.

A minute of observation told Kaze there was nothing out of the ordinary about the platform or its occupants, and he turned and began to walk towards platform ten. A glance showed him that his master was still observing from afar, while keeping a wary eye on the trunk at his feet. The boy was just passing the barrier between the two platforms when a whisper of melody brushed his ears, and he came to an abrupt halt.

Taka watched curiously as his heir stepped up close to the brick wall that separated the platforms. Kaze leaned forward, head slightly tilted as though he were listening to the wall, and finally raised one hand, placing it palm flat on the surface. A breathe later, his hand sank ever-so-slightly into the seemingly-solid brick.

The young Guardian glanced back at him, and he quirked a grin in response. Even now, wizards could still surprise him...

He tapped the trunk beside him and then began pulling it towards the boy. It rumbled under his hand, clearly not liking the touch of anyone but its master, but reluctantly submitted to his guidance. It was a minute or so before they could push their way over to where Kaze waited.

"It's a pass-through enchantment on the wall, as far as I can tell," the boy said, quietly enough that none of the Normals around them would hear. "I can't tell what its parameters are, but it let me through, a bit."

Taka nodded. "I saw." He glanced around, then made a complicated gesture with one hand. The normal short-sightedness of Normals had left them unnoticed as of yet, but he couldn't trust to that to continue once they started walking through walls.

"Ready?" he murmured, once he was sure the notice-me-not was in place and functioning.

Kaze nodded, slipping a hand into his and putting the other on top of the Luggage. "Yeah," he added unnecessarily.

"Alright then." Taking a deep breath, Taka stepped forward, pulling his apprentice along with him. They felt the cool tingle of magic brush over their faces as they passed through the barrier, less than a second of not-quite-discomfort before they were on the other side.

A guard in plain blue robes gave them a bored once-over from his seat on a stool, before turning back to his magazine. A rather pretty woman winked at them from its cover, but the two mages took no notice of her. They were too busy admiring the beauty that sat on the tracks.

It was an old-fashioned steam locomotive, one such as had not been seen out of a museum in fifty years. It had been painted an intense ruby-red, and polished until it glowed, while the silver numbers on its proud front, 5972, gleamed like the very stars above. A lazy wisp of smoke rose continuously from its smokestack, even though the train would not be leaving until an hour hence, and both of the Guardians could feel the magic rolling off of it in waves.

"Well, move along now, you don't want to be blocking the doorway," the guard said sharply, briefly glancing up again from the magazine. "'S'not polite."

Taka quickly stepped off to the side with an apologetic nod, still holding onto the boy's hand. There were few people on the platform as of yet, making a sharp contrast to the bustling world outside.

"I realized I've already asked this, but..." he murmured, "are you sure you're ready for this?"

"Not entirely," Kaze admitted truthfully. "But as ready as I'll ever be, I think. And..."

"You need to do this, or you'll never forgive yourself for not taking the chance when it was available," Taka finished for him, a glint of understanding and empathy in his eyes.

Kaze nodded silently, studying the stone floor intently, too-long bangs falling over his face. "Well, there's no point in dragging this out," the older mage said, trying to make his voice as firm and even as he could- which wasn't very, as a tremor of sadness snuck its way in. He stared at his foster child's unruly black hair, and finally gave into the urge to hug him tight.

A long minute later, the boy pulled away, sniffling a little as unshed tears glimmered in his eyes. "I'll miss you," he said quietly.

Taka smiled at him. "I know. And I'll miss you." He reached out and ruffled his child's hair even more than it already was, ignoring the boy's yelp of protest. "Alright, you remember how to 'Port Zephyr back to the Citadel, right?"

Kaze resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Yes, I remember." His master had only been spending hours every day since he'd received his letter drilling him on the various forms of the spell. Transporting Zephyr, transporting himself, plus animate and inanimate objects...

He'd actually dreamed of performing the incantation last night!

"And in regards to Zephyr..." Taka glanced around, even though he knew he wouldn't see anything. "Is he listening to me?"

The boy shook his head with a little grin. "He's not here right now," he replied.

The Guardian blinked. "What?"

Kaze glanced pointedly towards the Luggage at his side, and Taka choked. "You didn't..."

He shrugged. "He wanted to see what was inside, and now he won't come out. Won't tell me why, either." He looked curiously at his master. "Do you know what's inside?"

Taka frowned in memory. "I asked Mr. Harris once, and he said not to ask. Then he walked away muttering something about watching too many bad movies."

Kaze winced. "Ah..." He stared at the ground for a moment, then at the Hogwarts Express. "...I think I'd best go, sir."

"Yes..." The mage sighed, then reached down and hugged the boy to him again. "Now remember, write whenever you can," he said, before he let go.

Kaze nodded and, with a final sweet smile, was walking off. The Luggage sprouted legs and trotted off after him.

Even in the sadness and sappiness of the moment, Taka couldn't help but find the look on the guard's face as he stared after the suddenly mobile baggage very amusing.

-I-I-I-

Neville Longbottom sighed with relief as he finally stepped onto the train, escaping his grandmother's tenacious grip. He loved the woman who had raised him second to none, but even after all these years, being around her felt like standing in the shadow of an enormous tree about to fall and crush him. She meant well, he knew that, but couldn't she be just a little less...

Formidable?

Still, though, Gran wasn't there now, and wouldn't be for months. Neville felt a thrill of nervous excitement run through him at the thought that he was actually going to Hogwarts, after years of dreaming about it. He still couldn't quite believe that he'd been accepted- for years they'd thought him to be a squib, so how could he possibly have enough magical power to attend the best wizarding school in Europe? There was a terrible fear, deep inside his heart, that when he got there they'd tell him some mistake had been made, that he wasn't supposed to have gotten his letter, even though his head knew they didn't make mistakes like that.

Not at /Hogwarts/.

He imagined the place in his mind, the enormous Great Hall, the sweep of the battlements outside, bright flags bearing the emblems of the Founders over each turret... He'd never been there, of course, but ever since Gran had told him his parents had gone there, he'd been obsessed with the thought of attending it himself. He'd even slogged his way laboriously through an incredibly dry book on the school, titled /Hogwarts: A History/, more than once. It was a place for dreams, a place to finally stand out in the sun, away from his grandmother's shadow...

Now, if only he could stop being a shrinking violet and actually do something about those dreams.

Neville was a great dreamer, but he knew, more than anyone else did, that he wasn't strong enough to accomplish what he wanted to. Not alone. Gran had always been there for him to lean on before, dependable, lasting, but also smothering.

He'd never been alone before. It was an odd, and frightening, feeling.

In all his dreams about Hogwarts, the thing he'd found himself wanting the most was friends. Friends who would never leave him, who would need him, even as he leaned on them for support. Who would be as close to him as blood, but would never, ever, look him in the face and ask him, "Who are you? Do I know you?"

Neville clenched his fists helplessly, shaking his head to try and clear away his thoughts. He opened the door to the train compartment nearest him and stepped in, not noticing there was anyone inside until a quiet, surprised voice said hello.

Neville jumped a little in surprise, blushing in mortification at the squeak that escaped his throat. He glanced at the strange boy, expecting to see amusement or even scorn, but was surprised when instead incredibly green eyes were sympathetic. "Er... Hi," he said, clearing his throat nervously. "S-sorry. I didn't realize anyone else was in here. I'll just-"

The boy smiled shyly, tilting his head towards the ground. "It's all right," he interrupted quietly, peering up at Neville through shaggy dark hair that was desperately in need of a haircut. "I don't mind, really."

Neville took an uncertain step towards the opposite booth. "You're sure?"

The boy nodded, still smiling that shy smile, and as Neville sat down, he couldn't help but smile back.

Maybe his dream about friends would come true, after all.

-I-I-I-

(1) The superstition that crossing your fingers brings good luck stems from 16th century England, when crossing yourself (forehead, heart, left shoulder, right shoulder) was supposed to ward off the evil powers of a witch. "Crossing" your fingers was basically a shortcut. And Taka lived through this period...