#theonecalledcadhla

It’s been a year since ANTHONY WILLIAMS disappeared and he should really go and talk to AMY and RORY and inform them as to his progress-- but it’s been incremental and he really doesn’t think they’ll see it as progress at all. Piddling and fiddling. Blimey.

As he stands there, lost in thought, he finds himself standing next to CADHLA “KY” KNOX, who is holding her youngest son, now a toddler of 17 months.

She bounces the young child gently while she’s talking on a mobile.

KY: Yeah, Theo, I can hear you, I’m here. You what?

Beat.

KY: Oh, yeah, no, I think my set’s in the diaper bag, hold on, hold on. I’ll be right there.

KY lowers the phone and glances at T.S.

KY: Tom. Oh, Tom, sorry about this. Only if you wouldn’t mind?

T.S. (blinks): What?

KY hands him the child.

T.S.: Oh!

Slight processing delay, but then T.S. accepts the child with surprise and gentleness, those old dad skills don’t ever completely go away. The boy locks eyes with T.S. as he sits in the crook of T.S.’ arm, and there’s a distinctive moment of... assessment.

T.S.: Erm. ‘Ello.

The boy glances at KY, who’s dropped to her knees and fiddling with the diaper bag on the platform, riffling through it-- and then she comes up with a set of keys, looks relieved, holds the phone back to her ear.

KY: No, I’ve got them. Do you want to-- yeah, I can run them out to you--

She puts the phone down onto her shoulder.

KY: Tom, do you mind watching him for a minute while I run the car keys out to Theo? He’s just locked himself out and he can’t cross the barrier to the platform without someone Wizarding with him. 

T.S. (nodding, bewildered): No, no, it’s fine, it’s good, we’ll have a grand oul’ time. Erm. What’s this one’s name again? I’m sorry, I’m just--

Bemused, KY smiles tolerantly at him. He really does have a lot on his brain.

KY: Matthew. Matthew Emory Knox.

T.S.: Oh. ‘Ello, Matthew.

MATTHEW: ‘Ewwo.

KY: I’ll be right back, I promise, two shakes.

T.S.: Yeah, no, it’s fine, go on. I’d offer to-- get the lock, I’m quite good with locks-- but probably better for me to not be casting Alohomora in a busy Muggle car park.

KY: Oh, thank you, no worries. Matthew, be good, I’ll be right back!

KY hurries off towards the barrier.

T.S.: Matthew, is it? Oh, I suppose it could be worse, as names go. Means “gift from God,” but don’t let it go to your head.

MATTHEW watches KY hurry off and squints, as though trying to decide what level of separation anxiety to have.

T.S.: Hey, ‘ey, Matthew, eh, look here, eh?

He fumbles in his pocket for a moment and comes up with a wind-up toy mouse. This is one of CAPTAIN JACK THE CAT’s favorite playthings.

T.S.: Mousey, eh?

MATTHEW blinks. “Mousey” isn’t in his vocabulary yet, but he groks the significance. He knows a toy when he sees one. 

T.S.: Look carefully.

He does a thing with his hand, a Muggle magic trick, and the mouse disappears.

MATTHEW frowns, puzzled.

T.S.: But no, look. Keep looking.

And then a twist of his wrist, and there’s that mousey again in his hand.

MATTHEW blinks.

T.S.: Y’see, that’s a thing called “object permanence.” You’ll get the knack of it soon, I’m sure. Big words, they just mean that-- that even if you can’t see a thing, even if it disappears, doesn’t mean it’s gone or destroyed, eh? It still exists, it’s just... somewhere else.

DIRK: An elegantly simple explanation for an infinitely complex topic. And leaving aside the possibility that something exists and yet doesn’t exist at the same time.

T.S. turns to see DIRK GENTLY standing there, looking absent-minded but profound.

T.S.: Erm. Yes. One of my daughters has a cat that can Apparate short distances, I’m familiar with Schrodinger.

DIRK: Yes, I supposed you must be.

T.S. pauses. Something’s been bothering him for a good long time now, maybe now’s as good a time as any to ask.

T.S.: Professor Gently. Dirk. What did you mean? A few years ago, when you asked me what was wrong with Sally Sparrow. There’s nothing wrong with her, I’ve seen her, medically, she’s fine, she’s got Centaur Healers looking after her.

DIRK: Oh. Well. Specifically, I’ve no idea. Not the slightest notion.

T.S.: Then... what?

DIRK: Well. She was there, just as you were, the night that The First Eternity Turner exploded, right there in Dumbledore’s office. What happened to her?

T.S.: Her boyfriend fell into the past and died of old age in front of her the next morning.

DIRK: Yes, true, but that happened to Shipton, didn’t it? Damn shame, boy had potential at holistic detection. Shipton fell into the past. Jupiter had his life rewritten so that he was no longer Muggle-born and had an older sister. You got flung into some unearthly dystopian future which by the grace of The Universe or whatever we’ve somehow managed to prevent. So what happened to Sparrow? She can’t have been in the room with reality-warping forces of that magnitude without having been unscathed? Particularly when no one else was.

T.S.: Well. She could have. And-- and she’s lost her mum, her childhood, her school sweetheart, her best friend, her husband-- I think her life has scathed her quite enough without asking for more.

DIRK: This is doubtless true. I have often been accused of seeing patterns that aren’t there, perhaps that’s what I’m doing now.

T.S.: Perhaps you are.

DIRK: Mm.

There’s a tense moment hanging in the air between them, T.S. defensive of one of his oldest friends, DIRK quietly contemplating T.S.’ argument but still convinced of his line of reasoning.

It’s back into this moment of tension that KY returns, looking bewilderedly between the two men, and then clears her throat as she shoulders the diaper bag.

KY: Um. Tom. Can I have Matthew back? Theo’s bringing the car around.

T.S. blinks, realizes he’s still holding the youngest of the Knoxes, and hands the lad back.

T.S.: Oh. Yeah. Soz. Cheers, Matthew. Good talk. Remember, “object permanence,” try that on your mates at Tumble Tots, it’ll blow their minds.

MATTHEW makes a few emphatic not-quite-legible noises that sound affirmative.

KY chuckles.

KY: Thanks again for watching him.

T.S.: Rose’d thank you for having him watch me.

As KY bids them farewell, T.S. glances back at DIRK.

DIRK: Well. I’m quite sure I’m needed at Peckender Street. Let me know when you need to borrow my calculator again. My best to Tyler.

T.S.: And mine to Evey. Evelyn. Eve. No, mm, that’s still weird, mine to Professor Alvar.

DIRK: Of course.

He moves off, and T.S. stands there by himself for a moment.

He glances down at the toy mousey he’s still holding in one hand.

"Found 'em, Mum!" Jude crowed proudly, chucking his thumb over his shoulder.

Mae Harvey glanced up from where she stood by the train-car with the twins, Sophie and Simon, holding the younger kids' hands as Isaac-- puffing slightly in the crisp autumn air and the swirling train-mists --helped Jasmine load trunks and so forth onto the traincar.

(As she lowered Mac to the platform to trot off and catch up with some of his friends-- he was getting a little old to make those big jumps anymore, even for an accidentally-Conjured magical familiar-- Sally gazed quietly at Jasmine, for a moment. What a funny story she was, she'd heard the stories, seen Jas on previous trips to the station and on forays into The Forest. She had shown up on Isaac and Mae's doorstep when Mae had been a few months pregnant with Jude, out of the blue-- an impossible girl. Her father had been Isaac, her mother had been a Muggle named Amy Pond-- a couple that had never been together, not even once-- Jasmine had told them a story of another life, another timeline, one that had been falling to pieces around her as it was unwritten by The Rifts, but a lad named Tommy Decker had saved her with his magical machine, brought her across into this world. It was a testament to their mismatched, beautiful family that they had accepted her instantly, made her part of the clan.)

Mae beamed at her son, and let go of Sophie's hand for just long enough to wave happily to Fin and Ky and Theo and Charlie-- "Hiiii everyone! Y'made it!"

Ky hugged Mae emphatically, and Mae hugged her back-- their bond went deeper than just friendship: they were two survivors, and they had both survived the same monster. 

(Sally had heard this story, too-- it was surprising what one heard when one generally walked about Invisible or Disillusioned-- Ky had missed The Second Wizarding War, though not in a good way-- she had been cordoned off, imprisoned underground, by this terrible group called The Faceless. Like Mae, Ky had a way of surviving death, and The Faceless had deeply desired to capture Mae as well, so as to compare and contrast Ky and Mae's methods of autoresurrection. Happily, Mae had evaded capture, and Ky had been freed by a mysterious stranger with icy cheekbones and dark curly hair.

Surviving was one thing, though, Sally knew that. Living was another. These two had survived and they lived to tell about it. And that was a beautiful thing.)

A bit further down the platform, a short, gorgeous blonde woman helped her daughter adjust her collar-- and her daughter's hair kept changing length and color and style-- as if her hair couldn't make up its mind. 

"Do you have your to-do list?" Claire Parker asked her daughter with a squint.

"Yep!" Nattie replied, bobbing her Metamorphmagus head. "Though I still think you gave me some softballs this year. Wallcrawling up the outside of The Astronomy Tower? And stealing a toilet seat is so 1991."

Claire held up an instructive finger. "Don't go stingeing on the classics, now, little miss. That one's a Weasley Twin trademark, and an important tradition."

Nattie squinted, considering this. "Okay, fine, I'll steal a toilet seat. But I'm gonna go for the gusto-- I'ma steal Moaning Myrtle's toilet seat."

Claire grinned at her, and fistbumped her-- "Go big or go home. That's my girl."

"Who's going home?" wondered "T.J." Parker as he and his father strolled up-- they'd been up having a chat with the train's engineer, a mad old fellow with curly silver-grey hair, a smile twice as wide as his face, a seven-meter scarf with all the colors of all The Houses, and an even bigger penchant for jelly-babies than Uncle Tommy.

"Yeah," Rich Parker Jr. mused, swinging the little blonde boy's hand, "I don't think even Uncles Fred and George ever got suspended before they got on the train."

"Uh," Claire squinted one eye, "no-one?"

"Totally," Nattie gestured reassuringly. "Totally hypothetical."

"Okay," Rich nodded, seems legit, "just so's I'm not ending up writing another totally hypothetical letter to The Board of Governors this year begging for mercy. Lady Romana's already done this family enough favors for a lifetime."

"I," Nattie decided, "just saw Jude and Fin and Charlie, so."

And she scampered off, almost as agile as her dad. Indeed, her shapeshifting powers allowed her to mimic most of his abilities-- though she never had developed the "spider-sense," which, Rich had often lamented, might have kept her out of trouble a little more often.

"Ah," Rich sighed wistfully. "They grow up so fast."

"That's not the half of it," T.J. mused precociously. "I found her and Charlie snogging behind Aunt Mae's bakery when we ran into them in Diagon Alley that time. He was practically glowing."

Rich made an explosive, incredulous, delighted noise and Claire stared in wonder: "Wait, Teej, what?"

(Shaking her head good-naturedly, kids these days, Sally drifted a little further on down the platform--)

A redhaired exchange student from a school much further East scowled at her parents and stuck her tongue out at her older sister. "I'll show you who'll have the best marks in our hometown, just you wait! As soon as I can sneak into The Library's Restricted Section and learn Dragon Slave, my plans will be put in motion!" 

(Sally arched an eyebrow at that one, she had troublemaker written all over her. She glanced down at the label on one of the girl's trunks-- Lina Inverse. Yes. Definitely keeping an eye on this one.

The next boy was on the opposite end of the spectrum.)

Dark-haired, slender, conservatively dressed, he looked absolutely serious at the same time that he looked absolutely bewildered. 

"Now, Luke," Sarah Jane told him, cupping his cheek and gazing cheerfully at him, "I know I don't need to tell you-- just like I didn't need to tell Kim back when it was her turn--"

Luke Smith nodded, and recited his reply as though from memory: "'Try not to tell too many teachers how to do their jobs.' I'll do my best, Mum."

Sarah Jane laughed, covering her eyes with one hand for a moment before tucking her hair back behind her ears. "Oh, I know you will, my beautiful boy, I know you will."

"Been studyin' 'is lines, 'as 'e?" Kim grinned as she wandered up, hands in her pockets but not so deeply that she hid the green glow of the Ring now on her right hand-- her left hand was where her wedding rings went. "'E finishes 'is 'omework so fast, fhought a lil' more couldn't 'urt 'im."

Luke smiled brightly at her. "No, Kimber, I experienced no physical discomfort. It was quite pleasant!"

"Speaking of homework," Jack drawled from behind Kim, his own wedding band gleaming as he held an irritated Pluto up off of the ground to keep him from harassing a group of cats-- a clowder, apparently, that was the collective noun, "is it too late to put this one through Obedience School?"

Sarah Jane sighed dismally, took hold of Pluto's nose with a pinch of her fingers, and tutted at him: "You bad dog."

"Affirmative!" Pluto replied, cheekily.

Sarah Jane made a noise of resignation. "Oh, I always was a magnet for know-it-alls."

Kim kissed her on the cheek, grinning her freckled face off. "Oh, yeh know yeh love us."

(Kim and Jack had kids of their own, of course, Sally had learned, but Wade and Jean were going to a different school-- a fancy place in The States not terribly far from Sleepy Hollow that taught a different kind of magic.

Kim glanced bewilderedly, then, vaguely in Sally's general direction, but Sally trusted that the crowd was busy enough and emotions running high enough that even Kim's Legilimency wouldn't catch more than a whiff of her.

Sally strolled away, however, past that little clowder-- and while she didn't speak cat, The TARDIS' translation protocols were always with her, and she understood a snatch of the conversation--)

--smoky grey Mac sat with three other cats, each of whom belonged to students from the other three Houses. A black cat and two orange ones, one of whom had black stripes and a white belly like a real tiger and the other of whom had orange-brown stripes and just a dollop of white in the middle of his chest.

Heard we had a problem with rats, last year, Mac recalled. Powerful big rats, gentlemen. 

Some experiment by the big Magical Creatures guy, the black cat yawned. They got loose, and I had nothing to do with it, no matter what anyone tells you. (Five more minutes of distraction and I would've gotten into the woods to look for that Resurrection Stone-- curse the luck!) --and then he sobbed noisily and emphatically.

Don't worry, the tiger-striped cat dismissed. We've got a plan in case they come back again this year. I came up with it and it involves a lot of laying in wait and pouncing! 

Leave me well out of it, mate, the orange-striped cat squinched his eyes, as he spoke with a gorgeous Tasmanian accent, I always was a lover not a fighter. 

(As Sally walked on past, she clicked her tongue lightly, and Mac's scarred ear rotated in her direction.)

Oop, look at the time, gotta scarper, Mac made a show of looking at his paw before licking it. Same time next year, lads. My love to Sabrina, Calvin, and Jen. 

The other three cats chorused their goodbyes and padded off to their respective owners as Mac returned to be scooped up onto Sally's shoulders.

The orange-striped cat, in particular, zigged and zagged his way over to a slender, gung-ho blonde girl who was practicing fencing moves with her wand-- 13 inches, rosewood, ginger Kneazle-whisker core --and miaowed squeakily up at her. 

Jenny Decker glanced down at Captain Jack the Cat-- named after the movie pirate, not Auntie Kimber's husband-- and arched a flaxen eyebrow. "D'awww, is widdle puddy-tat afraid someone's going to step on his tail?"

Captain Jack squinted at her. Oi, sheila, it's a legitimate concern. There's a lotta bipeds 'round here and not all of 'em look where they're tromping. 

"Fine, pacifist, c'mere," Jenny slid her wand into a specially-made scabbard she always kept strapped to her hip, then swept up Captain Jack so that he draped over one shoulder with a pleased forepaw curling in the air behind her head as his deep bass purr rumbled away. Her familiar so cradled, she turned then to walk over to her parents-- T.S. Decker and Rose Tyler-Decker-- and their other daughter, Susan, this one having inherited her father's dark hair. 

(T.S. wasn't wearing his glasses, good. Sally wouldn't have to bother avoiding his gaze.)

"I'm just saying," Susan pointed out, wide-eyed and earnest-- "Father, Mother--" she was always so formal, she'd get on well with Luke once they met-- "--History of Magic is going to be a problem. I've learned it all backwards and out of order, and I did all my studying in an edition that won't be printed for another fifteen years."

"Right," T.S. nodded slowly, hunched down in front of Susan, "yeah, we should have thought of that sooner, but don't worry, Divination class is going to be aces. Besides, learning history out of order worked pretty good for Merlin."

"That's cheating, that is," Rose grinned down at both of them, hugging Jenny with one arm as the girl and the cat pressed to her side. "Isn't one uv the rules uv using time travel for educational purposes not to cheat at school?"

"Well, yes," T.S. allowed, "but considering I wrote most of those rules..."

(Sally rolled her eyes at him as her gaze lingered on him for just one long moment longer-- he never had changed his fashion sense, insisted it was a timeless look, that suit was still as blue. She knew he was an Unspeakable at The Ministry, and while she couldn't know what that meant for him-- that was the point of being an Unspeakable, you couldn't talk about it-- she suspected she knew. He was their troubleshooter and problem-solver and Maintenance Man for all things related to Time. Those Weeping Angels were still out there, after all, and The Rifts, and someone had reported seeing a Metaltron out in Utah five years ago-- he must be such a busy man, always running around.

And Rose-- Rose had aged beautifully, because of course she had-- so often werewolves tended to suffer premature aging from the stress of their double lives, but? Rose was two wolf Animagi enjoined with a werewolf-- and just as the two whole girls had trumped the girl with a hole through her and saved Rose the Brave's life, so two did twice the ability to turn into wolves trump a virus that forced one to turn into one-- she could simply will herself not to change at the full moon and she stayed her luminous, triune self.

--and then, of course, there was Rose's family.)

"Stand up straight, Tony," Jackie Tyler insisted, tugging on the little bloke's collar, trying to get his hair to stop insistently sticking up, though of course the hair was only doing what she'd told him to. 

"Go easy on the lad, Jacks," Pete grinned at her, hands in the pockets of his own three-piece suit, he looked like he'd just stepped out of a business meeting-- he had, in fact, got a business meeting to go to after this, he was brokering a deal to shore up some struggling Muggle company called Grunnings-- The Minister for Magic and The Muggle Prime Minister were meant to be there, these economic crossovers always did get a bit dicey-- but it wouldn't be dodgy, he was well clear of that, he'd promised. "You're going to pop a seam on his coat and you know how much my tailor charges per hour? Not to mention he wants to make a good first impression wiv his mates."

"We can afford it," Jackie protested, but then mellowed, and smoothed the collar one last time before standing up. "You look fine, dear."

"How're you feeling, son?" Pete wondered, smiling proudly.

"Bit nervous," Tony Tyler admitted, scratching behind one ear. "But I fhink I can manage it. I bumped into a boy named Albus, earlier, outside the station, we're gonna maybe sit t'gevver."

(This was a sweet love story, though one that made Sally chuckle softly. 

As much as Jackie insisted that it wasn't about money, but about Pete proving himself resourceful and devoted-- Sally knew the money couldn't have hurt.

When Sally had given her roll of film to Sarah Jane Smith, Sarah Jane had immediately brought it to The Quibbler, as-- reforms aside-- she knew that the "tabloid" was far more immune to corruption than The Daily Prophet, and Witch Weekly generally didn't go for war stories. And war stories they were.

The photograph of Tommy "T.S." Decker standing dramatically upon his flying carpet had gone on The Quibbler's cover the very next day, with pages and pages of articles about Dumbledore's Reserves and the battle they'd fought behind the scenes-- the source of most of which had been Luna Lovegood, The D.A.'s honorary liaison with The D.R-- the headline had read "SECRET WARS."

Not many people believed any of it, of course, but the image of a boy on a flying carpet thwarting evil had done wonders for the campaign to legalize flying carpets in The U.K. and Ireland-- and Pete Tyler had finally managed to unload the stockpile of illegal rugs he'd been sitting on for years. He'd parlayed this fortune into a small empire, and, rags to riches aside, he'd won back the heart of his long-estranged wife.

Sally felt not a little bit proud of herself for this, as well she should.

Next to emerge from the jumble of faces and the swirl of the mists were Evelyn Alvar and Dirk Gently. They never had got married, as such, but they were about as de facto a married couple as one could be-- Dirk was still out there holistic-detecting, and while Evelyn continued to noisily insist that she was not his secretary or his bodyguard, she did have a decent living on the side writing and illustrating self-published stories of their adventures.

Their daughter, Random, was starting school today, and Dirk had to keep reminding her to keep her feet on the ground.)

"I realize you're excited, dear," Dirk nodded, gingerly pressing down on her shoulders so that she stopped levitating, "but if you start floating away in the wrong context someone's going to try and treat you for billywig poisoning."

"Awh, Dad," Random groaned, already ready to bounce up again. 

"Save it for the Unassisted Flight class they're starting this year," Evelyn suggested. "I hear T.J. Parker's going to be in it-- you should stay close to him, offer him some pointers." She hesitated. "But not too close. You might get singed, he's a real human torch."

(Sally made a note of this puzzling statement and moved on...)

Willow and Tara Maclay-Rosenberg were searching through the pockets of a tall, slender boy, round-faced and dark-haired, who looked about as out of place as a Dementor in the tropics. 

Tara arched an eyebrow at him as she came away holding a Kurdish demon-killing knife. "Steven Franklin Thomas Holtz," she lectured, using his full legal name for emphasis, "didn't we tell you to put your weapons in your checked baggage?"

Willow facepalmed and sighed noisily. "Connor. Geeze. You'd think a wand and boy!Slayer super-powers would be enough."

"I don't see why you insist on disarming me," Connor replied bitterly. "What if someone starts a fight on the train? What if The Hogwarts Express is beset by evil spirits?"

"It's on iron rails, honey," Willow pointed out, "just like the train we took here from Devon. And if one of your new classmates gets all uppity, just deck him. You know. Politely."

"Or," Tara suggested, shooting her wife a wry expression, "you could report them to a Prefect."

"Could do that," Willow supposed. "Also: no busting ghosts when you get there, Professor Joanna's class on Steampunk Theory is always popular and she's a close personal friend of the family. Not to mention, her boyfriend's too bad-ass for even you to handle."

Connor snorted noisily, that sounded like a challenge. 

Tara sighed. "Look. Con. You start a war with Peeves, no-one wins that. Especially not us when your dad comes here from L.A. just to kill us. Either of your dads. Or Uncle Spike."

(Wide-eyed, Sally kept walking. Oh, this one would maybe be even more of a handful than Lina.

...Sally made sure to walk behind the next bunch-- unlike T.S. or Luna, this one didn't need fancy spectacles to see Invisible things.)

A blond-haired man with purple eyes and purple eyebrows stood hand-in-hand with a ridiculously gorgeous woman with green hair and green eyes, and they listened attentively as their daughter babbled excitedly and blew Aeromantic puffs in the train-mist.

"--and they're going to be starting a new Pre-Healing elective this year," Karis Jupiter informed her parents, "Professor Jones is teaching it on top of Defense Against The Dark Arts, Finley Knox and I are going to try and sit together!"

Lorna Jupiter grinned at her, shaking her head: "That's brilliant, kiddo. Just make sure you don't neglect your core classes, okay?"

Ivan cleared his throat playfully, and Lorna pretended to roll her eyes-- "Okay, or Aeromancy."

Karis turned to face her parents, gazing at them quietly, her usual thoughtful nature returning. "I'm sorry I've got zero interest in Legilimency, you guys, but I think I spend enough time in my head as it is."

"Trust me," Ivan promised her, "you're better off. Aeromantic meditation is so much easier in just one brain."

(Walking on, glancing over her shoulder to make sure Ivan didn't glance back at her in passing, Sally then turned her attention onwards--)

Ari Prince and her husband Eric-- a handsome, dark-haired pureblood-- were giving their daughter Melody a present.

"A locket?" Melody wondered, tracing her name on the front of the golden seashell shape.

Ari grinned at her. "It's to help you speak Mermish underwater, like my moonstone necklace helps me speak human languages."

Melody's eyes widened. "You mean it? I'm allowed to go hang out under The Black Lake? Visit Godric and the Merfolk and all?"

"Carefully," Eric instructed, holding up an informing finger. "There's dangerous things in that lake, too. Always let your Head of House know where you're going."

"I promise," Melody nodded eagerly. "I promise I promise!"

(On Sally walked, past a woman who looked just like Ari-- this was Amy Pond, she deduced-- and her husband Rory, and their adopted boy Anthony-- who had turned out to be Magical indeed.

--here was another couple of bewildered Muggle couples and their children--

--a dark-haired Welshwoman named Gwen Cooper stood with  her husband Rhys Williams, no relation to Rory, and their daughter Anwen was happily introducing herself to a boy named Alfie Owens, though to his parents' surprise he told Anwen he prefered the nickname "Stormy."--

--and oh, now, here was a face she'd been looking forward to seeing.

Chatting cheerfully with Mickey Smith, husband of the aforediscussed Professor Jones, as Rita-Anne Smith-Jones talked with twins Lorcan and Lysander, the two of them too young to attend yet but excited to see the others off-- debated the validity of a spell that could supposedly turn rats yellow and whether it would work on the big ones that had turned up last year-- Luna Scamander née Lovegood was as ethereal as ever.

Luna wasn't wearing her Wrackspurt spectacles today, but Sally almost wouldn't have minded if she had been. She had been the only one to ever spot Sally, and had invited Sally to tea. Though Sally had only stayed for an hour-- and that begrudgingly-- it was the most undisguised and visible human contact she'd had in a good long time.

...Sally had tried living as a person after school, she really had. She'd even tried living as a Muggle, to see if that would help. But after moving to Cardiff with her husband Larry, only to have him die in a car-crash-- and his sister Kathy, Sally's best friend-- she'd gone missing. Sally had never known the truth behind either event, whether it was the cruel caprice of fate or something more sinister-- but she'd had dreams of Weeping Angels the night before Kathy disappeared and she couldn't help but wonder if her TARDIS-bond had given her a touch of Prophecy.

Between these two final losses, and the PTSD that had followed her all the days of her life-- Sally had returned to her camp in the woods, built a cabin there like someone had suggested many years before-- and lived among the woodland creatures, just her and Mac. ...and the centaurs, bringing her news and supplies.

Out of the humans, only Luna had ever known she was there, not even Hagrid had found her.

And while Sally only ever left The Forbidden Forest twice a year, once to make sure the children left King's Cross safely, and another to see them back again-- once a Reservist, always a Reservist-- Luna had cheerfully gently propagated the myth of a guardian "spirit of the forest," and had sent her friends' children CARE packages to leave for this "Fae creature" as offerings.

"Sometimes," Luna had said, "she takes the form of a beautiful woman. Sometimes she takes the form of a Thestral that only people that believe in her can see. Sometimes she's a lovely old cat with a holey ear that knows more than he's letting on. But while she's always lonely and sad, she's also-- happy, in her way-- and kind. And she rewards and protects those whose hearts have been broken, and who are respectful of her home, and who are kind."

Sally drew on, then, almost to the end of the platform, and saw two last figures standing there.

They were beautiful. And they were blue.)

Kurt glanced down at his daughter, glanced down at where their three-digit hands interlaced, and he smiled down at her with a familiar sort of broken-hearted kindness. "Don't be afraid, eh? These people were very kind to me in my day. They would be kind to you, too, if you give them half a chance." He paused, then, and laughed softly-- "--and promise to not possess anyone without their consent."

She was the spitting image of her father, blue with pointy ears and molten golden eyes and a swishing tail-- though of course one of her dad's eyes was covered with an eyepatch-- and her navy-blue hair hung in long curls like her mother's dark-chocolate locks. "If you say so, Dad."

The little girl version of Kurt could see pretty well in dark places, though, and she was quietly picking out faces, familiarizing herself with new friends.

(Sally had even heard about this, too, from one of the younger centaurs who often shared apples with Headmistress McGonagall. 

Kurt's arranged marriage to Wanda Maximoff had gone well at first. They'd made quite a good couple, her becoming a powerful member of The Dark Force Defence League, him becoming a chaplain in a special Muggle organization called SHIELD. But as she quested to redeem her family from the wrongs wrought by her father, Erik Lensherr committed one too many travesties--

--and she had snapped. She had promptly divorced Kurt and run off into the mountains of Transia with the family golem, leaving Kurt alone to raise their ten-year-old daughter, now eleven. In order to get away from the hurt of it all, they'd moved to England, and here she was-- starting at Hogwarts instead of Durmstrang.

Sally couldn't really find herself blaming Wanda for acting like that-- she was no hypocrite-- but she couldn't help but feel sorry for Kurt, either-- he was a genuinely good man, and he didn't deserve that sort of unhappy ending.)

Kurt's daughter drew away from Kurt, slowly, her fingers sliding out of his, and as he watched her go, she wandered in amongst the people and pets on the platform-- she looked for new friends.

He slipped his hands into his trouser pockets, then, and in his big coat he looked rather like someone Sally had known long long ago and found familiar.

Kurt's daughter glanced up at Claire and Rich, heard them say their son's name, and she glanced at the young Parker boy.

"You're called 'T.J.?'" she wondered, intrigued.

He gazed back at her with a serious sort of contemplation, but he certainly didn't seem repulsed by her. "Trevor James Parker."

She held out her hand for him to shake: "Talia Josephine Darkholme."

Trevor nodded to her, shook her hand, his grip was firm but not unfriendly, just like his Great-Uncle Ben had taught him. "Pleased to meet you. Do you have any Knacks?"

Talia grinned at this-- she wouldn't be the only "freak" at all, if other people had special powers. Yes, her dad had told her about this, but it was nice to receive independent confirmation. "Actually yeah! I can do Legilimency a little, and fire off these 'bamf-bolts,' and I can-- body-jump. Also I can wallcrawl like my dad."

Trevor took note of this with interest. "That's quite the collection! My dad can wallcrawl too. And my sister."

Talia's grin became a beam. "Cooooool. What about you?"

Trevor calmly held up his free hand-- and it burst into flames, bright and warm, dispelling some of the mist. "Like my mother's biological parents, I am gifted in Aeromancy and Pyromancy. Flight and flame."

Nodding in a suitably impressed fashion, Talia slung an arm around Trevor's shoulder. "You know, T.J., I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship."

Considering this, Trevor couldn't help but agree. "You know, T.J., I think you're right."

Watching this conversation from a distance, Kurt smiled his gentle, gentle broken smile-- and then spoke: "I think they're going to be all right, don't you?"

Sally hesitated-- was there someone else here? Was he-- did he have an earpiece hidden in one of those pointy ears?

But then he turned to look right at her, and he turned up his eyepatch like a catflap-- and revealed a blue eye underneath. A Mad-Eye.

Sally felt her cheeks burning, and Mac's tail twitched as he napped on her shoulders, even in dreams he was sympathetic to her moods. She was caught, for only the second time in over a decade.

"You have such a pretty face," Kurt opined. "It is a shame to hide it behind Invisibility."

Sally scowled at him. "Saves on invasions of privacy."

Kurt shrugged easily. "I apologize for intruding. It has a mind of its own sometimes, and it does not even blink. I won't give away your secret identity."

Wincing, she gazed at him for a long moment-- hadn't she just gotten done thinking he deserved better treatment? "It's all right. Really. It's all right."

"Danke," Kurt inclined his head, and then squinted his yellow eye in her direction. "I know you, don't I? You were with Dumbledore's Reserves. I see The Light Mark on your arm. I'm called Kurt Darkholme."

Sally smirked faintly at that. "Yes, I know who you are."

"And what's your name, again?" Kurt frowned, struggling to remember, he was usually more polite than this-- it was like the Scottish word "tartle," trying to introduce someone who's name you'd forgotten-- except of course he was trying to introduce himself.

"Sally," she replied, politely enough, then, "Sally Darkholme."

They both paused with wide eyes for a moment, and even as Kurt burst out with a huge grin, Sally tried to cover her face with her hands, even while Invisible. "Don't look at me!"

In his sleep, Mac started to purr.

********

Quite a ways down the platform, Tommy stood with his hands in his pockets, and his glasses on, and he watched. And he smiled gently, and remembered something an angel had said to him a long while ago.

Sometimes you wait.

And sometimes the wait is worth it.

Final chaos ensued-- kids waved and parents hugged and tears were shared--

--the train pulled out of the station, chugging away--

--and Thomas Stearns Decker found himself, purely by coincidence, standing next to Harry James Potter as Harry waved goodbye to children Albus, Hugo, and Rose--

--Harry exchanged murmurs with his wife Ginny and absently touched the lightning bolt that marred his brow--

--and then looked up to see T.S. beside him.

Tom and Harry.

Headmistress McGonagall might remark that whenever there was trouble it was always those two names. 

Harry stuck his hand out to T.S.

T.S. shook Harry's hand, and murmured, with gratitude and solidarity: "All right, mate."

Harry smirked softly at that, a smirk that was wholly a smile, and shook T.S.' hand firmly back.