Magic
Henry took her hand and Gerald’s and they disappeared from the dimly lit street in a whirl of colour. Jane’s head was whirling and she felt nauseous. The “Ministry” was a very big and complex building and like nothing Jane had ever seen or could imagine. Somewhere on the wall, Jane thought there was a plaque with a big M that read “Ministry of Magic”.
“You don’t look so good,” Henry said. “Don’t aperate much, do you?”
Jane struggled to compose herself. “Nnnn..No.”
The large hallways were mostly empty since it was early in the morning. As Jane looked around, she noticed a sign that said “Level two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters, and Wizengamot Administration Services.”
“Well, come on.” Henry had Gerald walk in front of him and motioned for Jane to follow.
Jane wondered what she had gotten herself into and suddenly started thinking that she had stumbled upon some big secret. What if Henry had brought her here only to hand over to the Magical Law Enforcement officers or whatever? She would find out soon enough, she supposed.
There was a large photograph on one of the walls of an imposing man wearing a brimless, flat, round hat, with the caption “Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic” underneath. Jane thought she saw the photo move! She rushed to keep up with Henry and Gerald.
The trio entered a room with many wanted posters, newspaper clippings and maps lining the walls. One or two purple paper aeroplanes were lying about. There was a poster with Gerald’s face and full name on it. “WANTED, Gerald Gregorovitch,” it read. “Gerald Gregorovitch is suspected of Muggle kidnap, murder and breaking of wizarding law. Approach with extreme caution. If you have any information concerning this person, please contact your nearest Auror Office.” The word “Reward” was written below that and more fine print that Jane started reading as Henry snapped her out of her trance. While Jane had been taking in the office, Henry had put Gerald Gregorovitch in a sort of containment cell at the back.
“Yeah, he’s a pretty bad one, old Gerald. That’s why I wanted to get him here right away. Shacklebolt will be glad he’s behind bars. Now we’ve just got to keep him here until he can be transported to Azkaban.”
“You can’t keep me here!” Gerald suddenly shouted.
Jane got a fright but Henry assured her, “Oh, don’t worry, the cell’s got a Containment Charm on it. He’s not going anywhere.”
Jane had so many questions, but she didn’t dare ask, for fear of being caught out, let in on some big secret she wasn’t supposed to know. Only, Jane wasn’t exactly sure what the secret was, yet, or that all of this was real and not some delusion she was having.
“About that reward,” Henry started.
He fumbled at one of the doors in the front of the room. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
Gerald glared menacingly at Jane from the cell, but he genuinely seemed confined by the charm Henry had put on the cell. Whenever he bashed against the bars, he would be flung back towards the middle of the room.
“Filthy mudblood, aren’t you?” Gerald shouted.
Jane kept quiet but secretly wondered if he knew how bewildered and clueless she felt.
“I can smell it a mile away!” the captive shouted again.
Henry came out of the door at that moment, holding a small pouch.
“500 galleons. Half the reward money as promised. Will you find your own way home? I’ve got to keep old Gerald company.” With this, he handed the pouch to Jane.
There were strange golden coins inside with what seemed to be a dragon-bat and the words “Unum Galleon” on one side and a bearded man with a long hat on the other, with the words “Gringotts Bank”.
Jane didn’t dare say that she had no idea how to get out of the Ministry, let alone find her way home.
“Um, yeah, I think so,” she managed.
“It really was nice to meet you, Jane Smith,” Henry extended a hand to greet her.
“You too.” She shook his hand and made her way to the door.
“Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” Jane replied.
Once in the hallway, Jane had no idea which way to go. Everywhere she turned looked the same, so she set off in a direction, but it didn’t bring her anywhere she recognised, so she turned around. After a while, she found stairs to a lower level. She was starting to feel utterly overwhelmed and exhausted. This strange experience was starting to catch up to her. She still wasn’t convinced that this wasn’t all some peculiar dream.
“Wake up, Jane,” she kept telling herself, but every time she opened her eyes, she was still standing at the bottom of a staircase.
She had to sit down, make some sense of this. What did she know so far? Well, Gerald Gregorovitch had broken wizarding law and had a magic wand. Henry Timms also had a wand and was a sort of policeman. They had travelled by some kind of teleportation and they were inside the Ministry of Magic. So that must mean, however impossible it may seem to Jane, that Gerald and Henry were, well, wizards.
Jane woke up with the sound of footsteps headed her way. Light poured into the room from glass doors somewhere. The man from the photo she had seen in the hallway was approaching her. Jane felt like running but her body was frozen with fear. He would know! Whatshisname, Minister of Magic, would surely know that she didn’t belong here. What if he turned her into a frog or something for discovering the secret society of wizards? Jane’s mind felt like mush.
“Jane Smith, I presume,” the man smiled at her.
Jane couldn’t find any words and Whatshisname must have seen her terror because he smiled even bigger before assuring her.
“Don’t worry. There’s nothing to fear. I’m Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic. Although, I hardly expect you have any idea what that means at this point.”
Jane just stared back.
“Would you be so kind as to join me for breakfast?” Shacklebolt asked.
Jane’s tummy grumbled.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Shacklebolt beamed. “Follow me, Miss Smith.”
Since Jane had no idea what else to do, she dutifully followed Shacklebolt to his office.
A magnificent breakfast was awaiting them and Shacklebolt spoke as he ate.
“Before yesterday, did you ever feel like something was missing from your life, Miss Smith? Like there was something just out of reach, but you didn’t know what?” Shacklebolt asked.
“Yes, of course,” Jane said, now finding her voice. “But doesn’t everyone feel like that?” she added.
“Actually, no. Not everyone does,” the Minister of Magic replied. “There’s specific reason that you, Jane Smith, feel that way. When you held that wand last night, how did it feel?”
“How do you know about last night?” Jane asked, shocked.
“Never mind that. How did it feel?” he repeated again.
“Well, it warmed up in my hands and shot out some kind of spark.”
“No, I mean, how did YOU feel?”
“I guess, exhilarated, sir.”
“Exactly. Now let me tell you something, Henry didn’t think you were a muggle because you had used magic - the ‘sparks’ you caused to come from the wand - and he was right.”
“What exactly is a ‘Muggle’?”
“Someone who doesn’t have any magical abilities and doesn’t know about our world. And if you were a muggle, you couldn’t possibly have caused Gregorovitch’s wand to incinerate that bush.”
This was all a bit much for Jane to take in.
“So you’re saying I’m a wizard?” she asked incredulously.
“Well, technically, a witch, but yes. You have magical abilities.”
Jane would’ve fainted if she hadn’t just had breakfast. She was a WHAT?
“I realize you must have lots of questions. And they will all be answered in time. For now, we have to decide how to go forward.”
“Forward?”
“Well, we’ll have to get you trained up. It’s not often that we get witches or wizards of your age who haven’t been to magic school.”
“How do you usually go to magic school?” Jane asked.
“You’re invited. I can’t understand how you wouldn’t have been. Unless you WERE but never got your acceptance letter.”
“But I’ve never even thought of magic before. None of my family have any magical ‘abilities’ either.”
“Yes, you are what we call a muggle-born witch. Somewhere along the line, you must have wizard ancestry.”
“But...” Jane was sure that there had been some sort of mistake. She was the most ordinary person she could think of.
“Well, let’s get you a wand, shall we? And then the matter will decide itself.” Shacklebolt seemed quite convinced that she would be able to produce magic if she had a wand. Jane was convinced of the opposite.
A short trip later, they were inside a shop with a sign across the door that read “Olivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.” The tiny shop was filled from bottom to top with boxes, presumably containing wands. There was barely space to walk between the stacks of boxes. A very old man behind the counter recognised Shacklebolt.
“Ah, Minister Shacklebolt! How may I help you today?” the old man asked.
“This lady needs a wand, Mr Olivander,” Shacklebolt replied.
Olivander peered over the counter at Jane and she found it creepy.
“Well, this IS a rare occasion. Your first wand at such an old age? Xox are we?” Olivander peered curiously in Jane’s direction. She tried to shrink away from his gaze.
“Indeed,” Shacklebolt replied.
“Well, let’s see…” Olivander disappeared behind a stack of boxes. After shuffling about his shop and pulling out boxes from a few stacks, he came back to the counter. He piled the boxes of wands on the counter and opened one.
“Try this one,” Olivander said.
“What?” asked Jane. How would she ‘try’ a wand?
“Give us a wave,” Olivander replied.
Jane waved the wand and to her great surprise something happened! Sparks of fire shot from the wand and lit one of the boxes on the counter on fire. Jane was astonished! Before she could properly grasp the fact that she had just done some ‘magic’ intentionally, Olivander had grabbed the wand from her.
“Hmm…” he sighed. “Perhaps something more like this…”
Jane had to try out a few wands before Olivander was satisfied that she had found a suitable one.
Shacklebolt paid for it and they returned to the Ministry.
The feeling
Jane Smith sat in her office cubicle sipping lukewarm, stale coffee and staring at her computer. Some days, she was content. She had a good job, a fair sized apartment and a loving boyfriend. At 33 years old, there was really nothing to complain about in her life. Except that it was so excruciatingly... well... ORDINARY. Jane knew she OUGHT to be content, but for some reason, there always seemed to be a niggly feeling at the back of her mind that she couldn't quite place. A feeling that things shouldn't quite be so entirely ordinary. Everyone else seemed happy enough to go to work, happily slave away at their desks and then return home to cook, shout at their children, and stare mindlessly at their television. Every. Day. Rinse and repeat. But somehow, it just wasn’t enough for Jane. She didn’t quite know what the MORE was that she wanted from life (or how to get it), just that she wanted MORE. Jane tried to concentrate on the spreadsheet in front of her. Oh, how she wished that she could find this part of her that always seemed missing. She was blissfully unaware of it, but her wish would soon come true.
Jane had had a great time at Venessa’s birthday party the following night, and it had been good to get out for once. James - Jane’s boyfriend - had also let her go by herself since he’d wanted to watch the football match on the television. Jane hadn’t realised how late it had gotten and she had needed to catch the underground home. So here she was walking the last bit of the way in the early hours of the morning. As she neared the small street where her apartment’s entrance was, she thought she saw flashes of green and red light. She wondered absent-mindedly who would be watching telly at such an hour. But as she rounded the last corner, she stopped dead in her tracks. Two men were standing about three meters apart, aiming something at one another. Jane couldn’t tell what it was they were holding, and just as she was wondering, the man furthest away from her shouted what sounded like “Stupefy!” to Jane. The other man fell (more like “flew”, Jane thought) a few meters backwards and released whatever he was holding. It rolled towards Jane.
It was a stick. A wooden stick. The man who had shouted was now walking towards Jane. She picked up the stick to take a closer look at it. It seemed to warm up in her hands. It was hard to make out in the dim light, but Jane thought she saw patterns on the stick. The man on the ground moved. As she turned the stick over, suddenly, a yellow surge of energy shot out of the stick and incinerated a nearby bush! Jane got such a fright she nearly dropped the stick! The man on the ground stopped moving, and stared, terrified, at Jane. The other man was now next to Jane.
Jane felt very confused. What in the world was happening?
“Hogwarts or Ilvermorny?” the man asked.
“What?” Jane asked dumbfounded.
“Well, you don’t look like a Beauxbatons girl to me, so it must be either Hogwarts, or Ilvermorny. Stupefy!” the man said again and pointed a stick at the man on the ground, who now fell unconscious.
“I’m Henry Timms, by the way, ”the man said, tying up the unconscious man’s hands and feet as he spoke. “Auror.”
“Jane Smith.”
“Nice to meet you, Jane.”
Henry had now tied up the other man and extended a hand to Jane, which she gingerly shook.
Jane was now sure she was dreaming. She must have fallen asleep on the tube on the way home.
“So, Hogwarts or Ilvermorny?” Henry repeated.
“Um, uh, neither,” Jane mumbled, wondering what in the world a ‘Hogwart’ was.
“Okay, then. Don’t tell me. But I’m going to need this fellow’s wand,” Henry said.
“Of course,” said Jane as she handed the wooden stick to Henry. So it was a... wand. But, it couldn’t be a magic wand, could it?
“Look, since you basically helped me to capture Gerald here, I think it’s only fair that we share the reward. But I’m taking him to the Ministry right now. If you come along, you can get half the reward money.”
Jane couldn’t understand how she could come up with all of this in order to be dreaming it. Maybe she wasn’t dreaming, maybe it was some elaborate prank that James had thought up. But then, James wasn’t one for pranks. So what was happening to Jane? If this WAS a dream, it wouldn’t matter anyway. And going with Henry would certainly not be ORDINARY.
“Sure, let’s go,” she said aloud to Henry.
The feeling
Jane Smith sat in her office cubicle sipping lukewarm, stale coffee and staring at her computer. Some days, she was content. She had a good job, a fair sized apartment and a loving boyfriend. At 33 years old, there was really nothing to complain about in her life. Except that it was so excruciatingly... well... ORDINARY. Jane knew she OUGHT to be content, but for some reason, there always seemed to be a niggly feeling at the back of her mind that she couldn't quite place. A feeling that things shouldn't quite be so entirely ordinary. Everyone else seemed happy enough to go to work, happily slave away at their desks and then return home to cook, shout at their children, and stare mindlessly at their television. Every. Day. Rinse and repeat. But somehow, it just wasn’t enough for Jane. She didn’t quite know what the MORE was that she wanted from life (or how to get it), just that she wanted MORE. Jane tried to concentrate on the spreadsheet in front of her. Oh, how she wished that she could find this part of her that always seemed missing. She was blissfully unaware of it, but her wish would soon come true.
Jane had had a great time at Venessa’s birthday party the following night, and it had been good to get out for once. James - Jane’s boyfriend - had also let her go by herself since he’d wanted to watch the football match on the television. Jane hadn’t realised how late it had gotten and she had needed to catch the underground home. So here she was walking the last bit of the way in the early hours of the morning. As she neared the small street where her apartment’s entrance was, she thought she saw flashes of green and red light. She wondered absent-mindedly who would be watching telly at such an hour. But as she rounded the last corner, she stopped dead in her tracks. Two men were standing about three meters apart, aiming something at one another. Jane couldn’t tell what it was they were holding, and just as she was wondering, the man furthest away from her shouted what sounded like “Stupefy!” to Jane. The other man fell (more like “flew”, Jane thought) a few meters backwards and released whatever he was holding. It rolled towards Jane.
It was a stick. A wooden stick. The man who had shouted was now walking towards Jane. She picked up the stick to take a closer look at it. It seemed to warm up in her hands. It was hard to make out in the dim light, but Jane thought she saw patterns on the stick. The man on the ground moved. As she turned the stick over, suddenly, a yellow surge of energy shot out of the wand and incinerated a nearby bush! Jane got such a fright she nearly dropped the stick! The man stopped moving, and stared, terrified, at Jane. The other man was now next to Jane.
“Hogwarts or Ilvermorny?” the man asked.
“What?” Jane asked dumbfounded.
“Well, you don’t look like a Beauxbatons girl to me, so it must be either Hogwarts, or Ilvermorny. Stupefy!” the man said again and pointed a stick at the man on the ground, who now fell unconscious.
“I’m Henry, by the way, ”the man said, tying up the unconscious man’s hands and feet as he spoke.
“Jane.”
“Nice to meet you, Jane.”
Henry had now tied up the other man and extended a hand to Jane, which she gingerly shook.
“So, Hogwarts or Ilvermorny?”
“Um, uh, neither,” Jane mumbled, wondering what in the world a ‘Hogwart’ was.
“I’m going to need this fellow’s wand,” Henry said.
“Of course,” said Jane as she handed the wooden stick to Henry. So it was a... wand. But, it couldn’t be a magic wand, could it?
“Look, since you basically helped me to capture Gerald here, I think it’s only fair that we share the reward. But I’m taking him to the Ministry right now. If you come along, you can get half the reward money.”
Jane wasn’t sure if she was dreaming, being scammed or going crazy or all of the above at once. What she did know, was that going with Henry would certainly not be ORDINARY.
“Sure, let’s go,” she said aloud.
The beginning?
Jane Smith sat in her office cubicle sipping lukewarm, stale coffee and staring at her computer. Some days, she was content. She had a good job, a fair sized apartment and a small car. There was really nothing to complain about in her life. Except that it was so excruciatingly... well... ORDINARY. Jane knew she OUGHT to be content, but for some reason, there always seemed to be a niggly feeling at the back of her mind that she couldn't quite place. A feeling that things shouldn't quite be so entirely ordinary.
A poem for him
Ensconced in glass
my fragile heart awaits
under lock and key.
Fortified walls built
and moats dug
to keep it from shattering again.
Too many times
has it been patched;
pasted clumsily together.
So subtly,
so unceremoniously
you breached my defenses.
The key is yours to take
If only you would ask.
But I am stifled,
paralysed by fear;
silent in the castle I built.
Illusions
These tears are not my own
They can never, must never be
This chapter must end
A new one begin
But goodbye is even harder
When it's never said
An open book with empty pages
In my other hand a faded photo
The years ago, the years ahead
Twistedly flow together
In this present reality
So untrue to life itself
The myth of family ends
Here
With a goodbye to last
Forever
you left me
You left me in this restless sleep to drown in the darkness
So I stuff my dreams into a shoebox I hide under my bed
And tape it shut, again and again so they can’t escape and haunt me
I have nothing left
I am broken, crushed, the shattered pieces lying at your feet
The questions chasing ‘round and ’round in my head
You promised me the world
But You left me, bleeding, for dead