TDA
The Goblet of Fire sat on Beatrix’s dining table, flaming merrily.
There was a letter in the casket, so Ginny fished it out and unfolded it. The Goblet continued to fill the room with the light of its flames as she read the letter:
TO: G Weasley, Headmistress, Beauxbatons Academy, France
FROM: M McGonagall, Headmistress, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
You are hereby reminded that the next Triwizard Tournament is overdue. It is the turn of Beauxbatons Academy to host the event.
Every effort should be made to complete the Tournament by the end of the current academic year.
Cordially,
Then a familiar scribbled signature.
“What does it say?” demanded Beatrix over her shoulder, looking at the letter with unembarrassed nosiness.
Ginny re-read the note, translating it out loud into French.
“Is that how these things work?” asked Beatrix in surprise.
“I don’t know,” Ginny admitted. “It’s a bit strange.”
She closed the casket lid and sat the Goblet on top of it, as she recalled Dumbledore placing it, years ago. It had been her third year at Hogwarts, she remembered. Just after the Quidditch World Cup.
Without warning, the owl spread its wings and flew out through the still open door. This reminded them both that the room was freezing by now, and Beatrix flicked her wand to slam the door shut.
Both of them recoiled when the fire spewing from the cup turned from blue-white to orange.
The Goblet spoke, in a familiar Scottish accent.
“Ginny?” called the Goblet. “Are you there? Ginny?”
“Professor McGonagall!” Ginny uttered in amazement.
“Good! Please listen. We don’t have long. I’m breaking all kinds of laws here, the least of which is connecting a Goblet to the French Floo Network… Listen carefully. I need you to do me a substantial favour. I know it’s a little risky you coming here, but I’ve done my best to keep you safe. I just need a few hours…”
“I don’t understand,” said Ginny, anxiously. “What…?”
“There’s a package you need to deliver,” said the Goblet.
“This?” asked Ginny in confusion. “The Goblet?”
“No!” snapped the Goblet. “Forget about the Goblet. This was the only way I could talk to you without the Ministry finding out!”
“But the letter…”
“And ignore the letter,” said the Goblet. “Total obfuscation. Ginny, you need to collect a package for me. It’s… Wait…” There was a short pause. “It’s at the… Army Museum,” said the Goblet. “In Paris. Do you know where that is, Ginny?”
“I’ve been there,” said Ginny, uncertainly.
“Good. Now, this is the piece I don’t understand: It’s right behind you. Does that mean anything to you?”
“What?” said Ginny in confusion. “Well, I suppose so. Yes.” She could feel her face warm.
“You need to be there at three o’clock,” said the Goblet in McGonagall’s brogue. “Three. No earlier, no later. D’ye understand?”
“I think so,” said Ginny. “But today? You do realise…”
“Yes,” said the Goblet, testily. “Christmas Day. You may need to break in. But this is important. I shouldn’t be asking this of you, but you see…” McGonagall’s voice, already stressed, changed to hurried. “I’ve got to go. Bye.”
The flames in the Goblet changed back to blue-white.
“Professor McGonagall?” called Ginny. “Professor…?”
But the Goblet was merely a blue-flaming Goblet once more. Beatrix’s English was uncertain, so Ginny tried to explain.
“And deliver it where?” Beatrix asked blankly.
“No idea,” admitted Ginny, worriedly. “Maybe there’ll be instructions with the package. I hope. And I hope they’ll be clearer than what I’ve had so far.”
The good news was Ginny didn’t have to break into the Army Museum. She took Gosse with her, who was surprisingly willing to be dragged away from his late Christmas breakfast, and discovered they could Apparate directly into the building, as they had for the unveiling of Gosse’s painting of her. But the museum seemed entirely deserted. Ginny checked her watch: It was a few minutes to three.
When they reached the painting, the Joan of Arc version of Ginny looked even more naked than before, partly because the Museum seemed no warmer than the snow-covered outside. Her painted self winked at her, casually, as she stood astride her towering horse, but gave no clue as to where the package might be.
“It’s not damaged,” said Gosse in relief as he examined the canvas.
“I’m sure McGonagall wouldn’t…” began Ginny, hurt.
Gosse shook his head. “She did not put it here, surely?” he said, grumpily. “And we don’t know anything about who did. They could be a total charlatan.” He was like a dragon with her eggs about his painting, Ginny realised, which perhaps explained his surprising willingness to come here on Christmas Day, just to make sure it hadn’t been damaged.
“Perhaps we’re early,” Ginny said nervously. But it was now only two minutes before three, according to her watch. They waited, fidgeting, as Joan of Arc’s painted mount pawed nervously, while her painted rider easily accommodated this, and her gaze swept between her invisible troops and the hidden enemy.
It was three o’clock, and nothing had happened. Ginny ignored Gosse’s objections and approached the painting. The frame was flush against the wall. There was no light visible behind it. Was it stuck there? She put her fingers to the frame and tried to ease it gently away from the wall. To her surprise, the entire painting swung open slightly, like a door. She heard Gosse grunt in amazement and horror.
The wall behind the painting was blank, but in the middle of it – behind the painted Ginny, in fact – there was a small square hollow, with something dark inside it. She edged behind the painting, until she could see that the something was a rectangular cardboard box, with a lid. As gently as she could she reached up and touched the box, and then lifted it out with both hands. She slid back to the edge of the painting, and pushed it shut with her elbow.
There was a stone bench across from the painting, so she carried the box there to examine it. Gosse joined her, having reassured himself that his painting was undamaged. There was no label or instructions on the outside, so Ginny carefully pulled open the lid, which came free without argument. She peered inside, conscious of Gosse’s head near to her own.
Inside was something metallic, box shaped, four or five inches across. It was brass, she decided, and had small levers protruding through slots on its sides. There were lights on top, red and green, but they weren’t lit.
“What is it?” hissed Gosse.
“No idea,” admitted Ginny. She reached her hands into the box to lift out the strange item.
But as soon as her fingers touched the metal object, there was something dragging at her navel, and the museum disappeared from around her.
“Gosse?” Ginny called out. But she was on her own. Gosse hadn’t been touching the metal cube, which had to be a portkey. As well as something else, presumably.
It would have been hard not to recognise where she was standing now: Platform 9¾, but a strangely empty one, with no Hogwarts Express there. In fact the place seemed entirely deserted, and near silent. She looked up and down the platform, but couldn’t see anyone.
She felt a total fool standing there, clutching a strange brass box. There was a railway bench nearby, so she crossed to it and sat, uncertainly.
Presumably she was waiting for the Hogwarts Express. She glanced up at the huge station clock, and was surprised to see it saying a few minutes after two o’clock, not three. But this was England, not France, so of course it would be an hour earlier. That thought helped her remember to send a Patronus to Gosse and tell him where she was.
She felt a sudden yearning to see the Hogwarts Express again. It would be strange, she decided, not to be on it, to be already here as it steamed into the station, for the doors to open, to greet the new arrivals. Very strange. She would feel like a parent, perhaps. Or an elder sister. Or a younger sister once more. She could still remember the feeling of frustration as she’d watched the Hogwarts Express leaving the platform, years ago, with both Ron and Harry on board.
Although, why would the Hogwarts Express be running on Christmas Day?
All I can do is wait, she told herself. She’d be able to hear the Hogwarts Express approaching. Hissing steam, the wheels on the rails. But minutes passed, and there was still silence. What had gone wrong?
A strange moaning hum… Presently she could see a line of Muggle railway carriages, looking like strange escapees without an engine at the front, appear and then recede into the deep brick-lined cutting, and disappear around a corner. Then silence once more.
She kept glancing along the platform, hopefully, even though she knew she’d hear the train first, but still nothing. For variety she examined the box she was holding, but it was as baffling as before. It had a dial on one side, she discovered, but the needle remained on nought.
She looked up, and this time she could see something moving. Not a train, but a distant broad figure, walking towards her.
It wasn’t Hagrid, as she momentarily hoped. This figure was just as wide, but shorter, and dressed in bright red. And bearded like Hagrid, but the beard was pure white, even whiter than Dumbledore’s had been. A red pointed cap with white edges obscured the face, and there was a sack over one shoulder.
Has to be a Muggle, she decided. No-one I know looks as weird as that.
But the train still didn’t arrive. Eventually the plodding figure reached her, stopped, and stood looking down at her. “Merry Christmas,” said the beard. A female voice.
“Professor Sprout?” Ginny said in amazement.
“Cheeky bugger,” said the figure. A young voice, she realised now. “This is all pillows, OK? Have another guess.”
“Ruby?” Ginny asked then, doubly unsure. “RubyBalsam? What are you doing here?”
“Good question,” said Ruby. “What I’m told, I suppose. Well, are you just going to sit there?”
“I’m waiting for the Hogwarts Express,” Ginny said uncertainly.
“Could be a long wait,” said Ruby. “Come on, then. Don’t forget the present.” She turned and walked back down the platform.
Ginny stood hesitantly and followed her. “Whose present?” she asked.
“Mine, I suppose,” said Ruby. “But you hang onto it for now.”
“Why the disguise?” Ginny asked.
Ruby stopped walking. “Ah,” she said, over her shoulder. “Good point. Come in here,” she said, walking over to a door, and opening it. Waiting Room, said the painted label above it. The broad red figure of Ruby waited and held the door open, so Ginny could pass inside. They were in a small, square, dingy room with wooden benches around the walls.
Ruby dumped her sack onto the floor. “OK,” she said, “Get your kit off.”
“What?” asked Ginny in amazement.
Ruby was bending, delving in the sack, pulling out various items, which were mostly green and red. “This is you,” she said. “I’m looking forward to this.”
“Ruby… Why…?”
Ruby looked at her and pointed a finger at herself. “Disguise,” she said. “Not a fashion statement, OK?” She gestured to the green and red objects, which were clothes, Ginny realised. “Your disguise. Dress, tights, boots, hat,” said Ruby. “You can leave your underwear on. Unless you’d prefer not to. Get on with it! Haven’t got all day!”
“But…” started Ginny, but she really didn’t have a sentence to tack on the end of her objection, so instead she put the brass device on a bench and peeled off her outer clothes. She shivered; The room was none too warm, as there was a fireplace, but no fire. The dress was bright green, short and tight, and it was hard to pull on. It was more like a tunic, with a jagged hem and red-and-white striped sleeves. It was barely long enough to call a dress, so she was quite glad of the tights. They were bright red, and they helped stop her shivering. The shoes were actually boots, green with curling pointy toes. There was a wide black belt to go around the dress, with a brass buckle.
“Really?” Ginny protested when she looked down at herself. “Ruby, what is this?”
“Muggle magic,” said Ruby. “Makes you invisible.”
“This?”
“Don’t forget your hat,” said Ruby. But the hat was a silly little triangular thing that Ruby helped to attach to her hair with a sticking charm. “There,” she said then. “Dead cute. Give us a kiss, then.” She planted a brief but hairy kiss on Ginny’s mouth, and then she was picking up Ginny’s normal clothes from the bench and stuffing them into her sack. “And this as well,” she said, picking up the brass box and shoving it into her sack. “Thanks,” she added. “You shouldn’t have. Right. Now, I’m Santa, and you’re Elf.”
“Elf?”
“Just Elf,” agreed Ruby, swinging the sack onto her shoulder. “Come along now, Elf.”
Ginny, feeling ridiculous, followed Ruby out of the waiting room. To her disappointment, there was still no Hogwarts Express. Ruby turned right, and plodded along the platform, back the same way she’d come. Eventually they ran out of platform, and it angled downwards and met the stones of the railway track.
“Where are we going?” Ginny asked.
“Not far now,” said Ruby, soothingly.
Another moaning hum; A headless train like the last one was slowly coming into the station, passing them. Ginny cringed when she saw faces staring at them. A small figure plastered itself across the glass of one carriage, and waved.
“Wave back,” said Ruby, waving. “It’s part of the magic.” Ginny waved, uncertainly, and then she had to wave to several other passengers, not all of them children.
“Here,” said Ruby, eventually. When Ginny looked over her shoulder, she could see they were out of sight of the station now, in a long curving brick-lined cutting, with parallel sets of railway lines running along it. They were standing in front of a square-topped tunnel that angled out into the cutting, and Ginny could see a single set of railway tracks receding inside.
“Give us a hand,” asked Ruby. “Easier with two of us.” She was struggling with something at the edge of the tunnel entrance: A door, Ginny realised, a tall, narrow, grimy one. Ruby was pulling at it, and Ginny pulled too, and to her surprise the door was sliding across the tunnel. It was several doors, in fact, hinged wooden segments, and, even with Ginny and Ruby heaving together, it was hard to drag it across the tunnel, until it touched the far side.
One of the hinged sections had a door within it, with a keyhole, and Ginny looked on in puzzlement as Ruby produced a key, unlocked the door and pushed it open.
“But…” began Ginny, but Ruby was beckoning to her, and climbing through the door. It swung shut behind Ginny, and everything was utterly black inside. Ginny couldn’t even see the gleam of the rails now.
“Mind the step,” said Ruby, in the darkness ahead of her. “Big one…”
Despite the warning, Ginny clouted her shin painfully into something metal about a foot in the air, and swore. A hand was touching her dress now, finding her arm, dragging her upwards, and she managed to climb onto the invisible step. “And another,” said Ruby’s voice, but the next step was shallower.
In annoyance, Ginny pulled her wand from between her shoulder blades – the dress was tight, and made this difficult – and snapped “Lumos”.
They were in a strange rectangular corridor, with odd curving plates under her feet. Ruby opened a door, and Ginny followed her into a long narrow wood-lined room. Ruby led her along the space to a similar door at the far end. This led to a dogleg, and then they were walking along a narrow passage, with glass on both sides. Ginny’s wand revealed a compartment on her right.
“We’re on a train!” Ginny said in sudden realisation.
“Didn’t I say?” said Ruby.
“Is this the Hogwarts Express?” Ginny asked, recognising it at last.
“Yep.”
“So what are we…?”
“Technically,” said Ruby, “It’s called Taking and Driving Away. TDA, to the rozzers. Not really much of a crime, see. So it’s not stealing, or anything serious like that.”
“We’re going to steal the Hogwarts Express?” demanded Ginny in amazement.
“Don’t you listen?” complained Ruby. “We’re just going to borrow it.”
Ginny, strangely, found she’d run out of questions. She followed Ruby through carriage after carriage, distracted by memories of travelling to and from Hogwarts nearly every term for seven years in these carriages. And here she was again. There was a faint sound, like a distant breeze, which grew louder as they walked along the corridors.
Ruby paused before another door, and when this opened, they were no longer in a carriage. They were in a wider, higher passageway now, with solid metal sides. The quiet sound was a louder hissing, and she could smell sulphur, and dust, and feel warmth. She hadn’t registered how chilled she’d been until now, in her stupid costume. She followed Ruby into a square metal chamber, at the front of which were an array of dials and levers and handwheels. She could feel heat radiating from the front wall.
“Don’t fall out,” said Ruby, gesturing to the open doorways on either side. “Now… Lesson time. We’re… up to pressure. And… plenty of water. See? Here and here. Now, this holey lever’s the brakes. You need that to stop, OK? But we want to go now, so…”
Ginny watched, wide-eyed, as Ruby wrestled with the foot-long lever, until it rotated. Then Ruby pushed her out of the way to reach a long waist-high lever sprouting from the floor. “This needs both of us, OK? We’re pushing it backwards. So we can go backwards. Got it? Heave…”
It took both of them all their strength to shift the lever. “Couldn’t we have used our wands?” Ginny panted when they’d finished.
“Not sure,” admitted Ruby, equally breathless. “Muggle magic and our magic don’t always play nice together, so better ahead than dead, as Dad says. Said. Which leaves this one. This is yours.” She was gesturing to a long red metal bar that slanted diagonally across the front panel.
“Mine?” said Ginny, nervously.
“Well, ideally not, but I need to do the points, see, from the back of the train, so you have to be here. Or we don’t go anywhere. Now, gentle, right? Squeeze the two bits at the end together, and pull it down. Ever so slowly. Wait! Not yet! Wait ‘til I get down to the other end, and listen out for me shouting, OK?”
“OK,” said Ginny, uncertainly. Of course! Ruby had to open the door, didn’t she?
Ruby took one further look around the cab then walked back down the train. Ginny could hear her steps for a while, but then all she could hear was the engine, talking to itself, in hisses and subdued roars. Would she be able to hear Ruby from this distance?
She waited about twice as long as the time she guessed it had taken to walk along the train, but she still couldn’t hear anything, even when she held her breath. Her hand on the lever was hot now. And sweaty.
She heard something… Something very faint. A voice, she decided. A pause, then a louder sound. Definitely a shout, probably Ruby…
She clamped her hand around the trigger, and she felt the lever come free, so she could rotate it downwards. She could hear Ruby’s words in her mind: Ever so slowly. The hissing around her was louder now.
Nothing happened. A bit more…
CHUFF. An almost solid sound, that seemed to reach out and squeeze her chest.
CHUFF CHUFF.
Her heart was tripping at a furious rate. She could hear the train groaning now. Things were moving, the hissing noise was in her ears, and the metal under her feet was vibrating, shaking.
CHUFF CHUFF CHUFF CHUFF.
Nervously, she pushed the lever upwards and the engine was quieter again, but they were still moving, there were many sounds around her, from all along the train, of moaning metal.
A bit more…
CHUFF CHUFF. CHUFF CHUFF.
She could feel the train swaying beneath her. Was she going too fast? It was still pitch black on either side of her.
CHUFF CHUFF CHUFF CHUFF.
A bit less…
She could hear another sound now: Running steps. She turned quickly, and as she did so, light burst all around her, flooding in from the open doorways on either side, from the side windows at the front of the train. She could see the red and white figure of Ruby now, her hand raised, a patting motion. Ginny pushed the red lever up, and the chuffing stopped, and in the daylight she could see the engine was slowing.
“Brakes,” Ruby was saying, reaching up for the holey lever and rotating it. “Right,” she said then. “Come and give us a hand. Need to hurry.” She barrelled out of the side door, turned and Ginny could see her climbing down. Ginny turned out the light on her wand and shoved it between her shoulder blades so she could follow Ruby. She could feel the stones through her stupid boots as she trailed after Ruby along the side of the hissing engine, through damp clouds of steam. She stopped abruptly. She was staring at the door she’d helped Ruby closed. And it was still closed, to her bemusement. Hadn’t the train…?
Ruby was heaving at the door once more, and Ginny hurried to help her to drag the door back, so it lay along the side of the tunnel once more. “Lighter now, see,” panted Ruby. “’Cos it hasn’t got a train inside it.” Ginny found herself looking down the empty tunnel, and at the rails, still confused.
“Grab a hold,” said Ruby, producing her wand.
“A hold of what?”
“The door, dummy!” A bemused Ginny took hold of the door. She could see now that the screws in the door hinges were calmly unwinding, wobbling now as they were about to fall out. Ruby expertly caught and pocketed them. “Now, let it lean… Gently! Whoa! All right, you take this end, I’ll pick up the other…”
“What do we want a door for?” Ginny puffed. The door, even without a train inside, was very heavy and hard to carry.
“Might come in handy,” said Ruby, equally short of breath. They were at the train now, which was resplendently red in the chilled sunlight, and Ruby was heaving her end of the door upwards so it rested on the cab floor. She hurried to help Ginny heave the entire door into the cab. Then they could climb into the cab themselves and prop the door up against the side in the tender, where Ruby used some ropes from her wand to tie it in place.
“Loads of fun, hey?” said Ruby in her ear. “Right, we need to go.”
Ruby was reaching up to the brake lever, and then she was craning out of the side, one hand stopping her falling out, the other on the red lever.
CHUFF. CHUFF CHUFF CHUFF…
Even through the white beard and red and white hat, Ginny could see that Ruby was enjoying herself immensely. The train was swaying and groaning to itself.
CHUFF CHUFF CHUFF CHUFF…
Ginny looked out of the opposite doorway to Ruby. She could see the carriages confidently backing into the station. She caught the eye of a man in a uniform with an orange over-jacket, walking along the track. He was staring at her in amazement, and she felt horribly embarrassed until she remembered her instructions. She waved, as cheerily as she could, feeling stupid in her silly short dress and tights. The man looked startled at first, but then he shrugged and waved back, then turned away and kept walking.
Powerful Muggle magic, she said to herself, impressed now.
Here was the platform. They were moving more slowly now, and Ruby with a casual air brought the Hogwarts Express to a triumphant hissing halt. She looked at her watch. “Right,” said Ruby. “Seventeen minutes. Now we can see better, let’s give you the advanced course…”
She produced a metal can with a spout, and she was using the trigger to spurt liquid – oil, said Ruby – over various key parts of the locomotive. Ginny followed her down onto the track as Ruby talked on about axles and rods and unions, but it was hard to concentrate now. Then they had to walk around the front of the train and clamber onto the platform and apply oil to the other side. In the distance she could see figures climbing into the carriages.
“Here,” said Ruby, in her ear. “This is you.” She thrust something at Ginny, a shiny metal whistle on a lanyard. “Around your neck,” she added. More instructions, that Ginny tried hard to listen to. “Don’t worry,” said Ruby reassuringly. “I won’t leave you behind. Spot on two forty-five, OK?” She waved to the large station clock above the platform. Only six minutes away…
Ginny’s head was reeling now, with the sights and sounds of the Hogwarts Express, of levers, and handwheels and dials, of whistles and points and times. A handful of passengers ran onto the platform, climbed aboard and slammed their doors behind them, and she pelted down the platform to slam a door that was only partly shut. She watched the minute hand of the station clock swing to nine, peeled on her whistle, deafening herself, then sprinted down the platform as the Hogwarts Express slid majestically out of the station. She grabbed onto the handles and hauled herself up into the driving cab.
She wasn’t given time to catch her breath: Ruby was wielding her wand, and shouting at her to take over the throttle – “yeah, the red lever!” – so she could lean out of the engine and deal with the points. Then they were lurching to the left, and Ginny realised they were climbing slowly out of the deep cutting. Now they were curving to their right, over a bridge, with office buildings and warehouses around them, as Ruby hung out of either side of the cab in turn, wielding her wand, and Ginny kept her hand on the red lever, the clamorous heartbeat of the Hogwarts Express in her ears.
“Stop!” Ruby shouted then. “We need to stop!” Ginny pushed the lever up, and the train lurched. “More gently next time!” Ruby called. “Now the brakes!”
Ginny had to find the holey lever, and work out which way it turned. The slowing train lurched further, and eventually stopped, with an angry hiss. “What’s wrong?” she asked Ruby in concern.
Ruby shook her head. “Nothing wrong. Just a red light.” She gestured out the front window.
Ginny peered where Ruby was pointing. She could see half a dozen lights, red and green and other colours. “Which light?” she asked.
“That one!” called Ruby. “The near one…”
“I’ll let you deal with signals,” said Ginny, uncertainly.
Ruby shook her head. “You’ll have to learn,” she said.
“So… where are we going?” Ginny asked then.
Ruby raised an eyebrow in amazement. “Seriously?”
“Seriously!”
“Beauxbatons, of course.”
“What? In this?”
“Hogwarts Express. Yes.”
“Does it fly?” Ginny asked in confusion.
“It doesn’t need to fly, doughnut,” retorted Ruby. “There’s a tunnel.”
“To France?”
“Nothing gets past you, does it?” said Ruby. “Yes, to France… Green light! Get going!”