HAVE WE MET
(Chapter Five)
"The Age Of Aquarius"
"They say to the seers, `Don't see any more visions!' They say to the prophets, `Don't give us any more visions of what is right! Tell us pleasant things. Prophesy things we want to hear even if they aren't true.'"
Isaiah 30:10
******
Their taxi drove up to the big wrought iron gate set into the three hundred year-old stone wall that surrounded the vast estate. Except for the intercom mounted on a metal post next to the cobblestone driveway, Moonlight Court looked much as it did when it was built in the eighteenth century. Hermione half expected a see a horse-drawn carriage coming down the drive to meet them.
The cab driver eased forward until the intercom box was even with the taxi's rear window. Harry rolled down the window and pressed the call button. "My name is Potter. Harry Potter."
A young woman's voice said, in an odd singsong manner, "Ah, Harry Potter. Are you the gentleman with the aliens' photographs from Roswell-or have you come to fix the toilet?"
"We have an appointment," Harry told her. "Miss Price from Portobello Road sent us." Harry could just make out the sounds of voices arguing with each other about "extra-terrestrials in New Mexico" and "the long line for the loo" before the speaker cut off. "I just hope this doesn't take too long." Harry pulled a deck of cards from his pocket and deftly shuffled them with one hand. "Mr. Browne is supposed to show me how to saw a woman in half."
"Forgive me if I don't rush to volunteer," Hermione said dryly.
"You could always get Penelope." Ron grinned. "I wouldn't mind seeing her cut down to size." Ron had removed his wand from his pocket and was tapping it on the back of the front seat like a drumstick. A glare from Hermione and a nod toward the Muggle cab driver convinced him to put it away. "You reckon they'll let us in? Miss Price did say that they're supposed to be one of the friendlier groups?"
"I believe her exact words," Hermione corrected, "were that they were `a bit less unfriendly' than the others-Ron!" Ron was leaning over, trying to peer through the gate to get a look inside, and as a result was crushing Hermione into Harry.
"Sorry." He retreated to his portion of the rear seat. "I've always wanted to see this place in person. I mean they've all stayed here, haven't they? Michael Jackson, Elvis, the Beatles, David Bowie-The Captain and Tennille!"
"Enter, friends," the same singsong voice finally said. The wrought iron gate swung open by itself, the muffled droning of motors revealing that, in this case at least, no magic was involved.
The driveway wound around an ancient grove of oaks and past a small lake. Here and there, figures in long white robes walked, reclined or meditated on white beach towels.
"Reminds me of the lake at Hogwarts," Hermione said wistfully to Harry. "Do you suppose they have a giant squid?"
"Memories of the old alma mater," Ron sighed, pretending to wipe away a nostalgic tear. "Hey! Isn't that Bob Denver over there talking to Joyce DeWitt?"
"I don't think so, Ron." Hermione said. "In any case, we're not here looking for autographs."
Moonlight Court, the great ivy-covered stone manor house, could easily have been the setting for a gothic romance by Daphne de Maurier or the Bronte sisters. As they climbed out of the taxi and approached the great carved oak double doors, each with a large brass lion's head set into its center, Hermione could almost see Mrs. Danvers from Rebecca peering down at them from one of the upstairs windows.
"Nice knockers," Hermione said as Harry paid the fare.
"Not bad. I'm more of a leg man, myself." Ron's eyes fixed on two attractive young women in calf-length robes walking a matched pair of elegant Arabian mares toward the stables. Luckily, the girls were too far away to hear. They simply looked at Ron, whispered back and forth to each other and giggled. "You're wondering just how good I am in the saddle. Am I right, ladies?"
Hermione blinked her eyes a few times and shook her head. Were those really her old schoolmates Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, or had she grown so accustomed to running into familiar faces that she was seeing them even when they weren't there?
"There'll be plenty of time for horsing around later, Ron." Just as Harry was about to grab one of the leonine brass doorknockers, the front door swung open.
"Welcome to The Circle." The odd sleepy voice they had heard over the intercom belonged to a young girl about Ginny's age. She had long, dirty-blonde hair that hung down to her waist, and large blue eyes that seemed to bulge outward slightly, giving her a look of perpetual surprise. "Come freely, go safely, and leave behind something of the happiness you bring with you." She bowed. "I am Luna."
"Thank you." Hermione had to keep reminding herself that she and this Luna Lovegood had never met before. "I'm Hermione Potter. This is my husband Harry and this is our friend, Ron Weasley."
"Follow me. The Enlightened One will receive you in the Tower of Tranquility, where at present she is communing with the Other Side."
Hermione paused on their way across the foyer to peer through a half-opened door. Several white-robed acolytes sat meditating in the lotus position on the floor of one of the large salons. Its Louis Quatorze furnishings had been replaced by large crystals and stones of unusual shapes, some polished, others left in their natural states. It was then she realized that, technically speaking, many of them weren't on the floor-they were levitating several inches above it.
"Uplifting, wouldn't you agree?" said Luna.
She led them up the great marble staircase past portraits of English nobility, all the while absently humming a tune to herself, which Hermione could have sworn was "Weasley is Our King."
"It's a very beautiful home," Hermione said when she could stand it no longer.
"A house is no home unless it contains food and fire for the mind as well as the body," the girl said enigmatically.
"Do you always have so many people staying here?"
"It's our annual festival of the harmonic convergence, one of our most solemn and sacred rituals; most of them are only here for the weekend."
They arrived at the third floor a bit winded, then proceeded down a long hallway, past signed photographs of Elizabeth Montgomery, Paul Lynde, Agnes Moorhead, Marion Lorne and a blonde man with a most engaging smile dressed in lilac robes, whom Ron didn't recognize. Unfortunately, they were hustled past too quickly, and Ron couldn't make out the signature. Occasionally more white-robed acolytes would emerge from one of the many rooms they passed. Luna would greet them as they met, pressing her hands together, bowing at the waist and saying, "Peace and long life." The other person would then return the greeting.
At one point Ron held up his hand, spread his fingers and solemnly intoned, "Live long and prosper," earning him a nudge in the ribs from Hermione and a dirty look from a tall, curly-headed acolyte with piercing blue eyes and a prominent proboscis. His face looked very familiar. "Oy! Hang on a minute! Aren't you the bloke from the Griffin's Door? Where's your pet savage?" The acolyte ignored him and kept walking. "Hey, Harry, Hermione!" When he turned around, he saw that his friends were already at the far end of the corridor.
"Harry! Hermione!" he said as soon as he caught up with the others. "You'll never guess who-!"
Hermione shushed him before he could finish. Evidently Luna was in the midst of relating some historical tidbit about the house.
At the end of the corridor a large gallery looked out onto the back garden of the estate. Out beyond the swimming pool and the formal gardens stood a large stone circle. A group of acolytes were sitting in its center, while more surrounded the ring holding hands and chanting. Hermione couldn't quite make out what they were singing, but it reminded her of Gregorian chant.
"Some scholars believe our Circle to be even older than Stonehenge," Luna informed them. "It is our namesake, our symbol and the source of our strength."
Luna led them up a circular stone staircase to the top of the highest tower and up through a small trap door.
The large circular room was strewn with cushions and the air was thick with the sickly sweet smell of burning incense. The huge arched windows gave a commanding view of the estate and the surrounding countryside. "Definitely nicer than Divination," Hermione said under her breath.
"Enter, O seekers of knowledge," said an odd, ethereal voice. Sybill Trelawney looked much the same as her counterpart at Hogwarts. She was just as thin; the same chains and beads dangled from her spindly neck. She wore the same exaggerated spectacles and the same rings on all her fingers. The principal differences were the flowing white gown and matching turban that she wore. At the moment, she was chatting on her mobile phone. "Yes, Shirley, I'll have your usual suite ready for you when you arrive. What's that? You've discovered another past life? How interesting. I can't wait to hear about it."
Hermione turned to Luna. "I thought you said she was `communing with the Other Side'?"
"The other side of the Atlantic."
"Of course, Shirley my dear, I understand." Trelawney beckoned her guests to join her for tea, then motioned to Luna to pick up the Georgian tea service from the sideboard. "No, I don't think Madonna can make it this week. I believe it's Lourdes's birthday. Give my love to Warren and Annette and the little one." She turned off her mobile phone and shoved it into a pocket of her robes. "I fear you have acted very foolishly in coming here, my dears."
"We were expected, you know," Hermione said. Harry noticed a barely restrained animosity in her voice.
"Your coming was prophesied ages ago, my dears." A large crystal ball sat on a stand before her, which she absently caressed with her fingertips.
"And confirmed yesterday by telephone," Harry muttered.
"It is fortunate that you were seen by my Inner Eye, Mr. Potter," Trelawney said sharply. "We pride ourselves on our prudence and our discretion. Now you come in here, practically wearing neon signs-! I shall have a few things to say to Miss Price and to Mrs. Lupin about this. My people and I have gone to a great deal of effort to disguise the true nature of our group. Reckless indiscretion such as yours could have easily destroyed everything that we have worked so hard to build."
"It was certainly never our intention," Harry said diplomatically. "Now that we're here, you could at least do us the courtesy of hearing us out."
Although telling and retelling the story of how Hermione came to this dimension and of her mission to build a new Hogwarts had become a bit monotonous, she was rather proud of how they had boiled everything down to the essentials and no longer wasted time with needless embellishments. Nonetheless, in spite of Luna's apparent fascination with their tale, the story didn't seem to impress Trelawney one bit. Her only interest seemed to be in how Hermione was able to traverse the dimensional barrier.
"I really don't know how Professor Dumbledore managed it," Hermione admitted. "Until I found myself here, I had no idea such things were even possible." Trelawney was visibly disappointed. "Now, let us get back to the school. We're hoping to-"
"I'm very sorry, my dears," Trelawney said, getting to her feet, "but I'm afraid that that we cannot help you."
"Surely you must see the benefits-a standardized curriculum, as opposed to the haphazard, patchwork of magical learning today?"
"The plan has merit, to be sure," Trelawney conceded. "We've been exploring the idea of opening a school ourselves."
"Why waste time and money duplicating efforts?" Hermione argued. "If we were to combine our resources-"
"It would never work, my dears. I'm afraid that our philosophies are entirely incompatible."
"Obviously, if you help us, it would only be fair that you have a say in developing the curriculum-" Hermione's patience was clearly beginning to wear thin.
"What would you consider fair," Trelawney shot back, "a few lines in a textbook, debated, compromised, and watered down until they are acceptable to the `democratic majority'? A perfunctory elective course, a token offered merely in appeasement?" As she shook her head, her emerald earrings tinkled like miniature wind chimes. "Quite frankly, I see no incentive for us to--"
Fed up, Hermione pulled her wand from her purse and aimed it at the tea service, just as Luna was about to set the tray down on the table. The Wedgewood cups, saucers, spoons and napkins neatly arranged themselves; the sterling silver teapot dutifully filled each of the cups, followed by the sugar bowl and creamer, which paused before each guest and waited for them to indicate their desires.
"Most impressive I'm sure, my dear." Trelawney was clearly intimidated, but was doing her best not to let on. "But I'm afraid it only serves to illustrate my point. What would your students learn at this new school of yours: new spells for turning lead into gold or for enchanting common objects to perform menial labor? Magical materialism," she declared disdainfully. "Unlike our fellow witches and wizards, talented though they are in the area of loud bangs, bad smells and sudden disappearances, here our energies are focused inward to penetrate the veiled mysteries of the soul. You offer only knowledge." She spread her spindly arms wide. "We seek enlightenment."
"Given your history," Hermione was doing her best to remain calm, "I'm sure we can all understand your reluctance to deal with outsiders-but can you really presume to speak for everyone in your group?"
"Our history? Has Percy Weasley been prattling on about Merlin being responsible for `The Purge'?" For some reason, the subject seemed to hit a nerve, causing Trelawney to pace nervously around the room. "Believe me, my dears, young Mr. Weasley has no idea what really happened back then. You mark my words, I shall obtain the proof I've been seeking, and when I do-"
Hermione was not going to allow her to change the subject. "Forgive me, Madam Trelawney, but considering what we're offering and what's at stake, don't you think it's only fair that your people should be able to decide for themselves?"
There was an awkward silence as Trelawney walked over to the window and looked out over the grounds. Hermione could have sworn that she saw an eyebrow go up as if she were startled by something she saw, but the mask of detachment went back up just as quickly as it dropped. "I shall give the matter my full consideration." She motioned to Luna. "A lorry carrying petrol will overturn on the M1 just after four o'clock this afternoon, backing up traffic all the way to Hampstead. The subsequent fuel spill will take several hours to clean up. Under the circumstances, it is only proper that we should accommodate you for the night."
"Thank you," Hermione said. "I think."
"Luna will show you to the guest rooms."
Luna bowed respectfully and led her charges out through the trap door. "Nothing escapes the gaze of the All-Seeing Eye."
Ron whispered to Harry and Hermione, "Nothing that wouldn't escape the gaze of a traffic helicopter, in any event."
Trelawney picked up a pair of opera glasses sitting on the windowsill and peered out over the estate. Just outside the front gate, a silver Aston Martin was parked alongside the road.
"That went well," ventured Ron, as Luna led them down the spiral staircase.
"Indeed," Luna chimed in. "The Enlightened One almost never receives visitors without an appointment."
Luna led them to a luxurious bedroom suite filled with expensive Regency furniture and various types of crystals. A huge curtained four-poster bed took up most of one corner. "These are your rooms, Mr. and Mrs. Potter. Mr. Weasley's rooms are next door. The chambers in this area of the house have been found to contain the most favorable chi for visitors." She moved conspiratorially close to Ron and looked him right in the eye. "Your chambers have an especially strong chi, Mr. Weasley. Many of our guests report that this energy enhances the physical act of love. If you'll come with me-"
Embarrassed, Ron looked over at Harry and Hermione, who were pursing their lips in an attempt to hold back mile-wide grins.
"I'll see it in a minute," Ron interrupted. "I have a few things to discuss with Mr. and Mrs. Potter, first-alone."
Without missing a beat-or taking the hint-Luna turned to Hermione. "If your rooms are not to your liking, we have a Feng Shui specialist on call twenty-four hours a day."
"Thank you," said Hermione. "I'm sure we'll-they'll-the rooms will be just fine."
Luna rested her hand on a large purple crystal resting on an occasional table.
"Amethyst opens intuitive and psychic abilities. It is helpful for addictions and nightmares, calms the mind, and helps one accept the passage of death." She then moved to a dark blue stone sitting on a chest of drawers. "Azurite brings our subconscious thoughts into conscious awareness so that we can examine and, if necessary, change these thought patterns-"
"Yes. Thank you." Harry didn't want to seem rude, but he was in no mood to listen to a recitation of the entire geological catalogue.
"I'm curious, Luna," Hermione quickly jumped in. "How did you come to join The Circle?"
"My story is not all that unusual. I was a lost soul: adrift, aimless-"
"Mad as a hatter," Ron muttered just loud enough to earn a glare from Hermione.
"-without purpose in my life." If Luna had heard Ron, she ignored him. "I found that, apart from my encounters with the saucer people, there was an emptiness that nothing-career, money, even religion-seemed able to fill." From somewhere outside, a large gong sounded. Luna's eyes went even wider than normal. "Forgive me! It is nearly time for the daily purification ritual and I mustn't be late. Dinner will be served promptly at six o'clock in the main dining room." As she headed for the door, Luna paused to speak to Ron. "If you're interested, The Enlightened One is giving a lecture on Tantric Sex this evening at nine o'clock."
"Wouldn't miss it." Ron forced a smile. Once she had left, Ron made a face as if he had a horrible taste in his mouth. "I don't ever again want to have Trelawney and sex occupy the same thought for as long as I live!"
Hermione dropped heavily onto the bed. "I don't understand! Luna was there the whole time we were talking, but then she acts as if she didn't hear a word we said about magic. I'll grant you, she and Trelawney were pretty flaky even back at Hogwarts, but they were still loyal allies and trusted friends-particularly Luna. In spite of her eccentricities, I got to be rather fond of her in the end."
"At Hogwarts, you had a common enemy in `Lord What's-His-Face'," Harry pointed out. "As far as this Trelawney is concerned, you have nothing that she needs. Her group has the money and the resources to do whatever they want. What do they need you for?"
Hermione flopped backwards onto the bed. "You may be right."
"I'd like to know just what kind of funny herbs they've been putting in their incense burners." Ron picked up the big hunk of amethyst and pretended to gaze into it like a crystal ball. "Eenie meanie chili beanie!" he intoned in is best Bullwinkle voice. "The spirits are about to speak!" He shook his head. "I don't know if I get a vote in this school thing, Hermione, but if you ask me, we're wasting our time with these nutters."
Harry sat down beside Hermione, took her hand and kissed it. "Darling, you know that I am yours to command in all things, but if truth be told, I have to agree with Ron. We're wasting our time. These people are living in their own little world. They've been rubbing their crystals for so long, I think they're actually starting to believe this nonsense."
"I'm beginning to agree with you, but I'd like to take one more run at Trelawney before we leave."
*****
Luna returned at five-thirty and brought them all white robes to wear to dinner.
"White robes, stone circles…" Ron looked a bit nervous as they made their way to the dining room. "Do you think these characters are into virgin sacrifice?"
Hermione and Harry blushed slightly and grinned at each other. Both then turned to stare at Ron. They remained motionless, as the silence grew longer.
"Very funny. I wonder what's for dinner?"
It was several minutes after everyone was seated before anyone found out. First they had to sit through an interminably long sermon on enlightenment from Trelawney and a musical number led by a familiar face.
"It appears that little Luna stands pretty high in the pecking order here," Hermione observed.
When the moon is in the seventh house
And Jupiter aligns with Mars
Then peace will guide the planets
And love will steer the stars
This is the dawning of the Age of Aquarius
The Age of Aquarius
Aquarius! Aquarius!
Harmony and understanding
Sympathy and trust abounding
No more falsehoods or derisions
Golden living dreams of visions
Mystic crystal revelation
And the mind's true liberation
Aquarius! Aquarius!
When dinner finally was served, Ron still wasn't happy. "Vegetarians! I might have known," he grumbled a little too loudly for Hermione's liking.
"Ron!" she hissed.
"I can't help how was raised, Hermione," he protested. "I was brought up on steak and kidney puddings. I live on sausages and meat pasties. I'm a carnivore and proud of it!"
From across the table came what sounded like a stifled snort of agreement from one of the acolytes. Evidently there was another wolf among the sheep. Ron looked across the table and right into a familiar pair of eyes-the feral eyes of the strange leather-clad savage girl who had caused such a ruckus at the Griffin's Door the other day-only now she was dressed in the white robe of an acolyte.
"Leela…?"
The tall, curly-haired man sitting next to her put a finger to his lips then flashed an enormous toothy grin.
"The Enlightened One says that to devour the flesh of our fellow creatures holds us back in our quest to evolve beyond our baser animal nature." Though the words were clearly meant as reproach, there was something about the way Luna said "animal" that suggested she was excited more than a little by the idea.
*****
After dinner, Harry and Hermione tried once again to talk to Trelawney. It was clear to Ron fairly quickly that they weren't going to have any better luck than before, so he chose to remain on the sidelines. Much to his disappointment, the most famous faces he'd seen so far were Corey Feldman and Scott Baio. The Doctor and Leela had disappeared once more, so after a few minutes he decided to try and find them to see what they were up to. He peered into the salon where Hermione had seen the acolytes levitating.
"Do you find meditation to be helpful in your everyday life, Mr. Weasley?" inquired a familiar singsong voice. "I find it most invigorating."
"Yes, well," Ron sputtered. "It's better than sitting around doing nothing."
"Forgive my being so forward," Luna moved in close, taking his arm, "but I feel very comfortable talking to you, Mr. Weasley-May I call you `Ronald', by the way?"
"Of course," he said, his voice rising an octave. Her body pressed against him, making him uncomfortably, even painfully aware of her gender-and of his own.
"I know how strange this must sound to you, Ronald, but I am convinced that there is a spiritual bond between us. Perhaps we knew each other in a previous life, or even-" Her eyes lit up at the possibility. "Tell me, have you ever had a close encounter with someone from `out there'?"
"Not unless you count this one," Ron muttered under his breath, but even as he said it, his resolve was beginning to weaken.
Luna took him on a tour of Moonlight Court, pointing out antiques of historical interest, all the while prattling on about UFOs and New Age philosophy. Feigning interest, Ron nodded politely and said, "Really?" "You don't say?" and "Isn't that fascinating?" when it seemed appropriate.
Their wanderings had led them to the Solarium, where they watched through the great glass windows as the last rays of the sun faded beyond the horizon. Miles away from the lights of the nearest city, their view of the heavens was nothing short of spectacular. "This would be a perfect night for the saucer people to appear." Luna's hands wandered over Ron's chest. "Shall we go up to the tower and see if we can make contact?"
The way to the Astronomy Tower took them through a winding series of stairways and corridors. This respite from pressed bodies and questions of gender allowed Ron's brain to resume functioning, and he realized just how much trouble a quick roll in the hay with Luna might entail. Somewhere along the way he had learned that Luna's father was the publisher of some Fleet Street tabloid, just the sort of person who could make Ron's life miserable if Father Lovegood discovered that he had taken advantage of Daddy's precious little girl-as if marrying her and being forced to listen to her ramblings for the rest of his life wouldn't be punishment enough. Ron carefully weighed his options and came to a decision. It was here that he managed to slip away from his tour guide.
"Ronweasley!" whispered a woman's voice from behind him. There was something familiar about it. As Ron looked around, a female arm clad in white appeared through a partially opened door and beckoned him closer. As he approached, the hand grabbed him by the wrist and yanked him inside.
The only light in the room was the tiny sliver of light coming from under the door. The air had the distinct odor of camphor. Ron tried to pull his wand from his pocket but his elbow bumped against something. It slipped from his fingers and clattered to the floor. "Son of a-!" Ron bent down to retrieve it, but his nose became wedged between two soft, round, fleshy objects. Exploring by touch, Ron discovered that there was another person standing in front of him. Based on his newly acquired expertise on gender, and on this all-too-brief examination, he concluded that the person was definitely female and that she was clad in one of the acolyte's sheer low-cut diaphanous robes. Two hands grabbed his and removed them from where they were resting, then took hold of either side of Ron's head and yanked him upright. A finger pressed against his lips.
"Shhhh!" a woman's voice said softly. "Do you want her to hear us?"
"Definitely not."
"Ronald?" came Luna's voice from outside. "Ronald, have you been abducted by the saucer people?" Her voice trailed off down the corridor and disappeared.
Once she was sure that the coast was clear, the woman bent down. It quickly became clear that the room was small and that there was very little space to maneuver-not that Ron minded. After a moment, the woman stood up again and Ron felt his wand being pressed into his hand. "Is this what you dropped?"
"Lumos!" As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, Ron noted that they were in a small linen cupboard. The shelves were stacked with freshly folded sheets and blankets. He also noted that he was staring into a familiar pair of feral eyes. "Leela? What are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same question, Ronweasley."
Ron smiled. He was beginning to like the way she said his name as if it were a single word. "I'm not really supposed to say."
"Neither am I."
"That's going to put a bit of a crimp in the conversation," Ron said with a naughty grin. "Then again, why waste time talking?" He leaned in and gently pressed his lips against hers.
"I should kill you for your impudence." Strangely, there was no anger in her voice.
"I get that a lot," Ron lied. "So, where's your friend with the long scarf?"
"The Doctor? At dinner he said he wanted to investigate the stone circle behind the house. He seems to think it has something to do with `crossing the demented barrier' or some such thing."
"The dimension barrier?"
Leela cringed. "I shouldn't have said that. I'm really not supposed to talk about our mission for the Time Lords-"
"For the who?"
Leela shook her head. "It would take too long to explain," She leaned in and kissed him. "In any case, I'm not sure I could explain it, even if I wanted to. The Doctor is a great man and I am indebted to him for everything I have seen and done since we met, but to be honest, I don't always understand what he's talking about. Very few people do." Her eyes twinkled mischievously as she ran her fingers through Ron's hair. "Would you like to help me look for him?"
"I don't know," Ron teased. "Assuming that I find him, what's in it for me?"
"The undying gratitude of a warrior of the Sevateem?"
"A what?"
She kissed him again. "Never mind." She opened the door a crack and peered out into the corridor. Taking a chance, she poked her head out for a better look. "The coast is clear."
******
Sybill Trelawney put her opera glasses back on the windowsill and shook her head ruefully. "I'm very sorry, Mrs. Potter. Our aims are simply too unsuited for your scheme to have even a chance of succeeding."
"All we ask is that you put it to a vote," Harry implored her.
"What would you suggest?" she asked calmly. "That we call everyone together for a meeting? The simple fact is that there are far too many-what is the word you use? -`Muggles' among our membership to risk such a thing. How could we present your proposal to those among us with the power of magic without arousing the suspicions of the others? It's all we can do to maintain our security as it is. Please understand this is for your safety as well as ours."
Harry wasn't buying it. "Are you so worried about losing control over these people that you're afraid to even let us present our case?"
"How dare you even suggest such a thing, young man?"
"We've seen the Infomercials, Madam Trelawney." Hermione could no longer conceal her contempt. "And let's not forget the books, the videos, the incense, the prayer mats, the sacred oils-!"
"And that's not even counting the millions you soak out of your celebrity clients," Harry added.
"For all your supposed piety, you're as much of a huckster as-as Emelius Browne!"
"What gives you the right to sit in judgment over me? However noble your ambitions, my little dears, you'll soon discover that Enlightenment has a price, and that good works do not come cheap."
"You can't do good works without money," Harry agreed. "You can't raise money unless people know who you are. They won't know who you are unless you're on television, and you can't get on television unless you have money. That's the same trap that those American televangelists fell into."
"The serpent devours its own tail." Trelawney shrugged. "It has ever been thus. I have no difficulty looking at myself in the mirror each morning."
Harry could see Hermione's shoulders droop as she realized that they were truly wasting their time. "Come on, darling," he whispered. "Let's go up to our rooms. I managed to pick up some of their literature on Tantric Sex."
******
Holding Leela's hand and creeping silently through the corridors of the old manor, Ron was a boy again, playing hide-and-seek with his brothers back at the Burrow. Every so often an acolyte would appear around a corner and the pair would scramble for cover in an alcove or behind some drapes or in yet another linen cupboard. Somehow, Ron always managed to steal a kiss before they moved on.
When Leela and Ron arrived at the stone circle, they discovered the Doctor lying on his stomach, carefully examining a blade of grass with a jeweler's loupe. "This lawn has been subjected to tremendous psychic stress recently." He had shed his acolyte's robes and had returned to his strange bohemian garb, complete with extra-long scarf.
"Psychic stress?" Ron repeated, incredulously. Leela could only shrug as if to say Don't look at me!
"You disagree?" The Doctor sprang to his feet, pocketing the loupe and flicking away the blade of grass.
"Well, I wouldn't-"
"Of course you wouldn't," the Doctor interrupted. "It would be entirely pointless to disagree. The truth is as plain as the nose on my face." He reached into one of the pockets of his velvet jacket and produced a small wooden yo-yo, which he bounced up and down a few times. "Interesting." He moved several feet away from the circle and tried it again. "A slight but significant increase in gravitational attraction, but it appears to be localized within the boundaries of circle itself."
"Doctor!" Leela hissed.
Two burly young men were approaching the circle. Instead of acolyte's robes, they wore white golf shirts embroidered with a discreet golden circlet, dark blue slacks and matching caps emblazed with the word "Security" in gilt. The Doctor hustled Ron and Leela to the shadow of one of the great stones that made up the ring. The two security men paused at the edge of the circle to look around. One of them activated the headset radio he was wearing. "Patrol one to dispatch. We're starting our patrol of the grounds. So far, all's quiet." The guard shut off his radio and the two men began walking towards the stables.
Once they were out of earshot, Ron held up his hand. "Can I ask a possibly daft question? Why are we hiding now?"
"We're not exactly invited guests here," Leela informed him. "We're working `under the covers'." Ron had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. "We're here to investigate certain scientific anemones."
"Anomalies," the Doctor corrected. "Fortunately for us, this is a big enough organization that no one notices two more people running around in white robes, but if they caught us sniffing around out here, they're bound to ask all sorts of awkward questions."
"What exactly are you looking for?" Given what had gone before, Ron wondered if he really wanted to know the answer.
The Doctor knelt down to examine the runes carved into one of the ancient stones. "I seek evidence of a trans-dimensional cross-rip, or failing that, signs of extraterrestrial intervention."
"I'll introduce you to Luna," Ron muttered.
The Doctor shook his head, sadly. "That poor deluded girl with the Roswell fixation?"
At last! Ron thought. A voice of reason!
"I could never understand the obsession with that particular event. This planet has been visited by aliens many times over the centuries-but does anyone remember the Yeti in the London underground, or the Zygon gambit with the Loch Ness monster? The Autons, the Sontarans, the Daleks? The real irony is that the Roswell crash really was a weather balloon, but the United States government has been lying for so long that their credibility on the subject of aliens is practically nil." He went back to examining the runes.
Ron shook his head. He was beginning to wonder if everyone in the house with the possible exception of himself, Harry and Hermione, were non compos mentis.
"Can you translate the inscription, Doctor?" Leela asked.
"Is the Pope a direct descendant of Homo habilis? Of course, I can, you silly girl!"
"Does it tell of how to penetrate the demented barriers?"
"Unfortunately, no. It appears to be nothing more than a bit of ancient graffiti." His eyes narrowed. "`People called Romanes they go the house'?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"I think he's trying to say `Romans Go Home'", the Doctor shrugged, "but his Latin is terrible." He moved to the next inscription. "Let's see…`Boudicca loves Caractacus', `For a good time, meet Septimus Severus behind the XVII Legion latrine at the end of the second watch' … Hmmmm. This one seems to be challenging the Emperor Hadrian to a game of handball… I'm afraid that these aren't going to be of much help." The Doctor then pointed a hand-held electronic device at the stones, the ground and into the air, frowning ever more deeply at each new reading.
"He could go on like this for hours," Leela said, shaking her head. "Why don't you go on up to your room?" She leaned in to whisper in his ear. "If I can get away, perhaps I could join you later." She kissed Ron on the cheek and watched as, grinning like an idiot, he ran back toward the house.
"I'm afraid the Time Lords were right," the Doctor muttered to himself. "I don't know precisely what it is," he said, scratching his chin, "but something from the outside has definitely entered this universe."
*****
"Take out the garbage! Trim the privet! Look after the bacon!" Dudley Dursley muttered bitterly under his breath. It's all your fault, Harry Potter! While you're off snogging yourself senseless with that little tart of yours, I'm turning into a slave! Dudley dropped the sack into one of the big metal dustbins sitting behind the house, and then gave it a kick for good measure. Next thing you know they'll have me washing the dishes!
It was the injustice of it all that really galled him. I get the brains, the devilish good looks and the roguish charm and it's Potter who ends up with a girlfriend-and not only that, but he's-she's-they're-and in my bloody sleeping bag, too! The nerve!
An owl hooted in the night, causing Dudley to jump. The bird gazed down at him from its perch in the big tree near his bedroom window with what Dudley took to be a look of mocking amusement. Its pure white feathers made the owl an inviting target for Dudley's resentment. He picked up a rock from the path and hurled it at the bird, who simply scooted to one side. The rock whizzed past right him and through Dudley's window, shattering the glass.
"What in blazes is going on out there?" Vernon roared from his recliner in the sitting room.
"Nothing Dad--!" He grimaced. That broken window certainly wasn't "nothing". Dudley was sure that he was going to be skinned alive. "'Ere!" He suddenly shouted at nothing in particular. "What's your game, then? Did you break that window?" He ran to the back fence, pretending to be chasing someone. "Come back here you vandals!"
The owl slowly shook its head. Dudley was sure that it was smiling at him.
Vernon Dursley appeared at the back door, breathing hard from the exertion of running the twenty feet from the sitting room. "What's happening out there, boy?"
"I think it was just some kids, Dad," Dudley lied. "One of them threw a rock at my window."
"It wasn't that little wretch Potter, was it?" Vernon growled suspiciously.
Dudley's absent cousin would have been the perfect scapegoat for this situation, but a small twinge of conscience made Dudley hesitate. "I didn't get a very good look, I'm afraid."
"It's just as well," his father snarled. "We'd have made him sorry he was ever born, eh, son?" Muttering curses to himself, Vernon Dursley went back inside to find a sheet of plastic to cover the shattered window. "You'd think money grew on trees the way some people…"
As Dudley let out a sigh of relief and started back toward the house, there was a rustling in the bushes.
"Who's there?" He could see nothing in the darkness between the street lamps, but somewhere, perhaps in the most primitive reptilian area of his tiny brain, Dudley could sense it. He was sure that something was out there-something big and mean and horrible-and it was moving toward him. He could hear the creature's labored breathing as it advanced on him. Dudley backed toward the house, not even bothering to turn around. That was when he backed into the dustbins.
As he lay there surrounded by refuse, his joints and his head throbbing from the impact with the ground and the bins, the snow-white owl who seemed to take such pleasure in harassing him earlier landed on the garden shed. Dudley could see the smug look on its feathered visage. He could almost hear the bird saying, Idiot.
Dudley Dursley had never been a particularly religious person-he went through the motions when required only to placate his mother-but now he was praying with a fervor that he had never know before. "Uh-`Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake-'" It suddenly occurred to him what he was saying. "Forget that!"
A hideous black shadow oozed into view, blotting out the light from the streetlamp. It slowly formed into the shape of a man wearing a long robe with a black hood that covered his face. Just before Dudley passed out completely, he could have sworn that the strange figure pulled its hood down, revealing a face-his own.
******
When Ron Weasley emerged from the lavatory, the room was dark. He was sure he had heard someone come in while he was taking his bath. His involuntary broad grin reappeared when he saw the bed covers turned down and a slender female form lying under the covers. He shed the towel around his waist and quietly slipped between the sheets. He began gently kissing the soft forearm and shoulder he found lying in the shadows. "You don't know how I've longed for this moment, my darling!"
"Ronald!" squealed a familiar sing-song voice. "I knew the saucer people would bring you back to me!"
END OF CHAPTER FIVE
Margaret Fuller
"The Age of Aquarius" from the musical "Hair" Book and Lyrics by Gerome Ragni and James Rado
Music by Galt Mac Dermot
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