RETURN TO SENDER
Disclaimer: I would like to acknowledge Aileen Autarkeia for one of the best disclaimers I have ever read in a long time. To quote from her story "Guarding His Life" ... "As much as I wish I was, I am NOT British, I do NOT have blonde hair and I do NOT own Harry Potter."
To which I must add "... and I am NOT female!"
Also, other (hopefully) recognizable characters are the property of their respective creators and are being used here with no intention of any monetary gain or profit motive. I'm doing this for fun and would like to express my thanks and appreciation for their creativity which has made fanfic a totally awesome and wonderful place.
Without further ado ...
Chapter One. Kansas … Or Not
Albus Dumbledore was in heaven.
He hoped.
Mere moments before, he was literally flying - the killing curse ripping into his aged, disintegrating body and he was FREE - soaring above the spires and crenelated towers of Hogwarts as his ravaged body fell, watching the battle raging far below dispassionately … he was at peace, secure in the knowledge that everything was going according to plan …
He felt a tug and found himself sucked through a thin, long tube in a sensation like - and yet unlike - apparition …
And here he was.
He blinked.
The place was … beautiful, and peaceful, and soothing - completely unlike anything that he could have imagined or envisioned. Truthfully, he'd half-expected angelic choirs, blaring trumpets, cottony clouds around his ankles, pearly gates and an old man with a large key and a huge tome …
Not this.
Clear sky, warmth from a brilliant sun, gentle breezes carrying the scent of wildflowers, soft, deep-green grass as far as the eye can see … The only clouds he could discern were far to the horizon - on land separated from where he stood by a wide, swiftly flowing river that was black as midnight, roiling with eddies and whitecaps as if it had its own weather disturbance ….
He blurted out the first thing which came to mind at the grand vista - "Toto, we're not in Kansas anymore!"
"You can say that again - and don't call me Toto!"
Yelping in surprise, he spun and crouched, wand out and pointed at the threat - and blinked at the sight of a tall, broad-shouldered woman standing beside an old, barnacled gangplank leading up to a decrepit, dirty and battered barge. Dumbledore's heart sank as he realized just where he was even as a part of his brain tried to deny what he was seeing in front of him.
The woman was an impressive sight: midnight-black hair to her shoulders, icy blue eyes in a tanned, high cheek boned face with a strong chin. She was wearing a sleeveless, heavily embroidered leather tunic which set off her toned, muscular arms; dark leather pants tucked into calf-high boots. A sword was slung across her back, the ornate handle visible behind her head; armbands and bracers adorned her arms.
A whip and a silvery disk with carved runes - a chakram, Dumbledore realized, something he'd seen decades before at a museum in India - hung from a leather belt around her waist.
He felt the woman's crystal-blue eyes studying him before she spoke, "There will be no silly wand waving here, old man." Startled, Dumbledore realized that he was still pointing his wand at her and sheepishly dropped it as she continued, "For one - you're dead, so magic as you know it doesn't work here.
"For another - we'll get to that in a moment."
Her eyes shifted, dismissing him, and focused behind him - and he nearly jumped again as he heard faint, nervous tittering behind him.
Turning around, he gaped.
He wasn't alone.
A largish crowd stood behind him - muggles, by the look of them - but there was something … off. A few were grinning; others looking around in wonder, most were simply lost and confused … and more than one nodding in apparent agreement with his sentiment about not being in Kansas anymore.
"Welcome to Hades," the woman boomed in a commanding voice - an announcement which shook Dumbledore to the very core and brought sounds of dismay, and fear, and surprise from the crowd.
She held up a hand. "Let me re-phrase that," she rumbled. "Welcome to the Holding Area for Death, Eternity and Serenity - HADES for short."
Dumbledore heaved a sigh of relief as the imposing woman continued, "Before any of you ask, I'm stepping in for the Ferryman. The old guy needed a break and I've … hem, hem … volunteered for the day. Consider yourselves lucky you got me rather than the old curmudgeon."
She glanced around and was met by tentative smiles. Nodding, she continued. "A few things - first, as I said, this is HADES - magical division, which means that wizards and witches are brought here before being processed, which I will explain later."
Comprehension flooded Dumbledore as he looked at the crowd - that was what he'd felt earlier. He shook his head at having missed the obvious; having attended International Confederation of Wizards meetings for years, he should have spotted the fact that (a) the crowd was magical, and (b) it was only magical Britain that held tight to the idea that 'proper' wizard attire was robes and such - the rest of the world had long 'gone muggle'.
A shame, in his eyes.
"Next, as I told our guest," she nodded at Dumbledore, who'd turned back to listen, "magic as you know it doesn't work here. No silly wand-waving and if you want to settle your differences -" Her blue eyes focused on two people who were glaring at each other - "you do it the old-fashioned way. Hands, fists, feet, teeth - rocks if you can get them - but no magic.
"IS THAT CLEAR?"
The last sentence came in a tone of voice just slightly lower than a sonic boom and the crowd, including Dumbledore, quickly nodded.
"Good. Now, I expect that most of you know the drill. You get on the thing there -" pointing at the barge and gangplank - "where I will bring you lot over the River Styx to the Plains of Judgment where further processing will take place."
A loud, abrasive voice cut her off: "What happens if we don't want to get on that scow?"
Dumbledore rolled his eyes - there always had to be a heckler somewhere - and he tensed, prepared to jump out of the way in case the woman decided to take sword or chakram to the buffoon. The woman, however, responded calmly: "You don't have to if you don't want to. HADES policy is to allow you time to think over your decision - whether to cross over or not."
Her eyes, however, turned Arctic-cold as she continued, "Which means I toss you in the river where you'll stay until the bosses arrive. You can then make your case to them - whether you move on or go back is up to them."
Dumbledore's eyes flicked to the river - and felt faint as he realized that what he'd earlier thought were whitecaps were actually people, their pale faces floating in the black, oily water.
"Next question?"
Dumbledore hesitantly raised his hand, and the woman faced him.
"Albus Dumbledore, my lady. Umm - what about passage? As I recall …"
The woman nodded. "Yes - a coin for passage across the Styx, right?" There were tentative nods from some in the crowd; others, however, were going through their pockets or were gaping, looking worried. "Don't worry about it."
She scanned the crowd before continuing, "The management did away with that a few - well, whatever, ages ago. Too many people arriving, not knowing the customs so the bosses decided to forego it." She smiled toothily, her white teeth contrasting against her tanned face. "You can leave a gratuity if you wish."
Dumbledore sighed in relief, although he wasn't that concerned. He still had his moneybag from the day before; he could also feel his bag of lemon drops in a pocket which he would offer if needed. What really bothered him, however, was that he had to get to someone in authority - the bosses, as the woman had said - in order to plead his case to stick around for a bit.
It was essential to THE PLAN that he be in a position to meet Harry when the latter passed through, as he knew the boy must … everything hinged on Harry going back when Voldemort removed the horcrux in his head rather than crossing the river and staying here …
He was about to ask when sirens - loud, numerous, ear shattering - erupted from everywhere and nowhere and he gasped at the look of utter surprise and sudden fear on the woman's face as an atonal voice boomed, horrifyingly robotic in its enunciation: "VALHALLA EMERGENCY! VALHALLA EMERGENCY! THIS IS NOT A DRILL!"
"Mein Gott!" someone shouted and Dumbledore panicked - whatever was happening wasn't good and he needed to be safe! He looked around wildly for shelter - saw the gangplank for the barge and made a running jump for it - only to find hard hands grabbing his throat and crotch, lifting him into the air … a beat and he was flying, right into the panicking crowd, bowling the front ranks over as the woman roared, "GET AWAY FROM THERE! FERRY'S IN LOCKDOWN - GET AWAY I SAY!"
A shaken Dumbledore sat up to see the awesome woman guarding the gangplank, unsheathed sword in one hand, silvery chakram in the other, eyes promising an unearthly pain if they tried to pass her. She was magnificent, his addled mind thought, standing there like some mythical warrior princess as lightning flashed behind her while the flat, atonal voice blared: "VALHALLA EMERGENCY, CODE BLUE. FERRY ON LOCKDOWN. DESTINY REPAIR TEAMS STANDBY FOR EMERGENCY DEPLOYMENT. THIS IS NOT A DRILL!"
He breathed deeply to steady himself only to gag at the brimstone-laced fumes he inhaled. He shook his head - moments before, the air had been sweet and pure, with a hint of flowers and grass - and he wished desperately that he could cast a Bubblehead Charm right now …
And froze, as a new 'announcement' boomed from unseen speakers: "SECURITY - IDENTIFY AND ISOLATE ONE ALBUS DUMBLEDORE! REPEAT - SECURITY, IDENTIFY AND ISOLATE ALBUS DUMBLEDORE!"
"Scheiße!" he breathed - "What in HELL is going on?" His eyes bulged as a steely claw closed around his throat and between his legs and for the second (or was it third?) time, he was flying … only this time he found himself sliding across the slimy, slippery deck of the barge, inadvertently cleaning out quite a bit of the thing as he slid over the wooden flooring.
He rolled on his back and stared up at a sky now obscured by low, dark clouds. He felt the boat rocking as someone (probably the woman) jumped abroad … some further rocking and he sensed motion, finally he sat up to see the woman, shoulders bulging as she used a long, thin pole to push them away from the shore …
A single thought broke through his muddled mind: "Yep, we ain't in Kansas anymore."
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