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Author: St Margarets Story: Lee Jordan: Tour Guide Rating: Teens Setting: Pre-HBP Status: Completed Reviews: 13 Words: 142,091
The next day, Lee couldn’t get Coach McCain’s diary out of his mind. When he passed by the displays as he tour-guided, he thought about what the old coach would have said about them. The man was starting to become real to him, taking on such a solid shape in his imagination that it surprised Lee. At lunchtime, he thought of Holly and wondered how her first day was going and where she was eating her lunch. He was stuck in the employee lounge with Larry and the Heavy Metal Hour on the Wizarding Wireless. Not wanting to make uphill conversation or watch Larry play air bagpipes, Lee pulled out a parchment and started writing down some of his impressions of Coach McCain. He was shocked when the hour was up and Larry prompted him to get back to the front of the museum. The rest of the afternoon dragged by until it was closing time and Lee could go home. He was looking forward to his mother’s cooking, and then an evening with Fred and George. Even though they were going to explore the Underground, it was still a night out. He was also looking forward to hearing about Holly’s day, so he Floo’d her the minute he arrived home. Angelina answered, looking tired and muddy. “Hi, how were your trials?” Lee asked into the fire. “Brutal,” Angelina answered wearily. “Is Holly back yet?” “No – but she should be any time now.” Angelina frowned. “I hope she isn’t lost.” Lee hoped she wasn’t either. “Do you think I should check on her?” Angelina raised her eyebrows. “I don’t think she’d appreciate that.” “Yeah.” Lee hesitated. “Would it be all right if I dropped in later on tonight?” “Lee, you’re not interested in Holly are you?” Angelina demanded. “I heard you broke up with the rich girl. Maybe you should give it a rest for a while.” That was Angelina – right in your face. Most of the time Lee liked her candor, but not tonight. “I just wanted to see how her first day went. Holly and I are friends, like you and I are friends.” Angelina gave him a tired smile. “Sorry. I’m feeling a bit jaded these days. Sure, pop in for a bit. I won’t be much company for Holly tonight.” Lee wanted to say something about Fred but the Floo wasn’t the place for a long conversation. His knees were hurting as it was. * It was completely dark when Lee arrived at Holly’s flat, even though it was just past the dinner hour. The days were noticeably shorter now and the night air had the tang of autumn. Holly answered the door, with a sandwich in one hand. “Lee!” “Didn’t Angelina tell you I was stopping by?” “She was in the bath when I got home.” She stepped back to let him in. “Do you want something to eat?” She waved the sandwich at him. “Just ate – and I’m due at Fred and George’s. Do you want to walk with me to their shop? I’ll buy you an ice cream.” Her eyes sparkled. “Ice cream? Sure – but I can’t stay out – work tomorrow.” She finished the last of the sandwich and grabbed her cloak. “I thought you might like to learn the way to Diagon Alley from here.” “I’ve managed to Apparate there, but I do like to walk better. You miss so much when you Apparate,” she said from behind him on the stairs. Once out on the pavement, Lee warned, “That’s fine to walk by yourself during the day – but at night you really should Apparate.” “Yes, father Lee,” she said impudently. “I did live in a foreign country and managed not to bring harm upon myself.” “I know – but this isn’t Hogsmeade, you know. You’re used to living in a village where everyone knows you. And there have been lots of attacks in London ever since the Death Eaters escaped from Azkaban. I’ve even heard rumors that there are Dementors in London, although they’ve never been known to go this far south.” “Right – I’m fair warned. What about running with scissors – anything I should know about that?” He laughed. “Check manufacturer’s directions. So how was your first day?” “I don’t know,” she said, stopping abruptly, a worried note in her voice. “All the children I saw today were so quiet – and sad.” She sighed. “I don’t know if I did a very good job.” “I can’t imagine that you would have them laughing and well on the first day. Give it some time.” “I know – it’s just seeing real people with real problems is so different then learning a case study where it’s all wrapped up nice and tidy by the end. You know?” She frowned and then gave a half-smile. “I thought of you today when I was talking to this little girl who is going through treatments for bone replenishing. The potions make her skin itch and I so wanted to remember the joke you told me the first time we were partners in Charms. The one about scratching.” Lee laughed. He had gone through the joke phase his first year. “How do you make a witch scratch? Take away the ‘w.’ Remember? Then it’s ‘itch.’” “That’s right!” Holly exclaimed with a giggle. “Oh, I hope I can remember it.” She started walking again, this time with more energy. “Tell me another one.” Lee searched his mind. “What did one eye say to the other eye?” “What?” “Just between you and me – there’s something here that smells.” Holly laughed delightedly. “I remember that one. Oh, I’m so glad you stopped by. I needed cheering up. I’m going to write those down when I get back to the flat.” “Um – I don’t think reading jokes off of a sheet of paper is going to be funny.” “Of course not, I’ll write them on my hand,” she said blithely. “Tell me some more.” So Lee dredged up as much of the silly material from his first year that he could remember, enjoying the sound of Holly’s laughter as much as he had when he was eleven. “Here’s Diagon Alley – the back entrance.” He pointed to the stone archway. Holly looked around as if startled they had arrived already. “Drat! I wasn’t paying any attention to where we were going. The Lee Jordan show was a bit distracting.” He grinned. “That’s all right. We’ll do it again. You’re going to Apparate back anyway.” “Not before my ice cream.” They sat inside Florean Fortescue’s shop since it was too chilly to comfortably sit outside. Watching Holly eat an ice cream cone was a revelation. A revelation Lee did not want to dwell upon. He had always noticed the enthusiasm she had when she ate – the ohs and ahs when the elves made treacle tart, the replete sigh after the Halloween feast. But the sight of her licking strawberry ice cream, which was the same shade of pink as her full lips, was a bit…distracting. “Aren’t you going to join me?” Holly asked. “Wh aa?” Lee pulled his thoughts back to reality. “Oh – no. Mum made treacle tart for afters.” “Oh, I love treacle tart,” she said, biting into the cone with her small white teeth. “I remember.” “I don’t know why it’s considered bad form to enjoy your food,” Holly defended. “You should have tasted the food at Beauxbatons.” Her face wore a dreamy expression. “The elves could even make liver taste good.” “Yeah.” He really liked the dreamy expression – she looked…satisfied. Stop it, he told himself sternly. He was not going to think about anyone’s satisfaction – hers – his – or the happy students of Beauxbatons. “I should get going,” he said reluctantly as she wiped her fingers. Fred and George were probably waiting for him by now. “Oh, right.” Holly stood up. “Thanks for the ice cream. It was a great way to mark my first day of work.” “That’s funny, I marked mine with a wee dram of Ogden’s.” “I’m sure it wasn’t just one,” Holly said, rolling her eyes. “No,” Lee answered, thinking what a good party it had been and how awful he had felt the next day. “I learned my lesson.” Then he added sheepishly, “Until this Sunday.” “Well, you had provocation,” she said gently, drawing on her cloak. “How did you like The Club?” Lee didn’t want to think about Amy anymore. “It was fun!” Holly smiled. “Alicia really had a good time.” “Oh?” “She met a bloke,” Holly confided. “I think he’s in banking.” “A right sort?” Lee was trying to imagine what type of bloke Alicia would choose. “It was hard to tell, since he wasn’t much of a conversationalist.” “Strong, silent type,” he remarked. Holly snorted. “Well, he had silence mastered.” She grimaced. “I never did see the appeal of that.” “Alicia must.” “Right, she doesn’t talk much herself,” Holly said. “Maybe now she can get a word in edgewise.” She shrugged and closed the clasp of her cloak. “I’ll go along now.” “Let me know how the jokes work,” he said, wondering when he would see her again. “Okay.” With a last smile that showed her almost-dimples, she Disapparated. Lee stared at the chair where Holly had been sitting, and wondered why he always felt a bit…He frowned as he tried to think of the right word. Alone, that was it. Why he always felt a bit lonely when Holly left. Then he shrugged that away, figuring it was some sort of sentimental longing for uncomplicated childhood that was making him feel that way. * “Where have you been, mate?” Fred asked the moment he walked into the shop. “We Floo’d your mum and she said you left an hour ago,” George. “I walked Holly from her flat and then fed her an ice cream. I wanted to hear about her first day.” Lee didn’t bother talking off his cloak. “Oh!” George’s eyebrows went up. “I see.” “What do you see?” Lee asked impatiently. “George sees Lee on the hunt, yet again,” Fred said, lightly. “Don’t do it, mate. This is Holly. She’s not going to put up with a casual flirtation.” He picked up his wand from the sheaves of parchment scattered on the counter. “Better wear cloaks,” Lee warned, “It’s cold down there.” He didn’t bother answering Fred – it wasn’t their business anyway. And besides – he wasn’t flirting with Holly. Just having carnal thoughts, he thought ruefully. “Did you hear how Angelina’s trials went?” George asked. “Brutal, is all Angelina said,” Lee replied. Fred didn’t say anything, but indicated they should go to the storeroom. He flicked his wand at the floor and a trapdoor appeared. “We discovered this last week when we spilled some sulfur –” “Magnesium.” “Whatever. Anyway, we opened it and figured it must by an entrance to the Underground.” “Let’s see,” Lee said, excited. As far as he knew, the ministry cordoned off the Underground and access was strictly regulated. If they had found a lost entrance, this was news indeed. The door opened to show a deep dark shaft. Once he lit his wand, he could see the iron spiral stairway snaking downward through the tiled shaft. It was indeed an entrance – albeit a minor one to the London Underground. Lee conjured a long coil of rope and tied one end to the metal ring in the trap door. “What are you doing?” “This is how we’re sure to find our way back,” Lee answered looking up from his perch on the second stair. “We can always Apparate back,” Fred said. “No – you can’t Apparate or Disapparate in the London Underground – don’t you remember from History of Magic? Wizards first burrowed here as protection from the Muggles – sort of like the catacombs in Rome. And then when they started to hide from Dark Wizards, they put up more protections” “Spare us the history lessons, Lee,” Fred said, stepping onto the first step. “If you know why things are arranged the way they are, then it makes it easier to find your way around,” Lee argued as he turned to descend, uncoiling the rope as he went. After about five minutes clambering down the stairs, he could hear the muffled rumblings of the Muggle trains. The Muggles had their own Underground, slicing right through the magical one. As far as Lee could tell, they only used it as a conduit for transporting people. A few vagrants dwelled in the shadowy corners, but if they ever ran across the magical beasts or people who lived parallel to them, they never reported it to Muggle authorities. Or if they did, no one believed them anyway. The stairs ended at a slab of rough-hewn rock. This told Lee that they were on a minor branch of the Underground – the main corridor had to be close by however, since it roughly ran underneath Diagon Alley. He waited in the low, sloping tunnel for Fred and George to descend the stairs. He extinguished his wand to see if he could detect any light. Not far from where he was standing, there was a tile in the wall that had fallen off. The harsh artificial light the Muggles used was showing through the small opening. Fred and George caught up just as a Muggle train barreled by. They waited to speak until the clamorous ringing in their ears abated. “Which way?” Lee headed left. Then he turned to look back at the spiral staircase. Even though they were only three steps away, it had faded into the shadows. Lee was very glad he had thought of the rope. They walked a short distance, finding the tunnel broadening and stretching out in height. When they found a wide set of stairs leading downward, Lee knew he had found the main artery of the system. Sure enough, at the bottom of the stairs was the wide underground thoroughfare. There were torches burning on this level around the clock. But even that magical light could not reach the upper heights of this tunnel or many of the shadowy corners. They started to pass dustbins. Some of the bins were painted jauntily with the logos of the businesses. Others were more discreet, with only the numbers to indicate the bins. They found Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes easily enough since one of their business cards was taped to the side. As Lee had guessed, there was a twelve in their number. Four hundred and twelve. “Cool,” George said, looking at the dark metal container. “I’m surprised this bin is so big.” It was the size of a bed turned up on its head and had two small doors that swung open at the top. The doors were fastened with a small padlock. “Think we could take a look?” Fred asked Lee. “I don’t know,” Lee said uneasily. It would be simple business to pick the lock – and they were all thin and agile enough to slip inside if they wanted to. But – “Look, things happen in magical bins. You might Vanish an innocuous potion on Wednesday, then another one on Thursday, and by Friday you have a brew so vile the fumes could kill you.” “So how does your dad empty these bins?” Lee frowned, trying to remember the procedure. “First you take off the seal – there are fields around all of these bins. Then you run your wand over the side. See, here –” Lee pointed to a worn spot on the front of the bin. “This is where they analyze the contents. Then you do the counter curse – if you don’t know it, you have to look it up in the dustman’s directory. Once you render it neutral, then you can sort it for recycling, reclamation, or disposal.” “Go on.” Like all good inventors, Fred and George were fascinated with the processes of magic – any kind of magic. “Well, some things – like say, copies of The Daily Prophet, can be wiped of their ink and the parchment used again to print more newspapers. Some potion ingredients can be reclaimed once they are sorted – like the quicksilver in the photo developing process can be recovered and used again. You never get back the same amounts – but it’s worth it over the course of a year. And some things just have to be disposed of because they are useless and too dangerous to sit around in a bin right underneath Diagon Alley. Like the rest of the photo developing potions have to be dumped much further down because the acids and salts could harm the ground water.” Lee shrugged. “They still haven’t figured out how to get rid of everything completely.” “What about magical objects?” Fred asked, his eyes narrowing on the two metal doors of their dustbin. “Dad can break the charms on them – much like Bill breaks curses for Gringotts. But he usually takes the objects to the generating plant where they break the charms – that way they can use the magic that is released to power the gaslights that light up magical London and sections of the Underground.” “Really?” George’s eyes were gleaming. “Dad does that sort of thing with Muggle artifacts, of course. I wonder if he knows about the generating station.” “He does,” Lee said. “It’s just not worth it for him to come down with the ten or twelve items he deals with in a week.” Fred was still staring at the bin. “So who owns the London Underground?” Lee frowned. “Who owns it? I don’t know – maybe the ministry? Do you own your bins?” “The bin came with the shop,” George explained. There was something about the way Fred and George were acting that told Lee they weren’t just interested in their own bin. “Look – you lot can’t go picking bins – it’s dangerous – it’s illegal – it wouldn’t pay in the long run, since any ingredients or objects need a lot of work to make them usable.” Fred and George exchanged glances. At a tiny nod from Fred, George started to explain. “Lee, you know that we are in an…” He looked to Fred. “Organization,” Fred supplied. “Right – an organization that is trying to defeat You-Know-Who. Since the Malfoys lost their estate this summer, the Death Eaters have been looking for a new hideout and they’ve been looking for money. We think they may have settled on the Underground.” Lee felt a chill around his heart. This made a lot of sense – wizards had been using the Underground as a sanctuary for centuries. And the things a wizard could do with all of this volatile material…He swallowed. “You-Know-Who is reportedly obsessed with Grindelwald – so if the Underground is the entrance to his former lair, all more reason to suspect activity here,” George continued. “Has your dad said anything about this?” “No,” Lee answered, not surprised, since his father rarely talked about work. “Except that he lost the contract for The Daily Prophet to another vanishing company.” “Another company?” Fred asked sharply. “Do you think it might be a legitimate cover for Death Eaters?” Lee’s stomach turned over. “It might be.” Then he remembered the conversation he had with Amy’s father. “Although I don’t think The Daily Prophet is aware of the Death Eater piece. I think they just wanted to help the bottom line by finding a cheaper service.” “It all fits the timeline, though, doesn’t it?” George said absently. Then he rubbed the back of his neck. “Do you know where The Daily Prophet bins are?” Lee searched his memory. The building where The Daily Prophet was printed was close to the Ministry – on the other side of the Underground. “It’s quite a distance from here.” “That’s okay,” Fred said, shivering a little. “It is damp down here. I don’t fancy a hike tonight.” Lee was relieved that Fred and George weren’t just scavenging for their inventions, but this talk of an organization to fight You-Know-Who made him nervous. This wasn’t kid stuff. “So where is Gringotts?” George asked. “It has to be around here. Bill said it goes deeper than the Underground.” Lee smiled. “No one has ever found it. The goblins have it hidden so well, we’ll probably walk right through it and not know.” “Are there more levels below here?” Fred asked, as they started to retrace their steps. “Many levels,” Lee answered, as he coiled the rope. “My dad just stays on this one, though.” They returned in silence, hearing the occasional roar of a Muggle train. Lee had the uneasy feeling that they were being watched – but he always felt that way whenever he was in the Underground. There were numerous rats and other small animals that lived in the shadows. He shivered – it was all too easy to feel paranoid in a place like this. As the tunnel narrowed, Fred was pushed to the side. He stumbled over something in the dark. “Hang on,” he called, holding his lit wand up high. Fred had inadvertently trod on a thin wooden spear. The impact of his weight had snapped it in two. “What’s this doing here?” he asked, looking shaken. “It looks like the spears Merpeople use,” George observed. He also looked pale in the circle of light their wands cast. “Don’t touch it!” Lee warned. It could be an ordinary spear or it could be full of Dark magic. You could never tell in the Underground. “What should we do?” “Nothing,” Lee said flatly. “I’ll tell my dad and have him check it out.” “Are you going to tell him about our entrance?” George asked in a deceptively mild voice. Lee knew what that meant. It meant, don’t tell your dad. The Weasley twins thrived on secrecy and worked from the premise of “need-to-know.” Lee respected that about them. They were twins, used to relying on each other. He had about as much knowledge of them and of their activities as any outsider, and he didn’t expect that to change as they got older. “Look, my dad doesn’t work for the ministry – he isn’t going to inform them of your entrance. But he does need to know about this spear and to be on the look out for Death Eaters posing as dustmen.” George nodded and then Fred. Lee was glad they didn’t argue the point – but really how could they? If anyone could keep a secret, it was his very quiet father. * Lee was surprised to see that it was only nine o’clock when they climbed the stairs to the shop. He quickly Apparated home, hoping to find his father still awake. Since he was on the job before dawn, David Jordan went to bed early. Lee found his father at the kitchen table, working on an Arithmancy puzzle in The Quibbler. “Got it in five minutes!” he announced as Lee helped himself to a butterbeer. “They’re going to publish one of mine next month – let’s see how that bloke in South Uist does with clue number eighty-seven!” Lee’s father wrote Arithmancy puzzles and had a quiet rivalry with several wizards throughout Britain. His dad put down his quill and studied Lee. “Where have you been?” “Mum around?” Lee asked, sitting across from his father at the table. “She’s at a planning meeting for the Werewolf society. She should be home shortly.” Lee nodded. It didn’t take Mum long to find a new cause or pick up one of the old ones. “Well?” “I’ve been in the Underground,” Lee answered bluntly. His father stiffened and let out a deep breath. “Why?” “Fred and George found an entrance from their shop,” Lee began. He then told the entire story, ending with finding the spear. “Did you know about the Death Eaters?” His father nodded. “Arthur Weasley already informed me.” Then he folded his arms in front of his chest. “So Fred and George are in the Order?” “Is that what they’re calling it?” Lee asked, taking a swig of butterbeer. He was surprised his father was more concerned about this Order than the dangers of the Underground. “I suppose you want to join?” his father prompted. Lee put the bottle on the table with a surprised thump. Where did that idea come from? “No.” His father let out a sigh of relief. “I thought you were going to tell me that you had joined the Order and that now you were off on some adventure to catch a Death Eater.” Lee cocked his head. “What would you have said if I did announce such a thing?” His father sighed and took off the black-rimmed spectacles he only wore for reading. Then he made a great business of folding up The Quibbler and capping the inkbottle. “I wouldn’t have stopped you,” he finally said. Lee knew that. His father rarely gave him rules or advice – and since he had come of age, nearly two years ago, his father had been even more reticent. Sometimes he wished his father was more of an authority type – someone Lee could with good conscience rebel against. Perhaps if he had parents like the Weasleys, he could have been more like Fred and George. They knew what they wanted early on, and it had hardened into resolve because their mother didn’t want them to open a joke shop. “Dad,” Lee hesitated for a moment. “Mr. Smith said that if he was my age, he would be doing everything in his power to fight You-Know-Who – that he would be signed up for Auror training. And he wondered why I didn’t have any ambition.” His father sighed and rubbed his eyes. “I’ve always found it somewhat ironic that old men want to send everyone else’s sons into harm’s way.” “Do you think I should be an Auror?” Lee asked. “Do you?” his father countered. “I don’t think I’d be very good at it,” Lee admitted. “I don’t have a very suspicious mind.” “Don’t you think you should do something you’re good at?” “Of course.” Lee just didn’t know what that thing was exactly. He looked at his hand. Last year, written in blood, had been the words: I am not the teacher. Umbridge had made him write that over and over after he questioned her authority to scold Fred and George in class. I am not. “Dad, I know what I’m not. I just don’t know what I am.” His father gazed at Lee with his kind dark eyes. “I think you just need some time to find that out.” “Shouldn’t I know that already?” Lee started to run his fingers through his hair in frustration and realized anew that his dreads were gone. “I’d say that you’re on your way to finding that out,” his father answered. Lee scraped at the label on his butterbeer bottle, not at all sure he was on the way to anything. He felt the same chill he had felt in the Underground – his future was just like that dark place – a labyrinth with no known map. “One answer at a time,” his father said, indicating the Arithmancy puzzle he had just completed. “You don’t solve it all at once.” “Right,” Lee said, wishing he had a few answers to fill in right now. A/N: Thanks to David for help with the magical physics of Vanishing. Another thanks to redlightspecial for his thoughts on what Umbridge would have made Lee write with her quill. As always, thanks to Sherry and Jo Wickaninnish for beta reading – and to Julu for her encouragement.
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