To The Tower Came - 3/7 (DW/Heroes/HP/BtVS; 19,060 words; 12+)
[ Full Headers and Art | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | E | Read on DW ]
THREE
Mickey drove, humming idly along to the music. He wasn't sure what it was, exactly, some sixties rock thing, but there was only three hundred and seventeen songs on the iPod Micah had found and they'd heard them all looped so often Mickey had practically memorised them. He glanced over to see Micah still happily ensconced in a box, ignoring Jake who was making increasingly more ludicrous 'pet me dammit' poses. Beneath the boy's hands, strange alien objects whispered and blinked their lights and gave up their secrets like magic.
Like some kind of technopathy Mickey thought, because he'd watched sci-fi shows and, anyway, the Doctor babbled a lot.
They crossed from terraced suburbs into empty countryside that Mickey thought might have been Kent once upon a time. The road turned muddy under the wheels as it twisted around past sudden tall, yellow buildings, draped with dead creepers and surging ivy. Half a giant jade head stared sightlessly at them as Mickey edged his way around a MacDonald's sign that had fallen from somewhere into the dirt. He crossed a railway line that petered out a few hundred yards in both directions and, with rather more trepidation, a rickety old iron bridge that arched over nothing more than snow-sunk heathers.
"It's like Battleworld," Micah said out of nowhere. Mickey gave him a blank look. "It's from a comic," Micah clarified. "Secret Wars -- the original one, with the Beyonder? He took pieces from lots of different planets and smashed them all together to make a new one for all the heroes and villains to fight on."
"Huh." Mickey considered this. "Maybe that's what this is."
"The Beyonder told everybody what he did," Micah pointed out. "No-one's said anything; not that I know of."
"I knew a guy, called himself the Doctor. He said time was full of cracks. Maybe we just got one crack too many," Mickey mused.
Which would make it all partly his fault, of course. And Rose. Mostly Rose, really. Well, okay, and the Cybermen and Torchwood and the Daleks and Davros -- lots of blame to go around. Best not to think about that.
He tried a change of subject. "You were in America when it happened, right?"
"India, actually," Micah said. "I was with my-- With a sort-of friend."
"Not your parents?" Mickey asked and then felt like a heel.
"No." Micah shook his head, eyes fixed on the thing in his hands, turning it over and over. "They were gone before. Everyone was gone before."
"Sorry."
"Yeah," Micah said and then, a long moment later and so quiet Mickey was sure the boy didn't realise he was saying it aloud, "I always get left behind."
Know how you feel, mate, Mickey thought, but he said nothing, concentrating on his driving, twisting with the roads but always heading East.
*
The sun was just dropping out of the rear-view mirrors when they finally broke free of the thick forest and got the first unobstructed view of the lights ahead. They dangled in glittering rows from stall after stall, spreading in all directions like a bejewelled spider-web, casting their light on food and fabrics, clothes and charts, tools and trinkets. Cooking smells sneaked their way in through the cracks, making Jake jump up to the window. Mickey slowed down so he could safely watch Micah, grinning when the boy finally looked up and was instantly transfixed.
"Whoa," Micah breathed. "Is that a castle?!"
It was. A whole mass of towers, grey stones turned orange and purple in the last dregs of sunlight, clustered together on the rise, joined by balustrades, covered-walkways, and smaller, slope-roofed buildings.
"That's where we're going," Mickey said, grinning when Micah's face lit-up.
He took the long route between the stalls to make the most of trip for Micah, though it did mean he had to keep stopping to avoid people trying to barter shit he didn't want for things he didn't have. The medical supplies were, admittedly, something of a fortune in what passed for the current economy, but it felt wrong to use them like that. Martha wouldn't have approved.
Though maybe she would have at that. She'd had a practical streak to her. Mickey wondered if, in some other timeline, they'd ever gotten to know each other better. And if they had, was a piece of it lying out there somewhere, waiting to be stumbled over?
"Look at all the people," Micah whispered, hands and face pressed to his window.
'All' was something of an exaggeration, Mickey thought, remembering the Londons of years before -- in either dimension -- jam packed even on Sundays. Even counting the stall keepers, there was probably only fifty or so people out there. Still, he supposed, it was likely the most people Micah had seen in one spot since it happened.
Which was just as depressing as thinking about Martha. Bloody hell, but the future sucked!
As the van turned up the hill, Micah twisted around in his seat to watch the market for as long as he could. When he finally sat back, it was with a wistful little smile that didn't go away until Mickey had reached the castle's wall.
He was reaching for the horn when there was a pop and the shadows resolved themselves into a familiar, rather harassed looking teenager, who was tying her thick, dark-red curls back with a scrap of ribbon as she came up the van.
"I hope you've brought something good," she said. "McGonagall is having one of her days."
"I can come back--"
"Hugo already said." She waved him to follow her as she headed towards the wall. "You can come on through."
Mickey closed his eyes and did, hearing Micah yelp as the stones rushed up at them, and then gasp as they simply passed right through it.
"Some kind of hologram?" he asked.
"Not exactly." Mickey parked in a corner of the revealed courtyard, turned the engine off and got out, waving Micah out. "It's a glamour. No, really," he added off Micah's skeptical look. "Go on, Rose, tell him."
"A glamour layered on wards, if you really must over-simplify a quite complicated piece of arithmantical construction, but yes. Hello," she added, offering a hand to Micah who, bemused, shook it awkwardly. "I'm Rose Weasley. Welcome to Hogwarts."
Micah gaped at her, then at the castle, and then at her again. Mickey cracked up, earning Micah's glare.
Rose sighed. "Well, honestly."
*
"That's the owlrey up there," Rose said, pointing. "It's rather empty these days, I'm afraid."
"You really have owls," Micah asked.
"Not personally, but yes, the school does."
"And they send post and everything?" Rose nodded. Micah beamed. "Awesome!"
Mickey, wandering along behind them with Jake, chuckled. Rose rolled her eyes at him. Micah ignored them both.
"Look! The portraits actually move!"
"Not another Muggle," huffed a hook-nosed man, and dodged out of his frame.
Micah laughed, half astounded, half incredulous. "Did you hear that? He called me a Muggle!"
"We prefer to use 'non-magical'," Rose said, a little stuffily. "Now, down here--"
"Hang on," said Micah, coming to an abrupt halt. "If--"
"Yes," Rose sighed. "I am a witch."
She pulled her wand out and flicked it casually. Red and gold streamers burst out of nowhere, spiralling prettily until they came apart in a rain of glittering sparks. Jake jumped, barking once and then whining.
"Sorry," Rose said, bending down to pat him.
"Yeah, okay, that was cool," Micah said, "but I was going to ask why I could see the castle? Shouldn't it have anti-Muggle spells or something?"
"McGonagall made us take them down," Rose said. "The rules had quite obviously changed and she said we needed to adapt to them."
"Oh."
"Hugo was asking after you," Rose added to Mickey.
Mickey sighed. "How is he?"
"Worse," Rose said tightly.
"Yeah, okay. I'll go up," Mickey promised. "Can you show Micah around for a bit or something? Is that okay with you, Micah?"
Micah blinked at him. "What? Uh, yeah?"
"Okay?"
"Yes. No. I don't-- Hogwarts?!" Micah demanded, affronted.
"The way I heard it," Mickey said, "is that in an infinite multiverse, everything that can exist somewhere must exist. Even fictional things."
"I don't know why you're looking smug," Rose said waspishly. "You're from a telly show my dad used to watch."
"That's the Doctor's fault," Mickey complained.
"You're from a television show?" Micah asked, sounding almost amused.
"I'm sure there are universes where you're fictional too," Mickey said. "I find it best not to think about it."
"Personally, I think the implications are really quite outstanding," Rose said. "I'm sure if we could properly study the transfer of information between quantum strata, we could learn a great deal about the nature of the current mix-up."
"Is your mom really Hermione Granger?" Micah asked.
Rose sighed. "Yes. Yes, she is."
"I'm going to see Hugo," Mickey said.
Rose nodded, distracted as Micah asked her another question, and the two started off again, Jake padding alongside.
"Bye then," Mickey muttered, and headed the other way.
*
The castle structure shifted around more than the TARDIS had. It didn't help that the portraits liked to try and give helpful directions that inevitably turned out not to be, that the stairs kept swinging around every time he was half-way up them, or that he kept half-catching glimpses of almost familiar people in unexpected mirrors. He didn't know how long it took him to find the ladder up to the North Tower but, by the time he was pushing his way up through the circular trap door, the sun had set, the lights had gone out on the stalls, and broken stars wheeled past the window slits.
He closed it behind him as quietly as he could, but even that little noise brought whimpers from the bed in the middle of the room. Despite the massive fire roaring in the grate, or the steam rising from the iron kettle, there was still a chill in the air.
"Hugo?" Mickey asked softly.
He crossed the room carefully, edging around the crystal balls and stepping over dropped cards and discarded cups. Kneeling by the bed, he reached out as gently as he could to touch the shape under the blankets.
"Hugo," he repeated, a little louder.
There was another whimper, the only warning before the bed shook and a thrashing form burst out of the bedclothes, a screaming blur of freckles and scars.
Dodging a wild swing, Mickey threw his arms around the boy, holding the far too bony frame tight. "Hugo! It's okay! Calm down!"
Mewling, Hugo twisted feverishly against Mickey's grip, but he was too weak to get free and eventually he subsided, tears streaming down his face, mumbling "Scorpius" over and over.
"It's me," Mickey said, loosening his hold a little. "It's Mickey, Hugo. Are you with us, mate?"
Hugo's head turned in his direction, although the boy's eyes were focused on something, somewhere else altogether. His lips moved soundlessly for a bit, before finally shaping Mickey's name. It took a couple more tries before it had sound behind it.
"That's me," Mickey agreed. "Okay?"
"Yes," Hugo said, though he almost fell when Mickey let go. Between the two of them, they managed to get Hugo propped up on pillows, though the effort seemed to exhaust the boy.
Martha had once told him about a school-boy and a watch and how Artron fields and time scars lead to increase in psychic abilities. He'd never really understood that, even after seeing that mad Dalek who'd breached the Time War, not until Hugo. Mickey couldn't imagine what it was like, being a Seer as the universe ripped itself opened around you and space and time got all snarled together.
"It's coming back," Hugo said. "Mickey?"
"I'm here," Mickey assured him. "Don't suppose you've seen the Doctor in there anywhere?"
Hugo's head swung back towards him. There was no colour in the boy's eyes, white irises, absent pupils. "We've all been dreaming. You've seen it, haven't you? There's a tower at summers end."
"Yeah?" Mickey prompted. There was no answer. "Rose said you were asking for me."
"I'm sorry," Hugo whispered. "I'm so sorry. But it was necessary, you see. I saw it, the storm at the heart of the son. The virus--"
He jerked up. Mickey caught him before he could go far, carefully pushing him back down. Hugo's eyes found his.
"The virus has a name. The virus--" Hugo frowned, lolling. "But it all gets lost. It all gets -- Mickey?"
"I'm here," Mickey said, taking Hugo's hand and squeezing it.
"Take Rose when you go. That's important. Perfect Rose -- but I get so lost," Hugo said, beginning to cry again. "I get so..." And then in a perfectly calm, normal tone of voice, he asked, "Would you mind making me a cup of tea before you leave, please, Mickey? I don't think I can get up now."
"Sure," said Mickey, letting go of his hand.
He found the cleanest cup he could and the tea, poured in water from the kettle, and brought it back to the bed. Hugo seemed to be dozing, so Mickey left it on the side-table and turned back to the trap-door. Just as he was letting himself down, Hugo called after him.
"Take Rose when you go. Promise me."
"I promise, Hugo," Mickey said placatingly. "You try to get some rest, okay."
"Okay, Mickey." Hugo sighed wearily. "Good bye."
"'Bye," Mickey said and ducked down the ladder, letting the trap fall shut. He breathed a sigh of relief once his feet were on the ground, and then felt terrible for doing so. It wasn't Hugo's fault. Or if it was, no more than it was everybody else's too.
Mickey's stomached growled and, thanking it for something at least approaching normalcy, he went off to find the Great Hall for supper.
*
As it turned out, he only had time for a piece of toast. He'd nodded to McGonagall as he'd entered, but quickly grabbed a spot at the Gryffindor table to avoid having to speak to her quite yet. (She might have looked old and frail, but he knew she could strip paint with her tongue.) Only, as soon as he'd sat down, he'd realised that (a) Rose was right in front of him and (b) Micah and Jake were nowhere to be seen.
"Where's the kid?" he asked.
"I think he's still in his room," Rose said, blinking owlishly at him. "Why?"
"Room?"
"Well, yes. I had a room made up for him, and left him to get cleaned up; we'd spare clothes in his size."
"Right," said Mickey nodding. "Why?"
"Because," Rose started, and then frowned. "Isn't he staying? You're always bringing strays here. I just assumed -- I mean, you told me to look after him."
Mickey felt his stomach drop out. "Show me," he said, rather startled to realise he was standing. "Take me to the room, Rose. Right now!"
"I'm," Rose started, clearly thought better of it, and jumped to her feet. "Come on; there's a hidden staircase behind the painting of Misaligned Jones. It'll take us right there."
Right there in Hogwarts terms, of course, which was still twisty-windy, but it was only a few moments later that Mickey was knocking on the door and calling out, "Micah? Are you awake?"
There was a whining inside and a scratching noise.
"That's Jake," Rose said and Mickey pushed at the door, which swung open to let the dog bound out, barking. Rose dodged past him into the room and then cursed. "He's gone."
'I'm always left behind,' Mickey thought with horror and turned and sprinted for the stairs.
Rose and Jake were at his heels in seconds. "What's going on? Did he run off? Why?"
"Never mind that," Mickey snapped. "I've got to go after him. Where's my van? I can never find anything in this sodding--"
"This way," said Rose. "You can explain it to me on the way." Mickey blinked at her. "If it's my fault he's gone, it's my responsibility to get him back."
"'Take Rose when you go'," Mickey said and sighed, waving off her questioning look. "Prophets, man. Yeah, come on. He can't have gone far."
[ Full Headers and Art | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | E | Read on DW ]
THREE
Mickey drove, humming idly along to the music. He wasn't sure what it was, exactly, some sixties rock thing, but there was only three hundred and seventeen songs on the iPod Micah had found and they'd heard them all looped so often Mickey had practically memorised them. He glanced over to see Micah still happily ensconced in a box, ignoring Jake who was making increasingly more ludicrous 'pet me dammit' poses. Beneath the boy's hands, strange alien objects whispered and blinked their lights and gave up their secrets like magic.
Like some kind of technopathy Mickey thought, because he'd watched sci-fi shows and, anyway, the Doctor babbled a lot.
They crossed from terraced suburbs into empty countryside that Mickey thought might have been Kent once upon a time. The road turned muddy under the wheels as it twisted around past sudden tall, yellow buildings, draped with dead creepers and surging ivy. Half a giant jade head stared sightlessly at them as Mickey edged his way around a MacDonald's sign that had fallen from somewhere into the dirt. He crossed a railway line that petered out a few hundred yards in both directions and, with rather more trepidation, a rickety old iron bridge that arched over nothing more than snow-sunk heathers.
"It's like Battleworld," Micah said out of nowhere. Mickey gave him a blank look. "It's from a comic," Micah clarified. "Secret Wars -- the original one, with the Beyonder? He took pieces from lots of different planets and smashed them all together to make a new one for all the heroes and villains to fight on."
"Huh." Mickey considered this. "Maybe that's what this is."
"The Beyonder told everybody what he did," Micah pointed out. "No-one's said anything; not that I know of."
"I knew a guy, called himself the Doctor. He said time was full of cracks. Maybe we just got one crack too many," Mickey mused.
Which would make it all partly his fault, of course. And Rose. Mostly Rose, really. Well, okay, and the Cybermen and Torchwood and the Daleks and Davros -- lots of blame to go around. Best not to think about that.
He tried a change of subject. "You were in America when it happened, right?"
"India, actually," Micah said. "I was with my-- With a sort-of friend."
"Not your parents?" Mickey asked and then felt like a heel.
"No." Micah shook his head, eyes fixed on the thing in his hands, turning it over and over. "They were gone before. Everyone was gone before."
"Sorry."
"Yeah," Micah said and then, a long moment later and so quiet Mickey was sure the boy didn't realise he was saying it aloud, "I always get left behind."
Know how you feel, mate, Mickey thought, but he said nothing, concentrating on his driving, twisting with the roads but always heading East.
*
The sun was just dropping out of the rear-view mirrors when they finally broke free of the thick forest and got the first unobstructed view of the lights ahead. They dangled in glittering rows from stall after stall, spreading in all directions like a bejewelled spider-web, casting their light on food and fabrics, clothes and charts, tools and trinkets. Cooking smells sneaked their way in through the cracks, making Jake jump up to the window. Mickey slowed down so he could safely watch Micah, grinning when the boy finally looked up and was instantly transfixed.
"Whoa," Micah breathed. "Is that a castle?!"
It was. A whole mass of towers, grey stones turned orange and purple in the last dregs of sunlight, clustered together on the rise, joined by balustrades, covered-walkways, and smaller, slope-roofed buildings.
"That's where we're going," Mickey said, grinning when Micah's face lit-up.
He took the long route between the stalls to make the most of trip for Micah, though it did mean he had to keep stopping to avoid people trying to barter shit he didn't want for things he didn't have. The medical supplies were, admittedly, something of a fortune in what passed for the current economy, but it felt wrong to use them like that. Martha wouldn't have approved.
Though maybe she would have at that. She'd had a practical streak to her. Mickey wondered if, in some other timeline, they'd ever gotten to know each other better. And if they had, was a piece of it lying out there somewhere, waiting to be stumbled over?
"Look at all the people," Micah whispered, hands and face pressed to his window.
'All' was something of an exaggeration, Mickey thought, remembering the Londons of years before -- in either dimension -- jam packed even on Sundays. Even counting the stall keepers, there was probably only fifty or so people out there. Still, he supposed, it was likely the most people Micah had seen in one spot since it happened.
Which was just as depressing as thinking about Martha. Bloody hell, but the future sucked!
As the van turned up the hill, Micah twisted around in his seat to watch the market for as long as he could. When he finally sat back, it was with a wistful little smile that didn't go away until Mickey had reached the castle's wall.
He was reaching for the horn when there was a pop and the shadows resolved themselves into a familiar, rather harassed looking teenager, who was tying her thick, dark-red curls back with a scrap of ribbon as she came up the van.
"I hope you've brought something good," she said. "McGonagall is having one of her days."
"I can come back--"
"Hugo already said." She waved him to follow her as she headed towards the wall. "You can come on through."
Mickey closed his eyes and did, hearing Micah yelp as the stones rushed up at them, and then gasp as they simply passed right through it.
"Some kind of hologram?" he asked.
"Not exactly." Mickey parked in a corner of the revealed courtyard, turned the engine off and got out, waving Micah out. "It's a glamour. No, really," he added off Micah's skeptical look. "Go on, Rose, tell him."
"A glamour layered on wards, if you really must over-simplify a quite complicated piece of arithmantical construction, but yes. Hello," she added, offering a hand to Micah who, bemused, shook it awkwardly. "I'm Rose Weasley. Welcome to Hogwarts."
Micah gaped at her, then at the castle, and then at her again. Mickey cracked up, earning Micah's glare.
Rose sighed. "Well, honestly."
*
"That's the owlrey up there," Rose said, pointing. "It's rather empty these days, I'm afraid."
"You really have owls," Micah asked.
"Not personally, but yes, the school does."
"And they send post and everything?" Rose nodded. Micah beamed. "Awesome!"
Mickey, wandering along behind them with Jake, chuckled. Rose rolled her eyes at him. Micah ignored them both.
"Look! The portraits actually move!"
"Not another Muggle," huffed a hook-nosed man, and dodged out of his frame.
Micah laughed, half astounded, half incredulous. "Did you hear that? He called me a Muggle!"
"We prefer to use 'non-magical'," Rose said, a little stuffily. "Now, down here--"
"Hang on," said Micah, coming to an abrupt halt. "If--"
"Yes," Rose sighed. "I am a witch."
She pulled her wand out and flicked it casually. Red and gold streamers burst out of nowhere, spiralling prettily until they came apart in a rain of glittering sparks. Jake jumped, barking once and then whining.
"Sorry," Rose said, bending down to pat him.
"Yeah, okay, that was cool," Micah said, "but I was going to ask why I could see the castle? Shouldn't it have anti-Muggle spells or something?"
"McGonagall made us take them down," Rose said. "The rules had quite obviously changed and she said we needed to adapt to them."
"Oh."
"Hugo was asking after you," Rose added to Mickey.
Mickey sighed. "How is he?"
"Worse," Rose said tightly.
"Yeah, okay. I'll go up," Mickey promised. "Can you show Micah around for a bit or something? Is that okay with you, Micah?"
Micah blinked at him. "What? Uh, yeah?"
"Okay?"
"Yes. No. I don't-- Hogwarts?!" Micah demanded, affronted.
"The way I heard it," Mickey said, "is that in an infinite multiverse, everything that can exist somewhere must exist. Even fictional things."
"I don't know why you're looking smug," Rose said waspishly. "You're from a telly show my dad used to watch."
"That's the Doctor's fault," Mickey complained.
"You're from a television show?" Micah asked, sounding almost amused.
"I'm sure there are universes where you're fictional too," Mickey said. "I find it best not to think about it."
"Personally, I think the implications are really quite outstanding," Rose said. "I'm sure if we could properly study the transfer of information between quantum strata, we could learn a great deal about the nature of the current mix-up."
"Is your mom really Hermione Granger?" Micah asked.
Rose sighed. "Yes. Yes, she is."
"I'm going to see Hugo," Mickey said.
Rose nodded, distracted as Micah asked her another question, and the two started off again, Jake padding alongside.
"Bye then," Mickey muttered, and headed the other way.
*
The castle structure shifted around more than the TARDIS had. It didn't help that the portraits liked to try and give helpful directions that inevitably turned out not to be, that the stairs kept swinging around every time he was half-way up them, or that he kept half-catching glimpses of almost familiar people in unexpected mirrors. He didn't know how long it took him to find the ladder up to the North Tower but, by the time he was pushing his way up through the circular trap door, the sun had set, the lights had gone out on the stalls, and broken stars wheeled past the window slits.
He closed it behind him as quietly as he could, but even that little noise brought whimpers from the bed in the middle of the room. Despite the massive fire roaring in the grate, or the steam rising from the iron kettle, there was still a chill in the air.
"Hugo?" Mickey asked softly.
He crossed the room carefully, edging around the crystal balls and stepping over dropped cards and discarded cups. Kneeling by the bed, he reached out as gently as he could to touch the shape under the blankets.
"Hugo," he repeated, a little louder.
There was another whimper, the only warning before the bed shook and a thrashing form burst out of the bedclothes, a screaming blur of freckles and scars.
Dodging a wild swing, Mickey threw his arms around the boy, holding the far too bony frame tight. "Hugo! It's okay! Calm down!"
Mewling, Hugo twisted feverishly against Mickey's grip, but he was too weak to get free and eventually he subsided, tears streaming down his face, mumbling "Scorpius" over and over.
"It's me," Mickey said, loosening his hold a little. "It's Mickey, Hugo. Are you with us, mate?"
Hugo's head turned in his direction, although the boy's eyes were focused on something, somewhere else altogether. His lips moved soundlessly for a bit, before finally shaping Mickey's name. It took a couple more tries before it had sound behind it.
"That's me," Mickey agreed. "Okay?"
"Yes," Hugo said, though he almost fell when Mickey let go. Between the two of them, they managed to get Hugo propped up on pillows, though the effort seemed to exhaust the boy.
Martha had once told him about a school-boy and a watch and how Artron fields and time scars lead to increase in psychic abilities. He'd never really understood that, even after seeing that mad Dalek who'd breached the Time War, not until Hugo. Mickey couldn't imagine what it was like, being a Seer as the universe ripped itself opened around you and space and time got all snarled together.
"It's coming back," Hugo said. "Mickey?"
"I'm here," Mickey assured him. "Don't suppose you've seen the Doctor in there anywhere?"
Hugo's head swung back towards him. There was no colour in the boy's eyes, white irises, absent pupils. "We've all been dreaming. You've seen it, haven't you? There's a tower at summers end."
"Yeah?" Mickey prompted. There was no answer. "Rose said you were asking for me."
"I'm sorry," Hugo whispered. "I'm so sorry. But it was necessary, you see. I saw it, the storm at the heart of the son. The virus--"
He jerked up. Mickey caught him before he could go far, carefully pushing him back down. Hugo's eyes found his.
"The virus has a name. The virus--" Hugo frowned, lolling. "But it all gets lost. It all gets -- Mickey?"
"I'm here," Mickey said, taking Hugo's hand and squeezing it.
"Take Rose when you go. That's important. Perfect Rose -- but I get so lost," Hugo said, beginning to cry again. "I get so..." And then in a perfectly calm, normal tone of voice, he asked, "Would you mind making me a cup of tea before you leave, please, Mickey? I don't think I can get up now."
"Sure," said Mickey, letting go of his hand.
He found the cleanest cup he could and the tea, poured in water from the kettle, and brought it back to the bed. Hugo seemed to be dozing, so Mickey left it on the side-table and turned back to the trap-door. Just as he was letting himself down, Hugo called after him.
"Take Rose when you go. Promise me."
"I promise, Hugo," Mickey said placatingly. "You try to get some rest, okay."
"Okay, Mickey." Hugo sighed wearily. "Good bye."
"'Bye," Mickey said and ducked down the ladder, letting the trap fall shut. He breathed a sigh of relief once his feet were on the ground, and then felt terrible for doing so. It wasn't Hugo's fault. Or if it was, no more than it was everybody else's too.
Mickey's stomached growled and, thanking it for something at least approaching normalcy, he went off to find the Great Hall for supper.
*
As it turned out, he only had time for a piece of toast. He'd nodded to McGonagall as he'd entered, but quickly grabbed a spot at the Gryffindor table to avoid having to speak to her quite yet. (She might have looked old and frail, but he knew she could strip paint with her tongue.) Only, as soon as he'd sat down, he'd realised that (a) Rose was right in front of him and (b) Micah and Jake were nowhere to be seen.
"Where's the kid?" he asked.
"I think he's still in his room," Rose said, blinking owlishly at him. "Why?"
"Room?"
"Well, yes. I had a room made up for him, and left him to get cleaned up; we'd spare clothes in his size."
"Right," said Mickey nodding. "Why?"
"Because," Rose started, and then frowned. "Isn't he staying? You're always bringing strays here. I just assumed -- I mean, you told me to look after him."
Mickey felt his stomach drop out. "Show me," he said, rather startled to realise he was standing. "Take me to the room, Rose. Right now!"
"I'm," Rose started, clearly thought better of it, and jumped to her feet. "Come on; there's a hidden staircase behind the painting of Misaligned Jones. It'll take us right there."
Right there in Hogwarts terms, of course, which was still twisty-windy, but it was only a few moments later that Mickey was knocking on the door and calling out, "Micah? Are you awake?"
There was a whining inside and a scratching noise.
"That's Jake," Rose said and Mickey pushed at the door, which swung open to let the dog bound out, barking. Rose dodged past him into the room and then cursed. "He's gone."
'I'm always left behind,' Mickey thought with horror and turned and sprinted for the stairs.
Rose and Jake were at his heels in seconds. "What's going on? Did he run off? Why?"
"Never mind that," Mickey snapped. "I've got to go after him. Where's my van? I can never find anything in this sodding--"
"This way," said Rose. "You can explain it to me on the way." Mickey blinked at her. "If it's my fault he's gone, it's my responsibility to get him back."
"'Take Rose when you go'," Mickey said and sighed, waving off her questioning look. "Prophets, man. Yeah, come on. He can't have gone far."
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