4 January 2012 at 9am
Kings Cross Station
London

Figaro Sellaphix had dropped off his little brother Frank at the palatial muggle train station just a little bit ago, and Frank had assured him he could find the secret platform on his own. Frank had come to see off the train every term for Figaro and he wasn't some fumbling first year anymore, was he then? There'd been some argument that Frank ought to have a chaperone because he was still sniffling dreadfully and coughing at the drop of a hat, but Frank argued that even a bad cold wouldn't stop him counting to nine and three-quarters. He'd promised to drink tea on the train and nap a good chunk of the journey.

Feeling free and at ease, Frank made his way at a responsible briskness across the elevated walkway in the chilly hustle and bustle of the train station. He passed some people he knew and waved; families of his classmates returning home after dropping off their little ones.  He rolled his trunk behind him and made a turn down the way towards platforms nine and ten. He weaved through to the very far end, then looked both ways. With a casual confidence, he sped up to a trot straight at the wide brick divider.

Slam!

Too the horror all onlookers, a boy of thirteen-or-so had run face first into a brick wall at some speed. Frank fell backwards on his bum and landed halfway on his trunk. He couldn't see straight, his face hurt, and blood was beginning to stream out of his nose

            "Oh my god, kid, are you alright!?" A man with a guitar strapped to his back hurried over. Others were watching, some blatantly staring.

            "You ran straight into it!" he chuckled kindly.

"I ... ow..." was all Frank managed. He began breathing fast and his voice was raising in pitch. "It's ... it was ... solid...!"

            "That's how walls work, mate. Look, you're bleeding. Have you got your mobile? Let's call your parents."

Frank put his hand gingerly to his nose and immediately withdrew it. His fingers were bloody. Then he looked at the man with a little horror. He was a muggle. "Why didn't it let me ...? It was solid!"

            "Your nose could be broken. And a, uh, concussion. We should probably get you to A & E."

"No! No, I'm fine, nghh..." Oh, it hurt. He held his sleeve very gently to his nose to stop it bleeding all down his front. 

But it was then a porter arrived in his official uniform. "Is everything alright here?"

            "There's been a collision with a brick wall," said the man kindly.

The porter seemed confused, but knew just what to do. "I'll just radio for the medic and we'll get in contact with your parents. Sit tight there, young man. Don't let him get up. Could have a concussion."

This was bad. Bad bad bad. "I'm fine, really, I just need the bathroom... Eirene!"

He never thought he'd be so happy to see his severe, snippy classmate. "Eirene! Uh, there's my ... sister."  He scrambled to his feet and gingerly tried to wipe the blood off his mouth.

Eirene had woken up with the sniffles. Her nose was stuffy. Her head felt warm. She'd sniff-sniffled all the way to breakfast, making a litany of complaints to her father before he'd dashed off to the Ministry and then to her mother who had merely felt her forehead and tutted. Eirene could hear her getting ready to floo to St. Mungo's to heal other people. Hmph! Other people more important than her own daughter! Eirene had heard all about the magical measles that the wizarding world was trying to hush up. Her mother had spent most of the holiday helping patients at the hospital, leaving Eirene to sulk alone at home.

"I have the flu! The measles!" She announced loudly at the table, setting down her teacup with a clang.

"It's called Praecantatio Deliquus and no you do not!"

Eirene mouthed the proper name of the disease for a moment, sounding it out, committing it to memory.

"Praecantatio Deliquus," her mother repeated for her daughter's benefit, calling all the way from the hall.

"Pracecantatio Deliquus," Eirene said clearly at the table. She heard her mother putting on her shoes. Her eyes bugged out, struck by another horrifying thought.

"If you and father are both at work, who's going to take me to the station?"

Her mother did not reply.

"I can't show up like a sad orphan! What if someone sees!"

She swiveled in her chair, ignoring the assortment of fruit and berries and yogurt on the table before her. There was a process to these things. A process wherein her elegant mother or father would escort her through the awful muggle station and then let her run through the barrier to the wizarding side. She'd meet her friends independently, but she was not braving the muggle train station alone!

Her mother flitted into the room, adjusting her lime green cap over her bob of dark hair.

"You're fifteen now. You'll use the floo system to get to the station. It's a very short walk from floo to station. You've taken that walk every year.  And didn't you shop at Diagon by yourself earlier this winter?"

"That's different! It's an entirely magical place."

"You'll board the train, and when you get to school you'll write to me and say how well you are. Hm?"

Eirene shook her head, scowling. "I won't write to you. I'll be kidnapped by a muggle - one of the mean ones. Or a dementor will swoop in and steal my soul, and then you and father will be sorry."

Her mother scoffed and tried not to smile. She rested her hand gently on Eirene's forehead.

"You do feel a touch warm. Pack some pepperup potion with you. You can take it on the train ride."

She gave her glaring daughter a kiss on the head and then left in a flurry of lime green robes.

---

Eirene floo'd near the train station with all of her luggage, and spent a good five minutes brushing the floo powder and ash off of her fashionable, ruffled cloak, and sneezing on the powder, and sniffing despondently, until finally she was ready to brave the few blocks of muggle London by herself, wheeling her trunk behind her. She carried her familiar, Xanthe, in a special pet purse. If any muggle dared to mug her, she'd scream like a banshee and roll her luggage onto them before ever giving up her poor cat Xanthe, who shrank at the crowd and covered his cute little face with both paws.

Head held high, she made it to the train station without incident, and paused to sigh and put a hand to her warm brow. The indignity of showing up to school with a flushed face! With the sniffles! Of course she had to go to school, she'd go even if she were dying, but she wanted to look her best and make the best impression she could.

Platform 7, 8, 9... Eirene moved closer to platform nine and three quarters, huffing and frowning and sighing all the way. But there were people in her way. Muggles or wixes, they were in her way, blocking her path, and she was peering around them and just about to order them to move when she heard a boy call her.

His voice sounded muffled. Nasally. Young and familiar.

"Excuse you, out of my way, someone needs me." She made it to the brick barrier and stopped short at the sight of Frank Sellaphix, blood running down his coat.

Sister? Sister!

Eirene drew back, affronted. She was most certainly not - but oh no! So much blood. Who had done that to likable, agreeable Frank? If someone had done that to him, imagine what they might do to her! She glanced around, wary of muggle muggers or malicious Gryffindors intent on ruining her return to school. The gathering of muggles looked at her curiously.

"Merlin's sake!" She rushed forward, putting a hand to Frank's elbow to help him stand and then rummaging in her front pocket for a handkerchief.  With a twinge of regret she snapped it out, letting it billow in all its lacy and embroidered glory, and shoved it into Frank's hand before he could think about refusing.

"Did someone h-e-x you?" She spelled out in case muggles were listening, earning her several funny looks. "Hold that to your nose. Lean forward and breathe through your mouth. Pinch your nose at the nostrils - just above it, if it doesn't hurt too much," she tried to remember.

"He shouldn't be standing up, and who are you?" A muggle asked Eirene.

"His sister," she snapped. "Yes, it's true. I didn't have time to advise him on his fashion choices this morning. But most importantly! We need space. Stand back."

A few stepped back, a few walked away, losing interest. The man with the guitar stayed put.

Eirene straightened. Her expression darkened.

"I said, stand back!"

Eirene needed to check to see if his nose was broken and to stop the bleeding and to ensure he didn't have a concussion, but first! She needed to help him through the divider to the safety of wixes.

Without thinking, she rested a hand on the brick pillar, shifting her pet purse on her shoulder as her cat cowered inside. Eirene looked at her hand. She looked at the solid pillar. She frowned. She touched the brick pillar again, in the middle, and then looked at her hand and kept patting the wall. Pat, pat. Solid.

"Miss," the man with the guitar said worriedly. "You're not getting any ideas about running into the wall, are you?"

She stared at the muggle, then looked at Frank, dread stiffening her back.

Frank was immediately relieved when Eirene took control of the scene. She could even control adults. He took the pretty hanky and followed her instructions gingerly. "Ow ow ow ow ow..." 

When she started using magical terms and doing magical things, Frank waved his hand at her urgently. They were going to get arrested. The Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes where going to swoop down on them and they'd be thrown in the clink for destroying the Statute of Secrecy. Didn't Eirene know that!?

"BATHROOM!" Frank insisted when the porter continued to press. And without further hedging, Frank dragged Eirene away as fast as he could with their luggage in tow. He beelined to the women's bathroom. There were shouts of protest from some of the nice ladies in side, but when they saw his nose they clammed up.

"Do you need help, dear?"

"No!" He snatched paper towels from the dispenser and then locked them both in the largest stall at the end. Sat down on the toilet and took a big sigh.

Then another deep breath, then another. He was feeling dizzy.

"I feel dizzy. The wall didn't open...! I slammed right into it," he said, eyes closed and head tipped back. "Tell me you know a bloody nose spell..."

In the bathroom stall, with their luggage crowding the small space and her cat curled up fearfully in her purse, Eirene gave Frank a long look. Did she know? Of course she did. Her mother was a Healer. How many times did she have to tell people?

She knew a milder, easier version of Staima which would slow the flow of blood for a minute. Fishing her wand out of the pocket of her cloak, she leaned in close to study Frank's nose.

"Head forward," she reminded him. "It doesn't look broken, but I'll be able to tell better once you put some ice on it. I know an ice charm too," she informed him before he could ask. "I'm most concerned about your dizziness, but," she huffed. "One step at a time."

Eirene pointed her wand at Frank's nose, and spoke the blood-stemming spell softly but clearly, with a precise flick of her wand.

Her wand remained dim. Eirene looked at it in surprise, and then tried again.

Dim. Nothing. She felt nothing, no surge of magic, and her wand emitted nothing, not even a spark.

Eirene frowned. Had she forgotten how to do it correctly? Impossible! Pushing back a flicker of nervousness, she tried again, altering the flick of her wand and speaking the spell with authority. The muggles could mind their own business. This was important!

Nothing.

"Are you alright, dears?" A lady asked from another stall.

Eirene ignored her, staring at her wand.

Frank had said the wall hadn't let him through. She'd never heard of that happening before, unless a student arrived at the station late. They were not late! Distractedly, she rubbed at her pounding forehead, feeling too warm in here.

"Frank," she looked at him, unusually quiet. "Try casting something. Anything."

She turned to her luggage, and tried a simple Alohomora.

It remained locked tight.

Frank let Eirene minister to his poor nose and then braced for the magic to plug things up, but nothing came. He opened his eyes.

"What?" Try to cast something? "Why?"

Eirene looked strange, nervous. She looked sick.

Deciding it was better to do just do as asked instead of arguing with her, Frank pulled his wand and tried an easy one.

"Lumos."

"Lumos!"

"Loo-MOSE!"

Frank's eyes widened. He whispered sharply, "it's not working! My wand isn't working!"

He winced and returned his hand to his nose, then started inspecting his wand. He began to get worried he'd damaged it in the collision. But wait. He stopped. Wait.

"The wall...! It's not my wand. It's me...!" His face went open-mouthed slack and his eyes focused on nothing in a blank acceptance. He was broken.

Then he turned slowly to look at Eirene. She was broken, too.

Eirene rested a hand on the grimy stall and slouched, staggered. Frank's wand wasn't working, either. Frank's magic wasn't working. He'd tried to pass through the barrier on time like a good student, just like her, and he'd barreled right into it. She hadn't seen any other students nursing bloody noses on the platform. It was just him. It was just her. It was just them.

She stared at him in shock. Her nose was plugged up. His nose was still bleeding freely. Slowly, she reached out and lifted his arm to place the handkerchief back on his nose.

She looked all around the stall as understanding dawned. A feverish light glinted in her eyes. Her parents - her parents hadn't believed her! Yet here she was, stranded and desperate at the muggle train station with a boy a whole year younger than her!

"I knew it," she hissed to herself.

"I told them! I told my parents I was ill but did they listen? No. Did they even stop to think that their own daughter might be sick and might not be exaggerating one tiny bit? No."

Her eyes locked onto Frank's.

"Frank, I know what's wrong with us. It's all clear to me now."

She raised her wand in the air like an index finger.

"Praecantatio. Deliquus," she declared with a huff and sniff and a sniffle.

"Pracecantatio! Deliquus!" She said again, letting it roll grandly off her tongue.

"Otherwise known as the magical measles," she lowered her voice, but there was no mistaking the pep in her tone. No pepper-up potion for her! Not necessary!

"Otherwise known as the no-magic measles," she explained to Frank with a smug little smile.

Frank was stunned. He had absolutely zero idea what Eirene was talking about other than the obvious.

"What!?" he sputtered, and then lowered his voice again. "What...?"

He started swiftly running the math. He wasn't allowed to use magic at home, so he wouldn't have known. Fig had Apparated him and you could take anything along with you for Apparition. He'd been dog sick for a few days, true. It all fit. It all fit. They had lost their magic and he hadn't even noticed until it quite literally smacked him in the face.

Frank looked back to Eirene.

"Why are you smiling? We're going to miss class, you know. How are we supposed to even get to Hogwarts? It's hidden from -" he lowered his voice even lower. "It's hidden from muggles."

He checked the handkerchief again then dabbed at his nose with a clean finger. The bleeding was subsiding at least. He rolled out some toilet paper and made some attempt to wipe his face off. He must have looked terrible. But at least he wasn't smiling.

Eirene bugged her eyes out at him, her smile faltering.

"Because I'm right, Frank!"

That was something to celebrate every single time, every single day.

Slowly but surely her smile dimmed. The idea of missing out on Hogwarts sank in, and his point about Hogwarts being hidden from muggles sank in.

Still!

"We are not muggles," she informed him in a lofty, fervent whisper.

Eirene glanced at his face and attempted to ignore the toilet paper and the fact that he'd sat on an unsanitary toilet seat. He looked pale and peaky and unwell.

"The blood is slowing, that's good. Do you still feel dizzy? Confused at all? Nauseous? Are your ears ringing?"

Eirene paused in her questions to ask another type of question. "When did you start feeling sick? I felt sick this morning. I knew I had it! I told them and told them," she shook her head, fishing out an extra hanky to dab at her nose.

Merlin's pants, she was insane. Properly, completely insane. Who'd want to be right about this? An insane person. He watched as she slowly came round to her senses which was the true horror of their predicament.

"No, no, I'm fine, actually," he said hastily, just happy he wasn't bleeding out his face anymore. He needed to wash up fully, but he was not ready to reappear in the women's bathroom. (He'd chosen it because he knew it'd have more stalls and didn't want to subject Eirene to urinals.) He was still a bit light headed and certainly, utterly confused, but that had little to do with his nose. 

"Well, actually, yeah, I feel like rubbish, but not from the wall. Started two days ago. Why? What are you talking about?  Who'd you tell what?"

Frank was completely frustrated. He hated not knowing and it seemed like there was a great deal he was currently not knowing. How could he have missed out on so much? How did he get sick - oh no. Fruit Ninja. He'd had possession of Figaro's iPhone for a good chunk of the holiday and had spent hours out in the garden bundled up playing games on it. There was too much magic in the house, he had to all the way to the back fence.

He groaned. "We have to get out of this bathroom," he muttered. They'd have to figure out a way to contact their family. Sellaphixes didn't have a phone and Figaro probably wouldn't know how to take a call even if Frank new the number.

Frank claimed to be fine and Eirene chose to believe him. She went to the stall door and listened to the comings and goings of ladies needing to use the loo. The door squeaked open, the door squeaked closed. It was a train station loo, and therefore never empty.

Her stomach sank. What should they do now? This was awful!

"My parents!" Eirene glanced over her shoulder. "I told them this very morning. My mother's a Healer, of course, and she's been helping to find a cure. It's all hush hush. I shouldn't even be talking about it," she said with a hint of excitement. To be in the know!

She considered finding their way to St. Mungo's and asking to see her mother. She knew it was the right thing to do. The responsible thing.

But what about Hogwarts? They had to get to Hogwarts! They couldn't miss the feast, or worse, the first day of classes![1]

"We're just going to have to leave the stall," she stated the obvious at Frank's groaning. "We're just going to have to. The man with the guitar must be gone by now. We'll walk and talk and figure this out." Like important people!

Eirene took her luggage in one hand and motioned for him to come on.

She poked her head out, and shuffled out of the stall with all of her things. At any glances or exclamations from the women, Eirene stared them down.

"He's my-" she swallowed her pride. "Brother and he's ill - not too ill!" She amended at the concerned looks. "And we can't be separated and we're going now!"

1.

Frank could only marvel at Eirene. He'd always fancied himself of above average intelligence but Antonopoulos here was fact-filled and feisty. He really shouldn't have let himself go over holiday, shouldn't have let himself play so much Fruit Ninja. He resolved to make sure next time something strange happened like this again, he wouldn't be the one using so many question marks and interrobangs.

"Happens all the time, actually," Frank would call after Eirene's excuses and exclamations to the rightly concerned muggle adults. Shortly he had his footing and they were both heading towards the main entrance. Frank, feeling much calmer than now they were doing something, had some suggestions.

"Do you have any muggle money? We could take a normal train. Or we could try calling someone on the phone. Does your family have a phone?"

It occurred to Frank he didn't know much about where Eirene came from. He'd just assumed they were rich and magical, but he had no idea where she lived. Of course, now he knew her mum was a Healer.

He continued to try and come up with an idea that sounded remotely tenable. Without muggle money, public transport was out.  Diagon Alley was far too long to walk and if they couldn't get through to Platform 9 3/4 he dreaded not being able to find the magically hidden pub. He didn't know exactly how to get back to his house from here but he thought it was closer than Diagon.

"I think we'll have to walk to my house. It's on Montague Road."

Eirene stopped short and let out a laugh. It was a ragged, snotty little laugh that she quickly stifled but something about Frank asking her if she owned any muggle money or technology was funny. Did she look like she had a phone hidden in her finest cloak?

"Do you?" She countered, tempted to consider that solution if he did.

No, he did not. They both came from very wixxy families, and they'd have to resort to other measures.

Like walking. To his house. Hm. That sounded like a safer plan than waiting for some other student to run at the barrier and then attempting to follow. She glanced at Frank. She simply couldn't live with a bruised nose.

"Are your parents home? Or we could owl someone from there or use the floo."

Would the head-in-the-fireplace trick work?

"I floo'd to the station from a block or two away," Eirene offered.

Whether they'd be able to find the 'abandoned house' in their state was another matter, but she was both too warm and too cold and already weary after lugging her suitcase all over the station.

Frank looked slightly scandalized that Eirene would just laugh at him. He was the one coming up with the ideas, innit? What as she doing? Other than ... rescuing him from the porter, fixing his nose, figuring out what was wrong, and escaping them both from the ladies' room...

Then he brightened. "The floo works? I mean, we don't have a floo. Or an owl, actually. And my parents are at work, and my brother. But if the floo works we can get to Hogsmeade.Maybe even beat the train."

He smiled and quickened his pace.

Maybe they'd be able to sort this out on their own. He'd get to tell everyone all about it at school. Oh. Granted they could get into the castle... But! But if they got to Hogsmeade before the train, then there'd be Professor Onuris (sigh) to help if they couldn't get into Hogwarts for some reason. Really, how did that work? There were too many unknowns. He took a quick deep breath or two and tried to think positively.

"You're the big genius," he teased, "where was that floo you took?

Eirene looked slightly scandalized when Frank told her that his family didn't own a floo or an owl. No phone, she could understand. Wixes didn't need phones! But no floo and no owl?  She knew the Sellaphixes weren't hosting fancy parties or sending out invites festooned with silk ribbons, but how else did they communicate?

"We can beat the train," she repeated with an answering smile, focusing on the important things. To arrive early before the other students! To talk to the professors about their lesson plans before they'd had a chance to unpack! She'd never been able to do that before.

She glanced around the street, ignoring her fever and her unfortunate lack of magic in order to focus on the mission at hand.

"I'm a perfectly-sized genius and I know exactly where the floo is," she tilted her chin in the right direction and began to trace her steps back to the path she'd taken. Hello again, muggle coffee shop. Hello again, muggle rain puddles. Eirene wheeled her luggage all the way around the icy rain spots when she could, paying little mind to other people walking her way.

As they walked, she thought it consider it to ask after his family. They were all working, that was good! Of course, they had to.

"How was it, seeing your father this winter?" Eirene glanced at Frank, proud of herself for thinking of it. She'd thought she'd heard something about it from her own father, who worked as a lawyer at the Ministry.

"And how is your mother faring? Well, I hope?"

Frank had declared his mother's condition right at the Ravenclaw table at the end-of-term feast, so she assumed he wouldn't mind.[1]

1.	End of term dinner

She knew perfectly well were the floo was. Oh, really? Frank lifted his eyebrows and nodded patronizingly. Good then. She knew perfectly well. Good. An elaboration would have been nice, she was usually so quick with them.

It was cold and wet outside and Frank started to feel his ails again. Now that the adrenaline was fading he was feeling the weariness. He wiped his nose on his sleeve.

And then came the questions. Eirene comported herself like she was at a cocktail party. "Huh? Oh, erm."

Frank hadn't expected that. "Mum's good. Her hand's still funny, actually, but she was possessed by an angry soul so." He shrugged as if it was as common as the flu.

"Seeing dad again was well awkward. I was just a kid when he left, you know," so said the thirteen-year-old. "How can you really know a man? I suppose this is an opportunity for us to start fresh."

"Oooh..." Frank stopped as if he was pulled back by one of those vaudeville hooks. There was a sign pointing towards the British Library.