Madness takes its toll...

[Rikki]

Okay guys... This is a really mad fic Nerweniel and I came up with during one of our usually very weird aim-sessions. ;D And we thought it was actually quite funny, so we decided to make a fic out of it...

And as usual, we don't own any of the characters, we just have a little fun with them.

---

Chapter One

“It is very romantic.”
The blonde woman’s voice seemed to drift away a bit as she spoke these words. An automatic hand gesture pulled her dark red, tartan cloak a bit closer around her slender shoulders- and the four girls standing around her exchanged significant glances, visibly suppressing a giggle. The fact that their teacher was merely describing the old part of the city of Edinburgh did not change a thing in their ears- for even they, young as they were, had not missed the look in her clear, porcelain blue eyes.

As they moved on again, their stifled giggles finally reached the ears of the pale, black-haired boy closely, seemingly casually, following them- and a scowl shadowed his otherwise handsome face. He was young, the boy- very young, younger than even the girls were- but somewhere in his deep, black eyes was buried wisdom beyond that age. Wisdom- or better, feelings.

His gaze was locked on the tall woman with her red cloak and golden hair, and slowly, he moved on, until he was close enough to understand everything she said. He loved to hear her speak.

“Sandy, you know, one day you will go too far-”
Sandy Stranger, he knew, as the brown-haired girl with her glasses parted her lips so as to answer her teacher’s question. He had seen the girl on various occasions- she was one of the little gang some of his orphanage mates sometimes chatted with. He never did, though.

The only reason he accepted the girls’ company at times was, because they led him to her.
She was fascinating as she walked there, tartan cloak billowing, dark cotton dress clinging to her legs in the wind- hair slightly ruffled under the small hat she wore. She was fascinating as she talked there- clear, soprano voice teaching the way she always taught. Yes, she was every inch a teacher- and yet she was so much more.

“Mr Lloyd!”

And he turned away, disgusted- as the sheer surprise in her voice alone was enough to make him look down on her- just like he did on everyone else.

And yet it was all in vain. He could not look down on Jean Brodie.

Never.

Not even as the day came, a couple of years later, when she left. Her career as a teacher ruined, her dishonourable love affair ended, nothing rested her than to leave, to leave for a better place, for a place where her heroism, her romance, could still be appreciated.

Only one person knew the real reason of her sudden parting, though.

It was the black-haired youngster, who sat- crouched- against the wall, separating the house where she lived from the streets. He saw what he did not want to see- he noticed what brave smiles and courageous glances had managed to hide for all others' eyes. He noticed the single tear staining her now chalk-white cheek.
Weeks later, as he was feverishly turning and tossing among his thin, greyish sheets, he, vaguely, as if through a blur, heard the voices of the two teachers who looked after him and the other boys.

“The boy seems to mourn over something- someone, perhaps.” uttered the first one, an elderly woman, casting a worried look at the bed where he lay.
“Ah well- children forget easily.” was the light-hearted reply of the second one.

And yet as the black-haired man opened his dark, reddish eyes on that night, he knew he had not forgotten.

[Rikki]

Chapter Two


He had not forgotten the beautiful Scots woman who had lived in Edinburgh so many years ago. He had not forgotten the way she talked and the way she held her head when she looked at Teddy Lloyd. And he had not forgotten how he had felt about her.

Now, the woman was dead. Shortly after her dismissal from Marcia Blaine he had seen her for the last time. She had left, and he was sent to another school, to a school for his kind. He wasn’t like Jean Brodie, and though he usually despised people like her, he couldn’t despise her. Even after all his feelings had died, even after he had extinguished that last thing that made him human, he still felt the same for Jean Brodie. And she was dead.

It had been Sandy’s doing that she was dismissed from her position as a teacher, and that was the reason why she had died. She had died of a broken heart, deprived of her task, her vocation. She had tried to find another job, tried to survive but without her gals and her school she was like a fish out of the water.

The black-haired man felt that Jean Brodie had, indeed, been assassinated. Assassinated by one of her own gals. Sandy.

And now was the time for his revenge. Sandy was already dead but she had a granddaughter. A granddaughter who was just like her. And her name was Hermione Granger.

[Rikki]

Chapter Three

Hermione had just finished her 5th year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And it had been quite an end of term this year. With Umbridge and the show-down between Harry and Voldemort in the Ministry of Magic there had been no time to think about some things. When Sirius had died both Hermione and Ron had tried to be there for Harry.

But now, she needed to think about her own family, her history. Her parents had told her about her grandmother, Sandy. Sandy was like her, very clever and smart and always attentive to her surroundings. Hermione had never understood why her grandmother had been in a convent when she died. But now Hermione knew.

Sandy Stranger had been a student at Marcia Blaine School for Girls in Edinburgh. She belonged to a group of girls who were very special to their teacher, Miss Brodie. Miss Brodie took them on outings regularly and paid special attention to their needs and abilities.

Though Sandy had always admired Miss Brodie she was the one who eventually saw behind the façade. And she was the one who put a stop to Miss Brodie.

But before all that happened, Grandmother Sandy had a love affair with Teddy Lloyd, the arts master at Marcia Blaine. He was still in love with Miss Brodie, that’s why eventually Sandy left him. But about two months after she had left him she discovered that she was pregnant with Teddy’s baby.

Sandy left the infant, Hermione’s mother, in the care of her parents and joined the convent where she died years later. Hermione’s mother grew up with her grandparents, and until Hermione’s birth there was no magical blood in the family.

Her grandmother, Sandy, had gained great fame as a psychological writer, true- but she had never seemed to possess any magical abilities, and nor had her grandfather, Teddy Lloyd, about whose life Hermione barely knew a thing. It seemed highly unlikely that he had been a wizard, though.

Hermione often wondered what they would have thought of her, if they’d known that their granddaughter was a witch. Especially her Catholic grandmother- wouldn’t she have despised her for having such unusual, such absolutely unreligious gifts?

Hermione did not know, and sometimes it drove her mad. It drove her mad to not know anything about these people- it drove her mad, too, to have not one family member with whom she could converse about her favourite subjects, her magical hobbies- and her parents did listen to her, of course- but even they could not fully understand…

“Miss Granger?”

And yet the clear, alto voice which made her turn around in the corridor also managed to make her smile again. Professor McGonagall- of course.

[Rikki]

Chapter Four

And yet the clear, alto voice which made her turn around in the corridor also managed to make her smile again. Professor McGonagall- of course.

Hermione had always been very fond of her Transfiguration Professor. Not only was the black-haired, Scottish witch a wonderful teacher, she was also a brave and loyal woman- an Order member too, and Hermione had to admit that if there was anyone whom she really admired as a role model, it had to be the woman standing next to her now.

The green eyes of her Head of House greeted her with the quiet approval of a strict woman and a stern teacher, and the girl with the thick, brown hair and the hazel eyes nodded and smiled.

“Good afternoon, Professor.”

The grave look in her mentor’s eyes, though, quite managed to wipe the smile off her face, and it was with an inward sigh that Hermione obeyed Professor McGonagall’s beckoning gesture. A prank gone wrong, probably- Harry and Ron- of course. Only as the Professor quickened her pace, having Hermione almost running to keep up with her, the girl dared to ask a question.

“Professor, what is the m-”

Here, though, she ended her question, for she found herself standing in front of the grey, stone gargoyle guarding the stairway to the Headmaster’s office- and a strange, fearful feeling crept into her stomach.

Harry, Ron- what the hell have you done now? Hermione thought but couldn’t figure out why she would be called to the headmaster.

Praying inwardly she followed Minerva up the stone steps to the office door where Minerva turned and gave her a reassuring smile before entering.

“Mum? Dad? What are you doing here?” Hermione exclaimed before walking over to her parents and hugging them. She looked from one to another, looking for an explanation. It was highly unusual for Muggles to be here, even for parents of students.

Albus cleared his throat.
“Miss Granger, your parents are here because I asked them to come. There’s a certain … problem arising, something your future depends on.” He motioned for Hermione to take the last vacant seat while conjuring up another chair for Minerva who stood – as always – by his side.

Hermione looked nervously at her parents and then at Albus and Minerva. What could that mean? She wasn’t aware of anything that might endanger her future.

“Mr and Mrs Granger, I’m sure Hermione has told you about the upcoming war with Lord Voldemort.” Albus eyed the two adults carefully. When they nodded he continued.

“Well, it seems that there is some kind of connection between your family and Voldemort.”

[KayleeTonksLupin]

WHAT??? Connection to VOLDEMORT? And I like how you've mixed Jean Brodie and Harry Potter's world together so well...this is great, keep it coming! But it's confusing and crazy too...

Je t'aime, Nerweniel,

and BIGHUGS to Rikki!

Kaylee-wolf treats for you both!!!!!

[ginger newts]

A bit mad, yes, but oh so intriguing. I'm looking forward to seeing where you go with this. Update soon ladies!

[Jaya]

Oh geez! What an EVIL!!!! place to leave it!!!!!

MORE!!! PLEASE!!!!

Jaya

[Rikki]

Okay, consider yourselves warned - the mental part is about to start

---

Hermione’s parents looked quite taken aback.

“That can’t be!” Hermione jumped of from her chair and started pacing the room. It just couldn’t be that her family – a muggle family was somehow connected with that evil wizard.

“Mione, sit down and let professor Dumbledore explain,” her mother said calmly. Hermione did as she was told and Albus continued his tale.

“Well, Hermione, rest assured, I thought so too in the beginning. But Voldemort sent me a letter, explaining everything. Before he came to Hogwarts he went to school in Edinburgh. At a nearby school for girls there was a teacher, a certain Miss Brodie. Obviously Tom was very much in love with her. This Miss Brodie had a special group of girls, the Brodie set as they were called. And one of these girls, Miss Granger, was your grandmother Sandy Stranger.” Albus looked up when he saw Hermione’s mother nod. Mrs Granger had heard her grandparents talk about the famous Miss Brodie who had disappeared from school quite abruptly.

“But what does that have to do with my daughter?” Mr Granger looked worriedly at his little girl.

“It seems that Sandy Stranger was responsible for the dismissal of Miss Brodie from her school. Not long after that Miss Brodie died. As Tom points out, she died of a broken heart because her vocation had been taken away from her. And now he holds her and her family responsible for her death.”

Hermione slowly shook her head.

“But that was so long ago. I mean I’m sorry for that Miss Brodie but…” Hermione trailed off.

“Hermione, this is Voldemort we’re talking about here. You can’t apply common sense to him.” Minerva said softly.

“But what exactly is the problem now? Surely that Voldemort wouldn’t try to harm Hermione, would he?” Hermione’s mother looked from Albus to Minerva and back again.

“I’m afraid he would.” Albus said, standing up from his chair. “But for now he has just set a challenge.”

“What kind of challenge?” Hermione asked, fear in her voice.

The Headmaster’s face was serious as he answered- and yet Hermione knew the man in front of her well enough to recognize a tiny twinkle in his vivid, blue eyes- a twinkle, which told her that perhaps not everything was lost.

Professor McGonagall, standing right behind her friend and employer, cleared her throat as if wanting to explain things- but the Headmaster was quicker, and Hermione could have sworn she saw the stern Transfiguration teacher roll her eyes as he spoke up.

“Well, Miss Granger- you have been cordially invited to join in- a wheelchair race.”

[KayleeTonksLupin]

A wheelchair race?! Okay, this gets weirder and weirder...still, Kaylee-wolf treats and huggleses for you two. Keep up the good work!

~Kaylee~

[Sola]

Well...I go with with Kaylee...wheelchair race?!

NOW I'm interessted and very anxious about where the story'll go!

Anyway....It's still great!

Sola

[Jaya]

A wheelchair race...

okay...

can honestly say that I can't wait to read the next chapter in this story!!!!

Jaya

[Nerweniel]

Yes, people, I know this one came a bit slowly, but do not fear, the madness is not quite ending yet !


The tone of his low, baritone voice was dry and serious- and yet somewhere, deep down, Hermione noticed that the thoughts he was having weren’t entirely as serene and calm as the Headmaster was looking, either.

The stunned silence after these words was almost literally tangible- and to Hermione’s greatest surprise it was not she, but her quiet, slightly shy father who regained his ability to speak the first.

“A wheelchair race?”

Hermione found herself staring at both her father, mother and teachers- and all of sudden- she could not help it- the comedy of it all hit her. The secrecy…the stern look on Professor McGonagall’s face… the mystery- and then the answer.

A laugh escaped her lips- she could not help it- and yet, shocked as she was at her own sudden forwardness, the very same laughter melted away under the stern look of her Head of House the next instant. Staring down at her folded hands, Hermione felt a fiery blush burn on her cheeks- yet as Professor McGonagall spoke up, there was nothing of reproach in her voice- only some sort of bitter earnestness which Hermione knew to be entirely her own.

“Miss Granger,” she started out rather stiffly.

“Hermione- I know it sounds rather preposterous. I must admit that both Professor Dumbledore and me were a bit surprised at first, too, but we both fear that- He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is, indeed, serious. A wheelchair race it’ll be- and what’s more important…”

Here, Professor Dumbledore took over again, though- and both Hermione and her parents found themselves neither laughing nor smiling anymore. The aura of power Albus Dumbledore breathed as he spoke up again was a rare one- an almost tangible one, and all of sudden Hermione knew why the wizarding world counted on this one man the way they did.

“… for this wheelchair race you will have to co-operate- with Jean Brodie.”

“What?” Hermione jumped up again and looked at everybody as if they had gone mad.

“She’s dead.”

The young witch combed her fingers through her thick brown hair, and then shook her head. This couldn’t possibly be true. This just had to be a nightmare. If she just waited long enough she would eventually wake up and find that everything was perfectly normal again.

“I know, Hermione. But you know as well as I do that we have the means to bring her back.” Minerva looked at her young cub gravely. She understood only too well how confused the girl must be feeling right now.

Hermione’s parents looked at each other, clearly at a loss.

“Yes, we do have the means to bring her back. Not back to life, of course, but we can travel back in time and bring Miss Brodie with us. And though meddling with time is always dangerous, I’m afraid that’s the only possible action right now.” Albus stood from his chair and walked over to Hermione, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“I know you’re confused now. But I believe you know that you can always count on us. We’ll help you as much as possible.”

Hermione slowly nodded before turning to her parents. Her mother looked terrified at the thought of her young daughter in mortal danger. The fact that she would have to travel back in time to bring back someone who had died years ago didn’t exactly help either.

“Well, I don’t think I have a choice, do I?” Hermione asked, slowly letting out the breath she had held unknowingly.

“I’m afraid not, dear child.” Albus said. “You’ll have to go back tonight. I have already calculated how many years you’ll have to go back in time. And remember, it is essential to come back tonight. The race will be held the day after tomorrow.”

Hermione closed her eyes. This wasn’t how she had imagined her last year at Hogwarts.

“Mione, darling, don’t worry. Everything will be fine,” her mother tried to soothe her but it didn’t really work.

“When do I have to leave?” Hermione asked, facing Dumbledore.

“As soon as you’re ready,” the old man answered.

[ginger newts]

Wow, this just keeps getting more and more mad. They have to bring Jean back from the past? Update soon, can't wait to see how all the madness plays out.

[Rikki]

Well, you asked for it. Remember that. Here's the next part.

---

Hermione nodded and then left the headmaster’s office to get ready for her journey. She didn’t have the slightest idea what would await her. She’d probably meet her grandmother, and that thought excited her. But how would she convince Miss Brodie to go with her? She couldn’t exactly waltz in there and just tell her about Voldemort. No one would believe her, and she’d probably end up in psychiatry. Sighing Hermione changed in Muggle clothes and stowed her wand safely in her jacket. Just in case…

Minutes later she was back in Albus’ office, as ready as she could be for such a task. After kissing her parents good bye and promising to be careful she turned to Albus who put the time-turner around her slender neck.

“19 and a half turn will do, Miss Granger. That will take you back to 1932. Here’s the port key to Edinburgh. It will be activated by your current pass word to the Gryffindor Tower. When you are ready to come back just say Hogwarts and the port key will bring you back here.”

Hermione nodded, lips clenched tightly together, right hand resting protectively atop of the ornament now resting against her plain blue, old-fashioned muggle dress.

“Right- Odi Et Amo!”

Though Hermione had used a Time Turner before, she found herself once more totally dumbfounded at the typical, weird feeling of dizziness and darkness which befell her. That feeling of being lifted from the earth- of flying even, for a short moment. Yes, of course she remembered it, vaguely- it was only a couple of years ago after all, but now it all seemed to be much stronger- and to last much longer.

Only minutes later- finally- the sixteen-year old had the impression of feeling something firm and stone-like under her feet again. Slowly opening the dark brown eyes she didn’t even know she’d shut, Hermione found herself holding her breath and not even really knowing why.

The sky she was staring at was dark, and filled with stars. Grown up in the modern muggle world, the young witch could not but marvel at the amount of stars visible. She knew it was an effect of the lesser amount of light pollution- but still. It just looked like another world.

Everything did, in fact, she reminded herself as she lowered her surprised gaze a little. As she looked around, she found herself standing outside a building- a school, perhaps- of which one room, a sort of hall, was brightly lit. Light, old-fashioned waltz music could be heard- and tentatively, Hermione stepped forward, eager to take a peek inside the hall.

[Rikki]

“Arrivederci…”

A turn around- and there she looked straight into the concerned, frustrated dark brown eyes of a man who seemed strangely familiar to her. It was the woman next to him who had spoken the word- a blonde, blue-eyed woman with a pretty, determined face- and yet it was the man Hermione barely couldn’t keep her eyes off.

He was not tall, but undoubtedly handsome, with regular features and a pair of kind, dark eyes. His hair was dark brown too- and for some reason, he reminded Hermione terribly of her own mother.

Only mere moments later, realization hit the girl.
The man who was standing in front of her, barely or not noticing her as he watched the woman walk away, was her grandfather.

And the woman-

“Oh- Jean…” her grandfather sighed, frustrated and angry, yet obviously disappointed too.

And the woman was- had to be- Miss Jean Brodie…
As soon as Hermione had spotted the lady she was looking for, she had already disappeared back into the building, dragging another man with her for a dance. Teddy Lloyd, her grandfather, was looking after her before he turned around and faced Hermione.

“And who might you be? I haven’t seen you before.” He asked, looking at Hermione.

The girl didn’t really know what to say. She was awfully nervous about meeting her grandfather but knew she couldn’t say anything. She couldn’t reveal her secret to him, as much as she wanted to.

“I’m … I’m Hermione.” She stammered.

Teddy Lloyd just nodded, his mind obviously still on the woman who had just left moments ago. Though he didn’t want to admit it, it hurt him what she had said. She had indeed abandoned him. And even though he had said that he couldn’t follow where she led, he didn’t want her to leave him. He wanted to help her. While Teddy had turned around and wandered off on the school grounds, Hermione went to the door. She wasn’t dressed for the occasion so she hid behind a large bush and transfigured her clothes into a dress similar to the ones the other girls were wearing.

Taking a deep breath she tried to focus on her task and not to think of her grandfather anymore, she entered the great hall. She scanned the room for Miss Brodie and found her dancing. She didn’t look as happy as she could be, and Hermione assumed that it was because of the row that she had had with Teddy Lloyd earlier.
‘Now I just have to find a way to get her.’ Hermione thought. She needed something to get Miss Brodie’s attention. Up to now she hadn’t really thought about that. Everything had seemed so easy. Go back in time, get Miss Brodie and go back to her own time.

‘Think, Hermione, think.’

Would Miss Brodie listen to Hermione? And how would she explain the whole idea of time travel? Now Hermione wished that either Albus or Minerva were with her.

In the meantime Jean had stopped dancing and went over to chat with a group of girls. ‘This must be the famous Brodie set.’ the young witch thought. And then she saw her… a young girl, about her own age now, black haired and with glasses, an intelligent look on her face. Grandmother Sandy.

Without realizing it, Hermione walked over to the small group, taking a glass of punch and mingling. She tried to get between her grandmother and Miss Brodie and listen to their conversation. It seemed to be about some other members of the Brodie set who weren’t there at present.

“Who are you?” Miss Brodie gave her a rather disapproving look at first but then her face softened somewhat.

[Sola]

mad mad mad
fun fun fun

Well, how'll Hermione make Jean come with her, eh?

Anyway...update soon...

Sola

[Rikki]

“Hermione, Miss Brodie.” Hermione said, holding Jean’s gaze. Jean raised an eyebrow.

“I haven’t seen you here before, Hermione. And what is your last name?” she demanded to know.

“My name is Hermione Granger. And no, you haven’t seen me here before. I came here to see you in an urgent matter.” Hermione thought it best to appear totally official. She remembered her mother saying that Miss Brodie had a keen interest in Mussolini and his politics. So Hermione guessed that she could perhaps get her attention by telling her about Voldemort as some evil dictator who had to be fought. And that wasn’t even far from the truth. She would skip the part of time-travelling for now and tell her later. Now all that mattered was getting Jean Brodie out of here and back to the Hogwarts of the future.

“An urgent matter?”

Miss Brodie frowned, porcelain blue eyes already scanning the room for a more interesting partner to engage in a conversation with- and Hermione knew that there was, indeed, but one way to make sure she caught the blonde woman’s attention.

A slight cough earned her a quick glance- and she was too quick a young lady to not take advantage of that chance. Dark eyes narrowed in the heavily lit room, a certain hint of determination came over Hermione’s features as she scanned the face of the other woman. Miss Brodie was, undoubtedly, a pretty woman- but all of a sudden, Hermione, too, saw what quite a few girls, only a bit younger than she was, had seen on previous occasions.

Miss Brodie was not just pretty- she was more. The strange attractiveness she was spreading came forth rather from what lay within than in her outside appearance. It was something Hermione had rarely seen before- and when she finally spoke up, her voice sounded remarkably respectful- even to her own ears.

“An urgent matter, Miss Brodie. You see- it’s about-”
Here, Hermione, unconsciously playing a role, lowered her voice.

“-a dictator.”

The word had a curious effect on Miss Brodie. Though she did not move nor visibly become more interested, a certain gleam popped up inside of her clear, blue eyes- a gleam which proved to Hermione that, indeed, she had betted on the right horse.

Eagerly nodding at the newly-gained attention she got, she opened her mouth in order to answer Miss Brodie’s inquiring gaze- but the older woman was quicker. Grabbing Hermione’s arm she- elegantly, yet with a certain determination- pulled the girl towards a quiet corner, before eyeing her again- this time with barely hidden curiosity in her eyes.

“A dictator- Hermione?”

The girl nodded.

“A dictator, Miss Brodie. I’ve come from another school, a school named Hogwarts and this dictator- he is called Lord Voldemort- is threatening us all. Our Leader, Professor Dumbledore, is getting desperate, and he has sent me to you. He would like your advice and support- about some important matters.”

Once more, Hermione knew she’d guessed right. Miss Brodie was, indeed, not only interested in politics- it was, too, her secret dream to actually play a part in them. Hermione gave her that chance- would she take it?

[Sola]

Ya, will she take it?
...I think she will....but regarding to madness....she might not

Anyway....this madness is quite fun...

Sola

[Rikki]

Jean thought about it for a moment. This was indeed the chance she’d always dreamt of. But she didn’t know this girl though she seemed strangely familiar, in a way. And who was this Professor Dumbledore? She had never heard of him, neither of this Lord Voldemort.
Curiously, Jean took Hermione’s arm and led her away from the room and the ball.

“Hermione, do tell me more about this Lord Voldemort and the threat. And how can I help you? I’ve never heard of that man before.” Jean had led her into an empty class room and now sat down at one of the desks.

Hermione swallowed and tried to gather her thoughts before she answered.

“Well, Lord Voldemort is an evil man who threatens the world. Professor Dumbledore, on the other hand, is the leader of all the good people who want to live in peace. He’s regarded as one of the greatest wi…. leaders we have.” She searched Jean’s face for any sign that the teacher might have noticed her slip. But it seemed she hadn’t.

“So where is that Professor Dumbledore?” Jean started tapping her foot impatiently. It was really hard to get any information out of the girl.

“Professor Dumbledore is at our school, Hogwarts. Please, Miss Brodie. I know it’s much to ask but you just have to trust me. It’s really important that you’ll come with me now.” Hermione looked at the older woman pleadingly.

Jean got up again and started pacing the classroom. She looked quite surprised when she felt Hermione’s hand on her arm, and suddenly the young girl had put something around her neck. The next thing Jean knew that she woke up with a man with bright blue eyes and a long white beard crouched over her.

Hurriedly, she scrambled up and pulled away from the man. Though he didn’t look dangerous or anything he seemed suspicious.

“And who are you? I demand an explanation. Now!”

Jean got to her feet and looked angrily around the room. Next to the man was a beautiful woman with raven black hair in a bun and emerald green eyes. And both of them wore curious robes, as if they were dressed up for carnival. Hermione stood next to them, relief obvious on her face.

The man looked at her and raised his hands to calm her.
“My name is Albus Dumbledore. I’m the headmaster of this school. And this is my deputy headmistress Minerva McGonagall.” Albus offered his hand which Jean shook hesitantly. The other woman smiled at her.

“It’s okay. We won’t harm you. How much has Hermione told you?” she asked.

“Well…” Jean hesitated only a brief moment before she had regained her composure.

“She told me that a dictator named Lord Voldemort threatens the world. And that you, Professor Dumbledore, are the leader of the peaceful part. But that’s about it, and it’s not very satisfactory.” Jean glared at both Albus and Minerva.

“I guess that’s an adequate description of the situation,” Minerva sighed, smiling at Hermione. “Well done, dear. We’ll take over for the time being.”

Hermione nodded at Minerva and went to sit next to her parents who had been waiting with Albus and Minerva.

The black-haired witch rose to her feet with a faint, almost inaudible sigh as she found herself locking eyes with the newly arrived woman in front of her. She’d heard a lot about Jean, and her first impression of the woman’s character had not been a very favourable one- but now they stood face to face, Minerva couldn’t but feel a little pity at the totally oblivious expression in Jean’s eyes. After all she could imagine what the other woman was feeling- what she would feel under the same circumstances- and considering Jean was a Muggle at that…

Taking her decision, Minerva turned towards the blonde-haired woman, casting a quick look at the man who had been her husband for over forty years. They did not need words to communicate- they never had- and merely a second later, Minerva knew she had the Headmaster’s approval for what she wanted to do. A small smile graced her lips as she approached Jean, whose piercing blue gaze was not lowered, no matter how much of her fear her outside appearance gave away. The brave Miss Brodie, Minerva found herself thinking. Gryffindor at heart?

“Miss Brodie, I suggest you and Hermione come with me. I think a whole lot of things need to be explained, and perhaps, Albus, you could reassure Mr and Mrs Granger a little?”

With this, the black-haired woman strode off, with all the unconscious confidence of a woman used to a job of responsibility- and both Jean and Hermione followed, leaving Albus alone with the Grangers who were- indeed- in quite the need for reassurance.

As she, using the shortcut which had during her long marriage proved quite useful on various, very different occasions, sat down behind her own desk with a faint sigh and a nod of her head. Interpreting the nod correctly, the girl and the woman- so different from each other- both took their seats, each casting the others some glances which were, in turn, both inquiring and strange.

“Miss Granger, Miss Brodie.”

[Rikki]

Minerva’s bright green eyes were stern, yet compassionate as she scanned the two younger, very different, women in front of her. Hermione, bushy hair rather messy, cheeks blushing from the excitement and time travel of earlier, gazed back with that eager for knowledge gaze all her Professors were so very well acquainted with.

Jean Brodie, on the other hand, simply sat there- elegantly and rather stiffly- apparently having got and taken the time to regain that composure which was so much of a trademark of hers again. Her blue eyes coolly met Minerva’s- and the Transfiguration teacher couldn’t but feel the tiniest bit uncomfortable under the other woman’s gaze. Perhaps it was because Jean was a teacher too, but the black-haired witch had the feeling that her stern gaze did not have the slightest effect on this woman.

“Miss Brodie, Miss Granger, I do suppose both of you have an idea of what is expected of you?”

Jean Brodie’s “No.” came quickly and with a trace of the frustration the young, Scottish teacher apparently seemed to be able to hide under her mask of composure, and it was not without the tiniest blush on her cheeks that she went on.

“No, in fact- Professor?- I do not know. I have been brought here by means of a very vague story, and I would like some explanations, in the first place as for where I am. I have my gals who need me, whether you know it or not. I have responsibilities- they’ll wonder where I am- Jenny, Monica, Mary McGregor- and Sandy, of course- oh Sandy, she’ll certainly miss me at the feast- Professor, I-”

The blonde woman rose to her feet- and though Minerva opened her mouth, it was Hermione who, quietly, managed to make the woman sit down again.

“That Sandy-”

“Yes?”

“That Sandy was my grandmother.”

Jean looked at Hermione, and from the look on her face it was obvious that she thought the young woman had gone mad.

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous. Sandy’s only a child.” Jean turned to Minerva in search of help or even some explanation.

“Well, Miss Brodie, this isn’t easy to explain. But Hermione is indeed Sandy Stranger’s granddaughter. This is 1996. Hermione brought you back from the past because of Lord Voldemort’s challenge.” Minerva sighed.

“But this is… this is impossible. It’s absolutely absurd. I demand a reasonable explanation. Now.” Jean glared at Minerva who stared back at her, clearly unimpressed.
“No, it’s not impossible. Miss Brodie… I am a witch, just like Miss Granger. And Hogwarts is a school of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” Minerva tried to stay calm, but inwardly she was nervous how Jean would react. It was a always a risk to tell muggles about their existence but this particular muggle was… well, it was different with her. Though Jean did have a vivid imagination, but this wasn’t just a fantasy.
Jean looked as if she was about to faint at the revelation.

“Surely, you must be joking.” she gasped.

Minerva shook her head while Jean’s gaze travelled to Hermione.

“But…” Jean’s voice trailed of. She thought about it, and then it occurred to her that her journey to Hogwarts had been quite unusual. So perhaps… Her mind refused to understand this but deep down she knew it was true.
“Can you prove that?” Jean asked, coming back to her senses. If the women in front of her were truly witches, then they would be able to do some magic.

Minerva rolled her eyes and changed into her animagus form. The blonde woman let out a small cry of surprise but regained her composure instantly while Minerva changed back into her human form.

“So it’s really true…” Jean said thoughtfully. She couldn’t believe what she had just seen.

“But when you are a witch, then I guess Professor Dumbledore is a wizard?” Jean looked at Minerva who just nodded. “So why don’t you just kick that Voldemort’s ass and that’s it? I mean Hermione here told me that Mr Dumbledore is the leader of the good… And the good wins.” Jean seemed to be satisfied with her logic. And she hoped she could get home soon.

“I’m afraid it’s not that simple.” Minerva said. “Lord Voldemort is extremely powerful, and though Professor Dumbledore is regarded as the most powerful wizard of his age, Voldemort is a serious threat to our world. And he’s a wizard too. He’s the darkest wizard that has ever risen to power.”

Hermione didn’t know what to say. She knew that her life depended on that woman next to her but she didn’t want to have to plead for her support and thus her life. And yet she knew- if Jean refused her help…

As Jean turned her head just a bit, though, apparently trying to recognize in Hermione a bit of the grandmother who was- of that Hermione had to remind herself for a moment- not yet known to Jean as the person who would betray her in the end. In Jean’s, clever yet strangely naïve, mind, Sandy was still that dependable, rather ugly girl with her thick, brown hair and glassed brown eyes- that girl who, Hermione realized, somehow really did look like her.

[Rikki]

Perhaps that was what Miss Brodie saw, too, as with a mere, short blink of her clear, blue eyes, she turned towards Minerva again. A simple nod of her golden head obviously was enough to reassure the Transfiguration teacher- and Hermione, too, felt relieved as Miss Brodie spoke up.

“It’s true- she is Sandy’s granddaughter. Alright then, I will help you fight the dictator, but only for my gals. I am a teacher, you see- first, last and always, I am a teacher.”

“So am I.” was Professor McGonagall’s dry, yet still grateful comment.

“And thank you, Miss Brodie, I think I can speak in the name of the whole wizarding world when I say that your help is truly appreciated. Now- to come to the point-”

The teacher’s bright green eyes pierced into the respectively blue and brown ones of the two women sitting in front of her. It was as if she was silently pleading for her next lines to be taken seriously, no matter how ridiculous they sounded and indeed, not a smile disturbed the serious expressions on both women’s faces as Minerva went on.

“The Lord Voldemort has challenged both of you for a wheelchair race through Muggle London. It will be a duo race, and you are expected to cooperate. As for the outcome- let’s just say that it would be preferable for all of us if you won.”

Hermione simply nodded, but Miss Brodie sceptically raised one thin, blonde eyebrow in disbelief.

“A wheelchair race? If this Lord Voldemort is only half as powerful as you tell me he is, one would assume that he would fight different battles than- wheelchair races, no?”

Hermione watched it happen- and as Professor McGonagall rose and leaned heavily on her desk with both hands, an uncontrollable urge nearly made the girl close her eyes. When Minerva spoke up, though, her voice sounded icy, yet calm.

“I assure you, Miss Brodie, that there is no need to doubt my word. By the way, I can safely assure you, too, that battles are not the only way Lord Voldemort gains his power- he has a strange means of dividing the wizarding world as well- only last term- but wait-”
Pulling the collar of her emerald green dress a tiny bit lower with two fingers, the Transfiguration teacher narrowed her green eyes, nodding grimly as Jean’s eyes grew bigger at the sight of the red scar drawing a horrible, yet absolutely real line across the older woman’s chest.

“Yes, Miss Brodie- I daresay it will not do to doubt the power of one who can make people who are his enemies do this to other people who are his enemies.”
As Jean Brodie visibly swallowed, straightened her back and in what was but a shadow of her previous “perfect composure”, nodded, Hermione had the feeling she could finally breathe again.

She had always admired Professor McGonagall more than almost all other people in the world- but the girl knew she would never find anything more admirable in Minerva than the way she had handled Jean Brodie.

“So… when is the race?” Hermione asked, looking at Minerva who had calmed down a bit.

Minerva sighed. She knew that neither Hermione nor Jean Brodie were prepared for what was to come but she also knew that they didn’t have much of a choice. They would need a couple of days of practice, and Voldemort had granted them three days for that.

“In four days’ time, Hermione. You will start practice tomorrow. Then, Professor Dumbledore will give you all the details concerning the race. You will meet him at 9 o’clock sharp on the quidditch pitch.” Minerva looked at the watch on the opposite wall of her office.

Hermione just nodded. She dreaded the next morning when she would have to work with Jean. Though she knew she was clever and intelligent, she was quite intimidated by the presence of that woman. Snape was intimidating too, but in a completely different way. And though Hermione knew how to deal with Snape, she didn’t have a clue how to deal with Miss Brodie and her fits of ego.

Jean didn’t say anything about this. She just sat in her chair, trying hard to regain her usual composure. Minerva’s speech had rattled her more than she dared to admit, and the prospect of having to participate in a wheelchair race wasn’t exactly her idea of decent and graceful behaviour. It wasn’t something she wanted to be seen doing. But since this was obviously the future… Nobody knew her here and now.

“Well, I guess you should go to bed, Hermione. It’s late, and tomorrow will be an exhausting day.” Minerva smiled at the girl in front of her and gave her an encouraging nod.

[Rikki]

“Where am I going to spend the night?” Jean asked crisply. At the moment she wanted just to go to bed and fall asleep, perhaps it would all turn out to be a bad dream when she woke up in the morning.

“I’ll show you to your chambers, Miss Brodie.” Minerva rose from her chair and motioned for the other women to leave her office.

In the Great Hall Hermione left Minerva and Jean and headed for her dormitory while Minerva led Miss Brodie to the wing where the teachers’ chambers were situated. The house-elfs had prepared the chambers hurriedly after Jean had arrived. One of the little creatures was still there when Minerva and Jean entered. Since Jean had never seen a house-elf before, she let out a surprised cry when she saw Dobby.

“What… what IS that?” she asked.

“That, Miss Brodie, is Dobby, one of the Hogwarts house-elfs. He has just prepared the rooms for you.”

A slight frown came over the fair-haired woman’s features as, with an uncertain expression in her pale blue eyes, she examined the creature in front of her. Its big, green eyes did have a certain- nearly…kind sort of appeal to her, true- and the huge, bat-like ears nearly caused her to smile- but still.

Then again, Jean decided, even though this world wasn’t exactly something she’d ever imagined to end up in, it was, at least, a very welcome distraction from the sometimes downright boring world Marcia Blaine had become. Though she did not want to admit it, Teddy’s words had hurt her more than she wanted to say- and she had the faint feeling she was losing Gordon too. And with those two gone, what was she left with?

With her girls, she knew- and even that gave her a strange, not entirely pleasant feeling inside. She was pretty sure they were loyal to her, yes- but with them having grown into young women, she felt she didn’t have the grasp on their lives which she had once had- when they had been in her class still. And if she was perfectly honest with herself, she had to admit she thought that very scary indeed.

So no, Jean Brodie decided- Hogwarts- or whatever this place was called again- was not that bad after all. For a while, at least.

“Oh- alright. I- see.”

Yet Jean was still very relieved when both Minerva and the house-elf had closed the door behind their backs and when- finally- she could put on the white, cotton, very un-her nightgown which Minerva had apparently left for her.

Settling snugly under the tartan covers on her bed- a pattern which made her, almost unconsciously, smile and think of her dear Edinburgh- Jean sighed and then smiled a faint, tired smile.

True, when she’d got up in the morning she’d never expected anything like this would happen- but then again, wasn’t it exactly this sort of adventure which she had always craved? Wasn’t it exactly this sort of unexpected which she had always, somewhere very deep down, expected despite everything?

Yes, the woman realized, much calmer now, as her eyelids fell shut and her breathing grew even and regular. Yes, it was.

And she would grasp the chance now she’d got it.

***

The next morning, Jean woke up pretty early. She was an early riser but this was even for her unusually early. Yawning and with her eyes still closed she listened to the soft sounds of birds singing outside her window. With a start she sat up. Birds outside the window? Not really. But then everything came flooding back, the memory of the whole evening of the previous day.

Looking around her room more closely, Jean noticed that she must be in an old castle. There were stone walls, and the whole furniture looked … old. Well, old in a positive sense, more like antique. She frowned. But well, that’s probably what a wizarding school was supposed to look like.

She thought for a minute about getting up when the tiny creature called Dobby appeared from the fireplace with a pop. Gasping, Jean looked at it but recognized the little fellow.

“Hello, Dobby,” she said uncertainly. That … house-elf was a servant, wasn’t it?

“Good morning, Miss Brodie.” Dobby gave her a broad smile. “Professor McGonagall gave Dobby the order to go and wake you. Breakfast will be served in the Great Hall.” With that, Dobby disappeared, again with a soft pop.

Jean was non the wiser now with that information. Well, she should probably get dressed first and then go looking for that Great Hall. Since her arrival the previous night she hadn’t seen much of that school. Well, actually just the headmaster’s office and this room, plus the hallways.

Sighing, Jean dressed and then left her room. It was the last in that hallway, so Jean didn’t have to think about which way to turn right away. After about one hundred meters she came to a staircase. She went down there when the stairs suddenly moved. The whole staircase changed its direction. Jean suppressed a cry of surprise and clung to the banister. Rolling her eyes she went ahead when the staircase was steady in its new direction, and Jean went a little faster in order to get off. Now she didn’t have a clue where to go, except probably down. So she followed the next flight of stairs.

[Rikki]

A couple of minutes later, she arrived in another hallway. It was very cold here and rather dark. Jean shivered but gave a sigh of relief when she saw a figure approaching. That man could probably help her.
“Who are you? And what are you doing down here?” the man sneered. Jean looked a bit perplexed but regained her composure quickly.

“My name is Jean Brodie. And I’m looking for the Great Hall. Could you indicate the direction, please?” Jean asked coldly.

The man just nodded and motioned for her to follow him.

“And may I ask who you are?” Jean couldn’t help herself. The man had just challenged her. And somehow he was quite intriguing in his mannerism.

“Severus Snape.” He didn’t look at her, just led the way. It was obvious that he would have preferred to be left alone.

“I see.”

It was in silence that they walked on- and it was in silence that Jean found herself observing the man walking next to her. True, he had been rather rude with her, and Jean Brodie did not appreciate rudeness in people- but still. Something in this creature, this person, this man fascinated her in a way that she could not fully explain, despite every inch of her usual eloquence.

He had been rude with her.

Men were never rude with Jean Brodie. It was a fact which she had prided herself on, on many different occasions- men were never rude with Jean Brodie.

Women were- naturally they were- but not men. Never.
Men swooned over Jean Brodie. They pleaded- they begged, they were polite, and humble, and nice, and…
And goddamn tiresome, Jean wryly completed her own sentence.

It was perhaps because of this that, blue eyes half-narrowed, the Scottish school teacher found herself observing the surprisingly young man with his crooked nose and jet black eyes as if he were a rare sort of specimen.

Severus Snape. Doesn’t sound that bad.

“It’s here.” the black-haired man’s voice indicated as, with a few more steps, Jean found herself standing in one of the most magnificent rooms she had ever seen.

At the words “Great Hall”, she had immediately remembered the Hall of Marcia Blaine- which, to say the least, had not exactly been the most interesting room on earth. This, on the other hand, was, indeed, an entirely different matter.

It was only after a few seconds that Jean realized she was being eyed curiously by at least three hundred teenagers, divided neatly over four long tables- and as she sat down at the place appointed to her by the woman- Minerva- whom she’d met the night before, she couldn’t but cast them a faint half-smile.

It had, indeed, been a while since a student had looked at Jean Brodie with curiosity, with ignorance. At Marcia Blaine she’d become pretty close to a phenomenon, worshipped by some students, feared by others- yet always known, always, in a way, notorious.

Here, she was the stranger- and it confused her more than she dared to admit.

“The four tables represent the Houses of this school, I presume?”

Severus Snape, next to whose usual place she was obviously sitting, once more proved not to be very talkative and sighed- yet nodded in the end.

“Yes. Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Gryffindor.”

“You’re the Head of Slytherin, then?”

This was the first line of hers which managed to somewhat grasp Severus’s attention. A questioning, rather angry look in his black eyes, the man turned to Jean- who merely nodded.

“Yes. How did you know?”

“I am a teacher too. I always spoke Jenny’s name like that.”

He didn’t ask who Jenny was, but she felt he was interested. For just once, though, Jean didn’t feel like speaking.

Jenny. The redhead, the pretty one of the bunch- Jenny, whom Jean had always regarded as the closest to a copy of herself that she’d ever found. Jenny, whom would and could inspire artists- the way she had, Jean believed, definitely inspired Teddy.

Teddy.

“I see.”

Severus’s attention had obviously been turned again to his breakfast, and Jean couldn’t help feeling slightly insulted by this behaviour. True, it was not the usual thing, not tiresome like other men had often become- but it was not something she would accept either.

[Rikki]

“Yes, you see.”

Jean turned her attention back to her breakfast. The hall was filled with chatter from the students and from the staff. Minerva and Dumbledore were deep in conversation, and Jean couldn’t help but notice the obvious intimacy between the two of them. Small touches from Albus made Minerva smile, a smile which was reserved for him only it seemed.

Breakfast was rather delicious. Jean tried a goblet of pumpkin juice which Minerva offered her. It was not bad.
After breakfast, Albus asked Jean to accompany her and waved over to Hermione who came quickly.

“Good morning, Miss Granger. I hope you’ve slept well.” Albus smiled at the girl. She didn’t really look as if she had slept well, but nonetheless she nodded.

“So, do we start practice now?” Hermione seemed rather eager to begin, though she couldn’t quite imagine the formidable Miss Brodie in a wheelchair race.

But then again she hadn’t imagined herself engaged in such an activity either. She hadn’t told Ron or Harry about that. They would surely laugh. At first at least. But she didn’t want them to worry about her. Harry had already enough on his plate to deal with.

“Well, perhaps we should transfigure Miss Brodie’s attire in something more suitable then.” Albus indicated the dress that Jean was wearing. It was the one she had arrived in last night. With a quick swish of his wand Albus changed the dress into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. Jean was slightly taken aback but regained her composure. If it was possible for humans to transform into animals, why shouldn’t they be able to transform clothes?

Hermione grinned slightly at the expression on Jean’s face.

“I know it must be confusing. But believe me, I know the feeling. I grew up in a muggle family.” Hermione winked at her.

“What exactly are muggles?” Jean asked, slightly confused.

“Non-magical people. People like yourself.” Hermione blushed slightly, she hadn’t thought that Jean was a muggle herself, but then again muggle wasn’t an insult.

“Right. And where exactly will the training session be held?” Jean inquired. At the moment she was just following the mass of hair that belonged to the headmaster of this school.

“At the quidditch pitch.” Albus turned around to Jean and pointed at the pitch which suddenly opened in front of them.

“Quidditch is a wizard sport. It’s played on broomsticks.” Hermione explained.

“Don’t tell me you actually fly on broomsticks.” Jean couldn’t believe it. That was just … such a cliché.

“Yes, actually we do.” Albus grinned at the irritated expression on Jean’s face. It was just too funny to see the confusion.

Suddenly, someone rushed past them. Or better over them. Albus took a closer look and saw that it was Madam Hooch.

“Madam Hooch!” He called out to her, hoping to bring her to the ground. He had told her that they would need the quidditch pitch today but he had completely forgotten that she had a new broom. And of course she wanted to try that one.

With a small thud, the small witch landed next to Jean.
“Sorry, headmaster. Forgot that you booked the pitch for this morning. But this beauty is just marvellous.” She grinned at the older wizard, holding out her broomstick so he could take a closer look.

Only moments later did the hawk-eyed woman notice Jean, and her unashamed, curious look nearly- nearly- got the other woman to blush- but Jean controlled herself. Rolanda Hooch’s yellowish eyes were answered by a steely, blue gaze- and it was with something of a frown that she sent the Headmaster a questioning look.

Albus, sensing the somewhat tense atmosphere between the two women, was quick to interrupt, and with a twinkle in his eyes and a solemn hand gesture, he smiled.

“This is Miss Jean Brodie, Madam Hooch. Miss Brodie, this is Madam Rolanda Hooch, our Flying Instructor- and apparently busy doing her duty, or so I assume?!”

The short Flying Instructor merely grinned and shook her short, greyish hair, shrugging her shoulders in reply.

“Well, Headmaster, I daresay quite a couple of Quidditch teams would give a good deal of money for this Nimbus 3000 of mine. Just arrived today, as you know- and she is marvellous!”

After a short nod and a grin at Hermione, the Flying Instructor ascended her broom again, and with a final, enthusiastic wave of her hand flew back to the castle- Hermione could have sworn she noticed the Headmaster shaking his head with a faint smile.

[Rikki]

Finally, though, the two women and the Headmaster found themselves standing in the middle of an empty Quidditch pitch- and it was only when she spotted Rolanda’s previous, now abandoned, broomstick, floating a meter above the ground in the middle of the pitch, that Jean spoke up.

“So let me get this straight- you said you- use these things to fly, no?”

It was with interest that she; ever the adventurous- and slightly dangerous- Miss Brodie, eyed the magical artefact- and at Albus’ amused nod, it didn’t take the Scottish teacher long to try if she could ride a broom side-saddle.

“Now pull the end- slowly-”

Hermione cast the Headmaster a big-eyed glance, surprised at his clearly very amused facial expression. Being a victim of severe acrophobia herself, she could already feel her knees shake at the mere mentioning of a broom, though she’d never admit it- and what Miss Brodie was, uncharacteristically clumsily, trying to do at this moment just seemed to be very dangerous to her. And she knew very well that, especially now, they could definitely not take any risks.

“Miss Brodie- I just- please don’t try it side-saddle- you will definitely-’

*thud*

“-fall off.”

Albus could just manage to disguise a snort by coughing. The site of the formidable Miss Brodie falling off a broomstick was just priceless. But of course the gentleman in him came through and he helped her to her feet.

“Well, that certainly does look easier than it is.” Miss Brodie brushed the sand off her sweat pants and turned around to face Madam Hooch.

“Thanks for letting me try.”

“Anytime, dear. If you want to have proper lessons, just let me know.” Winking, the hawk-eyed witch mounted her broom again and kicked off the ground in order to fly back to the castle. Of course the students were not allowed to do so but Madam Hooch couldn’t resist to enjoy her new broom just a little longer.

“Well… I guess we should start with the training, shall we?” Suddenly, Jean was eager to begin. This whole adventure seemed to become more and more interesting, and just for once she could be someone else than the stern teacher everyone knew at Marcia Blane.

“Of course.” Albus pulled his wand out of the sleeve of his robes and changed the quidditch pitch into a racing court. Another incantation and two wheelchairs came around the corner.

“Oh dear, we’re really gonna do this.” Hermione sighed.

Albus looked at her.
“I know, Miss Granger. But remember what’s at stake here,” he reminded her quietly.

Hermione just nodded and then looked at him with uncertainty.
“So how exactly are we supposed to do that race?” she asked curiously.

Albus thought for a moment. Tom had given him some instructions, and he intended to train Miss Granger and Miss Brodie well for the race.
“Apparently, one of you has to sit in the wheelchair and steer it, the other one has to push it and then stand on it, pushing when needed.” Albus explained.

“I think it might be easier if you do it right away. I suggest Miss Brodie sits and you push, Miss Granger.” Albus indicated the chair and the two women took their positions. Hermione looked down and saw two metal pieces she could stand on as soon as the chair had gained some speed.

“Ah, okay, I think I understand. Are you ready, Miss Brodie?” Hermione asked, looking determined to get this right and working.

“I… think so,” Jean said a bit unsure. But since she had agreed to do this, she would have to see this through, even though she had had quite another idea of helping getting rid of a evil dictator … uhm… wizard.

“Okay, then let’s start.” Hermione took a deep breath and pushed the chair onto the racing field. With some effort she managed to gain some speed and then jumped on.

Jean, hands frantically trying to keep the wheelchair on the right track, felt the wind blowing on her face and hair and quite frankly, though still feeling a little shaky from her previous adventure, enjoyed every single bit of it. This was it, she knew.

This was the Adventure with capital A which she’d told her girls about on so many occasions- this was the adventure, her Adventure, and finally it had started. A smile graced her lips as she felt Hermione gaining some more speed, and, hands firmly on the metal sides of the wheelchair, she did the best she could in steering the surprisingly heavy, metal thing in the right direction.

[Rikki]

Only as the edge of the suddenly surprisingly narrow racing court approached at a speed which was, indeed, way too high for starters did Jean realize that there was a certain thing about adventures that she had not yet though of. Its name was “dangers”.

That, and “brakes”.

“Hermione, do you have any idea how to stop this th-”

“PULL THE BRAKE!”

The girl’s usually light brown eyes were darkened with fear and panic as she, knuckles white and tense, clung to the wheelchair as if it was her saviour rather than her danger.

Jean frowned, ignorantly.

“Wh-”

Only at that moment, the blonde, Scottish woman felt her right hand, nearly automatically, snap towards a really rather obvious long, metal stick nearly screaming “brake” right into her- deadly pale- face.

The wheelchair came to a rather brusque stop, mere inches in front of the edge of the racing track, throwing both Jean and Hermione against the earth in the process. As the woman and the girl, slowly, hesitant to believe that they’d escaped unscathed, started to get up again, the silhouette of the Headmaster, slowly and with a smile on his face, approaching them nearly drove Jean mad with rage.

Raising herself to her full- modest- height, her blue eyes shot fire as she exclaimed

“Headmaster, I thought you were a wizard! We nearly got killed there, and what did you do? You just stood there, and-”

“Uhm- Miss Brodie?”

Upon hearing the obvious surprise in Hermione’s voice, the blonde teacher half-turned around- only to see Hermione leaning against what appeared to be the very soft, fluffy yet invisible bumper marking the edge of the racing court.

Jean’s head snapped back- but in reply to her ice-cold gaze, the Headmaster merely grinned, shrugging his shoulders.

“Just a tiny- precaution on my part, my dear Miss Brodie, you see?”

According the still stone cold expression in the woman’s blue eyes, though, she did not at all see.

[Sola]

Wow, that was realy cool.

I like how you picture JB...and do I see some SS/JB coming the way? Hope so ;D
And it's great how you write this. with so much charackter thinking before talking.
Still unbelievable that they'll REALY do a wheelchair-race...but...whatever!

Anyway...am anxiouse to read more!

Sola

[Rikki]

So you would like to see SS/JB. ;D Well, you'll see what happens.

Thanks for reviewing.

Hugs, Rikki

[Sola]

Sure I'd like SS/JB! ...am I mistaken or did you already hint in that direction? ;D

Well...guess this story is so unpredictable, that I can't be sure...
But I hope you know what you're planing...well...or not...

Anyway....I already thought the next chapter is up...

Sola

[Rikki]

No, sorry to disappoint you, it's Lies' turn to write now. So we'll have to wait for her.

Well, we do have a general direction for the fic, and then there are some sudden strikes of genius (or not ;D) or Jean taking over... And you know Jean.

Hugs, Rikki