Only a nuclear explosion could wake Pansy Parkinson from her deep slumber. Strewn across the bed in as many directions as her limbs could manage was her body. A half-stifled snore emerged from her lips and she shifted in her sleep. The movement disturbed a pile of magazines that displayed the current ‘in’ witch of the time, to topple off the corner of the bed and onto the equally cluttered floor.
A pile of worn clothes covered a chair situated not even a foot from the bed. The walls, which used to be light lavender, showed barely an inch of the true color. Posters covered the large room and numerous dressers covered the rest of the wall space. There was a light knock on the door, and when Pansy gave no reply, it opened.
An, apparently, old woman, wearing a large, deep blue colored robe, stepped into the room. Her wrinkled features grew only more lined when she noticed the mess of the room.
“Pansy Parkinson! Get up now!” That proved the nuclear explosion needed and Pansy groaned, sitting up slowly. The woman nodded, her job done and turned to leave, “Oh, and breakfast is ready. Your father and I have something we’d like to discuss with you.” Her lips pressed together, as if the topic she had to discuss with her daughter was most unpleasant. Pansy blinked at her from half closed eyes.
“Mother…its Saturday, though! Why do I have to get up?” Pansy drawled and tried to crawl back under the warm cocoon she’d created during the night.
“Breakfast, now! If I don’t see you downstairs, dressed, so help me…you’ll be in so much trouble…!” To keep from arguing more, she left the room, closing the door rather sharply behind her. Pansy looked at her door, still half asleep, than decided that it would be wise to follow her mother’s instructions this time.
Pansy pulled the nearest skirt and shirt, hoping they’d at least half match. With a last look into the full-length mirror tacked onto the back of the door, she patted her black hair down and left the room.
The hallways were easily manageable in her half asleep state, having lived in them for her whole life. Her room was on the top left corner, easily accessible by one of the two staircases that led to the top floor. With quick steps, Pansy took only a few moments to reach the dining room. She pushed the wood door open and slipped inside. Her Father looked up from the morning newspaper and her Mother didn’t even bother.
“Morning Da.” Pansy flashed a smile and sat gracefully across from her mother, and to the left of her father. He grunted in reply and muttered something about goblin rallies. Pansy simply grabbed a piece of toast from one of the plates in the center of the table and began buttering it.
“Pansy, do you remember your grandmother, MaryAnn?” Her mother spoke unexpectedly and Pansy looked up at her. Shaking her head no, she turned her attention back to the piece of toast that was now fully buttered and was ready for consumption.
“Well? What about her?” Pansy inquired, after her mother’s silence extended.
“Your father and I were just thinking that it would be very nice if you went and visited her. You know, since Hogwarts won’t be starting until December this year. I still don’t know why they can’t find a new headmaster…You never get to see any of your relatives anymore…” Pansy’s mother trailed off.
Pansy raised an eyebrow. Since when did her parents care whether she saw her relatives? Something was up and it was not a new attitude toward parenting. However, most likely it would not go well for her. Visiting some obscure relative…
“Why do we have to go? It’s not like she visited us,” Pansy whined. It was stupid, why did Grandmother MaryAnn not just come here? It was not as if they did not have enough room for visitors. Their house was notoriously large with enough room for five visitors to stay without her parent’s knowledge; an advantage that she had used often during the long break when her parents had been busy with work.
“Pansy, what have we told you about respecting your elders?” Her father spoke from behind the newspaper. Pansy shot a venomous glare toward him.
“Absolutely nothing,” she retorted quickly. Her mother gave a little ‘humph’ as if to reprimand Pansy of her tone, but did not exactly know how.
“You’re going and that is final. I’ll have the house elf pack for you while you eat.” Her tone was solid like steel and Pansy grudgingly admitted defeat. She slumped into the chair, sending death glares at her mother.
Of course, they would make her go; they just absolutely loved to ruin her life. Idiotic parents…Pansy attacked her piece of toast with new venom, imagining her mother’s wrinkled face as she bit into it. It was their determination to rid themselves of her that infuriated Pansy the most. They were lucky if they didn’t find a hex or two headed in their direction when she got back.
An hour of complaints from Pansy, frustrated comments from her mother and finally Pansy was propelled toward the front door. She glared at her mother, furious at the abrupt dismissal. The elder woman simply planted a swift kiss on Pansy’s cheek and her father even came to pat her on the head.
“Make the family proud,” he barked, before handing Pansy her rather small duffle bag. Sour eyes watched his slender form disappear back into the dinning room. Her mother stood at the door for a few seconds longer.
“The Knight Bus will come if you hold out your wand arm.” her mother added, hesitating for a moment, before turning back to close the door. Pansy’s stomach turned for unknown reasons and a mental picture of a large metal door slamming shut on the freedom of the summer invaded her mind.
“Wait,” Pansy put a hand to keep the door from closing. Her mother opened it again and her lined face was rich in an emotion Pansy had not seen often, “I don’t know where Grandmother MaryAnn lives.” Her mother’s face smiled slightly, lifting the wrinkles for a moment.
“Let me write it down for you.” Her mother disappeared for a moment, but than reemerged with a small corner of one of the napkins ripped off. A hastily written address covered the white paper and Pansy grasped it gently.
Pansy smiled slightly. It was just like her mother to try and cram something as important as an address on a tiny piece of paper. She glanced toward her mother. The door was already closed and by the darkness of the hallway, her mother had retreated into the backrooms of the house.
It was like a dream, an almost surreal atmosphere surrounding the large front porch. She never noticed how much the once vibrant green of the door had faded. Small flecks of the paint were gone around the knob and along the edges. It was imperfect, another flaw to be added to her family. And there was no way Pansy could possibly fix this one.
There is no way but up.
With little else to do, Pansy quickly stepped off the porch and stuck out her wand hand. There was a moment of silence, the birds not even daring to sing. Her breath caught in fear. What if… BANG! There was a roar and if Pansy had been another step forward, a large purple double-decker bus would have appeared on top of her. She was stunned for a moment, but than quickly composed herself, when a rather pockmarked man stepped down, peering at her in a very accusing way.
“’Ello,” he said, accent slurring his words. Pansy simply sniffed, turning up her nose. He was obviously poorer than her and was not a person of prestige.
“This is the Knight Bus?” she asked, more of a statement than an actual question. Her gaze fell through the window on to the top corners of what looked like comfy armchairs in soft floral patterns.
“Ye’h. Where ‘ju’ wanna go?” Pansy turned her attention back to the man who was now studying her house intently as if he’d never seen such a large place before. Pansy clenched her fist instinctively around the piece of paper in her hand. It crinkled reassuringly and she finally unclenched her hand and held it out to him. His look said it all, questions that he would never dare ask, gathered and than hid themselves as the man’s brow furrowed.
Pansy knew what the paper said. In her mother’s loopy writing the address simply read;
46667 Cavan Drive
“You wanna go t’Cavan Drive?” he asked skeptically, handing the piece of paper back toward Pansy. She nodded and shifted the duffle bag on her shoulder. The man’s unsteadiness with the name made her even more nervous to leave the relative comfort of her home.
“How much will it cost to…to go?” Pansy broke the silence of the moment and he sighed, probably reserving himself for a boring and quite long explanation of why Cavan Drive does not exist.
“A Galleon,” he sighed and Pansy smiled slightly. She dug through her pocket and produced the gold coin, pressing it into his waiting hand. With a small gesture from him, Pansy climbed the stairs, pushing easily past his thin form.
A rather pudgy man gazed accusingly at Pansy as she rounded the corner and into the bus. Large glasses only made his small eyes look more beady, and he quickly buried his face in the current issue of the Daily Prophet. So like her father…
She quickly took the nearest seat, almost three armchairs back from the door. Slinging the duffle bag onto the floor, Pansy collapsed into the chair. The armchair was more comfortable than she had given it credit for. It was almost more comfort than she deserved.
Pansy was distracted from her thoughts as she was lurched forward. Her house disappeared instantly, replaced by blurred trees.
Somehow, the bus had jumped from the familiar oak lined street to a narrow wooded road. She furrowed her brows, studying the road. Did her Grandmother live down this road? Perhaps she lived in a small little cottage, just on the side of a mountain.
She had not seen her Grandmother in many years. Not since Pansy had left to start her schooling at Hogwarts had she managed travel and spend Christmas with the Parkinson’s. Only a few words from her parents around the holiday time kept the reclusive woman from disappearing entirely from her life. A small mental picture of a thin, willowy woman bent over a book remained. Perhaps her Grandmother MaryAnn even forgot what her own granddaughter looked like.
Pansy could imagine clearly the event. The Knight Bus would drop her off at some shack in the middle of nowhere and she’d march up to the door. After knocking a few times, a bent old woman would answer and peer at her. ‘What do you want?’ she’d croak. Pansy would simply stand there, numb in shock. Her Grandmother would mutter something and slam the door shut in Pansy’s face. And for the second time that day, Pansy would be left staring at a shut door.
The bus lurched, jumping from the wooded street to a small town’s round-a-bout. A massive marble statue of some muggle commander decorated the center, and a row of thick hedges surrounded it. His white face was strangely blank, even with carved eyes and other facial features. Pansy exhaled a breath she didn’t know she had held when the bus swerved onto the nearby street. Bracing herself against the bus’s sickening swerving around cars and even houses, she noticed vaguely that the bus had jumped to another location.
The weather had taken a turn for the worse here. Fat drops of rain splashed against the windows, obscuring the view. Only blurs of color were able to been seen and Pansy sighed, slightly disappointed. Perhaps this was the town her Grandmother lived in. Maybe one of the blurred, gray things was a house. Perhaps- BANG!
If Pansy had not been clutching onto the seat for dear life, she would have been launched into the back of the chair in front of her. The man in the front who had been so suspicious and hesitant to let her ride, beckoned. She made a face as she pulled the duffle bag onto her shoulder. With a last longing look to the blurred windows and the comfy chair, Pansy strode forward.
“Y’ house is t’ blue one,” he said, and gestured toward the open door. Pansy inhaled sharply and pulled her gaunt features into a look of contempt. Without a backward look, she stepped of the ledge and into the rain, walking pointedly toward the blue house.
There is no way but up.