Chapter Five: Alsemore
The next morning, a loud buzzing filled the dormitory, quickly stirring the girls from their sleep. Lottie carefully placed her letter face down on the bottom of her bed. It was odd to wake up with a thick blanket and springy mattress. Trying to ignore the bud of guilt inside of her for leaving her family to that life, she dumped all of the clothes out of her duffle and filled it with her new class books before placed her wand on top of it. Swinging her toiletry bag and towel over her shoulder and tucking her uniform under her arm, Lottie headed to the bathroom.
The bathroom was very unlike the bathrooms she was used to. There was no awful smell or dirt covered walls, but instead twelve neat bathroom stalls all lined up against one wall, and twelve showers across from them. Along the other two walls, there were rows of sinks. Lottie hung her new clothes up on the hook next to her shower. She closed the curtain, and opened her bag to get her soap.
Lottie had never showered with such hot water; she nearly burned herself before getting used to it. The shampoo that they had given her must have been magical, because when she rinsed it out, all of the knots that were in her hair had vanished without even one brush. Once she had dried off, Lottie changed behind the shower curtain.
When she pushed the curtain aside, she saw all of the other Palmyitor girls brushing their teeth and getting ready for the day. Lottie copied what the other girls were doing and brushed her teeth as well, before heading back to the dormitory to get her bag for the day. The letter was still on her bed when she got there. The girl Andrea from the Muggle Camp was organizing her books on the bed next to her.
“Hello,” Andrea said stiffly, not looking up at Lottie.
Lottie glared back. “Hi,” she finally muttered. She checked to make sure she had all of her supplies. Her books were all in her bag, her wand was tucked into the pocket sewn into the left inside of her robe, and she had her schedule in her front pocket.
The school uniform looked a bit ridiculous on Andrea. Lottie had to focus on her upcoming classes not to laugh. Andrea’s dark green sweater was much baggier than it was on Lottie, and her skirt went all the way down passed her knees, whereas Lottie’s ended a few inches above it. Andrea’s boots were huge and clunky, and her black robe trailed a few inches behind her.
“We’d better get down to breakfast,” Andrea said, busily swinging her bag over her shoulder, and pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “We’ve only forty five minutes before we’ve got Charms.” She turned to leave, and then spun around to look at Lottie. “Coming, or not?”
“Sure, I’m coming,” Lottie muttered. “Just not with you,” she added under her breath.
Andrea, apparently, heard this and spun around. “Fine,” she said coldly, staring defiantly over Lottie’s head. “Have fun then. And I hope you know that your stupid friends at the Camp have gotten themselves into more trouble since you last saw them.” She left swiftly, her huge boots clunking up the stone stairway.
“What’d you say to her?” The long-haired girl called Julianne poked her head out of her curtains.
“Nothing,” Lottie muttered. “I’m going down to breakfast. See you.” She trotted down the hallway and up the stairs to the common room. As she crawled out of the clock, she reminded herself of the time she’d need to remember to get back in. Stomach sinking, she stood for a moment in front of the clock, not sure how to get back to the Great Hall.
A few older Palmyitors clambered out of the clock and started heading up a long staircase. Lottie followed them, trying to look as though she knew exactly where she wanted to go, and that it was just a coincidence that she had ended up behind them. They led her up a staircase, down a long zig-zagging corridor and up another staircase. Finally, they arrived in the Great Hall, and Lottie took a seat at the far end of the Palmyitor table, away from the girls she had followed.
She checked her schedule; Andrea was right. She did have Charms first, and after Flying, and then lunch. Lottie filled her plate with fruits and sausages, amazed at all of the students casually sitting and eating. Through the entire breakfast period, she had to control herself not to eat too quickly. A bell rang through the school and all of the students began to leave the Great Hall. Andrea snapped her fingers in the air. “First years,” she shouted, “I know where we’re going, if you need a guide.” Lottie rolled her eyes, but joined the others Palmyitor first years around her.
“Since when are you the boss?” Lottie spat.
“Since I’m the only one who cares enough about our classes to ask a prefect. Come on.” She led them forward with an important air. They went up one flight of stairs, and down a narrow corridor, before Andrea stopped before a large door. “Here we are.”
The classroom was large with risers and desks in front of the seats. “Sit down quickly.” The teacher paced up and down the classroom busily. Lottie recognized her as the professor who had Apparated with her and Ally. “This class is only Palmyitors, so it will be fairly small this term, thankfully.” The professor’s thick graying-brown hair was let down, instead of pulled back like it had been the day before. Lottie could tell that she had used quite a lot of gel, and it had to be a very special occasion to cause her to let it down.
“I am Professor Stainthorpe,” the professor said. “You’ll find that Charms is one of the most important skills you will learn during your time here at Alsemore. That being said, you will want to pay attention early, as not to fall behind later. I suggest you take notes, beginning today. You may think since we’re not learning magic--” some of the students groaned, “--we’re not doing anything important, but I assure you that you will not be able to pick up a wand until you master this material.”
Professor Stainthorpe paused for a moment, letting all of the students for parchment and quills. Lottie dipped her quill in her black ink and waited for the professor to begin speaking again. “Don’t feel bad if you don’t know the answer, but can anybody tell me what a charm is?”
A boy in the front shifted in his seat, but didn’t raise his hand. “I didn’t expect anybody to know,” Stainthorpe said with a smile. Lottie frowned. Of course nobody would know. They had only just arrived in the magical world the day before. “A charm is a type of spell that changes an object. It makes that particular item behave differently than it would naturally.” A scratching of quills followed her sentence.
“For example--” Stainthorpe pulled out her wand. Lottie noticed it was a much lighter shade than the body of her own wand. Professor Stainthorpe muttered an incantation, concentrating on the front row of desks. The entire class shouted in amazement, when they saw that the desks had suddenly begun flashing different colors. Stainthorpe waved her wand again, and the wood went back to normal. “Now, as you all know, a desk would not normally do that, which makes that spell a charm.”
The lesson continued for another hour and a half, leaving all of the students with a roll of parchment full of notes. Lottie stuck her notes into the front page of her Charms book, and followed the other Palmyitors to where Andrea was standing, her hands on her hips.
“Our next class is flying,” she said busily. “It’s on the grounds, and after that we’ve got lunch.” She spun around. “I’m sure you all can figure out where the grounds are, but I’ll show you, if you’re just worried about taking the wrong door.” Lottie grumbled along with the other Palmyitors, but decided to follow Andrea again, as to not get lost.
They went down the same flight of stairs as they went up that morning, passing a group of Clynalmoy first years. Lottie spotted Ally and waved. With a flick of her hair, Ally turned away and laughed with her new Clynalmoy friends. “She’s a real prat, I heard,” a boy muttered next to Lottie. “I pity her friends.”
Lottie sighed, and looked at the floor. “Yeah, I do too.” She pursed her lips and shuffled through the Entrance Hall with the other Palmyitors. Maybe Ally wasn’t the best first friend. It wasn’t the worst thing in the world, Lottie decided. She had plenty of time to make new friends, and the Palmyitors all seemed pretty nice.
A blast of cool air greeted Lottie as she walked through the door. “Over there.” Andrea pointed to a patch of perfectly manicured grass, where a heavy-set man stood, waving at the first years. The grass before the flying field was thick and untamed; it made Lottie’s bare legs itch as she walked through it.
“’Bout time!” the man said when they arrived on the short grass. “I’ve been waiting out here for hours.” Lottie frowned at the man. Classes hadn’t even been going for more than two hours. One of the boys opened his mouth to point this out, but received a sharp warning elbow in the ribs from Julianne.
“So, ‘ere we are, eh?” He stretched his arms, and yelled into the air. Julianne took a step away from the professor. “Call me Professor Seward, will yeh?” He took a deep breath with his hands on his hips. “Most folks ‘round here think that flyin’ class is just rum and coke, but you all should know that it’s one of the most important classes you’ll learn ‘ere, that’s right.”
Lottie highly doubted that flying could be that important, considering that the professor seemed to be completely insane. “We’re not flying just to learn t’play stupid games like Quidditch. Flyin’ is an important part of a read an’ write, it is. See, yeh need to get away if yeh find an ‘eap o’ coke who’s just plain barney, don’t yeh?”
Nobody said anything. One boy cleared his throat. Lottie didn’t have the heart to tell Professor Seward that nobody could understand what he was saying. “So enough of this rubbish rabbit, eh? Get on over to one of ‘em brooms.” Cautiously, the group headed to the pile of broomsticks, not entirely sure if they were doing what the professor wanted. “Okay, pick ‘em up, right? So yeh’ll get one of these for yourself in a few donkey’s ears, but for now, just use these.”
The broom Lottie picked was long and had splinters on the handle. “Now, be sure not to get an Alan in your finger, right? Wouldn’t want t’have to send one of yeh to the hospital wing on the very first day, now would I? ‘Appened once. Boy was Palmyitor hit.” He walked up and down the line of students. “So get on those brooms. Quickly now. ‘Urry up! Right.” He stared at the students, and corrected a few people’s hand positioning. “What yeh want to do kick off really hard, but don’t go off flyin’ around in all directions. Just stay put a few feet up in the air, okay? Go!”
Lottie watched to make sure other people kicked off into the air, until she did herself. She tried not to cry out in amazement as her feet lifted off the ground. She clutched onto the handle, holding her breath. “If you’re a bit Peter Purvis, just breathe,” the professor said, walking through the students, all hovering off the ground. “The brooms can sense you’re West ‘ams.”
A boy’s broomstick was tipping, and he was clutching onto it as not to slide down it. “Ah, damn,” Professor Seward sighed. “Now ‘old on tight! Don’t fall!” The boy’s eyes were wide, and his knuckles were white. “You’re only a few feet off the ground, boy. If yeh fall, your loaf’ll be fine!”
Lottie took the moment to glance around at her classmates. Julianne was hardly a foot off the ground, and the other girl--named Sophie--Lottie remembered, was at least ten feet up, shouting for Professor Seward’s attention. Andrea, though, was balancing in the air perfectly. She didn’t quiver like any of the other students, and she looked completely relaxed, if not slightly bored.
Jealousy surged up in Lottie. Andrea was a teacher’s pet; she wasn’t supposed to be good at flying. “You!” Professor Seward pointed at Lottie.
“Yeah?” she said breathlessly.
“You’re going to fall if yeh keep on like that!”
Lottie sighed. “What am I doing wrong?”
“Well, first off, don’t grip it so tightly. Your knuckles are going teh be white forever if yeh don’t relax, right?” Lottie tried to do what he was saying, but right when she had nearly gotten it, Seward walked back to her. “You again?” He sighed overdramatically. “If I’ve gotta come back ‘ere again… I swear.” Lottie opened her mouth to retaliate, but he interrupted, shouting, “Not a dicky!”
Not exactly sure what he was telling her, she shut her mouth. “Now, grip it a bit more tightly. You’re ‘bout to fall off!” Lottie had to fight the urge to let go of her broom and strangle the man. Andrea smirked behind the professor’s back. When he spun around to examine her grip, she smiled at him. Lottie stuck her tongue out when his back was turned, but wasn’t fast enough. He turned around and glared at Lottie. “You’re pushin’ it, Rowe.”
An hour later, the Palmyitors returned to the Great Hall. “Aww the firsties are back from flying!” shouted the prefect, Stanley. The entire hall roared with laughter.
“Look at their robes!” somebody shouted.
“How many people fell?” rang another voice.
The first years were all turning a deep shade of scarlet. “If you must know, only two,” Andrea shouted at them.
Shouts echoed through the Great Hall. Lottie saw the glint of coins exchanging hands. Staring at the floor, she shuffled to the Palmyitor table and sat down. “Hey, don’t feel bad,” Stanley said, patting one of the boys on the shoulder. “Happens every year. And tomorrow, it’ll be the Clynalmoys’ turn, won’t it?”
The thought of laughing at a bruised and battered Ally cheered Lottie up very much, as she piled roasted potatoes onto her plate. “What’ve we got next, Oh Wonderful One?” she asked Andrea, who was buttering a roll across from her.
“We have Potions,” said Andrea curtly. “And don’t take that voice with me; it’s not my fault you’re a horrible flyer, and an irresponsible prat.”
“The only reason teachers like you is because you’re a suck up, you know,” Lottie retaliated.
“And,” Andrea replied, her voice higher, “because I actually know what I’m doing. I’d suggest trying to figure it out sometime, but I’m afraid you’d just embarrass yourself.”
The butter on Andrea’s roll was reaching its third layer. Lottie ripped apart a chicken breast with her bare hands. “Yeah… well…” She snapped one of the chicken bones in half. “Those glasses look so stupid on you.”
Andrea slammed her roll onto the table and stood up. “You can find out where Potions is yourself.” She stormed out of the Great Hall, letting the doors slam behind her.
All of the first years turned to Lottie, eyebrows raised. “Well don’t look at me!” she said. “She just got in a huff because she -- er -- was sick.” Lottie picked at her chicken, but suddenly didn’t feel like eating. The bell rang again, and she sighed. “We’ve got Potions,” she told everybody. “I don’t know where it is though. Anybody have any idea?”
Stanley stood up, swinging his bag over his shoulder. “Down in the dungeons,” he said as he passed. “A flight down and through a corridor.”
“Thanks!” Lottie shouted. She left the hall, waving along the other first years. “C’mon, we’re going to be late!” She began running, her boots clunking loudly against the stone floors. The sound of the other Palmyitor first years followed her down a staircase and across a corridor. Lottie found a door standing ajar, a voice lecturing through the footfalls.
Timidly, Lottie poked her head through the door and shuffled to the only seat in the front. The other Palmyitors followed, taking the open seats that they could find. “Well, if it isn’t the Palmyitors,” a man’s voice said from the teacher’s desk. He was dressed casually, unlike Professor Stainthorpe. His robe was not fastened and Lottie could spot a polo shirt and plain blue jeans under it. He had thick boots that weren’t made out of normal leather like the other students’. “Glad you made it,” he continued.
He stood up abruptly and sat down on his desk. “So you’re here for Potions. Most of you won’t like this class, and most of you won’t be very good at it.” He stared directly at Andrea. “Well, I’m Professor Dyer, and obviously I’m…” He waited for somebody to say anything, and sighed when nobody did. “The Potions Master,” he finished articulating in a horribly condescending way.
“Anyways…” He cleared his throat. “When I was at Alsemore, we didn’t start actually making Potions until about a month in, but since the three Heads think that the war effort is too important to let first years have a proper introduction to Potions, and that you need to get moving now, we’ll start with a very simple potion for today.”
He waved his wand carelessly and cauldrons appeared in front of each student. “We’ll see where you are to begin with.” He flicked his wand again, and instructions appeared on the blackboard. “As you see, we’re learning how to make hair growth potion. And now I’m sure you’re all wondering why this potion is necessary. Well, in all honesty, it isn’t, but it is quite simple, and I suppose you could use it as some sort of disguise if you really wanted to tack a purpose onto it.
“Pour two cups of water into your cauldron, and bring it to a simmer, not a boil. You’ll find a cup to use next to your cauldron and a pitcher of water on each table.” Lottie watched, amused, as Andrea spilled her water on the table. “For Merlin’s sake, you’re just pouring water,” Professor Dyer said with a sigh. Lottie took the jug from her and carefully measured the two cups before pouring them into her cauldron.
Lottie found the instructions on the blackboard fairly simple. Once the water simmered, it was just a matter of adding the ingredients called for and stirring a certain amount of times. At the end of an hour, Lottie’s potion was a light turquoise and Andrea’s was a deep brown.
“Your potion should be blue-green by now,” Dyer said, pacing through the rows. “Rowe?” Lottie looked up. “Good. Woolbright? What happened?” Andrea was blushing furiously. “Did you even stir? At all?” He sighed. “Stay after class,” he said before turning on the next student.
“Why don’t you just shut up?” Andrea hissed to Lottie.
“Didn’t say anything!” Lottie said back. “Didn’t have to,” she added. Andrea spun around and glared at her. “It’s not my fault you’re horrible at making potions. You know, I’d suggest that you actually try to figure it out, but I’m afraid you’d just embarrass yourself.”
Andrea glared at her, but didn’t say anything in response. “If your potion is the correct color,” Dyer began over the babbling students, “you may put it in a flask to continue next class and clean up. Plain rags and water will be okay to use with this potion, but try not to get any on your hands or you’ll look like you transfigured your arms for a gorilla’s.”
Making sure that Andrea saw her smirk, Lottie carried her cauldron to the front of the room and poured her potion into a flask that the professor gave her. “Good work, Rowe,” Dyer said, not quite making eye contact. “It’ll sit for a few days and by then it will be magenta.”
Lottie nodded and took her cauldron back to her table. “I’m sure glad I don’t have to stay longer,” she said as she rinsed her cauldron out. Andrea’s fiery gaze didn’t falter. “Well, I’ve got to go to our next class,” Lottie continued. “Oh, what is it again?”
“Defense Against the Dark Arts,” Andrea muttered.
“Oh excellent. I’ll see you there, then.” Lottie laughed at her own sarcasm and left the classroom. She spotted a prefect who she didn’t recognize and waved. “Excuse me, do you know where the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom is?” she asked.
“Third floor,” she said.
“Great! Thank you!” Lottie started running, her bag bouncing behind her. She had already made it to the classroom when the bell rang. She sat in the front row, and pulled out her book (Defense in Dark Times by Catriona Quinlan).
A wave of first years burst through the door. They weren’t Palmyitors, and for a moment Lottie nearly panicked, before she remembered what the prefect had said about classes with other Houses. The other House must have been Maelioric, because the boy who had worn fine robes the day before-- Colm, she remembered -- sat next to her.
“Comfortable enough?” Lottie grunted, inching her seat away from him. Before he could answer a second wave of students rushed in; this time Lottie recognized her fellow Palmyitors.
“Good day,” a woman said. The class muttered an unenthusiastic greeting. The woman walked carefully around her desk and stood before the class. She seemed shorter now. Lottie could spot a thick textbook on the floor in front of the professor’s chair. Without the added height boost, she must have been at least a head shorter than Lottie.
“My name is Professor Emma Gabaldon. I will be your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor for the next seven years.” Lottie tried not to make a face, but that idea did not please her. She couldn’t name it, but something about this woman bothered her. The professor tucked her short hair behind her ears, causing it to stick up awkwardly in the back.
“As this school is based on fighting the darkest of all evils, this will be the most important class you will take.” Lottie noticed that most of the professors so far had gone through great lengths to explain why their class was the most important. “It is important, especially in our situation to move quickly, and cover everything in depth. Nightly reading is vital, since I will not explain that information, assuming that you have the knowledge to build off of it.”
The door burst open and Andrea ran in. Dirt caked her hands and arms. She searched for a seat and looked quite distressed when she discovered that all of them had already been taken. The professor sighed. “I suppose you’ll be wanting to sit down, then?” Andrea nodded timidly. “Alright then, Miss…”
“Woolbright,” Andrea offered.
“Miss Woolbright.” She flicked her wand and a desk appeared, cramped between two Maelioric girls’ seats. “I do hope you like where you are sitting, because these will be your seats for the rest of the year, unless if I see fit to move you.” Lottie couldn’t help but grin as she saw Andrea’s expression of outrage at being forced in the back row for the entire year. “Now, Miss Woolbright, would you like to offer any explanation as to why you were late on the first day?”
Andrea shifted uncomfortably. “Professor Dyer made me stay,” she said, eyes cast at her desk.
“I do hope you didn’t fail so miserably, as to get detention on your first day?” Andrea blushed, but didn’t respond. “In this class, punishments are severe for those who cause trouble, or lag behind. We do not have enough time for jokes and incompetence.”
Without anymore discussion, Professor Gabaldon began her lecture. Lottie took notes, but couldn’t help but let her eyes glaze over as Gabaldon babbled about ancient evil, offering no explanation as to how this lecture would help anybody when faced with dark magic.
It felt like an eternity before the bell finally rang. Lottie was amazed to discover that she had completed all of her classes for the day, but was less thrilled when the teacher handed out slips of paper that explained a reading assignment and an essay to be turned in on Friday when they had their next class.
As Lottie left the room, relieved to finally be able to make it to the common room and take a rest, Andrea trotted up behind her. “Thanks for helping me out.” Sarcasm was dripping from her voice.
“Why did you expect me to help you?” Lottie didn’t care how cruel she sounded anymore.
“Well, it was your fault I was late, but--”
“My fault? How is it my fault that you’re terrible at Potions?”
Glaring, Andrea hissed, “And now I’m stuck in a terrible seat!”
Lottie rolled her eyes and began walking to the common room so she could start her Potions homework. “You’ll be having a better time here once you stop blaming everybody for everything you do, you know.” She turned around just as she reached the staircase and added, “Nobody seems to like it, do they?”
Breakfast the next morning was an interesting affair. Lottie sat stiffly, cutting her French toast into tiny slivers. She wasn’t as interested in eating it, as she was in destroying something as slowly as possible. Andrea seemed to have the same thing in mind, as she pushed her hash browns across her plate half-heartedly. Julianne sat between them, trying to strike up a conversation in her own awkward way. Lottie felt bad for her. She obviously didn’t know that they despised each other.
Lottie got up and left before the bell rang. The prefect, Stanley, had told her where to find the classroom for her first class, Occlumency. The class was in the dungeon, he had told her. The same staircase she had taken to get to Potions would take her down one floor. Then, he instructed with a chuckle, she had to go through a tapestry of a former Minister of Magic who had tragically died when trapped in a magical revolving door, and down the staircase she found there.
She realized why he was laughing once she spotted the tapestry. No matter how tragic the event might have been, the sight of the poor old man pushing the door in circles brought her into a giggle fit that lasted until she reached the classroom. She wasn’t the first one there. Nearly all of the Palmyitors were sitting cross-legged on the floor in a clump. She took a place near the back of the group and waited for the bell to ring. Right as it did, Andrea and Julianne ran in and took a seat in the back of the clump.
A man appeared from a door behind the desk. Lottie hadn’t noticed the door, and was surprised when it swung open. Judging by a few startled gasps around her, she wasn’t the only one. The man was very large, bigger than anybody Lottie had ever seen at least. The girth of his arms were just about as wide as his head. His legs, though quite short were strong enough to hold up the man’s weight.
“Good day, class,” he said in a low voice. “My name is Professor Breckenridge.” He paused. Lottie guessed it was for a dramatic effect. “This is not a class to be fooling around in. We’ve only five years for you to master this skill.”
“Five, sir?” Andrea repeated, raising her hand. “We’re at school for seven years.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” Breckenridge muttered something under his breath about the disrespect shown by students at this school and wiped his bald head with a handkerchief from his pocket. “Unfortunately for you, you are expected to begin your duties in the war by your sixth year. Being the little spies that you are all destined to be, you need to master these skills, or else come to terms with your own premature death.”
Lottie shifted uncomfortably on the floor. This teacher didn’t even need to say that his class was the most important. “Now, although learning Occlumency and Legilimency are two very different experiences, the two of them go hand in hand. I will teach both of them, in this same classroom. The two classes are right after each other. No, there will not be any break between them.”
Lottie’s stomach leapt. This class sounded like the most difficult yet, and she didn’t even know what Occlumency or Legilimency were. “And of course, since you are all Muggle-borns, or half-bloods, I’d assume, I doubt any of you know what Occlumency or Legilimency are.” He wiped the sweat off his brow.
“I’d suggest taking notes, now,” he said, crossing his arms. Lottie was finding it difficult to balance her parchment on her knees and write the class name on the top of her page. She suddenly felt very annoyed at this professor for not providing tables for the students to write on. “Legilimency is a skill that allows the Legilmens to interpret the memories and emotions from the target.
“Growing up with all Muggles, I’m sure you all would refer to this as mind-reading.” Lottie could feel her quill shaking. Melanie would often warn her friends about the Death Eaters who could read minds. “When a Legilmens enters a target’s mind, the target generally goes through uncontrollable flashes of memories, and experiences the same emotions they did originally.”
Lottie had stopped taking notes. That experience sounded all too familiar to her. She suddenly remembered a masked Death Eater holding her by the arm. He didn’t say anything, but she could feel something that wasn’t supposed to be there that forced her to relive memories of stealing food, and running from other Death Eaters.
“He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is supposedly the most skilled Legilmens alive today, which is why you lot also need to learn Occlumency. I’m sure you all can guess that Occlumency is the skill of being able to block Legilimency. Both of these take quite a bit of magical talent, and highly doubt that any of you will master them until your adulthood, if you do at all.”
Before the bell rang, Breckinridge went on to explain all of the difficulties and problems with the origin of the branch of magic. Once it finally did, Lottie rolled up her sloppily taken notes and stuffed them into her bag.
By the end of the day, Lottie had taken two more new classes, Dueling and Herbology, and was absolutely exhausted. She hardly had time to finish her Occlumency and Legilmency homework before her eyes refused to stay open and collapsed into sleep.
Halfway to Infinity by Eponine
Chapter Notes: Thanks to my two beautiful betas, The Bird and Deanine, for working so hard on this mundo-long chapter for me! I am so so SO sorry for the long wait. I had the play, and then vacation, and ... well time just got away from me! Hopefully the next one won't take as long! Oh, and all credit goes to Mala for the Minister stuck in the revolving door idea.