It started Thursday night. The rain.
Friday morning gave them a brief break. Muddy grass glistened under a patch of sun, teasing hope. By afternoon, the dark clouds had gathered again. Fat raindrops hammered the churning surface of the Black Lake, the downpour turning into a solid curtain of water. Anthony fell asleep to the pitter-patter-tap against his windowpane and woke to a gloom so deep he thought, for a wild second, he'd woken at some godforsaken hour before dawn again.
The Great Hall's candles were lit, floating mid-air. But against the ceiling's display of rolling, bruised clouds, their orange glow looked feeble. Bleak. It wasn't just the handful of students bound for the zoo who looked miserable. The members of the Albacore Club wore similarly glum expressions.
After breakfast—thank Merlin, Lockhart was nowhere to be seen—Anthony made his rounds. He stopped by each House table to remind his students: meet outside his office. Be on time. The Portkey activated at nine-thirty sharp. It wouldn't wait.
He reached the Hufflepuff table just as Cedric was consoling a friend. "At least you get to see the Merpeople today. Test out your Mermish."
"Oh, yes," the friend grumbled, shoving a piece of bread into his mouth. "I can't wait. Standing by the freezing, soaking lake for hours, pretending I know what I'm saying while the whole school watches." He shot Cedric a suspicious look. "Did you know this would happen when you asked Dumbledore for a pass?"
"No. I just thought the Muggle Studies practical might be rarer," Cedric said with a shrug. "And hey, you think I won't be cold and wet? I'll be in the rain all day. Cheer up."
The friend considered this. "Alright. That does make me feel a bit better." He glanced at Cedric. "I'll grab you a Pepper-Up too."
Anthony cleared his throat behind them. "I'm afraid I must disappoint you, Mr. Diggory. No. Our itinerary does not include standing in the rain all day. We'll be in a car for most of it." He smiled as both boys turned. "Remember, Portkey at nine-thirty. Corridor?"
"Corridor, Professor," Cedric said smoothly, ignoring his friend's theatrical groan and the half-hearted punch that followed.
…
The seven of them arrived in Wiltshire via Portkey to find, unsurprisingly, more rain. Softer than Hogwarts', but still rain. They walked a short distance under umbrellas—the Portkey had to drop them away from Muggles—while Anthony conjured their 'Muggle outfits' based on their newly submitted designs.
They'd spent weeks on Muggle clothing last term. One design featured three suit jackets worn on top of each other, and Anthony immediately regretted not adding a few more lessons.
"Professor, you said Muggle suits are like our formal robes, right?" the student explained earnestly. "I took inspiration from winter robes. Three layers. Lining, insulating wool, outer cloak."
"And what did I say goes under the suit jacket?" Anthony asked, doubt thick in his voice. He brought up the rear of their little procession.
Ahead, Angelina was chatting excitedly with another girl ("Do you think Professor Lockhart will write another book this year?"). Cedric glanced back, trying to see the design in Anthony's hand, but Roger Davies was asking him about the Albacore Club.
"A tie. Or a cravat, Professor," the student said, pointing at his sketch. "See? Here's the tie."
Anthony looked closer. The boy had drawn the tie directly onto the neck. It was a garish orange and lime green stripe. Anthony had thought it was some sort of scarf.
"Mr. Williams," Anthony said, looking at the student's confident smile. "A small point. As I've noted some wizards do wear ties, they usually go around the collar. Also, you've drawn three jackets but omitted the shirt that's supposed to be underneath."
"What?" Ian Williams muttered, ducking his head as if to peer between the three drawn jackets. "No wonder it looked so stuffy."
Cedric, ever helpful, leaned over and offered his own parchment. "You can look at these, if you like." He'd sketched five different Muggle menswear outfits for autumn. One was on himself. Another was on Roger, who had fallen in love with the design featuring a leather biker jacket with a metal zip and a red-and-white bandana.
"Brilliant!" Ian cheered, taking Cedric's homework and shaking off the raindrops. He pointed vaguely at a drawing of a windbreaker and jeans. Before any Muggles could spot them, Anthony smiled and transfigured his clothes to match.
…
The students gawked at Muggle houses and shops. They stared eagerly at every car that approached. They whispered, not very politely, about the few umbrella-carrying pedestrians who passed them, completely unaware of the strange, mismatched parade they made under their row of drab, old umbrellas: glimpses of black suit trousers, light blue denim, dark brown cargo pants, and a yellow-and-white checkered dress.
"I hope the rain stops," Roger said. "I don't want the Salamanders to be hiding."
Ian looked surprised. "But Salamanders are… you know. Not ordinary."
"The group that went to the botanical gardens saw some," Roger said, confused. "Maybe it's like cats and Kneazle—er, their not-ordinary cousins. Maybe there are animals here that look just like them."
"Maybe there are water-lizards," Angelina suggested brightly. "Professor Anthony, are there? Will we see water-lizards at the zoo?"
"That depends if we see any crocodiles," Anthony said.
A few students giggled at the word 'crocodile,' thinking he was making a joke. Anthony was privately pleased to know their Potions grades probably weren't stellar; for some reason, crocodile heart was a potion ingredient. There was one in the abandoned bathroom Tracey had claimed.
…
All speculation about the zoo vanished the moment they saw the car.
Even though they all knew the plan, even though Anthony had explained 'driving' multiple times, the sight of the sleek, seven-seater vehicle made them gasp. When Anthony got in, started the engine, and drove a slow circle around their huddled group, they broke into cheers.
"Is this it? Is it ours now?" Ian cried, rushing to the window as Anthony pushed the driver's door open. He pressed his face against the glass, eyes wide. "Cedric, come look! It's full of chairs inside!"
The rental agent handed Anthony's driving licence back—thankfully, the Ministry's excellent efficiency meant it was still officially registered to a dead man, so the check had been cursory—and shot a long, thoughtful look at Ian's bouncing, waving back.
"Just have it back by four tomorrow morning," the agent said. "Mind the traffic laws. Enjoy your trip."
Anthony shook his hand, subtly shifting to block the man's view of Angelina, who was now leaning over the bonnet, intently studying the windscreen wipers.
"Thank you for your help," Anthony said with a professional smile. "Have a good day."
"You too, sir." The agent nodded, signalling they were free to go. "I'm sure you're fully insured, but there are some documents on the back seat you might want to glance at."
Anthony ushered the students into the car, opening doors for them. On the back seat, he found the damage cost schedule.
…
The front passenger seat went to Cedric ("You sit next to the Professor, please"). The two girls took the middle row. The three remaining boys crammed into the back, their bags on their laps. Anthony had suggested the boot, but every bag was clearly stuffed with travel snacks.
"Seatbelts on," Anthony instructed.
"We haven't covered those yet, Professor," Roger Davies, the fourth-year Ravenclaw, reminded him. His hands were already patting the sides of his seat.
"Right." Anthony reached over and pulled out Cedric's belt. "See this? There's one like it by your seat. Pull it out firmly. No, not that firmly."
Angelina had already yanked hers out with gusto, holding the long strap solemnly like a broom handle. Ian Williams, the fifth-year Hufflepuff, wasn't much better. He was trying to thread the metal buckle through one of his jeans belt loops.
"Hold on, everyone. Don't rush." Anthony pointed to his own seat. "There's a slot. It clicks in. Look for it by your hip. Don't use your neighbour's."
A satisfying click. Cedric was secured. The two girls in the middle row followed suit.
The three boys in the back were laughing at some private joke, completely ignoring the seatbelts. Anthony had to get out and lean in to sort them out. By the time he was back in the driver's seat, Cedric had figured out the release button and was demonstrating for Angelina.
"Excellent," Anthony said. "Now, buckle up again. We're off."
He turned the key. The engine purred to life. Easing the car onto the road, he heard Ian from the middle of the back row lean forward. "Hey, how do I undo this belt?"
"You don't," Anthony said, catching his eye in the rear-view mirror. "Ladies, do me a favour. Don't show those three how the buckle works. I doubt my ability to drive and stop a dance party simultaneously."
"Yes, Professor Anthony."
"I did it!" Roger announced triumphantly.
"Do it back up, Mr. Davies!" Anthony called.
"Already have, Professor," Roger replied.
"Alright then, Mr. Davies," Anthony said. "Ravenclaw keeps its point."
…
Anthony regretted teaching them how to operate the windows almost immediately.
Up. Down. Up. Down. The wind and rain either roared into the cabin or whistled shrilly through the tiny gaps.
Whenever they passed another car, they'd roll a window down, wave frantically, and yell, "Greetings, sir!" or "Lovely day, madam!" The other cars usually hesitated, then sped up to overtake them.
Then the rain got heavier. Fat drops hammered the roof with a deafening drum-drum-drum. They rolled the windows up, sealing themselves in a bubble of noise. The world outside blurred into smears of colour. In the mirror, Anthony saw them casting nervous glances at the ceiling, as if the sheet of metal inches above their heads might cave in.
"The noise is normal," he reassured them. The wipers swished back and forth, carving a brief, clear arc through the silver downpour.
"Professor," Angelina asked from behind him, "what do Muggles do in cars?"
Anthony thought. "Talk? Sleep? Some listen to music. Or read. Or eat snacks."
"Snacks!" Ian cried, delighted. He yanked his backpack open. "I almost forgot—anyone want strawberry cake?"
Anthony watched, mesmerised, as the boy pulled a perfectly wrapped cake from his bag. Then a stack of plates… Ian's hand rummaged deeper. "I know I packed them… Did I forget… Aha!" He pulled out a fistful of gleaming silver forks and knives. Anthony wondered which Hogwarts elf would eventually notice the shortage.
"Muggles don't usually eat full cakes in cars, Mr. Williams," Anthony said.
"But it's my birthday, Professor," Ian protested. "Muggles have cake on their birthdays, right?"
Anthony hesitated. "…Try not to get any on the seats."
"Yes!" Ian cheered. Cedric twisted in his seat. "Save a slice for me, Ian."
As the sweet scent of strawberries and cream filled the car, the students launched into a ragged, rain-drowned rendition of 'Happy Birthday.' Anthony hummed along. Ian insisted he have some cake too. Anthony pulled over onto the verge, got out into the lashing rain, opened the back door, and took a polite bite of proffered cake. Ian beamed. Anthony gave him a long, wordless, reproachful look and re-fastened his seatbelt.
He was, however, absolutely firm on one point. No birthday candles. He had no desire to be blown sky-high today.
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