Takes One to Know One

Chapter One: You Take the High Road, I'll Take the Low Road

"Morris wants to see you in five. You about done?"

It was a rather pathetic office, Marisa reflected, damp and unrelievedly brown. Nothing like knowing it wasn't your office anymore to sharpen the eye. She swallowed.

"Just the one box left. Thanks, Rachel."

Her colleague nodded and withdrew. Marisa transferred the last two shelves' books to the last empty box. Frowning at the gap left over, which ensured movement and eventual damage, she tucked the day's sweater around the books. A glance around the tiny space ensured that she'd collected her few possessions and, more importantly, left the office's prior objects in their places. The plants in one corner were best abandoned anyway.

That left her with a neat stack of three boxes and a cage containing an all but invisible mouse. Marisa sighed, brushed herself off, and went to find Morris.

Morris Feld's office commanded a view of the Willamette River. It was distinctly not damp, however, for its weatherproofing postdated the grounds and fixtures by at least a century. Morris might as well have been installed at the same time, considering his demeanor, Marisa thought, which always seemed curiously unsuited to the issue at hand. She swallowed again, then rapped on the doorjamb.

"Yes? Marisa, good. Please sit."

She perched on the indicated chair.

"Right. It's like this." Highly unlikely, she thought. "Last we spoke, I told you History of Magic is no longer to be a required course. That hasn't changed--" Marisa resisted an eyeroll "--but I've come up with something else you can do for Salem. Well, we, the school board and I."

Marisa tried to look interested.

"You see, it's come to the board's attention that the exchange students who visited Hogwarts last month haven't returned. Can't be found, in fact. We've reassured their parents and all that, but it'd be much more satisfactory to round up the kids themselves, don't you think?" He paused. "Marisa, you with me?"

"Y- yes, absolutely."

"Good! So you see why we'd like to send you to fetch them. You're young, so you should respond to Chris's potion tolerably well, and you know the kids, and, ah, it'd be a good use of time. For all of us. And it'd extend your teaching pay, of course, though the board hopes you'll return within the week."

Marisa eyed the windows grimly, then decided they were probably spelled against breakage. First things first. "Wright's potion?"

"He's cooked up a glamour that'll let you blend right in with our exchange students. We think you can approach them as a peer to gain their confidence, then--"

"Then break it viciously by ratting to you?" Marisa asked. She frowned. "So you want me to go to Hogwarts with the appearance of a teenager but the responsibilities of a, a parole officer? Don't you think Dumbledore will mind if--"

"He's agreed, actually. Thinks it's a lovely idea." Morris raised his brows. "You know, my dear, you ought to sound more grateful. Not much call now for history classes."

Marisa counted to ten. Twice. Admitting that she had little choice--and that she could tell the difference between request and order--would lose her the sliver of ground she sat upon. Perched upon. Bloody hard chair.

"What does Dumbledore think of the Salem students' performance?"

Morris's brows lifted again. "How is this possibly-- He didn't say. I gather there hasn't been any trouble at Hogwarts; it's the doting parents we want to ...anticipate."

Because you've lost their precious offspring and Salem doesn't do waiver forms, Marisa finished silently. "Okay. A week, eh?"

"Including travel, food, and lodgings." Morris sounded strangely relieved, and Marisa wondered which undercurrent was now pulling her from shore. "Since your last day's today, you can leave tomorrow, I hope. Chris has the paperwork on our little lost sheep and their Hogwarts houses, that sort of thing, so why don't you stop by his office next, and we'll have everything settled!"

Though tempted to protest that she couldn't leave for a month, Marisa simply nodded and rose. The extra salaried time would help against her meagre savings; the task would send her to London for free, effectively, and she hadn't seen Alice for awhile. Besides, it was always easier to elicit information from Chris than from Morris himself.

Up the stairs. Chris's office-cum-laboratory occupied the building's top floor, less by design or merit than an excess of space. Busy tidying a workspace, he greeted Marisa with a wave and gestured her to a chair. After a moment he seated himself in the chair opposite. "So, I guess our beloved headmaster has presented you with his great boon. Are you going to do it?"

She nodded. "May as well. Chris, what's really going on?"

His hesitant answer failed to reassure her. The five students Salem had sent to Hogwarts hadn't replied to owls for over a week, none of the staff or students would admit to seeing them, and locator spells spun aimlessly. "Some bright Hogwarts kid suggested accio, but that didn't work either," he added, "and the Auror they had in professed himself stumped. Before you ask, the Muggle authorities remain uninformed. Even Morris can't arrange for an entire embassy and attendant news hounds to be obliviated."

Tilting her head, Marisa asked, "What about a discreet rendezvous with some real hounds? Don't they still hunt in England?"

"That's a great idea, Marisa," Chris said, grinning suddenly, "and you can suggest it to Dumbledore when you show up. Your part, since I bet Morris neglected to explain its importance, is becoming Sue and playing nice with the other children, exchange students as well as Hogwarts staff."

"How nice? And who or what is Sue?"

"Nice enough for full disclosures, honey," he drawled. At her shocked look, he elaborated, "I'm not expecting you to seduce anyone, and I'd guess Dumbledore isn't either. Morris thinks the Ministry Aurors or the Hogwarts crew are concealing something, though. I mean, when's the last time five obviously American teenagers vanished in the UK? As for Sue," Chris added, looking her up and down, "Morris thinks you'll do better if you, um, fit in with our wayward brats--hair, clothes, the whole bit--except English. Not sure what the accent will do unless you can manage body language too, but that's why the Mary Sue potion. He didn't mention it?"

"Barely. Good grief. How long do the effects last?"

"Four days. Neither it nor the booster should inflict side effects, since we're just... tweaking a few things." Marisa raised an eyebrow, and Chris protested, "What? I'm the one who had to contemplate your face and figure practically nonstop for a few days. Do you know how hard it is to ogle a colleague without being noticed?"

Suppressing the did-you-like-it reflex, she said, "Okay. I become an apparently teenaged bimbo with great hair, infiltrate Hogwarts with Dumbledore's permission, sweet-talk everyone, locate the kids, and... what? Portkey them home?"

"Exactly." Chris smirked. "I have those too. The problem is not merely the disappearance of five teenagers in search of their emancipation, by the way, so you may need to send them individually as you find them. You see, their presence didn't exactly please everyone; their displeasing absence is almost a footnote by comparison."

"Foul play? Feld said everything had been fine."

"Well, apparently it wasn't, but that's all I know. Leaving tomorrow?" Seeing her bemused nod, he continued, "Stop by around nine and I'll give you your things. Even have clothes, courtesy of Rachel and a quick shopping trip."

"Did everyone know about this but me?" Marisa asked quietly.

Chris looked embarrassed, to his credit, but said only, "If Morris was determined to 'reward' you with this trip, we thought we'd make it as painless as possible. The way things are going, any of us might be let go on grounds of 'insufficient relevance to American wizarding life', eh?" Marisa didn't think Potions and Charms were in any immediate danger, but she let Chris press her hand and walk her the five paces to his office door.

Upon apparating home, Marisa found an owl awaiting her on the apartment's modest balcony. She offered it dried fruit and unrolled its note:

Dear Ms. Saldivar,

On behalf of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, I am delighted to extend to you our hospitality for the next few days. Headmaster Feld has acquainted me with your plans. Do let me know when you intend to appear at Hogwarts, and we shall endeavour to afford you every possible assistance.

A. Dumbledore

Right. Plans. Marisa thought for a moment.

Headmaster Dumbledore,

Thank you for your expression of kindness. I anticipate spending tomorrow evening with a friend near Camden but will arrive at Hogwarts the following morning, 8:00 sharp.

Yours,
M. H. Saldivar

Reburdened, the owl spread its wings wearily for the return flight. Marisa shut the glass door as she watched it vanish into the late-afternoon haze, then collapsed into her one armchair. Plans. An absence of about a week, or longer if things dragged on. She began drawing up a set of lists.

Several hours later, she had packed some clothes (never mind Chris's reassurances), notified the building manager, rung Alice with apologies for the lack of notice (and received embarrassingly effusive reassurances), picked up the tiny apartment by careful swishing and flicking, and curled up with Chinese takeaway and a couple of films set in England. Despite film's inadequacy as a medium of verisimilitude, it might be useful to have stray idioms echoing in her head, Marisa decided. Besides, tomorrow had to be pleasant, no matter what else happened on this bloody outing. With that thought, she fell asleep.