“Ready, Tash?” Mum called from downstairs.
“Yeah, Mum, I’ll be down in five minutes!”
I woke up early the next day; I always did that whenever we went out of city or town. I guess it was because I was kind of excited to go to England; usually I slept till Bri wakes me up in the most unpleasant, annoying, cruel ways. I got dressed and quickly went through my luggage one more time to check whether I had everything.
It was all set: my broom, my clothes, my books and all my other random junk were packed. I levitated all my stuff downstairs even though I officially wasn’t of age, for I felt rather rebellious. It hardly mattered, though; my parents weren’t that strict about underage magic anyways. I slowly walked out of the room, following my trunk, into the hallway. Mum and Dad were already there, wearing wizard’s robes instead of their usual Muggle clothing, and in front of them was an old and used up tin of canned fruits “ a Portkey. We couldn’t simply take the Floo due to my heavy trunk and broom. Not that I minded “ I hated travelling by Floo, because it always made me dizzy and nauseous.
“All set, dear?” Mum asked, poking her head through the door connecting the living room and the hallway.
“Yeah, Mum,” I replied, putting my luggage down. “Let’s go.” I looked around. All the boxes had been moved; they had probably been sent over to England already.
Dad motioned to me with his hands to come forwards. “We’ve only got one minute, Tash, hurry up!”
I shuffled over to the Portkey and touched it. Having nothing else to do for the next minute, I looked around, feeling a wave a sadness wash over me. This house had been my home since I was just one year old, and now I had to leave it. I had so many memories of this place, of the wooden front doors on which I had often banged my head accidentally when I was a kid, and those beautiful peach walls which used to be my canvas during my childhood. With a grin, I remembered that one day, when I was three, I had taken Dad’s quill and had drawn a beautiful picture (well, according to a child, because it was actually loads of scribbles) on it. Mom had yelled at me for ruining the wall. Then she had sighed, taken out her wand and removed the scribbles.
I giggled mentally; the memories were so hilarious! I had slipped on the slippery marble floor quite a few times, and had even broken my knee once when I was six. It was really painful and I had cried my eyes out, until Dad heard my loud shrieks and had come over to fix the pain with a flick of his wand. I smiled to myself.
“What is it, dear?” Mum asked curiously when she noticed me smiling for no reason.
“Nothing,” I sighed. “This place holds so many memories, that’s all…”
“Sure does.”
Dad looked at his watch. “Three…two…one,” he counted. I quickly grabbed my trunk with my other hand as I felt a tiny jerk behind her navel. The next thing I knew, I was standing in the Australian Ministry of Magic.
Saying that this place was beautiful would be an understatement. It was awesome. The floors and walls were made of sandstone, and there was a red carpet leading from the revolving glass doors to the counter. I knew what was outside the doors: A dark alleyway. If a Muggle looked at the doors from outside, it would simply look like a boarded up basement.
Many fireplaces lined the walls, some of them empty, while others burst suddenly into green flames, people stepping out of them the moment the emerald swirls died down. Many tiny, luminescent balls floated high above the floor, illuminating the entire hall. The high ceiling was adorned with a huge, historic painting of the founders laying the cornerstone of the Ministry. Even as I looked at it, the first ever Minister for Magic, Artemius Tangleworth, was levitating the huge stone into the foundation.
I turned towards Mum and Dad, who were right beside me. “What are we doing at the Ministry?” I asked.
“We’re going to the Office of International Transport,” Mum answered. “We take another Portkey to England, because Floo cannot be connected like that internationally.” We started walking up the Hallway towards the floating stairs. They were kind of like Muggle escalators that Bri and I had seen so many times at the shopping malls.
But before that we had to stop at Dad’s office to get our legal documents. Dad’s office was on the fourth floor “ the entire level was dedicated to the Department of International Magical Cooperation. We walked down a long corridor (a bit hard for me as I had to carry my trunk all the way; Dad wouldn’t let me use magic in Ministry premises just because I’m not of age yet) until we reached Dad’s office. The words Kevin Osborne were engraved on a golden plate stuck on his door.
Dad pushed the door open and we entered. He waved his wand and the room lit up, revealing his neatly organised office. His office was, as usual for offices, stacked with millions of books (though I don’t believe he read any of these). Tired of pulling my trunk, I plopped down on one of the posh blue sofas.
“Do we really have to waste so much time here?” I asked, putting my legs up on the coffee table. Mum swatted my legs and gave me an irritated look. Rolling my eyes, I grudgingly put my feet down.
“Do you want to go to England or not?” Dad asked, rummaging through his desk as he looked for our travel-permits. “They won’t let us leave without proper documents, right?”
Meanwhile, I had just noticed a piece of parchment lying on the carpet below the coffee table. Wondering what it was, I bent down to pick it up.
It was a letter of some sort, addressed to my Dad.
Mr Osborne, it read in a neat, slanted handwriting.
With the cessation of open warfare in Britain, there is no longer need for you to maintain your current post in Australia. The safety of your family is obviously of the utmost importance, for reasons I’m sure you are well aware, and we would like to be as delicate about your return to our shores. Minister Shacklebolt is making the necessary arrangements as I write this, and by the time this letter reaches you everything should be more than ready. As I’m sure you understand, however, there is a certain care needed in regards to -
Before I could read any further, Dad had tugged the letter out of my hands.
“Tash, wh-what have I told you about reading official letters?” he asked. For a second, an odd expression flashed across his face. I couldn’t really place what it was, but he’d never looked at me in this way before. It was something like... like fear of getting caught. I thought so, because I had a feeling that the same look had appeared on my face whenever I didn’t want to get caught about anything.
However, that second had passed a long time ago, and Dad now seemed back to normal “ just a bit annoyed. I rolled my eyes, smiling.
Dad smiled at me too. “These are official letters, Tash,” he said. “You’re not supposed to read them.”
“Yeah, your return to England is such a top secret issue,” I said sarcastically.
“Whatever,” Dad said hurriedly. “I got the papers we need “” He waved a couple of tiny booklets and pieces of parchment in his hands. ““ so let’s go.”
I got up and picked up my trunk once again. I noticed my parents exchange dark looks. Mum’s eyes were wide. Dad gave a small, imperceptible nod, but then closed his eyes and gave a small jerk of his head. Mum seemed to relax. I don’t think they were aware that I had caught their mute conversation, but I wondered “ what was it that they were trying to hide from me?
The rest of the process was quite easy. We walked down the hallway, crossing the levitating stairs through which we had come up and went straight forward. Doors lined the entire corridor, with a few stairs branching off to other smaller offices. More paintings hung on the whitewashed walls, some showing beautiful sceneries or natural parks, and other displayed various sorts of meetings.
We went into a large office at the end of the corridor. It was full of fireplaces and, at one side, junk items that were obviously Portkeys. It was also full of people. Large queues had formed in front of all the fireplaces or Portkeys, and Ministry wizards were flanking the modes of transport, apparently checking everyone for their proper documents.
“So many people go out of the country every day?” I asked Dad, surprised. I had no idea.
“Why did you think we were always so busy?” Dad laughed at my ignorance. “It’s not an easy job you know. And now that the War is over all the British refugees leave for England, and that’s actually a lot of people.”
There was a separate line for Ministry wizards and their families (thank Merlin, because I don’t think I could carry this bloody trunk for much longer), which was reasonably empty. After the wizards were done checking, we gathered around our Portkey, which was a rusty old watering can.
“Ten... nine... eight...” the Ministry wizard counted.
I wondered if I’d ever be back to Australia.
“Seven... six... five...”
I would miss Eduvene a lot.
“Four... three...”
The Portkey started to glow a bright blue. This was it, then. Bye, Australia.
“Two... one... and go.”
I felt a familiar jerk behind my navel, and I closed my eyes as I left my country behind.
The Hidden Truth by majestic_ginny
Chapter Notes: Whoa, it's been a long time since I last updated! Im so sorry for the looong wait, guys, RL was terrible and I had writer's block, especially for editing this chapter. Trust me, you wouldn't want ot read the original; it was too cheesy. I've gotta thank Emily (Emck/Emck_21) for making this chapter readable. Thanks, hon! Muah!
I still think this chapter is just... too small. I promise to have a bigger chap next time!
I'm not JKR. I don't own anything except Tash, her family, and the Ministry Wizards :P.
Chapter Endnotes: Thanks for reading! Please review!! --Nadia