Peter frowned at the train schedule. It was a few weeks after he returned to work after Christmas and he had just punched out. As usual, he had headed to the train station. As usual, he was hustled through the turn tiles by the push of the crowd. However, when he at last was freed from the mob, he had to look for the grimy map that was fastened to the wall. Ever since he had been instructed to take the train, he had memorized the train number he had to take and exactly how many stops he would have to take before getting off. After that, he refused to pay attention to what the maps and the announcer said. He knew it would only confuse him. He could never figure out what the announcer said, anyway. He thought it must be in some strange Muggle code, though for the life of him, he couldn't understand why train announcements would have to be in code.
Today, he wasn't going home, but yet, here he was, in the train station, trying to figure out where he was going.
"Baskerville Road, Baskerville Road…" he muttered, scanning the dingy map. He was careful not to say the entire address out loud, in case someone was listening. Looking around quickly, he decided that nobody was paying much attention to him today. He was wearing his Muggle coat today.
"Hey, mate," Peter looked up started. He saw a man sitting with his back against the wall, wearing a worn coat that was patched in numerous places. His trainers were taped over with shiny gray tape, and though he stood a few feet away, Peter caught a whiff of something unpleasant. Stale whiskey, burnt coffee, with the stink of one who had not taken a shower for a while.
"I'm sorry?" Peter said politely. Better not make him angry. He might be one of those muggers he had heard about.
The man smiled. One of his teeth was missing, but he did not seem to be aware of this. Peter was tempted to point it out to them. "Yiv' been lookin' ah the map for bit now. Yeh be needin' some 'elp?"
"Er," Peter stammered. If there was one thing that Moody had told them over and over again was to not take directions from strangers. Especially directions to somewhere… important.
The man took a battered cigarette out of his pocket. "I know I'm nah the most trustworddy lookin' chap… You don' got a light, d'ya?" He said, patting about his pockets.
Peter started to reach for his wand, but covered up for it by pretending that he was checking his pockets. "No, I'm sorry."
"Ah, no matter. Sometimes it's just as good withou' it bein' lit. And that way it lasts longer, eh?"
"Yes," Peter grinned a little nervously.
"Anyway, you can trust me. What do I have to gain of cheatin' yeh, eh? Tell me that?"
"Nothing, I guess," Peter shuffled his feet.
"So, tell me where 'tis you're going,"
Peter thought back to when Frank had told him where the next meeting was going to be. He remembered him saying it was next to something. It's next to… It's next to Puh… Petrol station on the corner.
"Petrol station," Peter said triumphantly.
The man raised his eyebrows. "Which petrol station?"
"Which petrol station?" Peter repeated blankly.
"Yeah, mate! There are hundreds of petrol stations around here, at least,"
Peter tried to remember. The Petrol station has a big red sign with an 'H' on it. He remembered Frank saying in an exasperated tone. Come on, Pete, you got to remember this. Don't get lost again.
"It has a big 'H' sign on it."
The man thought for a moment. "That's probably Hortinson's. There's one of them on Glaston Circle. An' there's another on Baskerville Road… and I think…"
"That's it!" Peter interrupted.
"You sure, now?" The man inquired.
"Yes, yes!"
"Oh, glad to be uh help," The man cleared his throat, casually pushing a tin with his hand. Peter looked blankly at it. The man rolled his eyes and shook the tin meaningfully again.
"Oh!" Peter said. He fumbled for his money pouch. There were only a little bit of Muggle money in it. Heloise gave it to him because she thought it was a bit of a laugh. He took out a bill with a ten on it*. "Is this good?" Peter said, handing it to him.
An expression passed over the man's face that Peter could not read, and it was gone just as quickly. "Oh, thanks, mate. You didn't need to be doing tha'. Much obliged. You'll want to be waiting on that platform there, where that chap with the bright green coat is. Just get off where they say West Street.
"Thank you," Peter said, and started walking in that direction.
"Hey!" Peter turned around.
"Yeah?"
"Why are you going to a petrol station by train?"
Peter felt the color going out of his face. But he was saved by the arrival of his train.
"Ah, never mind then," The man said, waving and taking the cigarette out of his mouth.
Peter got on the train, again constantly making sure that no one was following him. It had been cloudy all day, but it seemed to be get sunnier out when he got out, and the glare hurt his eyes. He blinked a few times and saw a bright red sign next to a petrol station on the corner. The knot in his stomach loosened.
He walked toward the red sign and as he got closer, he saw shimmering in the air next to it.
"Some poor Muggles own that gas station." Someone said next to him. Peter stiffened, but relaxed when he saw it was Benjy Fenwick. He grinned at Peter. "Scare ya?"
Peter shook his head. "What were you saying?"
"Some Muggles have seen that shining and think that the petrol is leaking into the ground, and it's—er—evaporating? Evaporating into the air. So they've called their government officials to complain. A bit funny really. I was here yesterday setting up the protection charms."
"They see you?" Peter asked worriedly.
"Nah, I was using Moody's Invisibility Cloak. Anyway, every time one of them got near the place, they suddenly had to use the lavatory and had to run over to the petrol station."
"Why don't we do a better spell so they can't see it?" Peter asked as they started walking toward the disturbance.
"Too much magic there already." Benjy whispered. "Any more and it wouldn't become unplottable unless we did a Fidelius charm."
"Why aren't we doing that?" Peter asked, frowning at the space ahead of them.
"Too risky. If the person who kept the secret died…" Benjy trailed off.
Peter turned and looked at him. "Come on, Pete, let's go inside."
Peter concentrated on the address. Amazingly, he had managed to remember it. "The location for the meeting of the Order of the Phoenix for January seventeenth is forty-seven Baskerville Road." He muttered to himself. He looked up and saw a dilapidated old house standing where the disturbance in the air had been.
They had several buildings around the city and its suburbs for this purpose. They switched it around randomly so that the Death Eaters stood less of a chance of finding them. Peter honestly didn't think that it would help that much, but Moody insisted that it was better than nothing, which it probably was.
The house appeared empty, but Peter knew better. Sure enough, a second or two later, the door swung in and Moody's eye glared at them. "What are you doing? Waiting for an invitation?"
* I don't know, did pounds come in paper form before they switched to Euros? If not, could someone tell me so I could fix it. Anyway, Peter gave the guy five pounds, which I think translates to about eight dollars. Again, if I'm wrong, someone tell me.
A/N: Ok, I'm definitely not British. I'll call a subway the Underground, I'll call a gas station a Petrol station. But I definitely won't call a bathroom a loo. You'll just have to settle for lavatory.
I won't update this story on a regular basis for a couple of reasons. One, I've got school, which takes up a lot of time. Two, I've got work, which also takes up a lot of time. Three, as stated before, I really don't want to write this story, so any excuse not to put up another chapter is fine with me and if the plot isn't bothering me too badly, I won't put another chapter up if I don't feel like it. Sorry. However (taps her fingers together), I could be persuaded with reviews. Hint, hint.
Hrei! Great to 'see' you again. Thanks for your review. You made valid points, and I am the first to admit that my math is horrible ( see above *), but, being a July baby myself, I had this figured out long ago. Lily would be two months pregnant at Christmas, but it was winter, and unless it doesn't get cold in England in the winter (which I highly doubt) she would be wearing bulky winter clothes. Plus, they're guys, how would they know if she was a little tiny bit bigger? And as for your other point, this is how it works out. As of January, Lily will have Harry in seven months. Then, in the books, when they always talk about that Halloween, Harry was a year old when his parents died. So that makes the year and seven months. Harry is born at the end of July so we won't count that as one whole month. So- August, September, October. Three months. Seven plus three is ten so a year and ten months. Boy, I thought about that way too much.