Across To Elsewhere

Part One: Four - Troll In The Castle

After weeks spent in a hot and dry desert the change to hot and humid was both invigorating and refreshing in comparison. At least, that was until the car the Ox King had given them as a thank-you for their troubles ran out of gas- as was the fate of all vehicles, Goku noticed- and there were no more towns or cities to pass through before they'd reach their destination, which was well and truly out in the middle of nowhere.

Behind him Bulma moaned about having to walk places with the same amount of passion that Oolong had towards women's undergarments, both of which Goku simply didn't understand. If anything it annoyed him having to listen to it, especially since he'd given up riding his Nimbus to walk with the other two and at their insistence that he do so. It hadn't been his fault that neither could ride the cloud but they walked so slow he'd be doing loops around them anyhow, so there wouldn't have been much point in riding Nimbus anyways.

Then there was the matter of Yamcha and Puar, who Goku had spotted several times tailing after them. He still wasn't sure what they wanted, but they'd given Bulma a car to help get them partially out of the desert after Oolong's camper blew up and hadn't tried to attack them since said explosion, so Goku had decided to leave them be until they did something that required his attention. Like trying to steal from them again.

Goku lifted a hand to his chest, feeling the smoothed wood under the fabric of his gi. While the weather stayed warm here, he knew that it was cold where Harri was and that for her winter meant snowy months ahead. He'd never seen this so called 'snow' but Harri had promised to show him now that she could take pictures of everything. The giant castle she called a school somewhat resembled the one the Ox King had owned- before Roshi the Turtle Hermit blew it up along with the rest of Fire Mountain.

"Goku, we're stopping here!" Bulma called out as she went over to sit in the shade under a nearby tree. Goku stopped, looked back, and frowned.

"Already, Bulma?" He asked, but walked over anyways. "You've stopped ten times now."

"Yes!" The blue haired teen answered, exasperated. "I'm not from the countryside like you! I grew up in the city! There's no need for me to walk anywhere there!"

"Best leave it be, little buddy." Oolong added, though he looked just as tired as Bulma, and sat down beside the teen.

Goku let out a sigh through his nose. "Fine. But we should get moving again as soon as you catch your breath. We'll never get there otherwise!" He sat butterfly under the tree's shade, leaned up against the bark and looked up at the many leaves of the canopy that reminded him of his friend's eyes. His gut twisted, once again reminded what today was for Harri. Not for the first time today he wished for time to pass a little faster so that she'd finally open the Window and he could get to see for himself how she was doing.

~

Professor McGonagall's office was just as neatly organized as the classroom she ran. Several thick books lined the shelves off to one side while a hearth that had a fire burning was directly across from it. She had a large mahogany desk near the center of the room, where important-looking papers were placed near an inkwell and quill. The woman herself was tall, thin and had her graying hair tied atop her head in a tight bun. Her emerald green robes glinted in the fire light, much like the stern look in her eyes as she watched Harri, Neville and Hermione who had sat down in chairs on the opposite side of her desk with their backs to the door.

"I understand the three of you weren't in the great hall for the feast?" One of McGonagall's brows rose in question, looking between the three of them. On her desk she had put a pile of loose photos and a broken magical camera.

"No Professor." Harri confirmed when the other two simply stared down at their laps. Hermione's face was red and puffy from crying all afternoon. Neville looked stricken, black Hogwarts robes covered with white dust. There was a long cut in his robe just above his hip, blood soaked in the cloth making the area slightly darker, but Madam Pomfry had healed him up so there was nothing but a thin white scar where he had been injured.