CH81 - Muggle London
As the air warped around them to signal their reentry into the material world, Edmund's stomach churned, and his vestibular system was thrown into disarray. Like most people still new to side-along apparition, McGonagall had expected him to clutch his head, grip his stomach, vomit, or do some combination of the three. Instead, he landed perfectly on two feet, his eyes immediately scanning their surroundings. The aged professor's forehead wrinkled slightly in confusion at his lack of reaction, and Edmund winked in response to it. Unbeknownst to her, he had much more experience with the nauseating form of transportation than he let on.
Their arrival did not go unnoticed, as the patrons of the Leaky Cauldron caught sight of the deputy headmistress, who had taught many of them during their own time at Hogwarts. Greetings and bows of respect followed McGonagall wherever she went, and it seemed the woman was well used to that fact. Although it was amusing to see how even the rowdiest of pub-goers sobered up in her presence, it was rather tiresome to constantly be stopped in their path—even if it was by well-wishers.
Thankfully, they had no plans of heading to the back of the pub towards Diagon Alley, where such interactions would ceaselessly continue. Instead, the two made their way to its main entrance, emerging onto the ever-busy Charing Cross.
People rushed by on either side of them like a stream, avoiding them by narrow margins. Black cabs littered the street, blaring and honking at one another, making the busy scene even more chaotic. Big posters were sprawled across the buildings, boldly advertising various brands and products.
"Welcome to muggle London!" Edmund shouted to make himself heard above the din.
McGonagall clucked her tongue. "I've been in muggle London hundreds of times before. Who do you think brings the muggleborns to Diagon Alley? Moreover, I'm a half-blood, if you recall."
"That doesn't count! You use the Knight Bus to travel to and from wherever you need to go," he dismissed. "Besides, how long has it been since you've been here for non-work-related reasons."
She fell silent, conceding the point. "Where to first, then?"
Edmund grinned. "The tube, of course!"
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- (Scene Break) -
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Standing on a glass walkway suspended over 100 feet above the earth, Edmund and McGonagall admired the beautiful view. Two towers, constructed in the Victorian Gothic style, sat on either side of them. At their base, a massive crossing spanned over the river Thames.
"Tower Bridge," Edmund declared softly. "I've always wanted to visit," he reminisced as he thought of Tom's memories of seeing the landmark from afar every day but never being able to explore it.
"Hmm?" McGonagall said. "I thought this one was London Bridge?"
Edmund let out a guffaw as he looked around to ensure no one had heard. "Keep your voice down! You're going to make some old lady wave her cane at us for being 'ignorant foreigners,' and I would rather avoid that. London Bridge is the other one up the river, over there. Do you see?"
McGonagall huffed. "Well, how was I supposed to know? Why is the more famous one not called London Bridge? That seems counter-intuitive."
"I thought you said you were a half-blood?" Edmund looked at her incredulously. "What the heck were they teaching you in primary school?"
"I'm not some fancy city girl," McGonagall grumbled. "I grew up in a village on the outskirts of Caithness in the Scottish Highlands. I was taught how to milk cows, not differentiate between the river crossings of London."
The two continued to bicker nonstop with small smiles on their faces, looking like any other grandma and grandson on a day out to passersby.
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- (Scene Break) -
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"Ooh, ooh! Look at that one! That's impressive, isn't it?" Edmund pointed with his index finger.
The duo had eventually meandered their way to the Jewel House, hoping to see the recently reopened display for the monarchy's Crown Jewels.
"Indeed," McGonagall admitted, nodding toward the diamond-bedecked crown before her. "The workmanship is admirable, especially for the time."
"But this," she breathed as she stopped in front of the oldest exhibit. "This is truly beautiful. Magical work, if I'm not mistaken."
The artifact was the same silver-gilt spoon used to anoint the new sovereign with holy oil during each coronation ceremony to this day—a piece that had survived from the 12th century.
"Made before the Statute of Secrecy," Edmund murmured.
"Yes," McGonagall slipped into a lecturing tone. "I'm not surprised. It was before the 1600s that almost all the great magical relics were made. Muggle kings and queens would sponsor magical artificers, providing them with the resources they needed to work unhindered—to push themselves to their limits. A mutually beneficial relationship that resulted in a period of significant cultural growth."
"Are there many items like this out there? Magical items owned by muggles, I mean?" he queried.
"Most certainly," McGonagall nodded. "When the Statute was implemented, objects with overt magical effects were removed from muggle hands immediately. However, those simply created with magical craftsmanship were often left behind, especially if they had been obtained legally. Much as the purebloods of today would like to pretend contrarily, our path is intertwined with the muggles. The two worlds have always affected one another and will continue to do so. To think otherwise is folly."
Edmund hummed, considering her words long after they moved on to their next stop.
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- (Scene Break) -
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"Hello, everyone! I hope you're having a fantastic day today and that you're excited to be coming aboard the Flying Fish! I'm your ride operator for the day—" a voice came from the speakers.
"Edmund," McGonagall hissed.
"Yes?" he said innocently.
"When you told me we were going to a park..." she growled.
"Oh! Did I not mention it? Thorpe Park isn't really a traditional park, per se..." he trailed off.
"How could you have possibly forgotten to tell me that it's an amusement park!" the professor accused.
"Well, it's too late to back out now, isn't it?" Edmund said just as the horsecollar-style restraint came down over their shoulders, pinning them in place.
"3!" the ride operator called out.
"You will regret this," McGonagall vowed as the ride began to hiss and creak in preparation to start.
"2!"
"Probably," he shrugged.
"1!"
"Not probably! I will make sure you—" she began.
The rollercoaster jolted into motion, setting off at breakneck speeds. "AAAAHHHHH!!! WHOOOOO!!!" the two simultaneously hollered in terror and glee.
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- (Scene Break) -
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The mentor-mentee duo sat on a bench, exhausted yet full of energy all the same. Edmund grinned, looking at the balloon animal hat that had managed to find its way onto McGonagall's head.
Sensing his gaze on her, she cracked open an eye for a second before closing it again. "It's nice to see a smile on your face."
Edmund's brows furrowed in puzzlement. "I've been smiling all day."
"Not like this," McGonagall denied.
He pursed his lips.
"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked nonjudgmentally.
Still, Edmund's reply was out before she could finish her sentence. "No."
"Edmund..." the professor sighed. "Isolating yourself will not solve the issue, whatever it is. There are people in this world that care for you. People who are invested in your well-being. Do you hear me?"
He nodded.
"No," she said. "Look at me."
Edmund's eyes came up to meet her own from where they had subconsciously fallen to the ground.
"Come here, my sweet boy," she beckoned him toward her outstretched arms. Edmund leapt into them without hesitation as McGonagall consolingly ran her hands down his back. "It'll be okay. Shhh. Whatever it is, it'll be fine. I promise. You'll get through it."
He was wracked with unwept sobs, yet his heart felt freer than it had for a long time. "Thank you," he muttered again and again repeatedly.
McGonagall let out a wet laugh. "You still haven't learned anything, have you? There's nothing you need to thank me for. Nothing at all."