Patrick Stump and the Flying Car Brigade

Chapter 45

Chapter 45

That night, I climbed up to the top of North Tower and entered the empty classroom where the school kept the Mirror of Erised. In a way, it had become a strange, secret routine. I had memorised the route to the classroom, and I knew exactly what to do once I got there.

I stepped up to the mirror once again, and saw a vision that seemed even more impossible now that the Death Eaters had taken over. Fear was noticeably absent from this fantasy version of Hogwarts. Pure bloods, half bloods, and Muggle borns were able to be together without anyone being afraid. Even Professor McGonagall seemed content to watch us float across the lake. She wasn't freaking out over our safety, because there was nothing to be concerned about.

One by one, we made our way across the lake. Each and every member of my class was there, including the Muggle borns and those who had left to join the Death Eaters. I had to remind myself that it was all just an illusion. It wasn't real, no matter how much I wanted it to be real.

The vision faded away, and I could once again hear voices coming from the crack in the mirror. I singled out Sirius' voice and heard him say, "Patrick! You're back!"

"Yes Sirius, I'm back," I said.

"What's going on?" Sirius asked, as if I was an old mate, which in a way, I was.

"It's gotten even worse," I said. "The Death Eaters have taken over the Ministry of Magic."

Even Sirius seemed shocked. "How did that happen?" he asked.

"It's a long story, but they burned down the Ministry of Magic," I said. "They blamed the Muggle borns for it, and then used it as an excuse to take power. Most of the old Ministry employees are missing or dead."

"I can't believe it," Sirius said. "All that we worked for is gone."

"That's not all," I said. "The Ministry called the organisation that I'm in Undesirables."

"You're in trouble now, Patrick," Sirius said. "Are you sure Hogwarts is the safest place for you?"

"Yes," I said. "Professor McGonagall said so."

"Be careful," Sirius said. "This is just like what happened in the Wizarding Wars, and you know how many innocents died because of Voldemort."

"We did learn about that last year in History of Magic," I said. "I'm terrified, to be honest. All I have is a sad song with nothing to say."

"You do have something to say though," Sirius argued.

"I don't think so," I said. "We're broken people, Sirius. I can't save the wizarding world myself."

"Nobody's asking you to do that," Sirius said. "Maybe that Flying Car Brigade of yours can do something."

"We're just six Hogwarts students," I said. "We can't stand up to the whole Ministry."

"Just don't give up hope yet," Sirius said.

Sirius was right. His words were gospel for the fallen ones, so I looked right into that crack in the mirror and told myself that I wouldn't give up. I was stronger than that.

I heard another voice, which I quickly identified as Professor Dumbledore. "I told you not to come here again," he said.

"I had to come," I said. "Everything's gotten so much worse, and I don't know what to do!"

Professor Dumbledore began to say something, but I lost my balance and slipped. As I fell, the mirror seemed to pull me closer. This can't be happening, I thought, but nevertheless, I was being sucked in. I screamed, but nothing would help. Nobody was around to help me.

I tried to get a grip on the wall, but I couldn't reach it, and the pull was too strong. The mirror was going to swallow me whole, even with the kick drum beating in my chest again.

The room faded away and then disappeared entirely. Instead of my normal surroundings, I began to see strange visions. The first thing I saw was Mikey wearing a black marching band uniform, complete with a rather impressive medal. "Patrick!" he shouted, but I barely had time to respond. In the distance, I could a man with long, black hair and grey eyes waving to me, along with an older man with a silver beard, a crooked noses, and half-moon spectacles. I presumed that they were Sirius and Professor Dumbledore. As I adjusted my glasses, I could see a third man who looked mysteriously like Elton John. Who was he? I wondered. Was he God? Was I dying? What was happening?

Despite all of my questions, I couldn't do anything. I was still falling further and further into this strange new world. There seemed to be no way to turn back, no matter how much I wanted to do so.

How could I deal with my impending doom? If I didn't do anything, I would die, and while I wasn't afraid of death, I was far too young to die. I was only sixteen. No matter how horrible the world was, I still felt like I had to stay alive. I kept telling myself that I wasn't the desperate type, but desperation was the only option.

All of a sudden, I felt someone grasp my hand. I looked up, and I saw Pete's hand holding onto mine. He pulled me upwards, and into the backseat of a flying Ford Anglia.

The Flying Car Brigade had come to rescue me.

"Patrick?" Andy asked me. "Are you alright?"

"I believe so," I said. "Thank you for rescuing me."

"No problem," Tyler said. "I don't know what we'd do if you were really gone." He slammed on the gas, and we lurched back out of the mirror and into the room where we started. All of us exited the flying car, and we were about to head back to bed when a woman with incredibly thick glasses and frizzy brown hair entered the room. "What is all of this ruckus?" she asked.

Of course, there was no way to explain away this mess.