//------------------------------//
// Chapter 46 
// Story: The Gate 
// by computerneek 
//------------------------------//

“Are they ever going to open the gate?” a house-elf mutters grumpily, glaring at the massive heap of letters in front of him.
“Not in time for school, that’s for certain,” a second huffs next to him.  “The train will be pulling out of Platform Nine and Three Quarters right about now.”
A third glances at the empty space where first-year’s letters appear.  “At least we could still send the Equestrian first-years their letters,” he mutters.
Back when the letters had first appeared, the owls had been unable to deliver any Equestrian letters.  The house-elves had, however, found out that they could use their own magic to send the letters directly to their recipients, despite the gate being closed.  No way to get a response back, though…  and that only worked because the first-year letters were magically bonded to their recipients by the same magic that created them.  The manually-produced second-year letters don’t have that, so they’re still sitting here.
“Yeah, at least we could,” a fourth shakes his head.





“Any news?” Professor McGonagall asks Dumbledore.  They’re sitting down to lunch, on September First.
Dumbledore shakes his head, fingering the radio clipped to his robes.  “Nothing,” he answers.  “Tried calling her an hour ago, but nothing.  Anything on your end?”
She shakes her head with an almost-smile.  “Do you really think she would call me first?  You have the radio.”
Professor Lockhart holds tactfully still in his seat.  He hasn’t a clue what they’re talking about.
Dumbledore shrugs.  “You know how-!”
Everyone turns to look at him as he cuts himself off very suddenly.
But he’s not paying attention to them.
“Professor Dumbledore, do you copy?”
He raises his hand to the radio, depressing the button.  “Ahh, Bonbon.  It’s about time.”
“Ahh, no, actually, I’m Lyra.  We’ve reorganized- Bonbon’s still mission leader, but I’m your contact point.  In any case, is it too late to come to Hogwarts this year?”
He grins at Professor McGonagall; the sudden uplift in spirits across everyone- save only Lockhart- when he’d mentioned Bonbon’s name had been hard to miss.  He depresses the button.  “Well, it’s a bit late to come on the train, but you should be alright.”
“How about new Equestrian first-years?”
He raises an eyebrow.  “You mean the letters actually reached you?”
“Ah, some of them.  No clue how Hogwarts managed to deliver the first-year invitations through a sealed interdimensional gateway, but it happened- we’ve got thirteen thousand, four hundred eighty-six hopefuls.”
He blinks.  “Oh.  Um, we might need a bit of help with the paperwork…  and it might be a bit difficult to get their stuff on time.”
“Eh…  shouldn’t be all that bad.  We can share, until we can get enough.  Oh, and, um, total Agent count will be up to nine hundred thirty-seven, not counting the local- same arrangements as last year, or no?”
“The local?” he asks.
“Last year, a British student joined our ranks after her Papa Tango.”
He pauses for a second, and nods.  “Right.  Yeah, we can do that.  When should we expect you?”
“Hmm…  I’ll be up in a half an hour or so to drop off the scroll for the sorting, then-!”  A second’s pause.  “Convenient timing.  Skyhawk just spotted the Hogwarts Express- I still don’t know how she gets that helicopter off the ground so fast- so we’ll be arriving at about the same time.”
He smiles.  “We’ll see you later, then.”
“And, um, I know last year you had a month to prepare, and now just a couple hours- so if there’s anything we can do to help, let me know.”
He chuckles.  “Will do.”  He lowers his hand.
“How many this year?” Professor Flitwick promptly asks.
“More than last year,” he answers promptly.
“They helping again?” Professor McGonagall asks.
He only nods.
Professor Lockhart stares unblinkingly at his empty plate, trying to figure out what’s going on, for several seconds before he shakes himself out and gets himself something to eat.  He’ll have to ask after lunch.





Hermione looks at the snack trolley that had just stopped beside her, Harry’s, and Draco’s compartment. “I would like-”
“Index Eye, how copy?”
She blinks, and steps back into the apartment, handing Harry her money bag; he’s closer.  “Here, get us something,” she mutters distractedly, before moving her hand up to her radio and depressing the button.  “Loud and clear.”
“Ahh,” Harry mutters, looking at her, before turning to the smiling witch.  “Some of everything.”
Draco looks at Hermione, and sighs.  She’d been teasing them lately, pretending to get calls from the Agency.
“Sorry it’s been so long- I’ll explain later.  You’re going to Hogwarts this year, right?”
“Yes.”  Lyra is using a very crisp, professional tone, rather than her usual near-laughter, so she’s being as concise as she can.
“You still have your second-year booklist?”
She recites the entire booklist from memory.  It’s kinda hard to forget, with that many Lockhart books.
“We’ll meet you at the castle.  In the meantime, can you ask a few students if they want to play instructor?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll send the list to your phone; send the answers ASAP.”
“Roger.”
“Spotted,” another voice begins suddenly, after a short pause.  It’s familiar, but not by name- and it starts spouting numbers.
Must be the helicopter pilot, she decides, deciphering a few of the codes before her phone- which she’d already pulled out- vibrates as it receives the list.  She glances down it, then looks up at Harry, who is carrying a great big pile of candy back into the compartment with Draco.  “Harry, Lyra wants to know if you want to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts with Rarity again this year.”
Both boys freeze still for a second.
“They’re back?” Draco asks.
“Uh, yes,” Harry decides.
She marks his response on the poll list Lyra had emailed her, and turns to Draco.  “Draco, how would you like teaching Potions with Apple Bloom this year?”
He blinks.  “Apple Bloom…?”  He shrugs.  “Sure, why not?”
She taps her phone again, before heading for the door.  “Thanks!  I’ll be back in a minute- I’ve got some thirty other people to ask, and Lyra wants their answers ASAP.”  She disappears into the corridor.





“So, Gilderoy,” Dumbledore smiles, after finishing off the last of his meal.  “You up for meeting one of our students for this year?”
Lockhart looks at him, eyebrows raised.  “Already?  Aren’t they on the train?”
Dumbledore nods.  “Some of them are, yes.”  He chuckles.  “I doubt that train would fit twenty five thousand students.”
Lockhart’s jaw drops.
Dumbledore chuckles again.  “In any case, she’ll be here any-!”
With a faint pop, a second year Gryffindor appears on the other side of the staff table.  Her hair is split between white and light blue, and she’s carrying a massive scroll, which she places on the table.  “Good afternoon!” she greets cheerfully.  “Here’s the sorting scroll- and Professor McGonagall, here’s our instructor teams.  Same constraints as last time.”
Professor McGonagall lets out what might have been a snort of laughter, accepting the second, normal-sized scroll.
Then the girl glances up at Lockhart, holding out a hand for him to shake.  “And I don’t suppose you would happen to be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, would you?”
Dumbledore chuckles at Lockhart’s flabbergasted response.  “Ah, yes,” he states.  “Professor Lockhart is our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor this year.”
“Lockhart?” the girl asks, eyebrows raised, before looking back at him.  “That doesn’t happen to be the same Lockhart that wrote half the booklist, does it?”
“Ah, it does,” Lockhart half-mumbles, before shaking himself and smiling.
She puts a hand up to shield her eyes.  “Oooh, shiny,” she announces.  “Your blinding smile threatens my sanity.”  She drops the shielding hand.  “Let’s have some good classes this year, eh?”  She takes the hand he’d started to extend and shakes it.
“Ahh…”
She shrugs, letting him go.  “Shouldn’t be too hard to be better than last year.  Professor Quirrell taught us practically nothing.”  Then she smiles, and waves to the whole table.  “Anyways, I’d better go fly the train.  I’ll see you in a few hours!”  She snaps her fingers and disappears into thin air.
She reappears two seconds later.  “Wait a minute…”  She looks at the assembled teachers, then facepalms.  “I knew I shoulda ripped the driver out instead of locking the trigger.”  She disappears.