Title: Apparition Version: 1.0, posted 9/25/06 (originally posted to LiveJournal 9/11/06) Rating: G
Disclaimer: Alas, not mine. (See full disclaimer on previous
page.)
Summary: In which a couple of CalSci professors get an unusual
visitor. A/N: Set during season 2 of Numb3rs, and an alternate,
time-shifted Harry Potter universe (this occurs sometime during years
1-4, I haven't yet decided precisely when; that depends on the sequel).
Apparition
by Mistral Amara
The midday sun shone hot and bright over the quad outside the CalSci
cafeteria. Its nearly perpendicular rays whittled the shadows into thin
black lines that offered no shelter to the two men waiting below. A
lukewarm breeze of students flowed incuriously around the two
professors and vanished into the building's cool interior.
"Larry, you know I'm happy to keep you company on my lunch hour," said
Charlie. "But couldn't we wait for your visitor inside?"
Larry
nibbled his fingers nervously. "No, no. My friend was very specific,
we're to meet his colleague out here by this statue at 11:55 precisely.
He's on his way to a conference further up the coast; if we're not
here, he won't wait."
"He sounds a little full of himself, if you ask me." Charlie checked
his watch. "Well, if he's to be here at 11:55 precisely, that's
in precisely three minutes. In precisely four minutes, I'm
heading for the cafeteria."
"Yes, yes, mock all you want, Charles. But I'm sure the man will be
here. My friend may be a little eccentric--"
"Imagine that."
"--but a formidable intellect, nonetheless--"
"Again, I'm shocked."
"--and
when he says 'precisely', I'm inclined to take him at his word.
Besides, I'm eager to see this book; Professor Dumbledore thinks I'll
find it helpful in my research."
"This--Dumbledore, was it?--what's he a professor of?"
Larry
opened his mouth to answer, closed it again, frowned. "You know, I
don't think he's ever said. Physics, I assumed; he certainly knows more
than your average layman."
"Then where did you meet him?"
"Oh,
we've never met," replied Larry. "Ours has been a comradeship of pure
mind, via the written word. No phone calls, no E-mails, just a classic
correspondence like the great thinkers of yesteryear, our missives
winging their way across the globe, carrying our conjectures and
conclusions to an eager recipient in a faraway land. It was a most
fortuitous day for me when his first letter arrived in my office."
Charlie
looked at him askance. "Okay, let me get this straight. You've never
met, you don't know what his credentials are. You don't know anything
about him except what he's told you, and now at his insistence you're
standing here waiting for yet another person you don't know to bring
you a book on some subject that you also don't know. The only thing we
do know is that this encounter with the unknown is scheduled to take
place in--" Charlie checked his watch again, "--ninety-six seconds."
"When
you put it that way, it does sound somewhat less than wholly rational,"
said Larry, shaking his head. "Trust you to bring the taint of
skepticism out of the realm of science, where it belongs, and into the
realm of friendship, where it most definitely does not."
"It's just that I can't help but notice that the whole thing is a
little odd. Why didn't your friend just mail the book?"
"I just assumed it was too old and valuable, or perhaps just too heavy
to send by owl."
"By owl?"
"All
Dumbledore's letters come by owl. Didn't I say? I suppose I'm used to
it by now. But the first time, oh, the first time that owl swooped
through my office window, I was surprised, not to say startled. But I
suppose it's not that much different from using carrier pigeons." Larry
frowned. "Unless . . . well, he must be using a relay
system with other
owl fanciers. Surely that owl isn't coming all the way from England;
that would be strange--are you sure I didn't mention the owls?"
"Pretty sure. That does explain the scratch marks on the back of your
guest chair, though."
"A small price to pay--oh, wait, I think this is our guest now."
Indeed,
the man striding across the quad toward them looked nothing like a
student. In contrast with the colorful T-shirts and shorts of the
students around him, he was dressed all in black: boots, trousers, an
unseasonable turtleneck, and a curiously cut jacket. Even his lank hair
and piercing eyes were the color of cold midnight, a harsh affront to
the bright California sun. The only hint of color about his person was
a splash of green-dyed leather, the weathered cover of a large book
that he carried tucked protectively under one arm.
The dark
figure looked neither right nor left, but covered the distance with a
surprising economy of motion and stopped in front of them. He raised an
eyebrow. "Have I the honor of addressing--?"
"Doctor Larry
Fleinhardt," said Larry, offering his hand. "And this is Doctor Charles
Eppes, Professor of Mathematics. You must be Professor Snape."
"I
am." Snape took Larry's hand and executed a sliver of a bow over it.
"Headmaster Dumbledore sends his greetings. And this book, which he
hopes you will find to be of some interest."
He handed over the
well-worn volume, which Larry received with the air of a man being
awarded a great honor. "Thank you, thank you. So kind of you to go out
of your way to bring it."
Snape inclined his head.
"Well," said Charlie. "Now that Professor Snape is here, perhaps we can
get out of this heat."
"Oh,
yes," said Larry. "We were just about to have lunch. Won't you join us?
Our cafeteria is not exactly cordon bleu, but it does do a creditable
white-cheddar mac. And while I've never had it, I understand that the
Cobb salad is quite delectable. We would be so glad to have you as our
guest."
"So glad," echoed Charlie, deadpan.
Professor
Snape looked narrowly at Charlie for a moment, but when he replied to
Larry, his manner was scrupulously polite: "Thank you, but I must
decline. My symposium starts with a noon luncheon, and I am the first
speaker following."
"Oh," said Larry. "But, it's nearly noon
now. Never mind the luncheon, you'll be late for your own presentation.
You'd better phone ahead so they can reschedule. I'd be happy to offer
my office, if you'd like some quiet to make the call."
Snape
gave another, deeper bow that failed to completely hide the quick twist
of his lips. "Please don't concern yourselves. I assure you, it is not
a problem."
"Well . . . if you're sure."
"I am. And now,
I must be going. If you'll just let Headmaster Dumbledore know when
you're done with the book, he'll arrange to have it collected."
"Oh, yes, of course," said Larry. "Thank you again."
"Farewell,"
said Snape. He turned and strode away again, in the direction from
which he'd first appeared. Larry looked puzzled for a moment, but then
gave his attention eagerly to the book.
If there had ever been a
title on the cover of the ancient volume, it had long since worn away.
Larry turned the pages gently, as Charlie watched over his shoulder.
When he reached the title page, they read:
Underpinnings of the Cosmos:
An Investigation into the Relation of Matter and Magic
by Newton Figg-Applethwaite
And underneath that, in an elegant copperplate:
Please return to Albus Dumbledore,
Headmaster,
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
They gaped at the page, then at each other. Larry shook his head. "I
don't understand."
"It's a joke," said Charlie. "And not a very friendly one, if you ask
me."
"No,
this makes no sense. Albus has a wonderful, inclusive sense of humor;
one might almost say playful. I've never detected a hint of meanness or
insincerity in his letters."
"Then maybe the prankster is somebody else."
"Blame the messenger? Oh, Charles, I don't know . . ."
"Let's
ask him." Charlie turned and called across the quad, "Professor Snape!
Wait!" But there was no sign that Snape had heard; he continued across
the quad and turned into a narrow alley that dead-ended between two of
the buildings. Charlie sprinted after him, with Larry close behind,
clutching the peculiar book.
They arrived at the mouth of the
alley, rounded the corner, and saw Snape halfway along the length of
the building, illuminated by a shaft of sunlight. His back toward them,
he took a step from light into shadow and vanished, like a candle
winking out.
Charlie stopped short, nearly causing Larry to run him down. He scanned
the length of the alley. "Where'd he go?"
"It's a mystery to me," said Larry. "He didn't come back past us.
Either he's still in this alley, or . . ."
"Or what?" Charlie's voice sounded edgy, even to himself.
"Or, he's not."
"Impossible."
Larry shrugged. "Improbable, certainly. Impossible, perhaps not. The
impossible is only impossible until it happens."
They
walked the length of the alley slowly, searching for any sign of the
missing Snape. Finally they returned to the spot they'd seen him
standing last. Larry, still holding the book, examined everything
closely--the walls of the buildings, the ground underfoot, even the
angle of the sunlight, while Charlie stood by and fidgeted impatiently.
"So," said Charlie, when Larry appeared to be about to search the area
a fourth time. "What do you think? Mass hallucination?"
"Mmm?
Oh, we do have mass--certainly we are a mass of protons, neutrons,
other subatomic particles--but I don't think that's the sense in which
the term 'mass hallucination' is intended. No, I don't think that you
and I qualify as that type of mass."
"Then it has to be a trick."
"We-e-ell,"
said Larry, running his free hand down a seam in the wall yet again,
"illusionists are experts at creating the appearance of physical
impossibility using trickery and a few simple props, but I see no
mirrors, no ropes, no apparatus of any kind. I believe we may have to
conclude that this Professor Snape, as incredible as it may seem,
simply dis--"
"Don't say it." Charlie raised his hands in
protest. "No, just don't say it. Come on, I'll buy you a milkshake. The
flavor of the week, white chocolate."
"Ooh." Larry's fingers slowed their investigation of the wall. He was
clearly tempted.
"Makes a nice change from vanilla, right? Let's go, I'm starving."
"But this is such a, a fascinating event. I need to explore the
ramifications of what we've seen."
"What have we seen? Nothing. We saw nothing."
"Nothing, where there was previously something. I think that deserves a
certain minimal degree of scrutiny, at least."
"And I'm sure you will," soothed Charlie. "But right now, lunch."
"All right, Charles. But don't mistake my temporary acquiescence for an
abandonment of the problem."
"No, no. Wouldn't dream of it."
They headed back toward the cafeteria, Larry throwing thoughtful
glances over his shoulder all the way.