"Choose one," Wayne said calmly, standing near the centre of the living room as if he were discussing travel plans rather than reality-bending magic. "Teleportation or train."
She looked up at him, expression neutral, then slightly incredulous. "What," she said, the word flat and unembellished.
"Choose one method to go to Hogwarts," he continued evenly. "I would prefer Apparition, but I am not entirely certain how well you would tolerate it."
She considered him for a moment, then leaned back against the armrest. "I want to teleport," she said decisively. "If I am doing something absurd, I would like it to be over quickly."
Wayne nodded, accepting the answer without comment. "Then you should understand the alternatives," he said, slipping naturally into explanation. "The Hogwarts Express departs from Platform Nine and Three Quarters. It requires travel to London, a controlled entry point, and several hours aboard a train. It is ceremonial, slow, and reliable."
"And the other option," she prompted.
"Apparition compresses space rather than crossing it," he explained. "From here to Britain in seconds. It saves time, but it is physically unpleasant for most first-timers. Side effects include nausea, dizziness, and disorientation. In extreme cases, partial separation of—"
"Stop," she said immediately. "I choose the fast one."
"There is also a Portkey," Wayne added, unoffended. "Though that removes control entirely. I would rather not introduce you to magic by throwing you across continents."
She exhaled once. "So the choices are," she summarised, "booking a flight, sitting on a plane for two or three hours, then taking a symbolic train ride, or appearing somewhere immediately and buying clothes there like people who planned poorly."
"Correct," Wayne said.
"Teleport," she repeated.
Wayne stepped closer and held out his hand. "Do not fight it," he said gently. "Do not think. Just hold on."
She did so, grip firm, posture braced. "If I die," she began loudly, "Jesus Chri—"
The world folded.
Space collapsed inward, sound stretched thin, and her voice vanished mid-syllable as sensation overtook coherence.
They reappeared in a quiet, rusted corner near a train station, metal railings flaking with age, the air heavy with oil, stone, and damp iron. Wayne released his hold and adjusted his footing with ease. His wife did not.
She bent forward instantly, producing an emergency paper bag from her coat, and proceeded to vomit into it for a full three minutes straight, uninterrupted, thorough, and distressingly efficient. Wayne remained beside her without comment, expression composed, hands folded loosely behind his back.
When it ended, she straightened slowly, wiped her mouth, folded the bag shut with deliberate care, and stood upright again. Her voice, when it came, was weak but controlled.
"So," she said calmly, as though the previous minutes had not occurred, "have we reached Hogwarts."
"No," Wayne replied honestly.
She blinked once. "Explain."
"That was only the flight portion," he said. "We are now in Britain. We still need to reach the station. Dumbledore sent tickets."
She nodded, absorbing this in silence, then took a steadying breath. Wayne studied her briefly before speaking again, mild curiosity entering his tone.
"I believed you were an atheist," he said gently. "Perhaps I was mistaken."
She glanced at him sideways, then gave a faint, tired smile. "No," she replied softly, "you were right. I am."
Wayne waited.
"Jesus Christ is just a famous cuss word," she added evenly, her voice still subdued. "People use it when reality behaves badly. Do not ever bring this up again."
"I will not," Wayne said simply.
They began walking toward the station entrance, her steps steady now, her posture restored. After a moment, she frowned slightly.
"We did not buy clothes," she observed.
"We will manage," Wayne replied lightly.
"If this world collapses because of my jacket," she said dryly, "that is not my responsibility."
They reached the edge of the street and paused.
A sales vendor standing outside a small shop noticed them, straightened, and smiled politely.
"Evening," he said.