| C H A P T E R O N E Harry’s Misery It had been an unusually cool summer in Little Whinging. It’s citizens, who had taken refuge from a scorching heat, inside their homes the previous summer, now relaxed in a tranquil breeze in their front yards, unperturbed by the rigors of their rest-of-the-year work life. Children played in their yards, while their parents or grandparents sat in hammocks strung between two trees, reading the daily news, or perhaps dozing as their hammocks swayed in the gentle wind. Such was not the case however, at number four Privet Drive. The inhabitants of number four Private Drive were almost anything but relaxed. Ever since their 15-year-old son Dudley, who was quite large, had come home from his away school Smeltings, there had been a falling out nearly every morning before breakfast. “I want bacon and eggs!” he shouted, as his mother tried to place a bowl of peaches in front of him on their small round table in the kitchen on this particular morning. “But Duddykins,” she said, with an almost tearful and tired look in her eyes, “Dudley, dear, the report you brought home from school said you need to eat less junk and mor-” “I don’t care what that stupid school report said!” he shouted again, as he shot his mother a malevolent look, “I won’t starve again for another whole summer!” Dudley’s father Vernon Dursley, had been reading the paper at the table during this particular tantrum, of his porky son’s, but at this particular comment, he looked over the top of his paper at Dudley, and said, “Dudders, we both know that you don’t want to eat fruit, and neither do I for that matter, but don’t talk to your mother that way.” “I’ll talk to mum anyway I want to,” he retorted, as he shoved his bowl of peaches across the table towards his cousin Harry. Harry, who had decided to weather Dudley’s meal time tantrums out like his uncle, had usually waited until the food had been served and Dudley’s tantrum over before he came out of his room and down to breakfast, but had neglected to do so today. Harry Potter wasn’t welcome in the Dursleys’ house in Private Drive. He was only one year old when the headmaster of his school, Albus Dumbledore, had left him on his aunt and uncle’s doorstep, wrapped in a blanket, with a note tucked just inside. But, however much the Dursley’s didn’t want Harry there, Harry didn’t want to be there three times more. Harry would have rather been almost anywhere else than spending his summer at number Four, on the other hand, living away from his friends for a couple of months, did have it’s advantages. Harry was everything the Dursley’s considered abnormal, and more. You see, Harry was a 15-year-old wizard, who would soon be returning for his sixth year at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and the Dursleys’ worst fear was that a neighbor would find out that they were connected in some way with someone as abnormal as Harry. During the previous year, just before summer holiday, Harry had gone up against his mortal, and very dangerous enemy, a very dark and powerful wizard, Lord Voldemort. Voldemort was the one who had killed Harry’s parents almost 15 years before, and had then tried to kill a one-year-old Harry. The dark Lord’s powers had rebounded upon himself instead of killing Harry though, leaving only a thin lightning shaped scar on Harry’s forehead, and Voldemort, drained of power, had been forced to flee. At the end of Harry’s fourth year at Hogwarts, Voldemort had come back to full power, and then set about to coming after Harry again, while flying under the Ministry of Magic’s radar in Harry’s fifth year, so as not to alert them of his return to power. For most of Harry’s fifth year at Hogwarts, the Daily Prophet had quashed any rumors of Voldemort’s return, and trashed Harry almost every chance they got, until the end of his fifth year, when Harry paid the ultimate price for going up against Lord Voldemort, and his death eaters. Harry’s godfather Sirius, who had been Harry’s father’s best friend, had died at the wand of his own cousin Beatrice Lestrange, one of Voldemort’s death eaters. So here Harry sat, at the kitchen table in number four, for another long summer, torn between missing his friends and schoolmates, and wanting to be left alone to sulk about Sirius’ death. Harry looked up at his cousin’s remark to his father, he knew Dudley had gone too far. “Dudley,” uncle Vernon said, his face turning slightly red, as he pulled the paper back up to his face to read, “Go to your room.” Dudley’s reply to this was short and simple, “No.” Harry knew this had been coming for weeks. Each morning his cousin had been getting more brazen, but had never gotten smart with his almost look alike father. Harry could see his uncle’s fat neck getting red, along with the top of his fore head that stuck up over the top of the paper. “What?” Uncle Vernon said through almost gritted teeth. “No,” replied Dudley again. Now Harry and his aunt Petunia were just waiting for the blast. “Dudley, go to your room,” Uncle Vernon repeated. “I won’t,” Dudley said stubbornly, staring what would have been his father straight in the eyes had he not been holding the paper. That had done it. Harry’s uncle flung down the paper onto the table in front of him. “DUDLEY! Go to your Room!” Harry had never seen his uncle get this mad at anyone before but himself. In fact, most of the time, uncle Vernon overlooked his son’s faults and never raised his voice to him more than a half octave higher than the tone he normally spoke to Dudley or his wife Petunia with. “Dudley, if you don’t go to your room this instant, I’ll hold you back from going to Smeltings at the end of the summer, and you’ll sit home eating peaches for the rest of the year while you go to public school!” Uncle Vernon was on his feet now. Dudley, apparently knew that he had gone to far now too. His father had threatened Harry with holding him back from his school many times, but never threatened Dudley with more than grounding him from his TV for a day. “Fine,” he said, as he rose to his feet and stomped off into the hallway, up the stairs and into his room. They heard Dudley’s door slam. Harry imagined, that if his uncle were a dragon, fire would have been coming out of his nose and mouth, because he was steaming mad. Then, before he went to sit down, he turned on Harry. Harry quickly turned his attention to his own bowl of peaches, but too late, he knew his uncle would find something to yell at him for too. “You,” Uncle Vernon growled, Harry looked up and tried to put on as innocent a face as he could. “You. You dare come to this table, My table, to eat with scruffy uncombed hair! Get out of my site you filthy little...” but before his uncle could finish his sentence, Harry was on his feet and making his way toward the hallway, his uneaten bowl of peaches still on the table. As Harry climbed the stairs to his room, he heard his uncle’s chair scraping against the kitchen floor as he sat down again, and then the snap of the paper, and his aunt’s voice, “Vernon, we shouldn’t yell at Dudley, he’s our son….” his aunt’s voice grew softer as he walked into his room, and then was silent as Harry quietly closed his door. Yes, this was the way Harry best liked to spend his time at the Dursley’s, he thought to himself, alone, where he could be left to his own thoughts, but again, he was torn between wanting to be alone, and wanting to be with other people to keep his mind off of Sirius. Harry looked over to the birdcage that sat empty, on the top of his wardrobe. His snowy owl Hedwig had been gone for a couple of days now. He had sent her with a message to Ron, to let him know he was being treated ok, as was requested by The Order of the Phoenix after Harry had gotten off the train from Hogwarts. He remembered this moment as he walked over to his open window and searched the sky for any sign of Hedwig, which there was none. Harry remembered how Lupin, Mr. Weasley, Mad Eye Moody and a few of the others had ganged up on Uncle Vernon at King’s Cross station, and had threatened him, that if they treated Harry badly, in any way, that Harry was to write them, and they would show up on the Dursleys’ door step. This of course, was one of the Dursleys’ worst fears: a gaggle of wizards dressed in cloaks walking up Private Drive, attracting the attention of the neighbors, just before they walked up to number four and rang the bell. The Dursleys’ fear of being turned into rats in their sleep usually kept them at bay for these first few weeks of summer, and in fact, they usually just ignored Harry altogether, as they had done for most of the previous summer as well. There was a big difference in this summer and last summer for Harry though. Harry spent his last summer with the Dursleys, waiting for any word from the wizarding world, or any snippet of news he could get of Voldemort’s return, but none came to him, not even from his friends. This summer, however, he heard from at least two wizards a day, even though he only ever talked to one, about Sirius, and this was his friend Remus Lupin. Lupin had been friends with Harry’s father, and Sirius at Hogwarts, and after. Since Harry had grown up without a father, Sirius had been the next best thing, once Harry had found out that Sirius was his godfather. But now, Sirius was dead, and there was only Lupin. Lupin had taught as Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts during Harry’s third year, and in Harry’s opinion, was the best Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher they had had thus far. Even though Professor Lupin had had to resign his spot as a teacher at Hogwarts because he was a werewolf, Harry still called him Professor, perhaps because he still learned so much from him, just as he had learned so much from Sirius. Harry surveyed the empty street below, possibly because it was still early, and the sun barely risen, Harry thought to himself, the neighborhood children were still inside, and not about their usual raucous summer fun, and maybe, he thought, this was the best time to go and find somewhere else to spend his day, somewhere where he wouldn’t have to hear another one of Dudley’s tantrums at lunch. Harry grabbed his jacket, and wand, and headed out his door. As he walked onto the landing he could hear his aunt and uncle talking again. His wand still in his hand, Harry paused at the top step, not for the fact that his name had come up in his aunt and uncle’s conversation, but because there, on the third to bottom step of the stairs, sat his cousin Dudley. He thought for a second, and then decided to just ignore Dudley and continue on his way, but as Harry came to only a few steps above Dudley, something else in his aunt and uncle’s conversation caught his attention, and he stopped to listen. “But Vernon,” pleaded his aunt, “we can’t just leave Dudley behind while we go on vacation, he’s our son.” “There’s just nothing else to do Petunia. The boy simply won’t listen to reason.” “But where will we leave him?” Harry’s aunt asked with a slight quiver in her voice. Uncle Vernon didn’t answer right away. At this pause, Dudley looked up at Harry, and then held a pudgy finger up to his lips. Before Harry could do anything, his uncle spoke again, “We can leave him with Figg along with the other one.” At this remark Harry’s aunt started to sob, and they could here only muffled bits of what she was saying, “but she’s crazy…never heard the likes of such an idea before…not sure I even know you anymore Vernon….” after this nothing more but her sobs could be heard, and Harry’s uncle said no more. Dudley looked up at Harry again, but still said nothing. Harry put his wand in his back pocket, and looked straight at Dudley. Something strange was going through Harry’s mind. He felt sorry for Dudley. He wasn’t sure why, after all the times Dudley had tattled on Harry, or beat up on him in primary school, or made sure that Harry had had no friends in Little Whinging, but he still felt sorry for him. “C’mon,” Harry said, and he continued down the stairs and out the door, his cousin close behind him. * * * Harry wasn’t sure for how long they walked, or even to where they were walking. If any of the neighbors had seen something strange though, nothing was as strange as the sight of Harry and Dudley walking down the street in the early morning sunlight: Dudley, who was portly, dressed in the newest clothes, with slicked down blond hair, two chins, and a fat neck to rival his aunt Marge’s, and Harry, who was tall, skinny, with untidy jet black hair, a lightning shaped scar on his forehead, glasses, bright green eyes, and wearing Dudley’s old clothes which were far too baggy for him. By the time all of their thoughts were done swirling around their heads, the sun was fully up, and they were nearly all the way across town. It was Dudley who spoke first, “So, what’s Mrs. Figg like?” he asked, with his hands in his pockets. Harry thought about it for a moment before he replied, “She’s alright… her house smells like cats though.” Dudley gave a weak smile and sat down on a green bench in front of the pet store they were in front of, before he looked across the street. “I’m sorry for being such a git,” he said. Harry looked up, more than mildly surprised by his cousin’s apology. “Er, thanks, but which time, I lost count over the years.” Harry gave a sly smile as he glanced at Dudley out of the corner of his eye to see his reaction. “All of them I guess,” he replied. Harry wasn’t entirely sure his cousin was telling the truth. “Even the time when you made me stand in the toilet?” “Well no, that was pretty funny,” Dudley replied, before he looked at Harry with a smile, “but for most of the other stuff.” Harry thought for a moment as he watched a woman pushing a stroller past an antique store across the street before he said, “Thanks.” They both watched people going about their business for a few more minutes, Harry standing there leaning against the hard brick side of the building, and Dudley sitting on the green bench in front of it next to him. Neither of them knew what to do or where to go next, but neither of them wanted to go home, not yet anyway. “What do you think they’ll do when they find out that we’ve gone?” Dudley asked. “Don’t know,” came Harry’s reply, “They’ll probably think I’ve kidnapped you or something and put out an all points bulletin,” Harry finished with a short laugh. Dudley laughed too. “I don’t want to go home Harry.” Harry waited for a second before asking, “Not yet, or ever?” “Both, I think,” Dudley said. “But where would you go?” asked Harry, glancing down at him for a second before looking back up and across the street. Dudley thought for a moment before he said, “We have family that you don’t know about Harry.” Harry thought about what his cousin had just said. They had family that he didn’t know about. What did he mean? Family on his uncle Vernon’s side, or family on his aunt’s side, family that would be directly related to Harry. “What family?” “Grandma and grandpa Evans,” Dudley said, with a look to Harry to see how he would respond. Harry waited, waited for his brain to get the joke. Dudley had to be playing a joke on him, yeah, that was it, he had followed Harry out here to play another joke on him, Harry couldn’t believe why he hadn’t seen this before. Dudley would have never apologized to him, not unless it was part of some elaborate prank. “They’re dead,” Harry said flatly. He wondered what his cousin’s comeback to this would be. Dudley looked up at Harry, hoping to catch his eye, but Harry just stared straight ahead, towards an old man who was limping down the sidewalk on the other side of the street. “Harry,” Dudley began, but before Dudley could say anything else, Harry had stood up straight and begun to walk across the street at a casual pace. “Harry, where are you going?!” Dudley shouted after him. But Harry didn’t answer, he only kept walking. Harry bounded up onto the sidewalk from the street, and continued to walk towards the old man, who then stopped, and turned to face Harry. “Hello Tonks,” Harry said. “How did you know it was me?” she asked him with an astonished look on her face. “You didn’t walk like an old man Tonks,” Harry said. “Hey, who’s that coming across the street towards us Harry?” Tonks asked. He looked over to see Dudley, trying to cross the traffic and follow Harry, who was amused at this, but couldn’t figure out why. “Oh, that’s just my cousin Dudley,” he explained. “Oh,” she replied, “I thought you and your cousin didn’t get along,” she questioned. “We don’t,” Harry replied flatly. He looked over to see how Dudley was doing with the traffic, which wasn’t well at all. He was trying to dart out in front of the slow moving cars, but would then jump back to avoid being run over when the cars wouldn’t stop for him. “What are you doing here Tonks?” Harry asked suddenly. “Oh, well…” She thought for a second, obviously trying to come up with a good excuse, or more like a lie, Harry thought to himself bitterly. After all he had gone through in the past five years, and especially the last year, they still felt a need to lie and to keep secrets from him. Sirius would still be here now if they had only let Harry in on what was going on, if only he, had let Harry in on what was going on, Harry thought resentfully, an anger that he hadn’t felt for weeks arising within him. “I’m 16, not stupid Tonks, I know when you’re lying, just like I knew you weren’t an old man,” Harry finished his thoughts aloud. “Oh, no, I wasn’t going to lie to you Harry,” she said, biting her lip, “I was just trying to think of how to put it so that the Muggles around us wouldn’t hear, or understand.” She motioned around her as she said this, but to no effect on Harry as the only Muggles nearby were across the street, or driving by in cars with closed windows. Tonks apparently noticed this as well, because she put her hands back down to her sides fairly quickly. “You don’t have to lie to me Tonks, next time you can just tell me when you were sent to keep an eye on me,” Harry said sourly. “I’m sorry Harry,” she said, “I just didn’t know how you’d take it with what all happened a week ago. I shouldn’t have lied,” she looked down at her feet when she finished. Harry, also looking at his feet, looked up and said, “No, I’m sorry, it’s fine, really.” Tonks looked away at Harry’s words, but Harry was sure he saw a single tear in her eye just before she had. Harry wasn’t sure if it was what he said, or if Tonks was crying for Sirius. “Listen, I have to go Harry,” she said, looking back at Harry, completely tear free. “Oh,” Harry began, looking back at his feet, but before he could say another word, he looked back up, and Tonks had gone. Just then Dudley came running up behind Harry, panting like he had run 5 miles. “Hey Ha, Harry, w, what was all that about, who was that o, old man?” he panted “Just somebody I know,” he replied. Harry let Dudley rest for a minute or two before he said, “C’mon, we should go somewhere else, we’re attracting too much attention.” With a pained look on his face, Dudley followed Harry down the sidewalk and toward the outskirts of town. Harry and Dudley walked along silently for almost another hour. They passed the edge of town, and walked down a somewhat busy road, before turning off onto a less busy country road that wound through fields, and small patches of forest here and there, finally stopping to rest under a large fir tree along the side of the road, no doubt on some farmer’s property. Dudley practically collapsed onto the hard cold earth that surrounded the trunk of the tree. Harry followed suit only seconds after, sitting on Dudley’s left, and leaning up against the tree. For what was a fairly cool summer, this was easily the hottest day, or perhaps it was so only in Harry and Dudley’s minds because they had been walking in the sun for so long. Harry sat, listening to his cousin’s panting, and then realized how thirsty he himself was, and how thirsty Dudley must be. He listened hard, and amazed at his luck, heard what sounded like a creek running somewhere behind them. Harry staggered to his feet and walked toward the sound of water, which led him through some trees and thick underbrush, until Harry spotted the clearest coolest looking stream he had ever seen in his life. Just before kneeling down to drink water himself, he shouted, “Dudley! Hey Dudley! I found water! Come and have some!” A few seconds later Dudley came tearing through the trees and bushes, and ran right into the stream, before finally kneeling down in the shallow fast moving water to drink. Harry also kneeled to drink, only with a little less fervor than his cousin. The cool water reached Harry’s parched lips, and for a few seconds he was in bliss. Harry finally fell back onto his hind end, his arms around his knees, as he watched Dudley gulp what seemed to be like pints of water at a time, before he pulled himself out of the water to come and sit next to Harry. A slight breeze picked up and had a tremendous affect on cooling them both further. Harry lay back onto his back, his left knee still arched, and he looked up to the canopy of trees above them, his hands behind his head. Harry could see little bits of blue sky above them. He closed his eyes, just for a second to rest, but before he knew it, the birds’ chirping and the breeze rustling through the leaves died away, and Harry fell asleep. C H A P T E R T W O A Stranger in the Forest Rae had always known that there was something special about her. Strange things always seemed to happen whenever she was upset, or angry, or in trouble or worried. For instance, when she was five, and got caught taking an apple from a street vendor’s cart in upstate New York, all of a sudden she was able to run twice as fast as she normally would have been able too. Not wanting to push her luck once she found out that she could not run that fast an hour later, she decided to stay at least four blocks away from that vendor’s selling area for two months. Then there was the time when Rae was being chased by a group of angry dogs in Washington State when she was ten. Miraculously, when she was cornered in a dead end and was not able to climb over a tall metal fence, not only did the dogs suddenly lose interest, but she was also able to clear the 6-foot fence in one bound. On top of all this, every time Rae even started to get a hint of the symptoms of a cold or the flu, the next day she felt completely normal, and it was as if she could not get sick and miss a day of school even if she tried. Now Rae was 15, almost 16, and she knew why she was different. Almost three years before, a man had come up to Rae while she was walking down the street one day in Toronto. He was of medium stature, with fairly short brown hair, green eyes, and bushy eyebrows that threatened to get lost in his almost endless tangle of bangs. Rae had gone for a walk near the park that day, thinking that it would just be another normal day by her standards, but went home knowing that she was all too wrong. Just as the man was about to pass her on her right, he stopped, did a double take of her, and said in what Rae thought to be an Irish/British accent, “Blimey! It can’t be.” Curious, Rae had replied, “Sorry, but what cant be?” The man wasted no time in stuttering, “Y Y You’re it, h her I mean, the one.” Rae, wondering why this man was stringing her along asked, “What one? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “The chosen one, sent by the prophets to help in the w war, to h help him. No no, I cannot be seen talking to you. Here, this will help you on your journey to greatness.” The man had thrust something into her arms, along with a small book, before bowing his head and hurrying away without another word, but clearly shaking his head in disbelief. Rae had looked down at what the man had given to her so quickly, it was what appeared to be a scratched stick that was about a foot long, and then there was the book. “Greshen’s Standard Book of Spells Grade Three,” she read under her breath, highly confused. “And just what do I need with this old stick?” she had asked no one in particular. For some reason, she wasn’t sure why, but she pocketed it. Rae now knew that the stick she had called “old” was really a wand, and she now also knew that she was a young wizard, who was supposed to be going to what would be her sixth year in a wizarding school, had she gone to a wizarding school for the first five years. This was where she was going now, to apply at another wizarding school. The wizard she had previously apprenticed under had assured Rae, that no matter how biased the other Wizarding schools were, the one she was going to was being run by a kind, and very unbiased man. Rae was on a mission to deliver a letter to this man, but she knew that this had just been Sirius’ way of giving her an excuse to go and register. He had told her almost a year ago, that when she was ready, she was to give the headmaster the letter, and then ask to apply. Rae had not had a chance to go and register directly after she left her apprenticeship, on the account that she was being followed, by someone that no one would ever want to be followed by. So Rae had gone off on a different quest for the time, determined to lose him before she started a new life. Wind whipped through Rae’s long dark brown hair as she flew towards the school. She knew she was still hours away, but she wasn’t worried, she knew her new broom could carry her, that’s what the Firebolt was meant to do. Rae scanned the scene below her, she knew no one could see her on account of the charm she had placed on herself and her broom, but she still looked below her all the same, just to be safe. She had been flying over the top of what appeared to be a very dense forest for the last few minutes now, and the last town was at least ten minutes back. Just as Rae looked back below her broom again, she saw a big black round ball flying toward her. Rae swerved to the right just in time. “What the…?” Rae said to herself, looking behind her, “A Bludger? Way out here?” She looked down again, but saw no sign of any Quidditch game, or of any people at all. “Whizzzz!” Rae felt the black Bludger graze the left side of her head as it came back for another attack. “Oh shooot.” Rae didn’t have time to swerve or dive this time, the Bludger was too fast at turning around, not to mention that she was flying almost right into it. The Bludger hit her right on her right temple. Rae slipped sideways off her broom, and barely caught herself. She could feel blood trickling down the side of her face and onto her cloak. She looked up at her broom, and didn’t know how much longer she could hold on with just one hand, all the time the Bludger coming back to try and unseat her. Rae lifted her legs as the black ball came back for another try at it, but missed again and zoomed right under her. She put her legs down, only a little to quickly, because the broom interpreted this as a coax to descend, and fast. The trees seemed to be flying up toward her, and before she had time to react, she went right through the canopy. Rae fell through what seemed to her like millions of branches, until finally she hit the ground, hard. She lay there in a heap for a few seconds, before she rolled over onto her stomach and pushed herself up into a sitting position. Rae felt her head only to bring her hand down, covered in dark red blood. She looked all around her, and then up to the tree branches. There was no sign of her broom or the Bludger. Rae felt in her cloak for her wand, and found it unharmed, along with the letter she was to deliver. She pulled out her wand, but just before she could stand up, she heard a crack nearby, as if someone had stepped on a very large branch and snapped it, only 20 yards away. She froze, if her heart was beating before, it was nothing compared to how it was beating now. To Rae it felt as if it would pound right out of her chest. Seconds passed with no other sound, but Rae kept still, her wand raised, ready to attack if it was some large animal, or worse. Another few seconds passed before, “Snap, SNAP.” More twigs breaking, closer this time. Rae craned her neck to see around a large tree a few yards in front of her, when a tall black haired man with almost shoulder length hair, and black robes stepped out from behind it. The man froze at the sight of Rae, they locked eyes for a second and then Rae said, “Back off death eater!” Rae raised her wand higher, she meant to stand up, but her legs didn’t want to move, and somehow seemed like jelly. The man just stood there for a second, taking in the sight of Rae, torn cloak, dirty face and clothes, gash on her temple and all. “I mean it, back off death eater. Go back and tell that git Voldemort that you work for to shove his head down a dirty toilet and leave it there.” The dark haired man flinched slightly at the mention of Voldemort’s name, but didn’t seem taken aback by what Rae had told him to tell Voldemort, instead, he looked for an instant as if he might have been slightly impressed. Then he said, “What have we here, obviously no Muggle.” “Not what you were hoping for?” Rae hazarded. “Didn’t expect someone who would fight back death eater?” The man waited for a moment before he replied, “I am no death eater.” Rae considered this possibility for a moment. He certainly did look the type. “Roll up you’re sleeve,” she ordered him. Again the man seemed to be considering her. But after only a few seconds, he began to unbutton his left shirtsleeve, and roll it up. There, where his sleeve had previously been, was an ink black tattoo of a snake crawling out of a human skull. “Ha, I knew it you,” Rae said, glaring at him, her wand still raised. He started to roll down his sleeve again, and said, “I was a death eater, but I’m not now,” while he was buttoning his sleeve he said, “I’ve never seen you up at the school before. You obviously are not from around here. My name is Severus Snape, and I am the Potions master at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” Rae, still staring at the man, thought for a moment, and then lowered her wand. She looked at her shoes for a second before looking back up at the Professor. “You’re right, I’m not from around here. I’m sorry for the mistake Professor.” “Quite alright,” he replied. He took in the sight of Rae again before he said, “You’re injured.” “Just a Bludger gone astray up above the canopy, I didn’t swerve in time to miss it.” Professor Snape walked over and took a seat on a log in a ray of sunlight a few feet away to Rae’s left. Rae looked over at him for a second to see what he was doing. Then Professor Snape said, “Give me your wand a moment.” Rae switched her wand from one hand to the other and then gave it to the Professor. He looked at it a second, and then threw it over into a small clearing a few feet away that was draped in bright rays of sunlight. “Hey! What did you do that for?” she asked him angrily, and half stunned, as she got up and went over to get her wand. When Rae had returned to her seat in the dirt, she looked over at Snape, hoping to get an idea why he had just done what he did, but what met her eyes was the very puzzled and almost confused face of the Professor. “Well?” she asked him again. Snape looked like he was thinking for a second, before he said, “You shouldn’t have trusted me with that; you trust people too easily.” Rae could tell that he had just made that up off the top of his head, but all the same she replied, “I know who I can trust.” He looked back at her in an ‘And-just-how-do-you-know you-can-trust-me’ sort of way. But before Harry could find out the girl’s answer, a very loud noise woke him up. Next Chapter |