A/N: New to writing and had this stuck in my head, please be gentle. Disclaimer: I obviously own none of the rights to the Harry Potter universe or the cover image. The plot is mine but based on a song I heard recently.
"Stop, thief!"
Run – faster, faste-
A single misstep and I nearly fall face first into the cobblestone street. Instead a hand clamps around my shoulder yanking me backwards and into my captors arms.
"Got ya, ya fithy bitch!" Panic begins to set in as I peer up into the rat face of the stall owner, he's wheezing slightly and his sagging belly jiggles with the extra effort of the chase and he clutches at me. He lunges towards the withered apple in my hands. I try to wriggle from his grasp and we each struggle to get the upper hand.
"Stop this instant and unhand the child!" An authoritative voice calls from the surrounding throng of onlookers. An older woman pushes through the crowd and pulls back her hood. Murmurs come from the crowd and some step away with pinched uneasy faces.
"What is she accused of?" the woman darts a glance at me. Stringy hair, unwashed face, there isn't much to see. I flush under her attention.
"Little witc- … bitch!" The shopkeep eyes bulge as he realizes his mistake. "No disrespect Minerva," he rushes to explain. "She stole an apple from my cart!" he blusters.
Minerva clicks her tongue. "I'd hardly call that an apple Julius. Poor withered thing." Her gaze darts back to me, another assessing moment. "You tried to pay me in those apples the last time your Marta had her chest cold. And that was months ago. Consider this my payment." Her hands clasps onto my other shoulder and she begins to lead me out of his clutches.
"But - !" Julius is at a loss – he is an upstanding citizen! Some in the crowd nod at Minerva and begin to shuffle off. He is a known spend-thrift and penny pincher.
"Remember this Julius, when you need my care and poultices in the future." Minerva gives him a gimlet stare and pulls me further towards her and away from his slackened grip.
Julius pulls himself together with a huff. "Next time I see ya thieving, I'll take a hand as payment!" He scoffs into my face recognizing a losing battle. With one more bluster he heads back to his unattended stall and pushes through the last of the onlookers.
The crowd has returned to their gossip as the morning market only affords so much time to gather and trade in secrets as well as goods. While some continue to glance back at us whispering behind then hands.
"You're the forest crone." I stutter in a burst of emboldened speech. I notice quickly that we are near the edge of the market and thus close to the forest. Completely alone.