Alright, so I haven't gone and died or dropped off the face of the Earth, I've been working on this! The inspiration hit me one day in June when I was home alone, I don't remember why, but the plot bunny just started kicking my brain in this annoying repetitive way, so I decided to let him have his way. *glares at evil bunny which is now relaxing in my brain* So anyway, if you must know, this is my first Harry Potter fic. Please be brutally honest with me when you review, which I know you will all do, even if you're one of those anonymous people. So, I'm gonna shut up now and let you read. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: If I owned this plot, I would be J.K. Rowling. If I was J.K. Rowling, I would be incredibly rich, famous, and I would have an incredibly cool English accent. Since I am sadly none of these, I am not her, and only take credit for my characters and my plot. Sue me if you want, but I must warn you; I'm incredibly poor, you'll only get a handful of change and some pocket lint. Shutting up now. ^_^
Harry Potter and the American Transfer
In the summer vacation between third and fourth year, Dumbledore sends Harry, Ron, and Hermione, accompanied by Snape, to America to pick up a transfer student there. But what none of them realize is that this rebellious bad girl has dark secrets that may cause everyone around her to be in danger. Will the Golden Trio be able to figure out her mysterious past and save her from herself, or will they find they've bitten off more than they can chew?
Chapter 1: Meetings, Beer, and Cigarettes
Harry, Ron, and Hermione were in Hermione's room. It was summer break, and Harry had just been rescued from the Dursleys and taken to Hermione's house. Harry and Ron were playing Wizard's Chess while Hermione looked on. It was Harry's turn, and he'd just found a move in which he could possibly put Ron into checkmate.
"Knight to--," he started, but was interrupted by a knock on the door. It was Hermione's father.
"Children?" he called through the door, "There's someone here to see you. Come downstairs, please."
The three friends left their game and went down the stairs, Hermione saying, "Thanks, Dad." They got to the bottom of the stairs, and became excited when they saw who was standing in the living room.
"Professor Dumbledore!" Harry exclaimed, "What are you doing here?" The man chuckled.
"I'm fine, thank you. How are you?"
Harry's cheeks reddened. "Fine, thank you." He then spotted who was standing behind the man. "Professor Snape?"
The man stepped more fully out from behind Dumbledore, scowling slightly. He did not enjoy visiting the Golden Trio during summer break.
"Potter, Weasley, Granger," he said by way of greeting. "I trust your summers have proven enjoyable so far?" he asked, not really caring.
"Yes, sir," Hermione answered, "our summers have been quite enjoyable, thanks for asking."
"Um, excuse me, Professor Dumbledore," Ron piped up, "I don't want to sound rude, but why are you here in the middle of the summer? Have we done something wrong?"
Dumbledore chuckled. "No, Ronald, you and your friends are not in trouble. However, that does not mean that this visit is a lighthearted one."
"Whatever do you mean, Professor?" Hermione asked.
The headmaster sighed. "Why don't we all sit down? What I am not about to tell you is either easy or short, and I would prefer it if you paid attention to me rather than to your aching feet."
They smiled, and after they had all been seated, he began.
"I suppose I should first tell you why we are becoming involved in all this. A few days ago, I received an owl from a parent by the name of Emily Biluxy." He handed a picture of her to the three friends to help them visualize whom they were talking about. "She was quite desperate, actually. It seems that her husband, David Biluxy," the picture changed to a stern-looking man, "graduated from Hogwarts some seventeen years ago, the same time as your father, Harry," The boy in question looked dumbstruck. "Anyway, she seemed to be begging me to enroll their daughter, Samantha Biluxy, into this coming school year, despite the fact that she would be in fourth year," the picture changed to an angry-looking teenage girl. "Emily tells me that for some reason unbeknownst to her, none of the American schools accepted her."
"Excuse me, sir," Hermione interjected, "but why did you say American schools? Surely they wouldn't want to go that far just for school?"
Dumbledore smiled "I'm glad you caught that, Miss Granger. The Biluxys live in America; Florida, to be exact. But I digress. I owled the principals-headmasters-of the various wizarding schools in America, and they all told me the same thing. Miss Biluxy does indeed have magical ability, but none of them wanted to teach her."
"What?" Harry exclaimed, "That's insane! If she has magical abilities, then teach her!" The other two-thirds of the Golden Trio spoke of their agreement.
"If you're quite done," Dumbledore lightly chastised them, "the reason none of them wanted to teach her is because she is almost fourteen years old and she has been in her local juvenile detention center no less than thirty times.
There was a collective gasp from the Golden Trio and Snape.
"Thirty times?" asked Ron. "What for?"
"That's just it, Mr. Weasley. Most of the time it's for stealing, but sometimes it's been for fighting, and even for illegal possession and dealing of alcohol and drugs to underage citizens a few times."
"Blimey," said Ron, dazed.
"What does she steal?" asked Harry.
"That's just it, Harry, most of the time it's been food from convenience stores, but a few times they caught her stealing beer and cigarettes. The troubling thing is, there have been so many beer robberies in her town that I can't help but think that those few times weren't the only time she stole some. Her father has paid bail for her every time, but I don't think that will last too much longer."
"Are her parents abusive?" asked Hermione.
"As far as I know, they aren't."
Dumbledore pulled two vials of a blue shimmering substance from his robes along with a miniature Pensive, which, with a spell, he enlarged to a normal size. "I did, however, manage to obtain memories of her home and out of home life to look at. This is a Pensive. Once the memories are put in here, we will be able to enter and watch what is going on. However, the people inside the memory will not be able to hear or see us." He uncorked one vial, setting the other on a nearby coffee table. He poured the memory out, saying, "We will first examine her home life. Severus, if you will?"
The potions master stepped forward, bending down until his face touched the surface of the water-like substance, and was gone a moment later. Hermione followed suit, pursued by Ron, and finally Harry before Dumbledore.
Harry fell to the ground and was quickly lifted up by Ron and Hermione, who asked if he was alright. Nodding the affirmative, Harry looked around. They were in a lavish entryway, with pale blue walls and beige carpet, a short hallway led to a kitchen where Emily Biluxy was cooking supper, judging by the time. Dumbledore landed next to them, and a few seconds later the large white front door slammed shut, Samantha Biluxy being the one who'd slammed it. She was wearing a black jacket, white t-shirt, baggy black capris pants, and black tennis shoes. Her straight black hair was cut just at her shoulders with straight bangs covering her forehead. She was as pale as death, and she looked angry.
"Samantha, is that you?" Emily called from the kitchen. Samantha rolled her large, dark emerald eyes.
"No, it's the tooth fairy. How many times have I told you to call me Sam?" she said exasperatedly. Emily came out to give her daughter a hug, but was pushed away.
"Let me smell your breath," Emily gently demanded.
Sam quickly became angry. "No, mom, I'm not gonna let you smell my breath!" she shouted, "It's none of your goddamn business what I do!"
Emily ignored this. "You've been drinking again. Empty your pockets."
"No! I'm not gonna prove myself to you!"
"Empty your pockets."
"I said no!"
"Samantha Catherine Biluxy, if you do not empty your pockets right now, I will tell your father about your drinking habits and let him deal with you."
"Fine. God, mom, don't have a heart attack."
Two packets of cigarettes fell to the ground, cigarettes falling out of one, along with a cell phone and a lighter.
"I'll take these," said Emily, picking up the cigarettes and lighter.
"Can I go now?" asked Sam. Emily nodded the affirmative, and Sam picked up her cell phone and quickly left. The memory changed and changed again, over and over, and each time it went the same, the only difference being the location of the yelling match. Finally, Dumbledore and Snape dragged the children out of the Pensive, returning again to the Granger's living room. The children looked horrified.
"How do her parents stand it?" whispered Hermione. Harry and Ron just stared blankly at the Pensive.
"Shall I wait a day before showing you the other memories?" Dumbledore asked. All three of the children shook their heads, so he took the second vial out and poured it in, watching as it spread throughout the surface.
This time, when Harry landed in the memory, he was in a Muggle convenience store that was empty except for an old man at the cash register. Once again, a few seconds after Dumbledore landed, the memory began.
Six teens entered the store; five boys and one girl. Sam. They all had jackets on with the hood up to avoid security cameras. One of the boys ran and grabbed the old man by the hair, forcing his head back and holding a pocket knife to his throat.
"Go!" he shouted.
Sam ran to the beer cooler, grabbing sixpacks and handing one to each of the four remaining boys before grabbing two herself and running out the door, followed by the boy with the knife. The security alarm had been set off by the first boy, and now they were flat-out sprinting to get away from the store. The children and two professors followed them, stopping in a forest clearing.
The teens were laughing hysterically, sitting down and each opening a can of beer. Sam was the first to actually speak.
"Oh, man, did ya'll see the look on his face? Priceless!"
The others followed suit, making jokes about the robbery while swigging beer. Then one boy with sandy blonde hair and dark brown eyes tapped Sam on the shoulder.
"Yeah?" she asked.
"Look what I swiped you!" he said in a sing-song voice, holding two packs of cigarettes and a lighter in front of her face.
"No way, thanks Josh!" Sam exclaimed, hugging him.
"No prob, babe." Josh hugged her back.
There were gagging sounds, and one of the boys, the one who'd held the knife, pretended to pass out. "Oh, gag me!" he shouted.
Sam narrowed her eyes playfully. "Shut up, Ricky."
She opened one of the packs of cigarettes. "Who wants one?" Everyone did, and soon the whole clearing was full of smoke. Conversation resumed, and not too much later, Sam was sound asleep with her head in Josh's lap, an empty beer can in one hand and a burnt-out cigarette in the other.
"Dude, how many beers did she have?" asked one boy.
"Well, she finished her six pack," replied Josh.
"She took, like, two of mine," added Ricky.
"Eight beers. How many is her tipsy point?" asked the first boy.
"Like, about five or six," answered Josh.
"Damn is she gonna have the hangover form hell tomorrow," state another boy, puffing on a cigarette.
"I'm gone," said the last boy, getting up and leaving while the others laughed. "Peace out."
The memory ended and changed. This time, they were in the middle of a street in the dead of night. There was a ring of teens encircling two lone ones. In the middle stood Sam and a boy they recognized from the other memory. Sam was standing still, looking calm, and the other boy looked as though he was about to fist-fight her.
"A'ight Bobby," Sam was saying, "you think ya'll can land one on me? Go ahead and try. You've got three chances, you hear? If you can land one on me, then I'll go swipe you a six pack myself, without any help. But if you can't, ya'll are gonna be so bruised that your momma's gonna wonder whether or not she accidentally got knocked up by some black guy instead of your daddy. Get it?"
Bobby nodded, looking intimidated yet determined. They slapped hands, circling each other for a minute before Bobby decided to strike. He threw a punch, aiming at Sam's gut, but she just stepped to the side, saying, "Strike one!"
Bobby recovered, pulling up his hands and aiming at her face. Again she dodged. "Strike two!" He looked more determined and frightened than ever, and he once again aimed for Sam's gut. She dodged.
"Uh-oh! Three strikes and you're out!"
Sam punched him hard in the jaw, sending Bobby to the ground. She walked over to him and looked at him for a second before kicking him over and over. The boys around them thought this was wonderful, because they all started yelling and cheering her on. Sam stopped after a minute, watching as Bobby stayed curled up, breathing hard and looking pretty bad. She crouched down next to him and said, "Hey, ya'll alright? Come on, we're gonna go and get you better, ya' hear? Let's go get you cleaned up so your momma doesn't have a heart attack."
She reached a hand down, and Bobby took it. She stood up, pulling the hurt boy up with her. Someone handed her a beer can, which she opened up and gulped half down before handing it to Bobby, who smiled.
"Thanks, Sam," he whispered.
"Hey, no prob," she replied, smiling, "Maybe next time you'll be quicker on your punches."
The memory ended, and the five wizards were shown many more memories, all of which had to do with stealing, fighting, and running away from the police. Again Dumbledore and Snape dragged the children out of the Pensive and into the Granger's living room. Hermione's eyes glistened with unshed tears.
"How can she do that to herself?" she asked.
"Quite easily, apparently," answered Ron.
"Professor Dumbledore, why are you telling us all this?" Harry asked, purposefully leaving out the part about wanting to know why on earth Snape of all people was there.
"I thought you would never ask, Harry," Dumbledore replied, smiling. "There are two reasons. First of all, I couldn't bear to let someone as young as you three go through her entire life like that, for she most certainly would if we did not act now. Secondly, I have reasons to believe that she is a very powerful witch, even if she doesn't know it yet. Simply put, people with power levels like hers ought to be trained so that they do not endanger themselves or anyone around them.
"I am going to allow her to go to Hogwarts, but I do not want her to attend unwillingly. That's where you four come in. I want all of you to go and convince her to come, and then take her back here for training. After all, she will be in Fourth Year; we wouldn't want her to embarrass herself, now would we? Since she is completely untrained, we need to catch her up. What do you say? Will you do it?"
Hermione didn't hesitate. "I'm going. She needs to be helped, even if she doesn't want it," she said.
"I agree with Hermione," Harry said, "I'm going, too."
"Well, I wouldn't want to be left out, now would I?" joked Ron. "I'm going as well."
Dumbledore looked pleased. "Excellent! You will be departing tomorrow at five o'clock in the evening, which if eleven o'clock in the morning Ms. Biluxy's time. You will be staying in a hotel just a few blocks away from her house. Take as long as you need. We will see you tomorrow. Sleep well, children."
"Good evening, Professor Dumbledore, Professor Snape." The three waved, and a second later, the two adults were gone. Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at each other; nervous about the assignment they'd just been given.
"Blimey," stated Ron. "d'you think she'll want to come?"
Harry shrugged while Hermione shook her head uncertainly.
"I don't know, Ron," she said slowly. "I don't know."
The next day, the three friends started packing their trunks for the trip. They were a bit nervous after seeing her behaviour, but they were determined to bring her back willingly. The day passed quickly, and soon they were dragging their trunks downstairs to where Dumbledore and Snape, who was wearing a Muggle business suit, were waiting. They each had their trunks reduced and made as light as a feather by Snape, and they put the miniatures in their pockets.
"Well, are you ready to go?" Dumbledore asked. They all nodded their heads, and he pulled an old Muggle boot out of his robes.
"This is a portkey," he explained. "When I say 'go', you all put one finger on it and you'll be taken to your pre-determined destination, which in this case is an alley near Samantha's house. Understand?" Again, everyone nodded, positioning themselves around the boot. "Good, good. On the count of three, I will say 'go'. From that moment, you will have one second to get your finger on that boot. So, good luck, and let's hope you succeed. Three, two, one, go!"
The Golden Trio and Snape put their finger on the boot. A second later, they got the feeling of being grabbed behind the navel by a hook and being swung through the air. They took off, and a moment later, they landed hard in an alley. They took a moment to clear their spinning heads, and then stood up, Snape taking over.
"Listen up, you three," he started, "We are in a Muggle city called Rockledge. This alley is right between Ms. Biluxy's house and one of her neighbor's houses. We are going to go and ask Emily Biluxy, Samantha's mother, if she is in. All clear?"
There were nods all around, so Snape turned around and walked out of the alley and onto the sidewalk, the Golden Trio following behind. They walked up white stairs to the Biluxy's front porch, and Snape knocked on the front door. Emily Biluxy answered, cracking the door open so that only her face showed.
"Hello?" she asked with a slight Southern accent, "Can I help you?"
"Yes," Snape replied, "We're looking for Samantha. Is she home?"
Emily's eyes widened. "You're British. Are you from that school?"
Snape's eyebrow rose. "You mean Hogwarts?" She nodded. "Yes, the headmaster sent us."
"Come on in." She opened up the door wider and stepped back to allow them in, shutting the door behind them.
"I didn't see her last night," she said worriedly. "But I may have missed her. Hold on, let me check her room." She jogged up a flight of stairs and went out of sight. The three friends shared a look before she came back, looking more worried than ever.
"She's not in there." She looked as if she might cry. "Hold on a sec, let me try and call her." Emily walked into the kitchen and picked up a cordless phone, quickly dialing a number. She stood waiting for someone to answer, but no one did.
"I'm sorry, she's ignoring me. Why don't you try coming back later?"
Snape nodded. "We'll be back later this evening. Good day." He motioned to the three teens that it was time to leave.
"I'm sorry," Emily said again.
"There's nothing to be sorry for," Snape assured. He walked down the stairs after the trio.
"We shall scope out the city. It will give us a better idea of where everything lies, in case we have to stay here for a while. Come, we are wasting time."
The teens nodded their heads and set off after their potions teacher.
"What is with all these fourth of July sales?" Ron asked, "What's so special about the fourth of July anyway?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Ronald, don't you know anything? The fourth of July is the day in the year 1776 when America declared their independence from us."
"Well, why would they want to do that? I mean, we're nice blokes. Why—"
"Shhh!" Harry stopped him, standing in the middle of the sidewalk.
"Oh yes, Harry, go ahead and start talking; I wasn't in the middle of a sent—"
"Shut up, Ron! I think I heard something!"
They heard a noise coming form a nearby alley.
"I hear it, too," Hermione said.
"It sounds like a wounded animal or something," stated Ron.
Snape took charge. "I'm going to go and see. You three must stay behind me at all times, we don't know what it is. Understand?"
The trio nodded and followed their professor, all four clutching their wands in their pockets. They came to the end of the alley, and saw a form lying prone against some trashcans and a piece of wall. The four wizards gasped as they realized who the person lying there was. It was Sam.
"Oh, my God," Hermione whispered, eyes glistening.
As they came closer, they saw that she was semi-conscious, but fading fast. Her pale skin was covered in bruises, and she had a split lip. Her arm was bent at an odd angle, and the four realized that it was broken. Snape crouched down and grabbed her arm, ignoring the whimpers, and pushed the two pieces back in place, glad that it was such a clean break. He muttered a spell, and the pieces of bone mended back together.
"Potter, Weasley, Granger, pay attention," he barked, "You never know when you might need to use one of these methods."
He pulled out a jar of cream from his pocket and placed it on the ground next to him.
"Ennervate," he muttered, waking the girl up.
"Huh? What?" she mumbled as she awoke. She noticed Snape crouching in front of her and backpedaled.
"Who are you?" she asked.
"Someone who can help," Snape replied. "Now sit still, I have something to put on those bruises that will make them disappear quickly."
Sam considered him for a moment and then nodded, holding out an arm. "Okay," she said.
Snape twisted open the cap of the jar, removing it and placing it on the ground next to him. He cradled the jar in one hand while scooping out a bit of cream with the other. He put the jar down and took her hand with his now-empty one, stretching her arm out. He started rubbing the cream on her arm, apologizing when she shivered.
"Sorry, it's a bit cold."
Sam sucked in a breath through her teeth. "S'alright, I'll get used to it."
The trio looked at each other, dumbfounded. Snape had apologized for something? And actually being gentle? Of they didn't know better, they'd have thought he'd gone mad.
Snape finished her arm and let go of it, getting some more cream.
"I'm going to get your other arm now, alright?"
Sam nodded, and he began rubbing the cream onto her skin. A few minutes later, he was done with both her arms and her legs. He was about to work on her neck, which had bruises on it that indicated that someone had tried to strangle her, when she pulled away, barely concealed fear on her face.
"Um, do you mind if I have a cigarette first?" she asked. "It'll help be calm down. Please?"
Snape considered it for a moment. As much as he didn't like the habit, if that's what it took to calm her down, then Merlin knew that he should let her have one. He nodded.
"Thanks. You want one?"
"No, thank you. I don't smoke."
She shrugged, lighting the cigarette between her teeth. "Suit yourself." A few minutes later she dropped the halfway burnt-out cigarette, grinding it out with her shoe.
"Alright, I'm ready."
Snape took some of the cream and rubbed it on her neck, being even more gentle than before. He felt her stiffen and he reduced his touch so that he was barely touching her skin at all. He finished quickly and moved to her face, one hand placed on the back of her head while the other hand spread the cream on her face, working rather quickly and finishing soon.
"There, all done." Most of the bruises on her arms and legs had already faded.
"Thanks," Sam said gratefully. Her mother would've killed her if she saw all those bruises.
"You're quite welcome. Come, let's get you home."
Sam looked surprised and wary. "You know where I live?"
Snape looked amused. "Of course I do, I know your mother."
"Oh." She stood up and took a step forward, almost falling down but for Snape catching her. She grinned sheepishly. "Guess I'm more tired than I thought."
Snape could smell alcohol on her breath and correctly guessed that she wasn't completely sober. He knew that she would never make it to her house on her own two feet, so he picked her up, bridal-style, intending to carry her home. To say that Sam was startled at the sudden departure from the ground would be an understatement.
"HEY!" she shouted, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Snape ignored the profanity, although his ears were ringing from the shout.
"I am carrying you home," he answered, "You can relax, I won't hurt you. Just ask these three." He nodded his head towards Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who'd watched the entire exchange. Sam, realizing this, turned a light shade of crimson at the fact that people her age had seen her in such a weak position. They would never be intimidated by her.
Snape turned toward the Golden Trio. "You three, follow me," he barked. He spun around on his heel, frightening Sam. "You're alright, I've got you," he comforted her. The three friends shared a look that said quite clearly, "Who is he and what has he done to Professor Snape?" They quickly followed Snape, who'd already left the alley and was heading down the sidewalk at an alarming speed.
A few blocks later, Sam was asleep, one hand clutching a handful of Snape's shirt. Said Professor Snape was growing steadily more and more irritated at the three friends who were following behind him, who had been whispering ever since Sam fell asleep. It had started when Hermione had said, "Did you notice how much they look alike?"
"What do you mean, Hermione?" asked Harry.
"Honestly, Harry, don't you have eyes? Just look for yourself, you'll see."
Harry and Ron looked, comparing the two. They both had straight black hair and pale skin. It wouldn't be hard to imagine them being related.
"You're right, Hermione," said Harry. "Are they related?"
"Woah," stated Ron, his imagination already running away from him. "Maybe he's her dad. That would be beyond creepy."
"It would be if it was true, which it isn't," stated Hermione matter-of-factly.
"What makes you say that?" asked Harry.
She rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on, you two; use your brains for once in your lives. Snape lives in Britain; Sam's mother lives in America, that's the only way she would have that Southern accent. It's completely illogical to think that Snape is Sam's father."
"Well, you never know," argued Ron. "He could've been sent here on some super-secret You-Know-Who mission, met Sam's mom, and –,"
Snape chose that moment to lose his patience. He stopped dead, turning to face the three teens quickly, anger plain on his face.
"Hasn't anyone ever—," he spat venomously, stopping when he felt the hand holding part of his shirt clench. He looked down, and sure enough, Sam's face was scrunched up in fear. "You're alright," he comforted. He felt her grip loosen slightly and saw her face smooth into an indicator of a peaceful sleep. He looked back up at the three teens, erasing the anger and most of the irritation out of his voice.
"Haven't you ever been told that it's rude to whisper in front of people?" he asked. "Come, it's getting late."
Snape turned around and started walking away, the Golden Trio following behind, cowed into silence.
About a block away form her house, Sam yawned hugely and opened her eyes, looking horrified that Snape was still carrying her.
"Hello, Sleeping Beauty," Snape joked.
Sam frowned. "Don't call me that. Where are we?"
"About a block from your house."
"And could you please explain to me why you're still carrying me around?"
"It's not in my nature to dump a sleeping child on the ground and tell them to walk, especially if said child had just recently been beaten black and blue."
"I'm not a child. You just passed my house, by the way."
"Did I?" Snape looked around. "It seems I did. Come along, you three."
Sam started when she realized the three teens were still there. "Let me walk," she demanded.
Snape looked into her pleading yet determined dark emerald eyes and found he couldn't say no. "Alright, just be careful." She nodded, and he put her down.
"Thanks." She took a few steps back, away from the four. "So, um, I'll just be going now, and maybe I'll see you around. Bye." She turned around and made it about two steps before someone grabbed her wrist. She wrenched her arm out of their grasp and swirled around; stopping when she saw it was one of the kids her age.
"No," he said. "I have a feeling that if we just let you go, you won't just go home. Am I right?"
Sam nodded her head. "Yeah, you're right—uh—what's your name?"
His eyes widened in realization. "Oh! I guess we never did tell you our names." He gestured towards himself. "I'm Harry Potter." He waited for a second, waiting for some sign of recognition, mentally breathing a sigh of relief when none was forthcoming. He gestured to the red-headed boy behind him. "This is Ron Weasley." To the brown-haired girl, "This is Hermione Granger." To the man who'd healed her, "And this is Professor Severus Snape."
"Professor?" asked Sam. "As in a college professor or someone with a PhD?"
"Neither," replied Snape. "It's what you call your teacher instead of 'Mr.' or 'Mrs.'. So saying Professor Snape is the same as saying Mr. Snape."
"Oh, I get it," said Sam. "So what's your point, Harry?"
"What?" asked Harry, not sure what she was talking about.
"Earlier, you said that if you just let me go, I won't go home. So what? What does it matter?"
"Sam, you were just beaten almost unconscious," Hermione stated. "You need to go home and sleep. Your parents are probably worried sick; apparently you didn't go home last night."
Sam looked surprised, then angry. "Since when have they cared about me? The only reason my mom would've been acting worried is because if I get sent to juvie, it'll look bad to all of her friends. She doesn't give a damn, and neither does my dad. And what does it matter to you? Are you like my stalkers or something?"
"No," said Ron. "We're just concerned. You should've seen yourself when we found you; no offense, but it wasn't pretty."
"Anyway," interrupted Snape. "Let us make sure you get home. For your parents. It'll put our minds at ease."
"There ain't no way in hell I'm doing it for my parents," said Sam forcefully. "But I'll do it for ya'll. C'mon, let's go." They all set off for her house. They were almost to the bottom porch step when Sam stopped and turned to face her companions. "Will I see ya'll again after this?" she asked.
Snape nodded. "Yes, we'll be coming back tomorrow."
Sam nodded, relief clear on her face, before turning around and quickly climbing the steps to her font door. She turned the doorknob, but nothing happened. The door remained shut. She tried again, jiggling the knob back and forth, but still nothing happened.
"Huh," she said. "That's weird. My mom always leaves the door unlocked, unless she's not home, 'cause I don't have a key. But she's gotta be here, 'cause the lights are on. So that means—,"
The door opened, David Biluxy behind it.
"—my dad's home," Sam finished.
"Samantha, there you are! Come on, come give Dad a hug. I haven't seen you in ages!" He had a huge grin on his face, and he spoke with a heavy British accent. Sam paused for a moment as if considering, then she stepped forward and gave her father a quick hug, stepping back right after.
"Hey Dad," she said. "Waddaya mean by 'ages'? It's only been three weeks. I thought you'd be gone at least three more."
David coughed uncomfortably, as if trying to cover something up. "Yes, well, I got done earlier than expected, so I came home. Is that okay with you? You don't seem very excited."
Sam's eyes widened and she seemed to choose her words very carefully. "I'm glad you're here; I'm just still in shock that you're back so early. You're just usually gone so much longer, that's all."
Snape chose that moment to interrupt. He tapped Sam on the shoulder, and when she turned around, he said, "We're going to leave now so you and your father can spend some time together, alright?"
Sam nodded, face blank, but something in her eyes screamed, "Don't leave!"
"Don't worry, Sam, we'll be back tomorrow, remember?"
Sam nodded again. "Yeah, I remember, Mr. Snape. G'bye. I guess I'll see ya'll tomorrow."
Snape turned to leave, but stopped when David spoke.
"Hang on a second. Severus Snape, is that you?"
Snape turned around, recognizing David from his school days. "Yes, it is. How have you been, David?"
David laughed. "Fine, fine. And you?"
Sam wore an expression of slack-jawed shock. They knew each other? "How the hell did that happen?" she thought.
"Quite well, actually," Snape was saying.
Sam shook her head, as if trying to clear it, and tapped both men on the shoulder to make them look at her. "I'm sorry, but I'm out of the loop. Care to fill me in? I'd just love to know how the hell you two know each other."
"Yes, Samantha," David answered. "Remember that school I told you about? We were classmates there."
"Oh, you mean that boarding school in Britain which you forgot the more specific location of with that really weird name that I forgot and I'm never going to attend it because it's for really smart kids and we both know that I definitely don't fit that requirement? You were classmates there? Cool." She said it all very fast, and Harry and Ron were reminded of the train ride in the beginning of their First Year when they met Hermione. She had spoken in a similar fashion, although Sam definitely beat her in the speed department.
"Yes, yes indeed," said David, sounding a little irritated. "So Severus, what do you do now?"
"I teach at our old school."
"Oh really? What subject? Wait, wait, don't tell me. Chemistry, right?"
Hearing the emphasis on the word 'chemistry', Snape realized that Sam could be oblivious about the Wizarding World. That would explain the emphasis on the subject, which was about the Muggle equivalent of Potions.
"Yes," he said slowly. "Chemistry. I teach chemistry now."
"Hah, I knew it!" David exclaimed triumphantly. He turned to Sam. "He always had a head for it. Sometimes he even corrected the texts!"
"Really?" asked Sam. "Chem's supposed to be really hard."
"Yes, well you wouldn't know about that, now would you?"
"Nuh-uh."
It was then that David spied the Golden Trio. "Why Severus," he said scandalously, "been busy, have you?"
It took Snape a moment to realize who David was talking about. "No, no," he said, "they aren't mine. They're my students. I'm taking them on a field trip of sorts."
"Mhmm, that's what they all say… No, I thought so; I'm just teasing you a bit. Let me guess, the black-haired one is James Potter's son, right?"
Harry looked startled. "Yes, sir, he was," he replied.
"Hmm, and is your mother Lily Evans, by any chance?"
"Yes, sir, how'd you guess?"
"It's quite simple. Anyone who's met your mother would have a difficult time forgetting her eyes. How are your parents, anyway?"
Harry looked uncomfortable. "I—um—,"
"They were killed," Snape answered for him.
David looked surprised. "Oh, I'm so sorry. They were great people, Lily and James."
"Thank you, sir," said Harry.
David looked to Hermione. "I don't think your parents went to school with me. Did they ever go there?"
"No, they didn't," Hermione replied.
"Quite a brilliant thing to go there when your parents didn't. You must be quite an extraordinary girl."
"Thank you, sir."
"And you," David said, looking at Ron. "Don't tell me; you're a Weasley. Arthur and Molly finally get married, did they?"
Ron nodded. "Yes, sir."
"Brilliant man, your father. A bit strange, granted, but brilliant. No offense intended, of course."
"None taken. Thank you, sir."
"You're quite welcome. Now, if you don't mind, it's getting late, and I'd like to catch up with Samantha a bit tonight."
"Of course," replied Snape. "We'll be back tomorrow to have a chat with her. It was nice seeing you again, David."
"You as well, Severus. Goodnight Severus, children."
"Goodnight, sir," the three friends replied.
"Goodnight, David," Snape said. "We'll see you tomorrow, Sam."
"'Kay, Mr. Snape," Sam replied, the look of desperation back in her eyes and an anxious tone creeping into her voice. "'Night, guys."
"G'night, Sam," the friends replied.
They all waved, and the four wizards left, Sam and David entering their house.
"He seems like a nice bloke," stated Ron.
"Yes, but I can't quite work out why Sam is so afraid of him," said Hermione.
"What d'you mean. Hermione?" asked Harry.
"I don't truthfully know; she just seems to be scared of him for some reason. It's just a feeling, that's all."
"I know what you mean, Ms. Granger," Snape said. "I feel it too. I don't think we have to worry, though. The David I know wouldn't hurt a fly."
"I guess we'll find out tomorrow," said Harry.
The four walked through the dark streets to their hotel, completely unaware of what was going on in the house they'd just left.
Chapter 1- End
Okay, how did you like it? Be truthful now, don't worry about my feelings. If you feel like flaming me, just be warned that the flames will be used to make s'mores, as I do enjoy them so much. Just a heads-up. Oh, yeah, by the way, I can't read minds through the computer. So for me to know if I should continue this, then you need to write a review and let me know. Thanks Bunches!
~artyluvr