Thank you all for those of you following me to this second story, and following Aria Bourne into her second year at Hogwarts.
If this is your first time getting into The Muggleborn Slytherin series, it might be best if you go and read The Muggleborn Slytherin which precedes this particular story.
Again, I don't own Harry Potter, and I make nothing more than satisfaction from this story. If you're going to review, constructive criticism is wonderful and encouraged, flames are not encouraged and I delete them.
Aria whistled as she made her way down the main street of Cokesworth, pulling a small wooden wagon behind her filled with paper bags. She stopped at the newsstand, handed Mr. Larson one of the paper bags, and received ten pounds in return. Walking further up the street she parked her wagon outside one of the charity clothing shops and entered with four bags, returning to her wagon with over forty pounds.
Her last stop was the high-end boutique where Melinda had her apprenticeship. She moved off the main street and went around to the back entrance which led her through the back storage room filled with racks of clothes, to the staff room. As it was her last stop she could afford to sit and wait for a minute.
After five minutes Melinda entered.
"Thanks for lunch," she said to Aria, handed the now twelve-year-old fifteen pounds. Aria pushed one of the remaining paper bags towards Melinda.
"Is that lunch I smell?" the owner of the shop, Gloria Keetering, asked. She entered the room, her tall heels clipping against the floor, the dozens of bangles on both her arms jangling loudly. "Good afternoon, Aria."
"Afternoon, Ms. Keetering."
"How much do I owe again?"
"Twenty pounds. It was fifteen for the food, then my delivery charge."
"Of course." Aria pushed Keetering's lunch at her, along with the receipt. Ms. Keetering always wanted to see the receipt. Aria had been offended at first, but Melinda assured her that Ms. Keetering liked to see the receipts for everything concerning the shop.
With Keetering's money now in hand, Aria exited the shop and pulled her wagon to the front of the store to stare at the new dresses on the mannequins out front. Dresses weren't something she wore all the time, mainly because they inconveniently rode up at the worst possible moments, plus she had to wear skirts enough at school; yet she couldn't deny how beautiful the knee length dresses were, just tantalizingly short enough to be interesting, yet long enough to be considered modest.
Ms. Keetering was teaching Melinda how to make the clothes too. The shop, Keetering's, sold high end London fashion, but also sold Gloria K, the clothing brand of the store. Which, according to Melinda, was also sold in all the big cities.
Even with her new summer business, Aria would never be able to afford one of the dresses in the window. Either way, this lunch and delivery business was just to ensure she had enough money outside of her scholarship to survive the school year.
Taking the handle of her wagon, Aria started back the way she'd come. Coming upon Mr. Larson's newsstand again, shock filled her. Standing with Mr. Larson, asking for directions, was a familiar boy with glasses and an unruly mop of black hair.
Though the school trunk and empty bird cage were also clues.
"Harry?" Aria cried. Harry turned to Aria, relief flooding his face while anxiety filled Aria's. Harry sported several bruises on his face. His right eye was almost swollen shut.
"What in Merlin's name happened to you?" Aria demanded, feeling her magic itch at her skin for the first time all summer. She struggled mentally to keep it at bay. There was no danger. She wasn't in danger.
"I need to speak with Professor Snape," Harry answered.
"How'd you get here?" Aria asked.
"By train," Harry answered. "I knicked money from my uncle. I need to speak with Professor Snape."
"Yeah. Okay." Aria helped Harry load his bird cage and trunk into her wagon. Mr. Larson grabbed Aria's shoulder.
"Are you two going to be all right?" he asked.
"Professor Snape will be able to help us," Aria insisted. "Harry goes to the school I go to." Mr. Larson nodded, releasing Aria, though his face still sported a deep frown of concern. The two began walking, side by side. Aria noted a slight limp to Harry's walk.
"You okay?" she asked.
"Yeah." Aria frowned at Harry.
"Harry. I can see you're not fine. Who beat you up?"
Harry ducked his head. The fear in Aria's stomach intensified. Who could have done this to him? They'd only bee out of school three weeks!
She led him over a bridge and down Spinner's End. Several younger children were playing soccer in the street, but paused to point at Harry.
"Stop gawking!" Aria snapped at them. "You aren't raised in a barn."
The children scampered back to their games. Aria yanked her wagon to Professor Snape's house. She had seen him the other say over the back fence in his garden of potion ingredients that looked similar to Muggle plants. It had amused her, thinking about all the magical plants that Professor Snape could plant, confusing the Muggles and possibly getting in trouble with the government.
Knocking the first time yielded no Professor Snape. A second, more insistent pounding on Aria's part, brought the dour man to the front door. He threw the door open.
"What do you want?" he demanded, teeth snapping. He wasn't half as intimidating without his teaching robes billowing behind him, Aria mused.
"Harry needs you," she stated.
"Why does Potter need me?"
"I don't know. Ask him yourself." Aria pulled Harry forward. Professor Snape took one look at Harry's face before he was cursing and ushering the two into his house, taking a moment to grab the trunk and birdcage. In the house Snape set the trunk and cage in the front hallway before ordering the two into the living room.
Every wall was a book shelf crammed with books. And there were still books on the floor, stacked several feet high in some places. Snape crossed to a cabinet which he unlocked with a wave of his wand. Pulling out several jars, Snape remained silent. Aria saw his jaw twitch several times.
"Sit, Potter," Snape ordered, pointing to a hardback chair. Harry sat, wincing as he did so, making Snape growl.
"Who did this to you?" Professor Snape demanded. Harry rung his fingers. "Would you prefer Miss Bourne to step out of the room?"
"No!" Harry cried. "I mean . . . yes and no. I don't know." Aria settled into the comfy winged back chair in front of the fireplace, turning her attention to the few pictures on the mantel that hadn't been replaced by piles of books. There was a round portrait of a woman with a long face like the professor's, but a nose much smaller but no less Roman in look. Her hair was dark, and was probably black, but as the portrait was black and white, Aria could only guess.
There were two other pictures. One, of a small dark haired boy and a red haired girl dressed in Hogwarts uniforms inside a distinctly Muggle living room, and another that moved, proving to be of the wizarding variety. Aria easily recognized a younger Professor Snape in the photo, hair combed neatly back into a low ponytail, dressed in black wizarding dress robes. He stood on one end of a happy couple, and another woman that Aria recognized as a younger Mrs. Greengrass finished off the photo.
Peering closer to the two in the middle, Aria's eyes widened as she realized that the man next to Professor Snape was Lucius Malfoy, Draco's father, and whom she'd met only briefly at Diagon Alley when Professor Snape had taken her school shopping. That meant the woman in white feminine dress robes could only be Draco's mother, whom she had yet to meet.
Mrs. Malfoy was beautiful. Almost as beautiful as her own mother.
She turned back to Professor Snape and Harry. The professor had covered Harry's face with an off-white crème that was soaking into his skin.
"Do you have other injuries," Snape asked Harry, his voice just a bit softer, but no less business like. Harry nodded, misery all over his face.
"I will need to see them," Snape said. "But you will apply the crème yourself. The bathroom's this way." The two disappeared out of the living room, the professor returning after a minute.
"Out of my chair," he ordered Aria. She hopped out and watched him sink into the cushions. She settled on top of a pile of large books each the size of an encyclopedia. Propping her elbows on her knees and her chin on her hands, she stared at Professor Snape while he stared into the cold unlit fireplace.
"Who's the red head?" Aria asked. She felt like she should know, but the name wasn't coming. Professor Snape looked at her, then at the mantle.
"That's Lily Evans," he murmured. "Long before she became Lily Potter. Her mother took that picture of us the day before we left for our first year."
Harry shuffled back into the room, reclaiming his seat on the chair.
"I would appreciate it if you were to tell me where you got your injuries, Mr. Potter," Snape said. "It'll be much easier to get you out of whatever terrible situation you find yourself in. Unless, of course, you simply got into a fist fight and ran away from home, which seems rather unlike you."
Harry bowed his head, playing with his fingers again.
"Again, I ask, would you prefer if Aria wasn't here?" Professor Snape asked.
"She can stay," Harry muttered.
"You sure?" Aria asked. "I won't be upset if you ask me to leave." More like disappointed.
"I want you to stay." Harry finally lifted his head to look between his friend and professor. "It was my u-uncle, Professor." Aria heard Harry gulp. "Uncle V-Vernon. Sometimes he gets mad, or drunk, or both and this . . . happens."
"I take it then this is not the first time," Snape murmured.
"No, sir."
"Does your uncle ever hit your aunt or cousin? I recall you having both."
"No. Aunt Petunia once told Uncle Vernon that if he ever raised a hand to her or Dudley while he was sober or drunk she'd leave him and take Dudley faster than his head could spin." The fact that his aunt hadn't included Harry made Aria's stomach clench painfully and she blinked rapidly. The whole situation reminded her of Luke Twine who'd been a year ahead of her at school and had lived across the road. His dad had been a mean drunk and one day his mum and he left, him and her both sporting busted up faces. After that Mr. Twine had left too, but rumor had it Mr. Twine had no idea where his wife or son were.
"I will be contacting the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," Snape told Harry. "They have a division that specifically handles child abuse cases."
"Abuse?" Harry questioned, grimacing.
"Yes, Potter. Abuse. That's what has happened to you. You've been abused. The sooner you come to terms with that, the sooner and easier it'll be for you to overcome it." Snape rose from his seat.
"There's an empty bedroom upstairs, second door to your left. You'll at least be spending the night. Aria, help him get his trunk and owl upstairs."
"What will happen to me?" Harry asked, not moving from his seat.
"You'll be staying with me until further notice. There are perks to being a Hogwarts Head of House. But, as in many other cases, your parents' Will shall be checked for further instructions as to your care. Most families have a list of guardians for their children, I'm certain your family, being old and elite, has a long list of potential candidates."
Aria grabbed Harry's wrist and pulled him out of the living room to the hallway where she grabbed his trunk and he grabbed Hedwig who'd decided taking a nap was the best thing to do. Together they mounted the stairs to the second floor and found the empty bedroom.
The room was small with a single bed, a small desk, and a wardrobe. One window looked out towards Aria's house and her bedroom window, and the other window looked out over the garden.
"It's nice," Harry murmured. "Much better than Dudley's second bedroom."
"Second bedroom?" Aria asked.
"Yeah. My Hogwarts letter was addressed to The Cupboard Under the Stairs which is where I slept until then. Afterwards, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon thought we were being watched and moved me to Dudley's second bedroom. It has all his broken and unwanted toys in it."
"Your cousin sounds ghastly."
"Don't I know it." Harry eyed Aria. "You aren't . . . disgusted with me?"
"No. Should I be?"
Harry shook his head, opening Hedwig's cage and poking her until she awoke. She a hoot of delight she sailed out of the cage and perched on the footboard of the bed.
"I'm a bit tired," Harry said.
"All right. I'll get going. Come get me next door if you want to do anything."
Aria slipped out of the room, making it to the top of the stairs when she heard,
"Headmaster, what a surprise."
"Indeed, Severus. I didn't expect to come here today, but plans do change."
"Is there anything specific I can help you with? I was planning on brewing." Aria could hear the irritation in Snape's voice. She crouched at the top of the stairs, hoping that she could hear better from that angle.
"It seems that Mr. Potter has disappeared from his relatives homes, Severus. As his Head of House, I was wondering if you'd heard from him."
"I was actually about to Floo Amelia Bones," Snape responded. "Mr. Potter came to me with alarming injuries from his uncle."
"Surely not. His uncle told me that Harry got into a fight with his cousin and ran off afterwards."
"Headmaster, these injuries are not consistent to a mere schoolboy fight. I've broken up enough of those to know the difference. If you wish you can wait here while I call Amelia."
"Very well. And where is Mr. Potter now?"
"Hopefully resting."
There was the sound of feet moving then Aria heard Dumbledore shout,
"Obliviate!"
Immediately there was a heavy thud as if someone had fallen over. Aria hurried back to Harry as quickly and as quietly as possible.
"Headmaster Dumbledore's here looking for you!" she whispered to Harry, locking the door behind her.
"Why?" Harry asked.
"I don't know, but he shouted some sort of spell. He said your uncle told him that your cousin and you had gotten into a fight."
"Harry, my boy. Are you here?"
"He doesn't know you're here," Harry whispered. "Quick, get into the wardrobe."
"I'm not leaving you."
"Don't be daft, Aria. If he did something wrong, better he doesn't do it to you either." Aria huffed but climbed into the wardrobe. She pulled the door almost all the way shut, leaving enough of a slit between the doors to look through. Harry unlocked the door, opening it.
"Headmaster Dumbledore?" Harry questioned, stepping back to allow the old man into the room. "What are you doing here?"
"Your relatives were worried and contacted me about you running off. You shouldn't do foolish things like that, Harry."
"I had to get away, sir. Uncle Vernon hurt me."
"Now, now, Harry. You look perfectly fine to me."
"That's because Professor Snape healed me with some potions."
"Well he's off to run some errands now, and I'm here to take you back to your relatives."
"No!" Harry backed up. "Headmaster, please!"
Headmaster Dumbledore merely flicked his wand, shrinking Harry's trunk and owl cage. He pocketed these, even as Hedwig hooted angrily at him.
"I'm sure Hedwig will be able to find her way home," Dumbledore said, taking Harry by the arm.
"Headmaster, please, you don't understand. Professor Snape said he was going to get the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and that I wouldn't have to return to my relatives. Uncle Vernon hurts me."
"Harry, there's no need for you to go on so. Professor Snape will be doing no such thing, I've already spoken with him about your exaggeration. Professor Snape is very protective of his snakes, of which I applaud him, but he's always so quick to jump to conclusions."
"No, Headmaster—,"
With a deafening crack the two disappeared. Aria stared at the spot where they had been standing before stumbling out of the wardrobe. Hedwig hooted at her, gliding over to rest on her shoulder.
Hurrying downstairs as fast as she could with an owl on her shoulder, Aria skidded to a stop in the living room to find Professor Snape fast asleep in his chair.
Should she wake him? What was the spell Dumbledore had used?
Uncertainty made her feel sick.
Spinning on her heel she left the house, grabbed her wagon from the front steps, and went home, settling Hedwig on her bed's footboard. She grabbed some lined paper, a pen, and began to write.