She was lost. Harry could see her wandering about the dark fields, shivering and stumbling. Now she was crying. He had no clue who the girl was, but Harry had to help her. Somehow, he knew they were connected. Now she was turning his way; he was finally going to see her face.
Sweating, Harry woke up from his dream. Taking a deep and reaching for his glasses, he recalled the dream that had so frequently haunted his sleep: a girl of about eighteen with blonde curls in Muggle clothing walking around some meadow aimlessly. It seemed simple enough. But then why did it leave him with chills? Who was she? Why did he always wake up before he saw her face?
This wasn't the first time he'd had reoccurring dreams. Often, his dreams were prophecies. So he couldn't help wondering if there really was someone lost somewhere who needed his help.
Deciding it was too late and too difficult to fall back to sleep, he pulled on his robes and went down to the Great Hall for breakfast. He was one of three people down there this early. He was surprised to find one of the others to be his friend Hermione.
"'Morning. What are you up to so early?" she said as he sat down next to her.
"Couldn't get back to sleep."
"Was it the dream again, Harry?" she whispered, even thought there was no one at the table to hear her.
He nodded. "That's the fifth time. I don't know what it could mean."
A look of worry crossed Hermione's face. "Maybe you should tell Dumbledore."
Harry rolled his eyes. "For heaven's sake, it's not as if Voldermort was in it."
The worry changed to fear. "You-know-who, Harry, please!"
Harry eyed Hermione impatiently. "I thought you were brave enough to call him by his real name. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself, remember."
Hermione blushed and shrugged. "It's just, well, now that he's back, he seems more real. Less like some fairy tale, you know?"
Harry said nothing. He knew. He knew all too well. Last year, Harry had watched Voldermort rise from a cauldron and return to his full power. Harry had done battle with him; Harry had watched him kill Cedric. Of all people, Harry should be terrified of the name.
An awkward silence followed. Then Hermione said. "Well…I was down here early so I could get to the library early. We've got a test in Potions on Monday, and you know Snape." She smiled cautiously, making sure her comment was enough to distract Harry from his painful memories.
It was. "Hermione, it's Friday. You've got all weekend to study."
She simply grinned. "It's going to be a hard test."
Harry laughed and rolled his eyes.
***
Harry gave a loud yawn. He was finding it hard to concentrate. After all, it was Friday, and it was the last class of the day, and (worst of all) it was Divination. He looked over at Ron. His head was propped up on his hand, and his eyes were half-shut.
Professor Trelawney was going on and on. "Now flip the first two Tarot cards up without looking at their faces. The next three cards on the deck will be the ones that will tell the future's secrets," she said in her flowing voice.
Harry shook his head and grabbed the purple deck of cards in front of him, and took off the top two, not looking at their faces as was instructed. Then he grabbed the next three, and placed them on his table.
His first card showed a drawing of a girl dressed in fine robes and a sparkling tiara. At the bottom, in fancy letters, were the words 'The Princess'. His next card showed a boy looking similar to the girl, but he wore tights, a cape, and a crown. He was 'The Prince'. His final card was 'The Royal Carriage'.
He stared blankly at Ron. "What do you suppose it means?" he whispered.
"It means," said Professor Trelawney, who had snuck up behind him, "that a relative will soon travel to meet you. The Prince and Princess symbolize family, and the Carriage represents a journey."
Harry winced. He never had had family, not real family anyway. The Dursleys were more like landlords or something, and his parents were dead. Not wanting to think about, he reminded himself how Professor Trelawney was always wrong in her predictions.
Class ended, and Ron and Harry went down to the Great Hall to meet Hermione for dinner. On the way, Ron said, "That was quite interesting."
"What?"
"That fortune."
"C'mon, Ron, you know she's a phony."
Ron laughed. "No, no, no. I think that's the first prediction she's ever made about you were she hasn't said you were going to be injured or die."
At this, Harry laughed too. "You know, I think you're right. Let's go, I'm starving!"
***
She was back. This time she seemed closer to Harry's reach. He stretched out his hands; she was inches away. He could hear her sobs. He called out to her, and now she was turning; turning, he would finally see her face.
But a sudden screaming woke him. He sat straight up, got out of bed, and ran to the window. There was someone out there, someone coming from the Forbidden Forrest. The night was thick, but Harry could make out something in the moonlight.
Golden curls.
Quick as a flash, Harry pulled on a robe and flew out of the castle. He wasn't thinking about getting caught or losing house points; he had to find this girl. Out of the oak front doors Harry ran, and quickly spotted the girl running his way. She noticed him too, but her face was still hidden in the shadows.
"Help me!" she called out. "They may still be following me."
Harry, who had been standing dumbfounded, replied, "Who?"
But before she could answer his question, the oak doors swung open, and Dumbledore stepped out, flanked be Professor Snape and Professor McGonagal. At the sight of Harry, Snape's eyes narrowed, and McGonagall spoke.
"What is the meaning of this, Potter? Who is your friend?"
"I…I don't know," he answered, now realizing the stupidity of running out in the middle of the night.
Dumbledore stepped forward, silencing the others. "Child," he said to the girl, "Would you care to come inside? We heard your screams."
The girl seemed to hesitate, and then her soft voice replied shakily, "Yes, please."
Dumbledore nodded, his eyes twinkling. "Come then. Severus, please inform the kitchens we are in need of a meal for one. Minerva, please escort Harry back to his bed."
Professor McGonagal nodded, and grabbed Harry's shoulder.
"But, headmaster, I was hoping-" Harry protested.
"To bed," Dumbledore said, a note of finality in his voice. "You may speak to our guest in the morning if you wish."
Harry nodded, and he and McGonagal pushed their way through the front doors. As they walked up the grand staircase, Harry looked back at the girl who had just walked into the light of the entrance hall. She was wearing the jeans and sweater from his dream, and she was tucking her blonde hair behind her hear. And then he saw something that left him with chills.
Emerald green eyes, just like his own.
***
"And she had eyes just like you?" Ron asked curiously for the third time the next morning.
"Yes, exactly."
"Are you sure? It was late, you know, you were tired," Hermione said.
Harry looked sharply at her. "I think I would know my own eyes. I swear, they were just like mine." Then, softly, he added, "And my mother's."
"Do you have any idea where she is now?" Ron inquired.
"No," Harry said, "But Dumbledore said I could talk to her this morning." However, Dumbledore was eating at the teacher's table, and showed no sign of wanting to speak to Harry.
"I'm going to speak to him," Harry said firmly, standing up.
"Are you allowed to just approach him like that?" Hermione asked wearily.
"I don't care," Harry said. "I need to know why I've been dreaming about her. I need to know who she is, and why she looks like me." And with that, he stood up, and walked over to Dumbledore.
"Sir," he said, "I'd…I'd like to speak to that girl from last night, if you don't mind."
Dumbledore rubbed his eyes. "I don't know if that's such a good idea. The girl is…well, she's not what you'd expect. And from the story she told me last night, I'm not too sure if it's best to-"
"Please!" cried Harry, then lowering his voice, he said, "I…I've been seeing her in my dreams. My dreams, Professor."
A look of understanding crossed the old man's face. "Very well," he said, standing up. "Follow me."
He led Harry down a corridor, and to a stone gargoyle Harry had seen many times before. Dumbledore mumbled a password, and soon the pair arrived in his office. The girl was sitting on a purple-pillowed chair, a look of worry and fear on her face.
"Riley White," Dumbledore said, "meet Harry Potter."
Harry stared at the girl. She was incredibly beautiful, with silky skin and a shy smile. Harry noticed she was staring intently at his eyes, and he knew she had noticed the similarity.
"Hello," she said in a voice barely above a whisper. "Aren't you the boy from last night?"
Harry nodded. "I…I heard you yelling." And before he could stop himself, he asked the girl, "What were you running from?"
She smiled. "That's a long story. Many things, actually, but at the moment-" (she paused, shuddering) "-it was this awful spider. It must have been as big as a bear. It was…awful." For a moment, she was silent, and then she said, "May I ask you a question Harry?"
He nodded, trying to smile encouragingly.
"Are you a wizard too?"
Harry's jaw dropped. He looked from Riley to Dumbledore to Riley and back. Dumbledore nodded, confirming Harry's suspicions.
Harry managed to get the words out. "You're a…a Muggle?"
Riley tilted her head to the side. "He kept saying that word. So did that frightening man with the greasy hair." She paused, trying to think of a way to not sound stupid. "What exactly is a…what is it? A Muggle."
Dumbledore finally spoke. "It's a non-witch or wizard, Riley."
Harry was dumbfounded. "But I thought Muggles couldn't see Hogwarts, let alone spend the night!" Nothing was making sense.
"There are certain loopholes," Dumbledore began in his aged voice, "that not even wizards can explain. Some Muggles possess the ability to see beyond magical prevention. It is thought to be a matter of believing in the unbelievable. That is something most Muggles are incapable of."
Harry nodded, for lack of anything else to do. Then a horrible thought crossed his mind. Perhaps the teachers would place a memory charm on Riley, as most wizards did when Muggles discovered bits of the wizarding world. Then he would never discover who this girl was. She would be sent away, with no memory of Hogwarts whatsoever.
"Dumbledore," Harry began. "She isn't…I mean, you won't…there won't be a memory charm done, will there?"
Dumbledore smiled. "No. Though it is customary in most situations, I'm afraid Riley's predicament will require her full senses. In fact Harry, in spite off my prior convictions, I would like to see what you make of it." He turned to Riley, then sighed and turned back to Harry. "I believe Riley has had an encounter with none other than Voldermort."
Harry shuddered. "Are you sure?"
Dumbledore nodded grimly. "Riley? Do you think you can mange telling him? Harry has had experience with Voldermort before."
Riley nodded. Then she took a deep breath, and began. "Well, you see, it started about three weeks ago. My family and I…we never quite got along-" (at this, her eyes filled with tears) "-and I often secluded myself from them. You see, my father was a very stern man, and I am quite the opposite. He hated the way I always daydreamed, the way I wasn't serious and responsible like my twin brother. I suppose that's where my belief in magic comes from.
"So one afternoon, my father was speaking to me about the future- college and the like. I couldn't take much more of it, so I ran off to my secret place. I always found peace there, in a grove not too far from my house. Anyway, I was sitting there, feeling sorry for myself, when I heard a scream coming from my house. I looked back and saw…and saw…"
"You may stop if you wish," Dumbledore said quietly.
"No," said Riley, wiping away a tear. "I'll be fine. I saw a horrible flash of this green light coming from my parents' bedroom window. I flew back to the house, and crept up the stairs. There was someone in the room, a skinny robed man; I didn't see his face. But I could see my parents. They were lying there, dead. My brother was in the room, screaming at the man. Then-" Riley swallowed back tears, "-there was another flash, and my brother was dead too. I couldn't help myself, so I let out a sob. The man looked at the door, and I ran. I ran so far, I didn't know where I was. But I lost him, which was all that mattered.
"I kept walking, not knowing where I was going. I didn't want to go home. I was afraid the man would be there, and I wanted to pretend nothing happened. If I went home, I'd have to deal with the death of my family. And…and I just couldn't." With that, she began to cry freely. "I wandered into a forest a week ago, and I thought I was safe. There was food in the trees. But then, yesterday, the spider attacked me, so I had to get out. That's when I came upon the castle. And now I'm here with you."
Harry looked at the girl who was trying so hard to be strong. He felt a bond beyond their eyes: a family killed by Voldermort, terrorized by spiders in the Forbidden Forrest. He took his eyes off her to speak to Dumbledore. "That sounds like Voldermort all right."
Riley looked at him. "But why did he kill my family? What did they do?"
Dumbledore rose, putting a hand on Riley's shoulder. "It is with much sorrow that I inform you that there are bad wizards as well as good. Voldermort is one of the worst. And with even more sorrow, I must tell you that the reason he most likely killed your family is for fun. He and his followers despise Muggles and kill them without reason."
Riley's eyes narrowed. "No!" she managed to say.
Dumbledore sighed. "Yes. Harry's family was killed by Dumbledore too. There seems to be a great deal you two have in common." He glanced at their eyes. "Perhaps you can stay with Harry in the Gryffindor room."
Riley nodded, a knowing sympathy in her eyes. "I'd like that."
"Excellent," Dumbledore said. "If you wish to talk in private, however, you may stay here. I, however, am going to meet with some teachers. Good day to you." And with that, he left.
Harry watched him leave, and then turned to Riley.
She looked apprehensive. "Would you find if we didn't talk about…about the past few weeks, if you don't mind?" she asked.
Harry understood completely. "That's fine. Actually, I was just wondering about the basics. You know, your age, your hometown." Your eyes he added silently.
"Well," she said, smiling. "I'm eighteen. And I'm from Little York. And I can't believe that this-" she gestured to the room, "-is real. I've dreamt all my life of magic, and now it's really true. What's it like having powers? Can you teach me?" She paused. "Oh, I suppose I'm getting ahead of myself. Perhaps I should ask the basics too."
Harry laughed. "No, it's fine. I'm fifteen. And, well, magic is the best thing that happened to me. I didn't know I was a wizard until I turned eleven. But I don't think Muggles can perform any magic. Sorry."
"Oh, no problem," Riley giggled. "Just being here is fine."
"Actually, you being here is quite amazing," Harry gushed. "There's never been a Muggle at Hogwarts, ever."
Riley blushed and was silenced. Then a thought struck her. "When I was little, my Pappy Evans always used to tell me stories of how his father was a wizard. He used to tell me how he went to a special school, and played a game on broomsticks. I suppose those were all true."
"Pappy Evans?" Harry asked curiously?
Riley blushed again. "Silly, I know. It's what I called my grandfather, Paul Evans. We were very close, but he died when I was seven."
But Harry had not cared about the nickname. It was the last name that rung in his head, over and over. It couldn't be, but it had to be. After all, it did make sense.
Evans was his mother's maiden name.
***
"So what're you saying, Harry?" Hermione asked. "You're related? Evans is quite a common name. She could be anybody."
"A very gorgeous anybody," Ron added, dreamily staring at Riley who had begun to make conversation with the other Gryffindors. She was staying with them under the guise of a writer wanting to do a book on Hogwarts. The entire school believed she was a witch, aside from the faculty, Harry, and his friends.
Hermione made a sour face at Ron's comment, but said nothing.
"How do explain the eyes if she's an anybody?" Harry asked.
"An unbelievably beautiful anybody," Ron sighed.
"Oh, do shut up Ron!" hissed Hermione. "I don't know Harry. Why don't you just ask if she knows anyone by the name of Lily Evans?"
"Tried it," Harry replied. "She said she didn't. So I was thinking the old yearbooks in the library would be a good bet to finding something out. Want to come?"
"Sure," Hermione answered. "I need to check out some books anyway."
"I'll come too," Ron added. "It's good to not be around someone too much, right? I have to seem desirably distant."
"Anyone who would desire you would have to be a little distant in the head," Hermione scoffed, and the three set off for the library.
***
"Honestly, doesn't anyone ever clean these?" Ron said through sneezes at he wiped the dust from an old yearbook. "What do we have house elves for?"
Harry sighed, expecting protests from Hermione, but she surprisingly said nothing. She was too engrossed in one of the books.
"Look!" she giggled. "It's Professor McGonagall!" She pointed to a picture of a scrawny young witch with thick glasses and incredibly long hair.
Harry pointed to a photo of a tall boy with an orange Afro. With a laugh, he said, "Look Ron! It's your Dad!"
Ron peered over his shoulder. "Bloody Hell, he looks ridiculous. The girl next to him is quite the babe though."
Hermione peeked at the yearbook, and let out a laugh. "Ron, look at the caption. That babe is your mum."
A look of horror crossed his face. "Excuse me while I gauge my eyes out!"
Hermione responded with a laughing fit, and then Ron began to yell at her. Harry, however, continued looking through the books. Page after glossy page, he saw faces, old and young, full and thin, freckled, tanned, and pale. He saw old Quidditch teams, and even older hairstyles. Finally, his eyes fell upon a picture of a boy of about sixteen, with a mess of curly blonde hair and, sure enough, stunning emerald eyes. Harry glanced at the caption; it read, in bold letters, Walter H. Evans.
"This is it!" he cried to his friends. "This is Riley's great-granddad!"
Hermione peered at the photo. "But what does that prove? Riley's Pappy Evans' stories were true, but that doesn't mean you and Riley are related." Harry's heart fell, but then Ron's next comment brought it right back up.
"But this does!" Ron shouted. He was pointing at a photo of a thirteen-year-old redhead and an old man, both with curly hair and green eyes. "Listen!" Ron said, clearing his throat and preparing to read. "Former Quidditch star and Hogwarts alumni Walter Evans hugs granddaughter Lily Evans during a holiday visit."
Harry looked at the photo. The pair was beaming and waving. His mother looked beautiful, even in youth, and Walter looked like the picture-perfect grandfather. Harry recognized Walter from the Mirror of Erised, which had shown him his family in his first year at Hogwarts.
"So…does this mean…" Hermione asked slowly, "that Walter Evans is your…?"
Harry smiled and finished her sentence. "Great-Grandfather."
***
Later that evening, in the common room, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were sitting together trying to figure out how Harry was related to Riley (who had retired to bed before the returned from the library).
"This would be much easier," said Ron, sounding annoyed, "if you knew your relatives names."
Harry shrugged. "When Riley wakes up we can ask her about her side of the family, and maybe fill in the gaps." He looked at the parchment. The only names he had were his own, Walter's, James', Lily's, Petunia's, Vernon's, Dudley's, and Riley's. Many names were blank.
"Well," Hermione said, in her let's-think-it-through voice. "You and Riley have the same great-granddad, right?"
Harry nodded.
"And if her name is White, that's got to be her father's last name, so write that in, Ron. And that makes her mother and Evans, so pencil that in. And Riley's grandparents are Paul Evans- we forgot him, write him down, Ron- and finally there's Walter and his wife."
Harry was getting the hang of it. "Now Walter must've had two sons, if I'm thinking correctly. So fill in an Evans for my granddad, Ron. That would be my mum's dad, as well as Aunt Petunia's."
"So are you and Riley second cousins then?" Ron asked.
"I think it's third," Hermione replied.
Harry shrugged. "I never understood all that second, third, twice removed rubbish anyway. We'll just call her my distant cousin."
"Call who your distant cousin?" came a voice. "Me?"
Riley was standing there in a white nightgown.
"So you figured it out, then?" she asked. "Good. I figured we might be related."
Harry grinned at her. "Well, we've not figured everything out. Would you help us? We need your parents' names and some other stuff."
"Yes," croaked Ron, unable to hide his staring, "Please help." With a funny look at Ron, Riley sat down.
"Well, Mummy was Anne Evans. And Daddy was Lawrence White. I supposed that makes our mums true cousins," said Riley, gesturing at the family tree. "Then there's Pappy Evans and Nana Evans- I believe was her maiden name Kate Ferguson. Now I know I know your granddad's name, Harry, just give me a minute. When Pappy told me stories, he always talked about his kid brother…Jesse! That's it, his name was Jesse Evans. And Jesse and Paul's mum was Esther Scherer, our great-grandmother."
Ron finished writing down the names. "We're only missing your grandmother then, Harry." He twisted towards Riley with a look of utmost admiration. "I don't suppose you know that one?"
Riley shook her head. "Sorry."
"That's all right. You've been so helpful anyway," Ron gushed. Hermione rolled her eyes, but frowned when Ron didn't even notice.
"Well, I'm beat," said Harry. "Time for bed. Coming Ron?"
Ron nodded then told Riley goodnight, causing even more frowns from the ignored Hermione. Hermione left for bed shortly after, as did Riley after making one small adjustment to the family tree.
Her brother, Connor.
***
That night, Harry lay in bed unable to sleep. He couldn't help think of all the names swimming through his mind. They were his family; they were real. This wasn't a dream or a fantasy. He had relatives beyond the Dursleys, and he had a cousin a few rooms away.
But it didn't seem fair. He didn't know what they were like or how they came to be. He didn't know ages or faces (except for those in the yearbooks). He thought a family would make him feel whole, but truly it tore a hole inside him. He seemed so close to them all, but they were all truly very far away.
And what about his father's family? Were there any Potters he didn't know about? If so, why wasn't he with them, or with the Whites rather than the Dursleys? Riley had said she had never heard the name Lily Evans. Did the families not get along? Dumbledore had once spoken of the protection Harry gained from the Dursleys. Was this a clue to why Harry lived with them?
Unable to sleep, Harry opened his trunk and pulled out the photo album holding pictures of his parents. He took it down to the common room, sat in front of the dying fire, and opened it to the first page. There they were, smiling and holding a tiny Harry. Even though he was fighting it, Harry felt tears fill his eyes. Why did everything happen to him? Why couldn't he have a family like everyone else?
"Hey." Harry heard Riley's soft voice behind him. He spun around to see her looking as restless as he felt.
"Hey," he replied, frantically wiping away his tears.
"Is that them?" she said, nodding towards the photos. "Your parents?"
Harry nodded.
"Oh." Riley's voice was filled with compassion and understanding. "May I see them?" Again, Harry nodded. He handed her the book, and she flipped to the page Harry had been looking at, smiling at the family portrait. "You look like your dad. Except for those stunning Evans eyes."
Harry forced a laugh. "Yeah."
Riley swallowed hard, then began to speak. "Harry, I wanted to ask you…well, you don't have to tell me, but that man. That Voldermort. How…when…"
"He killed them when I was a baby," Harry answered in a monotone voice.
"Oh," said Riley again. "How awful." She was trying to end the conversation so Harry wouldn't have to go on, but he felt the need to anyway. He told her everything; from the things he couldn't remember to the things he'd tried to forget: the scar, the Dursleys, his adventures at Hogwarts, his meeting with Voldermort last year. Riley's eyes grew wider with each story, but she remained silent. It felt so good to have someone listen, someone right there, someone who understood.
Soon, dawn's light lit the common room. "I've been talking all night," Harry admitted sheepishly.
"Really?" Riley asked, looking around. "I hadn't noticed. It's so fascinating. This world, your life. I can't believe were related. Everything about me is so boring."
"Trust me, I'd trade you any day. I'd love to have known my parents."
At the mention of parents, Riley's eyes filled with tears.
"I'm sorry," Harry began. "I didn't mean-"
"No, it's okay," Riley said, trying to smile. "At least we have each other, right?"
Harry nodded. "Right."
***
"Excellent job, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said. She held up a wriggling earthworm that had been a centipede no more than a minute ago. "This is what I want your animal-to-animal transfigurations to look like. No hairy legs on your worms, if you please." She left the bench where Hermione, Ron, and Harry sat and moved on to check the other worms.
"Yes, Miss Granger. Perfect, Miss Granger. Could kiss my ass any more, Miss Granger?" hissed a nasty voice from behind.
"Shut it, Malfoy," Ron said sharply, ready for a fight.
"Oh, what are you going to do, Weasly? Tell your fat mother to sit on me?"
"I'll kill you. I'll bloody rip your-"
"The hell you will. I'd take you on any day."
Harry narrowed his eyes. "I'd like to see that. I don't think you can handle yourself without your daddy's help."
"Mr. Potter!" called Professor McGonagall's voice.
Malfoy sniggered. "Uh-oh, Potter. Look's like you're in for it. Next time, careful what you say about my father. Malfoys keep a close eye on each other, unlike your despicable family."
Harry gritted his teeth and turned towards McGonagall. But she seemed to have missed his comment towards Malfoy, for all she did was hand him an envelope.
"This came at breakfast for you," she said. "But as you were absent, I took it for you. Please refrain from opening it until the lesson if over, if you please."
Harry nodded and returned to his seat with a smirk at Malfoy. He wondered whom the letter was from. It couldn't be from Sirius, he had just received a letter from him yesterday, congratulating him on finding Riley.
Riley. That brought up another thought. Harry had been so busy, and Riley had been so intent on discovering the school under the façade of a writer, that they had barely talked since the night he explained his story to her. She was supposed to meet him before breakfast, and she hadn't shown up, obviously preoccupied. He must've missed the letter waiting for her.
Transfiguration continued and finally ended. Ron turned to Harry and said, "I'm starved, let's get to lunch." But Harry wanted to get to the letter, so he headed for the common room as Ron and Hermione scurried off to lunch. Watching them go, he thought 'They really do make a cute couple' but then pushed it out of his mind.
After muttering "Fluffernutters!" to the Fat Lady, Harry entered the deserted common room. He sat in a cozy armchair and began ripping the envelope off the mysterious letter. He began to read, and a shuddered rippled down his spine.
Potter-
The girl is with me, in deserted Eastern tower. If you want to save her, come alone and tell no one of this letter's contents. I have spies everywhere, and if these instructions are not followed, the girl will die a long and painful death. Be there at 11, or it's curtains for your cousin.
Harry looked up, angry and confused, questions racing through his mind. Who could have Riley? Why was the letter unsigned? Was it a cruel joke, or was she really in danger? How would someone know if he told Dumbledore? Should he tell, or would Riley really be killed? Who knew Riley was Harry's cousin?
Firmly tearing the letter to shreds, Harry made his decision. He couldn't risk losing another family member. He would go at eleven, and he would not tell a soul.
***
Ron's snoring was steady. He had not seemed to want to go to bed, but finally he was sleeping. Harry sat up, glanced at his watched (ten-fifty), and crept out of his four-poster, careful not to wake up his sleeping roommates.
Wand in hand, Harry threw the invisibility cloak over himself and left a note explaining where he was on his bed in case…just in case. Exiting the room, he tiptoed down the spiral staircase into the common room, and quietly exited into the hallway.
"Eastern Tower," he muttered to himself. It had been deserted long ago, Ron had once told him, because a deadly mold had been found there. Ron had assured him that it was removed almost as quickly as it was discovered, but still, no classes were held there. Moving as quickly as he could without making too much noise, Harry made his way up flights of stairs and down dark corridors to the tower. He soon came to a great iron door, whose knob was rusted. Taking a deep breath, Harry entered silently.
He found himself in a sort of cloakroom. Hooks and hat racks filled the dark space, and a small curtain hid him from the bigger room. However, to his great surprise and delight, Harry noticed a knot in the wall, ever so small, about the size of his eye. Peering through it, he could see a grand room, almost like a ballroom with paneled walls and a fine golden chandelier. Then he saw Riley.
He gasped when he saw her, and then cursed himself for making noise. She was tied to a chair, against a wall, and her right eye was blackened. The robes Dumbledore had given her were torn at the shoulder and stained with blood. A look of utter hatred made her beautiful face almost ugly.
And then Harry saw her captor. He was tall and his back was to Harry, but he was unmistakable. His pale corn silk hair glowed in the moonlight coming from a large window.
Lucius Malfoy. At the sight, Harry began to shake. The last time he had seen Mr. Malfoy was at a rally of Death Eaters at Voldermort's return. Lucius turned towards the cloakroom, and Harry could see a sneer on his face.
"Your dear cousin is late," he snapped at Riley. "Although, who would want to save a dirty Muggle like yourself?"
Riley's eyes narrowed. "You're with him aren't you? You're one of that awful man's followers."
Malfoy turned sharply towards Riley. "Hold your tongue, you foolish child. Speaking so will get you into much trouble." His face was inches from hers. "And we wouldn't want any trouble now would we? Remember what happened to your dear mummy and daddy."
Riley spat in his face.
Furious, Malfoy's eyes widened, and he wiped the spit from his forehead. "Filthy Muggle! I'll kill you now, and save myself the trouble of keeping you around any longer!" He raised his wand.
"No!" Harry cried, stepping out from behind the curtain. "You want me, Malfoy, not her!"
Malfoy turned sharply. "Oh, Mr. Potter! So glad you could join us. Accio!" He said the last word, sharply pointing his wand at Harry's. Before Harry realized what was happening, the wand flew to Malfoy.
"Very good, now I can set you straight," he said in a soft, sharp voice, taking a few steps away from Riley towards Harry. "You see, I do want that Muggle. Or, should I say, my master does? He wants them to get to you, and his plan, as you can see, has worked so well. Of course, once he has you, he will go about killing all your family. That way, you have no Muggle home to hide away in."
Harry shook his head. "Voldermort was wrong. I didn't even know Riley existed until a week and a half ago. How could I be living with her family?"
Malfoy shrugged, an evil smile on his lips, and stepped once more towards Harry. "If at first you don't succeed, try, try again. And kill all the Muggles you meet on the way."
"Bastard," Harry spat out.
"Oh, Potter." Malfoy was again stepping closer to him; Harry noticed Riley intensely watching Malfoy's steps. "Such language! What would you parents say? Oh, wait! I forgot. They won't say anything. They're dead."
Harry was seething. "You're nothing but a coward, Malfoy. Just like you're son, and just like your pathetic master."
Malfoy's eyes narrowed, and his voice grew agitated. He was now feet away from Harry in the very center of the round room. "Now, now Potter. Don't you know better than to anger the man with your wand?" He raised his own wand, his face full of malice. "It will be my greatest pleasure delivering you to Lord Voldermort. But first we must explain things to the Muggle. They're quite stupid, you know." He turned towards Riley and began speaking to her as though he was speaking to a three-year old. "This, dear Riley," he began, shaking his wand, "is how a wizard knocks someone out."
Eyes narrowed, Riley let go a rope tied to a hook behind her. Before Malfoy knew what was happening, the room's grand chandelier crashed to the floor, rendering him unconscious.
"And that," she said, imitating Malfoy's superior tone, "is how a Muggle does."
Harry looked at her, beaming. "Riley! That was unbelievable!"
She grinned. "I do what I can. I've been waiting all night for him to move under the chandelier."
Laughing, Harry hopped over the broken chandelier, making sure to step on Malfoy's unmoving body. He untied Riley, and after a quick embrace, Riley ran off to fetch Dumbledore, while Harry guarded Malfoy.
***
"Incredible," Dumbledore mused, eyes twinkling.
The sun was rising, and Malfoy had just been taken away by Ministry members, on his way to Azkaban no doubt. Riley had told Dumbledore how Lucius had captured her in the hallways early the previous morning, and Harry had told him about the letter and Riley's bravery in the East Tower.
"What I don't understand is how Malfoy got here in the first place," Harry said. "There's special protection on the castle, right?"
Riley shrugged. "I got in though." Harry nodded. That was true. But still, he couldn't help wondering…
"Miss White," Dumbledore began. "I don't know what exactly to tell you about these events. I don't think the wizarding world is safe for you, but I doubt the Muggle world is any better. I don't know what to suggest."
Harry saw a flicker of fear cross Riley's blackened eye. "Actually, Professor, I was hoping to attend college. It was my father's dream for me and my brother, and well…I want to fulfill it." She let out an ironic laugh. "The idea doesn't seem so horrendous anymore. Actually, I rather liked some of the American universities I looked at with my father."
Dumbledore nodded. "Very well. I think a foreign country is an excellent choice for you. Safe, distant. I would like to stay in contact with you, however, as I'm sure Harry would." Dumbledore paused and gave Harry a quick smile, which Harry returned. "However, because you are of a non-magic background, owls won't respond to your attempts at mailing things. But perhaps this will." Dumbledore snapped his fingers and out of nowhere a golden cage containing a carrier pigeon appeared.
"I'll never get over the shock," Harry heard Riley mutter to no one in particular. Then she grabbed the cage, and looked at the little gray bird.
"I think," she said, green eyes shining, "I'll name him Harry."
***
Harry left the office to fetch Riley's things, but when he stepped into the hallway where the gargoyle stood, he saw a familiar flash of white-blonde hair.
"So Potter," he hissed. "I knew you had to have some Muggle in you. I guess Miss White wasn't all she claimed to be."
Harry stared at him, confused. "How did you hear?"
"Oh, Potter, do you really think I have to stoop to eavesdropping? I knew from the start." His cold eyes narrowed. "My father told me."
"You!" Harry cried. "You let him through the gates!" It was all so clear now. He should have known from Malfoy's comment about family in Transfiguration. "Wait until I tell Dumbledore."
For a moment, Draco looked nervous, but then a smirk reentered his face. "Go ahead. I know you're the headmaster's Wonder Boy, but such outrageous claims are a bit far-fetched for even the likes of Dumbledore. Besides, I have an alibi." He switched his tone to an innocent one. "But Professor, I was playing Exploding Snap with Goyle!"
"Fine," Harry snapped, realizing how petty he would look accusing his well-known rival of assisting in Riley's kidnapping without evidence. He would still warn Dumbledore, but he knew not much more could be done. "You get off clean."
Malfoy turned, still smirking. Harry watched him walk down the hall.
"But next time, it won't be so easy."
***
Harry stood at Hogwart's front gate. Riley was stepping into a carriage, a bandage on her shoulder, and her face once again beautiful and unbruised. Once again, she was in Muggle clothes, and Harry recognized her as the exact image of the dream.
"Well," she began. "You had better write. You're all I've got now."
Harry smiled. "Of course I'll write." Then he added playfully, "Maybe you can meet the Dursleys sometime."
Riley rolled her eyes. "Once I get settled you best visit me. I can't imagine how you stand those awful people. From what you've said, I certainly couldn't."
"Oh, I think you've proved otherwise."
Riley laughed, and her emerald Evans eyes filled with tears. "Bye, Harry." She wrapped him in a big hug and kissed his unruly hair. "Say goodbye to everyone for me."
Harry nodded, fighting tears. "Thanks for everything. I meant it. I don't know how to say it, but I mean it more than you can imagine. And…just take care of yourself, okay? I know you can."
Harry nodded again, and this time tears fell. "Bye, Riley."
She grinned, hopped in the carriage, and shut the door. As she drove off, Harry heard her yell, "And don't embarrass our good name!"
He laughed. "I won't, Riley," he said, though he knew Riley couldn't hear. "I won't."
