A Fresh Start:
Chapter 2
By Football Girl (Aka JamZ)
Hello again everyone! It's simply wonderful to be continuing this story. Nothing much happens this chapter, I'm sorry to say. It's mostly just a bridge to the next one. I'm trying really hard to make the chapters short, so that you don't have to read until midnight just to finish one chapter. Read and review please!
Harry Potter lugged his trunk into Professor Minerva McGonagall's office on the top floor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Ron stood nearby, looking like he was trying valiantly not to cry. Hermione wasn't even making a pretense; the tears flowed freely from her eyes. McGonagall excused herself, her eyes lined with silver, saying that she had some things to take care of and she would be back in a few minutes.
"Well . . ." Harry started, then Hermione collapsed into tears, and gave Harry a huge hug, drenching the shoulder of his robes with her tears.
"Oh Harry," she sobbed despairingly, "we don't even know when we'll see you again."
Ron put a comforting hand on her shoulder as she continued crying. Harry stroked her bushy brown hair comfortingly.
"We'll see each other soon," he whispered in her ear. "Vol- sorry, 'You-Know-Who' can't hold forever. Dumbledore and the others will get him. I'll do my part. I'll be back, I'm sure of it."
McGonagall walked in, clearing her throat and wiping her eyes. Hermione gave Harry a quick kiss on the cheek before sobbing again into a small lacy handkerchief. Ron shook Harry's hand bravely, then stood back as Professor McGonagall threw a pinch of sparkling dust into the fire. The flames leapt up, turning green and cool. Harry stepped in, dragging his trunk with him. He shouted, "Shawnee School of Witchcraft and Wiz-" and then he was gone, swept up into a flaming whirlwind.
He closed his eyes, tucking his elbows in close to his body. He didn't know how long he flew past the numerous fireplaces, but it was at least fifteen minutes before he fell out of a fireplace, landing sprawled across his trunk.
"Welcome Harry," said a deep, friendly voice from somewhere above him. Harry put on his glasses, which had fallen off when he came out of the fireplace. He looked up; the room slowly came into focus.
"You all right?" the man asked, offering his hand. As Harry took his hand and was pulled to his feet, he realized his eyes came up to this man's enormous chest. This must be the headmaster, Harry thought suddenly. Taking a step back, he started looking his new dean over.
The headmaster was, besides being tall, a very imposing figure. His arms were large, beefy, well-muscled, and a deep nutmeg color. The eyes, which were smiling and surrounded by tiny laugh lines, were black and twinkling, and seemed to change from blackish-brown to brownish-black continually. Harry also noticed the cheekbones were high, the face round, and the nose hooked. The man's hair, which was long, silky, and blue-black, was hanging freely about his face and shoulders. He was wearing emerald dress robes.
"I'm Professor Lightfoot," said the man, shaking Harry's hand.
"Harry Potter," he replied.
"Welcome to Shawnee SWW, Harry. I'll take you to your room now. The kids should be about ready to start class now." Harry looked at his watch, puzzled; it said two o' clock. Lightfoot laughed. He had a healthy laugh, a deep, friendly rolling sound. "Time change, kiddo," he said with a smile. "It's nine here."
Harry grinned back. He was beginning to like America.
"Well . . ." Harry started, then Hermione collapsed into tears, and gave Harry a huge hug, drenching the shoulder of his robes with her tears.
"Oh Harry," she sobbed despairingly, "we don't even know when we'll see you again."
Ron put a comforting hand on her shoulder as she continued crying. Harry stroked her bushy brown hair comfortingly.
"We'll see each other soon," he whispered in her ear. "Vol- sorry, 'You-Know-Who' can't hold forever. Dumbledore and the others will get him. I'll do my part. I'll be back, I'm sure of it."
McGonagall walked in, clearing her throat and wiping her eyes. Hermione gave Harry a quick kiss on the cheek before sobbing again into a small lacy handkerchief. Ron shook Harry's hand bravely, then stood back as Professor McGonagall threw a pinch of sparkling dust into the fire. The flames leapt up, turning green and cool. Harry stepped in, dragging his trunk with him. He shouted, "Shawnee School of Witchcraft and Wiz-" and then he was gone, swept up into a flaming whirlwind.
He closed his eyes, tucking his elbows in close to his body. He didn't know how long he flew past the numerous fireplaces, but it was at least fifteen minutes before he fell out of a fireplace, landing sprawled across his trunk.
"Welcome Harry," said a deep, friendly voice from somewhere above him. Harry put on his glasses, which had fallen off when he came out of the fireplace. He looked up; the room slowly came into focus.
"You all right?" the man asked, offering his hand. As Harry took his hand and was pulled to his feet, he realized his eyes came up to this man's enormous chest. This must be the headmaster, Harry thought suddenly. Taking a step back, he started looking his new dean over.
The headmaster was, besides being tall, a very imposing figure. His arms were large, beefy, well-muscled, and a deep nutmeg color. The eyes, which were smiling and surrounded by tiny laugh lines, were black and twinkling, and seemed to change from blackish-brown to brownish-black continually. Harry also noticed the cheekbones were high, the face round, and the nose hooked. The man's hair, which was long, silky, and blue-black, was hanging freely about his face and shoulders. He was wearing emerald dress robes.
"I'm Professor Lightfoot," said the man, shaking Harry's hand.
"Harry Potter," he replied.
"Welcome to Shawnee SWW, Harry. I'll take you to your room now. The kids should be about ready to start class now." Harry looked at his watch, puzzled; it said two o' clock. Lightfoot laughed. He had a healthy laugh, a deep, friendly rolling sound. "Time change, kiddo," he said with a smile. "It's nine here."
Harry grinned back. He was beginning to like America.
Well, that was it! What did you think? Everyone is aware of the fact that I don't own any of the HP characters, except for Professor Lightfoot, which I admit is a very predictable Native American name. I'd like to take the opportunity to inform everyone that I am Cherokee, so it's not like I'm mocking American Indians or anything. Please review my story. If there's a direction that you would like to see the story go, I'm definitely taking suggestions.