I don't own harry potter. I would like to also say this is my second favoreite chapter just because it reminds me of something from wicked. Not the musical, but the book, I don't know, maybe I'm crazy, but Reggie reminds me of Elphaba in this chapter.

Chapter eleven

I decided that night that Wormtail and I had more in common then I would have liked, but I accepted it. I learned this when I finished writing an obituary for one Regina Alice Berlinson. I wanted people to leave me alone, to true emotionless bliss. I successfully staged my death writing of how a muggle doctor found a strange kind of poison in my system. I hated fooling the others, especially Sevy, like this, but if I wanted to be left alone it was necessary.

I sent the ring back to Tom, for I still refused to call him Voldemort. I was upset I hadn't gotten to see the look on his face when he received it, but I was also glad not to see Severus's face when he read the paper the next morning.

I lived in silence in my small cottage. I listened to the rumors of the muggle children in much glee. They said the old woman on the hill was a witch, for even thirty was old to the young children. They dared each other to approach my house and I always gave them interesting things to see. Like frogs jumping out the door, or a broom floating above the house. They were children and liked such games. I told myself that I did this for their amusement, but I really did it to frighten them and keep them away from the house.

As much as I liked being their witch I didn't need rumors circulating about an old witch, for I felt much older then I was. I didn't need the ministry snooping around my house. I had put spells around it to keep away the death eaters, ministry, and the order, but if I alarmed the muggles too much someone might come, so eventually I let the children see me being normal. I didn't do things the muggle way, I didn't want to. But I let them see me outside hanging my laundry and chasing rats off the land. Of course I had different reasons for hating rats, but it led the children to believe I was normal.

I read the newspaper in my yard, back to front. It was an odd way to read the newspaper, but the things I was most interested in were not important and therefore in the back. I kept a box full of newspaper clippings about my friends. It contained my fake obituary and continued on to all the news about the death eaters that had been my school friends. I also had the announcement that Dumbledore had been made headmaster of Hogwarts, and a small picture of Malfoy when he had began working for the ministry, and once again with his son Draco at a qudditch game.

One day I was reading the paper back to front looking for the name I had longed to see, but never once happened upon. I assumed this meant he was alive, but I would have enjoyed a little bit more information. I smiled at a child who approached my lawn; he was frightened, a nervous glance in his eyes. He reminded me of a younger, more likeable Wormtail, but he looked like a younger Sirius Black with his shaggy black hair and lean build.

"They told me the witch lives here," he stumbled with his words.

"Why are you here?" I asked, taking pity on the poor muggle boy.

"I'm new, and they promised not to pick on me if I got this rock turned into a frog by the witch," he said holding out a rock.

"Did it never occur to you to switch to rock with a frog from the stream?" I asked putting down my paper, interested by this small boy.

"No ma'am, it didn't. Does the witch live here so I may ask her to change the rock?"

"I am she. However I am afraid I cannot change that rock, us witches like to practice our magic in silence, never showing it to anyone."

"You don't look much like a witch," the boy said, still gingerly holding the rock out to me.

I flattened my black skirts, and ran my fingers through my frizzy dark hair, the perfect image of a witch, "And why is that boy?"

"Well, to me you just look like a lonely widow who's husband died young. Why do they call you a witch?"

"Because I scare them. I showed up here without much warning, and I refuse to go into the village and talk with other humans. But you are right; I'm just a widow with a husband who died young. You will find though, that most people make up stories to make them feel better when they are scarred of something. I let them say I am a witch because such fickle creatures need some story to cling to, but you seem smart boy, so give me the rock and I will trade it with a toad in my garden."

He nodded and handed me the rock. When I came back holding a squeaking frog that had moments ago been the very rock they boy had handed me he smiled and took the frog gingerly.

"Thank you ma'am. If you wish I should tell them you are not a witch."

"No, I rather like being their witch, but if they ever threaten a young man such as yourself by sending them here you may tell him I am no witch, but until then I don't see why we should ruin their fun, and they like having someone to blame when something goes wrong."

"Yes ma'am, I will," the boy said walking down the road.

I smiled as he left, such a young boy was wise not to believe in magic, but foolish as well to turn his back on the possibility.

I went back to reading my paper and when I had finally decided to give up, that this paper held no news of my old friend as well. I turned it over and looked at the front page. I dropped the paper; a startled shriek escaped my lips. Staring up from the paper was Sirius Black. Not Sirius as I had last seen him, attractive and devilish. This Sirius looked mad, crazy, and wild, but given that he had spent roughly ten years in prison I understood why.

He was glaring out of the paper, his eyes darted this way and that. A hint of the devilish gleam from his child hood still there. I read the article, memorizing every word. Sirius had escaped, he was on the loose and the ministry was looking for him, but I intended to find him first.

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