Disclaimer: As one of my favorite fan fic authors said "Is Severus Snape still dead? Well then I obviously don't own Harry Potter." And I am certainly no richer today. On with the story…

Chapter 14:

Austin rushed to the first years as soon as his study group broke. He had seen Jena come in, and had tried to watch the interaction with the group and the professor from across the room. She had seemed as unsure and frightened as that first damn day at dinner. And that absolute git Abernathy had better not be mistreating her already, the 5ht year prefect fumed silently. He has spent a little time each day over the past week with her in the hospital wing, talking, joking, explaining what the school was like, what she might be studying and any manner of things. He was so nervous that she would be targeted or outcast by the others. Something solid built up tension in his stomach, worry yes, but protectiveness, an instinct too. He would not let anyone push the girl around.

"Abernathy." he greeted the older prefect somewhat coldly as he studied the girl who stood up last from the table, looking somewhat fretfully around her.

"Murphy." he replied neutrally, studying the prefect. "Heard you are mentoring Kearns. She's polite." he replied in a tone that said this was merely an observation, not a compliment of any kind.

"Aye. Hello Jena." he greeted her, voice more gentle, but still reserved in the presence of the older boy.

"Good morning Austin." she replied, meeting his gaze briefly before looking down again.

"Ready for your first trip to the Great Hall for breakfast?" he asked placing a hand slowly on her shoulder to guide her away from the table.

"She'll have no trouble with us. She knows her place." Abernathy said, suddenly, causing Austin's head to snap up and eyes narrow suspiciously at the older prefect. He did not understand the boy's words, exactly. Did the 'us' refer to the older purebloods? Or the followers of the dark lord? What did he think Jena's 'place' was?

"You're right. She won't have any trouble." He replied in response, letting the tone of his voice carry his warning as he guided the girl toward the portrait hole. He noticed that the two first year boys, Eric and Martin, scurried along after them, clearly favoring removing themselves from Abernathy's presence as quickly as possible.

Breakfast was a quiet affair. Jena didn't say much, as was usual, and she was watchful of the two boys that settled across from them, obviously listening to their conversation closely, although not joining.

"Ms. Kearns, you need to eat more." he chided gently, passing her the plate of eggs. She looked around at the others plates and the remaining dish, and the food remaining on her dish. He continued to hold the plate, but this was getting irritating.

"Jena, take some more." He suggested, a bit more firmly when the girl made no move to do so. She met his eyes, with the piecing, searching gaze that she had sometimes that he found so unsettling.

"I don't think I can finish what I have." she finally replied, noting he had not returned the dish.

"She eats like a bird." said Martin, shaking her head. Jena just shrugged, and enjoyed the meal the best she could as the emotions swirled around her. She felt the boys' enthusiasm for the weekend, and the quidditch game they were chatting about, she felt concern and irritation from Austin which wasn't unusual, as well as something else, quiet and small, that she couldn't quite name, but it felt warm and inviting, but it was frightening in its unusualness. Morganna was to Eric's right, and chatting amicably with Misha and Organza; from the trio, she sensed mostly boredom, which worried her. Bored bullies were dangerous bullies, she thought, thinking she should do what she could to keep her distance.

Professor Savoy observed his snakes from the cover of the meal and conversation at the head table. He saw that Jena was well protected, and somewhat fearful. He watched her slow but unobvious observation of the trio of first year girls, and they way she unconsciously leaned toward the protection of her mentor and stifled a snort. The Murphy boy was looking to be a fine young man; he would have to make certain that he kept him under his wing. He watched as Abernathy lorded over the end of the table closest to the Teacher's table where most of the seventh years congregated. He wasn't positive if his arrogance was being mitigated by his detentions and subsequent exposure to others of lower status and younger years, or if the young man was simply hiding his atrocious behavior from his head of house and hence trying to duck his wrath, but he would be vigilant, and continue to monitor the boy. The professor looked on approvingly as Mr. Murphy tried to force more food on the small child, even though she didn't take any more, it was a significant improvement and one he was grateful for. Finishing his own meal, he murmured his farewells to his colleagues and moved toward the students to collect Jena for their shopping.

"Ms. Kearns, have you side-alonged before?" he asked, collecting her from Austin with a brief nod.

"Yes, Professor."

"Then come along." he turned from the child and led the way down the stairs out the main gates to the apparition point. She had just kept up with his long strides, but didn't complain at all. He held his forearm to her and she stepped a bit closer and grasped it tentatively.

"Hold tightly, Jena." he gently admonished before apparating them both to Diagon Alley. He noted that the child didn't look ill, nor did she stumble on landing, but looked around quickly, assessing her surroundings.

"Have you been to Daigon alley before, Ms. Kearns?" he enquired politely, as he indicated that she should precede him from the alcove he had chosen. She stepped quickly out to the walkway.

"No sir."

"Please stay close to me, then." he observed her out of his peripheral vision as he planned out there stops. The child needed clothing, and upon his inspection the clothing stipend for poor children was pitiful; it would be difficult to get her everything she needed on so little. There was a second hand store; they would purchase what they could that was decent there first. Her books were not a problem as he knew the exact cost, and again those would be mostly second hand, and he could get her by in potions. She needed toiletries, or he needed the ingredients to make her shampoo and soap, and she needed a wand and school supplies. Mentally, figuring out how many packages they would end up with and in what order, he placed a hand in the middle of the child's back, and gently guided her toward the second hand shops.

The child looked around nervously, but curiosity was clear in her gaze as well. She was nervous. She could sense the Professor's distraction and concentration, but he wasn't annoyed with her at least. Perhaps if she tried very hard, they could get through today without that happening.

They entered the clothing store, and he watched as the child stepped to the side and allowed him to lead her into the store. She however, made no move toward the clothing, nor did she start browsing. Really she did little more than assess her surroundings, and study the clerks in the store.

"Do you know your size?" he inquired. She met his gaze; he noticed that she fixed him with the evaluating piercing gaze.

"No sir. I have never shopped for clothing in a store before." she replied quietly. He stifled an exasperated sigh. No, of course not, that would be too simple, wouldn't it? He was irritated with himself, but tried to reign in his emotions, when he suddenly saw the child turn her face away and her shoulders flinch. Was he doing that poor of a job controlling his emotions?

"Jena, what is it?" he asked her.

"I am sorry sir."

"Whatever for child?"

"Sir?"

"Why are you apologizing, you have done nothing wrong?" he said.

"You are irritated. I… well, there is something I have or haven't done. If you let me know sir, I can do better."

"Jena, how do you know I am irritated? And if I am, how do you know it is your fault?"

"Sir?" the child replied questioningly, confusion clearly written on her face. "No one else is here except for me for you to be irritated with, and you are the only one here who is, so it must be something that I have done…" he watched as the child trailed off and began to tremble.

"Wait, you say no one here is irritated. How do you know if that's true? There are 2 clerks and," he replied as his eyes searched the store "three customers. How do you know that none of them are irritated?"

"Well, they aren't here with me." she replied, like that was on obvious answer, one the Professor surely had known already, but was said in such a way that he realized that she was fearful of implying exactly that.

"I see. Jena, you had me worried for a moment, I thought maybe you could tell how I really felt, not just assumed I was irritated because I happened to be in your company. Nothing could be further from the truth." he let some amusement slip in with his relief in the tone.

"You were irritated?" she said confusedly, "but now you are relieved and happy?" she replied, confusion still clear. "Or are you saying you weren't irritated at all, sir?"

He watched her carefully. The child was confused in a fundamental way, and not confused in another. His stomach plummeted. Dear Merlin, the child knew exactly how he felt.

Keeping his face carefully neutral, he couldn't help but ask the obvious.

"And how do I feel now?" he asked.

"Not scared exactly, but, wary I guess, and fretful sort of, sir? I am not sure how to describe it."

"I think the word you are searching for is apprehensive. The clerk, over there, how does she feel?" he asked indicating a witch about 20 feet from him.

"Sir, why do you ask, you know how she feels…" she said, brows knitting in confusion again. He noticed that she was still trembling lightly.

"I want to see what your perception is." he replied.

"She is bored, and tired, and would really rather that we left, I think." Jena replied. Yes, apprehension was definitely the right word, he thought to himself, but now more so for the child's state than his own. An empath. Well, they were rare, certainly but not unheard of, surely.

"So, you believe that I can tell what they are feeling, too?" he asked, curious at what she thought of this skill.

She suddenly looked up with that piercing glance and away.

"No. No you do not, I guess, sir." she replied quickly looking away, and still looking confused, and bordering on consternated.

"You guess, or you know, Jena? Jena, look at me and answer me." he said firmly.

Her gaze met his gain, but with uncertainly.

"I know, sir."

He let out a long slow breath.

"Jena, do you know what an empath is?" he asked on a hunch. He hoped he was wrong.

"No sir."

He sighed. "No, of course not. Jena, you are an empath. You know what the people around you are feeling, sensing it like most people would sense noise, or light. You just have an extra level of perception." Interesting, and frightening, that, Professor Savoy thought to himself.

"However, most people don't have that perception. So, while I know you are afraid or perhaps apprehensive is more the word right now, and fearful that my irritation is with you, I am telling that because you are trembling and keep looking down at your feet – I am guessing based on your body language."

He did not suppress his smirk when the child's eyes flew up to his gaze, widened in shock. "I am very good at guessing Jena; don't be so surprised if I am correct. Is there ever a time you are wrong?" he asked, genuinely curious, and trying to put aside the feeling of being exposed by the youngster's ability.

"Well, no, not wrong exactly," she said, brows knit in concentration, as she struggled for words, "but, like, well…. when there are a lot of people, sometimes I can't tell where they are coming from."

"Like noise in a loud room?" he suggested.

The child nodded her head.

"We will speak more of this later, but it is nothing to be concerned about, but it does explain a great deal. So in answer to your original question," replied the Professor, thinking at least until the near term, he would try to simply be honest and direct when she was fearful of his emotions, and try to put her at ease. "Yes I was, irritated, but you, yourself were not the cause. I was irritated at myself for not thinking that this might be a difficult task for you. And I was apprehensive because I don't always want people to know what I am feeling."

"I am sorry sir."

"So you said, but again, there is nothing to apologize for as there is nothing you can do about it, nor is there anything you should do about it. Now, let's get to our business, shall we?" he said, waving the child toward the nearest rack.

She looked at him, but the trembling increased, and the child looked like she was about to panic. He slowly stepped forward, as not to startle or frighten the child further, placed his hand on her shoulder in attempt to comfort her. The trembling lessened significantly.

"Or, we can end the sales person's boredom." he said, steeling his resolve for a long process.

In the end, however, it went more smoothly than he could manage. Not having actually picked anything for herself, and owning so little of value, when he consulted her, she simply gave him that piercing glare again, and bit her lip, and unerringly chose the one he thought best, anyway. He realized that empathic talent was a form of mind magic… the child was likely a natural occulemens/legilments too. Well, it certainly made those awkward arguments with children over appropriate choices nonexistent. She had no opinion on her school supplies, and had said nothing of the primary school primers he had purchased as well.

It was late afternoon, and he could tell the child was fading. Her steps were shorter, and her glances more nervous and quick. The child was likely hungry, and having recently recovered from severe injuries, likely giving into fatigue at this point, too. He realized, however that the child might not complain of any discomfort.

"Would you prefer a late lunch or early tea, Jena?" he asked, watching as she was staring off down the street at something nervously.

"Jena?"

"I am so-sorry, sir." she stuttered, obviously unsettled.

"What were you looking at?"

"I knew that man, I think, sir." she replied. He noticed she was trembling again. Not a good sign.

"And did he frighten you, when you knew him before?" he asked, unconsciously coming closer to the child, placing himself in the path between her and the wizard that had her spooked.

"No sir. He was just not kind."

"Late lunch, I think, Jenna," he informed her, watching her carefully, and he held out his hand to her.

She looked at it surprise, and then with suspicion.

"Sir?"

Hi simply waited, arm extended, as she slipped her hand in his. He discovered it was cold, and a bit clammy.

"Jena, your hands are freezing. Do you feel well?" he replied, worry edging his voice.

"Yes, sir." She replied confused.

"Are you cold?" he asked.

"It's not so bad, sir." He looked at her searching, and removed one of the shrunken packages from his pocket. Returning it to full size, he rummaged out and gave her the cloak he had purchased for her. It was second hand, but of good quality, but not heavy enough for the entire winter. He hadn't been able to afford everything the girl actually needed since her scholarship funds didn't cover her personal items, but the light cloak would do until something more suitable could be found for the colder winter at Hogwarts.

She seemed nervous about everything, including the cloak, but followed his instructions without question. He managed to get her to a café, and realizing he was tired too, didn't bother to try to get her to choose something, rather just ordering a portion of the most nutritious item on the menu for the child. He squashed down more irritation. It was not the child's fault that she didn't know how to tell him what she needed or wanted, and it wasn't her fault that skipping a meal wasn't an option for her either.

"Ms. Kearns, the last item is a wand, and I will explain that process." he started to explain.

"But sir, I have a wand."

His eyebrows were lost in his hair line in surprise.

"You do? Where did you get it? And may I see it?"

She gingerly pulled it from somewhere under her cloak.

"It came to me the day my mum died. It was her wand. I was told it was my inheritance." she replied quietly.

He had heard of such things in pure blood lines, where wands of great prestige or power were passed down from one generation to the next. The Elderwand that helped to defeat the Dark Lord was such a wand. He gingerly took the wand from the child, and felt a burn in his arm. The Dark Lord himself had used this wand. He almost dropped it; it felt so unclean and dark magic flowed around it.

"Walnut, stained black, and dragon heart string core, if I am not mistaken," he murmured to himself. The wand was not straight, but hooked just a bit, much like the talon of a bird.

He realized that she was studying him with a concerned yet wary expression.

"The wand was used by a Deatheater, Jena," he explained, realizing his honesty of absolute truth had worked wonders for the girl through the day. "I have a bit of sixth sense too, and can sense the dark magic. I would ask that you not share that little fact with anyone, however. The wand looks familiar too, which makes me suspect at some point I met your mother."

"Do you know who she is?" the child asked nearly breathlessly.

He watched her carefully, ruing that it was the child and not himself that was the empath.

"I know that I have seen it, but I don't recall what which wielded it." He replied, "It is out of context."

The child's eyes sought her hands in her lap, and whether it was disappointment or some other emotion he wasn't quite sure.

"Jena, if the wand suits you, which is all we need. Have you attempted any spells?"

"No sir."

"Well, you will soon enough." He thought of and quickly discarded the idea of taking the child to Ollivanders and seeing if it was one of his creations, since he never forgot a wand, nor it it's wielder. But some answers were best left for only those who could deal with the answer, and the DADA professor had the gut feeling that this was the case in this situation. He was sure the answer would come to him.

End o' Chapter!

(Readers, you thought you I would reveal her mum, didn't you? The first person who figures out who mum is gets a drabble. Risi, who won the first drabble up for grabs, has given me paramaters, and that story will be posting by the weekend. Contest drabbles are any 2 characters, any genre, any rating and any prompt, 10K words, delivered within 1 week - let's see who figures it out first!)