CHAPTER 18: WITCHES AND WIZARDS

Sparhawk woke up to white walls and a dull ache in his shoulder. He would've groaned had he been a lesser man; as it was, he just gritted his teeth and tried to sit up. Immediately, soft hands were pushing him down onto the bed. He struggled, but a familiar voice muttered, "Shh...It's okay" and handed him a hard, strangely shaped object. His glasses. Right.

He slipped them on and the room came into full focus. That was always going to be a strange sensation. By his bedside stood Adelaide, her face taut with worry. Sparhawk grinned weakly. "So we won?" he croaked out.

Her eyes glistened dangerously as her face lit up in anger. "You foolish, foolish boy!" she ground out through gritted teeth, "What possessed you to jump in front of me? I'm supposed to keep you safe not the other way around!"

"Chivalry?" he offered.

She groaned, slumping down into a nearby chair. "Chivalry's dead for a reason, Sparhawk. And you would've been too if those other...wizards hadn't shown up."

"Other wizards?"

"I'll fill you in later. For now, why don't you lie down and I'll get you..."

"Other wizards?" he repeated stubbornly.

She sighed. "Once you passed out, an old man and a goth-looking fellow showed up."

"Goth looking?"

"You can look that up later dear. Anyway, he did some magic and knocked out the other guy. Then they tied them up, with magic, and woke up Jonathan, that brave boy."

"What about me?!"

"You're still a fool, Sparhawk."

"Anyhow, the old man, who introduced himself as Dumbledore, took one look at you and summoned some sort of burning bird."

"Burning bird?"

"It was on fire, Sparhawk. Then he asked me to lift you up and hold onto him. I did and there was a big blaze and we ended up here. There was a nice woman here who patched you all up. A dislocated shoulder and two broken ribs! Knocked out for a full hour! You just sit there and reflect on that, young man!"

"But it doesn't hurt!"

"Probably because the nice lady did some magic on you. Be sure to thank her, okay?"

Sparhawk nodded and leaned back in his pillow. The last few hours had been chaotic. There had been Jonathan with his tales of wizards and murderers. There was the attack. There had also been the little matter of his body's real name being Harry Potter, who, according to popular belief, had turned to a life of murder at the tender age of one. He sighed.

Adelaide pressed a glass of water into his hand and he gulped it down greedily. As she took it back from him, she had an uneasy expression in her eyes. "Sparhawk," she began, "When those men tried to hurt us... do you remember anything? Something unusual?"

"People trying to kill me by shooting lights out of pointy sticks?"

She gave him a playful knock on the head. "Something you did?"

"What do you mean?"

She hesitated, but then plowed on. "You raised your hand and you screamed Sparhawk. And then, the coffee table just flew into one of them. Do you remember any of that?"

He looked into her eyes. What to say? How could an 11-year-old boy, who'd apparently lost his memory magically bludgeon a guy with a table? Oh well, he'd feign ignorance. Partly anyway.

"I don't know, Addy." Her eyes moistened over once again when she heard him call her so, "I just panicked and tried to save you and it just...happened."

"I think I might have an explanation for that." said a voice from behind Adelaide. He looked up to see a very old man in a violently violet robe with stars smiling at him benevolently. "I'm Albus Dumbledore. Nice to meet you, Harry."

"It's Sparhawk."

After they'd gotten past the initial awkwardness of Dumbledore trying to convince him that he was Harry James Potter, son of James and Lily Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, vanquisher of Voldemort and whatnot, and Sparhawk stubbornly insisting that his name was Sparhawk, Dumbledore came around to the topic of magic.

"Well, you see Harry,"

"Sparhawk."

"Sparhawk. You're a wizard. Which means you can do magic. And what I heard you did back at the house, that's called accidental magic. You see, sometimes, when a child wizard or witch,"

"That's rude, neighbour"

"I'm sorry, Ha...Sparhawk. That's what female wizards are called. Anyway, as children, sometimes you want something to happen very much and your magic just makes it happen. It's rather unpredictable and potentially dangerous which is why when a witch or wizard reaches the age of eleven, they're enrolled in a school to teach them to control their magic. Hogwarts, which is where we are now, is the major school of witchcraft and wizardry in the United Kingdom. There are other schools like Ilvermony in the states and Beauxbatons in France, but I dare say we're one of the best out there."

"So, Sparhawk has to attend here? But we live all the way over in Surrey. And Hogwarts is in...where exactly is it anyway?" asked Adelaide.

"It's in Scotland. And that's really not a problem. Hogwarts is a boarding school. The pupils stay here throughout the school year. They can go home for the Winter and Summer holidays."

"Oh..."

"I must say madame, you're taking all this quite well."

"Well, I don't have a choice, do I?" she asked wryly. And so they talked pleasantries and Hogwarts and such, carefully dancing around the subject of the attackers for no discernible reason until Sparhawk decided enough was enough and stopped them in mid-conversation with a rather important question.

"Who were those people who attacked us, ?"

Adelaide fell silent and watched Dumbledore carefully, while Dumbledore himself seemed rather grave. Not 'so old he was nearly in the grave' grave, but the other sort. "They were some bad people, Harry," he said with all the seriousness that adults apply while talking to children

"Astute." Sparhawk observed drily, "But who were they?"

"I'm not sure you need to know the details, Sparhawk. I'll discuss it with your guardian here and she'll tell you what she sees fit."

"No."

Dumbledore was surprised by the vehemence in that word. "If people want me dead, I need to know, neighbour."

"You talk like an old man, Sparhawk."

"I've been told, Dumbledore."

This earned him a smack on the head from Adelaide. "Manners!" she hissed.

Sparhawk grimaced, but conceded, muttering a quick sorry. Adelaide rubbed his head and turned to Dumbledore, "The boy's right. He needs to know. He's got a right to know."

Dumbledore's face turned pensive, "Are you sure?"

She nodded.

The Headmaster sighed, suddenly weary. "The people who attacked you were part of a group called Death Eaters. Funny name, yes. Nearly a decade ago, while you were still a baby, their leader, an evil wizard named Voldemort came after your family. He killed your father James Potter and then he tried to kill you. But your mother, Lily, got in the way and laid down her life for you. That act of love, of sacrifice, somehow laid an aegis on you and when Voldemort turned his wand to slay you, the killing curse rebounded, striking the dark wizard and that was the last the world heard of him. And for that, Harry, you are a hero in the wizarding world, the Boy who lived."

Sparhawk was quiet a moment, not bothering to correct the older man. "That doesn't make sense."

Dumbledore stared at him intensely, a strange light in his eyes.

"If my mother was the one to lay down the aegis, why do people praise me as a hero?"

Dumbledore seemed immensely pleased. "Ah, my boy, that conversation will truly have to wait another day. I believe the nurse arrives and she doesn't like her patients being disturbed."

Sure enough, a white-clad matron was bearing down on them and shooed Dumbledore away. She then proceeded to give Sparhawk a thorough examination, all the while casting dirty glances at Adelaide. Finally, Sparhawk could take it no longer.

"What?" he asked, rather irritably.

The nurse seemed taken aback. "Beg your pardon?"

"Do you have a problem with Mrs Baker, ma'am?"

She flushed. She seemed to be about to refute his accusation, but then, took a breath, her lips setting in a hard line.

"Yes, I do, young man." Then she turned to Adelaide and her voice went flat. "His bones are weak. He's small for his age, rather thin. And my diagnostic spells showed old healed fractures. Lots of them."

"Are you suggesting..." snarled Adelaide, disbelief colouring her voice. Sparhawk grabbed her hand and squeezed, cutting her off. Then he turned to the nurse and said in a level voice, "I've been with Mrs Baker for less than a month. Matter of fact, I have no clue where I was or what happened before then."

The nurse blanched, "Oh, I'm sorry. I...I just"

Adelaide sighed, calming herself down with an effort, and said, "No harm done. You were just doing your job. We all make mistakes."

The nurse seemed to relax and uncorked a little bottle she had in a pouch. "Take this," she said, handing it to Sparhawk, "It'll numb the pain."

Sparhawk waved it away, "It doesn't hurt much. And if the pain goes away, how will I keep from hurting it again?" The woman seemed pleasantly shocked. "That's a lot of common sense, quite unexpected for boys your age really. I guess the credit goes to your...grandma?" she said, smiling.

"I'm his foster parent."

"Oh. But I thought that wretch Sirius Black was Harry's only Godparent?"

"Sirius Black?" he asked.

The nurse paled. "Ah...nothing, dear. Never mind that."

"Not Godparent. Foster. A month back, he was found unconscious by the police and couldn't remember anything about himself. I took him in. Oh, and his name's Sparhawk." said Adelaide, making Sparhawk grin. He was getting tired of saying that himself.

"Oh. Oh. But his name's..."

"My name's Sparhawk." he asserted, and even though his voice was somewhat higher pitched than he liked, the tone brooked no arguments.

You may have noticed that updates are fortnightly now. Lots of work in real life. Working with only two-thirds of the workforce due to unforeseen circumstances. Hopefully, in a month or so, it'll get better. But I might stick to this schedule even then. It's quite relaxing. Well, only time will tell. As always, read and review. Your reviews are the high point of my day.