** Sorry for the confusion…about halfway through the story I changed Devon's name to Elijah, but I guess I missed some in re-typing so…if you see the name "Devon" anywhere, please let me know - it's just a typo I have to fix
** and on with the story!
"…and it's not fair; I don't want to go home." Abby paused to catch her breath. Elijah hadn't said a thing through all of this. Was he even listening? He seemed a little distracted. Of course, she had been talking for quite a while, but that was because he hadn't tried to say anything. If he had, she would have stopped to listen. She titled her head slightly, giving him a quizzical look.
"Elijah? Are you listening?" she asked, not demanding, just wondering. He shook his head abruptly, like he had drifted off inside his thoughts and realized quite suddenly that he shouldn't have. This was evidence to her that he hadn't been listening. He threw on a smile and nodded quickly, but it was too late. He was caught. Yet she found it near impossible to be angry with him. Maybe it was the way the firelight caught his eyes, giving him the appearance of a lost, lonely little boy. Maybe it was the result of all the times she'd stumbled and he'd been there to catch her. Maybe it was her previously guilty conscience, far too sophisticated for her age. Whatever it was, rather than throw an angry fit about how he wasn't paying attention, she kept hr head cocked and allowed her eyebrows to furrow.
"Is something wrong? That's perfectly all right, if there's something else on your mind," she told him honestly. He laughed, a short sort of laugh that meant she was saying more than she realized. Something else was on his mind, all right. She had just barely brushed the surface. He spread his knees slightly, dropping his elbows against his thighs and pressing his palms together thoughtfully. He stared at the carpeted floor, as though it withheld the answers he needed. His midnight-black hair tumbled carelessly over his eyes. She had a sudden irresistible urge to smooth it away for him. The way she felt about him, the feelings he unknowingly evoked in her when he was around…could it be that she fancied him, more than as a friend? But no, that was impossible. She was too young for that. And yet these were not the emotions of an 11-year-old girl. She was too young for her own feelings. Of course. It only fit in the irony of her life.
"Yes, of course there's something wrong," he replied vaguely. "But that's a tale for another day. I don't think you're quite ready yet, especially considering all you've been through tonight. In any case, Dumbledore is a great wizard. If he thinks it's best for you to leave school, then it's best for you to leave school. He's been doing this for many years, Abby. I think he knows what he's doing."
Whatever she had been expected him to say, it certainly wasn't that. She lifted an eyebrow at him. A surge of bitter resentment swelled in her heart, but she struggled to suppress it as best as she could. "I'm not ready for it," she reiterated coldly. Nevertheless, he could sense the biting undertone in her voice, much as she tried to squelch it. "Elijah, do you know how many times I've heard that before? It's funny. People expect me to be as great as Merlin himself, but they think I'm too young for my own family history. I just found out Voldemort is not only after my dad; he's after me, too. I survived the Killing Curse. Someone other than Voldemort is out to murder my parents. And they're sending me home so the one teacher I loathe above everything *Conlan! LOL Damion, Andria, and Elham!* can be our Secret-Keeper. Now do you really think you can tell me anything that'll surprise me?"
Elijah read her eyes for a moment, and then chuckled in a lighthearted tone not unlike that of Professor Dumbledore's. Suddenly, somehow, Abby knew she wasn't sitting with an ordinary 11-year-old boy. He was far too wise for his years. It was clear he knew a lot more than he was telling her. "Oh Abby, you're such a Potter. Your eyes alone reveal you. Anyway. All right, I'll tell you, but first you've got to tell me…what do you keep in your locket?"
"Your eyes alone reveal you." This simple statement baffled her. Why on earth was he talking so eloquently? How was it that someone so young could speak as profoundly as someone ten times his age? She held her hand protectively over the necklace. "My-my locket?" she stammered. "Why?" It wasn't like there was anything particularly incriminating inside; it was just a little embarrassing. Then again, she felt safe with Elijah. How likely was it that he could actually tease her? Against her better judgment, swooned by a smile, she reached behind her neck and unhooked the beautiful chain he'd given her.
A ha, he thought as she placed the locket in his hand. Her scar was losing its greenish hue and gradually going to back to normal. So it's not me. "I just want to see something," he explained quietly. Not much of an explanation, but his mind was somewhere else. He slipped his thumbnail into the metal seam and very gently popped the locket open. Two faces, a boy and a girl, stared back at him. They were scarcely older than he was. The girl had curly ringlets of inky black, same color as Abby, but with amber-colored eyes. The boy had Abby's bright emerald eyes, and though it was the same color, his hair was much more rugged and disheveled. He eyed it for a few moments, curiously trying to place the hauntingly familiar faces. He knew he had seen them someplace, but where?
"Who exactly are these people?" he asked, not intending to sound as harsh as he did. She could feel her cheeks warming with a familiar sensation of embarrassment as she stared distantly at the floor. With her ankles crossed and her gaze boring into the red-fringed carpeting, she looked much young than she really was, by a couple years at least.
"They're, er…those are my parents, when they were my age." He smiled softly and nodded. Of course. Harry and November Potter. How could he have forgotten? He glanced down again at the faded photographs. Not wizard photos, these. They were still-life Muggle pictures. He couldn't even begin to guess why a wizarding family took Muggle snapshots, but that was quite irrelevant for the moment. And yes, now that he thought of it…there was the unruly black hair, green eyes hidden by a pair of round, wire-rimmed glasses, and just above his right eye – yes, there it was. The Phoenix mark. How could he have missed it?
"Makes sense. They're easier to relate to this way," he said distantly, virtually reading her mind. This shocked her immensely, but it hardly even fazed him. That wasn't his main focus of thought. It didn't matter to him why they were in there so much as it did that they were in there. He slid the locket delicately off the chain. "Abby," he continued, "do me a favor. Get your wand."
She eyed him curiously for a moment or two, but finally shrugged without argument. He hadn't teased or hurt her yet. What reason did she have not to trust him now? When she'd found Harry's diary, she'd read that he carried his wand on him at all times. And why not? Hogwarts was full of surprises, and more often than not they were nasty surprises. Now she did the same. She pulled her wand from the folds of her robes and handed it to him. He made no move to take it. In fact, he didn't look up at all.
"Do a spell," he said abruptly, still without explanation. "Say, a Summoning Charm. Do you know how to do a Summoning Charm? Oh no, that's fifth year…all right, how about a Force Charm? Push that glass of water off the table."
Her mouth formed words of protest, but no sound left her. How on earth did he know about Summoning Charms? What did he do, spend his life in the library, reading about spells they hadn't learned yet? His manner of speech would suggest he did. But no matter. Harry's friend Hermione (she'd read) had done the same thing when she was younger. Abby gave another shrug and pointed her wand squarely at the glass that sat atop the coffee table beside Elijah.
"All right," she said anxiously, "but I'm warning you, my spells haven't come out too well lately. You might want to protect yourself. With my luck, it'll probably shatter in a dozen pieces." He said nothing. Okay, can't say I didn't warn you, she thought. She took a deep, steadying breath, hoping it would calm the slight tremor in her hand, and with a here-goes-nothing attitude said, "Thuro Pifre!" The result startled her. The tip of her wand glowed slightly red, and the glass began to slide across the table as though pushed by an invisible hand. There was a resounding crash – Abby had successfully pushed the glass off the table. She gave a start. She was so surprised, she gave no mind to the water that seeped into the rug.
Elijah nodded as though he'd been expecting this. "Okay…now here, put this on again," he said, giving her back her necklace. She still had no idea what he was trying to prove, but did as she was told. No, that wasn't true. She knew exactly what he meant to do – prove that the necklace was hindering her magic. But how could that be? Slowly, uncertain of how much trust she really wanted to put into him, she clipped the piece of jewelry around her neck and picked up her wand again.
This time she didn't need him to give her instructions. Any spell would clearly do, so she decided to do something constructive and dry up the water she'd spilled. She pointed her wand at the puddle, wiggled it slightly from side to side, and spoke the Drying Charm Professor Dumbledore had given her. That felt like ages ago now.
Unfortunately, it didn't work quite the way she'd wanted it to. Instead of using a little heat to dry, the carpet burst into flames. She gave a start, but Elijah simply pulled out his wand from his robes and waved it lazily over the small blaze. It appeared to disappear, receding in itself and vanishing with a soft pop. She sat gaping at him for a few beats. So he did read up on these things!
Before could open her mouth to explain her rotten luck with spells of late, he sighed. "I thought so. Abby, I have something to confess to you. I'm not who you think I am. My name isn't Elijah; it's Raphael. Raphael Demore. And I'm not 11 years old. This is an Age Charm. I'm 27 years old, and I…I used to be a Death Eater."