Clap your hands and praise out loud
Mrs. J.K. Rowling who wrote about
Harry Potter and his crowd
And owns the lot, please don't sue or shout
Andolyn
Be Angry, Mourn, And Forgive
Life was all about consequence, now was it not?
"That," Snape said in that soft, velvet lined voice of his, "Might very well be the second time you have saved our lives tonight, Miss Philpot."
Harry stared back at the burning car, the headlights behind them, the mess and the fire on the other side of the road. The boy shivered and pulled the blanket around himself. With a heart heavy with pity and concern, Ari watched him. The child seemed so lost, so alone.
"Harry- do you still have some chocolate bar or something in that bag?"
Absentmindedly the boy tore himself away from the sight behind them and began rummaging through the bag.
"I'll have a look."
Snape had pulled back slightly, his body language, though controlled, spoke of some disappointment. Was he that careful with his compliments? Oh the frailty of the male ego- Ari turned to him and smiled feebly, in acknowledgement that she -had- listened to his words and had -heard- them. The man seemed to relax a little.
"You think they won't bother us anymore?" she asked in a small voice.
"Not as long as they think we were actually -in- that car."
Ari shivered and pulled the car to the side of the road.
"I have to stop."
"You can't!" Snape insisted.
"I have to! I can't go on like this! Those people- those poor animals."
Snape raised his brow without comprehension.
"Those beasts were going to some slaughterhouse anyway."
Ari hit the brakes, threw open the door and stalked away for a few yards. The gleam of the Dark Mark was fading, but it still hung high above, painting a small shadow in front her.
Ari shivered. Then she felt her face go wet with silent tears and she hunched a little, her strength leaving her.
"Stay!" Snape's voice hissed behind her to Harry. Could that man not talk in anything but hisses and orders!
She heard him walk towards her.
"Miss Philpot!" he said harshly, then, noticing she was crying, in a much softer tone of voice he finally called her by name.
"Ariadne- Look at me. We cannot stay here, Ariadne. We are still far to close for comfort."
Slowly Ari turned. The man was right there, right in front of her. Pulling of her glasses she wiped at the tears.
"And how many more people will we victimise along the way!"
Snape said nothing, he just took her by the shoulders, probably to shake some sense into her. But Ari simply let her head sag against his chest and placed her hands against his shoulders. And she allowed herself her tears.
"Er- Ariadne?"
Hesitantly the man pulled her into a much needed hug and held her while Ari tried to calm herself down.
"First the Dursley's- now those innocents over there- that person in that crash cannot have survived!"
His soft, now almost gentle voice whispered to her. "Do you remember what I told Potter when he related to us what had happened to his family?"
"To put the blame where it belongs?" Ari asked weakly.
"Yes. Now come on, Ariadne. We need you. We need your help, Harry and I. You cannot help those people back there- but you can help us!"
Ari had stopped crying. "You are very good at manipulating people's weaknesses, you know."
He chuckled softly. "I know."
Snape gently released her and pulled at her hand to make her come with him.
"Now, can you manage to drive?"
Ari nodded, put her glasses back on her nose and walked the few steps back with her odd companion. Suddenly she noticed Harry, staring at the pair of them from behind Snape's chair, smiling like an innocent angel, a wicked sparkle in his brilliant green eyes. Snape let go of Ari's hand as if he'd been bitten and scowled deeply at the boy who hastily retreated. Ari sighed. Harry had probably never seen his testy teacher be forced to comfort somebody before.
Somewhere in the Scottish Borders, near the village of Hogsmeade that was nowhere on the map, lay the ruins of a medieval castle that was really a boarding school for adolescent wizards and witches. The village could be neared by train over the track from London to Edinburgh, but for the last part where the track became an abandoned line that had never been built in the first place. Over the road, the quickest way from London was to ride directly up to Newcastle, cross Northumberland diagonally north-westward to Hawick, and then again almost straight up north to Selkirk. A little further on, a road that never was led to Hogsmeade from another side. From there it was only about fifteen minutes to the school grounds by car.
It was at least a three hundred mile drive from London. Ari's stamina gave out about half an hour after their meeting with what was left of Ari's car. They stranded near a place called Newark around three in the morning. Snape, overruled by Ari's weariness and their dependence on her driving skill, reluctantly complied with parking the car on a parking lot somewhere in town. He was unwilling to let them rest in a hotel for he wanted to leave no trace of their existence. Ari complied for other reasons- She did not want to endanger any hotel personnel or guests- If their car exploded around them in the middle of a parking lot, at least the damages would only be to some vehicles, not people. Harry was just to tired to protest at all.
The boot of the car held no items that could be used as a cover for Ari or Snape. Ari cuddled up with Harry on the backseat and fell asleep almost instantly, while Snape took 'first watch'.
Around eight in the morning, Snape woke the two and asked if Ari was capable of moving on. His haggard looks, far worse in daylight, and Harry's surprise told her immediately the man had not slept at all. They had not been noticed by the local officials for the thieves and vagrants they had become for the journey.
The trio moved out of town, refuelled the car and bought themselves enough foodstuffs to have no need for another pause. They all needed a shower and a change of clothes badly, but there simply was no possibility for them to get either. And besides, they -would- reach Hogwarts later that same day.
Ten minutes after breakfast, a dishevelled Potions Master lay peacefully under his student's blanket, snoring softly. Ari had tied him down with his safety-belt so he would lay reasonably stable.
Harry was unusually chatty. He seemed to enjoy the ride and was very glad he would be returning to his school. He was worried though, about the loss of his books, school uniform, broom and other things he seemed to need at Hogwarts. He talked about owling a couple of friends of his, giving them permission to enter his volt at some bank called Gringotts and buying him some of the things he had lost. He was especially upset about loosing his Firebolt and how well he would perform at Quidditch without it. Not understanding much of it and too much struggling with Snape's directions and traffic to ask for many explanations, Ari let the boy talk. But unfortunately she -did- made the mistake to ask him how he got interested in Shakespeare. The boy paled a bit, but his voice was steady when he told.
"Most business partners and associates of my Uncle's gave him wine and things like salmon for Christmas. But there was a guy named Prøveboring, who thought it more stylish to send him a book with the complete works. It was probably the most expensive Christmas box he'd ever received, but it was worthless to him. So he gave it to Dudley. Who did not like it and threw it at my head to put it in the rubbish bin. It was the only real book I've ever had-"
Suddenly the young voice became quite resentful and filled with loathing.
"And they took it away and ruined it a couple of months later. They did not want me to fill my head with rubbish I had no need for. They just threw it away. I guess I forgot most of the stories. Never could get the poems- but I would like to have been able to reread them now."
Harry stared out of the window, apparently in no mood to talk more. Ari simply did not know what to say or offer the boy. In the silence she realised an absence. No soft snoring.
She glanced beside her and instead of a peaceful face in sleep, she was met by glittering half opened eyes and a frown. The eyes widened a bit, signalling Ari not to acknowledge Snape's wakefulness. How much had the man heard? Enough, so it would seem, to worry. She offered him a little smile and a nod of understanding.
Ari held herself back this time, but it took a lot from her not to cry again. Tears not for herself, but tears for a boy who had lost his parent's by a murderers hand, leaving him scarred in the face for life. Yet, Ari honestly asked herself if this creature Voldemort had really scarred the boy the most. For this precious child had lived with resentful people all of his tender years. Years spend in the devastating pain of mental abuse and neglect. Not from personal experience, but from experience with the hunted from all over the world Ari knew that inner scars were by far the worst. She hoped almost against hope this kind-hearted boy could find the strength to understand and forgive and not to drown in anger, as Ari had seen happen too often. As long as the Dursley's had been alive, they had been a live and real threat to the child. Bitterness and resentment could not have had an outlet, not enough to erase the pain. But now they were no longer there to command, punish or criticize. What would Harry do? Be angry, mourn and forgive? Or just be angry?
Did not all evil truly began with the misuse of the innocent, the children?
*********
Prøveboring means exploratory drilling in Norwegian. In Mrs Rowling's 'canon, Mr. Vernon Dursley makes drills, hence the name of his associate.
As always, big hug and thanks for your comments, You Saint Fool And Irene (are you the author of the Quest Stories, btw?).
And yes, I do try to keep my Ari away from that terrible affliction called Mary Sue (yech), so thanks for the compliment. But well, you know, there is -something- of -me- in every character I write about….
Just don't try to figure what part of me is in my depiction of the Dursley's, alright? Please?
Mrs. J.K. Rowling who wrote about
Harry Potter and his crowd
And owns the lot, please don't sue or shout
Andolyn
Be Angry, Mourn, And Forgive
Life was all about consequence, now was it not?
"That," Snape said in that soft, velvet lined voice of his, "Might very well be the second time you have saved our lives tonight, Miss Philpot."
Harry stared back at the burning car, the headlights behind them, the mess and the fire on the other side of the road. The boy shivered and pulled the blanket around himself. With a heart heavy with pity and concern, Ari watched him. The child seemed so lost, so alone.
"Harry- do you still have some chocolate bar or something in that bag?"
Absentmindedly the boy tore himself away from the sight behind them and began rummaging through the bag.
"I'll have a look."
Snape had pulled back slightly, his body language, though controlled, spoke of some disappointment. Was he that careful with his compliments? Oh the frailty of the male ego- Ari turned to him and smiled feebly, in acknowledgement that she -had- listened to his words and had -heard- them. The man seemed to relax a little.
"You think they won't bother us anymore?" she asked in a small voice.
"Not as long as they think we were actually -in- that car."
Ari shivered and pulled the car to the side of the road.
"I have to stop."
"You can't!" Snape insisted.
"I have to! I can't go on like this! Those people- those poor animals."
Snape raised his brow without comprehension.
"Those beasts were going to some slaughterhouse anyway."
Ari hit the brakes, threw open the door and stalked away for a few yards. The gleam of the Dark Mark was fading, but it still hung high above, painting a small shadow in front her.
Ari shivered. Then she felt her face go wet with silent tears and she hunched a little, her strength leaving her.
"Stay!" Snape's voice hissed behind her to Harry. Could that man not talk in anything but hisses and orders!
She heard him walk towards her.
"Miss Philpot!" he said harshly, then, noticing she was crying, in a much softer tone of voice he finally called her by name.
"Ariadne- Look at me. We cannot stay here, Ariadne. We are still far to close for comfort."
Slowly Ari turned. The man was right there, right in front of her. Pulling of her glasses she wiped at the tears.
"And how many more people will we victimise along the way!"
Snape said nothing, he just took her by the shoulders, probably to shake some sense into her. But Ari simply let her head sag against his chest and placed her hands against his shoulders. And she allowed herself her tears.
"Er- Ariadne?"
Hesitantly the man pulled her into a much needed hug and held her while Ari tried to calm herself down.
"First the Dursley's- now those innocents over there- that person in that crash cannot have survived!"
His soft, now almost gentle voice whispered to her. "Do you remember what I told Potter when he related to us what had happened to his family?"
"To put the blame where it belongs?" Ari asked weakly.
"Yes. Now come on, Ariadne. We need you. We need your help, Harry and I. You cannot help those people back there- but you can help us!"
Ari had stopped crying. "You are very good at manipulating people's weaknesses, you know."
He chuckled softly. "I know."
Snape gently released her and pulled at her hand to make her come with him.
"Now, can you manage to drive?"
Ari nodded, put her glasses back on her nose and walked the few steps back with her odd companion. Suddenly she noticed Harry, staring at the pair of them from behind Snape's chair, smiling like an innocent angel, a wicked sparkle in his brilliant green eyes. Snape let go of Ari's hand as if he'd been bitten and scowled deeply at the boy who hastily retreated. Ari sighed. Harry had probably never seen his testy teacher be forced to comfort somebody before.
Somewhere in the Scottish Borders, near the village of Hogsmeade that was nowhere on the map, lay the ruins of a medieval castle that was really a boarding school for adolescent wizards and witches. The village could be neared by train over the track from London to Edinburgh, but for the last part where the track became an abandoned line that had never been built in the first place. Over the road, the quickest way from London was to ride directly up to Newcastle, cross Northumberland diagonally north-westward to Hawick, and then again almost straight up north to Selkirk. A little further on, a road that never was led to Hogsmeade from another side. From there it was only about fifteen minutes to the school grounds by car.
It was at least a three hundred mile drive from London. Ari's stamina gave out about half an hour after their meeting with what was left of Ari's car. They stranded near a place called Newark around three in the morning. Snape, overruled by Ari's weariness and their dependence on her driving skill, reluctantly complied with parking the car on a parking lot somewhere in town. He was unwilling to let them rest in a hotel for he wanted to leave no trace of their existence. Ari complied for other reasons- She did not want to endanger any hotel personnel or guests- If their car exploded around them in the middle of a parking lot, at least the damages would only be to some vehicles, not people. Harry was just to tired to protest at all.
The boot of the car held no items that could be used as a cover for Ari or Snape. Ari cuddled up with Harry on the backseat and fell asleep almost instantly, while Snape took 'first watch'.
Around eight in the morning, Snape woke the two and asked if Ari was capable of moving on. His haggard looks, far worse in daylight, and Harry's surprise told her immediately the man had not slept at all. They had not been noticed by the local officials for the thieves and vagrants they had become for the journey.
The trio moved out of town, refuelled the car and bought themselves enough foodstuffs to have no need for another pause. They all needed a shower and a change of clothes badly, but there simply was no possibility for them to get either. And besides, they -would- reach Hogwarts later that same day.
Ten minutes after breakfast, a dishevelled Potions Master lay peacefully under his student's blanket, snoring softly. Ari had tied him down with his safety-belt so he would lay reasonably stable.
Harry was unusually chatty. He seemed to enjoy the ride and was very glad he would be returning to his school. He was worried though, about the loss of his books, school uniform, broom and other things he seemed to need at Hogwarts. He talked about owling a couple of friends of his, giving them permission to enter his volt at some bank called Gringotts and buying him some of the things he had lost. He was especially upset about loosing his Firebolt and how well he would perform at Quidditch without it. Not understanding much of it and too much struggling with Snape's directions and traffic to ask for many explanations, Ari let the boy talk. But unfortunately she -did- made the mistake to ask him how he got interested in Shakespeare. The boy paled a bit, but his voice was steady when he told.
"Most business partners and associates of my Uncle's gave him wine and things like salmon for Christmas. But there was a guy named Prøveboring, who thought it more stylish to send him a book with the complete works. It was probably the most expensive Christmas box he'd ever received, but it was worthless to him. So he gave it to Dudley. Who did not like it and threw it at my head to put it in the rubbish bin. It was the only real book I've ever had-"
Suddenly the young voice became quite resentful and filled with loathing.
"And they took it away and ruined it a couple of months later. They did not want me to fill my head with rubbish I had no need for. They just threw it away. I guess I forgot most of the stories. Never could get the poems- but I would like to have been able to reread them now."
Harry stared out of the window, apparently in no mood to talk more. Ari simply did not know what to say or offer the boy. In the silence she realised an absence. No soft snoring.
She glanced beside her and instead of a peaceful face in sleep, she was met by glittering half opened eyes and a frown. The eyes widened a bit, signalling Ari not to acknowledge Snape's wakefulness. How much had the man heard? Enough, so it would seem, to worry. She offered him a little smile and a nod of understanding.
Ari held herself back this time, but it took a lot from her not to cry again. Tears not for herself, but tears for a boy who had lost his parent's by a murderers hand, leaving him scarred in the face for life. Yet, Ari honestly asked herself if this creature Voldemort had really scarred the boy the most. For this precious child had lived with resentful people all of his tender years. Years spend in the devastating pain of mental abuse and neglect. Not from personal experience, but from experience with the hunted from all over the world Ari knew that inner scars were by far the worst. She hoped almost against hope this kind-hearted boy could find the strength to understand and forgive and not to drown in anger, as Ari had seen happen too often. As long as the Dursley's had been alive, they had been a live and real threat to the child. Bitterness and resentment could not have had an outlet, not enough to erase the pain. But now they were no longer there to command, punish or criticize. What would Harry do? Be angry, mourn and forgive? Or just be angry?
Did not all evil truly began with the misuse of the innocent, the children?
*********
Prøveboring means exploratory drilling in Norwegian. In Mrs Rowling's 'canon, Mr. Vernon Dursley makes drills, hence the name of his associate.
As always, big hug and thanks for your comments, You Saint Fool And Irene (are you the author of the Quest Stories, btw?).
And yes, I do try to keep my Ari away from that terrible affliction called Mary Sue (yech), so thanks for the compliment. But well, you know, there is -something- of -me- in every character I write about….
Just don't try to figure what part of me is in my depiction of the Dursley's, alright? Please?