Werewolf-Part 8-Harriet's POV
When I received Danielle's letter, telling me that Orla knew I was here, I was very worried, but I had other things, just as stressful, to deal with. Nobody came to see me until about lunchtime, and it was Professor Snape, bringing me the Wolfsbane potion. Judging by the look on his face I could tell he was in a particularly bad mood, but with a slight twisted smile. He put the goblet down on the table, and swept out of the room quickly, before I had a chance to tell him about the danger Harriet had warned me of. I knew I should drink the potion immediately, so I walked over, and reached out to pick up the goblet.
If I hadn't been worrying already, I would have probably realised, before my hand even came into contact with the goblet. As it was, I was surprised when I touched it, and suddenly had to withdraw my hand from the burning pain in my fingers. Silver. I called Professor Snape some exceedingly rude names, under my breath, which I will not repeat here. No wonder he was smiling. It was his idea of a joke; give the werewolf its potion in a silver goblet. Very funny-I don't think! So what was I supposed to do now? If I'd got all my school stuff with me I could have used my protective gloves, but they were at home somewhere. I was locked in the room, because Dumbledore was worried I might try to sneak out, and end up getting caught again, so I couldn't tell anyone. I decided to write a letter to Danielle.
'Danielle,
Can you help me? Professor Snape's given me this potion I have to take, every full moon, but the evil git's put it in a silver goblet. I expect you know I can't touch it, so I've got problems. It's really dangerous if I don't take the potion, so can you please tell Professor Dumbledore, or someone, before night time.
Urgently.
~Harriet~'
It sounds really stupid, to be so worried about it, but it was important. That potion made me feel safer, knowing exactly what I was doing, and being able to control myself. I tried to wrap my hands in a sheet and pick it up, but the sheet was too thin, and I still burned my hands.
I had really had enough of Snape by then. I was fed up of being in hiding. I was just fed up, basically. I was going to get out of there, right at that very moment.
As soon as Snape had left the room, I picked up a magazine from the floor. It was 'Teenage Witch Weekly'. I didn't like it much, but Danielle had brought it with her, and it was something to do. Anyway, it was going to be useful. I opened it at the third page, it showed you how to magically dye your hair blonde. Under normal circumstances, there's no way I would even think of dying my hair-especially not blonde- but I needed a disguise.
"Eurgh!" I shuddered, looking in the mirror. Bleached hair did tend to look a bit on the yellow side, and this was no exception. But the good thing, was that I didn't look much like myself at all. Which was, of course, the whole idea. I wanted to go back to London, to try and get people on my side and be allowed to live normally. I can't say I could clear my name, because I'm not innocent. I committed the crime, but that wasn't my fault, and at the very least I should be treated like any other witch who killed someone. I could probably get there, as long as no-one recognised me.
I rushed down the spiral staircase, carrying my broomstick, which had been left at Hogwarts when I had arrived with Remus Lupin before I was captured again, and when I reached the bottom, I pulled out my wand. "Alohomora," I whispered, and the lock clicked. I opened the door, and flew off.
Everyone said I was a good flier. I was hoping to be put on the Ravenclaw quidditch team in my second year, but now that was out of the question. If I could go back now, they still wouldn't put me on the team, because they wouldn't trust me. I was out of practice at flying, since I had been in that tower for a while. Still, I could fly well, and soon got back to normal, enjoying the feeling of freedom, after weeks at Hogwarts. I was on my way back to London. I knew it was stupid, that I could be caught, and that it would be too much to expect to escape a third time. But although I knew this, the other part of my brain was telling me that I had to have a go.
It was getting dark, so as I flew over Yorkshire, I stopped. I had chosen a bad time to leave, because it was the full moon, but as long as I found a place away from people, I'd be OK. I found a run down house, which obviously no-one lived in, so I opened the door, and went in. I pushed stones and furniture against the door so I wouldn't be able to get out once I was transformed. That took a good forty-five minutes, shifting heavy objects across the room. Then I sat down and waited. That was the worst part, sitting and waiting, not knowing exactly when it will happen.
I shudder, and tense up, as the light of the full moon shines through a cracked window pane. I look up, and see the cool silvery light, covering everything. I remember feeling the fur growing on my hands, quickly spreading to my arms and legs, and the bones in my legs twist and contort into different positions. After that, I don't remember anything.
I groaned, and sat up quickly. I had been lying painfully on my left arm which was now covered in scratches. I looked down at my arms and legs, and shrugged. I'd had worse injuries than this before, and the marks healed fairly quickly. The only scar that really stood out was the Bite, on the back of my right leg, a crescent shape of tooth marks. I stood up and stretched, before I grabbed my broomstick and flew off again.
I reached London, in the afternoon, and I was really hungry, I hadn't eaten for ages. I went into a muggle bakery, and bought a sandwich and a bottle of some fizzy drink, which tasted very sweet and sickly.
Once I had eaten and drunk, I had nothing holding me back from going back to wizarding London, apart from my fear. I was terrified that I would be caught. I could imagine Dumbledore, looking sad and shaking his head, knowing that I had caused my own execution, by being so reckless, and stupid. I didn't have the same adrenaline rush I had felt the day before, and I was more nervous. Pulling up my coat collar to cover my face as much as possible, I walked into the Leaky Cauldron. I paused in the doorway, waiting for the screams, that would surely come if anyone recognised me. Nothing happened. A few people glanced up as I entered the room, but then looked down again. I walked straight through the bar, to the bins at the back, tapped the bricks, and the gateway opened.
When I received Danielle's letter, telling me that Orla knew I was here, I was very worried, but I had other things, just as stressful, to deal with. Nobody came to see me until about lunchtime, and it was Professor Snape, bringing me the Wolfsbane potion. Judging by the look on his face I could tell he was in a particularly bad mood, but with a slight twisted smile. He put the goblet down on the table, and swept out of the room quickly, before I had a chance to tell him about the danger Harriet had warned me of. I knew I should drink the potion immediately, so I walked over, and reached out to pick up the goblet.
If I hadn't been worrying already, I would have probably realised, before my hand even came into contact with the goblet. As it was, I was surprised when I touched it, and suddenly had to withdraw my hand from the burning pain in my fingers. Silver. I called Professor Snape some exceedingly rude names, under my breath, which I will not repeat here. No wonder he was smiling. It was his idea of a joke; give the werewolf its potion in a silver goblet. Very funny-I don't think! So what was I supposed to do now? If I'd got all my school stuff with me I could have used my protective gloves, but they were at home somewhere. I was locked in the room, because Dumbledore was worried I might try to sneak out, and end up getting caught again, so I couldn't tell anyone. I decided to write a letter to Danielle.
'Danielle,
Can you help me? Professor Snape's given me this potion I have to take, every full moon, but the evil git's put it in a silver goblet. I expect you know I can't touch it, so I've got problems. It's really dangerous if I don't take the potion, so can you please tell Professor Dumbledore, or someone, before night time.
Urgently.
~Harriet~'
It sounds really stupid, to be so worried about it, but it was important. That potion made me feel safer, knowing exactly what I was doing, and being able to control myself. I tried to wrap my hands in a sheet and pick it up, but the sheet was too thin, and I still burned my hands.
I had really had enough of Snape by then. I was fed up of being in hiding. I was just fed up, basically. I was going to get out of there, right at that very moment.
As soon as Snape had left the room, I picked up a magazine from the floor. It was 'Teenage Witch Weekly'. I didn't like it much, but Danielle had brought it with her, and it was something to do. Anyway, it was going to be useful. I opened it at the third page, it showed you how to magically dye your hair blonde. Under normal circumstances, there's no way I would even think of dying my hair-especially not blonde- but I needed a disguise.
"Eurgh!" I shuddered, looking in the mirror. Bleached hair did tend to look a bit on the yellow side, and this was no exception. But the good thing, was that I didn't look much like myself at all. Which was, of course, the whole idea. I wanted to go back to London, to try and get people on my side and be allowed to live normally. I can't say I could clear my name, because I'm not innocent. I committed the crime, but that wasn't my fault, and at the very least I should be treated like any other witch who killed someone. I could probably get there, as long as no-one recognised me.
I rushed down the spiral staircase, carrying my broomstick, which had been left at Hogwarts when I had arrived with Remus Lupin before I was captured again, and when I reached the bottom, I pulled out my wand. "Alohomora," I whispered, and the lock clicked. I opened the door, and flew off.
Everyone said I was a good flier. I was hoping to be put on the Ravenclaw quidditch team in my second year, but now that was out of the question. If I could go back now, they still wouldn't put me on the team, because they wouldn't trust me. I was out of practice at flying, since I had been in that tower for a while. Still, I could fly well, and soon got back to normal, enjoying the feeling of freedom, after weeks at Hogwarts. I was on my way back to London. I knew it was stupid, that I could be caught, and that it would be too much to expect to escape a third time. But although I knew this, the other part of my brain was telling me that I had to have a go.
It was getting dark, so as I flew over Yorkshire, I stopped. I had chosen a bad time to leave, because it was the full moon, but as long as I found a place away from people, I'd be OK. I found a run down house, which obviously no-one lived in, so I opened the door, and went in. I pushed stones and furniture against the door so I wouldn't be able to get out once I was transformed. That took a good forty-five minutes, shifting heavy objects across the room. Then I sat down and waited. That was the worst part, sitting and waiting, not knowing exactly when it will happen.
I shudder, and tense up, as the light of the full moon shines through a cracked window pane. I look up, and see the cool silvery light, covering everything. I remember feeling the fur growing on my hands, quickly spreading to my arms and legs, and the bones in my legs twist and contort into different positions. After that, I don't remember anything.
I groaned, and sat up quickly. I had been lying painfully on my left arm which was now covered in scratches. I looked down at my arms and legs, and shrugged. I'd had worse injuries than this before, and the marks healed fairly quickly. The only scar that really stood out was the Bite, on the back of my right leg, a crescent shape of tooth marks. I stood up and stretched, before I grabbed my broomstick and flew off again.
I reached London, in the afternoon, and I was really hungry, I hadn't eaten for ages. I went into a muggle bakery, and bought a sandwich and a bottle of some fizzy drink, which tasted very sweet and sickly.
Once I had eaten and drunk, I had nothing holding me back from going back to wizarding London, apart from my fear. I was terrified that I would be caught. I could imagine Dumbledore, looking sad and shaking his head, knowing that I had caused my own execution, by being so reckless, and stupid. I didn't have the same adrenaline rush I had felt the day before, and I was more nervous. Pulling up my coat collar to cover my face as much as possible, I walked into the Leaky Cauldron. I paused in the doorway, waiting for the screams, that would surely come if anyone recognised me. Nothing happened. A few people glanced up as I entered the room, but then looked down again. I walked straight through the bar, to the bins at the back, tapped the bricks, and the gateway opened.