Hello! This is the second chapter. I hope you liked the first one, please R/R!
Yet again, I do not own the harry potter characters except for the upcoming american girl and her family.
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Chapter 2
The Burrow?
Harry glanced at Snape, who seemed to be entranced with the cover on his bed and was absolutely avoiding Harry's stare. He seemed different. To Harry, Snape had always been the epitome of a nightmare. But now, he seemed…less menacing. His secret mission as a spy on Voldemort had taken a toll on his features, causing him to look much older and strained. His hair hung more limp and stringy if that was possible and his eyes had a distant, glazed look. With all of this, Harry thought he looked softer. He didn't seem like such a threat; his emotions were openly displayed on his face, very uncharacteristic of a Slytherin.
"Where are we going?" Harry ventured to ask. His hopes of spending the rest of his summer at the Burrow were quickly fading into dust as he was sure that Snape would answer that he was going to a secret location and that it was probable that he wouldn't return to Hogwarts this year.
"No, you're not going to Hogwarts. You're going to the Weasley's."
"Dd-d-did you read my mind?" Harry started to panick.
"Luckily for you, Potter, no. It's written all over your face. I must say, Potter, you look particularly scared, seeing as how you're the boy who lived."
Harry couldn't think of anything to say, so he focused his attention on a witch sitting a few beds down. She looked curiously familiar, but he couldn't seem to place his finger on it. As Harry was trying to figure it out, the stout, (I wasn't sure what she looked like, so forgive me if I'm wrong) middle-aged woman looked up.
Mrs. Figg? No it couldn't be. He kept staring and she returned his with a steady gaze of her own. It was just a coincidence; someone who looked like Mrs. Figg. The old lady who smelled like cabbage and thought of nothing other than her cats couldn't possibly be a witch. Could she? But then again, before Harry had found out who he was, he was just plain old Harry who lived in the cupboard under the stairs and was never acknowledged. Before he had a chance to speak up, the witch's stop was called, and with a smile, she stood up and left the bus. Harry thought he smelled a faint hint of cabbage.
When they reached the Burrow, the Weasley house erupted with what seemed like a thousand floating fireballs. The first two out of the door were Ron and Mrs. Weasley with "Wanna go play Quittich?" and "My dear boy, how are you feeling?" The twins and Ginny followed closely behind, two with mischief in their eyes and the other with honest concern. Ginny looked almost on the verge of tears and ran up to hug Harry. Quickly realizing what she had done, she backed away and Harry noticed the red creeping up her neck. He was distracted, however, by Mr. Weasley and Bill entering at last from the house. Who was that walking arm in arm with Bill? Harry recognized the white-blond hair and crystal blue eyes immediately.
"Hullo Fleur. I didn't think I'd be seeing you here." He shot Ron a look, but Ron just shrugged his shoulders.
"Oh, of course…I am teeching at your school. I wanted to improve my English, so I am going to be za student teacher for defense against ze dark arts." She flashed a heart-melting smile at Bill, who smiled back goofily and looked at the ground.
"Well," Mrs. Weasley said, putting a protective arm around Harry with a snigger from Ron, "Let's go inside and make Harry feel at home…Thank you Professor Snape, I can not express to you how much your bravery means to us." Somehow Harry felt that she wasn't referring to his rescue of Harry from the Dursley's. Mr. Weasley shook Snape's hand with a grateful, yet sad smile though Snape did not seem moved in the least. They all turned around leaving Snape to get back onto the Knight's Bus and make his way to whichever destination he was headed for.
Harry woke up with a start and rubbed his forehead. He was used to the burning sensation but still always felt chills tingle up and down his spine at the first sign. He had dreamt that Voldemort was whipping Snape mercilessly and repeatedly while a large group of death eaters, larger than Harry had ever seen, laughed and clapped around him. Wormtail was the only one in the group who had not joined in on the fun. Snape cried out, "Master, please, I had to remove him from there or Dumbledore would have been suspicious. If I would have refused, he would have known that I was on your side." Voldemort stopped for a brief moment to utter, "Why does it matter what Dumbledore knows? He is weak and would take pity on you…even if you had rejoined the dark side." Voldemort practically spat the last word at Snape and Snape quivered with the belief that these were his last moments.
Was is real? Harry asked out loud, receiving a mumbled, half- asleep reply from Ron. Thus far, all of my dreams have really happened. Is it possible that Snape is being killed by Voldemort at this very moment while I sit in bed not doing anything?
"Ron?"
"Ron!"
"Mmm?? Wha? Is your scar burning, Harry?"
"Yes, and I had a dream that Voldemort was killing Snape, or at least, nearly killing him."
"Good, no more Snape. Hogwarts will be perfect now. No one to give us detention."
"Ron, I'm being serious."
"So am I!"
"Nevermind," Harry sighed and rolled over in bed. He was sure that it was nothing this time, it was just paranoia, but he would write Dumbledore in the morning just to be safe.
But, Harry wondered, whose side was Snape on?
"Harry, Harry wake up!"
Harry opened his eyes to see nothing but a fuzzy orange ball five inches away from his face. He took his glasses off of the nearby stand, put them on, and looked up at Ron's excited face. His eyes were nearly bulging out of the sockets at his tried to wriggle Harry out of the small, but cozy bed. It didn't take much; Ron had grown over the summer, and was now a half a foot taller than the small-framed Harry.
"What is it?" Harry asked groggily as Ron pulled him down the stairs at a frightening pace.
"We're home alone!" Ron exclaimed with a flash of child-like glee in his eyes. "Mum and dad went to visit Charlie for a few days, Percy had to work today, Bill and Fleur went out somewhere, and Fred and George went to Hogsmeade to sell a few of their, er…creations before mum and dad find out. Ginny's here and we sorta have to watch her, but she doesn't count."
"Thanks, you big git," Ginny said indignantly from the kitchen table with a piece of toast sticking out of her mouth. "You do have to take me wherever you go," she reminded him with a triumphant look on her face and a nervous glance at Harry.
"C'mon, I owled 'Mione, and she said she'd meet us at the Leaky Cauldron. We just need to find where mum hid the floo….oi, there t'is!"
"Ron, I don't think.."
"Shut up Ginny, she won't know if you don't squeal."
It had been four days since Harry had written to Dumbledore asking about Snape and Dumbledore had replied that everything was fine and not to worry. Harry had tried not to worry and enjoy his time so far at the Burrow, but the thought was always in the back of his mind. Maybe a trip to Diagon Alley would solve the problem. Definitely seeing Hermione would help, since she could talk endlessly of anything, not even giving Harry time to think.
"It'll be great to see Hermione," Harry said in a nonchalant manner.
"Yeah…" Ron said, his eyes instantly glazing over, his head in a different place.
Harry chuckled to himself as he sprinkled some floo powder, said "Diagon Alley," and disappeared in a whirl of color.
Yet again, I do not own the harry potter characters except for the upcoming american girl and her family.
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Chapter 2
The Burrow?
Harry glanced at Snape, who seemed to be entranced with the cover on his bed and was absolutely avoiding Harry's stare. He seemed different. To Harry, Snape had always been the epitome of a nightmare. But now, he seemed…less menacing. His secret mission as a spy on Voldemort had taken a toll on his features, causing him to look much older and strained. His hair hung more limp and stringy if that was possible and his eyes had a distant, glazed look. With all of this, Harry thought he looked softer. He didn't seem like such a threat; his emotions were openly displayed on his face, very uncharacteristic of a Slytherin.
"Where are we going?" Harry ventured to ask. His hopes of spending the rest of his summer at the Burrow were quickly fading into dust as he was sure that Snape would answer that he was going to a secret location and that it was probable that he wouldn't return to Hogwarts this year.
"No, you're not going to Hogwarts. You're going to the Weasley's."
"Dd-d-did you read my mind?" Harry started to panick.
"Luckily for you, Potter, no. It's written all over your face. I must say, Potter, you look particularly scared, seeing as how you're the boy who lived."
Harry couldn't think of anything to say, so he focused his attention on a witch sitting a few beds down. She looked curiously familiar, but he couldn't seem to place his finger on it. As Harry was trying to figure it out, the stout, (I wasn't sure what she looked like, so forgive me if I'm wrong) middle-aged woman looked up.
Mrs. Figg? No it couldn't be. He kept staring and she returned his with a steady gaze of her own. It was just a coincidence; someone who looked like Mrs. Figg. The old lady who smelled like cabbage and thought of nothing other than her cats couldn't possibly be a witch. Could she? But then again, before Harry had found out who he was, he was just plain old Harry who lived in the cupboard under the stairs and was never acknowledged. Before he had a chance to speak up, the witch's stop was called, and with a smile, she stood up and left the bus. Harry thought he smelled a faint hint of cabbage.
When they reached the Burrow, the Weasley house erupted with what seemed like a thousand floating fireballs. The first two out of the door were Ron and Mrs. Weasley with "Wanna go play Quittich?" and "My dear boy, how are you feeling?" The twins and Ginny followed closely behind, two with mischief in their eyes and the other with honest concern. Ginny looked almost on the verge of tears and ran up to hug Harry. Quickly realizing what she had done, she backed away and Harry noticed the red creeping up her neck. He was distracted, however, by Mr. Weasley and Bill entering at last from the house. Who was that walking arm in arm with Bill? Harry recognized the white-blond hair and crystal blue eyes immediately.
"Hullo Fleur. I didn't think I'd be seeing you here." He shot Ron a look, but Ron just shrugged his shoulders.
"Oh, of course…I am teeching at your school. I wanted to improve my English, so I am going to be za student teacher for defense against ze dark arts." She flashed a heart-melting smile at Bill, who smiled back goofily and looked at the ground.
"Well," Mrs. Weasley said, putting a protective arm around Harry with a snigger from Ron, "Let's go inside and make Harry feel at home…Thank you Professor Snape, I can not express to you how much your bravery means to us." Somehow Harry felt that she wasn't referring to his rescue of Harry from the Dursley's. Mr. Weasley shook Snape's hand with a grateful, yet sad smile though Snape did not seem moved in the least. They all turned around leaving Snape to get back onto the Knight's Bus and make his way to whichever destination he was headed for.
Harry woke up with a start and rubbed his forehead. He was used to the burning sensation but still always felt chills tingle up and down his spine at the first sign. He had dreamt that Voldemort was whipping Snape mercilessly and repeatedly while a large group of death eaters, larger than Harry had ever seen, laughed and clapped around him. Wormtail was the only one in the group who had not joined in on the fun. Snape cried out, "Master, please, I had to remove him from there or Dumbledore would have been suspicious. If I would have refused, he would have known that I was on your side." Voldemort stopped for a brief moment to utter, "Why does it matter what Dumbledore knows? He is weak and would take pity on you…even if you had rejoined the dark side." Voldemort practically spat the last word at Snape and Snape quivered with the belief that these were his last moments.
Was is real? Harry asked out loud, receiving a mumbled, half- asleep reply from Ron. Thus far, all of my dreams have really happened. Is it possible that Snape is being killed by Voldemort at this very moment while I sit in bed not doing anything?
"Ron?"
"Ron!"
"Mmm?? Wha? Is your scar burning, Harry?"
"Yes, and I had a dream that Voldemort was killing Snape, or at least, nearly killing him."
"Good, no more Snape. Hogwarts will be perfect now. No one to give us detention."
"Ron, I'm being serious."
"So am I!"
"Nevermind," Harry sighed and rolled over in bed. He was sure that it was nothing this time, it was just paranoia, but he would write Dumbledore in the morning just to be safe.
But, Harry wondered, whose side was Snape on?
"Harry, Harry wake up!"
Harry opened his eyes to see nothing but a fuzzy orange ball five inches away from his face. He took his glasses off of the nearby stand, put them on, and looked up at Ron's excited face. His eyes were nearly bulging out of the sockets at his tried to wriggle Harry out of the small, but cozy bed. It didn't take much; Ron had grown over the summer, and was now a half a foot taller than the small-framed Harry.
"What is it?" Harry asked groggily as Ron pulled him down the stairs at a frightening pace.
"We're home alone!" Ron exclaimed with a flash of child-like glee in his eyes. "Mum and dad went to visit Charlie for a few days, Percy had to work today, Bill and Fleur went out somewhere, and Fred and George went to Hogsmeade to sell a few of their, er…creations before mum and dad find out. Ginny's here and we sorta have to watch her, but she doesn't count."
"Thanks, you big git," Ginny said indignantly from the kitchen table with a piece of toast sticking out of her mouth. "You do have to take me wherever you go," she reminded him with a triumphant look on her face and a nervous glance at Harry.
"C'mon, I owled 'Mione, and she said she'd meet us at the Leaky Cauldron. We just need to find where mum hid the floo….oi, there t'is!"
"Ron, I don't think.."
"Shut up Ginny, she won't know if you don't squeal."
It had been four days since Harry had written to Dumbledore asking about Snape and Dumbledore had replied that everything was fine and not to worry. Harry had tried not to worry and enjoy his time so far at the Burrow, but the thought was always in the back of his mind. Maybe a trip to Diagon Alley would solve the problem. Definitely seeing Hermione would help, since she could talk endlessly of anything, not even giving Harry time to think.
"It'll be great to see Hermione," Harry said in a nonchalant manner.
"Yeah…" Ron said, his eyes instantly glazing over, his head in a different place.
Harry chuckled to himself as he sprinkled some floo powder, said "Diagon Alley," and disappeared in a whirl of color.