"Harry, we've spent the whole day together. I think I need to tell you
something." said Isabella. She looked a bit frightened. "I'm telling you
this because I know it's safe to tell you, I've known since you told me
your name. Harry," Isabella paused for a moment and then continued, "I'm a
witch. The reason I've had so many foster parents is that nobody wanted me
once they learned what I was." Tears came to her gorgeous blue-green eyes.
She and Harry sat down on the curb and to Harry's surprise (and, secretly,
delight) Isabella put her head on his shoulder and rested it there.
"I'm sorry," Isabella said, embarrassed, "I guess I just needed somebody to talk to."
"It's okay. I'm glad I could help." Harry told her comfortingly. He squeezed her shoulder and she looked up at him. She had stopped crying but her eyes still shone with tears. "I have a favor to ask. You don't have to do it," Isabella added quickly, "but would you come with me when I tell Mr. and Mrs. Carrington about, well, you know, me?"
"Sure. I'd be glad to help. I have to ask my aunt, but I don't think she'll mind." Harry said. And of course he was right. Aunt Petunia was glad for any reason to get rid of him. Just like Dudley, she and Uncle Vernon hated Harry. Dudley watched and didn't bother closing his mouth as Isabella took Harry's hand and walked out the door. So, that night Harry ate dinner with Isabella and the Carrington's. There wasn't much conversation. Just an occasional,
"Have you lived here long, Harry?" or a, "Do tell me what your uncle does for a living Harry." Harry answered all the questions politely and glanced over at Isabella from time to time. She looked uncomfortable and seemed to want to finish the dinner quickly.
When the meal was over, Isabella looked up and cleared her throat. "Mr. and Mrs. Carrington," she started, obviously very nervous and unsure about what to say, "There's something I really need you to know. It's about me; I'm very different."
"We're all different, honey." Mrs. Carrington said, smiling, "We're all unique and special."
Wow, Harry thought that was really corny. Isabella seemed to be thinking the same thing, but she continued. "No. I mean, I'm really different. Me and Harry both are different in the same way. Does that make sense?" Isabella squeezed Harry's arm and he felt a strong sensation in his stomach, and, strangely, his scar stung for a second. Isabella continued, "We're both magic. I'm... well, you see, I'm a witch." she let out an enormous breath like a great weight had been lifted off her chest.
"Isabella, we know you can have a temper, but that doesn't make you a witch." Mr. Carrington said, chuckling. Isabella gave him an exasperated look.
"No, you don't understand," she tried again desperately, "I'm a witch. I do magic. Is there any way I could make you believe me?"
"You could show them your stuff." Harry suggested. "Good idea, thanks Harry." Isabella smiled warmly at him, then ran off and came back with some her wand, a Firebolt, and some books including: "The Standard Book of Spells: Book 6" and "The Monster Book of Monsters."
"I'm sorry," Isabella said, embarrassed, "I guess I just needed somebody to talk to."
"It's okay. I'm glad I could help." Harry told her comfortingly. He squeezed her shoulder and she looked up at him. She had stopped crying but her eyes still shone with tears. "I have a favor to ask. You don't have to do it," Isabella added quickly, "but would you come with me when I tell Mr. and Mrs. Carrington about, well, you know, me?"
"Sure. I'd be glad to help. I have to ask my aunt, but I don't think she'll mind." Harry said. And of course he was right. Aunt Petunia was glad for any reason to get rid of him. Just like Dudley, she and Uncle Vernon hated Harry. Dudley watched and didn't bother closing his mouth as Isabella took Harry's hand and walked out the door. So, that night Harry ate dinner with Isabella and the Carrington's. There wasn't much conversation. Just an occasional,
"Have you lived here long, Harry?" or a, "Do tell me what your uncle does for a living Harry." Harry answered all the questions politely and glanced over at Isabella from time to time. She looked uncomfortable and seemed to want to finish the dinner quickly.
When the meal was over, Isabella looked up and cleared her throat. "Mr. and Mrs. Carrington," she started, obviously very nervous and unsure about what to say, "There's something I really need you to know. It's about me; I'm very different."
"We're all different, honey." Mrs. Carrington said, smiling, "We're all unique and special."
Wow, Harry thought that was really corny. Isabella seemed to be thinking the same thing, but she continued. "No. I mean, I'm really different. Me and Harry both are different in the same way. Does that make sense?" Isabella squeezed Harry's arm and he felt a strong sensation in his stomach, and, strangely, his scar stung for a second. Isabella continued, "We're both magic. I'm... well, you see, I'm a witch." she let out an enormous breath like a great weight had been lifted off her chest.
"Isabella, we know you can have a temper, but that doesn't make you a witch." Mr. Carrington said, chuckling. Isabella gave him an exasperated look.
"No, you don't understand," she tried again desperately, "I'm a witch. I do magic. Is there any way I could make you believe me?"
"You could show them your stuff." Harry suggested. "Good idea, thanks Harry." Isabella smiled warmly at him, then ran off and came back with some her wand, a Firebolt, and some books including: "The Standard Book of Spells: Book 6" and "The Monster Book of Monsters."