Chapter Four: Harry's Special Guest
The winter gust was blowing up again as Harry Potter made his way up the street to his home in suburban London. The forty-nine year old minister of magic pulled his cloak more tightly around him and trudged on through the snow. Just another block to go. The day had been particularly hard for Harry. But then, it was always brutal these days. It seemed that no matter what the ministry did, Lord Voldemort and his special band of Reapers just got stronger. There had to be a way to stop this before the war succeeded in tearing the entire world apart.
Harry had almost reached the Potter estate when he felt a familiar shiver. Someone was watching him. Pausing to look around, it wasn't hard to pick out the small figure standing just across the street. It was a boy, no older than perhaps 12, with dark black hair and startling blue eyes. And he was staring unblinkingly at Harry.
Harry frowned. Who was this boy? And what did he want? His curiosity (and perhaps wariness) getting the better of him, Harry made his way across the street towards his observer. The boy just stared. Finally, Harry stood in front of the child and cocked his head, curious. The boy looked down at the ground to the left of him, then back at Harry. Back to the ground again, and back at Harry.
"Hello." Harry said quietly, breaking the silence. "Can I help you?"
The boy blinked, then glanced to his side again. Harry was beginning to get a funny feeling. Finally, the child looked up at Harry and replied, "I hope so, sir. Are you real?"
Harry blinked. That was not something he had expected. Not from this child, not from any child that age. "I, um. I certainly hope so." He replied. "What's your name, son?"
"Chandler."
Harry frowned. "Hello, Chandler. My name is Mr. Potter." He broke off as the boy looked yet again to his side. "What is it? Is something there?"
Chandler's deep blue eyes darted up to Harry's green ones. "Can you see him?"
"See who?" Harry's senses were beginning to heighten. Whatever was going on, he didn't like it.
"Dog."
There was a pause. Harry blinked. "Dog?"
Chandler nodded. "Yes. Dog." The boy hesitated, and then shrugged. "He's looking at you."
This was getting out of control. Harry supposed this could be just one child's overactive imagination - he could remember the imaginary friends his daughter had had when she was young - but Harry had a deep instinctive feeling that perhaps he shouldn't shrug off Chandler's 'Dog' quite so easily. But it was getting late and Harry knew Chandler had to be as cold as he was.
"Well, I tell you what, Chandler. I would love to help you, but Mrs. Potter is expecting me home. Would you like to join us?" At Chandler's glance at his other friend, Harry added, "Dog can come, too."
Chandler considered, watching the seemingly empty space to his left. Then he nodded to Harry. "Alright." Harry smiled and he, Chandler and Dog made their way back across the street to the Potter residence.
The winter gust was blowing up again as Harry Potter made his way up the street to his home in suburban London. The forty-nine year old minister of magic pulled his cloak more tightly around him and trudged on through the snow. Just another block to go. The day had been particularly hard for Harry. But then, it was always brutal these days. It seemed that no matter what the ministry did, Lord Voldemort and his special band of Reapers just got stronger. There had to be a way to stop this before the war succeeded in tearing the entire world apart.
Harry had almost reached the Potter estate when he felt a familiar shiver. Someone was watching him. Pausing to look around, it wasn't hard to pick out the small figure standing just across the street. It was a boy, no older than perhaps 12, with dark black hair and startling blue eyes. And he was staring unblinkingly at Harry.
Harry frowned. Who was this boy? And what did he want? His curiosity (and perhaps wariness) getting the better of him, Harry made his way across the street towards his observer. The boy just stared. Finally, Harry stood in front of the child and cocked his head, curious. The boy looked down at the ground to the left of him, then back at Harry. Back to the ground again, and back at Harry.
"Hello." Harry said quietly, breaking the silence. "Can I help you?"
The boy blinked, then glanced to his side again. Harry was beginning to get a funny feeling. Finally, the child looked up at Harry and replied, "I hope so, sir. Are you real?"
Harry blinked. That was not something he had expected. Not from this child, not from any child that age. "I, um. I certainly hope so." He replied. "What's your name, son?"
"Chandler."
Harry frowned. "Hello, Chandler. My name is Mr. Potter." He broke off as the boy looked yet again to his side. "What is it? Is something there?"
Chandler's deep blue eyes darted up to Harry's green ones. "Can you see him?"
"See who?" Harry's senses were beginning to heighten. Whatever was going on, he didn't like it.
"Dog."
There was a pause. Harry blinked. "Dog?"
Chandler nodded. "Yes. Dog." The boy hesitated, and then shrugged. "He's looking at you."
This was getting out of control. Harry supposed this could be just one child's overactive imagination - he could remember the imaginary friends his daughter had had when she was young - but Harry had a deep instinctive feeling that perhaps he shouldn't shrug off Chandler's 'Dog' quite so easily. But it was getting late and Harry knew Chandler had to be as cold as he was.
"Well, I tell you what, Chandler. I would love to help you, but Mrs. Potter is expecting me home. Would you like to join us?" At Chandler's glance at his other friend, Harry added, "Dog can come, too."
Chandler considered, watching the seemingly empty space to his left. Then he nodded to Harry. "Alright." Harry smiled and he, Chandler and Dog made their way back across the street to the Potter residence.
