centerWerewolf
Chapter Eight
Harriet's POV/center
BEING DIVISION - WEREWOLF SUPPORT SERVICES
said the small sign I was staring up at.
"So, do you think they can help me here?" I asked Elizabeth critically.
"Well, I wouldn't know, would I?" she said edgily. "It didn't even exist when I was alive. And I wouldn't have had time to go and find it if it had done. They kept you at the Committee before execution in those days." I could see I had to be careful with Elizabeth - she could be really irritable. Of course, she had good cause. Even I couldn't believe how they'd treated her. "You're luckier than you think." She added, as if reading my mind. "Come on!"
We went through the door beneath the sign, into a room which reminded me of an ordinary muggle doctor's surgery waiting room. It was filled with the usual ridiculously low chairs, with itchy, hairy covers, and a magazine rack full of the kind of magazines that no-one wants to read. We went past this area and straight through to the reception desk. Again everything was perfectly normal, until I was asked for my Werewolf Registry number, as well as just my name. I asked to be anonymous. I didn't want to reveal my identity until I could be sure that they wouldn't turn me in to the Committee at once. As no-one else was waiting, I was sent through immediately.
I stepped into the office, which was occupied by a young woman in her early twenties, wearing a name badge with 'Natasha' printed on it. I was determinded to say exactly what I meant, but I knew I had to be careful.
"What's your opinion on the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, and what they do to werewolves who've killed somebody?" I said quickly, without once pausing for breath.
"Oh - it's iterrible/i!" she looked away sadly for a moment, like she was remembering something. I also saw her glance at the sharp, clear silver line around Elizabeth's neck. It looked like a scar, but we both knew it was deeper than that. I had done my best to avoid looking at it, since I met her. "I can't believe they can get away with it." Natasha continued. "They shouldn't. Of course anyone would be scared of a werewolf at the full moon, but it's obvious they're perfectly normal and human the rest of the time." She sounded really sincere, and I decided that I trusted her.
"Sooo." I began. "If a werewolf who needed to, ah. avoid the Committee came to you, would you help them? Surely that would be breaking the law?"
"Strictly speaking, yes it would, but there isn't one person in this department who wouldn't want to see the laws changed. Of course we'd help. I assume it's you then. What's your name?"
"Registry number 873." I said bitterly, shocked to heat such hate in my own voice. I didn't mean it to sound like that, but then, why not? "Harriet Rivers." I finished, sounding slightly more cheerful.
The woman gasped. "I didn't recognise you from that photo in the Prophet. You look so different! And I never expected you to come here!"
"The photo was taken about a year ago. And I've dyed my hair." I was fully aware that I looked and sounded ridiculous. "As a disguise."
"This isn't going to be easy, but I promise you we're going to help." She said determinedly. "You know, since that article in the paper last year, people don't exactly have a great impression of you. Did you see it?" I nodded. "Come on!" she said briskly, as she walked so fast that she was practically running, through the door into the next office. I followed, with Elizabeth smoothly gliding along behind me.
Natasha started speaking hurriedly to the man in the office, who seemed just as surprised as she had been to find out who I was. I was also very excited.
"This could be it 'Tash!" he exclaimed. "We've been trying to get noticed for yeas, and people just aren't interested. But a kid, a kid who's facing being killed! That could get some public sympathy."
"Personally I'm more concerned about saving her life." Cut in Natasha. "That's the main thing."
"Yeah, but what if we could get great publicity as well as doing that? And if the public know more about it, then we might be able to save others in the future as well. If they let this one go, we have another reason to make them let more go!" I wasn't too keen on this guy. Yes, did want to help me, but he was thinking of me as a werewolf, not an individual, just like the Committee did. Still, he seemed to be in charge there, and he did have a fairly good idea in the end, I'll admit. "My friend has his own show on the WWN and I know he'll agree to interview you on it." My jaw dropped. That was about the last thing I had expected. "The show's live, and it's tonight, so we'd better get a move on!"
Three hours later, and I was sitting in a chair at the Wizarding Wireless Network, trying to sound and appear fairly calm. I had been discussing how I should act, with Natasha and Joel, who wasn't really that bad afterall. I was ready, really nervous, but determined to go through with it successfully.
"You may have heard of Harriet Rivers, the thirteen year old werewolf on the run from the Committee for the Disposal of Creatures. She has managed to evade capture for the last ten months without a single sighting. Yet she is here with me tonight. We have decided that she deserves a chance to speak instead of sending her back to the Committee. Good evening Harriet."
I gulped audibly. "Hi."
"So, how long have you been a werewolf for now, Harriet?"
"Six years." I said clearly. It felt really strange to be discussing my lycanthropy with a complete stranger, knowing that thousands of others might also be listening. I had only been able to discuss it with my parents before, because nobody else knew. "I was seven years old when I was bitten, on a camping holiday in Cornwall. The wolf that bit me ran away when I shone my torch into it's eyes, which is probably the only reason I survived."
"It must have been hard for you as such a young child." He said. Too damned right. "So how did you cope?"
"It wasn't easy." I replied. "I didn't understand what was going on, the very first time. And then of course there's the sheer pain. The transformation is always painful, but it seemed so much worse when I was seven. I suppose I had to grow up quickly." I added, thoughtfully. "Other kids aren't used to pain and prejudice of that extent. When I started at Hogwarts it became even more difficult to heep my secret, but I managed it somehow, for the whole of my first year."
"OK Harriet, I'm going to have to move on now, and ask you some questions about recent events." I knew these questions would be harder to answer, but also that they were the most important. They were the reason I was going through with this whole crazy idea. "So did you not commit the crime you have been found guilty of?" he asked me. "I believe you have come to London in order to clear your name."
I was very nervous about answering this. Although I knew I was going to tell the complete truth I doubted that my answer would go down too well with the general public who were listening. "No." I responded. "I am not trying to 'clear my name', because I amguilty. What I am trying to do is get the Committee to see that they're wrong, that their punishment is unfair. I shouldn't be treated like that, when it's not my fault."
"Aha, and what is the punishment, Harriet?" I was puzzled, because we had all been talking about this earlier. I realised he was asking for the benefit of those who were listening. I coughed quietly, clearing my throat.
"Death. By beheading."
"Oh God!" he said, feigning shock. "So, do you remember anything about the night when it happened? How did you feel when you killed?" I didn't answer him at first, trying to think of how to put my thoughts into words. "It's OK. I understand if you don't want to answer that question, it must be quite traumatic."
"No. I don't mind. You see, I honestly have no idea." I said firmly. "I was transformed, and so I wasn't at all conscious of what I was doing. It wasn't until later, when I changed back, that I even knew what I'd done. I was sick right away, from the blood and raw flesh in my mouth. I realised at once what had happened, and I felt ashamed and guilty. It never occurred to me that the Committee would want me dead, because I know they don't execute people anymore in Britain, and I assumed that applied to all humans, werewolves included."
"You're saying that the werewolf part of you is completely separate from yourself, and that you don't even remember what you do at the full moon?"
"Yes, exactly. If it hadn't been for the blood, I wouldn't have known." Hopefully I had made my point now. This was what I had to get across - it just wasn't my fault. If people could understand that, I had a fair chance.
"But I suppose the Committee doesn't share that point of view?" my interviewer asked.
"No." I knew I needed to be especially cautious at this point. I had to disguise my anger, so that I couldn't possibly give people the impression that werewolves were bad-tempered and hated people. "They don't understand werewolves at all, because they've never tried to. They think we're on the same level of hippogriffs and manticores, when of course there are huge differences." Yes, I admit, this next sentence I had prepared beforehand. "Understanding is the most important thing. If more people understood werewolves, then less of us would be needlessly killed. You see, I don't just want to save myself, I want to stop them killing others in the future."
"And what have you been doing over the past ten months? Nobody's heard anything from you since you attacked your executioner at the Committee, and escaped in wolf form."
"Well actually," I corrected him. "Someone has heard from me. I wrote to my best friend, and we've been in contact for months."
"So did she mind about you being a werewolf? Has she accepted you, despite that?"
"Yes." I replied, forcing a smile although there was no-one to see it. "I was terrified last year in case she found out, but now she knows, it's no big deal."
"Where have you been hiding during this time?" he asked me.
"I can't tell you that, I'm afraid. Just in case, you understand. But I didn't want to hide forever, which is why I've come back."
"You're taking quite a risk by returning to London." He commented. "What will you do if you're captured again?"
"Same as anyone without a death wish, of course!" I snapped. Trying to sound calm, I added more softly, "I'd try to escape."
"And what if you can't escape?" he enquired casually. He really was infuriating!
"I think that's fairly obvious." I answered dryly. "They're not exactly going to give me any choice in the matter are they?" I wished the idiot would stop reminding me of the things I was trying to shut out.
"But how do you think you would react in that situation?" he persisted.
Shut up, SHUT UP! I screamed inside my head. "I don't really know," I said patiently. "I'm trying not to think about that kind of thing. Probably just the same as I did last time, when I thought I wouldn't be able to escape. Sit on the floor of my cage and just cry."
"Well, good luck Harriet. I hope you succeed in what you are trying to do. Goodbye. And listen next week for -"
"No! No!" I jumped up, snatching his microphone. "I'm sorry, it's just that there are some important things I still need to say. I hope someone's listened to me, 'cause it's unusual for a werewolf to be listened to. And that's why I don't have much chance unless someone else helps. If you believe me, then please do something. Go to the Committee, and tell them what you think. They say I am an inhuman monster, but they are wrong! Please help me. Thank-you." One single tear dripped from my eye.
The results were unbelievable! The next morning, a crowd of protestors had gathered outside the Committee building. I begged Natasha and Joel to let me go and see what was going on. I tried to convince them that we could stay out of the way, and just watch. In the end they were persuaded.
Within an hour, we were outside the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures Headquarters, inside a magical shield. The shield looked like a giant bubble to those of us inside it, a clear dome, but no one else could see it, or us. I saw that most of the Committee members either weren't there, or were hiding inside the building. The only ones I saw were the executioner Macnair, and Counter, glaring out of a high up window.
By the evening, the crowd was diminishing, and I was getting bored of sitting still all day. I had walked right into the Committee the day before, and it had been OK, so what was the harm in being in a crowd full of people who were trying to help me? And it was starting to get dark, so I was less likely to be noticed. I just walked straight through the wall of the shield, into the crowd.
Unfortunately, by this point my hair must have returned to its natural colour. Hair dying charms don't last nearly as long as the conventional potions. "Look! It's Harriet Rivers!" Someone shouted, and then suddenly everyone was staring at me. I thought it would be OK. Those who didn't just look shocked were smiling, and the man nearest to me turned around and shook my hand. But then my shoulders were forcefully grabbed from behind, and I was being pushed through the crowd. A few people tried to help me, but my captor was too strong. As I was dragged onto the steps at the front of the building, Counter came out of the front door. It was obvious that Macnair was the one holding my arms down by my sides. Macnair, the executioner.
Two thoughts came into my head as I stood on those steps, in front of that horrified crowd. The first was i'Oh shit! They've caught me! They've finally got me after everything I've tried to do.'/i while my more optimistic half was saying i'They can't do anything here. Not now in front of all these people. They can't.'/i
Unfortunately, Counter and Macnair thought they could. I glanced around the crowd madly, as Counter spoke. "It is the decision of the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, that the werewolf Harriet Rivers shall be executed on the 26th of May at" he glanced at his watch. "8.23 pm." I noticed Danielle at the front of the crowd, so pale, eyes wide. What was she doing here? How did she know? "To be carried out by the Committee's chairperson, Benjamin Counter." Elizabeth was standing next to her. "As witnessed below, Walden Macnair." He pulled a long knife out of his robes, and I could tell at once, maybe smell it in the air, that it was silver. He lifted it. I looked at the crowd desperately, silently begging someone to do something. They werepetrified, some crying, some just standing completely still, eyes fixed on the knife, in shock. They didn't move an inch. So I knew there was no hope. I was going to die.
But then Elizabeth moved. She gave Danielle a huge shove, which didn't move her, as Elizabeth's arms passed right through, but it shocked her into action. She stumbled up the stairs and knocked into Counter. The frail, old, cruel, evil man fell over sideways, but in the process, the knife in his hand slashed across my fingers. I looked at my hand, seeing the thin line or red blood welling up starting half way up my little finger, and going diagonally across the next two. I was terrified. The cut wasn't deep, but I knew the effect that silver has upon werewolf flesh, once it penetrates the skin. Horrified, yet fascinated, I watched, as everything within half an inchof the cut burned away, severing three of my fingertips. I even heard them hit the ground with a soft thud. The crowd started to talk again. I took the opportunity to run, but the pain in my hand was unbearable. I had only gone a few metres, when I passed out.
What happened from then on was told to me by Danielle, a few hours later when I had woken up. Mediwizards were fetched for me and Counter, who was unconscious. The crowd managed to keep Macnair back and get hold of the knife before he did, now they were out of their trance-like state. I was taken to St Mungo's, where I woke up later.
When I awoke, my fingers weren't bleeding anymore. The stumps had magically healed, and hardly hurt at all. Magic still surprises you from time to time, even when you've grown up with it. Danielle talked to me, and filled me in on what had happened, when she was finally allowed in. My parents, apparently, were on their way.
They arrived at about 2 in the morning, and as I didn't need to stay in bed, they were allowed to take me home. We went out to the car, which was parked on the road, as St Mungo's doesn't have a car park, and drove home. It was so long since I had seen them, but I couldn't think of anything to say. They fussed over my fingers, even though I told them that they weren't hurting any more. They told me how proud of me they were, and how brave I had been. They were talking to me as if I was a five year old.
When we got home, I went to bed at once, and slept all morning. In the afternoon I talked to my parents, which was OK seeing as we had something to talk about. They had been told by the Ministry that I was safe from the Committee for the time being. Because of the protest, and the way Counter had attacked me, they decided that it wouldn't be wise to let them execute me - it would cause bad public feeling towards them. I was reminded that it didn't mean I was off the hook completely, they were just trying to make their minds up.
I was sent schoolwork, so that I could catch up on what I had missed, which was a lot. It was difficult, and there was a lot of it, but it reassured me. Dumbledore at least thought I'd be able to come to school next year. Needless to say, the workload from Snape's potions class was the biggest, and I doubt his precious Slytherins ever got that much work in a year! I spent most of my time consumed in a whole year's work, which I didn't mind. At least I spent less time with my parents, in awkward silence in the living room. The only thing we ever had to discuss was the return of Voldemort, which had now been confirmed by the Ministry, who had denied it for the past year.
One day, completely unexpectedly, mum opened the door to Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic.
"Harriet!" she yelled up the stairs, and I came down slowly, wondering what she was going to say. I was totally shocked to see Fudge standing in the hallway.
"Er. Goodmorning." I said, uncertain as to what I ought to say to him.
"Ahem. I have come to inform you that we have made a decision, at the Ministry. It isn't official yet, we are going to announce it to the Daily Prophet tomorrow, but my colleagues and I thought you should be one of the first to know." Yes? What have you decided? I thought, impatiently. "Werewolves are no longer to be classed as beasts, so the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures has no power over you. It has also been accepted after much debate, that werewolves are not to be held responsible for their actions at the full moon."
iYes!/i I grinned broadly. iIt worked! /iI was finally free. It had taken a whole year for me to be free from this, as one year previously I had still been awaiting trial. I doubt that I'll ever stop feeling slightly guilty from time to time about it.
I was barely hearing anything the Minister was saying, but I think it was something about the Werewolf Registry being responsible for ensuring that all registered werewolves had a secure place to transform. "And you'll be able to go back to Hogwarts in September. I believe you have been doing extra work to catch up?" I nodded. "In that case, I would assume that you'll be capable of proceeding into the third year with your friends." I just stood their, grinning like an idiot, most of the time until he left.
Chapter Eight
Harriet's POV/center
BEING DIVISION - WEREWOLF SUPPORT SERVICES
said the small sign I was staring up at.
"So, do you think they can help me here?" I asked Elizabeth critically.
"Well, I wouldn't know, would I?" she said edgily. "It didn't even exist when I was alive. And I wouldn't have had time to go and find it if it had done. They kept you at the Committee before execution in those days." I could see I had to be careful with Elizabeth - she could be really irritable. Of course, she had good cause. Even I couldn't believe how they'd treated her. "You're luckier than you think." She added, as if reading my mind. "Come on!"
We went through the door beneath the sign, into a room which reminded me of an ordinary muggle doctor's surgery waiting room. It was filled with the usual ridiculously low chairs, with itchy, hairy covers, and a magazine rack full of the kind of magazines that no-one wants to read. We went past this area and straight through to the reception desk. Again everything was perfectly normal, until I was asked for my Werewolf Registry number, as well as just my name. I asked to be anonymous. I didn't want to reveal my identity until I could be sure that they wouldn't turn me in to the Committee at once. As no-one else was waiting, I was sent through immediately.
I stepped into the office, which was occupied by a young woman in her early twenties, wearing a name badge with 'Natasha' printed on it. I was determinded to say exactly what I meant, but I knew I had to be careful.
"What's your opinion on the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, and what they do to werewolves who've killed somebody?" I said quickly, without once pausing for breath.
"Oh - it's iterrible/i!" she looked away sadly for a moment, like she was remembering something. I also saw her glance at the sharp, clear silver line around Elizabeth's neck. It looked like a scar, but we both knew it was deeper than that. I had done my best to avoid looking at it, since I met her. "I can't believe they can get away with it." Natasha continued. "They shouldn't. Of course anyone would be scared of a werewolf at the full moon, but it's obvious they're perfectly normal and human the rest of the time." She sounded really sincere, and I decided that I trusted her.
"Sooo." I began. "If a werewolf who needed to, ah. avoid the Committee came to you, would you help them? Surely that would be breaking the law?"
"Strictly speaking, yes it would, but there isn't one person in this department who wouldn't want to see the laws changed. Of course we'd help. I assume it's you then. What's your name?"
"Registry number 873." I said bitterly, shocked to heat such hate in my own voice. I didn't mean it to sound like that, but then, why not? "Harriet Rivers." I finished, sounding slightly more cheerful.
The woman gasped. "I didn't recognise you from that photo in the Prophet. You look so different! And I never expected you to come here!"
"The photo was taken about a year ago. And I've dyed my hair." I was fully aware that I looked and sounded ridiculous. "As a disguise."
"This isn't going to be easy, but I promise you we're going to help." She said determinedly. "You know, since that article in the paper last year, people don't exactly have a great impression of you. Did you see it?" I nodded. "Come on!" she said briskly, as she walked so fast that she was practically running, through the door into the next office. I followed, with Elizabeth smoothly gliding along behind me.
Natasha started speaking hurriedly to the man in the office, who seemed just as surprised as she had been to find out who I was. I was also very excited.
"This could be it 'Tash!" he exclaimed. "We've been trying to get noticed for yeas, and people just aren't interested. But a kid, a kid who's facing being killed! That could get some public sympathy."
"Personally I'm more concerned about saving her life." Cut in Natasha. "That's the main thing."
"Yeah, but what if we could get great publicity as well as doing that? And if the public know more about it, then we might be able to save others in the future as well. If they let this one go, we have another reason to make them let more go!" I wasn't too keen on this guy. Yes, did want to help me, but he was thinking of me as a werewolf, not an individual, just like the Committee did. Still, he seemed to be in charge there, and he did have a fairly good idea in the end, I'll admit. "My friend has his own show on the WWN and I know he'll agree to interview you on it." My jaw dropped. That was about the last thing I had expected. "The show's live, and it's tonight, so we'd better get a move on!"
Three hours later, and I was sitting in a chair at the Wizarding Wireless Network, trying to sound and appear fairly calm. I had been discussing how I should act, with Natasha and Joel, who wasn't really that bad afterall. I was ready, really nervous, but determined to go through with it successfully.
"You may have heard of Harriet Rivers, the thirteen year old werewolf on the run from the Committee for the Disposal of Creatures. She has managed to evade capture for the last ten months without a single sighting. Yet she is here with me tonight. We have decided that she deserves a chance to speak instead of sending her back to the Committee. Good evening Harriet."
I gulped audibly. "Hi."
"So, how long have you been a werewolf for now, Harriet?"
"Six years." I said clearly. It felt really strange to be discussing my lycanthropy with a complete stranger, knowing that thousands of others might also be listening. I had only been able to discuss it with my parents before, because nobody else knew. "I was seven years old when I was bitten, on a camping holiday in Cornwall. The wolf that bit me ran away when I shone my torch into it's eyes, which is probably the only reason I survived."
"It must have been hard for you as such a young child." He said. Too damned right. "So how did you cope?"
"It wasn't easy." I replied. "I didn't understand what was going on, the very first time. And then of course there's the sheer pain. The transformation is always painful, but it seemed so much worse when I was seven. I suppose I had to grow up quickly." I added, thoughtfully. "Other kids aren't used to pain and prejudice of that extent. When I started at Hogwarts it became even more difficult to heep my secret, but I managed it somehow, for the whole of my first year."
"OK Harriet, I'm going to have to move on now, and ask you some questions about recent events." I knew these questions would be harder to answer, but also that they were the most important. They were the reason I was going through with this whole crazy idea. "So did you not commit the crime you have been found guilty of?" he asked me. "I believe you have come to London in order to clear your name."
I was very nervous about answering this. Although I knew I was going to tell the complete truth I doubted that my answer would go down too well with the general public who were listening. "No." I responded. "I am not trying to 'clear my name', because I amguilty. What I am trying to do is get the Committee to see that they're wrong, that their punishment is unfair. I shouldn't be treated like that, when it's not my fault."
"Aha, and what is the punishment, Harriet?" I was puzzled, because we had all been talking about this earlier. I realised he was asking for the benefit of those who were listening. I coughed quietly, clearing my throat.
"Death. By beheading."
"Oh God!" he said, feigning shock. "So, do you remember anything about the night when it happened? How did you feel when you killed?" I didn't answer him at first, trying to think of how to put my thoughts into words. "It's OK. I understand if you don't want to answer that question, it must be quite traumatic."
"No. I don't mind. You see, I honestly have no idea." I said firmly. "I was transformed, and so I wasn't at all conscious of what I was doing. It wasn't until later, when I changed back, that I even knew what I'd done. I was sick right away, from the blood and raw flesh in my mouth. I realised at once what had happened, and I felt ashamed and guilty. It never occurred to me that the Committee would want me dead, because I know they don't execute people anymore in Britain, and I assumed that applied to all humans, werewolves included."
"You're saying that the werewolf part of you is completely separate from yourself, and that you don't even remember what you do at the full moon?"
"Yes, exactly. If it hadn't been for the blood, I wouldn't have known." Hopefully I had made my point now. This was what I had to get across - it just wasn't my fault. If people could understand that, I had a fair chance.
"But I suppose the Committee doesn't share that point of view?" my interviewer asked.
"No." I knew I needed to be especially cautious at this point. I had to disguise my anger, so that I couldn't possibly give people the impression that werewolves were bad-tempered and hated people. "They don't understand werewolves at all, because they've never tried to. They think we're on the same level of hippogriffs and manticores, when of course there are huge differences." Yes, I admit, this next sentence I had prepared beforehand. "Understanding is the most important thing. If more people understood werewolves, then less of us would be needlessly killed. You see, I don't just want to save myself, I want to stop them killing others in the future."
"And what have you been doing over the past ten months? Nobody's heard anything from you since you attacked your executioner at the Committee, and escaped in wolf form."
"Well actually," I corrected him. "Someone has heard from me. I wrote to my best friend, and we've been in contact for months."
"So did she mind about you being a werewolf? Has she accepted you, despite that?"
"Yes." I replied, forcing a smile although there was no-one to see it. "I was terrified last year in case she found out, but now she knows, it's no big deal."
"Where have you been hiding during this time?" he asked me.
"I can't tell you that, I'm afraid. Just in case, you understand. But I didn't want to hide forever, which is why I've come back."
"You're taking quite a risk by returning to London." He commented. "What will you do if you're captured again?"
"Same as anyone without a death wish, of course!" I snapped. Trying to sound calm, I added more softly, "I'd try to escape."
"And what if you can't escape?" he enquired casually. He really was infuriating!
"I think that's fairly obvious." I answered dryly. "They're not exactly going to give me any choice in the matter are they?" I wished the idiot would stop reminding me of the things I was trying to shut out.
"But how do you think you would react in that situation?" he persisted.
Shut up, SHUT UP! I screamed inside my head. "I don't really know," I said patiently. "I'm trying not to think about that kind of thing. Probably just the same as I did last time, when I thought I wouldn't be able to escape. Sit on the floor of my cage and just cry."
"Well, good luck Harriet. I hope you succeed in what you are trying to do. Goodbye. And listen next week for -"
"No! No!" I jumped up, snatching his microphone. "I'm sorry, it's just that there are some important things I still need to say. I hope someone's listened to me, 'cause it's unusual for a werewolf to be listened to. And that's why I don't have much chance unless someone else helps. If you believe me, then please do something. Go to the Committee, and tell them what you think. They say I am an inhuman monster, but they are wrong! Please help me. Thank-you." One single tear dripped from my eye.
The results were unbelievable! The next morning, a crowd of protestors had gathered outside the Committee building. I begged Natasha and Joel to let me go and see what was going on. I tried to convince them that we could stay out of the way, and just watch. In the end they were persuaded.
Within an hour, we were outside the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures Headquarters, inside a magical shield. The shield looked like a giant bubble to those of us inside it, a clear dome, but no one else could see it, or us. I saw that most of the Committee members either weren't there, or were hiding inside the building. The only ones I saw were the executioner Macnair, and Counter, glaring out of a high up window.
By the evening, the crowd was diminishing, and I was getting bored of sitting still all day. I had walked right into the Committee the day before, and it had been OK, so what was the harm in being in a crowd full of people who were trying to help me? And it was starting to get dark, so I was less likely to be noticed. I just walked straight through the wall of the shield, into the crowd.
Unfortunately, by this point my hair must have returned to its natural colour. Hair dying charms don't last nearly as long as the conventional potions. "Look! It's Harriet Rivers!" Someone shouted, and then suddenly everyone was staring at me. I thought it would be OK. Those who didn't just look shocked were smiling, and the man nearest to me turned around and shook my hand. But then my shoulders were forcefully grabbed from behind, and I was being pushed through the crowd. A few people tried to help me, but my captor was too strong. As I was dragged onto the steps at the front of the building, Counter came out of the front door. It was obvious that Macnair was the one holding my arms down by my sides. Macnair, the executioner.
Two thoughts came into my head as I stood on those steps, in front of that horrified crowd. The first was i'Oh shit! They've caught me! They've finally got me after everything I've tried to do.'/i while my more optimistic half was saying i'They can't do anything here. Not now in front of all these people. They can't.'/i
Unfortunately, Counter and Macnair thought they could. I glanced around the crowd madly, as Counter spoke. "It is the decision of the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, that the werewolf Harriet Rivers shall be executed on the 26th of May at" he glanced at his watch. "8.23 pm." I noticed Danielle at the front of the crowd, so pale, eyes wide. What was she doing here? How did she know? "To be carried out by the Committee's chairperson, Benjamin Counter." Elizabeth was standing next to her. "As witnessed below, Walden Macnair." He pulled a long knife out of his robes, and I could tell at once, maybe smell it in the air, that it was silver. He lifted it. I looked at the crowd desperately, silently begging someone to do something. They werepetrified, some crying, some just standing completely still, eyes fixed on the knife, in shock. They didn't move an inch. So I knew there was no hope. I was going to die.
But then Elizabeth moved. She gave Danielle a huge shove, which didn't move her, as Elizabeth's arms passed right through, but it shocked her into action. She stumbled up the stairs and knocked into Counter. The frail, old, cruel, evil man fell over sideways, but in the process, the knife in his hand slashed across my fingers. I looked at my hand, seeing the thin line or red blood welling up starting half way up my little finger, and going diagonally across the next two. I was terrified. The cut wasn't deep, but I knew the effect that silver has upon werewolf flesh, once it penetrates the skin. Horrified, yet fascinated, I watched, as everything within half an inchof the cut burned away, severing three of my fingertips. I even heard them hit the ground with a soft thud. The crowd started to talk again. I took the opportunity to run, but the pain in my hand was unbearable. I had only gone a few metres, when I passed out.
What happened from then on was told to me by Danielle, a few hours later when I had woken up. Mediwizards were fetched for me and Counter, who was unconscious. The crowd managed to keep Macnair back and get hold of the knife before he did, now they were out of their trance-like state. I was taken to St Mungo's, where I woke up later.
When I awoke, my fingers weren't bleeding anymore. The stumps had magically healed, and hardly hurt at all. Magic still surprises you from time to time, even when you've grown up with it. Danielle talked to me, and filled me in on what had happened, when she was finally allowed in. My parents, apparently, were on their way.
They arrived at about 2 in the morning, and as I didn't need to stay in bed, they were allowed to take me home. We went out to the car, which was parked on the road, as St Mungo's doesn't have a car park, and drove home. It was so long since I had seen them, but I couldn't think of anything to say. They fussed over my fingers, even though I told them that they weren't hurting any more. They told me how proud of me they were, and how brave I had been. They were talking to me as if I was a five year old.
When we got home, I went to bed at once, and slept all morning. In the afternoon I talked to my parents, which was OK seeing as we had something to talk about. They had been told by the Ministry that I was safe from the Committee for the time being. Because of the protest, and the way Counter had attacked me, they decided that it wouldn't be wise to let them execute me - it would cause bad public feeling towards them. I was reminded that it didn't mean I was off the hook completely, they were just trying to make their minds up.
I was sent schoolwork, so that I could catch up on what I had missed, which was a lot. It was difficult, and there was a lot of it, but it reassured me. Dumbledore at least thought I'd be able to come to school next year. Needless to say, the workload from Snape's potions class was the biggest, and I doubt his precious Slytherins ever got that much work in a year! I spent most of my time consumed in a whole year's work, which I didn't mind. At least I spent less time with my parents, in awkward silence in the living room. The only thing we ever had to discuss was the return of Voldemort, which had now been confirmed by the Ministry, who had denied it for the past year.
One day, completely unexpectedly, mum opened the door to Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic.
"Harriet!" she yelled up the stairs, and I came down slowly, wondering what she was going to say. I was totally shocked to see Fudge standing in the hallway.
"Er. Goodmorning." I said, uncertain as to what I ought to say to him.
"Ahem. I have come to inform you that we have made a decision, at the Ministry. It isn't official yet, we are going to announce it to the Daily Prophet tomorrow, but my colleagues and I thought you should be one of the first to know." Yes? What have you decided? I thought, impatiently. "Werewolves are no longer to be classed as beasts, so the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures has no power over you. It has also been accepted after much debate, that werewolves are not to be held responsible for their actions at the full moon."
iYes!/i I grinned broadly. iIt worked! /iI was finally free. It had taken a whole year for me to be free from this, as one year previously I had still been awaiting trial. I doubt that I'll ever stop feeling slightly guilty from time to time about it.
I was barely hearing anything the Minister was saying, but I think it was something about the Werewolf Registry being responsible for ensuring that all registered werewolves had a secure place to transform. "And you'll be able to go back to Hogwarts in September. I believe you have been doing extra work to catch up?" I nodded. "In that case, I would assume that you'll be capable of proceeding into the third year with your friends." I just stood their, grinning like an idiot, most of the time until he left.