Chapter 3

Mark Evans awoke with a start in his chilly petite room. "What the hell was that," Mark asked himself. He had dreamed of Sarah being kidnapped by something. It told Sarah she was adopted and she had a mission to kill some boy called Harry Potter who was her brother. It said something about her being a witch. It told her that he killed her real parents. "It was probably just a night mare he told himself. But it seemed so real. It felt like he was in Sarah's room, he could almost feel her fear, and the chills that went up her back. He shuddered at that thought. It felt so authentic. "Come on Mark, it was just a nightmare. Hey, tomorrow first thing in the morning you'll wake up to a beautiful day when the sun shines and the sound of birds chirping and then you could go visit Sarah," a voice in his head assured him. With that Mark fell asleep.

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Harry James Potter woke up panting. "What the hell was that," Harry asked himself. He dreamed about some girl being kidnapped by Voldemort, But that some girl looked exactly like his mother. She had the same red hair and the same vivid green eyes just like him. "Was that girl my mother," Harry asked himself. "No Voldemort said her name." Harry scrunched up his face trying to remember the name. "Sarah." Harry whispered. Harry got up quickly. He grabbed a piece of parchment and began writing "Dear Sirius." Harry stopped writing. "This is stupid. It was just a dream Harry," he told himself. "But what if it was true?" Harry wrote quick letter to Sirius. " Harry reread the letter over again. He hoped Sirius was able to answer his questions quickly. With that thought stuck in his head Harry went back to sleep forgetting to wish himself a Happy fifteenth birthday in about 30 seconds. The next day Harry forgot all about the dream as he sat on the flowerbed outside Privet Drive, trying to listen to the muggle news for any strange deaths.

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The next was very hard for Mark. He couldn't believe this was happening. He stared deep into the cold light blue eyes of Thomas Baggins whose eyes always twinkled with happiness were now dark and cold. His face was expressionless. It showed no fear, no sign of happiness, no sign of bravery. He looked peaceful almost.

No one seemed to know where Sarah was. The police were sent to look for her but they didn't know where to start. The house was teeming with police. Caution signs were covered all over the house. Fire fighters were huddled in the corner talking and drinking coffee. The medics were going in and out of the house. Neighbors close by came out of their cool homes and into the hot summer air trying to find out what was going on. Cameras were also swarming the place. Reporters here and there were asking people questions about Sarah and her family.

"So the dream was real," Mark thought. "I wonder where Sarah is. I have to tell someone. But who should I tell? No one would believe me. Aunt Becky doesn't give a damn about what I say nor does she care about me. Uncle Dave's the same. So what should I do? Should I just wait and see if the police and the investigators find her and her kidnapper?"

Suddenly Mark's question was answered. " Investigators say Sarah was kidnapped by a mysterious man who was wearing a black cloak. Here's a sketch of the man." The reporter held up a small pad to the camera. "If anyone has any information on this man, please step forward. Sarah's whereabouts are not confirmed yet. Investigators say Sarah's Kidnapper could not have gone far. This is Sally reporting to you. Back to the studio." With that the tall pale looking reporter turned from the cameraman and walked to her car.

Mark stared as the car sped off. "Maybe they'll find Sarah soon. I don't have to tell them. They'll find her," Mark told himself.

Mark stood there in the middle of the Baggins's front lawn staring at once beautiful home, which now looked, dark and haunting. Suddenly what seemed like an hour, the police, investigators, reporters, and the medics packed up and left.

Mark was the only one left. He stared up at the house. It would be his last time here. He was moving to Little Whinging tomorrow. He wanted to say Good- bye to Sarah. But she wasn't here. Anger flooded Mark's tiny 10-year-old body. "I'm going to get the guy who did this," Mark shouted as the birds in the nearby tree flew away at the tone of his voice.

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