Thank you for the reviews, sillypaulie and Dimgwrthien. :)
Author's note: Okay, chapter two. First let me say that I know I didn't address all I should have in the first chapter, but I'll get to it in this chapter or the next. Second, please review! * means I'll have a note about whatever that is at the end, (*) will be used in letters. Hope you like the chapter; sorry it took a while to upload, I was working on the alignment of letters and such for a while and I believe I got it to work. Did I? And my beta reader never sent back his thoughts on the chapter… so I decided to stop waiting. I'll get the next chapter out a lot faster.
Disclaimer: I may wish it, but I don't and never will own Harry Potter and his Universe.
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Chapter two: Letters and Surprises
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Even the prospect of there being another wizard living just a few streets from where Harry does was not unforgettable. This meaning, simply, that Harry had larger things on his mind two days (well, a day and a half, to be sure) after the incident with Dudley, Mark and Tonks.
The afternoon on the day after he had stopped Dudley from picking on Mark was an eventful one for Harry, to be sure. Harry was once more weeding the Dursley's garden, as he had for many summers. He was no longer told to do it, but he felt he had to do something; keep busy. And he did indeed keep busy.
Just as he was finishing the weeding around a rather large patch of petunia flowers-something his Uncle Vernon had insisted show be there-when it happened. It started with a small ache, nothing to be worried about. But quickly, much faster than most migraines. It was also, Harry noted quickly before smacking his hand to his forehead, too sharp.
He had come to take advantage of the freedom he had from the pain his scar had caused him. Indeed – he hadn't felt even a twinge since summer vacation began; yet now the scar seemed to be working double time. The pain was… well… painful. It felt as if someone was putting a steaming hot iron brand to his forehead. Not that he knew what that felt like… but he could guess.
He may have been able to tell anger from happiness when pain came to his scar sometimes, but this wasn't one of them. This was just a powerful set a feelings. Whatever it was, Voldemort was certainly feeling a lot of it.
Harry couldn't register anything around him now. His eyes had shut tightly, his ears were ringing, and the only feeling in his body he could concentrate on was coming from the scar. After a few moments, or maybe minutes, he totally blacked out.
~~~~~~~~~~
He awoke in his bed, in his room, in the house that was numbered as four on Privet Drive to voices. His scar was only tingling slightly now, but that was enough to annoy Harry. The voices were loud and coming from downstairs. It took his ears a few moments to adjust to being awake, but they quickly took in Vernon's voice.
"-UT OF MY HOUSE, FREAKS! YOU AREN'T WEL-"
"Oh plug it you fat-" "DON'T ISULT ME IN MY OWN HO-"
This time Vernon's voice wasn't cut off, but rather turned into a high-pitched yelp. Yelp being the closest thing to the noise he gave off, at least. Harry couldn't tell who the other voice belonged to, only that it was familiar. It came in more of a growling type of voice and a yell, but it was loud nonetheless. During the yelling Harry had found his glasses sitting on his bedside table and slipped them on.
"I will call you whatever wish to, Dursley, until you can make me do otherwise. And from my position, I don't believe you can. Now, I do believe you'll want to lower your voice, for a certain charge in this house is awake and I imagine that he doesn't wish to hear your voice first thing."
Harry now knew who the owner of the voice was – only a few people had ways of knowing what was happening rooms away from them. Moody was quite an interesting fellow once you got to know him, if a bit paranoid and scary. From down stairs Harry could hear a loud 'thump' sound made, as if something extremely heavy had hit the ground.
Not a moment later he heard what he believed to be the scratching of chair legs on the floor – that's one sound you can almost always distinguish. Light footfalls on the stair, outside his bedroom door, and then in his bedroom.
It was dark in Harry's room, so he guessed it was night out. No lights were on in his room, so when the distinct beam of light from the hallway light entered his room, right upon his face, he flinched. Even with his eyes closed the light hurt them at the moment. The light faded into nothingness; either from the door being shut or the light itself being turned off, so Harry could open his eyes.
After a few quick moments adjusting, for they were use to the dark already (his eyes had been closed, of course) Harry was able to make out the figure now standing in his room, and one behind it. "Professor Lupin? Moody?" Uh…"
"It's Remus, Harry, and you know it." Harry's Ex-Professor stated as he made his way toward Harry's bed. "You gave us quite a scare, you know that?" Before Harry could respond Moody spoke in a light growl, "Though it wasn't near the scare the Dursley's got when they came in and saw us in their kitchen. Quite entertaining,"
"Well, you have to admit, they did have some cause to be scared." Remus put in, looking over his shoulder at the Ex-Auror. The statement was only answered by a grunt before Remus continued, "Moody here went right into… interrogating them about if they were treating you right… I'm pretty sure they'll be scared of any stick they see for months, even though he didn't use any magic…"
"That's right; I didn't, they're just a bit cowardly." Moody was now standing inside the room. "Well… still, you could have tried not to make them wet themselves." Again, met with a grunt, "Not my fault the young bloke has a weight and bladder problem."
"Yes… But anyway…" Remus turned back to the slightly confused, slightly amused Harry, "Can you tell us what happened, Harry? We were about ready to take you to St. Mungo's, or even Hogwarts." The last sentence had been added almost as if it was a side-note.
Harry took a few moments pause before answering, "I… I really don't know. Was… weeding the garden when my scar started hurting—it hadn't all summer—and… well, I guess I passed out. The pain was… more than it normally is."
Harry couldn't see Remus clearly in the dark, but he thought as he looked at his ex-professor, that the man had aged years before his eyes at the few sentences Harry had said. Harry didn't have time to gage Moody's reaction before Remus spoke, "Have you been practicing Occlumency, Harry?"
Now it was Harry's turn to pause. He hadn't had need to practice the skill over the summer. He hadn't had anymore visions—for that was the closest description of them he could come up with—or dreams since he had left Hogwarts. But he had tried to practice… right at the beginning of the summer. He just couldn't clear his mind. There were too many thoughts roaming through it. After a week or so he just gave up on it. His answer came out quickly, "Well… I was… but it wasn't working and there weren't any dreams so… I stopped."
"Harry!" Lupin said his name in a hiss, "You know you should have been practicing every night, Harry… this can't be good." Moody reacted in a more relaxed manner, "Well, it looks like you have more work cut out for you now, Potter."
"Look," Lupin spoke after a few moments of silence, "We were only supposed to stay till you woke up, and you obviously have. We need to report in, Harry… but we'll see you soon."
"Bu-" Harry didn't want them to leave. "But nothing, Potter; we'll see you soon. Remember, constant vigilance!" (A/N: I couldn't help it, I had to do it!) The old Moody trademark phrase was said just before the one-eyed wizard disappeared out the door. Remus spoke again before leaving the room, "If you have a dream, or pain from your scar again, get word to us as quickly as possible, will you Harry? It may be important."
And then he, too, was gone. Harry just watched, many thoughts going through his mind. Anger was one of the top of these thoughts. Anger at them always leaving him here… only asking him a few questions, and then leaving. It was almost as if they would only stay here as long as they needed to, as if he didn't matter any. Just like Dumbledore treated him… like a second priority object. And, with these thoughts on his mind he drifted back to sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~
This time when he awoke it was to a light but quick tapping on his shoulder. His eyes opened only to be met by a blur. Letting out a small groan, he reached his hand out to bedside table, where his glasses were normally set. To his surprise his hand didn't meet his glasses, but rather an object. A feathered object. One that let out an owlish cry when his hand met it.
The owl, as Harry surmised it was, jumped back and Harry could imagine the look the owl was giving him. It wasn't Hedwig, for Harry could make out colors without his glasses. Maybe not defined shapes, but colors. This one was darkly colored; maybe an Eagle Owl or Barn Owl. "Oh. Sorry." Harry said quickly and started groping for his glasses on the table, hoping in his mind the owl hadn't woken his 'family' up.
He couldn't, though, find his glasses on that small table by his bed. Letting out something close to a groan in irritation he shifted on bed, making to be able to search the table with both hands, when he heard something fall to the floor by his bed. His hand, after a moment, reached down to pick whatever it was up.
Though he had survived sleep unimpaired, his glasses unfortunately had not. One of the pieces that rest between his ears and head was hanging limply for one second, and then it fell completely off. One of the lenses was missing, though not necessarily broken. He had popped them back in before. Letting out a groan he placed the glasses, or what was left of them, on his face. With his left eye shut (it would do little good to have it open, the lens missing and all), he looked around. The owl that he guessed had woken him up had a large parchment roll set down next to him and a small pouch on his leg – an owl from The Daily Prophet, Harry's mind registered. "Pay day, is it?" he questioned, and got a soft hoot in answer. "Alight… one moment."
It was actually more like five minutes. These five minutes were used to find his missing lens, replace it to his glasses' frame, tape the part that had fallen off on, and then go about finding his money bag. This last task proved the most frustrating. It wasn't in the space under the board, in the desk, in his trunk. When it was found, it wasn't him who had found it, but rather the visiting owl, who happened to be standing right next to it on Harry's bedside table. Harry's brow furrowed at this.
"Have fun watching me, did you?" Harry asked in a slightly angered tone and he stood up from the pile of dirty clothes he had been looking through. The owl gave a high-pitched hoot; one Harry took to signal amusement. With a light snort Harry grabbed the bag and took out the required amount, then putting said amount in the pouch around the owl's leg. The owl quickly took off out the window as Harry picked up the paper and tossed it in his open trunk without a glance.
Instead he went about putting his room back together while thinking. His scar no longer tingled, let along hurt badly, but the point that it had hurt so much the day before was a bit frightening. After months of nothing, that meant Voldemort must have been feeling something extremely strong at that time… but why?
Sighing, Harry made his way over to his desk. There was only one essay he had left to complete for the summer, and he was planning on getting it done as soon as he could. As he pulled out a roll of parchment, his quill and a bottle of ink, he though of what his friends would think about him doing his summer school work now instead of days before they were due on the train.
Hermione would say something along the lines of 'It's about time you made school work one of your priorities' and Ron would just be dumbstruck 'You already what?', he mused with a grin.
As he was opening his books he couldn't help but think about the predicaments his friends were in now. Mainly Ron. The attack in the Department of Mysteries had done more to the Weasley boy than anyone else. Nothing bad, really, just a few dreams at night that he said couldn't be his own and were very strange. The Unspeakables, Ron had said in one of his letters to Harry, were looking into it, but hadn't come up with anything yet. The rest-Neville, Hermione, Ginny and Luna-were relatively fine. Hermione had gotten help in time so no scar would come of the hit from Dolohov. Neville was going to need to get a replacement wand, but other than that he was fine. Ginny had only had to stay off her foot for a day, and she too had recovered. Luna, to, hadn't suffered anything long-term from the battle.
But still, he had led them all in there. Even if they are better now, physically, it had been him who got them hurt in the first place. Sure, they choose to go with him, but if he hadn't gone at all no one would have been hurt or killed. He'd still have Sirius. He would still have a Godfather, the closest thing to a father Harry had had. And it was Harry's fault.
Harry was brought out of his thoughts, which would have surely gone on into something more by a latter landing next to the parchment he was writing on and a barn owl landing on the desk. Harry looked up, surprised at the sudden visitor, and then at the letter. An extremely thick letter that born the Hogwarts symbol. Harry took a moment before nodding and standing. He walked over to Hedwig's cage-she was out hunting, he commented to himself on her absence, as it was still early-and opened the cage door. "Well, come on. Have a bit to drink." He said to the barn owl, who quickly accepted the offer and flew into the cage.
Harry turned his attention to the thick letter. Sitting back at the desk, gently sliding the parchment he was writing on to the side, he set the letter in front of him. He could guess why it was thick. Ordinary Wizarding Level tests were taken at the end of the fifth year to test what classes a student qualified to be in for more advanced study. Two tests, theory and practical, were given for each course but History of Magic, in which there was only theory. Harry was going into his sixth year at Hogwarts, and thus had taken the O.W.L. tests the year before. Wish a sigh, Harry opened the letter and unfolded it. The first piece of parchment was a letter:
Deputy HeadmistressHOGWARTS SCHOOL
of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Worlock,
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards)
Dear Mr.Potter,The new year, your sixth, will be beginning on in a few months. You are expected to be at platform 9 ¾ for the departure of the Hogwarts Express on the morning of September the first. Your booklist this year shall depend on what courses you choose, so a list of books for each course you may take will be included in this letter, as well as supplies for that class. I will note that your quidditch ban, as well as all Educational Degrees made by the Ministry of Magic, was lifted at the end of this previous school year, as had the position of 'High Inquisitor'. Your Firebolt broomstick will be given to you upon your return to school. The results of your O.W.L. tests are enclosed in this letter.
Yours sincerely, Minerva McGonagall
P.S. The delievery that you expect on August the eighth will be arriving instead two days before your birthday.
Harry's heart was already lifting as he read the letter, and when he read the part about getting his ban removed and Firebolt back he could barely restrain whooping in joy. He could play quddich again! The P.S., however, made him frown slightly. He wasn't expecting anything on August the eighth, though the date did remind him of something. Another letter, oddly. And Remus. Then it hit him.
This time he couldn't resist a hissing out a 'yess' and making a small victory movement with his fist, punching it into the air. He was going to get to leave sooner… ten days sooner! And only a little over a week left with the Dursleys! The happiness only escalated a minute latter as he read the second parchment:
Dear Mr.Harry James Potter, The following are results of your Ordinary Wizarding Level tests in which you took at the end of your 5th year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Most tests had Written/Theory and Practical part to them, though some have only Written. For each, written and practical, you have the chance to get one O.W.L. Your results: (*) Subject: Written: Practical: Subject Total: Astronomy A – One OWL P – No OWL P – One OWL COMC E – One OWL O – One OWL E – Two OWLs Charms O – One OWL E – One OWL O – Two OWLs DADA O – One OWL O – One OWL* O – Two OWLs Divination D – No OWL P – No OWL D – Zero OWLs Herbology E – One OWL A – One OWL A – Two OWLs HOM P – No OWL N/A P – Zero OWLs Transfiguration A – One OWL O – One OWL E – Two OWLs Potions E – One OWL E – One OWL E – Two OWLs Total: 13 OWLs out of a possible 17. You are eligible to join six classes next year. *I was told to note that you received over full marks on this test, which is a large feat. Key: COMC: Care of Magical Creatures, DADA: Defense Against the Dark Arts, HOM: History of Magic, O: Outstanding, E: Exceeds Expectations, A: Acceptable, P: Poor, D: Dreadful, T: Troll. You are among the top 10% for your year at Hogwarts, and are able to join up two six NEWT classes in this coming school, depending on their requirements and your choice. Please send the copy of this score sheet which is enclosed, marking the classes you wish to join. Remember that NEWT classes involve quite more work than you have had in previous years. Sincerely, Griselda Marchbanks Head of Wizarding Examination AuthorityHarry reread his scores, and read them over again. He just couldn't believe he had done so well. 13 OWLs! Hermione was going to be ecstatic. Wait, he was ecstatic! He never thought he could have done so well. He looked over his scores once more and stopped. 'Potions – E.' was the part he stopped on. An E in potions? He really did that well? He frowned, though. An E wasn't high enough to get into Snape's class, as the Potions Master only allowed students who received Outstanding into his class. With a sigh Harry looked on what would be the 'bright side' – At least he didn't have to deal with Snape any longer.
Setting that sheet aside Harry found the 'copy' of the score sheet with small boxes next to the classes he passed. Care of Magical Creatures, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, Transfiguration and Potions. Harry stared. Potions shouldn't be there; as he couldn't take it unless he had gotten an O, which he hadn't. He looks over the parchment, and finds what he was looking for – and explanation in the form of a small note.
Potter, I told you in our Career Meeting that I would do anything I could to make sure you became an Auror, so I 'convinced' Professor Snape, on one of the favors he owe me, to allow you into his N.E.W.T. potions class. Don't let me down. Minerva McGonagall
Had she been there, Harry would have given his Head of House a hug. The strict Transfiguration Professor could certainly be very 'convincing' when she wished to. Harry could just imagine the confrontation between her and Snape on the subject of him being in the potions NEWT class.
Harry returned to the sheet then, and quickly marked Charms, DADA, Transfiguration and Potions. Then he was left with a hard choice. Herbology would help him with his potions, he'd be able to identify plants needed, and learn to grown and take care of them, as well as harvest. But Care of Magical Creatures was taught by Hagrid, his first real friend who just happened to be half-giant. If he didn't join that class, he may hurt his friend's feelings. Plus, Care of Magical Creatures could be important as an Auror; and Hagrid certainly taught how to take care of some of the strangest and meanest creatures… which could come in handy. Anyway, he could always get help from Neville or Hermione in Herbology.
Thus he checked the box by COMC and folded the parchment up, setting it aside to look at what was left that he needed to look at. AS expected there was his book and supply list, but there was also one other letter in thin, neat handwriting.
Harry,
I am writing this to address a few issues I believe I should with you, though I will not go into too much detail for fear of this owl being intercepted by someone. First, Remus and Alastor informed me of both the pain in your scar and that you are no longer practicing Occlumency at night. I must urge you to start practicing once again, and note that I will begin giving you lessons once you arrive at the place your were last year. It is deeply important that you try to clear your mind before falling asleep, Harry. I admit that I can't imagine how hard it is, but you must try. Along with this keeping Voldemort from your mind, it is now my hope that it will help keep your scar from hurting.
On a lighter note, Tonks has informed me that you found one of the first years even before we sent a letter to him. Congratulations – it is quite a hard thing to do. Little Mark Evans comes from a Muggle family, and many of these families request that we have someone visit their house and speak to them about our World, and maybe help them understand it a little more than any letters could. In most cases we would ask a wizard living near the family to visit them, or have one of the professors or a Ministry official visit them. In this case, though, I do believe I can make an exception.
What I am saying, Harry, is that I would like you to visit the Evans and speak to them. All I ask is that you inform them that their son may be a danger to himself and others unless trained properly, and that you inform them in detail of the threat our World currently face. The last may be asking a bit much of you, Harry, and I'll understand if you don't wish to. Just add a note saying you don't wish to speak to them if you don't want to. If you will, you are expected at their house, which I do believe you can easily find, on the 23rd of July, at 3 o'clock and 30 minutes. Better known as 3:30, of course.
I will also add that the ban of magic use by underage wizards was lifted by the Ministry in light of recent events, though it had not been publicly announced yet, so you are free to use simple magic if you wish to.
Sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore
This letter made Harry pause. He would get Occlumency lessons from Dumbledore, which was a good thing… but why was Dumbledore letting him speak to Mark Evan's family? The kid would probably have a heart attack when he saw Harry, if the parents didn't first. Harry was, after all, known as a criminal to the neighborhood. But then again, he had helped the kid with Dudley, so he might not be that feared.
He looked back at the letter. "The 23rd and 3 o'clock." That was three days from today, and on a Sunday… tea time*, too. So he was going there for Sunday tea, basically. It's not like it would be hard. Sure, talking about Voldemort may be a bit funny, but it isn't like he would die from it. And some people would know he wasn't a criminal. Plus, he'd get to miss a Sunday tea with the Dursley's. He nodded, decision made.
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It wasn't hard for Harry to get out of Sunday tea with the Dursleys. After sending the barn owl back to Hogwarts, his class choices included, he went right to finishing the essay he had begun before the letters from Hogwarts had arrived. His mind was now able to concentrate on the essay – of which he noticed he had originally began to write on the wrong subject.
Only after he had finished, several hours later, did he register that he had eaten no breakfast or lunch… and as it was now afternoon, he had decided to go down and fix himself a sandwich. Only his aunt was home, Vernon being at work and Dudley at the gym, so there was the normal 'ignorance' they gave each other when they were alone in the house together. Not that he even saw much of her, for she had somehow found something to clean for every second he was downstairs. That night he did clear his mind before falling asleep.
The next day passed smoothly, Harry spending his time reading through the few books he had that he wasn't finished reading yet. He also spent this time practicing the spell that weren't too disruptive, taking full advantage of the ban of Underage Magic being lifted. He never really thought of how much easier, and more entertaining, it would be if he could use magic at the Dursley's. He once again, that night, cleared his mind as Dumbledore asked him to. He found it hard, still, but not as hard as he had.
On Saturday morning he went to visit Mrs. Figg, a neighbor that use to baby-sit him when he was younger. Of course, she didn't baby-sit him now, and hadn't for quite a while, but he still talked to her now and then when he wanted to. Not that he would have talked to her before last summer; as he had always thought of her as a strange, crazy and slightly rude lady before then.
But last summer he had found out Mrs. Figg was a Squib – offspring of a witch or wizard who lacked sufficient magic to become a witch or wizard, as Harry had been told. Ever since he had found out he found her quite pleasant... when not in the presence of Muggles.
It took her nearly three minutes to open the door from the time Harry had knocked, and when she did Harry had to literally jump to avoid being tripped by a pair of cats – Mrs. Figg was rather found of the felines. When he looked up he found himself looking into the older-woman's eyes. "Harry? What are you doing here?" She asked after a moment.
"Well, I hope you don't mind my interruption or anything, but I just wanted to ask for a favor from you." Mrs. Figg studied Harry for a moment before replying, "And what would the favor be, dear?"
"Well – as you may know, Dumbledore thought I could talk to the Evans and give them more information about… our World. But I need to get out of the Dursley's for tea tomorrow, so I wanted to know if you could possibly ask them if I could join you for tea while I actually go over to the Evans' house."
"Yes…. Dumbledore did tell me about that…" Mrs. Figg said after a few moments. "Alright then, Harry. I'll make sure to call Petunia up tonight."
Giving a smile in appreciation, Harry nodded, "Thanks a lot, Mrs. Figg." And this was returned by; "No problem Harry, now why don't you come inside, it's almost lunch time, you know…"
And so, that evening, the Dursley's received a call from Mrs. Figg. The only reason Harry knew this, considering he was in his room practicing a particularly difficult transfiguration of a small ball into a kitten – so far he had the tail, because a few minutes after the phone rang there was shouting from downstairs. "BOY!" His Uncle had taken on the old habit since Remus and Moody 'visited'. Vernon didn't even wait for the answering 'yes' before continuing to yell. "YOU'LL BE HAVING TEA AT MRS.FIGG's TOMMOROW, AND AFTER YOU WILL BE WEEDING HER YARD!"
Mrs. Figg was brilliant, Harry thought. The 'Tea' he was going to have might take longer than normal tea does, so he did need the extra time, just in case.
That night Harry, again, cleared his mind before falling to sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~
The next day, at 3:15 in the afternoon, Harry could be found in his room, getting on the best of his muggle clothes. In truth, that didn't mean good at all, though he did have some clothes that fit him now, as insisted upon by a rather insisting letter from Mrs. Weasley to the Durleys. The pair of dark-blue jeans and slightly baggy button-up shirt weren't much, but they were something. The Dursleys had insisted that he wear his best clothes to tea with Mrs. Figg, probably in hope that they would be ruined while weeding.
His wand was held in a holster on his back, as there were few other places for him to hold it with little chance of it breaking or being shown. It wasn't the best place to hold it if one were expecting to fight, but then Harry wasn't, and he didn't expect the people guarding him to leave him defenseless.
After slipping his shoes on Harry makes his way down stairs, not bothering to speak to the Dursleys before he walks out the door. The Evans' residence isn't too far from his own home during the summer, so he decides to walk at a decently slow pace.
At 3:27 he reaches Mark Evans's home and after a moment, walks up the drive, then to the door. His gives the door three quick knocks and waits – but not long. Only seconds after he knocks, as if she had been waited for it, a middle-aged, brown-haired woman opens the door and looks at the knocker. "Yes?" she asks with a look of expectation on her face replaced by a frown.
"You're Mrs.Evans, right?" Harry asks, after a moment of thought. I should have thought of what to say, he scowls himself.
"That's right… wait. Aren't you that Potter boy?" Harry gives a reluctant nod, thinking he knows what is about to come. He's surprised, though. "If you're expecting our thanks for helping Mark, you have them, but right now we are expecting company, so if you would, hurry back home." At this she makes to shut the door.
Harry's confusion at what she had said doesn't last long. His hand pushes out, stopping the door from shutting, one Mrs.Evans looking up with a look mixed with shock and fear on her face. Well, Harry thinks to himself, she has a right to. It's not your every-day person who stops you from shutting your door. But he says something different.
"I believe it is me you are waiting for, Mrs.Evans."
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Author's Note: Well? I didn't do it how I originally planned, but hopefully it was still good. I think it was better than the first chapter, myself. Yes, I know, the ending is rather stupid, but I felt it was a good place to stop for now. Again, I'm sorry this took so long to get out. Remember to review!
*Is tea time around 3:30 in the afternoon? I had to guess here. I'd think it would be, but I could be wrong, too. Sorry if I was.
Beta Readers: Anyone out there open for beta reading? If you are, and could beta for me, please say so in a review or email me at aragorn821@yahoo.com.
