Harry studied the chessboard very carefully. His rook was in immediate
danger and he perused the setup, trying to find an escape route. Ron
smirked at him from across the table. Hermione sat in the big armchair by
the fire, immersed in a huge book. Something she called "light reading".
Professor McGonagall crawled through the entrance to the common room. "Potter," she called. He turned to her. "It is time." Harry glanced at Ron and Hermione. They knew, of course, about it all. They glanced at him, then returned to what they were doing. Harry stood and quickly moved his rook forward.
"Check," he said to Ron, who was looking a bit shocked. He dashed up the stone staircase to his dormitory and then with great care, took his broom from under his bed. He held it for a second, then realized what he was supposed to be doing He pulled the invisibility cloak from his trunk and pushed it into a bag. He hurried back down to the common room.
It was now Ron's turn to stare hard at the board. His wizard chess pieces shuffled impatiently. Hermione peered over her book. "Come, Potter." And Harry followed McGonagall out into the hall. She walked briskly and Harry nearly jogged to keep up with her. Before he knew it, she was hopping over the trick step. Then they came to the secret entrance of Dumbledor's office.
"Chocolate frog," she said and the large phoenix-like statue moved aside and a stairway spiraled upward. It made the slightest grinding noise as it began to move. Harry and McGonagall let the staircase lead them to the great oak doors of the Headmaster's office. The professor rapped upon them smartly. There was the sound of footsteps beyond it and then it silently opened.
Dumbledor stood, gazing happily at them. "Come in! Come in!" he said and opened the door wide, welcoming them. They stepped into the vast, warm office. Fawkes gave a cheery cry at the sight of Harry.
"Hello, Fawkes," he said stoking the bird as it settled on his shoulder. Then he caught sight of another character. One who's pep talks before Quidditch had been sorely missed, despite the fact that the team groaned at the thought before hand.
"Oliver!" The older boy turned.
"Harry! My seeker!" Harry grinned. McGonagall and Dumbledor looked on, a smile on their faces. The Quidditch players greeted each other with a warm handshake. "How's practice been for you?"
"Oh, all right. The Slytherin Nimbus 2001's are being outstripped by the Firebolt and we still have far better players." Oliver beamed.
"Ah, I knew you would."
"But we need a better keeper. Colin Creevey isn't doing so well." The smile on Oliver's face shattered on the floor.
"Colin. Creevey? He took my position?" he gasped.
"He hasn't bungled it too much. No worries, Oliver."
Oliver sighed, but the distressed look disappeared. He clapped Harry on the shoulder. "Nice to see you again, anyway. Er. I guess you know why we're here, don't you?"
Dumbledor stepped forward. "You know how news gets around Hogwarts, Wood. I wouldn't be surprised if Harry was the first to know. Harry, would you please give Oliver the broom and the cloak?"
Harry opened the bag and pulled out the silvery, liquid-like material. "Here you are." He handed it to Oliver. For once, he looked interested in something other than Quidditch. "And here." Oliver took the broom with great care, his eyes as big as saucers.
"I. I get to fly this?" Harry laughed and nodded. Wood breathed on it and shined it with his shirt. "Incredible." Then snapping to, he added with a grin, "And rescue a damsel in distress, too!" Harry laughed.
"Here is the address," McGonagall held up a piece of parchment. "The sooner, the better, Oliver." He nodded, now solemn and quiet. She also tucked a bag into his arms containing a fresh change of Hogwarts attire and lemon drops, compliments of Dumbledor.
"Make sure your feet are covered with the cloak as well," Harry instructed. Oliver nodded.
"Professors," he acknowledged them. "I guess I'll be leaving you now."
"Good luck," McGonagall said . Dumbledor smiled and patted him on the shoulder. "Fly safely. Harry, would you show Oliver out?"
Harry nodded and they left the office. Harry knew the way to the Headmaster's office quite well. He went down a flight of stairs and took a left down a wide corridor to the front doors. He pushed it open and shuddered in the chill air that whipped snow into his face. Oliver quickly got on the broom.
"Take care, Harry. I'll be back soon." Harry nodded.
"Good luck, Oliver."
He shook his head. "She's got to be a better keeper than Creevey." With that, he threw the cloak about him and the broom, disappearing into the air. "G'night, Harry." There was the swishing sound of the broom leaving the ground and he was gone.
"Finish up!" Erin quickly folded a shirt and set it on the pile. She scooped up the two piles and dashed upstairs to distribute them to their owner's rooms. Her pile consisted of a few tee shirts, a couple flannel shirts and some very baggy pants. She clattered down the stairs to find herself face-to-face with her adoptive parents.
"I'm finished," she said breathlessly.
The long-faced, too-thin woman jerked her head towards the kitchen. "Soup's on the stove. When you're done, go to bed." Erin slipped quietly passed them. Silence. something she had mastered in her early years of living with these people for obvious reasons.
She ladled the soup into a bowl with raw hands. Pulling muck buckets was not a kind thing to cold, numb hands. She bolted it down as her stomach growled miserably. She took another bowl, which she consumed a bit more slowly, but not much. Knowing she couldn't take long, Erin rinsed her dishes and set them in the dishwasher. Then, making sure she didn't block her caretakers' view of the screen, she made her way back up the stairs and into the bathroom. She brushed her teeth quickly and then scooted into her meager bit of a room. She closed the door behind her, happy for the quiet and the solitude. She looked into her mirror and put her fingers to the dark spot that had erupted on her cheekbone.
Even if she had makeup, it wouldn't matter. Nothing could cover that beauty up. Sighing, she pulled the ponytail holder out of her hair and let the golden brown mass cascade over her shoulders. She was a pretty girl of fifteen. Her feminine complexion and hazel eyes were quite attractive, though no boy at her high school would even acknowledge her existence.
She snuggled under her covers and stared out the window. Being alone was being happy.
Or was she alone? A gentle tapping came from her window and there were no branches to be blown against it to create the noise. Erin stood and, puzzled, crossed her floor to her window. She stopped before the window and the tapping resumed, this time a bit more frantic. A murmur also came from beyond the pane of glass. The wind roared. Was that it?
Erin opened the window the slightest bit and a hushed voice came. "Just open the window. I won't hurt you." She thought for a second. It was risky, but nothing could be worse than her "parents". If she was lucky, it was someone from the magical world.
She threw her window open and took the screen out, a bitter draft filling the place. She stepped away, shivering uncontrollably. Suddenly, the screen was replaced and the window shut. She gasped. What was this? Some kind of trick?
A boy suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Erin pressed herself against the wall in surprise and fright. "Who-who are you?" He had a silvery article over his arm and a broom on his back. "Are you from the wizarding world?"
He chuckled at her fright. "Yes, I am. There is no need to be scared. I'm here to take you there."
"This is.it's life though. Not a fairy tale," she said in startled amazement.
"And do I need to ask what that letter beneath your bed says?" He raised an eyebrow at her. She stared in disbelief. Not only was he a wizard and he knew everything about her, he was downright gorgeous. He laughed again. "Here. you must be cold. Put these on." He handed her the extra clothes that McGonagall had managed to find in the Hogwarts laundry. Speechless, yet trusting, Erin slid into the hall and back into the bathroom and quickly switched clothes. The cloak was long and warm and the sweater beneath fuzzy. The skirt was the best fitting she'd ever worn and the shoes, nice black Mary Janes. Oh how she had pleaded to have some when she was young before she gave up, convinced that her life was nothing to those who adopted her.
Oliver shook himself. Oliver, she's a fifth year. You can't start liking girls years younger than you. Yet she was. Beautiful. There was no other word for it.
Erin came back into her room, not believing what was happening to her. "Here." The boy thrust the bag that once contained the clothing in it into her hands. "Pack all you need. Quickly, too." She shoved her necessities into the bag: toothbrush, toothpaste, hairbrush, mirror, and her one book that she had been able to buy with her own money.
"Come, you have five years of Hogwarts material to catch up on." The older boy swung his leg over the broomstick.
"That can actually fly?" Erin asked doubtfully.
"Of course. Hop on." Erin clambered on nervously and the wizard flung the silvery cloak about them. "Tuck your feet in. Don't want to be seen." Erin looked down and realized that she couldn't bee seen. All this had to be a dream. Pure imagination. Tomorrow, she would wake up in her own drafty room and go to the same high school. It would all be the same.
The broomstick lifted off the ground and they maneuvered out the window. When they had, they turned around and put it back as it was. "Hang on," the boy whispered over his shoulder. Erin tightened her grip about his ribs and the Firebolt zipped into the dim dusk.
Professor McGonagall crawled through the entrance to the common room. "Potter," she called. He turned to her. "It is time." Harry glanced at Ron and Hermione. They knew, of course, about it all. They glanced at him, then returned to what they were doing. Harry stood and quickly moved his rook forward.
"Check," he said to Ron, who was looking a bit shocked. He dashed up the stone staircase to his dormitory and then with great care, took his broom from under his bed. He held it for a second, then realized what he was supposed to be doing He pulled the invisibility cloak from his trunk and pushed it into a bag. He hurried back down to the common room.
It was now Ron's turn to stare hard at the board. His wizard chess pieces shuffled impatiently. Hermione peered over her book. "Come, Potter." And Harry followed McGonagall out into the hall. She walked briskly and Harry nearly jogged to keep up with her. Before he knew it, she was hopping over the trick step. Then they came to the secret entrance of Dumbledor's office.
"Chocolate frog," she said and the large phoenix-like statue moved aside and a stairway spiraled upward. It made the slightest grinding noise as it began to move. Harry and McGonagall let the staircase lead them to the great oak doors of the Headmaster's office. The professor rapped upon them smartly. There was the sound of footsteps beyond it and then it silently opened.
Dumbledor stood, gazing happily at them. "Come in! Come in!" he said and opened the door wide, welcoming them. They stepped into the vast, warm office. Fawkes gave a cheery cry at the sight of Harry.
"Hello, Fawkes," he said stoking the bird as it settled on his shoulder. Then he caught sight of another character. One who's pep talks before Quidditch had been sorely missed, despite the fact that the team groaned at the thought before hand.
"Oliver!" The older boy turned.
"Harry! My seeker!" Harry grinned. McGonagall and Dumbledor looked on, a smile on their faces. The Quidditch players greeted each other with a warm handshake. "How's practice been for you?"
"Oh, all right. The Slytherin Nimbus 2001's are being outstripped by the Firebolt and we still have far better players." Oliver beamed.
"Ah, I knew you would."
"But we need a better keeper. Colin Creevey isn't doing so well." The smile on Oliver's face shattered on the floor.
"Colin. Creevey? He took my position?" he gasped.
"He hasn't bungled it too much. No worries, Oliver."
Oliver sighed, but the distressed look disappeared. He clapped Harry on the shoulder. "Nice to see you again, anyway. Er. I guess you know why we're here, don't you?"
Dumbledor stepped forward. "You know how news gets around Hogwarts, Wood. I wouldn't be surprised if Harry was the first to know. Harry, would you please give Oliver the broom and the cloak?"
Harry opened the bag and pulled out the silvery, liquid-like material. "Here you are." He handed it to Oliver. For once, he looked interested in something other than Quidditch. "And here." Oliver took the broom with great care, his eyes as big as saucers.
"I. I get to fly this?" Harry laughed and nodded. Wood breathed on it and shined it with his shirt. "Incredible." Then snapping to, he added with a grin, "And rescue a damsel in distress, too!" Harry laughed.
"Here is the address," McGonagall held up a piece of parchment. "The sooner, the better, Oliver." He nodded, now solemn and quiet. She also tucked a bag into his arms containing a fresh change of Hogwarts attire and lemon drops, compliments of Dumbledor.
"Make sure your feet are covered with the cloak as well," Harry instructed. Oliver nodded.
"Professors," he acknowledged them. "I guess I'll be leaving you now."
"Good luck," McGonagall said . Dumbledor smiled and patted him on the shoulder. "Fly safely. Harry, would you show Oliver out?"
Harry nodded and they left the office. Harry knew the way to the Headmaster's office quite well. He went down a flight of stairs and took a left down a wide corridor to the front doors. He pushed it open and shuddered in the chill air that whipped snow into his face. Oliver quickly got on the broom.
"Take care, Harry. I'll be back soon." Harry nodded.
"Good luck, Oliver."
He shook his head. "She's got to be a better keeper than Creevey." With that, he threw the cloak about him and the broom, disappearing into the air. "G'night, Harry." There was the swishing sound of the broom leaving the ground and he was gone.
"Finish up!" Erin quickly folded a shirt and set it on the pile. She scooped up the two piles and dashed upstairs to distribute them to their owner's rooms. Her pile consisted of a few tee shirts, a couple flannel shirts and some very baggy pants. She clattered down the stairs to find herself face-to-face with her adoptive parents.
"I'm finished," she said breathlessly.
The long-faced, too-thin woman jerked her head towards the kitchen. "Soup's on the stove. When you're done, go to bed." Erin slipped quietly passed them. Silence. something she had mastered in her early years of living with these people for obvious reasons.
She ladled the soup into a bowl with raw hands. Pulling muck buckets was not a kind thing to cold, numb hands. She bolted it down as her stomach growled miserably. She took another bowl, which she consumed a bit more slowly, but not much. Knowing she couldn't take long, Erin rinsed her dishes and set them in the dishwasher. Then, making sure she didn't block her caretakers' view of the screen, she made her way back up the stairs and into the bathroom. She brushed her teeth quickly and then scooted into her meager bit of a room. She closed the door behind her, happy for the quiet and the solitude. She looked into her mirror and put her fingers to the dark spot that had erupted on her cheekbone.
Even if she had makeup, it wouldn't matter. Nothing could cover that beauty up. Sighing, she pulled the ponytail holder out of her hair and let the golden brown mass cascade over her shoulders. She was a pretty girl of fifteen. Her feminine complexion and hazel eyes were quite attractive, though no boy at her high school would even acknowledge her existence.
She snuggled under her covers and stared out the window. Being alone was being happy.
Or was she alone? A gentle tapping came from her window and there were no branches to be blown against it to create the noise. Erin stood and, puzzled, crossed her floor to her window. She stopped before the window and the tapping resumed, this time a bit more frantic. A murmur also came from beyond the pane of glass. The wind roared. Was that it?
Erin opened the window the slightest bit and a hushed voice came. "Just open the window. I won't hurt you." She thought for a second. It was risky, but nothing could be worse than her "parents". If she was lucky, it was someone from the magical world.
She threw her window open and took the screen out, a bitter draft filling the place. She stepped away, shivering uncontrollably. Suddenly, the screen was replaced and the window shut. She gasped. What was this? Some kind of trick?
A boy suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Erin pressed herself against the wall in surprise and fright. "Who-who are you?" He had a silvery article over his arm and a broom on his back. "Are you from the wizarding world?"
He chuckled at her fright. "Yes, I am. There is no need to be scared. I'm here to take you there."
"This is.it's life though. Not a fairy tale," she said in startled amazement.
"And do I need to ask what that letter beneath your bed says?" He raised an eyebrow at her. She stared in disbelief. Not only was he a wizard and he knew everything about her, he was downright gorgeous. He laughed again. "Here. you must be cold. Put these on." He handed her the extra clothes that McGonagall had managed to find in the Hogwarts laundry. Speechless, yet trusting, Erin slid into the hall and back into the bathroom and quickly switched clothes. The cloak was long and warm and the sweater beneath fuzzy. The skirt was the best fitting she'd ever worn and the shoes, nice black Mary Janes. Oh how she had pleaded to have some when she was young before she gave up, convinced that her life was nothing to those who adopted her.
Oliver shook himself. Oliver, she's a fifth year. You can't start liking girls years younger than you. Yet she was. Beautiful. There was no other word for it.
Erin came back into her room, not believing what was happening to her. "Here." The boy thrust the bag that once contained the clothing in it into her hands. "Pack all you need. Quickly, too." She shoved her necessities into the bag: toothbrush, toothpaste, hairbrush, mirror, and her one book that she had been able to buy with her own money.
"Come, you have five years of Hogwarts material to catch up on." The older boy swung his leg over the broomstick.
"That can actually fly?" Erin asked doubtfully.
"Of course. Hop on." Erin clambered on nervously and the wizard flung the silvery cloak about them. "Tuck your feet in. Don't want to be seen." Erin looked down and realized that she couldn't bee seen. All this had to be a dream. Pure imagination. Tomorrow, she would wake up in her own drafty room and go to the same high school. It would all be the same.
The broomstick lifted off the ground and they maneuvered out the window. When they had, they turned around and put it back as it was. "Hang on," the boy whispered over his shoulder. Erin tightened her grip about his ribs and the Firebolt zipped into the dim dusk.