Harry cautiously raised his head as far up as he dared, trying to place the location of the voice. He saw not much other than the remains of a letter box hurtling toward him. Quickly, Harry called on his seeker reflexes and ducked into the shelter of the creek airborne letter box. Hands shaking with a mix of adrenaline and fear, he looked at the damp envelope crunched in his left fist, clips from last years hearing flitting through his mind.
A cold hand touched his shoulder, and Harry flinched gasping. Four poorly manicured fingers clenched into his thin shoulder and an icy breath raced down the nape of his neck. He lurched away from the alarming contact, slipping over in the knee deep creep, and scrambling towards the other side on all fours, grasping at his pocket at the same time, only to turn abruptly, still sitting in the murky water and pointing his wand directly at his attacker. The ministry of magic letter was picked up by a sudden wind, and Harry only spared the slightest of glances the runaway note, gasping as he recognized his foe, his now rather wind-blown Potions Professor...
Hunta