I froze.
My breathing became difficult.
My blood turned to ice.
"What did you call me?" I asked. My voice sounded like a growl. Sam had stopped and was looking at me. There was fear in her eyes at the hostility in my voice, but there was also a grim determination.
"I know that you're the boy that they're looking for. The one that went missing from London."
I stared at her. I didn't know what to do, or what to think. My mind refused to work.
She was looking intently at me, staring into my eyes.
After what seemed like a millenia, she said slowly, "It's okay, I'm the only one who knows. I won't say anything if you don't me to. " I continued to stare at her incredulously. She continued. "I found out on accident, really. I never watch T.V. Don't have one. I saw the report from London when I was passing the electronics store. I didn't say anything. But that's why I wanted to know what happened to you, because, well, the only scar I could see on the picture of you on the television was that wyrd one on your forehead. I was just curious. That's all."
My tongue seemed to unglue itself and I murmured, "Who are you?" I don't know why I said those words, but it just seemed appropriate.
"What?" She looked at me worriedly. "I'm Sam... You know that, Harry."
"Please. Call me James. My name isn't Harry anymore, alright? And please, don't... don't tell anyone. I can't be found."
She must have heard the urgency in my voice for she said, "Okay. I understand. I won't ask any questions, and I won't tell anyone. I promise. But if you need to talk, you know where I am." And she walked off into the wet night, and I was left standing in the rain under the glow of a streetlamp.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Stop!" Ron hissed, and he grabbed Hermione by the arm.
"What?"
"Shhh! Look." He pointed ahead at two figures walking side by side.
They had apperated through several towns for the past couple of days, but they had seen no sign of their friend. They had arrived in Glasgow a few hours previous, and had started searching, their coats nearly soaked through. Now they stood in an alleyway on the outskirts of town. From their vantage point, they could make out two sodden figures conversing under the light of the streetlamp. One had short black hair with what looked like blue or purple streaks in it, with a black coat and a dark skirt with high boots that went up to her knees, and the other...
" 'Mione, I don't think it's him." Said Ron quietly, and he glanced over at Hermione. But she was still staring intently at the two teens standing out in the rain.
"I don't know, " She sighed. But she didn't look away from the two people. "The hair on the back of his head is definitely too short to be Harry, and I've never seen him where clothes like that, but we never know, do we? It might be a disguise. He's always been good at blending in when he wants to."
The first of the figures turned and walked away, leaving the tall one with a dark trenchcoat and black baggy jeans. Ron and Hermione waited with baited breath, but the figure just stood there.
"Come on, turn around already!" Ron hissed under his breath.
After another minute or so, the figure seemed to snap out of a kind of daze, and turned around.
Ron and Hermione both gasped. It was Harry.