Chapter 4
Who Are You
By Never Had Writers Block
Harry was now 9. He was smart and was popular at muggle school, best friends with a boy called David Mitchell.
It was after school and Harry was walking home with David. He was pretty happy with life at the moment. They turned a corner and David went off down the driveway to his nice, large, detached home. Harry only needed to walk through a park and he would be home.
He carried on down the street. Then the mountain high gate was before him, it was made of Bronze, however there were parts in there which were scary.
Harry was half way through, and then he saw it. There was a hobo by the trees, looking at him. However before Harry knew it he was walking over. Harry was off.
"Hi dear," Said Lilly Potter, in front of the oven, placing down her gloves, "How was school?"
"it was fine," Harry said, a debate going on in his head on whether to tell about the hobo, "but... Oh it doesn't matter," he said quickly, brushing it out of his mind.
"What is it dear?" she queried, still with that mother touch that mother's put on everything, like everything that happens needs sympathy,
"It was... nothing," he said carefuly on how he picked his words.
"Tell me, Harry." She ordered him, dropping the motherly love from her voice.
"There was this man, a hobo. And for some reason he stood up and tried to talk to me, but... I ran off," he said, dissapointed with himself
"No, you never talk to strangers. So you were right to." And with that she left the room.
The week went on, but then it was time to walk home alone again. He didn't want to but he had no choice.
He walked up to the tall gate. The HP at the top mocked him. The lightening bolt scarred him. Would the man be there. For some reason it suddenly got cold, the heavens opened and rain poured down. He opened the gate.
He was on the same path he was, still it was raining, the rain blocking his vision, yet he could still see the hobo, and the hobo still stood up and walked to him.
"What do you want with me?" he screamed through the slashing rain, pouring down upon him.
"I must tell you," he said, he had a heavy and low voice, that was quite husky, "you do not meant to live here. You are meant to be somewhere else. This is not your first life, I must warn you, you wished for this, be careful how you plan out your wish. Tonight you will be visited, visited by the foreteller. You are not meant to have something you hold dear, and you will see it."
Harry was nervous as he sat in the bathtub. The water was normally calming to him, and often soothed him. But today, it was nering him. What did he mean by "are not meant to have something you hold dear"
It took him hours to get himself to sleep that night. It was hard enough on a normal night,but if what this man had said was true tonight he was going to learn about something.
He finally got into a dreamless sleep. But then he woke up.
This was only a short chapter, I am sorry bout that
Next will be longer
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Never-Had-Writers-Block