Hmm. This should be comfortable enough.

I double checked myself at my choice outfit.

Black leggings, a lilac loose short sleeve shirt and some white sneakers. Apparently, these were pretty popular here. So, I was lucky to get two pairs. I mean, dark times are just around the corner and… well I actually felt safer that Mrs. Vance had bought me some running shoes.

I frowned.

Pathetic. Like running would help, but for now, that's all I ever thought of whenever the word death eater or Voldermort rushed through my mind. Besides…It's not like I can stupefy anyone. I probably fail my Defense against the Dark Arts O.W.L. and yeah… I strongly disagree I'll be of any use to anybody, since all I can do is pretty much run or hide. Also doubt I can apply grandpa's judo skills here, unless some mugger threateningly invades my personal space, then I can perhaps perform a Koshi-guruma at most. Maybe break his or her nose, but that's only for extreme circumstances, which I never had the pleasure to experience. And yes, I did hit the dummy quite frequently, but it was just for building stamina.

So that's that, and wow I'm really just a liability… Wonderful.

I bitterly scoffed at my hopelessness as I surveyed for the last time my review notes for Potions.

I wasn't done with my O.W.L.S. just yet. But, unlike yesterday, I'm think I did ok on today's tests. I mean, I'm certain on getting an Outstanding on Herbology but Transfigurations… well let's just say my efforts were probably good enough for an Exceeds Expectation, hopefully.

For now, I was good at wand less subjects, like History of Magic or Care for the Magical Creatures. It was theory, methodology, something I effortlessly followed, but when I practiced with magic, I painlessly competed with Neville for the title of slow learner. So, after deliberately learning them, it was easy to know that I was some kind of a late bloomer on wand subjects and simply terrible with anything concerning boggarts, dementors or any defensive spell, jinx or hex for the matter.

Great.

I gazed at my long wavy hair.

Too tired and lazy to make a braid, I humbly went for a loose bun, pinning my bangs backwards. Mrs. Vance said to change into more comfy clothes as she was going to evaluate me in my physical . What does P.E. have to do with magic or O.W.L.S.? I mean its normal in high school to watch for the student health and development in sports but why does she want to test me on my physical activity? She has seen me run on the Tread Mill, so why?

I tried to label every possible reason for this P.E. session as I crossed the main foyer.

Maybe she just wants to make sure I'm healthy?

I snorted to that.

Yeah right. Right now, I'm anything but healthy. Insomnia, addiction to coffee, underweight, heck, my skin has gone really dry and I keep losing hair through my split ends. It's scaring me, I love my hair. I might have sounded vain but I have gorgeous hair. Smooth and shiny dark brown with natural waves conquering from the middle till the split ends. I got it from mom, though my eating habits and the hair treatments greatly helped its texture. But now, it has lost its shine, its frizzy, it gets easily tangled and now a scandalous amount keeps falling every time I brushed it. Thankfully, I can at least hide its deterred state with some special conditioners Mrs. Vance got me. But reality was, that I'll get my hair back to its original form as long I start sleeping and eating right, which will not be happening anytime soon, at least not until I pass O.W.L.S and sixth year examinations.

With that thought in mind, I closed the door behind me and approached Mrs. Vance as she positioned something on the roadway. I mentally inquired about the blurry branch lying at the sidewalk while I drew towards it. It was only at a fair distance, when I shortly recognized that this was no ordinary stick.

I blankly stared at the familiar yet unusual object.

Oh... My… God…

"Is that…." I absent-mindedly trailed off unsure if my eyes were deceiving me. Was I losing sight as well? There's no way, that today we're-

"Indeed. Now, cease your stalling and step to its left side, beside its handle" she severely interjected my thoughts.

"W-we're going to…N-now? Here?" I pitifully stuttered while incredulity clouded my mind, my head turning to both sides.

"Salem Witches Academy is also known for its prestigious Quidditch. Their best players further enrolled to the Institute where they represent America's National Team, just as they did months ago" she openly answered.

Whoa, not only grades but Quidditch too? How come Rowling never mentioned such a school-

"Institute? Salem also has an Institute?" I blinked in confusion. I was missing something here. Rowling never mentioned about a Salem Witches Academy but Institute, just maybe...

She nodded as she inspected the broom. "The Institute is specifically for those who have graduated from their seventh year of magic. Its mission is to further develop magical education and instruction, preparing witches for different careers. Hence, they are renowned for their Quidditch Team. And, as it is well known, they competed this year, at the World Cup" she clarified as a matter of fact.

Of course. Stupid, how could you have missed that? Harry walks by the team's tent when he went to the Quidditch World Cup.

Some memory of yours, Sam.

"As this is your first flying lesson, we will discuss some precautions…" Mrs. Vance began to instruct me as she stood right beside me. Only her words smoothly slipped out of my distracted mind as I curiously watched her unusual attire. Well, it's not that she looked weird; her fashion sense is actually really good, at least for late nineties. It was just strange to see her in such a comfortable outfit. She usually wore very formal elite clothing, preferring long sleeve blouses with collar in solid or pastel colors along black skirts or pants frequently complemented with button cardigans. Other times, she would dress in one piece dresses, also in pallid colors. But today is just odd to see her so…so relax. I mean, light blue Capri pants, probably cotton, collar sleeveless white shirt and…

My eyes flickered towards her feet.

Whoa. Are those jelly flats? Those were popular here?-

"Samantha. If you are finished flattering my choice of apparel, please proceed to stand on the left side of the broomstick" she sharply broke my daze.

"Huh-oh right. Left side." I smiled awkwardly at her evident scowl for not paying attention. Cautiously, I walked near the polished wood handle. Hmmm, this broomstick looks really familiar, especially the metal parts, even the twigs-

"Is this a Firebolt?" I disbelievingly gaped at her, recognizing the broom from the third movie. After Harry's Nimbus broke in pieces during that Quidditch game, he was later gifted with a Firebolt, fastest broomstick in the world or so they say.

"Naturally" she innocently replied.

"B-but I never flown before!" I nervously blurted out earning a raised eyebrow and skepticism from her. "Well, if you count flights then yes, but seated on a first class cushion chair, with seat belts, inside the plane's fuselage." I argued against her distrust. She expects me to learn how to a fly in a Firebolt? Is she crazy?! That's like asking a beginner to drive some Nascar car!

"Frankly, I don't see the problem, Samantha. The Firebolt is notorious for its balance and precision, but most of all its unbreakable braking Charm. You'll be quite alright" she calmly retorted.

"What if I break it?" I hysterically pleaded, staring full ahead into her brown eyes.

"Then we'll just bargain for a new one." she countered nonchalantly.

I silently gawked at her, once again, dumbfounded at her honesty and casualness.

Sometimes I wondered the quantity of her wage.

"As I was explaining, once standing at its left side, stick your right hand over the broom and say up" she coached me.

I smirked at how similar she sounded to Madam Hooch, though one raised eyebrow from her and I revolved my attention to the broomstick.

Taking a deep breath and doing as instructed, I ordered "Up". I would have been happy to say that the broom soared to my extended hand, but as expected with anything magical related, it did exactly the opposite. My only consolation was that said broom kept quavering, maybe raising itself half an inch from the ground.

I lowered my hand in disappointment.

A fine witch I'm turning out to be.

"Fret not. Focus your magic. Try Again." she patiently coaxed me.

One assertive look from her and I pursued her advice. I closed my eyes and blocked my surroundings, concentrating my magic to the broom. Then with a fixed glare, I ordered "Up". But no luck, except that this time, it raised higher than the first try. So, I kept repeating the process over and over again. Down by the seventh time, I imperatively spoke the command, earning a tightly gripped broom in my hand.

I silently beamed at my success.

I-I did it! Yes!

I spun towards Mrs. Vance, seeking her approval while feeling bubbly and overly excited at my achievement. A minor upwards tug at the corner of her lips was enough to get my confidence boost.

I could do this. I can totally do this.

What was I thinking?

Truthfully, I was excited, at first. I remembered the first time I saw someone ride a broom. It was in a movie, Hayao Miyazaki's Kiki's Delivery Service. I loved it. I wanted it to be just like her, so I took some broom from the laundry, mounted it and jumped through the outdoor stairs. Unfortunately, after that little adventure, Nana hid every single broom from my sight for a few weeks.

I almost grinned at the memory, only to falter as my reasoning kicked in.

But that was a movie, where the protagonist was a full blood witch who had learned magic since a young age and there's me who just got zapped into the Harry Potter world and barely knows a few spells.

Oh yeah, reality was catching up and fast. And it's not like I had been one to fear heights. I don't mind roller-coasters; I have done hiking and I even went skydiving with grandpa, back in the Bahamas. But it only took a wobbly broom to fly me a few feet in the air, for me to realize that this…this was different. There were no cords to secure me, no parachute to slow my fall. One mistake and I would easily plunge to my death.

I inwardly swallowed, as I literally hunched over the broom, clutching for life.

"Stand straight" her reassuring yet strident voice snapped my concentration to my right. Observing from below, Mrs. Vance calmly held my gaze.

"I-I'll fall" I weakly stammered.

"You will, if you do not do as you are told" she sternly criticized me. I almost flinched at her severe tone. "Stand straight" she steadily repeated.

Reluctantly, I did as told, though still firmly clasping from the broom.

She nodded in consent. "Diminish your worries, loosen your grasp but keep it steady. The broom will not let you fall, as long as you are in complete control" she counseled as I hesitantly followed it.

Still wary from any sudden movement but with a snitch of confidence on the firebolt, I waited for further instructions.

"Good. Now, I want you to rise higher, reaching the last branch from that cypress" she signaled to the left of me. "Then I want you to come straight back down, leaning forward slightly as you near the ground." she dictated.

I stole an uphill glance to my left, doubtfully staring at the highest tree branch then I sighed.

Well, here goes nothing.

Moderately and guardedly, I glided upwards, unsteadily reaching the highest tree branch. I looked down to confirm the height specification and upon receiving a positive signal from her eyes, I shakily positioned the broom to head back down. At her serious yet encouraging nod, I took a deep breath and with an unconscious kick, I flew downwards, going too fast to my liking.

I paled.

Oh god, how do I stop?! Stop! ¡Para! (Stop!)

I panicked at the sight of the pavement getting closer by the second. Mrs. Vance immediately noticed my fear and she quickly took out her wand.

Desperately, I clasped the handler and pulled upwards, helplessly praying to reduce the speed. In a fraction of seconds, the broom brusquely stopped, sending me flying forwards at a blinding haste towards the stone pavement. I counted the seconds for the indescribably painful impact that would incapacitate or kill me. But it never came the right after Mrs. Vance imperatively barked "Arresto Momentum!".

Abruptly, my descent froze at the last second, my body merely stumbling at the pebble sidewalk with a loud grunt.

Note to self: Never EVER ride a broom without supervision.

"Perhaps you are to consider the Flo network as your temporary vehicle of transportation." she recommended disgruntled.

"Really?" I sorely groaned as I lifted myself from the sidewalk, too exhausted to really care about attitude or sarcasm. And as the fearless and graceful lady she was, she overlooked my irritability and simply hummed absent-mindedly while scrutinizing the stupid broomstick.

Wow Sam, aren't you a ball of sunshine this afternoon. Can't even handle getting a little dirty?

"Wash up. I expect your assistance in the kitchen" she plainly dismissed me.

Without a second glance, I grumpily twisted and made haste for the house, my inner voice screaming at me to apologize. But I was upset, maybe even angry at myself for completely failing in such a simple yet important magical task. Added the physical and mental fatigue from the O.W.L.S, my insomnia and I was a disgusted sight. At this rate, I just wanted a shower; heck a bubble bath rang bells through my exhausted and exasperated thoughts. And I did just that. I shut myself inside the bathroom, scowling at my incompetence while struggling to sooth my temper.

I don't how long I remained under the relaxing aroma and fluffy presence of the shower gel. It could have been minutes or hours, but it took some distant rumbling to snap me out of it.

Startled, I raised my gaze towards one of the small rectangle windows and intently stared at the dark sky, blindly searching for something, anything. I was about to continue on my pouting, until some lighting flashed and before I knew it, I was out of the round white tub. Swiftly, I crossed the hallway in a towel, my dark locks and bare feet dripping the wooden floor, my mind racing with images of the last task-

I locked myself in the bedroom, panting as the imagery of Harry's encounter with his nemesis continued.

Harry clasping Cedric's body, his snake eyes...

I audibly gulped.

And as if Destiny, Life, God, Allah, Buddha, whoever wanted to prove my point, more lighting echoed, illuminating my already bright room.

It was done.

By now, Harry must have been back from the cemetery, Cedric was dead….he was back.

I hugged myself, goose bumps crawling under my skin.

It was only a matter of time for Sirius to make his appearance into the house to warn Mrs. Vance.

Apprehensively, I grabbed a pair of beige undergarments, some cotton blue shorts and a white tank top. To placate my nerves, I blow dried my hair and decided that while I was on the mood for a beauty session, I would polish my nails and toenails. In the end, I took out my manicure and pedicure box, choosing a neutral pink beige color.

Once again, I completely spaced out, focused on my toes and hands. A few hours had flown by, when my stomach unceremoniously growled reminding of my last meal, being lunch. So, after my manicure was freshly dried, I stepped out.

Timidly, I peeked through my door and noted the uncanny stillness of the hallway.

I released a breath.

What am I doing? This is my haven. I was safe here, no death eater knew about me and I highly suspected Sirius was the type to wander through the second floor. Besides, he couldn't stay, he would be on the mission to alert every single member of the order. He probably left by now. Yeah.

No need to panic, Sam.

Self-assuring myself, I strolled down the stairs, my light plum slippers serenely padding the wooden stair treads. Relief filled me as I reached the kitchen and there was no sight of Sirius and strangely of .

Did she go to bed? Can't be. It's barely nine in the evening. She usually goes to sleep by eleven. Though, if she did, I can't exactly blame her. She's always going to meetings between British politicians to wizards. Then she gets here to help me…. and today I took it out at her.

I deeply sighed, shame engulfing my every being.

I acted like an ungrateful spoiled brat who couldn't even handle getting thrown to the floor. Since when have I reacted like such a whiny pussy? I was better than this, I was raised, for crying out loud, to survive the pressure in show biz and I cracked for such a silly thing. Of course, it wasn't trivial at first, but she instantly slowed my fall and I knew she would have protected me. No wonder she sounded disappointed, even Nana would have glared at me for my behavior.

I tiredly moaned at my stupidity, while I searched through the fridge the different ingredients to make the salad she usually asked me to do.

During dinners, she mostly cooks everything except the salad, which she always puts me to do, ever since I made grandpa's berry vinaigrette. She doesn't say it, but I knew she secretly enjoyed her salad.

I was about to add the washed blueberries to the crystal bowl when lighting stroked, making me wince at its unexpectedness.

I observed the open wooden french doors that led to the backyard, revealing an unnatural dark cloudy sky. I fearfully stared till I remembered Mimi and Perdy were playing outside. Promptly, worry and vigilance scorched over me.

Hurriedly, I stepped out into the sudden wind, angry gust whipping my hair and trees.

"Mimi! Perdy!" I summoned them remarking their absence.

No answer, not even a bark.

"¡Mimi! ¡Perdy!" I tried again in my second tongue, whistling at the end.

I was starting to panic.

Where are they?! Oh, please, please.

"¡Mimi! ¡Perdy!" I almost screeched, as I walked around the vast courtyard, frightfully searching for them, wind and lightning battling for dominance.

I leaped when I felt a familiar rub on my right leg.

Pure bliss and reprieve flooded my system as Perdy wagged her tale while heavily panting.

"Oh, you, you- don't scare me like that!" I lightly scolded her while bending in front of her. "¿Mimi?" I queried her blue eyes, while she simply stood and sat next to me as if waiting for her, so I did, not a few seconds later she came into view, also wagging her tail, all muddy and dirty.

I scowled at her mess.

What was she doing? Digging holes?

I pointed at her while she walked towards me.

"Tu vas directo al… baño" (You are going straight to the… bath) I faltered as my eyes flickered from her to the big dog following her lead.

W-what, where in the world-

The abnormal weather drowned my words, deciding it was best to get inside. This was starting to creep me out.

"Adentro, ahora." (Inside, now.) I signaled to the kitchen and soon after, both complied.

I turned around expecting the black dog to stalk after them, only to find it still sitting.

Really Sam. Not all dogs are trained to submit at Spanish authority.

"You too" I gently cooed, careful not to frighten it. It didn't seem aggressive or threatened by a stranger, and its body language reflected exhaustion, more than anything else. The poor thing.

"Come along" I sampled but it didn't respond, merely watched me. "Come here" I reiterated tolerantly, crouching to its level. Leisurely, the dog quietly padded towards me sitting right in front of me as it kept panting. "That's it." I softly stimulated it to sniff me. Carefully, I reached out to its head watching for any sign of hostility. But, as I neared, I couldn't help but let my guard down. For Vet school, this sort of action would had classify as irresponsible; after all, an animal was still an animal. Yet, this dog radiated some sort of soothing aura. There was gentleness around it.

I slowly stroked its ears and head, hoping to convey my 'I mean no harm' message. I kept petting her- I mean him, as I noted his member, when rain drops plopped on my cheeks.

"Come on. You're not getting wet. Not on my watch" I grinned at him as I stood up from my position. I whistled at him to see any reaction and I was pleased to know he trailed after me.

"I could have sworn I saw some meat snacks around here" I muttered while searching over Mimi and Perdy's dog treats through the top cabinets of the pantry.

I simpered in triumph as I grasped a yellow red package, opened it and took a few treats to give to the stray possibly starving dog.

"Here we go." I whirled around and blinked, mindful of the dog's disappearance. "Boy? " I called out to him.

Where did he go? He was sitting right here.

I sauntered around the island wooden counter. Just maybe-

"Oh, there you are" I breathed as the curious dog smelled the downside of the stand. "Really. Those are some quiet steps, you have there, Paddy" I laughed as I squatted down to give the bacon strips, which he eagerly ate.

Hmmm. Silent paws strides, excellent for sneaking and hunting. Heck, this dog resembled some kind of hound.

Gradually, I started inspecting the dog's face, leery not to spook him.

He's definitely a hound breed, although he's too big for hares or fox hunts and he doesn't appeared to chase birds either.

I changed my examination, from its ears, canine, and nuzzle, to its stomach and legs.

Broad and flat legs. A deep chest, probably giving him some lung power and perfect for outrunning the prey. Nicely arched loin that droops to the tail. Overall, it's a tough dog breed maybe capable of hunting animals twice its size or something. Yet, I thought hounds were inclined to have a harsh coat, but this mane was so… submissive, practically tender.

"Beautiful…" I murmured as I ran my fingers through his lenient yet murky fur. "What's a gorgeous thing like you wandering the streets?" I grasped its face, while he tried to lick at me.

Friendly, too. Maybe he's lost? Or he could have been abandoned.

I glowered at the thought.

Unacceptable.

I'm sure Mrs. Vance won't mind him, well as long he doesn't make a mess and I'm responsible for his care. Besides, I have to apologize.

"Wait here, Paddy" I playfully ruffled its head and lifted myself.

Closing the kitchen door, I headed straight for the stairs.

Okay, Sam you'll apologize then what?

I kept pondering my different options to bring out the dog until my guardian's acquainted and muffled voice came from the living room.

Is she on the phone?

Casually, I roamed inside and as soon as I did, I instantly regretted it.

AUTHORS NOTE:

THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE AND BY ALL MEANS REVIEW, COMMENT, SCREAM AT ME, I DON''T MIND.

Beautiful dreaming warrior: Hahahaha, always will and thank you for your support.

Theta-McBride: I'm glad you like it. I do try. I'm always insecure like "Oh, I hope it wasn't too boring". So, thank you.

Music anomaly: Thank you so so much! As for her meeting everyone in Grimmauld Place, well, hopefully you won't stab me. I have other plans for her. So, stay tuned!

Lissi45829: Thank you but trust me I'm not the first to used her. I read Marauders fan fiction and few have used her. The only difference is that they mainly place her around the same age as James Potter's generation, but in my opinion, she's more Bellatrix's generation. Way older. I had to improvised when I developed her personality and by her very few lines and appearances on the book and movies, I decided she be older than Remus and the rest. Again, many thanks for your support, I hope to see you around.

secreteco: You actually made my day with your review, I couldn't stop giggling for a few hours and I am not kidding! But, my writing is still rusty and needs a lot of work so thank you again for the comment and I hope you keep reading!

AGAIN THANK YOU ALL.