Chapter 3: Encounter of a Strange Sort
I'm not sure what exactly I expected to accomplish that evening. Sasha had left the apartment hours ago, which meant that she and Eric were probably long gone before I even discovered the note. The truth was that I had no plan whatsoever of what I would do and that the first time I thought about inquiring with Eric's parents was when I knocked on the door of the house in Little Whinging that I had visited only a day ago.
An old lady with enormous, thick glasses and a vivaciously pink bathrobe answered the door. She eyed me curiously and then cleared her throat, kindly waiting for me to reveal why I was on her doorstep. I jolted myself into action.
"Hello, Mrs…," I started. "Mrs…" I realized I didn't know Eric's last name and continued onward. "I'm…a friend of Eric's. I was just wondering if you could tell me where he's gone."
"Eric?" she responded questioningly. "No one named Eric lives here, dear. You must have the wrong house."
I glanced at the address plate and shook my head. "No, this is the house. I was here yesterday; I'm sure this is it," I replied, half speaking to myself. I furrowed my eyebrows and looked at the woman. "Listen, I really need to know where Eric went. My sister is with him."
"Sorry, but you must be mistaken," she said gently. "I told you. Nobody named Eric lives here."
"But this is his house! I've been here befo-" I said, growing annoyed.
"That's just not possible, sweetie," she said. "You see, Bert-my husband- and I…we've been on a cruise for a month. We just got back an hour ago. This house has been empty until just now. You must be thinking of a different house."
I scowled, looking from the address plate back to the lady's face back to the address plate as if the woman would suddenly explain "Just kidding!" and tell me where Eric was. The old woman looked at me with a sympathetic expression. "Sorry that I couldn't help you, dear," she said in a low voice. With a small grimace, she closed the door softly, eliminating what little chance I had had of finding Sasha. I stood silently at the doorstep for a while, completely baffled and upset about my whole situation. And then, without making a conscious decision, I turned and started down Magnolia Crescent, my steps echoing down the empty streets.
I walked down the darkening street with no particular direction or motive except to distance myself from where I had been. There was nowhere that I could head to except…well, back to the apartment. I scoffed to myself at the thought. I knew that I would probably have to return at some point or another; I had no means to support myself, no relatives or friends here in England that would take me in. But that didn't stop me from balking at the idea of returning to my dad. I knew what awaited me there: at best, an apology and then a move to California; at worst, a repeat of tonight over the next few years and more of Dad drinking to fill the gap that Sasha had left.
For the moment, I pushed all thoughts of Dad and moving out of my mind and tried to blot out my anxiety and anger, concentrating on the sound of my breathing and my footsteps.
Tap, tap, tap. I breathed in and out, trying to slow down my erratic breathing. A lone car went down the road, and I turned from Magnolia Crescent into a dark alleyway. My hair was beginning to fall out of my ponytail, sticking to my face, but I didn't care.
Tap, tap, tap. Images of Sasha and Mom floated into my brain. I felt my face harden and my chest clench. Tears were building up, but I stiffened my upper lip and walked forward.
Tap, tap, tap. I wasn't paying attention to where I was or what was around me. With every step I took, I felt as if I was sinking within myself into a lower level of sadness. But I couldn't go back. Not to the old lady's house. Not to my dad. Not now.
And then suddenly a boy's voice rang out through the night, a horrified yell that pierced the air and awoke me to my surroundings.
"DUDLEY, COME BACK! YOU'RE RUNNING RIGHT AT IT!"
I squinted, stumbling forward through the darkness, my left hand against a wall of the alleyway. The sounds of yells and scuffling echoed and through it all I could hear deep, rasping breathing that made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. I shivered in the strange coldness that had leaked into the summer air.
The rattling breathing grew louder, and I felt like I couldn't breathe, like icy hands were clenching around my lungs. It was so dark- so very, very dark- and I felt as if I would never be happy again, as if the loneliness that was coursing through me was the only thing that existed. I stepped back instinctively from the chill, but it was now behind me before I knew it somewhere in the direction that I had come from.
"Lumos!"
The boy's voice came from somewhere to my right, and with it came an eruption of light.
The boy, bespectacled, tall, and lanky, stood, was wielding some kind of glowing stick. However, I was more concerned with the dark, hooded figure approaching us. It loomed above me, a tower of inhumanity, not four feet from where I was. I gasped as its grimy, scabbed hands reached for me, its mouth coming ever closer to mine. I stood, frozen in fear, as this…thing came toward me.
"Expecto Patronum!"
The boy beside me let out a yell and made a motion with his stick. I would have thought he was an idiot and a lunatic if I hadn't been…well, a bit preoccupied. However, to my amazement, a silvery wisp flowed from what I then realized was a wand of sorts. The creature stopped for an instant, and I, regaining control of my legs, scrambled behind the boy, anxious for help, anxious to distance myself from this cold isolation.
The hooded figure resumed its advance, and the boy repeated the spell, more feebly then before. A narrow, silver strand came from the wand and my stomach dropped in horror as I sensed the boy's strength waning. The creature was looming a yard away, and I grabbed the wand from the boy's hand and stepped out from behind him. I attempted to mimic his motion and his words, but the same feeble, silver smoke came from the wand.
I cleared my throat and raised the wand again. And as I did, a wave of hopelessness hit me. The hooded creature was steps away, and as it came closer I felt as if my life was being drained from me, as if I had no hope of defeating it or being anywhere besides this dark, unhappy place. I shook my head and jolted myself from my sorrow. I didn't want to die. I didn't want to stay here. I wanted to accomplish something. I wanted to see Sasha. I wanted to see my sister again. I filled my thoughts with her, with the possibilities the future held.
"Expecto Patronum!" I roared. A shining, silver wolf burst from the wand tip, scampering toward the dark creature. It jumped and knocked over the hooded monster. The monster dove away, and swept away, beaten and unsatisfied, into the night. My wolf howled in delight.
I stared in wonder for a moment at the creature I had produced, but as its eyes met mine, it faded away. I felt the wand snatched from my hand, and I turned to see the boy running in the opposite direction. Conjuring another Patronus, the boy coaxed forth his animal, a stunning, luminescent stag, toward another hooded figure, which was stooped over a large, bulky boy on the ground. "Get it!" he screamed, and with that, the dark creature, thrown by the tackle of the galloping stag, soared away into the night.
The natural light of the evening reappeared. The stars twinkled above the alleyway, and the streetlights came back into focus.
Wand Boy (as I had dubbed him in my head since his name was unknown) was bent over the chubby, whimpering boy, his dark, messy hair covering his eyes. I crept up next to him and squinted at his face.
"Hey," I said.
I got no response.
"Hey, you think he's okay? What did that thing do to him?"
Wand Boy continued his attempt to help up the blubbering boy, an arduous and consuming task it seemed.
I turned my attention to the heavy boy, and my eyes widened in disbelief. There, his eyes hollow and his face coated in cold sweat, was Dudley Dursley, the bully of my childhood; even after all those years, I could recognize that face. This was the boy that had teased me constantly about my "low", "nasal" American accent for years and years. But his once arrogant, sneering expression had vanished, and instead his mouth was bent in a horrified gasp.
"Dudley Dursley?" I whispered, astonished.
Wand Boy's face snapped in my direction, and he unintentionally dropped Dudley. The resulting crash caused a tremor at my feet that I barely managed to evade.
"How do you know that name?" He said, his voice gruff and suspicious. The next moment, his wand was pointed directly at me, inches from my nose. I flinched at the sudden movement.
"Who are you?" he asked warily. "Were you the one who sent the dementors?"
"What the-"
"Are you a Death Eater?" he interrupted.
"Listen, you," I eyed Wand Boy angrily. "I have no clue what you're talking. I just went to Dudley's primary school years back, that's all."
He surveyed my expression doubtfully. He reached out and grasped my wrist tightly. I tried to resist, but he held it firmly, flipped it over, and inspected my forearm. Whatever he found there seemed to satisfy him because he muttered "No Dark Mark", dropped my arm, and put the wand down.
"Sorry," he muttered sheepishly.
"It's nothing," I replied, thoroughly confused, but definitely not complaining about the absence of wand in my face. I crossed my arms defensively.
A lightning-shaped scar jutted out from the cover of his bangs, and the combination of the glasses, the scar, and the boy's face sparked something deep back in my mind. A far, distant memory prodded my brain and reminded me that his name was Larry or Gary or something along those lines, and I opened my mouth to start a tirade of interrogation. There were so many questions whirling around in my head at the moment about the creature, about the glowing animals, about him and the death-majiggers, but before I had any chance to pose them to Wand Boy, I heard the shuffling of footsteps.
An aged, frazzled-looking woman in a hairnet stood before us, panting, with a hand over her heart in shock. Wand Boy made a move to hide his wand from her, but the women shrieked in disapproval.
"Don't put it away, idiot boy!" she yelled hysterically. "What if there are more of them around? Oh, I'm going to kill Mundungus Fletcher!"