Microsoft Word - Hidden Beneath

Storyid: 642217
FanFiction.net
Name: Hidden Beneath
Author: Adah
Chapter 1 to 27
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Chapter: 1
Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter and Co.
Summary: After one very eventful night ten years ago, Voldemort was destroyed and Harry
disappeared. Where did he go? What happened that night? Only one man knows the answer: a
teacher named James. And as the tenth anniversary of Voldemort’s downfall draws near, Ron
and Hermione are thinking more and more about their friend.
Chapter 1: Articles and Éclairs
----------------
The man sighed as he pushed back his thick brown hair. He was sitting at a desk in a classroom,
correcting papers. It was a clear spring afternoon in late May.
The man pushed back his hair again, reveal a thin, lightning-bolt scar on his forehead. It was
immediately covered up again when his stubborn locks flopped back into their previous messy
position.
He looked up as another guy walked into the classroom. He had brown hair and bright blue eyes.
He seemed to have a bounce in his step where ever he walked; always happy.
"Well, look who it is! The very person I haven't seen in a millennia!" He looked around. "Nice
room you got here, James."
"Thanks, Peter," said the man amusedly. "You know, as I recall, you've been in here quite a few
times. So what is it that you want?"
"Well, what are you doing here grading fifth graders' papers on a beautiful day like this when
you should be helping me at the store? Plus, it's a Sunday."
James smiled. "The store" was Peter's bakery, which James helped Peter bake for if there was a
big event coming up.
"I'm just trying to finish correcting these papers," he answered. "I didn't want to bring them
home. There's only one more week of school left, you know. "
"And only one more week until that wedding for which I have to bake one hundred éclairs.
C'mon, James, I could really use your help today."
"You say that everyday."
Peter gave James a pleading look.
"Fine. I'm almost done correcting these anyway."
Peter punched James on the arm playfully. "Thanks, you're a real pal, a real pal," he said with
emphasis.
James rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, yeah..."
----------------
"Look, Ron," said Hermione angrily, "I really don't see why we have to travel halfway across the
world to see one man." It was breakfast time, and Hermione had just come downstairs with her
bags.
"I've explained this before, honey," said Ron, exasperated, "We're meeting this guy's family, not
just him. I have to go, at least. How would it look if her own brother didn't even meet her fiancé,
never mind her future family-in-law? Besides, we're the only one's who haven't met the 'famous'
Daniel that Ginny always talks about. Mum seems to like him well enough, anyway."
"Yes, but leaving the kids with Percy and Penelope for a week?"
"We're dropping the kids off at the Burrow first. Believe me; Mum will make sure they are all
right. Plus, it will be a good experience for them. Look, we can talk this over with Percy at lunch.
Besides, have you ever been to Canada before?"
"Well, no-"
"See? We'll be going someplace new! It'll be an adventure!"
Hermione sighed. "I suppose."
Ron kissed her cheek. "Thanks."
"I'll just get the kids ready, and then we can go." Hermione went upstairs.
Ron turned back to the paper. An article caught his attention.
BOY WHO LIVED, DEAD, OR ALIVE?
It has been almost ten years since the downfall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and ten years
since Harry Potter was last seen. His disappearance has caused much controversy in the
wizarding community. Was he killed in the war? Or is he still out there, hiding from the world?
Many choose to believe the latter, although no trace of him can be found. But why would the
most powerful wizard hide? What caused his disappearance? And where is he hiding, if he is
indeed hiding? Most people believe he is still in the wizarding world, but there is a surprising
few who believe he has gone into the muggle world. This year's tenth Anniversary of Peace
raises more questions about what happened on that night, and reminds us of the hero and biggest
mystery of the wizarding community, Harry Potter.
Hermione came downstairs, with Emily and Jack in tow, arguing with each other.
Jack was a spitting image of his mother: light brown hair with dark brown eyes. And he read a
surprising amount of books for his ten-year-old self. Emily had red hair, and Ron's eyes. She also
had his short temper and picked fights with her older brother.
"Now you guys are sure you packed everything you need?" Hermione asked worriedly,
interrupting the argument.
Jack rolled his eyes. "Yes, Mum, you've asked us a million times already."
"Now, I'll apparate over with the luggage, and Ron, dear, will you take the kids? Don't forget to
call out 'The Burrow' nice and loud."
"Yes, Mum," said Jack, Emily, and Ron in unison.
"Dear, don't encourage them..."
"We'll be fine," Ron reassured his wife, "We're only using Floo Powder. We'll see you in a few
minutes."
Hermione gave them a weak smile and apparated away.
"Right," said Ron, "Let's go."
----------------
The bakery looked as if a tornado had swept in, and then there was an earthquake. There was
flour everywhere, not to mention water from an over-flowing sink of cooking utensils.
"My god," said Peter to James, "I'm gone for a minute, and they tear the place apart! Good thing
we aren't open on Sundays."
"What?" shouted a woman behind a huge whirring mixer.
"Uh, I said, keep up the good work!" shouted Peter.
"Thanks!" the woman shouted back.
Peter chuckled. "Sarah's so sweet. She was the first one over here to help me today."
"Okay, okay, I get it," laughed James. "I'm the last one here, I know. I haven't been here in a
week, I know. I haven't--"
"Eeeee! It's Jamesie!" shrieked Emma, high enough to break several windows.
James rolled his eyes. Emma insisted on calling him "Jamesie." It made Jacob angry though,
because she called him "My Cobbie," and that was a lot worse than "Jamesie." Emma and Jacob
were engaged. The wedding was in two months and they had started helping Peter with his store
a lot lately. They're trying to get a discount on their cake, thought James wryly. Just like them to
do that.
Jacob was thin, tall, and had flaming red hair. Luckily, his red hair did not reflect his temper. He
was known for being a temperate and trustworthy person. He was very clumsy, but extremely
bright. He collected knowledge faster than anyone James knew. Well, almost anyone. James
always got a wave of nostalgia and regret whenever he looked at or talked to Jacob. The
combination of red hair and a smart mind brought back uncomfortable memories.
Emma was from Oregon. She had blonde short hair, and large brown eyes, and was fairly big
chested, and consequently often got asked if she was a movie star. Now that made her cringe.
She seemed to hate being considered "good-looking"; she called it a hindrance to having the
proper amount of fun. While visiting her parents (who had moved to San Francisco), she met
Jacob and they fell in love and moved to Calgary, where Jacob's parents lived. Nothing had
really gone wrong in the entire time they had known each other. Their lives were a fairy tale.
Some people have all the luck, thought James.
"Jamesie? Hellooo," Emma waved her hand in front of James' face. "Anyone home?"
James shook himself. "Oh, yeah. What?"
"My Cobbie was saying something."
"James--," scolded Sarah, "James--," she tried again. "Say, what is your middle name?" she
asked.
"James is my middle name. Harry is my first," James answered.

The group exchanged surprised glances.
"Well," continued Sarah, "Harry James Potterson, what have you been doing all week that
demanded your attention so badly that you couldn't visit your friends even once? Not only that,
but then you zone out while we're talking to you?"
"Sorry guys, I guess I just got busy."
"Yeah, well you were certainly in a bad mood the whole week."
James raised an eyebrow.
"We heard what you did to poor Jacob. Snapping at him like that, tsk, tsk, tsk. And we just told
him to talk to you, since he's the only one who works at the same place you do."
"I'm in a better mood, now, promise," tried James.
"You know Jamesie," said Emma, "You get in this mood every year. And around the same time.
What is it? And it always seems to be My Cobbie that you pick on. What's going on?"
There was silence. James could hear the whirring of a mixer in the back room, the soft flow of
water in the sink, and even the humming of the oven. The silence was heavy around him, as if
daring him to break it. James licked his lips and tried desperately to think of a new topic of
conversation. Peter shifted his feet, uncomfortable, but curious at the same time. Emma's gaze
was penetrating. The silence became unbearable. Finally James stupidly blurted out:
"So, what are we making today?"
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Chapter: 2
Chapter 2: Traveling and Lies

----------------
Ron burst through the Burrow's fireplace, followed by Jack and Emily. Still coughing from
inhaling a bit of ash, Ron was promptly smothered by his mother's embrace.
"Let me look at my son," Molly Weasley held Ron's head up in the light, making Ron feel as if
his were five again. "Just the same as always. My goodness, I haven't seen you in a while. You
live so far away!"
"We live about 100 kilometers away. Only about an hour by broomstick, Mum. Besides, you can
use Floo powder and get there in a matter of minutes."
"I know dear, but you see, it's the principle of the thing. I need to be able to walk to your house,
and have my grandchildren visit me everyday. Ooh, and let's have a look at the darlings!"
Jack was bickering with Emily, who was playing in the ash in the fireplace. Molly kneeled on the
floor and embraced Jack and the very dirty Emily, which swiftly ended their argument.
"Now, let me see," said Molly, sitting back to get a good look at the kids. "You my dear, must be
five?"
"Six and a half," Emily corrected.
"Oh, yes. And Jack, you must be twelve?"
"Ten," Jack corrected.
Molly continued to ask the kids questions while Ron and Hermione talked with Percy and
Penelope.
"So how is Mum?" asked Ron.
"Ah, you know, same as always," answered Percy. "Her same overly cheerful and forgetful self.
You know, she just isn't the same as she used to be, since Dad died."
Percy and Penelope lived in the Burrow with Ms. Weasley. They had three kids, who were all
currently at Hogwarts. One in first year, one in third, and another in sixth.
Hermione began helping Penelope prepare lunch, and Ron sat down to talk with Percy. About a
half hour later, Penelope called that it was lunch just as Hermione finished setting the table
outside. Jack and Emily came running out with chocolate all over their faces.
"Oh dear," muttered Hermione to Ron, "It looks like your mother gave them chocolate frogs."
She walked up to Jack and Emily. "James Arthur Weasley!" Hermione scolded Jack, "Did you
and your sister eat all the chocolate frogs Grandma gave you?"
"No," muttered Jack guiltily, "We saved a lot! Well, uh, it was actually more like several. But
when I say 'several,' some people might have called it 'a few'. But both of those words are alike,
so they really mean the same thing."
"Just how many did you two leave?"
Jack looked at his sister.
"About a couple," said Emily.
Hermione narrowed her eyes.
"Okay, okay," said Emily, "We each saved one."
Hermione sighed. "One out of six. You guys know we're having lunch now, right?"
She looked back at the table. Percy, Ron, Penelope, and Ms. Weasley were already eating.
"Don't worry, Mummy," piped up Emily, "Me and Jack are still really hungry. Right Jack?"
"Oh, yeah, famished," said Jack enthusiastically.
Hermione looked at her kids. They were trying to make her happy, she could tell. "Okay, well,
let's eat lunch, then. Just don't eat so many next time."
"Yes, Mum," said Jack and Emily in unison.
They walked back to the table and began to eat.
"So, how are my favorite niece and nephew?" asked Percy.
"Good," they both answered.
"You guys ate most of the chocolate frogs again, didn't you?"
Jack and Emily giggled. Hermione was sitting at the other end of the table and didn't notice their
topic of conversation.
"Well, yeah," answered Jack.
"Did you get any good cards?" asked Percy.
"I got a Dumbledore!" said Emily excitedly. "I don't have that one, and neither does Jack!" She
counted on her fingers. "And then I got a Merlin, a Bortok the Bazaar, a Glinda the Peaceful, and
two Harry Potters."
"Exciting. And you Jack--"
"Oh my goodness!" said Hermione, "It's almost one o'clock! We have to go if we want to catch
the one-fifteen portkey to Canada!"
With lightning speed Hermione grabbed their bags, and Ron said a thank you to Percy for lunch
and taking care of the kids.
"Bye Mum!" called Emily, "Have fun in Canada!"
Her goodbye was followed by others, and then, Ron and Hermione apparated away.
On their way to Canada.
----------------
"Okay, James, or should I say Harry, what is it? Why the bad mood? Spill." said Sarah, still
bitter that she didn't know that James had a different first name.
"Well, you see--" began James, "Um, it is sort of complicated." He was contemplating how to
tell his friends that he used to live in a whole other different world, fighting a war.
"Nah, you guys don't want to hear it," interjected Peter. James could see the confused and
slightly annoyed look on everyone else's face.
"We don't?" asked Emma.
"No, it's really not that interesting."
Huh? thought James.
"Yeah, James here told me it once," said Peter.
I never did that! What is he talking about? thought James frantically.
"It's just that he got in a fight with his brother a while ago and they both left home," continued
Peter, as James breathed a sigh of relief. "His brother went to France and James came here to
Calgary. It was some fight over his grandfather's will. James' brother wanted more of the
inheritance, since he was older, and made a pretty big deal over it because everything was split
evenly to James, his mother, his father, and his brother. Yeah, it's really not that interesting. And
last week was the anniversary of their fight, so it just brings back bad memories. They haven't
talked since."
"Oh," said Sarah, her cheeks turning slightly pink. "That's so sad. I'm truly sorry for getting mad
at you, James. Really."
"Yeah, me too," apologized Emma. James could tell they were clearly sorry.
"Aw, it's all right. I'm sorry for taking it out on you guys," said James.
"So what was your brother's--"
"Time to make those éclairs!" shouted Peter, interrupting the ever curious Emma.
James was quickly forgotten and the group scrambled to get a mixer that didn't splatter dough
everywhere. James pulled Peter aside.
"Thanks a bunch for saving my neck," said James, "I don't know how you did it."
"I figured it had something to do with when I and my brother found you, and I could tell you
didn't want to relive it," said Peter.
"But do you know what happened?"
"Actually, no, but I figure you'll tell us when you want to. Hey, but that brother story was pretty
cool, huh?"
"Yeah. Really, thanks a lot."
"It was nothing."
----(flashback)----
Harry chugged another glass of vodka, and smiled as he triumphantly turned the glass over, and
slapped it on the table. The man on the other side was turning very red and was having some
trouble grabbing his glass.
"Give up?" asked Harry. He appeared pretty much sober, and in control. Inside, he could feel
himself spinning, but he also felt that wonderful feeling of no pain, no memories.
"Never," answered the man gruffly, but determinedly.
Harry had to give him credit. He never had someone last for so long against him in a drinking
contest. He could tell, though, that with just a few more glasses, the man would be out cold. But I
might be out cold too, thought Harry. Although he didn't look it on the outside, Harry was
starting to feel pretty sick himself. Just a few more glasses, Harry told himself.
The man shakily poured himself another glass, looked at it with a look that one could almost call
frightened, took a deep breath, and swallowed. His eyes were closed for a few seconds, and
Harry could almost feel the men behind him smile with the confidence that they bet on the right
guy.
The man opened his eyes and burped. A few cheers erupted from his side of the table, while the
men on Harry's side glared.
Harry confidently poured himself another glass, and drank it right away. He could feel the
alcohol running through his system. Slowly he turned his glass over, and thumped it on the table.
He smiled as the men who bet on him cheered.
The money was high tonight. Nobody had ever watched this long of a drinking contest, and more
money was being set on the table every minute. Something in the back of Harry's head nagged
him, though. What will you do with the money? it asked. Harry knew. He knew he would just
wander to a different city and buy more drinks. He would drink away the pain, and regret.
The man on the other side of the table smiled a silly smile. He was incredibly fat, and incredibly
red from the alcohol. He patted his stomach, then chugged another glass.
Suddenly, Harry felt disgusted. He couldn't say why. Maybe it was the man across from him,
drooling and smiling in that very pleased-with-himself way, or maybe it was the broken chairs
stacked in the corner. Maybe it was the pick-pocket who was taking the opportunity to steal
someone's wallet, or maybe it was the middle-aged man with a golden ring on his left
ring-finger, kissing a heavily make-upped girl of about twenty in the corner, with no ring.
Whatever it was, Harry couldn't deal at it any longer. Sure, he had won lots of drinking contests,
in fact he hadn't lost yet, and he had been in worse places than these. But something about it
made him want to throw up.
Maybe it's me, thought Harry. Maybe I am what is so disgusting. Maybe it's not the drooling man
across from me, or the men betting hundreds of dollars on this contest, or the married man with
the prostitute. Maybe it's me. I am the walking disgrace. And Harry knew he had to get out of
that pub. He had to leave. He had to make something of himself. He had to make a difference in
the world. Get out and be somebody. He didn't want to die a drunk. He didn't want his parents to
have died for a disgrace.
And with these thoughts, Harry stood up, and made to leave.
"Where are you going?" drawled the new contest winner. "Scared of me, are you?"
Harry kept walking.
A man grabbed his arm. "Yeah, where do you think you are going? I've got money on you."
"Away," answered Harry.
The man grinned and pulled out a knife. "Oh no you're not."
Harry's drunk self had the thought process of a stubborn child. He was defiant and enraged that
someone should tell him what to do. How dare this man tell him where or where not to go?
Didn't he know who he was dealing with? The most powerful-- Crap! thought Harry, I should
not have thought that. He started to feel the power swell inside him the moment he recalled who
he had been. He tried desperately to remember whether he took his pills that morning or not, but
his drunken mind wouldn't allow it. The power grew, and Harry couldn't contain it any longer. It
burst out of him: the power that had lay silently inside him, plugged up by a few simple pills,
waiting for the day when Harry would make a mistake and forget to take those pills. The power
flowed through his heart, through his arms, it squeezed the breath out of him, and continued
traveling through his hands, his fingers, and shot out at the man with the knife.
The man fell down in a stupor, with blue hair, a new set of plaid clothing, and green and pink
beetles scuttling around him. "Repressed magic can do strange things," said the man when Harry
had bought the pills.
Harry fell on his knees, gasping for breath. The power was too much for him to control. The rest
of the men looked at Harry, their eyes full of fear. They didn't even notice when the contest
winner fell down in a dead faint.
"He's armed!" shouted one man stupidly.
"With what, you moron?" shouted another in answer.
The men began arguing with each other as Harry was on the ground, trying to get a hold of
himself.
Then, through all the noise, one man softly said, "He's not human."
The din quieted, and Harry sensed trouble.
"What did you say?" asked one man.
"The guy ain't human. He's a danger to us all."
The other men shouted in agreement. Together they grabbed knives, forks, bottles, and pieces of
wood, and advanced on Harry.
Authors note: The flashback will finish up in the next chapter, promise!
What will happen soon: Ron and Hermione meet Ginny's fiancé, we find out how James knows
Peter, and we will find out soon what in the world are "the pills."
And a gigantic thank you to:
Chochang913
Nicky
RicaSieg (aka Blossom)
Thanks a bunch for reviewing!
Love you all,
Adah
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Chapter: 3
Author’s note: This chapter might be a little graphic, I think, depending on what you think is
graphic. Anyway, Harry gets hurt, 0( but he ends up happy. 0)
Chapter 3: Resolutions and New Friends
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Harry shakily stood up. "Now guys..." he tried to reason with them. He backed up as the men
kept advancing on him. Some of them had evil, drunk smiles on their faces, some of the more
sober ones just looked determined.
Harry tripped over a fallen chair as he was backing up to the door. The men kept walking. Harry
could feel more power beginning to rise inside of him. Harry looked at his choices. He could
have his power save him from the mob by turning them all into beetles, but then have the
Ministry of Magic show up to give memory charms etc. to the beetle-men and clean up the mess,
then start looking for the person who cast that spell (which would mean that the ministry would
start chasing after him), or he could take the pills and get killed by the mob.
Some wizards from the ministry were probably already on their way to make sure that no
muggles got hurt from Harry's accidental spell towards the guy who had the knife. So Harry
chose to take the pills and run, preferring to be killed than to face the past.
Still sliding towards the door, Harry searched his pocket for his pill jar. Once he found it, he
grabbed someone's old beer, still half-full, turned around, stood up, chugged down several pills,
threw down the beer bottle, and ran out the door.
The group of men ran after Harry, shouting at him. Harry felt the pills take effect inside him,
pushing the power back to its source, wherever it was inside him. Harry kept running blindly,
having no idea where he was going. He was too drunk to recognize which street he had come
down to get to the pub, and for that matter, too drunk to recognize the sky from the ground. The
only thing that kept him going was the fact that if he stopped he would be killed immediately,
while if he kept running, he would be killed later.
Harry ran across a street, causing several cars to honk at him and swerve. Harry tripped and fell,
but looking behind him, crawled forward, stood up, and kept running. He ran towards the snowy
woods on the other side. The mob was close behind and starting to throw things. A piece of
wood hit Harry's back, but he kept running. The mob started throwing heavier objects. A brick
hit Harry's arm, and made him fall.
Crying out and cradling his bloody arm, he closed his eyes, not wanting to see the men come
upon him. He heard shouts of triumph as the group found where he fell, and started beating him.
Harry wanted the pain to stop. He wanted the men to stop. He body grew numb with pain. Harry
couldn't understand why the men kept hitting him, kicking him, hurting him. Why did they do it?
Did they really want to kill him? Couldn't they see that he was clearly in pain? Or was it just that
they were blood crazed, that as soon as there was a fight, all reason whatsoever left them?
Dimly, Harry heard sirens, and could see flashing lights through his closed eyes. The group of
men scattered. Harry did not want to be found by the police, either.
He slowly rolled over on to his stomach, and crawled behind a log. There was snow everywhere,
and Harry knew it would get well into the negative degrees at night. He was only wearing pants
and a long-sleeve shirt, which were very ripped. He remembered that he had left his coat and
scarf in the pub. At least his shoes were in tact. And it was incredibly lucky that his pills were in
his pants pocket. Mr. Westin put a charm on that pill jar so it would always be with me, just like
how it never becomes empty, Harry thought to himself.
The police were apparently satisfied with breaking up the loud group and left the scene. Slowly it
dawned on Harry that he would become frozen to death if he kept lying on the ground. He forced
himself to get up, to stand up. It took a while; his body was so sore, and was bleeding so much
that his did not doubt that he could very well die from loss of blood, too.
He kept thinking, though, about his resolution in the bar. He would make a difference, if only in
a small way. He did not expect to find the cure for the common cold, or for AIDS, or for cancer,
or to find intelligent life outside Earth, nor did he expect to solve world hunger. He just wanted
to do something small. Save animals. Give clothes and food to the homeless. Clean up
neighborhoods. Be a good person.
With these thoughts in his head, he started walking. He walked for hours. He fell some times, but
always got back up.
He was walking through the woods, his feet carrying him to some mysterious destination. The
moon was full. It was huge, and white, and clear as a picture. He could see so many stars. And
there were no clouds to obstruct his view. The sky was not black, but a deep navy blue, or was it
a deep purple? He could see the tops of trees, their silhouettes dark against the sky. The moon
cast an eerie light around the forest, making everything look silvery-gray. And he kept on
walking.
He walked until he thought he was dreaming, and he was still a boy, and it was Christmas
morning. He was running down the stairs, amazed that he had presents under the house tree. His
two best friends were smiling, and laughing with him. He was safe, and there was no real danger.
Indeed, the biggest danger then was potions class.
A while later, Harry opened his eyes and saw a light in the distance. He altered his course a little
and headed for the light, having nowhere else to go, and wanting a goal to take his mind off the
pain and the cold.
As he came walked closer to the light, he could tell that he wasn't going to make it. He was
feeling extremely faint and was shivering violently. Just a bit more, he told himself, Almost
there. He thought more about what he would do to make a difference in the world. My parents
have not died in vain, he thought fiercely, I am Lily and James Potter's son, and I will make a
difference, I will help, I will make something of my life.
Harry forgot why getting to this light was so important, but for some reason he knew he had to
get there; it was his goal. "I am Lily and James Potter's son, and I will make a difference," he
said out loud. He kept repeating this over and over, intent on getting to the light.
Finally, he saw that it was the light to a house. There was an electric lantern outside the back
door of a house. Harry smiled feebly. He made it.
He went up to the door, knocked, and fainted.
When Harry awoke, he noticed that he was lying in a bed, in a hospital gown. A nurse came over
to him when she noticed he was awake.
"Are you feeling alright?" she asked.
"Yes," said Harry, "Where am I?"
"The hospital. You had some very bad cuts on you and were almost frozen to death."
Harry looked at his arms. He had a few stitches on his left arm, and his right arm was in a cast. It
mast have been the brick that broke the bone.
"You fainted in front of the Harding's house, and luckily someone heard you and brought to
here," the nurse added. "Just in time, too, you had a lot of blood loss."
Harry stayed at the hospital for another day, and then was free to go, as long as he came back in
a week to get the stitches taken out. He had nowhere to stay, but the Hardings kindly offered to
let Harry stay with them for as long as he needed.
Mr. and Mrs. Harding must have been the kindest people in Canada. They had three children, all
adults, two boys and a girl. Ryan was the oldest, then Peter, then Olivia. It was Ryan and Peter
who found Harry. Mr. and Mrs. Harding made breakfast as soon as Harry came to their house.
"So," asked Ryan as soon as they started serving themselves and eating, "Did you say your name
was James Potterson?"
Harry gulped a piece of food he was chewing and tried to figure out how Ryan got that idea.
"Your name," tried Ryan again, "You were mumbling when we found you, something about
being James Potterson and making a difference."
"Uh, yeah," answered Harry, "Yeah, that's my name." Well, now I can get rid of my distinctive
name, thought Harry, now James.
"More eggs, dear?" asked Mrs. Harding.
"Sure, okay," answered Harry. "Thank you very much."
"Are you British?" asked Olivia.
"How did you know?" said Harry stupidly.
Olivia giggled a bit. "Your accent. It sounds British."
"Oh, yes, of course." The new James mentally slapped himself on the head. "Yes, yes I am
British." He blushed to think he was being so dumb.
They ate in silence for a while, until another question was brought up.
"So when did you leave England?" said Mr. Harding.
"About six months ago, I think. In late May. What city is this?"
"Calgary. December 16."
"James, dear, are you done?" asked Mrs. Harding.
"Yes, thank you."

"Here, let us take you to your room," said Mr. Harding. "You will be sharing with Peter. Will
that be alright?"
"Oh, yes, thank you."
Mr. Harding, Peter, and James went upstairs.
"I would have carried your bags up here, but you don't seem to have anything that isn't ripped
except for that pill bottle you were holding onto in the hospital," said Mr. Harding.
"Oh, where is it?" asked James, panic rising in his voice.
"Don't worry," laughed Mr. Harding, "It's downstairs in the kitchen."
James breathed a sigh of relief.
"Well, I'll leave you guys alone for a bit," said Mr. Harding, "Peter, help James get situated, and
then come downstairs to help me bring in the Christmas tree."
"Sure thing," answered Peter
Mr. Harding went downstairs and James and Peter were left in an uncomfortable silence.
"So, do you have a job around here?" asked Peter, after a while.
"Well, no, not really," said James.
"Hm, let me see. You could always help me out at my bakery. Or my brother Ryan can see if
there's a job open at the dentist's office he works at. Although, you need a bit of medical training
to work there. Oh, and my friend Jacob works at the elementary school, and they desperately
need a teacher."
"Really?" There, thought James, A teacher. That's where I could make a difference. I'll make a
difference in those kids' lives, if only small.
"Yeah," continued Peter, glad to hear some interest coming from James, "You don't need to have
any previous teacher experience. They'll take you to some workshops over the break, which
started yesterday, and you can begin in January. The pay's not great, but enough to live off of."
"Sounds great!"
Over the next months, James became good friends with the Hardings. He applied to be a teacher
and was accepted. He started teaching a fifth grade class, whose teacher in the fall had quit. He
took out a loan and rented a small apartment, paying with his teaching money. He had finally
made a life for himself, and was very happy.
----(end flashback)----
Peter was obviously also remembering when he met James, because he was also quiet for a few
minutes, deep in thought.
"Well," said Peter, suddenly, "Are we just going to stand here all day, or are we going to make
some éclairs?"
"Let's do it."
"Yeah, and with the amount of time we've let those clowns work on the éclairs," Peter joked,
"They've probably made a grand total of three."
James looked behind him to where Sarah, Emma, and Jacob were having a flour fight.
"C'mon, let's show them how it's done," said Peter.
Peter and James each grabbed a handful of flour from the nearby barrels, and joined in.
Authors note: Sorry I got no Ron and Hermione in this chapter. Promise in the next one! Really!
And thank you thank you thank you:
RicaSieg(aka Blossom)
Bayleigh Ford
twirlgirl04
ME!;p
Chochang913
Nicky
Dreamweaver
Love you all,
Adah
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Chapter: 4
Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter and Co. J.K. Rowling does.
To my readers: If you like my story and would like to write a fan fic of a fan fic (or something
like that), please give me the credit I deserve. If you want to use a character named Peter who
owns a bakery and he has to make éclairs for a wedding, or use the situation that Harry Potter
disappeared ten years ago and now lives in Canada and goes by the name "James," or that Ron
and Hermione are going to Canada to visit Ginny's fiancé, or that Harry was found by Peter and
his brother in their back yard, or use any of my specific plot, character, situation, and story ideas,
please, please, put a disclaimer. I've worked very hard on my story, and it's rather shocking to
read an e-mail that asks if I take my ideas from someone else. So please, put a disclaimer. Thank
you.
Chapter 4: Relatives and Coincidences
----------------
Ron and Hermione landed with a --pop-- on the Bollis' door step in Calgary.
"Well, here it goes," said Ron, and he knocked on the door.
There were noises and thumps coming from the inside of the house, and finally a very excited
Ginny answered the door.
"Ron!" she squealed, and gave him a hug. She then gave Hermione a hug, too. "I'm so glad you
guys are here! Let me get your bags."
Ginny grabbed Ron and Hermione's suitcases and ran into the house. Ron and Hermione were
left in silence. Ginny came back down.
"You guys have to meet Daniel and his parents. Here, come on. They're in the kitchen."
Ginny led her brother and sister-in-law into the kitchen. There was smoke everywhere, and at
least ten pots were bubbling wildly on a large stove.
"Ron, Hermione, this is Daniel, Mr. Bollis, and Mrs. Bollis. Everyone, this is Ron and
Hermione."
Daniel had soft blond hair and blue eyes. He was thin, but surprisingly energetic. He was
bouncing around everywhere, trying to shake Ron and Hermione's hands and cook at the same
time. Mr. Bollis was tall and had thin white hair. Mrs. Bollis had light brown hair and was very
short. The couple gave Hermione and Ron a nod and went back to cooking.
"I hope you two travelers won't mind if we have some of the family over," said Mr. Bollis while
stirring something on the stove.
"Oh, no, that'll be fine," answered Ron.
"Good. It's only Daniel's brother John, and his wife and kids."
"That'll be great!" said Hermione, a little over enthusiastically. But that didn't phase Ginny.
"Ooh, I'm so happy you're all getting along!" she said. "I knew you guys would like each other!"
----------------
A few hours later, and a few barrels of flour later, the crew at the bakery lay exhausted after their
flour fight. Everyone was sitting or lying on extra bags of sugar in the back room. Sarah, Jacob,
and Emma were absolutely covered in flour.
"We so creamed you guys," said Peter, "Me and James were just too big of a match for you."
"Not uh," said Emma, "We might be more floured, but we're better that you guys, way better."
"Just 'better'?" asked James amusedly, "Not much of a come-back, Emma."
"Oh, shush up, Jamesie." Emma half-heartedly threw a handful of flour at James, but ended
hitting Jacob instead. "Oh, sorry Cobbie. Didn't mean to."
A timer went off somewhere and Sarah jumped up. "Our first éclairs are done!" she said, and
bounded to the oven. She pulled out the pan, and grimaced.
"I don't think we did it right, Peter," she said.
On the tray were three of the most pathetic éclairs James had ever seen. One was gigantic and
leaking cream filling, one was tiny with gobs of chocolate sauce poured over it, and the last one
had several bites taken out of it.
"Well, they tasted good," said Emma sheepishly, eyeing the bitten éclair.
"Three?" said Peter in disbelief, "Three? That's all you made? Three?"
"They were hard to make," said Sarah, trying to defend herself.

Peter sighed. "Well, we better start cracking."
Several hours later, the group managed to make thirty perfect éclairs. In the process, they
managed to create ten monster éclairs, get chocolate sauce everywhere, and eat more than the
healthy amount of pasty, cream, and chocolate. They also had dinner at the Mexican restaurant
down the street. Peter pulled that last éclairs out of the oven.
"Ah, these are the best éclairs 'Peter's Bakery' has ever seen," he said.
Sarah beamed.
Emma put the finishing touches of chocolate on Jacob's face.
Jacob sighed and rolled his eyes.
James snorted and laughed to himself. What an original name, he thought. He got a kick out of
the name Peter chose for his bakery he started. "Peter's Bakery." He still got teased about it.
Apparently, he had always been a good cook. And he loved baking. So after high school he went
to a culinary college and got a degree. He came back home to Calgary and started a bakery. He
was as happy as ever running it, too.
"I'll bring some of these over to the bride and groom to see if they like them. We'll see how the
rest sell in the store," said Peter.
"What?" asked Jacob, "You mean these aren't the final ones?"
Peter laughed. "No, they would go old by the time the wedding comes, in a week. Besides, we
have to see if this is absolutely what the bride and groom want."
Sarah, Jacob, Emma, and James groaned. They did not want to go through this again.
"Well, it's getting late," said Peter, looking at his watch. "Hey, why don't we all just sleep in my
place tonight?" Peter's apartment was above his bakery.
"That sounds like a good idea," said Emma. Jacob nodded in agreement. He and Emma lived
together.
"Well, I will too, then," said Sarah.
Everyone looked at James. "Oh, alright," he said, giving in. "Luis will miss me, though." Luis
was James's cat. He was a small grey cat with large yellow eyes. James got Luis about a year
ago.
"Good," said Peter, "Now about--"

"I get the shower!" shouted Emma.
"I get the sink, kitchen or bathroom," said a very chocolaty Jacob.
"Then I'll make a pit stop down here," said James.
"Well then," sighed Peter, "I guess that takes care of that. Sarah and I will put the éclairs away,
and meet everyone up stairs."
----------------
Just as Hermione helped finish setting the table, the front door burst open.
"We're here!" shrieked a high feminine voice.
Into the house tromped a woman, a man, three girls and four boys, all laughing and talking. Mr.
and Mrs. Bollis went up to give their son, daughter-in-law, and grandkids hugs, while John,
Daniel's brother, talked loudly with Daniel and Ginny.
"So, when are you two love birds getting married?" asked John.
"In two months," said Daniel.
"Good, good. And how have you been Ginny?"
"Fine," she answered.
Everybody slowly quieted down as they noticed Ron and Hermione standing off to the side.
"This is my brother Ron,” spoke up Ginny, "And my sister-in-law Hermione." The kids giggled.
"Ginny spoke of you two often. It's wonderful to finally meet you," said John.
"Well, let's all go into the living room while dinner finished cooking," offered Mrs. Bollis.
The group tromped into the living room and sat down in various place. John and his wife seemed
able to start a conversation no matter what. Soon all the adults were having a huge discussion
about the upcoming Anniversary of Peace. Ron got sucked into the argument by trying to say
that yes, there was peace now, and, no, there was nothing to fear. Only Hermione was left out,
preferring not to get involved in that conversation.
The kids seemed to vary in age, all about one to two years apart. The youngest seemed about
five, and the oldest about thirteen. One girl who looked about seven came up to Hermione shyly.
"Hi," she said softly. "Um, did you--" She looked back to her siblings. The older ones nodded
their heads.
"Did you," she continued in a whisper, "Did you really know Harry Potter?"
Hermione sighed. She couldn't see why everybody kept bringing his memory to the surface. The
smaller kids were now gathered around her, eager for an answer, and the older kid hung around
the outside of the circle, not wanting to miss what would be said next, but not wanting to admit
that they were interested in what the little kids were also interested in.
Hermione looked into their young faces and sighed again. "Yes, yes I did once know a Harry
Potter."
There were some oohs and ahhs.
"So, what happened?" asked one of the older kids, not caring about what the others thought, only
wanting to hear an answer.
Hermione hesitated. The kids were too young to know what really happened, or at least what
Hermione thought happened. Hermione herself did not want to talk about it. She did not want to
remember the boy she once knew, so brave and trusting, her best friend. She did not want to go
through the pain of never knowing an answer, always wondering if Harry was alive or dead,
where he was, and why he did not take her and Ron with him. Harry had never held secrets from
his two best friends until that year. She should have known that he was planning something; she
should have listened to him.
"Well?" prompted the oldest child, "Well?"
"Dinner!" shouted Mrs. Bollis. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. The children looked
disappointed, to say the least.
Hermione was quiet throughout dinner. Pictures and memories of her old best friend whirled
inside her head. She missed him so much. Ron gave her a few quizzical glances, but saw that she
wasn't feeling well and let her be.
Soon enough, dinner was over and Hermione was helping Mrs. Bollis clean up the dishes and put
away the food while everyone else sat and talked. Hermione wasn't in the mood to join in. She
could hear the kids shriek with laughter as they played with some new toy. Hermione hoped that
the children forgot about asking Hermione Harry Potter questions. She sighed.
"Oh dear," said Mrs. Bollis. She had all her breakfast ingredients lined up and was counting and
measuring them for the next morning. "I forgot to buy bread. I love the muggle bread they have
around here, good sweet bread."
"Would you like me to get it for you, Mrs. Bollis?" Hermione offered. She could use some fresh
air.
"Oh no, dear, it's in town, and you have to use muggle money. It's quite a hassle, really. I'll figure
something out, don't you worry. But I did so have my heart set in making French toast tomorrow
morning."
"I know how to use muggle money. I had to learn when I was a child. And town's not so far
away, I think. It looked like about a fifteen minute walk. I could really get out a bit and stretch. It
would be nice."
"Well, if you really want to, I guess," said Mrs. Bollis. She gave Hermione some money ("Now
which bill has this guy on it?") and told her how to get to the bakery. "Thank you very much,"
said a relieved Mrs. Bollis.
"No problem," said Hermione, "No problem at all."
Hermione arrived at "Peter's Bakery" with her cheeks flushed from the cold air and her eyes
sparkling from the exercise. Yes, she was happy to be out of the house.
She walked up to the door and pushed. It didn't open. She pulled. It didn't open. She looked
inside. Yes, the lights were on.
She rapped on the windows. A very confused and flour-covered man came to the door. He
unlocked it and stuck his head out.
"Um, we're closed now. It's ten thirty," he said.
"I'm--, I need to buy some bread," said Hermione. "It's for Mrs. Bollis."
"Well, she is one of my best customers," said the man. "Oh, alright. It looks like you walked and
I can't send you away with nothing."
Hermione walked in. The heat of the shop contrasted sharply with the cold air she had gotten
used to.
The man went in to the back room and got a loaf of bread. "That will be three dollars,” he said
while walking out, putting the bread in a plastic bag.
Hermione pulled out the money and paid. "Thank you."
"Your welcome," said the man, "Have a good walk home."
Hermione waved good bye and walked back outside into the cold night, bread in hand.
----------------
James came out of the bathroom.
"Who was that?" he asked. He saw a lady turn the corner, tightly wrapped in a jacket and scarf,
holding a loaf of bread.
"Oh, just a woman who needed some bread. Came in name of one of my best customers, and she
walked, so I couldn't turn her away," explained Peter.
"You're such a softie."
Sarah walked in. "I finished putting away the éclairs. I'm pooped. I'm heading upstairs."
James and Peter agreed and they walked up to Peter's apartment.
Peter gave James a sleeping bag and James set up his "bed."
"I'm finished!" shouted Emma as she walked out of the bathroom. "All clean!"
"Good," said James, "My turn."
James went in to the washroom and shut the door. He brought his face close to the mirror and
examined his hair. His roots were black. Gotta get some more brown dye, he told himself.
He quickly washed his face and then walked out. Jacob and Sarah looked as if they were in a
fight for who got the bathroom next.
"I get it," shrieked Sarah.
"No me! I've been waiting longer!" yelled Jacob in return.
James shook his head while Peter took the opportunity to use the bathroom. He shut the door and
Jacob and Sarah looked up. They both ran to the closed door and started banging on it.
"You idiot!" shouted Sarah, "We were waiting!"
"You snooze, you lose," sang Peter from inside the bathroom.
Jacob and Sarah continued to bang.
James and Emma were cracking up, on the floor in hysterics.
Once everybody was settled, the group crawled into their beds. James took his solution case out
of his pants pocket next to him. He took out his brown colored contacts from his eyes. He didn't
have to use glasses anymore, not with these contacts.
He didn't bother to change into anything more comfortable for bed, as he didn't have any other
clothes with him. Just his shirt and boxers.
James settled down comfortably in his sleeping bag. His pill jar made a bulge in his pants, lying
in a heap next to the sleeping bag, as if trying to remind James to swallow the two pills he forgot
to take. Harry was too tired too notice, though, and fell asleep.
Authors note: Lots of love to my loyal readers:
Otaku freak
Phoenix
Hannah Abby
Bayleigh Ford
Chochang913
RicaSieg(aka Blossom)
Hpgurl14
Suzybeth
Love you all,
Adah
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Chapter: 5
Note: I will be away for a week camping without a computer. Check back on Sunday the eighth
of April, or on Monday the ninth. Enjoy reading!
Chapter 5: Searching and Dreaming

----------------
Hermione couldn't fall asleep. It must have been 1:00 in the morning, and she was still awake.
She looked over at Ron. He was sound asleep as a baby.
Hermione tried to fall asleep. She closed her eyes and tried to think of nothing. It was working
for a moment, and she could tell that she was just about to fall asleep, but a wrinkle on the sheet
under her was starting to get too uncomfortable. She opened her eyes. Nothing was working.
So she let her mind wander. Let it think about as much as it wanted too. Then, maybe, she could
fall asleep.
She thought about Ron, and how much she loved him, and about Ginny and Daniel, and whether
they would be happy together. She thought about Ginny, and, (That's a terrible thing to think,
she told herself) if she was just marrying Daniel because she subconsciously wanted to keep the
memory of her old fiancé alive. Hermione frowned. She remembered how shocked she was when
she heard that Ginny and Draco were going to get married, (it still felt strange to Hermione to
call him Draco) and how mad Ron was, but she especially remembered that Harry was not
surprised.
Indeed, it seemed as if the year he pulled farther and farther away from Hermione and Ron, he
became friends with Draco. Neither she nor Ron could figure out how these two enemies had
become friends, but somehow they had, and Ginny had, too. But in an instant Draco was taken as
one of the hostages.
Ginny fell apart, and Harry blocked himself off from everyone else. He turned quiet, secretive,
and determined. He worked hard and became Head Auror of his department. Ron and
Hermione's boss. And he became more and more secretive, and more and more independent.
And he started manipulating information.
Hermione could feel her eyes watering. This was not going to help her sleep. C'mon, she told
herself, Think happy thoughts. Don't dwell on memories. She thought of when she would find
Harry (And I will, she thought fiercely) and how happy he would be to see her, and how she
would bring Harry home to Ron, and Molly, and Ginny, and everybody, and how wonderful
everything would be.
She thought of something and sat up.
"Ron," she said, shaking her husband, "Ron, wake up!"
'Mmuph," answered Ron.
"Ron--"
"What, I'm up, I'm up, what?"

"Have you checked in Canada?" asked Hermione urgently.
"What?"
"Checked, you know, for Harry?"
"'Scuse me?"
"With the thing! You know what I mean!"
"Oh, yeah. No."
The "thing" was a Magic Detector, a tool used for finding people with magic, and it gave levels
on how much magic (or ability) a person had inside them. It was the same device used by
Hogwarts and other schools for finding potential wizards and witches.
"You haven't?" asked Hermione.
Ron shook his head.
"Then do it! Now!"
"Why now? I'm really tired. How 'bout in the morning?"
"No, dear, now. And I mean now."
Ron mumbled and got out of bed. He searched through his luggage and found a small cube and
brought it over to Hermione. She insisted on carrying with her everywhere.
Hermione unwrapped the cube to make a flat square, on which there were a bunch of orange dots
with numbers underneath them. It had a range of about 100 km to detect people with. The
numbers consisted of a letter (A was the weakest magic ability, E was the highest) and a percent
of how much was being used. The percent usually stayed at about 30 if the wizard or witch was
just acting normally, but would jump to 60 for a common spell, and about 85 for a very
complicated spell. Both Ron and Hermione were C magic levels, which was normal.
Dumbledore was a D magic level. So was Voldemort. The Hogwarts founders had been E magic
levels. And the most recent E leveled person was Harry. Harry Potter. Which was why he was so
special, and why this Magic Detector was so useful to Ron and Hermione.
They stared at the bored.
"I don't see any E's," said Ron.
"Hey look at that!" said Hermione, pointing to the grid. "There's a person who is going up in
levels. Can you do that?"
"Don't know. I don't think so." They stared at the shifting letters. "Oh, but it's going back down
again. Hey! Look, it's gone. Must have been a fluke. Or muggle machinery."
Hermione looked disappointed.
"Look, honey, let's go to sleep. I'm tired. You're tired. And if Harry's in this region, he'll still be
here in the morning. Go to sleep."
"Okay," agreed Hermione reluctantly, "But we have to look in the morning. Promise?"
"Promise. Now can I go back to sleep?"
"Yes, yes."
Ron fell back to sleep immediately. Hermione stayed awake a bit longer, and then, finally,
drifted into a dreamless sleep.
----------------
Harry tossed a turned in his sleep.
----(dream)----
He was there, again, on the top of the plateau, battling Voldemort. Death Eaters surrounded
them. They had rushed up as soon as Harry had snapped, to make sure nothing happened to their
Lord (a few ran away, but most of them stayed).
Harry had tears in his eyes, and his throat felt choked up, but he would not let anyone see him
cry. He felt blood pouring down his back, but he was numb to the pain. All he could think about
was killing the creature in front of him, who had torn apart so many lives. Harry focused his
power on him.
And Voldemort did look frightened. Harry had broken out of his bonds and stupefied several
Death Eaters with no wand. But now that he retrieved it, he could be more powerful.
Harry could see the aurors coming up the hill. No doubt Ron and Hermione told them where he
was. Harry must work fast.
"You have destroyed so many people's lives..." growled Harry.
Voldemort made a feeble attempt to gain back control.
"Come Harry," he said, "You are so powerful, if me and you were ruling together, just think, the
world could be ours."
"Nice try, but no." Harry advanced further, dodging a killing curse and blocking a stupefying
curse. The Death Eaters stood still, either shocked, or too frightened to get into the fight.
Harry said a few spells to render Voldemort wandless, but Voldemort kept dodging.
"Come with me Harry," he said, "We will be a team."
"No," answered Harry, and finally captured Voldemort's wand. "Give up," said Harry. "You're
dead."
"No, no" protested Voldemort, "Join me, Harry, it's your destiny."
"You're nuts," mumbled Harry. "Absolutely nuts."
"I'd like to see you try to kill me. But know that I will return-- my spirit will remain through my
loyal followers. And know that I, Lord Voldemort, have made a taint on the whole world.
Nobody will forget me." He laughed a crazy laugh. "Your parents were fools, boy. Any idiot can
see that. Nobody--"
But Voldemort never got a chance to finish his speech. Harry shouted the killing curse. He had to
cast the spell several times before he was sure Voldemort was dead. Indeed, that man had so
little human left in him, that it was hard for Harry to tell when he was dead.
And then, all was quiet.
Harry turned around. He saw Ron and Hermione running up the hill to meet him. They were
laughing and smiling. They were all in a green valley with the sun shinning. The Death Eaters
had disappeared.
Suddenly, a shadow fell on the valley. It looked as if Ron and Hermione had stuck a wall. They
stood stalk-still for a moment, and then fell down dead.
A cruel laughter echoed off the mountains. Everything turned dark. There was no longer a green
valley, but the same plateau they had been on before. Harry slowly turned around.
Voldemort stood directly behind him laughing. He snatched Harry's wand.
"Your friends have joined me," he said. Behind Voldemort stood Ron and Hermione in Death
Eater robes, their smiles full of malice. "Now you must too."
"No," Harry whispered. Then louder, "No!"
Ron and Hermione snickered. Voldemort threw back his head and laughed.
Harry was seized by a fit of madness, with one word in his mind: kill.
"Avada Kedevra!" he shouted, pointing his finger at Ron, killing him.
"Avada Kedevra!" he shouted again, and Hermione was dead.
"AVADA--"
"JAMES!" yelled Peter.
James woke with a start to the bright light of Peter's living room. He was sweating all over. His
shirt and boxers were soaked.
"Wha- What happened?" James choked out. He felt the power inside him. It was very strong,
squeezing him, choking him.
"You had a nightmare," explained Peter. "I heard you and rushed over here. The others are still
asleep."
"What did I do?" asked James, nervously, breathlessly. He could feel the power in him recede a
little, as if guilty that it had been caught acting up.
"You yelled a whole lot, then pointed at me and yelled 'Abraa Kadabra', or something, or at least
you were going to, but you just said 'Abraa' before I stopped you."
"Oh god," said James, "My own best friend."
He saw the pill jar making an obnoxiously large bulge in Harry's pants by his sleeping bag, and
lunged for it. He couldn't contain his shock and disbelief of almost accidentally killing his own
best friend. He laughed hysterically while he struggled to get the jar open.
"You know," James giggled insanely, "It will sneak up on you. When you're not looking. Just
like that." He finally got the bottle open. He kept laughing. "It's always against you. Like an
enemy that you can't trust, but who is part of you." James gulped down several pills with out
water. "I ask you, how can I win against it? It will ruin your life. Just like it ruined mine." He
gulped down several more pills. His hysterical laughter slowly receded into sobs. "Oh god," he
sobbed softly, helplessly. "What can I do?" James shook his head. "What can I do?"
"Shh," said Peter, "You're just tired. Go back to sleep. We'll sort this out in the morning."
James nodded and slowly climbed back into his sleeping bag. Through the dark blue glass pill
jar, he could see it pill by pill refilling. It refilled slowly, about a pill every 2 seconds, and it still
had about halfway to go.
"There," said Peter. "Now go to sleep. I'm tired too."
In truth, Peter had no clue what to do. He could tell something was...off-balance with James, but
he couldn't figure out what. He knew, though, that James did not want the others to know. Peter
sighed. Best thing to do was probably just forget about it. He had known James for a bit less than
ten years now, and they were like brothers. Peter knew that he should not bring the incident up
unless James brought the topic up himself. Yes, that would be the best course of action.
"Goodnight," said Peter to the sleeping James, and turned off the light.
Authors note: Kudos to the readers who reviewed:
Amy
Piri Malfoy
RedFeather
Phoenix
Chochang913
Otaku freak
Twirlgirl04
Claudia Ramirez
Thank you so much for reviewing!
Love you all,
Adah
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Chapter: 6
teacher named James, aka Harry. The ironic part: Ron and Hermione are in the same city. Will
they ever come face to face?
Author's note: Sorry that it is such a sort chapter, and a bit...mundane. But, trust me, I have
some real action coming up. In fact, I've mapped it out pretty completely for chapters seven
through ten. And because I am feeling so bad for this short chapter, I'll give you a quick glimpse
of what will happen soon: we get to travel halfway across the world to see what's happening
meanwhile at Hogwarts, Harry remembers a friendship, we find out where those annoying pills
came from (chapter 8, I promise!), and-- (okay, I don't want to spoil it so I'll just tell you this: it's
big...).
P.s. I was going for a "normal day" for Harry in this chapter. And we see the beginnings of a
bigger conflict for Ginny... Crap! I've said too much! Forget what you just read! 0)
Chapter 6: French Toast and School Days
----------------
"Good morning!"
Hermione woke with a start. Mrs. Bollis' face was very close to Hermione's, and the lady was
smiling from ear to ear.
"I made fresh French toast! Isn't that wonderful?"
"Uh, sure," said Hermione shakily, "Um, what time is it?"
"Ten o'clock! Your dear husband is already downstairs. My my, weren't we sleepy today? Good
thing I woke you up before all the breakfast was gone!"
"Thanks..." said Hermione, wishing that she could go straight back to sleep.
"Come on come on! Up up up! Rise and shine! Better get changed so we can go downstairs and
some delicious French toast. Come on!"
Mrs. Bollis seemed overly excited about breakfast. Hermione just sat on the bed and stared and
the very happy person.
"Well?" said Mrs. Bollis, calming down. She had her hands on her knees and was inches away
from Hermione. "Well? Aren't you going to get changed?"
"Uh, sure," said Hermione.
"Good!" exclaimed Mrs. Bollis. "I'll just be downstairs!" And she swiftly walked out of the
room, closing the door behind her.
Hermione sighed. It was going to be a long day. At least she and Ron planed to leave for
England soon.
She suddenly remembered about scanning for Harry, and Hermione jumped out of bed and
grabbed her Magic Detector cube.
After opening it and staring at the board for a good ten minutes, she frowned and put it away.
Where can he be? she thought to herself angrily.
She slowly got dressed and went downstairs.
The table was piled high with French toast and bottles of syrup.
"Ginny and Daniel went out for a walk, so it's just us chickens here now," said Mr. Bollis.
Hermione groaned inwardly. "Us chickens" were Ron and herself, plus Mr. and Mrs. Bollis.
Hermione sat down and severed herself some French toast.
"Good morning," said Ron, kissing her on the cheek.
"Morning," answered Hermione.
"So, how did you sleep?" asked Mr. Bollis.
"Well enough, thank you."
"We were just discussing Ron's new promotion. A job well done, I say."
Ron was an Auror. He was going to get a job in the Ministry, like his father, but was pulled
towards his current occupation partly because of the war, and partly because Harry was
obviously going into it, and so he and Hermione had wanted to support and protect Harry, and
they too became Aurors. The job sort of grew on Ron, and he came to enjoy his work after the
war was over. He liked to search for people and clues, track down criminals, and be one of the
more powerful and respected members of society.
Hermione had been an Auror, but quit after the war, partly because she never liked the job, partly
because the war was over and Harry gone so she had no incentive, and partly because it brought
back memories of how she had been the one who failed as an Auror, who put Harry in danger,
who caused Harry the pain. It had been she who insisted that Ron and herself should not follow
Harry's instructions, but to go where she thought they should go.
Now she was a teacher at Hogwarts (Big surprise there, she thought to herself) and, miracles of
miracles, she was one of the two Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers. Remus Lupin was the
other DADA teacher. He and Hermione started teaching at the same time, as each one had
convinced the other to teach, and had been there for about eight years. Hermione thought it was
hilarious that they had been teaching DADA for eight years without a major glitch. She taught
the first and second years, and Lupin taught the rest. That was arranged mostly because the
school thought it would be safer for Lupin to teach the more mature students "due to his
condition," as they put it.
"More French toast, dear?" asked Mrs. Bollis.

"Well uh," Hermione had already had her fill of French toast, but to be polite (Well, there is a lot
left...) she answered, "Sure, why not."
Mrs. Bollis heaped several pieces onto Hermione's plate.
"Uh, thanks."
"Any time, dearie."
A little later, Ron and Hermione headed up to their room to get ready for a walk they would take
to see the city.
"Do we have to go for a walk now?" asked Hermione, "I'm so full I could burst."
Ron tried to stifle a laugh, but couldn't contain it and fell into a fit of laughter.
"You should have seen how much French toast you ate!" he choked out, "Boy, was Mrs. Bollis
happy!"
Hermione glared at her husband. She never wanted to hear the words "French" and "toast" in the
same sentence. Ever.
Ron continued laughing.
"She just kept piling it on your plate, and you kept eating! I've never seen anything like it!"
Ron's hysterical laughing slightly lessened when he saw Hermione's death glare.
"Okay, okay, I've stopped laughing. See? Nothing's funny."
Hermione raised an eyebrow.
"Seriously, there's nothing funny about it. I'm not laughing." Ron tried to look serious. He took a
few deep breaths.
"Now then," said Hermione, "Do you think I should change what I'm wearing?"
"Oh yes," said Ron, nodding.
"Really?"
"Really. Because the one you’re wearing is probably a bit sticky from all the syrup and French
toast you ate this morning!" Ron burst into a new fit of hysterics.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "I really don't see what's so funny."
Ron was now sitting on the bed, clutching his stomach.
"Ron-" said Hermione exasperatedly. "Come on-- Hello?" Then finally shouted, "RON!" and
whacked her husband on the head. "Stop laughing like a madman!"
Ron slowly quieted again.
"Thank you," said Hermione.
In the background they could hear the front door close.
"I'm just going to go upstairs quickly," said a shaky voice of Ginny's.
They heard her hurry upstairs a shut her door.
"I wonder what that could be about?" wondered Hermione aloud.
"Something's definitely wrong," said Ron.
The two both walked over to Ginny's room.
Hermione knocked. "Ginny? Are you all right?"
"Fine," came Ginny's voice from inside, muffled from crying.
Ron opened the door.
Ginny's eyes were red and she had tears on her cheeks.
"Ginny, what's wrong?" Ron asked.
"Nothing," she answered.
"Come on, Ginny," coaxed Hermione, "Something's obviously wrong."
"It's just that I feel so awful. Nervous and confused and-- And well, do you guys think I'm a bad
person if a marry Daniel?"
"Ginny, that doesn't make sense," said Ron.
"No, it does. I would be forgetting Draco if I married Daniel."
Ron muttered something about "bad memories anyway," but Hermione hit him on the arm before
he could say anything else.
"No," said Hermione, glaring at her husband, "No, you would not be forgetting Draco if you
re-married. Because if you really care about Daniel, and you love him, and you will be happy,
then that's all that matters. Trust me; Draco will be happy as long as you are happy. You don't
think that he wants to look down from heaven, or where ever he is, and see the woman he loves
unhappy, right? No, he will be happy for you. Draco knows that you will always love him, and
never forget him. I know that you love him and won't forget him. Even Ron knows that, though
he won't admit it."
Ginny smiled a bit.
"There, see? Don't worry. Everything will be wonderful." Hermione gave Ginny a hug. "Come
on, Ron and I still need to be shown around Calgary."
Ginny hesitated, but seeing no major flaw, she wiped her tears and said quietly, "Okay. Um,
thanks Hermione. I'm probably just tired or something."
"Anything I can do, just tell me. Come on, Ron, let's hurry downstairs."
Ginny came down a few minutes later.
And with that, Mr. and Mrs. Bollis, Daniel, Ron, Hermione, and a
still-uncertain-yet-mostly-positive Ginny set out to explore the city.
----------------
James woke up early. In fact, it was 4:30 AM, and still dark out. He put in his contacts, gathered
his things, and crept out of Peter's house. He got into his car to drive back home.
He thought about what happened that night. He tried to justify his sneaking out of the bakery by
saying he needed to dye his roots, and get ready for class, but he knew it was because he did not
want to face his best friend. James thought that Peter was bound to ask questions, and James
absolutely did not want to answer them. Or even think about them.
In fact, as of now, he decided, last night did not happen. I did not have a bad dream, and I did
not almost kill my best friend. I have no idea of what I dreamed, I did not know anyone in it, and
I have no idea why people were shouting funny words and holding sticks. There is only this
world. There is no such thing as -- There is no such thing as --
James frowned. He couldn't say it. I couldn't say the "m-word." And denying his past and his
dream that night just left a sick feeling in his stomach.
James turned into the garage to his apartment. It was a small building, with only twelve or so
tenants. The landlord was a kind old man, who used to run the complex with his wife.
James approached his door, found his keys, and opened it. His apartment had a small kitchen and
living room on one end, and on bedroom and bathroom.
As soon as James walked in, his cat, Luis, ran up to him and ran around his feet, meowing.
"Ok, ok, shh," James told the cat.
Luis sat in front of James and looked up at him, with his big yellow eyes. James laughed. He
bent down and scooped up the grey cat.
"And how was your night alone?" he asked Luis, cradling the cat. "I hope you didn't invite all
your friends over and throw a wild party."
Luis meowed, as if in answer.
James laughed and gave the cat a kiss on the head before setting Luis down.
Luis was really more of a kitten than a cat. He was about eleven months old and was a Blue
Russian. Luis had been eight weeks old when Sarah, Jacob, and Peter gave the kitten to James. A
present because, as Sarah put it, "Jamesie always looked so lonely and lived the farthest away
from everyone else, and therefore needed a cat." James had become very attached to Luis, and
the cat was often James' only comfort when he fell into "one of his moods."
James put a scoop of cat food in Luis' dish and then walked to the bathroom to dye his hair and
take a shower.
About an hour later James was now clean and had a full head of nicely brown hair. He had to use
an obnoxious amount of dye to get his hair a dark brown since his color was really black. James
put on slacks and a polo shirt and sat down at the table to plan out the school day.
It was a pretty simple day, really. They were going to go over the homework, do some math
sheets, then finish up some projects to present on the end of school Parent's Night, which was
that night. At least they had phys. ed. that day, and so another teacher would have them for that
period.
Around 7:30 AM James swallowed a few of his pills and left his apartment to get to the school
twenty minutes before school started, at 8:00.
The school day was rather uneventful, until one interesting conversation the class took part in
while they were supposed to be working on their projects that afternoon.
"Mr. Potterson, my world map project sucks. Is that bad?" asked Jason. The class giggled at his
comment. Jason was regarded as the "class clown", the troublemaker.
"No, Jason, it does not 'suck'," said James, "And would you please not use that word to describe
yourself or your work."
"But look at it! It's hideous! North America looks more like a rock than anything, and Africa is
non-existent!"
The class was laughing pretty hard, and that caused James to smile.
"Yeah, my project doesn't look so great either," said another boy, named Anthony.
"Whose parents would want to look at this?" piped up one girl.
The class started all talking at once, comparing bad projects, quizzes, or tests. Each student
exclaimed how if they were a parent they would want to see stuff that was much more
interesting.
"Hey Mr. Potterson," said Jason loudly, "If you were a parent - you're not, are you? - would you
want to look at this?"
"No, I am not a parent, and yes, I would be delighted to see all of your work. If I was a parent,"
answered James.
"Nah, you're just saying that because you're our teacher," said Anthony.
"Did you ever have a parent night at your school?" asked Jason.
The whole class was quiet, eager for his answer.
It was a peculiar thing. James used his childhood adventures and turned them into wonderful
stories for his class (the stories were a little warped to exclude any wizarding factors). He told
them about his childhood at Hogwarts (he called the school England Academy) and in this way
lived his past in the way he now wished he had lived it. Free from the wizarding world.
But James did not know how to answer this question. He couldn't tell them about his Aunt and
Uncle, nor did his wish to tell the class that his parents had died. So he went with the quickest
option.
"I don't think we had parent night," James answered. The students’ faces fell a bit as they
realized there would be no story.
"But," James hurriedly continued, as the kids smiled; glad to be hearing some sort of tale, "As
you know I went to a boarding school. So my family there was really just my best friends. We
had such fun doing homework." Each of the 5th graders had a look of disbelief on their faces.
"Some of the homework, that is. Hey, don't try this at home, because we did end up not doing so
well in the course, but we had one class where we started learning a bit of psychology, and we
had to write down our dreams and say what they meant. I and my friends made up all sorts of
things!"
And James proceeded to tell his students all about his Divination class, except it was a
psychology class, and about the teacher, and how she kept proclaiming that James' dreams meant
death, and just how crazy that class was.
Before he knew it, there was only an hour left of school and James had to stop his story and urge
the kids to finish their work.
They finished just on time, and left the room, full of goodbyes and see-ya-later's for James.
The room was quiet, and James whistled to himself as he posted the projects on the walls and
tucked in the chairs.
Yep, he thought to himself, Today was a good day.
Yay to the wonderful people who reviewed! (And if you haven't, please tell me what you think
of my fic)
Arizosa
Nicky
Chochang913
TheRedFeatheryPlug
Hyper Princess
Love you all,
Adah
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Chapter: 7
Author's note: No, I did not die or become deathly sick; my computer did. That's why this
chapter took so long. Don't worry, I didn't forget you guys!
Chapter 7: Love Stories and Scars
----------------
Remus Lupin sat at his desk waiting for the first years to come in for their DADA class.
Hermione ("Professor Granger," she kept her maiden name for teaching, because in her opinion
it sounded better) was going on her trip to Canada and needed a substitute for the week that was
two weeks before exams. She nominated Lupin, saying it was easier and less costly, and, after
much debate, the school finally let him substitute the younger classes.
Lupin was nervous. He knew it sounded stupid, to be afraid of young kids, after all, he did teach
the older ones, but he didn't really feel like he knew how to handle younger kids. Would they
like him? Would they be scared of him? How would they act?
Lupin wanted to do a good job. He wanted to show the school how trustworthy he was, and show
the parents that he was harmless. But to do that, the students needed to like him. And there was
his dilemma.
Lupin was teaching the Gryffindors and Slytherins today, and he desperately hoped that there
would be no major rivalry. It was only first years, after all.
Students started to filter in.
"Where is Professor Granger?"
"Who is going to teach us?"
"Probably that man over there!"
"He teaches the older years, right?"
"Yeah, but my brother said that he was pretty cool, though."
"Really?"
"I heard that he taught here before. Harry Potter was actually one of his pupils, so my uncle says.
But they fired the professor because parents didn't like their kids being taught by a were--"
Lupin cleared his throat. "Can everybody please sit down now, so I may begin class?"
The students quietly went to their seats. Lupin's soft voice had a certain effect on them.
"Now, I am Professor Lupin, and I will be substituting this week." Lupin saw that the students
wanted to ask questions, so he hurriedly went on, "Professor Granger is in Canada visiting
family. Um, she informed me that you had just finished studying some basic defense spells, and
that she wanted me to review those with you and teach you the 'Enervate' spell. So, um, I think
we should start now." Lupin paused. The students did not look very enthralled.
"Why don't we go around and say what spell we most need work in, and, um, your names and
house," Lupin offered. The students made no movement. Lupin checked the time. It had been ten
minutes already.
"Here, I'll go first," he said. "My name is Remus Lupin, that's Professor Lupin to you, I was in
the Gryffindor house when I went to school here, and the spell I most need work on is the spell
to get more students to participate in my class." A few students smiled at his attempt to use a
little humor.
A girl hesitatingly raised her hand.
Lupin breathed a sigh of relief.
"Yes?" he called on the girl.
She stood up. "Um, okay, my name is Patricia Abbot and I am part of the Gryffindor house, and I
need help with the 'Expelliarmus' spell." The girl sat down and looked relieved.
Lupin looked around.
A boy held up his hand to introduce himself.
"Yes?"
"I am Nathan Weasley, I am part of the Gryffindor house, and I also need help with the
'Expelliarmus' spell."
Lupin held his breath, waiting to hear a sarcastic comment from the Slytherins, like "that's
because you can't catch the wand, Weasley!" or "Help? he can't even do that spell!". But the
sarcastic comment never came. A few of them just rolled their eyes.
Either the Slytherins were just tired, or this must be the generation born after the war, without the
fierce hatred against their fellow Gryffindors like Lupin's older classes.
More students introduced themselves, and soon the whole class was done. They seemed to all
need help with the same spell, "Expelliarmus," and so Lupin decided to demonstrate and re-teach
them how to perform it.
"Now, I need a volunteer who feels that he or she is pretty good at that spell." A Slytherin in the
back raised his hand.
"Okay, and you should come up to the front and stand right about there." Lupin directed the
student to about ten feet in front of him.
"Now, Stuart, right? yes, Stuart here is going to try to disarm me."
The boy gripped his want and concentrated, pointing his wand at Lupin's wand and saying the
spell. The wand flew from Remus's grasp into Stuart's hand. The class applauded politely.
"Now, Stuart will explain how he did it."
The kid blanched.
"Um, professor? I am supposed to explain?"
"Yes, because no matter how many times I tell everyone how to do it, students will never
understand a concept half as well as they will if another student explains it to them. Go ahead."
"Um, okay, you sort of point your wand and the object you want to come to you, so I guess the
other wand, and you think about catching the wand when it comes to you. I try to picture myself
holding it," the boy gained confidence as he saw that the class was not laughing and were
actually taking his advice seriously, "and then I say the spell in my head, and then I speak it
clearly, with a slight accent on the second syllable, and then another accent on the '-ar-' part. But
you can't drop your concentration just then, you need to keep thinking about the spell and
catching the wand until you have the other wand in your hand."
The class nodded in understanding and realization.
"Thank you Stuart," said Lupin. "You can sit back down now. This is one of the most useful
spells used in defense, for what harm can a wizard really do to you with out his wand? Many
people have used this spell as a way to end war and battles."
"Like Harry Potter?" asked a student.
"Maybe, but you'll learn more about him next year. Now--"
"What do we learn next year?" asked another student.
"I think the history of Defense Against the Dark Arts. Like about the dark wizards and how and
why they were defeated."
"Will Professor Granger teach us about Draco Malfoy?" asked a Gryffindor girl.
Remus shook his head and sighed to himself.
While Harry was still acknowledged as the "hero" of the Great War, Draco's history took a turn
that he would probably be slightly annoyed about.
There were many war heroes, such as Dumbledore and Snape and Hagrid, and while Hermione
and Ron were still "war heroes" that were asked to speak at conferences and could be read about
in books of the Great War, it was really Draco and Harry that were considered the big heroes.
Harry was a household name, and was even part of a few expressions, such as "think about
Harry" as something to say when someone wanted to give up, and "Harry would be proud"
would be said to someone who had just done something brave. Malfoy was one of the more
frequent stories that parents told their children at night.
He was known as the "Great General" who led the war that eradicated many dark creatures,
people, and death eaters. He was captured - unfairly, as the legend says, of course, - and taken
hostage by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. He and Ginny's marriage and relationship had
become a sort of "Romeo and Juliet" story, as Malfoy had been a part of only a handful of
Slytherins to join against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and he fell in love with a Gryffindor.
When he was taken hostage, he was said to have been the first person killed - it was either death
or join the dark side - and he died bravely for his county and world, with his last thought of
Ginny Weasley. He had also been known as Harry's "number one man" through out the war.
They were always side-by-side in battle, and Draco helped and saved Harry until the very end.
Malfoy was the classic "tragic hero" and he and Ginny were the most popular love story. The
pair made for the type of story that girls everywhere loved. The stories were built up and
exaggerated, of course, with Draco rescuing Ginny several times and speaking bravely of her at
his last moment, but much of the story that was told was true.
Yes, thought Lupin, Malfoy would definitely not have wished to be remembered as the classic
lover.
"Yeah," shouted another girl, "I hope we get to hear all about him and Ginny."
"No way," said a boy from Slytherin, "We should hear about the final battle between Harry
Potter and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."
"Nu-uh, said a Gryffindor girl, "Malfoy."
"Potter," said a Slytherin boy.
Lupin sighed and gave up.
There was a full-fledged war between the boys and the girls.
"MALFOY!"
"POTTER!"
"MALFOY!"
"POTTER!"
It went back and forth. Remus did not know what to do. He found it terribly funny that the
Slytherin boys were rooting for Harry Potter, and the Gryffindor girls were rooting for Draco
Malfoy. That would have never happened when Lupin had taught here so long ago. (Well, the
girls probably were secretly rooting for Malfoy, but that was a different story...)
"Alright! Enough!" shouted Professor Lupin. "I'll talk to Professor Granger and see what I can do
to make sure that you all get to hear about Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy." Remus smiled
sweetly. "I'll tell her to give you all lots and lots of homework and papers on the two subjects."
The class groaned and laughed.
"Now," said Lupin, still smiling from humor of the whole situation, "Let's keep working on those
spells."
----------------
Parent night was a success.
The parents all seemed to like their kid's projects and enjoy meeting "Mr. Potterson".
Nothing had gone wrong, which was definitely a relief to James.
He drove up to his apartment whistling to himself. He opened his door and walked in, giving
Luis a pet.
James pressed the play button on his answering machine to see if anyone called.
Beep. "Hello Mr. Potterson, this is Calgary Veterinarian and we are reminding you that your cat
needs a check-up in two weeks. Please call to make an appointment."
Beep. "Hi James, it's me, Peter. Um, I'm going to be in the neighborhood, so I was thinking of
dropping by around nine. See you then!"
Beep. Click.
James looked at his watch. It was almost 9:00.
There was a knock on James's door, which he went to open.
"Hi, James," said Peter.
"Hey."
"So," said Peter walking in, "How was Parent Night?"
"Fine," answered James. He felt rather awkward around Peter right then, because James kept
thinking about the night before and his near murder of Peter.
"You know," went on Peter, "I was just dropping by to ask you if you would help me on
Thursday, for the wedding. That's when I have to start working on the éclairs, and I know that
Friday is the last day of school for you, so you shouldn't have too much work to do."
"I see you've done your research," said James dryly.
"Oh, come on James. Emma and Jacob are, well... hopeless when it comes to cooking, I mean,
they can mix stuff and measure stuff, but they cannot put it all together. I need you."
"I did help you on Sunday, though," teased James.
"Okay, okay. If you promise to help me, I'll make you the pumpkin pie you're always asking
for."
"It's a deal," said James.
"Stupid..." mumbled Peter, "Pumpkins aren't even in season now..."
James laughed good-naturedly.
"You don't really have to make me pumpkin pie now, Peter," he said, smiling, "I'll help you
because you're my friend, and because this way you'll have to make me an extra pumpkin pie in
the fall."
"Thanks James," Peter said wryly, "That's real sweet of you."
"Is that all you wanted to talk about?"
"Um, no. My family is going to spend next Christmas in England, and we were wondering if you
would like to come with us. You are really considered part of the family, you know."
James blanked.
He had spent every Christmas with the Hardings, and he loved being with them. James looked at
Peter and could tell that he wanted James to go. They really were like family. Almost every other
Sunday all the Hardings and James got together to have a huge dinner. They would always have
so much fun. James loved every Harding family member, Peter, Ryan, Olivia, Mr. and Mrs.
Harding, even the scores of Harding relatives he met.
So when Peter asked if James could spend Christmas with them in England, James should have
had no problem with the answer: yes, of course. But James knew what was in England. His old
school, friends, teachers, even his family, of which there was only Petunia, Dudley and Dudley's
wife. His whole life, as it used to be, was there. There would be a good chance of being seen.
"Where in England?" asked James.
"Um, near London, probably. That's where our family was hoping to go. We could rent an
apartment, or something. We would go for about two weeks." Peter ended his phrase as if it were
a question. He was supplying more information to help persuade James.
James sighed. He was being pulled in two different directions. He wanted to go with the
Hardings, but he did not want to go to England.
James looked at his best friend.
It's only two weeks, he thought. I can dye my hair right before I go, and take my pills on the
hour. I'll stay only with the Hardings. Go were they go, do what they do. It's not like they're
going to walk right down Diagon Alley. And besides, it will be Christmas, and everyone will be
with their family, not searching for some great person.
"Um--" But what if? asked an annoying voice in James' head. "Um--" Only two weeks... said
another voice.
Peter looked at James quizzically.
"Um, Peter, I think I'll..." Must make decision... "I'll come." Phew.
"Great!" said Peter. "Trust me, it will be fun."
"Thank you so much for inviting me."
"Hey, you're like part of the family."
"Why don't you stay for dinner?" offered James. "I know for a fact that Sarah is at her book club
meeting, so you'll be all alone."
"Now who has done their research?" joked Peter. "Sure, I'm always open to a free dinner. As
long as it isn't a problem, of course."
"None at all. I've just got to heat up the tomato sauce and cook the pasta. Should take about ten
minutes." James went over to the stove and started boiling some water.
He walked back and continued, "I've just got to get changed out of this suit and tie. Here,” James
turned on the television in front of where Peter was now sitting, "fill me in on what's going on in
the world."
"More than happy to," said Peter smiling.

James walked into his bedroom, which was across from the TV room, and changed into some
sweatpants.
He still had no shirt on when Peter leaned back on his chair to tell James something, when Peter
caught a glimpse of James through the slightly open door.
Slam! Peter fell out of his chair.
"Jesus, James!" he yelled, hurriedly standing up. "What the hell happened?"
James had quickly yanked a shirt over him and walked out of the room.
"Excuse me?" he asked.
"Your back. The back of you. What happened?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," mumbled James, turning slightly red.
"Heck! You must know what I'm talking about. You've got scars all over your back."
"I think I should start the pasta now."
"Don't change the subject. You do this all the time. I've known you for almost ten years now, but
there are some major things that I still don't know about you. I thought it was fine that you
always wore a shirt when you went swimming, or a tee-shirt to bed. What are you hiding?"
The television was still blaring. Luis ran under the couch.
"Nothing," said James, gritting his teeth, "Absolutely nothing."
James was not expecting what would happen next.
Peter grabbed James's shirt and pulled it off him, tearing the shirt and hurting James.
"You call that nothing?" asked Peter, quite upset for his usual calm self.
James' back was lined with tan scars, slightly raised, all across his back. It was a mess of lines
and crosses.
James turned bright red.
"Why are you doing this? Why are you asking these questions?" James said.
"Because you are my best friend and I don't know anything about you!" yelled Peter.
"You don't need to know this about me."
"And why not? My friendship wouldn't change towards you whether you were some escaped
convict from France, or some druggie rock star from America. What will make my friendship
change towards you is whether you trust me or not."
"Look," said James angrily, "My past should not concern you at all. It's over. It's done. It's gone.
I've changed, and have worked extremely hard to forget what happened. But I do not need you
bringing the bad memories back for me!"
James hadn't felt this angry in a long time.
"All I'm saying," said Peter, still enraged, "Is that a lot of really strange things happen now and
then, and you do not trust anyone enough to tell them. What was so bad that happened, anyway?
And why are you so crazy about those pills you take? Whatever it was, it could not have been
that bad!"
"You have no idea what you are talking about. No idea." James could barely see, he was so
angry.
Calm down, he told himself sharply, Anger is not a good thing...remember what will happen...
James knew he couldn't control himself for very much longer.
"Peter, I think you should go," he said, quietly, trying to retain control over himself.
"Yes, I should," answered Peter curtly.
Peter swiftly picked up his things and walked straight out of James' apartment.
As soon as the door slammed, the TV burst, with sparks and smoke. James' anger and power had
gotten the best of him.
James stood there, stock still. Then he reached into his pockets for his pills, and swallowed
several.
He wearily sat down on the couch.
Luis crawled out from underneath and jumped up beside James.
What have I done? James asked of himself.
He looked at the pill jar, automatically petting Luis who was purring next to him.
And from deep within James poured forth the memories that he had tried so hard to bury.
Memories of one of his best friends, now gone.
Which friend will it be? Ooh, and like I promised, origin of the pills are revealed in the NEXT
chapter...yay.
Big hug to the wonderful people who reviewed! (Please keep telling me what you think!)
Venus4280
Anastacy
Sparkleygem
Chochang913
TheRedFeatheryPlug
Hyper Princess
Claudia
Love you all,
Adah
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Chapter: 8
Note: Okay, you guys have seen Lord of the Rings, right? The movie, I mean. Well, I wrote such
a long flashback that I decided to do like the Lord of the Rings people did, and release it in more
than one part. I do have all of it written, so, I have finally decided (yes, I did spend five days
debating whether or not to release it in two parts or one) that I will put the first part up now, and
the second part up tomorrow, same time. So, if you would like to here where the pills came from,
come back tomorrow. For nice Draco and Harry parts, read now.
Chapter 8: Mirrors and Rantings
-----------------
It was in the sixth year when they had become friends.
Harry and Draco.
And it was the strangest of friendships.
It had seemed as if for all the time that they had hated each other, they never had come to
understand why.
When Harry was around Draco, it was a show. He was a Gryffindor, Draco was a Slytherin.
Harry was the archenemy of Voldemort, and Draco's entire family was embedded in Voldemort's
inner circle. Harry acted out the part of the famous rags to riches boy, standing up for what was
right; Draco acted out the part of the rich spoiled brat who crushed those weaker than him.
But that's exactly what it was-- an act, a show.
In truth, they actually had a lot in common. They were both striving to live up to expectations,
they were both trying to accomplish was right, they were both trying to find out who they were
amid all the webs of what they were.
And it took six years for them to actually get to know each other.
Of course, it wasn't on purpose.
And it the friendship existed in secret - even to themselves - for a while.
Actually, the friendship began with complaints and rants.
----(flashback)----
Harry snuck out of his dormitory, which was actually quite difficult on account of the aurors,
and, Mauderer's Map in hand, set off down the corridor.
Earlier that day, Hagrid had tipped them off that the Mirror of Erised was in Hogwarts, and
Harry was determined to find it again.
He needed to look at his parents, and be reminded of who he was. It was like a magnet, pulling at
him. Harry couldn't help himself. He had to see his parents.
Harry was under his Invisibility Cloak and quietly opening every door he passed.
He knew it was a stupid thing to do, when the doors could easily creak, or even begin to laugh or
shout, and sneaking around like this was a sure-fire way to get caught, especially with the
tightened security. But all these doubts did not hinder him. The prospect of seeing his mother and
father was too big of an urge to resist.
And then, ahead, he saw the door to the room he had visited so often in first year. The room that
used to contain the mirror. Could that room be being used once again for the same purpose?
Harry walked slowly to the door, quietly turned the handle and walked in.
And there in the corner, was a mirror shaped object, a white sheet thrown over it.
Harry crept down the two stone steps walked around a fallen chair and stepped over an old glove,
eyes locked on the shape of the mirror.
The dust in the room had been recently disturbed, and Harry was careful to stay in the path
without dust, in order to avoid making footprints.
He walked up to the mirror-shape, standing in the darkest corner. Harry slowly pulled the sheet
from the object. It fell in one simple, silent motion, and indeed, under it was the Mirror of Erised.
Harry was giddy with excitement.
He threw off his cloak and quietly sat down in front of the mirror, staring first at his reflection,
and the looking up and behind his reflection.
There were his parents.
They hadn't aged on bit. His mother was still waving, his father still smiling. The whole Potter
side was behind James, and the Evens side behind Lily. Harry could even make out Petunia way
in the corner.
Harry breathed a bit easier, knowing that his deepest desire was still to see his family, and not to
take over the world or something crazy like that.
He sat there, staring, for what must have been hours, until a noise suddenly startled him.
Quick as a rabbit, Harry grabbed his cloak and dashed behind the mirror, crouched in a triangle
of two stone walls and the back of the mirror.
"You fool! What is the matter with you?" asked an angry voice on the other side of the room.
Luckily, the person sounded too angry to notice anything usual around him.
"I--I--" came a shaken voice.

"You what? You made a mockery of yourself? You've ashamed me? You've royally pissed off
the Dark Lord? Because that's what it looked like."
Harry heard the sound of a punch and a fall.
"Look at you! You're pitiful, lying there on the ground. What were you thinking? Do you know
who you are? Do you know what your destiny is? Why throw that all away because of stupidity.
You are a disgrace to the Malfoy name," spat the voice.
The person on the ground gave a soft whimper.
"You are going to go back next week. There will be another meeting, and I will be here at eight
o'clock with another of Snape's portkeys. You will obey me and the Dark Lord. You will get the
Dark Mark. Understand?"
A soft, defeated whisper of yes came from the boy who Harry assumed was Draco Malfoy.
"Good," said the man, "I'll be here next week, same time, and you will be here to meet me."
The man picked up something from the ground, whispered a spell, and was gone.
Malfoy groaned and sat up. And then it was quiet.
It was deathly silent for so long, that Harry thought that Malfoy must have left the room. It didn't
make sense to Harry, because he would have heard the door open or some other noise, but as he
strained his ears, he couldn't hear a thing.
So Harry slowly stepped out from his hiding spot and took a few steps.
And there was Malfoy on the opposite side of the room near the door, sitting against the stone
wall, head leaned back, eyes closed.
Harry tried to jump back into his hiding spot, but he fell down and knocked over a desk in the
process.
The noise was sudden and deafening.
"Who's there?" whispered Malfoy.
Harry mentally slapped himself on the head. Stupid...you have an invisibility cloak, use it! He
quickly draped the cloak over him and stood up.
Malfoy looked around, glanced at the fallen desk, and then closed his eyes again.
Harry quietly walked past him.

He wouldn't have been able to see it up close, but now that Harry looked at Malfoy, he realized
the Malfoy was a complete mess. And appeared to be in a lot of pain.
Malfoy's hair and clothes were messy and wrinkled - some of his robe was torn - and it was easy
to see patches of dirt all over him. He had a black eye forming and a slightly bleeding cut on his
cheek.
But it wasn't just that. There was something unnerving to Harry at seeing Malfoy look so
defeated. The normally proud and confident boy was now crumpled and tired, and looking for all
the world as if someone had taken all his dignity and ran with it.
Harry had the feeling that he was spying on something forbidden. He was looking at his enemy,
who never let himself look the least bit surprised or upset at anything, and now was living one of
his most degrading moments.
Harry took a few more steps to try and get away from this situation, and to pretend as soon as
possible that it hadn't ever happened, but his conscience got the better of him.
Look at him, his conscience said, He's injured, and has just gotten back from what was obviously
the Dark Mark ceremony, and he didn't get the Dark Mark, which means that he probably got
the Crucio curse put on him.
But he's Malfoy...
There must be some reason he didn't get the Dark Mark. He's obviously got some sort of good
side --
No way, not Malfoy.
Harry was rooted to the spot as his internal debate went on.
But at this time of war, insisted his conscience, The good side should take who they can get. It
would not feel good to know that there was a chance to have another person against Voldemort,
especially a person who could grow up to be powerful and destructive, and the "great Harry
Potter" blew it.
But he's a Malfoy...
And what does that mean? What is so hateful about him? Now that he doesn't strongly support
Death Eaters and the Dark Mark, he may not support Voldemort, which means that the only
reason for hating him is gone.
No, he's a spoiled brat.
That can be excused. Look at his father, his family, his home life. You would end up like that, too.
Well, I guess it would be hard to open the door without him noticing something...
And Hermione has been teaching you those healing spells.
Fine, but I'm just going to talk to him...civilly, I promise.
And with that Harry pulled off his cloak.
Malfoy still had his eyes closed.
I hope he's not dead...
Harry coughed a bit to become noticed.
Malfoy's eyes wearily opened. He looked at Harry with a dull surprise.
"Potter, what are you doing here?"
"Um, nothing. You?" Harry didn't quite know how to start a conversation with the boy in front
off him with out yelling a whole lot.
"I am having a wild party. C'mon Potter, what does it look like?"
"Oh. Sorry." That was a first...a willingly made apology to Malfoy. "So, I over heard that you
went to a Dark Mark ceremony."
"Well done, Potter, you've cracked the case. A portkey was illegally set up for this room, so me
and my father could go to a reception and have tea with the Dark Lord. Now is the part where the
detective-hero, you, hauls the culprit, me, up to the headmaster's office."
"Look, Malfoy, I was just trying to be civil--"
"Well, you've chosen an excellent time to have a bonding session. Here, first I'll tell you about
my cold-as-ice father and how I'm now on the Dark Lord's pissed-off list, and then you can tell
me about how wonderful it is to have friends and fame and glory."
"But--"
"Just go away and leave me alone."
Harry turned to leave, but curiosity got the better of him and he decided one question wouldn't
harm anything.
"Um, Malfoy, why didn't you get the Dark Mark?"
"So you 'overheard' that too?" Malfoy was getting more and more cynical and bitter.
"Look, what's your business is your business. That was a rude question, I didn't mean it. I'll leave
now."
"Didn't mean it? Of course you meant it. You want to know why the guy who has been gloating
for the past six years at being on the Dark Lord's side, finally had his chance to join it and said
no. You want to know why? I'll tell you. Because I finally saw what I wanted to be, and I didn't
want it anymore. Go ahead, say it. I know you want to. 'I told you so,' that's what you want to
say, isn't it?"
Harry shook his head no.
Malfoy laughed a bit, a hollow laugh with no mirth. "Isn't it strange, Potter," Malfoy said, more
talking to himself than Harry, "That I finally had my chance to prove myself to be one of the
Dark Lord's most trusted drones, and I completely botched it. I mean, even when I do get the
Dark Mark next week, the Dark Lord still won't trust me because of tonight."
"So you are going to get the Mark next week?"
"Not willingly," Malfoy ground out.
"You know, I could get those wounds healed in about a second."
"I don't need your charity. Besides, it was the Crucio curse, and you won't know how to heal
that."
Harry rolled his eyes. But then again, he wouldn't wish for Malfoy to heal him if he were in this
situation.
Oh well. Harry conspicuously pointed his wand at Malfoy and whispered a spell that Hermione
had taught him not two days ago to help heal the after-effects of the Crucio curse.
Malfoy instantly started to look a bit healthier.
"You know, you really are a sneaky bastard," said Malfoy.
"What?" asked Harry, feigning innocence.
"Oh, shut up," Malfoy climbed to his feet and looked at Harry. "Thanks, though."
There was a very awkward silence.
"I'll be going now," said Harry.
"Yeah."
They both left the room in silence, having come to some unspoken agreement to never ever
mention this meeting or its contents to anyone.
The next day Malfoy and Harry acted as if nothing happened.
In fact, they didn't even act. They convinced themselves nothing happened.
Everything was normal.
That night Harry once again stole out to the room with the Mirror of Erised, and spent another
sleepless night being with his parents.
It continued in this was for three days. Harry was getting no sleep, and Hermione and Ron
became worried. They assumed that Harry was having his Voldemort dreams and started to ask
questions.
Harry didn't want to share this with them, though. For some unexplainable reason, he did not
want his best friends knowing about the Mirror. He remembered when he showed Ron the Mirror
of Erised in the first year, and how he did not see Harry's parents, but his own deepest desire, and
Ron couldn't stay away. Just like Harry, Ron wanted to sit in front of the mirror for hours.
I'm probably just being selfish, thought Harry.
He went back again on the fourth night, to look at his parents.
It was some while after unclothing the mirror and seating himself down in front of it that he
heard a cough in the shadows behind him.
He turned around and glared at the shadows, trying to see who could be there.
Cough, cough, hack, hack, wheeze.
"Alright -- (cough)-- I can't -- (wheeze) -- take it anymore!" From behind a desk Malfoy
stumbled out, coughing and wiping dust off his sleeves.
"What are you doing here?" asked Harry, angrily.
"No, -- (cough) -- the better question is: What is the Dark Lord's prime target doing sneaking out
-- (cough) -- for almost four days now, just to sit in front of a mirror the whole night?"
"You've been watching me?"
"Yeah, and from what I've seen, you've got one heck of an ego, Potter."
"You don't even know what this is. And you still haven't fully answered my question. Why have
you been watching me?"
"I'll make a deal with you. I'll tell you why I am here, and you settle my curiosity by telling me
what the heck you're doing."
"Okay...deal."
"I've been here watching you because I wanted to know why you were in this room that night
that I and my father were here."
"Why didn't you just ask me?"
"One, because there is a reason I'm in Slytherin instead of Gryffindor, and two, you probably
wouldn't have answered my question. Now you have to answer it."
"You wouldn't care."
"Look, Potter, we made a deal."
"I'm looking in a mirror."
Draco looked skeptical and rather peeved.
Harry rolled his eyes. "Fine. This is a mirror that shows a person's deepest desire."
"And?"
"And it is the only way I can see my parents and me in the same place."
"I don't follow. I thought your parents were dead, Potter."
Harry winced. Malfoy was still the same Malfoy. "Think. Hard. Deepest desires... my family.
Get it?"
Malfoy raised one eyebrow. "Really?"
"Yes."
"And you've been coming here night after night staring in the mirror because it shows your
parents and family with you, as you are now, correct?"
"Yes."
"That's rather obsessive."
"You wouldn't understand," Harry snapped back, "All I have ever wanted was a family. Sure,
every summer I go home to my Aunt's house, but they are not family. I've just got a
well-protected house with three of the biggest muggles on the face of the planet. Do you know
what they did to me after the first year?" Harry was getting rather agitated, and Malfoy took a
step back in surprise at the sudden out burst and pouring of emotion, "They locked me in my
room, locked away my wand, broom and books, put bars on my window -- bars, and treated me
like slave labor. How about after fifth year? Did they care that I was almost killed? That I was
tortured beyond all belief? That I was probably clinically depressed that whole summer? Family
is people who love and care about you, and I don't have that. But you just don't understand."
"Me? Not understand?" it was Malfoy's turn to become angry, "How can you say that? You've
seen my father, the way he treats me. He doesn't care a fig if I dropped dead this moment or
turned into a beetle. In fact, he would probably step on me himself if I didturn into a beetle. All
he cares about is if I 'live up to the Malfoy name' or not. I don't even want to become a Death
Eater. You say a family is people who love and care about you. You do have that. You have
friends. You have families of friends. Heck, the whole bloody world loves you!"
"You don't want to become a Death Eater?"
Suddenly the boys heard a voice coming closer.
"Quick, Malfoy, under here!" Harry motioned Malfoy to go under the invisibility cloak with him
to hide. Malfoy did as instructed.
They moved towards the wall and tried to make as little noise as possible.
Filch came into the room holding his lantern high.
He looked about and growled a bit, but then turned and left.
Harry and Malfoy were holding their breaths.
Finally, Harry pulled the cloak off of them.
"Filch is loosing his touch," commented Malfoy.
"He hasn't had much sneaking around since the school has brought in the Aurors," said Harry.
"Definitely."
"Look, I'm being selfish" said Harry. "I know I'm not the only one in the world who has lost his
parents. I just want some sort of family, I guess, very badly right now."
Malfoy snickered. "Me and you, we are some piece of work."
Harry tilted his head, trying to figure out where Malfoy was going with that comment.
"We hate each other so much, but we end up here in the same room, having a civil conversation.
I think we're just too tired to start fighting, but I don't know. Actually, I think I've just had an
epiphany, due to how tired I am. I think you and me are very similar. You have no family, but
most people love you. I have a family, but nobody loves me."
Harry didn't know what to make of Malfoy's "epiphany." So he didn't say anything.
Malfoy walked and stood in front of the mirror. "Ha!" he said, looking at his reflection, "We
even have the same deepest desire. Would you look at this. The mirror shows me with my family
around me, and my father is smiling proudly at me. Proof that I am right."
"I never argued with you," said Harry darkly.
"Ah, but I can see you disagree with me." Malfoy seemed to be energized with his new idea.
"Okay, go ahead and tell me how we are not alike."
Harry glared at Malfoy, not liking this sudden realization he was having. "Simple. You have
light blond hair, I have dark black hair."
Malfoy rolled his eyes. "That's just shallow. Come on, think of something meaningful."
"I think you just want to get in an argument."
"No. I'm challenging you. Think of something that ruins my argument. Go on."
"Fine. I've got one. You are not expected to save the world. Ooh, here's another one. You don't
have a crazed homicidal maniac obsessed with killing you. How about this one: your very life
does not put your friends in danger."
"I have got parallels to all your rants. One, I am expected to become a Death Eater and help win
the war, so in a way I am expected to save the world, from muggles. Two, my father is a crazed
homicidal maniac, and he will want to kill me when I don't show up next Tuesday. And three, I
don't have any friends, so my life could put them in danger, I just don't have proof."
"So you are not going to become a Death Eater?"
"You're catching on, Potter, that's another similarity. We both don't want to become Death
Eaters."
"Cut that out," said Harry irritably, "Answer my question. Do you support Voldemort?"
There was silence. Malfoy seemed slightly surprised to hear the name Voldemort.
"Why should I tell you?" Malfoy asked arrogantly. The mood change between the momentarily
excited Malfoy to the once again arrogant Malfoy was sharp, a complete turn-around.
"Because I can help you get out of becoming a Death Eater, and get on the good side to fight the
war. So you won't get stuck in the middle, or on the wrong side."
For a split second Malfoy looked hopeful, but it passed.
"It wouldn't work," he said darkly, "My father is determined. You can't do anything."
"Well, would you please tell me why you don't want to become a Death Eater?" said Harry
exasperatedly.
"You wouldn't understand. You see things in black and white, good and bad. Decisions are easy
for you. Don't become a Death Eater because the Dark Lord is your archenemy and embodies
pure evil. Do join Dumbledore and the Aurors because you need to avenge your parents. Every
decision is easy for you. But me, I have a family who has had a long line of being involved with
all sorts of Dark Arts. In fact, I think the last person who was opposed to the Dark Arts leader at
that time was disowned and killed by his own family. I can't just 'break away.' And if I do-- if--
then I will probably have to kill some of my own family members. It's not as easy as 'just join the
other side,' Potter."
"Oh," said Harry profoundly.
"And the only reason I don't want to become a Death Eater is because I don't want to be a slave
to someone. I saw the other Death Eaters at that ceremony. They tremble at the mention of the
Dark Lord's name. They cowered at his presence. They accept his beatings and thrashings like
guilty dogs. Heck, they even call him Master. It's revolting. You don't know what it's like until
you've been there."
"Um, Malfoy?" interrupted Harry, "I have."
"What?"
"I have been there. Remember? Fourth year? Voldemort was resurrected? Cedric died? Any of
this ring a bell?"
"Yeah, sure. I meant in general, not just you. Not many people can believe it until they have been
there. Better?"
"Yeah, whatever. Go on."
"With what?"
"Why you don't want to be a Death Eater. You were saying that they were revolting."
"Oh, yeah. I mean, I want to be my own person. Have my own will. And even though I do not
agree with letting all the muggles mix with us, as some people on your side want, I do not think
killing off every wizard who has muggle blood in him is a good idea. So while I may not agree
with Dumbledore's side, I disagree more with the Dark Lord's side, so the only option would be
against the Dark Lord. I think it's a good idea, making the wizarding race clean and pure, but it
just can't be done. If he wanted to start his own little 'Pure Wizards Only Club,' I wouldn't object,
but the whole 'let me-- I mean us-- take over the world' sort of thing, it just doesn't make sense.
You can't kill all the wizards with muggle blood. It's gross and wouldn't effectively 'cleanse' the
race."
Harry noticed that Malfoy seemed to once again be talking more to himself than to Harry.
"I mean, the man's a walking oxymoron," Malfoy went on, "He yells at his followers to kill the
mudbloods, but he himself has muggle blood in him. His own mother, I think. Neville deserves
more of a life than he does, according to his doctrine. I mean, I just don't want to be in that
situation. Ever. Once is enough for me. All the cemeteries and blood and darkness and torture--
But I guess you already know all about that." Malfoy gave Harry a wry smile. "Don't you?"
"Yes."
"Say, just how many times have you come face to face with the Dark Lord?"
"Voldemort?"
Malfoy flinched. "Yes, who else?"
"Um, I think five times. But the second time it was sort of half his face, and the third time it was
a past face, and the fourth time it was to re-create his face, and the fifth time, well, the face just
starts getting uglier and uglier."
"How can you joke about that? Seeing just a glimpse of him was creepy enough. How is that
funny?"
"I don't know. Maybe I'm developing a twisted sense of humor."
Malfoy slipped into thinking and the room was quiet for several minutes.
"Alright, Potter," he started out fiercely, after gathering his thoughts, "Listen to me."
Harry was surprised yet again by his sudden change of demeanor.
"I don't want to repeating another word of any of our conversations, rants, whatever that we have
in this room, out of this room. Everything we say here stays here. Got it?"
"Uh, sure."
"Good."
There was silence.

"And?" prompted Harry, after a while.
"I'm going to kill myself for what I'm about to ask," muttered Malfoy. And then, as if he was
gathering his courage, he said, "You know, it's not really just because I wanted to know what you
were doing as to why I followed you in here. And I've been meaning to ask you for some time
now," he suddenly became very interested in his feet, "Willyouhelpmejoinyourside? I mean," he
hurriedly went on, "Not because I agree with what you're fighting for, but because I'll do
anything not to become a slave to that snake."
Harry grinned. Oh, he heard Malfoy clearly, all right. But this was just too good to pass up.
"I don't think I quite heard you right, Malfoy, what was that you said?"
"I said," ground out Malfoy, with his teeth clenched, "I need your help."
"That's what I thought. How do I know you are not some secret spy, or something?"
Malfoy looked surprised, as if he didn't think that Harry would not say yes immediately. "I-- I--,
I guess you don't know." The boy looked helpless and lost.
Harry burst out laughing. He laughed so hard, tears ran down his cheeks.
Malfoy's expression turned from helpless to relieved to very, very angry in about two seconds.
"It's just- (snort) just so- (laugh) funny!" Harry was in hysterics.
"If you value your life, Potter, you will shut up this instant."
Harry's laughs calmed down into giggles, as he tried to get a grip on himself.
"I'm so- (giggle) sorry, but, that expression on your face was so (laugh) priceless!"
Harry was once again laughing hysterically.
Malfoy rolled his eyes. "I come to you for help, and this is what I get. A laughing lunatic!" In
truth, Malfoy was relieved that Harry was laughing instead of flat out saying no, but his pride
was pretty badly hurt, after first going to Harry for help, of all things, and then getting laughed
at.
Harry calmed down again. "Look, Malfoy, I've got to tell you, (chuckle) I'm carrying a
sneak-o-scope in my pocket, and it hasn't gone off once tonight. Of course I'll help you not to
become a Death Eater. I just wanted to give you an answer you didn't expect. "
"That was stupid." Malfoy was understandably bitter. "And why are you carrying a
sneak-o-scope in your pajamas?"
Harry sobered up. "I always keep it by my bed."
"You are paranoid."
"No, I just have a psycho snake villain trying very hard to kill me."
"You're nutty."
"Do you want my help or not?"
"Yes, I do."
"Okay, then we will meet here tomorrow at midnight. I'll try to think of a plan to get you out of
your ceremony on Tuesday."
"Fine. And remember, mum's the word about you speaking to me."
"Got it."
Harry and Draco left the room quietly to go back to their houses and spend what was left of the
night sleeping.
You guys who reviewed are the best! (well, everyone who reads my story is on my A-list) But
the readers who reviewed get lots and lots of brownie points...you guys are awesome!
Prongsjr
Hyper Princess
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Love you all,
Adah
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Chapter: 9
Note: The answer is here. (Good news for future: I will probably write a flashback for Ciara.)
Chapter 9: Plans and Pills
-----------------
The next night Harry went out to meet Malfoy. But as he was walking through the common
room, he heard a voice ask, "Harry Potter, just where do you think you are going?"
Harry turned around and was faced with a very angry Ginny Weasley.
"Um, Ginny, hi, I was just, uh, going to get a midnight snack."
"Yeah, right. Is that what you did last night?"
"You were watching me?"
"Yes, for three nights now."
"Is it 'Spy on Harry Potter' week or something? Why is everybody poking their nose into my
business?"
"Because, people are staying up night after night to protect you and you are purposely sneaking
out. There are Aurors outside this house, at the entrance, and positioned throughout the castle.
What are you doing?"
"Nothing. Now Ginny, would you please go back to your room?"
"Oh, no, I know what you're trying to do, get rid of me and then sneak out. Well I--" a very
strange look passed over her face, and then, she smiled, a rather evil smile, Harry thought.
"Actually," Ginny yawned, "I'm kind of sleepy. I think I will go back to bed. Good night, Harry."
Ginny flounced back up the stairs.
Harry was slightly unnerved by her exit, but he didn't want to keep Malfoy waiting in the room
and then have less time to think of an idea and therefore less time to sleep afterwards, so Harry
hurried off.
He slipped the invisibility cloak over him and sneaked out through the corridors, back to the
mirror room.
Sure enough, the other boy was there before him, sitting at a desk.
Harry slipped the cloak off.
"You know, Potter, it really is quite creepy watching a head suddenly appear from thin air,"
greeted Malfoy.
"Nice to see you too. How do you get here, anyway?"
"I used a spell."
"What spell?"
"A shadows spell. It makes you mostly invisible. Works fine."
"I'll have to try that one day."
"So, down to business. Do you have a plan?"
"Maybe."
There was silence as Harry tried to gather his thoughts.
"Mind telling me what it is?" asked Malfoy.
"How would you feel about being a spy?"
"No," said Malfoy flatly.
"Why not?"
"I thought we went over this. I don't even want to appear to be part of that cowardly group."
"Now just one minute!" shouted a female voice.
Harry and Malfoy spun around and glared at the intruder.
"Ginny!" shouted Harry, "What are you doing here?"
"Trying to figure out where you have been going," said Ginny angrily.
"My goodness, Potter, everyone wants to spy on you. Quite the new mystery, aren't we?"
"And now I find out!" continued Ginny, “You've been undermining everything we have worked
for by meeting with this double-dealing Death Eater!"
"That's not fair."
"Oh yes it is! How can you turn against us like this? I thought you were the 'Great Harry Potter',
come to save us all. Obviously not. Just where do your loyalties lie?"
"What are you saying?" asked Harry coldly, "That I've forgotten who I'm fighting? That I would
walk straight into the enemies' hands? That I would forget what my parents died for?"
The room was deathly still, echoing with Harry's words. Ginny looked rather shocked at his tone
of voice. Malfoy was still sitting quietly at the desk.
"You know, you could use that tone of voice and freeze the enemy to death," said Malfoy
sarcastically after a moment.
"Oh, shut up, Malfoy," said Ginny.
"Look, Ginny, it is not was it seems. Malfoy does not want to become a Death Eater. He doesn't
even support Voldemort." Ginny and Malfoy flinched. "He wants to become good, he wants--"
"Stop that!" said Malfoy. "I don't want to 'become good', 'join the light side', 'be a hero', or any of
that crap. I just don't support the Dark Lord and don't want to get caught in the middle."
"Whatever, it doesn't matter. Point is, Ginny, that Malfoy is not a Death Eater and will help us
fight."
"How do you know he is telling the truth?"
"I just do."
"Oh? 'You just do'," she said mockingly. "That's not good enough. Besides, he'll do more harm
than good on our side."
Malfoy looked slightly hurt.
"Ginny, he will try his best and I know he will help."
"We've already got a Slytherin on our side and he's already a pain."
"Malfoy will be nothing like Snape."
"Hello?" said Malfoy irritability, "Honestly, I can hear you. And you do know that Snape is a spy
for the Dark Lord."
"He still calls He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named the 'Dark Lord'," pointed out Ginny, ignoring
Malfoy.
"And I call him Voldemort. So what? Call him the Dark Lord, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, or
Tom Riddle for all I care, just don't call him 'Master'."
Ginny did not look convinced.
Harry gave and exasperated sigh. "What can I do to convince you?"
"Maybe if Ms. Weasley hears it from my mouth, it will make a difference." Dumbledore stepped
out from under a shadow in the corner. Ginny jumped a mile.
"Professor? What are you doing here?" asked Harry.
"I had gotten word that the Mirror of Erised was being used, and so--"
"Wait, let me guess," interrupted Harry, "And so you came here to watch me and find out what I
was doing, and you have been watching me for several nights now."
"Potter is the new mystery. Everyone wants to spy on him," explained Malfoy to Dumbledore.
"No. Not any more," said Harry, determined. He raised his voice, "If there is anyone, and I mean
anyone in this room or who can hear me now, please come out so I can see you."
A few seconds passed in silence, then a shuffle of feet.
An Auror stepped into the room from the hallway.
Harry groaned and shook his head.
"I was only following Dumbledore," he said, "And now may I please continue my job?"
"Go ahead, Simon," answered Dumbledore.

The Auror muttered something to himself and stepped back outside the door.
"This is humiliating," sighed Harry.
"What about me?" asked Malfoy, "This is embarrassing for me, too. I'm not even in your little
Auror-good-side clique. I'm not supposed to be associating with all of you, according to my
father."
"I'm just confused," put in Ginny.
"Well, I can help clear things up a bit," said Dumbledore, smiling. "Mr. Malfoy, as I understand,
you do not want to be associated in any way with Voldemort, and want to join our side. I think I
can make it possible."
"Wait, just wait," said Ginny, "How do we know he is not trying to join our side so he can report
information back to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? He hasn't done anything to gain our trust."
Dumbledore smiled gently at her. "Harry says he can join. He has my full support."
"How does that make any sense? That's crazy." Ginny was at a loss. "Doesn't anybody find it
strange? Isn't anybody worried?"
She looked around helplessly. Harry shrugged his shoulders in a "beat's me" sort of way. Malfoy
smiled.
Ginny threw up her hands in exasperation. "This is so stupid. Completely loony. 'If Harry says
he's all right'. What does that mean?"
"Mr. Potter posses an unusual amount of power within him, and can use that to sense other
people's power and its intentions. Harry gets headaches from Voldemort, because Voldemort
holds a great wealth of power and uses it for evil purposes. Even in Voldemort was to promote
world peace with that power, Harry would still be able to tell if he was good or bad, because of
what his ulterior motivations would be."
"Yeah," said Ginny dryly, "And Professor Trelawney can predict a birth. But if you guys want to
get yourselves betrayed or killed, that's just fine with me!"
Dumbledore smiled. "Well, then, now that we have Ms. Weasley's consent, let's get on with
business."
Ginny scowled at Malfoy.
"Professor, are you going to help?" asked Harry.
"As much as I can. But this is a serious decision for Mr. Malfoy." Addressing Malfoy he said,
"Do you understand that this decision will dominate the rest of your life?"
"Yes," answered Malfoy.
"Do you understand that we will be trusting you and depending on you?"
"Yes."
"Do you realize that you will never be able to have strong family ties as long as they are
supporting Voldemort?"
"Yes."
"And do you understand that you may be called upon to wage war against your own family and
old friends?"
Malfoy hesitated, and with good reason. These were serious commitments, and he knew that he
will be making powerful enemies that will do anything to stop him. But as he thought of the
Death Eaters he saw, even the more "respected" ones by the Dark Lord, he knew that he could
never stand to be known as one of them. And he thought about the killing of people he knew to
be innocent, and also knew that he could never do that. He wanted to be remembered as someone
who had done something good with his life, not hated and scorned upon.
And he answered, "Yes."
"Excellent. Now, I think I have an idea to break up this ceremony you must go to. But I need to
know, do you want to make your change of sides known publicly, or do you want to be in secret,
and maybe an informer for us?"
"I-- I don't know. I don't want to even come near another Death Eater ceremony, but if I am
publicly against the Dark Lord, I will be in danger."
"Why don't you just lay low until after graduation?" suggested Ginny, getting into the idea.
"And how would I avoid getting the Dark Mark?"
"Oh, yeah." Ginny was stuck.
"Professor, can't you do anything to persuade Lucius Malfoy so Draco won't have to get the Dark
Mark?"
Several eyebrows went up at the mention of Malfoy's first name said by Harry.
"I can talk to Snape about it, and maybe he will discuss it with Lucius. But I think the best thing
right now is for all of us to go back to bed. Harry, Ginny, will you two give Mr. Malfoy and I
some privacy?"
Ginny and Harry nodded their heads and left quietly, leaving Malfoy with Dumbledore, and
sneaked back under Harry's cloak.
Once in the Gryffindor common room, Ginny and Harry sat down on the couch in front of the
fireplace.
"Harry," said Ginny, "I'm sorry about creeping up on you."
"That's okay, just don't do it anymore," answered Harry, yawning.
"So is Malfoy really trying to be good?"
"He wants to, very badly."
"It's was nice of you to stand up for him."
"He let me. I think he is trying to be more civil to me, because he wants to be on our side."
"Do you think Dumbledore's plan will work?"
"I have complete faith in him. I'm rather tired, Ginny, so I'm going to go up to bed. Goodnight."
"G'night."
Harry walked up to his room and fell asleep the moment his head hit his pillow.
Dumbledore's plan did work, in fact. He got Snape to talk to Lucius, saying that Draco should
really finish his education before getting the Dark Mark.
Draco started taking lessons from the Aurors along with Harry.
Ginny also got to take the Auror class, after much pleading to Dumbledore.
Until graduation, Harry and Draco "kept up appearances" and were as nasty as ever to each other
during school, in public.
Draco and Ginny ended up meeting together in private, first as friends, then as boyfriend and
girlfriend.
Harry suspected something going on between the two, but never asked a question.
War broke out about six months after graduation, and battles raged through out Europe.
Voldemort was slowly expanding his reign of terror to Asia and America.
Both Harry and Draco were made Generals, commanding whole armies together.
Ginny worked as a doctor, heading up her own hospital.
Ron and Hermione stayed as an auror team behind the front lines, figuring out codes,
eavesdropping, getting families out of areas that could be dangerous.
Draco and Ginny announced their marriage, much to the surprise of the Weasley's and Hermione.
The couple married later that year.
And then, suddenly, that next year Voldemort started taking hostages.
Seamus was one of the first. Then Snape. More and more people were being captured.
And left behind on the victim's door, wall, or what ever was handy, was always a big scar-shaped
mark, made with blood.
Harry became depressed and even more closed off. He kept talking to Dumbledore and the other
leaders, trying to convince them to let him go after Voldemort.
But they would not let him.
Then, one dark night, the weather suitable for the situation, Harry received news that Sirius was
taken hostage.
He broke down and didn't come out of his room for days.
People first knocked on his door, then banged, then finally used magic to open the lock. But
Harry kept throwing them out, literally. A few well chosen words and the unwanted visitor for
him or herself a few kilometers from the house.
Finally Draco snuck in quietly in the middle of the night and tied Harry's hands to his sides and
gagged him.
It was morning and Harry awoke.
"Mrrph," said Harry, first dazed, then infuriated.
"Morning," answered Draco pleasantly.
"Mrrff nr mumif nuh."
"Ah ah ah, can't remove the sock until you agree to cooperate."
"Nuh mur muff nr uph!"
"I'll remove the sock, if you agree to eat this lovely soup I made you and not cast any spells on
me."
Harry nodded slowly.
"I need you word, Harry. I don't want to end up in the ministry's bathroom again."
"Mrr-unph." That was Harry's word, Draco could tell.
Draco pulled the sock out of Harry's mouth.
"Thanks," said Harry dryly.
"No problem." Draco was still pleasant.
"Do you guys really end up in the Ministry's bathroom?"
"Yeah, and it's really pissing the Ministry off, you know."
"Sorry. I just don't want to be around anyone right now."
"Harry, if you want you godfather back, we've got to be together, fighting together."
"Easy for you to say. Being around people is painful, Draco, knowing that my very presence will
most likely put them in danger and can possibly kill them."
"Staying by yourself won't help anyone either."
"I just don't know what to do, though."
"Well, for one thing, you can comfort Ron and Hermione. They are worried sick, you know."
"I don't want to be around them."
"Harry, they are your closest friends. You're giving them the cold shoulder."
"It doesn't matter."
"Yes it does! They might not be my favorite people, but it's actually driving me nuts to see you
shoving them in the corner."
"I can't do anything else."
"What?"
"I mean, I can't be around them because they are my friends."

"That doesn't make any sense."
"You wouldn't know. Ron and Hermione are like brother and sister. I love them so much, and
therefore I cannot put them in danger. I don't want anything bad happening to them, Draco. If
something were to happen, I don't know what I would do."
"And what about me?" asked Draco, jokingly.
Harry gave a small smile. "I know you can take care of yourself, and I know that Voldemort
won't want you. He doesn't know we're close friends."
"Ron and Hermione can take care of themselves, too."
"It's just not the same. I'm serious, Draco, I've known them for over seven years and I can't bring
myself to put them in danger."
Harry was becoming more and more agitated.
"Come on, Harry," coxed Draco, "Eat some of this soup. You haven't had any food for days now,
and getting upset will not help."
"I don't want soup I just want--"
"Yes?"
"I don't know." Harry looked helpless. "I want to get my godfather back. I want to get all the
hostages back. I want to destroy Voldemort. But most of all, I just want to be gone. Disappear.
Leave the wizarding world for good."
"Do you mean that?"
"I-- Well-- Yes. I do mean it. I think. It's not that I don't love my friends, but I am just so tired of
the strain all this causes me." A tiny tear slid down Harry's face. "The whole world expects me to
save them from a madman. To be their savior. But, I-- I just don't think-- Draco, I can't do it."
Harry looked frightened at his realization. "What if I can't? What will happen? Who will save
everyone?"
Frankly, Draco was frightened to death by Harry's talk, but he didn't let it show, trying to look
brave.
"Harry, you can do it. Have no fear."
"There are so many questions, that no one can seem to answer. Why, why does Voldemort want
to kill me? What have I done? And why does everyone expect me to save them? Why me? I need
to leave this world."
Harry broke down and sobbed silently to himself.
Draco was taken aback and was at a loss of words, until he thought of something. Choosing his
words carefully, he said:
"Harry, I know of a woman, in Scotland, I think, who makes a potion that will eliminate all
magic inside a person."
Harry looked up at Draco with eyes wide in disbelief.
Draco went on. "My father threatened to send me there once, and so I do not know where exactly
she is. But I think, mind you, I don't remember clearly, I think her name was Ciara. She lives in a
muggle village. Not many people know of her, but she can make it possible for you to
completely leave this world."
"Can it be true?"
"My father could have been pulling my leg, but I don't think he's that creative."
Harry gazed at the wall, thoughts far away.
"But you didn't hear that from me."
Harry made no reply.
"Come on Harry, stop thinking these awful thoughts. Sirius will come back. I promise. I know
it."
Still it was silent.
"How about this soup I made you? It's good."
"Sure," said Harry finally, in a blank voice. "Yes, that's what I'll do."
"Eat soup?"
"Um, what? Yeah, okay."
"Good. You feel better in no time."
Draco untied Harry's bonds tied around his arms, and handed the bowl to Harry, making sure he
ate every bit (it had pepper up potion in it) and then made sure that his friend was safely in bed
and asleep before leaving quietly.
James thought about those pills he had gotten from Ciara. He had searched secretly in muggle
phone books for months to find her, and then sought her out after the battle with Voldemort.
She, luckily, didn't recognize him as someone famous. In fact, she never asked for his name, and
Harry never volunteered it.
The pills were ready in two days, during which Harry stayed at Ciara's house. The pills were
tailored to Harry, made it so they repressed his power, and made magic almost impossible.
That was in theory.
She did say that it would be hard for the pills to work because of Harry's power level. Harry
would have to keep his temper in check and take the pills regularly for them to work well
enough.
To make up for the less magic protection, she added a special part to the pills. She made them so
that not only did the pills hide James' powers, but also so that his hair would always cover his
scar perfectly. No amount of gel, or haircuts, or clips could keep the hair from staying stubbornly
over the scar.
James had paid a fortune for those pills, but it was worth it. The jar kept refilling, and never left
his side.
James thought back to his friend Draco.
He turned so caring, and so compassionate. If anyone ever needed to be rescued, Draco was
always the one to burst into the house, or fight off the attacker, and be the savior of the person in
danger. Draco could still put on his "proud Malfoy" expression and attitude and scare people half
to death, but he didn't do it often. He really wanted to become a better person and change his
reputation.
Much of the change was most likely Ginny's influence. They were so close, even right at first,
and were obviously in love. They harbored a deep care and understanding for each other.
And James wished that Draco had never been taken hostage. People would never get to know the
true Draco. He had become such a good friend of James', and James knew that much of his well
being was based on Draco's care for him, all those nights that he had made Harry dinner, and
made sure that he got enough sleep, and told him that everything was going to be all right.
He was a true friend, and it was James' only regret that he couldn't have realized that before the
sixth year.
James' thoughts turned to Peter, and how many nights he, too, had stayed up to take care of
James.
Peter is one in a million, thought James.

And suddenly, James knew that he couldn't lose Peter.
He must go back and apologize. He needed to explain.
-----------------
Thanks a ton to the people who reviewed! A list of thank-you’s will go out next chapter.
Love to all, Adah
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Chapter: 10
Chapter 10: Shopping and Apologies
----------------
Ron and Hermione packed their luggage and things, ready to leave. Today, Thursday, was their
last day with the Bollis's.
Truth be told, it was a relief to Hermione to be going back home. She missed her kids and
worried about them. And it wasn't that the Bollis's weren't nice, far from it, but she just couldn't
shake the thought that Ginny didn't really love Daniel.
She knew it was an awful thing to think, but Daniel just looked so much like Draco, and, well,
Ginny never really talked about Daniel, not about his personality and things. Sure, she talked of
him, but that wasn't the same.
And there was another thing.
This town was giving her the chills. Something about reminded her of Harry. The way it smelled,
of mint and soap. And the way she felt walking around, the air still holding a hint of refreshing
cold, even though it was summertime.
Yes, all in all, she was happy to be leaving Canada.
"Ron, dear," Hermione called from the bathroom, while putting on her earrings, "Are you almost
packed?"
"Yeah," Ron called back, "Just trying to close this suitcase."
Hermione could hear Ron grunting, attempting to force the suitcase closed.
"Oh, honestly," she said, walking out of the bathroom. "Here, let me do it." She pulled out her
wand. "Claudes. There. See? It's no problem."
Ron huffed.
"Quit moping and finish up. We are going shopping in the wizarding district before we go, and I
don't want to be short on time."
Ron smiled. "Yes, dear. Of course, I wouldn't dare to try and interfere with yours and Ginny's
shopping time."
"Oh, stop."
A few minutes later, Ron and Hermione had their things packed, lined up next to the door, ready
to leave with the five o'clock portkey.
"Well, won't this be a fun outing?" said Mrs. Bollis.
Mr. and Mrs. Bollis along with Ginny and Daniel were getting up from the couch where it
looked liked they were reading the morning paper.
"Sorry we took a while," said Hermione.
"No problem at all, dear."
The group trouped outside into the warm air and began walking, Ron and Mr. Bollis walking and
talking together, then Mrs. Bollis and her son, and Hermione and Ginny brought up the rear.
"I can't believe you guys are leaving already," commented Ginny.
"Well, it was only a five day trip. I can't stay away from teaching for very long."
"Who's substituting for you?"
"Lupin."
"Good for him!"
"Yeah, it's his chance to prove everybody wrong."
"So how are Jack and Emily?"
"Just fine, acting just like the kids they are, most the time."
"Still bickering?"
Hermione laughed. "Oh yes. That certainly hasn't gone away!"
"You know, Hermione," said Ginny, "You're just going to love Harrington Square. They have
really nice robe shops. They have a Falkmur's and a Cleaton."
"Both?"
Falkmur's and Cleaton were popular wizarding clothing stores, and Harrington Square was the
main wizarding center in Calgary.
"Yeah, both of them. We are going to have so much fun!"
Ron apparently overheard his sister and called back to them, “Ginny, dear, you can have as much
fun as you wish, but let's not pick the stores clean of all their products. That goes for you too,
Hermione, love."
Ginny and Hermione just laughed in response.
Within no time, the group was walking through Harrington Square. Ginny and Daniel were
showing Ron and Hermione the sights, and like good guests, they were oohing and ahhing to the
things Ginny and Daniel pointed out.
"And that's North America's largest broom store," said Daniel proudly. "It's like a warehouse in
there! You can find any broom, even spare parts to old and out-dated brooms."
Ron goggled at the display window. Little animated figures were zooming around on brooms,
playing a small quiddich game.
Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Yeah, I must agree with you, Hermione," said Ginny. "I don't see what the fascination is either."
"But you like quiddich!" said Daniel.
"Oh sure, I like it all right, but I don't plaster my face to the display window of any fancy broom
store." She gestured towards her brother, who was still staring intently.
The group decided to split up to shop on their own. Daniel and Ron looked as if they weren't
budging from the broom store, and Mr. and Mrs. Bollis decided to sit down at the nearest cafe
and people watch. Which left Ginny and Hermione open to all the shopping they wanted to do at
the department stores.
A few hours later, Ginny and Hermione returned, their arms heavy with bags.
Ron and Daniel were sitting with Mr. and Mrs. Bollis at the cafe.
"My goodness," said Mr. Bollis, "You girls certainly did some shopping."
"And just how are we going to get this home?" asked Ron. "After we take the portkey, we have
to walk quite a bit to get back to my mother's house, and then we have to go by Floo powder
with the kids to get back home."
"You're being way to sensible, Ron, and I don't like it," responded Hermione. "I'll manage."
Ron snickered.
"Be quiet! I needed new robes anyway. Besides, Ginny will help me put a shrinking charm on it,
won't you?"
"Definitely," answered Ginny.
Ron sighed, "Okay, if you say so."
"I do."
Daniel and Ginny had to cover their mouths to keep from laughing at Ron and Hermione's
playful arguing.
"Well, shall we go?" asked Mr. Bollis, standing up.
"That would be nice," said Ginny, "Any longer and Ron might convince Hermione to return that
nice blue robe she got."
"That would never happen!" said Hermione.
Everyone got up and grabbed their things (Ron and Daniel had each bought a small broom
servicing kit), Mr. Bollis paid the waitress, and they were off, headed back to the Bollis's house.
It was about four o'clock and Ron and Hermione had a good hour until their portkey left, so the
walk back to the house was an easy, slow one.
As they were walking down a street, Hermione noticed that they were across from Peter's
Bakery, and then she remembered about Jack and Emily.
"Ron!" she whispered to him, "I forgot to pick up something for the kids."
"Oh dear, that can't be good."
"No, it really isn't. But there is a really good bakery across the street, and you know them, they
will be delighted to get anything sweet, and thrilled if it is a muggle sweet from Canada."
"You're right."
"So I'll just run over there really quickly. You guys just stay here."
"Sure thing," answered Ron.
Then Hermione addressed everyone else, informing them that she would be back in two minutes.
Hermione crossed the street and entered the bakery, the door giving a tiny jingle of bells,
announcing her presence.
Hermione looked through the glass and the pastries lined up inside.
"So, how can I help you?" asked the same man who had given her the bread the other night. He
was walking out from the back, again wiping flour from his hands onto his apron. He seemed to
be forever cooking.
"Um, I'm looking for some pastries to bring back home. How are these 'Canadian Creams'?"
"Oh, those are a specialty. They are my version of a Boston Cream pastry."
Hermione raised an eyebrow.
"You know, Boston Creams, with chocolate on top and a cream filling?"
Hermione looked blank.
"Well, anyway, these have a cream filling, but with maple sugar on the top."
"Sounds interesting."
"They're good, I promise you."
"Okay, I'll take two of those, and two of those red maple-leaf shaped cookies."
Peter swiftly turned around. "Um, so sorry, but it seems as if my éclairs are burning. I'll get
someone else to ring you up." The man went dashing back into the kitchen, and Hermione could
hear Peter scolding someone.
Hermione could also hear someone inside speaking. "Okay, okay, I'll take care of the customer;
you just save the éclairs, Peter. Emma, Jacob, I think you guys should stay far away from the
oven from now on."
Hermione didn't know why, but that voice seemed to give her the strangest sense of deja vu.
Little did Hermione know that the group across the street would be waiting a lot longer than two
minutes for her.
----------------
James took a deep breath. He once again rehearsed the well-prepared speech in his head. Then he
held his breath and entered Peter's Bakery. He was there to apologize and explain.
It was Thursday afternoon, and, like he had promised, James was there to help Peter cook éclairs.
James really hadn't spoken to Peter since Monday, but he had been constantly thinking of the
proper apology. And James was rehearsing a way to explain himself. "Hi, I'm sorry, oh, and I'm a
wizard" didn't really cut it.
James looked around. Peter was at the counter, doing paperwork.
"Um, hi," said James.
Peter grunted in response.
"Look," began James, "I'm sorry for the way I acted. Really, it isn't that I don't trust you. I mean,
you are like a brother to me. It's just that-- I think--" James stopped short. Peter slowly raised his
head, looking at the silent James.
James gathered his courage once again. C'mon, he urged himself, Peter is your best friend. You
can't lose him. He deserves to know the truth.
"You see," continued James, "I think I am more afraid to admit my past to myself, let alone
anyone else. It's not you, Peter, it's me. And, well, I'm sorry, and I am prepared to explain myself
because I think you deserve to know."
Peter looked surprised at this pouring of emotion from James. In fact, he looked rather like he
did not know what to do."
"Er, well, it's okay," said Peter, "I meant to apologize. I was being rather harsh, and your past is
your past, and you shouldn't have to explain yourself if you don't want to. It's just that so many
strange things have been happening, and they all seem to revolve around you. I guess I just was
startled by the realization that I might not know you as well as I think I do."
"So you don't mind if I prefer not to tell you about my past?" asked James hopefully.
"Well, I would like to know, just because you have now made it very mysterious," Peter gave a
small smile, "But I understand if you don't want to."
James was at a loss. On the one hand, he was thrilled that he didn't have to explain anything to
Peter, but on the other hand, James had been prepared to tell his friend the truth, and he realized
that he would have to explain things to Peter at some time or other. He couldn't avoid it forever.
"I'll tell you at one point, really, I will," answered James, "But, would you mind if--"
"If you put it off a bit longer?" finished Peter. He laughed. "No, I wouldn't mind, I'm just happy
that we are on speaking terms. You know, you're brutal in an argument, James. It's awful being
angry at you. You use that certain tone of voice, and choose just the right words... Geez, I would
hate having you as my enemy. And who would have thought that you could be so good at being
cold and angry?"
James laughed good-naturedly. "I've had practice."
"Ah! See? More of your mysterious past pops up! Did you have some evil friend who betrayed
you? Were you the spokesperson for a country that had discussions with an evil enemy? Were
you--"
"A rock star!" shouted Emma, bursting though the front door of the bakery, hands held high in a
pose.
Jacob and Sarah carefully walked around the posed Emma, who looked as if she could hear some
imaginary applause.
"Ba nuh nuh, ba nuh na na na nuhh!" sang Emma, playing an invisible guitar.
"What's with her?" asked Peter.
"Car. Radio. Song," explained Sarah.
"She listens to the worst music. All that noise and drums..." said Jacob.
Emma came over and whacked Jacob on the arm. "My music isn't bad! It's wonderful. And I
happen to like it."
Emma then continued to dance around the room, singing.
"So, how are you, James?" asked Sarah.
"Fine."
"Ready to make some éclairs?"
"Sure." Apparently Peter had not told Sarah about the argument, which was fine by James.
Emma stopped dancing around and went into the kitchen with the others.
"I can't believe we're making éclairs again," moaned Sarah. "It was pretty bad last time."
"No, it will be lots and lots of fun!" said Emma.
“‘Fun’ meaning chocolate everywhere, right?" asked Jacob warily.
"Yes!" said Emma, way to excited about it, James thought.
"Well, shall we?" asked Peter, with the ingredients pulled out.
One hour later, the kitchen resembled the way it looked on that earlier Sunday, namely,
chocolate and flour everywhere. Peter was getting a bit flustered. His bakery was open on
weekdays and Saturdays, and so not only did he have to look after Emma and Jacob, who were
trying vainly to make éclairs, but also take care of customers.
In fact, Peter was helping someone right now.
"You know," said Emma, as she was attempting to pour the cream into the pastry shell, "I'm so
happy we could get together and do this. I mean, I haven't seen you guys in ages! Except you,
Jamesie, I just saw you on Sunday."
"Um, Emma," said Jacob, "You saw Peter and Sarah yesterday, and you live with me. So why
would it be 'except James'?"
Emma rolled her eyes. "My poor Cobbie is a little slow sometimes," she explained to Sarah.
Jacob held his hands up in "beat's me" kind of way.
"Emma, I don't get it either," said Sarah.
"Oh, you guys, it's easy! I see you and Peter so often, that when I don't see you for a whole day,
it feels like a very long time. For Jamesie, on the other hand, seeing him twice a week is a treat!"
"I can't figure out if that is a complement or an insult..." said James.
"That's wonderful," answered Emma.
Sarah raised an eyebrow.
Jacob shrugged.
Peter came back into the kitchen. "So, how are the éclairs going?"
"Well, I think," reported James. "We've made about twenty, and they're just in the oven now."
"Great!"
"Yeah, I like the chocolate topping the best," said Emma.
"I hate chocolate topping," said Jacob. Emma was once again smothering Jacob with chocolate.
"Tell me again why I'm going to marry you in a few months?" asked Jacob.
"Because I'm wonderful, and smart, and beautiful, and you love me to pieces. Itty bitty pieces.
And because I like chocolate sauce."
Emma and Jacob continued to "work" on the éclairs, giving James and Sarah a break. Sarah was
reading a book, and James was pondering his decision he made to Peter. James now felt that he
did not want to explain anything. But as he thought about it more, he realized that a lot of strange
thing had happened, though the events were not strange for James, who felt as if he really had
had enough "strange" things happen to him for one lifetime.
Suddenly, as if to prove James' "strange things revolve around me" theory, a bizarre string of
events happened that were seemingly twisted by fate.
The front door chimed, meaning Peter had to help out a customer.
Not two seconds later did the oven bell go off, signaling that the éclair pastry was done.
And at that moment, Emma lost the oven mitts.
No oven mitts meant no taking out pastries from the oven.
Which meant burnt pastry.
Emma was desperately trying to find the lost oven mitts, and Jacob was trying to work the oven.
Unfortunately, he ended up raising the temperature.
That's when James and Sarah entered the scene. James yanked open the oven door and Sarah told
Emma and Jacob that opening the oven would have been sufficient enough to stop the éclairs
from burning.
The open oven let out the smoke from the slightly burnt éclairs, which consequently brought
Peter running in.
"You guys!" he cried, "Can't I trust you for two minutes? Puff pastry is very hard to remake!"
"Um, your customer is waiting," pointed out Emma.
"I know!"
"Well?" prompted Sarah.
"Okay, okay," said James, attempting to be the peacemaker, "I'll take care of the customer, you
just save the éclairs, Peter. Emma, Jacob, I think you guys should stay far away from the oven
from now on."
"Thanks," said Peter, as he pulled out two oven mitts from a drawer to get the pastry with.
Never a dull moment with these guys, thought James.
Unfortunately for James, though, an even less dull and stranger moment was about to follow. For
when James stepped out of that kitchen, a woman with bushy brown hair was standing in front of
him.
----------------
Dun dun dunn! The situation has been set…what will be the result?
Big big BIG chapter next…a milestone in my story… (wink)
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Chapter: 11
Chapter 11: Confrontation and Stomach Aches
----------------
"So, what did you want to buy?" asked the man who had come out. He was busy rearranging the
racks of pastries and sweets.
Hermione was staring at the glass counter, trying to decide if she really wanted two Canadian
Creams and two red maple leaf shaped cookies.
"Um, yes, I wanted to buy--" Hermione looked at the man and stopped. Her eyes widened. It was
him. No mistaking it. "Harry?" she asked.
James looked up from what he was doing. He squinted a bit, trying to figure out why this woman
knew his first name.
Crap, he realized, it's Hermione. Now, it wasn't that he didn't want to see her, indeed, part of him
wanted to run into her arms and explain everything. But he could not admit what he had done.
How she must hate him! All the people who had died...
The two parts in him fought and struggled. Go to Hermione! he thought one moment. Then, in
the next moment, No, run in the other direction! Together, the internal argument sent a very
stupid message to James's brain: Deny everything, deny, deny, deny.
"Um, excuse me?" asked James, turning only slightly red.
"You're Harry. Don't lie to me."
"I'm sorry, but I have no idea of who you are talking about."
"But you must--"
"I know nothing," James snarled.
Hermione's face darkened and she raised her voice. "What are you talking about? You're Harry,
Harry Po--"
"What is going one here?" asked Peter, coming out of the kitchen.
"I don't know. This woman is acting very strange," said James crisply.
Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Why you--! How can you say that?"
Peter tilted his head and looked at her. "Do you know him?"
"Yes I know him! He's Harry!"
"Um, lady? That's James. James Pott--"
"I think it's time for her to go now," interrupted James, just in time to prevent his last name from
being heard. He didn't want Hermione tracing him or looking him up in a phonebook.
"Wait," said Peter, "Why would you think this is someone you know?"
"He looks identical, that's why. He sounds identical, that's why. He even acts in the same way;
can't tell a lie to save his life. That's why."
"Well, what did your Harry look like?"
Hermione reached into her purse and pulled out her wallet. From one of the back pockets she
pulled out a picture. "This is what he looked like."
The picture showed Ron, Hermione, and Harry together on graduation day, taken with
Hermione's parent's camera, a muggle one so the picture didn't move. This way Hermione could
always see Harry as the same smiling Harry.
Peter studied it. "It sure looks a lot like him, I'll grant you that, but James doesn't have glasses, or
-- green is it? -- he doesn't have green eyes, and he doesn't have black hair, or a scar on his
forehead."
"Just how long have you known 'James'?" asked Hermione suspiciously.
"Ten years."
"And did he ever have a British accent?"
Peter looked at James, who was silently pleading for Peter to say no.
"I don't think so," said Peter, at last. "And could I borrow James for a moment?"
"Fine."
Peter dragged James into the doorway of the kitchen.
"Okay, you owe me big time for that one," said Peter. "What is going on, and don't lie."
"Um, well, you see," spluttered James. He reached for his pills to swallow a couple, just in case
Hermione got him angry enough to accidentally cause something to explode. Peter kept looking
intently at James, which caused him to choke on his last pill.
It took a while for James to stop coughing and continue. "Look, after we get Hermione to go
away, I'll explain everything to you. I promise. But can we please, please just get her to leave?"
Peter glared at James for a few seconds. "How did you know her name?"
"Please help me...make her go away...I'll explain later..." sang James, trying very hard to control
his temper.
Peter sighed. "Fine."
"Good."
James went back out to the front, followed by Peter.
"Look, ma'm," began Peter, "I don't think you know what you're talking about. If you would just
buy what you came for, and go back home, I think we would all be happier."
"I am positive that this is Harry. And I can prove it," said Hermione. She pulled out her wand and
prepared to put a curse on Harry that he could easily block, even without a wand. Heck, Neville
could block this one, she thought. She raised her wand above her head.
"No! Stop! I can't block anything!" shouted James, as he pulled Peter and they both dropped to
the floor.
"Gryllia !" she shouted.
The curse barely grazed James' head and hit the wall, where grasshoppers suddenly appeared.
The bakery door opened and Ministry officials burst through. Great, thought James, Just what I
needed.
James and Peter shakily got up from the floor.
By now Jacob, Sarah, and Emma had come out of the kitchen, and stood by Peter.
"What is going on here?" barked one of the officials.
Hermione was hysterical. "It's Harry, I know it. He just won't admit it."
"Just agree with anything I say," James quickly whispered to his friends.
Then he continued, addressing the official. "You know, this has happened to me before. I must
be some famous Canadian actor or something, who was in a fantasy movie. People are always
trying to tell me that I am 'Harry' and pointing sticks they claim are wands at me. I'm used to it."
Emma, Jacob, and Sarah nodded their heads, while Peter went on with James' explanation before
the officials could put any words in edgewise. "Oh yes, it happens about once a week. "Wizards
and Dragons" is the movie title. Good movie. You guys should watch it sometime. James, here,
really does look like the main character. He's even asked for autographs sometimes!" Peter gave
a small laugh.
Man, I love these guys, thought James, very happy that they were smart enough to do what he
said to do, no questions asked.
By now, a crowd of passersby had gathered at the door.
"Better not to administer the memory charms," said one official quietly to another. "There are a
lot of people here, and it sounds as if this type of thing has happened often, so it really wouldn't
be of any use."
"I agree, let's just discuss this with Mrs. Weasley elsewhere."
Just then Ron pushed through the crowd and came in. Apparently he had been watching much of
the argument.
"Hermione, dear, just leave it. If he wants to ignore us, so be it."

Ron put an arm around his wife and escorted the crying Hermione out. While passing James,
Ron stopped.
"Whatever happened to the friend we used to know and love?" he asked quietly.
"That Harry Potter of yours must have died," James hissed back. "I don't know what you're
talking about."
It hurt James to say that, it really did. Because he knew that with that last sentence, he really did
kill any friendship he, Ron, and Hermione had lingering. It took every fiber of his will not to call
to the retreating figures of his once best friends, not to plead with them to come back.
James stood in the doorway of the bakery, watching the people from the other world slowly
meander away. James stomach started to hurt. It twisted with a mixture of nostalgia, loneliness,
and guilt.
Ron and Hermione had entered his life for the first time in ten years. And in a matter of minutes,
James managed to force them out of his life again, probably for good.
James stomach gave another twist of guilt as he remembered how little he had been there for his
friends the year before he left. When he had been friends with Draco, true, he did ignore Ron and
Hermione a bit, but it must have been ten times that amount that year before he left.
Harry had been so intent of finding the hostages, tracing Voldemort, and hiding information, that
he didn't give two thoughts to Ron and Hermione. In truth, what he was fighting so hard for was
Ron and Hermione, having lost everybody else, but he never stopped and talked, really talked,
with the two of them.
And now they were gone.
And with yet another twist of the stomach, James realized he had just referred to himself as
Harry. Not as James, but as Harry. He hadn't done that in a very, very, long time. Probably not
since the fight in the pub, where he mistakenly referred to himself as one of the most powerful.
"Um, James?" asked Peter, scattering James's thoughts and memories. "What was that about?"
"Look, Peter," said James slowly, "I know you want me to explain everything now," James took
a deep breath, "but I would really appreciate it if I could just be alone for a while."
It looked as if Peter didn't really know what to do, so he just nodded yes.
"James, honey," put in Sarah, "I don't know what this is about, but it seems to have affected you
badly. You look awful. Why don't you just go upstairs and lay down. It will be good for you."
"Yes, that would be nice."

James slowly walked up the stairs to Peter's condo, opened the door, stumbled to Peter's couch,
and fell onto it.
James felt like melting into the couch and never being seen again. How mean he had been! If he
could just do it again, start the day over.
A few tears slid down his cheeks. James had tried hard, but he just couldn't stop the tears from
falling.
What have I done? he asked of himself. How could I just push them out of my life like that? Say
such cruel things? Should I have admitted to being Harry? Did I do the right thing?
These questions only added more doubt to James' thoughts, and gave him a headache.
Weary with what had happened, James closed his eyes and gave way to sleep, dreaming of
nothing.
----------------
Poor James. How will he ever explain?
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Chapter: 12
teacher named James, aka Harry. But what will he do now that he has faced the two people who
were once his best friends?
Chapter 12: Fines and Lies
----------------
"Can you believe the nerve of that man?" shouted Hermione in aggravation.
She and Ron were sitting in a grey room, back in England, with their luggage all around them.
They were awaiting the Aurors who were going to come in and question Hermione about her
actions.
"I mean," continued Hermione, "He flat out denied that he was Harry. He looked at me like he
had no clue of what I was talking about."
"Maybe he wasn't Harry Potter," said Ron, beginning to get tired of Hermione's rants, which
were just making him more and more confused as to what really happened in the bakery. Plus, it
was giving him a headache.
"Ron!" said Hermione, shocked, "I think I would know my own ex-best friend."
"All I'm saying is that he didn't have black hair or green eyes or glasses."
"The hair could have been dyed and he could have been wearing contacts."
"What are contacts?"
"They help you see without glasses."
"So wouldn't his eyes still have been green?"
"No, they can change the color too-- oh, never mind it doesn't matter. I know that was Harry!"
Hermione was getting very exasperated.
"And I didn't see even a trace of a scar, and I know it couldn't be covered up with that make-up
you use," continued Ron.
"But he looked exactly like Harry! I could tell!" Hermione looked desperate.
"All my brothers look like me, but that doesn't mean that they are me. I have to agree with you
that he did look somewhat like Harry, but there are a lot of people in the world who look like
each other. Besides, I don't think that Harry would have been that cold."
Hermione threw her hands up in frustration. "You are infuriating! Do you know that?"
Just then the doors open and two Aurors strode in, one with a clipboard in one hand and a pencil
in the other, and the other Auror trailing behind.
"Alright, Mrs. Weasley," barked the first Auror, "As I understand, you pointed your wand at a
group of muggles and shouted a spell. Correct?"
"Yes, but--"
"And you knew that you were in a muggle store?"
"Yes, but--"
"So this would be a..."
"Class one offence," filled in the second Auror, "Because she was in a restriction B muggle area
in a level 5 country and pointed her wand at two muggles, and with her being a C magic level
using 57 of her power and casting a grade 1 spell, and since no memory charms had to be cast
and no clean up crew was required, it would all add up to a fine of 3 galleons and 7 sickles."
"You're lucky that this is such a lenient fine, Mrs. Weasley," the Auror gave a short chuckle, "If I
were you, I would pay the fine instead of fighting it. It would be ridiculous to bring such a small
offence to court, especially since the fine is a relatively small amount. Have a good day."
The Aurors turned to leave.
"Wait!" called Hermione, "The man that I pointed the spell to, did you scan him for magical
ability?"
"Yes, we scanned the whole place, Mrs. Weasley," said the first Auror.
"And did any of them have even a B level ability?"
"Um, no, that's why they are known as muggles, non-magical people."
"I'm not stupid, I know that. But the man, who said he was an actor or whatever, are you sure he
didn't have any ability?"
"Ma'm, I don't know what you're getting at, but for the last time, no, there were no other wizard
or witches, or even muggles who had an unusually high level rate, in that building, save for you
and Mr. Weasley."
"But Harry was there! I know he was!"
"Who? Harry Potter?"
"Yes!"
"M'am, I think you need some rest. Why don't you go home and take a few days off from work to
relax a bit."
"Listen, you pathetic--"
"You know," interjected Ron, "I think you are absolutely right. My wife is rather fatigued and I
know that this whole ordeal has put her through a lot. I think sleep is definitely the best thing for
her. We will pay the fine immediately. Thank you gentlemen so much for helping us out."
"Just doing our job," said the first Auror. "You can pay the fine at window eight. Just turn right
at the end of the hallway to get there."
The Aurors went out of the room, leaving Ron with a very frustrated Hermione.
Ron quickly paid the fine and did his best to get out of the building before anything else could
happen.
----------------
James woke up with his head pounding. It was dark out and there were no lights on.
Where am I? thought James frantically.
Slowly the events of that afternoon came flooding back, like a dream.
And for a few seconds, James believed that it really was a dream.
But then reality hit him full in the face. James sat up swiftly. What have I done?
James played the afternoon over and over in his head, with every detail standing out. He
remembered how swiftly the ministry had come. They must have apparated over as soon as they
heard that a wand had been brought out in a muggle store. That means photographers, thought
James, Lots of them. There was no way that reporters would miss up on the chance to do a story
on a Harry Potter sighting, especially when the sighting was made by the "Boy Who Lived"'s
own best friends.
James turned his thoughts to Ron and Hermione, and tried to recall everything he had said. Much
of what was said was un-planned and in the heat of the moment.
But there was something that stuck in James' mind. Ron had asked, "Whatever happened to the
friend we used to know and love?" James struggled now to remember what he had answered.
After a few minutes of remembrance, James' eyes widened in astonishment. Stupid, he said to
himself, That was so stupid. I said "that Harry Potter of yours must have died." Had Ron ever
said my name? My full name? Maybe not. No, probably not.
James smacked himself on the head. How could he have done that? Said something so dumb and
obvious? James yelled in frustration and threw a nearby pillow at the wall.
A light clicked on. "James? Are you awake?" asked a voice James recognized as Sarah's.
James was quiet.
"James?" asked Sarah again, coming into the room. "I can see you sitting up, you know."
"Yeah, I'm awake."
"I know that."
"Oh."
"What's going on?"
"I had a bad dream."
"Well, it's around 11:30, so if you are hungry I can whip you up a sandwich or something."
"That sounds good."
"And you know what? I'll get the others, so we can all be down there while you explain what this
is all about."
James sighed. "Fine." The idea didn't sound so good after all.
"Good. Jacob and Emma are still here. They're downstairs talking or something. They helped
with the rest of the éclairs and with cleaning up from the flood of people we've had in and around
the store."
James immediately felt guilty and hung his head.
Sarah noticed. "Oh, James, we are all your friends, and will always be there for you no matter
what."
"Thanks," mumbled James. He got up and swallowed a few pills, then headed downstairs to face
the madness that was himself.
Once everyone was downstairs with a hot drink in their hands, James knew it was time to tell the
truth.
They were sitting back in the kitchen, Jacob and Emma sharing a crate to sit on, Peter and Sarah
sitting next to each other, and James, by himself, facing his friends.
James took a deep breath. This was it. After this, there was no going back. He would be
acknowledging who he was. Who he is. He was not some person who moved to Canada. He was
not some guy who liked to teach kids. He was not James Potterson. He was—dare he say
it?—He was Harry Potter, a wizard, who had power beyond what people had seen in hundreds of
years, and who was too cowardly to face his past.
James looked at the expectant eyes of his friends, Peter, Sarah, Emma, and Jacob.
“You guys want to know what I am hiding,” he started out, “And it’s understandable. Peter has
known me for ten years, and he doesn’t know anything about the real me. He doesn’t even know
my real name.” Emma, Sarah, and Jacob looked over at Peter in surprise. Peter also looked rather
shocked. “So I will tell you now. My real name is--” he faltered. Do it, James told himself
sharply. “My real name is Harry Potter, and I’m a-- I’m a wizard.”
There was silence.
Then Emma gave a small giggle. "You mean to tell me," she said, her giggling rapidly turning
into flat out hysterics, "That you think you are a wizard?"
This statement caused Jacob and Sarah to start laughing too, although they tried to hide it.
James was at a loss. This was not supposed to happen. His friends were not supposed to laugh.
"It's not really that funny," said James indignantly.
Unfortunately, Jacob, Emma, and Sarah were laughing to hard to hear James defense.
The only person who was not laughing at James was Peter. In fact, he looked far from amused.
He looked angry. Very angry.
Slowly the hysterical trio calmed down, which only led to a very awkward silence.
"I don't know who you think you are trying to fool," said Peter angrily. "How hard would it be to
tell the truth?"
"But I am!" cried out James in exasperation.
"Then why don't you show us some magic?" asked Sarah diplomatically.
"Because I can't."
"And this makes you a wizard because...?" asked Emma, smiling slightly.
"Look, I can't do magic because one, I'm taking special medication, and two, if I did, then
everyone would find me and most likely drag me to the ministry and force me back into the
wizarding world where they will ask all sorts of complicated questions about the murders and the
hostages and the crazy homicidal madman who was trying to kill me and they will make me
relive the most horrible time of my life over and over again."
"So that's what those pills are for," said Emma thoughtfully.
"Would you guys just listen to me?" asked a very annoyed James. "My real name is Harry Potter,
I am the most powerful wizard, and I have no idea as to why nobody will believe me."
"You are a very irritating person," said Peter, "All I want is the truth, and you are spouting out
some messed up story about 'being the most powerful wizard' or whatever. Do you really expect
us to believe all that?"
James was tired. He had a headache. And the whole situation was going completely wrong. "You
want to know the truth?" he asked quietly.
Peter, Sarah, Jacob, and Emma nodded.
"Fine. I was a lawyer in Britain and I was the defender in a criminal case that had Hermione, the
woman you saw in the store this afternoon, as one of the witnesses. I won the case, but due to
several mistakes made by other employees, the witness protection papers were confused and
Hermione's entire family was killed by the man I was hired to defend in court. I couldn't forgive
myself. So I quit my job and ran away here to Canada. I threw in the part about me being a
wizard as one last attempt to escape my past. I told you that my last name was Potter to make the
wizard story more believable. And now you know the truth. I'm just Harry James Potterson,
known as James, a poor confused lawyer trying to escape horrible feelings of guilt."
Everyone stared at James. They looked shocked and concerned.
"Poor Jamesie," cooed Emma.
Sarah shook her head slowly. "I'm so sorry."
"You could have told us earlier, James," said Peter, "But I understand why you didn't. I do not
blame you in any way, and I will always be there for you. I just want you to know that."
"Thank you all for listening to me," said James in a tired, monotone voice, "I am truly blessed to
have such understanding friends."
"Well, we'll always be there for you, dear," said Sarah standing up and patting James on the
shoulder. "Anyway, I'm tired. I think it's time for all of us to go to bed. Good night everyone."
The conversation had ended. And rather abruptly, too. Everyone said their goodbyes, each
person giving James an extra hug as if in understanding. James and Emma drove home, Peter and
Sarah stayed behind, and James was left to drive back to his apartment.
That night, as James was lying on his bed, he thought about that day. Sure it had started off
innocently. A regular school day. In fact, most of the day was normal. But the last six hours
seemed like something out of a nightmare. Not only had his long lost friends from another world
burst onto the scene, but then, when he had finally worked up the courage to tell his current
friends the truth about himself, they laughed. They believed some made up story about a poor
guilt-ridden lawyer running from his past. And no questions were asked about the poor lawyer
story. No, his friends blindly accepted it. Indeed, they sympathized with that lawyer. But they
laughed at the real James. The real Harry.
James gave a soft chuckle of tiredness and disbelief, and fell asleep wondering at the irony of the
world.
----------------
Whoo-hoo! One hundred reviews! Thanks a bunch to all of you!
Phoenix-flames
Hyper Princess
Sons
Sister
Phoenix220
Otaku freak
The Person Who Didn't Do It
Erzengel
Arizosa
Love you all,
Adah
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Chapter: 13
Author’s note: I know the last chapter made a few people...angry. But that's okay, because a
happy resolution will be coming...soon.
Chapter 13: Anger and Allergies
----------------
Ron and Hermione came home to an empty house. Jack and Emily hadn't come home from the
Burrow yet. This gave Hermione plenty of opportunity to continue ranting about that happened
in Peter's Bakery.
"Ron, I mean it. That really was Harry," cried Hermione

"Look Hermione, I thought it was Harry, too. But you and I have thought about it so much, and
talked about it so much, that I just can't remember one thing from another."
"But you were in the bakery for less time than I. Which means that I would know better than
you. I mean, after all, it looked just like him. And his cheeks flushed when he recognized me, I
think."
"He seemed sure of himself when he said he wasn't Harry Potter."
"Yeah, but you and I both know that Harry quickly learned how to tell a believable lie as soon
as--" Hermione gave a small gasp. "Wait, did you just say that he claimed not to be Harry
Potter?"
"Yes..."
"But how did he know that Harry's last name was Potter?" Hermione's face was bright with
realization and hope.
"He would have known because you told him that he was Harry Potter," said Ron, slightly
confused.
"No, I don't think I every called him Harry Potter."
"I bet you did. There are a lot of people named Harry, and wouldn't have been smart to call
someone by just their first name if you were trying to recognize him. I know you, Hermione.
You definitely would have said his last name."
"But what if I didn't?" asked Hermione, feeling once again helpless as her last hope was crushed.
"I know how much you want him back, dear, and I want him back too, but you've got to let it
drop. Thinking round and round in circles like this is just going to wear you out, and will not
accomplish anything. I know you miss him. I miss him too."
A few tears ran down Hermione's face. "But-- But I was so close. And he looked just like
Harry..."
"I know, I know," soothed Ron. He put his arms around her and tried to comfort her as she
started to sob.
"It's been so long, and I-- I just want my Harry back. Oh, Ron, I miss him so much!"
"I miss him too--"
Hermione stepped back, suddenly looking angry. "It's been ten years, Ron, ten years! Why hasn't
he turned up? He should be back by now. I bet he's in some wizard resort in Jamaica, sitting on
the beach without a care in the world. He wouldn't become a muggle. Why would he do that?
He's one of the most powerful wizards, an E level, for god's sake! You and I are only level C.
He's above Dumbledore, above He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, above anyone in at least the last
two centuries! He's on the same levels as the founders! What kind of person would give that up?
Not Harry, he wouldn't run from that, from what Dumbledore and you and I stood for, what
Malfoy and Sirius and Lupin stood for, from what his parents stood for. He wouldn't go back to
the world where he was abused and teased and misunderstood. He wouldn't do that, not Harry."
"So you think he's still in the wizarding world?"
"Yes, or-- or dead." This statement caused Hermione to start sobbing again. "It's just not fair, that
was him in the bakery..."
"But I thought you just said that Harry wouldn't join the muggle world."
"I don't know what I think. All I know is that I'll do anything to get him back."
"I think you should get some rest, dear. Some sleep."
Hermione's tears were abating and she yawned. "Yes, sleep."
Ron and Hermione made their way to the bedroom. Ron carried the luggage in. Hermione kicked
off her shoes and flopped on the bed. She gave one or two small sobs before falling asleep.
Ron snuggled under the covers, but he could not fall asleep. Instead, he became deep in thought.
He knew how badly Hermione felt, mostly because she thought she was the main reason Harry
ran away. She had urged Ron to come with her, to go meet up with Harry before he could follow
through with his crazy plan, but they had came too early, and had only made things worse.
It was a mystery to almost everyone, including Ron and Hermione, what had happened the night
of Voldemort's downfall. A few Death Eaters knew some of the facts, but nobody relied on what
they said as solid information.
What happened to the Great Harry Potter? That was the question on everyone's minds. If
someone reported a "Harry Potter sighting", all the newspapers came running, anything to find
out where Harry was and what really happened that night ten years ago.
Ron suddenly became angry. What gave Harry the right to just get up and leave everything
behind? To make Hermione so sad? To just get up and leave everything, Lupin, Dumbledore,
Hermione, himself, all his mentors, all his friends? The whole world saw him as a hero, when in
reality he was just a big coward. Harry had to be alive, he just had to be.
"I'll find him, wherever he's hiding," whispered Ron aloud, "No matter what I have to do. And
the very first thing I'll do when I find him is knock some sense into him, hard."
----------------
James jumped out of bed the next morning with renewed energy. He had spent an hour in bed
this morning thinking, and he had come to a decision: he was determined to forget everything
and move on with his life.
"After all," said James to his reflection in the mirror as he was brushing his teeth, "Why should I
feel sorry for myself? I'm perfectly happy." He spat out some toothpaste and filled up a cup of
water. "And it's not as if anything is different. People just now believe that I had am unfortunate
past, and now I'm over it." He gargled some water, spat it out, and wiped his mouth.
"And even if anything should be different," James continued the conversation while tying his tie,
"It would only be that my friends should trust me more, and stop asking questions. Oh sure, they
might sympathize with me for a few days, but then it will be over, and everything will be normal
again."
James walked into the kitchen and poured himself a bowl of cereal. Luis jumped up on the table
and meowed.
James took a bite of cereal, swallowed, and turned to Luis for reassurance. "Besides, there's no
way anybody could think anything else about me than what I've said. I only said I look like some
actor, and that was vague enough that no one would ever want to fish through loads and loads of
movies to find that actor." James took another bite of cereal. "And I said that to wizards, and they
definitely won't look into that. Plus, Peter and everybody will probably feel bad whenever they
ask me questions about my past, and so they will never try to find out whether I'm telling the
truth or not. I covered all the bases, haven't I?"
Luis only tilted his head.
James reverted to silence and finished his breakfast.
"Yep, everything will return to normal," said James in finality. He put his dishes in the sink and
swallowed a couple of his pills.
Luis meowed.
"The pills are considered normal, Luis." The cat sat down in front of James and looked up
skeptically at the man. "Really, this is all normal." The cat continued to stare up at James. "Okay,
I'll say the pills are just for migraines. No, even better, allergies!"
James put a hand on his chest and looked earnestly at Luis. "I have allergies all year, you know.
It's horrible. My eyes get puffy and red, and my throat hurts, and I'm sneezing all the time, and
these pills are the only things that keep me safe from it all. Where did I get them, you ask? In a
store somewhere in Europe, but I really can't remember anything more than that. I was just so
desperate, that everything else seems to have faded."
James snapped out of his act and bent down to face Luis. "I think that story will do very well.
What do you think?" Luis meowed and rubbed up against James hands.
James gave Luis a pet and then stood up and looked at his watch. It was still fairly early. James
had half an hour before he had to leave for work. Last day of school, thought James.
He sat down on the couch and stared at where the TV used to be. James had thrown the scraps of
the blown-up TV in the garbage, but there was still a brown outline of the TV on the wall, left
over from when the explosion had slightly burnt the wallpaper. I should have controlled myself
better, thought James sadly.
With no TV to watch the morning news, James was left alone with his thoughts, which began to
roam back ten years; to the night he had found the people who were the saviors in James's life.
----(flashback)----
It was rainy, and dark, and stormy. Lighting flashed and thunder roared. Which, contrary to the
many stories that start out with that type of weather, was a blessing for Harry.
The summer storm seemed to be an omen of good fortune, being Harry's first lucky break in a
long while. Rain and storm meant no one in their right mind would be outside at this time.
Darkness covered the sight of Harry, thunder covered the sound of Harry's footfalls, and the
momentary flash of lightning illuminated Harry's way just enough so he could figure out where
he was headed.
The latter, he supposed, wasn't truly necessary, as Harry honestly didn't know where he wanted
to go, just that he was headed towards the house of Ciara, and that it was in Scotland. Harry had
already spent a two months wandering around Scotland, looking in muggle phone books for the
woman Ciara. He traveled only at night, and ate only in purely muggle villages. He had taken
half of his money out of Gringotts and was lugging it around with him in his backpack. Half of
the money had been exchanged for muggle money at the Leaky Cauldron. Harry had been under
a coat and heavily hooded, of course.
It seemed vital to Harry that no one should recognize him, or else he knew that he couldn't go
through with his plan and would end up living in the wizarding world for good, which meant that
every day would torture him and make him more and more miserable. The very thought made
him shudder.
Harry saw the lights of a town up ahead. The houses on the outskirts were all dark on the inside,
but soon Harry came up to the first house with the lights on.
He peered in the window to make sure that it was a muggle house, then went up to the door and
knocked. A lady opened the door. Warm yellow light flooded out from the house. Harry could
feel heat coming from the inside and could smell something baking.
The lady looked disdainfully upon the dripping Harry. "May I help you?"
"Um, yes. Do you know anything about a woman named Ciara?"
"I'm sorry, but we just moved here. Have a good night." The lady closed the door.
"What's her problem?" Harry muttered to himself as he walked away. He was once again in the
darkness and the cold. And he realized that he was hungry.
Harry went to the next house with the lights on and knocked. A man came to the door and
pointed towards the end of the town in response to Harry's question. He hastily closed the door,
and Harry was once again back where he started, as the man said he only thought there could be
a person by that name, somewhere in the village.
Harry would have been happy to know that he had finally come to Ciara's village, except he had
already been directed to wrong households in other towns.
Great, thought Harry gloomily, I might have passed her house, for all I know. What am I doing
anyway? Hiking all over Scotland to find one woman. I've built my entire future around what she
can do for me, but how do I even know she exists? It's hopeless.
But even thinking this, Harry couldn't just stop everything he had been counting on and hoping
for. Thus, Harry slowly made his way to the next lighted house, and knocked on the door. An old
lady stepped out and gaped at Harry.
"Oh you poor dear! Look at you, out in the cold! Nobody should be out in weather like this.
Here, come inside."
Harry was swept into the house and was promptly seated on a couch with a blanket wrapped
around him and a thermometer stuck in his mouth.
"There," said the lady, "That should warm you up. Now don't you move a muscle until I come
back with your tea."
She brushed through a swinging door into the kitchen. Harry could hear pots and pans banging
and the old lady humming.
Harry leaned forward to try to see into the next room, where another light was on and the rustle
of a newspaper could be heard.
"No moving means no moving!" cried the lady from the kitchen.
Harry quickly snapped back into place.
The lady soon came out of the kitchen with a tray in her hands and set the tray on the coffee
table. She took the thermometer out of Harry's mouth and tsk-ed. Then she poured Harry a cup of
steaming tea and handed it to him.
"Now then," she said, "I want you to drink that all up. It's good for you."
Harry dumbly nodded his head and took a sip of tea. It didn't taste that bad.
The lady went on. "I have been expecting you, but I must say, you're a bit late."
Harry looked up confusedly at the lady.
"Oh, don't worry, you're not that late."
Harry finally found his voice. "So you must be..."
"Ciara. And my husband is Paul. He's in the other room."
Harry was ecstatic. "I've been looking for you for so long! For two months, in fact. All over
Scotland. This is wonderful! You see, I really need--"
"Shh, calm down. You're just working yourself up."
"But I need--"
"No buts. You don't need anything but sleep. Come on, up to bed. Your room is ready."
Ciara gently raised Harry to his feet and wrapped the blanket a little more tightly around him.
"There. Now, come with me and I'll show you your room."
Harry followed Ciara like a little kid up the stairs and into a room with blue and white wallpaper.
Ciara turned on the bedside lamp. The room was illuminated in a soft beige light. There was a
wooden bed with a white down blanket on top, a blue and white mountain of pillows at the head
of the bed, and a blue fleece blanket at the foot of the bed. On one wall was a mirror and against
the other was a dresser. Grey pajamas were folded on top, apparently for Harry.
Ciara took the teacup from Harry, which was somehow once again filled with steaming tea, and
she set it on the bedside table.
"Now you put on your pajamas and get into bed likity-split. I want you to have a good night
sleep."
"Um, thank you."
"Your welcome. Good night." Ciara closed the door softly.
Harry followed her instructions. He put on the grey pajamas and climbed into bed. After taking a
sip of tea, he turned off the light and fell asleep.
---------------
A BIG thanks to the people who reviewed the new chapter 12:
Hyper Princess
Sons
Arizosa
A very eager fan
Thanks a bunch!
Love to all,
Adah
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Chapter: 14
Author’s note: Sorry this came out so late, I had some family mattes to attend to. I hope you
enjoy the chapter!
Chapter 14: Breakfast and a Purchase
-----------------
Harry woke up pleasantly, with the sun shinning on his face. The tree outside his window was
dripping with water left over from the storm the night before. The smell of breakfast prompted
him to get up. He put on the clothes he had on the night before, which were now miraculously
clean.
"Good morning," said Harry cheerfully as he came downstairs.
"Finally! Good morning!" said Paul, "Ciara, dear, can we eat breakfast now?"
"You impatient old man!" cried Ciara from the kitchen, "Yes, of course we can eat now." She
came out and turned to Harry. "Dear, you may sit here," she said, motioning towards a seat at the
head of the breakfast table.
"And me?" asked Paul.
"You, my dear Mr. Westin, can sit here." She seated him down in the chair beside Harry, and
patted her husband on the head.
"And, Mrs. Westin," said Paul in mock politeness, "When shall breakfast be ready?"
"As soon as you stop asking!"
Paul immediately sat still and stared down at his plate.
Ciara laughed. "Oh, don't you worry, Harry dear, Paul always gets fidgety before breakfast. He's
always hungry." Ciara smiled and went back into the kitchen humming.
Paul was still staring at his plate.
Harry wondered how Ciara knew his name, as she had never asked it, and Harry had never
volunteered it. Oh well, Harry thought, mentally shrugging his shoulders, She's treating me no
different, it seems, and she's asking no questions.
Ciara came back out carrying a plate full of scones and three glasses of orange juice. She set the
scones and glasses of juice on the table and then hurried back into the kitchen. She came back
out with a plate of eggs and a plate of sausage.
"Now," she said after sitting down in her chair, "We may eat."
Paul smiled and immediately started piling food on his plate. Harry, who was just as hungry,
waited until Paul was done. Ciara observed her husband's actions with a kind of horror. Paul
looked up a smiled guiltily at his wife.
"Paul!" scolded Ciara, "I'm ashamed of you. We have a guest, you know."
"Sorry," answered Paul.
Addressing Harry, she said, "I apologize for my husband's behavior. We haven't had a guest
around here for quite some time, and it seems as if he has quite forgotten his manners."
"That's all right, Mrs. Westin," said Harry, "I don't mind."
"Well, have some eggs and sausage, anyway. Or what's left of them," Ciara said, glaring at Paul.
Harry took Ciara's advice and heaped eggs and sausage and scones on his plate. To him, it
seemed to be the best breakfast he ever had.
When breakfast was over and the dishes had been cleared away, Ciara led Harry into the living
room where she and Paul sat down in seats facing Harry, who was sitting on a couch.
"Now," addressed Ciara to Harry, "Down to business. As I understand, you are here to purchase
some of our magic suppressant pills, correct?"
"Yes," answered Harry.
"Good. I will just give you a quick outline of the whole process and what you can expect, as well
as the pros and cons to these pills. First, after taking various measurements, my husband and I
will make the pills tailored specifically to you."
"Oh? There not just the same pill for everybody?"
"No, heaven's no! Everybody has different magic levels and different needs. The pills are made
from a brew devised by Paul and me. It takes about two days, so you will have to stay with us
until the pills are finished. The pills should reduce all magic in you, but be warned: it will not
remove your magic ability; for that is impossible. It will only make your magic unusable, and
therefore undetectable. The pills can help anyone escape detection or become a non-magical
person. But, they should not be relied upon because intense anger can over power their use. One
pill should last about 24 hours for a typical B level ability, and 18 hours for a C level ability.
Also, once you buy the pills, you are set for life. The pill jar will keep refilling itself so you won't
have to come back here to buy more."
"Are there any other places that sell pills like these?"
"I once met a woman who knew of a place like this down in Australia, but that was long ago. I
don't think you have much to fear of anyone finding out. We keep our dealings very secret."
"And if I start taking these pills, will there ever be a day where I will become immune to them?"
"We've been making these pills for a long time, and the issue has never come up. And we've
discovered through people who stop using the pills to return to their former selves that the pills
don't make a lasting dent on your magic. You will still be the same level ability one you stop as
you were when you started."
"Sounds flawless...are their any downsides?"
Paul spoke up. "Only a few. Over time, a person's magic may -- and notice I say may, as this is
not true in all cases -- become out of hand, and the person will have to keep a closer watch on his
pill schedule. For example, when starting out, a person must take a pill every 18 hours, and if
they skip a few hours in between, it doesn't matter. But, a year or two later, if they skip those few
hours, their magic will over power them and take control. That is one of the more common
downsides. Another one is increased temper, mood swings, and/or anxiety."
"That doesn't sound so bad."
"Well, there is one more, but this has only happened a few times. Out of the seventy or so clients
we've had over the years, this has only happened in a noticeable way to ten of the clients. It is
this: Some people have become dependant on the pills. They are addicted. They take them
constantly, and the person soon become out of control."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, they became a danger to themselves and other people."
"And what happened to them?"
"Um, well, four of them ended up in an insanity ward, and the other six, well, they died," ended
Paul sadly.
Ciara sniffled and wiped her eyes
"But that isn't a very common side effect, is it?" asked Harry warily.
"No," answered Paul slowly, "But a risk all the same. We are obligated to warn you."
Harry thought about the wizarding world. I can't face that. I won't face that. Harry thought about
being in an insanity ward. He thought about death. Those two seemed to be better options that
facing the horror that he had seen just three months ago. Though Harry had thought of suicide
earlier on, he had decided that death was not the answer; he really did want to make a new and
better life for himself.
"Yes, I'll do it. I would like to purchase the pills."
"That's wonderful," said Ciara, wiping her eyes one last time and giving a smile, "I just know
they'll work out for you. You'll be on your way to a better life! Now, let me just take some
measurements."
Paul went into another room to start gathering the main ingredients while Ciara bustled about
gathering measuring tape and other appliances. She wrote down Harry's height, his weight, bone
density, body mass index, average food intake (it wasn't that much), and shoe size.
Then she pulled out a big black...thing...that looked like a remote control to a very big toy car.
"Now hold still, Harry dear," she said, putting a hand on Harry's forehead. "This is an Ability
Tester and it will measure your magic ability very accurately. But you must keep still."
Harry held his breath while Ciara moved the Ability Tester around Harry's person.
"Well," she said, when she had finished and was writing down the measurements on paper.
"Well, well, well. It seems, Harry, that you have quite an ability. Are you aware of your magic
level?"
Harry turned bright red and mumbled something indecipherable, but which Ciara took as a "no."
"You are," she continued, "An E magic level."
Harry looked up. "I think you are wrong, Mrs. Westin. That's impossible. There hasn't been a
person with that kind of ability for centuries..."
"Yes, not since Athena Cordeilia, the Princess of Delos, whose magic proved to be too much for
the girl and killed her at the age of fifteen. That was in 1734. And before that it was the founders,
and then Merlin."
"I'm sure a mistake was made. I must have moved or something. Why don't you take a new
measurement?"
"Harry," answered Ciara patiently, "Think about it. Doesn't it make sense that you could be an E
level?"
Harry remembered the power he felt when he had broken loose from Voldemort's trap. How the
magic had coursed through his veins and flowed out through his very fingertips. And how Harry
could not control it. It did make some sense, but why hadn't Dumbledore told him? An E level
wizard could take out whole armies within an hour. And it takes great power to hurt or kill by
magical means an E level wizard. Harry would have been very useful to the war against
Voldemort.
But then Harry remembered that he was used and put in danger throughout much of his life. Like
in his first year, when he had faced Voldemort. How could Dumbledore not realize who
Professor Quirrel was hiding? Leaving a boy of eleven to face a madman who had killed
thousands? It did make sense. Dumbledore had to have known. But what enraged Harry was that
nobody had informed him of his power.
"How come I didn't know?" asked Harry sadly.
"Oh, sweetie, it's hard, I know. You couldn't be told. Would you have believed it? If you
someone told you before you had reached your level, you would have never found your total
strength. You had to find it on your own."
Silence.
"Well then, what does it mean?" said Harry finally
"Only that it's understandable why you want to escape it."
Harry raised an eyebrow.
"You see," Ciara went on in explanation, "The more power you have, the more you feel the strain
of it on your body. And especially after what you've gone through, it's easy to see that the painful
memories mixed with the amount of effort it takes to restrain that power from getting out of
control would make anybody want to leave it all behind."
"So you won't stop me from buying the pills?"
"No, I couldn't do that to you."
"Thank you."
"But there will be a few problems."
"Oh?"
"For one, the pills won't work so well. You'll need to take at least two at a time for it to last six or
so hours. But," she continued before Harry could get a word in, "I'll offer an extra feature to
make up for the pills." Ciara pointed to Harry's scar. "I know that scar is famous throughout the
world, and I know you won't get far if people can still see it. Therefore, I will put a substance in
the pills that will keep your hair covering your scar. Only force could move your hair aside so
that one may see the scar. Otherwise, there will always be a conveniently placed lock of hair
covering that area as long as you take the pills.'
"Thank you," said Harry graciously, as he had not thought about the trouble his scar could cause.
"Thank you very much."
"My pleasure. Now, I'm just going to get started on the potion. You may stay here and read the
paper, or choose a book from our shelves. Just remember to stay inside the house. The walls
conceal any magical ability from the ministry, and I don't want them knocking on my door."
Just then, in an ironic twist of fate, there was a knock on the door.
Ciara walked slowly to the door and looked through the peephole. She motioned Harry to hide,
and once he had done so, smoothed her hair and opened the door.
"May I help you?" she asked kindly to the two ministry officials on her doorstep.
"Uh, yes. We've been talking to several of the villagers around here and they say that they saw a
man walking around here last night. We were wondering if you happened to notice that man.
About this tall," the official marked the height with his hand, "With black hair and glasses. You
might have noticed a peculiar scar on his forehead...?"
"Why, yes," answered Ciara. "I did see a man with that exact description. I had invited him in.
We talked a bit, had some tea, and then he left."
"Did he say where he was going to next?"
"Let me think..." Ciara put on a show of trying to remember. "Aha!" She said suddenly, scaring
the officials, "I remember! He said something about going back to London. To his old house, or
school, or something."
The ministry officials nodded, writing all the information down.
"Thank you for your time, ma’m," the first one said.
"Um, may I ask what this is all about?"
"Just a...a missing person. We're part of...Scotland Yard."
"Oh," said Ciara, pretending to be concerned, "Will everything be all right?"
"Yes, ma'm, everyone is on the search. We'll find him soon. We are all very worried about him."
"Well, good luck, I hope you find him in London."
"Thank you, ma'm. Your time has been very valuable."
"Have a good day." Ciara closed the door and smiled.
Harry came out from the kitchen. "Is everything okay?"
"Yes, dear. Apparently they've got the whole world looking for you." She laughed a bit. "I just
love fiddling with their minds. They think I'm a non-magical person. Now everyone is going to
be looking all throughout London for you!" She laughed some more.
Harry didn't see the humor in it.
"Well," said Ciara, who stopped laughing abruptly when she saw that Harry didn't find it as
amusing as she did, "I'll just start on the pills, then."
Harry spent the next to days lounging around the Westin's house. Ciara and Paul were having
quite some time making the pills strong enough for Harry. But eventually the magic suppressant
pills were ready, which marked Harry's last day with the Westin's.
It was around noon when Ciara announced that Harry could be on his way.
"Excuse me?" asked Harry.
"The pills are ready, dear," said Ciara with patience. "You can go, now."
Paul came out of the room where the pills had been made and handed Harry a blue bottle with
medium grey pills inside. "Ciara will tell you the price," he told Harry.
"Oh, yes, I almost forgot..." Ciara hurried back inside the room to collect the amount of each
ingredient used to figure out the cost.
Paul leaned towards Harry. "I put an anti-break spell on the jar," he whispered, "Along with a
tracking spell that will always keep the jar by your side. And both spells cannot be detected by
the ministry unless closely studied. But don't tell Ciara about the 'extra features'; she doesn't
know and would probably charge you for it."
"Thank you," whispered Harry back to Paul, just as Ciara walked into the room.
"Well my dear," she said, "The total price for the pills including the extra scar-hiding bit, is 1500
galleons."
Harry widened his eyes. That was a very large amount. But, since the pills would last him for
life...
Harry found his backpack, took out 100 pounds for himself, and gave the backpack to Ciara. "I
think there is enough money in there. The backpack is larger inside than it is outside, and it also
has a charm to make it less heavy. Unfortunately, there is also muggle money in there, but it's all
I have."
"Don't worry, dear," said Ciara kindly, "It's just fine. The price of freedom does not come
cheaply, I know."
She handed the pills to Harry.
"Now, as a few words of warning," said Paul, "You must remember that repressed magic can do
strange things, especially with your level of ability, so make sure to always have your pills with
you," Paul winked at Harry, "And, if you ever stop taking the pills, be very careful for the first
few days."
"You should take your first pill in here," advised Ciara, "And then I'll apparate with you to where
ever you wish. It will take about an hour for the pills to first take effect, so be careful. Are you
ready?" Ciara handed Harry a glass of water.
Harry took a deep breath. He was going through with his plan. And hopefully, unlike all his other
plans which always seemed to go haywire at one point or another, this one would work, and
Harry could live the rest of his life in peace.
My last moment as a wizard, thought Harry. This thought made something sink inside him. His
throat got blocked up. Harry didn't know whether to be happy that he was going to be a normal
person, or whether to be unhappy that he was leaving such an extraordinary world behind.
And such extraordinary friends, too. Harry thought about Ron and Hermione. He couldn't face
them. Harry knew he was taking the cowardly way out, but there was just too much to explain,
and if he did somehow explain it all, the entire wizarding world would blame him for the deaths
of hundreds of people.
Harry wanted to be normal, to have a peaceful life, and not have to worry about his friends'
safety, or other dangers threatening to take over the world.
Harry took a pill out of the bottle. It looked at it. Such a small pill holds happiness for me, Harry
thought. He put the pill in his mouth, took a sip of water, and swallowed.
Though Harry knew that the pill wouldn't be totally working until an hour or so later, he could
still feel something inside of him happening at that moment. It was if all his muscles were
relaxing. He felt like he had been holding his breath for years and years, and now could finally
breathe.
Harry realized that he did not have to be a wizard any longer. He could be normal. He could
finally be happy.
"So," said Ciara, "Where do you want to go?"
Harry gave no thought to the question. He said the first place that he thought of that was not in
Europe. "Canada."
"Well then, Canada it is. Any particular city?"
"Toronto?"
"Of course, dear."
Harry said his goodbyes to Ciara and Paul. The Westin's wrote down their address so that Harry
could write to them when he got settled. Apparently, they kept in touch with most of their clients.
Ciara took Harry's hand and apparated away. To Canada. To Harry's future and his happiness.
James sat on his couch, lost in thought.
He still wrote to Mr. and Mrs. Westin. Every other month, or so. He should probably write to
them about what happened, about seeing his friends. They would probably have some good
advice.
James looked at his watch. It was time to go to work. The last day of school was always more of
a party day than anything, so James decided to write the letter to the Westin's during lunch and
any other chance he got during school.
He got up from the couch. Remembering his thoughts from earlier that morning, James resolved
write his letter, receive some advice, and then forget about the whole ordeal.
James would not dwell on his past. He would move on with his life.
----------------
A GIANT thank you to all the lovely people who reviewed chapter 13 (I love reading what you
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Love to all,
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Chapter: 15
Chapter 15: Photographers and Photographs
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The last day of school was over. James had packed up his teaching supplies, mailed his letter to
the Westin's, and, having nothing else to do, he drove over to Peter's Bakery.
"Wow, it's like there's a celebrity here, or something," commented Emma as she saw that James
had just swam through the photographers and entered the store.
James slammed the door closed and swallowed a couple of pills.
"Weird, isn't it?" asked Sarah, looking towards the flashing lights of the cameras.
"Yeah," said James, still a little dazed. "What's it all about?"
"I have no idea. They were here this morning and haven't left yet. I asked them who they were,
and why they were here, but all I got in response were a few odd glances."
There was an awkward silence. James could sense that Sarah and Emma were both thinking the
same thing: the photographers were there because of yesterday.
The only reason Emma's and Sarah's thoughts were not at least hinted at was because, unknown
to James, Sarah had asked Peter, Emma, and Jacob not to nose into James's "turbulent past." She
was very much affected by the lawyer story, and wanted everyone to respect James's privacy on
the subject.
"Hey James!" said Peter as he walked out of the kitchen. Jacob was following. "How was the last
day of work for a long while?"
"Fine," answered James. "And how have you been?"
"Good, but business has been slow with all the photographers blocking up the doorway."
James looked around at everyone. "Say, Peter, how does everyone always get here before me?"
"Huh?" Peter looked quizzically at James.
"As in you, Jacob, Emma, and Sarah. You guys are always here before me. And don't you have
any hired help?"
"First of all, I work here," said Peter slowly, "So I'm always here."
James rolled his eyes.
"Second," continued Peter, "Jacob, Emma, and Sarah have no life."
"Hey," said Sarah, "I resent that comment!"
"Me too!" piped up Emma.
"We are just very helpful people," explained Sarah.
"Yeah," agreed Emma, sticking out her tongue at Peter.
"And very mature, too," added James.
"Hush up, Jamesie! You're ruining my argument."
Peter cleared his throat. "And third, I have help from eight to four. They're just not here when
you guys come around, which is a good thing if you ask me."
"That's it. I just can't stand the abuse!" said Sarah melodramatically. "I'm under appreciated!
Taken for granted! How can I go on living if nobody believes in me?"
Emma giggled.
Sarah looked at her watch. "Well, I'm off to go fight the demons of decay," she said, snapping
out of her act. "See you guys tomorrow!"
Sarah helped restore old or damaged buildings. She loved architecture and old irreplaceable
antiques, so restoration was one of the best jobs for her. There were flexible hours, too.
Everyone said goodbye and Sarah braved the mob outside the store to go to her job.
There was a heavy silence after Sarah left. It was very strange, because not two minutes ago
there had been joking and laughter. Everyone looked at James guiltily and shuffled their feet.
Finally Emma spoke up.
"Didn't you say a few days ago that you left Britain because of an argument with your brother
over a will? You made me feel very guilty over that."
"No, that was Peter who told you that story," said James, "He was just covering for me so I
didn't have to feel so bad."
"Oh," said Emma.
Jacob spoke up. "And what about the pills?"
"Allergies," lied James smoothly.
"Oh."
"Any other questions for me?"
Peter looked at his feet. "The scars on your back were from...?"
James thought a moment. "My house burned down when I was little, and the scars are just burn
marks."
Peter raised an eyebrow. "Oh."
"I didn't know you had scars on your back from a fire," said Emma.
"It was very traumatizing," said James factually.
"I see."
Silence was once again present in the bakery.
The door opened and shut very quickly as a customer came in. She looked at the photographers
in amazement.
Everyone in the room quickly found things to do as Peter helped out the customer. James stayed
a while longer, and then decided to go back home, on account of the awkward atmosphere
between him and his friends. Plus, James starting to get nervous with the photographers outside.
"Well, I'd better be going," said James,
Peter went behind the counter. "I'll see you tomorrow, right? Last day of éclair making before the
wedding."
"Definitely," said James headed for the door.
Peter smiled. "Thanks. Have a good night!"
"Bye!"
Peter attended to the customer as Jacob and Emma went back into the kitchen to prepare
ingredients for tomorrow's baking.
The cameras flashed as James came out of the bakery. James stood in the doorway. He knew that
his scar wouldn't turn up in the pictures, but the anxiety and they’ve-found-me-at-last feeling still
lingered. Relax, James told himself. There have probably lots of poor souls who have had to
endure this. Harry Potter sightings have probably happened before. It will all fade in a few days.
James knew the photographers and reporters couldn't ask muggles any questions, which meant
that James did not have to say a word.
He just pushed and shoved through the crowd, got into his car, and drove away. He tried to stay
calm. He knew the whole ordeal would all be forgotten about. In both worlds. It was just a matter
of time.
----------------
"You're famous, Mum!" was the first thing Emily said to her mother.
Jack and Emily returned home that late that afternoon. Percy had dropped them off. Jack was
talking animatedly to his father, while Emily beamed at her mother.
"And why am I famous?" asked Hermione.
"You're in the newspaper!" cried Emily passionately. "On the front page!"
"Oh?"
"Look!" Emily shoved the Daily Prophet into her mother's arms.
Hermione looked. She looked harder. She blinked and looked again.
"Don't you see it?" asked Emily impatiently.
"Um, yeah..."
How could she not see it? On the front page was a huge picture of Harry-- or rather, the man
Hermione thought was Harry. He was standing in a doorway to Peter's Bakery. The figure in the
picture gazed dazedly at the camera. He looked shocked and confused. The figure walked out of
the picture, stuck his head back in, waved slowly, and raised an eyebrow.
Hermione stared intently at the man's forehead, but there always seemed to be hair right in front
of where Harry's scar should be. That scar is the only proof I've got, thought Hermione. If only I
could see it.
The headline read: "MUGGLE DENIES BEING HARRY POTTER, BEST FRIEND HEART
BROKEN"
The article was about the latest "Harry Potter sighting." It told about where it happened, what
time it happened, etc., but what made this article so different from the other sightings was that
the sighting was made by Harry's old best friend, Hermione (though it made little reference to
Ron, mostly likely because he was less affected than his wife). The article, oddly enough, made
Hermione out to be a broken hearted hero, who was only trying to find her best friend and the
savior of the wizarding world. The man in the bakery was portrayed meaner and ruder than he
had been in actuality, which made Hermione all the more sympathetic. This was odd because it
was Rita Skeeter writing the article.
Hermione was sure that Rita Skeeter would do anything to make Hermione look bad, and Rita
probably could have gotten away with it with this type of story. People who made Harry Potter
sightings were usually fanatical, insane, or wanting attention. They did not get good press. Yet
here was the perfect chance for Rita to ruin Hermione's good reputation, and the reporter passed
it up. She must still be recovering from the ordeal from 4th year, though Hermione with a rather
evil grin on her face.
"Isn't it wonderful?" asked Emily.
"Yes, thank you for showing me; I didn't get a chance to read the paper this morning."
Hermione gave her daughter a hug and asked questions about how things went at the Burrow.
Nothing exciting had happened, but Emily gave Hermione a full report anyway.
Once Emily finished talking, she ran over to sit on Ron's lap to tell him all about Hermione's big
article. Jack came over to give his mother a hug and to say hello.
"Wow, mum, I never thought you would be one to make a Harry Potter sighting. Usually only
crazy people do that kind of thing," commented Jack.
"Gee thanks, son, I love you too," teased Hermione.
"So...was it him?"
"Who, Harry?"
"Yeah."
"I think so."
"Wouldn't it be cool if it was? My mother seeing Harry Potter!"
"Yeah...But Jack, you do know that I knew him in school, right?" Ron and Hermione had never
flat out told their children that their best friend used to be Harry, but they didn't try to hide it,
either. Of course, they figured that Jack and Emily would know a lot from the media.
"In school?" said Jack incredulously. "Did you have any classes with him?"
"Well, yeah. Why did you think that your father and I had to go speak at the conventions?"
"Because you fought in the war, right?"
"Sort of. But more because we were friends with Harry."
"Ooh, you're on a first name basis with him!" Jack laughed.
"Here, I'll go dig up some pictures to show you." This will also let me do some investigating,
thought Hermione.
She disappeared into her bedroom. Ron and Emily came over and Jack filled them in on why
Hermione was digging through her desk.
"Really? You and Mum were friends with Harry Potter?" cried Emily, looking at her father.
"Um, yeah...” said Ron distractedly, wondering what had come over his wife to suddenly want to
tromp down memory lane.
"Here they are!" sang Hermione as she came out of the bedroom, holding the pictures.
She set them on the coffee table in front of her family.
One picture showed Ron, Hermione, and Harry laughing with each other, their arms wrapped
around each other’s shoulders, Harry in the middle.
Another picture showed all three of them in their sixth year in front of the Christmas tree
wearing the famous Weasley sweaters. There was wrapping paper all around them and Hermione
was wearing a bow from a present on her head like a hat.
And there was one of Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Draco, and Harry. The men were wearing tuxedos,
Hermione was in a bridesmaid dress, and Ginny was wearing a wedding gown. Ron and
Hermione were standing next to each other smiling. Ginny was in the middle grinning proudly.
Harry had one arm over Draco's shoulders and was leaning forward, laughing about something,
which made Draco look down at Harry and frown.
"Wow!" said Jack, staring at the photographs. "This is really cool!"
"Yeah!" agreed Emily with much enthusiasm.
Ron was smiling.
Hermione started to smile too, partly because she fondly remembered the happy times, partly
because her kids were so excited, and partly because she had just thought of a plan that would
prove to everyone that Harry Potter was indeed alive.
----------------
Please give a round of applause to all the people listed here (they gave wonderful and helpful
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Thanks a bunch!
Love to all,
Adah
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Chapter: 16
Author's note: Uh, regarding reviews...I love them, but posting the same review over and over
again is a bit...excessive...thank you, though, for your enthusiasm and, don't worry, I'll keep
posting as often as I can.
Chapter 16: 100 Éclairs and File Cabinets
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The photographers were gone from Peter's Bakery by noon the next day, which was a relief for
James. He walked into the bakery that afternoon without seeing one photographer.
"Hello everybody!" shouted James as he burst into the kitchen of the bakery.
"My, aren't we happier today?" asked Emma.
"Well...yes, I think I am feeling better," said James. "And would you like to know why?"
"Why?"
"Because we get to make a bizillion éclairs today!"
Emma grinned, which made Jacob groan.

"That means I get to put the chocolate sauce on!" shouted Emma happily.
"On the éclairs or Jacob?" asked Peter.
"Both both both!" sang Emma. She started dancing around the kitchen singing a song she made
up. "I'm putting choc-o-late on éclairs and My Cobbie! La la la!"
James shook his head, laughing. "What did she have for breakfast?"
"Beats me," answered Peter, "But, boy, could I use some of her energy." Peter rubbed his hands
together. "Well, should we start with the festivities?"
"What about Sarah?"
"She'll be here around 3:00."
"Okay. Yes, then. Let's start the baking."
Emma skipped around the kitchen pulling out ingredients from cabinets and putting them on the
counter. Peter directed how much of everything was to be used. Jacob and James poured and
mixed the ingredients, trying as hard as possible to keep Emma occupied with something small
and harmless. She was stirring pastry batter at the moment.
And in no time, it seemed, the trio had finished preparing all the batters and creams and sauces,
and Sarah had arrived.
The group got started on the assembling of the éclairs.
"I call the chocolate sauce!" shouted Emma.
"Oh no you don't!" said Sarah. "Last time you put way too much sauce on. There is no way you
are going to do that again!"
"Not fair! I like putting chocolate sauce on the éclairs. Are you going to deny me the job of
pouring the sauce? Of putting the most tastetiest stuff ever on the best pastries ever?" Emma
raised her voice. "Are you saying, Sarah, that you would deny me the pleasure-- no, the
privilege-- of pouring the only sauce that makes me happy? That you would deny me my
constitutional right to happiness?"
"Psst, Emma," whispered James, "You're in Canada, not America."
"It doesn't matter!" yelled Emma shrilly. "Sarah is denying me happiness itself!"
Sarah rubbed her forehead. "Fine, pour the sauce on. Just do it properly. And bring the volume
down a few decibels, okay?"
"Thank you Sarah," said Emma sweetly.
"Whatever."
With that, the group began putting together the éclairs under Peter's direction. By 7:00, all one
hundred éclairs were finished.
Everyone was tired from all the baking, so one by one, each person left to go home, wishing
Peter good luck with his éclairs tomorrow at the wedding.
----------------
"You two know what to do, right?" asked Hermione. They were outside the Ministry building
and had just apparated over.
"Of course we do," answered Jack.
Emily nodded in agreement. "We've been practicing," she said proudly.
"I know," said Hermione, rolling her eyes, "You've been practicing for six years now, both of
you. Now, you must remember not to give the game away by laughing. Are you guys ready?"
Jack and Emily nodded.
"Let's go."
Hermione walked into the Ministry building with an air of authority. She brushed by the
receptionist with Jack and Emily in tow.
"Wait!" shouted the receptionist feebly, "You need a special pass to be in the building...oh never
mind," she added, when she saw that Hermione was still walking forward determinedly and
paying no attention.
Hermione recalled from her former Auror days the layout of the Ministry building with
surprising accuracy. Without getting lost once, she strode right up to the manager's secretary of
the Files of Old and New Cases section.
"Good morning," said Hermione, "I'm Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley's wife. I made an
appointment Wednesday morning to see the manager, Mr. Preese, at 10:00." The secretary
started ruffling through papers while Hermione kept talking. "I'm here to access some files for a
presentation I am doing for a conference. I am also here to do some research for Professor Albus
Dumbledore. I assume Mr. Preese can show me where to find these files?"
The secretary was still flipping through papers. "Uh, yes, he will be right with you, ma'm. Er,
what was your name again?"
Hermione frowned and sighed exasperatedly, which made the secretary wince. "My name is
Hermione Granger."
"Yes, yes. Thank you. Mr. Preese will be right with you."
Jack and Emily smiled proudly at their mother as the secretary hurriedly got up and hesitatingly
knocked on a wooden door. The door opened and Mr. Preese's stuck his head out.
Mr. Preese was a small, nervous man. He was in charge of filing all the records of past cases that
the Ministry had dealt with. He had no importance except making sure that only people with
appointments looked at the files they specifically requested ahead of time.
"Mr. Preese?" said the secretary. "A Hermione Granger is here to see you. She has a 10:00
appointment."
"I thought I didn't have a morning appointment today."
The secretary looked to see if Hermione was listening. "I-- I must have misplaced it, Mr. Preese.
She says it's for a conference and Professor Dumbledore."
Mr. Preese came out of his office after hearing the name Dumbledore.
"Professor Dumbledore, she says? Well, I guess it's important."
Mr. Preese walked over to Hermione. "What were the files did you say you wanted to look at?"
"I clearly explained this over the phone," said Hermione, annoyed. "I'm here to look at the files
from last month's trial of Antonio Bertinelli, leader of the Sicilian mafia in England, who was
caught in Diagon Alley. I also need to look up the trials of some of Antonio Bertinelli's family
members that have been happening throughout this month."
Mr. Preese gulped, clearly unnerved by Hermione's tone of voice. "Why, yes, of course, Ms.
Granger. Just follow me. Right this way."
He led Hermione, Jack, and Emily to a room filled with file cabinets.
Mr. Preese handed Hermione a quill and some paper. "You may take notes on the files, but you
cannot make any copies." He pointed to a drawer. "This is the drawer for the Bertinelli trial." He
pointed to another. "This drawer has his family trials that are older than ten years. This drawer
has Bertinelli family trials from one to ten years ago. This drawer has the family trials that took
place over a month ago but less than a year ago."
Mr. Preese expanded his arms to include a whole section of drawers. "And these drawers have
every case that has involved the Ministry in the last month. The family trials you are looking for
can be found under Bertinelli or Capella. Capella is Antonio Bertinelli's mother's side of the
family."
"Thank you," said Hermione. "It all seems to be in good order."
Mr. Preese went up to the first drawer he had pointed to and started pulling out files. "I'll stay
here to help you with your search. Now, all these files are relevant to the trial and have been
written up by the Ministry, and these are the newspaper clippings from the Daily Prophet, and
these are the newspaper clippings from papers in America, and these are from Asia, and these are
from other European countries besides England, and these are clippings from South America..."
Hermione turned around and winked at her kids, while Mr. Preese kept talking. Right on cue,
Jack and Emily started bickering.
"Stop hitting me!" said Jack.
"I'm not hitting you!" answered Emily.
"Are too!"
"Am not!"
"Are too!"
"Am not!"
Jack's and Emily's voices became louder and louder until it was a full-fledged war.
Emily ran around in circles taunting Jack, and then hid behind Mr. Preese when Jack came near.
"You’re just a big ugly head!" yelled Emily.
Jack stomped over towards Emily. She squealed and clung to Mr. Preese's ankles.
"Yeah? Well at least I'm not some sissy snake headed girl!" retorted Jack.
Jack chased Emily around Mr. Preese. Mr. Preese ended up tripping and falling. Files and papers
were spilled everywhere.
"Oh I am so sorry!" said Hermione, helping Mr. Preese up. "I guess kids will be kids. You know,
I'm pretty sure I can manage on my own. I'm sure you have lots of important work to do."
"Sorry, ma'm, but I am supposed to stay in the files room when another person is in here.
Ministry regulations."
Emily started screaming. Jack started throwing important papers around.
"But this is requested by Dumbledore, Mr. Preese," said Hermione. "And he needs this as fast as
possible. I'm sure the Ministry will understand. Don't you trust me?"
Hermione smiled sweetly. Emily yelled harder. Jack started folding the files into paper airplanes.
Mr. Preese looked torn. "Um, okay...but only because this is for Dumbledore."
"Thank you very much, Mr. Preese. I'll be done in no time."
Mr. Preese walked quickly from the room and closed the door.
"Whew," breathed Hermione. "That went better than expected."
Emily and Jack walked up to their mother.
"How did we do?" asked Jack.
"You guys were perfect," said Hermione, kissing each child. "Now, can you two keep an eye on
the door for me?"
"Sure thing!" said Emily. She and her brother ran up to the door and stared through the frosted
window.
Hermione started looking through the resent cases section.
"H...Harry Potter..." she mumbled to herself.
She found nothing, and moved on to the letter P. "Potter...Potter..."
She looked under C for Canada, and then under Calgary. Still nothing.
"Aha! I'll try G! Granger...” She flipped through files, but still found nothing.
Finally, it was under W, for Weasley, that she found what she was looking for.
"Here it is!" she said excitedly.
It was a scroll of paper that held all information about the "Harry Potter sighting" Hermione had
been involved in. The file even had all newspaper clippings that were relevant.
On the Ministry-filed scroll, Hermione could see all observations made by the Ministry. It had
the time and date of the sighting, the time of the spell performed in muggle area, the longitude
and latitude of the location, the number of people there, a copy of all recorded dialogue, a magic
detector scan, and the new labels of each muggle involved, in case the Ministry needed to
perform any memory charms in the future.
Hermione pulled out her wand and made a copy of the scroll. Then she put the file away neatly,
cleaned up the room, and put the copied file away in her purse.
"Ready to go?" she asked her kids.
"Yeah," said Jack. "Did you find anything?"
"Yes I did. But let's hurry home. I'll show you guys there."
Hermione, Jack, and Emily said a hurried thank you to Mr. Preese, then got out of the building as
quickly as possible. Hermione took Jack's and Emily's hands and apparated back home.
"So, what did you find?" asked Jack eagerly as soon as they were home.
"Wait, is Ron still home?" said Hermione.
"No, he said he wasn't going to be home until five. He's in a meeting."
"Good. Now, I need you guys to promise me something."
Jack and Emily nodded in all seriousness.
"You guys cannot tell your father about this."
"Why?" asked Emily.
"Well, because, I don't think he would like it if we told him. It can only be us three who know,
for right now. So, promise you won't tell?"
"I promise," said Jack and Emily in unison.
"Okay, here it is." Hermione pulled out the scroll from her purse. "Here it has a copy of what was
spoken between me and the man I think was Harry. Now, if you look closely, you'll see that I
never said the last name 'Potter', and neither did Ron. The one time I was going to say 'Potter' I
was interrupted, see? But," Hermione pointed to the bottom of the scroll, "Here, when Ron says '
Whatever happened to the friend we used to know and love?' the man I thought was Harry
answers 'That Harry Potter of yours must have died.' But how did the man know Harry's last
name?"
Jack and Emily looked at their mother excitedly. This was big.
"And," continued Hermione, "When I pointed my wand at the man I thought was Harry, he ducks
and he says 'No! Stop! I can't block anything!' But how would a muggle know what I was doing,
and then know that he could block a spell?"
"It's him! It's him!" shouted Emily, smiling.

"Oh, but look," said Hermione, "There's one problem." Jack's and Emily's smiles faded. "You
see," said Hermione, pointing to the scroll, "Here are the results of a magic detector scan. The
man I thought was Harry has a magic level too low to be a wizard. It would be highlighted in red
ink, like mine, if he was."
"What are all those numbers for?" asked Emily.
"Those show the exact percent of the magic level in each person."
"Well, then everybody there can do magic, right?"
"No, you see, all people, even muggles, have a certain amount of magic inside them, only for
muggles it is a very low amount; too low to be useful. Occasionally a muggle's magic will do
something of consequence, but it is usually thought to be just plain old good luck."
"Oh." Emily looked sad once again.
"But Mummy," said Jack, "That man you thought was Harry has no magic."
"Excuse me?"
"Look here." Jack pointed to the scroll. "It says here '0'. That means no magic. But I thought you
said that all people have magic."
"They do..." said Hermione quietly.
"So...?"
"So, something strange is going on here."
"That's good, right?"
"Yes, yes, it's very good. My plan might work after all."
"Goody goody goody!" said Emily happily.
Hermione pulled out a small grey sphere from her pocket.
"Hmm, it's says here 'James Potterson, muggle # 534'. They keep a number on every muggle
involved with the wizarding world for about a month, just in case anything weird starts to
happen. Usually nothing does, but it's for safety. This numbering system happens to be very
good for us."
Hermione tapped her wand on the sphere and said, "Insequi. Follow James Potterson, Calgary,
Canada, muggle #534. Record all conversations with the words 'wizard', 'witch', 'England',
'Hogwarts', 'Hermione Granger', 'Ron Weasley', 'Draco Malfoy'. Abire."
The sphere turned a few times in the air, then zoomed out the window.
"Well, I think that should cover it" said Hermione.
"What was that, Mum?" asked Jack.
"It was a Spy Sphere. It will follow the man I think is Harry and it will come back to us when it
has any conversations recorded with the words I said. That way we'll find out whether or not he's
Harry."
"Your plan will work, Mum," reassured Jack.
"Yeah," piped up Emily, "He won't be able to hide for long."
----------------
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Chapter: 17
Author's note: Gaa! I am so deeply sorry for how long it has taken me to post. My life
sorta...crumbled. But everything is up and running now, so you can expect updates much more
regularly.
Chapter 17: Letters and a Reprimand
----------------
Peter's éclairs proved to be a hit. Everyone at the wedding loved them, and there were even a few
remarks that éclairs could one day be more common at weddings than wedding cakes. Peter,
though, didn't share this bit of information with Jacob, Sarah, Emma, and James, partly because
he feared the physical abuse he would suffer when the others realize they might be stuck making
éclairs for the rest of their lives, and partly because he didn't want Emma to get too excited and
start making chocolate sauce.
Several days had passed and James finally got a reply from the Westins. James immediately
opened the letter as soon as he saw where it had come from.
"Dear James,
"We are so sorry about your troubles. We wish there was something more we could do. Though
it is a good thing the Ministry didn't recognize you or put a memory charm on you. It's a shame
your friends didn't believe you. That would have given you a chance to finally be out in the open
and not so secretive.
"Paul and I both wish you weren't so paranoid over your identity. We want you to be happy,
dear. Not suffering anxiety attacks because someone might uncover the real you that has been
hidden beneath all those tales. Paul is shaking his head while I write this letter. He doesn't
agree. He thinks that although it would be better if you could be the real you, it is still perfectly
acceptable to want to create a new life for yourself. And he says that in your situation and being
who you are, he would want to live as a non-magical person with no connection to his past, too.
"Oh, well, it's your life, and we both agree that you've done excellently. You're our favorite
client, and we're proud of all you've done for yourself in the last several years. We miss you very
much. It was so much fun when we went with you to Italy three years ago. We had a great time.
"Which leads us to the advice you wanted us to offer about going to London. We both think you
should go, for several reasons. One is because of your friend Peter. He is like a brother to you,
and your relationship seems rather stained at the moment. It would be a good time to reinforce
that wonderful friendship you have and to spend time with Peter's family, who consider you part
of their family. And besides, it's Christmas, and we're sure that Peter and his family will want to
be with you.
"The second reason is that we would like to see you while you're in London, and would love to
meet you for dinner or something. Paul and I go to London every year to buy supplies, usually
around Christmas time, and it would be lovely if we could be there during the time when you're
there.
"We hope you will consider our advice, and will write us back soon.
"With love,
"Ciara and Paul Westin"
James smiled as he read the letter. The Westin's seemed to have an answer for everything. And
they gave out good advice.
Reading the letter made James feel better about the whole London issue. Ciara had this way of
reasoning out problems that made everything seem okay. No one would see James as anyone but
James. He would have a fun time with the closest people he had to family. Simple as that. And,
as an added bonus, he could visit Ciara and Paul. It would be fun.
James looked through the rest of his mail.
Bill, bill, bill, dentist postcard, and an invitation.
He opened the invitation, sensing what it was.
And he was right! It was Emma and Jacob's wedding invitation. They were getting married in
late July, on the 26th.
It's about time, thought James. They had been going out for almost two years now.
James push-pinned the wedding invitation to the corkboard above his desk. Then he went out and
headed for Peter's bakery to tell Peter a nice bit of good news.
The door chimed as James walked into the bakery. A customer was being helped by a
blond-haired man who worked at the bakery. James waved hello and walked into the kitchen.
There were about five other people in the room cooking. Peter was there drinking a glass of
water. He stood up and smiled when he saw James.
"Well, look who it is!" Peter said happily.
"Hey Peter," said James. "I have something I want to talk to you about."
"Okay,"
"Um, is your offer for me to go to England with you still open?"
"Yes, of course!"
"Well, I think I can make it. I mean," joked James, "My schedule is quite full, what with my
stress-inducing job and my over-demanding large family, but I think I can find time to squeeze in
a trip to England..."
Peter laughed. "Wonderful! I'm so happy you can come. Mom and Dad will be happy too, not to
mention the rest of the family. They love you so much, James... you're like a long lost family
member, or something. And, since you're British, you can take us to all your favorite London
haunts. And you'll sound like you belong there when you speak, not like us who will have such
awful accents."
"I don't know, Peter... my British accent has all but faded."
"Doesn't matter, we'll have fun."

"Well, I'm excited. Hey, did you get Emma and Jacob's wedding invitation yet?"
"Yeah. Boy, does it sound nice. And Sarah was talking for about an hour about how wonderful
marriages are, and how nice it must be to be engaged, and how great it must be to live in the
same place as your boyfriend. Needless to say, I got the hint."
"So...are you ever going to ask her?"
"About what?"
"To get married, stupid."
"Oh, well, one day."
"Good. I like her."
"Yeah...me too." Peter looked very flustered.
James decided to change the subject.
"So," he said, "Did Emma and Jacob want a cake, or éclairs?"
Peter groaned. "No," he said, "No more éclairs. I won't be able to stay sane if they ask for éclairs.
At least, not if they ask for more than fifty."
----------------
Hermione's face lighted up as she saw the SpySphere float in through the window and land on
her desk. She was at home for the weekend and was grading papers and final exams for her
DADA classes.
She picked up the SpySphere a held it like a prize. "It's about time!" she said happily, "It's almost
been a week."
Carefully, she tapped the sphere with her wand and said a spell to make it relate all conversations
it heard with the specified words in them.
Silver words streamed out of the sphere and floated in the air, like smoke.
"Number of conversations heard: one," the words read. Then, James's conversation with Peter
burst from the sphere in high volume.
"Hey Peter, I have something I want to talk to you about." screamed the globe the voice of
James.
"Okay" shouted the sphere in Peter's voice.

Hermione was horror-struck. She clutched the sphere to her chest and whispered frantically,
"Quiet quiet quiet quiet... shhh!"
Despite Hermione's attempts to keep it quiet, the sphere could still be heard. "Um, is your offer
for me to go to England with you still open?" said the sphere, still very loud, in James's voice.
Hermione's office door burst open and Ron stood in the doorway.
"What is going on?" he asked, rather annoyed.
"Nothing!" said Hermione, her voice high. She whipped the sphere behind her back. "Nothing at
all!"
From the sphere, James's voice rang out, "...but I think I can find time to squeeze in a trip to
England..."
"Nothing?" asked Ron suspiciously. "What are you hiding behind your back? And is that the
voice of the muggle we saw at the bakery?"
"No! Of course not!"
"Then, what is it?"
The awkward pause was filled with the sound of James calling, "I don't know, Peter... my British
accent has all but faded."
The sphere yelled finally in Peter's voice, "Doesn't matter, we'll have fun." And the conversation
was over. Silence descended on the room.
"Okay, Hermione...You better have a very good excuse for this."
"Um... I can explain..."
"So? What's going on?"
"Look, Ron... Don't be mad at me--"
"Oh no," groaned Ron, "That means something bad..."
"No! It's good! At least, I think it's good." Hermione started speaking in a rush. "You see, I went
to the ministry and said I was going to do a conference for Dumbledore and the guy let me into
the file room and then the kids started screaming and then the guy left the room and I got the file
from that incident at the bakery and then I sent a SpySphere to listen in on all the muggle's
conversations that had certain words in it and then the sphere came back and you heard the
conversation that the sphere recorded and I didn't tell you because I thought you would be mad at
me and look! now I know you are because your face is almost as red as your hair!"
Hermione sighed and sat down breathlessly in her chair.
There was a pause while Hermione's hurried speech took time to sink into Ron's conscience.
Ron said finally, "Wait, let me get this straight... You essentially broke into the Ministry by using
Dumbledore's name to get you in, with out his permission, I'm assuming, because you and your
little plan seem to have priority over everything including law and privacy rights; you made an
illegal copy of a Ministry file, which, might I add, is extremely dangerous because the Ministry
probably has charms on the documents to make sure that doesn't happen; you lied to me about all
of this; and if I heard you correctly, you did this all in front of the kids and encouraged them to
not tell me about it?"
Hermione opened and closed her mouth a few times, beginning to say one excuse, then changing
her mind and beginning another.
"Hermione!" burst out Ron, "How could you do this? You've broken the law, used Dumbledore's
good name with out asking, and have been a very bad example to our kids! You've put our
family in danger with the law! What were you thinking?"
"Look, no one will find out that I made a copy of the document. The man in charge of the
department was so nervous that he wouldn't report it to the rest of the Ministry for fear of
enraging Dumbledore. And besides, he thought, I was researching a separate case, not the one
with Harry and I at the bakery."
"I repeat: What were you thinking?" Ron was shaking with anger. "Or were you thinking at all?
This is just like in second year when you insisted that we steal supplies to make Polyjuice Potion,
and then knock out two students to steal a piece of their hair. Or in third year when you had that
whole time-turner thing for your classes and you stressed yourself out and made yourself sick
with all the work you insisted on doing. Or all those other years when you insisted on doing
things that were against the rules or harmful to yourself or other people, because you thought
yourself above laws and all that. When your ambitions get hold of you, Hermione, nothing stands
in your way, not even rationality. And what if your supposed Harry is actually not Harry? What
if you're wrong, Hermione, and you put our family in danger all for nothing?"
Hermione looked like she was about to cry. A single tear slid down her cheek.
There was silence while Ron willed himself to take a deep breath and count to ten.
"Look," said Ron, "I didn't mean to dash your hopes. I was just scared, that's all. I was scared
that we would get in trouble, and I don't want our life to be ruined."
More tears trickled down Hermione's face.
Ron bent down in front of Hermione and put his hand on her knee. He looked up into her eyes.
"Sweetheart, you could be right. That man could be Harry. I want him to be Harry. But I don't
want you to be crushed if your hopes aren't fulfilled." Ron thought a moment. "Tell you what: I
promise to fully support you in your plan to find Harry, on two conditions: one, that you do not
do anything else illegal or harmful to our children, and two, that you will promise not to get your
hopes up too high, by thinking that this man will definitely be Harry. Do you agree?"
Hermione gave a small sniff. "You-- You mean that you will help me find Harry? And you won't
get mad at me?"
"Yes, but you have to promise me not to expect too much. I don't want you to be depressed if this
man does not turn out to be Harry. Promise?"
Hermione sighed. "Yes, I promise."
"Good," said Ron, "Now, what sort of plan did you have in mind?"
Hermione smiled. "Well, this SpySphere has revealed that the man is going to London for
Christmas..."
----------------
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Chapter: 18
Author's note::pants: Chapter...posted... :falls in to a coughing fit from working so hard: See?
I'm getting faster... :thinks: Okay, slightly faster. But it's an improvement, right? (Riiiiight...)
Chapter 18: Letters and Acceptances
----------------
It was two months later, and almost time for the weddings. Jacob and Emma were getting
married on the July 26th, and so were Ginny and Daniel.
Daniel's family, the Bollis's, had apparated and taken Floo powder to England, so the ceremony
could be near the Burrow. This was decided by the fact that there were way too many Weasleys
to ever try to coordinate a convenient location on another continent, and the Bollis thought it
would be nice to visit England. School had ended for Hermione in June, and she could go home
and not worry about teaching.
Jacob and Emma were just as excited about their wedding, but they were trying something a little
unconventional. They had decided to spend the weekend before their wedding with their
families, alone. Both Jacob and Emma had agreed upon this, thinking it best to get any last
minute family bonding moments done before they became one entity. Jacob was spending time
at his sister's house on the other side of Calgary. His parents were staying there, as well. Emma
went down to San Francisco to stay with her parents, being an only child.
Thus a new chapter begins...
----------------
"Is everyone here?" asked Hermione brightly, as she saw the last of the Bollis's apparate over.
"Yes, I think so," said Ginny.

"Perfect. Hey, Ron? Will you help me set the table?"
Ron got up from the couch where he had been reading some papers. He folded the papers up and
put them in a pocket.
"Sure," he replied. "You know, I can't believe you actually wrote a report explaining how we're
going to find Harry and then ---"
"Shh!" interrupted Hermione. "Not here." She handed Ron a stack of placemats.
"All I'm saying is that you must really want to find him."
"Well don't you?" asked Hermione, irritated. She roughly pilled napkins on top of the placemats
Ron was holding.
"Well, yeah. But, um, honey? Don't you think your plan, is, uh, a little illegal?"
"You obviously didn't read article five, section 2, where I explain exactly why it's not illegal."
Hermione balanced a tray of silverware on top of the stuff Ron was holding. "Any other qualms
you have with my paper?"
"Yeah. What about all those strategic locations for everyone to stand at? Don't you think that's a
little...unnecessary?"
Hermione glared at her husband.
"Uh, I guess not..." said Ron weakly. "I'll just go set the table, then."
He walked away, struggling under the weight of the items for the place settings, mumbling
something about magic not helping the wrath of wives.
Jack and Emily were playing with several cousins in the yard. Percy's eldest, Mark, 17, had
organized a Quiddich game with the older Bollis kids. Fred and Angelina's eldest girls were, at
the moment, ordering two of Daniel's brother, John's, kids to guard their goal a little better.
Mr. and Mrs. Bollis were chatting amiably with Mrs. Weasley. Percy was talking to John about
the England Ministry and John's wife, Regina, was taking to Angelina and Penelope. Daniel had
two other sisters, Melissa and Rachel, both married, and Rachel had one daughter currently
playing in the family quiddich game. Rachel, Melissa, Ginny, Daniel, Fred, George (who had not
yet married-- he seemed to enjoy his bachelor life), Bill, his wife Kate, and Charlie (who wasn't
married either) were helping to cheer on the game.
Needless to say, the two rather large families got along fine together.
Regina, Angelina, and Penelope came over to Hermione, who was at the stove, which was
covered in pots that had little wooden spoons stirring the contents inside by themselves.
"Need any help with the cooking?" asked Penelope.
"Sure," said Hermione brightly. She wiped her hands on her apron. "Umm, let's see... Penelope,
why don't you wash the lettuce, and don't use a spell; I don't trust a spell with washing food..."
Penelope laughed good-naturedly and shook her head. "Whatever you say, head chef."
"And Angelina, dear," went on Hermione, "Can you help Ron? I haven't seen him since I sent
him to set the table, and I'm pretty sure that's a bad sign... wouldn't want him stabbing himself
with a fork, or something. Do you think you can teach him how to set a table for me?"
Angelina giggled. "Fred does the same thing... can't put the silverware in the correct place to
save his life... but maybe that's because he never uses it." She giggled some more and Hermione
joined in.
"Isn't it the truth?" said Hermione. Angelina went off to find Ron. "Well, it's just you and me
chickens, now, isn't it?" asked Hermione to Regina. "Let me see... Do you think you could help
me with this fish I'm trying to cook? I can't ever seem to cook fish right; I always burn it..."
Regina gladly helped Hermione. They chatted and laughed while they cooked. Soon, lunch was
done cooking and it was time to eat. The food was set on the table and the quiddich game was
paused.
The little kids had their own table to sit at and seemed to be prattling on about chocolate frog
trading cards. Hermione and Regina served them their food, then sat down themselves at the
larger table.
"So, how is the game going?" shouted Hermione towards the end of the rather long table, to
where the older kids were sitting.
"We're winning!" shouted back Samantha, one of Fred's daughters.
"Don't be too sure about that, Sam!" said Mark, "My team still hasn't caught the snitch yet, which
we will do."
Mark's team gave a small cheer.
John's eldest son, David, shot back, "Na-uh. We're going to get the snitch. And besides, even if
you caught the snitch, which you won't, we would still win by ten points."
Samantha and John's team cheered.
"Maybe I shouldn't have asked," whispered Hermione to Regina.
Soon the war between teams calmed down enough for them to eat, and there was relative silence.
The adults were talking quietly to one another.
Suddenly, owls flew in and dropped letters on several of the kids' plates.
"Looks like Hogwarts has sent its school supply letters," commented Percy.
A few of the kids grumbled something along the lines it being illegal to think about school in the
summer.
"Mum! Mum!" shrieked Emily, "Jack got a letter! He did! Look! And so did George! He got a
letter, too!"
Ron and Hermione rushed over to where Jack was sitting, while Fred and Angelina went over to
where their youngest and only son was sitting.
Jack beamed at his parents, proudly holding his acceptance letter. "I got in!"
"Congratulations!" said Hermione, giving her son a hug.
Ron patted Jacks shoulder. "I knew you could do it."
Fred and Angelina were congratulating George.
The other Weasley family members, including cousins who currently went to Hogwarts, all
gathered around Jack and George, full of congratulations.
"Hey, George!" asked Jack. "You wanna be in the same house?"
"Definitely!" George answered. "This is going to be so cool!"
Not three minutes later did another group of owls fly in. This time letters were dropped onto
several of the Bollis' kids' plates.
"It's the Toronto School of Magic," explained Rachel. "They must be sending out their supply
forms, too."
One of John's kids got accepted to the school, and all the other older ones got supply lists.
"Well, let's make a toast," offered Mr. Bollis, "To all the new students, and the ones returning."
A toast was made, and soon everyone continued the meal.
----------------
Jacob opened his eye groggily. He could have sworn he heard something.
Thump.
There it was!
Jacob swiftly got up from his bed. His clock said 8:30 am.
Another thump came from the hallway.
Jacob slipped a shirt over his head and crept cautiously down the hallway. He could hear his
sister setting the table for breakfast and his brother-in-law, niece, and parents talking quietly.
Suddenly there was a rapid knocking from the closet. Jacob must have jumped a mile.
"Excuse me?" called a voice from inside the closet. "Excuse me? Is anyone there? I seem to have
apparated into a closet of some sort, and I have dropped my wand. Can someone let me out?"
Jacob stared at the closet with a look of horror on his face.
"Excuse me?" called the voice again. "Anyone there?"
"Um, yeah," answered Jacob. "Here, um, I'll help you out... of, er, my closet..."
Jacob hesitatingly went towards the closet door. He turned the handle. He opened it.
There was a man inside with dark blue robes on fumbling to put on a hat.
"Thank you so much. How embarrassing. To apparate into a closet! I haven't done that in years!
And then the drop my wand as well! Oh dear me." The man went on talking as he bent down to
pick up his wand.
"Um, excuse me, er, sir," interrupted Jacob, "But, um, you're standing in our closet... and, um,
you're holding a stick... er, and you're wearing a dress... Do you need help?"
The man looked at Jacob with wide eyes. He stepped out of the closet, drew himself up properly,
and looked at Jacob sternly.
"My name is Caleb Madion. I work for the Toronto School of Magic. And now, if I could speak
to the mother of Natalie Webster, I would be much appreciated."
Jacob raised an eyebrow. Definitely insane, he thought to himself. "Um, why don't you take a
seat in the kitchen."
Jacob led the man downstairs to the kitchen.
"Oh, Jacob, I was wondering if you could--" Mary, Jacob's sister, stopped short when she saw the
man Jacob had brought down.
The rest of the family was looking at Jacob in surprise.
"Um, ah, this is... um, well, a guy... and, ah, he's from our closet, and..." Jacob stumbled. Finally
he shrugged his shoulders and mouthed to his sister "crazy".
The family stared in shock at the man standing behind and slightly to the left of Jacob.
The man stepped forward. "Hello. My name is Caleb Madion. I am from the Toronto School of
Magic and I'm here to talk to Natalie Webster and her family."
There was silence.
Mr. Madion sighed. "I know you are all probably confused. Let me try to explain. Natalie has
shown signs of magic strong enough to be considered wizarding levels. As I understand, the
Webster's and the Cooke's are both families with high amounts of magic, for muggles, at least.
The marriage of Mary Cooke and Henry Webster produced a child with bloodlines of two very
magical families, and therefore she holds a high amount of ability within her. High enough to be
considered a witch."
The silence was broken by an outburst from Mary.
"How dare you come into our house and call my daughter a witch!" interrupted Mary. "You, sir,
need help. Talking about magic... and what were you doing in our closet? I am going to call the
police right now."
Mr. Madion sighed. Apparently, he was used to this. "Mrs. Webster, will you please just sit
down and listen? Your daughter has a gift, and she is being admitted into one of the most
prestigious schools in the country. Just hear me out?"
The rest of the family was quiet. Mary turned sharply. He sounded rational, but what he was
saying didn't. "You broke into my home and are trying to convince me that there are such things
as magic and witches. I'm calling the police."
"There are wizards, too, but I won't get technical." Mr. Madion pulled out his stick from his
pocket.
Jacob stared at the man, and what he was saying sounded vaguely familiar.
"Wait!" called Jacob. Mary was just about to dial the phone. "Wait. I think this man may be
telling the truth."
"Jacob!" said Mary. "What are you saying?"
"Look, Mary, I've heard something like this before. James -- you know James -- he said
something like this a few months ago. I think we should listen to Mr. Madion."
Mary slowly put down the phone. "I don't know..."
"The guy doesn't look like a serial killer..." pointed out Jacob.
"Well," conceded Mary, much against her better judgment. "Just because you say so, and he
seems to be harmless."
Mary walked back to the table.
"Thank you," said Mr. Madion, bowing slightly. "Now, as I was saying, there are three private
schools of magic in Canada. An all-girls school in Quebec, an all-boys school in Vancouver, and
a coed school in Toronto. Natalie has been accepted to the Toronto school. You may, of course,
send her to a public magic school, but the private schools are the best for new witches and
wizards. The Toronto School of Magic is a private boarding school. I think Natalie will be most
happy there."
Henry, Mary's husband, stood up. "Okay, let's say you're telling the truth. Would you mind
showing us some of your 'magic'?"
"Certainly." Mr. Madion pulled out his wand and changed a near by chair into a pig.
There was silence while the family stared, mouths agape, at what used to be a chair.
"Well, that tells us something," said Jacob.
"Um, sir?" asked Natalie timidly, speaking for the first time since Mr. Madion showed up. "Do
you think you can turn that pig back into our chair?"
"Of course, Miss Webster." Mr. Madion transfigured the pig back to its former state. "So, what
do you say, Miss Webster, would you like to come to our school?"
"Oh yes!" Natalie answered warmly. "You know, I've always thought things had gone well for
me. Like the time where I went outside at night when it was snowing, but I didn't feel cold at all.
I had gotten lost, but I never got cold. Like a warm blanket was wrapped around me."
Mary finally spoke up. "Um, Mr. Madion? Will you give us a while to discuss this?"
"Of course. I'll leave my owl with you and you can send a message back with her. Just tie a note
to her leg."
"Er, okay, if that's what you want."
Mr. Madion smiled. Then, with a pop, he apparated away, much to the surprise of the family.
Minutes later, an owl flew through the open window into the house and settled on the back of the
chair that had one been a pig.
"That was eventful," said Henry.
"I think he's nuts," spoke up Jacob's mother, Mrs. Cooke.
"All that rubbish about magic and stuff," said Mr. Cooke. "And wearing a dress... not healthy,
that man is."
"Still," continued Mrs. Cooke, "I remember my grandmother always talking about magic. We
always dismissed her for senile, but now I think she might have been right."
"Well," said Henry, "It sounds as if we have no choice but to send Natalie there. I mean, if she
does posses this... magic... then we certainly can't stop her from knowing about her own...
abilities."
"I'd have to agree with you, dear." Mary looked to her daughter. "Well, Natalie? Do you want to
go to this new school?"
Natalie took a deep breath. "I want to go. I have always felt something inside me. Like that time
in the snow."
"We were worried sick about you!" said Mary.
"Yes, but I was all right. I was safe. Remember how the doctor said I had no signed of cold
anywhere? And I had spent the entire night in freezing weather? There is something special
about me, and I think this school will be good for me."
"You will not be going to your new school for 6th grade, you know."
"I know, mummy, but it works out. Since I was going to the new school for sixth grade, away
from my friends, why not just change which new school I go to? It'll be exactly the same,
mummy!" Natalie fell deep in thought. "Well, except for the boarding school part. Oh, but I do
want to go!"
Mary smiled gently at her daughter. "Do you think you can go to the boarding school? And not
see your family for a long time?"
Natalie thought about this for a moment. "Yes," she concluded, "I think I can, if it's to learn
magic."
"Then I think it will be a good experience. I, for one, never knew there were magic schools."
Mary gave her daughter a hug. "You seem awfully mature about this."
Natalie giggled. "Mummy..."

"Well, it's set then," said Henry. "Shall I write the note?"
"Um, sure. Good idea... I don't really want to try and attach the message to that owl," said Mary.
"Who ever heard of using an owl to deliver notes? Pigeons, maybe, and that was fifty years ago.
But never owls."
As soon as Henry had successfully put the note on the owl's leg, the bird flew back out the
window and away.
Not more than an hour and a half later, Mr. Madion apparated back into the kitchen, causing
Mary to scream.
The family came running from the various places they had been to see what the matter was.
"As nice as it was for you call everyone together, I don't think screaming was the right way to do
it," said Mr. Madion gently.
"Must you pop in and out like that?" asked Mary angrily.
"Unless you want me to come through the fireplace... no," answered Mr. Madion cheerfully.
"Well, I have received your answer, Miss Webster, and I am very pleased to hear that it is in the
positive. We are excited to have you as a student."
"Thank you for having me, " said Natalie quietly.
"Of course, dear. Now, Mr. and Mrs. Webster, do you and your daughter have any plans for
today?"
"Um, I don't think so," answered Mary.
"Excellent. We have a new wizards and witches meeting today, but if you are busy you can catch
the next one a week from today."
"I think today can work."
"Good. This is just a preliminary seminar for students new to the school and who are also new to
the concept of magic. It will give you a look around the school, tell you about the classes Natalie
will be taking, and will tell you good areas in town to buy supplies. You'll also be meeting other
people who are in the same situation as you. About eight families, I think."
"Sounds good," said Henry, "But isn't the school in Toronto?"
"Yes," said Mr. Madion, "And I have taken the liberty to bring along a Portkey to take us there.
It will get us to Toronto in seconds."
"Oh."
"Natalie, can you get changed into something nice?" asked Mary.
"Sure thing," said Natalie, running upstairs.
"And Mom and Dad?" said Mary. "We'll be back soon."
"By eight o'clock, at the latest," supplied Mr. Madion.
"We'll watch the house for you, dear," said Mrs. Cooke.
"Thanks Mom."
Natalie bounded down the stairs. "All ready!"
"Good. Ready to go?" asked Mr. Madion.
Natalie, Mary, and Henry all nodded.
Mr. Madion pulled out a book from his pocket. "Everyone hold onto a piece of the book. Here
we go."
"Bye Gramma! Bye Grampa! Bye Uncle Jacob!" shouted Natalie.
Jacob and Mr. and Mrs. Cooke all waved.
Mary was looking at the book with a skeptical expression.
Henry looked sick.
Mr. Madion pulled out his wand and said a spell.
And Mary, Henry, Natalie, and Mr. Madion were gone.
----------------
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Chapter: 19
Author's note: :wheeze: I think-- :gasp, wheeze: I'm-- :cough: failing-- :choke, gasp:
miserably-- :deep breath: at this game. :drinks water to calm self from trying to get update up
faster: Yeah, once again, I am sorry for how late this is. I'm really trying not to make a habit of
this. And never fear, I will finish this fic (and if I don't, you know I either died or moved to the
south pole and don't have an internet connection... but seeing as I hate being cold and would
never ever move to the south pole anyway, the latter can be ruled out). Anyhoo, I'll stop
rambling and let you enjoy this chapter!
Chapter 19: Boredom and History Lessons
----------------
James was bored. There was no one around.
Jacob was on the other side of Calgary. Emma was in San Francisco. Sarah and Peter were
hiking together on a day-long date.
James was alone in his apartment, sitting on the couch, staring at the spot on the wall where the
TV had been. He had yet to replace it.
James sighed.
Luis paused from his bathing to look back at James in pity.
"I know," said James wearily, "I'm pathetic. I've been sitting here for the last hour and a half. I
should really get my lazy butt up a do something. I don't know. I just feel... tired. I mean,
everyone I know seems to be with someone. Jacob and Emma with their families. Sarah and
Peter together. Even my friends from work are on vacations with their families."
James thought a moment.
"I guess I feel... left out. I don't have a family or even a girlfriend. Well, I guess Peter and his
family are my family, but you know what I mean... I don't have any blood family. People I can
rely on and with whom I can spend my entire life with. I mean, what's to stop Peter or Emma or
Sarah or Jacob to move away and only promise to send a postcard every so often, under the false
assumption that we can stay close friends when it will really take hours to go see each other."
James gave another sigh.
"And what's to stop me from moving away from them?" he asked quietly.
Luis evidently thought his washing more important that James' current boredom and sadness.
James rolled his eyes. "This is stupid. Not even my cat cares about what I have to say. And now
I've resorted to talking to myself, which really only proves the cat's point by emphasizing how
boring I am. I'm bored and I'm boring my self further by saying boring things." James slapped
himself on the head. "Pathetic..."
The telephone rang out shrilling in the otherwise still air.
Luis stopped washing and ran under the couch.
James jumped up and answered the phone, thankful for something mildly distracting.
"Hello?"
"Hi. I'm calling from Calgary Insurance and I was wondering--"
"Not interested." James said flatly.
"Well okay. Thank you for your time."
Click.
"Sales people... how do they get my number?" wondered James aloud.
Having nothing else to do, James sat down and decided to write a letter to the Westins telling
them about England.
He pulled out a pen and some paper from a drawer and began to write.
Dear Mr. and Mrs. Westin,
Good news. I'm going to London. No exact dates yet, but we'll be there for Christmas. I am
really looking forward to seeing you two!
I hope everything over there is going well and that business is still good. Things are exciting
over here. James mentally noted that that statement was incorrect when speaking about the
present situation, but in the scheme of things he decided it didn't matter. Emma and Jacob are
getting married on Sunday, in three days. They'll be back tomorrow from visiting family, and
then I'm sure the real chaos will begin.
Anyway, I can't wait to see you in London and I hope you two are doing fine.
Love, Harry
James smiled to himself as his looked at the scrawling writing of his name. His first name.
The Westins had agreed to start calling him James, but James himself always signed his letters to
them as "Harry". It was one of the few pleasures having to do with his past that James enjoyed
wholeheartedly. He felt a cold delight at seeing his name sitting peacefully on the paper. It was
as if he had put a small piece of himself on to that paper, a secret that he held. That sense was
incredibly different than the one he felt when he saw his real last name, which only caused a
strong sense of fear and anxiety in James. Somehow, seeing his first name gave him a sense of
calmness. There was a consistency and truth to it, as if by writing his name he proved to himself
that he was real, and would never fade.
James reluctantly folded the paper and put it into an envelope. He sealed the envelope closed and
wrote the Westin's address on it.
He grabbed his keys and took the letter down the mailbox in the lobby of the building. And in no
time, his was back in his apartment, staring at the wall.
Only this time, instead of being bored, James contemplated his first name, and took an almost
childish pleasure in knowing that it was his name, and no one else could take it away.
And, little to his knowledge, it was just across town where his name was also being contemplated
with a childish pleasure.
----------------
Jacob awoke the next morning to the sound of giggling and shouting. He blearily opened his eyes
and saw his room, now flooded with the late morning sun.
It was 10:00, and the noise was coming from Natalie's room. Jacob got up and pulled on some
clothes before quickly combing his hair and heading towards Natalie's room to find out what all
the excitement was about.
Jacob bumped into Marry in the hallway.
"Oh, Jacob, I was just about to wake you," said Mary. "We have some company. It turns out that
there is another family just down the street who also has a son who is new to magic. His name is
Elliot Grahm. He's a sweet kid. We met his parents last night and invited them over for brunch.
They're in the same position as us; they had never heard of magic either."
"Wow, that's lucky," commented Jacob.
"Yeah," answered Mary absently. "Anyway, can you put on a nicer shirt and then come down
and join us? Thanks." She didn't wait for an answer.
Jacob shrugged. He turned around and went back to his room, coming out with a "nicer" shirt on.
He stopped by Natalie's room to say hi before going downstairs.
He knocked on her door. He could hear muffled shouts and rapid talking.
"Um, Nat? Could I come in?" asked Jacob.

"Sure!" she said, and the door was opened.
Jacob came in as Natalie skipped back to her spot on the floor.
Natalie gestured to the boy who was lying on his stomach looking up at Jacob. "This is Elliot.
Elliot, this is my Uncle Jacob."
Elliot hurriedly stood up.
"Nice to meet you, Elliot," said Jacob kindly.
Elliot shook Jacob's hand seriously. "And you too, Mr...?"
Jacob chuckled a bit. "'Mr. Cooke is fine."
"Nice to meet you." Elliot resumed his former position.
Jacob sat down next to his niece. "So, what are you to up to?"
"We're reading our new text books!" said Natalie enthusiastically.
"In other words, we're being nerds," Elliot said wryly.
"What was all the noise for, then?" asked Jacob.
"We're learning history!" Natalie explained. "And we were arguing over who's better. But I'm
right. Draco Malfoy's the best!"
"No way," answered Elliot. "Harry is the best. He is the coolest by far."
"How can you say that?" asked Natalie hotly. "Draco gave his life up for the woman he loved!
And they were on opposite sides to start with, like star-crossed lovers, or something. And he was
always so calm. I bet nobody could make him do anything, except Ginny, of course."
"So what? Who wants all that mushy stuff? Harry marched straight into battle, and he always
won. He almost killed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named when he was just a baby. And it was him
who finally killed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Oh, and he has more power that anyone in the
past century. He has enough power to raise whole cemeteries with just a flick of his little finger."
There was a pause and Jacob thought it might be a good time to ask what this was all about.
"Um, guys?" he asked. "What's all this about, anyway? Who are these people?"
"I can tell you all about it!" said Natalie before Elliot could say a thing. "You see, it goes like
this." Natalie took a deep breath, glanced at Elliot, and shouted, "Draco rules! I win! I get last
word! You lose! Ha-ha ha ha!"
Elliot sighed while Natalie did a victory dance around the room.
"Well," explained Elliot, once Natalie had calmed down, "When we were at the meeting for new
wizards and witches yesterday, the headmaster of the school explained to us very seriously about
the recent history of the wizarding world. And me and Natalie were so interested that we read
more about the War in our history book."
"There was a war?" asked Jacob skeptically.
"Oh yes," said Natalie, nodding gravely. "It was a really big war.
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named--"
"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?" asked Jacob.
"Yeah," answered Natalie, "People are so afraid of him, and he caused so much death and
sadness, that people don't say his name. Neither me nor Elliot know his real name. Anyway, he
had taken over almost all of Britain (that's where the war started), seized France, Germany, and
Spain, and most of Russia. In fact, I think he had most of Europe. And he already had half of
Asia was going for America."
Natalie pointed to a picture in her text book. "You see where all the black armies are? That's the
area He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was in. The places with the explosions and bright lights are
where major battles were fought. And do you see the areas with the armies dressed in white?
That's the good side."
"Would you look at that," said Jacob quietly. "The pictures move."
"I think all books should be like that," said Natalie.
"Anyway," continued Elliot, "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was the leader of the bad side, and
his main goal was to rid the earth of muggles."
Jacob raised an eyebrow.
"Muggles are people who can't do magic," Elliot explained. "And he wanted to get rid of wizards
and witches with muggle blood in them and all muggle-loving wizards and witches. He wanted a
pure race, or something like that. He had a high level of magic, and there was only one other
major person on the good side who was equal to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. That person was
Dumbledore, and he was the leader of the good side. But he was also really old. That's were
Harry and Draco come in."
"And Draco is the best," cut in Natalie.
Elliot rolled his eyes. "Draco's father was a Death Eater, someone who supported
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. But Draco broke away from his father and joined the good side.
He and Harry became best friends and they fought against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named side by
side. Harry was already famous to begin with. When he was a baby,
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was just beginning to gain power, and he had come to kill Harry.
He killed both of Harry's parents, but when he tried to kill Harry, something happened, and
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named vanished. The wizarding world was so happy, and Harry became
famous before he turned two for getting rid of the most evil wizard ever."
"Wow, that's a lot of weight to bear," commented Jacob.
"Especially because He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named wasn't really dead. Harry fought a lot of

other battles with him, and won most of them. Anyway, Draco fell in love with a girl, Ginny, and
married her. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named started taking hostages, to try and get Harry to fight
him. I guess Harry finally confronted him, but the book doesn't say much. Not much is known
about the last battle, except that the good side won, and Harry had killed
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. But some of the older boarding school students who grew up
knowing magic told us about the last battle at the meeting. It's like a legend, or something, but
nobody knows if it is really true."
"I'll tell it!" interrupted Natalie. "Draco was taken hostage, among hundreds of others. He was
the first from the hostages forced to choose whether he was going to join the dark side or die. He
said he'd rather die, and the last thing he thought of was how much he loved Ginny. That is
totally the sweetest story ever. I want to marry a guy like that."
"No more gross stuff. The cool part is that Harry became super powerful, the most powerful
wizard in centuries, and I mean centuries."
Elliot paused for effect.
"And with all this power," he continued, "He completely killed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named,
the most evil man ever, I think. The whole war was the bloodiest war ever fought. It was fought
throughout several continents. And it was Harry who stopped He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named,
single handedly. And get this, Harry Potter is now a name that is used everywhere. He is the
better than Draco, hands down."
"Wait, what was his full name?" asked Jacob.
"Who? Harry?" asked Elliot.
"Yeah."
"Harry James Potter. See?" Elliot pointed to the text book. "It says right there. 'Harry James
Potter, son of Lily and James Potter, made He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named vanish at age 1.'"
"And he was the most powerful wizard?"
"In about three centuries. Why?"

"Oh, nothing," answered Jacob casually. "I think I have to agree with you though, Harry sounds
more exciting than Draco."
Natalie stuck her tongue out at Jacob while Elliot gloated.
"I think I'm going downstairs, now," said Jacob. "See you two later."
Natalie and Elliot didn't even hear Jacob. They were once again arguing playfully.
Jacob headed downstairs to meet Elliot's parents. Jacob acted pleasantly enough, but he found
that he was quite distracted throughout the entire brunch.
He was just too busy contemplating whether his good friend James just might have been
speaking the truth, late that night, two months ago.
----------------
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Chapter: 20
teacher named James, aka Harry. This big question is, now, what are his former friends plotting?
Author's note: This is a logical explanation for this. I was not focusing on my work so I told
myself that I could not use the computer except for important e-mail until the New Year. It was
supposed to remove distraction, which it did, but I cheated slightly and wrote more of this story
down on paper. So all I had to do was type it up, and now it is posted (and good news, I am more
focused and on top of my work). Not like most people care this much about my personal life, but
I’m just giving you all a heads up. (And no, I did not die or move to Antarctica, although I was
worried some of you might think so).
Chapter 20: Wedding Dresses and Second Chances
----------------
The day was bright and filled with anticipation. The wedding had been planned meticulously,
and every detail was in order.
It was around noon, and white tents were set up on the lawn that was behind the Burrow. Tables
were being set up underneath the tents, for the reception later that night.
The wedding itself was going to be on the lawn, as well. A separate tent had been set up for that,
and chairs were currently being placed there for the guests to sit in accordingly.
The bride herself was in Diagon Alley with the bridesmaids getting her nails and hair done.
Ginny, Angelina, Hermione, and Daniel's sisters Melissa and Rachel, were sitting together in the
Pink Bludger ("Want to be a knock out? Let us make you beautiful!") talking amiably.
A hairdresser was hovering over Ginny, mixing spells and flicking her wand as Ginny's hair was
whisked into different styles.
"I can't believe you're getting married!" said Hermione, who was getting her nails painted with
the bottom coat of nail-strengthening potion.
"You can't believe it?" asked Ginny. "How do you think I feel? I never thought I'd be going up to
the alter again."
There was a short silence, broken by Rachel, who was choosing a color for her toes.
"Stop there, I think I like that color," she said to the witch giving her a pedicure. The witch
stopped saying color spells and started applying the topcoat of color-retaining potion.
Angelina spoke up suddenly to the witch doing Ginny's hair. "Can you go back to that last style
you had?"
With a flick of her wand, the witch formed Ginny's red hair back into a half bun with the other
half of the hair still down and wavy, with a single stand curling in the front.
"Yes, that one," said Angelina, "It looks gorgeous on you, Ginny. What do you guys think?"
The other women looked up and nodded in agreement.
"It would go well with your dress," said Hermione.
"And there will be room for your veil with that style," said Rachel.
"It shows off that wonderful red hair of yours, too," added Melissa.
Ginny smiled. "Okay, you guys have convinced me. I'll go with this, please," said Ginny
addressing the witch in charge of her hair.
Ginny's hair fell out of the style and the witch started creating the style with her hands. Magic
was only good for trying out different styles to see how they would look. But to keep a certain
hairdo, it had to be done by hand, using the normal rubber bands and hairpins to hold it up.
The women continued to talk cheerfully until it was time to go. They each apparated back to
where they were staying, Melissa and Rachel to their hotel, Angelina and Hermione to their
houses, and Ginny to the Burrow, and wished Ginny good luck and that they would see her at the
ceremony.
As soon as Ginny reached the Burrow, her mother ushered Ginny upstairs.
"Don't you look lovely!" commented Mrs. Weasley, once she had closed the door to Ginny's
room tightly.
"Mum, was pushing me up the stairs that fast necessary?" Ginny was rubbing her foot where she
had tripped on the staircase.
"Wouldn't want the groom to see you, dear," Mrs. Weasley answered.
"But mum, Daniel's not here. He's probably at the hotel getting ready."
"You never know," said Mrs. Weasley, looking suspiciously around her, "Grooms are sneaky
people."
Ginny raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, attributing the odd comment to her mother's odd
personality.
Mrs. Weasley was already dressed and prepared. She was going to give Ginny away in the
wedding since Mr. Weasley was gone.
"Now, there's only an hour and a half until the wedding ceremony, and an hour until the guests
start coming. You must start getting dressed and putting on you makeup."
Ginny saluted her mom with a quiet "Yes ma'm", but Mrs. Weasley took no notice.
There was a sharp knock on the door. Mrs. Weasley jumped slightly, and then went cautiously
over to the door and opened it slowly.
"May we come in?" asked someone in an excited whisper.
"Do you have any men with you?" asked Mrs. Weasley, much in the way a guard might ask for a
password.
There were giggles.
"Of course not," answered another voice.
Mrs. Weasley gave a loud sigh. "I guess so."
Penelope, Brook (friend from work), and Kate (Bill's wife) burst into the room.
The three women were dressed and had come over early to help Ginny get ready.
"Wow, so you're getting married," commented Penelope.
Brook held Ginny's hand and examined her nails. "Your hair and nails look great; the Pink
Bludger did a good job."
Kate ran over to the closet, searched for a few seconds, and pulled out a wedding dress from the
back of the closet. "Is this the dress? It's gorgeous!" Kate held it in front of her and twirled
around.
Brook came up and looked at the dress. "This is a beautiful dress, Ginny," she said gently
touching the sleeves.
Ginny stood stock still as Penelope came up slowly to examine the dress. "This dress looks
familiar, doesn't it?"
"It does," agreed Mrs. Weasley. "Ginny, that's not your new dress. Where's your new dress?"
Kate stopped twirling.
Brook pulled her hand away as if the dress was made of hot coals.
Penelope adopted an extremely apologetic and guilty expression in a surprisingly short amount
of time.
"I know that's not my new dress, mother," said Ginny quietly. "My new dress is hanging on the
corner of my bed." She gestured towards the back of the bed, where a white wedding dress hung
near the wall.
The dress in Kate's hands was back in the closet faster than Ginny could blink and the girls were
on the other side of the room in a flash, exclaiming over the new dress in oddly loud voices and
forced laughs.
Ginny sat on her bed and stared at the closet doors.
The girls' voices quieted down as they noticed Ginny was quiet.
"Come on, Gin," said Penelope quietly, sitting down next to her. "We didn't mean anything. It
was a mistake, that's all."
"Yes, a mistake," agreed Brook.
"And I'm terribly sorry, Ginny," said Kate.
"No, it's okay," said Ginny slowly. She took a shaky breath. "I'm fine. Just nervous about getting
married, I suppose." Ginny forced a smile. "Here mum, help me get into this thing."
Mrs. Weasley took the new wedding dress down from the hanger and all the women helped pull
the elaborate dress over the slip Ginny was wearing and helped button the buttons.
The rest of that hour was spent well, with the girls and Mrs. Weasley helping Ginny do her make
up and other touch ups. The only thing unusual was the nervous glances the girls gave Ginny and
Ginny's forced smiles.
Soon the guests were arriving. Ginny, Mrs. Weasley, and the three girls were staring out the
window, watching the people filter in for the wedding. There were charms up around the outside
to prevent anyone who did not have an invitation from getting into the yard. It was pretty big
news that the wife of Draco Malfoy was getting remarried, so naturally lots of people had come
by hoping to gain entry.
Suddenly Mrs. Weasley shrieked and covered Ginny's eyes.

"Here comes the groom!" she cried.
"Mum," groaned Ginny, "This isn't necessary!"
"It's bad luck to see the groom before the ceremony, and I want your wedding to be perfect."
Brook, Penelope, and Kate laughed and the annoyed look Ginny shot at her mother when Mrs.
Weasley forced Ginny into a corner and made her face the wall.
Penelope, Brook, and Kate soon went down first to get their seats.
And then, after a very long time, Mrs. Weasley decreed that it was safe enough for Ginny to go
down and wait in the procession line. They arrived downstairs just as the groom made it to the
altar.
Ginny looked around. Guests were sitting in the chairs on the lawn, watching the bridesmaids
come out with the best men. The chairs the left of the aisle were for the Bollis family and friends,
and to the right sat the Weasley family and friends. There was a semi-transparent white tent over
the chairs and altar that let in the last dying sun of twilight. Small candles were set up in different
locations to provide flickering light for the ceremony. The altar had flowers everywhere and of
every color, pink and orange and yellow and purple. And up ahead, standing the right, was
Ginny's future husband. She could see him with his black tuxedo on and his head of blond hair.
Ginny heard the familiar music pipe up for the bride to come down the aisle. Mrs. Weasley
hooked arms with her daughter and started to lead Ginny down the aisle. Ginny followed as if in
a trance.
She looked at the people staring at her. Everything felt just as it did at her first wedding. Ginny's
eyes started to water and she got a stinging pain in the back of her throat.
She snapped her eyes up to the man she was about to marry. He looked so handsome. The black
suit he wore and the golden head of hair he bore made him seem the almost perfect person she
could marry. This scene in front of her brought her back years and years, and she could only
think of one person, now gone.
Then she was at the altar and her mother had unhooked arms and sat down in the first row on the
Weasley side, sniffing and wiping her eyes.
Ginny heard nothing of what was said at the altar, until Daniel took her hand and was prompted
to promise love for Ginny until death.
"I, Daniel Bollis, take you, Ginny Weasley, for my lawful wife..."
Ginny closed her eyes, listening to the man next to her speak those words, which caused the
lump in the back of her throat to grow.
"To have and to hold, from this day forward..."
His hand was thin and his fingers long. The hand that held hers was almost the same as the one
that had comforted her when her father had been missing.
"For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer..."
His voice sounded so familiar and just like the one she heard and loved back in her sixth year.
"In sickness and in health, until death do us part."
Ginny opened her eyes.
The priest prompted her to say her part.
Ginny looked deep in the pale eyes of the man she was about to marry.
"I, Ginny Weasley, take you, Draco Malfoy, for my lawful husb--"
She stopped as she heard the crowd give a gasp and as Daniel dropped her hand.
She looked around, confused, until she realized. Daniel. I'm marrying Daniel.
The tears that Ginny had quietly been fighting throughout the day burst forth. She ran from the
altar, down the aisle, and into the house.
She could see a wave of concerned people coming after her, with Daniel in the lead, but all she
could think about was Draco.
She was gone from the Burrow before she realized it. And before she looked to see where she
had apparated to, she knew.
Ginny was in the cemetery devoted to the war heroes. Crying, she made her way to the corner of
the area, a path she knew well.
She came to a humble grave, a clean grave, with small orange flowers blooming at the base of
the tombstone.
It was a grave visited by many people, but by no one more than Ginny. After his death, most
everyone had wanted a lavish, large monument to Draco's greatness. But Ginny had insisted on
this. She knew that Draco would not want giant monuments to him, but only something simple.
As he had once said, he never wanted to be good, he just didn't support the Dark Lord and didn't
want to get stuck in the middle. She had chosen the inscription for the grave, which read, "To the
man who didn't want to get stuck in the middle: I love you more than anything, past, present, and
future."
Ginny dropped to the ground in front of Draco's grave. And she just sat there, one arm thrown on
top of the stone, the other arm bent and her head resting on it, sobbing.
"Please forgive me," she whispered. "I try to forget, but I can't. Please forgive me."
Night was coming on, and it was relatively warm outside. Ginny fell asleep, exhausted from the
day and from crying.
She did not sleep soundly at first, though.
Flashbacks played over and over in her mind. The happiness the couple had shared together.
Their wedding. News of Draco's death.
And then, Draco was sitting in front of her, on his own gravestone.
"Come on, Gin," he said. "Don't be so melancholy. It makes me upset to see you upset. And you
don't want that, do you?"
Ginny looked up, surprised, and tearfully shook her head no.
"Come here, beautiful," said Draco sympathetically. He wrapped Ginny in a warm embrace.
"I know you miss me," he whispered in her ear. "And we'll be together again. You know that.
But you must try to be happy."
"It's so hard," Ginny said, a tear falling down her cheek and on to Draco's shoulder. "I want you
back so badly." She hugged Draco tighter.
Draco gently lifted Ginny off his shoulder so he could look into her eyes. "My life was a life well
spent. I would rather have died a thousand more painful times than lived a life different from the
one I had." He wiped a tear from Ginny's cheek. "Not only did I gain a best friend, but I fell in
love and married you. You and Harry made my life worth everything, Ginny."
Ginny sighed sadly.
"Gin, darling, do you love this man Daniel?"
Ginny faltered. She could not lie to Draco. "I-- I don't know. I don't even think I really know
him. All I could ever do was compare him to you, and see only the reasons why you were
better."
"I've seen his soul, and he is a good man. He loves you, but he also knows he comes in second on
your list. Ginny, I want you to know that it is possible to love two people, and I want you to
marry someone if they will make you happy."
"So you forgive me?"

"Forgive you? For what, Gin?"
"Forgive me for ever loving someone else."
"Of course. All I want is your happiness. How would it look if my wife were miserable over my
death for her entire life? I'd get laughed at for the rest of my afterlife for marrying such a foolish
lady, and you don't want your dear husband to be laughed at for eternity, do you?"
Ginny wiped her eyes and gave a small laugh. "I don't think your ego would allow it, darling."
Draco hugged Ginny again.
"I love you so much, Gin."
"I love you too, Draco."
"And remember, all I want is your happiness. I give you every blessing I have to marry whom
you want. I forgive you."
Ginny felt happy and slept peacefully for the rest of the night. She woke in the morning and sat
contentedly with her back against the gravestone.
"He forgives me," she whispered aloud.
A breeze blew through the cemetery, confirming her thoughts.
Ginny stood up and faced the gravestone. "I love you with all my heart, Draco. Don't forget that.
And thank you for everything."
Ginny gave one last serene glance at the stone, and the apparated back home.
The Burrow was in complete disarray. People had torn the house apart looking for Ginny,
comforting Mrs. Weasley, and causing mayhem in general.
"Mum? Percy? Anyone awake?" asked Ginny tentatively.
"Ginny?" came a voice.
Ginny jumped as Daniel seemingly popped up out of the couch.
"You're home," observed Daniel, who was still in his tuxedo. "Are you okay?"
"The better question is, how can you can you look at me after what I've done?"
"Oh, Ginny, it's understandable. I know you loved him very much, and that is why I want to tell
you that if you do not want me in your life, I'm okay with it."
"No, Daniel, I--"
"Ginny, I stayed here only to tell you this: I'm sorry if I forced this marriage upon you. Good
bye, Ginny."
Daniel grabbed his wand and was about to apparate.
Ginny spoke. "Daniel, I like you a lot."
Daniel stopped what he was doing. "Do you mean that?"
"Yes, I do. And, though I don't want to marry you at this moment, I would love to get to know
you more and then possibly consider marriage."
"Get to know me?"
"Yes, because I've realized that all I've ever done is compared you to Draco. I don't want to
marry a person just because he reminds me of someone. I want to marry a person because I love
him."
Ginny waited for Daniel to be upset, or disappointed, or even indifferent. But what happened
surprised her.
"Ginny," said Daniel happily, "I think that is a brilliant idea. I've felt like I could never talk to
you about anything that took place more than five years ago, for fear of offending you. And I've
noticed that you often look at me as if I were someone else, and not Daniel. To hear you say that
you want to get to know me is the best idea I've heard in a very long time."
Ginny stood quietly thinking. This proved that she really didn't know Daniel very well. She had
never thought that he would react like this, that he would not be mad at her. This unexpected
reaction was the first step towards learning more about Daniel, because she was finally treating
him like a person and not a memory.
"Ginny?" asked Daniel, "Something wrong?"
"No," said Ginny, smiling warmly, "I was just thinking that we could use our honeymoon
vacation as a normal vacation to spend together, just you and me."
"You are a brilliant person," said Daniel, hugging Ginny softly. "And I think I am beginning to
love you."
"And I, you." Ginny sent a silent prayer to Draco, telling him not to worry about ridicule; she
was happy.
----------------
Have I ever told you guys how much you mean to me?
Loveable843
Lucy
Maria
Autumn Ice
Rowan
Sophie W.
Shichan Goddess
Psychochick
Arizosa
Fin-Phoenix
Sons
Kraken
Angel
Ori
Insane Squirrel
Smile7499
C'est moi
Billy Bob Joe
Marshmellow16b
Otaku freak
Momo
Rosalia Snape
Silver Wolf
Ciria
Laterose
Urain
MOi
Leah Danielle
Chochang913
Kool-aid
Slytherin Punk Chick
Ittybittytreefrog
Kay
JaneyLane
Julie jewelrannah
Trisha
Maverick Davis
Mayleesa
Jellybean
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Jennifer
PotterPerson
LilPup
Kateydidnt
Angel Baby
Sass
Illustrious sorrow
Eggnog
Harriet potter
Pamela-potter-24
Emeraldlily22
Bulma
SuGaSuGa
Emily
Love to all,
Adah
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Chapter: 21
Author's note: This is a logical explanation for this. I was not focusing on my work so I told
myself that I could not use the computer except for important e-mail until the New Year. It was
supposed to remove distraction, which it did, but I cheated slightly and wrote more of this story
down on paper. So all I had to do was type it up, and now it is posted (and good news, I am more
focused and on top of my work). Not like most people care this much about my personal life, but
I’m just giving you all a heads up. (And no, I did not die or move to Antarctica, although I was
worried some of you might think so).
Chapter 21: Bathroom Confrontations and a Snake
----------------
Jacob was nervous. And with good reason. He had decided to tell James about Natalie getting
into Toronto School of Magic. He reasoned that right before his wedding was the best time to tell
James because James would have to show up at the wedding to preserve face, and therefore
couldn't be too mad with Jacob (at least publicly). And Jacob was pretty sure James wouldn't get
too mad at a man on his wedding day. Also, Jacob would be on a honeymoon with Emma for a
while, so during that time James would have time to cool down, if he was angry. Jacob had the
unfortunate case of receiving a good portion of James' anger once a year, and that was enough
for him.
This plan sounded good in Jacob's mind, but somehow his stomach didn't agree.
But then again, that could be because he was about to get married.
Jacob ran over and over the game plan in his mind. All he would need to do was follow James
into a private place, e.g. a corner, his car, anywhere quiet, and tell him. But Jacob couldn't figure
out how to put the information to James.
He was angry with James for hiding all this. So he could make the subject a painful realization
for James.
But then again, Jacob understood that James had tried to tell everyone about being a wizard, and
no one had believed him. So maybe he would try to be sympathetic and let James know that he
had someone to share the secret with.
But Jacob was still annoyed at James for being so secretive. Why didn't he try harder to persuade
everyone? Why didn't he show magic?
Should he be bitter? Or sympathetic? Angry? Or understanding? Jacob was getting a headache

from bouncing the choices around in his mind. He looked forward to just getting the whole thing
over with.
Jacob and Emma were getting married in a park that often held weddings. The reception would
be in the park as well. It would be a casual barbeque and picnic. Emma really didn't want a fancy
wedding, so they had decided on this.
Jacob arrived at the park right when Emma, Sarah, and Henry arrived. Emma had chosen Sarah
as her bridesmaid and Jacob had chosen his brother-in-law Henry as his best man.
Jacob had come wearing a simple black suit, and Emma came wearing a simple white dress that
was cut neatly and fitted nicely. The other two were in nice clothes, a skirt and blouse for Sarah
and a suit for Henry. The guests were requested to wear the same type of decent wear.
Emma's family had a close friend who was a photographer, and he had offered to take pictures
for the wedding. Mr. and Mrs. Cooke had already arrived, and so had Emma's parents, Mr. and
Mrs. Taylor. Mary and Natalie had come with Henry. Everyone who was in the wedding posed
for pictures for about half an hour, until the guests started to arrive.
Peter was one of the first to get there.
"So, Jacob, you're leaving the bachelor life, eh?" he said cheerfully.
"I guess so," Jacob answered.
"And I get him all to myself!" cried Emma, giving Jacob a hug from behind.
After the photographer finished taking the last of his pictures, which were of Sarah and Henry,
Sarah came over to say hello.
"Peter! Isn't it wonderful that Jacob and Emma are finally getting married?" she said
enthusiastically. "Isn't it wonderful?"
"Nice to see you too, Sarah," answered Peter smiling. "And yes it is wonderful."
"I think she was trying to hint at something," whispered Emma loudly. "And I don't think you
picked up on it."
Peter smiled rather sheepishly at Sarah and Emma giggled softly.
"Have any of you seen James?" asked Jacob, changing the subject.
"No, not really," answered Peter. "I really don't know where he could be."
A new group of guests came, and Jacob and Emma had to leave to greet them. Sarah and Peter
took their seats on the open lawn and talked amiably.
It was a while before Jacob saw James arrive. James gave a quick friendly wave to Jacob and
Emma, and, seeing that they were detained with relatives, he walked over to where Peter and
Sarah were talking. Jacob could see him chatting and laughing, and then watched as he excused
himself and headed for the bathrooms that were located in a small building close by.
"Excuse me, Uncle Lou, but I'm just going to make one last trip to the men's room," Jacob said.
"Don't want to have to go during the ceremony, that's for sure!" The uncle gave a brisk laugh and
then turned to talk to Emma.
Jacob headed for the bathroom, nodding at the people saying hello to him, stopping for a quick
chat if necessary, but always headed forward towards the building.
Jacob pressed his ear to the door to make sure someone was in there (hopefully James, if he had
guessed correctly). There was a little over half an hour before the ceremony started, which gave
Jacob plenty of time to talk to James and still greet several guests.
He heard some movement coming from inside, the sound of hands washing. Sensing that there
was very little time before James would come out, Jacob took a deep breath and opened the door.
"James! Fancy meeting you here," Jacob said happily, upon seeing that it was indeed James in
the bathroom, and only James.
"How are you doing?" asked James.
"Oh fine. I saw you arrive."
"Yeah. I just waved because I saw you were rather preoccupied."
"Relatives. You know the type," explained Jacob casually.
There was quiet pause as James tried to figure out if he really did know "the type" (the word
"relatives" to him did not usually recall happy memories), and as Jacob realized that he had read
somewhere that Harry Potter had only an unfriendly aunt, uncle, and cousin, and would in
actuality not know "the type."
Ah, thought Jacob, on considering the relatives point, Here is the perfect spot to start the
conversation.
"But you wouldn't have that many relatives, would you?" asked Jacob. "I mean, ones that you
like."
James raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. He didn't think it safe to say anything.
"It's not an unknown fact," persisted Jacob.
"Jacob," said James, "It may be pre-wedding nerves, but you are not making much sense."
Jacob decided to start over.
"Didn't you say two months ago that your name was Harry Potter?"
James' eyes widened. "Yes," he answered slowly, "But I was lying, remember?"
"Yes, you were lying quite a lot," said James curtly.
James cocked his head as if in confusion and there was silence.
Oh yes, James knew what Jacob was heading towards. But he hoped that Jacob was merely
bluffing and trying to guess what his past was, and didn't actually know. Besides, James did not
like the direction this conversation was headed, and being silent was the best way he knew to end
an unwanted discussion.
Jacob was annoyed. James did not seem to pick up on any of the hints. Oh well, Jacob thought,
Might as well be blunt.
"You know, Harry, my niece got into the Toronto School of Magic" Jacob said frankly.
James took a sharp intake. Why was Jacob using his first name? It didn't sound right. He used the
name too casually, too familiarly.
"What did you call me?"
"Harry. Didn't you say that that was your first name?"
"Well, yes."
"And aren't you surprised that my niece got into a school of magic?"
"Yes."
"Well, you don't sound it," said Jacob crisply, tired of James avoiding the subject.
James stood there quietly, annoying Jacob by the second with his silence. In truth, James was
silently chiding himself for not looking more surprised at the "magic school" part than at the
"Harry" part.
"Look," said Jacob finally, exasperated. "I know you're Harry Potter, and I just wanted to tell you
that."
James gave a short laugh. "You mean, you know I'm Harry James Potterson. You accidentally
said the name I made up."
"You must think I'm pretty dumb. I did not accidentally say anything."
"Okay."
"I meant it when I said that I know you're Harry Potter."
"Okay."
"Not Harry James Potterson."
"Okay."
"That's it? Okay? Would you please stop with the non-committal monosyllable answers? There
getting on my nerves." Jacob felt that he had tried everything, and yet James wasn't reacting to
the news. He was acting as if Jacob had told him that there was the weather was overcast.
James, although he tried very hard not to look like it, was frantic. Jacob knowing anything was
definitely a bad position to be in. Still, James felt he could try one last time to throw Jacob off
the scent. Even if Jacob somehow knew that there was a Harry Potter in the world, maybe he
would doubt himself and think that he found the wrong person. James breathed in to calm
himself.
"Frankly Jacob," said James, as coolly as possible, "I think you've gone slightly insane. You're
remembering what I said a while ago, and it's confusing you."
"No," said Jacob loudly, "You're the one that's confused. I mean, come on! Even your fake name
is a clear give away. Harry Potter and Harry Potterson? I bet you even kept the same middle
name!"
There was a pause during which Jacob took a deep breath, counted to ten, and then started
speaking very slowly and clearly. "Look, Harry, my niece got into the Toronto School of Magic.
She and her parents were informed of wizarding life at the school, which included a short
discussion of recent wizarding history. Natalie was enthralled with the war stories and bought a
book about it. She explained some of it to me, and then lent me the book to read. The book was
about a war, in which a man named Harry Potter played an important role. The book even gave a
life history of the man Harry Potter, and stated that he was the most powerful wizard in
centuries."
James had gone white, but nonetheless said, "Ah, but you see, you said he was the most
powerful. 'Was' implies that he is dead."
"No, Harry, he is not dead," Jacob said with a triumphant smile, "Because I am looking at him."
James stared at Jacob with what looked like fright. This is not happening, this is not happening,
he thought to himself.
"You see, Harry," Jacob went on, "You yourself said two months ago that your name was Harry
Potter and that you were the most powerful wizard in centuries. So I just used that knowledge to
my advantage. Besides, the picture of Harry Potter in the book looked remarkable like a younger
version of you, Harry."
"Would you please stop calling me that?"
"What, Harry?"
"Yes." James' teeth were clenched.
"Fine, but you are going to have to explain yourself."

"You seem to know enough about me already," said James bitterly.
Jacob took a deep breath. Then he said, gently, "Look, I just wanted you to know that I now
believe you. And I didn't want it to be a surprise for you when I prove it to Sarah, Emma, and
Peter."
James' mood rapidly changed. "What?" he asked, frightened now. "You're going to tell them?
But you can't!"
"Why not? I thought you wanted them to know."
"Nobody can know if Natalie is attending a wizarding school."
"That's dumb."
"Hello?" asked James, "Why do you think I'm not public about having been a wizard?"
"Having been?" Jacob had not thought of this. How could one not be a wizard anymore?
"Yes, having been, meaning I'm not anymore. And I'm not public about it because I don't want
the wizarding world to know about me, being here."
"So you are hiding, from an entire world, in which you're famous in? That is a rather ambitious
thing to do."
"Which is exactly why you cannot tell anyone. Please, Jacob, please."
"But why? What are you hiding from?" Jacob was curious. James had such a look of despair on
his face, and Jacob couldn't begin to fathom why. "You're famous. People adore you. Why would
you hide from a life like that?"
"You wouldn't understand," said James.
"Try me."
James was silent. Did he really want to admit to Jacob, and himself, the reason why he left?
"C'mon, make it my wedding present," said Jacob gently. "I want to understand why you seem so
frightened of all this."
James sunk to the ground with his back against the wall, feeling trapped and overwhelmed with
the situation. He hung his head and spoke quietly. "Nothing good came out of me being there.
Everybody I touched, talked to, and looked at somehow came into trouble because of me. Too
many people died because of me. I can't go back. It hurts too much. And not just mentally, but
physically too."
"It hurts?"
James raised his watery eyes to Jacob's. "Do you know how hard it is to control the amount of
power within me? The last person who had this much power died because of it. It takes so much
effort to keep it from going haywire. And sometimes it takes over me, and I can't stop it, and it
leaves me breathless and aching. And I can sense other people's magic, and what their intentions
are. It's like reading people's minds. It's horrible. Every person sends out something different. It's
like being in a room with thousands of people all talking at once to me. I even take pills to stop
it. I cannot live with that amount of power."
"I had no idea. I'm so sorry."
James was silent from his spot on the floor.
"And you truly don't want your friends to know?" Jacob persisted.
"Not anymore. It's easier if they don't know. Please Jacob. You can't tell them. You just can't."
James looked up with pleading eyes.
"You’re just going to keep all this information hidden beneath that head of yours, just like that?
Not care that your friends don't know anything of your younger life?"
James looked at the floor again. "Yes."
Jacob paused a moment, sighed, and said, "Fine. I won't tell anyone."
"Thank you, Jacob. Thank you."
Jacob extended his hand and helped James up.
"Though I think you should tell them," said Jacob, patting James on the shoulder and
straightening his coat.
James didn't answer.
Jacob suddenly felt guilty, when he saw James looking so defeated on what was supposed to be a
happy day. "I'm sorry for all the trouble this has caused you, James, but I thank you for telling
me the truth. And look at the bright side," Jacob continued, trying to liven things up, "You now
have someone to talk to."
James stared at Jacob with a rather sad, skeptical expression.
"Okay, okay, so you wouldn't ever want to talk about it. I won't even ask any more questions,
although I have a lot. I'll erase the event from my memory. See? I've already forgotten it." Jacob
started to walk around the bathroom with staring eyes and with his hands out in front of him.
"My memory is completely gone," he chanted monotonously. "I have no recollection of the last
ten minutes." Then Jacob put his hand on his chest and looked shocked. "Magic? There's no such
thing as magic. Why, James, whatever could have given you the crazy idea that there was magic
in the world? You really ought to have you head examined."
James saw the guilty smile on Jacob's face and easily picked up on Jacob’s attempts to cheer him
up.
"Thanks, Jacob," said James, "Thanks for not telling anyone."
"Not telling anyone what?" Jacob said with an obviously confused look. "Well," he said, loudly,
"I'm off to go get hitched. See you later, James."
Jacob looked at James with a combination of apology and awkwardness. James was obviously
shaken and Jacob did not feel comfortable under James' sad gaze. Jacob walked quickly out of
the bathroom, both because he was running slightly late for the ceremony and because he wanted
to get away from the grief he had caused James.
Jacob had not expected it to turn out like this. He had expected James to be angry at first and
then to feel relieved that his friends could finally understand who he truly was. Jacob honestly
thought that this would be something good, that James would be happy. But it had turned out
quite the opposite.
And Jacob was rather annoyed. Why should it be a sad thing? James was treating his gifts like a
burden. He was hiding from his old friends and his old world. James was acting like a coward.
Jacob walked on the grassy fields towards the ceremony area. With every footfall Jacob became
more and more angry with James. Peter, Sarah, and Emma had a right to know their friend's past.
It wasn't fair and James should not be hurting both himself and his friends by being so secretive.
James came out of the bathroom a few minutes later. He felt sick. He had tried every evasive
maneuver, hoping that Jacob would think he had found the wrong person, but none of it had
worked. And telling Jacob the truth made James feel even worse, partly because now there was
someone out there who knew some truth to James' reason for leaving, and partly because James
finally admitted to himself why he had left.
James made his way over to his seat next to Peter and Sarah and sat down. Jacob and Emma
were greeting the last few guests and Peter and Sarah were chatting cheerfully. James just stared
blankly into space.
He couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe that Jacob knew the real James. He had worked so
hard to hide it. It was almost as if James couldn't live in front of Jacob because he would be
blatantly lying to someone who knew the truth. It was a completely different thing to lie to
people who didn't know he was lying. But now it was just... wrong.
And all Jacob would have to do is mention the name "Harry" to someone in the wizarding world,
and James would be found. James couldn't remember having such a sense of vulnerability. When
he was Harry, he was in some ways vulnerable to Voldemort, but he had always expected the
final battle, and so could never feel vulnerable to something he knew someday would happen. It
was always other people being vulnerable because of him. Other people would be put in danger,
not Harry.
Harry. James. Perhaps the worst part of someone finding out his past was that he didn't know
who he was anymore. Harry? Or James? And this frightened him just as much as being sucked
back into the wizarding world.
When he was little, he had his identity formed for him. He was Harry Potter, famous at the age of
one, to be pitied, awed, and revered. He was to avenge his parents, vanquish evil, and save the
world. When he broke away from all that, he created a new identity for himself. He was James
Potterson, a teacher, who had a good sense of humor, a loyal set of friends, and a quiet life. He
enjoyed being around people and had a reputation for being even tempered.
But who was he now? A famous crime fighter? Or a quiet life teacher? He was absolutely unsure
of how to picture himself. James, for now, he thought. Albeit a very confused one.
James was snapped out of his thoughts by the people around his standing and clapping. James
followed suit, looking slightly dazed. Emma and Jacob were walking down the aisle, both
smiling. The wedding was over. Jacob and Emma were married.
The reception could now begin. Already caterers had started grilling chicken and steak for the
meal and salads were out on the buffet table. Several kids ran out to the field and started a game
of baseball. People started milling around, chatting, and congratulating the new couple.
James saw all this happiness around him and it made him even more dejected. These people all
seemed to be so sure of themselves. They all belonged where they were. They had only one life
to live, not one life and a lie. They were smiling and laughing, with no thoughts of lost friends,
deaths, and secrecy whirling in their heads. No feeling of fright, betrayal, and vulnerability
shaking their hearts.
James gloomily headed towards a shady tree near the street. He sat down with his back against
the tree and stared at the cars going by in front of him. He was not facing the reception.
He sat there, feeling as if a part of him had been ripped away and he was left to fend for himself
in the world. He put his head back, against the tree, and stared up at the green branches and
leaves.
Something nudged his foot. Thinking that it was a guest or a kid playing, he automatically said
as he brought his head level, "I'm sorry."
"Nothing to be sorry about," answered a voice. "It was I who bumped into you. I am the sorry
one, especially because your foot is rather hard and my head now hurts."
James was surprised to see a green snake by his foot looking rather harshly at the spot where he
had banged his head on James' shoe.
"You can understand me?" asked James.
"No," said the snake. "It's you who understand me. I take it you're a parselmouth."
James stuttered. "Well, no-- I mean, yes-- I mean--"
"Well are you or aren't you?" asked the snake amusedly.
James quickly shrugged his shoulders. "I am, then."
"I'm glad to hear it. If you had answered no, I would have had to proclaim myself clinically
insane. Imagine, being able to talk to a human! I would have been a freak of nature..."
James blinked a few times in surprise.
"I don't mean that you are a freak of nature, of course," said the snake nervously. "Being a
parselmouth is... normal. It's just a language. Nothing unusual about it."
That must be why the pills don't remove it... because parseltongue is a language, James thought.
"I guess so."
The snake seemed to scrutinize James for a moment. "Boy, you're a mess," the snake
commented.
"And how would a grass snake like yourself know?" asked James, slightly amused by the snake's
statement.
"I am not a 'grass snake', I'll have you know," said the snake defensively. "I am a Plains Garter
Snake, a Thamnophis radix. Of the cinnamon brown variety."
"Oh."
"And I can tell that you're in a bad way because your clothes are wrinkled, your face is pale and
drawn, and your hair is disheveled."
"My hair is always disheveled," said James.
"Well, it makes you look even more messy."
"Thanks," James said wryly.
"So what happened?" asked the snake curiously.

James hesitated. Then he reasoned that since the snake could tell no one (or no human, at least),
and since the snake was nice to talk to (at least he didn't jump to conclusions like so many other
people in James' life), James would tell him.
"My friend," began James, "The groom at the reception over there, found out that I was... a
wizard once."
"Oh? And did he freak out? Because I really hate people who do that. I've got several bruises
from places I've been stepped on by ladies who've seen me and freaked out. It hurts."
"Well, it's more like I freaked out. I don't want people knowing, you see."
"Ooh, a much more interesting explanation," said the snake enthusiastically. "Couldn't handle
waving sticks around?"
"Yeah, that was it," James answered, smiling. "And that it became too much of a responsibility.
And it hurt."
"I bet you're one of those people who have a lot of power," the snake said with a knowing nod of
his head.
"How did you know?"
"General consensus," answered the snake. "People with small to normal amounts think magic is a
great thing, but once you get into the higher areas, they don't seem to agree."
James smiled at the snake's serious way of stating this fact.
"Well," continued the snake, "Is there anymore to tell?"
James had his knees bent up in the air, and James helped the snake up to sit upon James' knees to
be at his eye level.
"Well," began James, "I was once a boy named Harry Potter. Ever heard of him... me?"
The snake thought a moment. "Nope. But what are you now?"
James smiled. "I'm now James Potterson. Anyway, I was expected to save the world from a man
named Voldemort. Ever heard of him?"
The snake thought some more. "Was he the guy with creepy red eyes that gave a bad name to
snakes?"
"Yeah."
"I think I've heard of him. His snake made a speech long ago trying to get all snakes to ban
together and support whatever his name was. She was a bad egg, that snake. Who would want to
be a pet and do someone's dirty work? Anyway, go on with what sounds like a very interesting
story."
"Well..." And James proceeded to tell the snake a brief, more exciting, less depressing version of
the battles between him and Voldemort. He left out the hostage situation and didn't include Ron
or Hermione. He kept in the exciting battles with him and Draco commanding and the parts
where he had been relatively happy.
James was warming up to this some-truth-but-mostly-embellishment story. He spoke animatedly

and his hands flew about. James included vocal impressions of each character. The snake
laughed at all the funny parts and gasped during the action parts. He was a perfect audience.
"And then, when I reached the top of that great mountain--"
"Stop a moment, James," said the snake in an urgent whisper, "There's someone approaching. I
think it's the groom."
All of the gaiety James had instantly left him and within two seconds of the snake's warning,
James was sober as a tombstone.
"I see you've taken to conversing to snakes instead of people," observed Jacob.
"They're a more forgiving company," answered James dryly.
Jacob raised an eyebrow. "Well, you are needed. Emma wants you to meet someone."
The snake saw that James had to go and slithered off of his spot on James' knees so James could
stand. James and the snake said exchanged names (the snake's was Rathan) and said a quick
goodbye. Jacob gave strange looks in their direction, but at that point James didn't care. Let him
wonder about it. Why should I have to explain everything to him? thought James angrily. Then
James stood up and walked back to the reception with Jacob.
"Jamesie!" shrieked Emma when she saw James. "Where have you been? I have someone I want
you to meet." Emma roughly pulled a woman over. "This is Wendy, my friend from high
school," she introduced. "Wendy, this is my friend James."
Wendy and James shook hands with side looks at Emma, trying to figure out what her ulterior
motive was.
"Wendy," went on Emma, "Jamesie here is single. And James, Wendy is single too. What a
coincidence! How could that have happened?"
"I don't know," said Wendy, smiling at Emma. "It couldn't have been planned by a certain
someone, of course."
"Hey Jamesie," said Emma in a heavy whisper, "You need a girlfriend. Go and talk with
Wendy."
"Yes ma'm," said James curtly.
Emma narrowed her eyes.
Wendy saw this and quickly took James' arm and pulled him towards a picnic table.
"I thought it best if we didn't stick around," Wendy explained. "Emma can turn drastic."
"Any interesting experiences behind that statement?" asked James.
Wendy wrinkled her nose. "Emma sets me up with someone as often as she can. I don't think she
likes the boyfriend I have at home. She considers me single."
"Hard to have Emma against you. Bit like swimming upstream, isn't it?"
"Tell me about it."
Peter came up to James a tapped him on the shoulder.
"Hey James," said Peter, "I've been looking for you everywhere. Emma and Jacob are going to
spend Christmas with us. Isn't that wonderful?"
Wonderful, just wonderful... James thought. Not only will I now have to look over my shoulder
for people who might recognize me, but also I'll have the one person in my midst who knows
about my past life and that world. He'll probably want a tour of Diagon Alley, thought James
bitterly.
"Hey, James," continued Peter, "Do you think you can spare a second?"
Wendy waved her hand motioning for James to go, and James nodded to Peter.
"I have someone I want you to meet," Peter said.
Peter led James to an area where another lady was standing chatting to some people.
"James," said Peter, pulling the lady in front of James, "This is Kate, Jacob's cousin. Kate, this is
James, Jacob's and my friend. Kate has a lot of the same interests as you, James. I think you guys
will get along well."
Peter left the area leaving Kate and James in a rather awkward position. They both knew they
were being set up, and both didn't really want it.
"So... you're a friend of Jacob's?" said Kate.

"Yeah," said James.
There was a pause.
"I think they're serving cake," said Kate suddenly. "Let's go get some."
She and James each got a slice of the chocolate cake (made by Peter, at a discount price, for
Jacob and Emma) and sat down at a table. James half-heartedly ate his cake and they made short
talk for a while before several other people joined them, including Wendy, who had already been
introduced to another guy by Emma.
Soon the reception was over. Emma and Jacob were off to Key Largo for their honeymoon and
people started heading home, James among the first. James didn't really feel like being around
Jacob or other people, for that matter. It just felt too strange. Jacob, without seriously meaning
to, had made James' life a lot harder. Because now he was truly living a lie, and not just a
separate life. Whenever Jacob was there, James knew consciously that he was lying and that
Jacob knew the truth. His life could no longer be an improvement to his old life, but a sign of
fear and cowardice of what he had once been.
One thing is for sure, James thought before going to bed that night, I am not looking forward to
England.
----------------
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Chapter: 22
Author's note: Whee! I’m getting better, I’ve got a chapter up, I’ve already started on my next
chapter, and life in general is treating me well. Thank you guys so much for being so
understanding! The climax is right around the corner… (actually, there are several climatic
parts….)
Chapter 22: Flying and Spying

----------------
Time was flying by, and soon Jacob and Emma returned from their honeymoon, the bakery had a
new project in which Peter was perfecting his lemon bars for another rather large wedding
request, Sarah was still hitting a certain someone over the head with hints of marriage, and James
had a new class of students to teach.
Autumn passed by, and whether it was because James was trying all too hard to ignore the
holiday event looming on the horizon, or because, despite all his efforts, James was agonizing
over the same event every minute of every day, winter came, and with it: Christmas. The 20th of
December was the doomsday (as he called it... tenderly) in James' life. That was the day he
would leave for and, unfortunately for James, arrive in England.
The last week before the school's winter vacation started swept by, and it was Friday afternoon.
School was done, James' room was clean, and James knew he had to go home and pack, as he
was leaving the next day. He drove home as slowly as he could, packed as slowly as he could, he
even went to bed as late as he could, trying to stop the doomsday from coming. But time is hard
to stop, and soon the future became the present.
----------------
A very loud BEEP was the first thing James heard that morning.
Another loud BEEP was the second thing he heard.
James groggily opened his eyes. It was his alarm clock that was waking him up so rudely at 5:30
in the morning, and it was still making noise. Of course, James had set the alarm himself in order
to wake up at 5:30, but the unsympathetic and constant beeping of the clock was rude
nonetheless.
James stuck out his hand and waved wildly at the clock, finally succeeding in turning the noise
off, if only by knocking the clock to the floor. James blinked a few times, then sat up in bed and
stretched his arms out wide, yawning.
Luis saw that James was awake and jumped onto the bed, stepping on James' feet in his
excitement for some attention.
"Ow, Luis, watch where you step," said James tiredly, petting the cat fondly.
Luis did not listen to James, and the cat lifted up his front two paws and placed them on James'
chest. Luis meowed and rubbed his head against James' chin.
"Luis," said James laughing, "You're getting cat hair in my mouth."
James gently picked up his cat and carried him to the kitchen. He set Luis down on the counter
next to a bowl.
"We'll have breakfast together," said James getting a bowl of cereal for himself and some canned
food for Luis.
James opened the cat food and put it in the bowl for Luis. Then he sat down on a stool and
started eating his own breakfast.
Luis finished his breakfast quickly and turned to James to see how he was doing with his. James
had about a spoonful left, and had not taken a bite in a good five minutes. He was simply staring
at the wall. Luis meowed.
James snapped out of his thoughts. He smiled when he noticed the cat in front of him and gave
Luis a pet.
"Sorry, Lu," James said. "I haven't been giving you enough attention, have I? There! You see?
Now I can't go to England, I need to stay here with you."
Luis meowed as if he whole-heartedly agreed with that idea. James did too.
"Don't make me go, Luis. I don't want to go," sighed James.
James saw that it was almost six. He slowly stood up, put the bowls in the dishwasher, and went
to his room to get changed.
James soon emerged with a bag and a book, ready (or as ready as he would ever be, he felt) to
meet everyone at the airport and head to England. For the first time in ten years.
James took a deep breath. Don't make me go, he thought. But he knew he promised, and he knew
he cared for the Hardings, and he knew he could not back out now.
"Mrs. Rosso will be taking care of you, Luis. Don't you worry about me. I'll be back in ten days.
Just in time for New Year's." James bent down and gave Luis a pet.
"Just don't throw any wild parties while I'm gone, Luis" said James, and with that, he went out
the door.
James arrived at the airport with a heavy heart. He parked his car in the parking lot, the sign for
prices mocking him as he paid the parking cost for "Ten days or more". He checked his luggage
outside the building, trying as hard as he could not to snatch up his retreating bags and speed
home. His stomach heaved with each step closer to the terminal, and James almost cried out
aloud when he entered the international section.
A few people looked at him oddly and James realized how foolish he was acting. Get a grip,
James chided himself. You're not going to die. London's a big place. Nobody will find you.
James took a deep breath to steady himself. He knew it was irrational to be panicking like this.
He tried to reason with himself. Just take the pills a little more often. Don't worry. Worrying will
get you nowhere. It's not that hard. London will be fun. Fun, don't you see? A Christmas
vacation with some of your best friends.
But despite James' efforts to calm himself down, he still had a rising nausea every time he
thought about where he would be at the end of the day.
But what are you afraid about? James asked himself. It was an easy question to answer. Someone
seeing me, someone recognizing me, someone dragging me back to the place where all the
people I cared about died simply because they knew me.
Now the annoying voice in the back of James' mind asked him a harder question: Why? Why are
you afraid of all this?
Fortunately, James was spared from diving into deep personal confrontation by a shout not too
far away.
"James! Hey James! Over here!"
James turned towards the sound. Peter was waving at James to get his attention. James gave a
small wave and a smile (although if anyone was close enough they could easily see it was
forced) to stop Peter from yelling and motioning wildly.
James walked over to the gate, the butterflies in his stomach threatening to break free.
"James! Glad you could make it on time!" said Peter, attempting to make a joke. James barely
made it in time for the last boarding call, and everybody else but Peter had already entered the
plane.
"Yeah, sure," answered James, failing to pick up on Peter's humor; James was too distracted with
his efforts to stop his cereal from coming up.
James followed Peter onto the plane and sat down nervously. Mrs. Harding managed to give
James a hug and almost everybody else asked where he had been. His only response was
"Sorry."
James sat down and buckled his seatbelt. The plane backed out and headed for the runway.
James felt his throat and lungs tighten. Why, oh why, he thought, am I going to the one place I do
not want to go? How did I ever get myself into this? All of James' rational was gone, and his
heart was filled with misgiving.
The plane took off. James paled considerably. He looked out the window and saw his home
growing smaller and smaller. "No, no, no, no," he mumbled to himself, looking at the land down
below. "No, no, no, no, no."
"Hey, James," asked Peter, who was one seat over, "Are you okay? You don't look so well."
James didn't turn to talk to Peter. He rested his forehead against the window and mumbled in
answer, "I get sick flying."
Jacob overheard him and asked, "Are you sure? I didn't think you would be one to get flight
sickness."
James closed his eyes in annoyance. Jacob's comments were getting to him. "Look, Jacob, would
you just leave me alone?"
The seatbelt sign clicked off just in time, and James got up to go to the bathroom. He just wanted
a few minutes to himself. James went into the small compartment and closed the door. He
splashed some water on his face to calm himself down and swallowed a couple of his pills.
Jacob had been annoying him a lot lately. For the first few months Jacob had merely been quiet,
probably embarrassed because he was the only one who knew anything about the real James. But
over time, Jacob turned almost... angry. Angry at the fact that James was hiding who he really
was from his closest friends, his family. Jacob began asking if James "was sure about that" or
saying he "thought it was something different." He started to push the fact that James was lying
about his identity. It wasn't so much that James was worried about the others finding out (he
knew that Jacob would stay quiet and any comments he said would sound like nothing to the
others), but it was that Jacob kept making James feel so... guilty. James could almost hear what
Jacob was thinking. For example, with the that last comment Jacob made, James could tell that
Jacob was twisting the knife by implying that he knew James used to be a seeker and could
therefore not really get flight sickness.
James took a deep breath. He did not want to get in a fight. Honestly, he really did know that
Jacob could keep a secret. A good bet could be made on the fact that Jacob probably hadn't even
told his family who knew about magic, never mind Emma. Yes, Jacob could keep a secret. What
James couldn't stand was the way that someone who knew his past could make James hate
himself so much. James hated the way he felt when he lied about his childhood in front of his
friends. The mere presence of Jacob made James aware of his lies, and consequently filled
James' mind with disgust towards himself.
James came out of the bathroom and sat back down in his seat, ignoring the worried looks from
the others. Mrs. Harding, who was sitting behind James, tapped his shoulder.
"Dear, are you all right?" she asked, concerned.
James gave a small smile. He really loved the Hardings and wouldn't want to hurt them in any
way. "Yes, thank you. Planes... you know, the whole idea of flying in a pressurized tube of metal
isn't exactly appealing to me."
"Well, as long as you can make it to England okay."

James swallowed, his throat once again tight. He didn't want to be rude, and forced himself to
sound grateful. "Oh, and thank you so much for inviting me. I really appreciate it."
Mrs. Harding laughed a bit. "And have our first Christmas without you, since we've known you?
I don't think so! You're family."
Olivia spoke up. "Yeah, I tried as hard as I could to make mum leave you behind, but she was
too stubborn. Don't know what she sees in you,” Olivia teased.
James laughed. "Thanks," he said wryly.
Two girls came running down the aisle.
"Uncle James!" they shouted. "Uncle James!"
Peter's brother Ryan, his wife Lucy, and their girls, Gina (9) and Nicole (6), were sitting in the
back of the plane. Unfortunately, they were the only ones separated from the group. So the girls
had come down to say hello to their "uncle", as they fondly referred to James.
"You're coming to England with us, right?" asked Gina.
"Of course I am!" James laughed. "Would I really want to miss a Christmas with my favorite
oldest niece?"
"Yes, but not with your favoritest youngest niece!" said Nicole, smiling at her sister. Gina stuck
her tongue out in response.
"Are you going to come to dinner with us tomorrow?" asked Gina.
"Of course. I wouldn't miss it." James wondered why they were asking questions with such
obvious answers.
"Is it true you really lived in England?" asked Nicole.
"What is this? The Spanish Inquisition?" Gina giggled at her uncle's overly exasperated tone.
"Yes, I lived in England at one point," finished James.
"So, you won't leave us and stay at your old home?" said Nicole in a small voice.
"No! How could I leave behind you two?" James was amused that the girls were so concerned
for him.
Poor Nicole didn't look very consoled by her uncle's answer, so James added, "Besides, my
British accent is gone. The country won't take me back if I don't have a British accent."
"Really?" asked Nicole, with wide eyes.

"Yep. They would tie me up and send me back to Canada in a mail sack if I tried to live there
without my accent. And they would do worse if they knew that I had left behind the two sweetest
girls in all of the Americas."
"I think you're pulling our leg, Uncle James," said Gina. "They can't keep you out of the country
just because you don't have an accent."
"You caught me," said James, feigning woe. "It's true! I've lied! They won't send me back if I
don't have an accent. But," said James factually, lifting a finger. "It is true that they will punish
me severely if I ran away from you two."
"I guess you’re stuck with us," said Nicole, smiling. She was convinced her uncle wouldn't leave
her.
"Darn," said James, as he gave the two girls and big hug.
"Did I answer all your questions correctly?" asked James when they pulled away.
"Oh yes," answered Gina seriously. "With flying colors."
Nicole laughed, and after the two girls said a little something to the rest of their relatives, they
headed back to their seats.
The rest of the flight was relatively uneventful. Most of the family fell asleep or watched the
in-flight movies, leaving James to his own thoughts. He was still nervous, and he went to the
bathroom periodically when he felt about to throw up.
Soon, the plane landed in London. Everyone gathered their bags from the pick up area and hailed
several taxis to take the large group to the hotel.
Mr. and Mrs. Harding and Olivia roomed together. Ryan and his family had a room. Jacob and
Emma had their own room, and so did Peter and Sarah (Sarah was quite happy about this).
That left James with a room to himself. Which was a good thing, because his nerves finally got
to him and he promptly threw up as soon as he entered the room's bathroom.
----------------
Hermione and her family had just sat down to dinner when the SpySphere came into the room
beeping. When it reached Hermione, silver words streamed out. "A man with 0 magic just
entered the specified radius".
Hermione had set the sphere to search for anybody entering within 20 miles of London with a
magic level of 0. She knew that the only person who could have that level of magic (or lack of it)
would be the man she saw in the bakery, and therefore, Harry.
Hermione took out her wand and tapped the SpySphere. "Insequi. Follow James Potterson,
muggle, with magic ability of 0. Record all conversations with the words "evening", "dinner",
"plans", and/or "restaurant". Abire." The SpySphere promptly left when Hermione had finished.
Ron was staring hard at his wife. "Not the SpySphere again, honey?" he asked.
"It's completely necessary," said Hermione, glaring at Ron, daring him to say otherwise. "I need
to know when Harry will be alone so we can approach him."
"You mean kidnap him," muttered Ron, stirring his mashed potatoes.
"Excuse me?" asked Hermione sharply.
Ron turned slightly pink. "I said... the soup's too thin?"
Hermione narrowed her eyes. "I didn't make soup."
"No, but the dinner is still brilliant, isn't it kids?" said Ron quickly.
Emily and Jack nodded enthusiastically, wanting as much as their father to avoid an argument.
"I love the potatoes, Mum!" said Emily.
"And the fish is delicious!" chimed in Jack.
"Mmm-mm," said Ron, shoveling food in his mouth at an amazing speed. "This was a wonderful
dinner. You are fantastic. Why don't I clean up? Give you a break. I'm sure you would like some
nice relaxation time."
Ron finished his dinner in no time flat and soon the clanking and banging of washing pots and
dishes could be heard from the kitchen.
"I think your plan is brilliant," said Emily after a while. "Can I meet Harry Potter if you find
him?"
"Me too?" said Jack.
"Sure," said Hermione. "It will be an early Christmas present."
----------------
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Chapter: 23
Author's note: Forgive me for the late update? (I’ve been saying that a lot lately…) I’m
promising myself a very big treat if I can get the next chapter up with in a week… Hopefully the
incentive will work… Anyhoo, I hope you all enjoy this chapter.
Chapter 23: Eating and Meeting
----------------
"Ron, dear," said Hermione at breakfast the next morning, "I've taken the liberty of inviting a
few people over... for the plan."
"Excuse me?" asked Ron incredulously. He did not want to get other people involved in "the
plan". In his opinion, it was already confusing enough with only two people knowing about it.
"Well, you didn't think that only you and I could pull it off, did you?"
"And just who did you invite over?" Ron was getting suspicious.
"Just the twins and Ginny. No one else. They'll be here by about 4:00. The kids will over at
Janice's house."
Ron put his hand to his forehead. "Hermione! How could you do this? Fred and George are
going to terrorize that poor man! And Ginny... she won't want to give up time to work on this
stupid idea! She has probably made plans with Daniel. She said she was going to apparate over
to his house for Christmas eve. You're going too far, Hermione. Why must you be so elaborate?
If you want to find out if the man is Harry, why don't you just walk up to him on the street and
ask him? You know, like a normal person?"
"Did you just call my plan stupid?" Hermione's eyes were bright and her voice shrill. "I have
created this plan perfectly. Nothing is wrong with it. And we can't just walk up to him on the
street because he would deny being Harry. I've planned something where he can never deny who
he is and he'll have to join our world again. You'll see, he'll come back."
Ron rolled his eyes at his wife's hysterics. Jack and Emily had by this time left the breakfast table
and headed up to their rooms. They were all too used to their mother's moods that had started
ever since she had come back from seeing Ginny.
"Hermione," said Ron warily, "What exactly are you going to do? You're not going to hurt the
guy, are you?"
"Only if he deserves it."
"But do you even know if he's ever going to be alone? That's what you need for this plan to
work, don't you? What if he's never by himself?"
"I have back up plans. Which is why I invited the twins and Ginny over. I sent the SpySphere to
go listen for dinner plans. I figure night time would be a more effective and dramatic time to
execute the plan," Hermione ended excitedly.
"And while we're on the subject of SpySpheres, I've been meaning to ask you something. If you
wanted to find out if the guy was Harry so badly, why didn't you just have the device follow the
man around some more after you found out he was going to England? He could have said
something that would have proven whether or not he was Harry."
"Like what? Talked in Parseltounge? Told his friends 'I'm the most powerful wizard since 1734'?
Like those muggles would have believed him."
"He might have told them that, after all, they did see you shout a spell."
Hermione threw her hands up. "Who cares? I knew he was Harry from the moment I saw him. I
didn't need proof, I needed dates, like when he would be coming to England."
"So you just had the SpySphere sitting here for four months measuring who came into and out of
the London area?"
"Pretty much. Brilliant, wasn't it?"
Ron raised an eyebrow. "Sure it was, honey.” There was a pause. “So, you're hoping you find out
the man's dinner arrangements by this afternoon, right? So you can make plans for your plan?"
asked Ron, slightly confused.
"Hopefully," responded Hermione.
"Good luck with that. It will be a miracle if this plan works at all."
"Trust me, it will work fine," said Hermione confidently.
----------------
James walked into the small restaurant nervously. He had made arrangements with Ciara and
Paul to meet for lunch, and was anxious about seeing them. He had not seen them for at least a
year and a half.
It was an Indian restaurant and all the windows had been darkened. The air was scented with
incense and the smell of curry. James looked at his watch. He was slightly late. He looked
around the room to see if the Westins had arrived yet. Two shapes in the corner caught his
attention and he walked over to them.
"James!" said Ciara excitedly when she saw him approaching. "I'm so happy to see you!" She
stood up and gave James a tight hug. Paul stood up and James shook hands with him.
"Hello Ciara, Paul," said James. "How are you two doing?"
"Just fine, James," answered Paul.
"Did you get a new haircut?" asked Ciara, fingering James's hair maternally.
"You mean since I saw you last?" James laughed. "Well, I suppose it does look different... I had
it pretty long when I visited you guys in New York."
"It was down to your shoulders!" chuckled Ciara.
"Here, James, have a seat," said Paul, gesturing to a chair.
They all sat down in their chairs. A waiter came by and poured a glass of water for each of them.
"So, how's your life going?" asked Ciara after sipping some water.
"Oh, alright, I guess."
"Alright? What's wrong?"
"Oh, you know, issues..." replied James vaguely.
"Is it about that sighting?" asked Paul.

"Um, yes..." James answered, confused.
"We read the paper," explained Ciara.
"Oh."
"Pity about her seeing you," said Paul, "Your scar didn't show, did it?"
"No, but she still went nuts."
"And I'm guessing you still haven't told your friends about yourself?" asked Ciara, hoping the
she was wrong.
"No, I haven't told them," James sighed.
"Poor James," said Ciara sympathetically. Somehow, those words made James feel slightly
better, as if someone else understood exactly what he was going through.
The waiter came by and asked for orders. Ciara ordered for the entire table, and what she ordered
all sounded pretty spicy.
"Getting in touch with your Indian roots?" asked James wryly.
"Hardly. I'm Irish and I happen to like spicy food, thank you very much. And so does Paul,"
answered Ciara.
"It's an acquired taste," said Paul. "Years of eating it have numbed my English tongue, and now I
can hardly tell if something's spicy or not."
"I just hope my tongue can take it," said James.
Ciara laughed. "Don't worry. You'll enjoy it."
"So what are you two doing for Christmas this year?" asked James.
"We were just going to have a quiet holiday at our house," said Paul. "Ciara's sister might drop
by."
"She's got three grandkids that she might bring by as well. They are so adorable," said Ciara. "
Most of the ornaments on the tree were broken beyond repair by Maegan's grandkids last year, so
we're stocking up this year. Along with the potion ingredients, we've been shopping for some
extra ornaments."
"By the way, have you had any luck finding the ingredients you need?" said James.
"More or less. But powdered boar's blood is getting harder and harder to buy in large quantities.
We did have unusual luck finding the pickled ginseng flower, though."
"That was pretty lucky," said Paul, "Normally we have to special order that from Asia. As it was,
the apothecary had just ordered some. Apparently, there's a new diet potion that uses pickled
ginseng flower, and that's why he had ordered it."
James made a face. "Don't diet potions usually use really gross ingredients?"
"Which is why this new one is so popular. Ginseng flower can hardly be called gross."
"I don't understand girls these days," said Ciara. "They seem to have potions that fix anything.
Why can't they just be happy?"
"Women are weird," commented James thinking of Emma.
"By the way, do you have a girlfriend yet?"
"No."
"Why not? I bet girls are dying to find a nice gentleman like you."
"You'd be surprised."
"You're such a loner, James. Don't you ever want a girlfriend? Or want to get married?"
Luckily, the waiter brought by the food just in time to stop the conversation. James did not feel
like discussing his love life, or lack thereof.
All the food was spicy, but, true to Ciara's word, James enjoyed it. The rest of the dinner passed
by quickly. James told Ciara and Paul about his students at school and about the bakery and other
casual topics. Ciara and Paul told James about their new clients (there was one sad case where a
mother came with her daughter, age 6, to buy pills for the two of them to escape the father) and
about some advancements they have been working on.
Soon, it was time for the Westins and James to leave. The Westins were expecting a client later
that afternoon. James said a sad goodbye to Ciara and Paul, and Ciara wiped a few tears away.
"Come and visit us soon, will you?" she asked.
"I'll try as hard as possible," answered James.
Paul and Ciara gave James a few more hugs and "Merry Christmas’s, and then the Westins
hailed a taxi and left.
James headed back to his hotel room. He knew that he and all the Hardings were to go to the wax
museum and then to dinner, but he did not know when.
James knocked on Peter and Sarah's hotel door.
"Come in!"
When James came in he saw both Peter and Sarah playing video games on the hotel TV.
"Small-town life boring you, Peter?" asked James, smiling.
Peter paused the game and looked up at James. "No, we were waiting for you."
"Indeed," said James dryly, glancing at Sarah who was still furiously clicking at her consul, not
realizing the game was paused.
"Come on! Why won't you go? Peter--" Sarah glanced at Peter who was laughing softly and saw
that the game was paused.
"So... James... what were you saying?" she asked, a suffusion of red coming to her cheeks.
"I was asking when we were going to leave to visit the wax museum?" asked James.
"As soon as everyone meets in Mum and Dad's room, around 2:30," answered Peter.
"That sounds good to me." James looked at his watch. It was 2:00. "I'll just wait here, then, with
you guys until 2:30."
Sarah laughed in amusement.
"What?" asked James. "Is it alright if I wait here?"
Sarah started to laugh harder. "Yeah..."
"Then what's so funny?" asked James. Peter also looked at Sarah with confusion. He had no idea
what Sarah was laughing at either.
"It’s... your... accent...James..." she managed to get out again, before another fit of giggles
overtook her.
"Why does everybody think my voice sounds so funny?" asked James, annoyed. "What's wrong
with it? I don't think I have an accent, do you Peter?"
"Actually, James, I think you do."
"Do you mean a Canadian accent or a British accent?" asked James. "Because the Canadian
accent might sound funny in England, but the English accent would sound funny around you
guys," he explained.
Sarah was still laughing. "Can you say something else? It's so funny!"
James rolled his eyes and closed his mouth tight.
"You've got a nice Canadian-British mixed accent, James" said Peter. "It’s just your old accent
coming back. I mean, you grew up here, right?"
James shook his head yes.
"So it's perfectly natural for your accent to come back, at least partially, by visiting here, right?"
James shrugged his shoulders.
"Sarah, would you stop laughing so James can talk again?"
"It's too hard to stop!" she said, clearly having a laughing fit.
"Then can you leave?"
Sarah laughed. "Sure... I'll visit your parents." She wandered out of the room. Peter and James
could hear her insane laughter fading down the hall.
"She gets that way sometimes," said Peter. "'Besides, she didn't know you when you had your
accent, so it is probably strange for her to hear you speaking with an English accent."
"Great. Just great. Tell me, do you think it will be safe for me to ever speak to her again? Or will
she rupture her diaphragm?"
"I think she'll be fine... that is, as soon as we get back to Canada and your English accent fades
away again."
The hotel phone in the room rang. Peter answered it.
"Hello?... Wow, that was fast... Yes... Yes... No... James is fine... And he is talking again... No...
What?... I think so... Sure... That's fine... Okay... We'll be right over."
"Who was it?" asked James.
"That was Sarah calling from my parents' room. She said it's easier to talk to me without you in
the room and that we should come over now. She also asked if tomorrow would be an okay night
for just the four of us to go out for dinner. I don't think she was really asking, because she had
just gotten her reservations confirmed."
"In short, it was a courtesy call," said James dryly. "How Sarah of her. So, where did she make
the reservations?"
"A restaurant called Italia just off Leicester Square."
"Well, Italian sounds nice."
"Yeah, if it wasn't at 8:30."
"It's at 8:30? At night?"
Peter rolled his eyes. "No, we're eating dinner in the morning... Of course it's at night!"
"Is this restaurant really nice or something?"
"Yeah. She's wanted to go ever since we passed by it earlier today. And she wanted just the four
of us to go. I think tomorrow night is the only night we're doing that, all the other nights we're
eating with the entire family."
"That's fine. Are you almost ready to go to your parents' room?"
"Yeah," said Peter. "Just let me put on my shoes."
A few moments later, James and Peter headed out of the room to Peter's parent's room.
And a few minutes later, a small round globe left the folds of the curtain and zoomed out the
slightly open window.
----------------
The SpySphere flew in just in time. George and Fred had just arrived, and Ginny had already
been at Hermione and Ron's house for a few minutes.
"Our last guest has arrived!" said Hermione as the SpySphere flew in the house.
Ron raised an eyebrow. "A metal ball is now a friend of yours?"
"Tell me, are the late night conversations interesting?" asked George with mock curiosity.
"Oh, and for purely scientific reasons," said Fred, "Is your friend a boy or a girl?"
"And if it's a girl, can I have her name and address?" asked George.
"And if it's a boy, can I get his name and address?" said Fred just as seriously as his brother.
Ginny started laughing. "Fred! You're married! What would Angelina say if I told her you left
her for a male ball of metal?"
"She's got a point there, Fred," said George. "I think I should take both names and addresses. It
gives me more options."
Ron started laughing with Ginny, all the while waiting for Hermione to get annoyed or slightly
angry, but she did neither. She was too happy.
"Laugh it up," she said brightly, "But this is our key to finding Harry."
The group suddenly sobered.
"As in Harry Potter?" asked Ginny in a high-pitched voice.
"As in the Boy Who Lived?" asked Fred.
"As in--" started George.
"Yes, yes. As in the Harry we know and love," said Hermione slightly impatiently.
"Is this why you invited us over?" asked Ginny.
"Yes it is. You all are going to help me find Harry, and I can guarantee you he'll be with us by
Christmas."
Ron groaned.
Hermione narrowed her eyes. "And can I please get started with out any more interruptions?"
Ron mumbled an apology.
"Thank you," said Hermione. "Now, as you all know I saw Harry living as a muggle in Canada.
And I happen to know that Harry is in London at this moment. Which means that he should not
be that hard to find. With the help of this SpySphere, here," she gestured to the silver sphere in
her palm, "We will know find out when and where we will be able to find him."
Fred looked incredulous.
"But how--" began Ginny.
"Just listen," said Hermione, tapping the sphere with her wand.
Smokey letters floated out. Number of conversations heard: one, it read.
Then, at high volume, the conversation Peter had related to James flew from the sphere.
"She also asked if tomorrow would be an okay night for just the four of us to go out for dinner..."
said Peter's voice very loudly.
"Whoa," commented George. "Mind turning that down a few decibels?"
Hermione hushed at him.
"She doesn't know how," whispered Ron loudly to George.
"So, where did she make the reservations?" continued the sphere, seeming to yell in James'
voice.
"A restaurant called Italia just off Leicester Square."
"Well, Italian sounds nice."
"Yeah, if it wasn't at 8:30."
"It's at 8:30? At night?"
"No, we're eating dinner in the morning... Of course it's at night!"
"This is amazing," said Fred. "Though it doesn't--"
Hermione sent a glare in Fred's direction and he promptly stopped talking.
"...she wanted just the four of us to go," the SpySphere shrieking in Peter's voice. "I think
tomorrow night is the only night we're doing that, all the other nights we're eating with the entire
family."
The SpySphere was done repeating the conversation and was silent.
"As you see," said Hermione, "Tomorrow is when we will enact the plan. It is our only chance.
We have all the information and it seems to be the night with the least amount of people going to
dinner."
"Um, and what exactly is 'The Plan'?" asked Ginny suspiciously.
Ron sighed. "Here we go..."
"Using your help and some strategic positions, 'The Plan' is, at the most basic level, a flawless
design to make Harry rejoin our world."
----------------
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Chapter: 24
Author's note: I am so entirely sorry! I had this chapter written and ready to update by Saturday.
But was down and I could not post it. I tried for every hour on the hour the whole night, even
though I had the flu, but I just couldn’t post it. Really, I tried! See, I was trying so hard all
Saturday night because I had to go on a flight the next morning and wouldn’t be near a computer
for the rest of the week. Gaa! Fate is against me… Oh well, here is an exciting chapter (that was
originally two chapters, but I felt so bad about this late update that I consolidated it into one).
The next one will be even more exciting.
Chapter 24: Driving and Story Time
----------------
The next day, James, Sarah, Jacob, Emma, and all the Hardings decided to walk around London
together. They left the hotel mid-morning after a good breakfast and headed towards the park. It
was decided that they would take a double-decker bus to get there.
Unfortunately, the bus proved to be a bad idea for a family outing. Within minutes, the large
group was divided into three. The allure of Barney's and other large clothing stores proved to be
too strong for the girls (minus Mrs. Harding), who made up the largest group. Emma, Sarah,
Olivia, and Lucy desperately wanted to go shopping. Gina and Nicole also wanted a chance to
shop with "the big girls", and Lucy quickly agreed to take the children, mostly because she knew
her husband would let her shop longer and spend more if he did not have to worry about taking
care of the kids.
"You know how men are," she told Sarah later, "They're just not good when it comes to taking
care of children for long periods of time. I think it's too stressful for them."
Mr. and Mrs. Harding saw from the bus other museums that they had not toured the day before.
They decided to go to the museums once they realized that the young women were not staying
around either.
That left Peter, Ryan, James and Jacob as a group.
At the next stop, everyone got off the bus and went their separate ways, one part walking quickly
towards Barney's, and one part headed towards an armory exhibit. The guys stayed behind at the
bus stop, unsure of where to go.
"So," asked Peter, "What do you all want to do?"
"I wouldn't mind going back to the hotel to sleep," said Jacob, yawning. "Emma was watching
movies all night. Just my luck that there was a Kung-Fu marathon on TV..."
The guys laughed slightly at Jacob's predicament, which cause his ears to turn pink.
"It's really not that funny..." he said indignantly.
"Why don't we go for a snack?" offered Ryan. "I wouldn't mind hanging out at a pub for a
while."
"Now that sounds nice," said James. "It's relaxing. Just having a few drinks, catching up on some
sports, and sitting watching the crowds go by. I could do that."
"Me too," said Peter.
"As long as I don't have to move, it's fine with me as well," yawned Jacob.
"Then a pub it is." Ryan smiled. "That wasn't so hard."
"We're an easy-going bunch," said James wryly.
If figuring out what to do was easy, finding a cab was quite another thing. Multiple times the
guys saw a vacant cab close by, but they were never close enough to stop another group of
people from getting to it first.
"This is impossible," groaned Jacob. "We've been walking blocks and blocks to find a cab. Why
don't we just walk to the pub?"
"Because I am depending on the cab driver to suggest of few good pubs to us, and then we can
go to one of those," answered Ryan factually. "We can't walk somewhere if we don't know where
we're going."
"Hey look!" said Peter suddenly, pointing at a cab. "How about that one?"
There was a young girl of about ten standing outside of the cab, arguing with the driver. She was
thin and wiry, and had a shockingly blond hair. In her hand she held a black suitcase tightly. As
the foursome came closer, they could overhear what the girl was saying.
"Look, mister," she said, her voice filled with exasperation, "All I'm saying is that I would like
you to take me to my house. Is that so hard?"
The cab driver leaned out his window slightly. "Miss, I can't take you anywhere unless you have
your parents with you. I'm sorry."
"But I just told you--"
"I said I was sorry, but you'll have to call your parents to pick you up."
The girl glared at the driver, turned sharply, and sat down on a nearby bench.
"Here we go," said Peter, coming up to the taxi. "Are you open?" he asked the driver.
"Yes, hop in," the driver answered, happy to have a customer other than the girl.
"We're set," said Ryan, getting into the cab. "Say, do you know of any good pubs around here?"
"Actually, there are a bunch nearby."
Peter and Jacob got into the cab and Ryan started talking to the cab driver about pubs. James
took the moment to walk up to the girl. He was concerned about her and wanted to make sure she
was all right.
"Are you lost?" he asked gently.
"No," the girl said darkly, "I'm just trying to get back home."
"Are your parents with you?"
"No, they are at home, that's why I want to go home." The girl spoke as if she were talking to a
very young child, speaking slowly and enunciating each word. It gave James the impression that
she must be a very haughty and defiant girl. Ryan was still speaking to the driver, so James
decided to keep talking to the girl.
"Did you run away?" asked James.
The girl rolled her eyes. "Aren't you smart..."
"I mean, you must miss your parents a lot, and, if--"
"I don't miss them," she interrupted, "I just need more money."
James blinked in confusion. "Okay... well, I was just going to say that if you need a ride, it would
be easy for us to take you back home."
The girl looked up at James, frowning. "I'm not going to drive home with you!"
"Why not?"
"You are a stranger," she said simply. "I'm not dumb, Mr. whoever-you-are. Only dumb people
would get into a car with a stranger."
"Isn't a cab driver usually a stranger?"
"Yes, but it's their profession. They have contracts and everything. You don't."
James sighed and rubbed his eyes.
"Hey James!" called out Peter. "You coming or not?"
"One second," James yelled back. He sat on the bench next to the girl. "Let's start over," said
James to the girl. "I'm James Potterson. What's your name?"
"Tammy Dursley, and I don't like you sitting there," answered the girl.
James' eyes widened. "Dursley?"
"Are you deaf or something?" asked Tammy.
"Yes-- I mean, no-- I mean--" James stopped. The girl really did look a lot like Dudley, albeit a
much thinner one. He knew it would be a shot in the dark, but he just had to ask the question.
"Your father wouldn't by any chance be named Dudley, would it?" he asked cautiously.
"Actually, yes," said Tammy, surprised.
"And you have a grandmother named Petunia?"
"Yes..." answered the girl slowly, getting suspicious.
"Well," said James, "I guess we're not strangers them. I'm your father's cousin."
Tammy's face lit up in realization. "You must be my wicked cousin Harry!"
"Er, I guess so..." James did not know whether it was a good thing or a bad thing that he was
"wicked".
"Of course I'll ride with you! Why didn't you say in the first place that you were my wicked
cousin Harry? And you said your name was James..."
"Well, my first name is Harry, but I go by my middle name which is James," explained James.
Tammy got up from the bench and followed James to the cab, dragging her suitcase behind her.
"My father talks about you every so often," she told James, "I like to listen to all the bad things
you used to do. I always thought that I would love to meet you one day, but I never told Daddy. I
don't think he'd like that idea so much."
James and Tammy crammed into the cab. Five people made it rather squished, but technically
there was room for six.
James briefly told Peter, Ryan, and Jacob what was happening and they all agreed to drop
Tammy off at her house.
"Maybe your relatives will invite us in," said Peter. He was surprised that James had any
relatives. After all, James never talked about them.
"Er, maybe..." said James, doubting it. He didn't really want Peter to know about the Dursleys; it
would complicate things. "They're not really relatives, just people I used to know...
acquaintances..." James told Peter quietly enough that Tammy did not overhear. She was too
busy introducing herself anyway.
"As long as we end up at one of the pubs Eugene suggested to us, it's fine with me," said Ryan.
James assumed that "Eugene" was the cab driver.
Jacob was staring at James. "This should be interesting..." said Jacob. "Meeting your family,
James. How very interesting..."
"You know," said James, sensing danger at Jacob's interest in the Dursleys, "Why doesn't
everyone just stay in the cab once we arrive at the house. It might be just a little less taxing on
the parents."
The guys reluctantly agreed to this proposition, especially after Tammy said that she only wanted
James to come in, not his friends, whom she deemed "strangers".
"Where are we going?" asked the driver.
James nudged Tammy to get her attention. "Tammy, where's your house?"
"I don't know," Tammy answered.
"But don't you live there?"
"I said that we had just moved there. Do you expect me you memorize my address in one week?"
"Er, no, but it would have been useful..." said James.
"How about this," said Tammy, "You just drive around until I see something familiar, okay?"
Ryan sighed. "This will take a while..."
"Is there anything you remember it being close to? A park, a plaza, a store?" asked Peter, trying
to help out.
"I think it was near a post office. And the street had trees. And my house is brown." Tammy
smiled. "Does that help?"
"Loads," said James, rolling his eyes.
Tammy giggled. "You're funny..."
"Glad I could be of use," he answered. Tammy giggled more. "Eugene," asked James to the
driver, "Could you start at the nearest post office? Maybe drive towards a residential
neighborhood?"
"That I can do," said Eugene, pulling out of his parking spot and driving along the main street.
Ryan, Peter, and Jacob started arguing about the different pubs they could go to. It seemed to be
a debate between the closer one and the one with the better drinks.
"Hey James..." asked Tammy quietly while the other guys were talking, "Can I call you Uncle
James? I don't have any uncles and I really detest Aunt Marge."
"Detest? That's a big word," said James. "And one, that I must say, I wholeheartedly agree with."
"So you'll let me call you Uncle James? I think 'Dad's wicked cousin Harry who goes by James'
would take too long to say."
"Um, okay," answered James. He did not see any harm in it. And the kid was kind of growing on
him. He gave Tammy a smile. "I would be delighted to be your Uncle James."
Tammy's eyes lit up and smiled a large smile. "Thanks."
After a long while of driving and confused directions from Tammy, they finally reached a street
that she recognized. Soon they reached her house.
"Thank goodness," said Jacob, "I thought we were going to be driving around London forever."
Tammy hopped out of the cab and grabbed James' hand.
"Uncle James will only take a minute," she told Peter, Ryan, and Jacob. "He'll be right back."
The guys gave odd looks to Tammy at her new nickname for James, but then nodded and went
back to discussing soccer, which was a subject that had sprung from their pub argument.
"Um, do I really need to bring you up to the door? Can't one of the other guys do it?" asked
James. "I haven't seen them for so long, and we weren't really on the best of terms.
"Oh, c'mon Uncle James," said Tammy brightly. "Think of the drama of it all! It will be so full of
action and emotion! Mum and Dad are going to be absolutely furious when they see you!"
Tammy rang the doorbell while James waited nervously behind her. The door opened to reveal a
rather bulky woman with a messy brown bun and tear-streaked cheeks.
"Hi Mum!" said Tammy cheerfully.
"Oh my darling!" The woman embraced Tammy tightly. "Oh my precious, precious darling! I
missed you so much!"
A man came into view. He was larger than the woman and had bright blond hair.
"Hi, Dudley," said James quietly.
Both the woman and the man seemed to notice James for the first time. Tammy took this chance
to enact the drama she had been planning.
"Mum, Dad, this is the nice gentleman who brought me home," said Tammy happily.
"Oh really?" Dudley asked dubiously.
"Yes."
"Oh, thank you, sir," said Tammy's mother. "Thank you for bringing my baby home!"
"It was... nothing," answered James awkwardly.
"Do I know you?" asked Dudley addressing James. "You look familiar..."
This was exactly the reaction Tammy wanted. Her eyes sparkled with mischief and she smiled.
"You recognize him because he is your cousin, Dad! This is your wicked cousin Harry!" She was
beyond enthusiastic and was practically jumping with excitement.
James turned pink and Dudley went from white to red quite rapidly.
"Won't you come in, Harry," said Dudley with clenched teeth. James knew he was only trying to
avoid a scene outside of his house in the new neighborhood. Dudley would do anything, even
invite his hated cousin in for tea, as long as it meant that the neighbors would think good of him.
"Actually," said James, warming up to the situation and now having quite a lot of fun standing
on the doorstep and infuriating his cousin, "I go by James now, and I changed my last name to
Potterson."
"How very creative..." said Dudley, turning more red with anger as it took longer and longer to
get James off his doorstep.
"I know," answered James. Then, deciding to waste time and continue standing in full view of
the neighborhood, he continued speaking. "I wanted to find the most unusual name there was. So
I searched through scores and scores of baby name books trying to find the perfect name. And
there were some pretty strange names in that book. Right with 'Charles' and 'John' were 'Lindsey'
and 'Whitney'. I mean, if I had wanted a feminine name, I would have looked in the girls’ section
of the book, right? Oh, and did you know that 'Dudley' meant 'through the meadow'? Isn't that
sweet of me? I took the time to look up the meaning of my very own cousin's name. And out of
all the cousins, Dudley, I really must say that you are my favorite. What other cousin would
endure being dropped in a snake's cage, being blasted by my letters from owls on the streets,
being given a pig's tail..."
It was at that moment that Dudley grabbed James tightly and pulled him into the house, closing
and locking the door behind him.
Tammy flashed a big smile at James. Apparently this was just what she had wanted. She seemed
thrilled by James' cheeky actions and her parents' horrified looks.
James himself knew he was being rather rude, but he did have a lot of annoyance pent up inside
of him from never speaking out at the Dursleys for the way they treated him, and being rude to
Dudley on his own doorstep was... liberating, in a way.
"How dare you come to my house and be so-- so-- freakish?" asked Dudley furiously.
Tammy's mother stood in the corner holding Tammy's hand tightly. She must have heard a lot of
bad things about James, because she looked rather frightened.
"Dudley," said James calmly. "What is your wife's name?"
Tammy answered for her father. "Mum's name is Doreen!"
James turned to the mother. "Hello Doreen." He stuck out his hand to shake hers. "I'm James
Potterson. How are you?"
"Um, fine," answered Doreen quietly, tentatively shaking James' hand.
"You're just a freaky lit--" started Dudley.
James held up his hand for Dudley to stop speaking. "Dudley, can I tell you a story? It's a very
special story. It might be nice to hear over a cup of tea..."
Doreen immediately turned for the kitchen, her manners taking precedence over her fears. She
came back holding a tray with tea on it a motioned everyone to the couches in the sitting room.
"Thank you, Doreen," said James, taking a cup of tea. "Now on with the story. Once upon a time,
there was a boy with no family. Sure, the boy had relatives, but he never had a true family, as in
people who would love him unconditionally. The relatives constantly got angry at the boy for
being the person that he was and for attending a very special school. One day--"
"Does this story have a point?" interrupted Dudley. Doreen and Tammy glared at him, the former
for his rude manners, and the latter for his interruption of the story.
James went on, ignoring Dudley question. "One day, something very unfortunate happened to
the boy, who was now a young man, and he decided that he would rather not be the person his
was and be part of the world that the school was part of. So he moved to a different country and
became a new person. But when the man came to visit his old relatives a few years later, he was
shocked and appalled by the things he heard they had been saying about him and by the way they
acted upon his return. Instead of accepting him and giving him a second chance, they assumed
that after fifteen years the man would be exactly the same as the boy he once was." James paused
a moment. "Actually," he said, "The man's expectations for his return was almost identical to the
way he was received, but that's beside the point. Plus, it doesn't give the story the same meaning
as crushed hopes do."
Tammy giggled. James smiled kindly at her.
"So you're not a freak anymore?" asked Dudley haltingly.
"You understood the story?" asked James, feigning shock. "You gathered the moral? I can't
believe it..."
Tammy laughed some more, which elicited a smile from Doreen. Her daughter’s happiness also
took precedence over her fears. Doreen was actually a very strong and brave woman, she just hid
it very well.
"No, Dudley, I am no longer a 'freak', as you call it," said James softly. "I'm on a special
medication that suppresses my--"
"Abnormalities?" supplied Dudley.
"Sure," replied James with a smile, "My ‘abnormalities’. Anyway, I just thought that I'd let you
know about my new situation, and that you don't have to refer to my as your 'wicked freakish
cousin who attends a juvenile delinquent school' anymore."
"And are you living in London now?" asked Doreen.
"No, I'm actually just vacationing in England with some friends. I live in Canada now, in
Calgary. I work as a school teacher."
"Oh Dad! Can Uncle James come over for Christmas?" asked Tammy. "I'd really like an uncle
there with me so I wouldn't be so bored."
Dudley wrinkled his nose at Tammy's new term for James. Tammy and Doreen looked at Dudley
expectantly, both of whom had taken a liking to James.
"He can't be here on Christmas eve," spluttered Dudley, looking back and forth between his
daughter and his wife. "My Mum will be here. Think of what a shock it will give her!"
James had to agree. "Yeah, I don't really need to come over. I'm spending Christmas with my
friends anyway."
Tammy looked at James very sadly.
"But I'll write down my address and phone number for you, and the hotel we are staying at," said
James quickly, not able to bear the look coming from Tammy.
"That would be wonderful!" said Tammy. "I'll call you as soon as I find out when you can come
and visit!"
Dudley did not seem too fond of the idea, but let James give Tammy and Doreen the information
anyway.
James declined an invitation from Doreen to stay a while longer, telling her that his friends were
waiting outside for him. Tammy gave James a hug before he left and Doreen waved goodbye as
he walked out the door towards the cab. Dudley, on the other hand, was still in a bad mood.
----------------
Thank you to all you lovely reviewers! Hugs and kisses!
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Chapter: 25
teacher named James, aka Harry. Hermione’s plan to get Harry back is going into action.
Author's note: Yes, I know this is the most evil cliffhanger in the entire world, so for those of
you who hate cliffhangers, wait until the next chapter is out before reading this chapter
(underlining is for emphasis, so I don’t end up with death threats and hate e-mails for the cliffie).
It’s mostly because this chapter would be way to long if I put the rest of what I’ve written on, so
I had to cut it off somewhere (plus, I’m sadistic… 0) ). Anyhoo, I hope that you enjoy the
chapter, even though it is outrageously short and had the world’s best (worst) cliffhanger. Hey,
you can’t say I didn’t warn you.
Chapter 25: Morning Meetings and Midnight Taxis
----------------
Hermione was thrilled. This was the climax of her big plan. She had been planning meticulously
for months. She wore dark black robes and had pulled her hair into a low, tight ponytail. She had
two watches on her left wrist and a belt around her waist that held the SpySphere, a roll of
papers, a pair of black gloves, and her wand. This was it. Her big hour. She was going to get her
best friend back.
"Now, is everyone ready?" she asked, looking at each person in the eye.
Unfortunately for Hermione, George, Fred, Ron, and Ginny were the antithesis of all that she
was trying to do right then.
Fred and George were each sprawled in their own chair, half asleep.
Ginny was examining her nails.
And Ron had his arms crossed and was looking at his wife with such a dubious expression it
would have made even the most practical of plans seem outrageous.
"C'mon guys," said Hermione, trying to liven things up. "We're going to get Harry back! Isn't it
exciting? He can't hide forever." Harry has made his point by now, she thought. He can't keep
blaming me for what happened. Once he realizes that it was a complete mistake, he'll come back.
She was going to stop the grudge she knew Harry to be holding against her. She was going to put
an end to the guilt that had been consuming her for so long. And above all, she was going to
bring a well-loved figure back into her world.
"Yeah, we're thrilled," said Fred, yawning. "Now can we go back to bed?"
"I second that," said George. "Honestly, was it really necessary to wake us up a 5:00 am?"
"I thought the plan was going into action tonight anyway," said Ginny.
"Yes, it is happening tonight, but I just wanted to get an early start," explained Hermione.
"And she couldn't sleep, so she decided to bestow the same fate upon all of us," said Ron wryly.
Hermione glared at her husband. "I wanted everyone to synchronize their watches. So we would
all be working at the same times."
"Isn't all this a little unnecessary?" asked Ron.
"No," said Hermione hotly. "It is all necessary. Every bit."
There was a pause while everyone grudgingly compared and reset their watches.
"Can we go now?" asked Fred finally.
Hermione waved her hand towards the door. "Yes, you are all dismissed. Don't forget-- we are
going to meet here at 8:00 pm sharp."
Fred, George, and Ginny apparated away in a flash. Ron smiled weakly at his wife and headed
back to the bed to sleep some more.
Hermione didn't notice her husband leaving the room. She was too busy working on the
SpySphere to alert her when Harry would finish eating dinner. She smiled. If all went well,
--which it would-- she was going to be seeing her old best friend in a matter of hours.
----------------
James gave a quick knock on Peter and Sarah's hotel room door. He was meeting them in their
room along with Jacob and Emma.
Sarah opened the door. "James! Well, don't you look handsome..."
"Uh, I took a shower?" said James slowly as he walked in.
"I really hope that doesn't mean you don't normally take showers," shouted Peter from the
bathroom.
"Ew," said Emma, who was playing for Sarah on the video game, "That would be really gross,
Jamesie."
"Well, hello to you too," James said smiling.
Emma turned to look at James. "Wow," she commented, "You really do look nicer than usual."
James reflected that the reaction he was getting from Sarah and Emma was mostly likely caused
by his nerves. For some unexplainable reason, he was extremely nervous about this dinner.
Maybe it was because he was going to be in a smaller group at night. Or maybe it was because
he had just seen long-lost family members in a bizarrely coincidental situation, and he was
worried that more long-lost people would find him. Whatever the reason, James was so nervous
that he took two really hot showers, scrubbed his skin and hair way too hard, and used almost
three bars of soap. And apparently, this rigorous cleansing process left him looking a bit nicer.
There was a knock on the door, and Sarah let Jacob in.
"Peter!" shouted Sarah, "Get out of the bathroom! We're all ready to go!"
Peter came out while adjusting his tie. "Alright, alright. It's only 8:00, we have nothing to worry
about."
"Yes, but I'm hungry," said Sarah. "Are you ready?"
Peter slipped on his jacket. "All set."
"Good," said Sarah, "Let's go."
The restaurant was ready to close. It was almost midnight and there was nobody left eating.
Well, almost nobody. There was one table in the back. A group of five, and it was because of
them that Italia was still open.
The manager massaged his eyes. "Mamma mia..." he groaned. A waiter walked up to him and
patted his shoulder.
"Che sfortuna!" said the waiter, "I wanted to go home early tonight."
The manager looked at the waiter wearily. "They've been here for almost four hours. Four hours!
Mamma mia! They've eaten and drank so much..."
"No worries. I'll ask them to leave right now, if you want."
"No, no. I'll do it." The manager sighed. "Vado, I go, I go..." He walked over to the table in the
back.
"Scusi," he said, "But are you all finished? Mi dispiace, but we need to close soon..."
One of the women looked around the restaurant. "Hey, we are the last ones here!" She was
speaking loudly, as if she had had a little too much to drink.
A man looked down at his watch. "Oh, goodness," he said apologetically, "It's so late! I am so
sorry! Of course we'll be leaving right away."
"Grazie, signore. Thank you very much." The manager looked relieved, to say the least.
The other four people continued talking. It seemed to the manager that the man he was currently
talking to was the only sober one.
"Oh, and I think we paid the bill with the last bottle of wine here," said the man. "All we need
now is our jackets from the coat room."
"Va bene, signore. I'll get them right away." The manager hurried off towards the coatroom. By
the time he came back, the group was standing at the front door, laughing loudly.
"Here they are, signore." The manager held up the coats.
"Thank you," said the man from before. He handed the coats to their owners. "Do you close
before midnight?"
"Si, signore, but don't worry. We had things to be doing anyway."
"I am dreadfully sorry. But thank you so much for accommodating us."
"No, thank you."
The man smiled at the waiter. Then he called to his friends and herded them out the door.
"Grazie, signore," called the waiter. "Arrividerci Buona sera!" As the customers closed the door
behind them, the waiter massaged his temples. "Che giornata!"
The weather was cold outside. Sarah, Peter, Emma, and Jacob had all been slightly drunk inside
the restaurant, but the freezing wind brought them to their senses.
"We really need a taxi," noted Peter.
"Yeah, but where are you going to find a taxi at midnight?" asked Sarah.
"Hey, it's not my fault we're standing in subzero temperatures in the middle of the night," said
James. "I warned you not to order that last bottle of wine."
"You should have had some, Jamesie. Didn't you have anything to drink?" asked Emma.
"Two cokes."
"But the wine was so yummy!"
"Well, someone's got to stay sober. Besides, I don't like to drink."
Jacob was about to say something, but Peter cut him off. "Hey, look!" said Peter. "A taxi just
pulled up!"
The group rushed over to where the taxi was sitting, but, unfortunately for them, someone else
reached it first.
"Well, there goes our ride," said Sarah as the taxi drove away.
Emma and Sarah sat on a nearby bench. Emma sighed. "We're never--" she started, before
suddenly yelling, "Taxi at three o'clock!"
The group looked to their right and saw another taxi.
"Well, this is Leicester Square," said Sarah as the group headed quickly towards the car. "It's a
pretty popular place."
But right as the group reached the car, another man came running from out of the blue, hopped
into the taxi, and told a very surprised taxi driver to step on it.
"Bastard!" muttered Sarah, "Another red-headed man stole our taxi."
James did not like the idea of two redheaded people in close vicinity to him. True, it could be a
coincidence, but anything strange that happened around James was generally not a coincidence.
"Um, another taxi pulled up over there," said Jacob tiredly. "But I'll bet you five-- Oh, it's already
happened... a red-headed girl just took it. What is it with all the red-heads?"
James nervously walked a few steps to the right and pulled out a bottle of water he was carrying
in his coat pocket. Better be safe than sorry, he thought. James quickly swallowed a couple of
pills while his friends were looking for more taxis.
Suddenly a taxi screeched around the corner and pulled up near James. James turned around to
call to his friends. "Hey, I think someone is getting out of--"
James was cut off by the person who was getting out of the taxi. James was grabbed from behind
and a cloth was put over his nose and mouth. James suddenly felt sleepy and closed his eyes as
his was dragged into the car, the rest of his sentence dying on his lips.
----------------
I am so happy that you guys enjoyed the last chapter! I had tons of fun writing it. Thanks
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Chapter: 26
teacher named James, aka Harry. Hermione’s plan to get Harry back is going into action, and
James isn’t too happy.
Author's note: My chi was horribly off once I realized that my story was going to have to be
longer than 25 chapters, but I dealt with it and decided that 27 chapters was okay, too. Then I
figured that you all would probably want a faster update because of that terrible cliffhanger, and
since my chi was already imbalanced, I just decided to update what I had instead of trying to fit it
all into one chapter and taking longer to update. So, once again, there is another cliffhanger, but
not as bad as the last one (so, technically, it could still be considered evil since the last once was
amazingly-super-evil). And now, without further ado, the chapter…
Chapter 26: Blindfolds and Tests
----------------
James awoke to the sound of arguing. He was tied to a chair, blindfolded, and had a massive
headache, but it seemed that his hearing was fine.
"You fell asleep?" asked a feminine voice angrily.
"You're the one who woke us up at five this morning," said a man's voice.
"My own husband falls asleep! You were the one who was supposed to be ready to drive the taxi
over to the restaurant on time! It was Fred who had to get you! I've only been planning this for
how long?"
The name "Fred" made James even more nervous than any sadistic kidnapping ever could. Just
relax, thought James. There are probably lots of kidnappers named Fred. There are lots of Freds
in the world...
The man's voice was apologetic. "Look, I found him, didn't I?"
"Yeah, I guess so, but it was lucky everyone else took the other taxis. Your other brother had a
close call, he barely stopped the group from getting into one."
"I said I was sorry. What more do you want?"
"I want him to wake up," said the woman, her voice filled with impatience. "How much of that
stuff did Fred put on that cloth?"
"Don't know."
James could hear someone walking back and forth. "It's been almost an hour. Should I get the
others? They're eating at the McDonald's down the street."
"Who gave them the right money?"

"I did," said the woman. "But it doesn't matter, that was the rendezvous spot."
"Wow, you sure are prepared," commented the man.
The woman sounded angry. "You were supposed to have read all that in your manual."
There was a pause.
"You know," began the man, "Why don't I get the others... I'm sure he'll wake up soon."
----------------
Peter, Sarah, Emma, and Jacob had heard James' voice and had turned around just in time to see
James being dragged into the car. They stared in shock at the retreating taxi, watching as the car
swerved a few times before lurching to the left and turning down a side street.
"Did-- Did-- Someone just-- Was-- Did--" Sarah could not even begin.
"Yeah... I think so..." said Peter slowly.
"You mean..." asked Emma.
Peter nodded his head, dazed.
"Someone just stole Jamesie!" shrieked Emma. "What the hell did they do that for! I'm going to
kill them! Just wait until I get my hands on them! I'll give them--"
Jacob interrupted. "Emma, calm down. We've got to think about this logically. What did the car
look like?"
Emma was breathing deep and murderous breaths, staring daggers at where the taxi had turned
down the side street.
"Black... a taxi shape..." said Peter.
"There might have been--" began Sarah. "I mean, I thought I saw an '82' on the back."
Jacob put his pointer finger up, like a detective finding the last clue. "And I noticed that there
wasn't a sign on top for vacant/not vacant. We've got find this car."
"Taxi!" cried Emma, pointing. "Tax-i!"
The group sprinted towards a taxi that was dropping off a passenger. They all climbed into the
vehicle, startling the previous passenger who was still paying.
"Driver, this is a matter of life and death!" said Jacob, "We need to turn left on that side street
ahead of us there-- see it?-- and we have to find a car that looks like a taxi but with a small 82 on
the back and without sign on the roof! And hurry!"
"That is the oddest thing I've heard all day," said the taxi driver, tipping his hat to the passenger
who had just paid.
"Just go! Our friend is trapped in that car!"
"Alright, alright," the driver grumbled. "Don't get your knickers in a knot."
And with that, the taxi drove off to where Jacob directed.
----------------
The blindfold was ripped off James' face. James, using a tactic probably not seen by kidnappers
very often, kept his eyes squeezed shut and his chin tucked down on his neck.
"Wow, do you think it's really him?" asked a man, different from the one at the beginning.
"Are you nuts?" asked the woman's voice (which seemed more and more familiar to James). "Of
course it's him. Just look at him!"
"And how do you suggest we do that?" asked a voice that might have been the same man. "I
mean, he's all scrunched up. His hair is covering a good portion of his face and he's looking
down."
"His eyes are squeezed shut," said another woman's voice, softer than the first. "And I don't see a
scar anywhere. Besides, his hair is the wrong color."
"It's easy enough to dye hair, don't you think?" asked the first woman.
"Well, are you sure this is the right guy?"
The woman was once again annoyed. "Would you all just look at him? His whole body language
screams--"
"I can hear you, you know. I'm not dumb. And I'm not an exotic animal in the zoo, either."
The room was suddenly quiet after James spoke. James was rather annoyed at being talked about
and he had spoken without realizing it. He had really just voiced his internal thoughts, but he was
angry at himself for talking. Now he would have to face his kidnappers. At least it got them to
shut up, thought James.
"And just what have you got to say for yourself mister?" asked the woman, sounding even more
annoyed and angry. "You disappeared all together! Without a word to any of us! You deserve a
severe beating. I bet you can't even think of the words to say for your despicable conduct!"
James, who still had his eyes shut (the logic being that if you can't see it, it's not there), cleared
his throat. "Um, can I have a glass of water?"
James heard someone walking away, while the woman groaned loudly.
"You are unbelievable! Absolutely unbelievable! Don't you have anything profound to say? And
stop closing your eyes! Open them! Are you nuts or something? I can't believe..."
James heard the footsteps coming back. The woman was still talking, but James had tuned it out.
It was easy enough to do if you had heard the lecture before.
The woman paused to take a breath while someone handed James a glass.
"Here's your water," said a man's voice.
"Thanks," said James.
The woman started talking again, but James was too busy looking for his pills to listen.
Unfortunately, he had a sneaking suspicion that he had once known these people, and if he
wanted to even remotely suggest that they were wrong about him, he had to make sure nothing...
unusual happened.
James finally found his bottle and started to rapidly swallow the pills.
"And what? you just expect that we'll take you back with open arms? Oh, no. You are going to
pay for doing so much damage to all of us and society. Yes, you have a debt to society, and it's
way over due."
James was still swallowing the pills, and if he had had his eyes open he would have noticed very
strange looks coming from the people in the room, excepting the woman who was currently
speaking, as she was too busy to notice.
"The debt has to be paid, and you are the one who is going to pay it. Do you even know how
long everyone has been looking for you? You can't just leave a whole world behind. It's a stupid
thing to do. And I thought you were smart, ha! What a laugh..."
James realized with a sinking heart that the pill bottle was almost empty, and then, with just a
few more swallows, it was empty, along with the tall glass of water. James had never done that
before, never. He had never finished a whole bottle of pills before the bottle had a chance to refill
itself.
James sighed and tried to lean back in his chair, the ropes making it rather difficult. His eyes
were still closed, but he could sense that he must be under very bright lights.
"I mean, when I saw you that day," continued the woman, "I thought that you would be--" she
stopped. "Did you just swallow that whole bottle of pills?" she asked disgustedly. "That is
incredibly unhealthy."
But James had to disagree. The power inside of him had been reduced to such a level that he
wondered how he had ever lived before this. He felt free and glad that he could no longer tell that
he had an ability, he could not even pinpoint the location of the source anymore. He felt healthier
than he had ever felt before. James supposed that this was how some of Ciara's customers
became too dependent on and attached to the pills.
"And have you opened your eyes yet?" asked the woman. "What's wrong with you? Don't you
want to see your old friends?"
It was now or never, James figured. Face a very angry world, or stay happily in denial. Egypt
won.
"But, I don't know you," James said innocently.
There was silence.
"Really, I honestly don't know you," continued James. "I'll even open my eyes, but I'm telling
you, I don't think I know any of you." James took a moment to mentally prepare himself, and
then he opened his eyes.
And in front of him he saw Hermione, looking exactly the same since the day at the bakery,
albeit slightly more irritated. James tried as hard as he could to keep a look of innocent confusion
on his face as he saw his old friend Ron and the other Weasleys, Fred, George, and Ginny. It was
like looking at his family, and it hurt him to stay so callous.
"I really think we got the wrong person," said Fred. "His eyes are different, his hair is different,
he has no scar or glasses, and he sounds as if he's from the colonies."
"I'm from Canada, not the US," said James.
"Whatever," said George, "But I agree. This has got to be the wrong person."
Oddly enough, the twin's doubt gave James more courage and the hope that he just might be able
to get away.
"And personally," said James, "I don't know why you kidnap random people off the streets, but I,
for one, am going to report it to the police."
Hermione rolled his eyes. "Harry, no one is falling for your tricks."
"I don't know," said Ginny, "He sounds pretty convincing to me. Your SpySphere could have
picked up the wrong conversation, or something. I think I'm with Fred and George on this one."
"So we can go now, right?" asked Fred. "I'm tired, and it seems we've got the wrong person.
What do you think, Ron?"
All eyes turned to Ron, who had been silently and intently studying James ever since James'
blindfold came off.
Ron looked thoughtful. "I'd say it would be a better idea to let Harry live the life he seems to
desperately want, instead of the life my wife would like for him."
James was taken aback by this oddly kind statement, and was so surprised that he just managed
to whisper in a sort of wonderment, "My name isn't Harry."
Suddenly, there was a banging on the door, startling everyone from the quietness.
"Open up!" shouted a voice (most likely Peter's, James thought). "We know you've got James in
there! Open up!"
James shook his head and closed his eyes. James was willing to bet his right arm that things
would start going steadily downhill once his friends entered the room. Sure, their motives were
well meant, but they knew information that would be damning for James if spoken in front of
Hermione and Ron. And I had been doing so well on my own, too... thought James. They were
just about to let me go...
The banging continued until one of the twins calmly walked over and opened the door.
The group outside looked startled for a moment, before a voice in the back called out, "The
redheads have taken Jamesie captive!" and the group burst in.
"James! You're alive!" said Sarah, running to give James a hug. After pulling away from the hug,
Sarah observed the state James was in. "Ropes! What kind of people are you? James is a sweet,
caring individual, and he would do nothing to harm anyone! How dare you?"
Emma gave a shrill yell and ran up to one of the twins, grabbing Fred's neck. "I'm going to hurt
you so badly you'll be blue for a week! You're a cruel, vicious, weed of a human! How dare you
hurt Jamesie!"
George ran over to save his brother from Emma, pulling at her waist to get her to let go of Fred.
Of course, this only enraged Jacob, who ran over and pulled on George to get him to let go of his
wife.
Ginny then started pounding on Jacob's back, worried for her brother, while Emma continued
yelling creative profanities and Sarah started yelling at Hermione.
It was a full-scale war, and James could do nothing but watch, until he noticed that neither Ron
nor Peter were fighting. They both looked thoughtful, which was unnerving to James.
"Psst, Peter!" James whispered, loudly enough for his friend to just hear him. "Peter! Untie me
while nobody's looking!"
Peter walked slowly over to James. "What?"
"I said, untie me while nobody is looking."
"But James," asked Peter, staring at the fight, "Don't you know these people?"
That was a bad sign, James could tell. "No! And be quiet, would you? I don't want them to see
you untying me!"
"But I'm almost positive that that is the woman you saw in the bakery," said Peter, pointing at
Hermione. "What was her name? It sounded funny, but it was close to a normal name. Helen?
Barbara? No..."
This was definitely not good. James started wiggling as hard as he could, trying to free himself
from the ropes before Peter could figure out anything.
"Minny? Audrey? Harmony? Helena?..."
James could feel the beginnings of a rope burn forming around his wrists, but he kept wiggling.
The battle in front of him raged on, until, to James' horror, Ginny bit Emma when Fred's face
started turning blue, and Emma shrieked so loudly that the fighting stopped and the room fell
quiet.
And Fate was obviously angry with James that night, because as soon as the room fell quiet,
Peter figured out who the woman was.
"Hermione! That was it! Hermione!" said Peter triumphantly. He turned towards Hermione and
pointed at her. "Look, don't you think kidnapping James is a lame idea? I mean, I know there
have been bad things in the past, but I really think this is a bad way to get revenge."
Hermione blinked a few times. "Harry told you what happened?"
"Of course he told us," said Peter. "We're his friends. We're James' best friends. He wouldn't
hide such an important part of his past from us!"
James was too shocked to say anything. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish as he tried to
make the words come out, and the blood drained from his face as the conversation continued.
"Well," said Hermione, "You aren't shocked or afraid? Or curious? Did he tell you the whole
story?" she asked suspiciously.
"Of course," said Peter indignantly, "And, lady, I'm sorry for what happened to your family after
the trial, but James was only doing his job and I really think you should stop blaming him for
their deaths."
There was a pause.
Hermione cleared her throat. "There was a trial?"
Not good, was the only thought running through James' head. Not good.
"Yes," answered Peter. "And I said that--"
"But you see, my family has never been affected by the trials I've been in. And my family is still
alive." Hermione smiled sweetly.
That got Fred, George, and Ginny's attention. They watched Peter try to figure out just who was
telling the truth.
"But weren't you a witness to a trial where James was the defense attorney?" Peter asked,
confused.
"Hm, James must have told you the wrong past." Hermione's sweet smile was beginning to look
eerily triumphant. "Funny how that works out."
Peter turned towards James. "Can you help me with this? I mean, that is what you said, right?
That you were a defense attorney?"
James closed his eyes and took a deep breath. How he was ever going to get out of this one was
anyone's guess. And it was strange, but he still wanted to at least try to escape his old friends
than just admit then and there to who he was. Because to admit who he was took the will not
only to show other people what he was trying to escape, but also show himself was he was trying
to escape (which was, essentially, himself). I am so messed up… thought James. But he would
not surrender.
"Yes, I was a defense attorney," said James.
"Ha. See? He was telling the truth," said Peter.
James wanted to curl up into a ball and die. Peter was being such a supportive friend, but
unfortunately, he was fighting the wrong battle.
"Then how do you explain his knowledge of who I am?" asked Hermione reasonably.
"Ooh, tough question," said George. "I'd like to see Harry talk himself out of this one."
"His name is James," said Sarah.

There was silence as everyone turned to James, waiting to hear his answer to Hermione's
question. Yes, that question was a problem for James. Potential explanations for the reason he
knew Hermione started running through his head.
The silence was becoming oppressive, and James finally shrugged. "Um, I can't?" he said
helplessly. Stupid, James thought to himself. I thought of how many explanations? And this was
the one I chose? Definitely stupid...
"Uh-huh. I thought so," said Hermione. "So do you admit to being Harry Potter, then?"
No, thought James, but he thought it wiser just to stay quiet.
"No," said Sarah, "You have it all wrong. James is James Potterson. You obviously got a mix-up
in the phone book, or something."
"Well, does your 'James' have a scar on his forehead?" asked Hermione.
"No," said Sarah, "I would have noticed that."
"But James does have scars on his back," said Peter. "Does your 'Harry' have that?"
"No way," said Fred. "With all the times we've had to carry him from the quidditch pitch to the
infirmary with a torn uniform, we would have noticed that."
"I know!" said Emma, "We'll run a test. If James has a scar on his forehead, he's Harry. But if he
has scars on his back, we get to go back home. Deal?"
"Fine, it's a deal," said Hermione, her confident smile shattering all James' hopes.
------------------
You guys were all so brave to read the cliffie chapter, and so incredibly sweet for not killing me
for writing it (because I know that cliffie warrants slow torture). You guys rock!
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Chapter: 27
teacher named James, aka Harry. Hermione’s plan to get Harry back is going into action, and
James isn’t too happy. Final chapter.
Author's note: Whoo-hoo! Here is a present from me to you: an incredibly long and hopefully
exciting last chapter to “Hidden Beneath”. I worked really hard to get it up fast. I hope you all
enjoy it!
Chapter 27: An Ending and a Story
----------------
Both groups started to advance on James, and he once again renewed his efforts to break free.
"C'mon, Jamesie," said Emma. "Just show us your back and we can go."
A chorus of agreements came from James' friends.
"Yeah," said Sarah, "It's getting late and I would like to leave. This is getting way out of
proportion and these people have got to be reported to the police."
James could feel the ropes around his wrist loosening as the knots became smaller, freeing more
rope to make the loops bigger. He knew that with just a few more pulls he could free his hands
and be able to get out of the chair.
"I, personally, don't see why you're making such a fuss," said Hermione. "You don't even have to
show the scar on your forehead to prove to me who you are. I know who you are, you just have
to admit it."
James freed his hands. "No!" he snarled as he jumped up from the chair. "I don't have to do
anything!" He took a step backwards. "I don't know who you are and I don't care. Just leave me
alone!" He kept taking steps backwards until he back was pressed against the wall.
A semicircle was formed around him, the people in the room seeming to bear down on him.
"I can't even see his scar from here..." said Ginny, with surprise in her voice.
"But there's a lock of hair in the way," noted Hermione. She stared at James. "I don't know how
you did it, but somehow there is always something blocking your scar. Which means--"
Peter interrupted. "James, just show us your back and we can go. Let's just get this over with."
Peter's words made some sense to James. After all, if he showed them his back first, then he
would be free to go and could leave before they even had a chance to see his forehead. It was the
lesser of two evils (both would cause him to remember the past), but it was the only option that
would let him avoid confronting Ron and Hermione.
"Fine," said James, a bit weakly. "Fine. I'll show you my back. Then can I leave?"
Hermione, mistaking the weakness of James' voice for evidence that he was lying, smiled and
said, "Sure. You can leave as soon as I see those supposed ‘scars’."
James quickly unbuttoned the shirt he was wearing and took it off. Then, feeling more like a
freak in the zoo than a human being, turned around.
There were gasps from his friends (excepting Peter, who had already seen the scars) and the
Weasleys, followed by a breathless "It can't be!" from Hermione.
"Now, can I please, please, leave?" asked James, turning around slowly. His face was red with
humiliation and he did not dare look into the faces of those around him.
"But-- but-- where did you get those?" asked Hermione.
"I was in a fire when I was little," lied James quietly, putting his shirt back on loosely.
"Alright," said Peter after a short silence, "You and your little friends have had your fun," he said
to Hermione. "We're leaving now. C'mon James."
"No!" said Hermione in desperation. "I know your Harry, I just know it! You can't leave. Let me
just see his forehead, I know there will be a scar there!"
Sarah was starting to get annoyed at Hermione's antics. "Look lady, you've not only kidnapped
our friend, but you've also made him extremely embarrassed and upset. Now if you don't let us
leave, I'm going to bring the biggest lawsuit against you that I can find! So get out of our way."
Hermione stood shocked for a moment or two, until her desperation became too strong. "Fred,
George, grab him!"
Luckily for Hermione, Fred and George were now just as curious as she was, and they followed
her orders.
James gave a loud "Oof!" as the twins pinned him to the wall.
"Just what do you think you're doing!" shouted Emma. "Let go of him! Let go of him!"
"Why don't you just wait two seconds and let me do what I want?" shouted Hermione back. "Just
two seconds, that's all I ask."
Sarah rolled her eyes and grabbed Emma before she could say another word. "Just let her do it,"
said Sarah. "It will go faster. She won't find anything anyway."
As Hermione came a step closer to James, panic rose in his chest. He looked to Jacob with
pleading in his eyes. Jacob looked back sorrowfully. He knew what would happen to James if
Hermione saw the scar, but he also knew that the moment he said anything, James' past would be
discovered. And James could see in Jacob's eyes the sadness he felt at James' predicament, and
James knew that Jacob would give the world to be able to stop Hermione, even if he was a little
annoying about James' secret at times.
James looked back at Hermione with near-hysteria. She was reaching out her hand towards
James to push back his hair.
"Please-- Hermione-- don't do this," said James with a trembling voice. "Please don't do this to
me."
Hermione's hand was touching James' hair.
James squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to die or break free from the twins' strong arms.
Hermione had to be stopped. Every fiber of James' body and soul was screaming it, Stop
Hermione. James did not want to face what had happened. He could not. Why? Why could he
not stay happily in denial? Why was Hermione being so ruthless, so unfeeling? James was
getting desperate as he could feel Hermione start to pull back his hair. Stop her! Stop her!
Suddenly, the power inside James welled up. Despite the all the pills he had swallowed, the
power in him forced its way out to obey the commands of James' very soul.
A series of explosions went off around the room. Anything electrical blew up with sparks and
smoke. A florescent light from the ceiling flickered and fell, almost hitting Hermione. A white
light glowed from James, making the momentarily dark room suddenly bright.
The power flooding from James squeezed his chest and his heart. His lungs could not get enough
air and his head felt like it would explode. His muscles screamed and his ears pounded.
Suddenly, the power in James went dull, and he collapsed to the floor, gasping.
The room was dark. After a moment of tense silence, someone said a spell and the room was lit
up again.
Peter, Sarah, Emma, and Jacob stood back, all of them shocked and the first three frightened.
Hermione, Fred, George, and Ginny were also shocked, standing rigidly in place, staring at
James. Only Ron was brave enough to feel compassion and sympathy towards James and reach
out to a friend-- a brother-- whom he had not really seen in ten years.
"Are you okay?" asked Ron, gently helping James to his feet.
"Why?" was the only thing James said.
He wearily made his way to the chair that was still in the center of the room. The power in him
was now at its full level. James could feel the power in him like a weight, and suddenly he could
sense the power levels of the people in the room (magical or not), their intentions, and the
remains of the last spell they cast (Hermione: a tracking spell, Ron: a cleaning spell, Ginny: a
light-casting spell, George: a repair spell, and Fred: a singing hex). He was overwhelmed by all
the feelings he was receiving and felt ready to weep when he realized that this power in him had
finally defeated the pills and could no longer be contained. Ciara had never made pills for an E
level before, and James knew that he could not easily use the pills again.
He sat down heavily and stared straight ahead, defeated. "Why?"
Hermione walked over to James. "We did this to save you, Harry."
James stood up slowly and faced Hermione.
"Excuse me?" Rage filled James' heart and a fire started dancing in his eyes. "Excuse me? To
save me? That's bullshit, Hermione, and you know it! You only did this you save yourself! I have
tried so hard to escape all this, and look at what you've done! You've destroyed my life!"
James' voice turned harsh and biting. "I hope you’re proud of yourself, Hermione. You're the
hero of the year. Congratulations, you rescued the savior of the wizarding world, Harry Potter,
from his life of happiness, to bring him home to a world he abhors."
In his fit of anger, James pushed his hair up to reveal the scar on his forehead. He pointed to it
angrily. "There's the stupid scar. Are you happy? That's all my life has ever been: that scar. All
my problems, all my embarrassment, all my suffering have come from it. And now, the
destruction of the one life I loved! It's gone, and all because of this damn scar! Now go give
yourself a stupid metal for you damn heroics, Hermione, and LEAVE ME ALONE!"
James sat back down in the chair and put his head in his hands. Hermione stared, her mouth
open. "Harry, I'm so sorry..." She touched his back lightly. "Harry?"
"Don't touch me," said James threateningly. "Just-- go away."
The Weasleys and James' friends stood quietly in the corner, mouths agape at the scene
unfolding in front of them. Hermione took a few steps back to join them.
James felt lost in a world of Harry and James. Not knowing who he was. The delicate life he had
worked so hard to make had crashed down around him and he felt as if he had nowhere to go, no
one to trust.
"I think we should take James home now," said Jacob quietly.
"You can use my taxi," offered Ron.
Peter finally spoke up. "Just a moment. Nobody's going anywhere, until I have some questions
answered."
"Why don't we do that tomorrow, Peter?" said Jacob. "James is obviously tired from this
ordeal..."
Peter rounded on Jacob. "Aren't you curious? I mean, I don't even know who's telling the truth
here! And too many unusual things have happened for me walk away this time. No. I need some
answers."
Emma and Sarah agreed.
"All I'm saying is that tomorrow might be better for everyone here. A good night’s sleep and
tempers in check will make everyone calmer," said Jacob.
"You sound like you don't want to hear an explanation," said Emma suspiciously. "Do you know
something we don't? Or are you just looking out for the welfare of the world?"
"Why would I know anything that you don't?" asked Jacob nervously.
"Because you and Jamesie have been acting strange ever since our wedding," said Emma. "I do
have observation skills, you know."
Jacob looked over at James, who was sitting with his back to the group. It was like he was not
even hearing their conversation. He just sat, staring at the wall, dazed.
"James?" said Jacob. "James? Do you want me to explain for you?" He figured that the truth had
to come out at some point.
James waved his hand indifferently and mumbled something.
"Okay then," said Jacob. "I will explain it."
"I knew it!" said Emma loudly. "You are in league with Jamesie! You are both plotting
something! And to think I married you!"
Jacob rolled his eyes at his wife's predictable over-the-top reaction. "Do you want to hear it or
not?"
That quieted her down, and everyone (excepting James) came up around Jacob, waiting for his
explanation with bated breath.
Jacob sighed and brushed a hand through his hair. "Now, I don't know much," he began, "But
what I do know I will tell you. I know who James is only because he told us, and I was shown a
book that had a biography of him in it."
"That's dumb," interrupted Emma. "Nobody wrote a book about Jamesie and he told us that he
was a defense attorney."
"If you would only listen to me, I could finish explaining..." said Jacob, slightly peeved. "If you
recall, James had three histories in total."
"The one I made up," said Peter. "The one he told us, and...?"
"The other one he told us, about being a person named Harry Potter."
"But he made that up," said Sarah, confused.
"No, he told the truth and we all laughed," said Jacob. "We essentially forced him to create a new
history because he couldn't prove the real one."
"But you can't possibly think we're stupid enough to believe that story about 'being the most
powerful wizard' or whatever," said Sarah. "It's obviously not true."
Hermione couldn't help it. She burst out laughing. "Wait, let me get this straight. Harry-- he told
you? He actually told you his real history and you guys didn't believe him?" She wiped the tears
from her eyes. "Oh, that is too precious! And you call yourselves his friends..."
"And who are you guys?" said Jacob angrily. "You call yourself his friend? That's a laugh. You
kidnapped him. You made him miserable. You destroyed his life. Yeah, you’re a great friend."
Hermione narrowed her eyes. "We knew Harry for his entire childhood, and if you think--"
"I know how long you've known James, and I also know that your friendship was rather frayed in
the last few years you knew him," said Jacob. "We've known him for over ten years, making that
just about the same amount of time you've known him. So don't use that superior tone of voice
when you talk to us, because we are just as qualified to care about him as you are."
There was a stunned silence as the truth in Jacob's statement sunk into Hermione and the
Weasley's heads, and as Sarah and Emma nodded approvingly at Jacob. Hermione's tone of voice
was starting to bother them, too.
"But Jacob," said Peter, "How do you know all this?"

"I know this because my niece was admitted to the Toronto School of Magic while I was visiting
her, and she told me about James. She was the one who lent me the book, and all I did was
remember what James told us about himself and asked him about it. So he told me and I believed
him." Jacob's tone turned apologetic. "But please don't get mad at me. I tried as hard as I could to
persuade James to tell you guys again, but he wouldn't let me. I'm sorry, but I had made a
promise not to tell."
"So James is a..." started Sarah.
"A wizard," said Hermione, unable to stop herself. She glared in James's direction. "He is a
wizard who has forgotten his debt to society."
"Okay, that's it," said Ron, stepping into the situation. "I have just about had it with you
self-righteous attitude, Hermione. Harry has a debt to society? What about society's debt to him?
Or have you forgotten what he did so long ago? I think you have gone too far this time. Harry
has been through a lot, and though I don't exactly know what happened to him, I do know that it
wasn't a romp in the meadows. So lay off the poor man, okay? And stop this stupid inquisition."
Hermione became quiet after her husband's outburst.
"Well, if she's going to stop, I'm going to continue," said Peter, after a pause. "And for the first
question, what the hell is a wizard? And please don't tell me you believe in magic..."
Hermione was about to speak but Ron stopped her. "A wizard is a man who uses magic, and yes,
it is real. You saw what happened when Harry was pushed to the edge... his power within him
took over, and the power is his ability to do magic."
Sarah crossed her arms. "Okay, I have an open mind. Let's see you prove that you can do this
'magic', and no card tricks, okay?"
Ginny took out her wand. "Okay, just watch." She pointed her wand to the ceiling and repaired
the fluorescent lights. She transfigured some chairs stacked in the corner into a couch. And she
turned Sarah's dress a hideous plaid pattern. "Do you need any more proof?" Ginny asked
sweetly.
Sarah, Peter, and Emma just stood there, staring at Sarah's dress, with their mouths open.
"Cool," said Emma. "Super cool. Awesomely cool. Hey," she said, turning to Ginny, "While
you're at it, can you take this stain out of my dress? It's been annoying me for days..."
Ginny waved her wand and said a spell. "No problem."
"Thanks," said Emma, rubbing the spot where the stain used to be. "You rock."
"Well, you happen to have an extremely cute dress, and I'd hate to see it ruined."
Emma pointed to Ginny's clothes. "Actually, I really must complement those awesome robes
you're--"
"Wait," Peter interrupted. "Just wait a moment. If James is a wizard and all the things you've said
is true, then he is not named James Potterson, and he's not a defense attorney, and he's not in a
fight with his relatives over a will, and he's not an actor look-alike, and I'm also willing to bet
that he's not burnt from a fire when he was little, and he's not taking pills to cure allergies. And
this all means that..." Peter turned towards James and advanced on him. "You lied," Peter said,
pointing an accusing finger in James' face. "You lied about everything."
"Someone's a bucket of brains..." mumbled one of the twins to the other.
Peter didn't hear. "I trusted you and knew you for ten years. My family and I took you in and
treated you like a long lost relative. And you've had the effrontery to pretend to be my best friend
even though you had been lying to me all this time!"
"If it makes you feel any better," said Hermione, "He lied to us as well..."
"I don't get it..." said Peter angrily. "How do you live with yourself, knowing that your whole life
is one big lie?"
That shook James out of his daze. "You don't know anything about me," hissed James, looking
into Peter's eyes. "You have no right to accuse me so callously of lying. Sure, I was not always
honest about my past, but I never lied about whom I was trying to be and what I was trying to
accomplish. Lying about my past was the only was to create an honest future."
"An honest future?" shouted Peter. "Did that future ever include telling you're friends about your
other life?"
James stood up. "Did you even listen to Jacob? Are you listening to me? I told you all about me
having been a wizard! And everyone laughed. You got angry at me... told me to stop fooling
around and tell you the truth. What I supposed to do, Peter? Keep telling you over and over that I
had been a wizard and have you keep getting angrier and angrier?"
"You could have just shown us magic like your friend over there."
"Oh yeah," said James sarcastically, "Because that would have worked. The minute I started
doing magic was the minute the ministry officials were going to come bursting through the doors
to take me back. They already had the bakery monitored and I know they had a tag on me. I
couldn't prove it to you, Peter, because then I would be taken away from all of you and my life in
Canada."
"Well, at least we would have known the truth!" said Peter, too angry to properly realize what he
was saying.
"Well, I guess you're about to get what you want," spat James. "I'm sure the ministry has already
detected me and is on their way. They probably would have been here sooner if it wasn't for how
late it is."
Peter just glared in response (since he really knew nothing about the ministry and therefore
couldn't respond) and sat down on the sofa.
"How do you know the ministry had a tag on you?" asked Hermione.
"Oh please, Hermione," said James. "I was on the committee responsible for creating those tags.
I thought you would know that."
"Well, seeing as you never told me anything while you were working, I don't see how I could,"
answered Hermione curtly.
Ron walked over to James. "Harry, do you want me to drive you somewhere before the ministry
comes? It wouldn't be a problem..."
James looked at Ron in surprise, and then relented. "That would be nice... but I want to stay
away from any wizarding forms of travel."
"Don't worry, the car is completely non-magical. I could drive you to that place that will fly you
across the ocean."
"The airport?" asked James.
"Yeah. And then I'll drive the car back here so the ministry can't trace it, even through muggle
ways."
"'Muggle' had better not mean 'criminal' or something," said Sarah, "Because right now it sounds
as if you're running from the law or something."
"No," said Hermione quickly, "He's just running from an entire would, which, of course, is much
easier." She threw a glare in her husband's and James' direction.
"Well, you're certainly not making this situation any easier, Hermione,” said Ron. "Just let Harry
leave. As much as I, too, would like him back, it's clear to me that it would be better for him to
just leave."
Hermione looked over to Harry, and saw that even though he tried to maintain a cold and angry
attitude, he was really just a frightened person. It reminded her of seeing him the summer after
Cedric died, when he had looked at Hermione and Ron with fear, fear because he knew that it
was his loved ones that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would target.
Hermione summoned up all her bravery and compassion inside her, and said, "Fine, let him
leave. He can go."
Ron, Ginny, and the twins blinked a few times in surprise. Even James' angry gaze softened for a
moment.
"But Jamesie can't just leave!" cried Emma. "What would we do?"
"I think it's clear that some people will do just fine without me," answered James, looking
pointedly at Peter.
"I don't want to be friends with a criminal who lies to his supposed best friends," said Peter
harshly. "What did you do? Wreak murder and mayhem on one world, and figure, "What the
hell, I can always escape into another...' You were just using us, James. We were just people to
hide behind so you wouldn't get caught."
Ron turned red with anger. "That's not true," he said. And before he could continue, James
interrupted.
"Sure it's true," said James coldly. "I guess it's time to tell the truth. I'm a wizard, I'm a criminal,
I'm running from the law, and I will not be returning to Canada. Feed my cat for me."
James didn't know what had come over him, but he was tired of people constantly accusing him
and telling him who he was. It was just easier to agree than to defend himself. Besides, if his
friends thought of him as a criminal, they would be mad at him and it would be easier for James
to leave them. It's always easier to part after a fight than during the good times.
James started for the door, but was stopped when a hand caught his arm.
"Oh, no," said Peter, "You're not going anywhere."
"What do you care whether I leave or not?" asked James, pushing Peter's arm away. "You're not
even a part of the wizarding world. You shouldn't even--"
But James was cut short when someone started pounding on the door. "Hello?" called a voice.
"Anyone in there? We have detected a power surge with muggles in the area. We are coming in!"
"No," said James faintly, taking a step backwards. "No..." He could sense that there was a fair
amount of wizards and witches outside that door, and that their intentions were not exactly in his
best interest.
The rest of the people all stared in shock at the door. Hermione and the Weasleys were nervous
because they knew Harry would be taken away from them and subjected to an even more intense
inquiry than they gave him. Jacob, Emma, and Sarah were scared because they had very little
idea of who "the ministry" was (even Jacob knew very little), but, whatever it was, it didn't sound
very good for James. And though Peter felt anger towards James, in his heart he was frightened
for James because Peter saw how frightened James was himself.
Someone unlocked the door with a spell and a group of about fifteen aurors burst into the room.
They had their wands out just in case there was a danger of some sort.
James yanked himself out of Peter's grasp and moved to the center of the room. He stood with
his knees slightly bent and his arms out, ready to run if he saw the chance. James' friends,
Hermione, and the Weasleys gathered behind him, frightened for what would happen next.
James saw the head auror raise his wand and begin to whisper a spell. The poor auror didn't even
get to finish.
Faster than one could blink, James knocked out the auror with a stunning spell and cast a small
dome around himself, the group gathered behind him, and the chair.
The aurors stood shocked for a moment or two, and then went into a frenzy. The head of their
section had just been knocked out by someone who could do powerful wandless magic and who
just sealed himself in a light blue dome of protective magic.
"Call for more aurors, now!" James could faintly hear from inside the bubble, as if they were
underwater. All sounds were fuzzy and vision was slightly blurred.
"What did you do?" asked Hermione in wonder.
"Yeah, this is... unusual," said Ron.
The aurors were firing curses and spells at the dome. The spells didn't even bounce off;
everything was absorbed.
"Um, I don't know," said James. "I just wanted to protect myself."
A few brave aurors came up to the bubble and touched it. The light blue shield sunk slightly
inwards when the aurors pushed on it with their hands, but as soon as they lifted their hands, the
dome snapped back into place.
"What do you mean, 'you don't know'?" asked Sarah suspiciously.
"I don't know what I mean when I say 'I don't know'!" shouted James, starting to get hysterical.
After all, the aurors were right outside and his magic just did something useful for the first time
in ten years. "I don't know how I do these things! I don't even have control over my ability!"
"Calm down, Harry, just calm down," said Ron, putting his hand on James' shoulder. "You have
to calm down if you don't know how your magic will react."
Ron made sense, and James made an effort to relax. He really did not want his magic to make
anything else happen.
James looked around him. He briefly thought about apparating, but then was against the idea,
reasoning that where ever he apparated to, he would still stick out like a sore thumb on the
detection charts.
"Alright, James," said Peter, walking up to James slowly. "I think you owe us an explanation,
now. Why don't you start with this question: What the hell did you do to get these people so
angry at you?"
James gulped. "Um, well, I--"
"And why are you a criminal?" Peter took a step towards James.
"But I--"
"And why are you running from your police?" Peter stepped closer.
"No, I'm--"
"And why did you lie about all of this to those you considered your best friends?"
Peter now had his hands gripping James' shirtfront, his face inches away from James' face. Peter
was staring fiercely into James' eyes.
"Would you just let me explain?" asked James softly. "And Ginny, don't even think about casting
that stunning spell."
Ginny guiltily put down her wand.
"Whoa," said George. "He's good."
Peter was not fazed. "Fine. Explain." He let go of James' shirt but made no move to back off.
"I'm- I'm not a criminal," said James. Though it might be better if I were.
Jacob walked up to Peter. "I can verify that. He's not a criminal and he's not in trouble with the
police."
"You'd have to be really dumb to ever think Harry was a criminal," said Ginny, glaring at Peter.
"Yeah," said Fred. "How well do you know Harry anyway? I mean, have you ever spent more
that two hours with the guy?"
"Of course I've spent time with James!" said Peter indignantly.
"Then you would know that Harry is the bravest, kindest, and most loyal person on the face of
the planet," said Ron.
James turned red. "I'm none of those things, Ron. I'm a scared coward who can't even stay loyal
to myself, never mind my friends."
Hermione came up and poked James in the chest. "Who sacrificed himself for his friends? Who
killed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? Who devoted almost his entire life to saving the wizarding
world?"
"Now, that's a mood swing," said Fred. "One minute she hates him, the next minute she's trying
to cheer him up. I just don't get it..."
"Wait... what?" said Peter. "What did James do?"
Hermione turned around and put her hands on her hips. "He saved the entire wizarding world
from a ruthless dictator!"
"Hermione..." said James, embarrassed and annoyed.
"He's the reason that many of us are still alive!"
"Hermione--"
"He's a house-hold name!"
"Would you just stop--"
"We have a Harry Potter Day! That's how revered he is!"
"Hermione!"
"What?"
"Stop it!" said James, irritated. "And I'm pretty sure that not all that is true. I mean, there's not a
Harry Potter Day. That would be... weird."
Fred shrugged. "Celebration of Peace... Harry Potter Day... same difference."
George grinned evilly. "But if it bothers you that much, we'll be sure to get the name changed.
'Harry Potter Day'... that might be a nice change from the old name. And who wouldn't want to
miss seeing the Boy-Who-Lived bright red with embarrassment for 24 hours straight?"
"Hey, who wouldn't want to miss seeing the Boy-Who-Lived... period?" said Fred. "We could
have Harry Potter Day be a day that Harry comes out of his little hiding place. It could be
celebrated every ten years!"
"And just think of the marketing opportunity!" said George excitedly. "We could sell rope,
blindfolds, and little model taxis, along with action figures! There could be one of
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and Harry, and--"
"Will you two quit it?" said Ginny, rolling her eyes. "You're acting like two-year-olds."
The twins quieted down. Everyone in the dome was staring at them.
"Sorry," said Fred and George together.
Peter looked at James. "I'm so sorry... really I am..."
James held up his hand for Peter to stop and sighed. "It's okay. I probably deserved it. Besides,
I'm trying to stay calm, so please just accept my forgiveness and stop talking to me."
In the silence that followed, James took out his blue bottle of pills. He swallowed a few without
water. Then, realizing that he was not feeling any of the magic-lowering effects he was used to,
he swallowed some more. When this did not provide the desired effect either, James sighed. I'm
doomed... He tucked the bottle back in his pocket and sat down in the chair, slouching.
The group stared in mild shock at James' actions.
"What?" said James. "It's not like they work anymore." And before anyone could ask what "they"
were, James answered it for them. "They're just pills that make my magic stop working. That's
how I could live as a non-magical person, and that's how I couldn't be detected, and that's how
you couldn't see my scar."
There was a pause.
"Well, that sure explains a lot," said Hermione, blinking a few times in surprise. "Especially how
your magic level was scanned to read 0, which is impossible."
"Which is how we found you," said Ron.
James closed his eyes. "So, the very pills I use to free myself from the wizarding world actually
pulled me back into it. How ironic..." he said dryly.
"Harry," asked Hermione tentatively. "Can you tell us why you left the wizarding world?"
James leaned forward and put his head into his hands.
Hermione continued. "I always thought it was because of me, but it cannot be just that. You are
in such a state of denial... it's like nothing I've ever seen."
"And I would really like to know what happened," said Sarah. "I mean, it's like I don't even know
you."
"Yeah," agreed Emma, "I don't know who you are, except that your name is not Jamesie
Potterson."
Peter nodded, but didn't speak.
"So," said Fred, "Since it looks like we're going to be stuck inside this blue bubble-thing for a
while, why don't you tell us, Harry?"
"If you tell us what happened," said George. "I can write a book about it and become richer than
Ginny."
Ginny turned red, but appeared to agree with her brother on the "tell your life-story" bit.
"You don't have to do anything you don't want to, Harry," said Ron. "But it could pass the time
faster. Of course, if you still want to run from your past, we can't make you tell us what
happened."
James sighed.
Outside, the aurors were still working at the dome, trying to make it go away. James knew they
would not find a counter-spell quickly. He had essentially made up the spell for the dome. His
knew his power was too strong to stay within the confines of written spells. He also knew that E
levels before him were the people to create most of the spells and hexes in the world. Sure, a
regular witch or wizard could create a spell, but it was difficult, and could only be a simple spell.
The dome was complicated. Yep, it would take hours for the aurors to remove the dome, perhaps
days. Time was not a problem.
But did he really want to confront his past? As Ron said, nobody could make James talk about it.
He could just stay in denial. But denial was getting to be hard work, and James was rather tired
of running from his past. Why not let his story be known? Why not let out all the horrors he kept
hidden in his memory, beneath layers and layers of denial and lies? The wizarding world was
going to find him one day. There was already going to be tons of press about this incident. And
the pills didn't work. James no longer had a protection from his past, from the wizarding world,
and from his power.
James looked to his friends, both groups. It wasn't fair to keep them in so much worry, in so
much fear, and in so much secrecy. Hermione had gone nuts to find him. Peter had let his fear
and suspicion take over. Ron seemed to be the only calm one among them, which certainly was a
change since school. Hermione was supposed to be the calm one and Ron was supposed to have
a short temper and unreasonable logic. Peter was supposed to be James' best friend, but feared
James the most at this moment. Maybe James didn't know his friends as well as he thought he
did, and maybe (he thought) it took some openness on his part to get openness on their part.
None of his problems was going to be solved by lying anymore. James had to come clean. No,
Harry had to come clean. There was no more James Potterson. There was only Harry, and his
past.
"Fine," said Harry, summoning all the courage inside him. "I'll tell you. I'll tell you the whole
story."
----------------
LOOK ON MY AUTHOR PAGE FOR THE EXCITING SEQUEL, “FACING THE PAST,
FIXING THE PRESENT”!
This goes out to all of those who ever reviewed or read my story: You guys are the coolest, the
best, the most wonderful readers out there! I love you all to pieces. Oh, and there will be a sequel
coming up (as if I didn’t set it up for one…) about what actually happened to make Harry leave.
Anyhoo, thanks for all of your lovely reviews and e-mails. You guys are my heroes.
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Love to all,
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Storyid: 642217

Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter and Co.

Chapter 1: Articles and Éclairs

"You say that everyday."

Peter gave James a pleading look.

"Fine. I'm almost done correcting these anyway."

James rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, yeah..."

"See? We'll be going someplace new! It'll be an adventure!"

Hermione sighed. "I suppose."

Ron kissed her cheek. "Thanks."

BOY WHO LIVED, DEAD, OR ALIVE?

"Yes, Mum," said Jack, Emily, and Ron in unison.

"Dear, don't encourage them..."

Hermione gave them a weak smile and apparated away.

"Right," said Ron, "Let's go."

"What?" shouted a woman behind a huge whirring mixer.

"Uh, I said, keep up the good work!" shouted Peter.

"Thanks!" the woman shouted back.

James shook himself. "Oh, yeah. What?"

"My Cobbie was saying something."

"James is my middle name. Harry is my first," James answered.

"Sorry guys, I guess I just got busy."

James raised an eyebrow.

"I'm in a better mood, now, promise," tried James.

"So, what are we making today?"

Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter and Co.

Chapter 2: Traveling and Lies

"Six and a half," Emily corrected.

"Oh, yes. And Jack, you must be twelve?"

"Ten," Jack corrected.

"So how is Mum?" asked Ron.

"Just how many did you two leave?"

Jack looked at his sister.

"About a couple," said Emily.

Hermione narrowed her eyes.

"Okay, okay," said Emily, "We each saved one."

"Oh, yeah, famished," said Jack enthusiastically.

"Yes, Mum," said Jack and Emily in unison.

They walked back to the table and began to eat.

"So, how are my favorite niece and nephew?" asked Percy.

"Good," they both answered.

"Well, yeah," answered Jack.

"Did you get any good cards?" asked Percy.

"Bye Mum!" called Emily, "Have fun in Canada!"

On their way to Canada.

"We don't?" asked Emma.

"No, it's really not that interesting."

Huh? thought James.

"Yeah, James here told me it once," said Peter.

I never did that! What is he talking about? thought James frantically.

"So what was your brother's--"

"But do you know what happened?"

"Yeah. Really, thanks a lot."

"It was nothing."

"Never," answered the man gruffly, but determinedly.

Harry kept walking.

"Away," answered Harry.

"He's armed!" shouted one man stupidly.

"With what, you moron?" shouted another in answer.

The din quieted, and Harry sensed trouble.

"What did you say?" asked one man.

"The guy ain't human. He's a danger to us all."

And a gigantic thank you to: