An Instrument of Terror
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I do not own any of this whatsoever.
Spoilers: Books 1-4.
Pairing (if any): H/Hr, D/G
Author's Notes: Again I must apologise for the delay in the chapters. I've been moving rooms and so fourth, having it disconnected for ages and just sat on the floor of my parent's house. Well, I got it back and have pumped out more chapters than I can deal with.
Summary: A little tad, teeny weenie bit of H/Hr interaction, but as I said it doesn't really come on strong until later on. D/G and some more hit and run action. Plus, the first meeting of our fabled couple.
~*~
With a large bang that shook the whole courtroom, Draco Malfoy barged into the court, eyebrows lowered and temperature rising. His scowl looked like it would melt the council if they dared to challenge him and his cool demeanour was frighteningly fiery.
The Council watched as the young Malfoy walked up to the front desk and slammed down several pieces of parchment. He stood up straight and breathed out once then fixated his stare upon the people in front of him.
"I demand that you release my client into the custody of his Godfather," Draco said, standing tall and strong.
The Council shifted around for a second; mumbling and whispering to each other until one dark haired man stood up.
"On what grounds?" he asked.
Draco shrugged. "You give me proof that Harry Black did cast that spell in the tunnel and I will hand him over
to you. Until you can provide such evidence, you have nothing to hold him on."
"We have suspicion of…" the dark haired man started before Draco shook his head.
"Suspicion doesn't require contempt, councillor," Draco replied picking up the parchments from the
desk and tucking them into his inner robe pockets. "He has given a witness statement, so I expect him to be
released to the custody of Sirius Black immediately."
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"That was some bloody good show man work in there, Malfoy," Sirius stated as the group walked down the
stone steps of the Ministry offices. "I almost believed you for a second."
"Yeah, well," Draco started, coughing a little. "They won't believe it for long. They'll check it out sooner or later."
Harry shrugged. "You believe me though, don't you?"
Draco gave a hearty laugh. "'Course. We'd be mad not to."
"Do you think they don't believe me because I was down there in the first place?" Harry asked, pulling his robes further around his cold body. For mid September, it was quite cold.
"Hardly," Draco said. "It's most likely that they have no proof of who you are. The Ministry
didn't exactly make the cleanest mop up of the Harry Potter fiasco."
"Meaning what?" Remus asked, flagging down a London taxi.
They all clambered inside the black taxi as Remus told the driver where to go. The taxi moved away from the curb and back into the flowing London traffic.
"Meaning," Draco continued. "That there's no record of Harry Black ever being born or even
holding a job down apart from the Phoenix squadron back in the Auror division. Once Fudge is out of the way, the only
other reliable person who knows who you are is Dumbledore, but on a primary source basis, he's never supposed to
have met you."
"Leading us back to square one on the drawing board," Sirius groaned, slumping into the taxi seat.
After a slight pause, Harry interjected. "So, what do I do know? Lay low for a while?"
"That would be the best bet," Draco replied. "Until I can get the rest of it sorted. Don't use
public transport and don't get nabbed by the police. If you can, try and avoid Diagon Ally as well, we don't
want any officials seeing a suspect of a terrorist attack wandering about in broad daylight."
"Where can I go then?" Harry asked. "Lloyds' is probably being watched and so will Sirius'."
"I could ask Ginny if you could camp in with us until I get on good grounds with the Council," Draco replied.
"Draco, I haven't got another hundred years here," Harry said. "We need to get something done fast or I'm in Azkaban faster than you can say Strawberry. I've got to do a disappearing act."
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Draco slung his briefcase down on the floor and slumped into the dark chair. He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, thinking about the situation he was in now. Not only was his father out of Azkaban, Harry was getting the blame for a crime Lucius had committed. It would put the Malfoy name to shame yet again, after all Draco had done to break away from his father's ever-casting shadow. He couldn't escape the fact that he was a Malfoy, he'd never be able to run away from the fact that Lucius Malfoy shared the same blood as him.
It'd been surprising when Sirius Black had turned up at Draco and Harry's apartment door beginning him to be Harry's secret keeper if you like. Not so much of a secret keeper as a friend who would know who he was. Draco was let in on the plan, and even though he didn't agree with it, went along with it anyway. He'd complained that it was confusing not being able to talk about Harry Potter in front of his girlfriend and close friends.
Draco took a small gold pocket watch out and looked at the time. Ginny should be home soon, so he'd better put the kettle on. Slowly, he dragged himself out the comfortable chair and into the kitchen, filling up the kettle and putting it on the stove to boil. He put three tea bags in three familiar mugs; one baring a D, one with a G and one with an H.
How was he ever going to tell Ginny that Harry was moving in with them? At least until the case blew over or they found Lucius, or they pinned the blame on something else.
Out of the corner of his eye, the Daily Prophet from that morning was lying on the kitchen table. Draco picked up the paper and instantly frowned. The main headline was the destruction of the underground the previous afternoon along with Harry Black's name in big, bold letters. Unfortunately, it also had a moving picture of Harry stumbling into the light of one of the platforms that he was found on.
Draco swore and threw the paper done onto the table in exasperation. They had a picture of him, everyone would know him by now, it was Harry Potter all over again. Draco kicked the table leg in frustration and poured out the boiling water from the boiled kettle. He took a few deep breaths and tried to calm himself in case he tried to pour the scalding liquid onto his hand.
"Chill," he told himself straight. "Everything will be fine. You'll figure this
out."
He began saying the case aloud to himself as he moved the cups onto the coffee table in front of the sofa. Just as he sat down and began to sip his drink the door clicked open.
"Draco?" Ginny called from the front door.
Draco turned and watched her freckled face appear at the living room door. She grinned and walked over to the sofa, kissing him hello and snuggling down by his side.
"Everything go alright today?" She asked, pulling his arm around her and picking up her mug. "How was
the case?"
Draco sighed. "Didn't go too well."
Ginny sipped her tea and rested her feet on the coffee table, careful not to knock the other mug over. "I know I can't ask this question but…why?"
"The client is a friend," Draco replied.
"You have friends now?" Ginny said jokingly surprised. Draco hit her shoulder playfully. "Who is he,
or she or it? Depending on the gender or even species of the person or thing in question of course."
"An old friend from…Crosskeys," Draco said, sipping his tea quickly. He'd nearly said Hogwarts; it'd been on the tip of his tongue.
Ginny smiled. "Does this mysterious friend have a name and/or gender? Considering they came from Crosskeys, I'm guessing yes. Not many Centaurs attend a Wizarding/Muggle Law University."
"Harry," Draco said. "Harry Black. Didn't come out of Crosskeys with a…good reputation so to
speak. He's go himself into a tidy spot of trouble, has our dear Harry."
"Harry…Harry…" Ginny repeated in a faraway mind. "Why does that name sound so familiar?"
Draco shrugged for effect. "Oh I'm sure I've mentioned him before. He's been working with the Ministry for some time. Anyway, he needs a place to crash while he gets himself back on his feet."
"Are you asking if he can stay with us?" Ginny asked, sitting up rather rapidly. "Here, in our
home."
Draco nodded and drank from his cup as Ginny considered her boyfriend's request.
"On two conditions," Ginny stated turning back to Draco and staring him in the eye. She meant business. "You tell me exactly what Harry was up front in the Council for and…"
"But Gin…" Draco tried to protest but Ginny silenced him.
"AND…" she continued. "You can ask Hermione."
@@@@@@@@@
Hermione was absently flipping through the Daily Prophet on her lunch break. Some idiot had spilt coffee all over the front page and it'd dried on, making it impossible to remove magically. Maria had ranted and raved about it being the only works copy, one of the first prints of the press. Of course, it'd been Nina. She'd scurried out of the place as soon as Maria had arrived for the afternoon shift.
The clock bell above the door rang, signalling Hermione's shift was ending. She grabbed her bag and put her books back into it. When Hermione was walking out of the door, she called to Maria and said that she'd see her for their 'glorious' morning shift on Monday. A full weekend was open now and Hermione was looking forward to some good relaxing and maybe some light drinking with a few friends. Nothing was more thrilling than sitting around a table at the Leaky Cauldron with Lavender Weasley who was now very heavily pregnant with a little Weasley, Ginny Weasley; very soon going to be Ginny Malfoy when she finally gets her act together and Parvati Krum, who as you can see by the name married Viktor Krum a year earlier. Hermione hadn't attending the wedding; she wasn't big on all the fanfare that they'd had. She went to the after party though and didn't enjoy it. All night, Dean was making drunken passes at her until Draco warded him off.
But this weekend was going to be different; she could feel it. She didn't believe in Divination but she did believe in gut feelings. And her gut was telling her that something was coming, something extremely satisfying and completely unexpected. But on the other hand, if her gut was wrong, at least she could have a relaxing weekend in front of the Muggle Television watching good old British Comedy re-runs.
Hermione stepped out of Flourish & Blotts feeling very happy with herself. She walked down to the Leaky Cauldron and stepped inside. It was surprisingly quite dead for a Friday afternoon. There weren't many customers in, only Tom standing at the bar rinsing some glasses out. When Hermione walked up, Tom grinned happily. He was older now; older than he was when Hermione had been at school that's for sure. He looked it, all under his eyes. Maybe it was the influence of his wife after the old git had refused to retire. Everyone was grateful of that though. There weren't many bartenders that could memorise nearly a thousand regulars.
"Having a drink with us today, 'Ermione?" Tom asked with his welcoming smile.
Hermione shook her head. "No, not today Tom. I've got to get home."
"Your turn to cook again?" Tom asked pleasantly.
"I'm afraid so," she replied. "But I'm not sure what to make for the rabble."
Tom dived under the counter and appeared a moment later with a very old cookbook in his hand. "Here."
Hermione took the old cookbook and looked at the front cover. 'Thirty Kwik-n-Easy Recipes for the Witch on the Go.'
"The Missies swears by it," Tom said, picking up another glass and wiping it on the dishcloth slung over his shoulder.
"Thanks Tom, you're a lifesaver," Hermione said, tucking it into her bag. "You wouldn't happen to have the Daily Prophet in her would you?"
"Today's?" Tom said, scratching his head. "Check on the big table over there. If it's there,
we've got one."
Hermione walked to the big table and picked up the folded newspaper from it. "Can I borrow this? I'll bring it back tomorrow."
Tom shrugged. "What use'll today's paper do me tomorrow? Take it, lass, but you owe me a drink now."
Hermione grinned as she left through the large front door and stepped out onto Charing Cross Road. She flicked through the paper as she walked down the busy street, glancing momentarily at the front page. She flicked through to the politics page and glanced over the week's campaigns for the up-coming elections. Hermione didn't really like politics, there were too many promises made and not enough carried out. Closing the paper, the moving picture on the front caught her eye.
'TERRORISM STRIKES IN A NEW FORM - Today's Report on Harry Black'
Hermione stopped dead in her tracks. The name, the name Harry Black rang a thousand bells in her head. He was the guy who ordered books on Beauxbatons from F&B's, he was the guy who lived in Lloyds', he was the guy who she'd been having freakily scary dreams about and now he was the guy who'd committed an act of terrorism? Trying not to jump ahead of herself, Hermione decided to read the article thoroughly.
"Today's report may come as a shock to many of our readers but it is a fact that we must deal with before it grows. Yesterday, the London Underground, popular with both Muggle and Magical commuters was the victim of a terrorist attack. Unfortunately, the train was not the only victim in this tragedy as several people have lost their lives. It is estimated that there were four wizards among the thirty presumed dead in the attack.
"The Ministry has issued no formal statement on this case but we have sources who have come forth with information regarding the attack. One of our sources, who is very high up in the Council, has said that the suspect in this case was a Mr. Harry Black, an ex-Auror from the Phoenix Divisional Squadron run entirely by Minister Cornelius Fudge, current Minister for Magic. He hasn't put forth a statement on his ex-Auror's behaviour and has neither denied nor confirmed the allegations towards Harry Black.
"Harry Black is reportedly a relative of the famed Sirius Black, who was released from formal imprisonment in Azkaban Fortress only five years previously. The Daily Prophet hasn't been able to uncover any solid evidence to Harry Black or his History within the Wizarding Society. There is no record of his attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, or of any Muggle Education. He has never been admitted to St. Mungo's before the age of eighteen and the Ministry Division Psychiatrist has declared his mental state as 'exceptional'.
"Whatever has driven a young man in his early twenties to commit such an atrocity must only be linked with You-Know-Who. For full details on the recent Auror activity in your area, please turn to page 6."
Hermione looked at the front page again and watched the hurt figure of Harry Black limp onto the platform of the London Underground. He couldn't have done it, it didn't seem possible. Hermione just didn't feel like he could do something like that. She shook her head; she didn't even know him yet she was trying to establish an excuse for him in her mind. It was stupid, but nothing had ever made her feel so vulnerable. For the first time in years, she felt as though her mind was on display for the whole wide world to look into.
And yet, she felt like the only person she ever needed was Harry Black.
@@@@@@@@@@@
Hermione arrived home, chucking her bag down by the hat-stand and removing her coat. She walked past the mirror that she usually checked her daily appearance in and went straight into the living room. Without even thinking, she walked into her bedroom and brought out her diary from under her mattress. This was her secret diary. It wasn't the one that she kept on her desk or the one that she kept in her locker at work. This was the one she hoped to pass on to her children someday in the hopes that someone out there will one day understand the real Miss Granger.
Taking the diary to her desk and flipping it open to the last unblemished page, she began writing in her famously neat quill-scrawl; first the date then an introduction to her hectic week. And then, she stopped. She couldn't continue. She couldn't put her feelings about harry Black to paper. They were minuscule, didn't matter to the spinning of the Earth one tiny little bit but still…
She tried again, putting the quill down on the paper and moving it in the shape of letters. She first spelled out the name, an H then A - finally she had his name spelled out in her diary, the ink drying successfully. Within seconds, the name had vanished and all that was left was the unblemished page in her book, so clear that no pen had ever touched the paper. There wasn't even a scratch mark where her quill had indented the page.
Before she could process a second thought on the stupid ink and the stupid page that didn't seem to want to stupidly write on the stupid thing, Ginny was calling from the Living room. Hermione quickly snapped the diary shut and put it safely under her mattress again, stashing the purple quill along with it. She nearly jumped in fright when Ginny knocked on the door.
"What in the world are you doing, frightening people to death like that?" Hermione asked indignantly, opening the door and walking out, closing the door behind her.
Ginny shrugged. "Always worked for Peeves. You never shouted at him."
"Peeves did it because he's a trapped soul in the castle," Hermione replied.
"Oh please," Ginny laughed. "The only thing trapped in that castle forever is Nearly Headless Nick's sense of humour."
Hermione and Ginny walked into the front room together but the sight inside was more surprising for Hermione. Sat on the sofa was Harry Black, clad in jeans and a T-shirt not manacles and a ball and chain. Draco was sat in the big comfy chair, not looking miserable but rather excited and overly too happy for Draco Malfoy to be at this time in an afternoon. Both men stood when the girls entered, Harry grinning from ear to ear about something.
"Oh, we have a house guest," Ginny said, with adult embarrassment. "Hermione, this is Harry. Harry
this is Hermione."
Harry, still grinning, walked from the sofa to Hermione, who was standing perfectly rigid at the sight of a terrorist and a murderer rolled into one perfectly normal wizarding male. She was still standing rigid when he offered his hand for her to shake. She took it, and shook it, without so much as a blink. Then, her reactions kicked in and she withdrew her hand from him with bullet-like velocity.
Harry, in all his sheepish glory, looked almost shy for a moment - shy and embarrassed. The something was back again, the something familiar that Hermione had felt when she'd first seen him in F&Bs, ordering Beauxbatons books…which had arrived that morning funnily enough. There was that something that was annoyingly and almost painfully familiar about him, about him when he was just standing there looking embarrassed and about him when he was sitting down on the sofa a few moments ago, grinning like a cat with cream.
"I guess you've read the papers then," Harry said, without faltering once. She could see it though, and she could almost feel it. He was faltering inside, omitting to something, perhaps his own shyness. Something about his confidence seemed…off.
She coughed and straightened herself out before answering. "Yes, I have."
"Well…" this time he faltered when he spoke, but he covered it up by using the pause to add a smile. "What can I say? I don't suppose 'I didn't do it' would work well?"
"It's not me you have to convince, Mr Black," Hermione replied, looking him the emerald eye, the emerald eyes that she'd seen countless of times but right now, the memory of them seemed so distant.
Ginny coughed in, moving almost in between Hermione and Harry, working her way between the tension sparked up. "Draco's working on Harry's case at the moment. I'm sorry if this is a tad out of the question, but harry needs a place to stay until the hearings are finished."
Hermione shot Ginny a look, a look that means to men what poverty means to Royalty. With a fake smile, Hermione turned back to Harry and almost glared at the poor boy.
"As long as we don't end up the next victims of Voldemort's return," she said finally, and stalked back into her bedroom, slamming the door shut behind her.
There was a slight pause before Draco sighed. "Very unlike Hermione, very unlike her. She's usually quite good at pretending she doesn't mind someone."
"I'm sorry about that Harry," Ginny said. "I guess it's the same with everyone at the moment,
huh?"
Harry gave a small laugh. "Not quite everyone. I've had this face a long time and not many people recognise
me. I should do alright if I have to go outside."
"You could always use a polyjuice of one of us," Draco said, standing up and moving into the kitchen, coming back a second later carrying four mugs of tea. "If you have to go out."
Harry shrugged. "I think I'll patch up with the insiders of the house first."
"It's your funeral," Draco replied, with a wink intended in his voice.
Ginny picked up on it though. "How long have you two known each other?"
"Long enough," Harry replied taking the extra mug of tea from Draco and walking over to Hermione's bedroom door. He turned back to Ginny for a second and said, "Do you think it'll be safe?"
Ginny nodded. "She doesn't stay mad for long."
@@@@@@@@@@
Hermione was lying on her bed staring up at the ceiling. She didn't need this, she didn't need him. If they were caught with him in their home, harbouring a criminal, they could be sentenced for it. By getting rid of them, Draco would be helping everyone, including himself and Harry.
Harry didn't deserve to be sneered at, and he didn't need the treatment she'd given him before. He was just a suspect in the crime. He wasn't going to be put in Azkaban yet. Innocent until proven guilty she reminded herself over and over again. She wasn't going to make excuses for behaving the way she did; she was just protecting her home from invaders. The invading party being a man who she'd dreamt about, well, the man was a boy once - the boy who lived in her dreams.
In one of her dreams he was a scruffy urchin sat on the Hogwarts train with broken glasses and stuffing his face with chocolate frogs. In another dream he was standing tall and proud, aiming a wand at Draco Malfoy on a stage and talking to a snake in Parseltongue. In another he was riding a Hippogriff with her and her arms tightened around his waist when she looked down. That dream was exhilarating. She felt young, she felt thirteen. In another she was watching him on a broomstick, riding around a dragon and practising the Accio charm with him after lessons. And in the last she was kissing him then walking away from him as he faded into a blissful sunrise, faded away from her. The sunrise was painful to watch but it didn't stop him from fading from her.
A knock at her door roused her from her day dreaming. She sat up and nearly shouted, "Who is it?"
There was a momentary pause before a voice replied, "It's Harry. Can I come in? Please?"
There wasn't a second worth of hesitation before she replied, "Yes."
The door opened and Harry walked in awkwardly. He stepped only a few steps in the room and handed her the cup of tea in his hands. She felt comfortable though, unlike she did when she'd first met him in the living room. She drank the tea before pointing to the chair by her desk.
"Sit down if you like," she said, crossing her legs beneath her.
He smiled his thanks and pulled the chair from underneath the desk, sitting down and then smiling again.
"Look, I know I don't have to convince you that I didn't do it," Harry started the dreaded
conversation. "But I feel like I have to. I have to day that I'm not a terrorist working for
Voldemort…"
Hermione gasped at the name. Something she hadn't done in a while because no one ever said it. He was always referred to as You-Know-Who around the house or at the Weasley's. Even Draco, son of a DeathEater, never used his name. Yet, when she gasped, Harry looked surprised, as if he wasn't expecting her too.
"Sorry," he quickly said. "…I'm not a terrorist working for You-Know-Who, I never was, never will
be. I was the only survivor…that's probably why I've been slammed for it. To tell you the truth, I haven't
picked up the Daily Prophet since the day on the underground. I haven't had the guts."
"Today's the only print of it," Hermione replied, feeling more relaxed every minute. "I read it a
few hours ago." She sighed. "I'm sor…"
Harry shook his head. "Don't be. I wasn't expecting anything warm or even welcoming from anyone. If I
were in your shoes, I'd be running for the door right now."
"What makes you think I'm not considering it?" Hermione asked jokingly, relaxing a bit more and
letting the tenseness out of her body. "I know how you must feel right now, the world giving you a swift kick up
the backside for something you haven't done."
Harry nodded, his shyness creeping up on his through his dark hair. She noticed that his hair was short but not too short, like he could still run his hands through it. He still wore glasses, his nose hadn't changed but she was comparing him to a dream boy, a boy she'd never met before.
"Did you go to Hogwarts?" Hermione asked, not being able to stop herself.
Harry fell just short of answering yes to the question but shook his head quickly. "No, I went to a Muggle
school. A Muggle boarding school actually near Oxford, stayed until I was old enough for University then went to the
Crosskeys with Draco."
"Is that where you met him?" Hermione asked. "Met Draco? How did you know magic anyway, about the magic world if you didn't go to Hogwarts?"
Harry cleared his throat and frowned before replying. "Mostly my family. I didn't have the best upbringing
someone could have, but I'm a quick learner. I learned what I needed to, the little bits of info you pick up over
the years, and then I moved in with Remus and Sirius. They did the rest. You went to Hogwarts didn't
you?"
Hermione nodded. "Oh, I loved it there. I'm going back next term, teaching Charms. One of my old professors, Professor Flitwick is retiring this November."
"I was supposed to be teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts this year," Harry said almost sadly.
"I'm supposed to start in a few weeks time actually. How do you reckon my chances of that are
now?"
It was strange. Hermione felt like she could spill out everything about everything in Hogwarts and he'd understand. Like Ron used to, she felt that if she showed him her copy of Hogwarts: A History, he'd laugh and then flick through, counting the dog-eared flaps on every corner. She felt like asking him if he missed the nights they stayed up together, reading or playing Wizard Chess, then she wondered why she wanted to ask him that. Something strange was underneath all of this. She watched him talking, like it was strange to see. He smiled at his own little joke about nothing in particular and it lit her up inside, like a light bulb flashing on in her brain.
She remembered watching him laugh.
It wasn't a dream; it didn't feel like a dream. This felt real. It felt more real than the quilt she was sat on, it felt more real than the lukewarm cup of tea clutched in her trembling hands. She remembered sitting with him, she remembered looking at him and watching him laughing. She remembered his eyes, his emerald eyes lighting up like they'd done a second before. It was a memory.
"Do I know you from somewhere?" Hermione asked, looking strangely at Harry, studying him like he was something on her lab table.
Harry almost swallowed his tongue. "Wh - why do you ask? Do I look familiar or something?"
"Your face," Hermione said dreamily. "Looks familiar to me somehow."
"Well, I've had it a long time," Harry replied. "And I don't recall you at all."
Hermione shrugged. She couldn't be defeated yet. "Maybe I've seen you around London or Diagon Ally
maybe. You live on Lloyds don't you?"
Harry nodded. "How do you know that, Miss Granger?"
"You ordered books from Flourish and Blotts last week," she replied. "Which came into today by the
way. I'll pick them up for you tomorrow. You left your address on the register."
"Ah," he sighed, looking very relieved. "Then it's surprising that you know where I live, or rather 'lived'. Looks like I'm not going back there anytime soon."
There was a slight pause then Hermione asked, "How's Hedwig doing?"
"What?" Harry asked, his head snapping up.
Hermione didn't know where that had come from. She didn't have a clue who or what Hedwig was but something had triggered her to ask. It was instinctive. For that fleeting second, she'd let herself and her mind relaxed, letting way for all the unanswered questions to flow, to keep the conversation alive with something fresh instead of the dreary subjects they were talking about. It seemed to spark his attention though.
"I don't know who Hedwig is," Harry replied. "Isn't that a barn owl at Hogwarts? I remember
reading about it or something. Fastest deliveries Hogwarts has ever seen, or something like that."
Hermione nodded. Maybe that was where she'd heard it. Maybe Harry Black was dancing around unanswered questions of his own. In any case, she felt tired now and wanted to get some dinner in her stomach before collapsing in front of British Comedy.
"Are you hungry?" Harry asked, standing up and walking to the door. "Because I could really go for some crumpets or even some pasta if you're in the mood. Feel like some?"
"Harry Black, you read my mind," she replied, standing up and walking out of the door with him.
It made her wonder for a minute whether he had read her mind or not but she dismissed the thought. It was stupid thinking he could read minds. He was just a guy in the wrong place at the wrong time, it'd happened to so many people before him. She wanted to protest that he wasn't who he said he was, although she had nothing to back that up with. She couldn't prove that he wasn't Harry Ian Black, ex-Auror from the Phoenix Division, graduate from Crosskeys Wizarding Law University. All she had was some stupid dreams.
She had an inkling that if she were back at Hogwarts, Professor Trelawney would tell her that the spirits were warning her of something or of someone, the dark haired man in the corner with the shifty looking broken specs and the distinct smell of magic imbued on his skin. Taking a deep breath, she walked into the kitchen with Harry ready to make a meal and to find out more about the mysterious man.
If it were the last thing she ever did, she'd find out who he was and what he was doing as a young boy invading her dreams. Harry Black was definitely odd.
But she loved a challenge.