Legacy of Magic

A/N: I’m back! This new story is different from anything else I’ve ever done. Don’t want to give away anything so let’s hop right in! Glad to be back to writing in this awesome community. Cheers!

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Harley Denson strained to put the book back where it belonged on the top shelf. She knew she wasn’t supposed to use a chair to reach it, but the chair was right there and….

The chair wobbled beneath her and even though she was able to finally push the book home her footing beneath her gave way. She pushed slightly off the chair so as not to land on it and was rewarded by landing square on her bottom.

She cried out in pain. “That will hurt in the morning.” She pushed her wild cinnamon colored hair out of her face before pushing herself up and dusting herself off. She wasn’t a short woman. In fact, she was tall and thin like a willow branch. When she walked to the window to see her reflection her emerald green eyes looked back at her fair skinned face.

“Harley? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine grandpa.” She called back, turning towards the back to see her grandfather making his way down from their upstairs apartment. “Really, just a short tumble is all.”

“If you say so.” He smiled. Harley loved her grandfather. He was a kind and gentle man in his sixties with piercing blue eyes and greying blonde hair. He took his usual spot behind the counter. “It’s slow today if you want to go somewhere.”

“Okay, I think I’ll just go for a walk.”

“Take care dear.” He waved her out the door.

She grabbed a jacket from the hook by the door and started strolling down west avenue. She took a right at the streetlight and found the start of her usual walking trail at the public park entrance. She liked to walk through the park and people watch. She saw with a pang a group of young people her age enjoying a picnic underneath one of the trees.

Harley sighed. There would have been a time when she would have tried to introduce herself to the group, but she had learned a long time ago that most people in Harwick knew about “that weird Denson girl”. Life as a witch in a muggle town wasn’t always easy.

“What’s the use of being magical if there’s no one to talk to?” she mumbled to herself.

She missed Hogwarts. The school that had trained her to be a witch from the ages of eleven to seventeen had been a second home to her. She had made some wonderful friends there. In particular there were two boys named Samuel and Robert who had been her best friends. They had met on the train ride from King’s Cross station on their first day and had been friends ever since. It had pained her to say goodbye to them at the Leaving Feast.

She shook her head and plopped down underneath her favorite ash tree in the park. It was on a little rise where she could see most of the park spread out beneath her. She watched a couple push their little girl on the swing. It was mesmerizing to her to watch the father and mother take turns, making sure to push the little girl ever higher. Her eyes followed the girl back and forth, as the girl’s squeals of delight tugged a sad smile across Harley’s face.

A small pop behind her made her jump. Before she could stand up, a silver tabby cat slinked around the tree and paused beside her.

“Hello there.” Harley reached out to pet the cat, which took a seat and purred staring at her all the while. She noticed there were strange markings around the cats’ eyes. The father and mother by the swings finally took their daughter and left, so Harley sat and watched other families stroll through the park or play with their children, all the while scratching behind the ears of the cat.

The sun was making its way below the horizon when Harley finally stood to make her way home.

“I would bring you home, but I don’t think grandpa would approve.” She looked at her newfound friend. Strangely, it almost looked as if there was a tear in the cat’s eyes. “Strange, I didn’t know cats could cry.”

She turned to go, “Well, goodbye.” She waved to the tabby. She made her way slowly down the hill, pausing for a moment by the swing the little girl had been in earlier.

“Hi grandpa.” Harley called out when she had entered Aaron’s Emporium. Her grandfather was behind the counter, counting the money in his register.

“Enjoy your walk dear?”

“Yes sir. I’ll head upstairs and get started on dinner.” She made her way to the foot of the stairs. Aaron chuckled.

“No need, there’s some already waiting for you.” He gave her his signature smile. She grinned in return and hurried up the stairs.

Their upstairs apartment was a simple place. A sitting room that merged into a small kitchen was to her left and a hallway to her right led to their two bedrooms. Waiting on the counter was a bubbling pot of her grandfather’s chicken soup and signature crotons.

It was with a warm and full belly that she settled onto her bed an hour later with a worn copy of Phantastes.

“You and your fairy tales.” Her grandfather’s teasing voice proceeded him into the room.

“You know I’ve always loved magical stories.” She grinned.

“Yes indeed.” He took a seat at the foot of her bed. “I thought you might faint when your Hogwarts letter arrived. After all, it was your chance to live out some of the magic you love so much.”

Her smile faltered. “Yeah….” She waved her wand at her music box in the far corner, but nothing happened. It took her three tries before the soft tinkling music began to play. “Too bad I’ve always been rubbish at it.”

“Come now, you made excellent grades in school.” Aaron soothed. “The best they had seen in thirty years in fact. You’re a very gifted witch. Given your wand trouble, I would say you are perhaps one of the best.”

She looked forlornly at her wand. It was a rather simple piece of thirteen inch oak wood with a single unicorn hair for a core. “You still haven’t heard from Mr. Ollivander?”

Her grandfather chuckled, “You know that I haven’t. You check the post every day.” Harley sighed and thumbed her wand. Aaron reached out and put his hand on her shoulder. “Now come on, don’t let it get to you.”

“I’m the only person who didn’t have a wand match.” Her voice cracked as her eyes stung with tears. “Thousands of years and the only person to not have a loyal wand is me.”

“That’s not true. I’m sure plenty of other witches and wizards have struggled with their wands. Ollivander isn’t the only wand maker you know.” He cupped her chin in his hands. “I’m sure one day your wand will recognize that a great witch holds it in her hands.”

Harley sniffed and forced a smile.

“There, that’s better.” Her grandfather smiled. “Now, I’m tucking in for the night. Don’t let Mr. MacDonald keep you up all night.”

She laughed as she thumbed to her bookmark. “I won’t.”

The door closed behind him and her grandfather made his way to his own bedroom. Opening her book to where she left off, Harley let her mind wander off into fairy land.

Harley woke the next morning and did what she did every morning. She reached for the necklace sitting on her bedside table and put it on. It was a small book on a thin golden chain. Her grandfather had told her it was the only thing that had escaped the fire that had killed her parents. It was the only link to them that she had and she made sure to wear it every day. It made her feel like her parents were still with her and sometimes she could swear that it grew warm to the touch whenever she thought about the family she couldn’t remember.

After a warm shower and a light breakfast, she made her way downstairs where she turned on all the lights and unlocked the doors. It was Sunday, so her grandfather would be at morning mass. Being Sunday, it wouldn’t be a busy day at the shop. In fact, she was already making her way to the back to sort some of the new books when the tinkling of the door made her halt. She returned to the front desk to see a tall man dressed in a black overcoat making his way to the desk.

“Can I help you sir?” she asked, unnerved by the man’s appearance. He had very unruly jet black hair and pale skin that was swollen underneath a pair of intense green eyes that looked startlingly like her own.

The man seemed to consider her for a moment. “Why yes, I was wondering if the owner was available?”

“He’s not in at the moment, what exactly do you need him for?”

“A personal matter.” He spoke very softly with just a hint of an accent Harley couldn’t place.

“Well I can let him know you came by, what’s your name?”

“I’d rather not answer that, I’ll just be on my way.” The man pulled up the collar on his jacket and turned to go, but not before stopping in the doorway to give Harley a searching look that made her shiver.

The door tinkled closed behind him and he was gone. Harley stood rooted to the spot, deeply disturbed by the extremely odd conversation she had just had. What disturbed her most were his eyes. Not only were they just like hers, but it was the way he looked at her. Almost as if he knew her.

She shook her head clear. There wasn’t any way that man knew her and she probably wouldn’t see him again. So she made her way back to the storage room to sort the new books.

The storage room was a small and cramped room that was piled high with books. Most of them were extra copies of books that sold well, neatly stacked and arranged alphabetically. Near the back was a desk with two cardboard boxes full of the new arrivals that would be put on display on the front shelves. Harley grabbed a box cutter that was lying on the desk and cut the boxes open and put the stacks onto table. She would first get them all out and sorted before she moved them into the shop. When she went to grab the last stack, she didn’t quite get the grip she needed and the stack fell with a loud thump onto the desk.

This wasn’t exactly an odd occurrence, but what was odd was the softer thump that she had heard in the drawer of the desk.

Harley had never known the desk to house anything. In fact, she was sure that her grandfather had told her that he didn’t even own the key to open the drawer. She lifted the stack of books again and dropped them on purpose and again herd the answering sound come from the drawer.

The strangest curiosity came over Harley. She felt compelled to know what was in the drawer. Maybe the encounter with the stranger had left her wanting some sort of real answer for the increasingly strange day she was having. Either way, she found herself clambering the steps two at a time until she reached her wand lying on the bedside table. Taking them three at a time on the way down, Harley proceeded back into the storage room. It was almost noon, so her grandfather would be home any minute now. If she wanted to see what was in the drawer without risking exposure, now was her chance.

“Alohomora!” she waved her wand at the desk drawer. Nothing happened.

“Alohomora!” she cried again and this time heard the satisfying click of the drawer unlocking itself. She gingerly reached and pulled the drawer open.

It was empty, save for a long and narrow wooden box. It was the kind that had a sliding lid, much like she had seen in Ollivander’s wand shop in Diagon Alley. A sudden unease settled over her. Why would there be a wand box in her grandfather’s storage room?

She picked up the wooden box and slid back the lid. Inside was an off-white colored wand that was carved with a vine wrapping around it. Instantly she felt a surge running through her arm and the wand vibrated in her hand and began to emit sparks. A small wind rushed through her hair and the room seemed to grow brighter of its own accord.

Before she could even take in what was happening it was over. Harley felt her heart hammering against her chest and her hands shaking.

“I was hoping this day would never come.”

Harley jumped and turned to see her grandfather standing in the doorway. He sighed and she noticed that there were tears in his eyes. “Grandpa, I’m sorry I know I shouldn’t have looked. I….”

“No Harley, I’m sorry that you had to find it this way.”

“Grandpa,” she blurted out, curiosity overwhelming her. “Whose wand is this?”

He actually smiled. “It’s yours now, if you haven’t noticed.”

She gave her grandfather a confused look. “Go on child, try it.” He waved towards several books that had fallen from their stacks. Harley concentrated and waved the wand. The books flew from the ground and neatly piled back onto their respective stacks. “See? The wand always chooses its master and now that wand has chosen you.”

The gears in her mind seemed to jam. “But, why was it here? Is it yours?”

“Oh no, I’m afraid I have forever been a muggle.” Her grandfather stepped past her and pulled out the small chair from beside the desk, sighing explosively. “That wand…..belonged to your mother.”

A pit seemed to open up in Harley’s chest. “M-My mother? But you said my mother…..both of my parents were muggles. I’ve been a muggleborn my whole life.”

Her grandfather looked at her, tears now flowing freely down his face.

“Grandpa please….”

“I’m not your real grandfather.” His voice cracked, “Your parents were not muggles that died in a house fire. Harley Jane Denson is not your real name.”

Her ears heard what her grandfather was saying, but the words seemed to bounce off of her brain. “W-What? What are you saying?”

“I’m saying, that you are not who you think you are.” Her grandfather’s voice was suddenly very grave.

A loud crashing sound came from the front of the store. “In the back!” a loud voice shouted.

“The door Harley!” her grandfather was suddenly standing and pointing at the storeroom door. In the moment she took to process his order a large man in black robes filled the door.

“Freeze!” he held his wand aloft.

Harley finally came to her senses and threw the wand box towards the man. In the split second he took to consider what was flying towards him, she waved her wand and the door slammed shut and the lock clicked.

“Quick, here.” Her grandfather grabbed her hand and went towards a very dusty box that she had always been told to leave alone. He opened the top of the box to reveal a large toy tractor. “Harley, I want you to grab the tractor on three.”

“One…two…”

The door behind them crashed open.

“Three!” her grandfather grabbed one hand while she touched the toy with the other. The instant she touched it she felt a jerking motion around her navel and suddenly the world was spinning wildly around them.

Harley’s feet slammed into the ground and she pitched forward into tall grass. She gingerly made her way to her feet before reaching down to help her grandfather stand up. She paused to take a look around her.

There were tall, snowcapped mountains one very side of her and dark leafed trees surrounding the small meadow they had landed in. a cold wind blew and she quickly conjured large jackets for herself and her grandfather.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“I’m not sure. That portkey was given to me a long time ago, I don’t remember where it was supposed to take us.” Her grandfather answered, already gathering wood. “We should probably make a camp here so we can figure out what to do next.”

“Grandpa what is going on?” the wheels in Harley’s mind were working furiously and still nothing about the past few minutes made any sense to her. Her grandfather stopped where he was a sighed deeply.

“Could this wait until camp is made?” he asked quietly.

Harley swallowed the lump in her throat. “No.” She conjured a couple of chairs. Her grandfather took a seat in one of them, running his hand through his hair.

“Harley, I should warn you, my memory has been altered. There won’t be much I can tell you, but what I remember I will give. It’s time you knew the truth.” Harley sat quietly, her eyes fixated on the man her world had revolved around for so long, now looking more tired than she had ever seen him. “I knew your mother’s family from when I was a boy. It’s an old connection from another time. Needless to say I knew your mother from when she was a little girl. She was always so intelligent and strong willed. I never knew the truth about her being a witch. I always thought that she went to a private boarding school.”

“Almost twenty years ago, your mother came to me in the middle of the night. She explained to me that she was a witch, that there was a whole wizard world that was hidden away from muggles like me. She said that her husband and herself had fought a war years before and that there was a new war happening. She said that they were being hunted and that she feared for your safety.” Her grandfather looked up into Harley’s face, there were tears in his eyes. “Your mother begged me to take her newborn daughter in as my own. To raise her as a muggle. She said all the arrangements had already been made……that daughter was you.”

The world felt like it was slipping away from Harley. “S-So everything you told me….”

“Harley, please…” his voice broke, “I did what I did because I loved you. I thought the best way to honor your parents’ wishes would be for you to live a long and happy life away from the troubles that pursued them.”

Harley actually pinched herself, hard, to ensure that none of this was a dream. Her whole life up until now had been a lie. “The wand then?”

“I’m afraid I have said all I know. I remember your mother saying that she would erase certain things from my memory….that there was nothing she could leave to chance. I don’t remember her name, why she left the wand, or who it was that was hunting her.”

The silence hung thick in the air. Harley could almost feel it part around her as she paced the meadow, transfiguring and conjuring objects until the rudiments of a camp came together. She used her own wand, despite its ineffectiveness, because somehow her mother’s wand seemed too sacred to use on something so rudimentary. Her hand seemed to work independently of her mind as she struggled to comprehend everything her grandfather had told her. He hadn’t moved from the chair since he had finished talking.

“Harley?” his voice croaked.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she felt her heart swell in anger.

“I told you, I…”

“But it’s my life! I should have been able to choose!” she screamed, tears flowing down her face. She reached for her neck and showed her necklace. “I thought that this was all I had left of them. No pictures, no memories….nothing. But all along there was this.” She held out her mother’s wand. Her heart was pounding her blood furiously through her body. She looked at the old man who had lied to her for so long.

“I’m sorry Harley. You deserve to be angry. I should have told you sooner….” She recoiled at first when he went to grab his hand, only relenting when he tried again. “But you were so young when you first started asking questions. You were all that I had left and I just couldn’t bring myself to put such a burden on you.”

Harley turned away from him and stomped away into the woods, only stopping when she reached a small steam with a large boulder jutting out above the water. She took a seat on its edge and sobbed, deep heaving sobs that seemed to go from head to foot. It was quite a long time before she finally spent herself. She felt hollowed out, like she had spilled herself into her tears. She drew her knees up to her chest and stared at the water as it drifted lazily by her. It must have been several hours that she sat there, because the sun was much lower in the sky when she heard footsteps approaching behind her. Her grandfather slowly made his way to her and awkwardly took a seat next to her. It was a long time before either one of them said anything.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you.” Harley whispered.

“Anyone would be angry if they were in your shoes Harley.” He whispered back.

It felt like an eternity before Harley could make her voice work again. “Tell me….what was she like?”

Her grandfather actually smiled. “Your mother was a beautiful woman.” He answered softly. “I didn’t see her much after she grew up, but I knew her as an extraordinary person who saw value in every person. She was always talking about how she wanted to make the world a better place.”

Harley looked at her reflection in the water. She tried like she always did to search the deepest recesses of her brain for any sort of memory of what her mother would have looked like. Like all the other times, all that she could find was a vague feeling of sadness and the warming sensation of the book hanging around her neck.

“Harley, it’s up to you now to find out who you really are.” Her grandfather put his hand on her shoulder.

She dropped a pebble in the water and watched as her reflection distorted, “But I don’t even know where to start.”

“I may have an answer for you on that front.” Her grandfather’s voice warmed and he stumbled as he stood to his feet. He proffered a hand to her and helped her up. “I found a small road while I was looking around earlier and there was a sign. We’re not far from Caithness. We’re in Scotland.”

“Why would the portkey bring us here?”

“Luckily, I remember that part now. One of the last things your mother told me, was that if anything happened I was supposed to take the portkey and find a woman named Minerva.”

Something clicked in Harley’s brain. “Wait, Minerva McGonagall? She was once the Headmistress at Hogwarts.”

“That’s right.” Her grandfather smiled.

“I remember now, Hogwarts: A History said that she retired to her hometown in Scotland after her uneventful tenure at Hogwarts.” Harley’s mind was whirling. “She probably knew my mother! She was also a teacher at Hogwarts for decades!”

“Well, what are we waiting for?” her grandfather chuckled, making his way back towards the camp.

“But, it’s getting dark.” Harley looked at the setting sun.

“I think, given the situation, that darkness could be our ally.” Her grandfather suddenly sounded grave, “I also think that you should avoid using your mother’s wand. Clearly something about using it attracted those men at the shop.”

Harley looked at her mother’s wand. No, my wand. It pained her to put it away, but she tucked it into her jacket while deciding to keep her old wand in her front pocket.

“Well, let’s begin our pursuit of that cheeky bugger, knowledge.” Her grandfather’s voice floated through the trees in front of her.

“Don’t you think we should be, I don’t know, sneaking around or something?” Harley asked through chattering teeth.

“Sometimes it’s better to be unnoticed than unseen. Right now we’re just an old man taking a stroll with his granddaughter.” Aaron reasoned. They were walking down the sidewalk of a sleepy Scottish town where most everyone had retreated indoors. Warmth spilled out into the street from the open door of a tavern where a couple of large men made their way inside. Harley shivered as a short wave of warm air made its way over her. “Let’s head inside to warm up. Maybe we can find out where we need to go from one of the locals.” Aaron nudged her gently towards the tavern door. Inside the spacious room there was a large rectangular bar that took almost the entire back wall. Tables and booths were spread across the floor and raucous cheers or boisterous conversation filled the air.

“What can I do for the two visitors?” A burly man with a dark red beard and matching hair appeared. There were two mugs in his hands and he wore an apron.

“A table and two pints of your warmest drink please.” Aaron smiled.

“Ay, there’s a table right there next to the window that’ll suit you. I’ll be right back with your drinks.” Harley made her way to the table and sat across from her grandfather. They both angled their bodies where they could see the door. The bartender returned with two large mugs. “Anything else I can do for you?”

“Tell me friend, who is the best storyteller here?” Aaron asked.

“Oh ho, in the mood for a yarn are you? You want that gentlemen right there.” The barman pointed to a particularly raucous crowd in the middle of the room, surrounding a blonde haired giant of a man covered in tattoos. “You really want a laugh ask him about the mermaid on his left arm.” The barman chuckled as he turned to greet two more men who walked in the door.

“You stay here, I’ll go see what I can dig up.” Aaron grabbed his drink and made his way towards the crowd. Harley took a sip of the drink in front of her. It was warm and tasted like a particularly bitter coffee. She surveyed the crowds around her. Most of the men had either black or red hair that they wore long. Nearly all of them had beards. There were only two women: a short and plump blonde who was serving drinks behind the bar and a tall and thin red head who was hanging on the arm of the storyteller. Nearly everyone was smiling and having a good time. It made Harley feel like she was from another planet.

Here they are having a great time and I’m on the run.

It was then that something caught her attention. There was a man seated in the furthest corner of the room, half covered in shadow. He was wearing a long black travelling cloak with the hood pulled up. Only his jaw line was visible. Yet, even with so little visible to her, something about the man seemed eerily familiar.

“Excuse me,” She tugged on the arm of the blonde woman who had come from behind the bar to clear a table, “who is that man?”

“Oh him,” she waved her hand airily “strange lad he is. Never does say much. Don’t even know his name, but he comes by here pretty often. I always see him heading up to the McGonagall’s old place.”

“Wait, do you…”

But two men had already grabbed the woman’s attention at the bar. She looked over at the crowd where her grandfather had taken a seat. He was smiling at whatever the storyteller was saying, but she had seen that look before to know that there wasn’t any relevant information forthcoming. Here was a real chance to find Minerva McGonagall and figure out what was happening.

Harley took a giant swig of her drink and purposefully strode over to where the man was sitting. She could feel her grandfather’s eyes watching her as she took a seat in the booth opposite the stranger.

“Hello, do you know Minerva McGonagall?” she spit the words out before she could chicken out. The stranger had his eyes closed, but when he opened them a flash of recognition went through her brain when she registered their bright green color.

“No nonsense aren’t we?” a grin tugged at the corner of his lips for the briefest moment. “It turns out I do know her. The real question however, is how did you end up here?”

“You’re the man from the shop. The one who dropped in this morning.”

“Yes.” His eyes darted to the door and back to her. “I never thought I would see you here, so let me ask again. Why are you here?”

“How do I know I can trust you?”

His eyes narrowed. “You’ve already walked across the bar to sit across a table from me and asked me if I knew where the person you’re looking for lives. I’d say you should have thought of that a few minutes ago. That and if I really wanted to kill you I could have done it this morning.”

Harley felt herself flush.

The man closed his eyes and sighed. “I’m sorry, you’re not exactly used to living on the run.” When he opened his eyes they were much softer, “Point is, you can trust me.”

“Making friends dear?” Harley felt her grandfather’s hand on her shoulder.

“Sortave.” She hesitated. “He knows Minerva.”

Aaron eyed the man suspiciously. “Who is he?”

“For now, you can call me Mr. White.”

Harley and her grandfather eyed each other. “Alright….Mr. White, I’m here because two men broke into our shop a few hours ago and tried to arrest both of us.”

“Her mother left instruction years ago, to come here and find Minerva if something were to happen.” Aaron finished.

“Why did those men show up?” Mr. White’s eyes narrowed.

Harley looked around the bar once. “We think it has to do with my mother’s ummm……watch. I found it right before they showed up.”

“Her watch?” Mr. White looked incredulous. “Look, I didn’t ask how you managed to end up all the way out here in a matter of hours because I know that you either used a portkey or apparated. I’m a wizard too.”

“Oh, well it wasn’t her watch. It was her wand.”

“Her wand?” Mr. White’s eyes widened.

“Yes.”

The man collected himself. “Then we don’t have long. Don’t follow me directly out. Head to the west road up the mountain and I’ll meet you there.” He stood up and stalked his way out without another word. Aaron took his seat in the booth.

“Do you think we can trust him?” her grandfather eyed her.

“He showed up to the shop this morning, while you were at mass.” Aaron’s eyes widened in surprise. “If he wanted to hurt me he could have done it then. I think he’s our best chance to find Minerva.”

“Can I get you another round?” the barman strolled up to them.

“No I think we’ll settle up. Thanks for the hospitality.” Her grandfather followed the man to the counter while Harley waited by the door to the bar. The redhead who was with the storyteller caught her eyes. Hers were a dark brown and Harley felt as if the woman was looking through her. It sent a shiver down her spine. Aaron appeared next to her, also looking at the woman. “Let’s go.” He grabbed her arm and gently pushed her out the door and back into the night.

The moon cast a dim light on the “road” that led up the west slope of the mountain. It had swiftly degenerated from pavement into a rough track that wound its way ever upward. They passed small thatched roofed buildings that looked as old as the rocks themselves. A pasture on the left held sheep who glowed a ghostly white in the dark.

“Where is our guide?” Harley turned to wait for her grandfather to catch up.

“I don’t know.” He huffed. “Let’s take a rest here for a minute.” They took a seat on the low stone fence that lined the pasture. Only the bleating of the sheep broke the thick silence of the night. “I hope we can trust that fellow.”

“I trust him.” Harley countered.

“What makes you so sure?”

“I’m not sure really.” She replied simply, “Just a feeling.”

A loud crack split the night and Harley jumped to her feet and pulled her wand in one smooth motion. She scanned from left to right and stopped when her wand was grabbed by an outstretched hand. “Let’s not point that at me.” Mr.White’s calm voice eased the tension in her chest.

“Sorry, you scared me.”

“Never have gotten the hang of getting the noise down on apparition.” He shrugged. “I’ve told Minerva you’re coming. Her place is just up the hill a little further.”

“Jolly good.” Aaron stood up.

“Hopefully she can clear up a few things for you.” Mr. White looked behind him.

“You won’t be coming with us?” Harley asked.

“No, I have some other matters to attend to.” He nervously replied, “But I will see you again.”

“We’ll see about that.” A smooth female voice came from behind Harley. She spun around to see the red headed woman from the bar standing in the middle of the road a few yards behind her, a wand pointed straight at her heart. Mr. White pulled his wand. “Oh, I don’t think so. You so much as budge and you can kiss the girl goodbye.”

“I should have known one of Malfoy’s thugs would show their ugly face eventually.” Mr. White’s voice filled with venom.

“Wait, Malfoy?” Harley blurted. “As in Scorpios Malfoy?”

“That pathetic boy?” the woman laughed, “As if he is of any use.”

“Funny, all I ever heard was how pathetic your boss is.” Mr. White sneered.

“Watch your mouth Potter.” The woman spat. “You made a big mistake coming back. You should have stayed in whatever hole you crawled in to.”

“Potter?” Harley mouthed.

Suddenly the woman screeched and flew backwards as a spell hit her. “Harley go! She won’t be alone!”

She grabbed her grandfather’s hand and they turned and started running up the road. Sure enough two men appeared out of thin air to either side of them.

“Stupify! Stupify!”

One man was hit square in the chest but the other blocked and Harley just managed to duck beneath her own spell. Another red jet of light flew over her shoulder and hit the man in the face.

“Go!” a voice roared behind her.

Harley took off, her trainers pounding beneath her. Her grandfathers labored breathing behind her. Suddenly out of the gloom in front of her loomed a two story cottage perched at the top of the road. A severe looking woman with a hawkish expression was walking off the porch.

“Gracious what is going on?” Minerva McGonagall exclaimed.

“Get inside!” Mr. White came flying up the road behind Harley.

“Yes inside. Quickly.” McGonagall lead them into the small entrance hallway. As Mr. White flew through the door it slammed shut of its own and the whole cottage shuddered briefly. “That will only hold them for a few moments, what is happening Mr. Potter? And why in Dumbledore’s name is Harley here?”

“How do you…?” Harley began to ask.

“No time, we need to move.” Mr. White looked out the window. “There’s five of them now.”

“Who….?”

“I know somewhere we can go, but we must hurry.” McGonagall grabbed Harley and Aaron’s arm. “Come Mr. Potter.”

Mr. White grabbed her other arm and just as the door burst off its hinges Harley felt her feet leave the ground. She had only apparated a few times in her life and the pressing sensation all around her only increased the pounding in her head. Her feet slammed into the ground in front of a street sign that read “Abbot’s Place”.

“Quickly.” McGonagall shooed them to the end of the short street where an empty lot sat. “Listen carefully as I can only risk saying this once. The safe house in Canterbury is located at number eleven hundred and seven Abbot’s Place.”

As soon as McGonagall finished a large two story house began to appear out of nowhere. It stretched until it nearly filled the once empty lot.

“Inside.” Mr. White pushed them.

They all made their way down the short walk and through the front door, McGonagall walking backwards and repeating incantations. The door shut behind them and lights automatically came on, illuminating a homely sitting room to Harley’s right and a dining room to her left. There was a small doorway in the dining room that lead to the large kitchen in front of her and a staircase against the wall to the right.

“Now, we should be safe for the time being.” McGonagall sighed. “Now care to explain what is going on?”

“The two of them were attacked in their home; they went looking for you on aunt Hermione’s instructions. I followed them and was trying to lead them to you when we were ambushed by Malfoy’s cronies.” Mr. White replied quickly.

“Oh dear.” McGonagall heaved another sigh. She turned and her expression softened when her eyes met Harley’s. “You must have so many questions….why don’t I try and answer a few while Mr. Potter here prepares some tea?” McGonagall gestured to the dining room. Harley walked and took a seat, her grandfather sitting next to her. McGonagall took a seat opposite her and folded her hands on the table.

Harley tried to get her head to stop spinning. “I....I want to know why you and that woman called Mr. White “Potter”.”

“That’s because that is his name. Albus Potter.”

“But, my grandfather told me my name was Potter. Harley Jane Potter.” She stammered.

“Yes, that is correct.” McGonagall shook her head. “And yes, you are correct in assuming then that Mr. Potter is your brother.”

Harley’s mouth hung open. “H….How is any of this possible?” Harley had heard the name “Potter” plenty. Students at Hogwarts had always told tales about a man named Harry Potter, who supposedly saved the wizarding world many years before, but Harley had never been able to find anything about him in the school library. “Potter….it can’t be like the Potter? As in Harry Potter? That was just a legend….a myth the students talked about. None of the teachers…..”

“None of the teachers are allowed to speak of Mr. Harry Potter. In fact, he is all but erased in magical record.” McGonagall took her glasses off. It made her look much older and wearier.

“So then is he my father?”

“Yes. Harry Potter is your father and Hermione Potter is your mother, as I’m sure you know by now.” McGonagall nodded to her grandfather. Harley’s head felt fuzzy, she pinched herself just to make sure this wasn’t all some sort of crazy dream. “I realize this must be a lot to take in.” McGonagall reached across the table and took one of Harley’s hands. “I must say, you have them written all over you: your father’s eyes and spirit, your mother’s hair and academic talent, and courageous as them both.”

Albus came into the room and sat a tray down laden with tea. They each prepared their own cups in silence, Aaron preparing Harley’s as she was still stunned into inaction.

The Harry Potter. Real. Her own father. For the briefest moment, Harley longed for the simplicity of muggle parents killed in a car crash. For long walks in the park and watching a father push his daughter on the swing. She stole a look at Albus sipping his tea and a question formed in her mind. A hope started to rise up in her chest.

“What happened to my father?” she blurted out.

McGonagall and Albus both froze and looked at one another. Albus closed his eyes and shook his head. “He died right after you were born.” Albus answered quietly. Harley felt the hope in her chest die. “King Gwyn had him killed.”

“And who is this King Gwyn?” her grandfather asked, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Albus opened his mouth, but McGonagall stood and raised her hand. “That is a story for tomorrow. It is already late and I’m sure Harley’s mind could use some rest.” Albus and McGonagall traded looks before he nodded his head.

“It’s too risky to try and retrieve anything from your camp, so I hope you have all that you need.” Albus stood to his feet. “Are there owls here?” he turned to McGonagall.

“Yes, upstairs and to the left.” McGonagall answered.

“Great. This changes everything. The others need to be informed.” Albus came around the table and stood beside Harley. His matching emerald eyes met hers and a genuine smile burst on his face. It took years off of him. “It’s been nice to finally meet you. I’ve looked for you for a very long time.”

Harley felt a bit of warmth spread through her chest. “I’m glad to have met you too.”

Albus turned and made his way up the stairs. Harley turned to face McGonagall who was wiping a fresh tear from her eyes. “I think it is high time for some rest. I’ll show you to your rooms.” Harley and Aaron followed her up the steps. McGonagall lead them to adjacent rooms to the right of the stairs in the hallway. Harley’s had its own bathroom. After her grandfather bid her goodnight and departed for his room, McGonagall hesitated in the doorway. “I thought you might like to know that Albus is the very image of your father, in case you had trouble picturing him.”

As McGonagall quietly closed the door behind her, Harley couldn’t help but feel stinging behind her eyes. For the first time in her life, Harley could think of her father’s face. The charm on her necklace had never felt so warm before.