‘Look!’ yelled Ron excitedly.
The previous day’s storm had finally ended. It was a bright, sunny morning but still not warm enough to melt the snow. Harry and Ron had trudged through the snow, their feet getting colder and colder and their noses growing redder and redder, when finally Ron had yelled out.
Harry shifted his gaze to where Ron was pointing and his heart leapt. Just above the misty horizon and the snow-covered earth small furls of smoke were visible. It could only mean one thing: civilization.
Harry and Ron hurried forward but when they saw where the smoke was coming from, their excitement turned to dismay. Harry had been expecting to find a house or a cabin, somewhere they could get food. In front of him stood a ramshackle old shed, smoke furling out of a hole in its roof.
‘Who could be living there?’ wondered Ron.
‘Probably some poor, old farmer… he won’t have anything to spare,’ replied Harry, disappointedly.
‘Let’s go see, anyway,’ said Ron as he walked forward and knocked on the rickety wooden door.
Harry and Ron waited but no one answered. Ron knocked again… still no answer.
‘What now?’ asked Ron, sadly. Neither of the two friends had eaten in almost two days.
Harry slammed a fist against the door, frustrated. Just then a shot echoed in the air and a large hole appeared just above Harry’s fist which was still resting against the door. Harry jumped back.
‘Get away from my house!’ yelled someone as another few shot-holes appeared in the door. A thin man with brown hair and beady little eyes came running up to Harry and Ron, his shotgun cocked, a package under his arm. His face was bright red and he was still yelling, adding a few colorful words in between sentences.
Ron stepped forward. ‘We weren’t doing anything! We just wanted some foo— Ack!’ Before Ron could finish his sentence the skinny, red-faced man shoved his gun into Ron’s throat.
‘I don’t care what you wanted or needed, you’re on private property and you’ll pay if you’ve stolen anything!’ the man growled.
Harry pushed the man’s gun away from Ron’s neck. ‘We didn’t steal anything!’
‘Not yet!’ retorted the man.
‘Look! All we want is some food,’ said Ron, massaging his throat. ‘We haven’t eaten in days.’
The man looked at Harry and Ron suspiciously, taking in their tattered clothes covered by their coats. ‘I guess I could give you some food,’ he said reluctantly.
Ron sighed with relief and happiness. The man threw his weight against the rickety door and it flew open. He beckoned Harry and Ron to follow and stepped into the shack.
The hut was sparsely furnished. Harry assumed that this was not a regular home to the man. There was a large rocking-chair to one side and a small coffee-table nearby. A few cupboards had been built and they were stacked against one of the walls of the shack. There was no fireplace. A stove sat in one corner, below the hole in the roof. A small mattress lay on the floor. A trunk sat at its foot, overflowing with clothes and bedcovers.
The man knelt next to the cupboards, pulled them open and began digging through the contents, muttering all the while.
Harry glanced at Ron. Ron shrugged. The man acted like a lunatic half the time and the other half he was completely normal. Why was he living out here, in such horrible weather?
Harry cleared his throat. ‘Erm- excuse me…’
The man gave a cry, bumped his head on the top of the cupboard and emerged, looking annoyed. ‘What is it? I told you I’d give you some food! Hold your horses!’
Ron raised his eyebrows and Harry tried to say something else, while the man’s head was safely out of the cupboard. ‘Yes, we know… but who are you?’
The man blinked and then stood up. He dusted his thin hands on his brown coat and extended one for Harry to shake. ‘Stephen C. Cooper, at your service, sir,’ he said solemnly.
Ron sniggered again but Stephen ignored him and pompously shook Harry’s hand.
‘May I ask your names now, sirs?’ Stephen asked, glaring at Ron as they shook hands.
‘I’m Haaa— Samuel Mercer,’ said Harry. Ron gave him a strange look but Harry slammed down on his foot before he could open his mouth. ‘This is my friend Christopher Reddy.’
‘Nice to meet you, Samuel, Christopher,’ replied Stephen. ‘What are you two boys doing out here in such weather?’
‘We’re traveling,’ replied Ron, suddenly realizing that people in Salem might still be searching for them and that keeping their true names a secret was a good idea as was keeping their recent whereabouts private.
‘Ah! Travelers! Boys of my own heart!’ cried Stephen blissfully. ‘I left home to see the world too!’
Ron smirked. Harry gave him a look of warning. ‘So, Stephen, about that food…’
‘Yes, yes, of course!’ said Stephen, waving his hand, as if food wasn’t at all important. ‘So where are you headed boys?’
‘No where special,’ said Harry, carefully.
‘Yes, we were just roaming around but we haven’t had food in days, sir,’ added Ron hurriedly.
Stephen looked at Ron scornfully. ‘I always travel with a tight belt.’
‘Yes, well, that’s apparent,’ replied Ron, just as rudely, looking at Stephen’s thin frame. ‘Wolves won’t get any ideas if they spot you, ‘eh?’
Harry sighed. ‘Look Stephen, we hate to impose on you like this. We’d just like some food and then we’ll leave you alone.’
‘I never have any visitors! Why does no one ever want to stay?’ Stephen pouted. Ron rolled his eyes.
Stephen finally managed to pack a day’s worth of food for the two boys: A loaf of bread, some roast chicken, butter and a bottle of milk. It wasn’t much but Harry and Ron didn’t complain. Just the sight of the bread had made their mouths water.
Stephen insisted that both boys stay for an hour or so, since he rarely ever had guests. He explained that he had always wanted to see the world. He had talked about it so much that his wife had told him to go and travel and hadn’t let him return to the house. She obstinately told Stephen that until he was out of his mania for traveling he would not be allowed back inside.
‘That’s why I live out here,’ he said waving a hand around. After a few more minutes of chatting about nothing, Stephen stood up and picked up the package he had had with him outside and peeled it open. Harry and Ron leaned forward curiously. It looked like a large sketch of a scene in the snow. Stephen looked at it proudly and then handed it to Harry for a better look.
Harry stared at it for a moment and then choked. The scene was of the day that Hermione had been executed. It depicted the gallows, with Hermione and Emily Warberk dangling by ropes, dead, as the crowd cheered. The pencil sketch was extremely articulate and Harry could read the expression on every face as easily as he could read a book. Harry swallowed hard, smiled at Stephen and handed the sketch over to Ron. Ron paled as soon as he realized what the illustration was of and laughed weakly as he handed the art back to Stephen.
Stephen hadn’t noticed their strange reactions. He grinned pompously and took the sketch back.
‘Great isn’t it? I was actually there when it happened! I saw everything. It was amazing, really enlightening,’ said Stephen as he set the drawing down.
‘R-Really?’ asked Ron, shakily.
‘Oh, yes! I mean, one of the girls was only sixteen or seventeen! To think even young people can be witches and make deals with the Devil. I wouldn’t have thought it possible but there you go! Good thing they’re dead! I mean they hurt young girls! How cruel can you be?’
‘Wasn’t the hanging cruel? They had no proof that those girls were witches! It was all just touch and go!’ cried Harry, before he could stop himself.
Stephen raised an eyebrow. ‘You weren’t there! The crowd was so energized! These girls were evil! I heard they held the trials too and our justices are all fair.’
Harry and Ron glared at Stephen. Both of them wanted to get out of the stupid old shack quickly.
‘I think it’s time for us to go, Stephen,’ said Harry. ‘Thanks for the food.’
‘What? Why? Wait!’ cried Stephen.
‘Sorry, we really have to go,’ said Ron quickly. ‘Come on, Harry.’
Harry grimaced as Ron revealed his real name but he hurried to the door with Ron all the same, hoping that Stephen hadn’t noticed anything. Stephen wasn’t stupid, though.
‘Harry?’ he said, jumping up and barring the boor with his body. ‘I thought you were Samuel?’ Stephen glared at Harry suspiciously.
‘I-I am,’ stuttered Harry. ‘Ron always calls me Harry as a joke!’
Ron slapped his own forehead. Stephen yelped.
‘Harry? Ron?’ he said looking from one boy to the other. ‘I know who you are! You two are those boys who ran away from Salem! I heard all about it! Your best friend was hanged that day, the day I drew that picture!’
Harry groaned inwardly. Stephen had a gun and he knew who they were.
‘You two are witches!’ he yelled, looking fearful.
Ron gulped. Harry felt cold all over.
Stephen had a mad glint in his eye. ‘I’ll capture you, take you to Salem, become renowned and then I can really go see the world: the rich world!’
Harry stepped forward. ‘You don’t know what your saying, Stephen! How could we be witches?’
‘Wizards, then!’ said Stephen, still looking crazy. He stepped forward too. ‘There is no escape boys! Capturing witches pays good money!’
Stephen leaped forward to grab Harry and Ron, but they were too quick for him. Harry ducked under his arms while Ron jumped out of the way. Stephen stumbled and fell.
‘Let’s get out of here!’ said Harry heading for the door. Just then a crack echoed in the air and two more holes appeared in the door. Harry and Ron froze.
Harry was about to push the door open when something poked painfully into his back.
‘You two aren’t going anywhere!’ snarled Stephen, pushing the gun harder against Harry. Ron stepped forward but Stephen was ready.
‘DON’T MOVE!’ he shouted. Ron froze. ‘I won’t have you escaping!’
Ron spoke. ‘I’ll curse you! We are wizards, after all!’
Harry thought it was a good idea considering their situation but Stephan just laughed. ‘I could kill you and your friend faster than any spell you could do!’
Ron backed away. Harry’s brain, exhausted from lack of food, began working overtime, trying to figure out a way to escape. He decided that distraction was as good a plan as any.
‘We haven’t done anything to you, Stephen! Let us go!’ said Harry slowly, throwing Ron a meaningful glance.
‘Oh, it doesn’t matter that you haven’t done anything yet!’ said Stephen. Harry felt Stephen relax the gun that was still poking in Harry’s back. ‘A few more minutes and you might have blasted me into oblivion! You can’t trust witches! Now, I know that by experience but if you are allowed to escape who knows—’
Stephen had begun to monologue. It was an excellent opportunity for Ron. He slowly crept out of Stephen’s view. As quietly as possible he moved behind Stephen and reached out carefully. Stephen was still making his I-know-everything-about-witches speech. Harry held his breath.
Ron reached forward and was about to pull Stephen to the floor when Stephen spun around looking right at Ron. Ron moved forward but Stephen was ready. He stepped back and – crack! Ron staggered backwards, clutching his left arm to his chest. Stephen grinned evilly. Harry spun around, half-panicking, and slammed himself into Stephen. The thin man fell to the floor and was momentarily stunned. Harry grabbed Ron and heaved him out the door. Then he turned around again, grabbed Stephens’s gun, which was lying on the floor, and ran out the door. Harry pulled the door closed and jammed the gun in between the doorknob and the door, hoping it would keep Stephen from following them. He ran and pulled Ron up, who was sitting in the snow, moaning.
‘Run!’ Harry cried. ‘He’ll be out any second!’
Behind them Stephen was already trying to get the door open.
Ron looked horribly green but he stood up and ran. Harry followed, looking back to see that Stephen had escaped. A few bullets whizzed past Harry and one grazed his cheek. Finally the gunshots stopped. Harry and Ron ran into a small glade of trees and flopped down on the snow, breathing hard. They could still hear Stephen yelling curses at them from his small hut.