Naima Becker was sitting near a large tub full of soapy water, washing the breakfast dishes. She sighed despairingly and brushed her long curly black hair out of her eyes. She hated house work with all her heart. What she wouldn’t give to be outside, in the snow, exploring and enjoying the weather! But a women’s place was in the house, as her mother reminded her every morning. Now that she was twelve and almost an adult, she had responsibilities and she knew better than to shirk her duties, especially under her mother’s watchful eye. That didn’t stop her dreaming though. She was ever looking for an adventure, a chance to meet new people. Having lived in the small town of Salem all her life, she rarely met anyone she didn’t already know. Her mother couldn’t understand where Naima got her yearn for adventure, but Naima herself expected she got it from her father. Samuel Becker was a well-off merchant who spent much time out, visiting various places in the world. Just last month he had visited India, to buy striking Indian goods and spices which would defiantly improve business.
Naima wiped off the last plate on a dish rag and put it away. Then she picked up the large tub and walked out the door to drain the water. A small smile spread on her face as she stepped into the icy wind. Maybe she could spend a little time outdoors without her mother noticing. She put down the tub by the side of the large house and looked around. There had been a snowstorm the previous night and three feet of snow covered the ground. Despite the freezing wind, Naima’s sealskin coat kept her warm as she looked at her large home. She knew she ought to be thankful for such a huge home, but a small cozy cottage would take less time to clean. The house was a two-and-a-half story building, made of bricks, layered with strong oak wood. The house was still quite new, and the wooden boards gleamed. The house’s exterior was very beautiful. Five large circle shaped, frost covered windows decorated each of the outer walls. The red roof shingles gave the house a warm, cottage-y look. The house was different from most houses in Salem. Aside from its large size, the fact that it had been constructed with stone and wood was a strange thing.
Near the house was a large stable, where the horses and cows stayed during the winter. Naima and her family had not kept pigs or chickens that winter.
Naima stepped away from the house, after grabbing a small club sitting by the door of the house. Naima had promised her father that she would take it with her whenever she went even a few feet away from the house. Although Naima never had reason to use it, she followed her father’s orders. Times were bad, and the war had spread everywhere. Danger could come in any form.
Near the house was a small forest. Naima was swinging her bat around carelessly, contemplating going into the forest and wondering whether her mother would kill her if she found out, when she heard three loud thumps behind her. Her back stiffened and she tensed. Who was there? Her heart began to pound against her chest and she made her decision. She quickly turned around and swung her bat hard, at three dark shapes, huddled on the snow covered ground. She swung her bat harder hoping she could knock out the three burly-looking figures. Once, twice, three times her bat made contact with a sickening crunch. She stopped and looked down at the people who had sneaked up behind her, thinking that it would serve them right if they were dead. The three people were lying on the ground, unmoving, but Naima didn’t dare move closer, in case they were trying to trick her. She decided to call her mother who was up in the house, mending some clothes. She hurried to the door, stopping on the way to dump the water out of the washing tub, and then hurried up the stairs to the third floor.
‘Mother!’ she said, when she entered her mother’s sewing room.
‘Finished with the washing, dear?’ asked her mother. Samantha Becker was a beautiful woman, who looked less than her thirty-seven years. She had long auburn hair and twinkling light-blue eyes. Her mouth always seemed to be smiling.
‘Yes, Mother, but you don’t understand,’ said Naima hurriedly. ‘I went out to dump the washing water—’
‘Don’t tell me you went off adventuring, dear,’ said Samantha, looking stern.
‘Mother! Listen!’ Naima said. ‘Three people sneaked up on me and I knocked them out with that club Father makes me take outside. They’re lying in the snow right now, but I didn’t want to go near them, in case they are fooling. Will you come down with me to see who they are?’
‘Very well, Naima,’ replied Samantha, looking weary. ‘I do hope this isn’t one of your tricks.’
‘No, Mother,’ said Naima, grabbing her mother’s hand and pulling her out the door.
They reached the door, and Naima was relieved to see that the three figures still lay in the snow. Samantha gasped.
‘My word,’ she whispered, walking closer.
Now that her mother was with her, Naima had no fear of getting near the three figures. She hurried close, wondering if she had killed them after all. She knelt down by the nearest body, her mother right behind her, and turned it over. Naima gasped in surprise. It was a boy who was actually almost a man, and quite a bit older that Naima herself.
Her mother hurried over to examine the other two bodies. One was a girl with bushy, brown hair and the other was another boy with flaming red hair.
Samantha looked reprovingly at her daughter. ‘Naima, you should have looked before you swung your bat! These are just children! I’m sure they meant no harm.’
Naima looked back at the boy she had turned over. He had jet black hair and a strange scar on his forehead. Naima was looking at the scar curiously, and was just reaching out to touch it when she noticed that the boy’s lips were blue and the skin around his eyes was turning darker. His breath was coming out in icy puffs which meant that he wasn’t dead so then he must be…
‘Mother!’ she shrieked. ‘He’s freezing!’
Samantha was already on her feet. ‘How long did you leave them out here?’
Without waiting for an answer she continued. ‘We’ll have to take them inside. Go and prepare three beds by the fire on the first floor, and be quick!’
Naima ran inside and took out three straw mats and put them near the fire. Then she covered the bedding with white cloths and ran back outside. Samantha had lifted up the boy with black hair and was hurrying him inside. Soon all three were on the beds near the fire.
Samantha knelt down next to the three adolescents and began pulling off their wet clothes. All three of them were wearing cloaks of wool and strange black robes over some kind of uniform. The girl had on a long woolen skirt and a blouse while the two boys had on thick black shirts and pants. Samantha removed the wet cloaks and robes and set them near the fire to dry. Then she covered all three with the thickest, warmest buffalo-skin blankets.
‘Their garments are so strange. Why are they so thin?’ said Naima touching the fabric.
‘They must be new to Salem,’ answered Samantha. ‘Maybe it does not get so cold where they are from.’
‘Still, only the poorest families use wool. Surly they could have afforded seal skin!’ Naima exclaimed. ‘Their other garments do not suggest that they are deprived.’ She pointed to the clothes the children still wore.
‘We do not know the conditions of their lives, Naima,’ said Samantha, reprimanding. ‘Not all people are as blessed as we are. I wonder why these three are not with their parents.’
Naima nodded. She was suddenly very envious of the three youths lying before her. They must have such wondrous adventures if they were travelling without adults to keep them in check.
Samantha stood up. ‘Keep the fire strong, Naima. They will become deathly ill if they are not warmed. I am going to make some hot soup for them to drink. The poor dears would not be lying here if it weren’t for your carelessness, so now we must care for them as best as possible.’
Naima nodded again and stoked the fire. She watched the three teenagers, looking for any sign of their awakening, but none of them moved. She continued to stoke the fire guiltily. She had been the cause of this and now she must quietly suffer the consequences. As Naima sat by the fire, she noticed that the raven-haired boy was clutching something in his hand: Something which was glinting in the firelight. Naima reached over and tried to pries his hand open. It was some kind of copper medallion. Naima gazed at it inquiringly, wondering what it had been given for.
Soon Samantha returned with a small bottle in her hands. Samantha’s father had been the town doctor before he died. Samantha had learned a lot from him and she used her knowledge to help the town’s folk when a certified doctor was unavailable.
‘Here,’ she said, handing Naima the bottle. ‘When they wake up, make sure to give them some of this. It’s a warming tonic. It’ll help to take the chill away.’
Naima took the bottle and set it down on the wooden floor. ‘Look, Mother,’ she said, handing Samantha the copper pendant. ‘This boy was holding it. What do you think it is?’
Samantha turned the pendant over and looked at the engravings on it. ‘I can not say, Naima. It looks like a medal… maybe this boy did something to receive it as a gift.’ But as Samantha handed the medallion back to Naima she looked slightly disconcerted.
Naima stayed by the fire for the rest of the day. Not one of the adolescents had stirred and Naima only left them to eat. At around ten at night the boy with the scar began to shiver. Naima, seeing him suffering from these spasms, panicked.
‘Mother!’ she shrieked.
Harry slowly returned to consciousness. His head was hurting horribly and his whole body was feeling numb. As his brain slowly started to come back to life Harry realized he was cold. Horribly cold, colder than he’d ever been in his life. He began to shiver. Harry tried to stop the shivering, to control the trembling, but it wasn’t possible. He shivered harder and faster. Although his body was colder than it had ever been before, his brain still seemed to be working. He slowly began to hear voices around him.
‘Why are they shivering so much?’ a soft voice asked.
‘It’s the body’s way of warming up,’ replied another, slightly deeper voice. ‘Quick, give him the tonic.’
Harry felt someone lift up his head and something touch his lips and the next thing he knew a hot peppery liquid was being forced down his throat. He tried to cough but his body refused to cooperate and the liquid slipped down his throat.
The first voice spoke again. ‘Look, the others are waking up too.’
‘Give them the tonic too,’ said the second voice. ‘It’ll keep away any harmful illnesses.’
Harry realized that both the voices were female voices. He struggled to open his eyes and heard Ron’s groggy voice saying: ‘W-Where a-am I-I?’
Harry forced his eyes open. He was lying in a large room by a roaring fire whose warmth he couldn’t feel. Nearby, Ron was sitting up and Hermione was stirring. Harry looked around and saw a young girl and an older women looking down at him and his friends. For a moment Harry just looked at them trying to figure out where he was. After a while, when he was unable to find any information in his brain, Harry rolled onto his side, still shivering uncontrollably. A sudden, inexplicable urge to sleep came over him and he felt his eyelids shutting of their own accord as warmth spread over his body.
From under a warm blanket of darkness Harry heard someone say something.
‘No!’ said a voice. Someone was shaking him. Harry tried to moan, to pull away but whoever it was kept on shaking him.
‘No!’ he heard the voice say. ‘You mustn’t sleep, child! In such a state, sleep will be the death of you.’
Harry pulled his eyes open again and saw that the women was shaking him, her auburn hair falling over her shoulders and her blue eyes filled with determination.
‘That’s it dear,’ she said, smiling. ‘Wake up now. We have some food for you.’
She lifted him up pushed him against a wall, in a sitting position. Harry tried to control himself, tried to stop the shaking and tried to keep his eyes open. He looked around and saw that Ron was also sitting against the wall and that Hermione was being roused by the girl he had seen earlier.
Harry looked down as something was pushed into his hands. The women handed him a bowl of hot soup but Harry’s shaking hands couldn’t hold the bowl steady. He felt ashamed that he was unable to hold a small bowl of soup but the women didn’t scorn him. She took the bowl from him and set it down on a tray, which held two more bowls brimming with hot soup.
‘Naima!’ the women called. The girl looked up from helping Hermione into a sitting position. ‘Give them their soup and help them eat if they need it.’
Naima nodded and took two soup bowls from the tray and handed one to Ron and one to Hermione. Both of them seemed to be able to hold their bowls, which embarrassed Harry even more.
‘I’m sorry…’ he whispered, hoarsely, as the women picked up his bowl and made to feed him.
‘Don’t be, sweetheart,’ said the women, smiling kindly. ‘I’m Samantha Becker and this is my daughter Naima. You three wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for her, so it is our duty to help you. Do not be ashamed.’
Harry nodded slowly and curled up, trying to keep warm without shivering but it wasn’t much help. Samantha quickly fed Harry the soup. Ron and Hermione finished quickly too and Samantha stood up to take their bowls to a washing tub standing in the corner.
Slowly Harry felt himself getting warmer and was quite warm when Samantha walked up, although he was still shivering slightly.
‘You three should get some sleep. It is very late. You may keep these beds.’ She gestured to the bedding on the floor. ‘Naima and I sleep on the second floor. If you need anything feel free to wake us.’
Harry, Ron and Hermione nodded. Naima and Samantha left the room.
The three friends crawled to the beds but none of them lay down.
‘Where are we?’ asked Ron.
‘And how d-did we get here?’ added Harry through chattering teeth, wrapping the soft blanket around him.
‘That amulet,’ said Hermione. ‘Where is it?’
Harry stopped a moment as everything came back to him. The amulet… Ron pressing a button… the horrible speeding feeling… the darkness. He looked around for the pendant.
‘I thought it was in my hand,’ he said, worriedly. ‘One of them must have taken it.’
‘That amulet did something,’ Hermione whispered. ‘It transported us here when Ron pressed the button.’
Ron looked mortified. ‘So that’s why you tried to stop me!’
Hermione nodded. ‘It was something we found on the ground. You should’ve known not to touch it!’
‘So where are we?’ asked Harry. ‘Or when are we?’
Hermione looked around for something. A piece of paper caught her eye and she hurried over to get it. She brought it back and held it up. Harry saw that it was an old-fashioned newspaper called the Salem Gazette. On the right-hand corner there was a date. It said February 1st 1692.
‘1692!’ said Ron, in awe.
‘We’ve been transported into the past!’ exclaimed Harry, snatching the newspaper away from Hermione and looking it over. ‘To Salem, Massachusetts… that’s in America, isn’t it?’
Hermione nodded slowly. ‘Actually in 1692 this area was known as New England. It’s still far to travel though.’ she said in amazement.
‘Forget the travel distance! We’ve been transported 300 years into the past!’ exclaimed Harry.
‘Why did that thing bring us to this time?’ asked Ron.
‘I don’t know… but I do seem to recall something about Salem from History of Magic. Something to do with magical people,’ said Hermione, thinking hard.
‘You only seem to recall?’ said Ron, incredulously. ‘This has to be a first: Hermione Granger unable to remember something!’
Hermione swatted at Ron with her hand. ‘Very funny!’
Ron smirked. ‘So do you remember now?’
Harry was deep in thought. He too seemed to remember something about Salem, Massachusetts. It was one of the few interesting topics Professor Binns had ever taught. Just then it came to him and at the same time Hermione gasped.
‘The Salem Witchcraft Trials!’ they said together.
‘The what?’ asked Ron, looking from Harry to Hermione in confusion.
‘The Salem Witchcraft Trials!’ said Hermione. ‘Don’t tell me you don’t know what they are!’
‘Okay, I won’t tell you,’ said Ron. He turned to Harry. ‘What are they?’
‘Well,’ began Harry, ‘I only know a little. Maybe Hermione should explain.’
‘In February of 1692, many adolescent girls living in Salem experienced bouts of fits and seizures,’ recited Hermione, sounding uncannily like Professor Binns. ‘Doctors were unable to understand the cause of these fits and they began to press the girls to give the names of the ‘witches’ who afflicted them. Pressurized the girls began to name names and eventually by October 1692 twenty people were executed even though there was no firm evidence against them. Special witchcraft courts held trials and the trials were so influenced by the community, the members of which wanted to see people dead for their children’s sufferings, that many people were forced to confess to deeds they hadn’t done. Innocent Muggles and even witches and wizards were hanged.’
Ron raised an eyebrow. ‘Harsh.’
Hermione nodded her agreement. ‘If its February, then the fits will be starting soon… We have to be careful not to do any magic while we’re here! Who knows what these people can do.’
‘So what really caused all those fits, if it wasn’t magic?’ asked Ron curiously.
‘Oh, most of it was magic. People performing Dark Magic were attracted to torturing young girls and children. Followers of Dark Wizards didn’t hesitate to hurt young people. No one ever caught the true culprits though… innocent muggles were the main victims of the trials,’ replied Hermione.
‘Most?’ asked Harry.
‘The muggles of 1998 have a theory that some special kind of fungus called ergot infested the grains used in Salem and caused a disease that had the same symptoms of fits that the girls suffered. Ergot also causes hallucinations. I suppose that theory is also quite possible,’ replied Hermione. ‘But because the doctors of 1692 had no idea of fungus infestation, they assumed that witchcraft was to blame and they weren’t entirely wrong.’
Ron was staring at Hermione as if she were from another planet. ‘Where do you get all this from?’ he asked amazedly.
Hermione ignored him. ‘We have to be careful. We can’t even mention anything to do with magic!’
‘What should we do with our wands?’ asked Harry quietly.
‘Hide them, I guess,’ replied Hermione. ‘Here give them to me.’
Harry and Ron handed their wands to Hermione, who looked around for a moment.
‘Why not there?’ said Harry, pointing to a loose floorboard.
Hermione nodded, lifted up the bored and pushed the three wands underneath. ‘Remember where they are. We might need them later.’
‘Let’s get some sleep now,’ said Ron, yawning. Harry and Hermione heartily agreed and soon the three friends were fast asleep in front the blazing fire.
A/N: The explanation of the Salem Witchcraft Trials that Hermione made and the Ergot theory are all real. The Ergot theory is thought to be the reason of the fits the girls experienced.
Phew, that was one long chapter. Feedback would be a great treat! Pretty please?