Later
Naima was waiting. Nervously.
She clasped her hands together and then unclasped them. Clasp. Unclasp. Clasp. Unclasp.
Behind her Magistrate Hawthorn was leaning against a tree trunk. He had left a few moments earlier but had returned quickly. He seemed calm and collected as always, rolling his wand between his fingers, humming something under his breath.
Naima’s hands were drenched in sweat and each time she squeezed her hands together and pulled them apart they made a squelching sound. Hawthorn was still humming tunelessly.
Squelch, squelch. Hum, hum…
Birds were twittering in the tree Hawthorn was leaning against, jumping from branch to branch.
Squelch, squelch. Hum, hum. Twitter, twitter…
One of the birds launched off a tree branch and flew over the heads of the people in the crowd surrounding Gallows Hill. The men, women and children were whispering amongst themselves, waiting. Their voices merged together and began to sound like the wind whistling through a crack in a door.
Whistle, whistle, whistle. Hum, hum. Squelch…
A few people shifted their weight from foot to foot, making crunching noises on the bit of snow that was left on the earth and the dead grass that had popped out a few days earlier in hope of light and warmth.
Crunch, crunch. Whistle, whistle, whistle. Hum. Squelch, squelch. Hum. Twitter. Crunch, crunch. Hum…
Naima’s heart was beating rapidly is her ears. She had never been so nervous, so scared. Something sour rose in the back of her throat, stinging.
Lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub. Whistle. Crunch, crunch. Whistle. Hum. Squelch. Hum. Twitter, twitter. Squelch…
Like whenever she was nervous, Naima began to grind her teeth. It hurt, it gave her a headache, but she couldn’t help it. Especially not now.
Grind, grind…
Hawthorn began to tap his wand against the tree, as tunelessly as he was humming.
Tap, tappity, tap, tap…
Too much noise, too much noise…
Naima could hear footsteps nearing, crunching on the snow… even over the din.
Crunch, crunch, crunch…
Too much noise.
Tappity, tap…
Lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub…
Crunch, crunch, crunch…
Whistle, whistle…
Hum, hum…
Twitter, twitter…
Grind, grind, grind, grind, grind…
Naima couldn’t breath.
Too much noise!
TOO MUCH NOISE!
‘SHUT UP!’ she screamed, spinning around to face Hawthorn and the gathering crowd. ‘SHUT UP!’ SHUT UP NOW!’
They did. Immediately. Staring at her. Shocked.
Naima turned back around, trying to breath. She still couldn’t.
And now there was silence. It was much worse than the noise.
The footsteps she had heard earlier were closer now and Naima turned to meet them. Her mother was back. With her were Christopher Andrews and “ Harry. He was struggling furiously against Andrews grasp but to no avail. Samantha was holding two wands in her hands: one was her own, the other looked brand new. Naima could feel her own wand in her hand and she looked down at it. Her heart seemed to miss a beat and she gulped. She knew what she had to do and why… but she was still afraid and as nervous as it was possible to be. She knew what she had to do “ but she didn’t know if she could do it. Why was Samantha so intent on having her fight with Harry? It would take two seconds for her to do it herself or ask one of her cronies to do it for her. Why make such a big deal out of it? To show her power? To make sure everyone understood that Samantha was the leader? Naima didn’t know. There were too many questions. And not enough answers.
Naima looked at her mother. What now?
Samantha looked excited. Her blue eyes were shining and a small smile played at the corners of her lips… but Naima could see that it wasn’t normal excitement. It seemed more animalistic. A sort of restless excitement, like a cat who was about to make a kill. Like a cat who couldn’t wait to taste the blood.
As soon as Samantha entered their line of sight, the people who had been silenced earlier by Naima’s outburst, broke into speech again, whispering amongst themselves and pointing at Naima and Harry. A few were laughing, looks of eager anticipation on their faces. Two old men jeered at Harry as Andrews hustled him forward, following Samantha.
As Samantha moved closer and closer, the crowd automatically spread to make room for her.
‘We’re going to hold a duel,’ she announced, as if everyone didn’t already know. The crowd didn’t seem to mind though “ they went wild. Naima shivered involuntarily. She had never seen a hanging, nor did she want to “ but the girls in the village had told her about the ones they had attended.
The rowdy crowds.
The cheering; the jeering.
The “witches” with frightened looks on their faces.
Peddlers, candy sellers and toy makers doing business, selling to children in the crowd as if it were a fairground and not a hanging ground.
The energetic shouts of ‘Kill the Witch!’
And when the convicted was hanged, calls of ‘God has saved us’ and ‘Long live Salem’.
Naima had never been to a hanging before “ but she was sure that standing here, right now, she knew exactly how it felt to attend one.
Naima shivered again as her mother spoke.
‘A duel between my daughter “ and this traitor.’ As Samantha said the latter part of her sentence, Andrews pushed Harry forward and then stepped back into the crowd. The large group of people, on Samantha’s words, immediately arranged themselves into a large but tight circle, surrounding Harry, Naima and Samantha.
All the adults in the crowd pulled out their wands.
‘Today we shall finish what we have begun!’ said Samantha in a ringing voice.
This was what the crowd wanted “ they went wilder than before.
‘Yes!’ they cried almost as one.
‘Today we complete the purge!’
‘Yes!’
‘Today Salem becomes the first all-magical settlement in history!’
‘Yes!’
‘Today begins our freedom’
‘Yes!’
‘Today marks a NEW ERA!’
‘Yes!’
‘With the end of this duel and the traitor we shall begin to spread our work to other towns and villages. We will never stop at Salem. We will go on, continue our work, and ensure that our children and our children’s children continue our work, until the world as we know it belongs to Witches and Wizards!’
‘YES!’
And with that Samantha turned to Naima, smiled, handed Harry a wand and said, ‘Fight!’, before melting into the crowd.
Harry faced Naima.
He was still in shock from what had occurred in the abandoned barn. Each breath he took was painful and Harry felt like he had to concentrate to even make his lungs suck in precious air.
The significance of what had happened was only just beginning to occur to Harry.
Samantha Becker was not only practiced in wandless magic “ she was also a Metamorphamagi.
Harry’s heart rate jacked again as images of Samantha pretending to be Hermione flashed through his mind.
She’s dead! a voice in his head scolded.
And Harry knew it. He didn’t need reminding.
But he so wished she wasn’t.
He needed her here. Her and Ron. Needed them more that he could say.
For the first time since either of them had died - died, just the word made his heart ache “ he wondered what had happened to them. To Hermione and Ron. What happened after death? He had never had time to give it much thought. The days after Hermione’s hanging he had spent his time trying to cheer up Ron, or thinking of new ways to cheer Ron up. Now that he had a moment to think he began to wonder. Were his hopes that they were now together just fanciful wishes? Maybe.
The only way he could find out what came after death was to die.
And he wasn’t about to do that.
Of course, he would die eventually.
But he shoved that thought away and barricaded the feeling that came with that thought into the deepest chambers of his heart. It was a feeling that had become more and more familiar over the past few days, occasionally escaping the iron-hard walls Harry had unconsciously built to try to contain it.
Every time it pushed out, Harry pushed it back in and reinforced the wall.
Because if he allowed it to roam free inside him, he was sure it would consume him.
Like hate, fear could eat you alive.
Destroy you.
Maim you.
And still leave no physical signs of damage.
And Harry wasn’t one to let a newfound fear consume him.
Never. Never. Never.
Loud jeers brought Harry back to reality. He gazed at the crowd distantly. They were growing impatient, stamping their feet.
Harry’s legs were feeling weak and wobbly and the edges of his vision seemed blurred and shadowed. The crowd’s yelling seemed fainter than normal. He could feel something between his fingers and he looked down at his hand to see the wand Samantha had handed him. It was shorter than his wand and made of a different type of wood.
Harry didn’t like it.
And for the first time a pang of something like grief stabbed him “ at the loss of his wand.
His eleven inch, Phoenix feather cored, holly wood wand. One of a kind, but still part of a couple. It had shared the same core as Voldemort’s wand. Two different feathers, from the same Phoenix’s tail.
Dumbledore’s Phoenix.
Despite that small link to Tom Riddle, Harry had been fond of his wand. He couldn’t imagine having another, but it had been burnt to a crisp at the Becker household “ and Harry hadn’t even thought about it. Until now.
And the only reason he was even thinking about it now was because he wasn’t ready to face the situation he was in. His mind was wandering “ trying to avoid the problem, change the subject.
Harry shifted his position slightly to gaze at Samantha. Unlike the people in the crowd, she looked calm and at ease. Happy to wait. She looked as beautiful as she had they day Harry had first met her, Harry observed vaguely. She didn’t deserve her graceful beauty. Not after everything she had done and was doing. Harry’s gaze flicked back to Naima. She had obviously been trained well. Her dueling stance was correct; her wand was aimed and positioned perfectly. But her eyes were glazed and she seemed lost somewhere in her thoughts. For a brief second her blank eyes cleared and she gazed at Harry fearfully, nervously… and then her eyes clouded again.
Harry wondered what she was thinking.
He liked her very much and he couldn’t imagine wanting to fight her… and by the looks of it, she didn’t want to fight him “
The thought had hardly had time to go through his mind before Naima visibly tightened her grip on her wand. Her eyebrows connected and her eyes cleared. She was going to attack.
Harry quickly raised his wand, ready to defend himself if the need arose.
The crowd suddenly roared in expectation. This was what they wanted “ a fight to the death. Samantha’s small smile grew and her eyes gleamed with excitement. This was the moment of truth “ for Naima, for Samantha’s plan, for everything. It all depended on whether or not Naima could kill the traitor. And if she didn’t “ well, there would be time to think about that later on.
Naima’s heart was beating at ten times its normal pulse. She felt light-headed. The edges of her vision seemed unusually bright and shiny. Her mind was screaming “attack”. Her heart “ her heart was fighting valiantly against her mind but it was losing its battle. Samantha’s voice kept ringing in her ears. What would her mother do if she didn’t kill Harry? No “ there was no choice “ she had to please her mother. But “ Harry looked so “ and Naima liked him so much… she couldn’t kill him. But she had to. Samantha’s voice sounded in her mind again: “In this world, you have a choice between two things.” Two things “ her mother, or Harry? The choice was simple “ easily made. There was only one sane answer. There was only one person she knew she could trust with all her heart and soul “ her mother.
And so she would attack.
And so she would kill.
She raised her wand, aimed it, registered that Harry had done the same across from her “ his stance was defensive though. For a split second this put Naima off and she almost lowered her wand… he wasn’t going to attack her, even though he knew she was going to kill him. And then Naima’s eyes moved to Samantha. Her mother was standing in the middle of the crowd, an almost smug smile on her face. When she realized Naima was gazing at her she gave one small, quick, encouraging nod.
That one nod sealed Naima Becker’s destiny. Sealed her fate. Sealed the length of her life. Sealed the day on which she would die. Sealed the way she would die.
With that nod, Naima’s confidence grew, and she looked at Harry again. And attacked.
Only thirteen and she was not only skilled in all forms of magic, but also skilled in Non-Verbal spells. A small flick of her wand, a tiny movement, almost a feint, hiding the destructive power of the spell, behind that small, weak flick.
A small flick.
A thunderous sucking sound as if the world was collapsing into itself.
And then the deafening explosion.
The blinding light.
Screaming and shouting and crying.
Pain erupted in Naima’s head and she blinked in confusion, even as she fell to the earth “
She hadn’t cast that spell.
Even as Naima flicked her wand “ an almost unnoticeable movement “ Harry’s mind was frantically recalling all defensive and protective magic he knew. Anything that would stop the death that was fast closing in on him. And just as he found the perfect spell, the perfect shield “
The world exploded.
In a spilt second everything went from bad to really, really bad.
Harry couldn’t see. He couldn’t hear. But he could still feel.
He crashed to the ground, and a sudden intense pain made him yell out. Blood “ blood was slipping down his chest in streams. His eyes were open but still he saw only white. His ears registered only chaotic noise “ the noise was enough to make him cry out again. He wanted to cover his ears, block out the sound, but he couldn’t. His arms were pinned down “ his entire body was pinned down. People were on top of him, crushing him. Screaming, flailing people.
And just as quickly as the world had exploded “ it was silent again.
Ringing silence all around.
The screams and cries had stopped.
The only sound was Harry’s breathing “ short, ragged breaths. The breathing of a dying person.
And then he heard something else. People talking, close by.
‘Damn, it was really as bad as they said,’ muttered someone.
‘I never thought “ right under our noses… boy, heads are going to roll because of this, you can bet on it,’ another, rougher voice, replied.
‘Are they all dead?’ asked the first man.
‘Most are, I should say. Not all though… there were too many for them all to have died. Damn it! I can’t believe we didn’t hear about this!’
‘Salem never was supposed to be crawling with witches and wizards. It ain’t our fault.’
‘Yeah, easy to say, but like I said, heads are going to roll.’
‘How many d’you think they got?’
‘Quite a few from the reports. Not that it matters, they were just Muggles and most won’t be missed. I have a feeling some of the Muggles are probably still alive though. Imerpius-ed most likely. If they had started mass murder we would have been on them in a second. Smart is what they were “ smarter than us. Using Muggle methods too…’
‘What’ll we do about the Muggles who lived?’
‘Oh, the Minster has a nice plan “ intelligent. He knows how the….’
The two men moved out of earshot.
Harry tired to move again, pushing off the bodies that were holding him down.
Bodies.
Harry couldn’t help uttering a cry of disgust as he pushed away corpses, some of them with their eyes still open, their mouths still screaming, fear etched on their faces. From what he could tell, the only reason he wasn’t dead too was because he had been thrown backwards into the crowd and their bodies had shielded him from the spell.
Harry pushed his way to fresh air and gasped, rubbing his arms, trying to get the feeling of being under so many dead people to go away. He kept low, looking for the Ministry officials. There were about ten of them, standing some thirty feet away from the large crowd that had assembled to see the duel. The crowd had been transformed into a mound of corpses.
At the thought, something sour touched the back of his throat. He swallowed hard, pushing himself out of the mound, but still keeping low “ he didn’t want to be caught. And then he saw her “
It “
Samantha.
Dead. Clearly dead. With a smug smile still pasted on her face, her eyes open and glittering.
Harry let out a muffled moan, stumbled off of the mound of carcasses and threw up.
He was wiping his mouth, his arms and legs weak and shaking, when he heard something. He spun back to the pile of dead and stunned people. A hand was moving, trying to push a way out. A small, fair hand, poking out of the mound about ten feet from where Harry had just extracted himself.
Naima!
Harry hurried forward, all weakness forgotten and pulled Naima out and away from the bodies.
She was shivering and shaking, her eyes wide. Harry stopped for a second, about to ask if she was okay, when out of the corner of his eyes he saw something that made him panic.
The Ministry officials were returning to the collection of corpses.
‘Back here,’ hissed Harry, and dragged Naima behind one of the nearby shops. After a few seconds, he peered out from behind the shop wall. It seemed like the Ministry’s people hadn’t seen him or Naima, from the easy going pace at which they were ambling forward at. They seemed in no great hurry to reach the mountain of dead and unconscious.
Good.
It would buy himself and Naima some time. They had to escape. Harry was in no mood to be caught and put on trial. Or worse, killed. He’d had more than enough of the Ministry in his own time and country. And this was 1692. Who knew what the normal punishments for illegal time travel was in this century.
Naima had obviously recovered slightly from the shock of what had happened in the last few minutes because now she whispered to Harry, ‘What’s happening? Who cast that spell?’
Harry turned back to her. ‘The Ministry is here.’
Naima’s eyebrows shot up into her hairline. ‘The Ministry of Magic? Here? Why?’
Harry frowned. Didn’t Naima know what her mother had been up to over the past few weeks?
‘Well”’ Harry paused and frowned again. On second thought, Naima’s question was reasonable. What “ or who “ had aroused their suspicion? Why hadn’t they acted earlier when Samantha had begun… doing whatever she was doing? Why had they chosen to take action now? It couldn’t have been the duel. Naima first spell hadn’t even had time to materialize before the Ministry had arrived. The only possible explanation was that they had finally become aware of what was happening in Salem right under their noses. Harry wondered briefly who had tipped them off. And why they hadn’t figured everything out before. From what Harry had heard of the two Ministry officials’ conversation, they had been completely unaware of the problem in Salem. “Heads are going to roll” one of them had said. Sounded like the American Ministry wasn’t as on top of things as they should have been.
Finally Harry answered Naima, with a brisk shake of his head. ‘We haven’t got time to think about that right now. We ought to get out of the village or they’ll find us and cart us off to the Ministry.’
‘My house,’ said Naima simple.
‘Excellent, let’s go.’ Harry grabbed Naima’s arm and Disapparated.
Or he tried to Disapparate.
He tried again, but nothing happened. Harry looked around, slightly perplexed. Why couldn’t they Disapparate?
Hermione’s voice floated to the top of his mind, bringing a pang of sadness with it. ‘You can’t Apparate or Disapparate anywhere in Hogwarts.’
Of course. Anti-disapparation charms. The Ministry would have cast them to make sure no one escaped. Harry and Naima would have to get to her house on foot.
‘Okay,’ muttered Harry. ‘We’re going to have to make a run for it.’
Naima nodded and beckoned Harry to follow her. She peeked out from their hiding place to check in the coast was clear and then tiptoed forward.
Harry, following her, felt a number of emotions fighting for control of his mind, and possibly his face. He was worried, very worried, about what would happen if he and Naima didn’t get to her house. And even if they did get to her house, what then? Where would they go from there? Guilt bubbled inside him as he followed his young friend. Her mother was dead “ Naima didn’t seem to realize it. Should he tell her? Or should he save it for later, so that Naima would be unable to insist that she be shown the body. Harry would never let her see Samantha’s body “ it was just… wrong. There was something horrendous and frightening about her body, her dead smile. She hadn’t even realized that her death had caught her.
Someone yelled. Harry, his thoughts interrupted, glanced over his shoulder and felt panic pump through his vessels. Two of the Ministry officials had seen them “ no they had seen him, Harry. Naima was shielded by a tree she had run behind but Harry had been out in the open for a split second.
‘HEY!’ yelled one of the men.
‘Harry!’ hissed Naima urgently, waving her hands frantically, telling him to hurry. Harry ran, joined her behind the tree, but he knew it was too late. He at least, had been seen. In a split-second, he made his decision.
‘Stay here,’ he ordered Naima, and jumped out from behind the tree and made a shoot for the pile of human carcasses. The man who had called to him earlier shouted again. Three men and a woman had joined the two Ministry men who had spotted Harry first. One raised his wand, aiming at the teenager. Harry, running, looked around frantically and finally spotted what he needed. A wand. In a dead woman’s hand, a wand, still clutched in her fingers. Harry yanked the wand away, ignoring the shudders of disgust that coursed through his body. And there was another. Harry pulled the second wand out from underneath a young boy and held it in his left hand. He’d give it to Naima later. Just then he did a double take. A dead man’s body, lying nearby. Harry had seen that man before. Where “? Lynn Town! The barman. He had been the barman at the inn Ron and Harry had stopped at. But there was no time to figure out what the barman’s body meant: The Ministry people were getting closer. A Stunner missed him by a nose. Harry jumped away from the bodies and ran back to the tree Naima was hiding behind. He threw her the spare wand and yelled, ‘RUN!’ She caught the instrument deftly and shot out from behind the tree. A blast of blue light smashed into the tree and incinerated it. Harry spun back to face the approaching witches and wizards. What were they doing? Aiming to kill? Harry threw up a shield and prayed Naima would do the same, but then he realized something. The Ministry people were attacking him not Naima.
He began to run, following the girl, throwing up shield after shield with his wand as he moved. He didn’t think he could do much damage to any of the Ministry officials and so his best chances of survival lay in defense.
As it was, he was pretty much wrong. The shields his spells made were never strong enough to stop the most complex spells and the fact that Harry was exhausted and starving made the spell even less effective. One correctly aimed spell shattered the feeble shield and hit Harry in the side. He was thrown back and slammed into the wall of the grocers shop with a groan. Harry blinked, tried to get up, but collapsed against the wall, his body riddled with pain.
‘Harry!’ cried someone. Harry blinked again, trying to remember where he had heard that voice, trying to stay conscious. The black edges around his eyes were closing in.
‘WAKE UP!’ screeched the same voice and someone rapped him hard on the head. Harry blinked again and the blackness slunk away as if defeated. Harry’s vision cleared. Someone had grabbed his arm, was hauling him to his feet. Someone “ invisible? No, Disillusioned! Naima. The rap on his head, Naima’s wand. Harry glanced down at himself. He had been Disillusioned too.
Naima dragged him behind the nearest shop. ‘Oh God,’ she muttered. ‘Can you walk? We have to get you out of here!’ Harry leaned against the wall for support. The pain from the spell that had hit him had faded almost immediately, followed by a strange numb feeling in his side from his abdomen to his right knee. And Naima’s voice, the urgency in it, scared him. He looked down at himself, but he couldn’t see anything except patches of snow and grass and earth. The Disillusionment Charm “ he couldn’t see what had happened. But for some reason, the area where the spell had hit him… even through the charm it seemed strange and wavering, like smoke. Harry’s heart skipped a beat. He had a feeling Naima had Disillusioned him on purpose. And not to escape the Ministry.
‘Can you walk?’ Naima repeated, her voice coming out of nowhere. She still had a camouflaged hand on his arm. Harry stopped leaning against the shop wall and put weight on his legs. His right leg wanted to fold underneath him, he felt lightheaded and strange and shivery all over his body. But he nodded. And then remembered she couldn’t see him anymore than he could see her. He said yes. Naima sounded relived when she answered.
‘Okay, come on then. We’re almost at my house.’ Still holding onto to Harry, she ran forward. Harry forced his legs to move and ran with her. He didn’t know if the Ministry was still behind them or had lost them. He didn’t know whether they honestly were close to Naima’s house or whether she was just saying it to make him feel better. He didn’t know whether the earlier urgency in the thirteen-year-old’s voice and now the unhidden relief were because she was just concerned that he had been hurt or extremely worried that the spell that had hit him would kill “
Harry pushed the thought away and tried to think of something else. It didn’t matter though “ as soon as he had shrugged his last thought off, his mind decided it didn’t have enough energy left to think and pretty much shut down. He kept running with Naima but he didn’t see anything on the way, didn’t register how long they had been running. He saw nothing and heard nothing and remembered nothing. He just ran. There was no real emotion in him “ no real emotion but fear. Everything was a big blur until a few minutes later “ or maybe a few days or months “ he was sitting on a chair, next to a half-dead fire, in the Becker household.
Naima removed the Disillusionment Charm on herself and pushed Harry down on a chair next to the fire. The all-out panic she had been feeling ever since that spell had hit Harry faded and left in its place a dull, throbbing fear. Harry had gone quiet and even though Naima couldn’t see him through the Disillusionment Charm, she had a feeling his eyes were closed. She considered taking the charm off him and then decided against it. Seeing it “ what that spell had done “ seeing it would make it worse. And Naima didn’t want to see it ever again. If it had scared her so much she didn’t even want to think about what Harry would do when he saw. She rushed over to the bookshelf and pulled out every volume on Healing Spells she could find. She flipped madly, page after written page, stopping to skim through seemingly relevant scribbles, before thumbing through the book again. Nothing. Nothing at all. Not a signal description of any spell that would heal anything like the wound Harry had. Naima’s heart was in her throat and beating furiously. She felt choked and afraid. She bit her cheeks hard as she flipped, hard enough to draw blood, but she didn’t realize it, didn’t notice the metallic taste on her tounge. She went through every volume, her anxiety increasing as the pile of yet to be read books grew smaller and smaller, until she had flipped through every book and still found nothing and was almost mad with panic. And in all this time, Harry had uttered neither a cry nor a word.
Naima sprung up from the floor where she had been sitting by the books and rushed over to the chair. She grabbed Harry’s Disillusioned body and shook him hard. ‘Harry? Harry! Please!’
‘It’s okay,’ he murmured softly, and Naima wanted to scream from relief. ‘I’m just tired.’
‘I can’t find anything “ there’s nothing “ I “ what did they “ no spell”’ Naima was stuttering badly in her dread.
Harry was silent again for a moment and then he spoke, his voice still low. ‘Take off the charm.’
Naima refused outright but Harry repeated himself and he sounded so dangerous for a moment that Naima didn’t dare disobey. She tapped him on the head for the second time that day with the wand Harry had given her earlier, and removed the Charm. She didn’t want to look again, but she did. Almost as if the gruesome wound was a magnet, her eyes were drawn to it. For a moment, she and Harry stared at the injury. Then Harry looked up, his green eyes met hers, and she saw that they were filled with emotion. Exhaustion, weariness, pain and fear.
All he said was, ‘You’re not a Squib.’ Still in that soft, hard to hear whisper.
Naima was put off for a moment. ‘How did you know?’
‘Your mother “ she told me when we were returning to Gallows Hill. For the duel.’
Naima nodded and would have said something but Harry cut her off.
‘She “ died. Samantha. I’m sorry.’
Naima was silent for a long time. For the longest of times, she stared at the wooden floor, not saying a word. And then she nodded. ‘My father “ he’ll come back from his trip soon. I’ll be okay.’
‘He’s a Muggle?’
Naima nodded. Then, sensing Harry must want an explanation, she added, ‘My mother did love him “ and me. She didn’t want to get rid of dad “ like she was the others. And even when she thought I was a Squib…’ Silence and then, ‘I know what she was doing was wrong but…’
‘She was your mother,’ Harry whispered and Naima nodded again. She returned her gaze to Harry’s face, made sure that she did not look at that wound. Even then an image of it flashed in her mind and she had to swallow hard “ it was nauseating.
They stared at each other for a few seconds and then Harry said, ‘I’m “ this is it, isn’t it? I can almost feel myself slipping…’ He trailed off and touched some of the blood seeping out of the injury. Naima didn’t see him do it but she knew it anyway. She wasn’t looking at it and neither was Harry.
‘Can you just…’ Harry began and Naima nodded again before he could say another word. She knew, she had known from the moment she had finished flipping through the books. She had known what it would come to.
‘What will I do with your “ the “?’ Naima couldn’t say it and Harry didn’t make her say it.
‘Vanish it,’ he suggested in a faint voice. ‘Destroy it. You’re not a Squib.’ Naima nodded again. It was easy to say “ harder to do.
There was silence and then together, they said, ‘I’m afraid.’ And again, together, ‘It’ll be alright.’ They laughed soft, unhappy laughter. Laughing only because things should never have come to this “ this wasn’t supposed to be the ending. Things were not supposed to be this way.
‘I don’t even know,’ began Harry softly, ‘if I’ll be with them.’ Naima didn’t need any explanation “ she knew, just knew, who “them” was.
‘Wishful thinking,’ he continued. ‘You wish that “ you try to make it seem a better thing by pretending you’ll see them again but who knows… no one can tell us what happens… after.’
Naima felt tears coming to her eyes. Why must it come to this? Why did he have to “ why was he dying? ‘You will be with them,’ Naima tried to say, but it was difficult to talk around her tears. Harry seemed to have understood though, because he gave a last small smile. Even when he smiled, Naima could see the sheer terror he was feeling. He didn’t want to die. Why did he have to?
‘Better get on with it,’ he said, an encouraging note in his voice, even as it grew fainter. Naima nodded, stood up, and looked at Harry’s living face for the last time in her life. She couldn’t bring herself to say goodbye “ she hadn’t known him long enough for it to mean anything to him (or so she thought) - and she had known him just long enough to feel the pain of parting. Neither of them said another word to each other again.
Naima raised her wand, and in a blast of green light, it was done.