Ron stared wearily out of the smudged window in the Gryffindor Common Room. His eyes were drooping, as they watched for any sign of movement in the cold outdoors.
“Still waiting for Hedwig, are you?”
Hermione’s voice startled him, and he tore his eyes away from the window to look at her. She sat down beside him, and looked out of the window as well.
“I just don’t get it…Harry seems to be avoiding us or something. I mean, why hasn’t he written us back?”
Hermione sighed. “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”
“And why hasn’t he stopped to think that his two best friends are worried about him?” Ron asked, feeling his voice rising.
Hermione gave him a blank look, before shaking her head wearily. “I have no idea, Ron…”
“My sister’s been worried sick! She thinks she’ll never see him again!”
“Ron,” said Hermione, “you need to stop yelling. Nobody can do anything about this!”
“AND EVERYONE IS WORRIED ABOUT HIM, AND HE’S JUST WANDERING AROUND IN LONDON!” Ron roared.
Hermione stared at him, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She took a deep breath.
“Ron, I don’t know where Harry is, or what he’d doing, but I’m sure that he’s doing what he has to do. Maybe he can’t tell us, or something important is hinged on the fact that he disappears from the Wizarding World,” she stopped and looked at Ron wearily before continuing. “The point is, there is no use shouting about it. There is nothing we can do about anything right now. The best thing we can do is just to sit and wait.”
Harry examined his new stick carefully. It was very, very plain. In fact, he could have found a stick just like it in the wood near the park in Little Winging. After he picked the stick up for the millionth time that day, he noticed a little piece of parchment sticking out of the box that he hadn’t seen before.
Thank you for buying your new wand. This wand was hand crafted at Ollivander’s Wand Shop. This wand is twelve and a half inches, and is made of holly. Its core is Dragon Heartstring.
Tossing the parchment aside, Harry concluded that it was another part of the strange world that he’d just entered yet didn’t know anything about. Harry had a very shrewd suspicion that there was something different about this world, something unusual and strange.
A strange sense of longing made Harry want to pick the stick back up. He following his impulse, and found the stick back in his hands. He looked at it for another couple of minutes. Something in the pit of his stomach told him that he’d seen stick like this before, that he’d owned a stick like this before.
“No you haven’t,” called the voice carefully, confirming Harry’s suspicions.
He’d learned that anything the voice argued against was probably a true statement.
“What is this for, anyway?” Harry asked the voice aloud, hoping it might say something important by accident.
“N-nothing,” stuttered the voice.
Harry stayed silent for a second, questions burning in his brain. He rolled the wand over in his hands, and held it like he’d seen another person on the street do.
“Abra Kadabra!” he said lazily, pointing the stick at a lamp in the corner.
It smashed to pieces in front of his eyes. Harry stared, hardly daring to believe his eyes. The stick in his hands quivered, and he tore his eyes away from the destroyed lamp to look at it.
Comprehension dawned on him, and he hardly let himself believe. All of his suspicions were true: there was something different about this world. It was a world…of magic.
“No there isn’t. It’s just a…trick…” mumbled the voice, and Harry could tell that his thoughts were true.
The half-horse, half-human creatures came closer to him. The toad lady pulled out a short, stubby stick very much like Harry’s.
“Incarcerous!” she cried, pointing the stick directly at the creatures.
The closest creature cried out in pain as thick ropes appeared and began to wrap themselves around it.
Harry awoke with a start, and felt sweat on his face. He looked at his stick that was sitting on the bedside table, and picked it up. Feeling reckless, he pointed it at the chair in the corner.
“Incarcerous,” he muttered, just as he’d seen the lady do.
Thick ropes, identical to the ones in his dream, materialized and began to wrap themselves tightly around the chair.
“Amazing,” Harry breathed quietly.
He looked closer at the wand (now he was sure that it was not a stick, but a magic wand), and willed himself to remember more. He was sure that was what he was doing: remembering.
The sky was dark and several creatures wearing long hoods glided closer to him. His breath felt icy in his chest, and he felt his happiness leave him. A lump on the ground whimpered, and Harry saw Dudley lying on the pavement.
Harry mustered his courage and the last bits of strength left in him. “Expecto Patronum!”
The creatures coming toward him stopped abruptly, and fell back as a beautiful white stag appeared from Harry’s wand, chasing them away.
Harry blinked, trying to clear his mind. His hands felt clammy and raw, and he took several deep breaths, trying to restore warmth to his cold, terrified body.
He took the wand in his hand, and again pointed it at the same chair. “Expecto Patronum!”
The chair remained absolutely still, and nothing happened. Disappointed, yet not discouraged, Harry closed his eyes again and struggled to bring back another memory. It took a moment, but one came to his mind.
An old man, with a long white beard and half-moon glasses, was leaning over a large goblet-like basin. Harry stood beside him, watching in wonder, as the man examined the basin in awe. He took a goblet out and dipped it into the basin. To Harry’s surprise and nervousness, the man began to drink.
After a moment, the man shuddered, “Water…I need water….”
Harry nodded, and pulled out his wand. “Aguamenti!”
Harry blinked, and tried once more to clear his mind of the daydream. He picked his wand back up, and pointed it at the chair.
“Aguamenti!” he cried a bit more forcefully that he would have liked.
Water spurted out of the wand, sending the chair flying back against the wall. Harry tried to stop the quick flow of water, and found that he didn’t know how to stop the water that was all over the small room.
Frantically, he shook the wand. To his amazement and deep relief, the flow of water stopped. He dragged the blanket off the bed, and threw it on the floor, trying to mop up some of the water.
‘I should be writing this down,’ thought Harry urgently, ‘I don’t want to forget any of it…’
Harry pulled a piece of parchment out of his pocket, and scribbled down the names of the spells that he’d already tried:
Spells
-Incarcerous (Ropes)
-Expecto Patronum (?)
-Aguamenti (Water)
“You shouldn’t be doing that!” called the voice urgently. “P-please don’t t-try any more s-spells!”
Harry laughed, surprised at himself for being so brave and confident towards the voice. “Why do you care?”
“I-I don’t. It’s just…” the voice trailed off.
Harry ignored the voice, and looked at the list he’d just made. “I wonder what other spells I can learn.”
Harry had a sudden idea that he immediately liked: he could go back into the town. He made sure he had some money in his pocket, and he carefully locked the door before continuing downstairs.
The streets were almost as crowded as they were earlier. Harry made extra sure that he paid attention to anyone on the street that had a wand. Nobody near the inn had a wand, so Harry couldn’t attempt to copy any spells. He stopped for a minute outside a shop called Flourish and Blotts.
‘What an interesting name,’ thought Harry. ‘I wonder what they sell here.’
Rather than waiting out on the street, Harry walked inside. It was a bookshop. There were books lining every wall, and there were tons of shelves, all of them covered with books. Harry wandered over to the front desk.
“I suppose you’re here to buy some school books,” said the man at the counter lazily. “They’re over there.”
Harry looked towards the shelf that the manager had pointed at, and walked over to it. Most of the books were about spells. Harry looked at them carefully, before pulling one off the shelf and looking at it.
By Miranda Goshawk
Harry decided that the book was worth buying, so he brought the book over to the counter. “I-I’d like to buy this.”
The man looked at Harry for a second, then looked at the book. “That’ll be Six Sickles.”
Harry reached into his pocket, and emptied its contents onto the counter. He only had eight more coins left, so he gave the man six.
“Where can I get more money?” he asked tentatively, knowing it was a stupid question.
The man surveyed him, unblinking. “Gringotts Wizard Bank.”
Harry thanked the man, and walked out of the store, looking for the Wizard Bank.
“Why are you going to the bank? Y-you don’t have any money there!” interrupted the voice.
Harry ignored the voice, and continued down the cobble stone road, a slight smile on his face.
Author’s Note: Reviews are appreciated! Also, check out my other fic, “Ron…Where is Crookshanks?”