Harry Potter and the Heartwood Arrow

Chapter 4: Karate, Action Movies, and Long Walks in the Rain

    “A-Amanda?” Harry said, rushing to open the window. “What are you doing?”

    She climbed into his room, shaking out her umbrella before closing it and pulling it through the window. She did all this as if there was nothing remotely unusual about it. "You mean this isn't the ice cream store? I must have made a wrong turn." She gave him a 'you should have known better' look that made Harry think of Hermione for a moment. "I came here to see you, of course."

    "But it's raining," Harry said, "and I'm on the second floor." He wanted to hit himself. Couldn't he come up with something better to say?

    Amanda glanced back at the window. "Both of which are frightfully obvious from outside your window. That's what umbrellas and ladders are for. I figured you'd appreciate some company."

    Get a grip, Harry thought to himself. He could still salvage this. He could apologize and tell her she caught him off guard. Tell her that her arrival was something he thought was too good to have happened. That sounded good, didn't it? All he had to do was say it.

    "I, er, sorry." Or he could babble like an idiot and kill himself while she wasn't looking.

    Amanda giggled. "You're cute when you're tongue-tied," she said. Harry wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. "I don't blame you. If some stranger I had only met yesterday showed up at MY window, I'd probably scream."

    Harry grinned, sheepishly. "Yeah, but if I screamed, the Dursleys'd come investigating, and who'd want that?" His insides suddenly went cold, the sheepish smile falling from his face. "Shoot. My uncle's about to come this way. He's gonna be mad enough at me as it is, and..." He wasn't sure how to finish the sentence without being insulting.

    "And catching you with a girl in your room, specifically the girl who turned down his son, won't get you on his good side, right?" Amanda finished it for him. "Maybe we should leave."

    "No!" Harry said, quickly, his face heating up. "I mean, it's not like I don't appreciate you coming, but I don't want you to get in trouble."

    Amanda's smile could only be described as mischievous. "I know, that's why I said WE should leave. Your uncle can be mad at you on his own time, right?"

    Harry returned the smile. She was right. If he was going to get chewed out, he might as well do something to deserve it. "Let's go."

    Descending the ladder together while trying to keep both of them under the umbrella's protection was difficult, but they managed to reach the ground only getting marginally wet. Harry turned around to congratulate his partner in crime...

    And leapt back in surprise. Standing at the base of the ladder was a Death Eater. The rain blurred its outline, but Harry could still make out a black hood and robe.

    His foot slipped in the mud, and he fell backwards. Knowing that the Death Eater probably already had a curse on his tongue, he rolled to the side, while trying to figure out how to simultaneously dodge curses, get back to his feet, and get his wand out of his pocket.

    He stopped when he heard Amanda gasping with laughter. Was this some sort of joke? If it was, it was in poor taste. And how did Amanda know what a Death Eater was?

    "I'm sorry, Harry," Amanda said as she helped Harry to his feet. Her face was flush from laughing. "Christine likes to scare people like that. Christine, apologize to him."

    The figure stepped forward, and Harry realized, to his own chagrin, that what he had mistook for a Death Eater's robe, was really just a black raincoat. "I'm sorry, Mr. Potter," a strong, Irish voice said. Christine pushed back her hood, and Harry saw the face of a woman in her early thirties. "I didn'a expect such a strong reaction." She chuckled.

    Amanda rolled her eyes, although she was still smiling. "Christine is my bodyguard. She and her sister have been helping my father look after me since I was little. He seems to think that I'm in mortal danger if I'm alone, but that's what father's are for, I guess."

    Harry was struggling to regain his composure. The idea of bodyguards wasn't the easiest thing to digest, especially after just having mistaken one of them for a dark wizard.

    "Won't you get in trouble, then?" he asked. "I mean, she's going to tell your father about this, won't she? And judging from last night, I don't think he approves of me."

    "Nah," Christine replied with a smile. "Y'see, th' master knows his daughter has this rebellious side, an' he knows there's nothin' anyone can do t' stop her from sneakin' out. A bodyguard's no good if their charge's tryin' t' escape them, so we have a li'l truce with Miss Dale. She don' try t' ditch us, and we don't stop her from having fun, or report it to her father."

    Harry idly wondered if Moody would agree with this mentality. He'd probably suggest putting Amanda in leg irons.

    "So, uh, what now?" Harry asked. He was starting to have doubts about this. He was cold, wet, covered in mud, and he could feel a bruise forming from landing on his camera. Hardly the way he'd like a pretty girl to be seeing him, although, he reminded himself, it was her fault in this case.

    Amanda looked a little worried. "Well, I was hoping you'd just take a little walk with me, but after Christine got you covered in mud..." It was unusual to see her like this. He realized he barely knew her, but she had always seemed so confident and assertive. Seeing her scared and vulnerable somehow made him realize how beautiful she was all over again, and before he realized what he was doing, he had pulled out the camera and snapped a picture.

    "Hey!" Amanda said, turning away and covering her face. He already had the picture, though.

    "Sorry," he said. "You don't like having your picture taken?"

    "I wasn't ready for it!" Amanda said. She stayed looking away from Harry, but he could hear a smile in her voice. "I'm wet, and my hair's a mess, and-"

    "You're the one who wanted to walk in the rain," Harry said, trying to sound indignant and keep from laughing at the same time.

    Amanda turned around, smiling again. "Fair enough," she said. "I always liked the rain. It's relaxing. It washes away everything, until it's just you in your own little world. My father thinks I'm mad, but I've loved going for walks like this since as long as I can remember."

    "I can vouch fer her," Christine put in. "Although when she was a wee one, it wasn't so much walkin' as it was jumpin' naked int' puddles."

    "It's double standards, I tell you," Amanda said. "A little child runs around naked, and everybody thinks it's 'cute,' but try it when you're sixteen and it's suddenly 'indecent exposure.'" Harry felt his face turn bright red. "Told you he was cute when he blushed," Amanda said to Christine.

    "If I agree to the walk," Harry said, feeling horribly embarrassed, yet amazingly happy at the same time, "can we change the subject?"

    Walking in the rain was an interesting experience. The rain had lightened considerably, but Privet Drive was still obscured, vague lines hidden in the grey fog. The raindrops hitting the umbrella kept an erratic beat as they walked. He was a bit cold, of course. He wasn't really dressed for being outside in this weather, and the fall in the mud hadn't helped. He longed for Charlie’s drycoat.

    For a while, neither of them spoke. They walked in silence, entranced by the serenity that surrounded them. Finally, Amanda spoke.

    "Have you seen 'Betrayal Within'?"

    Harry blinked. "What?"

    "The new action movie. It came out last Friday."

    "Oh," Harry said, "No." He hadn't seen any movies, but he didn't think he needed to tell her that just yet. "Is it good?"

    She shrugged. "It was mindless and predictable. The plot held together just enough to string the car chases and explosions together. But for a mindless summer film, not bad."

    "Do you like the movies?" he asked. It dawned on him that finding common interests with a muggle might be difficult.

    "Yeah, I love them." Her eyes were bright with excitement. "In a movie, anything can happen. The only limitation is the director's imagination. It's like... magic! I want to be an actress someday, you know. Maybe try my hand at writing some, too."

    Harry couldn't help but laugh. "Sounds good to me. What kind of movies do you want to write?"

    Amanda paused for a moment. "Not sure. Something dramatic and fast-paced, but with some depth, too, you know? Oh, and with a kickass heroine for me to play." She grinned widely.

    "Just make sure you can keep up with her," Harry smiled.

    "Hey!" Amanda said, punching him playfully in the arm. "I'll have you know I'm a black belt, third rank in Karate."

    Harry held up his arms in surrender. "Okay," he said, playfully. "I believe you. Just don't hurt me."

    Amanda laughed, and grabbed his arm, possessively. They walked in silence for a while longer, Amanda still holding Harry's arm. It was a pleasant experience.

    "So where do you go to school?" she asked a bit later. "The rumormongers say you go to Saint Brutus's, but if that's true, I'll eat my umbrella."

    Harry was ready for this question. Hart covered it in the first chapter. "I go to Herald Academy." Herald Academy didn't exist, but anybody investigating it would find whatever information lined up with what they thought they already knew. It had been designed specifically for this purpose.

    "Do you like it there?" she asked.

    "Well, it's no Saint Brutus's," he smiled, "but I love it there. The coursework's interesting and I've got friends there."

    "And no three hundred pound cousins, right? That must count for something. I go to Aranvale Girl's Academy."

    "How's that?"

    She shrugged. "It's alright. A bit on the dull side, but I've got some friends there, too."

    "I'm sure you have friends wherever you go," Harry said without thinking. Reflecting on it, he wasn't sure if it was a good compliment, or just corny. He was beginning to realize that Amanda enjoyed either one.

    "That's sweet," she smiled. She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. Harry could feel his face heat up immediately. "But I think my friends would pale next to yours. I don't know why, but you seem like the type who, well, even if you're not friends with everyone, when you do form a connection, it's a strong one. I just have that feeling about you. I'm being silly, aren't I?"

    "I..." Harry started to reply, when he suddenly stopped. The dragon tooth necklace he was wearing underneath his shirt suddenly became warm. The fangs pressed into his chest, and intuitively, he knew this meant there was danger. He whirled around, scanning the fog for some sign of the threat. Amanda and Christine both turned around, trying to see what had prompted this from Harry.

    "D'ye see somethin', Mr. Potter?" Christine asked. She had been trailing a few feet behind them as they walked, but she quickly crossed that distance now to stand protectively in front of Amanda.

    Harry clutched the wand hidden in his pocket. What situations warranted the use of magic? Certainly if a dementor or a Death Eater was there, he'd be free to retaliate and defend himself however he could, but what if it was something muggle, like a mugger? Was he allowed to cast magic in a situation like that?

    His throat tightened as a vague shape became visible in the gloom. Amanda tried to step forward to get a better look, while Harry tried to move into a position where he hoped he could cast a leglocker curse without being noticed. Christine, however, pushed them both back. The wind howled, but Harry could just barely make out the what the figure called out.

    "Avada... AAUGH!" Harry's stomach twisted into a knot, but untied itself just as quickly. When he had heard the start of the killing curse, he thought it was over. He didn't know who the first target would be, but one of them would have died. Yet something had stopped him. He saw flickers of light where the shadow had been.

    Christine pulled them forward. There was a man in a black robe sprawled out on the street. Kneeling beside him was a woman. She wore a black raincoat, but the hood had fallen back. She looked so much like Christine, that Harry looked up at the woman who held his arm to be sure she was still there.

    "Thought ye could sneak up on th' mistress?" the woman asked, her accent every bit as strong as Christine's. She bent over him, and he screamed again, his leg's twitching oddly.

    "Enough, Nessie," Christine said, putting a hand on the other woman's shoulder. "Was he alone?" Harry saw the man’s wand lying in the street. While no one was looking, he quickly pocketed it.

    "Aye. I was followin' him for about three blocks t' see if he was up to somethin'. When he pulled somethin' outta his pocket an' aimed it at Miss Dale, I tazered him." She sounded like she had enjoyed that last part immensely.

    "This," Amanda started, then swallowed nervously. She looked really shaken up, but was trying to go on like everything was normal. "This is Vanessa. She's... she's Christine's sister... And... And..."

    Harry put his arm around Amanda's shoulders, and she embraced him tightly, crying on his shoulder.

    A while later found them sitting on a bench at the police station, while Vanessa spoke with a police officer about what had happened. Christine was leaning against the wall by the door, watchful. Everything was silent. Harry couldn't figure out anything to say, and Amanda didn't seem to want to talk, either. They just sat there, together, Amanda curled up against Harry.

    "Thank you, Ma’am," a police woman said, as she stepped out of her office with Vanessa. "We'll take care of things from here. I'll have a squad car take you and Miss Dale home."

    "What about Potter?" Vanessa asked.

    "I need to ask him a few questions, then I'll take him home myself."

    Amanda sat up and looked at Harry. Her cheeks were red, and she looked embarrassed.

    "Thank you, Harry," she said.

    "But I didn't really do anything. I just sat there with you"

    "And I needed that, so thanks. I'm sorry our walk ended like that. After my father finds out about this, I don't think I'll be able to get out of the house much for a while. I had fun, though.”

    Harry tried to think of something to say. If it had to end this way, he could deal with it, but he didn’t want his last memories of her to be like this.

    “Smile,” he said, pulling out the camera Colin Creevey had given him.

    Amanda blinked. “What?”

    “Well, if I’m not going to see you for the rest of the summer, you can at least give me a decent picture. Smile. No one got hurt, and no matter what happens, I’m sure we’ll see each other again someday.”

    She smiled, weekly. It was nothing compared to her usual smile, though.

    “Come on,” he said. “You can do better than that. Or do you need to be half-soaked for a good picture.”

    “Hey!” Amanda protested, her voice gaining strength. “I happen to be very photogenic. I look great in any picture.”

    “Prove it,” Harry grinned, holding up the camera. Amanda struck a pose where she tilted her head back and threw her hair over her shoulder. Harry laughed and took the picture.

    “C’mon,” Christine said, putting a hand on Amanda’s shoulder. “We’d best be goin’.”

    As Harry watched the three of them left the station, his mind turned to his own situation. He wasn’t sure if he was in trouble or not. What if they asked him questions about the wizard? He still had the man’s wand, not to mention his own. What could he say if they discovered them?

    Then there was the Dursleys. They were already going to be mad at him for sneaking out. He didn’t want to imagine what they’d say if he came home in a police car.

    “Now, Mr. Potter.” He almost jumped when the police woman addressed him. She gave him a knowing glance, and he got the impression she was hiding something. “Into my office, if you don’t mind.” Mutely, he rose and entered the room she had indicated. She followed him, closing the door behind her.

    “Would you like something to drink, Mr. Potter?” She said, then smiled widely. “Like a pumpkin juice, or maybe a butterbeer?”