Harry's Muggle Rescuer

Interesting. Emma could have sworn that an owl was tapping on her

bedroom window. And funny, how the owl, silver in the moonlight, should have a letter to its leg. Emma was a rather dreamy girl, and when an odd thing happened, she tended to act without thinking.

Sliding out of her warm bed, Emma padded across the wooden floor to the window. When she opened the latch, and pushed the pane open, the owl flew in with a look that her mother used to give her: About Time!

Hooting softly, the beautiful bird glided to a post on her bed and held out her leg. With a feeling like her world was about to change, Emma undid the ribbon that bound the letter to the leg and unfolded it with trembling fingers. An involuntary gasp escaped her lips as she read the first line.

"Hello, my name is Hedwig. In the case that I have come to your house, my master is dead."

Emmas' eyes scanned the rest of the letter rather eagerly, but it only held information on how to care for 'Hedwig'.

Hedwig gave a long screech, and promptly tossed up a pellet. Emma had often read about owl pellets in her nature classas, but this looked like none that the professer had brought in. So, gingerly, and with much disgust, she picked it up, but in her hand, it became a letter, written on white paper, and in scrawling hand.

"Help! I don't want to die. My name is Harry Potter, and I am at 4 Privet Drive..."

The letter contained a bit of nonsense words, such a Voldemort and a Beater. She had no clue what those could mean, but she certainly knew where 4 Privet Drive was, as she lived at 7 Privet Drive!

Emma was a bit reluctant to investagate the letter, as it was 3 a.m. She also recalled who resided at the house. The Dursleys. The lot was rubbish, as far as she was concerned. Vernon Dursley had backed his fancy company car into the boot of her small Mazda, almost as soon as she had moved in, and he had raged against her for two months. Almost three years later, to the date, Dudley, the fat pig, had gotten to drive, and had done the exact same thing. Like father, like son, she mused.

To pass the time, she turned on the telly, and flopped on her bed to watch.

"...and a large explosion in Batting's Square..." But really, Emma was thinking about Harry.

Some hours later, Emma was dressed and jogging the twenty meters to the Dursleys.

She had purposly choosen this time of day, as Vernon was at his numb job, and Petunia was shopping. Dudley was rumored to be attend Oxford, although she wasn't sure if it was true.

Emma didn't knock on the door, but turned the knob, and walked in.

"Hello?" she called, and was slightly disturbed when it echoed through the house.

Passing a door under the stairs, she noticed a perticular sound she reconized as breathing. Before she could lose her nerve, she flung open the door. She screamed.

A man of nineteen years was lying on the floor. His face was pale, as if he hadn't seen the sun in some time, and his green eyes were quite noticeable. His black hair stuck out in all directions, but was smooshed flat over his forehead, covering something.

"Did you get my Hedwig?" he asked dully.

"Yes. Do you need help?" she replied, and without waiting for answer, helped him to his feet. She was more than a little suprised to see him wearing a black robe that was more than a little small for him. When she asked, he told her, "Just a reminder of happier times."

He told her he had no clothes, just a trunk. He insisted on hauling it to her house. They must have made an odd sight, walking down the street, him in a black robe and carrying an owl cage and a trunk, and her in trainers and shorts.

When they reached her house, Harry flopped down on the settee, and fell asleep. In his sleep, he actually looked kinda, well, handsome.

Figuring she might need it sometime in the near future, she went to her room to pack a suitcase. As she did, she flipped on the radio, and was singing to a band, The Mad Bashers.

Unknown to her, Harry had crept up the stairs after waking up to her music. He stood in the door and watched her as she bounced around in a way that might be called dancing. But if it was, it would be good. She was singing as well. Her voice was a husky alto, not really like her speaking voice.

Taking some shirts out of her wardrobe, Emma hopped and sang her way to her suitcase. When she saw Harry, she stopped.

"Oh..."

Harry was quick to tell her that he didn't mind. "Don't stop. It has been so long since I have seen anybody really happy. Tonight, I am going to leave and you won't be in danger anymore."

"I'll go with you." Emma suprised herself. Harry left without another word. She wasn't sure if he would take her.

Night fell, and Harry had spent the whole day on the couch. Emma had brought him food at noon, at tea, and at six. He had eaten all of it, but hadn't asked for more.

When nine o' clock had chimed on her clock, Harry had risen.

"Are you still coming?" he asked. Emma ran up stairs and grabbed the suitcase. She found him on the stoop, looking at the sky. He had a wand in his hand. When she stood beside him, he raised it.

Almost instantly, a whoosh disturbed the quiet in the neighborhood. A bus, deep in colour, although she couldn't tell what, it was too dark, stopped on her lawn. She couldn't have said where it had come from, either. The door swung open.

Harry boarded first. "Hello, Ernie. Hello, Stan." Evident relief was on his face, but Emma couldn't tell why, when the the bus had just run over her new grass.

"For two?" asked Stan.

"Yes," said Harry.

"Is this the missus?" asked Ernie. Emma blushed.

"No!" she protested.

Ernie and Stan traded identical skeptical looks, but Stan led them to the second deck of the bus.

Emma was very suprised to see beds in two neat rows.

"Beds?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Only on the Knight Bus," he said, puffing up proudly.

Emma realized what a good idea it was when she tried to suppress a giant yawn. Beside her, she could see Harry was doing the same.

"Alrighty then, you can have these ones." Stan pointed to two near the front of the bus. Emma nearly stumbled to one. She fell in fully dressed. And was vaguely aware of Stan talking about toothbrushes...

"Diagon Alley!"

Emma woke up pressed to a warm body. Or more like somebody was squishing her. And her ear was wet.

"Get up!" she said drowsily. She couldn't remember where she was.

The weight on her lessend, and she rolled over to face a rumpled, more casual, off guard Harry. On a sleepy impulse, she kissed him on the cheek.

Looking around, she saw that all the beds were crammed in the front of the bus. Thank God nobody else had ridden, she thought.

"This is our stop." Harry told Emma. In slow movements, she reached under the bed and felt around for her bag. Upon finding it, she searched through it to make sure everything was there, then followed Harry off the bus. Ernie tipped his hat at them when they got off.

Emma had never been so overwelmed. People bustled here and there through out the street, looking in shops, comparing prices, and arguing with vendors. And the clothes! People of all races were dressed in the finest robes: silk, velvet, linen, and some she couldn't identify.

"We'll need to get you some robes, and some for me too," said Harry, and pulled her into the crowd.