Another Potter

thirty three

chapter thirty three
the prisoner of azkaban

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Amelia and Harry were several streets away before they collapsed onto a low wall in Magnolia Crescent, panting from the effort of dragging their trunks. Amelia sat quite still, anger still surging through her, listening to the frantic thumping of her heart.

But after ten minutes alone in the dark street, a new emotion overtook her. Panic. Whichever way she looked at it, she had never been in a worse fix. She was stranded, quite alone, in the dark Muggle world, with absolutely nowhere to go. And the worst of it was, she had just done serious magic, which meant that she was almost certainly expelled from Hogwarts. She had broken the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry so badly, she was surprised Ministry of Magic representatives weren't swooping down on her where she sat.

"I'm sorry," Amelia said to her brother. "You didn't have to come with me."

"Of course I did," Harry said, "you're my sister." Amelia smiled lightly as she shivered and looked up and down Magnolia Crescent.

What, was going to happen to them? Would she be arrested, or would she simply be outlawed from the wizarding world? She thought of Daphne and Draco, and her heart sank even lower. Amelia was sure that, criminal or not, Daphne and Draco would want to help her now, but they were both far away, and with Hedwig gone, she had no means of contacting them.

Neither of the twins had Muggle money, either. There was a little wizard gold in the money bag at the bottom of Amelia's trunk, but the rest of the fortune her parents had left him was stored in a vault at Gringotts Wizarding Bank in London. She'd never be able to drag her trunk all the way to London. Unless. . . .

Amelia looked down at her wand, which she was still clutching in his hand. If she was already expelled then a bit more magic couldn't hurt. She had the Invisibility Cloak she had inherited from her father. What if he bewitched the trunk to make it feather-light, tied it to her broomstick, covered herself in the cloak, and flew to London? Then she could get the rest of his money out of her vault and. . . . begin her life as an outcast. It was a horrible prospect, but she couldn't sit on this wall forever, or she'd find herself trying to explain to Muggle police why she was out in the dead of night with a trunk full of spell books and a broomstick.

Amelia sighed as she ran her hands through her dark hair.  A funny prickling on the back of his neck had made Amelia feel she was being watched. Amelia stood up and looked around, but the street appeared to be deserted, and no lights shone from any of the large square houses.

She bent over her trunk again, but almost immediately stood up once more, her hand clenched on his wand. 

"You feel it?" Amelia asked her brother who nodded.

"Yeah," he said. 

Amelia had sensed rather than heard it. Someone or something was standing in the narrow gap between the garage and the fence behind her. Amelia squinted at the black alleyway. If only it would move, then she'd know whether it was just a stray cat or, something else.

"Lumos," Amelia muttered, and a light appeared at the end of her wand, almost dazzling her. She held it high over her head, and the pebble-dashed walls of number two suddenly sparkled. The garage door gleamed, and between them Amelia saw, quite distinctly, the hulking outline of something very big, with wide, gleaming eyes.

Amelia stepped backward. Her legs hit her trunk and she tripped. Her wand flew out of her hand as she flung out an arm to break his fall, and she landed face first, into the gutter.