Sarah Takes a Stand
Despite being a large castle, Hogwarts could feel very, very small.
Sarah had successfully avoided everyone for the remainder of Christmas holiday, but once the other students returned and classes resumed, it was no longer an option. While the red-haired boys, the Weasleys, never went to the library and thus never bothered her in there, the same could not be said for other students.
One of the best times to go to the library was when everyone else was in class, or at meals. Hermione Granger had often been in the library during meals, but Sarah no longer saw her there. Hermione Granger was dead, and it seemed the holiday had successfully erased her from the memories of most people.
There was one boy who still talked about it. Who still thought it was funny.
It was after dinner, and Sarah had been quietly exploring the library for something to read. She had found a book on heroic owls who carried important messages during wars. Sarah imagined Hedwig was descended from one of those brave owls, and was wondering how she could find out Hedwig’s parentage, when she stumbled upon an unpleasant scene.
She caught herself against a suit of armor, then looked back to see whatever it was she had tripped over. It was a boy, who was flopping around the floor like a fish as the mean blond boy, Draco Malfoy, laughed.
“I’ve been looking for someone to practice that on,” chortled Malfoy, still holding his wand.
The boy on the floor looked miserable, and was struggling to get up. His legs had been stuck together.
Sarah took out her wand.
“Potter?” said Malfoy. “What are you—”
Flipendo! Sarah thought, smiling as Malfoy went flying backwards down the corridor. She had also been looking for someone to practice a spell on. It would be useful if Piers Polkiss ever came near her again. Ignoring Malfoy, Sarah turned to the boy on the floor, who was staring up at her in awe.
“You’re Sarah Potter,” whispered the boy, his eyes wide with admiration.
Sarah ignored this, instead thinking about his stuck together legs. It was the Leg-Locker Curse, which she had read about in Curses and Counter-Curses. That book was much better than the one Professor Quirrell had assigned them. It had loads of spells in it.
She pointed her wand at the boy’s legs. There was a general counter-curse for when appendages were stuck together.
Mobilis, she thought fiercely.
The boy’s legs sprang apart. It took him a moment to realize he could move them again, and he started thanking Sarah profusely.
Having successfully cast two spells, Sarah was feeling rather pleased with herself. She started walking back to the Hufflepuff common room.
“Potter!”
Sarah looked over her shoulder to see Malfoy hobbling towards her.
“I challenge you to a wizard’s duel!” he said, his face splotchy red with anger.
She looked at the boy with the unstuck legs, then back at Malfoy. Surely Malfoy was not referring to her. She was not a wizard. She was a witch.
“Unless you’re scared?” taunted Malfoy. He sneered at the boy he had cursed. “I suppose if Longbottom’s your second, you ought to be. He’s barely got enough magic to fill a teacup!”
Sarah raised her wand, not entirely sure what was happening. A duel? What made a wizard’s duel different from other sorts?
“Not right now!” hissed Malfoy, looking nervously at the library entrance.
“I… I’ll be your second,” the other boy, Longbottom, stuttered.
Sarah had the feeling the situation was getting away from her. Arrangements were being made without her input for some duel at midnight in the trophy room. It was unfortunate they all had to walk the same direction to reach the entrance hall, and the paths to their common rooms, but Malfoy didn’t try anything else. He kept an eye on Sarah’s wand until she firmly shut the door to the Hufflepuff basement in his pointy face.
She hadn’t had many opportunities to practice the spells she was reading about, mainly as she did not care to ask anyone. A duel was as good an excuse as any.
Sarah did not have a watch, as keeping track of time only made her more aware of it, especially when she was in the cupboard. She did look out of a window to check the stars, though it was hard to see the entire sky from the basement.
When she arrived at the trophy room, she was surprised to see Longbottom was there. Sarah glanced at him, then looked around at the trophies. It was an impressive collection of immense golden cups, polished shields, fine plates, statues, medals, every sort of award Sarah could think of, all housed in glimmering crystal cases.
Longbottom made a noise, and Sarah turned to look at him.
“Do you, um, know what a wizard’s duel is?” squeaked the boy. He looked pastier in the moonlight.
Sarah didn’t even know who he was, why he had shown up, or why he had a toad with him. She shook her head.
“Um, you bow at each other,” explained Longbottom. “And, uh, if you die, that’s when your second fights. Not that you’re going to die,” he added quickly. “Since you’re—”
Sarah held up a hand, and the boy’s mouth snapped shut. She frowned when she heard the noise again. Longbottom started shaking, and his terror increased when someone spoke.
“Sniff around, my sweet…”
It was Filch, along with Mrs. Norris.
Malfoy had set her up.
Sarah seethed, feeling stupid for not realizing it was a trap. And Longbottom had been pulled into it too. She started walking away from Flich’s voice, towards a gallery of suits of armor. Longbottom stumbled along behind her. She stopped next to one of the suits of armor, and had an idea she thought was rather clever.
She looked at Longbottom, then pointed at the suit of armor. Longbottom stared at her, his eyes wild with fear, and shook his head. Sarah nodded firmly, and before Longbottom could protest she pried the chestplate open and prodded him into climbing inside. Since Longbottom had started to cry, Sarah cast a silencing charm on the armor.
Sarah found her own suit of armor to hide in, listening as Filch and Mrs. Norris prowled the trophy room. It was dark, and smelled strange, and Sarah got the impression the suits of armor were magical in some way. She liked how secure she felt inside of the armor, even if it was much too large. If she had a suit of magical armor, the Dursleys couldn’t hurt her anymore. They wouldn't even be able to touch her.
Once she was sure Filch was gone, Sarah helped Longbottom get out of his suit of armor without knocking everything over, and led him to a staircase that would take him back to Gryffindor Tower.
“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I was useless.”
Sarah wasn’t sure how to deal with the situation. She was annoyed that Longbottom had come along, but was much more annoyed that Malfoy had chickened out, and had tried to get her in trouble. Still, that wasn’t Longbottom’s fault. Since it was clear Longbottom was waiting for some sort of response, Sarah reached into her robes and found one of the Chocolate Frogs she had left over from Christmas.
“For me?” asked Longbottom, taking the chocolate. “Thanks…”
Sarah shrugged, then turned to walk back to her common room.
“Wait, do you want the card?”
Sarah sighed, but took the card Longbottom handed her. She nodded to him, and they finally parted ways. She glanced at the card, rolled her eyes, then put it into her pocket. It was another Dumbledore.
Professor Sprout had made a rather convincing argument that Sarah should try things before deciding she didn’t like them. The thing was, Sarah knew she didn't like crowds, and she knew quidditch attracted crowds, so it was only common sense she would not like to go to a quidditch game.
Sarah found a spot in the stands as far from everyone else as possible, which meant she sat all the way at the top. The teams walked onto the pitch, and Sarah belatedly realized that Hufflepuff was playing. She frowned, trying to recall what everyone had been going on about. Something about a new seeker.
Looking around to make sure Professor Sprout wasn’t watching her, Sarah took a book from her bag and began to read. She knew quidditch games could go on for hours, and knew she would be bored watching other people fly around for so long. She would rather be the one doing the flying, and she bet Hedwig would be better at finding the snitch than any human.
The shouting, cheering, screaming, and whistling faded into the background as Sarah read. She turned a page.
“Sarah! Look out!”
Her head snapped up, just in time to see a bludger flying straight at her. Sarah dove out of the way, and the bludger crashed through the stands. She clung onto a bench, dragging herself away from the huge hole in exactly the spot she had been sitting. Sarah took out her wand, not sure what she was going to do with it, her hands shaking with how close she had come to having her head knocked off. That should not have happened. All the quidditch balls were enchanted to stay over the pitch.
There was another shout, and Sarah looked up to see the bludger coming for her again. Her mind raced, trying to think of a way to defend herself. She knew about shield charms, but she hadn’t actually learned any. Once again, Sarah felt woefully unprepared.
She slashed her wand through the air, hoping to destroy the stupid ball with a Severing Charm. They used it all the time in Herbology. But the bludger was enchanted to resist such spells, otherwise it would be far too easy to do something like hex bludgers to attack a specific person. Sarah, for example.
She was too slow. The bludger slammed into her leg, and there was a horrible crack. Sarah grimaced at the pain, but grabbed the bludger before it could hurt her again. It thrashed around in her arms, threatening to throw her off the stands entirely. Thankfully, one of the older Hufflepuffs climbed up the stands to help her restrain it.
Sarah fell back, trying not to cry at the agony of her broken leg, wondering why no one else was doing anything to stop the bludger. She heard a whistle, could hear people gathering around her, then Professor Sprout pushing her way through. Sarah kept her eyes closed, not wanting to feel so many eyes on her when she was injured. It wasn’t fair, to both be hurt and to have people gawk at her. She hid her face in her arms as a stretcher was conjured, and she was carried back to the castle.
“I’m so sorry, Potter,” said Professor Sprout, genuinely sounding like she was. “Rolanda should have spotted the rogue bludger sooner. I have never seen anything like that during a game. Rest assured, I’ll be looking into this, though I can’t imagine who would want to attack a first-year like that…”
Sarah stayed quiet, vowing to herself to never attend another quidditch game in her life.
The troll, the bludger, and the existence of Hagrid, made Sarah double down on her efforts with defensive spells. She briefly considered returning to Defense classes, but the smell, Quirrell’s useless teaching, and the book for the class all confirmed that it was best for her to learn on her own.
The trouble with learning on her own was Sarah had few ways to actually test the spells she was learning. She didn’t want to start casting jinxes at Hedwig. She puzzled over her dilemma as the weeks progressed, as winter turned into spring. There were plenty of empty classrooms to practice magic in, but many defensive spells were meant to be used on people, not walls or desks or chairs.
Though she debated with herself, not wanting to become a bully like Dudley, Sarah began testing spells in the corridors. A Confundus Charm if someone stared at her too long. A Tripping Jinx when she noticed Malfoy trying to hex Longbottom again.
It was the Shield Charm that Sarah was most invested in. It conjured an invisible wall around her. That it was invisible made it so Sarah wasn’t sure if she had got it right. Hedwig proved that Sarah needed to work harder, as one well-placed peck was enough to shatter it.
One early evening in late spring, Sarah decided it was time for her to step things up. She and Hedwig set off across the grounds, towards the Whomping Willow. Given the tree’s proximity to Hagrid’s cabin, Sarah had been reluctant to test out her Shield Charm against it. She didn’t want Hagrid to yell at her, or his massive dog to chase her again. However, she hadn’t seen much of Hagrid since the Easter holiday. The few times she ventured into the Great Hall, Hagrid wasn’t there. And while she would see the large man going about his duties while she was in Herbology or flying lessons, he seemed to have stopped doing his job. Sarah hoped he had been sacked.
Sarah gathered rocks as she walked, and once she reached the Whomping Willow she tossed a few at it, curious how far it could hit. Hedwig was excited too, flying around the flailing branches, proving once again she was superior to other birds. The Whomping Willow was carnivorous, and had a taste for bird-flesh. Sarah’s Severing Charm was much better now, and she could cut off one of the tree’s limbs if it got too close to whomping Hedwig.
She raised her wand, stepping into the Whomping Willow’s range. A branch swung at her, and she thought, Protego!
The branch crashed into Sarah’s shield and bounced back. Sarah smiled triumphantly, but a screech from Hedwig alerted her to another branch swinging at her. Sarah had to be faster, ducking and dodging, casting the charm over and over again until she was out of breath and stumbling away to fall in the grass.
Hedwig landed beside her, unharmed save a few loose feathers. Sarah reached up to help Hedwig dislodge them.
Her fingers stilled when there was an earth-shattering roar, followed by frantic barking that cut off in a whine.
Hedwig took flight, and Sarah climbed to her feet just as Hagrid’s cabin exploded.
Pieces of burning wood fell around Sarah as she stared, dumbstruck, at the dragon breaking out of Hagrid’s hut. It was at least twelve feet long, pitch black, with bulging orange eyes that seemed to glow. It had a ridge of razor-sharp spines along its back, and Sarah could just make out Hagrid on the ground behind it. He had a long, ragged gash across his chest that was bleeding sluggishly.
The dragon had Hagrid’s dog in its fangs, and with a terrible snap the dog’s neck was broken. The acrid tang of venom hit Sarah’s nose, and she could see it dripping into the dog’s fur. The dragon tossed its head, tearing the dog’s head from its body in a gout of blood. Its tail lashed back and forth, breaking more of Hagrid’s cabin apart.
Sarah started backing away, but the dragon’s head suddenly swung towards her, pinning her in place with its cruel gaze. One moment it was watching her, one paw crushing the dog’s decapitated body to the ground. The next it was racing across the grass, running straight at her, its black wings beating frantically, venom oozing from its mouth, its throat opening, fire crackling to life inside.
Protego!
The flames crashed into the shield, but it was the dragon that broke through. Sarah desperately cast the charm again, then turned and bolted for the castle. There was a terrible cry, the sound of heavy, leathery wing beats, and Sarah lunged to the side just as the dragon slammed into the ground. Flames rushed towards her, and she squeezed her eyes shut, thinking Aguamenti! as powerfully as she could. The water was instantly vaporized, and hot, musky steam rolled over Sarah, making her gag. Claws swung out of the steam, slashing Sarah’s side and throwing her through the air. She landed in a painful pile, gasping, struggling to breathe.
She had no spells to fight dragons with. She had no idea what a dragon was even doing at Hogwarts. The dog was dead. Hagrid was probably dead too. She was alone on the grounds, with only her wand and her owl.
Sarah scrambled to her feet, ignoring the bleeding gashes in her arm and torso, and slashed her wand at one of the wings. She was grimly pleased when a tear opened up across it. However, this only enraged the dragon, and it opened its vicious maw to spew flames again. Sarah pointed at its mouth. Mucus ad nauseam!
The dragon’s mouth and nose flooded with mucus and venom, and it began to choke. Amazed that the curse had worked, Sarah did not stop. The dragon wanted to eat her. She had been preparing for something like this to happen. Maybe not a dragon, but something trying to kill her.
Incarcerous! Sarah thought. It was a hard transfiguration spell, a conjuration, but her heart was pounding, she had spent months practicing, and it had to work.
Ropes appeared out of thin air, wrapping around the thrashing dragon. Sarah backed further away, breathing heavily, her wand still pointed at the dragon.
“Potter!”
Sarah looked away from the dragon and saw Professor Sprout running towards her, led by Hedwig. At the sound of rope snapping, Sarah spun back to face the dragon, but a bright red light shot past her, over and over again, and the dragon toppled over, unconscious.
Sarah slowly lowered her wand, then sank to the ground, shaking.
“What happened?” asked Professor Sprout, panting. Hedwig landed beside Sarah and hooted soothingly. Sarah pointed a shaky hand towards Hagrid’s hut. Professor Sprout gasped, but acted immediately. Some silvery thing left Professor Sprout’s wand, and she ran over to check if Hagrid was still alive. Sarah raised her wand again, kept it trained on the dragon. Footsteps alerted her to more professors arriving. It seemed the entire castle was spilling onto the grounds. Sarah closed her eyes, her heart still racing. Everyone had been at dinner. Professor McGonagall was shouting for them to get back inside, for prefects to take people to their dormitories.
“Are you injured, Miss Potter?” asked Madam Pomfrey, touching Sarah’s shoulder. She flinched away, and Hedwig clacked her beak threateningly.
“Explain yourself,” someone nastily demanded. “What were you doing on the grounds?”
Sarah opened her eyes to glare at Professor Snape, who towered over her and was glaring right back. She had no idea what he wanted her to explain. She’d just been attacked by a dragon!
“You can question her later,” said Madam Pomfrey tartly, stepping in front of Professor Snape. “The girl is wounded! Miss Potter, you will accompany me to the hospital wing.”
Sarah nodded, then pushed herself up. She swayed, but held out an arm for Hedwig. Hedwig had gone to get help right away, trusting Sarah to protect herself until she returned. Sarah took a few uneven steps towards the castle, then collapsed in a dead faint, the sound of screeching and alarmed shouting fading into silence.
Sarah spent several weeks in the hospital wing. The cuts she got from the dragon had turned green with infection, she had broken several ribs and other bones, and had numerous burns.
Hedwig kept her company, and brought her books from the library. Sarah doubted Hedwig was checking them out, but she didn’t care.
She was made to write an account of what had happened. Hagrid was sent to St. Mungo’s, and Sarah was bitterly glad she didn’t have to share the hospital wing with him. The dog, a boarhound named Fang, was definitely dead. The dragon had suffocated to death after Professor Sprout knocked it unconscious. Professor Sprout said the spell she used was a Stunning Spell, a Stunner, and that even if Sarah knew it it was unlikely she could have made it work on a dragon, even a juvenile one. She was only a first-year, after all.
The dragon had been a Norwegian Ridgeback. No one knew where it had come from. Hagrid was unable to answer questions as badly injured as he was. They suspected he had been raising the dragon. Professor Sprout said they found pieces of shell in the ruins of Hagrid’s cabin, buckets with brandy and chicken blood, and the remains of dragon breeding books that had been partially melted with venom.
Dragon breeding was illegal. It had been banned for almost three hundred years. Sarah hoped Hagrid went to jail for it.
Sarah wasn’t sure she wanted to be at Hogwarts anymore, especially after she got a get well card that called her a dragon slayer. But it was still better than the Dursleys. Even if she got attacked by dragons, at least she could fight back.
Sarah was released from the hospital wing just in time to start her exams. The girls in her dormitory kept sending her class notes, which Sarah had no idea what to do with. She was sent assignments to work on during her recovery, which she did if only to pass the time.
There were rumors going around about her, which was no different from the start of the school year. If anything, they were worse. Sarah didn’t know if people thought it was a good thing the dragon was dead, since some dragons were considered dark creatures, or if it was dark to kill a dragon. She certainly heard enough to know that some people thought she was a dark witch, darker even than Voldemort since she had supposedly killed him as a baby. Sarah found it all very stupid. The dragon had attacked her, and she had fought for her life. That the dragon had died was a consequence of that.
The weather turned uncomfortably hot, and it made Sarah’s tender new scars ache. It had taken a long time for her dragon wounds to completely close. The scars puckering her arm and the jagged, puffy lines scored into her side would never go away.
One thing did distract Sarah from her exams, and that was the throbbing in her scar. It was a stabbing pain, all across her chest, that had got worse as exams neared. She thought it had something to do with the dragon attack, or maybe using so much magic. She wasn’t sure, and Madam Pomfrey couldn’t explain it either. She only gave Sarah a potion so she would care less about the pain.
Doing exams was boring. Sarah wrote her essays quickly, and when she was finished she wasn’t allowed to leave. She had to sit and wait for everyone to finish. There were practical parts too, which were more fun. Making a pineapple dance for Professor Flitwick, transfiguring a mouse into a snuffbox for Professor McGonagall. Sarah made a perfect Forgetfulness Potion, just to spite Professor Snape.
The other Hufflepuffs in Sarah’s year expressed concern when they went to their Defense exam.
“You haven’t been in classes for months,” whispered Hannah, giving Professor Quirrell a nervous look as he walked around the room, passing out papers.
“Yeah, but she fought a dragon,” said Ernie, grinning at Sarah.
A paper was set in front of Sarah, and her scar gave a vicious throb. She ignored it, reading the essay prompt. She was bemused to see it was about the Curse of the Bogies, the same spell she used on the dragon. The practical portion was disappointing. Quirrell only made them produce jets of red and green sparks from their wands. It was pretty to look at, and Sarah got full marks.
Sarah walked out of her History of Magic exam, glad that it was over but deeply troubled. There were two weeks left in the school year, two weeks until she would be made to go back to the Dursleys.
She walked towards the greenhouses, passing other students lounging under trees and playing with the Giant Squid. Hedwig was off hunting somewhere, otherwise Sarah would have sought her out for moral support. It wasn’t that she couldn’t do it alone, but she knew Hedwig felt the same way as her.
Professor Sprout was happily brushing the teeth of the venomous tentacula, humming to herself and wearing the floppy hat she had got from the Christmas cracker. She looked up when Sarah knocked on the glass.
“Potter?” she asked, pushing her hat up with one dirt-stained glove. “What is it?”
Sarah reached into her pocket and pulled out the note she had written. She knew it was a long shot, but she did not want to go back to the Dursleys.
Professor Sprout took it, reading the message with a troubled expression.
“I thought you might ask me something like this,” said Professor Sprout, and Sarah’s hopes died. “I’ve already asked the headmaster, myself and Professor McGonagall, if any other arrangements can be made. I am afraid you will have to return to your aunt and uncle, Potter.”
Sarah nodded stiffly, then turned and walked away. She understood. She understood perfectly well.
Sarah woke up and knew something was terribly wrong. Her scar was hurting again, worse than ever before, and she was not in her dormitory. She knew she had fallen asleep there, as she had hidden in her bed all evening after being told she could not stay at Hogwarts for the summer holiday. She hadn’t felt like dealing with anyone.
She was not in her bed. Instead, she was bound and gagged on a cold stone floor, lying in front of a large mirror.
“The girl is awake, master.”
Sarah’s eyes narrowed. She looked at the mirror, and saw a blurry figure with a purple blob on its head reflected in it. Sarah’s hair was grabbed, and she was dragged upright.
“Tell me what you see, Potter,” said Quirrell, tearing the gag from her mouth. Sarah blinked away the tears in her eyes. “Oh, that’s right. The girl cannot speak, master.”
“She can still be used to get the stone,” said another voice, higher and sibilant, a voice that made Sarah shudder. She knew that voice. She heard it in her nightmares.
Quirrel released her hair, and Sarah landed painfully on her knees. The ropes fell away from her, and Sarah pushed herself up. She squinted, trying to look around the room. Quirrell must have kidnapped her from her bed. He hadn’t thought to take her glasses too. He was an idiot.
“Look at the mirror!” snapped Quirrell.
Sarah briefly squeezed her eyes shut, then stood to walk closer to the mirror. She had no idea why she was here, nor what Quirrell wanted, and didn’t want to think about who that other voice was. Her scar was burning horribly, she didn’t have her glasses, she didn’t even have her wand. She had to get very close to the mirror to see anything clearly. She had worn one of Dudley’s old shirts to bed, and that was it. It was too hot for anything else. She could see part of her scar in the mirror.
Someone, one of her professors, had come into Sarah’s dormitory and kidnapped her while she was asleep. She was hit with a wave of revulsion.
“Well?” demanded Quirrell.
Sarah shook her head. She didn’t know what was supposed to happen.
“Get out of the way!” said Quirrell, knocking her to the side. Sarah landed on her elbow and bit back a cry. Quirrell began shaking the mirror. Sarah grabbed her throbbing elbow and struggled to her feet. Quirrell was muttering to himself, still talking about a stone. Sarah took a step back, then another, then turned and sprinted for what she hoped was a door.
“Seize the girl!”
Sarah crashed to the floor, just before a wall of black flames, and was dragged backwards. She felt a hand close around her ankle. Searing pain lanced across her chest. Sarah kicked out, making contact with something soft, and Quirrell shouted. The other voice kept shrieking, and Quirrell threw himself on top of Sarah and wrapped his hands around her neck.
Sarah went ballistic.
She screamed as loud as she could, grabbed Quirrell’s hands, anything within reach, kicking as hard as possible. She clawed at Quirrell’s face, at his eyes, blisters rising wherever she touched. Quirrell reeled back, howling in agony. Sarah scrambled away, her heart pounding painfully in her chest, her scar burning like a grease fire.
“Kill her! Kill her!”
Quirrell was stumbling around, grabbing his head. Sarah couldn’t see what was happening to him, and she didn’t care. She got up and ran towards the black flames. She leapt straight through them, it was either that or stay with Quirrell. To her amazement, she passed through unscathed and crashed into a table, tipping over several bottles. She looked around the room, wondering where the hell she was. There was another wall of flames, purple this time, and Sarah was determined to try her luck with those until they suddenly disappeared.
Sarah screamed, grabbed a bottle, and threw as hard as she could. To her horror, the bottle stopped midair, and was gently returned to the table. She grabbed another one, prepared to throw all of them.
“Sarah, calm yourself, my dear girl,” the headmaster, Albus Dumbledore said, fully stepping into the small chamber.
She shook her head and backed against a wall. She could still hear Quirrell screaming, and the other voice screaming too.
“Stay here,” said Dumbledore firmly. Sarah couldn’t make out his expression, but he sounded angry. His arm moved, and something large and silvery shot out of it. A bird. The headmaster spoke to it, and it flew through the wall.
“I have summoned the other professors,” said the headmaster gently. “Someone will be here soon. I’m afraid I must deal with poor Quirinus, and Lord Voldemort.”
Sarah only stared at the headmaster as he walked through the black flames.
Voldemort.
Sarah ran. She went through the door the headmaster had come through, and came to an abrupt stop. Something very large, and very dead, was on the floor. Gagging at the stench, which told Sarah this creature was a troll, Sarah edged around it and darted into the next room. If anything, it compounded her confusion. It was dark at first, and Sarah winced as light filled the room. Squinting, she made out what looked to be giant chess pieces. She looked down and saw she was standing on a large chessboard.
“Potter, don’t move!”
Sarah froze. People were entering the room from the other side. Professor McGonagall, Sarah recognized her voice.
“What is she doing down here?” demanded Professor Snape. “Up to no good—”
“Severus,” snapped Professor McGonagall. Sarah frowned as McGonagall raised her arm. “Now is not the time!”
The chess pieces leapt to the sides of the board, clearing a path. Sarah stayed where she was, grabbing the hem of the old shirt she wore. She was glad it went down to her knees. Professor Snape was swooping towards her, Professor McGonagall hurrying to keep up. Suddenly, Snape grabbed Sarah’s wrist, tearing the bottle she still held from her hand. Sarah twisted her arm and yanked it away.
“Severus, what on earth has got into you?” asked McGonagall heatedly, stepping in front of him. “Miss Potter was clearly brought here against her will! The girl doesn’t even have her glasses!”
“The potion she held was a poison,” said Snape acidly.
There was a terrible, soul-wrenching cry, and Sarah covered her ears, cringing away. Her scar lit up again, and tears swam in her eyes.
“Stay with the girl,” said Snape, running towards the sound, towards where Voldemort was.
“We need to get you to Madam Pomfrey,” said Professor McGonagall, though she was looking at the door. She made to put an arm around Sarah, but Sarah stepped away. Professor McGonagall sighed, then gestured towards the opposite door. Sarah stumbled towards it, the chessboard frigid beneath her bare feet. The next room was filled with some flying things Sarah could not make out, and the one after had a large devil’s snare that Professor McGonagall kept at bay with a lumos. Part of the floor was transfigured into a staircase that led to a trapdoor. Above the trapdoor was a three-headed dog. Sarah nearly bolted again, but the dog was in an enchanted sleep.
It wasn’t until the were several floors away that Sarah realized they had been in the out-of-bounds corridor on the third floor.
Sarah wrapped her arms around herself, shuddering, glad Professor McGonagall was with her. She was never going to sleep without her wand again.
“Miss Potter, the headmaster wishes to speak with you.”
Sarah looked up from her book and shook her head. She did not want to see the headmaster. Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips.
“There are merely a few matters I wish to explain, Sarah,” said the headmaster, appearing beside Madam Pomfrey.
Sarah held up her book. She knew she had made it to the hospital wing, she remembered getting into a bed. After that, her memories became foggy. She had been in and out of consciousness for days, which was terrifying. Hedwig had shown up with her wand, which made Sarah feel better. Safer. Professor Sprout had retrieved her entire trunk, which Sarah was grateful for. She was glad her things had not been gone through.
Despite her obvious disinterest, the headmaster took a seat next to her bed. After a moment, he began to talk.
The story that unfolded made Sarah’s blood boil. Some magical, immortality- and gold-granting artifact, the Philosopher’s Stone, had been hidden in Hogwarts. Hidden from Voldemort. Voldemort had been living on the back of Professor Quirrell’s head. Professor Quirrell was dead, and Voldemort had escaped as some kind of spirit.
Quirrell had set the troll loose that killed Hermione Granger. Quirrell had stolen Sarah out of her bed and tried to kill her too.
Because Sarah’s mother had died to protect her, Voldemort could not touch her.
Dumbledore had been the one to send Sarah’s invisibility cloak. Her father’s invisibility cloak. He had kept it from her for ten years, ten years she had been stuck with the Dursleys.
Sarah clutched her book, shaking with anger. Hedwig hooted a warning, but too late.
The headmaster’s glasses shattered.
Sarah raised her arms defensively, her heart pounding.
Dumbledore cleared his throat, and removed his glasses. Sarah watched silently as the lenses were repaired. The same sort of magic that made Uncle Vernon strangle her.
“I can see I have upset you,” said the headmaster, standing up. “I apologize, that was not my intention.”
Sarah glared at him. She wanted him to leave.
Dumbledore sighed, looking very old. “I do hope you will join us for the end-of-year feast. I’m sure your housemates would be happy to see you.”
Sarah looked at her book again, and didn’t look away until she was certain the headmaster was gone.
“You have another visitor, Miss Potter.”
Sarah closed her eyes impatiently, then looked at the doors. To her dismay, it was Hagrid. Sarah took out her wand. She didn’t know why the man was still walking around free, nor why he was crying, and she didn’t care. It was his own fault his dog was dead.
“Miss Potter, lower your wand!” snapped Madam Pomfrey.
Sarah’s grip tightened on her wand, and she shook her head. She didn’t lower her arm until Hagrid was gone. Madam Pomfrey walked back to Sarah, holding a leather-bound volume.
“I believe he was attempting to apologize,” said Madam Pomfrey drily, passing Sarah the book. Sarah silently took it. She didn’t want apologies. Madam Pomfrey shook her head and walked away.
Sarah opened the book, and was surprised to find it was a photo album. A magical photo album, filled with pictures of her parents and their friends. Friends Sarah had never met. Friends who did not care what had happened to her after her parents died. The first time she had seen a picture of her parents had been in a history book.
She closed the photo album.
Sarah dragged her trunk over to Uncle Vernon. Hedwig was making her own way to Privet Drive. She would always find Sarah, no matter where she was. That was owl magic.
Uncle Vernon was purple with rage, while behind him Aunt Petunia and Dudley cowered away from all the badly disguised witches and wizards pouring into Kings Cross.
There was a note in Sarah’s dress pocket. It told her she was not allowed to use magic outside of school. The Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery of 1875. She was being sent back to the Dursleys and stripped of the means to defend herself against them.
Uncle Vernon shoved Sarah’s trunk roughly into the boot, then grabbed her and shoved her into the back seat.
Sarah waited until the car was several blocks from Kings Cross, then she took out her wand.
Aunt Petunia started screaming, and Uncle Vernon almost swerved into oncoming traffic.
“Put it away! Put it away!”
Dudley was pressed against the other side of the car, as far from her as he could get. Sarah pointed her wand at him.
She cleared her throat.
“Shut up,” she said quietly, her voice strained and hoarse from disuse.
The car became dead silent. Uncle Vernon slammed on the brakes. Cars started honking behind them. Their car stalled, and the engine sputtered and died.
Aunt Petunia’s jaw dropped. “You…you…”
“If you touch me again, I will hurt Dudley,” said Sarah, gesturing at her cousin with her wand. Dudley shrieked, scrabbling at the window.
Uncle Vernon turned around to grab her, but Sarah flicked her wand at Dudley. Uncle Vernon stilled. Sarah watched him expectantly. Uncle Vernon swallowed, then turned around. It took a few tries for him to get the engine started again. Once they were moving, Sarah put her wand away.
“We understand,” said Aunt Petunia. “We understand, just don’t… Dudley…” She gave a sob, then turned away.
Sarah leaned back in her seat and smiled.