A Stolen Past

The Severe Beating of a Sixteen-year Old Wizard

For two days, Big Tom and his gang of followers kept their distance from Harry and Tyler. Frightened by Harry's apparent ability to command the small viper, and humiliated by that fear, they were loath to give him an opportunity to embarrass them in front of anyone. On the third afternoon following their late-night encounter, however, their courage returned.

Harry was outside visiting with Snowy the owl in a secluded corner of the yard, when she gave him a sudden look of alarm and took flight. Harry looked over his shoulder to see what had startled her. He immediately regretted that action, because a large rock smashed into his face, breaking his nose and knocking him to the ground. He tried groggily to get to his feet, but another rock hit him in the back. He rolled on the ground, trying to avoid getting hit again while he scrambled to see where the sudden attack was coming from. A scream came from his right, and he looked just in time to see Snowy soaring up and away from Big Tom, who was sporting a nasty gash on his cheek, no doubt caused by the owl's sharp talons. Tom launched his next rock at the large bird, but she avoided it with such ease that she seemed to be taunting him.

Another rock came from Nash, but this time Harry managed to spin out of the way and get to his feet. He had to find a staff member, and fast, or he was going to be pulverized. Throwing a quick glance over his shoulder, he ducked another rock and ran. Tom and his gang were shouting and chasing after him as fast as they could, and Harry could feel himself becoming lightheaded as blood rushed from his broken nose. He could tell by their shouts that they were gaining on him, and still there was no staff member in sight. What he really needed was a weapon.

Quickly changing direction, he sprinted toward the building, where he saw a broom with a sturdy-looking handle leaning against the wall. If he could just get his hands on it, he might by able to buy himself a little more time. A well-aimed rock hit him in the back of the knee, and he fell, rolling several times before coming to a stop. Tom was almost on top of him, hatred etched all over his bloodstained face.

Acting on instinct, Harry thrust his hand out in the direction of the broom, which was still at least five feet out of reach, and yelled, "Accio!" The broom flew into his hand, and he jammed the end of the wooden handle hard into Big Tom's stomach. Tom crumpled, gasping for breath, as Harry scrambled to his feet and began running once more. As he ran, an uncontrollable urge to fly away on the broomstick came over him. It was absurd, of course, but then again, so was calling it to him the way he had done only seconds before. In a moment of pure insanity, he leapt into the air, throwing himself astride the wooden handle, and crashed hard into the ground. A rock hit him in the back, and he lay still, his energy spent, and awaited the final blow to the head that would surely do him in.

A whistle sounded, and suddenly the air was filled with shouting and the sound of running footsteps. In the midst of it all, he heard Tyler's voice saying, "I saw them chasing after you, and I got Professor Johnston as fast as I could."

Slowly, painfully, Harry rolled onto his back and opened his eyes. Big Tom and his gang were being forced rather roughly into the building by several of the larger staff members. As the school matron approached with a stretcher, he closed his eyes once more, and finally allowed the pain and exhaustion to consume him.

* * * * *

Despite having several large bruises and a broken nose, the remainder of October was rather enjoyable for Harry - at least, it was as enjoyable as life at St. Brutus's ever was. Big Tom and his gang had been locked up and isolated from the rest of the boys for what the staff referred to as a "cooling off period." Harry spent his days skimming through his classes while doing the least possible amount of work, and hanging out with Tyler during their free time. Most of their free evenings were spent playing with Snowy, the large white owl that had befriended Harry. A couple of times, Harry slipped off alone to talk with Hassseth, but she began hibernating around the twentieth of the month. He had grown fond of the small snake, and it saddened him to know that it would be months before he got to see her again.