Through Fire And Water

A Lonely Welcome

The house was dark when I arrived. The chill of an empty space in winter sent a shiver down my spine, adding to the eery feeling of the building. It was an old house, built just before the American Great Depression and used as a shelter to the local orphans. More recently I had rented it from a rather wealthy family that not only owned the house, but one that also owned stocks in the college I went to. I had graduated from school early and moved to Washington to go to college, and I was renting the place from them. One of their sons was my good friend, and they were almost like a second family to me.

That's the part I didn't like the most, I think, about them. They were kind enough, and all of them were very polite towards me even in my young age, but I didn't go all the way to Washington for another family. I went to escape my real family. My real mistake.

I brushed off the thought as my glasses fogged over and I locked the door behind me, hanging my keys and coat up with a sigh. I removed my boots and placed them under my coat rack, cracking my neck and rubbing it before going to the kitchen and flicking on a light. I heated the stove and placed a tea pot full of water on it, grabbing the bread, peanut butter and honey from various cabinets. I took out my favorite mug and a package of instant hot chocolate, along with a spoon and my last remaining carton of milk from the fridge. When the water was heated and I poured some of it and the contents of the hot chocolate packet into the mug, I opened the milk carton and poured the last few drops of white liquid into the mug. I stirred the mixture with my spoon and took a sip once satisfied, enjoying the taste and shivers of warmth it sent down my spine. My glasses fogged once again, and I wiped them off with a single fingertip before going to the living room.

The TV clicked on, making me smile as I caught sight of a dorky teenage boy with messy black hair and beautiful blue eyes framed with circular glasses. I preferred his eyes being green, but Harry Potter was Harry Potter no matter who he was portrayed by. I sat down on the couch before the screen, watching with amusement as Ron stuffed his face. They were talking amongst themselves as Professor Quirrel came running in, screaming and stuttering about a troll in the dungeon before fainting in the middle of the floor. The students began to scream, and that's when I heard a crash downstairs in the basement.

My instincts kicked in so badly I nearly broke my mug from gripping it so tight with my body forcefully jumping up. I set it down carefully, creeping over to my bamboo rapier I used to practice fencing, a sport I had picked up in high school and carried with me into college. I brandished it, slowly walking closer and closer to the basement door.

It was locked when I reached it. From the outside.

I unlocked the door in complete silence, praying to every deity in existence that the old building would stay on my side and keep quiet. I crept down the stairs, relying on the floorplan I had memorized to keep me from running into something in the dark, and peered carefully into the darkness for any sign of life. I reached the light switch and took a breath, closing my eyes as I turned on the light and opened them again, unaffected by the sudden bright light. The offender sat in the middle of the floor, munching on a block of cheese and was also clearly unaffected by the sudden light. I gasped, jumping in alarm, before relaxing and letting out a sigh.

"Sorry, Mr. Mouse," I breathed. "Or Miss. You startled the heck outta me. I was looking for something a bit bigger, like another human, or like, possibly a raccoon. Maybe even a bear." I chuckled to myself, seeing nothing but the mouse in the basement and beginning to back out. "I'll leave you be, bud."

I clicked off the light and headed back upstairs, locking the door and grabbing my phone to text the home's owners.

"Hey, Mrs. P," I read aloud as I typed, "just want to inform you that the mouse traps don't seem to be in working condition anymore. Thanks, Mira." I sent the message and turned off my phone, plugging it up and sitting back on my couch. I drank my chocolate quickly, feeling my eyelids beginning to close after Snape's leg had been shown bitten and bloody while still in the bathroom where the stunned mountain troll lay. I switched the TV off and slunk upstairs, going to the bathroom to brush my teeth.

As I brushed my teeth I thought I saw a shadow creep into my room, making me turn to look into the hall. I had seen shadows in the corners of my eyes many times in the four years it had been since I had gone on my adventures, and since I came back all those years ago they've been nothing but my imagination. My instincts told me something was there, but I had trusted instincts before, when they really had been nothing. As they had always been since I came back.

I finished brushing my teeth and drug a brush through my hair just for good measure, shaking away the static that came after it. My hair had sun-bleached over the years to a golden blonde, just as my surrogate mother's had been before she died. Thinking about it made me want to throw up, and I had it cut as soon as I could. It now reached my shoulders and curled inward a bit at the ends, as if framing my jaw. My ears had become pointed with puberty, but my eyes stayed the same. Green, like my father's eyes.

I washed my face just to cool it off and left the bathroom, turning the light off behind me. I went into my room and sat heavily on my bed, placing my glasses on my bedside table. I laid down, exhaling slowly as I did so, and climbed under the covers.

I closed my eyes. For ten seconds I was relaxed, ready to rest. Until a hand found my shoulder.

I gasped, about to scream when a hand covered my mouth. I bit hard, making the person stumble away and curse in pain. I sat up and turned on my bedside lamp, turning back to the person and readying myself for a fight. But I froze.

I stared, horrified and confused at the person before me.

"Galen?"