Disclaimer - I neither presume nor imply any ownership of the Harry Potter world, save the memorabilia and books scattered about the house.

---

Harry Potter was in his third year at Hogwarts. News of the Philosopher's Stone (or Sorcerer's Stone to some) was "old news", as Rita Skeeter might say, so too was the Chamber of Secrets, the door of which was closed and resealed, owing to the need for keeping mischievous older students out. Spray paint and graffiti were not just a muggle thing, except Hogwarts students didn't use spray paint, they used their wands, the results of which were often quite permanent to all but the best cleaning spells.

"You're at the wrong table, Huff-ette," said Ron Weasley as he and Harry Potter approached the Gryffindor table. Each carried a tray in his hands - they were late to lunch but there was never a shortage of food; Harry put together a humble sandwich of sliced beef, lettuce, and a slice of cheese - yes they had cows and lettuce in the wizarding world, but the cheese? Merlin only knew what creature it came from. Ron, on the other hand, had a plate of deep-fried cornish pixie drumsticks, garden belagar sprouts (the sugar kind, not the healthy ones), ogre-berry tarts, and eight slices of bacon. Ron loved bacon.

It was the weekend, at long last, but also it was "Family Day" for the Hufflepuffs - yet again. The Huffelpuffs were a happy lot and never missed an opportunity to be merry. Neither Harry nor Ron knew what they were celebrating this time, only that the Hufflepuff tables were again filled with great numbers of parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles, significant relations, insignificant relations, and a greater number of waifs, strays, and vagabonds who were in all likelihood, the many huffy-puffy offspring. The Hufflepuffs and their families tended to be more cheerful than those of the other houses and not surprisingly, there was a great raucous from that direction. Also too, was the lack of an open bench for sitting down. A lone Hufflepuff student sought the quietude and the available seating of the Gryffindor table.

Sally Drummond, a third-year like Harry and Ron, was a smallish girl but was strong in the frame. She had squared shoulders and long, unruly, brown hair. She wore a white blouse with thin, subtle pinstripes of black and yellow, which were the Hufflepuff colors. Before her, was an empty tray with an empty plate and teacup. Her face was hidden behind her thick curtain of hair. A book was in there, somewhere - the boys heard a page turn. Her head was downturned in reading.

"I'm almost done," said Sally. Her voice had a tone of apology. "Just trying to finish the chapter."

"School work?" asked Harry. He didn't care, not really, he was just being polite as he and Ron sat down.

"No, an adventure novel called 'Treasure Island'. I'm reading the muggle version. You wouldn't believe how much has been censored. It's almost a complete rewrite - and they used pirates instead of dark wizards." Sally looked up and parted her hair with her hands, pulling the left side over her ear. "Oh, you're Harry Potter," she said with surprise. She looked over at Ron. "And Ron Weasley, am I right?"

Harry didn't respond, but gave a tired, acknowledging smile; he was used to the remark - mostly. Ron nodded but gave a half quizzical, half indignant look. Sally was, after all, a Hufflepuff at a Gryffindor table. If any questions were to be asked, it should be a Gryffindor asking them.

"Can I see your scar?" asked Sally before Ron could speak.

Harry was used to that as well. For more than two years at Hogwarts, his forehead was the object of student curiosity. "The One Who Lived" had a lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead and if Harry hadn't known better, he would have believed there was also a neon sign blaring out the words, "Go ahead, ask me to see it!"

Ron had a front-row seat to much of Harry's frustration. He opened his mouth to 'school' the Hufflepuff on manners, but she spoke again.

"I'll show you mine," added Sally.

"Wait, what?" said Ron.

Harry's eyebrow raised.

Harry and Ron gave each other sidelong glances as Sally lifted her hair away from the right side of her face. There, on the neck, below the jawline, was a five-inch scar, straight and narrow, from front to back. It had been a deep wound that made for a dark purplish scar.

Harry stared at the mark and could not, for the moment, turn away. Ron pushed into Harry to get a better look.

Blimey," said Ron as Sally pulled down her collar to give them a better view.

Harry gulped. "How did you…?"

"Same as you, I think," replied Sally as she let her hair fall back over her neck. "Or similar, I guess. Here…"

Sally pulled out a sheet of parchment from the schoolbag at her feet. She also produced a muggle click-pen to Ron's fascination. Ron loved click-pens. She wrote the following in single, block, letters.

"A-V-A-D-A K-E-D-A-V-R-A"

She spun the parchment around so it faced Harry, and slid it to him. "I expect you know what that is."

Harry nodded. Of course, he knew what it was. It was the spell Voldemort used on his parents and on him. Many students had viewed his scar and pronounced it as being made by the killing curse as if they were some hitherto unknown experts on the matter. Harry knew what the killing curse was by the end of his first day at Hogwarts.

"The Killing Curse," said Ron in a hushed voice in confirmation of Harry's thoughts. "You lived too?"

"Oh no," said Sally and then blushed. "I mean, I lived but it didn't hit me. It was a near miss - well, near spot-on, really. It cut like a knife and burned like a firebrand." she reached up and rubbed the scar as she recalled the moment. "My hair went up in bright green flames, all of it, but it's grown back now." Sally reached in with both hands and flipped her hair outward. She had a lot of it, not unlike Hermione, and it cascaded back down over her shoulders.

Harry considered what he knew of Voldemort, his death eaters, and all of his followers. He knew witches and wizards had been targeted and eliminated all over Britain, in the same way his parents had been murdered. He knew there were children at Hogwarts, just like him, who grew up without a parent, or both, and who might not remember the events, but were far from being shielded from them.

"I would imagine so," said Harry as he looked at Sally's very full head of hair. "But you would have been very young like I was. What was it, thirteen years ago?"

"Thirteen years ago?" interrupted Sally. "It was three years ago if it was a day. Just before I came here. I already had all my school supplies."

"Oh…" said Harry.

"Wait, I remember you!" exclaimed Ron. "You had no hair and wore a red stocking cap for months. Do you remember? I called you...um." Ron realized his mouth had engaged a full step ahead of his sense of propriety. "What I mean is...that is to say, I um…"

"Yeah…" said Sally as she looked around awkwardly. "I believe you called me 'Santa's Little Cue Ball'."

"Right," said Ron. "Sorry - it seemed funnier at the time. I mean, it was...um...Christmas and all." He cleared his throat. "Elves, you know, wear stocking caps - sometimes.

The three students sat in silence for a long moment, all in awkward contemplation, all wearing different faces.

Sally cleared her throat. "Anyway, my father fought a death eater who pushed his way into our parlor. My dad said he was a death eater, but all I saw was a mask he wore, not his face. Anyway, they battled each other, life and death, breaking and smashing things. The death eater got clear and cast the spell at my dad. But he ducked and I was standing right behind him - he didn't know I was there - I just wanted to help. My uncle, who is an Auror, was there too that night, and I swear, that death eater escaped with his life - by a narrow margin."

"You saw all of this?" asked Harry. Ron was glad for the distraction away from red stocking caps and cue balls. "It was right in front of you?"

"I did. It was. My uncle is a big man. He charged into the room with his wand blazing. He grabbed me by the nape with one hand, and while sending the death eater, bodily, flying out through the door, he dunked me, head first, into the fish tank." Sally made a dunking motion with her hand. "Splash!"

"Splash?" repeated Harry. "And, a flying death eater..."

"But it was a ruse; a feint," continued Sally. "The death eater at the door was a distraction."

"How do you mean?" asked Harry.

"His partner entered my parents' bedroom during the commotion." Sally paused. "You see, my mom is a good muggle mind-sweeper, you know, memory modifier? Anyway, she got called in after...well, after your parents were, um…"

"Murdered," added Harry. "They were murdered."

"Yeah," said Sally with a solemn nod. "Sorry."

Harry dismissed it with a slight shake of the head. "Go on. You said it was a ruse?"

"It was, you see, she modified a muggle kid's memory but not before taking a wand he had apparently found and was playing with, 'like a sword', my mom said. She didn't turn it into the ministry - there was no proof of whose wand it was. It may have been from one of your parents, but wouldn't it have been awesome if it was his? You know, He who must not be named?"

Harry thought for a moment. "Awesome" wouldn't have been the word he chose. He might describe it as "terrifying".

"Wait, you had his wand?" exclaimed Ron. "Like, 'His' wand?"

"I've held it in my hands," said Sally, "and waved it around."

"Voldemort's?" said Harry.

Sally nodded. "The break-in suggests it was his. It was the only thing they took."

Just then, an older Gryffindor arrived. "You gotta move, Hufflepuff. This isn't your table."

"She's with me," said Harry. Sally was a connection to Harry's past, albeit a grim one. He didn't want the conversation to end - not yet.

"Don't care," said the older student. "We don't sit at their tables. They don't sit at ours."

"It's okay," said Sally as she stood and shouldered her book bag. She slid her tray to the center of the table where it promptly vanished, and pocketed her muggle version of "Treasure Island".

"Listen, Potter - both of you," said Sally as she leaned towards him and Ron. "My uncle says, 'There's conflict brewing in a willing cauldron'. The death eaters are not gone. They are on the move. And, something big is going to happen soon."

Sally turned away to leave but then turned back.

"Hey, let me see your scar," said Sally. "I showed you mine."

Harry lifted the hair away from his forehead to show the famous lightning bolt.

"Awesome," said Sally. She smiled and was off, walking down the length of the Gryffindor tables towards the far entrance. The boys watched her go. Ron wondered who had more hair; this girl Sally, or Hermione Granger. He sided with Hermione.

Harry considered Sally's words. He considered the wand she had held and "waved around" back in her home. Was it the phoenix-feather wand of Voldemort's? Was it the brother of the wand tucked in his belt?

"What d'ya think she meant by 'Something big'?" asked Ron. "She said, 'Soon'."

"Don't know," said Harry.

Just then, Sheamus Finnigan plopped down where Sally had been sitting.

"Have you heard the rumor? Hogwarts is hosting the 'Tri-Wizard Tournament! It's going to be big."

---

The End