The American Enigma

That'll Be A Story

Y/N POV

We quickly put our books in the rooms we were going to be staying in, which led to the fun reveal that Hermione and I were going to share a room. I can't really argue about the arrangements without causing pain for the both of us.

She'd probably think that I find repulsive if I argued about it, which would lead to tears and my never ending guilt. I'd be hurt because I'd have to acknowledge my crush.

But, I'd also like to share a room with here because she's my best friend. And if I have a nightmare, she'd be the only one who would be able to calm me down.

I despise Quirrell due to the frequency of the nightmares. Had he not been an idiot, he could've been good. But now I have been trying to keep up a strong facade in front of others.

A side effect of my time in Chicago. Any sign of weakness and the bullies didn't hesitate. If I wasn't careful, I could be the new target for them. And they were ruthless.

"W-Well, y-you can come in" Hermione shouted, reminding me that she had just changed into her pajamas. Just behind a door. With a keyhole.

"Okay" I squeaked in response, opening the door and finding her dressed in a shirt that looked a tad familiar and some shorts. I couldn't help but blush, since it definitely seemed like it was impossible for her to look anything less than gorgeous.

Nightmare Time

The room was damp, water dripping down from the corner as a child wailed. In the room stood two figures. One was a rather short, portly man with his once light hair now greying. His lime green bowler hat was the oddest thing that the other man had seen.

He was a six foot two African American who was decked out in all black. He had attended the funeral for James and Lily Potter, who had valiantly, and graciously in his eyes, fought for their child against a monster. Their epitaph was as true as their actions. The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.

"Are you one hundred percent certain that this Sirius Black guy was the one who tipped off Voldemort?" The African American asked, his voice low enough to prevent a mass panic. His cohort, however, had no idea at how to use a lower voice.

"Positive. All that was left of the valiant Peter was a finger. Merlin's beard that'll always be ingrained in my nightmares." He huffed out.

"Again, there's no spell that does that much damage while leaving a finger unless the person casting purposely does so. I think you should consider the possibility of him being innocent." The other scoffed, stopping in front of the cell.

"We already know we got the right man. Now, we just need to figure out how to remove You-Know-Who's son from the equation. No telling-" the taller man balked at the comment, stopping the man.

"Cornelius! You are seriously considering a child a threat!? Have you gone mad! You are acting out of fear! Threatening not just your Ministry, but also the lives of everyone who fought in your war!"

"What do you mean, Graves?" He spat the last name like it was bile.

"I mean that if you even consider trying to remove this child's memories, you are running the risk of him becoming like his father. And I've already heard that you accepted the Malfoy man back into the fold. Yet I don't hear you trying to remove his child's memories!"

"He was Imperiuised you old fool!"

"So, you're willing to risk everything for fear, yet not even doing anything about the Death Eater that has joined your Ministry. That tells me all I need to know about you. As of now, anything you want to do to that child will bring down MACUSA on your Ministry. As a matter of fact, I'll take it to the Confederation."