Avatar: A Harry Potter Story

Permanent Scars

Book One: Air

"We're giving you one last chance to come peacefully, Night Crawler!" Shouted the grey-armored officer with the microphone.

I was so extremely confused. Pansy Parkinson, or Night Crawler, as some people seemed to call her, had saved Ron, Hermione and I from a gang of thugs on the outskirts of the city. Now, she was being chased down by what I guessed was the police force.

I stared up at the green clad ninja, wiping the still pouring rain from my glasses. I didn't know if I saw correctly, but she gave the police the finger (had to respect her for that one) and jumped off the other side of the roof. Dissappearing behind the buildings. One of the policeman cursed and the group sprinted back to their vehicles, their engines roared and they drove away. Lights shining and alarms blaring.

"What are you three doing  here?!" Drawled a voice from behind us and I screamed so loudly Ron flinched and slapped my arm.

The three of us stared in awe at the person who'd spoken. As if she hadn't been chased by the police and hadn't just jumped off a building, Pansy Parkinson glared at us with her hands on her hips, her balaclava looking head piece hanging off her shoulder like a hood. Her shoulder length ebony hair matted against her face which was sporting quite a severe look.

Hermione took a step towards her and Pansy took one step back, narrowing her eyes. Hermione pursed her lips and sighed in frustration before arching her arm in the air as if trying to draw a rainbow in the sky. Suddenly, the rain stopped almost immediately. The alley completely void of the downpour. But past the sidewalk and into the streets, the pouring continued mercilessly.

"Parkinson," Ron greeted. I couldn't quite make out his facial expression. I could tell he didn't want to be rude, but the look in his eyes was as apprehensive as a detectives as he stared at Pansy. Hermione, on the other hand, looked somewhat in between worry and relief, and I could only guess as to why. Part of me wanted to go back to the house we'd been healed in and watch Game Of Thrones with Pansy and Theodore. But after what Hermione had said, warning us about the Bellator Tribe, the tribe of the warrior, I wasn't so sure about the angry look Pansy was giving us.

Without the rain, I could see the message clear in her hazel brown eyes. She wanted us to get lost.

"What are you doing here?" She repeated, retreating further into the dark alleyway as to not be seen by passersbyers. We followed her until the rain sounded like it was on the other side of a window. Hermione's hand was tense, her brows furrowed. I wondered how much concentration it would take to keep the rain away for much longer.

"Shouldn't we be the ones asking the questions, Parkinson?" Hermione asked, sneering ever so slightly. Pansy rose her eyebrow in question. "You're being chased by the Ministry? What are you, a criminal?" The brunette asked and Pansy's already narrowed eyes only got smaller to the point where she was squinting at us.

"That's none of your business," she snapped, her hands falling from their place on her hips. Ron rose his eyebrows, biting his lips as he looked around. "What did you do?" He asked and Pansy growled, her hands curling into fistsp. Before she could sucker punch my friends, I stepped between them and tried for a smile.

"Pansy-"

"Parkinson," she corrected. I blinked and cleared my throat. "Right, Parkinson. Listen, we mean no ill will. We'd just like to understand your motives." I hoped what I was saying made sense, for I didn't really have a good argument for wanting to know about Pansy's nightly endeavors.

But of course, all knowledge comes at a price.

"Sure. But under one condition," she began. I gulped. "Not until you tell me what you're doing here, in Diagon, in the streets. The three of you look the hobos."