Begin Again (Severus Snape/OC Love Story)

Chapter Two: Harry Potter

        The following two weeks passed by in a blur, but I struggled to get the image of that wizard from the pub off my mind. I attempted to distract myself by spending much of my time shopping in Diagon Alley. I brought home a pleasing bounty that included not only my required schoolbooks, but also a new broomstick, clothing, novels, robes (dress and regular), and enough novelties from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes to fill their own medium-sized suitcase. Of course, I didn't forget about Milo either, and got him a five-pound bag of crunchy mouse-shaped owl treats as well. He'd appreciate that after his long trip.

The shopping, while enjoyable in some ways, had also been a bit eerie. Many of the shops were closed down and had been brutally ransacked, so there were bits of broken glass and debris coating the cobblestone streets. During the shopping trips, my paranoia emerged many times, and I swore I kept glimpsing a floating black cloak disappearing into the shadows. I'm sure it was just the dismal, gloomy weather playing tricks on my mind. The sun had not come out once since arriving in London, and the drab ambience was beginning to unsettle me.

Three days ago, we settled into our temporary new home, a cute dandelion-yellow stucco cape cod with black shutters and a massive lush yard. Situated just outside of London on a witch-and-wizard-occupied street, it was close enough to view the beautiful skyline from our bedroom windows but far enough that the hustle and bustle of the city doesn't hinder the tranquility. I didn't bother getting too comfortable though, with the school term beginning so soon. Most of my possessions that weren't coming along with me to Hogwarts were still stored in boxes, waiting patiently to be unpacked next June.

Every day I gazed out the window routinely, hoping desperately that Milo would return with a piece of my home, a letter from Kaitlyn, to comfort me – but September 1st arrived and still no Milo. It worried me a little, but America was a long way away.

My nerves were on edge as I finished packing the last of my Hogwarts-bound belongings. To my delight, mom lent me an extra suitcase so I could transport everything. Nevertheless, the items inside were still bulging out at the swollen seams. I'd had to sit on them to successfully snap the latches shut. Mom and I watched with concern that they would pop open, sprawling a mess of clothing and school supplies all over the driveway, as dad levitated them into the trunk of a dark gray Ford Taurus, the muggle vehicle he borrowed from the Ministry.

My father, Michael Pierce, was one of the kindest people I had ever met and I admire him greatly. He is unfailingly passionate about life, fiercely protective of his loved ones, and never shows his weaknesses. He manages an excellent balance of tenderness and grit. My father is average height with a little bit of a belly on him. I generally felt like I'd inherited my dad's personality - both of us being part of the Thunderbird house at Ilvermorny - and, my favorite feature, his brilliant green eyes.

My mom, on the other hand, has always been the stern one. Amelie Pierce is very loving, of course, but she's more of a type-A personality and prefers a more calculated means of showing affection. Throughout my life, my mom has planned almost each minute of each day as carefully as possible. Nothing upsets her more than a sudden change of plans. My mom is intelligent, ambitious, and goal-driven, while my dad is a little more laid back. At Hogwarts, she was top of her class. Despite its negative reputation, mom is proud to say she is a Slytherin, and enthusiastically explains to anyone who will listen that 'just because dark wizards have come from Slytherin, it does not mean all Slytherins are dark wizards'. While I didn't inherit much of my mom's personality, she did gift me with her strikingly dark red hair, pale skin, and petite frame.

Once the car was stuffed full and ready to leave, we all piled in for the short but frightening drive to King's Cross Station. I've never liked muggle forms of transportation. The fatality rates of muggles getting into car accidents or airplane crashes was significantly higher than fatality rates of wizards using the Floo network or having a broomstick crash. Perhaps that's because magical healing is more potent than muggle healing, but I still didn't like to take my chances. Admiring the mass of towering skyscrapers, I bit my nails anxiously - a bad habit I'd had since I stopped sucking my thumb - as dad expertly navigated the heavily trafficked streets. Mom gave me some last-minute pointers along the way.