The Storm | The Sister book #3 | A Harry Potter Fanfiction

chapter twenty-eight

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Harry and I exit Dumbledore's office and walk out into the corridor in a trance. He's asking an awful lot of two unpredictable teenagers that have a tendency to disobey rules and ignore school policy. I glance sheepishly at Harry,

"He asks a lot, doesn't he?"

Harry nods, "I think he forgets that we're kids sometimes."

We stand in silence for a moment, and I glance down at my feet, studying the stone floor. Harry shuffles beside me, unsure of what to say. I sigh,

"I should get going," I say quickly, looking up at Harry.

"I'm going to speak to Slughorn. May as well start asking now." He says, "Have a good evening, then."

"Do you want me to come with you?" I ask, turning to face him entirely, "I mean if you want I could come I guess. I've got nowhere else to be."

Harry smiles, and then immediately tries to hide it, "Yes, yes that would be great, actually, thanks."

We hurry towards the potion rooms wordlessly, glancing at each other but having nothing to say. I don't really feel like I can talk to him about Slytherin since he doesn't really approve of it and finds it hard to hear. He probably doesn't want to talk about Gryffindor because of what happened last year, as though it would only hurt me more. We round a corner and descend a final flight of stairs, pausing to let a stream of first years passed as they head out of the classroom. I glance at Harry, motioning for him to enter first, and he slips through the door. I follow him in, hearing Slughorn say something about a rats tail to a first-year girl.

"Aha! If it isn't the prince of potions himself!" Slughorn calls, "And Clara, of course, how are you two?"

I smile weakly, "I'm well professor, thank you, and yourself?"

"Very good, very good, thank you. Now how can I help?" He says, turning away and packing some empty vials into his suitcase that he drags with him to all his classes. It sits up on end and opens to reveal shelves and small draws that are filled with all manner of things. I glance at Harry, nodding at him, go on then.

"Sir, I wondered if I- er, we- could ask you something?" Harry stutters, glancing at me and giving me a look as if to ask what else he could say, and I shrug in response. Anything, you're Harry Potter. Make it up.

"Ask away dear boy! Ask away." Slughorn says cheerfully, turning an picking a small box that seems to be full of large dried leaves, clicking it closed and turning to place it into his case. I shift my weight, walking over to one of the tables in the middle of the room, and frowning at the strangely shaped glass bottles at litter its surface.

"Well, you see, the other day I- We- were in the restricted section and I came across something rather odd about a bit of rare magic,"

Harry glances at me and I give him a blank look. Directly quote Tom Riddle. Oh yeah, not obvious at all.

"Yes, what was this rare piece of magic?" Slughorn says, his voice lower than before,

"Dunno, can't remember," I say quickly, frowning. I fumble over one of the glass bottles, making it topple over and fall off the table. I jump, catching it quickly and wincing, looking up to see both of them staring at me. I place it back carefully, moving my hands away quickly.

Harry clears his throat, "Yes, er, we can't remember the name exactly but we were wondering, are there some types of magic you aren't allowed to teach us?"

Slughorn sighs, "I'm a potions master, I think your question better be posed to Professor Snape."

"Yes, he and I don't see eye to eye, sir, what I mean to say is- He might, er, misunderstand," Harry says, taking a deep breath. I turn away, biting my lip and staring at the shelves that line the back wall of the classroom beside the door, leaning back against the table and crossing my ankles.

Slughorn nods slowly, "There'd be no light without the dark, and so it is with magic, myself I always strive to live within the light and I suggest you two do the same." Slughorn goes to leave, clipping his case closed,

"Is that what you told Tom Riddle, sir, when he came asking questions?" Harry says quickly, and I roll my eyes. Dear Lord, this boy is an imbecile. I put my face in my hands, shaking my head.

"Dumbledore put you up to this, didn't he? Didn't he?" Slughorn snaps and I look up hopelessly, seeing him storm out of the room.

I look back at Harry, crossing my arms and walking over to him.

"Quote Voldemort directly, way to be completely and utterly obvious," I shake my head,

He gives me an exasperated look, "Hey! You could have helped!"

"You're Harry Potter! This is what you do," I say, raising an eyebrow at the door, "You save the day and find out all the secrets and speak parcel tongue-"

"That doesn't mean you can't do it too." Harry answers matter of factly. I falter,

"I- I'm Clara Potter, I'm the spare. You- You're meant to save the world. You're the chosen one, remember? I'm just kind of, well," I gesture vaguely at the room, "Here."

He sighs, "That still doesn't mean you can't help me out."

"I'm no hero." I scoff,

"You saved me, didn't you?"

I go to say something, but can't find the words. Harry nods, "We should go to dinner."

"Yeah," I say quickly, my voice hushes, and I fold my arms pushing past Harry and out of the classroom.

I'm not the hero. I'm not. Last year- Last year proved that, didn't it? Didn't everyone realise that I'm not cut out for this gig? Didn't they put me in the back seat and tell me to stay put? After what happened this summer at the Weasleys I was a bit relieved that maybe, just maybe, they were aiming at Harry and I could disappear into the woodwork one day and no one would question. I could have a normal life. I thought I lost my fight. I thought we'd had a silent anonymous vote that Clara Potter is not suitable for the role of the chosen one, but maybe we haven't. I thought I'd been defeated by a witch in pink. I thought that was my fight and that my fight was over.

Harry seems to think I'm wrong, and it's a bit encouraging. I smile to myself, looking at my feet. Maybe I'm more than the spare if he thinks so. Maybe I'll be important after all. Maybe one day I'll save someone else, die a good death. Die saving someone, even. Maybe my fight isn't over yet. My heart jumps a little at the thought.

xxx

I still have a huge amount of homework

And also Barbie movies do not get old ok they are still great honestly The Princess and the Pauper  is a classic. 

Lots of love,

Taylor xx