lost way found

Desperately swinging her sword, the flame haired heroine forced back her assailant. The great hag
roared in rage and humiliation, but shrank back in fear of her mighty blade. But what was this?
A dragon was approaching, breathing deadly flames! She would not let this new threat stop her
from her goal—she would find the treasure! With a deafening yell, the heroine charged the hag
and—
“Alice Bright!”
Alice dropped the stick with a yelp of surprise. “Gran! I, um, I was…”
“I’ve been calling you for half an hour now! Oh Alice, your hair… Hurry, change it back! And your
eyes, too… Goodness, I’ve told you a thousand times not to do that! Were your friends with you?
Did anyone see you? You must have deafened half the town with your bellowing.”
“I wasn’t bellowing! It was a battle cry! See, there was this hag, right…”
“Your hair, dear.”
Heaving a sigh, Alice closed her eyes and focused. Her flaming red hair returned to its normal
shade of brown, and her eyes, when she reopened them, were no longer violet but dark hazel.
“It’s so boring this way!” She grumbled.
“Alice…” Her Gran’s tone held a note of warning.
“Fine. Sorry.”
“If the muggles saw you like that, what would you tell them?”
“You could obliviate them for me. You would, wouldn’t you Gran?”
“Maybe I’d leave one some memories to make you be more careful!” She glared at her grandchild
for a minute before pointing downhill. “Home. Dinner is waiting.” She relented a little and
smiled at the bowed head. “I think Tilly made pot roast.”
With a whoop, Alice bolted toward the house, temporarily forgetting about magic, muggles, and
her boring hair.

*****************************************************************************

It had been a week since Nick first stepped foot into Hogwarts, and he had wasted no time in
exploring his new surroundings. He’d made friends with several of the portraits, had a brief but
memorable encounter with Peeves, climbed up to the Owlery and the North Tower, broken into the
kitchens (much to the excitement of the house elves), and familiarized himself with the Quidditch
pitch. The ghosts had suggested he look for his classrooms, and since it was raining too hard for
him to go outside, Nick decided to follow their advice. Now he wished he hadn’t, as he was hopelessly
lost in the dungeons.

He turned into another corridor, sure that he was going in circles. Oh, why hadn’t he told Hermione
where he was going? She wouldn’t know he was lost until dinner, when she would find his chair empty.
He might circle here endlessly, the lost student, dead before attending a single class…wait. Had he
seen that door before? He pushed it open as quietly as possible. It was obviously a classroom-- a
blackboard at the front faced desks in neat rows, and a large black cauldron sat in the corner. Finally,
he’d found Potions! He walked over to the cauldron and peered in, looking to see if there was anything
inside.
“And what do you think you’re doing?”
Nick froze in fear, his heart beating like a rabbit’s. A strong hand spun him around, and he found
himself facing a tall, pale man dressed head to toe in black.
“S-sorry. I didn’t… I wasn’t…” He was babbling, he knew, but his brain couldn’t seem to make his mouth
shut up.
“Be quiet.” He shut up instantly. The man had very dark eyes, and was looking at Nick in a mixture of
confusion and disapproval. He ran his hand self-consciously over his neatly cut hair. Surely he hadn’t
done anything wrong? Did they cane people at Hogwarts? “What is a student doing here in the middle of
July? I wasn’t expecting to see any of you ‘till at least September.”
“I, um, live here.”
“You what!?”
Nick cringed. “I live here.” He gulped. “Sir”
“I heard you, boy!” He raised a hand and Nick ducked instinctively, arms rising to cover his face. When
no blow fell, he looked up. The man’s dark eyes held a strange expression.
“I wasn’t going to strike you.” His voice was soft. “I merely wanted to see your charm there.”
“It’s for werewolves…”
“I know. I used to wear one like that myself when I was your age. Unfortunately, I discovered its
ineffectiveness in a rather unpleasant manner.”
“You’re not a… are you a…?”
“Of course not. They don’t let that kind teach here anymore.” The man’s lip curled slightly.
“You teach here too?”
“Unfortunately. I suppose I’ll see you in class. Hopefully you will not be as moronic as the majority of
first years.”
“Yeah-- I mean, no, I’ll try not to be. Um, I need to go back now. Can you-- I mean, could you please
tell me how to get to the Great Hall?” Dinner was starting, and Hermione would worry…
“I’ll show you the way this time, so you won’t forget.” He gave Nick a gentle push to get him out the
door. “I expect dinner will be served shortly, in any case.”

Hermione was more than a little startled when she saw Nick enter the Hall with Snape, of all people.
He looked as mean as ever with his black robes and surly expression, but Nick didn’t seem afraid.
In fact, he and Snape were talking, or rather, Nick talked and Snape listened, by the looks of things.
“Nick! I’ve been searching all over for you!”
Twin pairs of dark eyes met her own.
“Sorry, Hermione. I got lost in the dungeons.”
“Yes, I found him wandering around my classroom.” Snape’s silky voice was far less aggressive than it
usually was when addressing her. “He was just telling me about certain spells he can do. Quite
advanced, for his age.”
“I’d show you, but I don’t have my wand anymore.” Nick looked at Hermione pleadingly.
“You’ll get a new wand as soon as we go to Diagon Alley. Your old one is in horrible condition-- it’s too
dangerous for you to use. Probably has something like vampire hair in it, anyway…” She shook her
head in distaste. “I need some materials, so we might as well pick up your school supplies and save
ourselves a trip.”
“Wow, new stuff!” Nick looked awed. Without warning, he gave her a tight hug and went to sit down,
blushing furiously. Hermione grinned, while Snape watched on impassively.
“Who is he?” He asked in a low voice. “I feel as if I’ve seen him before, but I can’t remember where.”
This was by far the most civil conversation she had ever had with Snape up to date, and Hermione took
her time in answering.
“He’s Nicholas of Black Tree Court, and an exceptionally bright boy. Other than that, I can’t tell you
much. He’s come to live with me for now.”
“He looked like he expected me to beat him when I found him in the dungeons. It was…unsettling.”
“I thought you’d be used to students being terrified of you.”
“They’re terrified of detentions, not beatings.”
“Very true.” He looked at her questioningly. “That is for Nick to tell.”
“He has no surname?”
“None that he knows of. I suppose we’ll have to call him Blacktree for the sorting. You know, like
the court.”
“Whatever seems best to you.”

**********************************************************************

The first things Miles bought were his spellbooks. Sitting in the leaky cauldron, he asked questions upon
questions to old Tom, who patiently explained that owls brought mail, wizards did in fact ride brooms,
and goblins were perfectly fine creatures if you didn’t cross them.
“You’ve got to teach me how to do a spell, please, Tom!” Miles begged.
“Underage wizards aren’t allowed to do magic! How many times do I have to tell you?”
“That’s rubbish! I saw a girl outside of Florish and Blotts trying out spells right nicely, and she wasn’t a
day older than me. Please? Just one?”
“Oh, all right.” Tom grumbled. “Ok, listen up. This here’s a simple Lumos. Yeah, now hold your
wand just so…”
“Lumos!” The tip of his wand burst into brilliance. “Yes! I did it! Wait, let me do it again…”
It went on that way for a few weeks before Tom threw him an apron and proposed a deal. “You’re
wearing me out with all those questions. Tell you what—you help me out here for your room and board,
and I’ll teach you a new spell every week. What do you say?”
“Absolutely! Wow, can I pick which spells? What do you want me to do? Should I clean the—“
“And no questions!” Tom looked a little panicked, so Miles just grinned and shut up.
In the mornings, he would wander Diagon Alley, entering shops and pestering the storekeepers with
his many inquiries.
“Are those really unicorn horns?”
“They can fly? So which is better?”
“A GOLD cauldron--?”
“What kind of owl is that?”
“--SOLID gold?”
In the afternoons he waited tables at the Leaky Cauldron during lunch and dinner hours, talking to patrons
and learning as much about the wizarding world as possible. Tom was kind and funny, and the people
who wandered in were fascinating. Miles had never been happier.

******************************************************************

The tall, narrow house did not appear unusual on Birch Street. Brynmawr was an old mining town,
and the buildings there were all of that same gray stone, and all sported the same frosted windows.
No, on the outside, Bright House was completely ordinary.
Only on the inside did one notice the absurd size of the foyer, the impossibly long hallways, the multitude
of heavy oak doors, and the handful of house elves waiting to take your coat. It was enough to push any
muggle ‘round the bend, so Gran and Alice were very careful about whom they invited to tea.
Alice was only allowed to go in certain parts of the house: anything below the fourth level basement
was absolutely forbidden, as was the north wing and the rose terrace. Of course, Alice had tried
everything in her power to gain entrance, but even Alohomora with Gran’s stolen wand did nothing.
“But why? It can’t be that bad! At least the terrace…”
“No, Alice, absolutely not! You’re far too young, not to mention incautious! I absolutely forbid
it-- and I shall be furious if I hear you’ve been trying to bribe the house elves again.” Gran was short
and rather round, but the thought of her anger was quite enough to deter Alice’s interests, at least
temporarily.
So today, instead of discovering the secrets of the extensive north wing, she was up in the tower room.
It was rather plain—the floor was bare and the beams showed in the whitewashed ceiling—but the walls
were lined with countless keys. Above each was written a name—The Two Feathers, 68 Owl Run,
F.F.—20 N, 65 S, Kitee, etc.—and they were of all different sizes and shapes. The only space on the
wall not occupied by them was a small square window, which was shuttered and bolted with an
ornate lock.
Alice crouched down to examine the keys. They weren’t organized in any order she could see, and
there were a couple of places where the gray wall showed through. Some pegs stood empty, their
keys missing and the names above obliterated. She was terribly curious as to what they opened,
but Gran was hardly ever in a mood to be questioned.

Grabbing a few of her favorites, Alice jammed the first into the lock. The shutters swung open to
the Leaky Cauldron, but Tom was nowhere in sight. Instead, she met the mismatched eyes of an
unfamiliar boy. He seemed to be around her age, with a pleasant face and ragged blond hair that
looked as if it had been hacked off in clumps. She waved, and he jumped.
“Hullo!” She grinned at him.
“Hey,” he said weakly. “Did you just… pop out of the wall like that? I mean, I’m sure there wasn’t
a window there before… Well, I guess I’m not so sure.”
“No, there isn’t. This is just a portal. It’ll be gone once I close the shutters.”
“Can you come in, then?”
“Sort of.” Alice leaned out into the room. “That’s it, though.”
The boy stuck out his hand in an oddly formal gesture. “I’m Miles.”
She shook it. “I’m Alice.”
“Are you going to Hogwarts, too?”
“Yeah, I got my letter a week ago. Dumb owl almost decapitated a house elf. It was pretty funny—my
Gran got really angry.”
“You have house elves too?” Miles looked incredulous.
“Lots of them.”
“Are they all so… bald?”
Alice nodded. “You’re muggle born, aren’t you?”
“I guess. Why?”
“Otherwise you’d have known about the house elves. So, how did you find out you could do magic?”
“Well, there was this time I made a neighbors dog turn purple…” He smiled at the memory, and Alice
laughed. “I couldn’t explain how I’d done it because I didn’t even know myself. I never knew it was
magic, see, I always thought it was some sort of accident.”
“When did you get your letter?”
“Last week, same as you. It was really scary seeing my name and—and the place I was on that
envelope. I thought it was a joke.” Abruptly, he changed the subject. “What about you? Did everyone
already know you were a witch when you were little?”
Alice thought for a minute, then whispered, “You have to promise not to tell.”
“I won’t, I swear.”
She concentrated on his eyes, his hair, his face. Shock registered on his feature as she changed.
In less than a second, he could have been staring into a mirror. She’d even gotten the ragged hair at the
correct length.
“Wow,” he breathed. “How did you do that?”
“That’s my magic. I’m a metamorphmagus—that means I can change appearance at will. People
found out when I was too young to control it.”
“Wish I could do that.”
“It’s not so great when I can only do it in the house. My Gran says I need to be careful about who
can see me, and I suppose she’s right, what with all the muggles.” Behind her, a house elf was
calling. “I have to go. Will you be here tomorrow?”
“Yeah, I work here.”
“Really? I’ll try to be back then. See you!”
“Goodbye.”
The shutters closed and melted into the wood paneling of the pub.


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ok, this chapter was going to be all about alice, the last of my new main characters, but it
didn\'t seem nice to leave you all withought nick and miles-- especially since they seem to be well liked