Everywhere her body touched mine was warmed as though by sunlight and I felt myself drawing closer for it, escaping the darkness, seeking her light. ...��Are you… an angel?” I asked. My hands were on her hips now, with a mind of their own, discovering again the plush velvet of her skin. She kept smiling. Deep inside my chest, my heart constricted. “Is this a test?” She laughed softly. “Why would we test you? We know your soul is pure…” Leaning in, she pressed her lips to mine. Suddenly, I felt. I was careful not to prey on the credulity of those who held uncanny beliefs, in respect for Bull’s memory, but I was well aware of the shills and slow cons.My brand of ‘magic’ was startling drollery, endless colored kerchieves, sudden bouquets, and close up coin tricks with my ‘magic penny’. I could amaze in games of ‘find the hidden’. I also could be convinced to juggle for short durations at infrequent intervals. If I used my entrancing device, I could put on a little hypnotist show. I was. The best thing about her though is her legs. She is almost as tall as I am, and when she wears a miniskirt, it looks like her legs go on forever. She treats me like all big sisters treat their little brothers (like a piece of shit), but I was desperate, so I went to her with my problem.We were home alone one weeknight watching TV. She was sitting on the couch and I was on the floor. I looked up at her and saw that, as usual, her skirt was pulled up almost to her crotch, and her knees were. “What are you doing?” A voice behind him hissed but he ignored them. “He doesn‘t have a pulse.” Harry murmured, trying to move his fingers around for a better feel. “No pulse. Get Madam Pomfrey! Get Dumbledore!” “Both are here Harry.” Harry looked up to see the Headmaster walk to the edge of the crowd. He stood back gratefully as the school nurse went to work. “Is he… dead?” An older Ravenclaw at the edge of the circle asked and a whisper of breathless shock swept the crowd. “No.” Professor.
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