Harry Potter and the Prophecy of Two

Harry Potter and the Prophecy of Two

Disclaimer- I don't own Harry Potter and never will; that honour belongs to JK Rowling.

Angelbud2233-kool, I didn't know i could be freaky! And that thing with Dobby, just call it elf sense! Thanks

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Chapter Thirteen- Hidden

The hand on his watch pointed to the same as it did before. Between `close' and `lost'. He sighed and pulled his sleeve down, covering his birthday present. They were in the hospital wing; Hermione lay before him on a white bed, her eyes closed. Madam Pomfrey had ordered him to go, she threatened to get the headmaster, but he didn't care. His two friends were in here, in the infirmary. Ron was sitting in the corner, upon his own bed. His eyes were also closed, but in thought. They had been in here for almost a day. Not leaving for classes, or food. Hermione hadn't awoken from her experience, neither had Cho. She was lying behind a closed curtain on the opposite side of the hospital wing, forbidden to all.

Dobby had told Professor Dumbledore of that night, of what he had seen, of what he had done. The headmaster had yet to call upon Harry, knowing he wouldn't talk while his two friends were injured and he wasn't. The white mist had not been seen again, and no students from the school were missing. It seemed to have vanished, or was hidden inside the castle, awaiting another body to possess. This frightened Harry. Knowing something was out there, lurking in a secret passageway or in a suit of armour, or already inside its next victim. He was unable to do something, he was useless. He felt as though, now, he knew who the culprit was who poisoned the lake. But actually who it was, was the mystery. No one had any clues. Not yet, anyway, as Hermione hadn't had her say yet.

Finally on the third day, when Harry was resting his head upon his arms along the edge of Hermione's bed, her eyes fluttered open. She stared thoughtfully around, noticing the head of her best friend resting next to her own, just off the pillow. She smiled and began running her fingers through his hair. His head flew up, startling her. An extremely happy smile lit up his face when their eyes locked.

`Finally, your awake, Mione,' he said, `how are you feeling?' Harry's words startled Ron who had been reading a Chudley Cannons Magazine. He grinned broadly and scrambled over to his friends.

`Hey, Hermione, how are you?' he asked softly. The brown haired girl smiled joyfully. `Much better now that I'm awake and seeing you both again!' they all laughed, catching the attention of Madam Pomfrey who bustled in from her office. She smiled softly, `How are you feeling, dear?' she asked striding over and feeling Hermione's forehead. `Much better, thank you.'

`Your temperature has dropped back to a normal heat, and you don't look as pale, but I can't say that for Ms. Chang.' She cast her eyes over to the closed hangings, sympathy plastered on her face. `When will she be able to leave?' Harry asked hopefully, looking up at the healer, eyes pleading. She looked into his face, `she should be able to leave as soon as she takes a few of these potions,' she signaled to a tray full of different colored liquids. `Then if she feels up to it, she may leave. But only after she has some left, you two also look like you need some rest, especially you, Mr. Potter.' Harry smiled gratefully.

Later that night the Gryffindor trio sat in armchairs about the fire. Hermione was wrapped in a doona, with Harry's arm wrapped around her. Ron looked on humorously from across from them, smirking at them when Hermione wasn't looking. Harry brushed it off, but felt his cheeks burn none the less. He knew they were just friends, didn't he? She shifted comfortably onto his lap, gaining a suppressed snicker from their red head friend. He just shrugged and began playing with a strand of her brown hair, running it through his fingers and wrapping it around his thumb. They all couldn't be bothered doing their homework, even though Hermione had protested when Harry and Ron made her rest on the lounge, but she had gotten over it.

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There was no word from Dumbledore over the next few weeks, or from the unknown menace running freely through the castle. Their extra training was coming to a close, all having mastered occlumency and legiliumcy, though Ron barely past that course. They had passed the wandless magic training, Harry having mastered all spells with Ron and Hermione trailing behind, closely. Armarnd came occasionally, to check on how they were going with their second forms, or came to speak with the headmaster about some unknown thing. There was no word from Remus Lupin on how his assignment was going; they knew nothing, whether he was living, lost or killed on his journey. Harry sometimes spoke with Snape, at the end of potions class; but all he got was a death glare and was told not to meddle with things that didn't concern him.

Hermione was better, as was Cho. She had left the hospital wing almost a week after Hermione, having no recollection of what had occurred. Ron was holding on the theory that she was still possessed and trying to do Harry in, he never gave up his suspicions too quickly. Hermione was dragging them to the library every afternoon, looking up ghostly menaces and body possessing spirits. But Harry, somehow, knew who was behind it. Avlantia. He voiced his thoughts to his friends, but they, or rather Ron, said it was ridiculous and that no person could possess another being while still alive. Hermione, however, thought it possible and began looking up anything on Avlantia, or Abagale Priest, wanting to know anything and everything she could.

It was well into their third week and a quidditch game later when anything came up on the accused. They were rummaging through files of old newspapers and clippings when Hermione stated, “Ah Ha!”

Harry looked up from his century old clipping, and stared at the front page of a musty looking newspaper. “Listen to this!”

*There have been three tragic deaths late last night. Saydi Dire was found dead in her London home early this morning, also found was her two children, Elindor and Wade. Her beloved husband, Ashir Dire, was missing, no clues have been found of his where-abouts. The culprit is yet to be found who bestowed upon there disastrous events. The family's dear friend, Tyson McCloud, is distraught; he has lost the only family he has known.

`I just can't understand who would do such a thing to such lovely people, and why?' said Tyson, covering his face with his hands and mourned. There will be a memorial service next Tuesday for the Dire family*

There was a black and white picture to the side, of a young man covering his face with his hands, his shoulders shaking silently. A caption at the bottom stated, `Tyson McCloud, mourning the loss of his lifetime friend'. Hermione began to squint at the man who now was looking up at them, his face shining with ink tears. “He kinda looks familiar, but I haven't seen him before, it's weird.” Harry nodded uncomfortably, “Yeah, weird.” He hadn't told his friends of Professor Rohain's true identity, and he wasn't planning to. It wasn't his secret to tell.

That night Harry laying his bed, listening to the unsteady breathing of Neville and the loud snores of Ron. He was thinking about the day's findings, about Tyson and Ashir, wherever he was and if Avlantia aka Abagale Priest was plotting against them this very second. Sleep came in waves upon his troubled mind, washing away his thoughts and leaving behind nightmares.

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Wing once more whipped by his sides, whisking through his hair and stinging his legs. He looked around and sighed. He was on the darkened tower again, shadows lurking from the bottomless sides. His eyes set in a particular space in the night, but nothing came, no white woman, no scream. The prodding began from behind him, on his shoulder, where once it pierced. This time before the final poke could take place; Harry spun around and met the grinning face of a dark-haired teenager. He was around his own age, his hair not as messy, but you couldn't call it neat either. His eyes were deep brown and deadly, holding a hidden evil. In his hand was the Spear of Shadows, the runes glowing silver in the darkened air. The boy smiled, showing perfect white teeth, he held a certain proverbial look about him, but he couldn't quite grasp his name and where he'd seen him before.

The dark haired boy spoke, chilling Harry to the bone. “Hey Harry, fancy meeting you here.” Harry stepped back, his foot slipping over the edge of the tower. He steadied himself before tumbling into nothingness. He looked with hatred at the seventeen year old Tom Riddle, his evil smile still present on the recognizable face. “Tom!” he spat, gaining a glare from the young version of Voldemort. “Now, now, that's no way to speak to your brother.”

“I'm not your brother you insufferable git!” he yelled, staring down hopefully into the darkness.

“I was being rhetorical, Harry, I meant no offence, although, that should be what I felt, but anyways, I think you've met Abagale?”

Harry jumped out of his skin as a tender hand was placed on his shoulder, sending a shiver down his spine. Avlantia glided forward and stood beside tom riddle and opened her mouth. “Young Harry, why do you shiver, it is a lovely evening,” she said gently, smiling silkily, Harry gulped and moved back to the edge. “You are not, afraid, are you, Harry, as there is nothing to be afraid about, and this is but a dream.”

“I know what dreams involve with you, monsters, in them, I'd rather jump from here than listen to you again.” they both laughed, Abagale with a soft laugh, while Tom Riddle with loud, boisterous booming laughs. “My, my, Tom, you never told me that young Harry had such a temper, and a savage one at that.” Riddle grinned, “Why, that's one of the things I love about him.” Harry shivered once more, his back felt as if a thousand spiders scuttling across it. He gulped and took a large breath as he stepped off the tower platform and the two figures had startled looks on their faces as he was dropping tom said, “See ya soon, Harry!”

He was falling, falling through time itself, the darkness swirled around him, blinding his eyes and seeping into his throat. Singing soon filled the endless silence, ringing in Harry's ears as he dropped. He caught a few of the dull words, as they slowly got louder. Soon he was hearing a whole song, or poem, with a woman's voice singing it.

He who wields the light in the dark

Will try and find that lonely spark

But day always has a night

As dark has a light

And the one that tries to survive

Will no sooner be alive

And when the prophecy is beheld

Say goodbye to your precious world

And as I find my long lost love

There will be no white dove

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The darkness consumed him as sweat poured from his soaked hair. He panted for air in the world that was once his; he tried to waken from that dreadful dream, those monsters. But the darkness was thick and clingy; it entered his throat, his lungs; the ever lasting hate.