Harry Potter and the Riddle Chamber

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, Jo does. HBP would've turned out differently if I did. And I wouldn't be writing this.

Hey everyone. Thought I'd write this to thank everyone for reading this and Harry Potter and the Beginning if you did. If you didn't, then please do. It might help you understand this story.

I'm going to introduce a new character in the next chapter. He's going to help Harry immensely with training and the prophecy. We'll also find out about the truth behind his `other sense'.

Please remember that this story is written and told in the 21^st century and doesn't take place in the early 90's as Harry Potter and CoS does. This is darker, hopefully.

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

He could hear the swish of their black cloaks and their soft chanting was slowly increasing in volume. Anytime soon they would be finished, he could feel it, could smell their anxiety. His vision was blurred momentarily as thick black smoke engulfed him and then a scream rent the air, filling him with burning elation but also horrifying agony.

He suddenly sprung up from his bed and snatched his wand from his bedside cabinet. His eyes immediately darted around the small room for some sign of disturbance but he found nothing. Everything was still and he couldn't hear a sound over his laboured breathing. The street light outside was illuminating his room slightly with a soft glow that didn't penetrate his eyes. After a few moments of silence he let out a deep sigh at the realisation that he was once again having a nightmare. But something in the back of his mind warned him not to forget it.

In the past few weeks life had certainly changed for the now twelve year old Harry Potter. He had been brought back into the muggle world for his safety but he knew it wouldn't last. He felt helpless while stuck in the muggle world. Mrs. Figg was very kind to him and treated him like a lodger which he was very grateful for. But he still felt the absence of magic and as he was forbidden to practice magic outside school he had no choice other than to read up on spells and enchantments. Research became his main theme over the summer. His birthday had passed by uneventfully. Mrs. Figg had bought him a small muffin to celebrate and she had even lit a candle. But the lack of birthday presents or traditions wasn't what was upsetting Harry. He hadn't heard from his best friend, Hermione Granger, all summer.

He had not received any letters, even after he told Hedwig to go find her. Hedwig had returned with ruffled feathers and a very disgruntled near fearful look in her deep eyes. This also was playing on Harry's mind as he began to worry whether Hedwig had been attacked by a bird or another creature.

Sighing heavily in defeat he trudged over to the open window and snapped it shut. He had kept it open in fruitless hope that he might be sent a letter. Plopping onto his bed he held his head in his hands waiting for the dizziness he was experiencing to leave. He had had that horrible dream more than once now. Each time he awoke frightened of what lay in the darkness. He found himself checking Mrs. Figg was alright, making sure she hadn't been attacked. His powerlessness left him feeling weak and defenceless. If the house was attacked, there wasn't much he could do other than to distract the attackers.

But he didn't even know what would attack. He didn't know how to fight what was coming. Because something was coming. That was definite. It gave reason for the nightmares which haunted him. For the insecurity he felt when he left the house. He found himself on edge most of the time, wondering if some vile creature was going to strike at any moment. Mrs. Figg had noticed his odd behaviour over the last few weeks. His keen eyes were ever zooming through books or he stayed silent beside the window, his eyes searching the outside world.

Harry returned his head to his pillow. He had been researching as much as he could on prophecies and their consequences. But the information available was so little as the main people privy to prophecies are those who foretold them and those who heard them. So not much was accounted for, especially in the books he could get hold of. Soon he would be returning to Hogwarts where he had doubts the school library could tell him much more about prophecies.

There was absolutely no doubt that his meeting with Voldemort had shaken him. His life, his path was now laid out before him. And he would have to follow it to whatever end.

Waking up some hours later he noticed the dim voices coming from downstairs. Mrs. Figg wasn't known for having guests in the early hours of the morning. Harry had seen very few people in the house during his stay. He dressed quickly and picked up his wand, placing it in his back pocket. He made his way steadily onto the landing. For some reason he knew instantly that there was nothing threatening in the house. The voices downstairs seemed low and hushed, not something usually seen as violent. Creeping down to the last step of the carpeted stair he listened to the whispers emanating from the kitchen.

“There's something amiss with him. He's a very alert young boy but now I think this is a bit too much. He barely sleeps and when he does, he must have awful nightmares...I've heard him moaning, sometimes screaming. I just hope he can try and recover from his dealings with You-Know-Who.” Mrs Figg's voice seemed very tense and agitated.

“Well it takes some time to get over such a terrible encounter,” answered a male voice. Harry didn't recognize the voice. He edged closer to the door in order to hear the rest of the conversation. He didn't like eavesdropping but as the conversation seemed to be about him he felt a natural curiosity. “…I hear he is a strong character. From what Professor Dumbledore has told me, I think he'll recover quite well. Though you may sometimes see him as an adult, you must remember, he is twelve years old.”

There was a sigh of resignation from Mrs. Figg and Harry heard the kettle starting to whistle. “So how are you, Remus?”

“I can't complain. Tired, but that's to be expected in my condition,” the man ended somewhat bitterly. Harry stood up realising that now he was definitely eavesdropping. He made his way cautiously into the old kitchen. It wasn't very modern and completely different to the one Aunt Petunia had created for Privet Drive. The main colour theme was brown and the presses were missing doors and had eternal stains imprinted onto them.

The two people who occupied the kitchen looked slightly taken aback when Harry seemed to appear out of nowhere. Mrs. Figg was standing beside the counter and after greeting Harry returned to making the tea. Harry's eyes made their way to the person sitting at the large round table which took up most of the room in the kitchen. The man looked exhausted as if he had just recovered from an illness. He was dressed in very shabby attire which was covered with a long patched trench coat. His face would have seemed quite gaunt had he not been wearing a kind smile. Even though he looked young his hair was flecked with grey. His brown eyes told Harry that this man had seen a lot of dangerous times that were well beyond anyone's years.

As Harry looked at the man an unknown silence came upon the room. It seemed as if both Harry and the man were seeing more than what was before their eyes. Then a voice interrupted their thoughts. “Harry, this is Remus Lupin. He was a friend of your fathers.”

Harry stopped slightly and after a moment of reflection he stretched out his hand. “It's nice to meet you, Mr. Lupin,” he said quietly. Lupin smiled and shook his head while shaking Harry's hand. “Please call me Remus. There's no need to be so formal.” Harry took the seat opposite the man.

“So what brings you here?” Harry asked, curious to know what would bring a sick wizard into the muggle world. Lupin looked quite taken aback but immediately recovered. “Well to check on you. Make sure you're recovering.”

Harry shook his head, his insecurity increasing. “Why shouldn't I be?” he said bluntly. He was growing terse and the feeling that something was going on behind his back, under someone else's supervision, wasn't helping his anger. “Well for one you haven't been bathing your wound which, if left unchecked, would undoubtedly result in an infection,” Lupin replied coolly indicating the back of Harry's right hand. Harry immediately dropped his gaze to his own hand and covered it with his sleeve. The wound which had been inflicted by Quirrell's knife was still very visible. He hadn't had it checked by Madam Pomfrey as he had been advised to do before leaving Hogwarts for the summer.

“Harry, I'm not a threat. You don't have to protect yourself against me. I'm here on Professor Dumbledore's orders. He wants to make sure you're fit and ready to return to school in two weeks time.” Lupin seemed to be giving him time to let the words sink in.

“What do you mean Dumbledore's orders? Are you the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher?” Harry inquired. Lupin immediately grew uncomfortable. “Er…no. I work for Professor Dumbledore rarely. But under the circumstances there wasn't anyone else who could check on you. Also we have to make a trip to Diagon Alley to get your new books and supplies,” he finished.

“I'm sorry if I seem rude. I just don't like having the truth held from me,” Harry apologized, slightly ashamed at his continuous barrage of questions. In return Lupin let out a short laugh. “Nobody does. I assure you. Why don't you go and get ready? We'll be leaving shortly.”

Harry made his way up the stairs and opened his bedroom door to be filled with a sense of suspicion. He stood framed in the doorway, his hand remaining on the doorknob. A breeze caught his face and he turned to see the window, which was previously shut, now ajar. Suddenly he heard a dry sob coming from under his bed. Then a spindly hand could be seen from under the bed and soon Harry was staring at a short creature with large bat like ears and enormous ears. The creature was obviously sobbing and every now and again Harry heard it hiccup.

The creature was wearing what appeared to be a dirty old rag for clothes. Its large green eyes were filled with tears which made Harry enter his room and shut the door behind him. Also the obvious blood stains on the creature's hands and rags made Harry think that the creature had suffered abuse. Plucking up the courage Harry decided to begin the conversation. “You're a house-elf, right?” he asked as politely as he could. He had read about the creatures which had entered into the servitude of wizards many years ago.

The creature looked up at Harry with wonder in his eyes. His sobbing ceased and then he bowed graciously with a loud `yes sir'. Harry made his way carefully into the room. “May I ask what you are doing here? Are you running away from the family whom you serve?” He had good reason to, thought Harry.

Once again the house-elf began to sob and Harry saw horrible fear in the creature's eyes. “No, sir. Dobby is forbidden to do so, sir. He will suffer much for coming here and leaving his family, even for a small amount of time.”

“Well Dobby,” Harry started with mock cheer, trying to calm him down. “Why are you here?”

“Dobby must warn Harry Potter,” the creature began. His voice was no longer feeble but had grown to an almost commanding tone. “Harry Potter must not return to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

A deafening silence answered these words. Harry felt as if he had missed something very important. “I'm sorry. I think I misheard you,” he said, knowing full well he had heard every last syllable.

“Harry Potter must not return to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” Dobby repeated.

“Well, that's kind of hard to do considering I'm a student there and all my friends are there…”

“Friends who don't send Harry Potter any mail or any presents,” said Dobby, as if accusing Harry's friends of treason.

Something clicked in Harry's mind. “Now, how would you know I haven't received any mail?' he said, knowing the answer.

Dobby immediately started sobbing again. It was a pitiful sight which seemed to dissipate Harry's anger. “Harry Potter must not be angry at Dobby, Sir. But he thought if Harry Potter thought that his friends had forgotten him, he would not wish to return to Hogwarts.”

“Dobby, what's going to happen? Why are you doing this?” Harry said intensely.

“There is a danger at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Witchcraft this year that has not faced the school in over half a century. No power can stand against it. It is stirring as we speak. Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts.”

Harry just stood astonished. Was this what the nightmares were about? It answered a lot of questions if it was. “Dobby,” Harry said kneeling down beside the frightened house-elf who was now shaking from some internal battle. “Does this have something to do with Voldemort?”

Dobby immediately screwed his eyes up and wincing, placed his hands over his enormous ears. “Do not speak His name! He who brought so much evil and suffering.”

Harry needed answers. “Is it him?!”

Dobby immediately started banging his head off Harry's wooden, very solid floor. “I'll take that as a yes,” said Harry quietly. He grabbed Dobby and lifted him onto his bed, where Dobby, obviously shocked at the behaviour of Harry towards him, stopped moving.

“I forbid you to hurt yourself,” said Harry hoping it would work. Dobby didn't speak a word. He just remained still and silent. “Why are you telling me this if there is nothing I can do to stop it? Why are you warning me?” Harry demanded.

Slowly Dobby lifted his head to look into Harry's eyes. “Because, sir, you are Harry Potter. To House Elves, you are a saviour. If He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named returns, you must be far away. Far from danger and pain.”

Harry sighed at Dobby's words. How could anybody or anything value one person's life over another? “How do you know about this? Where did you get your information?” Harry ordered.

Dobby immediately closed his mouth and placed his hands over his mouth. “Dobby, please,” Harry pleaded. Realising Dobby wasn't going to budge Harry tried a different approach. “The ministry? A friend? Your family...” Dobby shut his eyes and shook his head.

“Who are your family, Dobby? Tell me…who are they?” Harry shouted grabbing his bony shoulders. Suddenly there was a creak on the stair outside and Harry immediately spun around when he heard Lupin's voice call. “Harry, are you alright?” There was a small crack and Harry turned around again to see he wasn't holding Dobby anymore, just thin air.

After a moment Harry opened his bedroom door to find a very confused Lupin. “Sorry, I could have sworn I heard someone talking.”

“No, just me up here,” Harry replied.

Harry grabbed a trench coat, a long green one which Mrs. Figg had given him, and some money which he had left over from his first trip to Gringotts, the wizard's bank located in Diagon Alley. This saved them from having to battle the crowds of people that were usually found in Gringotts.

“We'll take a portkey to our destination which will be the Leaky Cauldron. A portkey is an enchanted, usually inanimate, object that is used to transport people to other predestined areas,” explained Lupin as they stepped into the kitchen. Mrs. Figg was preparing the cats food. There were six large bowls placed on the ground and empty tins remained on the counter.

“Do you want anything while we're in Diagon Alley?” Harry asked politely.

“Oh, no thank you dear. You two enjoy yourselves,” Mrs. Figg chuckled.

“Will do,” said Lupin lifting a cracked mug off the table. Harry, guessing this was the portkey, moved forward and placed a hand on the old object. “Three, two, one...” he heard Lupin say. Immediately Harry felt a pull behind his navel and felt his feet leave the ground. He seemed to watch the world spin before his eyes before he slammed into the ground again. His knees buckled under the shock force and he fell to the ground.

Lupin helped Harry to his feet. Harry immediately recognised the old shabby pub they had entered as The Leaky Cauldron, where he had stayed previous to attending Hogwarts.

“Shall we go to the Apothecary first?” asked Lupin. “You need to get new potion supplies, I presume. Also we might find something to heal that wound on your hand.” Harry agreed and they made their way out into the little courtyard that held the entrance to Diagon Alley. Somebody had already opened the arch in the wall so they walked through it uneventfully.

As they made their way down the packed street in silence Harry searched the crowd for any suspicious signs. The talk with Dobby seemed to have awakened his senses mightily. But he was so focused on watching the other consumers at work that he didn't look where he was going and walked head on into to someone.

“Watch it, Potter,” he heard someone drawl. He looked up to see Professor Snape, still in his black attire, wearing an idle and disinterested look upon his face.

“Are you alright?' Lupin asked worriedly as he came over to them. “Ah…Severus.”

“Lupin,” said Snape dangerously. Harry immediately knew there was something between Snape and Lupin. He could see that both men were withholding from saying something. The tension in the air seemed to grow and Harry took a deep breath as if bracing himself. Then Snape withdrew his glare from Lupin and turned to face Harry again. “Well?! What do you say?”

Harry hesitated a moment, his anger and hatred of Snape blinding him. But then he rationalised that he owed Snape after believing him to be a murderer. “Sorry,” he said shortly.

“Sorry, Professor,” Snape replied. Then he sighed dramatically. “Tut, how extraordinarily like James you are,” he spat before striding off into the bustling crowd. Lupin watched Snape as he retreated down the street and turned to see Harry wearing a bewildered expression. “Who's James?” Harry asked in a puzzled voice. Harry turned to see the strange vacant expression on Lupin's face. He seemed to clear his throat before answering.

“Your father,' he said quietly as if the words pained him to say. Harry felt something rip in his heart as if he had just been impaled with a fresh new spear of pain. Everything seemed to stop for a few moments. Harry felt as if he was surrounded by glass as the sound around him immediately disappeared under a wave of thoughts. How had he gone through a year at Hogwarts without the knowledge of his parents names? He could've asked so many people, Hagrid, Dumbledore or some of the other professors. Before Hogwarts he had always wanted to know their names or anything about. More than what Aunt Petunia would have to remark about his father or insult his mother.

“Are you okay?” asked Lupin quietly. Harry seemed to come out of his reverie. “Er…yeah. I'm fine. Just…you know,” he replied. Lupin nodded his head sympathetically. Harry noticed he looked uncomfortable. “Well we best get going. The quicker we start the faster we get home,” Lupin tried cheerfully. He made to start down the street again but stopped when Harry asked “What was her name?”

A deep thoughtful look appeared on Lupin's features and he seemed to be remembering a different time. He stood frozen in the middle of the busy street contrasting with the constant movement of the crowd. Then he looked at Harry solemnly. “Lily. Lily Evans,” he whispered.

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

-->

He sat silently in the corner observing the aged pub's customers. Most of them were just tucking into their lunches, the smell of boiled cabbage drifting through the room mingling with the alcoholic scent. Lupin had gone to order some lunch from Tom. Harry was left alone with his thoughts. He had barely spoken to Lupin since he had mentioned his parents. Shopping in Diagon Alley had been rather uneventful except for the large crowd they had met in Flourish and Blotts.

A large throng of bustling females had been pushing and shoving their way into the already crammed shop. Both Harry and Lupin sighed when they anticipated a long wait to be served. Harry noticed that most of the women seemed to be middle aged housewives, surrounded by small children and a mass of shopping bags.

After forcing their way to the counter Harry realised that the queue of women was actually heading to the back of the shop. “Why is there such a crowd?' Lupin asked the harassed looking shopkeeper.

“Gilderoy Lockhart is having a book-signing,” the shop's owner replied acrimoniously. “All words if you ask me,” he finished, handing Harry his bag of newly bought books.

“Didn't he write most of the books for Defense Against the Dark Arts this year?” Harry cut in.

“Well,” said the sour shop-owner “apparently he's after taking the position at Hogwarts. Headmaster must have been pretty desperate.”

As they were making their way out of the shop somebody bumped into Harry which sent him crashing to the ground, his books spilling from his bag. `Harry Potter!!” cried a voice of astonishment from above him. Before he knew what was happening he had been pulled unceremoniously to his feet and dragged down through the crowd. He caught a glimpse of the man who was directing him and saw he was short with a blue cape and a tall hat perched carelessly on the side of his head. An enormous camera was hung around his neck.

When they had reached the end of the gathering Harry found himself thrown into a desk which was completely covered in books with the image of man with golden wavy hair, bright blue eyes and a cheeky twinkling smile. Harry also noted the amount of photographs piled on the mahogany desk. “Look who I found, Mr. Lockhart,” bellowed the photographer.

As Harry straightened himself out he saw the real Gilderoy Lockhart standing in lurid pink robes with a look of amazement plastered on his face. Then, quite suddenly he nearly jumped across the table and pulled Harry to him, pinning him to his side. “Come on Harry, big smile. Together we make the front page.”

After what seemed like a million flashes which left Harry feeling dazed, he pulled away from Lockhart and battled his way out of the shop. He could still hear Lockhart hollering about how glorious a day it was. Harry had cursed himself at being caught unaware of what was happening. Lupin was waiting with his shopping bags and a grimace at the exit to the shop. Asking if he was okay they decided they were finished shopping for the day and had returned to the Leaky Cauldron where Harry now sat in the corner mulling over the day's events, everything from the nightmares to Lockhart.

Lupin returned carrying two plates filled with steaming food. Seeing the thoughtful look on Harry's face, he decided it was time to explain about knowing his parents. He had been putting it off since he had met Harry. It still pained him to talk about his best friend but when he thought about how much Harry had endured and how little he knew of his past, he knew it was worth retelling their story. He started brightly telling the story, knowing this was the way James would've probably told it. “Well, a long time ago, in a castle not too far away, there was your great prat of a father and your wonderful, most beautiful mother….”

He told Harry almost everything about his parents at Hogwarts deciding to leave out the bit with the dangerous werewolf. From the expression on Harry's face, Lupin guessed he liked the fact that his father was one of the best practical jokers ever and that he lived for April Fools Day. He told of how Lily at first disliked James but ended up loving him and how they married soon after leaving Hogwarts. He also told of the enmity between his father and Snape and briefly mentioned where James had saved his life, not wishing to go into great detail.

Harry knew that he would find it hard hearing about his parents but he couldn't help feeling a sense of closure as Lupin told as many stories as he could. Feeling he had gained a much better picture of his parents he thanked Lupin sincerely. The information he had given him was priceless. Sometime during their talking they had started eating but Harry can honestly say he had no idea what he was eating. They sat there for many hours, Lupin answering Harry's questions and then Lupin asking questions about Harry and how he was. Harry told him a little of his life at the Dursley's but wasn't inclined to tell his whole life. He had a suspicion that Lupin knew much of it already.

Tom came over to their table and with a wave of his wand cleared it of plates, knives, forks and glasses. Lupin ordered a glass of wine and Harry got some pumpkin juice. Suddenly Harry heard his own name and stood up just before somebody flung their arms around him in an inescapable bear hug. Harry recognized the brown curly hair immediately and returned the hug slightly. “Hey Hermione,” he whispered, his breath dangerously constricted. Somewhere in the pit of his stomach Harry felt as if a weight had been lifted by the presence of Hermione. He had endured nearly two months without any sight or sound of her.

“Harry,” she cried pulling away from him. “Why didn't you reply to my letters?” Harry knew from her tone of voice that she had been deeply hurt from his absence of letters. Harry didn't want to tell her the reason in front of Lupin and Hermione's parents who had just appeared behind her. Harry smiled and nodded his head at Mr. Granger in recognition. Lupin stood up immediately and shook both Mr. and Mrs. Granger's hands. Harry returned his gaze to Hermione's worried expression as the adults began small talk. “It's a really long story. I'll tell you later. But I didn't get any of your letters.”

A confused look came across Hermione's face and she shook her head agreeing with Harry's idea to talk about it later. “Well we're just finished getting Hermione's things for school. There was a really raucous crowd out there earlier,” admonished Mrs. Granger.

“There was a book signing in Flourish and Blotts. Gilderoy Lockhart. He is somewhat of a hero according to his books,” explained Lupin, the skepticism apparent in his voice.

“Oh yes!!” exclaimed Hermione, suddenly coming to life. “He really is a wonderful wizard. He's done tons of absolutely wonderful things, rescuing entire villages from werewolves or battling trolls and defeating vampires.” As she said this a dreamy expression came upon her face.

Harry frowned at Hermione. “What?” she said pouting.

“Nothing,” said Harry looking away from her. Secretly he was annoyed at Hermione's behaviour. He thought she was acting quite idealistic of Lockhart. Harry certainly didn't think Lockhart had achieved anything of what he had written.

The conversation continued for another few minutes, the topic changing from Lockhart to Hogwarts. Hermione nearly jumped out of her seat with the excitement at the news that Lockhart was going to teach at Hogwarts. When Lupin announced it was time for them to leave Hermione became suddenly sullen.

“Well I suppose I'll see you on the train,” said Harry trying to lighten the sad mood that had descended between them.

“Yeah,” replied Hermione, smiling sweetly. She hugged him again this time lingering for a moment longer. Harry got the feeling she didn't want to let go and if he was honest with himself, apart of him didn't want to let go either.

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

They said goodbye to the Granger's who made their way out into Muggle London. Harry and Lupin were arranged to take a portkey back to Little Whinging. Laden with shopping bags they made their way into a wood panelled back room. An old dirty boot awaited them. With a quick glance at his watch Lupin counted down and soon Harry again felt a pull and found himself standing in Mrs. Figg's kitchen.

But something was amiss and Harry felt it immediately. It seemed that Lupin also did. He motioned for Harry to remain quiet. There was an eerie silence in the house and with a quick glance around the kitchen Harry noted that it seemed to have been pulled apart. The press doors had been completely ripped off the cupboards and the kitchen table was now leaning precariously on two legs. The brown soggy cat food tins had been knocked to the floor and the substance was now seeping onto the grey kitchen tiles.

Lupin crept closer to the door frame and quickly jumped into the brightly lit hall once he made sure nobody was waiting there. Harry followed him and suddenly sensed someone in the other room. Instantly a flash of blue light burst through the door leading to the sitting room. The door was demolished to splinters and Lupin was thrown back into the stairs, where he hit his head and slumped to the ground. Harry had also been thrown to the ground by the force of the explosion but remained conscious enough to witness three cloaked figures walking steadily over to Lupin's lifeless body. Then from somewhere there was a loud booming shout and the three figures retreated and with a sharp crack disappeared.

Harry pulled himself to his feet with a groan of pain. His head was still spinning and he was faintly aware of a cut on his forehead, the blood of which was seeping into his eyes. He stumbled over to Lupin's body, but before he fell beside it someone caught him from behind and steadied him on his feet. The strong hands didn't let go of Harry as he watched Albus Dumbledore turn Lupin gently over and examine him. Removing his wand from his magnificent mauve robes he whispered a few words and Harry saw Lupin stir slightly.

“Oh my head,” Lupin grunted as Dumbledore lifted him into a sitting position. Harry released a breath he had been unconsciously holding. Relief must have shown on his face because when Lupin looked at him he smiled lightly and said “Don't worry. It takes more than a knock on the head to take someone like me out of action.”

Dumbledore helped him to his feet. It was then Harry noticed that the man who had caught him before he had fallen was still holding onto his forearm. When Harry turned to see who it was, the man let go instantly and didn't meet Harry's eye, instead his cheeks became tinged with red from embarrassment which immediately vanished when Dumbledore announced that they should go through to the living room.

Harry swayed a little but managed to correct his imbalance. His head was throbbing still but it had calmed down significantly. He again returned his attention to the stranger who had prevented his fall. He was quite tall, about a head shorter than Professor Dumbledore. He was wearing a very respectable tweed-suit and a deep red jumper underneath with a wine tie, which perplexed Harry as to why he was wearing muggle-clothing if he had arrived with Dumbledore. His hair was cut short and like Lupin's had flecks of grey through it. He was wearing spectacles which had thin metal frames and suited him perfectly. He didn't look old yet there were lines of worry etched on his face making him seem older. His clothes didn't exactly proclaim his youth either. His eyes were a dark sapphire blue, unlike Dumbledore's bright electric blue ones.

Harry and the man followed Dumbledore into the sitting room which was also completely destroyed. Harry took in the site before him, his face remaining impassive. Dust from the explosion covered the old worn couch and also enveloped the once intense wine carpet. Dust and pieces of plaster still hung thick in the air and Lupin, who had moved over to lean on the couch, pulled the collar of his coat higher so he wouldn't breathe in the dirt.

Suddenly they heard someone coughing behind the couch. All four wizards made in the direction of the noise and found Mrs. Figg lying on the powdery white floor. Her hands and feet had been bound by thick rope which Dumbledore immediately cut with a wave of his hand. Supported by the stranger, she managed to make it over to the couch. She was breathing heavily, still in shock, but she was capable of speech and told them what had happened.

“They appeared out of nowhere and immediately struck me down. I don't remember much after that. I woke up and they were rooting through all my possessions. They were looking for something. I'm sure of it.” She took a shaky breath and continued. “I couldn't see their faces. They…they were hooded and cloaked in black. They...” she shuddered and closed her eyes as if trying to prevent herself from saying something. Then she whispered. “They looked like Death Eaters.”

Dumbledore shut his eyes and sighed heavily. Harry guessed he had been expecting this but not so soon. Lupin's face was a total mask of shock. He seemed to be shaking his head in disbelief. The stranger strode across the room and sat on the arm rest of the chair. Leaning forward he put his head in his hands and sighed with an air of defeat. Harry just remained motionless. His brain was still trying to absorb the information. The undeniable truth that even though Lord Voldemort had not yet risen, his followers had begun to regroup. Dumbledore had informed Harry of the horror and pain the Death Eaters had inflicted upon both the wizarding and muggle community's alike. They tormented, murdered and drove people to insanity.

“So what shall we do now Dumbledore?” said the tweed suited man. He had a very distinct English accent which told Harry the man obviously grew up in a wealthy, well spoken family and that he was well educated.

“I think both Remus and Arabella should visit St. Mungo's. Harry must be relocated immediately,” he said solemnly. The quiet that had graced the room was immediately gone as Lupin stood up abruptly and cried “Shouldn't we reform the Order instantly.”

“No!” Dumbledore warned harshly. “We will not risk this getting out. Not yet. We have been aware of some of the Death Eater's movements but this is the first time they have struck. I was wrong to underestimate what their current motives were. Also, there is only a small group of them and if words gets out that they are regrouping…well we might as well put an advertisement in the newspaper.

But I do not think that it was by mere chance they arrived here, where Harry was. Nor do I think they wanted a public affair. There is no dark mark above the house. They were on Voldemort's orders, we must not forget that. Hopefully we have stopped or prevented their plans, even it is for only a short period of time.”

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

Lupin and Mrs. Figg took a portkey to the hospital, St. Mungo's. Harry had felt guilty saying goodbye to Lupin as it was his fault he had been in Little Whinging in the first place. Now it was just Dumbledore, Harry and the stranger left in the silence of the wreckage. For a few moments nothing was said, until Dumbledore stepped forward and motioned with a wave of his hand to the man.

“Ah, Harry. I would like you to meet Mr. Ethan Davis. He is an old friend and a past student of mine.”

Mr. Davis stepped forward uneasily and shook Harry's hand before stepping back to his original position. Harry looked back to Dumbledore who was surveying their actions over his gold rimmed spectacles.

“Why did you place me here if I wasn't protected?” Harry said suddenly, voicing his thoughts. “I…I didn't think Mrs. Figg was under any threat but she was and you knew she was.”

Dumbledore didn't look away from Harry's intense stare nor did he try to defend his actions. “Harry, I will not lie to you. I failed to provide you safety but I didn't think the Dursley's would keep you safe either. The Dursley's would perhaps keep you alive but to whether they would destroy your mind, your personality, your humanity….we could never foretell the damage. Without these characteristics, without your morality and your heart, you could never dream to kill Voldemort. And as that is what you must do, according to the prophecy, then you need them as much as you need magic to aid you.”

Harry gave Dumbledore a questioning look as to why he was mentioning the prophecy in front of Mr. Davis. Dumbledore smiled gently. “Don't worry Harry. Mr. Davis knows about the prophecy. You asked me, before the end of last year, for help in the fight against Voldemort. Under no circumstances could I teach you without raising suspicions with the Ministry, the staff or the ever curious students of Hogwarts.”

Mr. Davis was now standing shadowed in the corner. The orange sun now hung low in the sky taking its last breath before falling beneath the horizon. Harry had many questions to ask but his head was still pounding. He decided to begin with the obvious one. “How does Mr. Davis know of the prophecy?”

Dumbledore was about to speak but Mr. Davis stepped forward. “I was once an Unspeakable, working for the Department of Mysteries. It is one of the most secret departments of the Ministry and security has never been breached. Research into the deepest magic and mysteries known to mankind is carried out deep beneath the Ministry's atrium. For many years prophecies have been brought forward to the department for keeping and also safety. Prophecies are a dangerous thing to be held responsible for even if you are involved. As an unspeakable it is mandatory that we merely place the prophecies in a safe room, perform the security spells and then leave. We are forbidden to get any information about the prophecy; we are mere carriers of the spheres into which the prophecy is copied.”

He stopped for moment as if thinking about how to proceed. “Then one day I was approached by a very reputable wizard. My old headmaster in fact. Professor Dumbledore asked to me take control over the carrying of a certain prophecy. I could certainly have had that arranged, but then he asked me to do something that would certainly change my life. He asked me to listen to its contents.”

Harry gave Dumbledore a confused glance. `You see Harry I was afraid that you would never hear the prophecy. That you would be murdered and never know the reason for it. By telling Ethan I was assuring that someone would at least be able to reach you if the worst happened and I was killed. I trust Ethan wholly. He is an experienced wizard and his knowledge of Dark Magic, while being intimidating and dangerous, will also aid you on your path.”

Mr. Davis seemed to grow uncomfortable with Dumbledore's compliments. “Er…right…to continue,” he stammered. “Well, I heard the prophecy and finally understood Professor Dumbledore's doubts and his reservations for leaving the prophecy under the hand of the Ministry. As we learnt from the first war, the ministry can easily be corrupted. So I agreed with Dumbledore and after the downfall of Voldemort we remained on alert but also knew it would be a few years before his return. And now…it pains me to say it but we must accept it, that the wheels are in motion for a second war on the wizarding world.”

Silence struck the room as each wizard thought about the words spoken. Harry thought there would be more time, that Voldemort would need more preparation. He wasn't ready to fight. He could only dread what he was up against. Dumbledore strode forward and his eyes glinted as the last shaft of sunlight illuminated the room. “We do not know when they will strike again. From what I can deduce they are most likely looking for a way to resume Lord Voldemort to his previous health.”

“But then what were they doing here?!” Harry nearly shouted.

“They were here for you,” Mr. Davis said with such intensity that Harry immediately spun around and looked at him. He dark eyes were surveying Harry, as if waiting to see how he would react.

“I don't understand,” Harry resigned. His head had begun to throb again.

“Nor did they,” Davis continued. “For thousands of years, ways of retaining and regenerating health have been explored. Not many have succeeded. But there have been certain cases where a person on the edge of life has recovered to near full health. Potions usually have a major part in the restoration of life. So I assume they're going to use them. From my research, I think you might be a main ingredient.”

“Now…I'm not sure but from Mrs. Figg's account of what happened I can only deduce they were looking for something which they didn't find. My guess is Voldemort told them to look here for their ingredient, meaning you, and the Death Eaters never thought to even think of you. This…” he said, placing his hands in his pockets, “suggests that Voldemort has limited communication with his Death Eaters. He has more than likely been smuggled out of the country.”

Harry sighed and made his way over to sit on the couch. Voldemort needed him, Harry, to rise again. His chances of living a normal life were really slimming down. Dumbledore turned to Mr. Davis. “That's an excellent deduction, Ethan. I see you still haven't lost your admirable talent for solving cases.”

“Yes…well,” Davis said with a nervous laugh. “One does need their wits about them in dealing with such dire things.”

Dumbledore quietly went over and sat beside Harry on the couch. “I thought that having you near enough the Dursleys would protect you as the wards reach farther than the actual house. I also had some people positioned to watch over you. Their understanding was that you could be affected by the events of last year. Harry, I know now that keeping you safe could mean harm for others but…”

“But nothing!” said Harry standing up. He had his back to both the still figures behind him. “I don't want to stay here. It's too dangerous,” he said, his voice breaking. He coughed, clearing his throat so they wouldn't think of him as fragile. He didn't like to show such emotion in front of others. The fact remained that if it wasn't for him, Mrs. Figg wouldn't have been in danger and if he remained here then she would continue to be put in danger. He closed his eyes and hung his head in defeat. “So, where do I go now?”

“Well, I'm going back to Hogwarts tonight. Maybe…if Professor Dumbledore allows it…you could stay at the castle for the remainder of your holidays. We could start your training immediately,” Mr. Davis offered. Harry thought about it. The extra training was certainly promising but then he remembered Dobby's warning. This all obviously tied together. There wasn't enough time to even suggest coincidences.

“Well I think that would be an excellent idea. What say you Harry?” Dumbledore requested. Turning around slowly Harry nodded his head. “Yeah. That sounds good.” If there was danger at Hogwarts he wanted to see if there were any signs of it. Dobby could easily have been bluffing or on orders from his family, though Harry doubted it considering Dobby's fearful, hysterical behaviour.

-->

Harry now stood in Dumbledore magnificent circular office with his trunk and Hedwig's empty cage. Dumbledore vanished the heavy luggage with a wave of his wand. The sun was now completely gone, darkness shrouding the fresh summer grounds of Hogwarts. Harry still felt slightly dizzy from his first experience of Floo powder. The spinning sensation he had endured made his already throbbing head seem to want to explode.

He quickly made his way over to one of the lavish chairs Dumbledore had for guests and leaned against it for support. When Dumbledore saw this he made towards Harry and with a wave of his wand patched up Harry's head so the unhurried drops of blood ceased and the wound was sealed. “Forgive me Harry. I was distracted with the number of unfortunate events this day had for us.”

Harry nodded in acceptance of Dumbledore's apology. “What will you be doing at Hogwarts? I mean surely someone will notice you in the castle?” he asked Mr. Davis who had made his way over to Dumbledore's desk. Picking up a heavy leather-bound book he tucked it under his arm before answering Harry's question. “Well, I'll assume the role of the school librarian. Helping out Madam Pince,” he said wryly as if sincerely regretting that part of the deal. “But,” he continued “Professor Dumbledore has magically enlarged the library and there is now a more ancient sector at the back. That is where most of our training will take place. The books from the Restricted Section will be placed there so students won't interrupt that often, if at all.”

Harry again nodded his head, having nothing more to say. Dumbledore took his seat behind his expansive desk and looked over his thin spectacles at Davis. “I trust Ethan you would like to begin immediately.”

“Er…yes,” he replied quietly, walking over to the door and opening it. Harry felt slightly apprehensive about being trained by somebody he didn't know. But he also got the feeling that Mr. Davis was a shy, timid person who probably felt the same. From the past few hours Harry guessed that Mr. Davis did not go out a lot and probably didn't have a lot of dealings with people. He seemed very introverted and withdrawn from conversations, which gave him a sense of innocence that Harry couldn't ignore.

With one last look at Professor Dumbledore Harry made his way out to the winding staircase that preceded the oak entrance. He heard the click as Mr. Davis closed the heavy door and followed him. When the stair had finished revolving, both wizards stepped out and Harry not knowing where they were headed stayed a step behind Mr. Davis. Soon, after a brisk walk, Harry found himself outside the doors of the familiar library. With a wave of Davis' hand the entrance doors opened. The library looked eerier than ever. Harry thought he heard whispers coming from within the books. Histories of battles, fantastic wizards and renowned witches calling out to be read.

Davis strode down to the very back of the library where the Restricted Section was usually to be found and Harry was shocked to find a new wooden door with heavy bolts fixed to it. “Not only will a student need written permission to enter this area but they will also need to be accompanied by a teacher,” admonished Davis.

“Do the teachers know what you are doing here?” Harry inquired hesitantly.

“Of course not,” he replied abruptly as if the idea was absurd. He was now drawing back the bolts. “I think Professor Dumbledore told them I was doing extra research into muggle and magical zoology….as well as helping with Madam Pince,” he finished again ruefully.

He pulled forcefully on the door and it opened slowly. Davis gestured for Harry to walk through first. When Harry entered the new sector of the library his jaw nearly hit the floor. It was a wide oval room, an expanse of marble laid out on the floor. A small stair led to the carpeted upper level of the room which was filled with bookshelves. A large table was stretched out in the middle of the marble floor. It was covered in books that were opened, their dusty pages looking up upon the gaping ceiling. Mr. Davis strolled nonchalantly over to the table and placed the book he had been keeping under his arm on the table with a large thump.

Harry followed him to the table and his eyes immediately took in the covers of the books that lay before him. Titles written in large gold and silver letters instantly grabbed his attention. Dictionary of Ancient Deities, Dictionary of Angels-Including the Fallen Angels, Encyclopedia of Hell and Upir & Nelapsi.

Harry gave Mr. Davis a questioning look. In answer to his unspoken question Davis slid the huge book in his hands across to Harry. Harry read the title Demonology.

“Do you like reading this sort of…thing,” said Harry cautiously. Davis seemed to stop to think for a moment. “Well its research. It is quite interesting and no doubt will come in handy when Voldemort moves out into the open again.”

When he received another questioning look from Harry he continued. “You see Harry. Lord Voldemort will probably face us with every evil he has ever encountered. When or if he returns he will send out messengers to every corner of the earth, gathering his malevolent army of before. There are not just Death Eaters under his control. Vampires, trolls, the most sinful of demons, everything you have ever feared. He will try to resurrect hell and destroy all hope, creating a world of despair and utter fear. Because that is how you take control…you make everyone who stands against you, fear you,” he finished. He had been talking himself into a frenzy but after he had finished he made his way around the table and sat in one of the wooden chairs.

“Way to calm me down,” said Harry somewhat sardonically. Davis chose to ignore his comment and removing a small cloth from his tweed pocket he took off his glasses and wiped them. Harry guessed this was a habit of his for there were no marks on them. With a sigh he gestured for Harry to sit down. “It is apparent that most of the wizarding world fears Voldemort already. His name strikes fear into the hearts of nearly all the wizarding population of Britain. I do not mean to frighten you. But you…you must come to realize, if you haven't already, what this task appointed to you truly means. It is you and you alone that can finish his evil and release people from their fear.”

Harry nodded in agreement. He didn't want this; he didn't want any of it. He felt like he was giving up something that he had not even experienced. Life seemed to dwindle and die in front of him. But so many people had died in order for the prophecy to be heard and fulfilled that he couldn't step away from the path before him.

A voice awakened him from his quiet reverie. “You can still live your life. Life is your greatest ally when fighting evil for evil feeds on life. And if you face it with emptiness you will be destroyed at once,” Davis said feverishly.

“But how do I fight evil. I'm twelve!” Harry shouted skeptically. All his doubts seemed to surface at that moment. His fear seemed to escalate and with a yell he threw one of the largest books across the room. It collided with the floor and skidded to a halt just at the bottom of the stair. Harry looked away not wanting to talk to Davis anymore. The man knew nothing of what he had to do. What he would have to give up. He seemed to think Harry was this all powerful being but he was just a boy. With a sigh he slowly turned back around to see Davis' bemused expression.

“With that,” said Mr. Davis simply, pointing at the now desolate book. “That book is one of the largest I have I my collection. You just threw it as if it were a copybook.”

“Anger, Harry, is one of the most powerful forces in this world,” Mr. Davis said striding over and picking up the book. “Voldemort has it. But his is fuelled by hatred and greed. Yours however is based upon love, passion and emotion. Don't get me wrong,” he continued, putting the book back on the table “anger can sometimes lead you to recklessness and wild actions. But if you learn to control and use it, it will make you unstoppable.”

Davis seemed to be in his element. Harry noticed he hadn't stuttered since entering the room. His words while warning Harry seemed to bring comfort. Some hope among his fear. He was certainly capable of conjuring anger with his experience of life. “And now for how you really fight Voldemort,” said Mr. Davis standing opposite him on the other side of the table.

Suddenly Mr. Davis threw, with some ferocity, a thick green book across the table in Harry's direction. Harry's `other sense' immediately kicked in, and he caught it abruptly just before it hit his face. Absolute silence descended on the room and Harry wondered momentarily what on earth was happening. He lowered the book and found Davis with a small grin on his face and narrowed eyes. “Since the beginning of prophecies, this is essentially the beginning of time, a prophecy, which has dire consequences that can change the way of the world, brings with it a power to the Chosen One.”

“For thousands of years those who study the prophecies have looked for the One who would bring this power. It a story told to all Unspeakables. A prophecy of a prophecy one could say. Today it is told as a myth. But something about the way Dumbledore spoke of this prophecy told me that this was the one that would bring with it the Power.”

“What is the Power?” Harry asked. Suddenly things seemed to be falling into place.

“The Power is that which is given to the Chosen One. Strength, stamina and super reflexes are just some of the physical assets. But it will also influence your magical ability as well,” he replied astonished as if he still couldn't believe it. After a minute of wondering at the possibilities, he calmed slightly. “You've felt it. You've used it haven't you?” he asked seriously.

“Yes, I put it down to a car crash that I'd had a few months before I first felt it,” said Harry. “Any time I was in serious danger, everything…everything seemed to slow down. I could move faster and think faster than anyone or anything else. But it seems to just come and go, how do I…control it?”

“Well that is one of the first things we'll need to discover. I suppose you can control it with your mind just as you can control your body. We'll need to find references to other times this has happened. I'm sure it has happened before,” Davis said thoughtfully. A comfortable silence descended on the room and everything was still. Mr. Davis had returned to his seat and was now deep in thought. He had removed his glasses and was merely staring unknowingly at a book.

Harry had sunk back into his train of thought. All that he had discovered in the past few hours seemed totally unbelievable. He looked at his hands pensively. Was it true? Did he have this much power within him? Did he have a chance?

His eyes roved the overlapping books that spread across the table. The darkest creatures would be employed to kill him and he would have to face them with a brave face. His cynical side kept repeating that he was only twelve years old while his heart kept telling him that at the moment he felt about five years younger. A young child trying desperately to hide from the darkest of nightmares.

“What will you be teaching me?” Harry inquired, bringing Mr. Davis from his own trance.

“Er…well,” he began, shifting in his chair “we'll start out with some basic fighting skills, some weaponry skills, quarterstaffs and the likes. I was in the Auror program for a while so I learnt a lot of these skills. I'll also start you…”

“You were in the Auror program. I thought you were an Unspeakable,” Harry interrupted.

“Yes…I trained with the French Ministry of Magic for a number of years and completed the Auror program. I became an Unspeakable after moving back to England. I was always interested in the concepts of prophecies and the more classified branches of magic.”

Davis stopped for a moment as if remembering something and a haunted look played across his features. But it was gone just as Harry noticed it. “Sorry, Er…where was I? Oh, yes…I'll introduce you to some more complex and relatively darker magic than you would usually be exposed to in school conditions. I must warn you that under no circumstances should someone find out about this. Any of it,” he warned.

Harry immediately thought of Hermione. He hadn't told her yet of the prophecy but he assumed that at some point he would. Seeing the look on Harry's face, Davis heaved a sigh of annoyance. “Who were you planning to tell?”

“My friend,” Harry started tentatively “she's my closest friend. I was planning to tell her this year. She'll probably find out anyway. I mean what with training and all.”

“Only her,” Davis cautioned. “The less people that know about this, the better. It's an extremely dangerous situation.”

“So when do we start training?”

“Tomorrow morning, bright and early. Seven o `clock. You might as well have breakfast here as the Great Hall won't be serving. I think that the less people that know you're currently in the castle the safer it will be. You can stay in your dormitory I assume and then come straight here.”

When Harry entered Gryffindor Tower he couldn't help but feel a sense of home. It looked the same as ever, its crimson colours glittering in the firelight. Making his way up to his dormitory he found his possessions which Dumbledore had obviously sent on. He lay on his bed, a sense of relief seeping through his head for the temporary break from the pain. He didn't bother changing his clothes; instead he just closed his eyes, his tiredness overpowering him.

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

Harry woke up suddenly his chest heaving from his heavy breathing. He put his hand to his face and felt the cold sweat running down from his forehead. He sat up trying to calm himself. He had the dream again but the chanting had been louder than before. Closing his eyes he forced himself to remember the details of it but they were soon slipping away. When his heart had stopped pounding in his chest, he climbed off his bed and went to get some water. A clear water jug was always to be found in the dormitories. It refilled itself everyday. With trembling hands he poured himself some cool water and drank it thirstily.

It took awhile but Harry finally calmed down enough to catch some sleep before he started his day. This time he wasn't awoken by the mysterious mantra in his dreams.

He made his way down to the library the next day without running into anyone, which he was grateful for as he had thought about what would happen if he was to be spotted by a curious Peeves who would probably turn the whole ordeal into a limerick and repeat it every time he met Harry in the corridors.

Surprisingly the vault like door that led to the back of the library was opened. When Harry walked through to the dazzlingly lit room he found a small breakfast on the table. There were still some open volumes on the dark table, but many of them had been piled neatly on one of the chairs. He heard footsteps and turned to see Mr. Davis standing in the doorway of a small office, a cup of tea in his hand and the Daily Prophet clutched it his other.

He indicated with a nod of his head that Harry should take a seat. As Harry started on his breakfast, bacon and sausages accompanied by a fried egg, Davis scanned through the newspaper. “Good,” he finally said, throwing the paper onto a stack of books. “There have been no reports about the events of yesterday. I've also checked the muggle papers and nothing showed up there.”

When Harry had finished his breakfast Mr. Davis cleared the remains away. Harry could hear him bustling around in the little office until he returned. He was carrying padded body armour with him and deposited them on the table. As Davis turned to go back to the office Harry examined the body armour.

“This for me,” he said jokingly. Davis came back with a grimace. “No. For me actually. You'll soon realise you're significantly stronger than you feel.”

Davis who was again dressed in tweed and a sweater vest removed his tweed jacket and donned the body armour which protected his chest and then placed a helmet on his head. Harry bit his lip trying to restrain from laughing. Considering he thought Davis to be a respectable English `fellow', wearing the padding made him look completely ridiculous.

Mr. Davis returned his laughter with an annoyed glare. “You might think it funny. But I assure you that it is necessary,” he said briskly.

“What exactly will be doing?” Harry inquired.

“A bit of everything. Martial arts are essential to master your reflexes. To learn to control your `new sense' while improving your other senses is vital. Now we shall start with…”

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

Six hours later and Mr. Davis was lying flat on his back in the middle of the marble floor. He groaned as he pulled himself up with Harry's support. “Very good,” he managed to say. He was surprised to say the least at how Harry had adapted to the new moves and also his great technique.

Harry felt slightly guilty about hitting Davis but Davis demanded that he do so. They had focused on Harry's kicks and punches, Davis showing him how he could make them more powerful without losing speed in the process. Harry couldn't deny that Davis was a brilliant teacher and that he had had a lot of experience but still, he wasn't that young and much older than anybody who should have to act as Harry's punch bag.

Harry, though tired, didn't feel as drained as Davis did. He guessed that was what Davis had meant when he mentioned increased stamina. He had felt strength seep through him with every punch, his adrenaline building. Harry was brought back to his senses when he heard the evident sound of ripping Velcro and turned to see Davis removing his padded protection. “I think that is enough for the day,” he said quietly moving back into his office. He indicated for Harry to follow him. The tiny office was crammed with a mahogany desk overflowing with thick tomes. A green leather couch had been pushed into the corner. Harry was amazed at the amount of muggle objects he found in the office. A small stereo radio sat on the desk, wires had been pulled out of the back and Harry guessed that Davis used magic to power it. There was also a green study lamp sitting on the desk. Though lamps weren't that unusual, candles were the most abundant thing to be found at Hogwarts.

Harry also spotted copies of the Daily Mail and The Times lying on the floor. “You can already see that you have more strength and stamina then you had previously realised. But there is still a lot of work to be done until we can turn your training into a routine. There is still a lot more learning on your behalf,” Davis' voice came from under the desk as he searched for something. He popped up suddenly with a wide grin on his face and a muggle kettle in his hand. “Ah…tea Harry?”

“Er…yes please. How come you have so much muggle things? Are you muggle-born?” Harry inquired.

Pointing his wand at the silver kettle and muttering a spell, the kettle, though disconnected and water-less, started to boil. “Eh…no. My…my mother was a witch, my father was a…a professor at Oxford University,” he stammered and Harry knew he didn't feel comfortable discussing his parents. “But…I…I have always tried to live in the muggle world. Reality has always been easier to digest when you can't simply conjure something you need.”

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

There is another chapter. Hope you like Mr. Davis. I contemplated whether or not to bring in an extra character but I feel it makes the story a lot more different. I have one more character, she'll be an adult. More of a minor character though. By the way if anyone is wondering, Mr. Davis is not evil. Just reserved and it'll take awhile for you to see his full character as he is full of contradictions.

Again hoped you liked the chapter. Thank you so much for reading. Please leave a review if you can.

Take care,

Radagast.

-->

Throughout the next week Harry trained tirelessly. The satisfaction after each days work gave energy for the following session. Harry was completely driven while training. He hadn't felt as alive since he had first started practicing magic. The power flowing through him, supporting his stamina and bringing his world to a stop as his concentration levels impeded any other thoughts.

He couldn't begin using magic until the start of the school term but he still read up on spells and Mr. Davis had shown him some very interesting books that were devoted to sinister and threatening magic. Apparently this was some of the dark magic which Voldemort had used in the first war on the wizarding world.

Mr. Davis spoke very passionately about Dark Magic but Harry could sense the warning in his tone. Each word accompanied by caution. From what he could deduce, Harry guessed that Davis had been ordered to notify him about the risks and the choices he would make. Harry couldn't suppress his interest in the more menacing side of magic but he vowed not to stray too deep into it as others had done to their own end.

Since arriving at Hogwarts castle, Harry had only seen Mr. Davis and Professor Dumbledore. He had caught glimpses of a few teachers who he had presumed to have returned to get ready for the coming year, if they had ever left the castle in the first place. It was a peculiar experience walking through the castle to the library every morning, the sunlight bouncing off the stone walls of the corridors and the sound of birds chirping on the borders of the Forbidden Forest, and there were no students to disturb the peaceful silence, no shout to end the tranquil time that had descended on the school.

Harry thought he had got to know Davis a bit more but knew that it was only part of his character. There was still a lot more to learn about the reserved man. Harry was quite certain that as soon as the school year started Mr. Davis would probably fortify himself in the library, away from the bellowing noise and merciless students. Harry honestly couldn't blame him. He himself was growing nervous at the thought of the new year. Even though he had survived last year, he still found it intimidating being constantly surrounded by his peers. On the contrary he would get to see Hermione and to him, facing the entire school along with Snape and Co. was worth it.

Still being tormented by the shadowy nightmares, he was barely catching a few hours sleep. Even after a long day's training session. His body ached and protested for the lack of sleep but his brain just would not concede defeat subsequently making him late for training on Wednesday, one week before the new term. Davis had told him not to go to the library until six o'clock in the evening and he had tried to catch some sleep but consequently overslept.

Davis, though occasionally grumpy, found it difficult to reprimand Harry. The mildness of his temper barely allowed him to impose any restraint. He could already tell that Harry wouldn't do what he was told was right. He would do what he believed to be right.

Davis would merely give him a lecturing glare and continue with whatever they were doing. But today when Harry opened the door to the library he was immediately aware that something was amiss. Mr. Davis was sitting alone at the resolute table with a cup of tea half way to his mouth and turned and stood up immediately when Harry entered, consequently ending in half the brown tea on the floor.

“Ah…Harry, er…” he stammered. Noticing his stuttering Harry remained where he stood.

“Is everything alright?” he said eventually stepping over the threshold and entering the room

“Uh...we have a v-visitor,” Davis replied while removing his glasses and indicated the door to the office.

Harry spun around to lay eyes on their visitor. His mouth went immediately dry when he saw who it was. He had not expected to see her for another week. “Hermione,” he said stunned. She was standing silently in the door frame, looking scared and confused.

“Hey,” she said innocently with a small wave of her hand.

“What are you doing here?” Harry asked anxiously. His mind quickly ran through all of the possible scenarios that could have brought her here. “Is everything okay?” he pressed.

“I could ask the same questions,” said Hermione annoyed. She looked tired but she didn't look harmed in any way. “Professor Sinistra collected me this morning. She said Professor Dumbledore had given orders that I should be brought here.”

“I asked for you to be brought here,” said Davis firmly, standing up. He seemed to have come to a decision about something. “There is something which Harry needs to tell you.”

Seeing the look of horror that Harry gave him, Davis raised an eyebrow. “Well you wanted to tell her. It's best to get this out of the way before the school term. Also there's less chance of being overheard.”

“Er…”Harry started, really not knowing where to begin. He wished he had of had time to plan this conversation out. Though he had thought about it he could never decide whether to tell her everything or enough to keep her safe. Hermione walked silently over to stand beside him. “Harry, please tell me. What's going on?”

“Maybe we should sit down,” he managed to say running a hand through his messy black hair.

When they had all taken a seat at the table, Hermione sitting opposite Harry, Mr. Davis started the `story'. He began with the rise of Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters and told of the prophecy's contents and explained what they meant, mentioning the power of the Chosen One. Then Harry took up the tale and told Hermione about how Professor Dumbledore had revealed it to him at the end of last year and that he was receiving training from Mr. Davis.

Hermione hadn't said a word since they had started. But her face showed how she felt. It was a mixture of horror and sadness. Harry couldn't really tell. Silence descended on the room and Harry glanced at Hermione before looking back down at the wooden table. Mr. Davis, who had stood up while explaining the prophecy, seemed to have returned to his deep reverie.

“It's not fair,” Hermione's said quietly, breaking the awkward silence. Harry looked up when he heard her words. Her eyes were glistening with unshed tears and she was looking directly at him. “Why you? I mean after your parents died and…and then this. I mean…it's just not fair,” she cried, this time a bit more loudly.

“Hermione, my parents died because of this,” Harry explained in a steady voice. He had to believe that they did because if they didn't there was no reason for their deaths. He couldn't find the words to explain it to anybody but that was just how he felt.

“But you're supposed to be happy. To live, to feel free and grow up just…just like everybody else. It doesn't matter if you're Harry Potter; you're still supposed to live. But this prophecy takes that away from you. It takes away your right to live,” she finished, now nearly shouting through her tears.

Mr. Davis was wearing a look of sympathy as he watched Hermione but Harry saw the hint of confusion at Hermione's words. As for Harry he knew Hermione was mourning his future but he was slightly angered that she couldn't see that he had to do this.

“Don't you get it? There isn't anything I can do! I can't walk away from this. It's not about being stubborn; it's about knowing what is right,” his voice lowered to a whisper, his anger disappearing. “Hermione, I wish I could do all of those things. I really do. But you know me and you know I can't walk away from this.”

Hermione wiped the tears from her eyes with her sleeve. “I know Harry. I just wish you could. I mean you only started to really live a few months ago. And now I feel that that's been taken away from you.”

Harry couldn't believe that somebody cared for him this much. He thought about what if Hermione was the one in the prophecy and realised he'd probably had done the exact same thing. Deny it. He couldn't live with watching Hermione have to give up so much.

“I'm sorry,” Hermione sobbed. “You must think I'm an idiot.”

“From what I've heard that's not possible,” said Davis gently.

Hermione gave him a watery smile. “Do you mind if I…” she stood up indicating the library door. Before either of them could answer she dashed through it, out of sight.

“You should go after her. Make sure she is alright,” advised Davis walking towards his office.

Harry took a deep breath and ran out the door after her. Not knowing which way she had gone, he took a quick jog through the castle. He kept his eyes open for any sign of movement and listened alertly for any sound made. Stopping to rethink his plan, he closed his eyes and focused intently on Hermione. Soon he heard the thumping of footsteps high above him. She's moving upwards Harry thought. Using all the shortcuts he knew he made his way as fast as possible to the seventh floor. He spotted Hermione at the end of the corridor ascending the spiral staircase that led to the Astronomy Tower.

Running after her, he took the stairs two at a time and stopped suddenly at the closed door in front of him. Placing his hand on the iron ring which acted as a handle, he took one moment to try and think of what to say. Then after a few seconds he opened the door and walked out onto the ramparts. A light summer breeze caught his hair as he noticed Hermione looking out over the vast grounds of the castle. She knew he was standing behind her yet she did not turn to him. He could hear her dry sobs and it pained him that she cried because of him.

“Why didn't you tell me about it at the end of last year? You acted as if nothing had happened?”

“I guess I was trying to protect you. And uh…” he hesitated wondering whether he should say what had been troubling him for weeks. “I was afraid, no…terrified that you'd leave me. I'm a dangerous friend to have around Hermione. And even though it kills me to say it…maybe you're better off without me. Without the constant threat.”

Hermione rounded on him immediately after these words. Her hair was bristling with electricity and Harry could tell she was thoroughly infuriated. “Harry, you can be so stubborn. A royal obstinate fool!!!” she screamed to the night. Harry would have taken a step back if she hadn't been his best friend. “I would never leave you. I couldn't even if I wanted to. You mean too much to me. You've helped me in ways you couldn't comprehend.”

“But it's too risky. And it's going to get a hell of a lot more dangerous if…”

“And,” interrupted Hermione, her voice was no longer meek or gentle but filled with a raw emotion that Harry had never witnessed from her before “if you dare try and push me away, to protect me, well then you don't know me at all. I will follow you Harry to the four corners of this earth, to hell, to heaven…to whatever end.”

Harry stood rooted to the spot. He had never had someone speak to him like that, about how much someone would do for him. He wouldn't nor could he stop Hermione and that was definite. Hermione now stood silent against the dark night obviously waiting for him to respond. Her anger had dissipated now and she looked quite vulnerable awaiting his reaction.

Harry felt a lump in his throat and Hermione was shocked to see his eyes glistening slightly but he blinked and it was gone. Stepping forward he held out his hand and felt her soft fingers intertwine with his. Holding it tightly he said. “I don't think I'd be able to this without you anyway.”

“Oh Harry,” she moaned before throwing her arms around him in a tight hug. He returned it almost afraid to let go for fear of her slipping away. “I'll always be here. Whether you want me to be or not,” she laughed through her tears.

Harry didn't know how long they remained in that position but at some point one of them let go. Hermione went to stand at the battlement wall and looked out at the immense lake. Its water lapping gently at the shore, it gave the whole grounds a tranquil feeling. Harry went over and stood behind her, feeling how peaceful the atmosphere had become. Hermione closed her eyes and inhaled deeply savouring the calm of the night.

“I don't think you should be up here. Would you agree?” came a voice from behind them. Startled, Harry pivoted around, removing his wand from his pocket and pointing it towards the door. Professor Sinistra raised an eyebrow at his actions, obviously curious but she also looked slightly amused. Hermione reached out, grabbing Harry's forearm, making him drop it to his side.

“Sorry Professor. We were just thinking about...er…well,” Hermione faltered.

Harry took in Professor Sinistra's appearance. It was unusual to see her out of her normal long witch's robes. Instead she was wearing a simple black wool skirt with a white short-sleeved shirt. Her black hair, usually tied up, was now reaching down to just past her shoulders. It was only now that Harry noticed the thin streaks of emerald green which looked as if they had been sprayed into it. Her dark eyes surveyed them with amusement until she raised her fist into the air in mock celebration. “Yes! I managed to render Miss Hermione Granger speechless. Now that's one for the books.”

Harry and Hermione laughed nervously. Harry just realised he had never really spoken to Professor Sinistra. She seemed a lot less strict than he had first thought. In class she would usually just give them instructions and then they would continue the work with their telescopes. He didn't think Hermione had ever talked to her before either mainly because she looked just as surprised as he felt.

“Come on,” Professor Sinistra said holding the door open for them “I'll accompany you back just in case you wander off somewhere, into a dark corner perhaps…” she said teasingly.

“Oh we're not…” said Harry and Hermione simultaneously. Hermione cheeks went red with embarrassment while Harry marvelled at how the night had gone from dangerous prophecies to humiliating teasing.

When they reached the library Mr. Davis was shuffling around with his arms filled with books. He was obviously trying to put some of the borrowed volumes back on their shelves. He looked pleased to see both Harry and Hermione looking cheerful again. He nodded timidly at Professor Sinistra in gratitude for her accompanying the students.

“Well...I…I…I suppose you two should head back to Gryffindor Tower. It is getting quite…uh…late,” he stuttered.

They both bade him goodnight before leaving the library in high spirits chatting animatedly to each other.

Davis, believing the library to be empty made his way into his office. Collecting a pile of books he went back into the main area to deposit them on his table. The sight that met him caused the pile of books in his arms to plummet to the ground. Professor Sinistra was sitting, quite comfortably, in one of the chairs that surrounded the table. Her high heeled shoes were resting on the table while she leaned back in the chair; her fingers intertwined resting on her stomach. The manner in which she was seated showing a lot more skin then was usually permitted in Hogwarts.

“What are you training him for Ethan?”

Mr. Davis quickly regained his composure after the minor heart attack she had caused him. “Er…I'm sorry Sara; I have no idea what…”

She gracefully removed her legs from the table and swung around in the chair in order to get a better view of him. “Don't play the fool with me. I've known you for a very long time, and even though you've changed since you attended Hogwarts, I still have a good idea when you're lying.” She paused letting the words sink in. “I've glimpsed you training with him. He kicked your ass,” she finished standing up and placing a slender hand just below his shoulder where Harry had landed a very well executed roundhouse kick. Their eyes met for a moment before she gave him a hard poke where he was bruised and he recoiled, wincing slightly.

“Don't worry. I won't breathe a word to anyone,” she promised, looking at him sympathetically.

“He's learning to fight because he needs to. You never truly believed that Voldemort was killed. If…if he does return well then Harry will be at great risk. He was his downfall and Voldemort is fascinated with revenge.” He paused thinking, and then sighed. “You should head back to your quarters. It's getting late.”

Davis picked up the books and gave Professor Sinistra a questioning look when she helped him. “Well I couldn't let an old man, who gets beat up by a twelve year old, deal with normal pressures the school library has to hold alone, could I?” she mocked.

A small grin appeared on Davis' face making him look so much younger. They stood at the end of the table in the dimly lit library and she placed a hand on his face. “Ah there he is,” she said softly.

“You're right I…uh…have changed…but I'm not that old,” he finished with a nervous chuckle. She remained silent still looking at him as if she could see someone that nobody had seen in a long time. He gently covered her hand with his and removed it from his face. She seemed to come out of a trance and looked at him with a sad smile. “Of course you're not. If you're old that means I am.”

They both laughed, this time there was no nervousness. He couldn't help but love her sweet laugh, making her seem more beautiful. When their laughing had subsided she bade him goodnight and headed towards the exit. When she reached it she turned and looked at him. “So you're training him because…”

“He needs it,” he finished firmly.

“And the girl?”

He gave her a thoughtful look then said with some assertion. “He needs her too.”

End Chapter

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

Hope you liked it. Got some things set up for the rest of the story in this chapter.

Oh and I do like Buffy and Davis is more or less based on the character of Giles but it isn't him nor is this a Buffy crossover!! I won't stray too much from the main plot. There is still a chamber, Riddle, snakes and I have a feeling you're going to love the Duelling Club.

Please review as is it helps writing and also tends to make me get chapters out faster. And thank you so much for your previous reviews, they have been really helpful.

Take care

Radagast.

-->

“Argh,” Harry groaned as he again found himself flat on his back, the quarterstaff lying useless beside him. They had been practicing for about two days straight with weaponry but Harry was still struggling. He found it hard to attack while also keeping up a good defence. Mr. Davis had been pushing him and would shout advice while in the middle of one of their intense battles which usually ended up with Harry making a mistake. Hermione, who had been delighted to find she was allowed free access to all the books in the closed off library, was now sitting at the study table deeply consumed in a gigantic book. At first she could barely watch the two wizards training, but after Harry got a few nasty hits she seemed to come to the conclusion that that would be the worst he would receive and was now gladly able to continue with her research into dark creatures and other aspects of magic she would not be taught at Hogwarts.

She had also read most of the text books that they would use for their second year at Hogwarts. Harry still found it quite tiresome to listen to stories that revolved around Gilderoy Lockhart. Hermione had read and memorised every word he had supposedly written. She was enthralled by his charms as Davis had once put it, earning a very harsh glare from her. Harry smiled at the fond memory. Even though his life didn't look positively appealing he had to admit that for now he was enjoying himself. Especially now Hermione was involved. He was very grateful to Mr. Davis for allowing her to remain with them while they trained and also for involving her in their research. But he couldn't get rid of the nagging feeling in the back of his mind which kept him wondering what would be the consequence of that decision. How much danger would she face now that she was included?

“Focus Harry. It is only your mind that is stopping you. You must overcome it,” Davis encouraged. Sighing Harry lifted himself up off the ground. He retrieved his quarterstaff and positioned himself correctly. The battle started again, the clicking as the wood made contact sounding ominously throughout the room. Then Davis using his staff and seeing an opening, hit Harry squarely on the jaw sending Harry twirling and with a smack landed stomach down on the marble floor. “Oof,” exclaimed Harry as he felt the wind knocked out of him. Without hesitation he jumped back onto his feet and started attacking Davis, this time with increased ferocity.

Davis found himself stepping backward to avoid Harry's blows. He nearly had him cornered when Davis kicked a wooden chair, which collided with Harry's legs, and sent him crashing to the ground. “Hey!” Harry yelled. Davis smiled deviously. “Another significant matter to remember, always know your surroundings so you can use them to your advantage.”

With a wide sweep of his legs, Harry took Davis off his feet. Then jumping up with incredible speed, he grabbed his quarterstaff and had it pointed under Davis's chin. With one thrust he could have killed Davis. “Never let your guard down,” Harry said simply.

As Davis returned to his office to freshen up, Harry took a seat beside Hermione. She was now reading The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Two and looked up when she noticed his tired demeanour. “You should go lie down. I mean you've been through a lot, especially these last two days,” she advised.

“No, I'm alright. I should start getting used to it. I mean once classes start I'll have to deal with both homework and training.”

“I'll help you. Don't forget that,” she said earnestly.

Harry grinned and nodded his head in agreement. “So…anything interesting in the new books?”

“Well we'll obviously be stepping it up in Charms this year. We did nothing last year compared to what we will be doing. Obviously last year we had a lot of theory, this year there'll be more but we already know the basics.”

Mr. Davis strode over to their table casually throwing his tweed jacket on. “As you know, tomorrow is your last day of the holidays. I think it best that you go to Platform Nine and Three Quarters and get the Hogwarts Express. This way there will be no suspicious questions about your being here. I have arranged for you to stay with a family and travel with them to Kings Cross. I think you know them. The Weasleys?”

“Er…yeah. Ron helped us get the Philosophers Stone last year,” said Harry.

“Well I fought alongside his uncles against the Death Eaters during the first war that's how I know his mother. The father is quite a character. Loves anything to do with muggles. Anyway they don't mind at all taking care of you.”

“So when are we going?” asked Hermione keenly. She didn't get on with Ron at the best of times but Harry knew she would be enthusiastic to see a wizards home.

“Well…uh you'll be arriving there sometime in the afternoon tomorrow. Stay the night and then I'll see you bright and early on the Wednesday morning, first day of term.”

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

The next day, Harry and Hermione were to be found waiting patiently in Professor Dumbledore's office. It was just going on one o'clock and the sun was shining brilliantly in the clear blue sky. Mr. Davis arrived pushing his glasses back up onto the bridge of his nose. With some trepidation Hermione stepped through into the chimney. Harry followed and Mr. Davis came last. Harry found himself in an oddly packed living room that led into a rectangular kitchen. The place seemed to be overflowing with objects that had been packed into every nook and cranny of the house. This is a real house, Harry thought. The white surgical Privet Drive always seemed so empty but this house was filled with character. All the different coloured objects seemed to give the house a vibrant atmosphere.

Turning Harry spotted Ron with a sheepish grin standing beside the two older Weasley twins, the infamous Fred and George. Taking a step forward he shook Harry's hand in a very manly way. “Hey mate. Welcome to the Burrow.” Harry laughed at his welcoming. “Thanks for having us.”

Fred sidestepped Harry and offered Hermione his arm. “Come Ms. Granger,” he said politely. “Welcome to our humble abode. Let me show you your way.”

George and Ron burst out laughing and Harry couldn't suppress a smile. Hermione seemed to be contemplating laughing or snapping at him. With a last look at Harry she started laughing. Mr. Davis was talking animatedly with Mrs. Weasley. She was a short plump woman, with a kind face and there was a very motherly look about her. She was wearing a flowered apron and had obviously just been cooking the dinner as she sported a green tea towel in her hand along with a wooden ladle. Her brow was knitted with concentration as she listened to Mr. Davis but then her eyes found Harry and her expression softened. “Harry dear. How are you?” she said considerately. “Fine,” answered Harry.

“And this must be Hermione. How are you darling?'

“Great,” replied Hermione. Fred wrapped his arm around Hermione's and nearly dragged her up the stairs. “Come on Ron,” he shouted down the stairs. “Let's show them the house!”

Ron just shrugged his shoulders and followed them up the staircase. “I need you to de-gnome the garden soon, Ron, Fred and George,” Mrs. Weasley yelled after them. The three boys sighed tiredly. The staircase they were climbing seemed to become narrower until they came to the first landing.. “Bathroom,” said Fred pointing at a bright blue door. They continued up the more stairs and passed another floor. When they reached the third floor they stopped again.

“Ginny's, where you will be staying my dear,” George said indicating a pink door.

“Percy the prat's place,” said Fred, with a nod at a red door.

They continued on up a spiral staircase to the next landing. This landing seemed to have more windows as it was much brighter. “The Masters Dwelling,” Fred and George announced proudly. “You can't enter though. It is forbidden,” Fred whispered dramatically.

”We conduct tests and some experiments that may be considered…harmful. So it's best to keep strangers, or those not accustomed to our room, out of it,” finished George. Suddenly there was a loud popping noise and Fred immediately let go of Hermione and rushed into the room which was the source of the noise. Hermione took a step back towards Harry, obviously fearful of the twin's doings.

“It's alright. Everything is in order,” said Fred brightly as he returned shutting the door tightly behind him.

After pointing out their parent's room they turned to climb the stair until Ron stopped them. “Oh this is Ginny. She's going to Hogwarts this year,” he said indicating the staircase they had just ascended. Ginny looked slightly dazed as she stopped at the top of the stair. Her Weasley red hair reached down to her shoulders and was slightly covering her face but Harry noticed the bright brown eyes staring fixedly at him.

“Hi,” Harry and Hermione both acknowledged.

They continued up two more flight of stairs, Ginny following as if in a trance, until they reached a door with peeling paint and a small plaque which read `Ronald's Room'.

As Harry stepped into the room, his head nearly touched the sloping ceiling. They all piled into the room and the twins sat on Ron's bed while Ron sat low down on a small camp bed that had been assembled under the tiny window that looked out over the green English countryside. Hermione stood nervously at the door beside Ginny while Harry stood in the middle of the room, his eyes taking in its contents. The whole room seemed to be covered in a fiery orange. On the bedspread Harry noticed two giant black C's and a speeding cannonball. Looking up at the posters on the wall he noticed they all seemed to have the same seven witches and wizards, all wearing burning orange robes and carrying broomsticks while waving vigorously.

“The Chudley Cannons,” Fred sighed rolling his eyes. “Ron's fascinated with them.”

“I'm not fascinated. They're my favourite team,” Ron stated defensively.

“He even has a Cannon's teddy bear,” piped Ginny with a grin. The twins sniggered and by the look on Hermione's face she was trying desperately not to laugh. Ron cheeks went pink but he quickly retorted. “You like them too. Anyway I got that teddy bear from dad ages ago. I was only about six years old.”

They sat for awhile talking about their summers. Harry of course saying nothing but listening to the Weasleys talking about their trip to the South of England while Hermione gave an account of her holiday in Germany. Harry felt increasingly uncomfortable while under Ginny's stare which for some odd reason seemed to thoroughly annoy Hermione. The only time she wasn't gazing at Harry was when she had something to say about their holiday or when they ended up on the topic of Hogwarts she immediately started firing off questions which the group answered together.

Soon they heard a call from downstairs and Fred stood up. “Come on, we'd better start the de-gnoming so we can get it done before dinner.” They filed down the stairs, and Harry was a bit disappointed to see Mr. Davis had already gone. After filing through the kitchen they reached the yard. Only then did Harry get a good look at the house. It looked as though it had once been a pigsty, the lower floors were built of solid grey stone, but extra rooms had been added here and there until it was several storeys high and so crooked it looked as though it was held up by… “Magic,” whispered Hermione.

Chickens were bustling around the yard in small groups, pecking at the ground. Round the front door lay a collection of muddy Wellington boots and a very rusty red cauldron. “Do you need any help? I can read up on tips to de-gnoming the garden. Gilderoy Lockhart is really superb when it comes to household pests,” came Mrs. Weasleys voice from the door. “Oh…do you like him Mrs. Weasley. I think he is just wonderful,” said Hermione walking back into the kitchen to talk to her and earning a furtive scowl from Harry.

Turning his attention to the garden Harry took in its natural beauty. It didn't look exceptionally wonderful but Harry couldn't help but feel that the weeds, the overgrown grass and the gnarled tree brought out the innate splendour. Harry's attention turned to a sprawled green bush which was rustling with activity. He approached it curiously. Suddenly a small leathery figure traipsed out of the sea of green, startling Harry who immediately took a step backward. The figure was undoubtedly a gnome, its tiny eyes in its small head were glancing suspiciously around the garden and it failed to look ahead, walking directly into Harry. It fell onto the thick blades of grass with a soft plump. Harry crouched but immediately regretted doing so as the gnome instantly attacked him, gnawing at his jeans.

Harry started kicking his leg trying to rid it of the fiery of the gnome. Ron scrambled over and picked up the gnome, getting a good grip around its ankles. Holding the gnome high in the air, he spun around and released it, so that it went soaring into the next field. “You have to make them really dizzy so they get lost and can't find their gnome-holes again.”

Fred and George were quite a bit stronger than Ron was, and their gnomes rocketed higher into the air, nearly sending them thirty feet into the next field. The gnomes kept coming out of their hiding places, curious to the events occurring and oblivious to the position they were in. Each time they scrambled out from safety, they would be picked up and thrown next to their comrades. Hermione and Ginny sat on the step leading to the kitchen, watching the boys at work, unfazed by the obvious signs of tiredness. Harry, who had built his stamina since beginning training, wasn't deterring but the others were constantly wiping perspiration from their foreheads.

When the final one had been thrown, a whopping fifty feet by Harry, the gnomes walked away in a straggling line, shoulders slumped and heads bowed, defeated in the battle for their territory.

“Dinner should be ready soon,” said Fred, examining his watch.

“Yeah, Dad will be back soon,” grinned Ron pulling off his jumper trying to cool down. “Wow, Harry. You didn't even break a sweat!” he exclaimed when he saw Harry standing beside Hermione at the doorstep.

Harry gave Hermione a nervous glance then explained “Quidditch.”

“Yeah, Wood's sessions can be bloody exhausting sometimes. I suppose being seeker requires a certain physical strength than just being thin and small,” George said pensively.

Before Harry could even think of someway to change the subject, the sound of a man's voice came from the kitchen. “Come on boys…dinner!'

“Dad's home,” Ron said bounding through the door. The rest followed, Harry and Hermione staying shyly at the back. Mr. Weasley was slumped in a kitchen chair with his glasses off and his eyes closed. The table was now full of food, potatoes, roast beef and gravy seemed to be the main course. “Ah,” said Mr. Weasley standing up and grabbing Harry's hand. “This must be Harry Potter. Ron's told us all about you.” Standing up, Harry noticed he was a thin man, going bald, but the little hair he had was as red as any of his children's. He was wearing long green robes which were dusty and travel worn.

“And this must be Hermione,” he said wringing her hand also. When introductions had finished they all sat down at the table and started scooping food onto their plates. Mr. Weasley was telling them about his troublesome day at work. Harry and Hermione already knew about his work at the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office. Ron had explained the occupation last year. When they had finished their meal Harry turned to Hermione to see her engrossed in a conversation with Mr. Weasley about rubber ducks and their functions. Ron, Ginny, Fred and George were talking feverishly about Quidditch while Mrs. Weasley was complaining to Percy about their decrepit owl Errol. Harry soon became involved in the rubber duck conversation.

It had soon grown dark outside and from the kitchen Harry spotted the bright stars shining through the black abyss. “Bedtime,” said Mrs. Weasley with a tone of finality.

They made their way upstairs and Ginny dragged Hermione in to show her where she would be sleeping. After Fred and George bade them goodnight they ascended the last flight of stairs. Ron shifted some books and comics to give them more room to manoeuvre in. After getting changed Ron jumped straight under his duvet while Harry held up his toothbrush in a questioning manner. “There's toothpaste in the white cabinet in the bathroom,” Ron said.

Harry crept down the stairs and when he reached the bathroom noticed the sliver of light coming from the door which was slightly ajar. The door opened suddenly and Hermione was standing in a purple nightdress with a toothbrush in her hand. “I can't find the toothpaste,” she whispered anxiously.

Harry chuckled and walked past her to the white cabinet. “Voila,” he laughed holding it out to her. “So are you okay?” he asked seriously after a moment.

Hermione nodded her head. “Yeah, they are such a nice family.”

“What about Ginny? You don't mind staying with her?”

“No, she's really lovely. She's actually not that quiet. She's fine, once she's not around you,” she finished with a slight hint of bitterness that only Harry would catch.

“She's fallen for the hero thing,” said Harry regretfully. “Well I'm sure she'll grow out of it. I mean it's not like I'm the Chosen One or anything,” he joked.

“Hush,” giggled Hermione shutting the door so no one would hear. When they had finished using the toothpaste Harry replaced it the cabinet. “Well goodnight,” Hermione whispered, standing outside Ginny's bedroom door. “Yeah…sleep tight,” grinned Harry. She hugged him briefly before stepping through into the room and out of sight. Harry waited a moment before climbing the stairs to Ron's room. He could already hear Ron snoring loudly when he reached the room. Stepping carefully through the darkness he found his low camp bed and was soon wrapped in the warm covers. He gazed at the stars for a while before sleep overcame him and he drifted into his dreams.

End Chapter

Sorry about the wait. Back to school now so more pressure. Thanks for reading and I hoped you liked it.

Please review.

Take care,

Radagast

-->

There was a cool summer breeze sweeping through the dusty yard as the congregated group made their way out to the turquoise Ford Anglia which was parked out in front of the Burrow. Fred and George were heaving trunks into the storage compartment which had been enchanted to offer more space. Ginny was sitting impatiently in the kitchen watching as Ron and Harry hauled the trunks out the front door. Hermione came into the kitchen carrying an old leather shoulder bag which had some more of her personal belongings.

“Ready,” asked Mrs. Weasley handing her befuddled husband his overcooked breakfast.

They made their way out into the yard. Mr. Weasley jumped into the driver's seat while Ginny and Mrs. Weasley climbed into the passenger seat. As Harry clambered into the backseat along with Hermione, Fred, George and then Percy, he guessed the inside of the car had also been magically enlarged.

The interior of the car resembled that of any normal muggle car. There was one slight difference though, an extra silver stick that resembled a gear stick and a button which had peeling black letters underneath it that read `Invisibility Boost'. They pulled slowly out of the driveway and onto an old country road. Mr. Weasley started telling them about the history of the car and how he had enchanted it so that it was capable of flying but his wife cut him off with a sharp glare.

They were driving only a few minutes before they made it onto a busy motorway. A long snake of cars was lined down the smooth road and everyone in the car sighed when they realised how terrible the traffic was. Ron suddenly leaned forward into the front and grabbed a small book which Ginny was holding. “What's this?” he said playfully.

Ginny immediately spun around and tried to retrieve it from him. “Give it to me. It's mine!” she demanded. Ron examined it perplexed. “A diary. I didn't know you had a diary. Why do you have a diary?”

“It's private,” she declared. She reached forward and ripped the thin diary from his grasp. “They're for people with lives. Something you'd know nothing about,” she scoffed turning back around. Harry, who was sitting beside the window and had moved in his seat to watch the interaction between the two, turned his attention to the view outside the window. Cars driving on the opposite side of the road, free from traffic were speeding past, colourful blurs against the bright sky. Hermione who was sitting close beside him had her head thrown back, her eyes closed, and her bag on her lap.

He moved close to her and whispered quietly. “Are you alright? Didn't get much sleep?”

She gave an involuntary shiver before turning to him. “I'm fine. Just tired. You're right I didn't get a lot of sleep,” she said groggily before putting her head on his shoulder. After a few minutes he felt her drift off to sleep and found his concentration wavering also. The traffic had dispersed and they were now speeding along at a good pace. Fred and George were playing an interesting game of Rock, Scissors, Paper where the loser would receive a harsh punch on the shoulder. Their constant groaning was beginning to irritate Harry until Mrs. Weasley warned them to be quiet or she would seriously punish them.

When they reached London the traffic exacerbated and they ended up parking two streets away from Kings Cross station. Dragging their trunks through the streets they finally made it to the station with only two minutes to spare. “Come on, quickly. We don't have much time,” shouted Mr. Weasley when everybody had their luggage piled onto trolleys. Ginny and Percy ran through the seemingly solid brick wall which led onto Platform Nine and Three Quarters. Fred and George followed then Mr and Mrs Weasley. Harry, Hermione and Ron decided to go in unison, lining up opposite the gateway.

“On three,” said Ron. “One, two…three.”

They all pushed against the heavy weight of their trolleys and reached the wall in seconds but instead of simply passing through it, they made contact. Very solid contact. There was a resounding smash as their trolleys smacked into each other and they were thrown over the handles. Ron was thrown into the wall while Harry ended up on the floor with Hermione sprawled on top of him. “Sorry,” she winced rolling off of him. Harry's trunk had crashed to the floor and was now gaping open. He quickly raised himself off the floor and shut it, so people wouldn't notice the unusual contents it held. Ron was also fixing his things together while Hermione stood aghast in front of the wall. “What's going on? Why won't it let us through?!”

“I don't know,” said Ron dragging his trunk over and putting it with the others. “But we're going to miss the train if we don't get through soon.” He started hitting the wall with the palm of his hands in a futile attempt to get through, earning an angry look from the security guard.

“Stop we don't want to draw attention to ourselves,” warned Harry. He was very aware of the glances and curious looks they were getting from the other passengers on the platform. “It's gone,” Hermione whispered disbelievingly at the clock.

“If we can't get through to the platform maybe mum and dad can't get through to us. How do we get to Hogwarts?” Ron wondered anxiously.

“No we'll be fine. We'll just wait by the car. I'm sure your parents will be able to get back. If the gateway is sealed, it will be reopened by the Ministry. It won't take long…” finished Hermione looking wearily at the dazed look on Ron's face. “What is it?” she asked bewildered.

“The car…we could use it. I can drive it. I mean fly it. We could follow the train,” said Ron getting excited. He immediately picked up his trunk and placed the wooden cage that housed Scabber's the rat on top of it. “NO!! No way. We can't just fly a car to Hogwarts. It's too dangerous…we could crash or be seen,” argued Hermione.

“I can fly the car perfectly. And there's an invisibility programme on it so we won't be seen,” Ron retorted. Harry was thinking fast about what to do. Flying the car sounded a bit drastic but he didn't like being caught in London with his possessions packed in a trunk. He felt quite vulnerable and the sooner he was away from the enormous crowds of people the safer he would feel.

“Listen,” Harry said loudly interrupting Ron and Hermione's fuming argument “the longer we just stand here the more danger we're in. Somebody wants to separate us from the others and right now they're succeeding. Our best chance is the car. But we have to get there quick…I don't like being out in the open like this.”

Ron looked pleased at Harry's decision and grinned while picking up his trunk. Hermione looked outraged. “Harry! Are you crazy? This is way too dangerous. We should just wait,” she pleaded. Harry stared intently at her. “We don't have time, Hermione.” He leaned near to her and whispered close to her ear. “We don't know who is doing this. They could be watching us right now. We have to move.”

Harry knew Hermione was still completely against it but she gave in. She knew he was going and she couldn't stop him. So sighing exasperatedly she gathered her possessions together “Well, come on.”

Harry grinned. “Thanks.”

“We could be breaking the law. Underage magic,” she hissed, stopping suddenly. Ron spun around, his eyes gleaming. “Even underage wizards are allowed to use magic in emergencies. Section something of the Restriction of Thingamajig.”

They made their way rapidly out of the train station onto the busy London street. Crowds of people were moving like swarms of wasps through the streets, passing between the cars and entering the small shops. Harry was growing increasingly nervous, conscious of the people who knocked into his shoulder and his luggage. When they were near the car they broke into a run and when they reached it Ron pulled the trunk open after unlocking it with his wand and they stored their luggage inside. Then Ron wrenched the car door open and jumped into the driver's seat. Hermione climbed into the back and Harry got into the passenger seat.

“Okay…ready,” Ron said, positioning himself in his seat and pulling his seatbelt across his body. “We should pull into an alley, so we won't be seen.” he said. Turning the key in the ignition, he pulled out of the parking space and with a bump they were on the road. “Is it difficult to…you know…fly,” Hermione asked hesitantly. Ron was concentrating hard on the road but managed to answer. “Er…not really. It's like driving without the traffic. Taking off is the awkward part.” He rounded a corner into a cobble stoned lane, then he pulled back the silver lever and the car lifted off the ground, precariously floating a few feet over the land.

As they reached the rooftops Harry leaned forward and pressed the silver Invisibility Booster. The car around him vanished, he could feel the seat vibrating beneath him, hear the engine, feel his hands on his knees and his glasses on his nose but for all he knew he was just a pair of eyeballs floating high in the air. “This is too strange,” croaked Hermione. “We can deactivate the Invisibility once we get above the clouds. But first we need to find the train,” said Ron.

“There it is,” yelled Harry after squinting and spotting the train. “It heading North.” Ron slammed his foot on the accelerator and they were swept into the clouds. Harry heard Ron pummelling the Invisibility booster and soon they could see the car surrounding them. It was dazzlingly bright as it was filled with fierce sunlight. Swirls and turrets of white cloud were billowing around the car and the three of them were transfixed by the sight.

Ron leaned forward, past Harry, and pulled open the glove compartment, taking out a packet of toffees. They sat for awhile in silence, each in their own thoughts. Then Ron asked the question which was plaguing their musings. “Why couldn't we get through? That barrier was sealed and my guess is a wizard sealed it.”

“Hmm…somebody didn't want us to get to the train. They didn't want us to get to Hogwarts,” pondered Hermione.

Then it suddenly hit Harry. Dobby. He didn't want Harry to return to Hogwarts because of the danger that faced him. He must have been the one that sealed the entrance in order to stop him. “What is it Harry?” Ron asked glancing at the troubled expression on his face. Harry decided to tell them everything. They deserved the truth if it obviously was going to affect them too. He told them of the encounter in his bedroom and the warning Dobby had given them. They were slightly shocked at the news and Ron instantly started speculating what Dobby meant. “Well the thing is, it must be really dangerous. It's very unusual for a House Elf to leave their family especially to warn someone against their family's doings.”

“I'm sorry for not telling you. I didn't want to alert you or scare you in anyway,” Harry apologized.

“Well I suppose we can blame Dobby for this,” said Hermione. “How long will it take us to get there?”

“A few hours I suppose. We just keep following the Hogwarts Express. We'll take another look at it in another few minutes, to make sure of our direction,” explained Ron.

Hours passed and from dropping beneath the cloud to check on the train, each time hidden by the Invisibility booster, they realised they were now miles from London. The neat green fields of the countryside lay spread out beneath them every now and again showing a populated city or a small village. Hermione was soon in a slumber in the back seat, her head against the window. The sun had now dropped lower in the sky, tingeing the cloud floor with a pink glow. Harry leaned over into the back and wrapped Hermione in the blanket that covered the back seat.

Ron, who observed this, grinned to himself while checking the altitude. “You like her, don't you?” he said nonchalantly.

“What?” asked Harry baffled. Ron gave him a knowing smile. “Hermione, you like her.”

“Of course. She's probably my closest friend. No offence or anything but we just have more in common,” Harry reasoned.

Ron shook his head. “No, I don't mean in that way. I mean you really like her.”

Harry thought about what he meant for a moment before his eyes widened in shock. “Oh…no, she's my..er.friend. My c…closest.”

“You've already said that. But I take that as a no,” smirked Ron.

“Er…yes,” finished Harry, his breath returning. Why had Ron's question thrown him off like that? Of course he thought Hermione of just a friend. Didn't he? “I'm going out with Lavender now,” said Ron's voice interrupting his thoughts. Harry raised an eyebrow at him, encouraging him to continue. “Yeah we sort of had something going at the end of last year. I've been owling her during the summer and now we're officially going out,” he said happily. “Good for you mate,” said Harry briefly wondering why people bothered with relationships. Did they gain something spiritually or was it really just about physical attraction.

Another hour passed and darkness had now enveloped them in the black night. Harry guessed they had now neared the castle as the number of surrounding villages decreased and the land became more isolated. He was looking forward to stretching his legs out as they ached from the lack of space available in the car. He wondered whether they would be in serious trouble when they reached the castle and briefly entertained the thought of punishment being served. There was also another problem that seemed to intensify the more time the car spent in the air. Harry was beginning to notice a low whining noise that was issuing from the engine. At first Harry and Ron were able to ignore it but as time passed it was becoming more apparent that there was a major problem. He tried to remain calm but found that Ron's face was becoming paler as the whining increased.

“It must be tired. It's never been this far before. But I'm sure we'll reach Hogwarts before the engine gives out,” reassured Ron. Just then there was a loud spluttering noise and the car gave an uneasy jolt in the air. Hermione, who had been stirring from her sleep, now sat bolt upright. “What's going on?” she asked fearfully. Ron explained about the car's endurance issues. They all remained silent for a moment listening to the ever growing complaints which the car was making. Stars were beginning to peak out through the darkness. Harry sat forward in his seat, peering out into the night. Then he saw the highest turrets of Hogwarts castle, silhouetted on the dark horizon. “I can see the castle. Hold on to something tight,” he advised. “This isn't going to be a comfortable landing.”

“Jeez thanks Harry,” Ron admonished. The car had begun to shudder and was losing speed rapidly. Ron's knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel. Hermione's eyes were wide with horror at the prospect of landing the beaten car. They passed the enormous wall which surrounded the grounds and the glassy black lake. Harry's heart was beating hard in his chest and his breath hitched when he heard the last of the engine give out. The car abruptly went into a steep decline heading for a collision with a great stone wall. Ron yelled out while swinging the steering wheel around. They missed the wall by mere inches, the car went into a barrel roll and he heard Hermione shout something incomprehensible before they crashed heavily with a large sprawling tree.

He heard a loud groaning noise coming from the tree but before he could do anything the car dropped, colliding forcefully with the ground. The car, which now had steam issuing from under the crumpled bonnet, was upside down so when Harry unbuckled his seat belt he landed awkwardly on the roof of the car. The windscreen had been smashed to pieces which were now cutting into Harry's hands. Ron just sat still, a look of terror on his face. Hermione seemed to be fine except she was trembling. She moved a shaky hand to undo her seatbelt but something collided with the side of the car, sending it skidding through the muddy grass. The car came to a halt a few feet away from its original position, still spinning on its roof.

“What's going on?” Ron whispered petrified.

“It's the tree,” breathed Harry from the roof, which was now the floor, painfully regretting taking off his seatbelt. His body felt as if someone had attacked him with a baseball bat. He had been thrown back against the body of the car and his back had connected painfully with the passenger door.

“Harry,” Hermione moaned seeing his condition. She again attempted to unbuckle her seatbelt but this time Harry warned her not to. “Be quiet. It might still be in range of attacking us.”

“Can it smell blood?” Ron asked nervously, wiping the cut on his forehead with the back of his hand. “Here,” said Hermione handing him her handkerchief. He held it against his head, still glancing uneasily out the window.

“I doubt it detects blood. It's a tree, not a shark,” said Harry.

“Well it does as much damage,” stated Ron in reply. “Uh-oh,” muttered Harry grasping the seat firmly for safety.

“What is…” Suddenly there was another crash and the car was lifted into the air. All three students yelled in unison as the car landed, this time the right way up, with a heavy jolt. Harry groaned as his body yet again felt the impact. Looking out the open windscreen Harry spotted a huge tree branch as thick as a python, positioned as if to attack. Ron pulled out his wand, preparing for the last defence. Just then the car gave another jerk and the engine roared to life. It immediately went into reverse and barely missed the tree's vicious swipe. One of the smaller branches managed to rattle the car one last time before they were brought way out of its target range. Hermione let out a shaky breath. Ron was looking aghast at his feet with his empty hand still reaching out. Harry looked and saw Ron's wand lying broken at his feet. Moving his foot slightly Ron carefully picked up the defeated wand from under his shoe. He had obviously dropped it after the trees last attack and then accidentally stepped on it.

“My…my wand,” he croaked, his face turning a tinge of green. The wand wasn't completely severed in two; there were a few fragments which still held it together. “Well, just be happy that it is not your neck,” retorted Hermione. Harry zoned out of the conversation for a moment as Ron immediately went on the attack taking offence from Hermione's words. The turquoise car now had deep green marks across the bonnet and the car doors from the damage inflicted upon it by the tree. It was utterly destroyed in Harry's opinion. Leaning forward off the seat Harry threw his weight at the door, but it didn't budge. He tried again but to no avail. The engine was still running and wouldn't switch off even when Ron turned the key in the ignition.

“What now?” said Hermione exasperatedly. Ron undid his seatbelt and climbed out the windscreen. When he was on the bonnet, the car spurred forward and he was sent flying onto the summer grass. Then a number of things happened in quick succession. All the car doors opened, including the trunk. Their entire luggage was flung from the storage compartment, Hermione's seatbelt automatically unfastened itself and both Harry and Hermione were hurled out of the car. He ended up sprawled on the damp ground just a few feet from where Ron was standing looking stunned in the direction of the car. With a number of loud clunks the doors closed themselves and the car, dented, scratched and steaming, rumbled off into the darkness, its rear lights blazing angrily.

“No! Come back!” Ron bellowed running after the car. He didn't notice Harry, who was slumped on the wet grass, and consequently tripped over him. He ended up sitting on his behind, looking gloomily at Harry. “Dad'll kill me,” he grumbled, before collapsing onto the grass. When all the commotion was over and the last sounds of the escaping car were muffled out by the trees of the Forbidden Forest, the trio lifted themselves off the ground. They were all stiff, cold and bruised by the day's events and with the air of a funeral procession they dragged their trunks up to the great oak doors that led to the Entrance Hall of Hogwarts castle. When they reached it though, it seemed things could only get worse. “Well I hope you three have an exceptionally well thought out excuse for arriving, not only late but also without your proper school attire,” a voice sneered from the darkness. Then a cloaked figure stepped out onto the head of the steps and they all recognised the sallow skin, hook nose and greasy hair of Professor Severus Snape.

“We do have an excellent reason for our delay. It's whether you'll believe it or not that establishes a problem,” said Harry, too exhausted to care if he was being overly rude to Snape.

Snape's eyes gleamed through the darkness and with a motion of his hand he beckoned them into the castle. Ron and Hermione followed his instructions and headed into the Entrance Hall but Harry stopped at the door and stared intently at Snape. “You can't punish us. Firstly you're not our Head of House and secondly we made sure before we left that we weren't breaching any magical laws.” He could see the fury in Snape's eyes, and with a sharp shove he pushed Harry through the doorway. Snape signalled for them to drop their luggage and then proceed down a narrow stone staircase that led to the dungeons.

They soon found themselves in what Harry assumed was Snape's office. Shelves lined the walls, filled with jars of green fluid that housed mysterious plants and some tiny dead creatures. The fireplace was dark and empty with no evidence of a previous fire. The three of them stood shivering at Snape's desk, which held large volumes with yellowing pages. “So…,” started Snape, “the Hogwarts Express isn't good enough for the great Harry Potter. He just had to arrive here through other means. How did you get here?”

“I guess we weren't spotted then,” said Harry turning to Ron with a reassuring smile. Ron nodded back with an air of relief. “Guess not.”

“DON'T…you dare look away from me when you are spoken to!” roared Snape, his face reddening with anger.

“My apologises sir,” said Harry politely turning to face him again. “We were unable to board the train as the barrier which led to the platform had sealed itself. We thought we were stranded and so we believed that the best way to continue was to make our own way to Hogwarts. There is a loophole in the law which deems under-age magic acceptable under emergencies, am I not correct?”

Snape scorned derisively. “You expect me to believe this story of yours. That the barrier was blocked to you! What do you think I am? A fool?”

Harry raised an eyebrow in amusement but seeing the warning glance Hermione threw him, he decided to keep Snape from completely losing his head. Then there was a disturbance behind them and the three turned around to see Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall entering the office. Snape quickly told the two what was happening. McGonagall looked shocked but Harry guessed Dumbledore knew most of what he was being told. After Snape was finished, Professor McGonagall demanded an explanation. Ron launched into the story from the very beginning right up to where they had been ejected from the car. Hermione remained silent; her head bowed and unshed tears apparent in her hazel eyes.

Silence descended on the room when Ron had finished. “Why didn't you send a letter by owl? I believe you have an owl Mr. Potter,” McGonagall said coldly to Harry.

“She wasn't with me at the time,” explained Harry. Dumbledore sighed. “Well then I suppose there isn't anything else to discuss. You are indeed correct in assuming that you haven't broken any laws as at the time you were in an emergency. You took all of the correct precautions and you weren't seen by any muggles or wizards. Though I must impress upon you the serious risk you put yourselves in. If you had been seen, the Ministry would have had to introduce another cover story and if you had crashed, which there was a high risk of doing so, well then Hogwarts would have lost three of its finest students. I will be writing to each of your families tonight and you will each have a detention chosen by Professor McGonagall.”

Snape, who had previously looked triumphant at catching Harry, was now absolutely livid at their explanation. “Headmaster, you can't honestly believe this…tale…of Potter's. He has caused serious damage to an old and valuable tree; the Whomping Willow has stood on these grounds since before they were born…”

“To be honest sir, I think it caused more damage to us,” Ron interrupted. Snape immediately rounded on him but before he could speak Dumbledore interjected. “You speak honestly Mr. Weasley. Maybe you and Ms. Granger should make a visit to the Hospital Wing. I need to have a word with Mr. Potter before he retires for the night.” Ron gave Harry a questioning look. Then he seemed to come to some sudden realisation. “Wait! So we aren't expelled?” he asked desperately.

“No, not today,” said McGonagall, incapable of suppressing a smile at Ron's obvious delight. Hermione also seemed to brighten at these words. She gave a loud sigh of relief and blinked away her tears. When Ron and Hermione had left the office, Snape gave one last look of outrage, before storming out of their company and slamming the door behind him. Dumbledore strolled over to the fireplace and lit it with a wave of his hand. He then conjured two chairs in front of the mantelpiece and took a seat in one, gesturing for Harry to take the other. “Harry,” he started in an unusually grave voice “there is a matter of importance I wish to discuss with you. As it concerns the school I asked Minerva to remain with us as she is Deputy Head.” Harry nodded in understanding. Dumbledore removed two slips of parchment from inside his exquisite robes and handed them to Harry. Looking down at the parchment Harry could tell the sender of the note was nervous and desperate when writing it. The words were scrawled and the ink was blotchy. Two words written in black ink, a mixture of capital and lower case, “HoGWarts DaNGeR”

It seemed the writer had fought some internal battle and had paused during the composition of the warning. Harry immediately thought of Dobby. He must have written to warn the school as well as Harry. The second piece of parchment was a replica of the first. “These arrived at the Owlery one week ago. We don't know its full meaning but its caution cannot be ignored. I immediately thought of Lord Voldemort and wondered whether you have had any dreams or seen anything unusual.”

Harry peered at Dumbledore, contemplating what to say. He then told Dumbledore of Dobby's visit and how he hadn't thought much of it. He then explained his suspicions about Dobby's involvement at the mysterious blockade of the barrier. “And what do you think it all means, Harry?”

“That Hogwarts is indeed in danger. And we're going to have to stay on edge this year or face the consequences of ignorance,” said Harry almost inaudibly, his eyes still on Dobby's terrified words.

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

Alright I might start changing things a bit now. Make the plot more sinister. Also Lockhart's character went it is finally shown, will be slightly darker. Well thanks for reading and please review.

Take care,

Radagast

-->

Harry trudged into the bright Great Hall, shadows under his eyes and his face slightly paler than usual. He was utterly exhausted from everything that had happened since crossing the threshold into Hogwarts. After his talk with Professor Dumbledore he decided to make a visit to the Hospital Wing as his hands had been cut by smashed glass and were bleeding onto the sleeve of his jumper. On his way through the dark castle he was interrupted by a fuming Davis. He seemed to be infuriated and went on a frantic rant about safety and rules, briefly mentioning stupidity. When they reached the dimly lit library Davis seemed to have talked himself into silence and brought Harry into his office where he continued to patch up Harry's blood red hands, occasionally removing a small fragment of clear glass that had imbedded itself under the skin.

Harry had been surprised to find Professor Sinistra sitting comfortably on the green leather couch in Mr. Davis' compacted office. She seemed quite at ease and if anything she seemed quite amused at Davis' irritated humour. Harry told them what had happened and when Davis was finished he thanked him and returned to an empty Gryffindor Tower. Walking up the spiral staircase he found that the boys in his dormitory were fully awake and that they seemed to be gathered around Ron with envious looks on their faces as he told them the story. They congratulated Harry on his amazing arrival and they didn't get to sleep until midnight when an incensed Percy barged in telling them off for disturbing the peace.

After waking up early he returned to the library where he had an intense training session mainly due to his inability to concentrate. After Davis realised how weary Harry seemed he let him go asking him to return that night as he wanted to commence his magical training. He also advised that he should bring Hermione which baffled Harry slightly. So now Harry sat lethargically at the breakfast table faced by tureens of porridge, towers of bacon and large basins of different cereals. Hermione was already at the table reading another book by Gilderoy Lockhart and Harry sensed that she wasn't in a talkative mood other than raising her head when she saw him, then dropping her gaze back to the page muttering a small hello. He knew she was annoyed at him for what had unfolded yesterday but he wasn't really in the mood to start arguing and decided to leave her in her sulking mood.

Ron was chatting animatedly to a group of second years, including Neville Longbottom, who had the memory of a blind goldfish, and the charming Seamus Finnegan who was frequently found attempting to woo girls from Gryffindor, Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff. He tended to avoid girls from Slytherin saying they were too snobbish for his liking. Lavender was sitting closely beside Ron and every now and again her hysterical girlish laughter would penetrate Harry's ear, making him feel like someone was injecting him with a headache. As Harry ate his toast without relish the post owls swooped down over the students, lightly dropping packages to the waiting students. Neville looked up expectantly and a large brown owl carrying a package that resembled a sack landed beside him. Harry guessed it was from his formidable grandmother, sending on Neville's forgotten possessions.

Professor McGonagall, wearing her usual stern look, was passing out the new years' timetable. Taking his, Harry noticed his first class was Herbology with the Hufflepuffs. Hermione was packing her things away in her schoolbag feverishly and then stood up preparing to leave. Harry grabbed her by the forearm in order to stop her progression down the aisle. “Listen I don't want to fight. I'm sorry for dragging you into that whole situation yesterday, but I can't change what happened.” He spoke earnestly and this was what brought Hermione to forgive him. “I'm not that annoyed. And you didn't drag me into it. I agreed to it.” The two of them left the Great Hall and made their way across the muddy grounds.

The sky was a steely grey, plains of clouds blocking out the world above. As they neared the greenhouses they met a large crowd of bustling students who seemed to be buzzing with excitement. “We'll be in Greenhouse Three today,” said a blonde haired boy to them when they came to a halt. Neville was caught between fear and enthusiasm. Greenhouse Three housed the more exotic and thrilling plants and everybody knew it was Professor Sprout's most favourable greenhouse. When all the class had assembled outside the door, Professor Sprout arrived, supporting bandages on her left arm from trying to attend to the Whomping Willow. “Now class,” she said fiddling with the lock on the glass door, “today I want you to be extra careful as there are many dangerous plants sheltered here.” The door opened and the class filed in. Just as Harry made it to the door a hand on his shoulder stopped him. Turning he found himself looking at the dazzlingly white smile of Gilderoy Lockhart. “Harry, Harry, Harry,” he repeated shaking his head as if in disbelief. “Professor I'm going to borrow Harry for a moment.” Before he could stop him, Lockhart had guided him a few feet away from the door.

“Harry, Harry, Harry,” he admonished. He was wearing long robes of brilliant turquoise and his golden wavy hair showed from under his turquoise hat which had a gold rim around the edge. It seemed that everything about him matched. He was clean and pristine as if he had just stepped out from a box that was marked `fragile'. “When I heard what you had done, well let's just say I was shocked,” he started, his eyes widening to show how he had been feeling. “Flying a car to school, well it's all a bit overdramatic. And I must admit that I take the absolute blame. I gave it to you, didn't I.” Harry was still trying to recover from the irony of Lockhart mentioning the word overdramatic in terms of someone other than himself. When he registered what he had said he asked bewildered. “What do you mean gave it to me?” Lockhart sighed and put his hand on Harry's shoulders. “The bug,” he whispered dramatically. “You know… your desire for fame. I felt it, you make the headlines one day and you strive to make them again. I gave it to you when you made the front page of the Prophet. A good day Harry, a good day,” he nodded his head, savouring the memory. “But you shouldn't go to these measures to achieve fame. No...,” he said shaking his head disapprovingly. “Don't go looking too hard. Don't put yourself in danger for fame. I mean…I'm an accomplished wizard but you're just a young boy. Of course you've had the brush with fame with all that business with You-Know-Who and….”

Harry zoned out of what he was saying. He couldn't believe anybody could be this self-involved and the fact that he thought Harry was the same just aggravated him beyond words. When Lockhart was done he ruffled Harry's hair as if he was his uncle and then made his way across the mud-covered grounds careful not to step in any of the waterlogged areas so he wouldn't get his spotless leather boots dirty. Harry slid into the greenhouse where there was a large wooden trestle table that held a number of pots that were filled with soft dark compost.

The class was quite engaging as they learned about Mandrakes. Harry was fascinated by the species. These were very young and so their cry was not harmful but when at an adult stage they were lethal. It was strange to think that something so innocent could have such a dire effect. The lesson was relatively quiet as they were required to wear earmuffs but when they were finished and cleaning up Hermione asked Harry what Lockhart wanted to talk about. “Oh it's nothing,” he replied. He didn't like lying to her and he would've preferred that Hermione knew how self-centred Lockhart was but he didn't want to upset her. He knew she would probably be crushed if she found out the truth and he didn't want to be the cause of that. It would be best if she found out for herself. “Oh this class is so filthy,” moaned Lavender Brown from behind them. Harry spun around to observe Ron trying to calm her down while she complained childishly about getting dirt under her new nails. Hermione witnessing this shook her head at Lavender's selfishness and immaturity.

As Harry and Hermione cleaned the dirt from their own hands, a boy with curly black hair whose name was Justin Finch Fletchley joined them. He began a friendly account of how he had discovered he was a wizard and also how excited he was to be taught by Gilderoy Lockhart. Harry had to endure Hermione and Justin Finch Fletchley chit chat about him for a few minutes before a resounding bell was heard from the castle. The Gryffindors hurried through the grounds and rushed to Professor McGonagall's classroom to Transfiguration. When they were seated, Harry and Hermione sitting behind Ron and Lavender, Professor McGonagall immediately began warning them that they were now drifting slightly from the basics and should anyone drift from the rules she would punish them severely. The sternness of her expression told them that she would be true to her word.

Their task today was to transfigure a beetle into a button. This was made more difficult by the fact that the beetle scuttled across the desk away from any contact with humans so there was a number of misses. Hermione was the first to succeed at this and playfully poked her tongue out at Harry. After two more tries Harry got it. He raised a triumphant eyebrow at her and poked his tongue out at her only to quickly retract it as McGonagall caught him in the act. Hermione giggled slightly before rapidly feigning interest in her transformed button. “Mr. Potter if you would kindly refrain from acting like an infant while in my class,” she cautioned.

Harry's cheeks reddened slightly before he turned to see Hermione heaving from suppressed laughter. “I'm glad you can laugh at my expense,” he whispered. “I'm glad you can make me laugh,” she replied leaning forward. As she leaned forward a piece of her hair, which today was tied back, fell across her face. Instinctively Harry reached out and returned the strand of hair behind her ear. A very awkward silence fell before them as they gazed into each others eyes. Then they both looked away embarrassed. Harry silently cursed himself. What the hell did you do that for, you idiot? Now she probably thinks you're weird. “Ooh look Harry!” Hermione said excitedly. She had managed to turn her button back into a very disgruntled beetle.

The rest of the class passed by uneventfully without anymore awkwardness or discomfort. Ron was having major problems with his fractured wand. He had used Spellotape so that it was rigid again but it kept sparkling and crackling. Then it started issuing grey smoke that smelled of rotten eggs. Lavender stood up abruptly with a look of disgust on her face and, taking a shocked Neville by the collar dragged him out his seat and took his place beside Parvati. Neville pulled his shirt over his nose to prevent him from breathing the stench. Both Harry and Hermione had their jumpers pulled up just below their eyes while Ron sat looking overwhelmed at his excuse for a wand. Using her wand McGonagall got rid of the reek and advised Ron to get a new wand which was capable of the simplest of spells. Only Harry and Hermione had achieved the day's task and so the remainder of the class left the room dispirited. The Great Hall was already packed with students in the middle of their lunches. Just as they were entering the hall there was a flash of blue light which blinded Harry momentarily.

When he turned he saw a small mousy-haired boy with what looked like a muggle camera hanging around his thin neck. “Hi Harry, can I have a picture?' he asked breathlessly. “I think you just had it,” Harry responded. “Can I have one with you? Maybe your girlfriend can take it,” he said. Harry cleared his throat uncomfortably. “She's not my girlfriend....er,” Harry paused not knowing the boys' name.

“Colin,” the boy said eagerly. “Colin Creevy. I've heard all about you. Isn't this place great,” he continued with a quick glance around the magnificent Entrance Hall. He started talking rapidly without drawing breath so that he almost became incoherent. Harry caught that his dad was a milkman and guessed the boy was muggle-born. It went on and on until he asked Harry could he have another picture and if he could sign it. Suddenly Harry heard a loud scornful voice from the marble staircase.

“Signing photos of yourself, Potter?” Draco Malfoy came into view, his slick blond hair matted to his head. He was flanked by his cronies, the most noticeable being Crabbe and Goyle. The two of them guffawed stupidly. The crowd fighting their way into the Great Hall stopped to listen. Ron was among them and silently went over to stand beside Harry. “Come on everybody, Potter is giving out signed photos,” Malfoy roared to the stationary crowd. The Slytherins sniggered and started pushing their way to the front of the mass of people.

There was now an empty circle in the middle of the throng of people. Malfoy stepped into it a conniving smirk on his pale pointed face. He had grown taller since last term and Harry guessed he was slightly taller than himself. More menacing were Crabbe and Goyle who had pulled themselves up to their full height and were broader than two people standing next to each other. They were each flexing their muscles.

“Shut up Malfoy,” Ron warned. “You're just jealous,” piped up Colin.

Malfoy gave a derisive snort. “Jealous? Of Potter. The pathetic little orphan boy.” Harry had had enough. He took a step into the circle earning some small gasps from the crowd. “I'd really advise you to shut up Malfoy,” said Harry barely audible. Crabbe and Goyle narrowed their beady eyes.

“What are you going to do Potter?” he taunted maliciously. “I mean look who's standing up for you. A midget with a camera and a poor freckled Weasley. I warned you and now look at the company you keep. Looks like you've got a soft spot for their sort as well,” he said indicating Hermione with a nod of his head. Ron went to run at Malfoy but Seamus grabbed him as Crabbe and Goyle seemed to be relishing the thought of a fight. “My father always advised me against their kind. I guess that is one piece of advice I can thank him for.”

Something snapped within Harry. Maybe it was living in fear for the past two months, constantly wondering when and how he would finally die. But at that moment his mind went blank. He couldn't hear Hermione pleading for him to calm down and ignore Malfoy. The crowd became raucous but Harry couldn't hear their yells trying to egg on the fight. When Harry moved forward Crabbe immediately stepped in front of Malfoy, his bulk figure casting a shadow over Harry. With a quick toe kick Crabbe was bent over in pain revealing the horrified look that showed on Malfoy's features. Harry roughly threw Crabbe to the floor, out of the way of his path. Goyle advanced on Harry next but before he could even reach him there was fearful muttering from the on-lookers. “It's Snape,” said Ron wide-eyed.

“What is going on here?” came the lazy tone of the slick tongued Potions master appearing from the apprehensive students which were now trying to get back into the Great Hall. “Potter assaulted Crabbe, Sir!” said Malfoy without missing a beat. Snape's eyes took in Crabbe's hunched posture and Harry whose eyes were fixed on Malfoy. Malfoy had quickly dropped the scared look and was now sporting an evil grin. After a moment's tense silence where Harry could almost hear Snape's brain clock up the wrong conclusion, there was a fierce yell from Snape.

“POTTER!” He strode forward and grabbed Harry with a vice like grip around the arm and dragged him off up the marble staircase. Harry glimpsed Hermione's anxious face before they rounded a corner and were out of sight. “No respect for the rules. No respect for anybody or anything, eh Potter?” Snape spat at him. “No not if it's your call. Strutting around the school as if you own the place, beating up people, embarrassing them. You're nothing but an ignorant little brat.” He continued talking in this spiteful manner when they reached the second floor. There was a furious anger burning within Harry maybe that was why he did it.

As they entered another empty corridor, he gave a fierce shove forcing Snape to let go of him. Snape looked dumbfounded but hastily recovered, drawing his wand and pointing it at Harry's heart. “Well…continue,” he said nastily enjoying Harry's vulnerability. Harry glared vehemently at him wondering what was going to happen next. Still with his wand pointed straight at him, Snape leaned forward and pulled Harry around to face the long corridor. He then stuck his wand into the small of Harry's back. “Walk or regret,” he whispered dangerously. They rounded another corridor and Harry found himself outside Dumbledore's office. There was a harsh scraping noise and one of the stone gargoyles, which blocked the spiral staircase, moved aside. Professor Dumbledore, wearing long rich ruby red robes, strolled out from behind the concealed doorway. Seeing the two visitors he paused and his face grew grave at the burning rage which showed in Harry's darkened eyes.

Snape approached him with an icy smile. Beneath his pallid features Dumbledore knew that Snape seemed delighted at something. “Headmaster, I'm afraid that there is no use in trying to ignore Mr. Potter's behaviour now. He has assaulted a pupil from my House and has also shown violence towards me,” he spoke in a tone with false solemnity.

“You were hurting me; there is nothing I have done wrong. I was merely defending myself,” Harry responded earnestly. Snape seemed taken aback at Harry's allegations. He glowered at him with such ferocity that Harry was contemplating averting his eyes.

“Headmaster, I would never hurt a student,” Snape started, looking at Dumbledore with sincerity. Harry gave a bitter laugh that echoed in the corridor. “Now listen hear, Potter. You cannot strut around making false accusations against people, more importantly teachers of this prestigious school,” he hissed while rounding on Harry.

“Severus,” warned Dumbledore who had watched their encounter and remarks with concern. He feared the loathing which each held for each other and what would come of it. “I do not believe Harry has assaulted any of my students. He seems to be under the belief that it was self-defence and I trust that,” he explained turning to give Harry a kind smile. He turned back to Snape's colourless face. “Nor do I believe you would meaningfully cause pain or suffering to any of my students. I think there has been a severe misunderstanding here and I am willing to let the matter go.”

Ten minutes later after a lengthy discussion with Snape and Dumbledore about rules and regulations, Harry was on his way to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. The lesson was nearly over and as Harry approached the door he suddenly heard terrified screams coming from within the classroom. He ran to the door but before he could make it, the wooden door flew open and a gang of alarmed and wild students came flooding out from the room. The students looked a mess as if something had grabbed fistfuls of their robes and started swinging them around. Harry noticed that some of them looked like someone had tried to steal their hair; it was sticking up so badly. Lavender Brown was searching frantically for her pocket-sized mirror and when she found it and caught her reflection she gave a hysterical scream of terror. Her hair had come loose from her elegant bun and she resembled someone who had just received an electric shock. Harry pushed through the students and entered the classroom.

He met a scene of total destruction. The windows had been smashed, the tables had been overturned. Pages had been ripped unceremoniously from their covers and were now strew on the floor or still floating high in the air. Ink was forming puddles on the timber floor and the blackboard had been thrown across the room, showering the air with dusty chalk. Harry looked for the source of all the devastation and found them hovering over Lockhart's desk at the front of the class. There was about eight of them, and from the opened desolate cage on the desk he guessed they had only recently been released. About eight inches high, with electric blue skin and voices so high it was like a group of budgies arguing about politics, the creatures were zooming and rocketing around the class. “Pixies,” breathed Hermione from behind him. Ron stepped over an upended waste bin with an enraged look. “He sets them loose and bloody asks us to round them up. He's useless.” Hermione gave him an angry glare. “He just made a mistake,” she retorted.

By the time the other students had alerted the teachers and they had arrived at the classroom they found an unusual silence. Professor McGonagall and Flitwick discovered the three students, weary and drained sitting on the ground. Harry had his eyes closed and his head leaning back against the wall. Perspiration showed on his forehead and his hair looked as if it had been styled in a spiky style. It seemed as if he had repeatedly run his hands through it. Ron's hands were covered in small scratches as he had taken to hitting the pixies with books as his wand was in no condition to battle. Harry and Hermione had frozen most of them and stunned some of the lucky ones. The door to Lockhart's office opened and he stepped out looking as perfect as ever. “Ah,” he said pompously rubbing his hands together “Professors. I was just showing them the fundamentals of handling pixies.” Harry and Ron groaned and Lockhart's smile faltered under McGonagall's stern stare.

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

Another chapter. Will be getting to darker side of plot in next instalment. Please review and thank you for reading.

Take care,

Radagast.

-->

A fierce wind was blowing around the castle; rattling the windows and sending a frightening chill through the empty corridors. Harry sat in the dusty library surrounded by large volumes; his eyes squinted as he read the small text. Hermione was seated at the study table finishing her Herbology homework, an essay on Mandrakes and their functions. Mr. Davis was setting up the wooden mannequin, which he had enchanted so that it could talk and had facial expressions. Through this they hoped that they could gain an insight as to how effective their spells were.

“Ready Harry?” asked Davis indicating he should get himself prepared. Harry nodded standing up and placing one of the books back on a packed shelf. Descending the small stair onto the marble floor he removed his wand from his robes. He stood opposite the immobile dummy trying to clear his mind of useless thoughts. Hermione stopped to observe the scene, her quill poised over the long scroll of parchment. Harry had found the spell in a morbid spell book earlier when he had entered the library. Paralysis from magic induced into the nervous system of the enemy. The incantation was quite unusual as it was no ordinary spell. It was broken Latin which made it difficult for Davis to translate but they seemed to be morbid words at that. Mortalitas Singultus Dolor Despero

Davis was quite interested in the prospects of the spell. It would be quite useful when in a cornered situation where escape was imperative. Harry had examined the spell and researched it in other books he had found and they had decided to try it. Taking a deep breath he raised his wand. Closing his eyes he repeated the incantation silently letting it fill his mind. Then he opened his eyes and roared the words. A shaft of purple light erupted from the end of his wand and struck the mannequin's torso. A purple aura surrounded the figure before it collapsed with a clatter. Davis bent over the inanimate dummy and whispered something with his wand pointed at its chest. The dummy's eyes flew open and it struggled to move, giving it the look of someone who is restrained. “Good Harry. Not completely there but you would certainly incapacitate your enemy,” he acknowledged with a smile. “Er…maybe you should sit down,” he finished seeing Harry's pale complexion.

Harry ran a shaky hand through his black hair before falling to his knees and then sitting slumped on the hard floor. Hermione was immediately at his side while Davis ran off to get a glass of water. “Come on, take off your robe,” she insisted pulling it from his shoulders. Perspiration was evident on his forehead and his palms were damp with sweat. After gulping down a glass of refreshing water which Davis had handed him he removed his jumper and loosened his tie. “Sorry,” he apologized “I'm just a bit tired. That spell is quite draining.”

Davis helped him to his feet and hauled him over to a chair. “Most spells of that calibre deplete a wizard's power. The exhaustion you feel is only natural. But you did extremely well for your first try. Maybe we should leave it for today. Let you get your strength back. You should finish your homework. I hear you're studying Mandrakes. Quite fascinating.” Davis returned to his office saying he needed to finish a list of the books in the main library. Harry shuffled through some of his papers and notes and found his essay which was only half-done. Hermione continued finishing her novel sized thesis, occasionally glancing Harry's direction to make sure he was okay. “Hermione I'm fine. It's been a long day, that's all.”

Hermione frowned. “I know but you haven't slept a full night in awhile now.”

Harry was about to make a futile disagreement before she cut him off. “Don't try to lie. It's quite obvious from your appearance.”

“It's nothing Hermione. It'll go away in a few days. Just having problems sleeping, I'm not dying.”

Another hour passed until they completed their homework. Davis heard them packing up and hurried into them. “I need to speak to you for a moment. It's about your training,” he said taking a seat. He removed his glasses suggesting he was feeling a slight discomfort. “I want Hermione to train with you. Only in magic. It's vital that you both are able to defend yourselves and it will be quite helpful for you to have a partner.” Harry remained silent, his face impassive. Hermione also didn't speak. “You will only be learning defensive magic. I don't want you meddling with dark magic. The Headmaster is convinced that teaching Dark Magic to anyone in the school is forbidden but Harry's case is obviously unique. You would be acting as a duelling partner for Harry but it is important that you, yourself, learn to defend yourself to your utmost ability.”

Harry sighed frustratingly and placed his head in his hands, gripping his jet black hair. “I will train with Harry. I think you're right, Mr. Davis. It can't do wrong learning to defend myself,” Hermione declared decidedly. She sounded her bossy self but Harry felt her gaze on him. He looked dejectedly at her and he seemed even more fatigued than before. She noticed the helplessness in his eyes. He knew he couldn't stop her, that he couldn't tell her what to do or where to go. Instead of disagreeing he just heaved another troubled sigh and nodded at her as if giving meaningless permission. Mr. Davis seeing this silent exchange stood up. “Well then, I will see you both tomorrow night. We'll go over some of the basics which I believe you have started.”

The door to the library groaned open and all three bodies turned to see who was entering. Professor Sinistra slipped in the door before turning and closing it with a dull thud. “Hey,” she whispered quietly making her way over to them.

“Don't worry, this isn't the main library. You don't have to whisper,” Davis joked. Professor Sinistra took in the solemn expression on Harry's face and the nervous one on Hermione's. An awkward silence settled on the company and was only broken when Hermione slid her Herbology text book into her red school bag and stood up. “Goodnight Professors,” she said before hurrying from the room. Harry remained seated, staring into nothing, deep in thought. “Your hair is very stylish when spiked up,” Sinistra complimented. Harry broke from his reverie and gave her a thankful nod which showed slight embarrassment.

“You know…it's not your fault. This is her choice and you should respect that, if not be thankful for her decision to follow you,” said Davis sternly. Harry looked at him for a moment before grabbing his bag and running after her. He caught up with her on the seventh floor corridor walking briskly as if she wanted to escape the school. The corridor was empty and he shouted her name hoping she would pause. She continued, ignoring him as if he wasn't there. He hastened after her calling her name again. “Hermione…please!” he gasped reaching her. He grabbed her arm causing her to stop. She rounded on him, her eyes burning with angry tears. “I'm sorry for not thinking about how this helps you,” Harry started immediately so she couldn't interrupt. “I was just worried that you'd get hurt, but learning to defend yourself…it will only help.”

Hermione huffed before her expression softened. She smiled sweetly and then sighed in mock exasperation. “I'm glad you agree with Mr. Davis and if I'm honest, I am kinda relieved to be learning to protect myself and others.”

“So I'm forgiven?” Harry asked hopefully.

“I guess so Potter,” she replied light-heartedly.

They reached the Fat-Lady's portrait. She eyed them distrustfully. “Do you have any idea what time it is?” she asked rhetorically. Harry checked his watch. “Nine o'clock,” he said apprehensively. They were out after curfew and the Fat Lady, if she wished to do so, could alert a member of the staff.

“I should report you but as it is late I'll refrain from doing so. You may enter but first I want a password?”

“Wattlebird,” declared Hermione.

“You may enter,” she stated, swinging forward on her hinges.

Students were scattered throughout the common room, studying or playing chess and gobstones. Harry's dormitory mates were sitting around the fire obviously just completed their Herbology homework. Neville seemed quite ecstatic about his and was rechecking it happily. “Hey,” said Harry and Hermione simultaneously sitting down.

“Where were you both?” Ron asked suspiciously.

“Library,” replied Hermione throwing a log onto the crackling fire.

“Should've known,” said Seamus shaking his head disbelievingly. “Back a day and already back to the library.”

“Have you seen the new librarian? He's kind of weird. Major loner if you ask me,” Parvati Patil said scornfully. Harry looked up from the crimson fire which was spluttering under the new log Hermione had placed in it. Parvati Patil, Lavender's best friend in Hogwarts, was apparently one of the prettiest girls in their year. Harry wouldn't disagree. She had long black hair which she wore in an elegant plait and dark brown eyes which were enticing to nearly all the boys in Gryffindor Tower.

“He is not!” came Hermione's angry voice interrupting his thoughts. “He's a brilliant man and you have no right to say such disrespectful things. You don't know him at all!” The group around the fire gave Hermione a weary glance before looking away. “Sorry,” muttered Parvati quite shocked. “Just sayin' is all,” she finished in her thick London accent.

When the majority of students had gone to bed, the others decided to call it a day as well. Lavender and Ron were a few minutes at the entrance to the girl's staircase saying goodnight in a more physical way. Harry and Hermione remained sitting on the soft couch, the fire spreading flickering shadows on the opposing wall. “What are you reading?” Harry asked.

“I'm just brushing up on Potions. God only knows what Snape is going to give us. I still can't believe his behaviour earlier,” she said.

“Really,” Harry said raising his eyebrows. “I can well believe it. It all stems from this enmity with my dad. I don't think he'll ever get over it. He's drowned himself in his memories.”

Hermione nodded sympathetically. “I know he can be arrogant, callous and malicious. But I actually feel sorry for the guy.”

Harry smiled mysteriously at her. “What?” Hermione asked.

“Nothing, I just love the way you see the good in everyone.”

“It's probably just naivety,” she laughed.

“No, it's your heart…I think the world is a better place with people like you in it, Hermione. Innocence is becoming a lethal weakness these days.”

A pink tinge appeared on Hermione's cheeks and she bowed her head slightly averting her eyes. “Thanks,” she murmured. After another few minutes passed, in which Harry listened to the wind thrashing around Gryffindor Tower, Hermione bade him goodnight and advised him to get to bed soon. He lay down, sprawled on the couch enjoying the warmth emanating from the fire. He soon drifted off to sleep but he wasn't met by sweet dreams.

A ghost passed swiftly by his view as he continued around another empty stone corridor. He felt a thrill of fear course through him and would've stopped if he was capable of controlling his body. But he wasn't sure if he was in a body or whether his weightlessness was the very wind itself. Suddenly he spotted a grey figure at the end of the corridor. It was silent, motionless, blending with the eerie night. As he approached the spine-chilling atmosphere was beginning to play on his nerves and he felt himself shake. Suddenly a terrifying scream rent the air, resounding through the void corridor and causing Harry's heart to stop.

Harry felt a shock stream through him and woke abruptly. He gasped for air but not for long as he jumped from the couch and bounded out the portrait hole. His heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway, cacophonous against the silence. He was beginning to run out of breath as he rounded another corridor and felt winded at what met him. The sight was a mirror image of the dream. Harry inhaled sharply and then considering for a moment what to do next. He continued slowly down the wide corridor, each tentative step increasing his trepidation. The figure didn't move and Harry recognised it as a student but from his view he couldn't see who it was. They had a mop of brown hair and were quite tall indicating they were one of the older students, probably a fifth year. He held out a hesitant hand and briefly touched the figures shoulder.

Immediately the student reacted. Turning it grabbed Harry with a painful grip around the neck and shoved him against the wall. Harry felt himself being lifted off his feet. His vision blurred as his glasses fell from his face, the scene swam in front of him. He stopped struggling briefly as he saw the face of the attacker. It was twisted with fury and the veins throbbed horribly at either side of its head. But it was the eyes that made Harry freeze. Both eyes were black as if oil had been poured into them. Harry felt himself being pressed harder against the wall with the super-human strength exerted by his attacker. Forcing himself to remain conscious Harry got a hold of the foe's wrist. Using wand-less magic he tried to stun the assailant but because of his lack of concentration all it did was make him release Harry, who slid down the length of the wall into a heap on the ground.

He would have believed himself to have lost consciousness if he had not watched, from the ground, the figure walking away as if in a trance. He wanted to follow but his head was swimming from not being allowed to breathe for so long. He held a tentative hand to his neck feeling the bruised skin from the aggressive hold. He was trembling slightly either from the encounter or the face which he had beheld. He had never seen so much ferocity on a young persons face. The eyes were still imprinted fresh into his memory. Dragging himself off the hard floor he stumbled slightly against the wall as he regained his balance. Hastening through the dark castle he arrived at Dumbledore's office.

The gargoyle guarding the passage through to the spiral stone staircase viewed him with disdain. “Do you have any inclination to what time it is? I'll tell you boy, it is well past your bedtime and I am sure if you don't go back you will be in serious trouble with the Headmaster.”

“Let me through. It's an emergency,” gasped Harry. As soon as the words left his dry mouth he knew the gargoyle did not believe him in the slightest. Just as the argument heated up there was a grinding noise and Professor Dumbledore arrived on the scene, looking worried and for the first time ever, agitated. Harry was so relieved to see him he completely ignored the infuriated gargoyle. He told Dumbledore everything that had happened and watched as Dumbledore grew more concerned. Harry had talked himself into silence and waited anxiously for his reaction.

“What was it Professor? It couldn't have been a student,” said Harry earnestly.

Dumbledore looked worriedly at Harry and observed the bruises that were evident on his neck. “Whatever it was, it has the strength of more than one student.” They walked at a fast pace to where Harry had been attacked and Dumbledore examined the area thoroughly and cautiously. Harry was waiting for him to instantly chase after the creature as if he knew where to begin but he didn't move, just remained in deep thought. “Shouldn't we do something? Alert the staff or search the school!” willed Harry.

“No Harry we cannot alert anyone. It would cause too much panic. You cannot identify the student and I am quite sure that he has disappeared by now.”

“But it's too dangerous to leave a secret. We should find them now. They're obviously dangerous! How can you just leave them?!” Harry nearly shouted.

A few minutes later five more professors were scanning the school under Dumbledore's instructions. Harry was incensed to spot the surreptitious looks of suspicion he received from Professor Snape. When nothing turned up Professor Dumbledore told Harry to return to bed. When Harry enquired again about warning the school Dumbledore replied gravely. “Again Harry I must implore that you keep this information secret. Wide-spread panic will not improve the situation.”

Harry couldn't disagree with Dumbledore's view of the situation, but he really wished he could have discovered the identity of his attacker. Its twisted face of anger was still fresh in his mind and it was that memory which stopped him from sleeping the rest of the night. He lay in his soft bed, his body relaxing but his mind deeply troubled. There was a white mist surrounding the castle now, the sound of the pounding rain had ceased earlier.

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

Even though Dumbledore warned Harry to remain silent, the next morning he told Hermione everything. Mr. Davis was soon searching through every book in his private collection for any similar situations recorded in history. So far he had found nothing. The next few days passed by quite uneventfully especially for Harry who was anticipating another attack. Classes were the same as usual if not a bit harder. His training was getting very difficult but he was strengthening with each session. He was glad to see the weekend approaching, to feel the slight relief even if it was only for a day or two.

-->

Oliver Wood was almost bouncing up to the dormant boy's dormitory. He had complete faith in his new training regime and also his newly devised tactics. Quidditch was his air, his bounty and his entire life had led him to believe that practice was what made you perfect. Of course he had to continually tell that to his team, who often held a grudge against him for his long hours of wearisome training but this year would be different. They would follow him once they realised his magnificent new strategies, the more they learned the more eager they would become. He was damn sure of it, once they got used to it they would be as devoted as he was.

He slipped in the door of his wonderful Seeker's dormitory. It had taken quite a while to rouse the Weasley twins, surely Harry would adhere faster. The circular room was lit with an orangey glow which was slowly making its way across each bed. He crept over to Harry's bed, the curtains were still drawn. Pulling them apart ever so slightly he spotted Harry lying on his front, his black hair sticking up at all ends. Boy, the guy needed a haircut. Oliver moved so as to place a hand on his shoulder and shake Harry awake. As soon as he touched him, Harry rolled onto his back and slipped his wand from under his pillow and instantly had it pointed at Oliver's stunned face. “Chrissake Harry… frightened the life out of me. Come on, we have an early training session. See you on the pitch in two minutes. Nice to see you're alert though. Mark of a fantastic seeker that is,” he said moving away from the bed relatively nonplussed. That was the thing with Oliver; he ate, drank and breathed Quidditch.

Harry remained sitting up on the bed panting heavily. He had reacted immediately, almost unconsciously. He didn't let himself think of what might have happened if he had of said the first spell that had entered his head. He could've seriously hurt Oliver and for Harry that gave him an almost guilty sick feeling at the pit of his stomach. He completely pulled back the scarlet curtains of his four-poster bed and sighed when he realised that dawn had barely elapsed. He wondered whether he had just imagined Oliver being in his room but knew better than to underestimate Oliver's enthusiasm for Quidditch.

He dragged himself from the comfort of his bed and got changed rapidly into his Quidditch robes. He was still putting his brown leather gloves on as he raced down the spiral staircase and across the common room. When he reached the portrait hole he felt someone's presence and pivoted around to see Colin Creevey with his usual eager expression and handling his camera expectantly. Harry warned him that he should return to bed, mentioning how boring training would be. But it was fruitless as Colin was too excited and followed Harry all through the castle asking questions about the sport. Harry answered them monotonously. They had only one more floor to descend before reaching the marble staircase when Colin paused to tie his shoelace. He apologised profusely and implored that Harry should continue on down to the pitch. When Harry rounded the corner he felt a horrible sense of dread build within him.

Suddenly in the midst of the corridor he heard the most cruel and evil hissing voice. “Rip…Tear…Kill”

It was so cold it seemed to freeze the very blood in Harry's veins. He turned to stare at the wall as he pondered whether it was the source of the noise. He placed the palm of his hand flat against the wall and then put his ear to it. The voice hissed menacingly again causing Harry to take a step back. He quickly backtracked around the corner where he had left Colin but Colin had disappeared. In his place he found one of Colin's shoes, its lace untied, lying desolate on its side as if it had been instantly dropped. Then he heard a spine-chilling shriek coming from overhead. Harry thinking it sounded like Colin, dashed up the staircase and found an empty corridor. He drew his wand and found that his hand was shaking uncontrollably. The corridor wasn't completely lit but the first light of day was still fresh upon the walls. But even the beautiful radiance of dawn couldn't stop the macabre feeling Harry received from the atmosphere.

He kept close to the wall as he continued down the eerie corridor. Then as he neared a door he spotted fragments of wood sprawled across the floor. He turned to see the door which had been ripped near of its hinges. The door led to a dark broom cupboard where Colin had obviously tried to hide. Harry was holding his breath as he took another step towards the cupboard.

“C…Colin,” he stammered nervously as he saw the figure of the little first year holding a camera up to his face. He received no answer and stepped into the cupboard to get a better look at Colin. He seemed to have tried to take a picture of what was pursuing him while also hiding behind the hefty camera. Harry frowned at the body. It seemed to be turned to stone but he couldn't begin to imagine what would have it result like this. He placed a hand on Colin's shoulder and shook him gently, almost afraid of the consequences. Suddenly Colin's body collapsed into Harry's arms. His camera fell and the lens shattered. Harry was so shocked at what happened he had given a short yell of surprise.

“Harry!...Come on man where are you? You're not playing hide and seek cause that's just not right man?” Fred Weasley froze in position when he noticed Harry dragging a small blond-headed boy from a broom-cupboard.

“Fred, go get Dumbledore. Quick!” he shouted pleadingly.

“What the hell's going on? What happened to him?”

“He was attacked but I don't know what happened to him. Just go get help now!”

Minutes later Harry was seated outside on the floor of the corridor which preceded the Hospital Wing. Everything that had happened was almost unbelievable. He can't be dead, he can't be dead. Please don't let him be dead. These thoughts were constantly invading Harry's brain so he was barely listening when Professor McGonagall demanded an explanation from him.

“Mr. Potter, MR.POTTER!” she bellowed. When Harry did turn to see her scandalized glare, Professor Dumbledore joined them from the Hospital Wing. Harry jumped up immediately startling Professor McGonagall. “He can't be dead. I mean it's just not possible,” started Harry.

Dumbledore placed a gentle hand on Harry's shoulder. “Mr. Creevey has not died,” he said calmly but his voice was filled with a graveness which made Harry's stomach turn.

“But…what happened?” asked Harry astounded. He was beginning to lose track of the situation. Even though he wished to believe Colin was still alive, his heart kept showing him the image of his breathless body.

“He has been petrified,” said Dumbledore soberly. Seeing the confused expression on Harry's face he continued. “To be more exact it means that to the unconscious eye a body is lifeless but they are in fact still alive. Because of the condition of the body it is always presumed that there is no pulse. A more thorough examination of the pupil of the eye will show definite signs of life. Colin will be fine, Harry. The antidote to being petrified are mandrakes which I believe Professor Sprout has been showing you.” He seemed to lighten at this but Harry was still deeply troubled.

“Who did this? Do you think it's the same person as the other night?”

Dumbledore thought for a moment. “It is highly unlikely that it is a coincidence. Is there anything more information you can give us?”

Harry hesitated. “Er…I heard…a…”

“Yes Harry?” the Headmaster encouraged. “Nothing. I didn't hear anything,” finished Harry. He didn't think telling them that he was hearing voices would be of help to anybody.

“Harry the most minor of details could be vital to this case. Is there anything else?” he implored and Harry got the feeling that Dumbledore was annoyed, growing impatient at Harry's uncertainty.

Harry shook his head. “No…nothing.”

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

The news of Colin's attack spread like wildfire throughout the school. On other occasions this would be a bad thing but because of the seriousness of the situation, Mr. Davis seemed to view it as a good thing as more students were on the alert. Of course the major downside was the fact that Harry had been with Colin when the attack had taken place and to most students this was unfortunately common knowledge. Harry was quite aware of the suspicious glaring that he received from the minority of the student body.

Because of the events on Saturday, the weekend passed by swiftly and before he would have liked, Harry found himself sitting at the back of Defence Against the Dark Arts listening to Lockhart ramble on about the day he won an award from a famous magazine called Witch Weekly. Harry wasn't too interested, his thoughts still on Colin. The first years were particularly affected by the news of the attack. Ginny was very distressed by the events as she sat beside Colin during Charms and he often helped her doing homework. Lavender, assuming the fatal position of sister in law, tried to comfort her and after about a week was successful in doing so, she gave Ginny a make-over. Though pleased that Ginny was no longer brooding over the subject, Harry was beginning to get irritated with her continued adoration of him.

His training had become quite difficult. Mr. Davis had changed the routine slightly. He had physical training in the mornings and then on Monday, Wednesday and Friday nights he practiced magic with Hermione. His timetable was so consuming that Harry was shocked to find that he had been at Hogwarts nearly two months. September and October had flown by and the first Quidditch match was only a week away and the Gryffindor team were practicing tirelessly, much to Harry's displeasure. The first match was against the Slytherin's, who had added much to their team since last year. Firstly, they had a new seeker, Malfoy, and it was quite obvious he had bought his way onto the team as they were all sporting brand new Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones.

From recent reports the pristine brooms were extraordinarily faster than the old model and this was the source of Oliver's nervousness. Harry returned to the common room every night enveloped in muck which dripped off him and caused endless arguments with Filch, the caretaker. Hermione was constantly scouring his clothes and also nagging him for not drying himself properly before returning to the freezing blustery castle. Although her nagging was aggravating at times Harry was extremely thankful for the consideration for his welfare. Apart from the upcoming match, Halloween was also approaching. Harry had to admit, he dreaded the ghoulish date.

“Harry,” Hermione whispered giving him a sharp nudge. “Hey…wake up.” Harry, who was in a slumber on the couch, stirred and opened a wary eye. He saw a hazy figure above him and retreated slightly against the back of the couch. “It's only me. I can't believe you didn't go to bed last night, Harry!” she scolded.

“I wasn't tired,” argued Harry sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

“Oh of course not! That why I found you unconscious on the couch,” Hermione retorted sarcastically. Harry gave her a wry smile and shrugged his shoulders.

“So do you have anything planned for today?” Hermione asked, sitting down beside a lacklustre Harry.

“Nope, no training, no homework, no Quidditch. It is actually my day off. There's a party in the common room after the Halloween feast. The Weasley twins are hosting it but I think some fifth years are helping as well.”

“I never really liked parties. My friend, years ago, had a birthday party and she invited almost every human being she had ever met. It was an excruciating experience. Blaring music and all those idiots who are under the belief that they can dance,” laughed Hermione.

“I've never been to a party. When Dudley ever had a birthday party I was immediately locked away. Hopefully the music tonight isn't too bad. I used to listen to Mrs. Figg's stereo, mainly Frank Sinatra.”

“Oh I love Frank Sinatra,” said Hermione excitedly. “My dad is hooked on him. He's always playing him in the car.”

“I've Got You Under My Skin,” they both said simultaneously and then burst out laughing. “Song of the Millennium,” added Hermione.

Harry nodded in agreement. They both sat in comfortable silence for awhile before Hermione noticed that Harry was drifting off again. “Lets go get some breakfast,” she interjected, breaking the peaceful quiet. She stood up while putting her hair in a ponytail and then turned to see Harry sitting in the same slumped position, his eyes fixed on the floor. “Do you think Colin will be alright?”

Hermione's face saddened. “Well Professor Sprout is certain the mandrakes will cure him when they have matured. I don't know how long that will be, I've heard that it can take a few months but I'm not too sure...It wasn't your fault Harry?” she finished gently.

“But I was there, only a few feet away from him. I should have helped him but I was listening to that stupid voice,” he responded angrily. “Do you think I should have told them about the voice?”

“I don't know. It's like you've already said, hearing voices isn't a reputable thing. Even in the wizarding world it's a sign of insanity,” her eyes widened in shock at what she had just said. “Not that you're insane or anything, I mean the whole ordeal is quite strange in itself and well you know…”

Hermione ushered Harry out of the portrait hole and finally to the Great Hall. Once again it was decorated splendidly. The massive pumpkins which Hagrid had been attending to for the past month were now situated symmetrically around the hall. The early-risers of the school were now sitting inside the actual pumpkins examining Hagrid's handy work. The main crystal chandelier which hung in the centre of the roof was now covered in a mass of silvery spider webs making it look even more magnificent. They strolled into the centre of the Gryffindor table and sat opposite each other so they could speak to each other more freely.

More students joined them as the morning hours passed. The upcoming Quidditch match seemed to be the topic of conversation especially when the Gryffindor team spotted Malfoy and Montague sauntering up the aisle towards them. “So you all set to loose then?” he sneered.

“I can't wait to wipe that smile off your face, Malfoy,” Fred Weasley taunted.

“You're lucky you have highlights in your hair or I might mistake you for a bludger. Then again… you just never know what I may see,” George uttered threateningly.

Malfoy's evil grin faltered for a moment and his eyes betrayed him for there was a flicker of fear but he quickly recovered and hitched another smirk on his face. “Well we'll see, won't we? My father is coming up to watch the match so I will be on my best behaviour which is a sore loss because I really would like to beat you unconscious.”

“Why don't you take your boyfriend back over to your table?” Ron interrupted Malfoy's threat. The entire group of people who were listening burst out laughing, and both Malfoy and Montague turned a bright shade of red. The two humiliated Slytherins hastily went back up the aisle while the Weasley twins sang the wedding tune. “Bom Bom Bo Bom…”

“So how about this party tonight Fred?” Ron asked enthusiastically. He was sitting close beside a preoccupied Lavender who was gazing into a small pocket-sized mirror and fixing her flawless make-up. Parvati was talking to a nervous stuttering Neville, and Ginny, who had just turned up was now sitting so near Harry that she was nearly on his lap. Harry coughed unnecessarily and shifted slightly away from her.

“Well little bro, after much consideration we have concluded that the party will commence at eight o'clock promptly. The hospitable venue will be of course the wonderful Gryffindor Tower and music will be provided by the great DJ Jordan.”

Lee Jordan waved his arms emphatically to signal his appreciation. “Thank you kind sirs,” he said politely with a theatrical bow. “The music will of course be mostly soft rock. I'm not much into metal and dance music tends to scramble my brains.”

“But how on earth will you play it the castle. I mean you can't use electrical devices on Hogwarts grounds because magic interferes with the electromagnetic waves,” Hermione inquired, her brow furrowed in confusion. Lee Jordan shrugged his shoulders. “I just left it with the new librarian guy. I had to drop in because of the horrible essay we had to do for Binns and we got talking about music. I'm telling you that guy had some good taste in music, the Floyd, the Stones and the Clash. Anyway he was explaining about how he had arranged his radio so that it was able to play in a magical environment and when I showed him my stereo he fixed it so it would work. I was dead chuffed, that guy's a legend man. Bit reserved but still…”

Hermione still seemed very interested and after breakfast she took off to have an in-depth discussion with Davis. Harry was scheduled to have a game of chess with Ron, which turned out to be a lengthy tournament which involved almost any Gryffindor student who was capable of playing chess. Harry won Seamus to face Ron in the final. Even though Ron was a skilled chess player he was also quite chatty when he was victorious so the first half of the match went excellent for Harry. Ron noticing this shut his mouth to concentrate and made a stunning comeback to defeat Harry. By the time the tournament was over the common room was being arranged for the party. Harry noticed that Hermione was missing and left the portrait hole to find her.

He searched the library and asked Mr. Davis who informed him that she left nearly an hour ago. He thought frantically where she could have got to and hoped desperately that nothing had harmed her. Then he got an idea and hurried down to the Entrance Hall. He braced himself against the icy wind as he rushed across the grounds to Hagrid's cabin. He knocked on the door three times before a very hassled giant of a man answered it. “Harry, bin wonderin' who that was knockin on me door as if der were wolves behind him. Come in,” he said politely.

Harry stepped out of the cold into Hagrid's warm house. Hermione was seated at the large wooden table a large mug held between her hands. Harry exhaled a sigh of relief when he saw her. “Thank god you're alright. I asked Davis if you were still in the library and he said you'd left ages ago. Sorry I didn't come look for you earlier, there was a chess tournament in the tower,” he explained taking a seat while Hagrid set about making another pot of tea.

“Did you win?” asked Hermione with a grin that made Harry think she already knew he hadn't.

“Nope, but I made it to the final. Ron won…again,” he conceded with a shake of his head. Hermione laughed to herself, “He's a practical joker but he is a very talented tactician.” They spent a lot of the day with Hagrid, discussing the school and Quidditch. Hagrid told them, with some uncertainty, that Dumbledore had been worried since the beginning of the year and after the attack on Colin he had ordered the staff to remain on alert at all times, especially at night. They then debated Gryffindor's chances at finally winning the Quidditch Cup. Hagrid had complete faith in the team and told Harry that players won matches not brooms. Hermione congratulated Hagrid on his wonderful pumpkins and Hagrid confessed that he had used magic, even though his wand had been broken in two after he was expelled, he kept the remains in his pink umbrella.

“Well ye better be goin' back to the castle. The feast is startin' in a sec,” Hagrid said, standing up and removing the mugs from the table. The sound of gushing water could be heard as he cleaned them and placed them back in his small cabinet. They made there way out into the night, Harry wrapping his cloak tighter around himself. The grass was slippery and wet and overhead the sky was dark but Harry could make out the silvery clouds and noted that there were many of them. “Der's a storm comin' this way,” Hagrid muttered gazing into the heavens.

The feast was sensational. There was every variety of food a person could want. By the end most students could barely move or just didn't have the willpower to. Live bats once again hovered over the four house tables and Harry could see that they were making Hermione nervous, even though she would never admit to it.

Halloween had never been the best night of Harry's year. Due to his personal history with Halloween, the death of his parents and the beginning of this journey it had started, he never could really enjoy it fully. Celebration of this night was vital for some magical folks but Harry always resented it. Of course he could not lock himself away in his dormitory or barricade himself in the library mainly because to do that would somehow accept defeat. To bow down to a memory, even the most horrid of memories, was what he thought was complete failure.

Harry had to admit that Fred and George really did throw a great party. Nobody was left out. The food apparently was given to them by the kitchen staff which were humble house-elves. All the chairs and tables had been moved to the border of the room so that there was a large empty space in the centre where students could dance. Huge banners of black and orange hung from the high ceiling over the crowd of raucous teenagers who danced to the beats which Lee Jordan conjured up. Some of the fifth years had managed to attain drinks from a bar that was located in the small village of Hogsmeade. Most of the drinks only had a small percentage of alcohol but Harry was wary anyway and only drank two bottles of butterbeer, which Ron introduced to him.

“Can you get inebriated from this stuff?” asked Hermione casting a suspicious look at the bottle in her hand.

“Sure, whatever that means,” shrugged Ron. Harry laughed, rolling his eyes. “She means can you get drunk?”

“Oh,” he said, nodding in understanding. “Well if you drink enough of it. Especially at our age. If you are used to drinking something heavier well then this stuff won't work.”

Hermione shrugged and took a swig from the bottle. “It is really nice,” she granted. Ron ambled back into the floundering crowd and left Harry and Hermione on their own. Harry was just about to start up another conversation when Ginny rambled over. “Hello,” she said strangely with an odd look at Harry. Her make-up was much heavier then before and her mascara was a lot darker giving her a perilous appearance. She stumbled slightly and wrapped an arm around Harry's neck to straighten herself out. “Sorry,” she chuckled.

Harry pulled himself away from her grasp but held onto her wrist to prevent her from keeling over. Hermione grabbed the butterbeer bottle from Ginny's hand. “How many have you had?” she asked sternly.

“I don't know. Four, maybe five,” Ginny slurred. “I am not drunk. Bit tipsy but not drunk!” Fred battled his way out of the crowd. “Oh man,” he moaned when he saw Ginny approach Harry again. He caught her from behind and with an apologetic look at Harry he steered Ginny away and asked Angelina Johnson to help her to her dormitory.

The music had now changed and the lights had dimmed. The song playing had a deep sultry sound, the seductive velvety vocals seemed to rove around the room and the whole atmosphere in the room changed. Couples were now dancing, moving in unison as they swung lightly to the bass of the tune. Harry glanced at Hermione who was looking thoughtfully at the enchanted couples. She was wearing a striped short-sleeved polo shirt and a green pair of combats. She looked, for the first time in awhile, calm. She wasn't fussing about anything or worried about him or anybody else. She just leaned back against the wall, a content smile on her lips.

Suddenly there was a disturbance at the entrance to the common room. Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan burst through the portrait hole and said something to the nearest students. Like the buzzing of bees the news travelled through the crowd and finally reached them. “There's been another attack,” a terrified third year yelled.

Harry and Hermione shared a nervous glance before making their way over to Seamus. “Seamus where did it happen?” Harry questioned.

“Second floor. It was only Filch's cat but still…”

Without further delay Harry rushed out of the common room, Hermione on his heels. “Harry wait you can't just go…”

“No Hermione,” Harry replied not even pausing “I need some answers.”

Because of the loud music in the common room the Gryffindors hadn't noticed the storm which was raging outside. As Harry progressed down the corridor rain lashed against the windows and the rumble of thunder shook their hearts. A flash of lighting illuminated the dark corridor with an eerie blue glow.

Ron climbed out of the portrait hole after them with a disappointed look on his face. “Where are you guys going? Don't go to the crime scene you'll only get in trouble. Oh come on…”

Hermione turned to see Ron chasing after them. “Well I don't want to miss anything,” he justified, the hint of adventure in his eyes. They hurried through the castle and when they reached the third floor Harry stopped at the top of the stair and listened intently. He was trying to tap into his `advanced-hearing' as Davis called it. He was about to just continue when he heard voices coming from below them but sounded as if they were in the corridor with them.

“What now Albus? This is the second attack and though it might only be a cat…it is a loved one nonetheless,” Professor McGonagall was saying. There was a great sniff from who Harry recognised as Filch.

“Who would do such a thing? Or write such words,” Snape interrupted, his voice had lost its bored tone and was no filled with anxiety. There were footsteps that sounded like someone pacing then Dumbledore spoke. “The important thing to remember is that she is not dead. She has been Petrified and therefore can be saved.”

“But who did it. A student, that's who. A dirty filthy annoying little brat! I've seen them strutting around the corridors dropping muck or,” Filch started fiercely.

“A student could not have even attempted this, Argus. This is extremely advanced magic…of the darkest kind,” said Dumbledore gravely. “All we can do is keep our guard up. Increase patrolling of the corridors, include prefects and alert the Head Boy and Girl. Hogwarts is indeed facing terrible times but how long we do not know.” More footsteps followed this and Harry guessed the group had left the scene.

He turned around to see a confused Ron and an eager Hermione. He quickly relayed the story to them and didn't answer Ron when he asked how on earth Harry had such hearing. They crept down the rest of the corridor and started descending the stairs. Just as Harry took another step down a flash of green lighting burst through his eyes, his scar burned on his forehead and he slumped against the wall for support. Another flash of lightening lit up the corridors releasing the shadows momentarily.

“Harry, what's wrong?” Hermione said worriedly. She rushed to him to try and keep him on his feet. Then Harry heard a screaming far off in the back of his mind, he cradled his head pleading for it to be stopped. Ron noticed the slight drops of blood on Harry's left hand. “His scar is bleeding!” Harry felt like the terrible pain emanating from his scar was devouring the rest of his body. His muscles tensed as a horrible throb ripped through his body and then before he knew what was happening he had slipped from Hermione's grasp, tumbled down the stairs and fell unconscious to the rough floor.

He awoke minutes later and realised that the pain had vanished. He was still laying sprawled on the floor but his head was now being embraced in someone's hands. He kept his eyes shut almost afraid of what would occur if he dared to open them. He heard a soft voice speak and listened. “He's told me something like this has happened before. Last year he collapsed at Halloween, of course he only told me after Christmas. He thinks it's in connection with the night his parents were murdered.”

“I would have to agree. People are much mistaken when they say he escaped with nothing more than a scratch.” Harry opened his eyes when he heard Davis' voice just above him. Sure enough he found Davis examining him and was surprised at the small smile that appeared on his face when he discovered Harry was awake. Moving his head back slightly so as to see who was cradling his head, he learned that it was Professor Sinistra. She looked exceedingly relieved to see he was okay.

“Do you feel any pain, Harry?” Davis asked, concerned. Harry shook his head, but only just as he felt slightly light headed. “I think you should stay in the Hospital Wing tonight, just to be…”

“No,” Harry croaked. “I'm fine, really.” He pulled himself up and staggered slightly before he stood up straight. Hermione was looking at him worriedly still and Ron just seemed to accept that he was alright again. Harry tried to feign an encouraging smile but it faltered when his eyes landed on the wall opposite him. Foot-high words had been daubed on the wall between two windows, shimmering in the light cast by flaming torches.

AND IN THE DARKNESS HE SHALL FIND THEM AND PURGE THE EARTH OF THEIR FILTH. THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED AND ALL WHO STAND AGAINST THE HEIR WILL FALL IN ANGUISH AT HIS FEET.

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

Thanks for reading…please review! By the way I know butterbeer isn't really alcoholic but just thought it'd be good to make it more…effectice.

Take care,

Radagast.

-->

“This is human blood,” said Harry as he examined the floor at the base of the wall which bore the grave message. There were signs that the corridor had been almost flooded but Harry guessed that Dumbledore had rid it of water.

“How do you know that?” Ron asked perplexed at Harry's ability to identify the blood as human. Harry wasn't about to tell him the truth, nor anybody for that matter. For some odd reason Harry could conclude it was human from the smell but was aware at how strange and awful that would sound to the others. They probably would've suspected him to be a vampire, which he gladly was not. Through further scrutiny of the area Harry discovered cat hairs mixed with the red congealed blood.

“This means that whoever did this must be human. But how? Who in this castle has enough power to Petrify humans and felines alike,” Harry pondered aloud. Mr. Davis stepped forward to inspect Harry's findings. He bent very low over the red liquid and then using a small silver set of tweezers, removed a hair which was about two centimetres long. “This is definitely not a cat hair.” He acquired a glass phial from his tweed pocket and placed the hair carefully inside.

“You think it belongs to the attacker?” Hermione asked. Davis stood fully straight again, putting the phial back in his pocket. “It's worth a shot. I'll try and do some analysis on it. If not the attacker, well then the possessor of this hair was in the vicinity during the incident.”

There was a pensive silence for a moment as each individual tried to comprehend everything that had happened. Then Harry, who again had his eyes fixed on the message, asked loudly. “What is it? The Chamber of Secrets, you've heard of it before.”

Professor Sinistra shared a nervous fleeting look with Mr. Davis. “Maybe we should go back to the library. It's safer to talk there.” They all headed in the direction of the library, the rumbling and cracking of thunder roaring in the castle. Ron's jaw dropped when he saw the new sector of the library. When they had all seated except Davis who remained standing, Harry asked the question again. But instead of Davis answering, Professor Sinistra, wearing an apprehensive but knowing look, replied.

“It is a myth. A legend that has lived with the school for as long as we can remember. But the facts surrounding the tale of the Chamber are undoubtedly genuine. It started with the beginning of Hogwarts in roughly about the year 1200 A.D. The four of the greatest witches and wizards, Godric Gryffindor, Salazar Slytherin, Rowena Ravenclaw and Helga Hufflepuff, decided to build Hogwarts, a castle where magic could be practiced far from prying Muggle eyes. It was an age when magic was feared by common people, and witches and wizards suffered much persecution.”

“Why did they fear it? Even back then what had them so opposed to it?” Ron asked.

“Religion. The bible mentions witches and of course not in a very enlightening tone. Exodus 22:18 `Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live'. Through time, their fear only grew until the Church could use it to increase their power. Anyway where was I,” she paused, her brow furrowed as the three students listened intently. “Oh yes…for years the founders worked in harmony together, seeking out youngsters who showed signs of magic and bringing them to the castle to be educated by the most skilled of teachers. But then…disagreements…sprang up between the founders. You see as they continued working quietly in isolation, the world outside grew darker. In the late 1400's, when the founders were in their two-hundreds, powerful wizards and witches have a much longer life-span,” she added seeing their confused looks, “Pope Innocent VIII ordered a book to be issued and Malleus Maleficarum was released into the world. This book told Christians that they had an obligation to hunt down and kill witches.”

“Shocked at what he saw, Salazar Slytherin completely placed the blame on all Muggles. He refused to let muggle-born students access into the school, deeming them untrustworthy. Godric Gryffindor was against this and refused to let the school be so selective. Their argument continued to heat up until near the end of his life, Slytherin left the school. The other founders continued nonetheless. The tale goes that before he departed, Slytherin built a hidden chamber somewhere in the castle of which the other founders knew nothing. That is about all I know on the subject, I'm sure you are aware of more,” she acknowledged eyeing Davis.

He looked quite flattered at her compliment. “Er…well…as legend says, Slytherin sealed the chamber so that no one could enter until his one true heir attended the school. His heir could then unlock the chamber and unleash the…er…horror within. This would then purge the school of all those who are unworthy to practice and study magic.”

“You mean muggle-borns?” Ron whispered terrified. Mr. Davis nodded mutely and Ron gulped anxiously. The storm rose in fury, it's wrath clashing against the castle walls. Harry was trying to sort out his thoughts, ciphering through the information. The others had started to talk amongst themselves again but Harry wasn't listening. Was the student who had tried to kill him, the heir of Slytherin? It made sense. Harry had intercepted him and he had retaliated using violence.

“The Heir of Slytherin. Do you think that was what attacked me?” Harry asked quietly. He turned so he could see Mr. Davis' reaction. For his part, Davis looked quite mystified. He obviously hadn't thought about it. Harry knew he had doubts as to whether the message was authentic but also extremely concerned. Whether the whole ordeal was a very elaborate hoax or the heir really had returned, people were being seriously hurt and the castle was in danger.

Mr. Davis cleared his throat. “Possibly, but we cannot be sure. We must tread carefully for the next few weeks. Undoubtedly there will be more attacks. You all must stay vigilant and watch for signs of anyone acting unusual.”

“What is the horror within?” inquired Hermione timidly. Harry noted how much paler she seemed to have become. She must have been frightened, there was no denying that he wasn't. “Well, er…some historians believe that…Slytherin had a monster…which he brought to the castle and…hid in the Chamber. It was this…creature…that would do his…er…” Davis gestured with his hands as if his actions were his words. He then sighed when the students gave him befuddled looks. “His purging.” Harry, Hermione and Ron all shared a nervous glance. Harry felt a shiver run down his spine at the thought of such a grotesque monster.

“But why Mrs. Norris? She's a cat,” stated Sinistra simply with a slightly bemused face.

“Well more than likely they wished to get to Filch. Mrs. Norris is quite…er…close to his…erm…heart,” Davis stammered. Ron let out a derisive laugh. “What heart? He told Fred that he was going to tear him limb from limb, if he ever dropped another Dungbomb again or if he dared to walk muck on his precious floors. He's a maniac,” Ron finished modestly.

“What about Squibs?” Harry murmured to himself. “That's it!” he shouted after a moment of silence, causing everyone around the table to jump. “Filch is a Squib, he must be. I mean think about it. How many times have you seen him use magic when he's cleaning something?”

“Never,” said Hermione, realization dawning on her face. “And Colin was definitely muggle-born because he told me his dad was a milk-man and also how shocked he was when he received his letter.”

“I never knew that Slytherin started all this pure-blood crap,” interrupted Ron with a pensive look. Davis looked at him somewhat sympathetically. “Not many people do. His actions were spawned from his hatred of those who burned and tortured his people. You cannot justify his doings but maybe his feelings.”

Later on as Harry lay in bed staring out the rain-soaked window, he wondered also about Salazar Slytherins feelings. Was it just hatred that caused him to detest muggle-borns? Harry then pondered another thought. Was he just afraid? Salazar Slytherin, one of the greatest wizards of all time, was infamous for his actions and what people always dismissed or forgot was that in the end, when it came to find a reason, the renowned wizard was nothing more than a terrified wizard who refused to let anyone know about his fear.

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

Again the school was hit with another wave of shock and fear. Students refused to wander down the corridors alone, preferring to go in large groups. Harry couldn't blame them. The situation was so bizarre and mysterious. Dumbledore had addressed the school and told them that nobody had died but that someone had indeed Petrified Colin and Mrs. Norris. Filch had really now gone insane. He was suffering from a very viscous cold, which was really terrible to witness as you tried to make your way to class. His large red bulbous nose seemed to stick out from behind every corner as his suspecting eyes roved the students for a guilty conscience. The writing on the wall where Mrs. Norris was attacked, could not be removed. The school staff had tried everything but nothing would prevail so in the end they could only leave it there.

The weather had cleared up slightly. After the storm the grounds had been completely disarrayed. Dead leaves were strewn all around the lake, some drifting hypnotically on its surface. Trees that lay on the border of the forest mourned the loss of branches and some had even been ripped from the earth and lay hopelessly on their sides.

Harry was getting quite nervous about the upcoming match against Slytherin. The conditions that the weather were producing really didn't suit him especially the fierce winds. He had also gained a new sense of paranoia as to who was the Heir of Slytherin. He was constantly looking over his shoulder, trying to spot anybody who was acting unusual. Hermione tried to calm his nerves, telling him he was almost worse than Filch and that when he left Hogwarts he should really try a course in espionage.

Ron on the other hand had a different approach. He was pretty much convinced he knew who the culprit was. “Malfoy!” he stated. “I mean he grew up in a racist family learning that because he was a pure-blood he was better than everybody else. Harry, I mean I don't know where the difficulty is, he's guilty and the worst part is he doesn't care if people know or not. Look at all the students, the castle is cheerless these days but he's strutting around, smirking at people's fears.”

Harry couldn't see how someone like Malfoy would have that much knowledge of Dark Magic. Even if Ron said his father could have taught him it, Harry still couldn't see how Malfoy would have the nerve to assault and endanger the lives of others. Maybe he could talk the talk but Harry presumed if he had to walk the walk he would probably fall flat on his ass.

Waking up on the Saturday of the match against Slytherin, Harry immediately checked the weather. There was not even a droplet of rain but the sky was a murky yellow colour that suggested thunder was a possibility. He trudged into the boys bathroom and splashed some water on his face. Taking a deep breath he peered at himself in the mirror. He briefly wondered that he seemed to look different. After over two months of training he had obviously built some muscle yet he still looked thinner than ever. He got changed in a trance, his nerves still playing at him, and then proceed down the spiral staircase into the common room.

He expected to find it empty but instead Hermione was sitting on a squashy armchair adjacent to the fireplace. She was sitting in a Buddha position, her legs crossed under her, and she had a Potions book in her hands. She looked up when he entered and gave him a welcoming smile. Harry collapsed onto the couch, exhaling deeply. “Hermione, do you think I look different?”

At first she seemed surprised by his query but then her eyes returned to the pages of her book and she simply answered “Yes.” Harry gazed at her for a moment, she was giving off an air that she was annoyed at something. “How do you mean though?”

She sighed exasperatedly and threw the book on the small coffee table. “Because Harry. You're not eating properly yet you're constantly exercising. You haven't had a sufficient nights sleep in a long time and you're so worried over this situation in the school at the minute that honestly, you have not acted yourself in awhile. Not since Colin was attacked. I mean,” she paused, wondering how to proceed. “You are a reserved person Harry. Even you would have to admit to that. But with me you just act yourself. And recently with me, you're acting like you would in front of people that you don't trust.” She stopped and gave him a wary glance.

“Wow,” Harry said, astonished that she knew this much about his actions and feelings. “Well I'm sorry. You're right, I have been worried but I don't mean to distance myself from you. And I do trust you, wholly. I trust you more than anyone in this world.”

All through breakfast the Gryffindor Quidditch team were restless. Harry tried to eat but found his taste buds weren't working. Instead he drank a lot of orange juice, just to let Hermione see him consuming something healthy. At eleven o'clock the team left for the Quidditch pitch. There was a sharp wind that cut through the grass and Harry knew that up in the sky, where it was open, the wind would desperately affect the team. They got changed into their robes, the scarlet colours of Gryffindor seemed to bring them courage. Oliver gave his usual pre-match pep talk, mentioning that even though Slytherin had better brooms, they still had a great chance considering the quality of their players.

Harry knew they needed a quick match and that this would have to be his quickest catch ever. Steeling himself he joined the team leaving the changing rooms. The atmosphere was incredible, the supporters shouting themselves hoarse, the banners being waved energetically through the blustery weather. Harry held fast onto his Nimbus Two Thousand as he looked at the Slytherin team with the latest model. His broom had never failed him and he wasn't about to bow down to defeat because they had better equipment.

“Ready to go down, Scar Head,” Malfoy taunted and the less intelligent members of his team guffawed. Harry didn't reply, but he did give him a murderous glare. The captains shook hands and Madam Hooch blew her whistle. The fourteen eager players rose into the air. Harry barely had time to look for the released snitch when a heavy black Bludger sped towards him. He ducked and it just grazed his head. Fred Weasley was waiting for it patiently, and gave it a fierce whack, sending it in the opposite direction. Harry took off again before he noticed the Bludger back for another attack. He swerved out of the way, leaving it in the path for George to smack. But the Bludger again rerouted and sped rapidly towards Harry.

Harry was concerned at the Bludgers' behaviour. They were not supposed to focus on one player. He spent the next few minutes evading its attacks, zooming to and fro across the pitch. He could hear it pelting through the air behind him and he couldn't find time to look for the snitch. Fred and George also guessed something was amiss. The rest of the team were getting pummelled by the other Bludger because of the beaters distractions. “Call time out,” screamed Fred.

A whistle blew from somewhere and the team congregated at the side of the pitch. Harry was panting heavily, he hadn't moved so much on his broom before. “What's going on?” Oliver said irritably.

“Harry is trying to be beheaded by a Bludger. I think it has been tampered with. The bloody Slytherins! Cheating bast…” Fred said angrily.

“Shhh, Madam Hooch will hear you and disqualify you for your language,” Oliver interrupted. “We can't forfeit. Slytherin are beating us by forty points. Harry can you continue without being crowded by the Fred and George?”

Harry peered out over the stands. The spectators were still cheering madly. He had to finish this match, he really didn't want to lose. He nodded his head. “Yeah. Fred, George, stay with the team.” Both the twins shook their heads as if Harry had gone insane. Suddenly there was a clap of thunder overhead and a light drizzle made its way down from the heavens. The match restarted, Harry immediately heard the whoosh of the menacing Bludger behind him. He climbed higher looping and swooping to avoid the madness of the rogue Bludger. Then when he was hovering above the game, he spotted a glint of gold down near a seating area, which was crowded with Ravenclaw students.

He dived trying desperately to ignore the speeding Bludger behind him. He should have been trying to zigzag to avoid the large black ball but he was too intent on the small gold one. Then as he neared the stand, he felt the Bludger made contact with his lower back and he was thrown into the air. Screams emanated from the panic-stricken crowd. Harry thought he would fall to his death but then he made contact with solid wood. He had been thrown onto the stand and he could see the Ravenclaw spectators gazing at him in shock. He felt like someone had crushed his spine but he pulled himself up nonetheless. His broom had skidded under the seat stand. Before he could move the Bludger had come back, aimed at his head. Using his reflexes he jumped out of the way, trying to ignore the pain throbbing in his lower back.

But the Bludger instantly returned. It collided with Harry's ribcage, with such force that Harry was launched off his feet and went slamming into the wooden floor. He lay there helpless. He couldn't breath and he had no idea where the Bludger had gone. Suddenly he thought of the team getting beaten by Slytherin. The jeering and mocking they would receive. Somewhere in his lungs he found air and after a few seconds without breathing, he took a deep breath. He felt a stabbing pain in his side and wondered whether he had broken a rib. He saw fearful faces above him, they were obviously checking whether he was okay.

“Help me up! Quick, please,” he shouted frantically. A tall burly fifth year stepped forward and helped Harry to his feet. After hastily searching for any sign of the tracking Bludger, the fifth year handed him his broomstick. Harry grabbed it, thanked him and then stepped onto the ledge facing the long drop to the green earth. He could see the three Gryffindor chasers in an attacking formation zooming down the Slytherin end of the pitch. Then he laid eyes on Malfoy, and his stomach lurched, he was chasing down the snitch and he was mere inches away. Harry ran the length of the ledge and just as he jumped he threw his leg over his Nimbus. This gave him an extra burst of speed and he was soon racing down towards Malfoy. He dropped lower, the air was rushing around him trying to lift him off his broomstick. He was a few feet from Malfoy when he saw him reach forward with a hesitant arm, terrified he would fall off. This slowed him down considerably until Harry was neck and neck with him.

Malfoy threw him a vicious glare. He aimed a kick at Harry who dodged his attack. He glanced at him briefly before looking up to see the Bludger hurtling towards him. Harry, now really wanting this match to end, lifted his hand from his broom. He leaped forward and grasped the snitch. Malfoy seeing the Bludger had swerved off and was nearly at the other side of the pitch by the time the match was ended. Harry unfortunately knew his daring would have consequences. The Bludger made contact with his ribs again and Harry was lifted from his broom. He wasn't too far from the ground but landed with considerable force anyhow.

“Harry, Harry, wake up.” The crowd surrounding his unconscious form looked on anxiously. Then he stirred slightly before his eyes flew open and he gasped for air. He was panting heavily as he tried to sit up. His head was pounding from being cut off from oxygen and his vision swam in front of his eyes. “Ah, you see the lad is made of stronger stuff than you thought he'd be,” Lockhart's voice sounded over the relieved whispers of the crowd. He felt hands examining his chest. Then he felt a stabbing pain as Lockhart poked him hard. He hissed slightly moving away from Lockhart. “Must have broken a rib. We can fix that,” he said jovially.

“I think I will do that,” came a cold voice from behind them. Harry still couldn't make out the figures around him. He again felt hands on his chest, this time they were a lot more gentle. Then Harry's vision cleared to some extent and he spotted Professor Sinistra. “He's broken at least three ribs. But before I can heal him, we should get him to Madam Pomfrey to check for internal injuries.”

“You…you're a…a doctor,” wheezed Harry bewildered. “I trained for a bit,” she replied with a caring smile. “Harry we have to move you. I don't want to perform magic on you until we get you back to the castle. This might hurt,” she warned and Harry knew it meant brace yourself.

It did hurt. She enchanted a stretcher to carry him through the castle but it still moved around a lot, exerting force on Harry's ribs. Madam Pomfrey was satisfied that he had no internal injuries. She healed his ribs with a wave of her wand and then made him drink a tasteless potion. When Harry returned to the common room he found a party being held in celebration of their triumph over Slytherin. Hermione's cheeks were flushed and Harry knew she had been crying uncontrollably for some time now. She wrapped her arms around his neck in a tender hug leaving Harry speechless. All he could do was muster a breathy grin which seemed to reassure her.

Harry couldn't have dreamed of a better outcome from the match. The team were ecstatic, Oliver Wood was almost teary-eyed as he congratulated and thanked Harry. Malfoy, who seemed to have been shunned by most of his team following the match, was apparently furious and embarrassed when his father was spotted giving out to him after the match.

“So what do you think was up with that Bludger?” asked Ron incredulously the next morning. They were seated at the Gryffindor table which was the noisiest in the whole hall. Harry shrugged at his question. He had thought about it incessantly and hadn't figured out a credible answer. Harry knew that Ron was still fretting over Malfoy and believed it was he who had meddled with the Bludger. His question had been rhetorical and only Harry who was seated beside him knew it. The team immediately started discussing the matter while Ron whispered to Harry. “You know it was him. I think its because he knows that we know that he is the heir. That he is the one attacking people.”

“We can't be so sure, Ron. You can't just blame someone, we need incorruptible proof. And it doesn't look as if we have anything yet.”

Hermione leaned over. “Well, not yet.”

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

Another chapter. I think in the next one there will be more interaction between Davis and Sinistra. Anyway, thanks for reading and please please please review!! Oh and a very important question, do you think I should give the chapters names?

Take care,

Radagast

-->

“So this is possible?” asked Harry, raising his eyebrows. Hermione was seated opposite him, a large dusty volume open on her lap. There was a faint smell of rotted vegetation emanating from the book, Moste Potente Potions. The cover of the book was rudimentary but riddled with cracks as thin as veins. The pages were decaying and the corners were shadowed with yellow from years of handling. They were hidden deep within the stacks of the library, the dim light from Harry's wand was all that could be seen in the darkness.

“Well it is possible, but…” Hermione dropped her gaze to the withered pages. “The ingredients are extraordinarily difficult to acquire. Especially when you're a student in the confines of a school. There is one in particular that we'd have a big problem getting our hands on.” She pointed to a line in the list of ingredients. “Shredded skin of Boomslang,” she read.

“Can't we steal that from Snape? He must have it in his private stores,” a tired and weary Ron offered. Hermione gave him a look of exasperation. “I doubt it. This is outlawed in some countries. He wouldn't have the authorisation to hold something like that in a school.”

Harry thought for a moment. “Well what about if we ordered it? We'll give a fake name and I'll just send Hedwig. Surely somewhere in Britain sells it.” Again Hermione shook her head in frustration. “No, don't you see. This is highly dangerous and the snakes are imported illegally. No one would send something like that in the post. There is always a risk of interception. If anyone is going to sell something it will be over the counter….” She faltered slightly in her speech and Harry knew she was withholding something. “Hermione, what is it? Do you know something else?” he asked suspiciously.

A defeated look entered Hermione eyes and she averted her eyes to a shelf of books. “Well, there is this one shop. It's situated on the edge of Hogsmeade. The owner is quite dodgy in his dealings and apparently he's known for doing some extra business with silent customers, during the night,” she sighed deeply and looked up into Harry's eager face before continuing. “He sells illegal goods for almost triple their original value. Hagrid mentioned him to me once. He told me that he used to ask this dubious character about all the latest shipments. You know Hagrid, wants to know all about the forbidden creatures smuggled into the country. Anyway, I think that if you really want to get this Boomslang, then he is the one to go to.”

A tense silence followed and then Harry finally spoke. “I'll go.” Hermione immediately protested but Harry cut her off. “No listen Hermione. You said it yourself, he is the only person that we know of that can get this stuff. We cannot brew this potion without it and therefore we'll never be sure about Malfoy. Even if Malfoy isn't Slytherin' heir, he must know something. The whole ordeal doesn't seem to be affecting him as much as the rest of the school and as Ron said, he'd say anything to Crabbe and Goyle.”

“But how are you going to get out of the castle, and cross the grounds, not to mention over the gates, without anybody noticing?” Ron asked perplexed. Hermione gave Harry a perceptive look, she knew exactly how he was going to do that.

“With great difficulty,” answered Harry simply. Suddenly they heard the sound of footsteps and each of them froze. “Excuse me. Is anybody there?” they heard Mr. Davis' nervous but polite voice echo through the shelves. Hermione gasped and Harry immediately bent forward and covered her mouth with the palm of his hand. Ron shut the primordial book carefully so as not to make a sound and picked it up, placing it under his robes. Harry extinguished the light of his wand and they retreated to the very back of the library. Here the shadows were rampant and they were almost invisible to the eye. Harry was standing very close behind Hermione, his hand still pressed to her mouth. Ron had pulled his robe over his own mouth so Davis wouldn't catch his heavy breathing.

They remained still, Harry thinking furiously of what his options were. Davis muttered something and a ray of light knifed through the darkness. Harry signalled for Ron to press himself close to the shelf and sneak to the end of the row. They did this in procession and when Harry reached the end he just saw the tip of Davis' rigid wand searching through the shadows they had just left. They scurried out of the stacks and crept silently across the cold marble floor, leaving a mystified Davis seeking in the back of the library.

“That was close,” admonished Ron, collapsing into an armchair. There were beads of sweat drifting on his forehead and he was panting heavily. Harry did not like deceiving Davis, the main reason being he was still greatly indebted to him. But his instinct told him that his actions were right, even if frowned upon by others. Outside the castle there were blustery winds which howled and moaned, often awaking the best of sleepers. It was November now and the downpours of rain which had weighed heavily on their minds had now ceased. The students had to now focus on bracing themselves before exposing themselves to the harsh winds and the expectation of snow kept their heads looking skywards.

“So when do you think we can start brewing the potion?” Harry stood in front of the fire warming his hands, the library was a chilly place at night and the castle was no better. Hermione, hearing his question, strode over and took the volume from Ron. She scanned its pages and then answered. “We can start almost straight away. Some of the ingredients come with unique methods of application such as the fluxweed but I doubt that would be a problem. I could probably estimate that the potion will be ready by Christmas.”

Ron mouth fell open in shock. “But half the school could be gone by then!” Harry sighed and ran his hand through his hair, causing it to point in all directions. “We don't have any other options. This gives us a while to plan the excursion to Hogsmeade. It will have to be at night, the guy probably won't deal during the day. I should have enough money to cover the expenses and I suppose I'll use my dad's invisibility cloak to get out of the castle.” Harry retreated into his thoughts again, something which he seemed to being doing more often. His emerald eyes glazed over and his whole body relaxed.

“And how do you plan to actually get out of the castle,” Ron asked sceptically interrupting the warm silence. Harry returned to life and spun around. He jumped the couch and within moments was at the staircase to the boys dormitories. He paused, his foot on the first step and twisted to see Ron's lost expression. “Through the front door,” he said simply.

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

Back at the library, Ethan Davis was still scanning the shelves which ran from floor to ceiling. The shaft of orange light splayed into each corner, illuminating nothing but the dusty spines of innumerable books. His darkened chiselled face remains in a state of annoyance as his eyes rove relentlessly for some sign of an intruder. He was almost positive he had heard noises, and not the noises books make. He heaved a sigh of frustration and feeling defeated made his way back to his empty office.

The newly fitted shelves in his office were lined with countless books. They contained information on sociology, physiology, psychology and of course magic. He stumbled through the mess on the floor and reached the intended shelf and carefully removed a book on magic. When he turned back around he started and dropped the book. Professor Sinistra was standing idly in the doorway, sporting an amused look. Davis managed a weak smile before speaking. “You startled me,” he explained lamely.

“Yes, I do tend to have that affect on you,” she mocked. Her eyes lingered on the books and papers strewn across the floor and the empty mugs that were gathering new species within them.

“Do you want to go for a stroll?” she offered, raising her eyebrows in an asking manner.

He gave a false laugh but faltered when he realised she wasn't joking. “It's past midnight. There isn't…I mean…it's dangerous. Surely you know that.”

“Well I guess we can just talk here then,” she said seriously. Her mascara and the dim light gave her eyes an enigmatic beauty. She was an assertive woman, she stood for what was right. He wondered whether she had indeed changed in the years that time had drawn between them. That he had drawn between them.

“Oh...” he managed. “Did you want to talk about something in particular?” He placed the book on his overwhelmed desk and averted his eyes. He didn't want this conversation to happen. Not yet. He had been dreading it since the day of his return. Her brow knitted together in confusion then in anger as realisation dawned and she felt the old stab of the past. He hadn't changed.

`Don't you dare feign interest in that book! That is all you ever did, wasn't it Ethan? Escape into your books. You can't ignore me or the rest of your past,” she said irately. She couldn't believe he was still this naïve. After all those years that had passed he was still in the same frame of mind.

“I am not ignoring you,” he retorted indignantly.

“Then why have you not been able to speak about your past since you got here. Our past, Ethan. Through your eyes, what happened to it? Where did our futures go? The plans that we made…together,” she took a step forward into the dimly lit office. The shadows on her face deepened.

“The past was a long time ago. It was a different time. I didn't think that we needed reminding of it,” he responded dismally. She glared at him, hurt and shocked at his words. She knew what she wanted to say, what she needed to say. Taking a deep breath she plunged into their past.

“You left,” she said simply. Her voice was quiet but he knew she wanted to scream. “There was no notice, no prior warning. At first we thought you were dead, that after all your training, your work had finally taken a step before you. You wanted to be an Auror so badly and then one day you disappeared and became a silhouette in our pasts. Your friends, your family. Me. I didn't think I would ever recover from you,” she uttered quietly. There were traces of tears in her eyes but she felt it unnecessary to cry.

“And then…one day you sent this.” She laughed ironically while she removed a yellow envelope from her pocket and from it took a small piece of parchment. The shock was evident on Davis' face that she had kept it this long. “You couldn't wait for life anymore. You were growing…impatient…with time as it slowly ticked by you,” she emphasised the word impatient as if it was a ridiculous curse. “I don't understand Ethan! I never did.”

“Well that is not my problem!” he roared, stunning her into silence. “I wrote you the letter and that is all I could do. It's not my fault you couldn't comprehend it. Nobody knew or cared what I wanted. I was just another face that would finally pass into a memory. I spent so long investigating history and you stand there and tell me I don't care about the past. Fine, maybe I don't care about my past because there isn't anything worth remembering. But my life was history. You knew I was on the edge of discovering something and that is why I left. I couldn't wait any longer to start researching. For years I put my life on hold. I only trained as an Auror because I needed access into the Ministry archives to continue my studies.”

“So you didn't care about the people you would save. You're incredible, Ethan!” she spat. “You even lie about your righteousness and hide your goodness. What happened to the research, may I ask?” She inquired loudly. “Nothing, that's what. You gave up so much for nothing. You went in search of something that was never yours and in doing so gave up everything you had?!”

“Yes and I would do it all again. What did I have, Sara?” Davis was almost shaking with rage. He had bottled this up for so long ago. Everything was just pouring out now. But still it wasn't the complete truth. He didn't think he could ever tell her because he had no belief in a future for them anymore.

Sinistra was fuming because deep down she knew how he felt. “You had us,” she said slowly and quietly. “I loved you and I know you loved me.”

A cold silence fell in the office. Davis swallowed and returned to removing books from the shelf and placing on them on the table. He tried to ignore her, wanting her to leave. He couldn't do this to himself anymore. All he was left with was one last lie. “We were just kids. We thought we loved each other.”

There was a sharp smack as the palm of her hand connected with his cheek. It took him completely by surprise and he stumbled backwards. The tears were evident now, she couldn't suppress them any longer. She felt like the earth was slipping away beneath her feet. She took a shaky breath. “You know the worst part of this whole thing is that…no matter what you do…I will always love you.” She turned and left before she completely broke down. The words that she had held within her for so long were not released with joy but with pain. She just kept on walking trying to find somewhere she could call a destination. The castle was shrouded in darkness, the black vault was pierced by no moon or stars. In those few moments she felt utterly alone.

When she finally caught her bearings she decided to head towards her sleeping quarters. They were located near the Astronomy Tower for convenience, something which she was grateful for. She arrived at the circular door, pushed it open and when on the other side she rested her back against it. Her emotions were wearing her out. She felt drained but she didn't think she could sleep. Actually it had been awhile since she had had a full nights rest. Her mind ignored the comfort of her king-sized bed, tormenting her fatigued body. Her quarters were very similar to an apartment. The main room, which the entrance led to, was a sitting room. A small iron black fireplace faced the door, while a velvet lurid purple couch sat in the centre of the room. A round door to the left led to her bedroom which was adorned in a rich burgundy décor.

She strode across to a black cabinet and searched through it until she found a bottle of crimson wine. Pouring out a crystal glassful she dropped miserably onto her luxurious couch. In one swallow, half of the decorated glass was empty. She could not believe his behaviour, his downright lying. She knew he loved her, didn't she? She had always prided herself in being able to decipher peoples true feelings. Even though she was enraged at him, she still wished that he would knock on the door. Just as she was about to submit to a lonely existence, she heard it.

The sound of knuckles on wood. Her eyes shot to the door. Her heart rate tripled and her mind raced through all the consequences of opening the barrier between them. She was positive it was him. What did he want to say? Had he changed his mind? Could she really try again without the nagging doubt that he wouldn't just disappear again?

“Sara, please open the door,” he pleaded quietly. “You're right…we do need to talk.” He paused waiting for her answer. When he received none he continued. “Let me in, please.” There was a long silence, in which neither moved. A soft whisper ran through the dark corridor but he took no notice. “I'm sorry,” he said finally. “I never dreamt of causing you pain. I hate seeing you hurt and to know I was the cause…I am so sorry. I need to tell you something…oh what am I saying?!” he cried in frustration. “I love you. And I have loved you since the day we met. And I will always love you and I suppose that…that…when I was younger that frightened me. To know that much emotion. I was terrified of losing you so instead I lost myself.” His forehead was pressed against the door, his eyes closed as he tried to articulate his feelings.

“I never forgot you. You kept me alive, you kept me sane. Just the thought of you helped me survive. I'm sorry I didn't return earlier. I thought…I thought you had moved on. And when I did come back I was both terrified and overjoyed at hearing that you were at Hogwarts. I believed that we could just go back to friends, but I can't, I don't want to. I'm not going anywhere, Sara,' he said as if reading her feelings through their wooden barrier. “Now please, just open the door so I can show you that.”

He waited in tense silence for a minute and then he heard the rattling of a lock and the door creaked open. A genuine smile appeared on his lips and she thought she saw the glimmer of tears in his eyes. Neither seemed capable of movement as they searched each other for some sign of what to do next. Then Davis stepped over the threshold and with a gentle hand wiped her running mascara which had trickled slightly down her face. His hand hovered for a moment until he moved fully forward, wrapping his arms around her. She melted into his embrace instantly. His affection had not changed, his arms around her felt right. The barrier between them seemed to fall as she buried her face in his shoulder. Years of loneliness had not disappeared but would continually be an experience from which he could learn.

When he awoke the next morning he briefly wondered where he was. He felt the soft sheets against his body, they were definitely not his own. Blinking lazily, he rolled on his side and paused when he saw her naked back facing him. His breath hitched when he truly realised her beauty. He had almost forgotten what it felt like to wake up beside her. To feel her delicate skin against his. He wrapped his arm around her and his heart doubled when he heard her satisfied moan as she rolled onto her back and into his tender hold. She lifted her eyelids and her lips broke into a gentle smile. “Morning,” he whispered, before lowering his head and capturing her lips. When he pulled back she seemed more alert than before the kiss. “No classes today,” she said grinning. He placed his head on the pillow beside her and she turned again, throwing an arm across his bare chest. Together they drifted off to sleep again, their legs tangled together and his arms wrapped securely around her.

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

Hope you liked it. Just some romance while you wait for the real romance of the story! Sorry for slight delay. Finished school for the year and now I'm working for the summer! Please tell me what you thought of it. I would really love to know. Thank you for reading.

Take care,

Radagast.

-->

“So now everybody knows about the Chamber?” asked Harry disbelievingly. November was now in full swing; snow suffocated the grounds and packed onto trees. The sight that met the students each morning seemed to brighten their whole day. Harry and Mr. Davis were seated on the steps leading to the Entrance Hall. Harry was wearing his establishing woollen hat while Mr. Davis wore a thick black scarf. He had gone cold turkey on tweed since the beginning of November, opting for knitted woollen jumpers as an alternative. His sapphire eyes were roaming the border of the forest while he spoke at length to Harry, mentioning the number of students who had checked out books concerning legends and myths of Hogwarts.

Harry had indeed been shocked to discover that some of the information could be found in one of Hermione's most acclaimed books, Hogwarts: A History. It seemed that every student that walked the corridors of the castle was aware a ferocious monster could attack at any moment. And then of course there was the palpable question of who was controlling the beast and setting it on students. Unfortunately most students were under the spell of a theory which implied Harry as the foe. Students gave him a wide berth when he was making his way to classes while others walked behind him and casually whispered to their friends about Harry's aggressiveness.

Granted that his outburst with Malfoy didn't alleviate the situation as people were intimidated by his take down of one of Malfoy's minions but Harry was aggravated to find that students suspected him to just erupt at any moment.

“Well Harry, it is a legend. And legends are here to be told, passed down between generations. It is not significant that they know of the Chamber but whether they believe in it,” reasoned Davis. Harry sighed and shook his head. It was inevitable that every student would consider anything in a book to be the truth. Harry lifted himself up onto his feet. “I better go. I'm eh…I need to do some homework.” Davis also stood and with a quick glance at the darkening grounds he bade Harry goodnight and vanished through the enormous doors. Harry waited in silence for a moment. There wasn't a sound to be heard or any movement on the grounds. He was going to Hogsmeade tonight and he was positive that nobody would notice his absence.

He turned and made his way into the vast castle. He continued through the castle until he reached the door of a girl's bathroom. After ensuring that no one was watching, he surreptitiously crept through the door. “Harry?” Ron's voice inquired. “Yeah, it's me.”

Ron was sitting on one of the large marble sinks that adorned the centre of the large bathroom. Hermione had proposed this place to brew the potion as no girls ventured here because of Moaning Myrtle. Myrtle was the most miserable ghost that had crossed the threshold of the castle. She moaned about how terrible her life had been and then wailed about how horrible death was. She despised being viewed as anything but another being, preferring to ignore the blatant signs of ghosthood. She seemed to have just holed up in the girl's bathroom as she was never spotted outside of it. She was the only downside to the wonderful location for the brewing, her shrieking and howling could be somewhat of a distraction.

“Hello Harry,” she muttered when he spotted her, floating above a closed cubicle. Her silvery appearance alone would dampen ones spirit. “Hello Myrtle. How's life?” he asked, not thinking. He cringed when he finished and heard Ron turn a bark of laughter into a cough. Myrtle took a deep breath, translucent tears sprung to her eyes, and she gave a cry of resentfulness. She shot down into one of the toilets, sending a wave of water splashing onto the marble floor.

“Way to go, Harry,” Hermione remarked from inside the closed cubicle. Ron was now in fits of hilarity. “I swear, she is the most depressing ghost that has ever lived…or died,” he finished, confused. Hermione pulled back the latch and Harry entered the cramped space. The potion frothed and bubbled in a medium sized cauldron. “It's all going according to plan, we've just the fluxweed and of course the Boomslang to get. Are you still certain you want to go tonight?”

Harry nodded. “I'm ready. I have a hooded cloak, so he won't see my face.”

“He'll probably think you're a death eater if you go dressed like that. Then again, he probably supplies them as well. He's dangerous. You have to be careful and don't let your guard down.”

“I won't. You can trust me, Hermione. After all my training, I know how to take care of myself. And don't worry I won't be caught. I have my Invisibility Cloak with me. I'll use that to get out of the castle and cross the grounds. Plus, I'll wait until it gets dark. I've estimated leaving at about eleven.”

`Eleven!” she cried incredulously. “But it will be too risky. I mean there are so many muggers and thieves around at that time. And…”

“But tonight I'm playing a risky character, Hermione,” he interrupted. “Think about it, if I meet him feeling apprehensive and jumpy, he'd probably refuse to sell me sweets, let alone illegally imported goods.”

Hermione bit her lip but seemed resigned to the fact that he was indeed going. “There isn't much else to do with this for today,” she said quietly, indicating the cauldron.

“Do you want to train for while?” grinned Harry.

“Are you challenging me to a duel, Potter?!” she replied in mock outrage. “You're on.”

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

“Is that really the best you can do?!” Harry shouted ecstatically. He dodged another beam of red light, then sent one Hermione's way. Instantly she returned the attack. They had been going on like this for quite a while now as Ron watched in awe at their evasive skills. Harry had decided that there was no point holding back when fighting Hermione, he would only be disappointing her. Not to mention she was quite a proficient witch. They were in an empty classroom on the first floor. Hermione had placed a silencing charm on the door as they seemed to make a lot of noise when enjoying a friendly skirmish. A table exploded beside Harry as Hermione missed by inches. “Jesus, Hermione. Watch the furniture,” Ron admonished.

Hermione stared awestruck at the remaining splinters, unable to believe she had mistakenly destroyed Hogwarts property. “Do you know a repairing charm?” she pleaded. Harry shook his head. “Nope. Oh well, I'm sure they're not gonna track us down or anything. I better go,” he said checking his watch. It was just reaching half past ten. He decided to leave earlier than he had previously planned, it was already dark enough. This seemed to dampen Ron and Hermione's spirits as they watched him remove his Invisibility Cloak from his bag. “Here…you take this and put it back in the dorm,” he said, throwing his bag over to Ron.

Pulling his woollen hat from his pocket he shoved it over his head. His black cloak had a hood which he threw over his head so that it hung over his eyes making his face invisible. Hermione wordlessly helped him don the Invisibility Cloak, making sure his entire body was concealed. “Good luck mate,” Ron said encouragingly.

“Don't do anything stupid,” Hermione murmured quietly in his direction so only he could hear. She thought she felt something solid brush softly against her cheek. Then the door creaked open and closed, seemingly of its own accord.

Out in the grounds the wind howled in the open air. Harry shivered involuntarily even though he was covered in clothes and had two cloaks. His footsteps crunched in the snow as he continued down a path of tracks that had been made by a carriage. He reached the gates sooner than he had thought he would. They were tall iron barriers and in the centre there was a large black and polished padlock. He would have to climb over them to pass through to the small lighted village. He peered off into the distance at the castle and after ensuring it was at a safe distance away and that he would not be sighted, he shrugged the Invisibility Cloak from his shoulders. After folding it neatly he put it in the large pocket of his cloak. He barely noticed it by his side for the rest of the night. He then slipped on a pair of black gloves. Throwing back his hood he started to climb the towering gateway. Swinging his leg over the top he jumped over the side and landed in the squelching freezing snow.

On the other side of the soaring gates, the snow was colder and deeper than Harry expected. His shoes sank into the grey and the icy damp froze his feet. Gulping Harry continued on, occasionally glancing around for any sight or sound of movement. He soon reached a dark cobbled alley that gave off a stinging smell of old garbage. He hurried through and reached a wider street that was lined with darkened shops boasting bargains. There was raucous laughter and cheerful music emanating from a pub down on Harry's left. Harry guessed this was The Three Broomsticks, of which Hagrid had told him of. Other than the distant shouts and laughter, Hogsmeade stood silent under the blanket of snow which had enveloped it. A tall mountain loomed over it, as if watching for signs of intruders.

Hermione had given him instructions on where to find the mysterious individual's store, so remembering her directions, he continued up the street, draping his hood over his face as he went. He spotted a shop called Zonko's and took the next right into a shadowy narrow alley. Juice from a large garbage bin, oozed through the cobblestones and under Harry's feet. The reek radiating from the alley nearly caused Harry to retch. He stopped at a dark wooden door and, bracing himself, knocked three times. The noise echoed on the other side of the door. Harry heard the scratching of a lock being unbolted and then the door screeched back on its hinges.

The man who stood in the doorway was hunched over slightly. His long black twisting hair hung over his filthy face. He was unshaven and he seemed to be dressed in rags. “Boomslang Skin?” he asked quietly. Harry just nodded and the man seemed to understand him. He moved back so that Harry could enter, then shut the door ominously behind him. The entire building seemed to consist of wood and Harry wondered whether there was a bar situated somewhere as the corridors boasted an alcoholic stench. The man stumbled into another room, Harry following in his wake. The room was long and dimly lit. Groups of muttering wizards stood either side holding glasses and bottles. Harry immediately grew nervous as he realized this was probably some sort of gathering spot for, what Harry assumed, were criminals. Some of the crowd glanced at Harry suspiciously and Harry was relieved he was dressed so mysteriously.

The man, who Harry deduced was the seller, returned carrying a large iron key. He took Harry up a flight of stairs, which zigzagged straight up to the roof. On the second floor he stopped, inserted the key into a door and pushed it open. This was the place he obviously stored his goods. Shelves of strange objects lined the walls and crates of bizarre animal skins and organs lay on the floor. He rooted through his stock for a minute before turning and handing Harry a leather pouch which Harry took silently. He examined it quickly and after guaranteeing it was indeed the Boomslang Skin in it, he placed it in his pocket.

“Twenty Galleons,” the man barked with a gratified but commanding tone. Harry gave it to him mutely then turned to leave. “Cat got your tongue, eh?” the man grunted. “I don't usually ask my clients names, but you look so damn secretive…I can't resist. Are you a Death Eater? I had one last month, came in looking like he owned the damn place,” he snarled.

This time Harry couldn't resist. Lowering his voice to a whisper and adding a rough hoarseness to it, so that he barely recognized it himself, he asked. “What did he want? This Death Eater.”

The man's eyes flickered in the dim light. A smirk crept over his face. “I'm not permitted to tell you, Master Stranger. Suffice to say, whatever he was brewing…it was strong. Powerful dark magic. The kind that has not been witnessed in over a decade.” He folded his bony arms, as if proud to serve such customers.

Just as Harry was about to leave, a loud shout was heard from the lower floor. Then the noise of the scraping of chairs and hurried footsteps and suddenly a loud deafening explosion. A magically magnified voice roared over all other sounds. “Magical Law Enforcement! DON'T' MOVE!”

From what Harry could hear the wizards in the temporary bar did move. They seemed to be resisting capture and the law enforcement team were driven back. Harry stood stunned in position. Of all the things that could go amiss, this had to be the worst.

Abruptly he felt himself being thrown against the door. His arm was being twisted into his back and he groaned in agony as he felt his arm breaking. “You Ministry scum!” yelled the seller. Using his training Harry reversed their positions but the man grabbed a long rosewood cane and took aim at Harry. Harry ducked then grabbed the cane so they were both wrestling for possession. “Who are you?” he spat.

“It doesn't matter anymore,” Harry responded before elbowing the man in the face, ripping the cane from his grip, and breaking it in two across his head. The door burst open and light flooded into the room. One of the seller's minions stood aghast, staring at the seller's motionless body. Then he lunged at the attacker. Harry removed his wand from his pocket and sent the man soaring through the air. His body smashed the banister into splinters and he fell to the ground floor in a heap. Rushing out the door, Harry immediately started to ascend the stairs, going higher into the building.

When he reached the fourth, he spotted Ministry officers coming through the entrance from the roof. He paused, thinking frantically of his next move. Looking over the timber railing he was clutching, he distinguished the frenzied bustling of a fight, which was rapidly making its way up the staircase. He saw a door at the other side of the landing. If he entered it, he would corner himself. If he remained here, he would be caught anyway. He hurried to the door and was relieved that it was open. As he slammed it back, ready to lock it, he felt hands grab him from behind and throw him roughly to the floor. The lock clicked closed.

“That's the snitch!” a raspy voice yelled. He was surrounded by some of the wizards from the ground floor who had obviously made their way up here. They were all muttering deviously and their faces were as menacing as their voices. Harry's heart was pounding in his chest. It was nearly over; he would be either caught or murdered. Then there was a heavy hammering on the door as the law enforcement demanded they open up. One of the wizards sealed the door with his wand, but everyone in the room, including Harry, knew it wouldn't last. “Well lets get a look at our deceiver, boys. Before we kill the rat.” A colossal deep throated man reached down to remove Harry's hood just as Harry regained his senses. He waved a hand across the room, extinguishing all sources of light and dousing the room in absolute darkness.

There was a gasp as Harry knocked three of the wizards off their feet before he got to his own. He removed his hood so he could perceive the darkness better. He wondered whether it had anything to do with his `super power' but he felt he had enhanced night vision. The other wizards had panicked and were now flailing around the room searching for light. Harry tripped some of them up with his foot or stunned them. Then he felt a fist connect with his head and he fell to the ground. He felt dazed as his vision rocked back and forth. The man who had ordered his death picked him up, but from his pawing he guessed the man couldn't see very well. With a roar he threw Harry against the wall then advanced for another attack. Harry rolled out of the way and tried to feel around for his wand which he had let drop. He kept blinking so he wouldn't feel so nauseous. His body kept telling him to just sit down and wait patiently for his world to refocus but he knew he had to figure out a way to escape.

He crawled the length of the room where there was a bluish glow coming from a large bay window. The street outside seemed quiet but Harry couldn't be sure through all the noise from his current position. Just as Harry pondered the window as a way of escape, a number of things happened. He felt his fingers touch his wand and fastened his grip on it, the door exploded off its hinges and a crowd of wizards in formation entered, holding their wands aloft. But as Harry rose off the floor, the man who had attacked him earlier made another dive at him. He lifted Harry off his feet and Harry saw his world upside down. The two bodies went wheeling through the air and he felt his body rupture through glass. The bay window shattered into a million pieces as Harry and his unknown aggressor fell, four floors, to the snow covered street.

Somehow, in what Harry deemed `impossible circumstances', he managed to switch his position so that the gigantic man who attacked him, collided with the ground first and Harry second. The force from the fall still racked his body as he rolled off the man. He was about to pull himself onto his knees when the sight before him sent him into silence. The man lay on his back, his eyes still open in shock. He wasn't breathing nor making any sound. With a shaky hand Harry felt in vain for a non-existent pulse.

Harry moaned slightly while he staggered to his feet. He stumbled over to stone wall of a building so that if anybody looked through the now ruined window, they wouldn't spot him. He walked unsteadily down the street, far from the noises and shouts. He guessed the struggle was over now and tried to take comfort in the fact that he had helped capture a few crooks. He still couldn't get the image of the corpse from his mind though. There were stabbing pains in his knees and the elbow which he had used to knock the seller back. His head was still swimming and soon his body succumbed to the exhaustion and he collapsed in the snow. He just needed a minute or two before continuing. He didn't want to return to the castle, not yet anyway. Too much had happened to go back into confinement. He felt like, through his excursion, he had got a good look at the world.

As he was contemplating pulling himself up, a thrilled voice interrupted his musings. “Hello Harry!” Harry immediately shot up into a sitting position. The man, who was now standing tall at about six foot two above him, had a large grin plastered on his face. He had a head of brown dishevelled and unkempt hair that had fragments of snow in it. He was wearing a very refined and respectable black linen suit which would have made him look very superior had he worn a shirt under it. Instead he had chosen to wear a white cotton tee shirt with the word Imagine written in italics across it. Under the word there was an image of a bearded and bespectacled man. Harry thought the fact that he didn't wear a shirt and tie gave him a welcoming, friendly appearance. Also as an alternative to shoes, he wore a pair of worn down fatigued green sneakers with white lace and soles. The man's face was ecstatic and he seemed to be looking at a long lost friend.

“Do I know you?” asked Harry bewildered yet suspicious.

“Nope, but I know you. Actually you should remember me,” he said, his eyes left Harry's and he stared at an unseen spot. They seemed to be troubled with a memory. “But it was a long time ago and I suppose you haven't been allowed to remember,” he mumbled to himself. Harry rose to his feet, the strange man didn't seem to even notice as he mumbled on.

“I knew your parents,” he announced when Harry was about to excuse himself. Harry revolved on the spot to look at the man again, who was now nodding his head at another memory. “I used to mind you…..when you were younger. I'm a cousin of your father's,” he explained. “They never did trust anybody else with you.”

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

Hope you enjoy this chapter. I thoroughly enjoyed writing it. This is where I'm gonna tell some of Harry's past considering it's never really been told. I'm not going to tell everything just minor things. Anyway thank you for reading and please review as I would love to know what you think.

Take care,

Radagast.

-->

“No,” Harry muttered, shaking his head disbelievingly. “The Potters…they're all dead. No one survived.”

The man's grin disappeared to be replaced by a dubious, rueful stare. “Harry, all pure-blood families are related. Most wizards married through expediency. To continue the idea of uncontaminated blood. It's preposterous! I know. But my family are related to yours. I don't know however distantly, I've never come across a family tree. But I'm pretty sure we're both on it. It doesn't mean that the same blood runs through my veins. I am not a Potter. But a relative, a distant one, but one nonetheless.”

“What is your name?” Harry inquired suspiciously. He no longer trusted the friendly impression the man produced.

“Rabastan,” he pouted slightly, lowering his gaze as if he was bracing himself. “Lestrange. Rabastan Lestrange.” He pushed both his hands deep into his pockets and wavered slightly back and forward nervously.

Harry's mind seemed to jam. He was sure he had heard the name. Pages of books, newspapers and faces of people, flashed before his eyes as he searched his memory for any sign of recognition. Then he landed on an old newspaper he had once come across in Davis' office. The headline boasted Death Eaters. He grabbed his wand from his pocket with rapid fervour.

“Got there, have we?” Rabastan asked rhetorically glancing at the wand pointed at his face. He had stopped rocking and stood still in Harry's dark glare.

“You're a murderer,” Harry hissed venomously.

“When I grew up Harry, everybody was. You're parents murdered; your teachers murdered…your friends parents probably murdered. It was a treacherous time and people needed to protect themselves. I can see in your eyes that you only remember my name. Not my deeds,” he replied fixedly, his eyes flashing.

“Knowing you're a Death Eater is enough,” Harry responded swiftly.

“I am not a Death Eater!” he growled. “That's what they want you to think but I'm not. I swear.”

Harry shook his head defiantly. “Why would you be arrested and imprisoned if you weren't?”

“I was only imprisoned for a few years. Until the truth finally revealed itself,” he spat ruefully. “That…they didn't print in the papers. Such a travesty to the Ministry that would have been. A spy in the ranks of Lord Voldemort was actually being used by our Ministry!” he declared fiercely with a wave of his arms.

He threw his head back and sighed. “I was a spy for our Ministry. Sent in to infiltrate Voldemort's army. I was young…too young,” he pronounced remorsefully. “I refused but I was so convenient. My brother…my stupid idiot of a brother, he was a true Death Eater. They believed that I stood a greater chance of being accepted if I had that connection.”

“Well…what happened? Why did they send you to prison if you worked for them?” Harry was completely baffled but couldn't overcome his natural curiosity.

Suddenly Harry heard the sound of footsteps crunching through the glacial snow. Seeing the change in Harry's expression, Rabastan stepped forward, seemingly fearlessly, and lowered Harry's wand. “I will tell you the entire story, but first we have to get off the streets while you're being looked for.”

“They're not looking for me,” Harry whispered defensively.

“Two people fell through that window and only one lies dead at the bottom,” Rabastan answered promptly. Harry looked deeply into the fervour of the man's intense eyes and then released his grip slightly. With a shove, Rabastan guided Harry around a shadowed corner into an adjacent street just as a team of Magical Law Enforcement officers crept into the last one. Harry followed as Rabastan took a series of alleys and lanes, his anxiousness deepening. His hand twitched around his wand and increasing his grip he prepared to higher it once more.

Then Rabastan veered right and climbed a wooden staircase until he reached a door. He ushered Harry inside then went immediately to a window which faced the street which lay in white stillness below them. He pulled the curtains closed in two quick movements, then parted the middle and peered down.

Meanwhile Harry inspected his surroundings. It was a single dark room that consisted of a compact bed in one corner, a dusty fridge, a small rosewood cabinet and a round table that occupied most of the space. The table was scattered with papers and in the centre was a vial of ink and a feathered quill. A desolate chair had been flung back from the table as if he had exited it hurriedly.

“They lost their faith, Harry,” Rabastan explained. “The Ministry made many bad decisions during the war. And that was before Fudge,” he laughed. “During that time it was becoming more apparent that people shouldn't be trusted. Those who could be corrupted were corrupted. Anyway…the Ministry were too slow when it came to intercepting Voldemort's attacks. So they decided they needed someone on the inside.” A cold silence fell in the relative emptiness of the flat. Harry could make out Rabastan's motionless outline as he drifted into his memories.

Harry waited patiently for Rabastan to continue. He remained clutching his wand but not as firmly. Then Rabastan continued, his voice lower than before. “I wasn't the only one they sent. There was another. My friend, my cousin, Regulus. He became fixated by Voldemort, so much so that he finally changed sides. When the Ministry discovered this, they thought I had too. I lost all communication with them. I thought it was too late…to escape. Regulus saw so much, too much. He became tormented, haunted by what he witnessed. He tried to back out but he was murdered. When Voldemort vanished, the Death Eaters, they went insane. Most ran, some looked for Him.”

He was now fidgeting with the long curtains; his eyes fixed but glazed over. “Two well known Aurors were tortured for the whereabouts of Voldemort. The Ministry were sickened by what they saw and arrested the entire group. Unfortunately I was known to have taken company with the named Death Eaters. Believing I was there and that I didn't prevent it, they didn't listen to my argument or defence. I was sentenced to life in Azkaban. I still insisted I was not guilty. That I wasn't even there at the time.”

“Finally, the Ministry found documents containing information on the `mission'. They also found letters that proved I had tried to correspond with the Ministry. I was released but because of the nature of the situation…they decided to keep the whole ordeal a secret. I was a free man, with a tainted name and a tainted future.”

“I've been `free' for about three years,” he said sardonically. “I was completely lost at first. I had nowhere to live, no money, no one and no life. I quickly tried to find out about you. You meant so much to me before I left. The night … when the Aurors were tortured…I had gone to see you. You had been taken to a muggle home. I stood in the garden for almost five hours, waiting for something. I thought,” he laughed, feeling foolish “that something would happen. That they'd just walk out the door with you, give you to me and we'd go off and have a life.”

Harry's arm now hung limply by his side. He had no reservations anymore. He pitied the man yet he knew the man didn't want his pity. Why had nobody told him?

“Why were they so sure that you had been there?” Harry asked incredulously.

“Because the others, the guilty ones, they were all people I knew closely. My brother was one of them. During my brief period under their control, I realised just how…evil…my brother was. And it truly frightened me. His wife, she was also there. She was twisted, a black widow, with a first husband. Then there was somebody no one expected. My half-brother. I only found out much later in my life we were related.”

He shook his head disbelievingly, a manic smile on his face. “My mother, my distorted and bitter mother, had an affair. My father obviously knew, his actions towards me seem…to make sense,” he finished in a whisper.

Running a hand through his already tousled hair, he moved into the centre of the flat. “Funny, they used to always say that we looked like each other, Barty and I, under no previous circumstances did I believe we were that closely related,” he chuckled.

“Poor Barty,” he muttered pacing the wooden floor with silent footsteps. “Not his fault. His father, my father…was an ignorant bastard. I never thought I'd find a friend in him. I guess I didn't know him in the end.”

He dropped into the chair and threw his head back to stare at the murky ceiling. Harry thought he looked very out of place, his suit clashing with the grimy flat. He guessed he had been staying her temporally while waiting for something else to come along. But he presumed that nothing would, no one had ever lent this man a hand.

“What about your family? What happened to them?”

“I hated them, Harry. My brother is still rotting away in prison, hopefully it will take him in the end. My mother vanished after the war, probably with some rich wizard. She was never faithful to her husband, that could be the reason she killed him. I should be in therapy for the rest of my life,” he laughed with another grin.

“Your parents were sympathetic. Not in a soppy or over-emotional way, they gave me enough to make me feel wanted.” He paused and moved his head so he could look Harry straight in the eye. “Your dad was so infuriated when he realised what the Ministry was doing, sending in spies. Your mother told me not to go, to run so I wouldn't be sent but…I thought that it would make me feel stronger, that I'd be doing good for once. I minded you for about two months after you were born, barely ever left your house. Your parents never held my family against me, they trusted people because of their characters, their choices, not their backgrounds.”

“Then I went away and only ever got a glimpse of you, through the window of a muggle house. I should have been there, when your parents died. I felt like a traitor when I breathed a sigh of relief hearing you had survived. My entire existence back then was a lie, I couldn't even grieve for those I loved.”

“Well that's my story,” he pronounced with mock pride. “All I ever heard was that you went to live with muggles.”

Harry retold some of his life. For nearly an hour he told of the Dursleys and then the realisation that he was a wizard. He found it easy talking to Rabastan, he barely spoke, just listened intently. Harry scarcely told anybody about his life, but he felt, deep down, that this man deserved to know. The only time he reacted was when Harry informed off his fight with Lord Voldemort. Rabastan instantly fired off questions, he had obviously no doubt about Voldemort survival after the first war.

“You learn a lot of things about yourself in battle. You ascertain some events from your past, why they happened, what their results were? You realise that if you live, you probably won't change your life or your future. Just to be living and breathing is enough. Your special Harry, you know that?”

“No I'm not,” Harry deadpanned, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. “My mother sacrificed herself to protect me. Her love is the reason I'm alive, nothing more.”

“Nothing more! Harry, that was everything,” he cried earnestly. “That was the ultimate thing your mother could do. And when you think about it, it makes complete sense. Especially if you knew your mother. Her and your dad,” he said smiling at the fond memory, “they really were a pair. Complemented each other perfectly. He played a practical joke, she scolded him. When his friends visited, she warned him. Without your mother, I honestly don't think your father could survive.” He said this light-heartedly but Harry knew he meant it.

“Being in the house was an experience. It was a privilege. They were powerful. Dangerous when crossed. That was the reason Voldemort tried to bring them to his side. But I knew they never would. I feared for them even though I knew how determined they were... At least they died together. At least they didn't have to continue alone,” he halted at what he said, “sorry I don't mean it was better that…”

“It's alright. I understand,” Harry said with a nod. There was a reflective silence, the only sounds coming from down the street where officers were gathering evidence from the scene. “You should stay here tonight. You'll be caught if you tried to return to the castle,” advised Rabastan.

“No, I have to go now,” Harry replied getting to his feet. His thoughts immediately went to Hermione and Ron, and how much Hermione would be fretting.

Rabastan got to his feet and grabbed Harry's arm as he turned to leave. “I know a safe way back into the castle. But you have to wait till morning. It's almost two o'clock, wait till at least six and we'll head. Magical Law Enforcement will be gone in at least two hours,” he reasoned.

Harry decided to agree with him, he knew more about sneaking around than Harry did. “You can take the bed, I'll take the chair,” he said, leaning back on the wooden chair and placing both his feet on the table, crossing his ankles. Harry removed his cloak and lay down on the hard bed. He put one arm under his head and the other lay across his chest. He didn't think he could sleep, not yet anyway. “I'm sorry. For what happened to you. I know it doesn't mean much coming from me, but I'm sure there are people out there who'd feel the same if they knew the truth.”

He heard a stir of movement, then a harsh chuckle. “You don't need to apologise Harry. But thank you.” For the next few minutes, he told Harry some stories about his parents. Like when his dad nearly dropped him and his mother's hysterical reaction, or his mothers muggle approach to housework, something which his father despised. Harry only came to realise that Rabastan was just out of his teenage years during his `mission'.

For a few minutes Harry drifted in and out of sleep until he heard Rabastan's voice again. “What did you need the Boomslang Skin for?”

“Polyjuice Potion,” he replied instantly.

“Why are you brewing it?”

“Something is attacking students. I guess I just want to find out what it is. I want to know the truth.”

“Never stop looking for it, Harry. For your parents, for yourself.”

It had continued to snow through the night and ice had gathered on the lower steps leading to Rabastan's bed-sit. Striding through the mounds of snow that had suffocated the small alleys they made it to the main street. They were running late after both had fallen asleep in the very early hours of the morning. It was now nearly seven o'clock but they still had plenty of time and it was the weekend.

A few keen shopkeepers were already up, cleaning shop-windows or clearing the snow from their doorsteps. No one even looked their way as they progressed down the street.

“Did they ever release any photographs of you? In the Daily Prophet or warnings?...” Harry enquired. He wondered why the people of Hogsmeade did not react to a supposed Death Eater.

“Yeah, they did. But I've changed a lot. I was merely a kid then. When I was released from Azkaban, I looked terrible. Gaunt, drained, I scared myself when I looked into a mirror. After a well deserved shave and hair-cut, I ended up like this. My hair used to be darker, almost black, but it gradually became lighter until it was brown. One thing that stood out in the Lestrange family was the black hair. My brown hair was a clear indication I wasn't completely a Lestrange.”

When they reached the outskirts of the blanketed village, the entrance to Hogwarts looming in the distance, Rabastan got onto his knees and began using his long hands to feel through the snow. Harry watched him apprehensively for a moment before he barked “Ah, here we are!” He dusted the snow off a manhole cover, then hooked his index fingers into the gaps of the cover and lifted it carefully. The noise of the scraping steel was reduced slightly because of the snow.

“This leads you into the underground cave, you know the small harbour where you first arrivre when you come to Hogwarts,” he asked. Harry nodded and dropped to his knees. Pressing his palms on either side of the open vault, he lowered himself further into the darkness. He kicked around until he his foot found a ladder rung, then began his descent. Soon Rabastan followed, covering the open hole as he went.

“By the way, Harry. There's water in the tunnel,” Rabastan warned as Harry involuntarily gasped as freezing water surrounded his waist. “You get used to it after awhile,” Rabastan ensured.

They waded through the tunnel, both using their wands to spread light further into the tunnel. Rabastan started to explain about the tunnel “We're under the lake at the moment. It's pretty awesome when you think about it. I mean think of the people who built this, all those years ago. Why did they build it? As far as I know it isn't used for anything. The water here is from the lake, after hundreds of years of small droplets, this is what you get. But sometimes there isn't any water in the tunnel. It really is interesting.”

“Rabastan, why are you whispering?” Harry asked, trying to keep the nervousness and trepidation out of his voice.

“You never know who's listening,” he replied mysteriously with a roguish grin. They continued until Rabastan spotted another ladder and stopped. Climbing it he used his elbow to push the cover up and threw it aside. After exiting, he helped Harry out and both stood up straight. Using his wand, Rabastan dried Harry's clothes so he wasn't drenched.

“They should be having breakfast by now,” Rabastan muttered looking at his watch. “Just walk in as if nothing unusual has happened,” he advised good-humouredly.

“A lot has happened. A lot has changed,” Harry said intently. “Thank you for everything. I'm sure we'll meet again.”

“As long as I am here then there is a chance we will meet again.” He held out his hand and Harry shook it graciously. He felt like he just found another piece in the puzzle that was his past.

“I'll owl you. No matter where you are I'm sure my owl will find you. She's quite amazing really,” Harry said with a smile.

“You must not tell anybody whom who don't have complete trust in about meeting me. Remember, my name is still poison,” Rabastan cautioned regretfully.

Harry watched forlornly as Rabastan scaled down the ladder again. He shut the cover over the man-hole and then made his way up a steep stone stair that was covered by a sloping ceiling. When he reached the top he listened attentively for any sound, his keen eyes searching for movement. He crept up to the large main doors and slipped inside. Throwing off his cloak so he didn't look suspicious, he hid it behind Gryffindor's large hour glass and walked somewhat innocently into the Great Hall.

There was approximately one hundred students seated around the Great Hall, eating, drinking and talking animatedly. As Harry proceeded down the aisle of the Gryffindor table, appearing tired and beaten but alive nonetheless, Hermione, who was seated miserably in the centre, turned to look at him with a stunned look on her face. He stood beside her, gazing at her astounded expression, before she practically leapt from her seat and threw her arms around his neck. He exhaled faintly returning the hug with as much vigour. “Sorry I'm late,” he said timidly.

Hermione still hadn't let go and she moved one of her hands to the back of his head. She pulled away slightly as if to get an improved look at him, moving her hands again so she was framing his face. He grinned sheepishly at her relieved look. She looked exhausted and her face was flushed from earlier tears. Harry breathed a laugh. “Wow, wasn't expecting you to be that worried,” he said.

“You obviously haven't seen the Daily Prophet. It said someone was killed in Hogsmeade last night. Harry, where were you?!” she exclaimed taking a step away from him. Harry felt quite cold now her comfort had vanished. “It's an extraordinary story,” he replied truthfully.

Ron was seated across the table with an awkward appearance. He shook his head disbelievingly and said “I knew it wasn't you. But you better tell us what really happened.”

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

“That is…incredible,” a stunned Ron said. I can't believe the Ministry would do that. Poor guy, living like that. Can you imagine what it's like…not being able to let anybody know your name?”

“He probably can't let anybody get to know him at all. He must be so lonely,” murmured Hermione compassionately.

“Is it really true what he said about all pure-blood wizards being related?” enquired Harry.

“Yeah, my dad said it was almost crucial for a pure blood line to remain in the families. I mean there are so many students out there I'm probably related to, that I've never even spoken to. We're probably distantly related, Harry,” he said laughing.

“It's so childish and dim, all this pure-blood rubbish. I mean you expect more from such wealthy almost aristocratic wizards,” Hermione hissed angrily.

Harry frowned sympathetically. “I know… It's splitting our world in half.”

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

Wasn't too long a wait. Hope you enjoyed it. I know I've changed the path for the future but I assure you the main plot will not be altered too much.

Any questions…then ask.

Please review.

Take care,

Radagast

Alright, I have to add something. If you want a good laugh then go to www.youtube.com and search Harry Potter wavs- Betcha Can't Make Just One. It's hilarious. I nearly fell off my chair!!

-->

“Don't you think the teachers have gone a bit extreme on the homework front?”

“No. It's for our benefit. And anyway, the work load keeps the students' minds off the attacks and the fact that they could be killed at any moment.”

Harry chuckled seeing her frustrated expression for his lack of love towards homework. They were holed up in the small cubicle, the glutinous potion frothing in the cauldron. The potion had become the only thing to hold on to in the past fortnight. Their classes were becoming more wearisome; teachers were over sensitive with the events of the past two months.

Lockhart was more unbearable than ever, his constant self-flattery and false modesty making Defence Against the Dark Arts excruciating. Harry had the sensation he was locked in a torture chamber when he had to listen to Lockhart's overly creative stories, while hearing the girls in the class sigh extravagantly and watch Hermione's mesmerized face.

A loud knock resounded around the space deficient cubicle. “Come in,” Harry and Hermione chorused, recognising his hesitant hammering. “Not so loud next time,” Harry warned as Ron squeezed in and sat with his back to the door. With an apologetic wince he asked how the potion was.

“It's fine,” answered Hermione. “We just need the fluxweed. It has to be picked two weeks before the potion can be taken. We'll do it three days before Christmas, which gives us a week before we have to get it.”

“Where can we get the fluxweed?” asked Ron nervously, removing his homework from his bag and placing it on his knee.

“It grows near stream banks. So I don't really know,” she finished lamely.

“There's a stream that runs through the Forbidden Forest,” Harry said remembering the gurgling sound he had heard almost a year ago. “There's a lot of undergrowth in that forest, I'm pretty sure you'd find almost any plant growing there.”

“The Forbidden Forest?” whispered Ron anxiously, looking up from his blank parchment.

“This time I'm going with you,” Hermione asserted firmly. Harry nodded. He wasn't too apprehensive about returning to the forest. The stream wasn't too far from the border, they wouldn't be too long.

“So when are we going?” Ron enquired trying to keep his voice even. Sensing his terror Harry intervened. “You don't have to go, Ron. This won't be a great adventure. Just a friendly walk into a prohibited area of the school grounds.”

“No…I want to go. It good to…er…step outside your comfort zone, every now and again,” he replied with a determined nod. “What happened to your hands, Harry?” he added.

Harry glanced at his lean hands which were covered with small nicks and other thin wounds. He had recently been training with swords which had consequently left him wincing at any sign of contact. Mr. Davis had also suffered some injuries, often cursing Harry's ability to quickly become accustomed to new training equipment.

“Nothing,” Harry responded feigning deep interest in his Potions essay. Hermione interrupted Ron's probing. “Have you heard anything from Rabastan?”

“Well he wrote and told me had to leave Hogsmeade soon. Probably some time in the next month. He wants to investigate something, I don't know what though. I think his meeting with me has sparked something in him. Hopefully it's a good thing,” Harry said.

“Do you trust him completely? I mean there is a lot of evidence pointing him out to be a Death Eater, well…more written evidence. His word is his proof. Can you trust that?” Hermione fidgeted with the scroll in her hands, her finished and refined essay.

Harry took a moment to answer, trying to ensure he expressed himself clearly. “I've seen a lot of lies, Hermione. Watched as people faked illnesses or …came up with excuses for ignoring their homework. Rabastan didn't look to be lying. He seemed like a haunted man, I don't think anyone can create fake memories like he would've had to. I trust what I saw, and if I can't trust my own eyes, myself, well then…I don't know how I would survive.”

Hermione nodded in agreement and returned the scroll to her schoolbag which was slumped against her. Harry could still see her doubt but knew whatever he said wouldn't alter her decision.

“I trust him,” Ron affirmed. “Yeah I feel sorry for him. I mean I have five incredibly annoying brothers but at least they're not totally evil. But still, even if your siblings drive you crazy, you still feel something towards them that isn't rage.”

“What time is it?” asked Harry pulling up the sleeves of his shirt. The sweltering fumes from the cauldron made the air stifling and stuffy. At the moment, the cubicle was most likely the warmest place in the castle. Harry cursed himself for leaving his watch under his pillow after he had finished a shower.

“Nine,” Ron replied. “We should go. I mean I'm nearly done and technically we're out past curfew.”

They crammed their books into their bags and filed out of the girls' bathroom. Sneaking through the corridors they arrived in Gryffindor Tower a few minutes later. Students crowded the study tables, immersed in books, absorbed in chess matches or simply relaxing in the semicircular throng grouped around the fireplace.

“Oh, I forgot my Herbology essay in the library!” moaned Hermione, balling her fists in agitation. “I better run back and grab it.”

“Okay, we'll get a table,” said Harry. “Mind yourself. And make sure…” but Hermione had already climbed out of the portrait hole.

“Chess?” Ron offered pulling out a chair for himself.

“Yeah, why not? So you're nearly finished your essay?” Harry asked sceptically.

“Well, by finished I mean…started and, will…er…hopefully complete it within the current year,” Ron put together awkwardly, his ears going red. He sighed. “I really stink at Potions. And Snape. Aaarh, the man just drives me nuts, he has such a boring tone. Who needs a Draught of Living Death when you have a voice like his?” he ranted.

Harry forced a laugh. He couldn't deny his hatred for Professor Snape. Everybody suspected Harry would finally be the one to kill him considering , one, they believed him to be Slytherins Heir, and two, Snape's behaviour towards Harry was classified between minor bullying and permanent torment. Harry's previous opinion that Snape was fully fledged schizophrenic was now to be re-examined.

Ron began the game aggressively, unleashing his queen on Harry's fearful pawns. Harry noticed Ron was close to putting him in check, and tried some sharp evasive tactics. He yawned putting his elbow on the table and leaning his cheek against the palm of his hand.

Harry observed dismally as Ron broke through his evasive formation and continued to rip through the back line. Without much thought he moved his pieces causing Ron to take them one by one. He watched Ron lean across, his hand pausing over his well-positioned bishop.

Suddenly Harry's vision flickered and instead of seeing Ron's hand he saw a dark corridor. He shook his head, perplexed, receiving a concerned look from Ron. “You alright?”

“Er…yeah,” he responded, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand. For a moment he thought it was gone until the dark corridor flashed in front of his eyes again. He thought he could hear the clipping of footsteps and the dull thud of something falling and the tingling of smashing class. Then the corridor was gone and he was sitting precariously on the edge of his chair, gripping the corner of the table. “Harry, are you okay?”

“Yeah…yeah I'm fine,” he swallowed nervously. He felt as if his mind had gone numb. A stirring sensation started in his stomach, as he wondered what on earth had happened. He could still see the dark corridor in his mind, he was entirely sure it was a Hogwarts corridor.

“There's been another attack!” Lee Jordan roared over the muttering of the assembled students. Professor McGonagall who had obviously accompanied Lee Jordan back to the Tower, rolled her eyes at his bluntness. She looked pale and her lips were dangerously thin suggesting her emotions. She was wringing her hands in agitation and when the buzzing of the gathering had subsided, she confirmed Lee's statement.

“HEY! Where are you going?!” Ron shouted seeing Harry launch from his chair and shoot through the crowd. Pushing and shoving through the students he jumped out of the portrait hole. His running footsteps reverberated around the corridors, his heart was beating hard and fast in his chest. Panic flooded his brain, making his vision swim and his stomach churn. He ran to the library door, not bothering to slow down and consequently flying straight into it. After shaking the doorknob fretfully, he kicked it in frustration but nothing budged.

Where could she be? She had definitely been here if she had forgotten her essay.

Suddenly a loud crash overhead invaded his thoughts. Barrelling down the corridor and hurtling up the staircase, he entered another dimly lit corridor, the flaming torches illuminating a dark figure lying face down on the floor. Harry's breath hitched as he drew closer. He took the last few steps hastily and let out a sigh when he distinguished it wasn't a girl but a boy.

A small trophy cabinet had collided with the floor, glass lay shattered across the floor and under the body. Dropping to his knees, Harry placed a hand on the body's shoulder and carefully rolled it onto it's back. His heart dropped when he recognised the face. Strands of brown hair lay over the face of the person who had attacked him weeks earlier. He removed his shaking hand from the body, he had obviously been Petrified as Colin had been.

Confusion etched Harry's face. He couldn't understand what was happening. Why had this boy attacked him and why had he in turn been attacked? He pulled back off his knees and sat amidst the shattered glass, shielding his sight with his hand as he tried to piece together the events.

There was a flurry of footsteps and Professor Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Flitwick and Mr. Davies hurried around the corner. Dumbledore didn't hesitate, immediately checking the still figure for signs of life. The others paused, eyeing Harry suspiciously.

“Where's Hermione?” Harry demanded of Davis as he got to his feet. “She went to the library to get an essay. It's locked.”

“I was just leaving when she caught me. I gave her the keys to lock up…what happened here, Harry?” he asked indicating the prostrate body.

“What do you mean `what happened'?” asked Harry outraged. He was tired of people's accusations. “I told you…I was looking for Hermione, I thought she had been attacked. I just found him like this.”

“We must look at all the possibilities, Harry,” Mr. Davis stated defensively. “How did you know about the attacks?”

“Professor McGonagall…she announced it,” Harry replied.

“Excuse me, Mr. Potter. I have done no such thing. I was only notified of the attack moments ago,” McGonagall said stiffly.

“But…I saw you,” Harry stammered. “You were with Lee…you told everybody about the…” There was a loud intake of breath causing Harry to pivot around. Lee Jordan had just joined them, his eyes wide and his mouth gaping. Harry was stunned into silence. Why were they here if they had already seen the body? Or had they? Was this the first time?

Harry shook his head defiantly, ignoring what all the signs pointed to. Professor McGonagall stepped forward with a wary glance in Harry's direction. “Perhaps I will now escort Mr. Jordan back to Gryffindor Tower. Mr. Potter, you will also follow, I think it best you get some sleep.”

Harry rounded on Mr. Davis. “Where's Hermione? She would obviously have looked for you after using the keys.”

“I'll check the staff room in a moment, Harry. Right now I think we must focus on Roger.” He nodded at the boy and Harry realised who it was. Roger Davis, a third year Ravenclaw, very familiar with most Hogwarts girls.

“It was Roger. Who attacked me that night a few weeks ago,” he affirmed pensively.

“Minerva, I'll accompany Harry back to Gryffindor later. You better go now and inform them of tonight's event,” advised Davis.

When McGonagall and Lee had left, Dumbledore straightened up. “Are you absolutely certain?

“Yeah…he doesn't look as evil though, his face was all contorted with fury… but I'm sure it is him,” Harry added sadly. Snape strode forward, a menacing gleam in his eye. “What were you doing outside after hours, Potter?” he spat.

Harry glared at him, the muscles in his right fist tensing. “I've already told you. Don't make me repeat. I'm not a bloody tape recorder.”

“I find it hard to believe your…story,” Snape snarled reproachfully. “Foretelling matters was never a strong point of yours.”

“Look,” Harry said, ignoring Snape and turning to Davis. “We have to find Hermione? She could be in danger if she's wandering around looking for you.”

“Don't you dare ignore me!” Snape hissed, incensed by Harry's behaviour. He snatched Harry's shoulder but Harry immediately reacted, shoving him away.

“Stop it this instant!” Dumbledore interrupted loudly. Harry took a step backwards under Dumbledore's intense stare. “A student has been seriously assaulted,” started Dumbledore. “This situation is becoming grave indeed. We do not need to fight amongst ourselves if we have a mutual enemy to direct our efforts towards.”

Professor Flitwick and Dumbledore levitated Roger's body to the Hospital Wing leaving a cold silence between Harry, Snape and Davies. Just as he was about to leave in a huff, Professor Sinistra appeared from behind the corner. She was holding a bunch of clinking keys. After Davis had asked where Hermione was, she told him she had returned to Gryffindor Tower.

“I told her of the attack. She seemed quite distressed, I wish I hadn't been the bringer of bad news,” she said frowning. Davis moved closer to her and enveloped her hand in his. Snape, who was brooding in the corner, huffed and gave the couple a sickened look of disdain.

“You better have that essay finished, Potter,” he spat, striding off in a temper.

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

“I have not come across any references of those who were mentioned in prophecies having the ability to predict the future,” Davis panted, leaning against a stack of books. He regained his tall posture and the clinking of swords ensued. Harry had wonderful balance, fantastic reflexes and was excellent on his feet, his movement at times flawless. Of all the weapon training he had been subjected to, he had took to sword fighting like a duck to water, at times stunning Davis.

“Then what happened?” Harry said, side-stepping Davis.

“Well…I have no idea. It could be just a one off, but I sincerely doubt that,” Davis responded, turning to get a better aim at Harry's torso, which was covered with padding. In return, Harry parried his attack, and spun around Davis, directing the sword just behind Davis' neck.

“One off? I don't know what's real anymore. I expect everything to just fade away in front of me. I mean how am I supposed to trust my eyes if they're playing tricks on me.”

Davis frowned stepping away from Harry's rigid blade. He lowered his own and turned sympathetically to Harry. “I don't know what to say. As I have already told you, I have never come across a situation like this before. If a situation arises like this again, double-check what you see. Hermione is usually by your side. If you cannot trust your own eyes, trust hers.”

Harry nodded in understanding. He sheathed his blade and returned it to Davis' office.

Two hours later after a difficult morning of classes, Harry strolled into the Great Hall drained completely. He sighed, relishing the feeling of sitting down. As he started on his soup, ladle in hand, he paused frowning at the fact that every student surrounding him seemed to be engrossed in a copy of the Daily Prophet.

“Er…Hermione, what's going on?” he asked.

Ron who was seated beside him, leaned over and grabbed a paper from Neville Longbottom. Harry watched tensely as his eyes grew wider with surprise before handing Harry the paper uneasily.

More details have come to light about the critical raid that occurred nearly three weeks ago on the edge of the renowned village of Hogsmeade. While some wizards are still in custody for questioning, a group furtively escaped. The raid which the Magical Law Enforcement has strongly deemed a success also shut down one of the largest illegal imports refuges in the country. The Daily Prophet can now report that new information given by the arrested smugglers points to an ally of the Magical Law Enforcement being in the building at the time of the raid. While the Magical Law Enforcement Department ardently deny any collaboration with the unknown assistant, it is suspected that without his/her help; the raid would have been a failure.

“It's you Harry,” whispered Hermione in amazement. “You said there wasn't anybody else in the vicinity apart from the Law Enforcement officers and crooks. You helped shut them down,” she finished, a hint of pride in her voice.

Harry didn't know what to think. He was pleased somewhat to have aided in capturing criminals, proud to have helped defeat some evil, but wasn't too sure about the means. He hadn't really meant to. He was acting under slightly selfish means considering that he had only been trying to escape himself.

“Have you heard?” said Seamus hurdling into a seat. Dean Thomas and a few girls who had accompanied them into the Hall also took a seat. Harry spotted Ginny and thought she seemed more withdrawn than usual. Her head was bowed, her hair hiding her face. She was completely devoid of make up, something which eased Harry's distaste towards her, ever since her foolish actions on Halloween. Her pale, drawn complexion made her look as if she had gone a few nights without sleep. She failed to speak when she sat down.

“About what Seamus,” Harry asked, still eyeing Ginny. Hermione, noticing Harry's view, gave a huff of frustration, sniffed importantly and turned to Seamus who was grabbing every sort of food and depositing it on his plate.

“Seamus,” Hermione encouraged when he didn't look up from his food. “Oh yeah sorry, they're setting up a Duelling Club.”

“What?!” Harry said loudly. “Who is?! When?”

“I said they're starting a Duelling Club. I don't know who is doing it and it's on tomorrow evening,” Seamus finished, cramming his mouth with food.

“Should be good,” Hermione said brightly, ignoring Harry. As a conversation followed about what they would learn, Harry turned to Ron who sat on his right. “Where's Lavender?”

“Oh…er…I don't know. We sort of broke up,” he replied, embarrassed.

“Why?”

“We just decided to see other people. Well…eh…I decided, before we broke up…Lav didn't really like the idea,” he added awkwardly.

Harry rolled his eyes exasperatedly.

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

Thanks for reading. I really hoped you liked it. This is sort of a bridging chapter so it wasn't terribly exciting. Next chapter will be fantastic! I'm not gloating or anything ;)

Take care,

Radagast

-->

“Nothing,” Davis said frustrated, throwing the small plastic slip onto the desk Harry was working at. “Nothing turned up on the tests I ran on that hair. The examination seems to conclude that the hair is non-existent. The cells seemed to have shut-down, they're unreadable. I just don't understand it.”

Harry sighed at the new dead end. They weren't getting anywhere with the attacks, all the leads turned out to be nothing. Harry gave a sympathetic but appreciative smile at him and Davis returned to the more secluded area of the library, locking the entrance as he went. Harry returned to studying the book in front of him, Stream Plants by Hydromeda Bushela. He was scrutinizing the detailed images of Fluxweed, so that he could recognise it when he went looking for it.

It was growing dark outside the castle, grey clouds scudding across the sky. When Harry sighed for the fifth time he concluded that it was the right time to return to the common room. He began packing his books into his already bulging schoolbag until he heard his name whispered from somewhere in the library. He paused, his head positioned as if he were listening, then he carefully placed his bag on the table and moved closer to the shelf of leather-bound books. Gently removing a book from the shelf he peered through the gap he had created. A group of students were huddled around a desk, murmuring together in anxious voices. Every now and again, a blonde-haired boy would glance around furtively. He seemed to be the one doing most of the speaking.

Concentrating intensely on what he could hear, his hearing increased and a blast of noise erupted in his ear. Then it ceased and he could hear a commanding voice addressing the others. “Of course it's Potter! Who else could there be? Hermione Granger,” he joked. There was a murmur of laughter in the group until the boy started again. “She's an intelligent witch but I don't think she's capable. She is too well-known with the teachers. Answering all those questions every time they're asked. But Potter…he is different. He's just as smart as she is, maybe even more, but he doesn't flaunt it. He keeps to himself. I rarely hear him even speak. There is only one word for somebody like that.”

“What is it?” Susan Bones asked innocently.

“Dangerous,” he replied dramatically. “People can't survive that long, living like that. I heard he went to live with these really abusive muggles…who hit him and stuff,” Harry's hand trembled slightly and he grabbed the shelf to stop it. “And then all that business with You-Know-Who…”

“Exactly,” interrupted Susan. “If he defeated You-Know-Who then why would he be the Heir of Slytherin. Surely being the saviour of the wizarding world means that he is good. Ernie, what you say makes no sense whatsoever.”

“Ah, but that is where we have to start the guess work. You-Know-Who sought out Potter. Now why would he do that?” Harry could make out the puzzled looks of the surrounding students. “Here's my theory. You-Know-Who received information of a new Dark Lord who would fight him for his control of the wizarding world. So he set out to destroy this young Dark Lord before he became a fully fledged tyrant. And voila, his plan goes amiss and now we have Potter. He must have some sort of sixth sense, where he can tell whether you're pure-blood or muggle born.”

Looks of fear and terror swept across the faces of the assembled group. Harry felt his blood boil at Ernie's cruel words. The anger coursing through his body blinding his rational thought. He took a deep breath and he calmed slightly.

“Well I for one am not afraid of him,” Ernie announced pompously. “I come from a long-line of pure blooded wizards and will not discredit my ancestry by bowing down to a reckless twelve-year old.”

Harry finished zipping up his bag and then threw it roughly over his shoulder. In order to exit the library he would have to pass the scared second-years by. He stormed around a corner and into the aisle of books. The group instantly leaned away from each other and averted their eyes. Ernie grew extremely pale but remained standing. Harry had his head bowed, his eyes darkened in the dimness of the library. He shoved past Ernie which earned him a frightened retort.

“I'm not afraid of you,” he repeated, trying to reassure himself. Harry halted his progress down the aisle. He spun around, his eyes landing on Ernie. “You don't know anything. About me, about my life or about the attacks. You're just a scared little boy who needs someone to blame,” Harry said dangerously.

Ernie face twitched. “I know it's you, Potter. You attacked those muggle-borns and you're trying to silence me now. It won't work. I'm not afraid of you.”

“If I wanted to kill you, you would already be dead.” Not the most tactful of sentences as it didn't alleviate the situation, but Harry gained a slight sense of pleasure from it. He took a step closer to Ernie, who was visibly quivering with fear. Shadowed green eyes bore into wide blue ones flickering with terror.

Harry remained in that intimidating position until he felt Ernie was ready to move, he then took a step back, waved casually to Susan, and left through the library door. Harry's thoughts were still on Ernie and his followers so that he wasn't aware of where he was walking. Not until he walked smack into someone. Harry glimpsed a bag going flying through the air before he fell in a heap to the ground.

He immediately picked himself up off the cold stone floor and twisted to see who he had walked into. A girl, Harry suspected to be a sixth year, chuckled in amusement. She wore heavy mascara and a profound ruby lipstick. Her dirty blonde hair, with deep roots suggesting it was cheaply highlighted, framed her slightly rotund cheeks. Even though she was somewhat plump, she had a beautiful, inviting glow. Her giggling revealed her brilliant white teeth. “Aw, sorry,” she said in an East London accent. “Wasn't really lookin' where I was goin'.”

Harry remained silent as he gathered her fallen possessions and replaced them in her bag. “Thanks. You're a right gentlemen you are,” she complimented, taking her bag which Harry offered. “So I finally get to meet Harry Potter. What a day, eh? First David Carmichael asks me out and now I get to meet the great Potter.”

Harry blushed slightly in embarrassment. “I'm not great, I'm just Harry.”

“Well then, `just Harry', my name is Abigail. But don't call me that,” she cautioned. “It's Abby. Abby Cole. Easy to remember. If ya forget, I'll have to kill ya,” she said before bursting into fits of laughter.

“You're nothing like I thought you'd be. I'm muggle-born so I had no idea who ya where before I came here. A mate o' mine pointed you out last year. I thought `now there's no saviour, he's just a scared boy'.” She stopped with a pensive gaze at Harry, a hand on her curving hip.

“So `just Harry' was I right?” she asked in a playful tone, hiding the curiosity in her voice.

Harry took a deep breath, buying time. “I suppose, last year…yeah you'd be right. But time goes on, people change, feelings change. I was terrified…now I'm not.”

“But…” she whispered mysteriously “you're still scared.” She leaned forward so their faces were nearly touching. “It alright to be scared. Especially at the moment. Nearly every witch, wizard or ghost is frightened out of their wits. I'm worried about my friends and the only thing that keeps me going is that they're just as worried about me.” She smiled sweetly and moved back. Harry let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been keeping. He had no idea why but he felt intimidated by her, not in the sense that he was scared…but that she knew something he knew.

“What year are you in?” Harry enquired. Abby grinned at the sudden shift of atmosphere. “Sixth year. Finished my O.W.L's last year. Did okay, not brilliant but it was enough. Got through in Potions, I was right shocked. So another two years with old Snappy Snape. Hates me he does. Thinks I'm right mouthy…” she said this all very fast and the pause seemed longer than intended. “Of course I am mouthy. Cheeky at times but with him its hard not to be impolite. Breathing seems to offend him.” She giggled again this time Harry joined in with a slight laugh.

“Ah so he does smile,” she added feigning awe. “You looked miserable a few moments ago. So what had you down?”

“Oh, nothing. Just some students…idiots,” he laughed nervously.

“Point them out to me. I'd give em a right seein' to,” she offered. “What've they been sayin' anyway?”

“That I'm the Heir of Slytherin,” deadpanned Harry. He didn't want their musings to get to him, but he couldn't stop his feelings of disappointment in his peers. “Which I'm not,” he added.

Abby let out a roar of laughter again, nearly falling to the ground. This made Harry grin at her. “You…the Heir of Slytherin. I would've already been murdered by now. Don't listen to them Harry. They're just afraid and they need someone to be afraid of. That's all.”

“Thank you, Abby,” Harry nodded gratefully.

“No probs,” she replied. “So Harry, I better be off. Got a Divination diary thing. I don't even know what I'm doing, just guessing I suppose. I'll see ya around and take care of yerself.”

She hugged Harry vigorously nearly lifting him off his feet, planted a kiss on his cheek and ruffled his already tousled hair. “Bye,” Harry said, slightly dazed.

“Hey Harry what's with the lipstick?” George Weasley asked mischievously. Harry paused mid-way climbing through the portrait hole. He furiously wiped the cheek where Abby had kissed him. Hermione, who was seated on the couch, immediately looked up, then averted her gaze to her homework. “Nothing,” Harry responded “I just met a girl, Abby, and she was…friendly.”

“Oh, we thought you'd got yourself a girlfriend. You're a bit behind to be honest Harry. Abby…do you mean Abby Cole? Cause that kind of fits. That child hugs and kisses anything that stays still for a more that a second. But she is nice. Really nice. And unbelievably friendly. Very…eh…sociable.”

Fred nodded in agreement. “I dated her last year…for about a week. Tremendous kisser…great arse…particularly…”

“Please stop,” Harry pleaded taking a seat beside Hermione. Hermione smiled kindly and offered her handkerchief so he could wipe the remaining lipstick from his face. It was then that Ginny stepped into the common room, looking confused and baffled. Every head around the fire turned to look at her, some with bemused expressions.

“Hey Gin…you lost?” George said earning a mumble of laughter. “Have you been drinking again? Cause our parents are gonna kill you if the teachers find out?”

“No, No I'm fine,” she replied numbly before leaving through the girl's staircase. Harry peered pensively in the direction she had just left. “She's been acting odd recently. Like she's lost something,” he said thoughtfully.

“Yeah…her marbles. She used to only act weird around you…now it's all the time,” Fred pondered. Harry's reflected on the last few meetings he had with Ginny and realised Fred was indeed right.

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

“We better go or we'll be late,” Hermione admonished as Harry placed his wand in his pocket. They were preparing for the Duelling Club and Harry was curious to know what they would learn. He suspected just the basics but it depended on who would teach them. Hermione was seated on Harry's bed playing with his duvet cover while Harry pulled on a jumper.

Ron was at his own bed rooting through his suitcase for a spare pair of socks. “At least we don't have to wear our uniforms. They can get awfully…unventilated.” Both Harry and Hermione laughed at his choice of words. After Harry had successfully pulled on his greying hoody, the three of them made their way to the Great Hall.

A large wooden square platform was suspended in the air above the milling students. A rickety ladder led to the platform and perched midway up the ladder was a grinning Lockhart. Harry sighed and ran a hand through his dishevelled hair. Hermione eyes lit up while Fred and George whined about the quality of teachers these days. “Welcome to the new Hogwarts Duelling Club. Due to the misfortunate attacks of the last few weeks, we've decided to ease some peoples fears by teaching them to defend themselves.”

“Now, we'll start with a simple Disarming Charm. Let me please introduce my assistant, Professor Snape.” Lockhart scaled the rest of the ladder, while explaining some Duelling tips and some history on the admirable sport. Then he scrambled onto the platform. The raised stage lowered so all the students could see Lockhart facing Snape. Snape bared his teeth, his pallid face curtained by his greasy hair, his dark eyes barely visible. “Note our positions, and our concentration,” Professor Lockhart roared to the crowd.

“On the count of three. One…Two…THREE!!”

There was a dazzling flash of scarlet light and Lockhart was sent hurtling through the air. He skidded across the platform, earning a few screams from the girls. Harry threw his head back slightly and folded his arms. Hermione whimpered, her fingers covering her mouth. “He's fine,” Harry reassured her as he watched Lockhart stumble unsteadily to his feet, his wavy hair standing on end. Snape smirked unpleasantly, his lip curling baring more menacing teeth.

“Its alright kids. I'm fine,” yelled Lockhart. “What a wonderful display of a Disarming Charm…of course if I wanted to prevent it I would have. Saw it a mile off. Now does anyone want to volunteer to have a try themselves. Perhaps against Professor Snape.” Nearly every student backed away from his gaze. Some of them gasped and Harry heard Fred and George muttering about how crazy someone would have to be to face Snape in a duel. As Professor Lockhart went to replace his hat, the students grouped together and started conversing with each other. “Duelling with Snape, can you imagine?” Ron asked incredulously.

“I wouldn't say he'd hold back anything,” Seamus said. “Just rip you to pieces.”

“Well if I had to duel with any of the teachers, I wouldn't choose him,” added Hermione.

“I heard Flitwick was a Duelling champion so I wouldn't pick him. Nor McGonagall. Wouldn't mind Lockhart. What about you Harry?” Ron asked.

Harry didn't answer, his eyes focused on the rigid form of Snape. “Harry, don't you dare,” Hermione admonished. “You cannot possibly be thinking about this.” Harry started shoving his way through the mingling crowd. A group of fifth years who were standing near the ladder, pointed warily at him and stepped back as he drew closer. “Harry…this is madness,” Hermione shrieked, seizing his arm. As Lockhart started to address the gathering, Snape glared at Harry from high up on the platform, Harry returned the glare fiercely.

“He won't hold back on you,” Hermione hissed, trying to tug him away from the ladder. “Hermione,” he yelled abruptly spinning around to face her. “It's time someone showed him that the way he treats people isn't right.”

“How do you plan to show him that?” she retorted. “By letting him hurt you!”

Harry bit his lower lip, before pulling away from her grasp. He ascended the ladder with speed. Lockhart descended the ladder, telling them they needed more space. “Well, well Potter. Another brave attempt to show off,” Snape sneered.

Harry silently removed his wand from his pocket and repeated the position he had seen Snape take only a few moments ago. Lockhart counted down again, the students held their breaths in anticipation.

Breathing deeply, Harry closed his eyes. He could still sense Snape facing him and the anxious but excited mass of students. At the count of three Harry's eyes flew open and red beams of light shot from each of their wands, ricocheting off each other. Harry dodged the rebounding spell then cast another.

“Impedimenta,” he screamed. Snape used his wand to avert the spell, which connected with a windlass above the platform. With an abrupt jolt, the timber platform rose higher above the ground not unlike an elevator. The two of them circled the platform, their eyes trained on each other. “Expelliarmus,” Snape roared unexpectedly.

Harry felt an inescapable pressure in his stomach as he was flung through the air and collided with the platform. He slid across the wood and felt solid ground disappear as his legs slipped over the edge of the platform. At the very last minute he clutched the side of the stage with his fingers, his legs dangling dangerously over the drop to the floor of the Great Hall. He heard the crowd take an intake of breath and gritted his teeth as the pressure built in his fingers. With a roar of pain he lifted himself until, using his elbows he could roll onto the stage. He heaved a sigh of relief, his forehead dripping with sweat.

“It's over, Potter. I win,” Snape declared idly, his wand pointed where Harry lay panting. Harry's wand was directly beside Snape's foot. There was a pounding in his ears as his heart rate rocketed, a voice telling him to continue the duel, to take it as far as he could. “Really,” Harry said doubtfully. He held up his hand, palm facing outwards and his wand flew across into his grasp.

“Incendio,” he yelled causing Snape's robes to catch fire. Snape wheezed in fright, took a step back and tripped over the flaming robe. He grunted as the orangey tinge turned to a deeper crimson and flared higher. Harry watch almost transfixed as Snape just remained motionless on the wooden floor. Seeing Snape was reluctant to extinguish the flames Harry did. It was only then that Harry pondered the thought that the villainous Professor Snape had an indisputable fear. Fire.

“Just like daddy,” Snape hissed. “Never finishes the job.” He tottered to his feet, nose flaring with anger. He was absolutely incensed.

“Why do you always involve my father? Is that what this whole thing is about? What he supposedly did to you?” Harry roared back. Both wizards remained in a fighting stance as they glowered at each other.

“You don't know what your father did?!” Snape screamed.

“You're right…I don't. Do you know why?” Harry asked, yelling manically. “Because I never knew him! He died before I could talk to him…before we could have those sentimental conversations that really matter. Just because I look like him doesn't mean I am him… I may resemble him but I'm not him. Why can't you see that?! I'm not my father,” he bellowed.

There was complete silence on the platform. Snape appeared to have conceded his stance. His shoulders were slumped and he stumbled back, grabbing one of the bulky ropes that held the platform up. It was inevitable, at least to Harry, that this exchange would eventually happen. That Harry wouldn't be able to maintain a calm exterior around him forever. Snape had shoved and drove Harry way over the edge and finally, at the end, Harry had fallen.

“You never gave me a chance…in my entire existence at Hogwarts, you never once gave me even the slightest chance. Your mind was well made up before I reached this castle. Was it just my father?” he cried. “Or was it something else?”

Snape opened his mouth to say something. The fierceness that usually occupied his face had vanished to be replaced by a forlorn and confused expression. He closed his mouth, completely devoid of words as he watched Harry wheeze from his little trip over the side of the platform and their modest screaming match. Harry placed his hands on his knees, bent over and coughed uncontrollably. His stomach was still reeling from the forceful Disarming Charm. He felt as if his lungs had been crushed.

Suddenly there was a crunching noise heard from overhead. Harry was aware of the floor beneath his feet sloping before he tumbled backwards. One of the ropes had collapsed so that the platform was suspended unevenly by the three remaining supporting ropes. Harry's head collided violently with the floor, before he found himself again dangling treacherously over the platform, his wand left his hand, rolled down the platform and clattered to the floor. Blood trickled into his squinted emerald eyes as his hands desperately felt around for a source of grip. He grasped the metal fastening which the forgotten rope had previously been attached to.

Down on the ground Professor Lockhart was furiously trying to repair the damaged stage. He tried shooting spells at the rope in ruins but they didn't have any effect in repairing the tattered rope. Students had moved closer to the surrounding walls lest the platform fell.

Harry was losing his grasp because of his sweating hands. His head was throbbing and he roared as he tried to lift himself higher but this time he failed to do so. The platform was now almost vertical and Harry's stomach lurched as it gave another fierce shake. It was then that Snape came into view, one hand wrapped securely around a rope, the other outstretched towards Harry.

“Reach,” he shouted desperately. Harry hastened to scurry up the platform and found Snape's hand. With incredible strength Snape heaved Harry towards him. The platform evened out as their weight shifted. Snape pointed his wand at the windlass and the platform lowered until Harry found himself being dragged off the platform. “Somebody fetch Madam Pomfrey…NOW!” Snape shrieked.

“What wrong with him!?” Hermione pleaded kneeling beside Harry who was shaking his head faintly and blinking slowly. Snape glanced at her before lowering himself to get a better examination of Harry.

“Potter…” he paused “Harry…can you hear me?”

Harry was becoming more disorientated and Hermione could almost feel the dizziness he was experiencing. The deep gash above his eye was bleeding copiously down his face. “Do you have anything to stop the bleeding?” Snape asked Hermione.

“Er…” Hermione replied rummaging around in her jacket. She retrieved a handkerchief and offered it to Snape.

“Place it over the wound.” He indicated Harry's head. Trembling, Hermione reached over and pressed the handkerchief to his forehead. Harry shifted his head slightly but eased under her touch. Soon Madam Pomfrey drove her way through the crowds and bent down beside Harry.

“Dazed…vacant facial expression, definitely a concussion,” she rapidly told Snape. She hissed in a breath when she laid eyes on the flow of blood running from underneath Hermione's hand.

“Will he be alright? Hermione asked heatedly.

“Yes dear, once we get him to the Hospital Wing.”

After levitating Harry to the Hospital Wing, Madam Pomfrey administered to Harry a Blood Replenishing potion and also a potion to relieve the pressure from Harry's head. After he had been placed in a bed, his head wrapped in a bandage, he soon drifted off to sleep. When Madam Pomfrey had insured that he was indeed asleep and not unconscious she left Snape and Hermione alone beside his bed.

“What were you doing?” Hermione enquired suspiciously. “Why did the platform break?”

“Because the idiot who constructed it, `Professor' Lockhart, failed to complete it,” Snape snarled. “Actually…I think I'll go and have a talk with him.”

He strode down the aisle between the rows of beds and shoved open the double-doors, leaving Hermione alone beside Harry.

She pulled up a comfortable seat and held Harry's limp hand as he slept, soon falling into a deep slumber herself, her head resting on the side of his bed.

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

Okay I'm desperate for reviews. I swear…it's like an addiction. Any portkey author would agree! So if you can, please feed my addiction. I know…I'm terrible, lol.

Thanks for reading…and reviewing. Hope you enjoyed it as much as I loved writing it. I didn't actually mean to hurt Harry, it just sort of happened!

Take care,

Radagast

-->

His vision was blurred when he awoke, but his head was lacking the piercing pain of a headache so he guessed that his glasses had been removed. From what he could remember of last night's events, he seemed to have recovered quite well. His mind was lingering on Professor Snape's actions and he stuck by his decision that he was correct in finally confronting him over his prejudiced behaviour. He was not expecting Snape to just concede defeat or forget the past and become his best buddy, but he could not help but feel satisfied that he had set something in motion.

He leaned forward from his pillows feeling stiffness in his back. It was then that he spotted Hermione asleep, her head resting peacefully just beside his hand. Not wishing to disturb her, he had a sneaky suspicion she had not slept fully in a few days, he furtively climbed out of bed and put on his faded black jeans that were folded on the bedside cabinet. He briefly wondered who had undressed him and put him into the itchy hospital apron he had been wearing. Gingerly he pulled the hospital apron over his bandaged head and pulled on his t-shirt. Finding his distorted vision was now making him feel nauseous he slipped his glasses on. He perched himself comfortably on the bed, his feet dangling slightly. His gaze found the other occupied beds that lay in rows down the Hospital Wing. To Harry it was a painful sight, a remembrance of all the distress and sorrow that this year had offered. Students younger than himself, subjected to fear caused by something they could never control. Since when had birth been the grounds for death.

He heard a somnolent moan come from behind him and peered over his shoulder to see Hermione rubbing her eyes without much conviction. “Harry?” Harry thought it sounded more like a question. He replied with a boyish grin. Scrambling over to her side of the bed he jumped off it and spread his arms out. “I'm healed,” he cried. “Now let's go we have work to do.” He was about to walk but she grabbed his elbow.

“Harry, you cannot just get up and leave when you feel like it. You've suffered some serious head trauma,” she argued.

Harry laughed. “It's just a bump. A bang, a mere scratch.”

She was not amused. With some force she dragged him backwards and commanded him to sit on the bed. She pulled her seat towards her and sat directly in front of him, an agitated expression on her face. “Harry…you have been out cold for nearly two days straight. Now…I can only put your somewhat…excited behaviour down to some sort of post traumatic…disorder…thing.”

Just at that vital moment the double doors swung violently back on their hinges and Madam Pomfrey hurried frantically in their direction. “Mr. Potter! What on God's green earth are you doing out of bed?! In…now!” she demanded pushing him further back. Harry, now tired of people fussing over him, simply rolled over the other side of the bed and stood opposite them.

“Listen…I'm perfectly okay. I've rested…maybe a bit longer than I needed to but rested nonetheless. So just stop fretting…both of you,” he pleaded, grabbing his jumper which was encrusted with dried blood. The sight and feeling of the dried blood sent him into silence. Just at that instant he heard the screech of the double doors opening again. Dumbledore's lavish boots clipped the marble floor as he strode down between the hospital beds. At first he wore a gentle morning smile but it faltered as did his progression down the aisle. Harry had felt it too. Hermione noticed the darkened brooding flash in Harry's eyes. He turned as if in slow motion but instead of his gaze landing on Dumbledore, it went to the nearest occupied hospital bed.

It felt like a terrifying presence in the back of his mind. A looming creature, a phantom of the darkness they faced. He could only sense it over the beds of those who had nearly been lost. Like a cloud of black smoke drifting over their heads, waiting patiently for a signal. It made Harry's blood run cold. A deep gaping dread that filled his stomach with burning fear. From the rigid bodies he sensed a hollowing loss. A void where humanity struggled to survive.

His breathing had stopped altogether. He squinted his eyes, desperately trying to see what he could overwhelmingly feel. Without fully realising what he was doing, he walked, with a mystified gait, to the bedside of Roger Davies. Everybody standing in the room remained silent, and Dumbledore, uncharacteristically clutched the railing at the bottom of the bed. Both Hermione and Madam Pomfrey had absolutely no idea what had possessed Harry's actions. He reached out a still hand and opened Roger's eyes. The effect of this small act was a despairing chaos. Madam Pomfrey shrieked, Hermione placed the palm of her hand over her mouth in alarm while Dumbledore himself seemed stunned.

Still Harry remained stationary, except his face had taken on a look of disparaging confusion. He peered wordlessly into the white ghostly eyes that stared back. They were empty, devoid of pupil and emotion. An abyss of barren feelings.

Finally Harry let out a shuddering breath. His eyes clouded over as he thought of all the monstrous beings that walked the earth but nothing could compare to this. Dumbledore suddenly sprang to life and began checking Colin in the opposite bed. The results were the exact same.

“What is it? What's wrong with them?” Hermione begged fearfully. Dumbledore did not reply, his hands continued to examine Colin's lifeless face. Madam Pomfrey, who seemed to have been rendered speechless, pushed past Harry and scrutinized Roger.

A gruelling hour later and the Hospital Wing was a flurry of activity. Most of the teaching staff had been summoned and told of the situation. Harry spotted Mr. Davis analysing everything the bodies had to offer, even inspecting the Hospital Wing itself. Healers had been called for from St. Mungo's and the only conclusive thing they could say, was that the victims were indeed still alive.

Harry sat forlornly on the side of his bed feeling the energy in the room elevate once more. Hermione had been assigned to bath his aching wound in a potion that would eventually cause the vibrant bruising to fade and disappear. He remained oblivious to the throbbing the potion caused, his eyes clouded over. Hermione stood directly in front of him, pressing the yellowing cloth to his forehead. For a while she tried to catch his vague eyes but she failed. He did not talk, move or even seem to notice anybody else in the buzzing room. At one point Hermione firmly believed that Harry was in a trance. Then, just as she was beginning to crack with the tension, Harry lifted his arm and tenderly caught hers as she moved it to his forehead. Leaving a silent and perplexed Hermione behind, he trudged over to Roger's bed. The Healers, who were in a fierce discussion with Professor Sprout, withdrew from their conversation and gazed at him warily.

Harry raised a trembling hand over Roger's torso, watched mutely by the group. Dumbledore, seeing something odd in Harry's eyes, took a tentative step forward and said Harry's name aloud not earning a response.

Two of the puzzled Healers glanced circumspectly at each other while Professor Lockhart, who was surreptitiously browsing the mesmerized gathering, was feigning a strange bemused expression as if he knew what was happening.

“Souls,” Harry whispered hoarsely. “Their souls are gone.”

Dumbledore verified Harry's peculiar diagnosis, sending the entire team of Healers into hysterics. Not one person in the hectic room had even contemplated the idea.

“What could it be? A rogue Dementor?!”

“We would have felt its presence. You cannot pass by one of those dreadful things without knowing it. This is something else.”

McGonagall spoke now, her voice more frail than usual. “What creature can be more frightful and ghastly as a Dementor? Surely it must be the Devil himself?”

Anxious murmuring met her timorous words. Harry inched back towards Hermione. He seemed to have recovered from his reverie and was now massaging his temples with his hand. Seeing the worried appearance of Hermione he gave her a wan smile before applying the potion to his own forehead, all the while wondering what had become of the world he had once wished so desperately for.

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

“We are going to be caught. Leaving school boundaries is one thing but stealing from the school librarian! I mean why don't we just walk up to Dumbledore's office and ask for expulsion.” Hermione was fretting once again over Harry's decisions. Her graceful fingers were wringing her purple woollen hat in uneasiness and Harry knew if she continued like this she would probably have an anxiety attack.

“Look Hermione, I swear to you we will not be caught. You have my word. Everything quiet out there Ron?” he called out the doorway of Mr. Davis' office.

“Yep…dead as a doornail. Quieter than a cemetery. Like a bloody great morgue,” he replied cheerfully with a cheeky grin. He was standing at the door to the library, his eyes peeled for any sign of movement.

“Enough of the clichés,” Harry responded, with a roll of his eyes. He made his way to Davis' desk, crouched down and pulled out a short slender sword which he used for practice. He had intended to bring it along, if only to ease his doubting mind. Safety was always an issue entering the forest. He slid it with a light ringing into the scabbard, which he attached to his belt. “Does this look too corny?” he asked Hermione playfully.

She gave him a sharp glare but the corners of her mouth twitched with amusement. He nodded, acting as if she had answered him. Then covered his entire outfit with a cloak so the sword was imperceptible. “Does it make my ass look big?” he added with a mischievous grin.

Hermione let out an adorable chuckle making Harry pause for a moment. Seeing his holding gaze her laughter died down to be replaced by a confused yet slightly amused look. Noticing that she had inconveniently caught him staring he averted his eyes in embarrassment. On the other hand Hermione threw him another curious glance, her cheeks flushed slightly. There had been something in his eyes that made her feel apprehensive, nervous and excited all at once.

“We better go,” Harry uttered quietly, gesturing the door with a wave of his hand and breaking the silent interaction. He politely held the door open for her and naturally switched off the light with a flick of his wand. Soon they had reached the shadowy Entrance Hall, creeping soundlessly across the marble floor under the protection of the Invisibility Cloak. A chilling breeze swept across the snow-covered grounds making them shiver and unwillingly move closer together.

When they reached the Forbidden Forest after heavily treading through the opaque snow Harry threw the cloak off them and shoved it into the rucksack Ron was reluctantly carrying. He thrust his woollen hat onto his head, strands of his unruly hair still sticking out from underneath it. He desperately needed a haircut. He pulled on a pair of fingerless gloves and watched contentedly as Hermione and Ron did the same with theirs, Hermione donning blue ones while Ron slipped on red ones. “Ready?” he posed, momentarily spellbound by the breathy mist that hovered over them.

They both acquiesced and soon Harry was leading the way down the worn path, relishing the view of the forest in winter. His last trip had been wet, grimy and blindingly dark. The forest had fronted a sinister, threatening appearance until something happened that changed Harry's opinion of it. He had heard the Forest's soul. It's furious voice had called out and he had listened. Even though he had been frightened and horrified, the life he had felt emanating from every fibre of the forest, the power it held over every single organism living in its province, made him feel oddly connected with it. He would never kill a single being in the forest, not unless he had no choice.

Snow glistened on mossy branches and packed up around the thick trunks of trees. The snow deepened as they kept to the path and soon clawed at their soaked knees. They struggled on until Harry recognised an area where he had stopped the previous year. “Are we near yet?” Ron enquired with a shiver.

“Yep,” Harry answered pulling a piece of red fabric from his pocket and skilfully twisting it around a branch that stuck out on the right hand side of the path.

“What's that for?” asked a bewildered Ron.

“So we don't get lost. It's a trail that directs us back to the path,” Hermione said, cottoning on. Harry continued down the steeping ground that ran down into an indecipherable darkness. He clung on to vines that ran up the slope so as not to slip further down. Wanting to know more of what was waiting in the darkness, he snatched a branch up from the dark soil and held it out to Hermione who was in a less precarious position. “Light it with your wand. Your flame is always stronger than mine.”

“Incendio,” she said demandingly. A green bluish flame sparked where the wand connected with the branch. It then travelled fluidly down the branch until it almost reached Harry's hand. With a sharp flick, he threw it down into the darkness, where it illuminated a dehydrated stream bank. Harry resumed his vertical progress and landed carefully at the bank. He helped Hermione down and Ron clambered down last.

“Would the cold not affect the plant? Does it even grow in the winter?” Ron enquired. Hermione answered the question with a simple `yes'. She immediately set out looking for it, her wand tip lighted, illuminating her face. Harry extinguished the flaming branch, fearful it might set the whole forest alight. His eyes roved the opposite bank then made their way to the gurgling stream. It's pace was a lot slower as frost had clogged up the icy embankment. He tapped the ice with his foot and with a tinkling sound it cracked across the width of the stream. Ron threw a watchful glance in the path's direction and pulled his jacket closer around himself.

After about twenty minutes of close investigation, they discovered the plant hidden in a crevice, which was completely devoid of ice.

Using a trowel, Hermione deftly extracted the plant and placed it in the rucksack. “Well I suppose that's it. Back we go…” Harry said, grabbing one of the thick green reddish vines and using it as a rope to climb back up to the murky path. The exertion of climbing showed in their determined sweaty faces as they ascended out of the darkness. Harry's laboured breathing emitted in a hazy vapour before him and he let out a sigh of relief when he reached the path again. Helping Ron over the edge he sized up the amount of time they had left.

“Shouldn't be too long getting back. Ten minutes or so,” he estimated.

“There isn't any signs of animals around. I thought you said there was centaurs and stuff living in the forest?” Ron asked with another furtive glance around him.

“Be thankful there isn't anything to halt our progression. I wouldn't say they're that nice the way Harry described them,” Hermione admonished. As they traipsed through the heavy snow the surrounding trees seemed to arch over their path. Only Harry noticed this and refrained from telling the others in case they became more apprehensive. Harry felt the forest around them grow denser and picked up the pace a little, hoping to escape it sooner than later.

Python-like branches loomed overhead creating an opacity that Harry could almost feel. Then there was a shrill whistle from a distance behind them and Harry felt his heart stop. Spinning around he peered into the depths of the forest but could not see anything beyond the ordinary. Hermione and Ron had paused mid-step, the panic clear on their faces. Suddenly Harry heard an outbreak of hooves from further down the path, where they had just come from.

“Run,” Harry whispered frantically and they were soon running, as fast as they could due to the thick snow, towards the border of the impending forest. The galloping increased as did their pace but Harry knew that they would not make it out of the forest without confrontation.

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

Dum Dum Dum..cliffhanger.

I don't think I've ever done a cliffy like this one. Hope you enjoy. Hope you don't have to wait too long but I must admit that my life is a tad bit hectic at the present moment. Well thank you so much for reading and also your wonderful reviews.

Take care,

Radagast

-->

The snow thinned out under their feet as they reached squelching mud. Harry was constantly checking over his shoulder, letting Ron and Hermione run on ahead of him. Just as Harry spotted a hole in the wall of trees, an arrow whistled by his head and a deep resonant voice commanded them to halt.

They obeyed, knowing they were surrounded. Harry's wiry hand had a tight potential grip on the hilt of his sword. Ron's hand went for his wand but Harry warned him not to use magic until it was absolutely necessary. Also the fact that his wand was not fully repaired and would probably cause self-harm.

A group of aggressive centaurs appeared around them, some even coming out of the gnarled trees. Harry's eyes darted around the circle trying to discover a means of escape. Nothing seemed possible. One centaur, black bodied with a dark chest stepped forward. His steely grey eyes appeared malevolent and Harry knew that whatever his thoughts were, they were not pleasant. He carried a long carved wooden bow in his hands, a quiver of arrows strapped to his muscled back.

“How do you come to be in our forest?” the centaur asked dangerously.

Ron immediately began a weak explanation. His main argument was that they were searching for something and they would be much obliged if they were allowed to leave freely. His feeble words were met with a strong silence. The centaurs did not move a muscle, they hardly seemed to be breathing at all. “Look, we just want to…” Ron had started, advancing towards the leader of the troop before being struck with the end of the leader's bow.

Harry caught Ron as he stumbled backwards. Blood gushed from his nose, splaying his clothes in lines of scarlet. Hermione growled in anger. “How dare you?!” she screamed. “Since when do centaurs attack students? We came here looking for help and all we find is more violence.”

The chief centaur's brow furrowed in thought. “Violence has always been abundant in humans. But never has a human come seeking help in the forest. What violence brings you here? I can see from your eyes it troubles you greatly and that you fear it. You fear for others among your kind. That this battle may bring about the end of their humanity.”

The ferocity in Hermione's eyes dissipated, her resolute façade fading. Ron was clutching his nose with both of his hands and awkwardly being held by Harry.

“There are attacks. In the school. We need to find out who did it so we're brewing…”

“Hermione,” Harry cautioned seeing the far-away look she was sporting. Letting go of Ron, he took hold of her forearm and pulled her further away from the centaur. Harry then realized that the centaur must have some sort of truth revealing stare. Hermione returned to her usual self and gave the centaur another vicious look. “So, centaurs do mind tricks, do they?” she asked rhetorically.

“It is not a trick. It is a gift against mindless humans. But you are intelligent and would have resisted at some point. Now why were you here? Tell us or we will be authorized to use force.”

Harry unsheathed the narrow sword with a steely ring and ushered Hermione behind him in a protective move. “I do not wish anymore violence tonight. But our business is our own. Now let us go free,” he said decisively so the centaurs would know there was no compromise.

“You are brave. But I warn you now, young female,” he said, his gaze turned to Hermione who was shielded behind Harry. “Your worries have some truth. If there is one person who you should place your trust in, then trust yourself. You must be vigilant around…Slither Tongue,” he hissed, his eyes now piercing Harry's. Hermione gave him a bewildered glimpse before turning back to the centaur.

“Just let us go,” she demanded distraughtly. Behind them, Ron stumbled to his feet and glared angrily at a tall centaur who had his bow arched and ready. As the leader was about to resume speaking, he was interrupted by a sharp clicking noise, emitting from somewhere in the forest. The centaurs grew even more tense and before Harry could ask they leaped stealthily, in an organized manner, into the now snapping forest.

“What the hell is that?” Ron asked fearfully, wiping the blood now trickling from his nose.

“I have no idea. It isn't the forest,” Harry's head snapped around to Ron. “Let's get out of here.” Checking Ron could walk and think properly, they rushed down the remaining of the path. As soon as they had cleared the trees, Harry shrouded them in the Invisibility Cloak.

Harry was puzzled to see so many lights still illuminating the castle. They made a quick stop at the shady library to return the sword before continuing up through the castle. When they entered the Fat Lady's corridor, Hermione gasped. The portrait hole was open and it seemed that most of the students were congregated inside.

“There must have been another attack,” whispered Ron, wide-eyed, his hand still pinching his nose. Hermione dragged both boys into a dark alcove and removed the Cloak.

“This is worse than we thought, because if Harry just walks in there, people will be even more suspicious,” she groaned with a shake of her head.

“I don't give a damn if people are suspicious Hermione,” Harry retorted, knowing fully that it was a complete lie. He stepped angrily out of the alcove before being ripped off his feet and thrown to the floor. He felt a weight on top of him before a fist connected with his face.

“I told you I wasn't afraid, Potter! How dare you attack my friends? Justin is a good guy…he didn't do anything wrong!”

Harry recognized the voice as Ernie McMillan's and immediately attempted to capture his flailing fists. Ron grabbed a handful of Ernie's robes and viciously dragged him off Harry, sending him into the stone wall. Hauling himself to his feet, Ernie spat on Harry before storming off, down to his own common room.

“Are you okay?”

“Yep. No injuries,” Harry responded with a sardonic grin. Ron shook his head mournfully in Ernie's direction. “Can't believe that little wretch. Frightened the life out of me.”

“He was just protecting his friends,” answered Harry, trying to force respect into his voice. If he suspected anybody of hurting his friends he would have done the same.

“Justin Finch-Fletchley. He must be the latest victim,” muttered Hermione to herself.

The Gryffindor Common Room was alive with energy. Worry, fear and terror were apparent on every students face. Even the Weasley twins appeared bleak and gloomy. Eyes watched them enter the room and Harry excused himself instantly, making his way straight up to his empty dormitory. Hermione, now holding the rucksack containing the Fluxweed, informed him quietly, that tomorrow morning she would add it to the potion.

He pulled off his trousers, jumper and shirt and sat on edge of his bed in his boxers, a vacant expression on his face.

He was so absolutely mystified to all the events of the year. His intense training was now taking effect on his sleeping patterns. Insomnia was slowly setting into his routine and the hours of sleeplessness left him feeling drained when the day started. He caught Hermione's furtive glances of troubled concern. He knew she cared and he was entirely grateful. His mind reverted back to what the centaur had told Hermione. His caution…was it a warning against Harry himself. Why had he called him Slither-Tongue? What did it mean? Why did Hermione have to be vigilant around him?

Then there was the recent attack on Justin. Ernie's attack had unmistakably been out of fury and fear for a victim who was undoubtedly a good friend. Even though Harry sympathized with him, he still felt a great resentment towards him. He dreaded how the rest of the school would react the next day.

He sighed resignedly before climbing into the centre of the bed, drawing the curtains and dropped his head onto his pillow. He snatched his glasses off his face and threw them off the side of the bed. Turning he pummeled the pillow with his fist and buried his face into it, trying to gain some sleep.

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

This is really just a follow-up to the last chapter. So short!!

Next chapter may be a bit late. Life is totally hectic at the moment. Hopefully you liked this follow on. Sorry about the shortness.

Take Care

Radagast

-->

The castle was devoid of all students when Harry left his dormitory the next morning. Like a swarm of terrified flies they flew home as soon as the chance arose. Everyone knew how dangerous the castle was and were willing to endure their families rather than spend anymore time in the castle. Anyway, Harry thought morosely, Christmas was a time for family.

Ron and Hermione remained in the castle, one for Harry and two because they were about to execute their Polyjuice Potion plan. Harry's nervousness grew over the next week. Visions of the strategy failing, one of them being hurt or being caught red-handed. Except he had faith in Hermione's intelligence and knew she would do everything in her power to ensure their safety.

He was slightly taken aback at the amount of Slytherins that were enthusiastic to reside in the castle for Christmas. As Ron blatantly pointed out, no Slytherins had been attacked or harmed in anyway nor were they viable to fear `Slytherins Heir'. Ron's assertiveness had him entirely convinced that the Slytherins were up to something. But as Hermione stated, this was a good thing as they had a large choice of Slytherins to choose from.

Christmas Eve was actually quite enjoyable. As they ate dinner, Harry's keen eyes roved the Great Hall, calculating the lingering students. Four Ravenclaws, including Abby Cole, three Hufflepuffs, sixteen Slytherins and then Ron, Hermione and himself. Hermione insisted that they shun the normal roast dinner as there would be plentiful of that tomorrow. Instead she dished out an enormous tub of pasta while informing them of the benefits.

“Pasta has a low glycemic index and is a great way to get grain-based food into your diet. It's is a good source of thiamin, iron, riboflavin, and niacin, and provides two grams of dietary fibre and seven grams of protein per serving. Thus meaning that pasta is a good carbohydrate and can help make your diet balanced and delicious,” Hermione recited. Harry stopped his eating, while Ron examined the pasta suspiciously.

“Reading up on pasta?” he asked with a raised questioning eyebrow.

“My mother was always a major supporter of healthy foods.”

Ron tasted the pasta warily before grinning elatedly and filling his mouth with it. “Who knew healthiness could taste so good?” he said excitedly. Hermione gave him a patronising sympathetic look before turning to Harry.

“Everything is prepared for tomorrow. We need to attain the hairs of those we are changing into, but we'll do that right before we take it. We have a large selection,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. “You two should take Crabbe and Goyle. I'll tackle the frivolity of Ms. Pansy Parkinson.”

“I don't fancy acting a Neanderthal…but I guess it is only for an hour,” Harry sighed.

They finished in relative silence before Hermione took a look at her watch. “It's seven o'clock. I'm going to go check on the Potion. I won't be too long. Wait here for me,” she said, getting up and heading towards the Entrance Hall.

“So…Ravenclaw vs. Slytherin. Who do you think is gonna win?” Ron enquired avidly.

“Well, Ravenclaw has lost one of its Chasers…so unfortunately I'm going to have to go for Slytherin,” Harry replied sadly.

They remained in conversation for quite a while, ignoring the students who left the Great Hall and instead starting on their desserts. Just as Harry poked his treacle tart with his fork he suddenly realised Hermione had not returned.

“Didn't she say she was coming straight back?” he asked worriedly.

“She probably just got caught up by Moaning Myrtle. Poor Hermione,” Ron commiserated, with a shake of his head.

“Lets go find her,” Harry said climbing off the bench.

“But dessert!” Ron moaned, before throwing his fork down and following after Harry.

The bare corridors did not ease his troubled mind. Only their thudding footsteps could be heard, no voices, no whispers, no life. They reached the bathroom door and ignoring the `Out of Order' sign as usual, pushed the door in. It budged only slightly before something halted its progress. Harry winced as he squeezed in the small gap left between the green door and the doorframe.

“Hermione!” he gasped, practically throwing himself beside her still form. She was lying face down on the cold marble floor as if sleeping peacefully. Water poured heavily from taps and covered the ground, so that her hair and robes were soaked. When Ron entered he immediately turned the taps off before kneeling beside Harry, who pulled Hermione around to face him.

She moaned and Harry heaved a sigh of relief. He noticed a short shallow cut just under her hairline where her head must have connected with the hard marble.

“Hermione, what happened?!” Ron urged.

At first she did not respond. She seemed to be gathering her thoughts before she shifted her head to look directly in Harry's eyes and ordered fearfully. “Check the potion!”

She tried to sit up, but Harry, who had his arms wrapped around her, prevented her and told Ron to check it.

“Harry, really I'm fine. Just a bump,” she said, covering his hand with hers. He carefully helped her to her feet before they heard Ron give an anguished groan. “Somebody knocked the potion over,” he shouted out to them. Hermione rushed into the cubicle, Harry following after her. The glutinous liquid still bubbled in the thick cauldron but nearly a third of it was drifting, with the water, across the floor.

“What are we going to do?” Ron lamented, wiping his sweaty face with his sleeve.

“There's still enough for two of us to take,” Hermione insisted, obviously trying to avoid being a pessimist. “Enough for us to continue to do this plan.”

“Who hit you?!” Harry enquired fiercely.

“I don't know. They came from behind me. I had just opened the door when I heard a thud and I fell unconscious.”

“Bloody cowards,” Ron hissed angrily. “Evanesco,” Harry muttered, clearing up the liquidized mess.

“That brings us to the penultimate question, doesn't it? Who takes the potion and who sits this one out? As for me, I'm most definitely doing the interrogating,” Hermione declared resolutely.

“Well I stayed in the castle for Christmas in order to do this…so I'm absolutely going. Can't wait to question that highlighted little snake,” Ron said firmly.

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose in thought. “How did somebody find out about this?”

“Probably a Slytherin. Saw us coming and going and decided to see what we were playing at. Hit Hermione, found the potion. More than likely didn't know what it was. Tried to destroy it…it's pretty simple when you reflect on the Slytherins and what they're capable of,” Ron assured him.

“Yeah,” agreed Hermione. “It might just be a coincidence.”

“Hermione, you were attacked,” Harry stated tensely. “Under any other circumstances, we would have reported it.”

“But we can't…because we would be expelled immediately. I'm fine Harry. We didn't risk our lives in order to brew this potion and then refuse to take it because I was attacked. It's settled, tomorrow night, Ron and I will take the potion. We will investigate and then come right back here. At least having one of us remaining behind means that if something goes wrong…well then…” she paused, not knowing what else to say. Hermione's silence answered Harry's unasked question. When it came down to it, none of them could possibly be completely assured that their plans would be successful nor could they calculate up the amount of things that could go wrong.

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

He rolled onto his side, the faded morning light drifting serenely through the dorm. Ron's contented snores were emanating from his bed, but that was not what was disturbing Harry. He could not dismiss the true fact that he had doubts. For weeks he had been anticipating what results the potion might turn up but now he feared what might happen. Weeks of preparation culminated on Christmas night and he would not be one of the two who felt the outcome of it. If anything happened to them, he could not nor would he, forgive himself.

Rolling onto his back again, he pulled the covers tighter trying to obtain more warmth from them. Suddenly the door swung open and he bolted up in his bed to see Hermione carrying a pile of robes. “Laundry,” she said with theatrical servility as she bowed. Ron, who was startled awake, rolled his eyes and threw his pillow in her direction. She dodged it and dropped the robes to the ground. Picking up Ron's pillow she flung it back at him.

“These are Slytherin robes that I st…borrowed, from the laundry room. We'll wear them tonight,” she explained.

“There's a laundry room?” Harry asked, amazed.

“Yep,” she replied sitting at the end of his bed. “Basically all the robes are sent there every time someone places them into their wardrobes. Then voila,” she indicated the robes with a dramatic wave of her hand “clean robes.”

Though his vision was slightly blurred, Harry noted she had pulled on a green thin hooded jumper but still wore her mauve pyjamas underneath. Her hair was slightly tousled and twisted and he assumed she had not brushed it when she had awoken. Replacing his head on his indented pillow, he stretched out with a wide yawn. Hermione hopped onto the end of his bed and shook her head disappointedly at the two boys unenthusiastic behaviour.

“Well a Merry Christmas to you too,” she deadpanned.

“Merry Christmas,” Ron answered listlessly.

“And a Happy New Year,” Harry added with a grin, earning a frustrated swat at his feet from a smirking Hermione. He replied with a reproachful thrust of his foot that would have sent her falling to the floor had she not grabbed the nearest post of the bed. Closing his eyes, satisfied, he relaxed into comfort again. Hermione gave an annoyed scowl before clamouring up the length of the bed, reaching over Harry's head and unceremoniously ripping his pillows out from beneath him.

“Excuse me…I was using them,” he said with mock sorrow, warranting a smack across the head with one of his pillows.

“Get up, Harry,” said Hermione as she drew back, pillow in hand, readying for another blow. The corners of her mouth twitched as she watched Harry's eyes shift from the pillow to her determined face. As he tried to grasp one of the pillows from her clutch, she struck him again. Now both of them were in hysterics and Ron was watching lazily from his own bed, sighing at their childishness.

Catching her wrist he tried to pull her off the bed but as she went wheeling over the side she clung onto him so that they both landed, in a tangle of sheets, on the floor. Harry thought he would die of laughter as he tried and failed to take a breath. When their giggles had subsided, Hermione disentangled herself from the sheets and stood up. She piled the sheets back onto Harry's bed leaving Harry remaining on the floor alone.

“Your presents are in the common room…only if you want them of course,” she said playfully. This caused Ron to bolt upright and scramble out his bed, nearly knocking Hermione aside.

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

“I asked Fred and George to pick up some when they were in Hogsmeade last month,” Ron explained as he handed Harry and Hermione a box of Honeydukes finest sweets.

Along with Ron's sweets, Harry had collected quite a few benevolent gifts. Hagrid had sent him an enormous box of toffees and Hermione had given him a book entitled `The Hobbit' which she had highly recommended. In return Harry had given her a hardback volume that listed and described useful Potions. He reckoned that she would enjoy it as she seemed to have been quite content while brewing the Polyjuice Potion.

For approximately an hour they lounged around the already fervent fire. “What time is it?” Ron asked.

“Ten o'clock,” answered Harry, hanging his legs over the side of the armchair. “No rush…I mean we don't need breakfast since we'll be practically having a feast for dinner.”

He hung his head back so he could talk to Hermione only to discover she was asleep. She was completely sprawled out on the couch, her arm tucked under her head substituting as a pillow. Harry sighed sadly while revolving in his seat and leaning forward. Placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, he contemplated rousing her. “She mustn't have slept much last night,” he said, deciding to leave her be for awhile. He sensitively pulled the throw over up to her shoulder and returned to the armchair. “After the attack I'm surprised she was even able to go to bed. I would have been wired. She'll need energy for tonight.”

“Yeah,” Ron agreed. “Do you have any reservations over the potion? I mean…I know you're not taking it but still.”

“I'm not sure. I'm not convinced that it was a mere coincidence somebody just happened to find out about the plan. We have to be extra vigilant tonight. I can act as an extra pair of eyes around the castle. Everything should be okay as long as we remain alert.”

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

“Ugh…” Ron moaned while massaging his stomach. “I don't think I could eat another bite.”

“Wow…three cheers for Hogwarts. They actually managed to fill Ron,” Harry responded with teasing awe.

“I am in no fit state to flirt with Pansy Parkinson,” Ron snapped back. “Usually I have to be…you know…in the zone. That confident state of mind. But all that eating just made me happy and tired.”

“Flirt with Pansy Parkinson?!” Hermione asked in astonishment.

“In order to get the hairs you guys need we have to get close to them. You and I'll take Goyle,” Harry explained.

When a tight troop of Slytherins prepared to leave the Great Hall, Ron sighed and stood up. Rubbing his hands together in a steeling sort of way he muttered “Showtime” before following them into the Entrance Hall. Harry noted gleefully that both Crabbe and Goyle remained behind in order to finish off any trace of food left.

Together Harry and Hermione manoeuvred their way over to the Slytherin table to a preoccupied Goyle. “Follow my lead,” whispered Harry into Hermione's ear.

“Hello chaps,” he announced when they were stood right behind a munching Goyle. “We just wanted to wish you both a Merry Christmas.” The two Slytherins wore expressions of bewilderment that would have even sent Aunt Petunia into hysterics.

“Happy Christmas,” Hermione put in with a painful smile.

“Listen Potter,” Goyle chortled stupidly as he got to his feet and turned around to face him. “We don't want to have to hurt you so why don't you just go back to your table with your little girlfriend.”

“But we're here to bring cheer,” Harry said feigning overwhelming disappointment.

“Holiday cheer,” Hermione added meekly, glancing warily at Crabbe who was eyeing her enviously in a perverted sort of way. Hermione would have expected him to start drooling if he did not at that point jam a chicken leg into his mouth.

After a moment of unresolved silence Harry sighed heavily. “Oh well. I suppose we cannot see through our differences, even on this spectacular day. We'd better be going.” And with that he threw his arms around Goyle's broad back in a manly awkward hug. Goyle did not shift or flinch just remained silent and stunned. When Harry withdrew after a few rough slaps on the back he muttered a sad “Merry Christmas” before ambling miserably down the aisle.

Hermione sniffed while pretending to wipe her eyes. “He really did have his heart set on this,” she cried before scurrying from the Great Hall. It took her all the willpower that she possessed not to burst into laughter which she did when she reached the Entrance Hall.

“Well…that was brilliant,” Harry laughed, coming out of the shadows. He held up a few hairs he had pulled off the back of Goyles' robes when he had hugged him.

They rushed enthusiastically back to Gryffindor Tower still panting from fits of laughter. Ron awaited them sullenly, a hand pressed to his cheek.

“She hit me!” he exclaimed, handing a glass phial containing a hair to Hermione. “I managed to separate her from the rest of the Slytherins, then we talked…well I talked and she didn't listen. When I went to give her a hug she shoved me away, hit me and then told me I was a conceited demanding prat.”

“Maybe she isn't as obtuse as we thought she was,” Harry joked, his eyes on the almost imperceptible hairs. When they were safely put in the glass phials he handed them to Ron and Hermione.

“Well… I guess this is it,” Ron said bracingly, bouncing on the balls of his feet nervously.

The anxious trio climbed through the portrait hole and Harry decided to rid them of the uncomfortable silence by giving Ron an in-depth description of how they managed to get Goyle's hair.

“Oh…shoot,” Hermione cursed loudly. “We forgot the robes. We're on a tight schedule; we'd better hurry back and get them.”

“I'll get them. You two go on ahead.” Harry turned back with one last longing glance at them before he broke into a run. Through the oddly quiet portrait hole, up the winding staircase and into the vacated waiting dormitory. His brain seemed to be running through all possible scenarios of anything that could prevent them. As he trudged down the staircase he stared at the snake of the Slytherin crest on the robes which he held in his arms.

Was a Slytherin really capable of hurting another student for the sake of mindless curiosity? Was there another logical reason why they had knocked over the potion or was it mere insolence? Harry forbiddingly pondered the idea that whoever did this knew they were on to them. The Heir of Slytherin? In that case why did they not completely destroy the potion?

`Because' a sinister voice in his head said `the evidence would still remain with the potion brewers'. And it suddenly clicked and he realised just how lethal that potion had come to be.

Flinging the black robes on the couch he leaped through the portrait hole and sprinted down the Fat Lady's quaint corridor. Down dark hallways and through embellished tapestries and still he refused to slow his pace. His breath was coming in gasps and perspiration drenched his hair but he continued to rush before he ran out of time as well as breath. He ripped through the door, leaving it bouncing on its hinges.

“STOP! Don't take it!” he yelled to the apparently empty bathroom. Ron stepped out of one of the small cubicles, the glass of the muddy green potion still in his hand. Harry dived over to him and knocked it from his grasp.

“It's poisoned,” he responded to Ron's stunned expression.

He thought he heard shuffling of feet in the cubicle next to Ron's. “Hermione,” he roared, pounding on the locked door. Suddenly there a loud thud, the sound of a body falling and the crash of tingling glass reached Harry's ears.

“HERMIONE!”

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

I just keep walking into these cliff-hangers. It is quite baffling to be honest. Bet you weren't expecting that. Not yet anyway.

Well thank you for reading. Hopefully have the next instalment soon. Hope you liked it and don't forget to review as all are welcome.

Take care,

Radagast.

-->

Squeezing through the restricted gap between the chipped cubicle door and the ceiling Harry finally laid eyes on Hermione, lying lifelessly on the cold floor. Her head was tilted slightly to the left, her chin just touching her shoulder. Her hand was open beside her waist as if waiting for somebody to hold it. Ron noticed Harry pause at the top of the door staring fearfully at something on the other side.

“Is she alright?” Ron asked, increasing the loudness of his voice to catch Harry's attention.

With a final look at Ron, he let his hold on the door go and collapsed beside Hermione. He stopped instantly, having no idea of what his next movements would be. His mind was completely devoid of all rational thought and he seemed to try and speak as his lips moved continuously and soundlessly. Her face had gone white; no colour remaining in her cheeks, her lips looked borrowed from a morgue. Her eyes were closed and he could not make out whether she was breathing or not. Fragmented glass cut at the knees of his trousers but he still refused to move.

He found himself leaning over her and incessantly repeating her name. He slipped his shaking hand into her limp unresponsive one. Pressing two fingers against her ashen throat, he closed his eyes desperately waiting for a pulse. Finally he felt a slow rhythm against his fingers. The pulse was there but it was terribly weak.

“Harry,” she whimpered faintly. He found himself doused in relief but it was only short lived as he tried to keep her conscious. He charged to the door and wrenched back the lock to let Ron in. “Oh god,” he moaned when he saw her.

Harry knelt beside her again reclaiming her hand for reassurance. He was trying frantically to calm himself down along with Hermione but he was failing in both cases. “She's freezing,” Harry noted, wrapping his arms around her and lifting her closer to him. “Go get Professor Dumbledore,” he implored frenetically.

“No,” Hermione moaned and she faintly attempted to grasp his wrist.

“Go…now,” he demanded, ignoring her. He knew she did not want them to get caught but the situation had become more severe than they could have dreamed of.

“Harry please,” she begged looking at him with an unfocused gaze.

“Hermione, you need help. Now!” he replied, agitated.

“We'll be… expelled… immediately. Any other time Harry and I'd let you go…. But…. they need you,” she breathed. Harry noticed she was fading out of consciousness again. “You… can't be expelled,” she finished vaguely.

“I can't save you,” he muttered forlornly to her.

“Yeah ya can,” she replied indistinctly. Her eye lids fell closed and he shook her slightly. She tried to say something but her voice repeatedly failed. “B…B…Be...”

“Hermione…Her….” He paused, suddenly understanding her. His face shot up to Ron's horrified one. “Bezoar!” he roared.

“What?!” Ron asked in puzzled astonishment.

“You need to get a bezoar. It counteracts poisons. It's an antidote,” he explained rapidly. He started to move, removing Hermione from his lap but she reacted instantly. “No…stay with me.” Harry saw something in her eyes, more than just distressed pain, deeper than fear.

“Ron you have to go,” he said, his eyes not leaving hers. “Snape will have them in his classroom.”

“I can't break into His classroom. What happens if I get caught?!”

“If you're discovered then tell him everything, and just get him here as soon as you can. But for now, we're going to have to do this by ourselves. Just hurry Ron…she's weakening.”

With one last nervous glance into the cubicle where Harry was clutching Hermione, Ron left speedily out into the empty corridor.

He sprinted down through the castle until he reached the vast Entrance Hall which was lighted by the waning candles of the Great Hall. With the image of a dying Hermione and an anxious Harry imprinted into his mind he followed the foreboding steps deeper into the dungeons. As his footsteps echoed on the stone steps he wiped his sweaty palms on his robes pondering the thought that this was one of the worst Christmas' ever since the birth of Christ.

He was tempted to light his wand but feared that someone, presumably Snape, would spot him through the darkness. He pushed the Potions classroom entrance door ajar and noiselessly and blindly slipped through. Distinguishing the pointed desks through the darkness he carefully made his way through the minefield of sharp edges. He finally discovered a cabinet that was located directly behind Snape's desk. Opening it he found only darkness in its depths. He clumsily shoved his hand onto one of the shelves and started fumbling around for a bezoar. He did not have a clue what it looked like.

“Bloody hell,” he surrendered, removing his wand from his robes. “Lumos,” he whispered and the tip barely lit. There on the shelf a small label read `bezoars' and above it, what appeared to be fleshy stones. He snatched one and put it into his pocket, then shut the cabinet. As he made his way back through the dimly lit desks the door swung open and a shaft of light pierced down the adjacent aisle of desks. He immediately bounded under one of the larger tables, his heart hammering a drum solo against his chest. His mouth was dry with consuming anticipation.

“Miss Cole, your recent performances in Potions have been of the highest standard,” Snape said languidly as he approached his desk. All the candles in the room sparked to life causing shadows to dance on the walls.

He watched, riveted, as Abby Cole entered after the indolent Potions Master. She did not seem intimidated by Snape whatsoever nor disconcerted by the fact that he had given her a compliment. As Snape continued to tell her about various occupations she could apply for after Hogwarts, Ron crept around the other side of the desk. He shuffled to the other end just as Abby caught him. He froze staring at her, his mouth agape with horror. Her face resembled his but then she smiled coyly.

“Are you listening Miss Cole?” Snape asked dangerously with a hint of anger.

“Yes, of course Professor Snape.” Her head snapped back in his direction as she answered merrily. When Snape swivelled around to look at something on his desk, she quickly motioned for Ron to make a run for it. Crouching lower to the ground he crawled to the door, giving Abby a grateful smile as he went. Snape pivoted again to speak to Abby but she instantly leaped across to him, grabbed his arm and spun him around so his back was to the door. “You look…nice…today,” she put together quickly with feigned interest.

Ron could not apprehend himself from sniggering as he heard Snape stutter incoherently as Abby continued her mock flirting with him. After a moment of pausing outside the door he rushed away from the dungeons and up through the castle. The cheerful spirits which Abby's actions had caused were soon forgotten when he reached the suffocating cubicle again. Hermione was utterly unconscious and limp in Harry's arms. It took him a moment to gain Harry's full attention, after which he swiftly thrust the bezoar into Hermione's mouth.

After a few tense seconds Hermione started to twitch and jerk frenziedly. Her eyes flew open and her mouth began to excrete a white froth. Harry wiped the froth away energetically and ensured Ron it was a derivative of the bezoar. Just after Hermione's chest heaved forward she slumped into a lifeless state. Harry laid the palm of his hand across her burning forehead. Ron stepped forward anxiously. “She looks so warm. Is she?”

“Yeah,” Harry replied breathily. “Her fever from the poison has passed. The magical properties of it caused a reaction which meant that she turned stone cold. Now she's returning to a normal state but because of the hazardous reaction…her body is finding it hard to adjust to normal body temperature. This fever is more common, it can be fixed with more conventional methods.” Her skin was pale, clammy and if he had not seen the perspiration trickling from her forehead he would have thought her dead. He removed her robes from her shoulders and unbuttoned the top buttons of her shirt, trying desperately to cool her down.

“We have to get her to Gryffindor Tower,” he implored as he heaved her up from the grimy floor. Wrapping her arms around his neck, he lifted her carefully higher into the air. “Are you sure you can do this?” Ron asked warily seeing the strain in Harry's face.

“Yep,” he choked out. Her head rested against his shoulder and her face was so close to his Harry could feel her gentle breathing against his skin. It was calming to know she remained breathing. He struggled while climbing the steep stone steps of the staircase but his willpower did not waver and he held out until they reached the Tower. The Fat Lady was missing in action from her portrait but had fortunately left the entrance open. Darkness now consumed the castle and the common room was softly lit with the twirling flailing wisps of the crackling fire.

“Oh my god,” came a whisper from behind them. Ron swivelled on the spot to see Abby wearing a flabbergasted expression, her palms over her mouth in astonishment. She rushed forward to the apparently lifeless body in Harry's arms. “What happened?”

“She's been poisoned,” Harry replied abruptly, the evasiveness evident in his tone of voice. “Come on, we'll put her in our dormitory.”

Abby followed them in a trance like state as they scaled up the staircase. With as much sensitivity as he could muster through his frantic mind, he laid her down on his bed. Ron shoved the windows open and a fierce blustery wind blew into the circular room.

Harry continued to remove her heavy clothing, flinging them to the floor in a heap. Abby, who had rapidly caught on to the severity of the situation, returned with a bowl of water. “It's tepid water to cool her down,” she explained as she soaked a linen cloth and placed it across Hermione's forehead. Harry paused momentarily to watch her before speaking. “Thank you. We're gonna need help over the next few hours and…”

“Of course I'll be here,” she answered resolutely.

An hour passed in which they monitored Hermione's condition vigilantly before Ron asked the question that was plaguing him. “Can we bring her out of this… fever?”

“Yeah. We have to alleviate the fever. It could take awhile. A few days maybe,” Harry said with a deadened voice. “There has to be a potion that can be brewed to help. Muggles use aspirin so…there has to be a magic remedy. I'll have to do some research…”

“I know the potion. Leave it to me,” Abby assured him. She got to her feet in a seemingly abrupt movement against the stillness that had filled the room. Harry had his hand balled into a fist beneath his chin and was shaking his knee nervously. “She will be okay,” Abby said gently, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. All he could offer her was a slight smile but returned to his worried expression once she had gone. She returned an hour later and administered the potion to Hermione. There was enough to last for two day in the brew she had made. Harry thanked her and got a consoling but encouraging hug from her.

The effects of the potion were visibly noticeable as Hermione's temperature improved and breathing eased into that of someone sleeping.

“Who poisoned the potion? It was obviously the same person who attacked her earlier…but who? I don't get it…” he sighed.

Ron snorted derisively from across the room. “Think about it…practically all the Slytherins stayed in the castle for Christmas. It had to be one of them. I mean apart from them…well no Ravenclaw would do it nor would a bloody Hufflepuff,” he laughed weakly. “Then there's only the three of us.”

“No Ron…you are wrong. A Ravenclaw has attacked me before. Roger Davies…he was the one who frightened the life out me…way back. But it wasn't him. It was something else. Some force…some power in the castle. And I don't think it matters to this…power,” he spat the word as if it fouled the air around him “whether you're muggle born or not…but it uses this to attack muggle borns. So in fact the message written in blood on the walls of this castle…” he roared furiously “are lies. Nobody is safe! Nobody.”

“Calm down, Harry,” Ron responded, somewhat timidly. “Maybe you should get some sleep. I doubt Hermione will wake till morning. And you could do with some sleep. We both could. Do we have to monitor her condition through the night?” he asked gesturing towards Hermione's sleeping form.

“No, she should all be right now with the potion,” he replied sadly, raking his fingers through his hair. “I'll kip on Seamus' bed tonight.”

“Right,” agreed Ron with a nod of his head. He removed his jumper and threw himself onto his own bed. Harry heard him shuffling under the bed covers and laughed quietly to himself.

“She won't see you changing, Ron,” he chuckled.

“Just in case,” he mumbled almost incoherently.

Harry drifted in and out of consciousness listening to Ron's snores. Outside the darkness was so deep that it looked like a heavy curtain had been drawn across the world. He shifted onto his side and saw the grey outline of his bed. Climbing furtively out of Seamus' four poster he made his way over to side beside Hermione. She was still quite warm but not as bad as earlier. She was merely sleeping to his eyes and did not seem in much pain.

He held out a hand barely touching hers. His knuckles caressed the skin on the back of her hand and he let out an audible sigh. He did not know whether it was relief or whether it was sadness for all that had happened. Guilt. Sorrow. Pain. He pulled the blankets higher up her body and then returned to Seamus' bed. He sank his head into the pillow and watched her form until his eyes were too heavy to remain open.

-->

Two worrying days later and Hermione's condition had improved considerably. She was fully awake and speaking coherently again. Harry was astounded by Abby's potion brewing skills as she continued to supply them with potions for Hermione and was essential in her recovery.

The students were planned to return the next day which incredibly concerned Harry. He knew he should have told Dumbledore but that would mean confessing to the creation of the Polyjuice Potion which he knew would cause complete chaos and devastation. Instead, he decided to remain silent but to keep a wary eye out for strange behaviour by anyone who remained in the castle during the Christmas holidays.

“So what have we got?” Hermione asked. She was still occupying his bed, her back propped against three oversized pillows. Her face was still rather pale but overall she appeared quite healthy. She held up her hand and ticked points off her fingers. “Three students were attacked supposedly by this Heir of Slytherin. Another student is being controlled for some reason.”

“More than one student has been possessed. Remember Roger Davies attacked Harry but he was in the hospital wing when you were attacked and we were all nearly poisoned,” Ron interjected thoughtfully.

“True,” Hermione replied, reconsidering her tack. “Okay so students are being attacked and controlled. Also there souls are being…stolen, for lack of a better word. Nobody yet seems immune to the threat.”

“Yeah…I heard Nearly Headless Nick was attacked the same time Justin was. I haven't seen him around. Supposedly the teachers are trying to cover it up cause I mean if a ghost was attacked…” Ron interrupted incredulously letting the sentence drift into the middle of their already troubled thoughts.

“The school won't be allowed to remain open if this continues,” Harry warned. “If the media gets wind of this Hogwarts will be over. The governors will be notified if it happens again and they'll probably refuse to allow students in the castle. Families will cause an uproar…a lot of people will lose their trust in Dumbledore.”

“We can hardly catch the culprit ourselves,” laughed Ron ironically. “It sounds bad but I'm just waiting for someone to be killed. It will undoubtedly happen…whoever is doing this is capable of murder.”

“Then again we can't just do nothing,” Hermione responded, shifting against her pillows slightly. “I refuse to just sit back and watch people be hurt.” Her eyes shone fervently showing how passionate she was about helping others. “And I know you both enough to know you feel the same,” she added confidently peering at both of them.

“Of course we do,” they both chorused in return. Ron got languidly to his feet. “I'm gonna go nick some food from the Great Hall. Any requests?”

“Chicken,” Hermione answered instantly.

“I'm not hungry,” Harry started. Hermione's head shot towards him. “You have to eat, Harry,” she cautioned.

“Fine…chicken,” he conceded. Ron nodded and tramped out the door. They listened to his lazy footsteps thump down the staircase and then fade.

Not for the first time in the last week Harry raked his fingers through his mop of black hair, clutching the ends tightly in his fist. His frustration was building rapidly, with the castle, the students and the attacks. He placed his head in his hands and exhaled slowly. He felt completely overwhelmed.

“I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I can't even explain what's happening.” His words were muffled in his hands. His eyes were red from where he rubbed them. His voice held a desperation that unnerved Hermione. Climbing to the side of the bed, she reached out and removed his hands from his face. It was so unlike him to show or even feel emotion such as this. She knew that her ordeal over the past few days was also adding to Harry's problems and did not lessen his self flagellation or burden.

She had no words of comfort and so just wrapped her arms around his head in hope of just calming him. He gripped her waist tightly, clinging to her comfort. He did not shed a tear, he was not sure if he was capable of doing so. After a few moments of wordless soothing, Harry stood to his feet and gave Hermione a proper hug causing her to smile slightly into his shoulder. “I'm sor…”

“Don't Harry. You have no reason to apologise,” she told him firmly, pulling away from him. He grinned, lightening her heart and then ushered her back under the covers.

“Give it time Harry. I'm sure we will find some answer. Or some clue in the right direction.”

“I just hope we find time before we run out of it.”

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

The students returned. Harry found that their spirits had risen during their remission from the darkness of the castle. Classes started back immediately, much to a healthier Hermione's delight. Harry offered to carry her bag but she refused, wishing for him to just stop worrying about her.

January clawed slowly by and even though the monotony was palpable at times, Harry was overjoyed by the fact that nobody had been attacked. The students patience grew thin as the homework load increased dramatically. Teachers were already mentioning end of year examinations at the beginning of a frosty February. Ron had met a new girl from Hufflepuff, Susan Bones. Harry thought she was nice, pleasant and quiet. He noted how unlike Lavender she was and Hermione informed him later that Lavender was now going out with Seamus.

A week before Valentines Day, `a commercial offence' Hermione had named it, and the students excitement grew at the prospect of unrequited love and theatrical displays of affection. All Harry knew of Valentines Day were the colours pink and red, also the ultimate symbol of cupid's heart.

Harry had remained suspicious of Ginny much to Hermione's silent displeasure. Her erratic behaviour was a constant source of worry for him. At times he found her chatting spiritedly with her friends and at others she had confined herself into a corner of the library, alone and without books. She seemed to be just brooding almost sulking. She was anxious, the constant wringing of hands a reminder of that. Every so often he watched her eyes dart stealthily around the Great Hall while she ate as if she knew there was someone watching.

Another large aspect of Ginny's life that Harry discovered was that she always seemed to be writing in a small weather-beaten book. He speculated what it could be and found that all conjectures lead to the conclusion that it was a diary. He made a firm decision that he had to know what she had written in its pages.

He was sure that Ginny was involved in the attacks somehow. Hermione had encouraged him to believe there were still clues and he knew that diary was one of them.

One day as he left the back of the library he spotted her jotting down something in the small diary. Taking a deep breath of conviction he strode over to her table which was piled with unused books, obviously to ensure nobody was watching.

“Hey,” he said loudly, destroying the silence. He pulled out a chair and ignored the scandalized look Madam Pince gave him as the scraping echoed throughout the library.

Ginny looked momentarily shocked and before Harry had a chance to even glance at the diary she had thrust it into her flowery schoolbag. He fruitlessly tried to catch her eye but she was having none of it. Her chin muscles bunched as her face took on the effect of her resolute mind. She was not going to speak.

“Ginny,” he started, and then stopped not knowing what to say. His eyes left her face and he rubbed his hands together nervously under the table. “I…eh…how are you?” he asked stupidly.

For the first time she looked up at him. Her blue eyes were weary and her face drawn. “Why?” she muttered inaudibly but he caught the word.

“I just wondered. You seemed a bit off lately. Is it just being in first year or…?”

“No.” Her eyes hardened into an intense gaze and he found it unnerving.

“So what is it?”

“Did Ron send you? Is that why you're here?” There was a touch of contempt in her voice as if she rued that the only reason he spoke to her was because Ron asked her to.

“No…I was worried that…”

“Really,” she interrupted, wonder in her voice. “You…you were worried about me?”

“Well…er…it was just that you seemed to be struggling with something,” he stammered, not wanting to lead her on or give off the impression that he was interested in the same way she was.

“I have.” She stated abruptly. The confidence in her usually feeble voice made his heart skip a beat. Was this where he was supposed to push?

Involuntarily he leaned forward. “Ginny…what do you know?”

“A lot.” She grinned darkly and Harry could almost see something else enter her now shining eyes. “I know a lot.” And then she laughed coldly, placing a hand across her forehead as if feeling for a temperature. He could barely see her face but listened as her manic laughing turned into a strangled moan. Tears spilled from under the palms of her hands. Her sobbing grew louder as she choked out. “I don't…don't want t…”

She shuddered then spoke again. “There is nothing you can do to stop me, Harry.” The voice was not Ginny's but used her mouth. It caused Harry's blood to run cold, hollow but saturated in hate. Ginny's body snapped with rigidity and then she slumped from the chair and down onto the ground in a heap of robes.

Harry did not react immediately, still stunned by what had just happened. Then he crouched down and apprehensively turned Ginny around. “Oh my head,” she groaned painfully.

“W…what the hell was that?” he breathed pulling her roughly to her feet. All patience and weariness left his rational thought. He was incensed at what had just happened. It had obviously been happening for quite awhile and she had not spoken to anybody about it.

“I d…don't kno…”

“Yes you do, Ginny. Yes you do. Don't lie.” He gripped her arm tightly and she whined and tried to pull away but could not. After another frail attempt she beat against his chest with her fist. “Let me go…”

“No, who…what was that?”

“Just leave me alone!”

A startled and infuriated Madam Pince, hearing Ginny's strangled protests, came bounding around a book shelf.

“Let go of her this instant!” Madam Pince's fierce voice was not enough to break Harry's fuming interrogation. She removed her wand from inside her mauve robes and pointed it in his direction. “Do as I said!”

“Where are they now? Where is it gone Ginny? Is it still here?” Harry's mind was quickly trying to catch fully onto the situation. Whatever had just possessed Ginny could easily jump into the next person. He needed to find it before it latched onto someone else. “WHERE GINNY?!”

“It's not here!” she cried at him distraughtly. He released her from his grip and stormed out into the corridor that preceded the library as if expecting to just see a possessed person attacking somebody. There were two loitering students waiting patiently as a friend obtained a book from the library but nothing more. Harry's forehead was sweaty as were his palms. Rivulets of perspiration were running down the sides of his face and his breath was coming in gasps.

“Are you okay, Harry?”

He twisted around to see Ron wearing a nervous expression. Harry unwillingly glanced in the direction of a crying Ginny being consoled by Madam Pince. Ron followed his gaze his face becoming more uneasy. “What's going on?”

Madam Pince glared at Harry and Ron instantly flew off the handle. “What did you do to my sister?” he roared as Harry's eyes swiveled to meet his.

“Nothing…listen Ron she knows something that…”

Ron pushed him forcefully against the wall as he raged past him into the library to his weeping younger sister. Sure Harry was slightly ashamed that he had been so aggressive with Ginny but that was the only way he was going to get anything out of her.

“Hey man you can't just go and beat up some first year whenever you feel like it,” said one of the lingering students. He was unusually tall and spoke with an Irish accent. His companion nodded his head in agreement and Harry could not help but laugh harshly.

“Is it one of you?” It could be anybody.

“What are you talking about?” the Irish boy chuckled in his baritone voice. He shook his wide head in disbelief at the dishevelled appearance of Harry. “Saviour my arse.”

Again Harry laughed this time more to himself. He felt an overwhelming feeling of queasiness and stumbled as he tried to leave.

Inside the library Ron was trying to calm Ginny but she continually evaded his attempts and kept muttering. “No…no…he doesn't hurt with me. Stay with me.” Ron was utterly baffled at her words. She was not talking about Harry but kept her eyes fixed on the floor. Madam Pince decided she would call Madam Pomfrey.

Outside Harry gripped his head with both hands, his view swimming from side to side. He palmed the wall with his hand to try and guide himself. He needed to speak with Dumbledore, to tell him about Ginny, about what she knew. But something seemed to be clouding him.

No, he thought frantically, not in me.

A boy left the library a book held under his arm. “What the hell is going on?” he voiced as he followed his friends eyesight to the struggling Harry. He took a hesitant step towards him. He seemed to be retching, clawing at his robes as if trying to rid himself of something. “Hey Eddie man…I don't think you should touch him.”

The blonde haired boy turned to his friends with a worried expression on his face. Placing the book on the floor he said “We can't just leave him. There's definitely something wrong with him.”

Inside Harry's head his thoughts were ricocheting against his skull. Bodiless voices were chanting at him through the darkness of his closed eyes. They screamed mercilessly, ripping his mind to pieces. He tried to block them out but they were erasing his voice. He tried yelling but his throat felt constricted.

As Eddie touched his shoulder he spun around. His face was flushed with the pressure of trying to speak, sweat now drenching his hair and the neck of his robes. He could not make out Eddie's face. It was just a blurred figure and he did not know whether it was an enemy or not. No, a voice whispered, the enemies in you. You are the enemy.

From her tiny office within the library Madam Pince had sent an urgent message to Madam Pomfrey and for good measure to Professor Dumbledore. She hurried back out to attend to Ginny as best she could but Ginny was now hysterically pleading with some invisible force.

Unwillingly Harry's hand reached inside his robes and withdrew his wand. Let's have some fun, the terrifying voice hissed.

He felt like he was trapped in his body, in a corner of his mind, watching events unfold that he could not stop. He watched petrified as his arm straightened out before him. Eddie stepped back immediately, his face turning from worry to horror. Harry's eyes were bloodshot and his pupils were becoming paler by the second. His lip was bleeding from where he had bit down on it while trying to rid himself of this horrible evil.

Dumbledore appeared around the corner and halted instantly. His face dropped all pretence and anxiety and fear danced in his eyes at the sight of the demented young wizard.

Harry felt his arm shift slightly into the direction of a more distinct figure. No…please god no. Stop please…I can't do this…

He found himself forcing his mind to take control. The pressure in his head seemed to multiply and his rigid arm shook furiously. He felt himself take the first step against the presence in his mind. His whole body shook with the effort; he thought the elevating pressure in his head would surely kill him. His muscles grew taut under his robes and he furiously gritted his teeth. No, he thought wrathfully, I will not hurt him.

He heard another voice but it was not emanating from him. Dumbledore's voice sounded like a whisper in a gale wind.

A low rumbling started in the back of his throat and as he fought with all his concentration it became a fully fledged roar. He thought his burning throat would tear and could taste blood in the back of his mouth. A clattering sound indicated he had dropped his wand. Immediately Dumbledore approached him and Harry felt his mind thrown straight back into his body which was in agonizing pain. He inhaled deeply as he battled for air.

Consciousness ebbed away from him as his knees hit solid ground. The pain racked through his limbs and he struggled to reopen his eyes. As he felt his face touch the stone floor, hands found his back and turned him over.

“I ca…can't..see,” he spluttered as blood ran down his chin. His throat was raw and burned.

“Harry you must stay awake,” Dumbledore's voice broke through the tormenting pain. “Harry? Harry?!”

-->

Chapter Twenty One

The sky was streaked with red and orange from the setting of the sun. The Hospital Wing was very different from what it once had been. It was far more homily, mainly to facilitate and calm the many worried family members that now bustled around it. Nine more previously carefree students had been attacked in the past month and a half. Only two of them had suffered from the effects of being Petrified, the others had been assaulted by students who claimed to have not known their actions. Cautious worry was the atmosphere of the entire school.

At the beginning of the month the parents of injured students arrived infuriated and agitated but that had died down. Now they sat at the bedside of their ill children. One boy, a fourth year Hufflepuff, was leaving in two weeks. He had suffered a beating by another student who had not yet come forward. His parents were withdrawing him from Hogwarts as soon as it was possible for him to walk again. The bruising on his back and extensive spinal damage had caused worry over his continued ability to walk but because of the wonderful work performed by Madam Pomfrey he was going to be capable of running, sprinting and even prancing.

In the corner of the Wing a bed was occupied by Harry Potter who had been unconscious for almost six weeks. The greatest wizard of his era, Albus Dumbledore, could only say that Harry had fought an immensely arduous mind game and had won. This was not pleasantly accepted by those who had asked the questions, those being the public and more inquisitive media. Of course, the Daily Prophet, had caught on when disgruntled parents had stormed into their organised offices and demanded that the paper find out the truth. It was, as many refer to it, a media frenzy.

To those who actually cared for the young wizards' health Dumbledore told the truth. He had been `possessed' and nearly driven insane in a mere matter of moments. They were not sure when he would wake up or even if he could. It was another mind game, the waiting game. But it was not hopeless as Harry's vitals; being closely watched began to pick up causing another cardiac arrest in the offices of the Daily Prophet. Could Potter reveal the truth about the day three students were nearly killed?

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

He felt like he was being sucked out a dream. The feeling was returning to his body, starting with his fingers. The soft sheet caressing his fingertips, the hairs on his arms rising as he felt a sudden chill, the building pressure in his throat, his dry mouth, his cold nose and finally his hair. He had yet to move, believing he was not able to do so. Noises were slowly ebbing their way into his ears and he realised there was a lot of movement occurring. His eyes snapped open and he inhaled deeply.

Without moving his body he peered across the Hospital Wing inwardly astounded at how different it looked. It no longer felt formal or detached as it often had. All pale colours were matched by bright oranges, deep blues or fantastic yellows. It seemed that many of the families had tried to bring home closer to their unconscious children, but Harry still could not comprehend it…why were there so many. Almost every bed was occupied now surrounded by bustling and chatting families.

He shifted his head slightly and could see that even his own bedside was adorned with gold and crimson colours. Gryffindor emblems hung off the side of his bed, an extra blanket to block out the cold. A flagon of water sitting idly on his bedside table reminded him of how dry his throat was but he still did not have enough strength to move. He shut his eyes again and moved his head back into the position it had already been occupying with a slight groan. In an instant there was a presence on his right side but it was definitely not menacing.

A soft hand pressed against his cheek and he lifted his eyes languidly open again. “They told me you might not wake up…”

He throat felt constricted and sore and so when he attempted to reply it just conjured up a harsh cough. His muscles stretched painfully as he arched forwards while the coughing racked his body. In seconds he felt a glass at his lips and swallowed the fresh water with relish. The moist glass remained at his lips and his eyes looked over the rim at Hermione. His eyesight was blurred but he knew her chocolate eyes were shining with unshed tears.

“What happened to me taking care of you?” he croaked when she placed the glass on the bedside table with a clunk.

“I got better…you didn't,” she answered sadly as she took a seat on the edge of his bed.

“W…what's happened Hermione? How many people have been attacked?”

“More than there is in this room. About nine in all in the past month, but most just suffered minor injuries. They haven't caught any of the attackers but I think Dumbledore believes that it's one person controlling others.”

“Past month?!”

“Your mind suffered a lot of damage and the increased pressure on your body…well…” she was either trying to stall or just could not find words to describe what had happened. Without his glasses Harry could not tell. “The increased pressure…Harry…you almost had a heart attack. I mean it's a wonder you survived.”

A silence descended between them that the chatty families could not contend with. Harry couldn't believe a month had passed. He felt the worry emanating from Hermione. “Kinda screws up my studying, eh?” he joked fruitlessly.

“There probably won't be tests this year. Not with the way the castle is now,” she murmured mournfully. Harry could hear the fear in her words. The castle, the school, his home was in jeopardy and he was just stuck here for the past month. The last thing he remembered was his severe conversation with Ginny.

“Ginny!” he whispered forcefully and in his haste he managed to pull himself into a sitting position, his face close to Hermione's. “She knows…something.” Hermione, temporarily stricken by his sudden blast of energy, threw an arm out and caught his shoulder, attempting to push him back into his lying position.

“Harry…that bed over there,” she said, indicating the one on the other side of the Wing. “It's Ginny. She was attacked the day after you were. Petrified…they don't know why because she isn't muggleborn. But she's the only pureblood to be Petrified yet.”

“Because she knew something. That's why she was attacked…” he hissed angrily as he noticed the red haired family bustling around the bed. Ron was there, Fred and George and of course Mrs. Weasley, she was thinner than Harry remembered her. “We have to do something,” he stated through gritted teeth.

Again he felt the tender hand against his face and his attention returned to Hermione who moved closer so that their noses were almost touching. “There's nothing that we can do,” she sniffed and a tear dropped into the palm of Harry's hand. “Whatever this is…it is stronger and more dangerous than even Dumbledore. It is so dismissive of life and all it does is destroy. There is nothing we can do. They're saying that this is the end of Hogwarts. That this is the end.”

“Mr. Potter!” With a small yelp Madam Pomfrey hurried over to his side and instantly started examining him, her eyes wide and shocked so that Harry knew she never believed she would ever treat him again. “A miracle. I mean…we suspected last week when your vitals improved but…by Merlin…it's a miracle! I must contact the Headmaster immediately…”

“No need Poppy,” came Dumbledore's strident voice as he made his way to the bed. Harry spotted the Weasley family's stares coming from across the wide aisle but he kept his eyes on Hermione. She looked weary and obviously had not recovered completely in the past few weeks.

The thing that worried Harry most was that she seemed to have given up hope. And it was only anticipated as she was surrounded in a suffering environment without him for so long. The cheery homily almost Burrow like appearance of the Hospital Wing was there to protect it from the dreary corridors of the rest of the castle. That pain, knowing how alone and frightened Hermione must have felt, was far greater than any he felt now.

Her hand had left his face and he only returned to his senses as Dumbledore implored him to lie back down. “You still need to rest…I'm sure Madam Pomfrey can administer a potion to help with any lasting fatigue.”

“Oh…Harry dear,” Mrs. Weasley rushed over and clasped his hand in hers. “We were ever so worried.” He smiled at her warmth and could not help but feel grateful that she had thought of him even though her daughter was seriously ill. Ron ambled into view beside his beaming mother and muttered “Sorry for hitting you mate. I...eh, thought…but you could never…” he waved his arm lamely at the devastating consequences of someone's doing.

Harry grinned at him in response letting him know that he understood and forgave him. His world was too dark to hold grudges against friends.

Hours later when the excitement had died down and Harry had finished picking at a well cooked dinner Dumbledore returned to Harry's bedside. After the potions which he had taken he felt more alive than he had and was now propped up on a number of pillows. Hermione had gone to the library to finish a Potions essay.

“How are you, Harry?” he asked as he sat in a lush green chair that appeared out of thin air.

“Fine,” Harry answered and he could not keep the emotional torment out of his voice.

“I trust you remember what happened as you are not asking thousands of questions.” Dumbledore's beard twitched with the slight smile that appeared on his face. When Harry remained silent he continued. “Yes Harry…you were very close to hurting me but you did not and you must remember that…”

“I could've killed you!” Harry whispered harshly. “Who…who was it? It wasn't me…”

“Of course I know that it was not you. And I sincerely believe that you know who this was too.”

“But…He's too weak…he could never,” Harry whispered frantically. He had tried to rid his mind of the thought but could not deny the voice that had hissed at him so dangerously.

“I do not think that it was Lord Voldemort himself. It might be someone who is manipulating us using Him. It is a very confusing matter and it is hard to find a solution to a problem when we don't know the question.”

“Are they going to close the school down?” Harry enquired in a solemn tone. Dumbledore leaned forward closer to him so that no one could overhear. “I am doing every thing in my power to ensure the safety of my students Harry. But the parents…they are anxious and they want answers. For that we cannot condemn them, it is their children that face these dangers and they want the best environment for them in which to learn.” He stood to his feet and his lengthy form overshadowed Harry's bed. Replacing his tall hat on his silver head he turned to Harry once more. “Hope is a light we cling onto that only reveals itself in the most troubling of times.” With that he was gone.

Shadows stretched higher into the cavernous ceiling as night approached. Soon the clear windows were sheets of black pierced by no stars. Harry felt his mind wavering and could feel sleep close his eyes. He had to find the attacker or else he would lose his home and his friends. He knew where to start anew and that was in finding the secretive diary Ginny had been determined to hide. The year was waning away and that was the length of time which he had to find the truth or else he would not return next year. But first he needed sleep and perhaps a shower, he thought.

“Harry, m'boy!” he heard a cheery voice boom from over him. He made out bright turquoise robes and the unusual wavy but perfect hair.

Bollocks, he thought.

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

-->

Chapter Twenty Two

Hermione visited him two days later and found him sitting upright in the lavish chair beside his bed. He was wearing his robe and grey slippers and still looked quite pale. He brightened slightly seeing her and attempted to stand up. He succeeded and opened his arms with a wide grin. “Pomfrey has to let me go soon, right?”

“You'd probably be safer and happier in here,” she responded quietly as she ushered him onto the bed and sat beside him. He caught the depressed tone in her voice and cursed himself again for not being able to do anything. He contemplated holding her hand but a strange nervousness kept him from doing so.

“I have an idea,” he said cutting through the silence. She looked at him suspiciously and shifted around to see him better, drawing her legs over the edge of the bed and crossing them. “What is it?”

“Well the reason I went to talk to Ginny that day was to get a diary from her. She'd been writing in it for weeks. She was involved Hermione. I know she was…I have to get that diary. From what I've heard, her roommates took her bag and put it back in her dorm. So once I get it, well we can just progress from there.”

Inwardly, Hermione was frightened at the prospect of him running off into danger before he was completely recovered but she knew that there was nothing to stop him. Harry had very few boundaries as he broke many of them down in order to ensure safety for others. “I'll do it.” She stated firmly surprising him. “It will be easy if I do it. They'll just think the Weasleys asked me to get something of Ginny's.”

“Well…that's perfect. But still be as quiet as you can. I don't want anybody to know what we're doing. It's risky enough as it is.”

“Hello Harry.” They both looked up to see Mr. Davis grinning at them. He was holding a box of Honeydukes chocolates and was wearing a blue sweater vest. Placing the chocolates on the bedside table he settled into the seat across from them. “Madam Pomfrey said you were healing well. Out soon I suppose,” he said cheerily.

Harry knew that Mr. Davis was fishing around for conversation. His nervous stuttering side was still apparent but he had improved greatly, especially due to his relationship.

“I want to get straight back to training,” Harry said determinedly. Seeing Mr. Davis attempt to protest he continued. “You know as well as I do who could be doing this. So the need to train increases. My fighting capabilities are crucial, no matter what way you look at this.”

Davis removed his glasses, wiped them and returned them to his face. “I suppose it will help returning you to full fitness. Now that the Quidditch Tournament has been cancelled I suppose you can concentrate more.”

Harry had already been notified about the cancellation. Though shocked he realised it would take some pressure off him when he regained his training.

“I thought that Dumbledore would keep it running, to give the students something to look forward to,” said Hermione thoughtfully.

Davis shook his head. “No, I'm sure he wants students to be on constant alert mode. This way they have no where to be but in classes, the Great Hall or their common rooms. It's safer.”

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

“Got it,” Hermione sighed, relieved, as she slowed her sprint when she reached his bed. A day had passed since Harry had spoken to her about it and the Hospital Wing was devoid of all lively people. “There was nobody in her dorm so it was easier than I thought it would be. It's strange because there doesn't seem to be anything written in it.”

Harry took it pensively and flipped through the cracked ancient pages. Hermione was indeed correct in her assumptions, only the date adorned the pages. Turning to the back cover he ran his hand across gold lettering that indented the leather. “It's nearly fifty years old,” he muttered, bewildered.

“Look,” he instructed, handing it back to Hermione and indicating the writing. “There's a date and address. Obviously a muggle address which indicates that the owner of this is not Ginny. She must have found it somewhere. I think that this is the source of this…power or whatever it is.”

Hermione carefully placed the crinkled diary on the bed between them. “But where's the writing? Oh…” she said excitedly. “It could be invisible ink.” She waved her wand across the pages and muttered a revealing charm. “I guess not,” she deadpanned. Harry remained staring at the blank pages. Suddenly Hermione bolted to her schoolbag and removed a standard quill from inside it. Leaping back onto the bed beside Harry she touched the tip of the quill on the page. She glanced at Harry's confused expression before continuing to write carefully the word Hello.

They both drew a sharp breath as the ink dissolved into the yellow page and new words formed on the surface. Well hello to you too. Whom, may I ask, am I currently writing to?

Hermione went to resume writing but Harry caught her wrist. “This is dangerous,” he whispered almost afraid the mysterious writer would overhear.

“I know but it's all we've got Harry.”

Do you know anything concerning the Chamber of Secrets?

Their hearts quickened as new words appeared in neat looping fashion. Yes. It played a large part in my life when I was a student in Hogwarts. Now, who am I writing to?

You give me your name and I shall give you mine?

There's no need to be so suspicious or cautious. I won't bite! My name is Tom.

“Hermione, stop.” Harry cautioned. “He's lying.”

“How do you know?” she asked incredulously.

“Cause I've heard that name before. I just…can't remember,” Harry said rubbing his head. It was important but he just could not place it. “Harry, please …it's a very common name,” Hermione sighed in frustration. Harry felt like something very significant had been wiped from his memory. He turned to see Hermione scribbling again.

What do you mean? Was it opened before?

Well you are perceptive. It wreaked havoc in my time. I suppose it's doing the same in yours.

“No Hermione stop,” Harry warned furiously. He tried to snatch the quill from her hand but she grabbed the diary and moved away from the bed. “Don't you see how dangerous this is?! It's already causing us to fight.” She looked at him slowly and he climbed off the bed towards her but before he reached her she was being sucked into the diary. With a small flump the diary landed on the floor, it pages facing the vaulting ceiling. “Hermione!” he bounded over to the diary. Written on its pages were the words

Let me show you.

Just as Harry was contemplating running for help Hermione was thrown out of the diary and lay sprawled on the floor, her chest heaving. Harry sighed as he realised she was not hurt. “What happened? What did he show you?”

“It was Hagrid, Harry. He showed me how he had caught Hagrid with some sort of monster and…and then how they had expelled Hagrid.”

“No it can't be. He wouldn't hurt a soul, not purposefully. Why on earth would he hurt me? It doesn't make sense Hermione.”

“But that's what he showed me. I saw it,” she cried as he helped her to her feet.

“It might not have been true. It could just be a fantasy or…”

“It was a memory Harry. And somebody was dead…why would he show me that?”

“Hermione, that's what I've been saying from the beginning. This diary is dangerous. Look at what it's done to Ginny. Somehow…this diary, or memory or whatever it is, it's controlling what is happening. Whoever this Tom is, he was using Ginny. And he has just tried to use you…”

“No,” she yelled cutting across him. “He is telling the truth. He's trying to help us Harry.”

“Do you honestly think he helped Ginny?!” Harry roared at her. Anybody else would have cowered in front of Harry's fury but Hermione did not flinch.

“It wasn't him. I know it wasn't,” she ascertained. It dawned on Harry that the diary had already taken affect on Hermione.

“Ron told me that Ginny was trying to defend something the day before she was attacked. Kept muttering incessantly about how it would be fine as long as it stayed with her.” He paused letting the words sink in to Hermione. “Hermione, your mind is being messed with so just…”

“It is not! How can you say that? Harry it's me and I'm telling you that the attacker is Hagrid. It was then and it is now.”

“Hermione,” he said softly taking a step closer to her. She pushed him away roughly which sent a wave of indescribable dread through him. “You have to listen to me,” he said tensely. “Remember what happened to me, to Ginny, to Colin, to Roger and Justin. Don't let the same happen to you.”

“No, you listen to me. It was not Tom, it was Hagrid. We have to go and tell the authorities so we can stop him.” She clutched the thin green manuscript closer to her chest.

“Do you even remember Hagrid?” Harry asked fearfully. Hermione rolled her eyes exasperatedly. “Of course I do. Now come on we have to...”

“If you remembered him then we would not be having this argument. Hermione, somebody has tainted your judgement.”

“For the love of Merlin Harry my judgement has not been tainted!” she exclaimed waving her arms emphatically.

“Then why did you shove me away. The Hermione I know, the thinker, no…” he laughed darkly “she'd never do that.”

He watched edgily as she shut her eyes in a vain attempt to think clearly. After what seemed like an age she took a shuddering breath and clapped her hand to her mouth in shock. “I'm so sorry…I don't know what happened. I just…”

Steeling himself Harry approached her again and when he got close enough he reached out to her shoulder. “It's alright. It isn't your fault but we have to get rid of the diary now before it gets into unreachable hands.” He released a sigh as she practically thrust it into his hands. “Okay let's get this to Dumbledore.”

With two cracking sounds the diary had vanished from his hands. “What the hell!”

“Where did it go?” Hermione yelled in amazement. Harry who found himself holding thin air with his vacant hands felt all his worst fears realised. He fruitlessly dove under his bed, rifled through all his belongings and pulled all the sheets off his bed. “Harry, it didn't run away from you…somebody took it.” Harry growled angrily and slumped against the bedside cabinet.

“As for whom I have no idea,” Hermione continued. “I mean who on earth can apparate inside the Hogwarts grounds.”

“Dobby,” stated Harry dejectedly. He had no clue how to get in contact with the melancholy House-Elf. “He knew how lethal the diary is and he tried to protect me from it.”

Hermione slouched down close beside him so that their feet were outstretched in front of them. “Wow, that didn't last very long.”

“What didn't?” Hermione asked, her brow furrowing in confusion.

“That small teeny glimpse of hope,” he replied, holding his hand out and measuring the distance with his index finger and thumb. “Basically over before it began.”

She touched his outstretched hand with hers softly and closed the distance between his fingers. “I'm glad you're back…now I don't need to depend on hope alone.”

-->

Chapter Twenty Three

After much careful consideration Harry and Hermione had decided not to confront Hagrid mainly because neither believed that he was a vicious assailant. There had been a brief relapse in the amount of attacks as nobody had been Petrified in weeks. Harry swiftly returned to training and was again practicing with weapons but this time Hermione accompanied him. She had been deeply affected by how easily she was manipulated by the mysterious Tom. They had not told anybody about the diary or its disappearance. This was due to the fact that they would end up repeating the story and therefore mentioning Hagrid who would in turn be accused of something he obviously did not do.

It was already reaching the end of May and most students were relieved that the end of the school year was approaching. Harry's concentration, though greatly troubled, was still focused on his school work. This benefited Hermione as she could think of something rather than fearing instant attack. Strict rules had been introduced on after school activities. Not one student was allowed leave their respective Houses after classes, this meant that the library was rarely open. Only Mr. Davis' area remained open for Harry but Madam Pince had been implored to close up after school hours. Students would have to attain books in between classes or at lunch times. This meant that every night Harry and Hermione would study in the Gryffindor common room which was packed in the latter days of the year.

Even though the constant chatter and occasional shouts were tiresome Harry did not wish to break any of the new school rules; even the Weasley twins abided by them. Every Gryffindors true colours were shown as they all kept hope alive for each other. But among the other Houses fissures were beginning to affect daily life. Most headstrong students had suspected a Slytherin but many now believed that a new Dark Wizard was approaching glory, Harry Potter. Gryffindors defended him with the obvious argument; how could he attack students when in a coma? But somebody, Harry suspected a Hufflepuff, had come up with an explanation that suited the weak minded followers- that Harry had been faking the coma in order to try and throw off suspicion. A lot of people scoffed off the theory and Harry tried to pass it off as nonsense but it still nagged at him when he was not suspecting it.

“Are you okay?”

He was brought back from his morbid path of thought by Hermione's concerned tone. He shrugged and gave her his usual grin that spoke a thousand words to her. She did not need him to reveal his thoughts anymore, after this long she could read his more obvious feelings. He was feeling much the same as her. Like most students they were awaiting the end of the school year but neither were naïve enough to believe they would reach it without some deadly spectacular event. He had his heart set on stopping the attacks and somewhere deep down she wondered what it would lead to. He would not leave the castle even if they made it to the end of the year without more harm.

“Anybody finished their Herbology?” Ron asked hopefully, his pen positioned over his blank parchment. Harry dug his essay out of his neat schoolbag and handed it over to him, much to Ron's pleasure. Thanking him, Ron then excused himself as he had to use `the little boy's toilets' as he referred to it.

Hermione huffed playfully at Harry. “I still cannot believe you give him your homework,” she laughed sweetly.

“His schoolwork doesn't mean all too much to him. And anyway I doubt the teachers even care at the moment. He's still trying to recover from Ginny's attack. All taken into account, he's doing quite well. He's a good guy, and very generous…as long as it isn't anything to do with food,” he joked, earning another laugh from Hermione. He flipped to another chapter of his Charms textbook. “He never asks about my training either. That makes me think that he isn't sneaky and not a threat to us.”

“Ron…a threat. God no one would ever think that,” giggled Hermione. “He is loyal and you're right; he's never inquired much about your training.”

“Our training,” Harry realised and corrected light-heartedly. Hermione did exactly as Harry hoped she would and laughed for a third time. “Will you ever tell him about your training?” she asked seriously. Quietly he placed his quill on the table. “Probably one day. Before it's too late,” he chuckled. She did not laugh. If anything she scolded him with an intense glare. “Never say anything like that again, Harry.”

He grinned sheepishly at her and her reprimanding expression disappeared. Ron returned to their table and yanked Harry's essay towards him. “Let's get cracking on, shall we?”

Suddenly there was a commotion at the Portrait Hole. Harry thought he recognised Fred Weasley groan loudly and somewhat miserably. Insecurity crept in on Harry and he whispered inconspicuously to Hermione. “Do you see that?” while nodding to the gathering crowd. “Yeah,” she reassured him. “Don't worry it's not another premonition.”

“It wasn't a premonition Hermione,” he chastised. She shook her head defensively before getting to her feet. “It doesn't matter now. Come on lets see what's happened.” The curious trio battled through the growing throng of students to see a saddening sight. George Weasley was slowly patting Fred on the back as the other Weasley rubbed his forehead distraughtly. “Abby's been attacked,” he explained forlornly. “Petrified like the others.”

Instantaneously the mass of inquisitiveness started to fire off questions.

“Abby who?”

“Where?”

“Is the school closing? Should we go and pack now?”

“Everybody calm down!” Harry yelled over the anxious crowd. “Abby is a sixth year, she's exuberant, cheerful, vibrant and she will recover from this. Let's wait for McGonagall before we start making wild assumptions about the closure of the castle.” He gulped nervously as everyone stared at him. Deep down he himself pondered and dreaded the thought of the school being closed but he had meant every word he had said, Abby was one of the friendliest people he had met during his two years at Hogwarts.

It was not long after that a drawn and wearisome Professor McGonagall arrived and announced that they were to remain in Gryffindor Tower until further notice. She also declared that tomorrows classes were cancelled to which nobody cheered. Most students remained relatively assured and returned to their homework or to whatever games they were playing. Harry took Ron and Hermione aside. “We have to talk to Hagrid. It's now necessary, he might have some clue to what is happening, even if he isn't directly involved.”

“I thought we agreed that he had nothing to do with it,” admonished Ron. After they had told him he had blatantly refused to accept that Hagrid was in anyway implicated in the attacks. He immediately disliked Tom and had referred to him as `a dirty little snitch'.

“I know but he was there…fifty years ago when that girl was murdered. So he has to know something.”

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

There was an eerie stillness as they trekked across the empty grounds to Hagrid's cabin. They still had to be careful while making their way through the ancient castle as teachers and prefects patrolled the corridors. The Invisibility Cloak made everything much simpler so that they had alerted no one to their secretive actions The lights in Hagrid's cabin were extinguished and silence emanated from it. Harry briefly wondered whether he was even there. He had not seen Hagrid in months. Not since before his attack.

He knocked noisily on the wooden door and they waited nearly a whole minute for Hagrid to answer. Hermione inhaled deeply at the sight of Hagrid pointing a crossbow menacingly at them. “What on earth are you doing with that!” she exclaimed anxiously. He apologised profusely and invited them in hurriedly, explaining he thought they were someone else.

“Who did you think we were, Hagrid?” asked Harry soberly. He did not want to make Hagrid feel uneasy or uncomfortable but he needed the truth.

“There ar' things you don' know about, Harry. Things you don' wanna know about.” Hagrid answered gruffly before returning his crossbow to beside his door. The cabin had lost all its warmth now that it did not have a kindling fire. There was no tea on the stove nor were there any of his rock scones laid out on plates.

“Who opened the Chamber of Secrets fifty years ago?” Harry's burning eyes never left Hagrid's.

“There's somethin' you don' understand. It wasn't me…”

“We know it wasn't you,” the trio chorused together. Hagrid seemed taken aback by the surety in their voices. Tears sprung to his eyes and he sniffed sadly.

“But you know who did. Somebody called Tom, you knew him?” Ron posed with more confidence than he felt.

“Oh I knew Tom alright. So do you Harry. Just not the same one…” He was cut off as three large knocks echoed throughout the cabin. Instantly Harry threw the cloak over himself, Ron and Hermione and ushered them into the corner. Hagrid snatched up his crossbow again and moved to the door, flinging it back on its hinges. “Headmaster!” he roared, swiftly lowering the crossbow to his side. “Well, dis is a surprise.”

They watched keenly as Dumbledore entered the cabin and two others followed leisurely. A portly man in a pinstriped suit with a green overcoat and a bowler hat trailed Dumbledore, looking out of place among Hagrid's various possessions. “Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic,” Hermione whispered close to Harry's ear. He gulped involuntarily but drove a nagging thought from his mind, resolving to think on it later. A prehistoric man climbed the step into Hagrid's cabin after Fudge and ambled over to one of Hagrid's wooden chairs, sitting in it as if it was his own with a bemused expression. Harry guessed that the man was slightly senile.

“I'm afraid we are here on rather unfortunate business Hagrid,” said Dumbledore sombrely. He stared imploringly into Fudge's flushed cheeks. The colour drained from Hagrid's features and Harry noted with some trepidation how the giant man's hands shook with nerves. He made an ineffectual attempt to speak but no noise broke the silence.

The withering man in the chair finally coughed wearily and spoke almost to himself. “These are troubling times. The wizarding world is terrified. The Ministry is being blamed for lack of action during these harrowing events. Hogwarts is close to closure. This has happened before and somebody was caught the last time…”

“It remains to be recognised that all the evidence is circumstantial,” Professor Dumbledore argued.

Fudge was wholly embarrassed and began fiddling with his bowler hat. “From my point of view, Hagrid's record is against him. The public, including the harassing media, are placing me under a lot of stress and unwanted pressure. Something must be done. If the attacker is caught then of course we will release Hagrid with a full apology, but for now I must take him. I would not be fulfilling my duty if I were to…”

“Not Azkaban…ye can' be serious!” Hagrid took a step back consequently knocking into his enormous black stove, sending a plate smashing to the floor. Broken fragments cascaded across the grimy wood of the floor.

“It will not be for long Hagrid, just a short stretch as a precaution,” Fudge explained weakly.

Dumbledore's eyes blazed fierily as he answered Fudge's weak attempts. “This will not help in the slightest. Nothing will change, not until this assailant, who is not Hagrid, is reprimanded.”

Hagrid sobbed into the palms of his gigantic hands uncontrollably. Devastation racked his huge body. Harry could see the tears running through his fingers and it became apparent he was physically trembling. Harry knew Hermione wanted to console him. He noiselessly put his arm around her fretful form. The mere mention of Azkaban could bring down a soldier, Harry thought. His mind wandered to Rabastan and what he must have endured at such a young age.

Another loud rap on the door signalled the arrival of another person. Dumbledore answered it deftly and Lucius Malfoy entered to an audible gasp from Ron. Only the elderly wizard in the chair must have noticed it but he instantly ignored it as part of his imagination.

Lucius strode importantly into the cabin with a small nod to the Headmaster. He was shrouded in a black cloak and black boots that clipped the even dusty wood of the floor. He nodded approvingly at Fudge who acknowledged it somewhat proudly.

Taking no notice of Hagrid or the older wizard, he smiled coldly at Dumbledore. “I'm afraid Dumbledore that I have some unfortunate news. Because of the most ill-fated recent attacks on the students of Hogwarts and your failure to do anything during this time, the governors feel it is time you step aside. This is an Order of Suspension…with twelve signatures if you do not trust its authenticity.” He handed it out to Dumbledore who did not react. A stricken Fudge snatched it out of Malfoy's grasp.

“You cannot be serious. If Dumbledore cannot stop these attacks…who can?! I must implore you…” he stuttered staring at the scrawled messy signatures across the parchment.

“As Minister you have no authority over Hogwarts…that is the governors duty not yours. We feel that Dumbledore's lack of action should be dealt with appropriately. There is also another matter of importance I must…” Lucius started but was interrupted.

“That's not righ'. How did ye blackmail them, Lucius? Treachery an' tortur'. We all know you ne'er stopped your dirty work for `im.” Hagrid roared furiously.

“Hagrid!” Dumbledore said sharply causing silence to descend on the room once again. “If the governors want my removal, Lucius, I shall of course step aside.” Fudge stuttered something incomprehensible while Hagrid growled frustratingly.

“No,” Harry breathed hopelessly. A stunned silence enveloped them again before Dumbledore continued on. “It is significant not to forget however, that I will never have truly left this school until none here are loyal to me.” His eyes flickered into the trio's direction earning a soft gasp from Hermione. Hagrid sniffed proudly and turned around so that he had his back to them. Harry thought he heard a faint scribbling but within moments Hagrid had turned back around and grabbed his moleskin overcoat.

“Lucius…you spoke of another important affair. Would you care to explain?” Dumbledore asked in a civilized manner.

“Ah, yes Dumbledore,” Mr. Malfoy smiled callously. “It is about one Harry Potter. I have heard much of his doings in the past few months and the governors and I believe that he has played with fire far too long. Potter has himself been accused of the attacks. It seems that he has been displaying magic well beyond his years. He's on his last chance. One more toe out of line and he'll face immediate expulsion and a Ministry hearing.”

Dumbledore blue eyes burned fiercely behind his gold spectacles. “Mark my words Lucius. You chose the wrong side.” With that he marched out the door.

Hagrid, who had previously looked outraged at Lucius' comments about Harry, strode out past him nonchalantly. “Come on, Minister. Best be off.” Fudge looked startled but followed, Malfoy in his wake. The trio watched patiently as the aged wizard struggled out of his chair and onto his feet. With some effort he managed to leave the cabin and shut the door with a wave of his wand.

Ron ripped the Invisibility Cloak off. “We're in trouble now. No Dumbledore!” he groaned. “And what was that with you being expelled for actually knowing magic! I mean the world is just going mad!”

“No…it makes sense. Something strange is happening. That's why Mr. Malfoy was so arrogant, he knew Dumbledore was being shunned out of the way and he knew how much it would hurt him if they got to you,” Hermione stated looking at Harry. “He's planning something. Hagrid's right, he probably blackmailed the governors into signing the suspension order for Dumbledore. Maybe he's planning a take over or something.”

“Malfoy's dad taking over Hogwarts! No way,” exclaimed Ron incredulously. “That's just stupidity.”

“It was just a suggestion.” Hermione retorted angrily.

“No, Ron's right,” said Harry thoughtfully. “Lucius isn't strong enough to plan to occupy Hogwarts. But he must be working up something. He would not be so determined to get rid of Dumbledore if he didn't already know who his successor was. I just can't make the connection,” he sighed, aggravated. He collapsed into one of Hagrid's chairs while massaging his head.

“Chrissake!” Ron jumped as Fang trudged mournfully out of the shadows and went over to Harry. Harry patted him sympathetically on the head as he slobbered all over him. “We best get going. We'll have to be careful…considering I could be sent to Azkaban for breaking a school rule.”

“You wouldn't be sent to Azkaban,” Hermione reasoned following him out the door. When they had made sure everything was locked up safely they all got back under the Invisibility Cloak and tramped back up to the castle. “I might not be sent to Azkaban,” Harry replied “but I'd say that Ministry hearing wouldn't go all to well.”

-->

Chapter Twenty Four

A week had passed since the dreadful suspension of Professor Dumbledore. But it seemed that only Gryffindors were seriously affected by this. Many students believed that the Ministry had captured the real culprit when they arrested Hagrid. Gilderoy Lockhart began boasting about the fact that he always suspected Hagrid and was just about to confront him himself. Hermione was outraged at his antics and it seemed the illusion, in her eyes only, was shattered. Harry could not help but smile satisfied.

Hagrid's guilt was sealed in the minds of the students. The level of fear alleviated slightly and students continued with their schoolwork and mind boggling bedlam. But the curfews were not lifted and the strict rules set down remained obeyed. Harry had a sense of foreboding which he could not explain. Something had changed in the castle, something everybody else seemed to have missed. The air was thick with mystery and growing discontent. Something was about to be released and Harry's thoughts were with the shadowy and potent power that had sucked the souls out of five students.

Fear and silent panic still followed Harry around the castle wherever he went. It was apparent that the students were not so sure of Harry's innocence. Their whispers followed him into classes and irritated him through dinners. He had taken to eating in the library with Hermione at lunch and dinner times to avoid their inconspicuous muttering.

Thursday 27^th of May Harry scribbled on the top right hand corner of his Charms essay. He checked his watch noting that it was nearly five o'clock. Harry, Hermione and Ron had scheduled to get together and work on an Astronomy project together and so he had rushed his Charms in order to create space to prepare.

“We should really go and get Ron,” he said to a preoccupied Hermione. She looked up from her chicken salad and nodded in agreement.

“You know you're the only person our age that I know of who eats salad,” Harry joked watching as she packed away her things and slung her bag over her shoulder.

“I have to watch my weight,” she explained light-heartedly as they walked out into the adjacent corridor.

“For an intelligent witch you can be seriously stupid sometimes,” Harry smirked earning a painful swat on the shoulder. “Ow…I suppose it is just another aspect of the female mind I will never understand,” he said with feigned disappointment.

“Oh you will…but only when you are older. And wiser.” She grinned teasingly at him and picked up her pace.

“So men understand women but boys could never comprehend girls?” he asked in bewilderment.

“The female mind is far too complex to be understood, Harry,” she explained factually. “Men will never understand so to speak but they learn to adjust and deal with what they have got. Something which the female species have adapted to quite long ago.”

“Deal with what they've got,” he recited bemusedly “So males always want more?” he enquired baffled.

“Yes,” she replied brusquely. Even from behind he could tell that she was grinning. He reached out and stopped her with his hand on her elbow. They did not stop walking but slowed their pace.

“And you don't want more?” he posed, somewhat boldly. He suddenly grew tense and nervous and he could feel Hermione stiffen under his light grip. Confusion was apparent on her face but she remained silent. Harry had to admit he was flummoxed at the topic of conversation and whatever had made him grasp her elbow was the same nagging thought that he had ignored a week ago.

He waited apprehensively but just as she opened her mouth to speak another voice interrupted his thoughts. One he believed had been lost months ago. Rip…Tear…Kill.

“What is it Harry?” she asked worriedly seeing the change in his facial expression. He was paler and his grip had loosened to nothing on her elbow. He heard the ghastly hissing again and fearfully took a step back, nearly tripping over himself. His attention was brought back when he realised Hermione was nearly shouting at him. “It's that voice…the one I heard just before Colin was attacked. Quick! Run!”

Catching on to the horror of the situation Hermione followed Harry as they sprinted down through the castle. “Where are we going?” she panted as they rounded another corner and began to descend another staircase.

“The Great Hall. Whatever that monster is it doesn't go into places that are heavily populated. Anybody who was attacked by it was alone.” He spun on his heel seeing how far back Hermione was and when she reached him he grabbed her hand. “Quick…the more time we are alone the bigger chance of attack.”

He only let go of her hand when they reached the Great Hall. They were both gasping for air and instantly collapsed onto the Gryffindor bench.

“What `appened to you guys?” Ron asked pleasantly with a mouth full of chicken. Harry gave him an earnest knowing look and Ron immediately blanched. He gulped down the rest of his food and unwillingly set his knife and fork down on his plate.

“We have to…” Harry started but was uncouthly disrupted by a loud drawl.

“Well Potter I guess I was right in the end. Dumbledore was never good enough for Hogwarts.” Loud guffaws from Malfoy junior's Slytherin gang met his cold statement.

“Why don't you just go and piss off?” Ron roared icily as he stood to his feet.

Malfoy's grey eyes narrowed into slits as he peered at Ron in dislike. “No one asked your opinion Weasley so why don't you just butt out? I'm talking to orphan boy.”

Many of the Gryffindors leaped to their feet at Malfoy's callous words. Harry remained seated, his face impassive but his eyes on Malfoy. “What? Don't like the word? But that's what you are?” he sneered.

“Leave him alone!” Hermione yelled at the contemptuous Slytherin. “At least Harry knows his father wasn't as foul and dirty as yours!”

There were a number of calls of encouragement from the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables for Hermione to continue but Malfoy rounded on Hermione with disdain. “Don't you dare insult my father. You shouldn't even be allowed to speak to me. Filthy mudblood! Worse than that oaf of a giant, Hagrid,” he spat.

Suddenly Malfoy screamed and placed a hand to his face. A gash adorned his left cheek and blood spilled through his fingers. Malfoy's scared beady eyes found Harry's smouldering green ones. “You! Get him! He did this to me!”

As the Slytherins approached Harry, the Gryffindors prepared to launch an attack but it was unnecessary. With a flick of his wrist Harry roared “Petrificus Totalus”. The entire ensemble snapped into rigidity and fell to the ground. Harry stood dangerously to his feet his blazing eyes never leaving Malfoy. Hermione, frightened at witnessing Harry's treacherous anger, pleaded with him to forget about attacking him fearing Malfoy's retribution.

Malfoy tripped over his own robes and fell in a heap to the ground, blood still pouring from his wound. Suddenly a red streak hit Harry and he was thrown into the air landing painfully a few feet away from Malfoy. He peered up to see Professor Snape looking livid. “Fifty points from Gryffindor for…”

“That's the end of you Potter!” Malfoy scoffed over Snape. “Wait till my father hears. You'll be thrown out before you can apologise.”

Realising what he meant Hermione was stunned into silence. Harry would be expelled just as Mr. Malfoy had warned. Draco had probably been instructed to cajole him into a fight. Before she could respond Harry had seized her arm and motioned for Ron to follow, which he hastily did. Hermione only spoke when she noticed they were heading to Gryffindor Tower.

“What are we going to do? You'll certainly be expelled now. Oh Harry will you please just answer me!” she screeched, thrown at his silent demeanour.

He halted abruptly. “In less than two minutes the Ministry will be here under Lucius Malfoy's orders. I'm going to figure this whole thing out before I get arrested or whatever they'll try to do. You can come if you like; I mean I could really use your help. I don't exactly know what is going on so it could take a while. But first we have to hide somewhere the Ministry won't immediately look and I need my Invisibility Cloak.”

“Well then let's hurry,” added Ron. “I'm in by the way. I want to find out who hurt Ginny and they're not about to arrest one of my best friends just to use as a scapegoat.”

“Me too…obviously,” said Hermione. Without delay they sprinted back to their dorms and prepared for whatever the night would bring. Harry grabbed his Invisibility Cloak and rapidly changed his school shoes for a pair of sneakers, advising Ron to do the same. When he sped down to the common room he discovered Hermione had changed into a pair of jeans, a darkened red hoody and pair of worn sneakers.

“Where to?” she asked when Ron arrived down.

“I have no idea,” Harry sighed miserably. Suddenly there was a commotion out in the castle. They heard distant hollering and the sound of organised footsteps. “Hagrid's cabin,” said Ron enthusiastically. “They'll never check there.”

“Fantastic!” Harry grinned, throwing the Cloak over the three of them. Congratulating Ron again they made their way out into the hazardous castle. Harry was astounded at how many Ministry members had been called. There was even a Law-Enforcement official pottering around at the Entrance Hall. “Not part of my fan base I suppose,” joked Harry quietly causing the others to snigger.

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

Out in the castle, the overwhelmed Ministry were searching frantically for Harry. Mr. Davis paced uncontrollably frequently stating how preposterous the whole ordeal was. Professor Sinistra had attempted hopelessly to calm his anxieties. Professor McGonagall was outraged at the Ministry's behaviour and vainly tried to remove them from Hogwarts but then had an order thrown in her face which had been signed by the governors. Apparently they had all agreed to the capture of Harry if he was found using advanced magic. It seemed to everybody that Harry had just vanished. But something else was preparing to reveal itself after playing for too long in the dark.

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

Hagrid's cabin was devoid of sound, light or any indication that three students were currently occupying it. Fang, at first delighted to see them, was now slumbering in the corner. They avoided the windows, instead remaining close to the ground. Eventually Harry and Hermione ended up sitting on the dirty floorboards, Ron preferring to lie on Hagrid's colossal bed. The tension in the room was palpable.

“So what now?” Ron enquired. From the uneasiness in his voice he was noticeably afraid. They all were, Harry was terrified that he would be caught and forced out of Hogwarts. Dobby would be delighted he thought miserably.

“We just have to wait here. The Ministry will leave once they realise that we're gone. They'll probably search Hogsmeade.” Hermione began to fidget with a small hole in her hoody making it wider so you could see her school shirt underneath.

“Lucius Malfoy is protecting something or someone. That is why he needed to control Hogwarts or at least get rid of Dumbledore.” Harry appeared to be talking to himself but Ron and Hermione listened nonetheless. “I mean he took a sizeable chance blackmailing the governors. He must be connected with the attacks. With whoever is doing them or organising them. Mind control is key in all of this-he blackmailed the governors.”

“He could've even been using the Imperius Curse,” interjected Ron excitedly. He sat up more alertly and Harry barely made his face out through the darkness. “My dad told me about it. It causes the victim to be put under the command of whoever casts it. Surely not all the governors could be blackmailed. And don't forget all those students who attacked others students and can't remember doing it. This could be it Harry, the link.”

“The Imperius Curse does fit perfectly. It was used an awful lot during the First War with…” Hermione broke off leaving a dreadful silence.

“That would mean, that all this, is You-Know-Who's doing. It makes sense, Mr. Malfoy was a huge supporter and a known Death Eater,” Ron explained chillingly.

“Consequently we could never inform the Ministry of this. They wouldn't want to hear anything against the Malfoy family,” Harry added desolately. “So Voldemort again. I assumed but…Dumbledore said it could be someone acting in his name. I was sure he was too weak.”

“The souls Harry,” Hermione said in dawning comprehension. “He's using them to help him return. They were being sucked out of the victims. He is using students as batteries, while trying to cause as much havoc as possible…clearing Dumbledore out of the way and then even you. If you were taken he'd have a clear shot at returning.”

“Christ,” exhaled Harry letting his head drop back. It painfully connected with Hagrid's large stove and a piece of parchment fluttered down into his lap. “Spiders,” Harry read aloud, perplexed. Suddenly he was brought back to the night of Hagrid's arrest when he thought he had heard Hagrid scribbling. “It's a note from Hagrid,” he explained hurriedly, sitting forward.

“Spiders,” Hermione repeated musingly. “I don't get it.”

“Does it really say spiders? It could say spikes or spices. I don't like spiders,” Ron moaned.

“No it is definitely spiders.” Harry looked thoughtfully across dirty floorboards and his sight found a spider scuttling under the wooden front door. No wait, there were two. Three. Four. “Definitely spiders,” he grinned getting to his feet. “Come on,” he implored. When they were all under the Invisibility Cloak Harry explained that they must have to follow the spiders.

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

“Well I am glad to rid the castle of them,” huffed Professor McGonagall as she watched the Ministry carriages trundle down to the gates where they would Apparate. The other Ministry employees had used the Floo Network for a faster exit to escape her wrath.

“Now,” she said turning to five of her most experienced staff members. “I think it is time we find Mr. Potter before this gets completely out of control.”

“I think we are very much past all control,” Ethan Davis snapped. “They are bloody well beyond their limits searching the castle as they have done. There is something seriously wrong, something doesn't smell right. You should contact Dumbledore immediately.”

“Though Potters behaviour has been boundless and ultimately iniquitous, I must agree with Mr. Davis. I myself cannot understand the steps taken by the Ministry,” Snape added languidly.

Ethan was on the verge of confronting Snape about the criticism directed at Harry but Professor McGonagall interrupted. “I have already tried to contact Albus but he seems out of reach. I am sending you, Severus, to find him. Check his castle and act under the strictest secrecy. We do not want to alert anybody. I want another thorough search of the castle for Potter perhaps we should also…”

“Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley are also missing,” squeaked Professor Flitwick. His small stature had him constantly looking upwards into the faces of his colleagues.

“Of course they would go with him,” said Professor Sinistra. “He must have known of the Ministry's arrival. I doubt he has remained in the castle. He could be half-way to London by now if not already there.”

“He would never let Hermione leave the castle if he had no intention of returning. There is no way he'd put her in dangers way and leaving the castle being hunted by the Ministry is hazardous. Continue the search of the castle. I think we should get a team to search the Forest.” Everybody turned to Mr. Davis at this advice.

“Do you think he would venture in there at this time of night?” McGonagall shock dissipated as she reconsidered. “Of course he would. He's James Potters son.”

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

The thin line of spiders grew and died occasionally but they continued to follow it deep into the depths of the Forbidden Forest. The trio kept their wands lit and at the ready. They found themselves entering a depression in the ground. The cracked and worn path was long forgotten and their dependence on the slender trail of spiders increased. Ron was slightly green in Harry's vision of light.

Gradually Harry heard the sound of furious clicking increase in the distance. “Anybody else hear that?”

“Yeah. It has to be the spiders,” Hermione suggested causing Ron to groan.

The surrounding trees which were previously becoming thicker and denser suddenly stopped. Harry glimpsed fractured trunks lying sideways and desolate stumps before he found himself hanging unceremoniously upside down. He heard Ron and Hermione scream terrifyingly before they were also picked up. Six immensely long, hairy legs, marched deeper into the depression which suddenly became a steep slope into a cavernous hollow in the ground, while two other legs clutched him painfully. They had found the spiders.

Harry twisted awkwardly around and laid eyes on the most hideous sight he had ever witnessed. Eight eyes, eight legs, jet black, mass amounts of hair and absolutely gigantic. These were spiders like Harry had never imagined. They passed a wall of vague whiteness and a dome-shaped web lifted high into the air over them. Thousands of the colossal spiders were scuttling around frantically as they caught sight of the three new arrivals.

Harry felt himself free fall and slam firmly onto the ground. He groaned but clambered to feet nonetheless. Hermione grabbed his elbow as she stood to her feet, mass panic flashing in her eyes. She was shivering but immediately tried to calm herself down. Ron looked exactly as Harry felt. His mouth was stretched wide in a kind of silent scream and his eyes were popping out of his head.

With a feeling of overwhelming dread Harry heard the other spiders calling out a name. “Aragog!”

The walls of the dome they were in just looked like a constant movement of black. Then from the midst the largest spider Harry had ever seen stood out from the wall. As it approached them Harry's heart accelerated until the beating was almost painful against his chest. The chief spider moved at a snail's pace and finally halted not far from them. From the milky white blankness of the eyes Harry deduced that it was blind. There were grey patches among its thick hair.

“Hagrid?” The ancient spider croaked, clicking ominously.

“We are friends of Hagrid,” said Harry, finding his voice. “He is in trouble. They think that Hagrid has been setting a monster on students. They've taken him to Azkaban.” His breathing was rapid but he refused the urge to run hopelessly in the other direction.

“But that was so long ago. They believed that the monster was me. And so Hagrid brought me into the forest. But not before a girl was murdered. They discovered her body in a bathroom in the castle. Hagrid was distraught but managed to save me. He was expelled after being wrongly accused.” The clicking built into a furious tumult of echoes that reverberated around them.

“Then what did kill the girl-if it wasn't you?”

“The thing that lives in the castle,” said Aragog “is an ancient creature we spiders fear above all others. When I sensed the beasts' presence I pleaded with him to let me go but he was determined to keep me. He cared for me from the moment I was brought into this land. It took a dire predicament for him to let me go. I will not give you the name of the beast. We do not speak of it,” he said fiercely and with a tone of finality.

Behind him Harry heard Hermione gasp with comprehension. He wished he could just ask her but he felt it would be better to have that conversation in a safer environment. He took a tentative step backwards. “We'll just go then,” Harry said loudly.

“Go? I think not. We do not harm Hagrid but I cannot allow fresh meat to wander so willingly in our midst and deny my sons and daughters. Goodbye friends of Hagrid's.”

Within moments the black walls had enclosed them in a constricted circle. The incensed clicking almost sent Harry mad, it seemed to signal their deaths. He grasped Hermione tightly with one arm and implored her to grab Ron. “Just keep running and use Stunners!” Without another word they started to stun their way through the mass of spiders. Harry sent stunners in every direction while Hermione did the same. Ron kicked furiously and used his already broken wand to jab at any close range spiders.

They seemed to clear the bulk of the spiders and Harry saw that the dome had receded out of sight, the starry night taking its place. He grew weary and felt Hermione run out of pace beside him. Ron was panting heavily and gasping for air. Then, above the clicking, Harry heard a foreign sound. The roaring of an engine.

Shafts of blinding yellow light streaked through the spiders, scattering them away. Harry thought he had surely hit his head when he saw the turquoise Ford Anglia violently creating a path through the last throng of spiders. It came to an abrupt stop right beside him and the doors clicked open automatically. Hurriedly he forced Ron and Hermione into it and then climbed in himself. Again without instruction the car growled to life and sped off, away form the spiders and the dome.

The trio were left wheezing as trees whizzed by the windows. There seemed to be no words to speak or even to try to talk of the situation they had found themselves in. Ron, who was sitting in the passenger seat across from the empty driver seat, was visibly shaking, his face pale green and his hair sticking up in all directions. Harry, in the seat behind him, leaned forward and shook his shoulder to reassure him that they were out of danger. He smiled encouragingly and Ron answered in an uncommonly cheery voice. “Spiders. Hmm.” His eyes narrowed and then he burst. “Follow the spiders! I'm going to kill Hagrid when I see him.” Yes, Ron was back to himself.

“I gathered you knew what Aragog was speaking of?” Harry asked as he turned to Hermione.

“I am pretty sure in my assumption. Spiders, above all else, fear Basilisks,” she let out a shuddering breath before continuing. “Basilisks are giant snakes, some reaching fifty feet long. They can live up to nine hundred years. Their eyes…have the power to kill anyone who looks into them. Unless reflected, in which case, that person would suffer…”

“Petrifaction.” Harry raked his hand through his hair. “Nobody who was Petrified looked directly into the Basilisks eyes.”

“Ginny was found with a mirror. She must have known what was after her.” Ron collapsed back into his seat. The Ford Anglia continued at a steady pace every now and again veering to avoid a tree.

“But I could hear it. Why could I hear it?” Harry's brain seemed to have jammed.

“Do you remember the run in with the centaurs? Well, one of them referred to you as Slither-Tongue…” started Hermione apprehensively.

“Salazar Slytherin was a Parseltongue,” Ron exclaimed. “You must be too.”

“Of course,” Harry whispered to himself. “Voldemort is the Heir of Slytherin. When he tried to kill me he must have transferred some of his powers to me. That's why I've been hearing the voice. It was the Basilisk moving around the castle.”

“It must have been using the plumbing system,” suggested Ron. “Oh Merlin…a giant snake! First spiders then snakes.”

“We have to find the chamber,” Harry said resolutely. Ron instantly blanched. “Why?”

“Why do you think? To finish off Voldemort,” Hermione declared.

“We don't know where it is?” Ron signed exasperatedly.

“Aragog mentioned that the girl was murdered in a bathroom. What if she never left her death scene? What if she is there right now?” Hermione's words sent a wave of comprehension through the car and Ron was first to speak. “Moaning Myrtle was killed by You-Know-Who?!”

“Voldemort would have been young. Only sixteen perhaps seventeen. It very well could've been his first dark act. A true Slytherin living up to his ancestry. But he must've been terrified and so in one swift move stopped attacking students and got Hagrid blamed. He sealed the chamber and kept it like that for fifty years. But the diary?” Harry asked, still confused.

”Well I'm sure we'll find out tonight,” said Hermione forebodingly. The trees thinned out and the car halted suddenly not far from the border. They climbed out into the menacing darkness of the forest once more. Instantly the car trundled back in the direction it had came, the bonnet lifting up resembling a sloppy wave.

“What's that?” Ron asked hurriedly pointing to an approaching shadow. Harry momentarily wondered whether a spider had managed to follow them but soon realised that the shape was human. “It's a student. I think there's more. What are they doing out here?” Hermione responded.

Harry felt a presence behind him and spun around in time to see a student's blank face approaching him. He counted at least ten other black forms before the one closest to him lifted an arm in attack. With great precision Harry parried the attack and aimed a kick acutely at the boy's chest sending him soaring into the others.

“What's going on?! They're all impervioused.” Ron's shout was suddenly muffled out by a hand across his mouth. More hands clawed at his robes and dragged him to the ground.

Harry glimpsed some of the faces and recognised students from every house, including Slytherins. This must be the final stages of Voldemort's plans before taking control of the entire castle. He wondered how the teachers were faring in the castle if they had resisted the attack.

A foot collided with his midriff and he found himself hunched over in pain. His vision swam as the pain subsided and his eyes found Hermione being hassled to the ground by about five students. She was not submitting defeat easy though, her feet made contact with three of their noses and he could see they were struggling. Without prior warning a spell hit her chest and she slumped listlessly onto the dead leaves. A small throng congregated around her small body and he tried to regain his feet in terror.

Harry's brain registered that there were about thirty students now surrounding them before something incredibly solid connected with the back of his head. The last thing he remembered was the ground rushing towards him and then blackness.

-->

Chapter Twenty Five

He rolled lazily onto his back feeling his spine retract slightly. As he lifted himself off the leaf strewn muddy ground he let out a groan. A vicious lump throbbed the crown of his head causing him to blink a number of times. When the pain had subsided enough so that he could think clearer he found his mind doused in silence.

It had grown darker if that was indeed possible. A whispering wind curled around the trees and hissed through the thickets that lay scattered in the forest. Harry felt a chill on his skin that was not caused by the weather. His eyes roved the surrounding area while his ears remained alert for any sound.

“Harry!” Ron's voice screeched so loudly that Harry jumped. “Where's Hermione gone? She was here a minute ago before we were attacked.”

Harry immediately pulled up his left sleeve and read the face of his ticking watch. “We've been out for nearly twenty minutes. They must have taken her into the castle.” He attempted to remain calm and adamant of mind, suppressing the inner turmoil that made him want to roar furiously. He knew exactly where Hermione had been taken, the Chamber of Secrets. He just had to discover its whereabouts, fight a Basilisk and then destroy Lord Voldemort. The only reason Hermione had been snatched was to encourage Harry to follow her. Voldemort needn't have, he was going there anyway.

“Let's get moving. We should probably try and exit the forest as soon as possible,” he advised while Ron revolved on the spot staring at the menacing forest that peered down at them. Gnarled branches arched over them blocking out the ceiling of stars and Harry had the distinct feeling the trees were listening in on their conversation. He took off instantly soon followed by a hasty Ron.

As they progressed through the forest a silence fell between them neither uncomfortable nor unexpected. Harry pleaded with himself that Hermione would not be harmed anymore tonight. All he wanted was to get through this ordeal as safely as possible which even seemed quite absurd to him.

Suddenly Harry stopped and motioned for Ron to do so also. He heard the noise again, a soft cracking as someone trudged towards them. Then he recognized the sound of a cloak slithering over leaves. His breath hitched and panic flooded his mind as he withdrew his wand from his pocket. As he prepared to rush whoever was approaching the two boys were instantaneously flooded with light. Harry was forced to look away as the light penetrated his eye sockets. He thought he saw shifting shadows and the light suddenly ceased to be replaced by three familiar people. Mr. Davis, Professor Sinistra and Gilderoy Lockhart.

“Thank Merlin we found you,” Mr. Davis exclaimed running towards them. He reached Harry first and started examining him. Harry felt the tap of a wand on his head and the swelling on his crown dwindled to nothing.

“He's fine,” ensured Sinistra after checking Ron.

“They've taken Hermione! Students-there were loads of them. Must've been about twenty in all, they came and knocked Harry and I out and when we came to Hermione was gone. Harry thinks it's a plot to get us to go to the Chamber of Secrets,” Ron explained hurriedly and not very coherently.

At the mention of Hermione, Mr. Davis imploring eyes shot to Harry who remained silent. He reached and held his shoulder for a moment before nodding in silent agreement with himself. “Harry, we will do everything in our power to ensure Hermione's safety. But the Chamber of Secrets has been searched for before with no conclusive results.”

Harry's narrowed eyes fell on Gilderoy Lockhart and he recognized fear and apprehension. He also noted how pale he seemed in the vague light. When Harry made no response Ron decided to fill the trio of teachers in on their suggestion of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom and the Basilisk. Harry was briefly aware of a conversation beginning around him as they questioned Ron about significant information. His mind dulled slightly. He could feel his adrenaline slowing in his veins and fear overtaking his thoughts. “What state would he find Hermione in? Would he find her? Would he ever see her again?”

His footfalls against the squelching mud awakened them out of their intense exchange of ideas. “We don't have much time. I doubt Voldemort has much patience after ten years of exile,” Harry shouted over his shoulder to them. As they trudged through some undergrowth Mr. Davis told them about the pandemonium that had broken out just as they were leaving the castle. Apparently students under a vigorous Imperious Curse had invaded the staff room and most of the faculty were captured. Professor McGonagall had implored that no teacher was to harm a student too severely but were merely to incapacitate them. This meant that getting through the castle to Myrtles' bathroom would be extremely difficult.

Harry snuck in between the small gap left ajar by the Entrance Doors. The Entrance Hall held two younger students and one older boy Harry didn't recognise. “Do you have any weapons?” Harry asked quietly. Davis responded with a disgruntled shake of his head before charging into the hall and stunning the three flabbergasted students.

“Are they all possessed?”

“Every one of them,” replied Sinistra as she bent over the rigid figures that lay still on the marble floor. She lifted their eye lids and winced at the blank whiteness that stared back at her, their youth tarnished and abused.

“Well I am sure you can take it from here,” Lockhart said abruptly while backtracking towards the marble staircase, the direction to his office. “I mean there isn't much that you can do and I am sure I would not be much more help. I can take a direct line to the Ministry and inform them of the dire situation in which this school has been placed.” He rubbed the palms of his hands together nervously.

“No, I'm sure we can find a use for you here,” Davis spat sharply, gripping his wand quite obviously. They progressed upwards ignoring Lockhart's moans and groans, his explanation on why their plan would never work and that they were all walking freely to their deaths. They neither saw nor heard any sign of students in the corridors. Davis explained that whoever controlled them probably kept as many of them together as possible in order to contain and order them efficiently.

The chipped green door was shut tightly when they reached the entrance to Myrtles' bathroom. It creaked loudly and sounded like thunder as Harry pushed it inwards. Once they had entered and lit the main candelabra sending cascading shadows across the room they all stood, wordlessly acknowledging that they knew nothing of their next move.

“If I know what you're thinking then it came from over there,” came a gloomy melancholy voice from over one of the cubicles. Everyone turned to see Moaning Myrtle hovering ominously in the air, one of her transparent arms pointed in the direction of a sink. “Then again I am not very adept with the human species.”

“You got this one right,” Harry said as he began examining the magnificent marble sink which Myrtle pointed out. From a distance it looked an exact replica of all the other sinks but Harry noticed a tiny anomaly on the underside of a thin brass pipe that ran down into the floor below. The carving of slender snake became more apparent as he leaned in towards it. Going out on a limb he commanded it to open wondering whether anything would happen. To his ears the language was simply English but the others gasped to hear the morbid hissing Harry emitted.

A trembling followed his words and particles of the stone sink fell away sending dust spiralling into the air. Harry fell back off his haunches and caught himself with his left hand balanced on the floor. When the dust had cleared a looming black hole appeared that seemed to place Harry under a spell. He could feel a part of his mind encouraging him to just run and dive through the new opening the other instructed he remained where he was. He swallowed uneasily before approaching and gazing into the darkness.

“Do you see anything?”

“It's a pipeline running downwards. I have no idea how steep it is.” Harry's voice echoed hollowly before he pulled his head out of the opening. “Perhaps one of you should stay at least to help the resistance against the students. McGonagall has probably been captured by now.”

Mr. Davis turned gently to Sinistra. “He's right. I believe the Headmistress needs all the help she can get and you can offer…”

“No I'm going. It'll probably be less dangerous down there than it will be up here. Five hundred students against me! I'd rather take You-Know-Who.” The lines of her face deepened and her eyes shone fervently. A strand of her dark hair lay across her face and despite all of tonight's events she still remained elegant. “I'm sorry Harry. But if we are going to do this then we will do it together.”

“Er…I wouldn't mind staying. Again as I said before I could alert the Ministry.” Lockhart's tone of voice failed to conceal his desperation.

“You can go first,” shot Ron obstinately glaring at him. Lockhart glanced terrified in Davis' direction but Harry decided to put his mind at ease. “Don't worry that'll be my honour.” He skilfully climbed into the opening, feet first, and clung to the wall with the palms of his hands for a moment. The group gathered around him. “If you hear the sound of agonising pain and anguish don't hesitate in following.” He let go and felt his legs slip over the edge of some temporary pipeline.

Before he knew what was happening air rushed past him brining with it torrents of stale and stagnant smells that clogged his mind. He thought he was free-falling but then felt his elbow scrape the boundary of some sort of pipe. The darkness was so utterly blinding that Harry felt like he was merely plunging through a pocket in time, no thoughts, distractions or horrifying premonitions. After about ten seconds of complete bliss he felt his legs sliding against a metallic surface and a very gentle curve was apparent in the pipe. Slowly he found that he was entirely enclosed by the pipe as it eased out, levelled and then ended. He slid out, tried to stand too quickly and tumbled onto the ground.

He rapidly became conscious of what he was lying on. Hastily he lifted himself to his feet, the bones crunching forebodingly under him. With the help of his wand he illuminated the expanse of skeletons that stretched down the tunnel he was currently occupying. Tiny skulls with gaping eye sockets screamed silently up at him. His heart was thumping thunderously against his chest but he noted with some relief that the skeletons seemed to all belong to rodents.

With a whooshing sound Lockhart appeared down the wide tube and lay sprawled on the thin skeletal remains. With a yelp he clambered to his feet and regarded his findings with disgust. Sinistra and Ron repeated Lockhart's routine while Mr. Davis merely scrutinized the miniscule bones with some interest. “They've been here quite a while. No human remains…that's a good thing,” he said reassuringly.

The shafts of light emanating from their wands were the only source of light to guide them down the long tunnel. After what seemed like an age the gruelling noise of crushing, crunching and cracking bones ceased and they found themselves on level ground. The distance was uncountable and Harry had no idea what or when they would discover its end. He could hear Ron's laboured breathing coming from behind him while Mr. Davis and Sinistra were less anxious. Lockhart occasionally whispered some sort of remark on their inevitable deaths but did not turn back or stop. The tunnel gradually slithered right and they found themselves facing a circular metallic door which was the length and width of the tunnel. An ornate gold imprint of a snake adorned the face of the door and glared at the five newcomers.

Harry approached no longer knowing whether to be hasty or to remain calm. He wanted desperately to find Hermione but was less enthusiastic about battling a snake or Voldemort for that matter. Once again he demanded entrance from an inanimate snake, this time the effects were far more dramatic. The snake slithered around the door twice before a deafening screeching sound told them that the door was opening. Every one of them stumbled backward away from the vast door that opened like a vault. Another wave of dust encompassed them and Harry immediately made a decision. Without hesitation he sprinted through the powdery air that floated in front of him, his footsteps deadened by the amount of grime that concealed the floor.

A cavernous vault revealed itself in his view causing him to halt his progression. Colossal marble snakes loomed over his head in rows along a dangerous path he treaded with care. He knew the group behind him had followed and gazed entranced by the sight.

The Chamber of Secrets was far greater than Harry had expected. The ceiling domed higher than his eyes could see and passageways, large enough to allow trains to run through them, opened up either side of the chamber. Three columns surrounded by crude curling snakes reached high into the dome, supporting the vast ceiling. A sculpture almost the height of the chamber faced them with a sombre expression adorning its monkey like face. Harry craned his neck and trailed his eyes down the length of the statues body, the twisting robes to its heavy concrete boots.

“Dear Merlin, it's Salazar Slytherin!” gasped Sinistra in awe. Fear was etched in her face but she could not keep the wonder from her eyes. Harry's eyes left the magnificent art to search the marble flooring for any sign of Hermione. He continued to the other side of the chamber as the others also dispersed to look for any signs of life in a place that seemed long forgotten by history.

“Keep your eyes peeled everybody. Remember there's a Basilisk somewhere in here and once you see him well…you'll…er…die.” Davis looked apprehensively again at the statue of one of the greatest wizards in all of time before continuing to investigate. Harry was contemplating exploring the wide passageway that led off from the main chamber when a cold voice boomed throughout the dome. “I'm glad you made it. Party was beginning to get a bit…boring.”

Harry whipped around to see the image of young man standing languidly in the centre of the marble floor. Davis instantaneously shot a stunner but the red beam of light passed through him and bounced off the statue behind. “Not yet,” he chided while displaying the fact that he was permeable by poking a finger through his own stomach.

“Who are you?” Harry asked vehemently. He already thought he knew the answer but he wanted to ensure he had clarity on every detail.

“Tom Riddle…or as some wizards like to refer to me as…Lord Voldemort.” As he called out his name the scornful smile disappeared from his face to be replaced by a cunning determination. Harry could see he revelled in the effect it had. Ron turned colourless and dropped his tattered wand. Lockhart fainted, slumping to the ground as if Voldemort had sucked his bones from his body. Professor Sinistra took a sharp intake of breath and her hand shook violently but she held her wand nonetheless. Davis' eyes narrowed and his wand hand remained steady. He was experienced in battle, Harry thought, but this was not his battle.

“I trust you found my diary. But what you did with it I have no idea. Lose it perhaps?” Voldemort/Riddle asked snidely in a tone of patronisation.

“It was taken from me. So that was how you survived…through the diary.” Harry was pleasantly surprised to discover his voice was composed. His brain felt numb.

“Yes…even at seventeen I was brilliant. I preserved myself in my diary. Then I began to feel more and more uneasy and I could feel magic around me. So I decided I would use it. Souls are quite fulfilling.” He laughed eerily and his brown hair lopped from side to side. Harry tentatively took a step towards him to have a closer look at Riddle. He was astounded at how healthy Voldemort had once been.

He had never imagined that the greatest tyrant had once been just a normal school boy. He was quite handsome and gave off an air of unbridled intelligence. There was a slight mysteriousness that glowed in his eyes and his robes only added to the sense that he was a resolute academic. Harry noted that from where he stood Riddle seemed transparent and he deduced he would continue to become clearer with the amount of souls he digested.

“So you're not Voldemort? Not really. You're just a memory.”

Riddle smirked in Harry's direction. “I will return my future to its glory days. I will take all that once was mine. Time is a strange phenomenon and I will use it against this world. But first I want to clear some things up. That is why I wanted you to follow me down here, Harry. I needed to know something. Of course I wasn't really expecting you to have tag-alongs but no matter I'm sure we'll find a use for them.”

“You want to know why you were nearly destroyed all those years ago. The answer is simple enough. And maybe one day you might figure it out,” Harry spat as he straightened up and withdrew his wand. “But not today. Now tell me where my friend is.”

“Why so angry Potter? I asked you a question. It seems you have to learn to respect a superior race. Shall I teach you the basics?” Harry watched aghast as Riddle extracted a wand from his inner pocket which he recognised as Hermione's. “This world can't touch me. But I can sure harm you and your friends.”

Harry had expected Riddle to try a direct attack but instead he spun around on his heel and raised his arms to the statue of Slytherin. Harry thought he was worshipping the colossal figure, a prayer to his ancestry. Then he distinguished a hissing coming from Riddle which was met by shriller noise. It was hissing, but nothing a human could muster. It made Harry feel nauseous and his stomach lurched unpleasantly.

He knew what was coming even before a gaping fissure appeared in the statute and a gigantic broad Basilisk slithered to the floor. Harry glimpsed its poison green skin imprinted with black diamonds before he clamped his eyes shut. Instantly the others did the same. Lockhart remained unconscious. Hoping that the others were trying to escape Harry felt for the wall and slid his hands down it. He then lurched blindly behind a pillar in an attempt to put something between the monster and himself.

He could vaguely hear Riddle chiding and encouraging the malevolent serpent and the enormous frame of the snake sliding along the chambers' floor. The palms of his hands were sweaty and his hair was stuck up in all directions. His stomach resembled a muggle dishwasher, constantly rotating in anxiety.

Suddenly an unearthly enigmatic music filled the chamber. Harry reluctantly opened his eyes and peered into the darkness of the shadows he had cornered himself in. Swallowing fearfully he let go of the pillar and went in search of the source of the music. Riddle had paused in his murderous encouragement and was also seeking out the disturbance.

With an abrupt explosion that set Harry's nerves on fire a crimson bird the size of a swan appeared out of thin air. It glittering peacock-like tail glowed golden as it swept across the marble floor and its scaly talons clipped it noisily. It dropped something onto the aisle that was flanked by the colossal structures of snakes and then soared high into the vaulting ceiling before swooping down and perching on the head of a marble serpent.

As cautious as he could possibly be Harry peered around the column he was hiding furtively behind. He recognised the bundle which the bird had dropped as the Sorting Hat. His heart picked up its pounding of his rib cage as he discerned the gleam of a sword hilt from the ragged bundle. It was an enormous risk that could easily take his life but there was no other chance. He understood that as soon as he would move the Basilisk would chase him down, its senses were far greater than any wizards.

From across the aisle he spotted Davis, a look of astonishment gleaming on his face. There was a moment where Harry just stared at him hoping an answer would drift in front of his eyes. Comprehension dawned on his face and he shook his head furiously, refusing Harry permission to take that risk. Harry responded with a sorrowful passive expression before getting to his feet and preparing to run. He gave himself a three second count while Davis stood also clasping his wand tightly with a nervous hand.

Three…Harry felt a stirring coming from down the aisle he was about to sprint into.

Two…He concentrated solely on what he had to do, ridding his mind of images of dark wizards or serpents

One…With a last breath of desperation he sprinted. He had no idea what the Basilisk looked like or how he was positioned, all he knew was that it was so close behind him he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up in terror. His feet pounded deafeningly throughout the chamber as he sprinted with all the pace he could gather. As he neared the bundle he lunged, his feet just missing the massive fangs that protruded from the Basilisks mouth.

His hands clasped the icy cold sword hilt and with all his might he turned, his eyes slammed shut, and thrust the sword upwards. A ripping sound filled his ears as the taut skin of the serpent's mouth tore open. With a loud call the bird wheeled downward and a horrible screeching sounded the Basilisks pain. Davis roared from behind Harry an unknown spell which caused more blood to pour copiously from the wounded serpent. Unwillingly Harry opened his eyes and wheezed from the horrific sight that met him.

He was staring into the Basilisks mouth, its immense gargantuan pointed fangs seemed to protrude from everywhere. The broad sword was lodged into the pallet of the serpent and dense blood streamed from the wound. Harry guessed the snake had been blinded as it flailed the length of its body dangerously about. He could feel the presence of Davis behind him looking on in revulsion. Harry felt the sword hilt continue deeper into the mouth and suspected it had broken through the thick skin of the diamond shaped head of the snake. He willed himself to let go but part of him wanted to ensure this cruel vicious creature was definitely dead.

All of a sudden the serpent gave a final death rattle and its whole frame shook violently. Harry lost his balance as his hand slipped and he fell forwards. A piercing feeling shot through his side and again he wheezed and grasped the area of pain. With all his might he pushed against the mouth and toppled backwards, landing sprawled on the cold floor. His head settled beside the Sorting Hat and he felt rather than heard Basilisk die a few feet from him.

He shifted his head and laid eyes on something he never expected to see. The thin diary was peeking out of the Sorting Hat seemingly put there for his use. It looked so innocent, the only thing in the vicinity not surrounded by pooling blood. He tried to reach out to it but could not move the right hand side of his body. Footsteps echoed thunderously around him and he saw colourful cloaks pass his field of vision. With enormous effort he raised his head and glimpsed Dumbledore, his wand aloft in the direction of Tom Riddle.

Harry's vision continued to display distorted images to him. Students with chilling white eyes sending streams of spells towards numerous teachers. His brain could not deal with the amount of separate information it was receiving. The poison was rapidly slowing down the systems of his body making the darkness of his own death feel inevitable. His burning eyes cleared and he could just make out the spherical ceiling. Then a familiar face appeared, red hair shining against the black.

“Harry,” Ron choked out bluntly. “We…we have to get you help. HELP!” His scream would have echoed throughout the entire hollow tomb had there not been complete chaos unfolding. Harry could decipher distant roars and calls for aid. His mind was growing dim, blackness multiplying quicker than his cells.

“What's happening?” Harry whispered his tone sorrowful almost regretful. Ron stared at him in confusion and gave the mayhem a sweeping gaze. “Describe it to me,” he implored.

“Dumbledore's here,” Ron responded with a forced cheerfulness in his voice. He was nearly out of breath from anxiety and Harry knew he was trembling. “There are students…possessed. All the teachers are here…they're fighting. Its three students to one teacher,” he conceded shakily. “Dumbledore is trying to talk to…to Him.”

Ron's face turned away from Harry as he watched the confrontation between the supreme wizards. “He's becoming stronger, I can barely see through him. He's gonna come back…” He saw Ron hang his head, defeated and broken. He thought he heard a sob coming from beside him and realised there were indistinct tears forming in his eyes but it could just be the poison. His body tensed faintly and he felt the diary's cracked pages against his head.

“Ron,” he whispered frantically. “Ron…the diary. Destroy it.”

“What?” Ron's face drifted in front of his face again.

“Do it. Break his memory and you destroy his soul,” Harry muttered indistinctly. His voice was failing and he pleaded to any divinity left in the world that Ron would hear through his mumbling. The faint sounds began to die again and suddenly he found himself doused in unperceivable night. His sight had failed to win the battle against the venom in his veins.

Then he heard the unmistakable noise of paper being savagely ripped apart. Silence fell at Ron's actions and after seconds passed a blood curdling shriek ruptured through it. Harry heard a sigh of joyous relief come from Ron before unconsciousness overwhelmed him.

-->

Chapter Twenty Six

The darkness seemed irreversible and everlasting. Fragmented memories of fumbling clammy hands drifted around her mind. She shivered in the eternal night wishing and hoping somebody would discover her.

Her lip was cut; she could feel the pressure throb from even the slightest movement. Her right cheek was scratched and bleeding and her eye had swollen shut. The bruising continued colouring as she hugged her arms tight around her knees, praying for anyone to help her.

Tears drenched her robes along with filth from the grimy floor and muck from being briefly dragged along the ground. She dared not move another inch. She could hear scraping, scratching and hungry squeaking from across the other side of the dungeon. Rats.

In the time she waited she forgot she was a talented witch. Without her precious wand she was nothing, completely useless. She was no longer a hopeful student, a wanted friend, a wonderful daughter. She was merely a needed victim. A stepping stone to something bigger. She was of no service to anybody as she relied and pleaded for somebody to rescue her.

Seconds turned to minutes, minutes to hours until time became a forgotten mix of emotions she could not begin to sift through. The smell of death filled her nostrils causing her to wretch slightly and she knew she was not entirely alone in her black cell.

After more timeless incarceration she thought she heard noises coming from outside the damaged walls. The soft thumping of footsteps landing furtively on stone. She leaned forward slightly in curiosity hoping she was not becoming delusional from her dark isolation.

The thumping turned to anxious pounding as the footsteps picked up pace into a sprint. A thunderous scraping reverberated off the walls as an enormous circular door was wrenched open from the wall. Immediately she retracted into the shadows on the other side of her cell.

“I know you're there. I am here to help you. I am not the enemy.” The light flooding the doorway could not block out the shadow of a tall thin man. Hermione could only see his outline and fearing the worst stumbled further away from him. She made contact with the back wall, the last wall. She had no other defence.

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

Davis continued to pound Harry's chest. His attempts to resuscitate him seemed ineffective as he showed no signs of life. The spent venom from the ferocious serpent drifted lazily across the cracked fissured ground. They had drained as much of the poison as they could from his body and instantly cast a Blood Replenishing spell. However it was evident that at some point Harry's heart had stopped beating.

He hit his chest hard again, the pounding becoming more desperate. Ron sat forlornly watching, his hands twisting his flaming hair in agitation. Professor Sinistra held the palm of her hand across her mouth, tears trickling down her cheeks joining her sorrowful expression.

Around them chaos was continuing. Muddled students, perplexed and terrified, were sorted together and led out of the vast Chamber of Secrets. A portkey had been designed to transport the students back into the Great Hall. The Headmaster had instructed two separate parties of four to search the branching tunnels for any signs of Hermione but so far no news had returned.

“Ethan…stop,” sniffed Sinistra as she knelt down beside him and took hold of his beating hands. Davis paused dropping his hands to his thighs and shutting his eyes despairingly. A dreaded silence descended upon the grieving group of wizards and witches. The most important staff members were shepherding students and organising some sanity.

Dumbledore hurried over to the motionless group and halted suddenly at their expressions. Ron would say that he wore a mask of shock. That it seemed to him that Dumbledore had expected but never accepted something like this could happen. The mournful crowd leaned on each other, not bearing to look into the vacant face of the young lifeless wizard.

With a muffled cry Davis reached up again and brought his fist pelting into Harry's chest.

Life seemed to burst through his veins. It felt like a long awaited electric shock had finally surprised him. He was sent into a spiral of coughing while the throng of people surrounding him were too astonished to help him.

Even in the dim light of the murky chamber his eyes seemed extremely sensitive to the brightness. He could feel his body adjusting, rapidly regenerating as it pumped blood to starved organs. His senses seemed heightened, the footsteps thundering in his ears. He could smell damp vegetation and his memory instantly registered everything that had happened before his unconscious state. The Basilisk's ferocious death, the clamber of chaos and then Riddle's death at the hands of Ron.

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

“There's still no sign of her Harry,” Ron said solemnly minutes later. The team had disbanded in search of Hermione who had still not been found. Harry was miraculously walking and talking normally, even though still deathly pale, he was almost perfectly normal.

Dumbledore had implored that he remain behind while nearly every staff member searched the passageways. It seemed each tunnel had an estimated thirty tributary passages. Lockhart had been roused and sent off on his own search party, much to his displeasure. He claimed he had a terrible migraine but that did not sit well with McGonagall.

“Do you think…that she's still alive?” Ron asked bluntly after Harry's lengthy silence. Harry turned to him, disdain evident on his features.

“Of course she is. She's Hermione for god sake!” he hissed at him.

Ron stumbled over an apology and then withdrew Hermione's wand. “Professor Sinistra picked it up earlier and gave it to me. To keep safe you know? I think it better you hold onto it for Hermione. Merlin knows what I'm like with wands.”

Harry's green eyes blazed in the dim light as he carefully removed the wand from Ron's outstretched hand. “She has to be alive.”

After a moment of reflecting on the wand, he pocketed it and twisted around to face the two passageways in one view. He peered at Ron over his shoulder. “Left or right?”

“Dumbledore told us to stay. He seemed pretty strict about the whole thing too Harry. I really ought to tell you that you should listen to him but I don't think you'll even listen to me,” Ron sighed in response.

Harry's eyes glinted with adventure. “You just saved everybody's lives because you destroyed that diary. I'll always listen to you, as long as the words are coming from your mouth not somebody else's.”

They decided to take the left fork as Ron told him that Dumbledore had taken the right. Harry sent a beaming triangle of light into the tunnel from his wand. He swept it across the grimy large-stone brick walls and the filth embedded into the ground.

“Lockhart was forced to come down this one,” Ron explained relishing the wizard's luck. “Didn't seem to happy at all. I reckon he's just a glory-hound and a good for nothing adventure thief. I refuse to even consider that I am a bad judge of character on that one.”

Harry was barely listening to him, his focus intent on other sounds. Far off in the distance he thought he could hear a slow languid dripping, then footsteps racing along stone. Ron had not heard any unusual noises leading Harry to believe there was quite a distance between them and the footsteps. He quickened his own pace.

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

“Stay away from me!” Her hysterical screaming was becoming more frantic. She had been in the darkness so long that the entire world seemed a threat. The new intruder into her set conscious was alarming her, her nerves were already ruptured from the day's events.

“Listen to me. I. Will. Not. Hurt. You.” He took a tentative step toward her and just as he reached her she reacted instinctively and aggressively. Her foot connected agonizingly with his shin and then her fist landed sorely on the side of his head. He wheezed and cursed in displeasure, holding his injured limbs.

“It's Hermione, isn't it?” The question took her by surprise. She paused in fear.

“How do you know my name?! You vile monster…you deserve to be locked up! Or murdered!” She drew her balled fist back preparing to launch another attack. Fear had overruled all rational thought.

This time he caught her fist and snatched her other arm to stop her.

“You obviously have no idea who I am,” he murmured as she continued to struggle against his firm hold. “I'm a friend of your mate Harry,” he explained loudly with a hint of sarcastic impatience. He felt her stop slightly. “Rabastan…the lunatic from Azkaban who's not all that crazy…friend of his parents…oh let me show you.” He dragged her tersely until they were standing in the tiny amount of light emanating through the doorway.

She gazed into his dark brown eyes, the premature lines and pleading expression on his face. He bit his lower lip begging she would understand he meant absolutely no harm.

“Let go of me…you're hurting me,” she cried vehemently. He released her immediately knowing he had reacted unreasonable and perhaps too roughly with someone who was evidently on edge. She gingerly held the wrist he had grasped tightly and he noted forlornly that her fear had not subsided.

“I'm sorry about hurting you. I don't get a lot of human contact and I am obviously not all that adept to it. But there are people searching these passageways for you and if they find me then there'll be hell to pay so you have to excuse my urgency.” He smiled hopefully in her direction.

“Why would there be hell to pay if they caught you? I thought you told Harry you were innocent,” she asked sceptically.

“Believe me when I say my reputation will outlive me. And not a lot of people know the truth so if you would please just follow me out…”

“How do I know I can trust you?” she asked uncertainly.

“Trust me.” They both whipped around at the sound of Harry's monotone voice. He held his wand pointed towards the ground and there was a sombre air surrounding him. Ron stood at his shoulder clearly trying to make out Rabastan.

“Harry,” Rabastan grinned in delight. “There isn't a lot of time to sit around and chat. I spotted a terrified professor wandering around a few moments before I found Hermione. As I've already told Hermione, I think it best I move on.”

“How did you get in here? What entrance did you use?” Harry asked interested.

“There's a water system just outside of Hogsmeade. That was the safest way in. I had to consult some people I knew to ensure I had the correct coordinates. One of my old acquaintances has a…detailed…map of the grounds. It was just a matter of looking for what wasn't there…” he beamed manically and Harry wasn't sure what Rabastan was speaking of.

Hermione stepped out of the dungeon she had been detained in for hours. The light stemming from Harry's wand seemed to scorch her sensitive eyes and she blinked a few times before the pain lessened. Her cheek was searing in pain but she refused to worry about it. Right now she was determined to get out of the grimy underground passageways. She took off in the path Harry and Ron had just arrived from without as much as a word in their direction.

“She needs more time, Harry. She's been locked in a vacuum of sound for the past few hours and was surely never meant to be found. It's a form of torture in His eyes Harry.” Rabastan's comforting words sent Harry's heart into a declining dread. Just as he was about to respond a shout interrupted him.

“By Merlin you've escaped!!” The vigorous caller was none other than Professor Lockhart. His wavy hair was tousled and perspiration ran down the sides of his dirt streaked face. His wand was aimed at Rabastan's chest before even Harry noticed. “This explains everything…the whole ordeal of tonight!” he exclaimed fervently.

Rabastan watched wordlessly, disdain apparent on his features. His shoved his hands in his pockets and peered at Lockhart's face. Then after a moment of silence in which Harry noted Lockhart's fear grow Rabastan asked excitedly. “So who are you then?”

Lockhart appeared gob-smacked that Rabastan had never even heard his name mentioned. “Gilderoy Lockhart! Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League! You must've read my books! Oh come on!” he yelled in stunned frustration. His horizontal arm which held his deadly wand dropped disappointedly to his side as he racked his memory for another of his renowned titles. “Five times winner of Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile-Award,” he added in desperation.

“Sorry mate. I'm don't swing that way…” Rabastan threw a heavy punch and knocked Lockhart into the opposite wall of the tunnel. His wand fell to the ground and rattled away due to the slight slope in the passage and Harry noticed Lockhart was not unconscious but a bit dazed. Ron let out a loud “Whoa” before returning his gaze to Rabastan and laughing hysterically. Rabastan was not smiling, instead agitation riddled his every move.

“Harry give me your wand,” he implored extending one of his long hands.

“Why?” Harry was undoubtedly wary of his actions. Rabastan had already confessed to killing before.

“Harry…” he placed both of his wiry hands on Harry's shoulders as if bracing himself. “If this man tells the Ministry who he met down these tunnels then I'll go straight back to Azkaban. My name is worth nothing as far as anyone is concerned. The entire wizarding world will recognise me from the millions of front pages I'll be pasted all over.” He leaned closer still grasping his shoulders. Harry was transfixed by Rabastan's ability to put emphasis into every syllable and every word that came out of his mouth. “Let's face it Harry, in their eyes I have no reason to be here and I'm still going to be a suspect for the rest of my life.”

“You cannot murder him!” Harry roared indignantly.

“What?! I'm not going to kill him,” he answered outraged. “I'm going to perform a Memory Charm. Wipe out the past few minutes and voila he will be free to go. I cannot allow him to reveal the fact that I was down here when Voldemort was too. It doesn't take a genius to work out why.”

“Watch out!” Ron's yell was too late as Rabastan was tackled to the ground by Lockhart. All Harry could make out was flailing arms and the occasional smack of Rabastan's head against the solid stone. Suddenly Lockhart scrambled off him and floundered into the darkness before returning with his wand. Harry was too preoccupied with a bloody-nosed Rabastan to even notice. Before realisation struck Harry had been relieved of his wand by a haggard Lockhart.

“Harry step back,” warned Rabastan thickly through a burst lip. A trickle of blood travelled down the length of his face and dropped onto his now tattered and stained suit.

Harry's mind was piling up like a car-crash. His thoughts seemed to fuse together and he tried to think of a possible escape for Rabastan. Lockhart was already boasting, recalling his past exploits and declaring that this would be his greatest achievements. “I think you'll find my Memory Charms are most effective and I'll admit that even I am proud of them.”

“Harry get out of the way,” Rabastan said jerkily stumbling to his feet. He clawed at Harry before ripping him out of the way leaving Lockhart a clear target.

“All those pitiful excuse for heroes,” Lockhart continued. “Blabbering and snivelling, filthy polluted diseased towns that some crackpot ended up saving. I gave them a hero but I always had my doubters. Dear little Harry can vouch as one of them. And Mr. Weasley was another sceptic. Tonight I'll give them what they want. Death Eaters speak for themselves. I'll tell the story how you hunted Ms. Granger but were intercepted before you could…”

“I'm giving you one last chance,” bellowed Rabastan. “You can stop what will happen!”

Lockhart snorted contemptuously. “The tables are turned Lestrange. I am in the position of power. Not you! You are at my mercy.” His laugh was high and cruel and Harry shared a nervous glance with Ron who was standing a few feet behind Lockhart.

“PUT THE WAND DOWN!” Rabastan roared frantically. Harry was incapable of movement as he gazed on in fear. Lockhart was unmistakably jumpy and his movements were sudden and abrupt to the point that Harry found himself leaning away.

“What happens now is your doing,” Rabastan finished sorrowfully.

Lockhart continued to cackle but his tone had lost confidence and did not appear too sure of himself. Swiftly he shrieked `Obliviate!' unleashing a stream of blue light spiralling towards Rabastan. Instantly Rabastan reacted throwing his hand forward. Harry was so horrified by Lockhart's actions that he did not pay attention to what Rabastan roared back. The beam of light reflected off some invisible force and shot back, hitting Lockhart in the chest and sending him to the ground.

Rabastan wheezed, bent over with his hands on his knees in exhaustion. After a moment he scuttled over and shook Lockhart's unconscious form. With a groan he sat forward and smiled good-naturedly up at Rabastan then at Ron. “Hello,” he grinned childishly. “Can anyone tell me when the next train to Bangkok is? It's just I seemed to have missed the last one and mislaid the foreign currency that I was carrying.”

Ron gawked up at Rabastan's bemused expression. “He wiped his own memory out. Ironic isn't it. Spends his life presenting an image and a lasting memory to the world and then misplaces it himself. Sad but perhaps the world will be better this way.”

“Mine will anyway,” Ron added once he had gotten over the initial shock.

“Are you okay?” Harry asked looking at Rabastan who appeared battered and ultimately scruffy.

“Definitely,” he answered with a smirk. “Walk him up to wherever you came from. Tell them he tried to attack you and that his wand backfired or just make up something that does not include me in your story.” Another mischievous smirk.

“I better make a quick exit. I'll try and make contact before the school year is out but I'm not promising anything. The world will be far more dangerous after tonight. But hey,” he added seeing Harry and Ron's gloomy expressions “you saved the castle and a lot more tonight. May not be much but I'm proud of you.”

“What were you doing here? Under the castle?” Harry asked curiously.

“I watched a large crowd of students haul your friend, Hermione, into the castle. I knew something awful was about to take place, I have a feeling for this kind of thing. I'd been asking around and apparently there have been some strange things happening. Anyway I took a chance and went through an entrance I had been vaguely sure of. I had borrowed a beneficial tool from an old friend and I knew where they had left her. That's about it, you guys came, then Captain `Look at Me' and here we are.”

At the mere mention of Hermione, Harry had breathed a sigh. Already he had deduced something had dramatically changed and it did not seem like a good thing. Rabastan noticed the change in Harry's behaviour. “Give her time. She's been through a lot and she did it on her own. That's going to be playing on her mind for awhile. Once she's rested and she has time to sort some things out in her head she'll be back to normal.”

“Hermione's never been normal,” laughed Ron causing Harry to glare at him. “We'd better go or they'll order somebody to look for us soon.”

They said their goodbyes to Rabastan and literally dragged Lockhart back to the Chamber. Teachers congregated around them and Madam Pomfrey immediately began fussing over Harry. “I swear if you get into anymore trouble or deadly situations next year I will murder you.”

Professor Sprout informed the gathering that the Mandrakes were ready in order to revive those that had been petrified causing Ron to heave a sigh of relief. When Harry broke free of the bustling nurse he discovered Professor Dumbledore watching Lockhart with the air of someone examining a new and interesting species, as Lockhart politely asked Professor Snape for a map of Thailand.

Harry retold the story of how Lockhart had attempted to remove their memories but only to Dumbledore, not wanting anyone else to overhear or suspect. He also recaptured the majority of the details of their actions previous to entering the Chamber. The race to discover the truth and the final assumption, his short joust with Riddle and the bout with the Basilisk.

Dumbledore peered intently over his gold-rimmed spectacles. “I plainly remember instructing you to remain here while we searched for Ms. Granger, Harry.”

“Yes, sir. It's just she is my best friend and I felt an obligation to look for her myself,” he explained calmly and resolutely.

“I trust it will not happen again,” the Headmaster asked but his beard twitched slightly in the dim light.

“Some promises cannot be made, Professor,” Harry responded with more conviction than he felt. “I hope you don't find it rude or…”

“Harry, you have a right as a wizard and as a person to stand up for what you believe. I will listen to any argument as long as it comes from a moral place or more importantly from your heart. I am pleased at a young age you have something worth standing up to the `greatest wizard of the century' for.” He chuckled as he made his way off towards the throng of active people.

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

-->

Chapter Twenty Seven

The animated castle which looked as if a hurricane had raged through it was instantly reassembled. Anything that had been disintegrated from the occasional blast of a spell was reconstructed, where tapestries had unravelled a restoration commenced and where terrified students had woken up after their horrific period of possession a lie was told to calm their troubled minds. Immediately the Ministry had returned and heard the `preposterous' account which Dumbledore told. The head officials of Law Enforcement bluntly disregarded such a vulgar statement. They went so far as to accept that a still raging Death Eater had assumed the identity of Voldemort and tried and failed to resurrect him.

No bold headline would grace the front pages of the papers that would be published daily. Ignorance seemed bliss.

Harry felt numb to the more contented chaos that ensued when families were reunited and friends were brought back together. Ginny instantly fell into an unbridled flood of tears and apologetic unformed sentences were cried into her parent's shoulders.

Other families rushed into the Hospital Wing and collapsed from relief into their children's arms. Smiles beamed on their faces and the ringing of honest genuine laughter filled the room. It was worth the struggle he had endured to secure this comfort for these ordinary yet extraordinary wizarding families.

Gradually the crowd thinned out and he spotted Hermione sitting mutely at the end of one of the virginal white beds. She looked terribly drawn and her features were pale and gaunt. He noticed there was still some light purple bruising under her eye and around her cheek. Against the background of hugging and clasping families she appeared utterly lost but not too perturbed about it. Their eyes met from across the emptying room and she held his gaze for no more than ten seconds before averting her eyes.

Madam Pomfrey demanded that he remain in the Hospital Wing for at least one night. After the remaining families had vacated the rectangular room, Ron giving him an encouraging smile as he went, Harry realised that Hermione would be occupying one of the beds furthest from him. He discovered to his utmost disappointment that he was at a loss for words. He wished he knew what was running through her head, what thoughts had Riddle conjured up for her to digest, what poison had he fed in her ear.

He pulled the screen swiftly across before getting stripped of his torn and blood-soaked robes. After bathing using a small oval basin provided he pulled on the standard striped pyjamas offered and ripped back the screen. Hermione was already curled up in her bed, the covers brought nearly over her head.

“Goodnight,” Madam Pomfrey bade them as she closed and locked the frosted glass doors behind her. Neither Harry nor Hermione answered. Calmly Harry climbed onto his bed and placed his head gently on the pillow knowing that the slightest movement would sound thunderous against the uncomfortable silence that had descended between them.

He casually glimpsed the angelic stars gleaming in a black vault of night, the repeating ticking of the clock hammered against his eardrums and he could feel his agitation developing into anger. If this was going to be the end of his friendship he wasn't going to just lie back and watch it crumble.

Inhaling sharply he climbed out of bed ridding them of the silence that had absolutely no place between them. He strode as relaxed as possible over to her bed and stood resolutely over her. She barely glanced at him before turning her back to him minimizing opportunity for conversation. Acting far braver than he felt he reached out and caught her shoulder, brusquely turning her back to face him. Again his mind blanked of all rational questions or sentences to articulate.

“I haven't really thought further than actions so I have no idea what to say to you.” His voice sounded curt and gruff to his own ears.

“Then go back to bed,” she advised tersely. Her eyes averted his confused face and she stared into the elevated decorated ceiling.

“Are you feeling any better?” Bewildered with a firm weakness evident in his words.

“I'm fine,” she answered simply without any assurance. “Now go back to…”

“I don't know what to say or do for you. I'm at a loss. I know something has happened but why you're not speaking…”

“Go away Harry!” she cut him off.

“No…because that won't settle anything. Tell me what happened,” he challenged. “What did Riddle say to you?”

“Do you really want to know?!” She shot fiercely up into a sitting position nearly colliding with Harry.

“I wouldn't ask if I didn't want an answer,” he responded evenly.

“Fine,” she bristled crossly. “He threatened my family. He told me how easy it was for someone of his distinction,” she pronounced every syllable through gritted teeth “to dispose of such simple targets. An `extermination' that's what he referred to it as. A straightforward manner in which he could help purify the wizarding community.” Tears burned her eyes and she was visibly shaking. Her brow was creased in hatred as she recited the appalling description of genocide that Riddle had polluted her thoughts with. “You cannot protect my family, Harry. Only I can do that.” She twisted around in her sheets again, her back facing him in a manner of finality.

He would have countered with a declaration of unwavering loyalty or protection or whatever he found possible to do but ultimately and unfortunately she was cruelly accurate.

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

It had been two gruelling days since that horrendous and memorable night. Neither words nor glances had passed between Harry and Hermione. Hermione had become accustomed to spending a spectacular amount of her time hiding around the castle, and on the occasions when Harry dared enough to search for her he could never locate her. After a sizeable sum of frustration he decided to verbalize his problems to the only person he could: Mr. Davis.

So standing atop one of Hogwarts tallest tower, the Astronomy Tower, he revealed to Davis exactly what Hermione had told him. At first Mr. Davis remained unspoken and his sapphire eyes raked the perimeter of the forest. It glistened in the heavenly shafts which the morning sun poured out over it. Then just when Harry was assessing whether to speak Davis opened his mouth.

“Your friendships were never going to be easy, Harry. Because of your…destiny or whatever you want to call it, it will undoubtedly put those you love in danger.” His voice had all the characteristics of someone attempting to be comforting and not too candid.

“But Ron and I get on fine,” Harry interjected ineffectively.

“It does not take a genius to realise that your relationship with Ron is quite different to the one you share with Hermione,” Mr. Davis laughed nervously. “You find her comforting, soothing yet exhilarating. She's stubborn, loyal and so considerate that she knows you almost better than you know yourself. Ron had never questioned why you know so much magic; perhaps he merely believes that it is obvious Voldemort will come after you when you are older.”

“Not that older,” Harry sighed as he balled his fists and thrust them into his pockets. “But you're right. Ron is funny; he's a relief to all the darkness in my life. And he's trustworthy and extremely honest. Sometimes too honest,” he conceded with a grin.

Davis joined in Harry's laughing but soon stopped. “You must realise there will be no rest in your life until you have fulfilled this prophecy. This is your life, your future laid out as you look at it now. Fate has given you no choice but Hermione has suddenly come to the startling realisation that she does have a choice. Her life is in danger as a consequence of your trust and friendship.”

Glacial feelings of trepidation formed around Harry's heart as he listened to Davis describe what he had been dreading. “Perhaps at some point you have considered the thought that ending your friendship will put her out of harms way but ultimately it is her decision. Her life is at stake because she has become a method to get to you. She just came extraordinarily close to losing her life as well. But right now I presume her thoughts remain with the safety of her family. In that department Harry there is not a lot of choices you can make that will help Hermione.”

Harry hesitated before answering. “I thought she already made that decision. She promised she wouldn't leave me and now…” he trailed off knowing he risked sounding selfish and petulant.

Davis did not miss a beat in responding. “You've grown to accept that declaration of friendship.”

Harry nodded in agreement and the early sun ascended higher into the air over them causing the parapet they were standing on to instantly flood with light. “I'm sure that apart of her mind is already made up. From watching you both it is quite possible that she is hastily and rigorously trying to deny what she already knows. It is her family, Harry, which she is considering. They have been endangered and because of their backgrounds they don't know the force that is against them.”

“What are you boys doing up here? Isn't this supposed to be my territory?”

They wheeled around in the direction of Professor Sinistra's playful voice. She climbed out of the dark stairwell and squinted in the blinding sun. “It will definitely be a warm summer; you don't have to consult the planets for that prediction.”

With the overwhelming feeling that he was playing the uninvited role of a third wheel Harry excused himself and approached the exit. “I know this must be terribly difficult to endure but all you can do is wait for her,” Davis advised soberly.

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

More morbid days crawled by in which Harry learned that Dobby was in fact the original slave of the Malfoy family. Brief conversations with the newly reinstated Headmaster had finally brought good news to Harry's ears. Apparently Dumbledore had confronted Mr. Malfoy but he had yielded nothing. When the Headmaster had realised whose House-Elf Dobby was he had placed a substantial amount of pressure on Lucius to release him from his enslavement. Malfoy accepted grudgingly therefore ensuring his guilt in Albus Dumbledore eyes.

The Ministry refused to place any limitations or restrictions on the Malfoy family refusing to acknowledge that they were anything more than benevolent and charitable. However Dumbledore exercised his authority as Headmaster by removing Malfoy from his position as governor. This was mainly aided by the other governors who confessed to being blackmailed and were presently fuming indignantly over their treatment. Draco Malfoy's customary strut had altered into an arrogant but normal walk.

The ex-professor Lockhart was escorted by two stout Healers into a carriage which Harry watched forlornly trundle down towards the iron spiked gates. Harry had listened to rumours firing about the castle of how the Defence Against the Dark Arts position had been cursed therefore affording no applicants. Secretly he longed to hear what Hermione's view of the ridiculous rumour would be. He could imagine her shaking her head disapprovingly and then rant contagiously about how desperate the students were for a melodrama.

It was on his peaceful way back to a newly rejuvenated Gryffindor Tower that he received an answer to a question he had not had the bravery to even ask himself. His blank footfalls echoing around the empty corridor were joined by someone else's. Instinctively he swivelled around and found himself face-to-face with Hermione. She had returned to her usual self except for the minor bruising that still adorned her cheek. Her hair hung in curls and she raked a hand through it causing it to stay behind her ear.

Despite the stifling warmth of the castle she was wearing a frayed red hooded jumper. Harry distinctly remembered her telling him of how her parents had bought it for her while on vacation in Ireland to apologise for not bringing her with them. Unlike many hooded jumpers Hermione's fit her snugly which Harry guessed made it more comfortable than his baggy one which had always weighed him down. His eyes travelled back to her face which regarded him silently. Then.

“You can't protect your family, Hermione.” He acknowledged as soon as the words left his mouth that this was something she had admitted to herself. Unshed tears formed at the corners of her alluring eyes and she swiped them away with the back of her hand. Harry had no doubt that his choice of words was blunt but there was no alternative.

“I know,” she choked out. “But that will not stop me from trying to defend them in anyway possible.”

“I understand,” Harry said through the obstruction building in his throat. “Anybody in your position would do the same.” He nodded in comprehension of her words and his darkened eyes glanced left and right as he found the sight of her painful to bear. Finally after a minute of silence his eyes trailed back to her face. “You made the right choice.”

“It's funny,” she smiled sweetly as her eyes stared pensively at a point midway between their bodies. “I thought I had a choice to make but I didn't really. Because there are some things we cannot control. Well beyond our capacities to understand or even recognise. Harry, I have been trying to tell myself that forgetting you would save my family,” she laughed clearly outlining how absurd she found it.

“There is a good chance it will,” Harry responded quietly while his mind screamed at him to shut up, refusing to just give up.

“Nothing will save my family from death. Harry, death is inevitable whether natural or through some awful circumstances, it will happen. You have a chance to rid the world of a psychopathic murderer and by helping you I'm helping the rest of the world, including my parents. However it isn't just to save my family. It would be naïve of me to say something like that. I've said it a million times before…you're the best friend I've ever had and losing you would be…I don't even want to think of what it would be like.”

Harry's heart already felt lightened. Relief seeped through his veins and inwardly he was jumping hysterically from overwhelming joy. But being typical Harry he did not display his feelings. “Correction, I am the only friend you've ever had,” he grinned teasingly.

Hermione reacted with feigned hurt and then broke down in laughter while he joined her. He instantly stopped when she gently laid her hand on his elbow and moved, if possible, nearer to him. Slowly she leant up and placed a quiet kiss on his cheek causing his mind to be rendered motionless. He could tell that she was modestly embarrassed as a slight flush appeared on her own cheeks and her eyes slid to her feet before she peered up again. “Thank you. For being my first friend. ” She smiled sweetly at him before rotating on the spot in the other direction.

“Where are you going?” Harry called after her, still getting over the wave of pleasant shock.

“Library.”

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

The remainder of the year dashed past the languid students mainly due to the cancellation of the end-of-term examinations. De-uniformed pupils were to be seen sun-bathing in the glorious sun or swimming courageously in the Great Lake. Hagrid, who had returned graciously (hugging the trio until their lungs nearly collapsed), could be seen trekking around the grounds more for leisure than anything else. The entire student body and staff had come to an abrupt sabbatical not even caring to finish off the year.

“Well I still can't believe we did it,” Ron exclaimed while they trudged down the marble staircase with their entire luggage packed and intact. People bustled around them catching last glimpses of the castle or running through check-lists in their beleaguered heads.

“Did what?” Harry enquired as he descended the last few stairs and allowed his trunk to slam onto the ground causing everyone to spin to see where the commotion had originated. After realising it was just Harry they returned to their own ordeals. Animals continued to squawk and screech, much to Hermione's displeasure. She would never be a fanatic of cages or cramped spaces again.

“Saved the castle…and perhaps the world. Merlin Harry, have you already forgotten.” Ron shrugged dramatically and shook his head.

“It was really cool. I mean we did accomplish a lot this year, excluding out studies. We've learnt more about each other too.” Hermione's voice was drowned out by a call to tell them that the train had arrived in Hogsmeade.

The train journey consisted of a competitive game of Exploding Snap, a raging fight between Lavender Brown and Seamus Finnegan, and Dean Thomas hopelessly trying to explain the offside rule to an unenthusiastic Ron.

Ginny joined them late into the trip and was extremely chatty especially to Hermione who found no reason to dismiss her. In fact at one point Ron cautioned that if she did not stop talking so loudly or persistently he would remove her from the compartment. Altogether it felt like a class reunion after a troublesome year and as the brakes of the energetic train screeched noisily Harry's acute sense of loss grew almost unbearable.

The mere thought of bidding goodbye to Hermione was enough to send him into brooding silence. Lively students bustled around and gathered their belongings together. Some were already waving to excited parents who had managed to make it through to the discreet platform. “What's wrong?”

Hermione's question startled him out of his reverie. The compartment was devoid of anybody but them. Hermione repeated herself with concern. He climbed off the seat and took hold of her soft hand. “I don't want to say goodbye.” He said it with such sincerity that Hermione found it the greatest compliment that anyone had ever given her. She tightened her grip on his fingers.

“It's not forever though. And I will write to you every time I can…once Hedwig hunts me down.” She moved her hand to his forearm and squeezed it gently hoping for a response. His silences were intolerable at times.

“I hate the sight of you walking away,” he whispered hoarsely pressing his forehead to hers. They both read deeply into each others thoughts before Hermione drew back ever so slightly.

“Wait here…for a minute.” After another squeeze he felt her hand retract from his arm and he turned to solemnly gather his luggage together as she furtively slid the compartment door back and exited through it. He fastidiously rechecked the fastening of his now battered trunk and swiped the dust it had gained from remaining on the seat for less than ten minutes.

After a few seconds he finally realised what she was doing and spun around. Her trunk had disappeared and the entire train was filled with a sad eerie silence even though activity could be heard outside on the packed platform. He placed a hand over the door and leant his forehead against his own arm, watching the chattering hustle and bustle of students.

Hermione was nowhere to be seen and he was slightly relieved that she had prevented him from the insufferable sight of her exit. Harry smiled forlornly to himself and thrust the door open, making his own exit into his inconceivable future, not knowing what to expect.

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

That's it. Sorry about the delays and so on. My life has been completely swamped with ridiculous activates that I will not try to explain.

The story ends quite rapidly but the next story will be extremely fast paced. Don't expect any sign of it for quite a while.

Thank you all for reading and reviewing. I appreciate your comments, positive or negative as long as they're constructive! Lol

Again thank you for your consideration and I hope you all the best for 2007

Take care,

Radagast.

-->