Unofficial Portkey Archive

Portkey Staff (gal-texter) Note May 2009: We've re-uploaded this as readers have stumbled on this fic as recent as March 2009. Unfortunately, Chocchip seems to have abandoned this story and the fandom.

Choccip's original A/N:

*waves nervously, shuffles feet*

"Ahem, whilst this author realises the nature of her mistakes, well alright that I'm just pain naff at updating. I do have very good reasons.

1)Have recently become much-older sister to a five-week old brother(I`m 19). Thus babysitting has become an honour-bound tradition in the family.

2)Have had other scenes popping into my head demanding attention. For example, I have the final 2major scenes of this year written. Also have about five or six others over the course of all 3 years done too! Not too mention that there's a story set sometime in the past that becomes increasingly important as the fic progresses. And I'm thinking I might need to do a prequel for it. But you'll find out about that later, or at the end of this chapter if your paying attention!

3)Well it was Christmas and everything, you can't expect me to write all the time *ducks rotten tomatoes* okay, okay, no more excuses!!!!

4)This one turned out quite a bit longer than I was expecting. I was aiming for a 12pg fic here! But it never seemed like a good place to stop

Okay, that's me done for now, chaps. If you reviewed for the last chapter, I've mentioned your name at the end of the fic with a big THANK YOU to you. And if you reviewed an earlier chapter, thank you to you too, only I can only type for so long!

Oops, almost forgot the obligatory `I do not own Harry Potter, nor am I making profit from this-you can say that again! Just in case anyone gets any ideas, I should put disclaimers in for Buffy, and Lord of the Rings while I'm at it-I might explain these eventually, but right now who cares?!

Oh, and Ta to Nappa- my Big Yoda -I do not own Star Wars either, not that I'd want to.

Harry Potter and the Trial of Memories - Part 2

Lupin and the rest of the courtroom, bar Vernon and his lawyer, looked on in abject horror when the young wizard collapsed out of his seat, with a jarring thud to the hard oak floor. Remus winced in sympathy at whatever injury had been done to Harry's shoulder. Fear lanced through him, like a dagger of pain through his heart, when he realised that something was very seriously wrong. A realisation brought about by the dual facts of Harry not getting up again; staying on the floor with great shudders racking his body. And by the way in which both Dumbledore and Hagrid sprung up, and rushed to Harry's side. Along with Judge Ravencast and Fletcher. And though in reality, he was a bare second behind them, it seemed to be forever before Remus could push his body out of the state of overwhelming shock and fear it had entered, and begin moving to where his dead best friends son laid. Hagrid's hulking mass temporarily blocked his view.

"Oh God. `Arry, `Arry wake up. By Merlin, Professor look ah `im."

Remus finally pushed his way through, the Weasley's hot on his heels.

Fletcher and Grand Judge Ravencast were crouching over Harry, who lay on his side, his back to Remus and those behind him, great shudders sporadically racking his frame. To Remus, the schoolboy wizard suddenly seemed at once, very small, helpless and heart-wrenchingly young.

Dumbledore knelt down, and gently pulled Harry onto his back. He looked like death.

A shimmering sheen of sweat clung to his face, pale but for a slight flush at his cheeks. His eyes were tightly clenched shut, and his arms were tightly wrapped into himself, in a protective gesture.

But the one thing that struck absolute terror into Remus's heart, the one thing that would be forever branded hot into his memory, for as long as he lived, was the blood. Blood, rich and healthily dark, wound its way down the lines of Harry's face. It was like a many forked river, gathering more so in two shallow pools at the corners of Harry's eyes. He'd lost his glasses in the fall.

The blood continued to pour. And what scared Remus most of all, and those who were close enough to Harry to recognise the significance, was that the blood was not coming from an injury gained in the impact of the floor against him. It was already beginning to flow as Harry fell. It came from his scar.

The lightening shaped bolt on his forehead, the only remnant of the night many years ago, when Voldemort had been defeated in more than mysterious circumstances. It was raised and swollen, as though it had been cut anew.

Harry's shivering body suddenly jolted and bucked, then fell silent, still and flat against the floor. As Dumbledore and Fletcher frantically checked Harry's pulse, gasping out sighs of relief to note that Harry was still breathing, even if it were shallowly. Then Harry began gasping, as if from great exertion. But still he gave no sign of being consciously aware of anything outside of what he might be experiencing. His scar still bled.

Moments later, Harry was being carried quickly out of the courtroom, now appearing to be only sleeping, if it were not for the bleeding. Lupin was not entirely consciously certain of when he had picked up one side of his sort-of-Godson, Mr Weasley one the other. A grimace was deeply lining his face, lost in another time when he had performed a similar grim duty.

The reality of everything around him sunk in, as Remus blinked in response to a command from Dumbledore, he quickly became aware of something other than Harry. There were voices and panicked whispers all about him. Some of the Jury whispered concernedly amongst themselves, whilst others looked on unimpressed. They were also listening to one particularly loud voice that was shouting to be heard. Lupin afforded himself a quick glance back.

Vernon Dursley was the owner of the voice, and he was currently holding on hard to the bars encircling the dock, concerned security wizards were moving towards the infuriated muggle, wands drawn. As Remus exited, he caught the last snippet of what Vernon was saying.

"It's a trick. A damned wizard trick. He's trying to gain the Jury's sympathy. Don't believe him, don't believe…"

Remus was wholly glad when he could no longer here the muggles voice. How anyone person could be so prejudiced, and could tell lies so blatantly, was beyond him. The sad and scary thing was that more than a few people in the courtroom would have been persuaded by it. He was aware that on some level, he had filed away on his `to do' list, to give Vernon a good kicking. See how the foolish old muggle would fair against a fully-grown wizard, who hadn't recently suffered a personal trauma. Maybe then the fat lump would understand.

They had reached the centre of the lobby, when Judge Ravencast motioned them to stop.

He walked towards the wall on his left, producing his wand, and aiming it at the wall, he spoke a few words in a language that Lupin only faintly recognised as old. The fire covered outline of a phoenix instantly burst into being. It was high off the floor, at about chest height. Almost as instantly as it began, the flames seemed to blown out, leaving only a charred outline on the wall. Ravencast tapped the wall a second time, and then walked straight through the wall!

With only a brief hesitation, both Lupin and Mr Weasley walked through with Harry still in their arms. A slight tremor racked the young wizards body, a frown marred Lupin's face, tempered with the knowledge that Harry might wake up soon. And what horrors would he have to report? What terror had he endured once again thanks to Voldemort? A flame of anger that had flickered into being on the day of the Potter's death, yet again began to burn achingly inside his chest. He made a silent vow in that moment to do all that he could to bring an end to the Dark Lord, even if it meant facing his own painful past. He would have to try and pass the Phoenix initiation test. The thought was not that appealing, but for the sake of Harry, he would do it. And this time he intended to both finish it, and to pass. But given his own experience, he had wondered how anyone was ever able to pass, and those that had, had nothing but his utmost admiration and respect.

Harry shifted again in his arms. When Lupin found himself able to tear away from Harry's nightmare-like contorted face, he discovered that they were in Grand Judge Ravencast's private chambers. It was plainly decorated, with the same dark oak theme of the courtroom, and finished in soft red leather furnishings. Bookcases lined the walls behind and to the right of him. A desk with chairs on opposite sides was in the centre. And a longer couch was on the left. Ravencast motioned for them to put Harry down upon it.

A part of Lupin was loathed to give Harry up into the care of anyone save himself, but he nodded to Arthur Weasley to give up his hold first, then Lupin moved to place Harry on the couch as comfortably as he could. And with a second thought, reached into his pocket, and took out the hanker-chief he carried in it. Then reached for the nearby pitcher of water, put the cloth in, ringing it out so that it was only lightly damp, and began tenderly removing the blood that was covering Harry's face. He heard the others talking, and could feel the presence of people jostling for room in the small space. He felt a momentary anger. Why couldn't they just leave Harry alone for two seconds?

Just let him be Lupin thought. But that was never going to happen. So he focused his attention on continuing to clean Harry's face instead, taking extra care around the still slightly weeping scar.

"Can we not call Madam Pomfrey Professor?" Hagrid was asking.

"I'm afraid that she could not help in this matter, except perhaps for the headache he might have later."

"Headmaster, is this one of those vision things you told me about? You never mentioned that his scar would bleed."

"That's because it never has before Cornelius. Which in itself is quite worrying. And he has certainly never collapsed before. I wish we could help him in some manner."

"Perhaps I can."

Everyone turned to look at the owner of the voice that spoke roughly. Harry's eyes had opened. Lupin took one hand and helped Harry into a sitting position and handed him his glasses. Lupin wasn't even aware that he'd picked them up. Then he pulled a chair alongside Harry and sat down. The message was clear; no one was going to mess with Harry whilst Lupin was in the room.

"How do you feel Mr Potter?" the judge asked moving closer to Harry, though common sense told him not to move too close to the werewolf beside the young wizard.

Harry could only grimace, as bile rose in the back of his throat, a sickly burning sensation caught in his lungs, he felt dizzy from a fever-like state, and he had an overwhelming need for personal space, preferably somewhere cool, with plenty of water at hand. Ironically, the Great Lake didn't look like so bad a holiday destination now.

"Too warm. My throat is a little dry, do you have any water?"

"Of course." Judge Ravencast pointed his wand at the now empty pitcher, and it refilled itself. Moments later gloriously cool; clear liquid made it's way down Harry's burning throat. All thoughts of nightmarish futures and present trials seemed to be cleared away by the purifying substance. But only for a moment. His second ailment was cleared too, as Dumbledore took charge, shooing out all government ministers, family of friends- Mrs Weasley threw Dumbledore a look that would still even Voldemort- and Hagrid. Those who stayed were Dumbledore, Judge Ravencast, and the thoroughly unmovable Lupin.

The Judge's private chambers looked larger now, and did not feel anywhere near as hot.

"Feeling better now Harry?" the Judge questioned. Harry nodded his ascent.

"Forgive me Harry, but whatever you have just experienced, I would ask that you relive it for us now."

Harry was uncertain where to begin, and told the headmaster as much. But he had an overwhelming need to have Sirius by his side, as well as Lupin.

"Perhaps you should start where all tales must, at the beginning."

~o0o~

It had been three days since the eventful start to the trial, and until today, little of any real relevance had occurred. Harry had returned to the courtroom on the second day, looking tired but otherwise well. And a further two days had passed, before the awkward, legal and technical wrangling had been gotten past, as such where the difficulties in matters of law between magic and non-magic folk. Perhaps considered the most irritating thing by most was the dismissal out-of-hand of truth serum as evidence, by muggles. If it were accepted, it seemed that trials would be over quickly and painlessly, as guilty parties would be made to admit as much. But, as quick-minded muggles pointed out, the truth serum, was not entirely full proof. Given a skilled enough wizard, the potion could be mixed to have the one who ingested it, admitting to anything that potion-mixer desired. Indeed it had been known to occur twice in wizard history. But once again, as the quick-witted Mr Hayes had pointed out, it may have happened frequently, without the potion-mixer ever being found out.

But today witnesses were being called for the first time. And Harry, having been there for several hours, had already seen many. And had begun to feel a little disheartened by them all. Mr Hayes had pulled apart the testimonies of the young Weasley's, except for Ron, who had not yet been called.

Harry had snickered as Fred was called to the stand, but he definitely wasn't laughing as he left. Fred had been unable to maintain his composure as Mr Hayes had asked him what he had thought gave him the right to barge into Vernon Dursleys home, and why he had felt the need to persecute the man, and his family in the first place. Fred, much like his brother, had exploded at such a question, rattling off every bad thing he knew about the Dursley's, and their treatment of Harry. When asked where he knew about such treatment, Fred had become flustered, having to admit that he only knew because Harry had said as much, or then again not. Since Harry didn't particularly enjoy talking about them.

It was somewhat of a recognisable problem, Harry's friend's passionate belief in him and his word, their utter devotion to caring for him, as a brother, or in Ginny's case embarrassingly more so. The youngest Weasley had left red-faced with any tears falling from her eyes when Mr Hayes had finished questioning her.

Harry only hoped that the rest would not break under such questioning, and ask himself why Fletcher had yet to ask to cross-examine any of the witnesses. Fletcher had said that he would call all of them back, and that Harry should trust him as Dumbledore did.

Harry had another sip of water, it was strange how one could develop a taste for a tasteless liquid, and the only unfortunate side effect was the frequent need to pee. The muggle in the Jury was glaring at him again. The man, in his late thirties-early forties, was balding and wearing an ill-fitting pin stripe suit. Lines marred a face that might be younger than it otherwise appeared. There was a semi-expensive watch on his left wrist, an old napkin folded neatly into one pocket of his suit, and yellow stains on both his teeth and two fingers of his right hand, speaking of an expensive and probably life-threatening nicotine addiction. And the man always had an expression on his face when he looked at Harry that could sour milk. But he looked admiringly at Vernon and Mr Hayes. He smirked whenever Mr Hayes had Harry's friends flustered, and nodded his head vigorously at any comment made, however lightly that was derogatory to wizards. Or, as Harry found most bizarre indicated muggles, as being the victims of the oppressive and cruel wizard society. Of course these comments were both vague, and open to interpretation, but still rather obvious.

Muggles felt oppressed? Who by? Most of them didn't even know that wizards existed.

No, Harry decided. The muggle who kept glaring at him was one the classic magic-people haters. By some way he had come across the hidden way of wizard society, and was allowed to retain his memory about it. Being already relatively successful in whatever business venture he was in, he would have pondered the benefits of using magic to further his profits, and earn himself that extra holiday in Majorca. Discovering that he would be unable to do this himself, he would have made discreet enquiries as to employing a wizard to help, only to be told that such things were not done. The man would have raged silently to himself, and painted in Harry's mind, a long-suffering wife.

He would have taken to drinking slightly more scotch on a night, smoking too many cigars. In his anger at wizards for not helping, he would have failed to keep up with his business ventures, and watch as his profits decreased slightly with each passing year. With each decrease in profits, there would be a slight increase in drinking, perhaps he would start taking his anger out on loved ones …

Stop it! Harry told himself sternly. Truth be told, the muggle reminded him very much of Uncle Vernon, entirely too much, which was why his imagination had painted a background so similar to his Uncle for the man. The muggle could well have an extremely justifiable reason for looking at Harry the way he was; he might just have a problem with his facial muscles. Though it was unlikely. The man was entirely too much like Uncle Vernon, though he was tall and overly lean, whereas Vernon was quite short and fat, a miniature cave-troll in all his glory.

He flicked his attention back to the disappearing Weasley, and took another sip of water, remembering to pace himself, since he couldn't really get up midway through the trial just to use the loo.

"Hermione Elizabeth Granger." Was called.

Harry suddenly felt much lighter, worrying only that Hermione not be humiliated by Mr Hayes like the others were. Harry glared at Mr Hayes back for good measure, he would have flipped him an obscene gesture too if Vernon Dursley Mark II hadn't been watching. He sighed lightly to himself, one day soon he would have to bring himself to look into the eye of the man who caused him so much pain, when he could have been family or friend. One day. He looked straight into the eyes of the watching Vernon Dursley Mark II, startling the man. One day soon, he promised.

~o0o~

Hermione Granger along with Ronald Weasley and most of his siblings sat in the lobby outside of the main court. She smoothed out the hem of her robes again, then pulled at her hair, making sure it was still in the loose but smart looking knot at the nape of her neck.

"It'll stay in longer if you don't keep pulling at it." Bill Weasley said quietly from his seat beside her, a small grin on his face. She smiled lightly back. She glanced at Ron, who was sat about three feet away in a smaller chair. He appeared to be doing mental arithmetic, staring into space, mumbling to himself, and occasionally counting with the use of his fingers. Every few minutes he would start again, apparently having forgotten his answer.

"What are you doing?" she whispered quietly to him. He shot her a glance, and an exasperated sigh, as if to say `look, see you made me lose count!'

"Trying to remember exactly how many days it's been since we brought Harry back from the muggles."

"Why?"

"Well what if the lawyer asks?"

"Ron, I don't think that he'd ask you something like that. He'll know!"

"That's what you think. But this is where they slip you up isn't it."

"What on earth do you mean?"

"If he can get you to look stupid when he asks you something as simple as when something happened, and you don't know." He made a faint gesture with hands, that didn't make any sense whatsoever.

"Well if he can get the Jury to question the small things about your statement, it's easier for him to get them to question everything you say isn't it?"

She stared at him. He really could be quite clever sometimes. Granted not at the most helpful of times, but still. Ron turned away and began muttering to himself again, and Hermione felt content to let him carry on.

She was in honesty, glad that Ron was taking it seriously. After all she had found out, with a little arm twisting, that the trial wasn't going as well as Harry had hoped, or at least it didn't appear to be. And if Harry was worried, Hermione definitely was. She hoped that her giving what evidence she could would be enough, she certainly didn't want to be the reason for Vernon Dursley walking free.

If there was one thing Hermione was good at, other than surprise quizzes and end-of-term exams, it was worrying enough for three people. Usually a necessity when you were friends with `the boy who lived' and a Weasley.

And Hermione certainly was very worried about Harry at that moment. It seemed she had just gotten her friend back, and now she felt that she was losing him again. He had told them about the `scar vision dream thing', as they had started calling them for lack of a specific word. But it wasn't something that Harry could've avoided telling the really, given that when he had returned to Hogwarts, his scar was raised and swollen red, and occasionally, most disturbingly, it still bled. Fortunately it had not done so for at least a day, and had returned to simply looking like a scar. But that didn't mean that Hermione had stopped carrying a clean handkerchief, and some instant healing potion, just in case.

Harry had told them that his `vision' had been a continuous replay of an old man being dragged by Deatheaters down Knockturn Alley. Though Harry had assured them, that Dumbledore and the others were doing something about it, Hermione knew that there was a lot more to what had happened than Harry was telling. After all, she didn't pass out in the girl's loos that day at the exact moment of Harry's vision by coincidence.

For a cold March day, she had overheated rapidly, and felt a very unpleasant sensation of being squashed down upon by something very heavy. Like she was being wrapped up in it, and choked of air at the same time. Not that she'd told anyone about the incident, at least in her view she was becoming accustomed to them. What was worrying this time was that Harry had been nowhere near the Staff of Gaia, when the vision had struck, nor was he attempting to do something with it. Which was what she usually felt. Which suggested in Hermione's mind that either these visions were entirely connected to Harry's powers, Staff usage included. Or that their bond was simply becoming stronger. Either way, at some point Hermione knew she would have to speak to him about it. For so far, the only time Harry was aware that Hermione had felt a real connection, had been back at the Burrow, when he'd first used the Staff.

Harry truly did seem unaware of what Hermione felt when he used the Staff, or was attempting not to activate it with his mere presence. He had seemed so mortally embarrassed when he'd found out that she'd seen some of his memories. When he'd plucked up the courage to ask he which ones, she didn't think she could lie to him, and had told him that she had seen his parents. That she did remember Harry's first encounter with her, now from his point of view too. And that she had seen some of his so called life at the Dursley's.

Which was why when Harry had told them about the vision, she knew that he had not told them everything, by any means. He was frightened by something, and she wanted to know what.

The slamming sound made as Ginny Weasley re-entered the lobby, distracted Hermione from her thoughts, as did the fact that Ginny was in tears. Numerous red-haired heads immediately gathered around the distraught youngest family member. Hermione was close behind, in time to hear Molly Weasley attempting to comfort her daughter and find out what had her so upset.

"George Harris Weasley."

George shot daggers at the man calling him, and then a pleading look to his mother, he wanted to know what Mr Hayes had said to his sister.

"It's alright George dear, we'll take care of your sister. You just go ahead, and remember to be honest."

George nodded at Mrs Weasley, sharing a glance with Fred, and then flipped a one-fingered salute at the back of the man who had called him, before trailing after him.

"Ginny, why don't you tell us what has you so upset? Mr Hayes.." Mrs Weasley spat the name out as if it tasted bad.

"What did Mr Hayes say to you?"

Ginny continued sobbing, as her father handed her a handkerchief.

"He was so… mean. He said … really mean things about Harry." She paused to blow her nose.

"He said that Harry was a liar, and I must be too. Because of what happened in my first year at school."

Mrs Weasley looked at her husband, sadness played out across every feature of her face, as well as a motherly anger. Mr Hayes was not making any friends in the wizarding world. Of course Mrs Weasley knew that her daughter was more scarred by the incident than she would ever let on to her big brothers. And to have it raised again was something that she had always hoped could be avoided.

"What else did he say?" Hermione asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

"I was saying that Harry was really brave and stuff, because of what happened, he did almost die trying to save me! But the lawyer said that I didn't know any of it was true, because I was, I was …"

Ginny was reduced to sobbing on her mothers shoulder. But she hadn't needed to finish. Ginny couldn't be an eyewitness to Harry's heroics because she unconscious and close to death at the time.

When Ginny had finally composed herself some time later, she admitted to them that Mr Hayes had also correctly guessed about her crush on Harry, this she had said red-faced to her brothers amusement. But this was simply another way in which Mr Hayes had tried to discredit her usefulness as a witness.

And though any witness they called from the school, who was a friend-or not- of Harry's would all be able to recount his heroics against six trolls and a dragon, they couldn't. Because at the moment, the Staff of Gaia still needed to be kept a secret. Something which was impressed upon to all by Dumbledore.

They simply could not reveal its existence, or Harry's link to it, even if it was in detriment to the case. Because reporters were already waiting in the lobby. Like Vultures they were waiting for the first Jury member to `leak' the goings on. Plus a few of them were not past using various unscrupulous methods to get the `real' story. So far two witches had been kicked out for using a Polyjuice potion to get in. One of them had in fact tied up Dudley in a storage locker in the Giants department, only being found out when Petunia had gone to her son to attempt to speak to him for the first time in many months.

Luckily nothing had begun, as the courtroom had only just filled. Security wizards were surrounding the fake Dudley within moments. Leaving a slightly shocked Petunia and Harry in their wake. Dudley was found, fed and comforted by a sobbing Petunia. Of course Vernon had found out about it, and his lawyer had been very interested. To them it just pointed out another way in which wizards were dangerous to muggles, and it would not help Harry's case in the slightest. Nor would the fact that his Aunt appeared to be unwilling to speak to him. Dudley was he was not surprised about, but Petunia. It stung more than Harry was willing to admit, that she wouldn't talk to him. And the same graceful witch as he'd sent he first day of the trial, appeared to be sticking to his Aunt like glue. So he couldn't get near her.

Those were just a few of the things that Harry had told Hermione about when he was trying to get out of telling her about his dream, but she could not be deterred.

"Frank Sinatra Weasley"

Hermione looked up in time to see a mightily pissed off Fred rising, giving a two-fingered obscene gesture to the back of the caller, as he passed his brother. Fred disappeared through the double doors, Hermione didn't have much time to muse on his real name, as his brother sat down with a heavy thud.

"I'm gonna let a filibuster firecracker off under that mans arse next time he sits down I swear!"

"Didn't go very well I take it?" Bill questioned.

"How'd ya guess?"

"Psychic." Bill deadpanned.

"What happened?" Ron asked worriedly.

"You don't wanna know." George said, shaking his head.

Trouble was Hermione did want to know, and then again she didn't. It seemed like no time at all had passed before

"Hermione Elizabeth Granger." Was called.

Fortunately Hermione had more control than either of the Weasley twins, but at that moment in time, she felt like flipping someone an obscene gesture herself.

~o0o~

Taking a moment to look at the courtroom before the security wizard placed one hand to the small of her back -rather obtrusively she felt- and began to propel her forward. It was much more `normal' than she had been expecting. Wood panelling must be big this year. The security wizard opened the gate in front of her; that separated the actual court from the `audience'. And then pushed her slightly roughly into the central seat, a small wooden chair, placed at the centre of a faded pink coloured symbol. Curiously it was the most rarely used symbol in the wizard world, and the most frequently used symbol used by muggles when depicting witches and wizards. Hermione remembered from some of the research she'd done into wizard law, that the symbol was supposed to change colour according to the person occupying it, and then also according to their mood. A low-tech lie detector in a way; very unreliable unless you really knew something about them. Currently Hermione wondered what pin that was darkening to a deep orange meant. Because if it was scared out of her mind; the symbol was dead on.

To her immediate front, there was a raised box in which the Judge Ravencast, and two other Phoenix Order members sat. To the front and right a bit, was the dock, which held Vernon Dursley, she wondered if it had needed to be structurally strengthened for the job. She'd never actually met him before, but he seemed all the worse in the flesh than he had been in Harry's memories. To her left and up, were twelve people, the jury, all muggles as far as Hermione knew. To her direct left was a grinning man with a perma-tan, blindingly white teeth, that reminded her of Gilderoy Lockheart; and blond hair, that she supposed was fake as well. He was wearing a blue pinstripe suit that seemed to be designed purely to show off the fact that he was attractive in a rather fake way. He was sat leaning back on his chair slightly, with his hands clasped in front of him, as his elbows leant on the chair arms. Everything about the man spoke of smug confidence and sheer arrogance, he believed he would win. Hermione hated him already.

Pity, if it weren't for the fake tan and Draco hair, he could actually be attractive.

To her immediate left was Mundugus Fletcher, apparently engrossed in a copy of a Jackie Collins novel, by the way his eyebrows raised suddenly, and a slight smile tugged at his lips. Her gaze fell on Harry, who gave her a quick, but bright smile and an encouraging nod.

I wish he'd smile like that more often.

She smiled back, hoping that this time, unlike all of the Weasleys before her, she could give him something to smile about.

Mr Hayes pushed back from his seat a few moments later, he'd waited longer than was strictly necessary, staring at Hermione with unnecessary intensity. He was trying to unnerve her, and she did not appreciate it. The orange lawyer walked around his desk, fastening a jacket button as he moved. He all but swaggered across the small gap, again taking more time than was necessary. He stopped about a metre in front of her and smiled. Putting his hands in his pockets, he asked his first question.

"Miss Granger is it?"

Hermione nodded an affirmative, before remembering that she'd been told by Fletcher to always answer `Yes' or `No' wherever possible.

"Yes Sir."

He smiled again, and walked to her right, blocking her view of Harry, and of any support she might feel from him.

"Miss Granger, could you please explain the nature of your relationship with Mr Harry Potter?"

"Yes. I've been best friends with Harry for about four years."

"Really?" the lawyer said, looking at the Jury, he raised an eyebrow in a rather infuriating manner.

"Yes."

"`Best' friends? Yourself, Mr Potter, and a Ronald Weasley, I believe?"

Hermione nodded.

"It must be nice to have such a famous friend, I imagine it opens many doors for you and Mr Weasley doesn't it?"

"Not really."

Mr Hayes shifted slightly, still blocking her view of Harry, but she could see Fletcher sitting in his seat, still intently reading his romance novel.

"Are you certain? Being friends with the Harry Potter would have its advantages. After all, I gather that your little group have broken very many school rules. In fact, I believe that the number the three of you together have garnered in your time at Hogwarts, is One Hundred and Thirty-Seven."

Hermione was a little shocked upon hearing an actual number. She knew that despite her being a stickler for the rules, they had broken many in their `adventures' at Hogwarts, no one had ever confronted her with such an horrific number before. Her mouth dropped open a little.

"I … I didn't think that it was as many as that."

"Hmm, Yes. One Hundred and Thirty-Seven. Rather a lot isn't it? My word, my own jaw dropped at hearing that one. One Hundred and Thirty-Seven. Strange really, as my understanding of your school tells me that, depending on the severity of the rule being broken, any student with fifteen broken rules warrants automatic suspension, and any with more than twenty, expulsion. So perhaps you can tell me now, that being friends with the Harry Potter does have its advantages?"

"I suppose it does a little. But you have to look at the reason why we broke the rules. Whenever we did, it was always for a good reason."

"Really? Have you ever heard the saying that the road to hell is paved with good intentions?"

"Obviously whoever said that never intended to do anything good in their life." Hermione answered smartly. She heard a light snicker from a few people, two of them in Harry and Fletcher's direction. The lawyers façade slipped slightly, obviously he hadn't been prepared for a young girl with a smart mouth, to be intelligent as well. Or one that wasn't going to cry when he poked her.

Mr Hayes then smiled at her.

"Indeed, your probably right. Your quite a smart young woman aren't you?"

"I wouldn't say that. I just like to read a lot."

"Top of your class in most of your lessons. I would say that that warrants you to be called smart."

Hermione only blushed.

"You say that to understand why yourself and Mr's Potter and Weasley have not yet been expelled despite breaking so many rules, I should look at the reason behind you breaking them, and that the intention would be good. But I'm sure that not all of them were born out of the pure goodness of your hearts. You are after all, young people. Adventurous young people from what I here. Perhaps you broke the rules once or twice out of mischief?"

Hermione couldn't remember any specific incidents. Indeed all she was aware of were the time that they took Harry to Hogsmeade under his father's invisibility cloak, simply because he wanted to.

"I can't remember a time."

Mr Hayes pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows, before turning to the jury, and lifting both his arms, palms out.

"Young people." He said with a smile.

Hermione found that more than a little irritating. He'd just dismissed her evidence because of her age. Her turned back and gave another irritating half smile.

"Miss Granger, can you tell me everything that you know about why Mr Potter is famous?"

Caught off guard by such a strange question, Hermione's eyes travelled to the still visible Fletcher, who had finally looked up from his book, and now stared back with avid interest.

"Harry is famous because when he was a year old, he apparently defeated You-Know-Who, after the Dark Lord murdered his parent's."

"A year old? At one year of age, that boy" he said, spinning and pointing at Harry, as if Hermione didn't know him.

"Defeated the greatest Dark Sorcerer of these times?"

Hermione nodded, finally glad to be able to see Harry, who was looking between her, Hayes and the Jury.

"Hermione." Hayes said in a friendly tone.

"Are you afraid of him?"

"Of who?" she answered confusedly.

"Mr Potter."

"Why would I be?"

"I would think that anyone would be. If not of Mr Potter himself, for yourself and many others seem to claim him to be an amiable young man, then for perhaps what he represents. Perhaps a power that no other witch or wizard understands, something within him that helped him to defeat a Dark Lord at just a year old. Or perhaps there is nothing extraordinary about him." He looked at Harry, who looked right back.

"Perhaps this Dark Lord I have been told about, made a simple mistake that led to his downfall. But we will never know. For no one was present to witness any of these events. Indeed what is known, what has become legend, is purely guesswork."

There were some shocked gasps from the witches and wizards behind Hermione. Mostly they seemed to be angry with the lawyer for making such a supposition about something they all believed so fervently.

"But of course I would not dream of saying that it is inaccurate or untrue. But my point being is that when you first heard the name Harry Potter, and whenever you hear it now, what is the first thing you think of?"

"What happened to him, I think."

Mr Hayes turned to Grand Judge Ravencast.

"If the court would indulge me for a moment?"

Ravencast nodded once, a stern look upon his face, suggesting that he would not be indulging the perma-tan lawyer for long. Hayes turned back to Hermione.

"Miss Granger, I would like it if you would play a quick game with me of word-association. I'll say a word or words, and you'll respond as quickly as you can with the first thing that comes into your head."

Hermione nodded, not really liking where this was going. Mr Hayes turned to the Jury and smiled.

"I know many of our Jury might not understand everything said, but please bear with me, and I'm sure that you'll hear some interesting answers."

Hermione definitely did not like that.

"Right let's begin. Muggle?"

"Wizard."

"Cat?"

"Dog."

"Magic?"

"Christmas."

"Potions?"

"Snape."

"Joke?"

"Weasley."

"Book?"

"Library."

"Rules?"

"Professor McGonnagoll."

"Flying?"

"Broomstick."

"Love?"

" …family."

"Ah you paused Miss Granger, one suspects that that was not the first thing you thought of." Hayes said slyly, turning to look at Harry to prove his point. Hermione's cheeks flushed slightly red. That was unfair.

"Again Miss Granger. Troll?"

"Loo's."

"Ghost?"

"Myrtle."

"School?"

"Test."

"Exam?"

"Good."

"Happy?"

"Friend."

"Tri-wizard Cup?"

"Third Task."

"Lockheart?"

"Ponce."

"Toffee's?"

"Weasleys."

"Dursley?"

"Cupboard."

"Harry Potter?"

"Voldemort."

Shocked noises were emitted from many of the present witches and wizards upon hearing the name spoken aloud. Hayes looked victorious. Turning to the Jury with a sweep of his arms.

"You see? The young man's name automatically summons the image of the most feared Sorcerer there has ever been. So feared that our magical friends cannot bear to speak his name. And yet hear it is, spoken from the lips of his closest friend. Even for her it is the first thing she thinks of when she hears his name. Would you not fear someone so closely associated with such an unnamed fear?"

Hermione's heart was pounding within her chest, tears threatened to escape the corners of her eyes. How could she, of all people, think of Voldemort and Harry at the same time? She felt shame to have hurt Harry in such a way, she risked a glance in his direction. His head was down, and from what she could see, a look of confusion and hurt had registered on his face. Hermione felt the first tearing of her heart, emotion welled up in her throat, and caught across her chest. She put a hand to her mouth, a vague attempt to prevent of gasp of choking emotion escaping her.

She wished she would just be dismissed, as all witnesses should be. But she wasn't. It took her a few moments to realise why. Fletcher handed her a tissue. She took it gratefully, and made an attempt to compose herself.

"Don't worry Hermione, Mr Hayes o'er there, seems to like making young girls cry." Fletcher said with a faint whisper and a smile.

Fletcher turned to the Jury.

"Well Mr Hayes does seem to have a fondness for making my young friend over there the next Dark Lord. But having seen the rise of a few myself, I think we need not worry quite yet." He said with a smile, a few of the Jury smirked. Obviously dark magic, and the end-of-the-world, didn't quite tally with what they could see of the slightly too skinny and frail looking fifteen year-old schoolboy in front of them. Hermione smiled too, when she saw Harry's head lift and do the same.

Finally relieved to be talking to someone who was here to help Harry, Hermione felt her muscles begin to relax, her throat cleared of its fraught emotion blockage, and her tears began to dry. At least Fletcher wouldn't make Harry out to be a liar, one who would cause a grown man to tremble in fear, even as a five-year old.

"Well Miss Granger, hmm, do you mind if I call you Hermione, No? Good. Right then Hermione, I gather from what Harry tells me that you two didn't get along when you first met, is that right?"

Harry's head snapped up, suddenly very interested.

"Objection. The previous state of this witnesses relationship to Key witness, has no bearing on this case your Honour." Mr Hayes interjected.

"I'm simply trying to establish Key witness credibility you Honour, since my learned colleague as spent the better part of this case so far, trying to do the reverse."

Judge Ravencast didn't blink once, but the beginnings of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"Objection overruled, you may continue Mr Fletcher."

"Thank you your Honour."

Fletcher motioned for you to answer. Harry leaned a little closer.

"Well no we didn't."

Hermione glanced back at Harry and grinned lightly. Harry grinned back.

"Could you tell us why?"

"Well I guess I was a little more …well obsessive about learning, and school. I think that most people thought of me as being a bit of a swot, so I didn't really get on with anyone. And Harry … I guess I just thought that he would be arrogant and stuck-up because he was famous."

Hermione looked at Harry sheepishly, before Fletcher regained her attention.

"So can you tell us what changed and made you the close friends that you are today?"

Hermione couldn't help it. She smiled. Broadly.

She should do that more often. Harry thought.

"He saved me from a cave troll."

There was a gentle laughter throughout the courtroom. And finally Harry felt, that things might start going right. Unfortunately, he was going to be wrong.

~o0o~

There was a three-day break during the trial, which Harry was more than a little grateful for. It meant a chance to take his mind off things and relax. Well relax in the sense of not. Catching up with a mountain of schoolwork bigger than anything he'd seen in his first four years at Hogwarts. And Dumbledore had scheduled a lesson using the Staff, why? Harry had no idea, it seemed like a most inopportune time to do so. Not only had Harry begun to experience a fraction of the sense of panic that Hermione was perpetually in when it came to revising for the O.W.L's, he was still having dreams. Many different kinds. Some were perpetually trapped within Knockturn Alley, pulling a pain racked old man down the cobbled street, feeling pleasure at his suffering. Other's were the more normal kind of nightmare for Harry. Losing his friends to Voldemort, or being back at the Dursley's, struggling as his head was held under a mound of foaming hot water. But he had had another dream. One of the woman with the oddly shell-shaped ears. She had spoken to him, this time in a language he should not have known, but somehow did. She had told him that all was coming to pass, as it should, and that he should not fear what lay ahead, even at it's worst, for he would always have the love of those around him. Nice sentiments, if only he felt that confident.

But as he sat across from Hermione, her face lit up in brilliant smile, sunlight warming him and casting a comforting and beautiful glow on the occupants of the Great Hall, none of it seemed to matter. Moody, Lupin, Sirius, Dumbledore, and of course Hermione, had all gathered together for his first `lesson' in almost a month. Lupin and Sirius were huddled together, talking in hushed whispers, with amusement and mischief written on their faces. Harry was trying not to pay attention to them, or to how the golden sunlight lit up the face of someone he had long thought of as a wonderful friend, but now he saw … well it didn't matter what he saw, because it wasn't meant to be. Instead he was trying very hard not to activate the Staff of Gaia by merely being in its presence. He was getting better at it, until he was distracted again.

Hermione sat in front of him, looking prettier than she was allowed too, Dumbledore was stood to the right of her. The Staff was between Harry and Hermione, currently hung upright in the air as it was want to do, Harry around or no, but not alight with magic. The distraction came from Sirius and Lupin. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sirius look at him, then at Hermione, and then whisper something to Lupin. Lupin appeared to try to stifle a giggle, he elbowed Sirius in the ribs, who then made a distinct `oof' sound, and doubled over with laughter.

Any self-control Harry had was lost at that moment, and a subtle hum and a golden glow told him that the Staff was active. Harry rolled his eyes and let out a gasp of exasperation. The formerly dull grey crystal lit in a warm amber orange from within the curling gold and bronze cage.

Dumbledore grimaced, Hermione shot the two a look that said quite clearly `oh grow up!'

Still gasping for breath, Lupin was also now giggling, Sirius muttered sorry, whilst holding his now bruised ribs, and turned around for a bout of hearty laughter.

Harry raised his eyebrows. He could almost imagine what a dangerous combination Sirius, Lupin and his father would have been.

He looked at Hermione, and shrugged his shoulders, and she smiled too, more amused now than annoyed.

"Well since that went so well …" Dumbledore muttered, shooting the two a half serious look of irritation. Sirius and Remus attempted to compose themselves. But as soon as he had straightened his face, Sirius looked at Harry, and began laughing again, Remus joining him.

Harry looked up at the sky, well the magical representation of sky, and said.

"Thanks Dad, great choice of Guardian."

Dumbledore seemed slightly bemused at the look of mock indignation that crossed Sirius's face.

"I thought that today, we might see if you are up to trying to hold the Staff, and to control it for a while, if you'd like a go Harry?"

The laughter stopped abruptly, Harry's guardians looked on in shock at the headmasters announcement, before beginning protestations over not being informed and various reasons as to why it should not be attempted. Hermione merely looked worried.

But for his part Harry had perked up. `… if you'd like a go…', was Dumbledore mad? Mad dogs baying at his heels, and Lucius Malfoy pointing a wand at his forehead couldn't keep Harry from the chance to hold the Staff again. He'd wanted to do just that ever since he last used it, accidentally growing an entire oak tree in just over a minute, instead of the first shoot, the tree incidentally was now growing very well in the central courtyard of the school grounds.

Harry hadn't been allowed to put so much as a finger on the Staff of Gaia, since the incident. Mostly, Harry assumed, because by holding it, the Staff drained him physically, mentally and magically. But to Harry, the sensation that he experienced when he used it, was worth it. Being risen higher and higher, to a place where magic, thought, memory and an unknown source of intense magical intertwined. It was enticing. And his connection to the Staff, the ever-present subtle buzz in his solar plexus, never ceased to remind him of his desire to experience that strange knowledge and power again. He glanced at Hermione; of course this affected her too.

Harry still had no idea how it was that he was allowing her to experience something when he used, or attempted not to use to Staff, and he had never asked her about any of her experiences since the one back at the Burrow, the one that had started the whole thing. He felt … embarrassed.

Dumbledore spotted the look that had passed between the two.

"Don't worry Harry, I had actually hoped that Miss Granger could play a more active role in today's lesson."

Curiosity and apprehension must have shown on the faces of all those present, Dumbledore gave them a calming smile.

"I was not planning on trying to set you a task to accomplish Mr Potter, since we all know that that doesn't seem to work. As a matter of fact, I would like it if you merely used the Staff to attempt to discern the exact nature of this … connection that you and Miss Granger have."

"Forgive me Headmaster, but is that wise?" Sirius interrupted.

"I believe it is Sirius, and you should have a little more respect for your elders, don't think that I haven't heard what you and Remus call Mundugus behind his back, and I'm not talking about `the old coot'."

Sirius promptly blushed in embarrassment; Harry shot him a questioning look. What exactly did he and Remus call Mundugus Fletcher behind his back? Harry was willing to bet the old lawyer already knew. Dumbledore continued.

"I believe it might be prudent, even with any potential risks undoubtedly involved, that we should see how strong this connection is, and just what it may allow you to do, or if it might be necessary at any point to sever it. Of course that is only if the both of you are willing?" he asked of Harry and Hermione. Though Hermione nodded her willingness, Harry wasn't so sure.

"Professor Dumbledore, I don't know how I'm going to stay in control of anything if I'm using the Staff, I'm not always really aware of what I'm doing."

"I know Harry, but as I said, we won't be setting you a task outside of trying to find out what your connection to Miss Granger is, so I think we should be safe."

"Safe?"

"You are the only one who really set's yourself a task, whether it be protecting your fellow student's from a group of cave troll's, or creating life from an acorn. If you set yourself the task of tracking the emotions and memories you are funnelling to Miss Granger, I have no doubt that you will succeed."

Harry finally nodded his own ascent, with a last `are you certain?' to Hermione. She simply nodded again.

"Well I do believe that you should try it without the Staff's aid first."

"How do we do that Professor? We're not psychic." Hermione asked, without a hint of belligerency.

Dumbledore moved the Staff of Gaia from its place in the centre, and gave it to Sirius. The light in the crystal flickered weakly for a few moments, before extinguishing completely. Lupin snorted. Sirius looked mightily peeved.

"I'm having an off day alright!" he excused his apparent lack of effect on the magical artefact.

"Now both of you close your eyes. Not you Sirius! Pull yourself together.

Harry and Hermione, would you please close your eyes."

Harry grinned at Hermione, just before he allowed his world to go black.

"Now try to clear your minds of any thoughts. Imagining only a vast black space, nothing in it of any sort. But it is a comforting space, warm, nothing to fear."

They did as they were told, and soon listening only to the sound of Dumbledore's soothing voice, they were calm and relaxed. Their breathing eased, and they sat a little easier in their chairs. It seemed like a great while past in that dark warm place before Dumbledore spoke again.

"Now that you are at ease, I want you to begin to look around. You will realise that in this calm place, there is more than just darkness, look for it."

It was not long before Harry could feel that there was something more in the darkness, a presence. No, there were presences. He felt a shiver pass through him, and the hairs on his neck and arms were standing on end. One of the presences was not a welcomed feeling. And there was another, but this one was so alien a sensation he couldn't pin down a single word to describe the feeling it evoked in him. But there was another, one that evoked emotions in him that he could identify. He felt safe with it, but at times it was strange. Like some of the feelings weren't so much his but memories of feeling, a ghost sensation, as if he remembered something he hadn't himself been through. Maybe a past life or something like it?

"If you know that you are no longer alone, or that you know there is something in the darkness, move toward it."

Harry complied, or at least he tried to. As he moved through the darkness to the presence that was familiar, it seemed only faint, like the ripples of a pond compared to the crashing waves of an ocean.

But then there were all three, all three were commanding his attention at once, which one was he supposed to go to again? All three had equal presence within the darkness. But then one of them, he felt one of them was looking for him in the darkness. So he pushed his way towards it, determined to find the one looking for him. All the while he was aware of the presence of the other two. One was still strangely alien, but more familiar than earlier, but still he stayed away from it. And the other he needed no prompting to stay away from, it was still cold and dark.

"Harry?" a soft humming voice asked.

"Hermione?" he felt himself answer, before he was jolted back into the Great Hall and a world of light.

The first thing he was aware of, other than the light he was blinking rapidly against, was that the Staff of Gaia was now situated only 3 feet away from him, standing upright without aid, instead of in Sirius's hand.

"You know we should probably get a leash for that thing." His godfather drawled.

"Welcome back Mr Potter. I had begun to fear that we'd lost you inside that mind of yours again." The headmaster said with a shadow of a smile on his face.

"Your lucky Hermione here could tell us you were okay, Remus was about to pour cold water over your head."

"I was not."

"Yes you were."

"Was not."

"Were too."

"Was … shut up Sirius!"

Dumbledore rolled his eyes, and looked at Harry and Hermione.

"I don't think that they ever left school, do you?"

They grinned in response. Sirius pouted. Hermione felt her legs go slightly funny. Harry's godfather was sort of cute, less thirteen years of Azkaban acquired grime, and given six months of good food to fill out.

Hermione looked over at Harry.

"I was worried about you, I thought you'd gotten lost. You were gone a while." She said quietly.

"I didn't mean to worry, I have no idea how long I was `gone'. And I didn't get lost, just … distracted."

"Any chance of you telling us where abouts in Never-Neverland you were?" Sirius asked Harry.

"Never-Neverland?"

"You know, in the children's story, Peter Pan. It's a muggle story."

"Oh, I've heard of Peter Pan, but I was never told children's stories."

Sirius looked momentarily uncomfortable.

"Your mother used to read you muggle fairytales all the time."

"She did?"

"Yes. And we never stopped teasing her about it."

Harry hated that. Remus and Sirius had around twenty years of memories about his parent's each. The only thing he remembered was their last conversation before Voldemort murdered them.

"Well perhaps we should take a break for a little while. It could give your minds a rest, or perhaps allow to look at some schoolwork, as I know you've both been worried about your studies." Dumbledore said wryly, specifically glancing at Harry, amusement written across his face.

"Well I could do with a break."

"I wasn't asking you Mr Black."

~o0o~

Harry's notes slipped from his grasp for what felt like the hundredth time, luckily the corridor was empty as he passed the open courtyard that was at the centre of the many buildings that made up Hogwart's school.

Most students had gone to their last double lesson, so Harry was on his way back to Gryffindor tower, after a few long hours of catch-up study in the library. He was then due to return to the Great Hall for the end of the Staff lesson, before dinnertime.

But Harry felt like his brain was going to start dribbling out of his ears. The trial was really starting to eat into his study time, ordinarily the idea of scraping by in his exams wouldn't bother him, but this year it was different. Granted this year, he had even more on his mind than normal, but finding out that his father, James Potter had been an Auror, had made somewhat of a difference. Hearing Remus tell the tales of the Marauders most Thursday nights was making a difference. He wanted to do well at school. Not only that he needed to do well, if he were to ever have any chance of becoming an Auror. Not that he had made up his mind about that, he was still a little miffed that Moody and the others had been training him for it without his knowledge, disguising it as more Staff-related stuff. But it would be nice to know he had options when he left school, maybe an apprenticeship, since there were no University's in the wizarding world, only `college's of further education'. Harry didn't really understand the difference, but he was sure Hermione would explain it to him if he asked nicely. So not getting the chance to learn anything was not productive.

Bending down with an irritated sigh, he began picking up the scattered parchments. Lighting the tip of his wand to get a better view in the shadowed corridor. It was then that something caught his eye. A familiar blond head, across the grassy courtyard, standing in front of a large Oak tree that Harry had accidentally grown to full size in his first lesson using the Staff.

The Oak had been transported very carefully under instruction of Professors Sprout and Flitwick, out into the courtyard, roughly in the middle, to the left and up a bit. The tree had taken very well to the rich soil on Hogwarts grounds, growing larger and greener in a handful of months. It was a living testament to Harry's own power.

A living testament that had just been kicked savagely by Draco Malfoy.

Harry would have felt more incensed if he hadn't been stifling his laughter. Malfoy had grabbed his foot and hissed in pain. Did he really expect to take on a twelve-foot Oak tree and win? Malfoy hopped backwards, still holding his throbbing foot. Curious, Harry moved quietly through the open air corridors on the outer edge of the courtyard, in time to hear Malfoy mumbling to himself.

"Dumb tree. Yet another testament to the Grand Harry Potter! Lord of Squibs and Mudbloods everywhere!" the blond was saying in a sing-songy voice, like he was telling an epic story.

"Stupid tree. As wooden as Potter's modesty."

Harry was a bit miffed about that. There was nothing wooden about his modesty; he truly hated the attention his name brought him. Maybe he should change it. John Smith? Nope, it wouldn't work, not as long as he had that scar on his forehead.

Curious again he edged closer, until he could peer around one of the stone pillars forming the open corridors, and see Draco's face.

There was a look on it he had never seen before, and he wondered what it was.

Still clutching his self-inflicted injured foot, Draco hobbled to sit down, facing the tree, apparently unconcerned about being late for class.

Probably has potions next. Harry thought.

Draco gazed up at the tree, but with none of his earlier malice, in fact he appeared … sad? His gaze flickered skywards. The Slytherin then began talking softly to himself, as though he were afraid of being overhead which, of course, he was.

"Why am I doing this? I don't have to do everything father tells me to. I'm fifteen, I'm supposed to become my own person, maybe that's why I feel …" Draco looked down at his foot, then back skywards. It was almost as if he was asking whatever powers there were, to answer him.

"Potter and the others … their not such a bad lot." He said in a rush, as though he couldn't say it any other way, or it might stick in his throat. Harry's mouth dropped open a little.

"True their all Mudblood and dirt poor, but …"

Now that, was something Harry expected Draco to say, but once again, he was about to be surprised.

" … but … does that really mean that much? Does it really make as much difference as father says?" the blond shook his head.

Harry was by now fascinated. Who would have thought that Draco Malfoy had the potential to be anything other than a Deatheater, a miniature Lucius Malfoy?

"No father is right. I'm a pureblood wizard, that count's for something!"

Draco's face told Harry that the Slytherin was trying to force the conviction into his voice. Conviction he didn't really feel.

"But Weasel, the Weasley's are purebloods. Hell even Neville is a pureblood, and he's practically a squib!

And I'm … I'm not as … not as strong as I ought to be. Not as strong as a Malfoy should be.

I could be stronger I know it! I know I could be. But … but I don't want to be, I can't do it!" something bordering on terror passed over the young man's face.

"What if they're not lying? What if the rumours are true, and my father really is a Deatheater? I can't be…"

"DRACO!"

Draco's head snapped back, at the sound of Pansy Parkinson's high, shrill voice. She was hurrying across the courtyard as fast as her new heels could carry her. Which was not all that fast.

"Are you alright?" she asked, concern mixing with an overly large, irritating smile. Falsities were evident in every pore.

Sure most Slytherin's weren't that kind, brave or hard working, but they were loyal to each other in a pinch. Well, as long as it served a mutual purpose anyway.

Draco's usual sneer had reappeared the moment his fellow Slytherin had arrived at his side. She proffered a hand to help him to his feet.

"Fine Pansy, just giving Potter's tree here a good-kicking. Since we can't get anywhere near him these days."

"Not even on the Quidditch pitch." Pansy said, a sly smile tugging at her lips. She noticed the disgusted look Draco gave her, and quickly began compensating.

"Is that how you hurt your foot?" she said, slipping one arm under Draco's to help him along.

Draco recovered from his earlier irritation at Pansy's putdown to make one of his own.

"Yeah, turns out the tree is as thick as Potter. Maybe you'd have more luck with it."

Pansy made an irritating sound that was bordering on laughter, only fake. She knew what pureblood families had the most prestige; it wouldn't do to alienate one of the most powerful after all. Not when her parent's were practically arranging the marriage already.

Harry remained in his hiding position for a while after they had left, a little shocked.

He really doesn't know his father is a Deatheater?

That was certainly something of a surprise, given how blasé the Slytherin seemed to be about letting people know it. But then it hit him. It was about power. People feared Deatheaters. People feared anything to do with them. So if they thought Malfoy was related to one, they were gonna damn well keep out of his way. No one wants to go home to see a Dark Mark above it. Even within his own house, Malfoy had power, because, as the rumours went, Malfoy's father was in the inner circle, You-Know-Who's most trusted advisors.

A little shaken by the news that his school archenemy might not be as rotten to the core as he'd previously thought, Harry made his way back to the Gryffindor common room. Dropping his parchment's a few more time's in his distraction.

When did everything stop being black and white, and become grey all of a sudden?

~o0o~

"You've got to be kidding me!"

"No really, that's what happened. He doesn't know his dad's a Deatheater."

"Oh come on Harry, how do you know he didn't know you were there? It's probably just some stupid trick. Malfoy's been way too happy about You-Know-Who's return, to suddenly turn into a boy scout."

Harry had been whispering to Hermione about the `Draco thing' for a few minutes now, and was wondering why he hadn't thought of that. Granted it would mean that Draco Malfoy was a very brilliant actor with a great line in monologues, but still, the idea that the Slytherin night not be all that bad, had struck a chord in him. Maybe some people could be `brought back from the edge' as it were. That was a far more comforting thought, than `dealing' with the people who'd gone over it.

Hermione was probably right. It was probably some new master-minded plot to get someone close to Harry, to get him to do something stupid, say like take a swim in the Great Lake without a wand. Harry would never be stupid enough to do something like that …

Dumbledore and the others returned to the circle of chairs, cups of tea in hand, and sat down.

"Now remember Harry, try to think only of finding the connection that exists between you and Miss Granger. If it helps, think of it as a pathway with a meeting place for your minds."

Harry nodded.

~o0o~

Hermione wasn't sure how long her eyes had been closed, she didn't even remember closing them. The last thing she remembered was almost being blinded by the bright light that had come from the Staff of Gaia as Harry had called it to him. And then there was darkness.

Perhaps it was the sound of footsteps on a gravel pathway that called her away from the darkness and made her open her eyes. Maybe it was the sound of birdsong.

She appeared to be in a forest of some sort. The trees were too thick for her to see anything beyond the ones that lined the yellow-gravelled pathway on which she stood. A slight breeze ruffled her hair, setting a little chill over her skin. She turned around; to see a rather out-of-place white panelled doorway was behind her on the path. In two-inch high black letters, the word `EXIT' was spelt out. Apparently she was supposed to go the other way, towards the sounds of footfalls upon a gravel path, She turned back and began walking.

A little while had passed before she came into sight of a crossing. An apparent breaking spot; within the thick covering of trees. The closer she got, she could see that the pathway carried on in front of her as far as she could see. But there would also be a choice of left or right soon. It was a crossroads.

She had almost reached the crossroads. Dense forest still lined either side. The left and right pathways themselves were still clear but the trees were twisted onto it. These appeared to curve even she could see this from her distance away from them.

Everything seemed a little hazy, and blocks of shimmering pale pink would occasionally pass her, distorting the image beneath it's transparency. But a few times, Hermione thought she could see something darker, an image moving within the pale pink light.

She heard the sound of footsteps again, and hastened her own.

Hermione was still about twenty yards away when she saw Harry coming quickly from the path on her right-hand side. She called to him. But he did not seem to hear, and carried on straight ahead, moving quickly over the crossroads onto the pathway on her left. She called to him again, and broke into a jog to reach the crossroads. Looking to her left to the path that Harry took, she could see that it was darker, the path twisted, and the trees seemed much denser. She saw Harry's darkly coloured hair rounding the corner, and she jogged lightly to catch up. She called his name again. Still no answer.

She rounded the corner; she saw that the pathway continued on straight for a little while, before curving again sharply to the left this time. Harry was about to go around that corner too. She shouted a little louder this time, but still got no response. She felt a little panic rising within her, but squashed it back down. She continued on, but it happened again, and again. And then again. Every time she felt that she was about to reach Harry, even when she was flat-out running. He always seemed to be rounding the next corner, just as Hermione passed the last.

Another wave of transparent pink light passed her again on her left, but it moved closer to her this time, and for a fleeting moment, she saw something terrifyingly dark move towards her quickly, a sharp axe-like weapon raised above its head, ready to strike with every intent of ending her life. And then the mist moved onwards through the trees. Her heart hammered within her chest, and then she realised that her arms were raised above her head, her hands curved in on themselves as though they were gripping something. It took her another moment to realise that she had assumed some form of fighting stance; one leg was further behind than the other, with more weight resting on it. As scared as she was, she knew that a part of her felt the whole thing familiar, as though she had been in the exact same position before, only had been very capable of defending herself. But beyond the odd magical curse, Hermione knew nothing about defence, certainly nothing were weapons were involved.

Her hearts frantic beating finally began to calm. She'd try to figure out what had just happened later, right now she wanted to find Harry. She walked instead of ran. More waves of pink light began to pass her, but none contained any images that terrified her so. She could hear birdsong once again. And then … voices?

Another three corners passed. She walked towards the sound. It was distinctly one male and one female. She could tell it was Harry, despite the fact that it was distant enough for the words to be muffled.

But the other. The other voice, the female, was soft and low, so low that at times it almost seemed to echo. Though at times Hermione thought she could hear the echo before the words that would cause it.

He rounded yet another corner, pushing a straying branch out of her way. And then came to a dead stop. Once the leaves had cleared her vision, she could see Harry. And he was talking to the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. The forest here was barely visible beneath the shimmering pink blocks of light that were converging around the talking pair. There was also a more orange, yellow light, which cast a warm glow on the surroundings, from an unknown source.

The woman was wearing a long elegant dress of white, edged with palest gold, that seemed to shine with a sunlight all of its own, almost as much as her own creamy perfect skin did. Sunlight lit up and highlighted yards of long golden blond hair, that hung loosely in waves in curls down her back and far past it. The front parts of her hair were swept gracefully away from her face, and held behind her ears with small pearl encrusted slides. But her ears, they were … shell-shaped. They were distinctly but delicately pointed, with three ridges set within them, just like the bumps you would find on any shell.

And then Hermione realised. The unknown source of light, it was her, the beautiful woman.

Harry seemed … different in this woman's presence to the boy she knew. The way he held himself, tall, straight-backed and proud, he faced the woman and held his head up to look straight into the taller woman's eyes. He did not avert his gaze, or appear shy or flustered.

The way in which Harry held himself in this place, reminded her of Grand Judge Ravencast. He didn't seem to be a fifteen-year old boy anymore, but a powerful young man.

Harry's head turned slightly as he noticed Hermione's awed gaze. He said something to the woman, who turned to look at the young witch. A pair of startlingly blue, intently soulful eyes gazed into Hermione's own. Hermione shivered slightly, as she felt something very powerful, and very old look within her.

The woman smiled, and Hermione suddenly felt warm, like she was being held tightly within her mother's arms.

Slowly she moved forward, until she was standing but a metre away. Then Harry and the woman began talking again.

But Hermione couldn't understand a word that was said. It was as if she was listening through a closed door, the voices still muffled, and soft echoes could be heard within the small clearing. The woman smiled, and a gentle humming sound came from her lightly parted lips. She was laughing, at something Harry had said.

The woman's piercing gaze once again turned on her, and she walked forward, in one quick elegant movement, her dress shifting in such a way as to make it appear as if she were floating. Hermione was aware of the woman's hand reaching up to touch her face. She was surprised at how cool it was, when everything else about this woman radiated warmth. But it was not an unpleasant sensation, rather like a cool, damp cloth being placed upon the head of someone suffering a fever.

She leaned forward, and Hermione felt herself captured in the taller woman's gaze. And then the woman spoke to her, though the voice still echoed, as though the sound had to catch up, this time Hermione could hear it.

"Coi liya moin ne-ho men icthala, coi-ne thulway na toulanee. Vou lanee myan."

Hermione felt an almost overwhelming sense of comfort and peace at whatever had been said. The feeling she had when the woman spoke, meant that though she had no idea what was being spoken, understanding was gained. She nodded her head slightly.

The woman turned back to Harry, saying something so quietly that she had no chance of hearing anything other than the soft hum of voices. Harry understood this language?

A snorting sound caught Hermione's attention, and she saw a pure white horse, a mare, walking slowly up the pathway behind Harry and the woman. The horse bore no saddle, but a square of pale blue fabric was draped across it's back. Delicately patterned sliver reins adorned her. A few small braids ran through the length of her mane of silver-white hair.

The mare walked through one of the pink translucent blocks of light, causing it to ripple, flickering her tail in annoyance at a dark image moving within it.

The woman with pointed ears moved over to the horse, and held her hand over the horses face, as if to stroke it, but without touching it. The mare neighed happily, bending down on her front legs, allowing the woman to seat herself upon the mares back in one graceful move. Once upon it, the horse righted itself, and moved slightly forwards, towards Hermione.

The woman tilted her head forward in an almost imperceptible bow. Hermione did so as well, noticing that Harry did likewise from his place beside her. Hermione was a little surprised; she hadn't heard him approach.

"Vaelayatoo elbereset coi-ne foultar, ithoular."

Hermione watched as the horse and its rider passed through a rippling block of pink light, disappearing before they'd reached the pathway on the other side. She blinked, and found herself back at the crossroads with Harry.

"What did that mean anyway?" she asked, frustrated and confused by everything that had just happened.

"It's like hello or goodbye, only it's nicer." Harry muttered.

Hermione looked at him, curious. He shrugged his shoulders; suddenly appearing very much the fifteen-year old boy that he was.

"Roughly translated it means `May the Stars Light your Path, Always.'"

"How did you know that? Who was that? And how did we get back here, and where the hell are we anyway?" she looked around briefly.

"And who the hell's mind is this anyway?"

"Probably mine."

Harry walked to the centre of the crossroads, looking down the one pathway from which no one had come. He shivered, it was cold down there, and dark, as if all the light that shone down on them, was being absorbed by the darkness on this pathway. Nothing could be seen past the first three dark evergreen trees that lined either side of the pathway. After that it was just inky blackness. And an occasional shimmer of the pink lights, but here all of them had something dark moving within them.

Harry needed no second guesses as to who was connected to him by this pathway to his mind. He wished only that he could knock a couple of trees down to block it. But somehow, he guessed that this probably wouldn't work.

"What's down there?" Hermione asked, though she was afraid she already knew the answer.

"Nothing that we want to know about today `mione."

Harry turned around and took her right hand, and walked to the centre of the crossroads again.

Hermione felt a slight buzz in her stomach; nobody had ever called her that before, she thought she rather liked it.

Harry had noticed how soft and cool the palm of Hermione's hand was, it seemed so small. There was a slightly raised, hardened bump on the left side of her index finger. An adorable quirk. There because of the vast amount of time that finger spent with a quill rested upon it.

"Let's get back, I think that we know that it works now."

"But how do we…"

Hermione didn't finish, because at that moment, another block of pink light, which reached from the gravelled floor to almost two feet above their heads, and almost as wide, had moved quickly towards them. The darkness in the underlying image cleared, to the point at which it seemed they were looking through a window. A dark and storm-filled night could be seen. Rain hammered down, relentless. More of the same, shadow-like creatures moved swiftly through the darkness, with men covered in black war paints at their side. All carried axes or deadly curved swords, heavy looking, and covered thickly with dark rich human blood. Fires burned behind them, men were fighting men, fighting shadowed creatures. Some were struck down in a hail of dark arrows. Some shadowed creatures fell to the thick broadswords of valiant men in armour, all around the cries of war could be heard.

Before them, many men, one with a noticeable tuft of red hair poking out from under his bronzed helmet, rushed forward to greet them. With the sounding clash of metal on metal ringing in their ears. In a few moments, Hermione saw more blood spilt than she had in her entire life. Red blood. Green blood. Black blood. All were spilt in but a few moments. She felt an anger that was by nature, alien to her, something that burned within her, she felt herself moving forward. Her hands moved to her sides, making a motion as drawing something from them, the invisible objects in her hands, running at full tilt towards the image, she let out a scream, a war-cry. And then …

"Stop!"

A dizzing sensation of moving from one place another with rapid speed, made everything spin for Hermione. Steadying hands held her to her chair, a voice asking her repeatedly, with an increasing tone of worry, if she was all right. She attempted to move her head to nod, only to make herself feel much worse, she might have retched but she couldn't be sure. And then finally she opened her eyes. Faced with the pale brown, kind eyes of Remus Lupin, concern evident within them.

"Hermione are you alright?"

"I'm not … sure. I feel a little … off?"

"You'll be alright. Here have some of this."

Lupin pushed a glass of water towards her, steadying her trembling hands upon it, allowing her to take a sip. She looked down at his robes.

"Sorry about that."

Remus followed her gaze.

"Don't be, I can get them cleaned." He said, a slight smile tugging at his lips.

She looked beyond the lupine professor. Harry wasn't doing as well. He'd crumpled from his chair, sheen of sweat on his brow, panting in exertion. His shivering body, was leant back onto his godfather, who held him tightly I his arms, almost possessively.

Lupin saw where her gaze fell.

"Don't worry Hermione, it could be worse."

She cocked her eyebrows in question.

"Well he could be unconscious."

Hermione grimaced.

"Great."

~o0o~

"Crucio!"

Muffled screams reverberated off the stone walls. A few Deatheaters gathered nearby snickered, as one of their own felt the wrath of the Dark Lord.

"When I ask a question, I expect an answer, Wormtail."

The Dark Lord pulled his wand back, Peter Pettigrew had a brief respite.

"Y…y…yes my Lord. Forgive my foolishness."

"Wormtail, you are permanently foolish, just sometimes more than others."

"Y…yes My Lord."

"Now Wormtail, is everything ready?"

"N…no, my… my Lord."

"Crucio!"

More screams were heard, though such a thing was not unusual within these walls. The Dark Lord lazily flicked his wand upwards, ending the curse a few minutes later.

"Now Wormtail. Since you seem to be so incapable of getting Mr Potter a `gift', then I will send Crabbe and Goyle with you."

"My Lord I'm sure I can do…"

"Quiet Wormtail! You test my patience as it is!"

"My Lord, perhaps, I may be of some assistance." Severus Snape interjected.

For anyone who could see within the Dark Lords hooded features at that moment, as those features turned into the abomination of a smile, they would have been chilled to their core.

"No Severus. There are things that I would … discuss with you today."

A shimmering cage of dark green magic appeared around the traitor Deatheater. Snape removed his hood, what point was there in hiding behind it now?

"I will not let you do this to them." His voice came out as a soft growl.

"Ah Severus, I do not think that you will be capable of doing anything for quite some time."

The Dark Lord returned his attention back to the Deatheater who still grovelled at his feet.

"Get up Wormtail! Now go and prove your loyalty. I want this `gift' by the end of the week, it has to be sent before the end of the school year. It will be a wonderful note to end it on."

"Yes, my Lord." Pettigrew pulled himself off the ground, and then was bodily forced towards the door by the hulking masses of Crabbe and Goyle. Just as they were about to leave, the cold and terrible voice sounded again.

"Oh and Wormtail?"

"Yes My Lord?"

"It doesn't have to be in piece when it gets here. Make sure that it screams for me."

~o0o~

Buh-buh-bud-du!!!! Coffee, coffeee, cofffffeeeeeeeee! Ahem, I think that's enough product-placement advertising from me.

Thank You TO:

Legacy

Shura

Psychochick

Nicky- Azkzban? Your giving me ideas you know!

()

duckies

BoOKWoRm

Sky Chief- Dudley- Psychological Motivation? Now there's a scary thought.

Ponokyunin

Lei Dumbledore

Shadow

Moshimoshi-erm, I'd rather you didn't hit me thanks.

Sygirl:VALOR- if yer confused about the story, just email your questions and I'll try to answer them. Without giving the plot away of course!

Coconut-ice agent h/h

Makulit- Now that would be telling.

Videl86- Reek terror on Vernon? Where's the queue?

Charlie Girl

VderDWP

Peter

LittLetRiXta- a poem, all for me? I feel all inspired!

Megaman50k

Arianne

teazer- apologies about your eyesight.

Moridia Shadar

Heaven-Great name!

Arizosa

Smallville-Chickie

Phoenix flight

Unknown(even to me - okay yer a bit weird, but you reviewed so who cares?

ninerings- undying love? Ick! Their 15, it would be a bit much wouldn't it?

Star-Crystal- Kill you, tad drastic I think.

ronin721- Awe *blushes*

Harry #1

Madam X

Meg- Vernon win the trial? It could happen.

Fairymagic689

Elenor Rigsby- ah ha! But I'm not in Ravenclaw, or Hufflepuff! Makes you wonder which of the other two I'm in doesn't it?

Dauphin- Death, once again I say a tad drastic

K- euch! Your making me dizzy!

Jellybean- Please don't hurt me!

Well if you feel like it, a review would be nice, but no worries. Have a nice day!

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