1Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters that you can recognize 'cause if I did, I probably wouldn't be using this site as an outlet for my creative energy. It's set post Order of the Phoenix. I do take a lot of license with the characters (completely bypassing the Half Blood Prince), so…if you like the way Rowling set them up, you may not like the story. But I hope you try it, enjoy it, and review. – Sin
Chapter One
Green met bright yellow in the predawn light. As Harry's eyes met Hedwig's, he stroked the nape of her neck. An annoyed look crossed her face, but she accepted the ruffling and the snack that followed with a quiet dignity. "I need you to take me to Sirius' hideout. From before. Please." His words were soft and pleading. Hedwig closed her bright eyes, not to process the request, but to inform her owner that it was resting time. When she opened them again, she saw tears trailing along the soft lines of his cheeks. She pressed her beak into his hand softly. He had smelled like death and fear and sadness for months now. Somehow, the bird had expected it to change once they reached Hogwarts again. She blinked slowly and stretched her wings. If they had to fly, they would fly. Silently, she hoped his stupid stick could keep up with her. She launched herself from his wrist and began eastwards.
The light was annoying and nearly blinding, but her ears were fine. He was following her. She had to admit that the stick was fast. She flew higher, slicing through the air with her flight feathers. The mission was to avoid any and all birds of prey. She may own the night, but the playing field under the sun was drastically different. Tonight, she would be too tired to flaunt her prowess, but if the boy was going to cry…then the sacrifice was made willingly.
Harry followed the owl with the faith that she had understood his need. He did not have the strength to spend another day learning stupid, meaningless drivel when he could feel that everyone he had ever loved—ever could have loved died in his presence. He was as close to the source of this unholy suffering as anyone could dream of being. He choked a little. Sirius…Damned on the day they finally met. He clutched his broomstick tighter, and in response, it jerked and gained speed. The owl fidgeted, uncomfortable in the presence of a flying man. She released an unflattering squawk as he matched her pace and kept it.
They rose, almost in sync, as the wind picked up. As the pair slid above its influence, the earth became a patchwork of green and brown. The sight was breathtaking and dizzying. Knowing that it was scarred and tainted didn't reduce its beauty. What crammed his heart in his throat was the fact that somewhere in the verdant and cerulean quilt lay Voldemort. Harry gritted his teeth. "I'm going to kill you." The thought was his sole comfort.
Cho Chang rolled over in the warm embrace of her thick blankets. She clutched them tighter, hoping that she could grasp her dreams and pull them back to her. "Cedric," she murmured as she hugged her pillow. Thoughts of returning to sleep were relinquished as her heart cried, pounding mercilessly against her rib cage. Shortly, the rest of her followed, quivering as tears made saline pools in the contours of her pillow.
Her alarm clock decided to blare its sharp melody shortly thereafter. Angrily, she tossed the clock against a wall. A resounding crack filled the room as it released its final cry of anguish and shattered. Her eyes burned with tears as she stood. Parts of her felt dead while others were ticking, waiting for her to snap and shatter. "Reparo," she called to the clock absentmindedly. It reassembled itself without protest. She wished her heart could be so simple.
Tugging robes over her head, she wiped her tears away. "I have to…be smarter than this." She studied the Ravenclaw insignia that was laced into her curtains. Emotions and logic couldn't always stand together. She opened the drawer and studied a picture of her and Cedric from the Yule Ball. Her heart beat slowed as she saw that genuine smile cross his face. "You told me…" she whimpered as the memory unraveled and enveloped her entirely. She slid the picture into a book that she had borrowed from him forever ago. Her face grew hard and movements became rigid as she tried to tear the connections between the past and present.
They hadn't been together for particularly long. Not Hogwarts hottest couple or anything like that. Just…whatever form of love he had implanted in her heart couldn't be stamped out. It was almost consuming and dangerously so. There was heat between them that she couldn't find in anyone else. And she had tried. She had probably tried too soon. This was a new year—her last year. The only thing that mattered was getting out and escaping the memories."I am smarter than this," she reminded herself before slipping out of her room with four books in hand.
Malfoy looked up from a book briefly. Rarely did he walk down the halls reading, but something about finding Granger's diary made it a worthwhile endeavor. The mudblood spent a fair portion of her time judging him and his actions. Why, one would almost think the poor wretch liked him considering how much ink and paper she spent on his behalf. But no…explicitly, the mudrat stated that she had a thing for the new Defense of the Dark Arts teacher. Hogwarts couldn't keep a teacher in that room for more than a year, but this one—this one was going to get scared off in nanoseconds. Professor del Aerian was young. Supposedly, he was going to become an auror but his mother's heart wouldn't take to the idea. She had a stroke on the day of his first outing, so now he's waiting for the old bat to die so he can live out his dreams.
A man that couldn't refuse his mother could not survive Hogwarts. It was, like, law or something. Draco shrugged to himself before tucking his silver-blond hair back. Granger would have been quite the witch if she wasn't so tainted. He closed the journal when he noticed Cho watching him—or looking past him. Either way, it was a blank gaze that chilled him a little. Her hair looked oily, but it framed a pretty face. Her eyes were dark and filled with the emptiness of forced apathy. Any other person would have been at least concerned, but Draco couldn't find a reason to care. With a grunt, he stalked away, covering Granger's lettering to the best of his ability.
Cho's eyes trailed after the blond sixth year briefly. She almost appreciated his lack of sympathy. If pity could kill…She folded an arm around herself and her books and continued walking. "It's been over a year," she reminded herself. Her pace quickened and she slipped into the library. Hermione Granger was panicked and shrieking at Ron Something-or-another. The librarian was trying to calm her, but there was futility in the act.
"You…give it back!"
"Give what back, Hermione! You're acting bloody crazy."
"Just give it back!" the brunette shrieked, hitting inhumane notes as she struck the red-head. Hermione had never looked quite so terrifying. With red blotchy cheeks and teeth bared mid-strident cry, she looked like a girl possessed.
Ron grit his teeth, looking down at the inflamed girl before him. "I don't have a sodding clue as to what's going on," he growled.
Hermione raised her wand and flicked it before throwing the thief's curse at her friend. When nothing happened, she relaxed only a little. "Fine." Madam Pince glowered at Hermione for what was probably the first time. "I'm…sorry," she mumbled and scurried out of the library before the librarian could comment. Cho laughed to herself as Ron followed Hermione's exit. Pince glared at the pair fiercely until they escaped down the hall.
The raven-haired girl sat in a corner of the library and began reading. Reality slipped away with each page turned, fading out as the author's world came to life, dancing before her mind's eye. This gift was the reason why she had been chosen for Ravenclaw. It wasn't as though everyone in the House had it–it was just convenient, and the immersion reinforced her memory–making it seem almost photographic.
Dusty photographs littered the room. Some of them were done with muggle film, and the people were stationary, smiling blandly up at nothing. Harry collected the pictures slowly while Hedwig rested on in a corner. The one-room home was hidden well. It took quite a lot of convincing on Hedwig's part to make the young wizard nose dive off of a cliff and into the sheer rock below. Sirius probably hadn't made the hideout alone. When they had gotten here, the room was an empty kitchen. After about an hour, it changed into a living room, and it has been that way since. Harry was pretty sure Hermione would know how to disenchant the shifting rooms, but he hadn't invited her along. She wasn't a huge fan of flying anyway.
He wasn't entirely sure how much time he had before the room changed again, but he studied each picture with intensity. If the rooms could be switched, then, at some point, they would shift back. He recognized some figures–a young Lucius Malfoy scowling in a dress, Peter Pettigrew sleeping with his thumb in his mouth, and the list went on. He came across a picture of his mother. His heart lurched as he studied every line of her face. The picture was flat–muggle-ish. The room changed as he stared into his mother's eyes. The straw bed felt as bad as it looked, but Harry was too entranced to notice his discomfort. He fell asleep with the picture in hand.