Maaike, if you are reading this, then it means my messages have once again failed to reach you. If you could just drop me a line or something saying whether you want to continue then I'd be grateful. I don't think it's your fault or anything, just something that happens.

Thanks anyway,

And for you guys who reviewed, here's the second part of your reward; another chapter. Enjoy the double-ness of it.

On Hugs, Hurts and Horror

Harry sat down at the back in Transfiguration. Potions had been reasonably easy what with Gryffindor only losing twenty-five points within the two hour period. Snape hadn't been lurking over Harry's shoulder every five minutes for some reason. He hadn't even said two words to him and only once looked at him. In fact, Snape had almost seemed to be avoiding Harry, choosing to instead hover menacingly over Ron and Hermione's shoulders and bark insults at them instead. Harry didn't know why but he wasn't complaining. For the first time in over four years Potions hadn't been horrifically humiliating and confusing to Harry. It hadn't been easy but he actually understood what Snape was saying and it was made all the easier due to the lack of distractions. The Slytherins had taken to acting the same as their Head of House, and ignored Harry and he was happy to do the same. Only Malfoy looked curiously at Harry when he thought he wasn't looking and only did it once.

Harry had left the classroom and travelled to Transfiguration through more hidden passages and corridors, his hours wandering the castle in previous years coming into their own now.

His second class passed in a flash of time, and the only thing he could say for definite was that McGonagall wasn't going easy on them this year. In his bag was a sheaf of notes written on pieces of old parchment, he had found in the bottom of his school bag. He would need more before the day was out, Harry remembered. The fifth year-no sixth year now - Ravenclaw, Robert Rohurn did a brisk trade in parchment because his father owned Rohurn 'Ritings, which made cheap parchment. During exam season, Hermione gave him a fortune for parchment to make notes. Harry made a mental note to ask him at lunch. Until then he had enough to last him.

During break, Harry went to his dorm to investigate what supplies he actually had. Potions supplies could be borrowed, he decided, eyeing his Potions box with it's content still half full, thanks to the lack of lessons because of the tri-wizard tournament. He could borrow from Snape's student stores if he didn't actually have it. His books would arrive in less than a week and until then he had the spare ones from the library. He still had several bottles of ink and a few battered but still serviceable quills from Hermione. When he considered it, the only thing he was really lacking in was robes and stuff he wanted rather than needed.

Like stuff from Zonko's and Quidditch books, stuff he wanted and didn't have to have.

Looking at his watch, which by way of a small miracle still worked, Harry saw it was five minutes till the end of break. He decided to make his way to the Charms classroom and bag a seat at the back. He reached into his pocket for his letter but the warning from this morning came to mind "You'd best open this when you are sure you are alone,"

Harry heard the sounds of creaking portraits that hung around the room and recalled that they oftentimes talked to each other and students. If it was so important that McGonagall had to ask for secrecy it didn't need to be spread around the school. He removed his hand and closed his trunk. The soft thud echoed in the air. Harry locked it, pushed it back beside his bed and left the room. He fair flew down the stairs and out of the portrait hole aware of the time. Using the secret routes yet again he made it to Charms with three minutes to spare. He slid into a seat at the back, just as the others were all filing in. They had Charms with the Ravenclaws and Rohurn was sitting just in front of him. Just as Harry was about to reach out and tap him on the shoulder, Rohurn turned round and thrust a large parcel at him. "There you go," Rohurn said.

"Err, thanks" Harry said, "How much do I owe you?"

"Eh? Owe? Nothing. It's all been paid for."

"I don't remember paying for it." Harry stared at the box. He certainly hadn't ordered any parchment with his books.

"Nah, me da said it was a donor who wished to remain anonymous." Rohurn laughed, "Great gift though. Thirty rolls of Fine Weave Parchment of the best quality and two dozen falcon feather quills. Bloodstone and onyx ink the most expensive known. All the letter said was that the parchment was to be delivered to Master H. Potter currently of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. All paid for."

Harry was about to protest when he noticed the letter shoved down the side of the paper wrapping. "Eh, thanks Robert."

"No problem." He turned around and left Harry to his letter. Flitwick was still in absence and the class was casually chatting amongst themselves. Harry pulled out the letter, and stared at the address. The address was his, just as Rohurn had said but on the envelope on the bottom left had corner was written, 4 Privet Drive, Little Whingeing, Surrey, London. Only Ron and Hermione and a few select knew the address. But why would they have sent him the parchment? Why not simply give it to him? He turned it over. There where the seal should have been, the words, Enon kaepsi te ylla raehil laeesi. Flesym otdnibo tenim dnadol hotenimdna eesotenime eratsa pehtdnat neserpehte rutufeht, were written in elegant calligraphy.

Harry didn't know what the hell it meant, having never learnt another language or taken ancient runes. He folded the letter away as Flitwick's hat swept his desk and sat up straighter.

As the lesson devolved into question and answer time Harry began playing with the words he had seen written round the edge of the envelope. He distantly remembered the many hours of sitting in his cupboard with Dudley's homework when he was around eight.

Their teacher had gone through a phase of word play and one of her favorites involved writing whole sentences backwards. Applying that rule, Harry wrote out, I see all, I hear all yet I speak none. The future, the present and the past are mine to see and mine to hold and mine to bind to myself. A riddle. Harry hated riddles. The one in the maze last year had been hard enough; this was even harder.

Folding the sheet away, Harry turned his attention back to Flitwick as the diminutive professor demonstrated a new spell to the class.

Harry left the classroom, his mind still consumed with the riddle. He looked around for Ron and Hermione but they were conspicuously absent from the corridor. Shrugging it off to a random occurrence Harry made his down to lunch with the rest of his year and was soon in the Great Hall. Seamus waved him over to sit with him, Dean and Neville. "Hi Harry," Dean greeted him warmly, and Neville did the same. Seamus hugged him enthusiastically.

"Umm…Seamus, I'm pleased to see you too, but why are you hugging me?" Harry asked.

"Sorry mate." Seamus said apologetically, "It's just good to see you again."

"Seamus, you saw him last night…" Dean unfastened Seamus from around Harry and Harry could finally breathe. "You didn't manage to actually change water into rum did you?"

Seamus pouted, "No, why?"

Harry just watched as Dean tried to patiently explain to Seamus why he only saw Harry last night and shouldn't therefore need to hug him like that again and Seamus equally patiently tried to explain he should go around hugging Harry because he didn't get nearly enough hugs. Harry and Neville just sat back and watched the two. When the argument settled down, Neville said, "Do you remember how we all met?"

Dean laughed to himself, making everyone look at him, "it's we all made a little family didn't we? Big Brother Dean, Middle Brother Neville and Middle brother Seamus."

"And what was Harry?" Neville asked.

"Our little brother."

Harry smiled. He had a family of sorts, strange and odd though it was, it was his.

"Hey, guys. Do any of you do riddles?" He asked.

"Yeah, I do sometimes" Seamus said, "Why?"

"Just wanted to know if you heard this one before."

"There ain't many I've not heard before." Seamus said, "Tell it me, then."

"I see all, I hear all yet I speak none. The future, the present and the past are mine to see and mine to hold and mine to bind to myself" Harry recited for Seamus, "Do you know it?"

"Nah. Sounds like one of the old ones. Them ones that go back hundreds of years and they used to send messages with 'em. Me nan might know."

"Nah don't bother." Harry turned back to his dinner but didn't miss the look on Seamus's face. "What?"

"Harry, don't take this the wrong way or nothing but don't…don't go telling anyone else of that riddle yeah?" Seamus looked shifty, like he knew something he wasn't telling.

"Why?"

"Because I've heard of 'em. Those old riddles. They're not meant for others to hear them. And you en't supposed to have us help you."

"Why?" Dean asked, "I mean, it's just a riddle-"

"No it's not." Neville joined in, "They're old riddles from an old source and only the purebloods are meant to understand them."

"But Seamus isn't pureblood and neither am I." Harry didn't understand. It was all a bit beyond him.

"Me nan was. On my mum's side." Seamus looked apologetic. "Sorry mate. You's meant to find out on your own."

"Oh. Okay." Harry didn't understand but he could see that there was something that neither Seamus or Neville were telling him. Well, if he wasn't going to get help then he would find out on his own or Hermione might know.

"And Harry?"

"Yeah Seamus?"

"I wouldn't go running to Hermione either. She's not meant to hear it."

"What? Why all the secrecy?!" Harry could feel himself getting angry.

"Harry, that riddle was sent to you right? That means you were meant to figure it out. Those riddles are usually sent to people who are going-"

Neville was cut of by Seamus "going places that we do not talk about because it does not concern us, right Neville?"

Harry looked at them both. Both boys looked deadly serious for once and neither of them were about to budge an inch.

"Fine." He said abruptly.

"Sorry Harry." Seamus apologized before turning the conversation to what happened in the holidays.

Harry listened with half an ear to the conversation.

The other parts of his mind were consumed with the riddle. No-one could help him answer it and it wouldn't be answered on its own.

Absently spooning a mouthful of mash and gravy into his mouth Harry considered it further. It was something to with time, all the references to past present and future proved that. A clock? But a clock couldn't hear. Unless it was a magical one but even so it didn't bind time to itself and it could only tell the present time. It couldn't do past or future.

And a clock didn't own time.

Harry mused on it further, before leaving to go to the library. He said he'd meet the other three in Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Once in there, he meandered down the many aisles of books, relishing the silence. Vernon had made the house so loud with his drunken yelling and Dudley's music (he'd discovered heavy bass) hadn't helped. Now he was addicted to silence.

Finding himself in a far corner with a few books on the shelves Harry had a look at one of the titles. "Heritage and Heirs" was chained to the shelf with heavy iron chains and next to it was "Inheriting and Information" also chained to the shelf.

But what drew Harry's eye was the book chained under the window. "The Blooded and Rituals" was heavily bound to a table, its pages stained with mysterious bloodlike clouds. It gave off an ominous air, casting a dark shadow on the atmosphere.

Harry picked it up, the chains rattling and clinking like warnings to him. He tried to put it on the table but the chains drew up short, forbidding him to take the book. Replacing it on the shelf, Harry gently opened the cover and almost gagged on the scent emerging from the tome; blood, old and stale but unmistakable after the summer Harry had just endured. Rank, thick and heady, it rushed up to meet Harry, engulfing him and opening doors in his mind to memories long forgotten.

Harry staggered away from the shelf, his senses reeling. VernonDudleybeatingspainhorrorfeartrailsthebeltrunhidefearVernonstickbloodpunishmentbadboy.

The words surrounded him, rushed at him, forced him into a world of chanting evil words and horror. Panting, frightened Harry turned and turned trying to escape the words, only to find that they followed him.

His world turned black. And finally silence.

Sometime later Harry returned to the present, his neck aching and his hands bloody from where he had fallen on them. He sat up slowly, his mind confused. The light from the windows was lower, yellowier than he remembered. Suddenly he glanced at his watch. Class started in less than two minutes. Harry scrambled to his feet, turning to look back at the book. It sat innocently on the shelf, its chains shining and perfectly still. Harry didn't turn his back to the back all the time he could still see it, and even then he turned to look over his shoulder every few seconds. He could still feel the books' presence around him, even though he was nearly three floors away from it.

Just incase you didn't see the real riddle, here it is again:

I see all, I hear all yet I speak none. The future, the present and the past are mine to see and mine to hold and mine to bind to myself

And that's all for now folks.

Have pity on a ill student and review ne? I like reviews. They're better than the horrible medicine the doc gave me.

Please?!

Okay, I'll stop begging. It's hurting my hands and I'm sleepy. Nighty-night.