Refer to Chapter 1 for disclaimer

Oh WOW! Ok, I'm really excited. So this chapter ended up being a lot longer than I expected, in fact it's long enough to be at least two chapters, but I felt it need to be kept together…. Ok, so enough of that…

THIS IS IT! This is the big chapter! Hopefully some of the mystery will finally be revealed. Mind you, I'm not going to hand it to you on a silver platter, but you should be able to figure some things out… just don't go over thinking it, I'm really not that complex. lol. And just a fair warning, if I did my job correctly, you should be very confused at the beginning here, but eventually if not now, very soon, everything will make sense. I cannot promise however that this entire chapter won't completely confuse you, and make you horribly angry at me. Let us hope not.

OK! Read and enjoy.

Dieing, she realized, was nothing like she thought it would be. It wasn't like sitting alone waiting for an eventual end. Knowing that its there and being able to see it quickly approaching with every sharp breath.

No, that was the view of death to one who sat on the outskirts fearing death because they still held onto their youthful energy.

But Katie knew, as she lay quietly drifting off to sleep, just as the sun was setting and the light shone a gentle stream through the small window. That the reality was, that once death had you in its tight grasp and was just waiting to pull you under, that there was a gentle peace, a knowledge that this would be just one more adventure, and the knowledge that every adventure has a purpose.

She had lived a good life, and loved well. She had never done anything of too much importance or of too much excitement really. She had seen all she wished to see and no more. She didn't feel as though she was going to miss anything, her purpose here was finally complete… or was it?

Katie rolled over slightly, her muscles aching as she did so, and looked at the wall beside her bed. Against it hung a calendar of grassy fields and rural cottages, which had for as long as she could remember hung there.

Time was something Katie rarely thought about… It didn't matter much to her anymore whether it was June or July, April or May… and the year mattered even less for she had seen too many pass her by. But nevertheless she had always hung a new calendar on the first of ever January without fail. And every month she would robotically flip the page. But almost never did she take note of it.

So why did she now have the sudden urge to examine it so? It was September of 2012. She always liked September, the summer was fading away and the winter was approaching, so it was almost as if spring had appeared if only for a little while between the heat and harsh cold. But other than that, the date meant nothing to her.

Sighing, Katie turned away from the wall, the sky outside almost black, and closed her eyes, letting sleep gently take her away.

A young woman of no more than twenty, youthful in spirit and looks laughed as she ran through the grassy field. Her blonde hair, long and almost to her waist blew softly behind her, her smile innocent and carefree.

She ran as if something were chasing her, not something to be afraid but rather a childhood playmate.

It was Katie, many years ago when she was at her prime, her beauty was unmistakable and her worries non existent. It was the time she looked back upon most fondly, when her most joyful memories lived, and her most exciting adventure lie.

And then suddenly, the dream Katie was having, the one she had enjoyed many times over was suddenly, and without warning ripped out of her mind, like a reader tearing the page out of a book.

Her mind was dark now; there was nothing, no sound, no movement, nothing at all. It was a strange sensation; nothing like sleep… it was something few could understand, for few had ever felt it.

True, Katie had experienced such a sensation before; it was not completely foreign to her. But she had been so sure the visions would never return that she had almost convinced herself over the past years that they had never existed, that they were creations of her younger imagination that has blossomed into an extravagant assumption that she could in fact see things that were not meant for her eyes. She had once been sure it was a gift, for there was no other way to explain it. They had happened so frequently as a child and young adult, and she always had purpose in seeing them… and yet when they stopped, for decades on end. She was sure they had never really existed.

The darkness that lay in front of her was frightening at first, as it had been so many years ago. But slowly she calmed herself, and waited for the vision that was coming to her.

And suddenly, just as she had accepted its coming, a painting appeared before her. It looked so familiar and yet so foreign. Like a déjà vu. Who she saw next however was a face she had never forgotten.

He was a young man, Harry Potter, "the boy who lived" as she remembered from before her days in the wizarding world. Now of course she heard little to nothing of the happenings there. However she had known he'd be great far before even the wisest of wizards. And although she'd never admit to it, in her elderly state, he was half the reason she insisted they leave.

But the last photo she'd seen of him had been of a very small boy with the scar she remembered so clearly.

However, this man standing before her was what she truly remembered; he looked exactly as he had so many years ago. He had he same handsome charms and mess of hair, same round glasses that gave him that childish essence.

And as she watched him, standing almost stone still, all the memories came rushing back so quickly it made her flinch, even as she slept.

Harry looked at the painting, the painting which Katie now certainly recognized, and with a small smile took a cloth and covered its beautiful surface. And although he said nothing, she heard through his actions, as if someone was whispering in her ear. 'He was going to forget her… and it will be too late'.

And as quickly as it came the vision went, awaking Katie to quick sharp breaths, and a cold sweat.

It was morning now; the sky was bright and blue, no longer dark. Glancing quickly to the calendar September 2012 no longer meant nothing to her as it had the night before.

Gasping she put her hands over her mouth. "Oh my god." Her exclamation was muffled and quiet. Her old and tired face etched in concern and worry.

She remembered now… he had told her… how could she have forgotten?

Still breathing heavy Katie called out to her granddaughter. "Carla."

Moments later the much younger woman, still wearing her night clothes came rushing in, a look of worry etched across her face.

"What is it Grandma, are you alright?" Her concern was now worse upon seeing her grandmother in such a nervous state.

"What has become of Harry Potter?" Katie said bluntly, disregarding how odd the question sounded.

Carla was taken aback. It was certainly not a question she had expected. Her grandmother had never cared about the wizarding world, as far back as she could remember her grandparents had lived in this small muggle town and never discussed anything that happened in her own society. Why in god's name would she care about Harry Potter? As far as she knew, her grandmother didn't even know who Harry Potter was.

"Harry Potter?" She questioned. "What do you mean Grandma?"

"He still lives does he not? What is he doing? Do you know where he is?" Katie asked again almost desperately.

Carla composed herself, having never seen her grandmother so forceful. "Last time I heard he had taken up a position as a professor at Hogwarts."

Katie thought hard, thinking back to those fondly forgotten memories…

"Of course." The exclamation was almost silent as it seeped from her lips, her eyes downcast.

Carla stood silently waiting as her grandmother continued in her train of thought.

"Carla. Will you send him a letter? I need to see him; I need to tell him something."

"Harry Potter?…Why?" Carla was bewildered. What would this old woman, completely removed from the wizarding world need with Harry Potter?

"No. No, I must see him. If you write the letter I know he will come."

Carla stood stone still, her mouth open in shock… Harry Potter, come here and visit her sick grandmother? Certainly not.

"Carla!" Katie snapped, her nerves frayed, and her kind patience taken over by the sudden urgency.

She nodded and turned around to find the stationary in the other room.

Lying back against the head board, her almost white hair messed around her face, Katie took a deep breath to calm her nerves. She only hoped it wasn't too late.

And as she sat there, she couldn't help but feel her energy for life return, if not just awhile. She had been wrong in her assumption that life no longer needed her… no she was still needed, just once more.

Harry looked down at the letter on the floor in pure bewilderment. It couldn't be possible… how on earth could this woman know anything? And did she in fact know anything? Was he twisting these words to fit into his own strange delusion?

No, it wasn't possible he thought as he bent down and once more read the words, afraid to touch the parchment as if it would burn him. There was nothing it could be referring to. It was true he had given up on her; he had barely given another thought to the painting down the hall. In fact if it wasn't for this letter, he doubted he would have given it more than a passing thought ever again… he had convinced himself that what he had felt before was nothing but a strange obsession… he obsessed over beauty, he always had.

Taking the letter in his hand and looking at it once more, instead of feeling scared he seemed to draw strength from its thin presence. This time he would not give up for he knew, for absolute certain, that he was involved in something greater than himself. He would not rest until he had solved this mystery.

He was no longer afraid of what it was he would find, there was a peace telling him that everything would be alright as long as he refused to give up.

And that was exactly what he planned to do.

There was only one place to begin… and that is where he had started.

Opening the door marked with the number nine, he stepped in, shivering at the cold chill that swept through the space.

Immediately going over to the painting, he uncovered the surface and was greeted with her soft smile.

"And to think I almost gave up on you." He told her, though she could not hear his quiet loving words.

Taking a moment he simply stared at the paint, absorbing every line and every curve, hoping to find something he had missed. But to no avail, for it was the same as it had been the first time he'd memorized it.

And then an idea hit him, it was true, he had seen the front of this painting, and knew it like his own reflection. But there was one side he had yet to discover. Common sense told him that the back side of a painting meant nothing, but his common sense had failed him before.

Standing up and gently turning it over, he set it back against the wall and crouched down once again to examine the yellowish canvas that was nailed into the frame.

At first glance it appeared to be completely blank, nothing but discolored marks gracing its surface. And then he spotted it, four small numbers in the top right hand corner.

1934

"1934." He said aloud. It must have been the date which it was painted. That however still did not answer any questions; the date meant nothing to him personally. It didn't explain his connection to this painting, this girl.

Setting it back, so that the paint faced forward, Harry recovered the surface.

He had to think of something. There had to be somewhere else to go. He could hear Hermione in the back of his head pushing him in the direction of the library… for that was her answer to everything, but frankly he didn't have enough to work off of. He had no where to start…

And then he heard Ron's boyish voice encouraging him to break the rules, the thing they were most skilled at as students.

"Of course" he exclaimed aloud before rushing to the door, a smile etched across his face.

Why hadn't he thought of it before? It wasn't the perfect solution… he may not find anything. But then again the 'Room of Records' was said to hold record of everything at Hogwarts. It held all the current as well as past students grades… not to mention the book which predicted incoming students long before it was their time to enter the school. Yes, this room held record of just about everything, perhaps even something as unimportant as old antiques.

Surely he would find something there… the problem was… only the headmaster and teachers were permitted entrance… so how was he going to get–

Harry laughed as he continued down the hall. "You are a teacher." He told himself.

Sometimes he slipped into that state of mind which told him he was only a student who had to misbehave to achieve his goals.

Coming to the end of the hall on the second floor where he knew the room resided, he stopped in front of a tall painting of a man sitting at a desk stacked with piles upon piles of papers. He sat, his head down writing furiously with an old black quill.

"Excuse me sir?" Harry asked loudly.

The man looked up at him, squinting through his glasses.

He appeared very wise but very overworked. "Yes?"

"I need to check the records of… "Harry thought for a moment, "A student who has been giving me trouble in a class." He hoped his story was believable.

The man lowered his glasses even more and gazed over their thin rims. "Oh yes, you must be the new defense against the dark arts teacher. You must be Harry Potter."

Harry smiled.

"Do you have the password." His voice was shaky and rough, though kind.

"I haven't been given this one yet. I'm new, and I really don't have time to go to the headmaster and ask for it." He said, praying he could find a way around having to talk to McGonagall.

The man grunted, "I'm afraid I cannot let you through my boy." Then sliding his glasses over his nose he looked down at his work again.

Harry clutched his fist tightly and cursed under his breath.

The man seemed to see his frustration and smirked. "Son, you will learn with time that the professors here do not like complication."

"Might I suggest you try the password which gave you entrance into the room where you had that teachers meeting last week." He continued.

"I believe that opens many of the rooms only professors have entrance to."

And with that, he looked back down at his paper and continued to write.

"Key lime pie?" Harry questioned in amusement. But just as quickly as he spoke the words, the frame opened revealing the round hole behind it.

"Thanks" Harry yelled before scurrying in.

Once inside he marveled at the giant walls holding thick old leather books. Walking around skimming his finger over the many bindings, he began to feel hopeless at ever finding the one he had come in search of.

Harry rolled up his sleeves in defiance and began to read each and every title.

An hour or so later

Harry's muscle's hurt from balancing on the latter that let him reach the many higher shelves.

But to his amazement he had finally found the book he had been searching for. It wasn't as thick as many of the others so was hard to spot. It had been just between a volume entitled, "Record of The Contents of Closet Number 8," and "Record of The Contents of Closet Number 10."

Brushing the dust off the cover he opened to the first page. It held a small description of a painting he hadn't remembered seeing, followed by an explanation for the reasons of its removal.

Flipping to the next page and then the next after it, he began to search for the painting which haunted him, determined to find some answers.

Finally after seeing far more meaningless pages than he would have cared to see he found it.

Jumping a little and smiling, he immediately began reading the page, which was unusually short, compared to the others.

What he discovered as he read however, was far beyond what he anticipated. In fact it was the last thing he expected.

Description: A woman wearing a blue dress sits with a fan and looks out over a garden, behind her sits a tall vase.

The explanation was short, and vastly under glorified its beauty. But, pushing that aside he continued reading, the next part surely being of more importance to him.

This painting is a muggle portrait accepted by Hogwarts during the fall of 1934 along with the sum of 6 galleons to be stored in its vaults by a Mr. H. Potter for the unforeseeable future.

Phew! Ok, so just a few side notes. I decided to count back seven years from now… which would make it 2012… and the war would have ended in 2005.

Secondly… I doubt anyone noticed, but what happens here doesn't completely match up with what Carla said in the letter she sent to Harry in the last chapter, so I went back and revised it. It's not really that important, it simply said that Katie had spent days asking for Harry, which I decided wasn't true. That's all.

And lastly, in the back of mind I thought I recalled mention of a "room of records" or something like that in the books. But I couldn't find anything… so if anyone can answer that mystery that would be great. Otherwise, I'm just cool and made it up. lol.

Ok, now for my review responses! AND DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW! It's such a lovely feeling checking my e-mail and finding those nice little reviews.

lia23– Oh the suspense… well we're going to find out more about Katie soon, but until then I think I've provided you with a few more things to ponder… have fun!

dementorchic – Good! I want you worked up, that makes me happy… and thanks for the compliments!

chocolaterules – I know, I hate cliff hangers too, but only when their in other people's stories. But when their my cliffhangers I love em. It's a sad truth. I've recently noticed that I leave every chapter at a cliff hanger, sorry about that… however the time will come when cliffhangers aren't really needed, there will come a time when the story will slow down a little. Let us hope.

humor my lips – I did thank my friend… in fact you can thank her your self… she's my best friend Katie a.k.a. "KT" and she's who I'm writing… well… Katie, after… lol…

Anywho, I bet you're a better writer than you think you should give it a go, write a one-shot or something! I dunno. OK! So I hope you're not mad at me for giving yet another cliff hanger but I hope you liked the chapter!

P.S. I love your screen name… I envy it, its cool.

Sybyll – haha… he does sound like Snape huh… well I am unfortunately one of those weird die hard Snape fans; it's probably rubbing off…

But more seriously, I think I write him like that cause I'm trying to portray some kind of forced maturity I dunno? But I love little immature Harry better, and he's coming back soon ;)

KT – Look how cool I am! I'm writing a review response even though you didn't review. Whatever… I told you you were cool! Aren't you cool! And you'll get even cooler later.

Ok, love ya!

"Somewhere over the rainbow…" Déjà vu?