The work goes on, the cause endures, the hope still lives and the dreams shall never die.

Edward Kennedy

Standing Strong

Standing across from the Dark Lord I knew I wasn't going to live. I had a wild hope that I would, but I knew it was just that, a hope.

Now, surrounded by nothingness, I knew I was right.

I had never really thought about death; I was too content with living, making a place for myself. The only thing I knew was that when I did eventually die I would finally have an answer to all my questions. Here I was though, surrounded by a white fog, and I still had no idea who I was.

As I walked aimlessly through the swirling fog I noticed something in the distance. I hurried ahead hoping for something, but not knowing what it could be. The fog began to recede and I found myself in a small grove. Large trees surrounded me and flowers of every color were in bloom.

It was beautiful.

Without meaning to I spoke my next thought aloud. "Where am I?"

I didn't expect a response, but there was one. "A familiar place."

Turning around quickly I came face to face with a beautiful women. She had warm honey colored eyes, light tanned skinned and long dark brown hair that fell in a strait curtain down her back. I didn't know her, and I didn't know this familiar place. "But I don't…"

She interrupted me before I could finish my statement, "Look again."

I did look, and though the grove hadn't changed, it became something else. I knew this place now, I just didn't know how.

"How?" I questioned.

She gave a soft laugh that sounded like music and with a smile answered my question. "I used to play with you here."

She spoke the truth, but my mind and heart couldn't reconcile these words. I was missing too much.

"But I don't know you."

"Yes you do." She laughed. "You just don't remember."

At those words a hope rose in me that I had never felt. This woman knew who I was, and she knew I couldn't remember; most importantly though, she seemed to care for me. "You know me?"

She nodded her head with a "yes."

At that simple word tears began to flow from my eyes and I could only think of one thing to ask. "Who?"

"I'm sorry." She said with a sad smile. "I can't tell you that."

I almost chocked out my next words, "Why?"

"If I told you now you would never accept them. Your heart has to find the answer for itself."

"What do you mean?" I asked confused, "Aren't I dead?"

"No," she laughed. "You aren't dead. "

That was a surprise, but I still didn't understand her earlier words. "What do you mean I would never accept them? Who would I never accept?"

"What is the one thing you have always wanted, but at the same time feared?"

I knew what she meant, but I couldn't say the words aloud. I knew it would only cause more pain. I was curious though, "What if I never find them?"

She laughed that beautiful laugh again. "Trust me, my sphinx, you will."

"What..?"

Before I could ask about the name she had called me she continued.

"Your life has not, and will not be easy. But you are strong enough to get through. Never doubt that. I know it will be difficult but you have to open up; let them love you, and let yourself love them in return. You need their help, and they need yours."

With that last cryptic statement the woman turned around and began walking away. I opened my mouth to stop her but before I had a chance she began to fade before my eyes. The grove was empty now; less beautiful, but more familiar. I fell to my knees and with a sob I laid my head on the damp ground and wept.

WHO-KNOW-WHO ATTACKS ITALIAN SCHOOL

By Natalie Wingburn

Last night at around 11:00 CET He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named himself led a vicious attack on a small school in Northern Italy. The Milan Accademia di Magico is home to less then one hundred and fifty students and more then ninety percent are Muggleborn. According to sixth year Leonardo Mancini the high percentage is due to the fact that the prominent Italian School of Magic, Marcello's Scuola di Magia will not admit Muggleborns, "Marcello's is led by a bunch of Purebloods who think that we don't deserve to learn magic. Madam Chevelle, the Headmistress was an Italian Muggleborn who went to Beauxbatons because she couldn't go to Marcellos. She graduated top of her class and when that school wouldn't give her a job teaching DADA she started up the Accademia. She was the best teacher ever, and she gave all of us a chance to prove ourselves." Maria Chevelle is also held responsible for the Italian National Dueling Board's decision to allow Muggleborns to compete six years ago.

It is believed that Maria Chevelle's crusade is the very reason that the Accademia was attacked. According to a prominent member of Italian Wizard society, Paolo DeNardo, "Chevelle has been a nuisance for the past ten years. Those children will never succeed and she gave them false hope. Muggleborns cannot grasp magic the way purebloods can and the fact that she was vocally adamant that this is not true is the reason the school was attacked. I pray that there is not enough money to rebuild."

Though the attack was unexpected, there was some warning. According to many students, a sixth year by the name of James De Luca was seen to be leaving the dorms just moments before the attack. Many know the young man as the Jr International Dueling champion, but what many people don't know is that he is rumored to have the gift of precognition. The students and teachers alike accredit him to marginalizing the attack. The headmistress had just enough warning to call for help before all communication was cut off. There are reports of intense fighting but the staff and Mr. De Luca were able to hold off the Death Eaters until Albus Dumbledore came and forced the attackers to retreat.

There were casualties though; Madam Maria Chevelle, Healer Raul Trilby, Potions master Simone Vicini and his chemist wife Giulietta Vicini were killed in battle. Numerous teachers, as well as James De Luca, were also injured. The school is reported to be too damaged to reopen this year, and though Defense Master Darius Maschio, who will become Headmaster, refused to comment, we have learned that he has asked Hogwarts and Beubaxtons to take the students in until the Accademia can be reopened next year.

Hermione Granger had barely finished reading the article when one of her best friends interrupted her.

"Look at Malfoy." At Michael's insistence Hermione looked towards the serpents table.

A low whistle from her other side drew her attention before she could comment. "He looks like the bloody Baron decided to take up residence in his dorm." Ron Weasley remarked. "I thought he would have been peeved. Dirty mudbloods getting one over his Lord and all."

"Ron!" Hermione chided. "Don't say that! You don't know he's a Deatheater."

"It doesn't matter." Michael interrupted. "Ron is right though, Malfoy does look scared. I mean he's been agitated since we got here, but…"

"Of coarse he's agitated. Daddy dearest is locked up in Azkaban. He's probably embarrassed and wondering when the Ministry will come for him."

At the Red heads statement both Michael and Hermione rolled their eyes. Michael responded, "It's not that, he's really worried and it's taking its affect."

At that moment the object of their discussion stood up and stormed out of the hall. Numerous eyes followed the path the aristocrat took and when he was fully gone even more whispers broke out.

"Well, whatever it is, it's bloody tragic." The sarcasm was evident in the purebloods voice. "I mean, he hasn't bothered us yet. This might end up being a good year yet"

At the reminder Hermione's eyes lit up. "Especially with the foreign students coming."

"You think that true?" Ron asked as he stuffed another forkful of egg in his mouth. "That Those Italians are coming here?"

Turning his gaze away from Ron's mouthful of food Michael looked at the head table; the headmaster was still not there and neither was the school's nurse.

With a shake of his head he turned back to his friends and answered with a shrug, "I wouldn't bet against it."

"Michael's right. I don't think the headmaster would reject the students. Especially if the article is true and the other Italian school won't let them in." Hermione commented before continuing more excited. "I am so excited to meet them. How many do you think will come here? I hope they speak English, or at least French. I might have to brush up. Aren't you excited? This will be a great opportunity to learn about a new culture."

"Mione? Michael interrupted his friend with a grin. "You're rambling again."

At her look of disbelief Ron nodded his head and said. "He's right Mione. Besides, if you really want to learn about Italy why not go talk to Zambini? He's Italian."

"I can't ask him." She whispered in embarrassment. "He's a Slytherin. Besides, he might not be as bad as Malfoy but I'm sure he wouldn't give me the time of day."

Hermione's blush made Michael believe that there was more to her hesitation then just fear. She was a Gryffindor for Merlin's sake! With a sudden realization he knew; she had already asked him.

When Michael burst out in laughter half the hall looked towards the Gryffindor trio in curiosity.

With a laugh of his own, Ron shook his head and muttered, "And people say I'm nutters."

The darkness pressed into him from all sides.

There was nothing, and for a moment he was no one. The feeling seemed vaguely familiar and it wasn't until his memories flooded back into his mind that he remembered why.

He had wakened with no memory before.

Thankfully, the lack of memory was not permanent this time. James remembered the green light racing towards him and he remembered being sure that his demise was near.

Was he dead? Was his borrowed time finally up?

'I can't be dead.' He thought. 'This isn't what it is supposed to be like.'

James knew he couldn't be dead. Even though he was numb, he felt too alive.

"They want to kill you, but I don't, so I am going to help you escape."

The accented voice surprised him; he could see nothing but darkness. The voice was faint, as if it came from a distance and James knew this voice was coming from his own mind.

"I'm going home? I get to see my mummy and daddy again?"

He knew that voice, it was his. James had never asked that question though.

'Could these be memories?' he thought.

"obliviate"

The voices faded as quickly as they had come and James wondered what had triggered it. He began to frantically search through his memories hoping to find something, anything that was new. After what seemed like days James gave up; he hadn't found any new memories of his childhood but he had come across something that intrigued him. He could tell it was new, but it wasn't from the battle.

'Can you dream after you die?' he wondered.

Coming to no conclusions James put it to the back of his mind and turned his attention to his body. It was only then that James realized that he hurt. Every limb was a heavy weight and every joint was on fire. There was no way that the killing curse didn't hit him but he also never thought that death would hurt so much.

James unconsciously let out a moan.

"James?" A loud voice interrupted his thoughts on the afterlife. "Jimmy? You awake?"

Hearing his friends voice James knew he wasn't dead. He had no idea how, but it was the truth.

James heard the worry in his friend's voice and tried to respond. All that escaped his mouth was another moan.

With a relieved laugh Anthony grabbed James' hand and squeezed.

Clearing his throat before Anthony could start talking James asked? "Tony?"

"Yeah, it's me." He laughed. "Mi amico, you shouldn't be awake."

"Why not?" James groaned.

"Why not? You nearly died you lucky bastard!" He yelled. "A building came down on you and you wonder why you shouldn't be awake yet!"

Anthony took a deep breath to calm his self and continued with an exasperated shake of his head.

"For a while everyone assumed you were dead; Maschio was sure that that the Killing Curse had actually hit you. But there you were alive and well. Well, not well, but alive. They figured that the curse hit some debris before it hit you."

"It didn't hit me?" James asked amazed as he pulled himself into a sitting position.

"No, it didn't!" He exclaimed. "You dueled the dark Lord and survived!"

With a relieved smirk James agreed. "I did. Didn't I?"

When James thought about how proud his mentor would be he was reminded of all that was lost. The smirk left his face and he lowered his head as he asked, "Others didn't though, did they?"

Acknowledging the change of mood Anthony turned somber. "No." he replied. "They didn't"

"Who?" James demanded. "I know of Madam Chevelle and the Vicini's."

"Yeah." Anthony replied. "Trilby also."

James was shocked. "Raul?"

James barely recognized the nod of assent. "When the building came down he wasn't as lucky as you."

James closed his eyes tight, willing the stinging burn to leave. besides the headmistress, Healer Trilby was his favorite; the boisterous Greek was always willing to listen and made his frequent trips to the infirmary bearable. Now he was gone.

'How could he be dead?' he thought.

Wanting to think about something else James looked around the familiar room and noticed that no other bed was occupied. "Where is everyone?"

"They are already up and about." His friend replied. "You were the only one we were really worried about. You're awake now though, so everyone will be relieved. You do have a few new scars to add to your collection, but you know what they say..."

James couldn't help the small smirk that graced him lips. He leaned back into his pillows and asked, "What happened?"

"According to Maschio" Anthony started, "Dumbledore showed up not thirty seconds after the building collapsed on you. Voldemort was hurt…"

"My knife?" He asked in surprise.

"Yeah." He nodded. "Your knife. Anyways, he was hurt, and Maschio had just started to duel him when the English showed up. Voldemort up and ran."

James couldn't believe it. He had actually hurt the Dark Lord. Not even with a wand, but with a simple muggle knife. 'Maybe he's not as unstoppable as everyone believes.'

James was interrupted from his musings when Anthony started talking again. "Dumbledore may have been the reason Voldemort fled, but everyone is calling you the hero."

"I'm no hero." James stated with a shake of his head.

Anthony disagreed. "Yea, you are."

Ignoring Anthony's last statement James asked something that was bothering him. "So who fixed me up? If Trilby…."

"A Madam Pomfrey." Anthony interrupted. "She came after the fighting was over. She's Dumbledore's. When they found you still alive she rushed you here. You took a while to stabilize but once you weren't critical she fixed you right up."

"Where is she now?" He asked as he looked around the infirmary for a second time.

"Don't know." Anthony shrugged. "She left about ten minutes ago and said she would be right back."

"Oh!" he exclaimed before continuing. "I have something of yours. Maschio found it in the rubble and he gave it to me."

As Anthony said this he pulled a wrist band out of his pocket. It was thick black leather and in the center was his sphinx.

"I hope you don't mind." He nervously went on. "The chain was gone so the guys and I transfigured the band. I hope you like it."

Seeing his treasured possession James could help but be filled with gratitude. "My sphinx…"

Once the word slipped from his mouth James heard something like an echo in his mind, "My little Sphinx."

It was clear as day, but for the life of him he could not tell if it was a man's voice or a woman's.

Shaking himself again he looked up at his friend and smiled. "Thanks Tony. It's great."

Before Anthony could reply there was a loud noise and the doors swung open. Not a second later an older women came into sight. "Mr. De Luca!" She exclaimed in surprise. "How on earth? You should have been out for at least a day."

"Opps." He grinned with a shrug. "Healer Trilby always said I was a fast healer."

"Well," she replied. "You may feel fine right now but that doesn't mean you are completely healed. I need to…"

It was at this point that Madam Pomfrey got a good look at his face; more specifically his bright green eyes.

"Oh…" She murmured stunned.

"What?" James asked surprise while Anthony stood to the side looking worried.

"It is nothing." She replied before getting a hold of her self. "I was just surprised about your eyes."

James was about to question her when she continued. "Don't get me wrong, they are beautiful. I just wasn't expecting them to be so green."

James wasn't used to flattery in the Infirmary. He wasn't sure how to respond. He finally gave the nurse a charming smile.

"Ah, thanks?"

With a roll of her eyes the Hogwarts nurse began James De Luca's check-up. Though the eyes and smile were extremely familiar she was nothing but professional and put her thoughts to the back of her mind. She would think about why the boy was familiar later.

It was a glorious Friday afternoon in the Italian countryside. The sun was bright, the soft white clouds made a perfect backdrop against the azure sky, and a light fragranced breeze kept things cool. It was perfect, and James hated it.

He felt that the earth herself should be mourning the loss of Maria Chevelle, and yet here was this perfect day mocking him.

'Shouldn't it at least be raining'?

James stood off to the side watching the service. Maria would have hated it; she hated pomp, and yet there she was, lying in an alabaster coffin surrounded by hundreds of roses. Per his request there was a piano to the right playing soft music. Nothing too sad; Madam Chevelle wouldn't want anyone to cry. Anthony and Nico stood at his side saying nothing. Just giving the support they knew their friend needed.

There were hundreds of people spread out under the canopy that had been placed on the back lawn of the Accademia. The students and teachers took up most of the chairs but there were many faces that James did not recognize; Muggle family and friends, friends from her school days, Italian wizards who believed in her cause, even Albus Dumbledore could be seen among other English wizards.

Maria's muggle sister gave the Eulogy, but James paid no attention. He couldn't take his mind from the last time he had seen her. She was at his side and along with Master Maschio they were watching the final stages of a battle that should have killed all of them. She was relieved, and when she turned her eyes to her student James could see she was proud. James remembered thinking that in the thrill of battle she was never so radiant, so alive. She was a warrior, and James knew she would be happy that she went down fighting.

Silent tears fell from his green eyes and he did nothing to stop them.

James paid no heed to the many people that talked of his teacher, and it wasn't until Anthony squeezed his shoulder that he took notice of what was happening. Darius Maschio was standing in front of the casket and was staring directly at him. Realizing it was his turn to speak, James took a deep breath, wiped the tears from his face, and walked to the front.

When he reached the head of the service he placed his hand on the coffin and lowered his head; his muttered words were carried in the breeze so none of the mourners could hear his words.

Eternal rest, grant unto them, O Lord,
and let perpetual light shine upon them.
May the souls of the faithful departed
through the mercy of God rest in peace.
Amen.

When he finished his prayer James lifted his head and looked over the crowed. He took another deep breath and without meaning to let out a choked laugh. He shook his head clear it and with an apology he began to speak.

"I'm sorry; I don't know what has come over me. Madam Chevelle would have smacked me over my head for how disoriented I am. Maria Chevelle was my mentor and I owe her so much. No words can describe who she was and what she fought for, but I loved her, and I will miss her greatly. She taught me many things but the one thing I will never forget is that life isn't worth living if you can't enjoy it. That life is tough; get over it. And she always told me that sometimes you have to fail to truly appreciate your success.

"Maria Chevelle enjoyed her journey, the good and the bad. She had a goal, and whenever she fell she got up. She knew she might not achieve her goal, reach her mountain, But she showed us, her students the way. Her journey may be over, but we still have many mountains to climb, and I know her advice to all of us would be to enjoy them, and when things get tough, when we fail, get up, push through and continue living.

"Um, I have a song I wanted to share with everyone. I actually wrote this song for Maria; she gave me the idea earlier in the summer and I just finished it last night. She didn't get to hear it but I know she would have loved it. At first I wasn't sure if the song would be appropriate, but I changed my mind, and hope everyone understands why."

With that said James turned around and headed towards the empty piano. He sat down, placed his hands gently on the keys, took a deep breath and began to play a soft melody.

I can almost see it
That dream I am dreaming
But there's a voice inside my head saying
"You'll never reach it"

Every step I'm taking
Every move I make feels
Lost with no direction
My faith is shaking

But I gotta keep trying
Gotta keep my head held high

There's always gonna be another mountain
I'm always gonna wanna make it move
Always gonna be a uphill battle
Sometimes I'm gonna have to lose

Ain't about how fast I get there
Ain't about what's waiting on the other side
It's the climb

The struggles I'm facing
The chances I'm taking
Sometimes might knock me down
But no, I'm not breaking

I may not know it
But these are the moments that
I'm gonna remember most, yeah
Just gotta keep going

And I, I got to be strong
Just keep pushing on

'Cause there's always gonna be another mountain
I'm always gonna wanna make it move
Always gonna be a uphill battle
Sometimes I'm gonna have to lose

Ain't about how fast I get there
Ain't about what's waiting on the other side
It's the climb, yeah!

There's always gonna be another mountain
I'm always gonna wanna make it move
Always gonna be an uphill battle
Somebody's gonna have to lose

Ain't about how fast I get there
Ain't about what's waiting on the other side
It's the climb, yeah!

Keep on moving, keep climbing
Keep the faith, baby
It's all about, it's all about the climb
Keep the faith, keep your faith, whoa

As James' played the last note his hands stilled as he listened to the dying notes. He lowered his head to hide his tears from the other mourners. He felt a hand drop to his shoulder and knew it was Maschio. At the sympathetic touch he knew he had to get out of there before he broke down. Suddenly he pushed back on the bench and stood up, and without a backwards glance James turned on his heel and walked towards the southern boundary.

James never knew how much his song had affected the crowed; that in the fading light there was not a single eye that had not shed a tear. His thoughts were only on the mentor he had lost and how in just a few hours he would be at Hogwarts. A new chapter of his life was about to begin, and he had n idea that he would be in the center of a war he had always been fighting.

For now he just walked, and remembered.

A/N

The Climb lyrics by Miley Cyrus

So how did everyone like the first person in the first section? I wasn't sure about it but I couldn't write it any other way. Anyone know who the woman is? Brownie points for anyone who guesses.

Hope this chapter satisfied you all after what I was told was an evil cliffhanger. Was it really that bad? You all knew I wasn't going to kill him off. The question is was he AK'ed or did the debris really block it? I'm not telling…

So James was going to get to Hogwarts this chapter but I had to end it at the funeral. I wasn't going to include it but then James sat down at that darn piano and the scene took on a life of its own. I hope everyone like it, especially electric2book.

I wasn't quite satisfied with this chapter but I wanted to get it out before school starts next week. Thanks again for reading and I hope you review. Toodles!