Right. After however many months of silence, I IS BACK! –evil laugh- ahem. Moving on...I is back and if I get five reviews on this I'll post the next chapter immediately. Otherwise you're waiting until August. Just five little reviews...

You can do it! I know you guys can –hopes-

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Of Annoyance, Actions, And Actualisations

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He was getting sick of this, Harry thought slamming the cubicle door behind him. Outside Ron's feet wandered up and down by the sinks. Neither Ron nor Hermione were letting him out of their sight, now going so far as to escort him to the toilet. It was beginning to feel oppressive and distinctly annoying. Why the hell were they following him everywhere? After yesterday, he had been half convinced they wanted no more to do with him, ignoring him all the way through meals and lessons and then cutting him off when he tried to speak. Today was the exact opposite. They sat one either side of him in the Great Hall and sat next to him in lesson, far bloody closer than they needed to be. Every time Dean or Seamus had tried to talk to him, Harry was either hustled off under the excuse of "I thought you didn't like him..." or even better Hermione's excuse of "We need to go to the Library to do homework..." It was the second day. How many essays had Harry managed to get in less than forty-eight hours? Precisely two. One from naturally came from Snape (the git) and the other from McGonagall. Neither in for another month. He had plenty of time and Harry had made up better lies in his sleep and he was getting progressively more annoyed with his two best friends-turned-limpets. Why the hell wasn't he allowed to go anywhere alone? What trouble could possibly affect him in a bathroom for Merlin's sake? Perhaps the Saviour of the Wizarding World might run out of loo paper at a vital moment in time or even (shock, horror) get himself locked him a cubicle. Harry was half-inclined to do that now, as it might gain him five minutes alone. He needed it. After a whole day being stuck in class, he wanted alone time. And he wasn't getting it.

"Harry? Harry, are you alright?" Ron. Again. Harry was really glad he was just sat on the loo, seat down, as he had no doubt that had he actually been doing something, that shouting would have been really really annoying.

"I'm fine Ron. Why don't you go outside and talk to Hermione for a while. I might be some time." He called back, crossing his fingers. This might get rid of Ron for five minutes. He might even get to read the contents of the letter. At any rate, he would be granted some time alone and some peace and quiet.

Apparently t'was not to be... "Nah." Ron's voice seemed too chipper. "I wanted to talk to you about something..." Harry was half inclined to swear. Five minutes peace anyone?

"What about?" He figured he might as well play the game.

Ron didn't answer, though there seemed to be plenty of shuffling feet. "Ahh...Umm..." If Harry didn't know better, he might say Ron was playing for time. "Umm...Err..." Yes. Definitely playing for time. "Oh, yeah. Do you think Hermione likes me?"

"...What?" Harry rolled his eyes. "Oh, yeah mate. She's nuts for you." Now would you please leave he thought, rather savagely.

He rubbed his forehead which was now pounding like someone had shoved a bludger in there. "Oww..." he whimpered as it got rapidly worse. God was it Voldemort again? Oddly, as soon as his thoughts turned to Voldemort, he felt the headache recede. It was like drinking a calming potion neat and oh so pleasant. He reclined against the cistern and just wanted to live in this nice haze forever.

"Harry?" Oh for the Love of Merlin. This guy just didn't give up.

"What?!" Harry could have dropped his head into his hands. Nine hours of this and he was already cracking.

"I just wanted to know if you were alright. Jeesus Harry. I'm just being a friend-" Oh here we go, Harry thought, Ron the saintly, incorrectly judged. How many times had he heard this before? He sunk his head into his hands and let Ron's bather drift over as he contemplated his bracelet. Who and where and why had someone given him this? It was protective – that much he could tell, but there was what Mr Weasley said "Never trust something if you can't see where it keeps its brain." And it was true. Despite the protection he felt from it, it could be a whole another story; it might be hiding something inside it. After so many warnings of Death Eaters on his tail, perhaps risking one's own neck was looking a little...less appealing. A lot less appealing.

He stood and banged open the door, wishing it could be louder and stood next to the sinks. Ron stood over by the door still ranting away. Harry tuned him out. He was doing a lot of that recently, he thought. Too much if he cared to think about it. Although, he thought tuning back in, maybe it was too little instead. He looked at the tap – the design and even down the mark where the little snake had been on the tap on the third sink from clockwise in the second floor girls bathroom...It reminded him so much of his second year, the year The Basilisk came to Hogwarts and Lord Voldemort was partially reincarnated as his former self Tom Riddle – pre-snake face/no nose/laugh so-high-that-I-sound-like-I've-been-kicked-in-the-bollocks-one-too-many-times. Quite frankly it was an experience he did not desire to repeat. He frowned. The mirror was shimmering and what the hell? Did the light suddenly get dimmer...?

There was a house in the mirror; like it had turned into a window. Screams and shouts came from inside, flashes of red and green light. The windows shattered, the top left of the roof aflame. The flames crackled greedily and there was a hooded figure standing outside. Harry couldn't see their face...Who were they, what did they want with the house? Why weren't they helping? Or were they a death eater? What was going on?

A high pitched laugh came from the top left of the house, a broken window with the curtains half in and half outside the sill. Why was no one helping the woman? Why was the figure in the cloak not doing anything? He wanted to shout, to run and help the woman but he couldn't move. He was an observer. A helpless observer. Suddenly there was movement inside the house, more screams and shouts, the sound of running feet. The door burst open, a man came out. Then more...many more. Twenty? Thirty? Forty? He couldn't count them but then the one closest to him turned and Harry saw the horrific white mask. Death Eaters. Here like vultures at a carcass.

There was more laugher from inside the house, and the worst sound ever. "AVADA KEDAVA!" There was deathly silence, like time stopped for a moment, a year, a century Harry didn't know, didn't care. Then it sped back up again. And the whole house seemed to implode and Harry fell deep into the green light that came at him like a demon running from hell itself.

"Shit!" He whispered, leaning on the sink, forehead resting on the glass. That was...weird. Where had it come from? Why him? He pulled his head back, grimancing at the feeling of sweat on his forehead. Rubbing the mark off the mirror (tenetively) he turned to find Ron. Only to see the boy still wittering on totally unawares of his supposed best friend's weirdest trip ever.

"Shall we go to dinner Harry?" Ron asked, finally finishing his monologue. At last.

"Yeah," Harry said, looking back at the innocent looking mirror, "Yeah. Why not?"

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Now remember, I want five more... And I know exactly how many reviews I have!

Oh by the way, review replies are on the next one, cause that one's so much longer.

JJ