Rated for mild swearing…

~*~*~ Chapter Twenty ~*~*~

The Snake and the Lion

Harry could hear voices echoing around the chamber, bouncing off the walls that were high and made of rough black stone. Every now and then there was a wide circular portal in the stone, each containing a shadowy figure. He moved towards one of them and the voices grew louder, they sounded like warnings.

He shook his head slightly and tried to make his vision clearer and heard shuffling feet around him, the sound of people moving by stealth.

"Search every one of them," came a raspy voice that Harry was unable to locate, "you know what to look for."

There was a moment of crashing, dust rose into the air and there was the sound of a long piercing whistle. The voices gave more shouts of warning and then they were running away. The noise had come from a young woman, blowing on a small silver instrument. She gave the approaching group of people a terrified look, and was swept along with them.

The scene was of confusion, and it melted into another. A low roofed house, the fire in the corner throwing dancing shadows of light onto the face of the young woman. It highlighted the bruising, the cuts and the swellings that marred the once beautiful face, which was now sobbing uncontrollably.

"Do you know which one it is?" hissed a cruel familiar voice that sent shivers down Harry's spine.

The woman shook her head and there was a shout of frustration from more than one voice. A robed figure darted forward and seized the woman, picking her up as easily as if she were a rag doll, heavy fingers squeezing the already bruised throat.

"What number?" asked the hooded man, digging his wand into the woman side.

She choked slightly yet she shook her head and the man dropped her carelessly, a swift foot kicking her stomach before he walked back out of Harry's vision. Harry could feel the panic building in his chest, he had to shout, warn her what they were about to do.

"You can tell us sweet one," came the commanding voice again.

The woman merely sobbed into the floor, not moving or trying to flee. Harry yelled at her to get up, he could sense the build up of magic around the room.

"Maybe you would tell us, if we asked a little more nicely?" he asked her in a terrible voice, "Crucio."

Her screams were terrible, long, wailing, feeling like they were penetrating every single cell of his own body, as if he could feel the curse himself. He shouted loudly, yelling, screaming for them to let her go, for them to stop

And then they did.

But the cries and sobs continued, the woman lay gasping in pain, screwed up in a tight ball as if it would protect herself from more.

"You didn't like that, did you?" asked the voice, while others around it laughed cruelly.

Harry tried to move, but he couldn't seem to do anything, and what could he do? Could he stop them from hurting her anymore? No…the answer was no…he couldn't save her.

"You can go then, my sweet one," came the silky voice again.

The woman raised her bloody eyes to the speaker, flinching. She seemed to be wondering whether this was real or some kind of joke.

"I will give you five seconds head start," hissed the cold voice, "lets see if you can outrun death my pretty."

She choked back a sob and clambered to her feet, pulling herself up by the window sill.

"Five…four," began the counting.

The woman trembled and Harry yelled as loud as he could for her to run, but he had no voice she could hear. She would not listen, she didn't understand what he was saying.

"Three…two…"

The woman raised her violently shaking hands and made the sign of the cross over her body, jerky movements tracing the lines. This made the group laugh, loud and ringing as the woman grasped her necklace.

"One…"

A curse was thrown at the woman, which hit her square in the chest. There was a blood curdling shriek of pain that ceased abruptly as there was a sudden shower of blood. The body fell backwards, crashing into the window and falling to the ground, with a sickening crack.

Harry was yelling with all his might, screaming and running towards the window.

"Times up."

When he laid eyes on the body out of the window he felt rough hands seize him. He pushed them away hard and the person shouted his name, over and over again. Harry yelled to the woman as the demands grew more persistent.

"HARRY!"

He jerked awake, his limbs bound together tight by the bed clothes. He sat bolt upright and was breathing deep unsteady, terrified breathes, each one sounding ragged and horror filled. He was forced to lie down almost immediately as a white hot pain seared through his scar, causing him to cry out in pain and clamp his hand to his head.

Through the haze around his eyes he could hear voices, Ron's shouting his name, heard more people moving around in the room.

When the pain had almost subsided Harry peeled away his hand, which was drenched with sweat from his forehead. He looked across to see Ron staring at him white faced sat next to Professor McGonagall.

"She's dead," he said in horrified voice, his throat aching from his yells, "they hit her with…and the blood…"

"Who has? Who was it?" demanded the professor, looking almost afraid.

"I don't know," he said, gritting his teeth against another wash of pain, "I don't know…"

"Can you walk?" she asked him quickly, and he nodded, "then follow me."

Harry swung his legs over the side of the bed and was alarmed to see they were trembling terribly. He looked across to see the other boys huddled in the corner, all looking pale and shaking themselves. Harry climbed to his feet unsteadily and followed the professor down the stairs, closely followed by Ron. When they emerged in the common room Harry was slightly shocked to see Professor Dumbledore sitting in the chairs by the fire, with two figures.

There was another sudden rush of pain and his scar burnt terribly, he pressed his hand into it hard, as if it would make any difference. He feel into the sofa gratefully and through his soaked fringe he saw for the first time the other two people - it was Catalina and Hermione.

They were both trembling and Catalina had her hand raised to her forehead tightly as Hermione hugged her.

"Can all other students please return to their beds," said Dumbledore in a loud voice.

Harry was aware of the sounds of many people scrambling away and walking upstairs again, and soon the Common Room was only occupied by the six people sitting by the fire.

"What did you see?" asked Professor Dumbledore.

"A woman," said Catalina and Harry in unison.

Neither seemed shocked about this, though Ron and Hermione shared a look, trembling terribly in their pyjamas.

"Catalina where was she?"

"She had a whistle…a silver whistle," she said faintly, "she was guarding the room…a black room with holes in the walls. They took her…they wanted to know where it was hidden, what number it was…she wouldn't tell them…"

Dumbledore made a steeple of his fingers and rested his chin on it carefully. Harry could see from the look in his eyes that he didn't understand what they were referring to.

"What happened Harry?" he asked, blue eyes holding firm with his own.

"They took her…tortured her," he whispered as the others rose their hands to their mouths in shock, "she wouldn't tell them where it was, she didn't understand anymore. So they killed her…they gave her five seconds to run away but she didn't. She fell out of the window and there was blood…blood everywhere."

"That's enough," said Professor McGonagall in a quaking voice looking distressed.

Harry shook his head and laid it on his knees - why did it still hurt so much? It was one death, it was over already, why was it still painful?

"Who did it?" asked Dumbledore quietly.

Harry refused to answer. He knew who the voice belonged to, yet he didn't want to have to say it in front of them. But he needn't have worried because seconds later he heard Catalina's voice speak up, it was trembling with pain but laced with bitterness and anger.

"Charles Firelight…it was Charles Firelight."

*

They had refused to go to the hospital wing, and eventually the teachers had left them, off to investigate all they had said. Harry sat in the chair closest to the fire, which was now crackling in the grate merrily. He wrapped his arms around his knees and tried to screw into as tight a ball as possible, to try and shut out the cold. He stared at the flames, not really seeing them at all, only the image of the curse hitting the woman in the chest, hearing her scream and watching her fall…

"She was screaming like mad," came Hermione's voice from far off, trembling slightly, "and thrashing and yelling…"

"Harry too…" came Ron's voice, "for too long this time…much too long. Neville had managed to get both professors before he woke up…"

I'm still here, thought Harry vaguely, we're both still here, don't talk about us like we're not.

"Can you hear everyone awake?" asked Hermione, "they were all woken up…Lavender and Parvati ran for it when she started…I couldn't do anything, she wouldn't wake up…"

"They never do," said Ron in a hollow voice, "I've tried waking up Harry…but you can't…"

He dragged his eyes away from the flames to see the other person sitting in front of it, in much the same position as he. She was staring at the fire still, her face looking even more pale and drawn in comparison, hand clamped tightly over the crook of her one arm. Why was she dreaming them he wondered vaguely, why could she see what he could see?

"We shouldn't anyway, wake them up I mean," began Ron, "it's dangerous…he breaks things with his powers and he doesn't realise it…"

Harry didn't seem to feel to effected by this news, although he did wonder why he'd never told him before. He thought Ron was right though, as much as he didn't want to see those things, he wouldn't want Ron to risk himself to wake him up. Harry heard Hermione agree with Ron and tell her about Catalina…it begged the question though of why they could see the same dreams. He could because of his scar, and it was only ever him seeing Voldemort, not his little sidekicks.

So why could they dream of her father if Voldemort hadn't been there? And how could he still be feeling twinges in his head, after nearly an hour had passed since the dream.

"Who do you think it was?" asked Hermione fearfully.

"I don't know," said Ron, giving a final, shaky sigh, "but lets try not to think about it."

"It's hard not to," said Hermione in a faraway voice.

They both stopped talking and Harry felt his eyes drooping as his body begged for the sleep he'd missed. In the end they went to sleep in front of the fire, waking early when dawn broke over the mountains. He got up and got dressed in the dorm, avoiding the eyes of the other boys who were watching him as if he would go off on one at any moment.

They were still asleep when Harry came down and he decided to go down and have breakfast early. He was one of the first few people in the Great Hall and he sat with his bowl of soggy cornflakes, staring morosely out of the one of the stained glass windows, thinking.

Eventually the Hall started filling up, and soon Harry saw Ron, Hermione and Catalina walking in, already looking around for him. They walked over briskly and sat down next to him with anxious expressions on their faces. Catalina slipped into the seat next to him and silently began to drink her juice.

"Don't run off like that," said Hermione with a frown on her face, "we didn't know where you'd gone."

"I only came for breakfast," said Harry, "or do I need permission to be on my own?"

She didn't reply, and settled for gathering her breakfast together. Soon the tables began to fill up, and it seemed news of Harry and Catalina's rude awakening last night had spread throughout the school already, judging by the looks they were getting. The arrival of post diverted their attention and Harry had a deep sense of foreboding when he saw the extra thick Daily Prophets winging their ways to the students and teachers alike.

He watched as Hermione received hers, and she read the page open-mouthed.

"What happened?" asked Harry, "apart from the obvious."

She looked across to him and flipped the page over so he could read it.

"Night of attacks leave widespread death and destruction in organised attack on mainland Europe…" read out Harry.

She handed him the paper and he hastily opened it up. Key phrases jumped out of the article, which read as if it had been hastily put together. A high-power French family that belonged to their Ministry, a group of Auror's in Germany, and many other important people in European Ministry's and Defence League's.

"No mention of the woman," Catalina said in a low voice, startling Harry, he hadn't been aware she was reading it with him.

"No…" he said, frowning even deeper, "why not though?"

"Either they don't know or they don't want us to know," said Catalina, eyes flicking across the page.

"Someone must know though…she was blowing her whistle to alert other people, and someone would have found her body in that village," said Harry, shuddering slightly at the memory.

She nodded and without another word turned back to her juice. Harry stared at the paper a while longer, there was no need to read between the lines of this article. The writer clearly wanted to show how the Death Eaters were targeting people of power, with the obvious aim of creating turmoil in the country's which would make it easier to take over.

Harry was side-tracked by the appearance of an owl in front of him, with a note attached to its leg. Harry pulled it off and the bird took off at once, leaving him to unfurl the parchment.

Please come to my office as soon as possible,

Yours, Albus Dumbledore.

Harry tucked it into his robe and quickly informed Ron and Hermione before walking out of the Hall. It didn't take him long to reach the gargoyle, which sprang back when he approached without any need for a password. He found himself at the heavy oak door, which he knocked on before entering to find Dumbledore sitting at his desk, staring at his Pensieve reflectively.

"Ah Harry, please take a seat," he said warmly, pushing it aside, "how are you feeling?"

"Fine," he said, sitting down heavily.

"No doubt you've seen the paper?" he asked him, pulling out a small sheaf of parchment.

"Yes, it certainly explains why my scar hurt for so long…" he said, trailing off and shrugging helplessly.

"Indeed. Harry, we lost an Order member last night, Marcus Foster was working with the Auror's in Germany," said Dumbledore.

Harry nodded dumbly feeling slightly sick. He had read of it already and thought nothing about it and suddenly he had a name to put to one of the deaths. He knew Marcus, he was one of the members who had led Harry into Riddle Manor, he had killed Nagini.

"I'm still puzzled as to why you saw Firelights attack and not one involving Voldemort, unless he was there and you didn't see him. It seems we still have much to understand on the subject of both your scars…"

Harry nodded again, not really knowing what to say. He could tell this wasn't why Dumbledore had asked him up to his office as the old man was looking particularly thoughtful now.

"Harry, I would just like to ask how everything is going, after last years events," he asked suddenly, throwing him slightly off track.

"Well, you know, Catalina's still really upset by everything, but she's getting better slowly," said Harry.

"No, how are you doing?" asked Dumbledore, looking unusually serious.

"Oh…fine," said Harry blankly.

"Have you given anymore though to the Prophecies of Amaris Milne?" he asked him.

"No," said Harry simply, "I don't believe in them, so it would be a waste of time."

Dumbledore looked at Harry over the top of his glasses, making him feel slightly ashamed of the way he'd spoken. He merely nodded to him though and pulled out a book from thin-air, laying it open in front of him. Harry glared at it, he hated that stupid book of prophecies.

"However your feeling towards this book are not relevant," said Dumbledore, opening the cracking pages, "whether you believe they are about you or not, it would be prudent to heed some of the warnings."

Harry merely stared at the book, not giving away anything to his headmaster of his thoughts on the subject, though they were clear. When he was younger Dumbledore had always seemed like the most wisest and good person Harry had ever met. Infallible in fact. Dumbledore didn't make mistakes, Dumbledore could sort anything out.

But nobody is infallible.

Dumbledore's trust in this book to spell out his whole life was not something Harry would ever have imagined the old Dumbledore to do. Dumbledore weighed and balanced things, judged the best approach, figured out exactly what would happen. The old Dumbledore would have shared a sly wink with him whenever the topics of prophecies or seer's were mentioned - he wouldn't have spent his whole life dedicated to such a useless pastime as he had.

And the old Dumbledore had given everyone a second chance, just look at Sirius and Lupin. Everyone had always deserved a chance in his eyes because he knew that people could change, if you gave them the opportunity. But still, Harry couldn't understand why Dumbledore still didn't trust, or even particularly like, Catalina. He'd invited a former Death Eater spy to come back to the school and teach potions, seemingly without any proof of his validity but he couldn't find it in his heart to trust someone who'd been duped into their actions. If it was so plain to Harry, why wasn't it to him? Why couldn't Dumbledore see beyond her past and her family and see her for her?

When Dumbledore had first shared his little book of prophecies with him last year, Harry had finally managed to see Dumbledore as human, not some all-powerful, all-knowing person he'd always believed. Dumbledore made mistakes too, and he was still making them. The book cradled in the old mans hands at that very moment was proof enough of this.

While all these thoughts had been running through Harry's mind, Dumbledore had been studying the pages carefully, although Harry had no doubt he'd probably committed them all to memory long ago. He looked up at the teenager over his half moon glasses, and he suddenly got the feeling Dumbledore had heard every single one of the thoughts he'd just had.

"As you may or may not know, several prophecies have been made, not just the one. And they are not all bad," he told him, before peering back at the pages.

Harry's ears pricked up at this, he didn't mind the sound of not too bad prophecies.

"Yes, some are not that bad at all," began Dumbledore, sensing Harry's hidden interest, "Others merely state occurrences, or talk in such riddles they are indecipherable. However, the task of this meeting was not to discuss such things. I merely wanted to show you one such verse, which, whether it be about you or not, would be useful nonetheless."

"I don't want to hear it," said Harry simply, "sir."

"I'm sure you don't want to. But think of this Harry, if you do not believe in them, then you have no reason to fear what they contain, is that not true," he said with an almost hidden smile about his twinkling eyes.

"Yes," he said stubbornly, "go ahead then."

Harry leaned back in his chair and folded his arms defiantly, before realising he maybe ought to show a little more respect to his headmaster, and settled for a mere slouch. Dumbledore however ignored him and sat back in chair and propped up the book, reading out the lines of faded ink slowly and deliberately, as if to impress every word into Harry's memory.

The Phoenix will fly with him forever,

And carry the woes of their world,

What began between two has now grown,

But never forget the purpose.

The conflict was born of two,

And will end in two.

The snake and the lion,

Together they fight,

But only one will fall,

For only one may live to tell the tale.

Dumbledore laid the book down onto his desk, and looked over Harry, waiting for his reaction. Harry however was fighting the urge to roll his eyes, that stuff was so vague! And corny, it could apply to anyone and anything and Dumbledore knew it - he couldn't possibly really believe in that stuff.

"I'm sorry sir, I was never any good at poetry at school," said Harry eventually, "I was in bottom set English."

It wasn't quite the answer Dumbledore was expecting, but then again, he hadn't expected much better.

"And I take it from that comment you would like me to translate for you my thoughts on the prophecy?"

"On the poem? Yes please sir," said Harry.

"I think its self explanatory Harry, and I know you probably understand it more than me. But I want to draw your attention to four of these lines. What began between two has now grown, but never forget the purpose. The conflict was born of two, and will end in two."

"Harry, these past few months have been very confusing for all involved and your concentration on Catalina's plight is leading you astray from your own. Voldemort set out for you, and it will always be about you. Her quarrel is with her father, she is merely a complication, a sub-plot as it were."

"A sub-plot?" asked Harry incredulously, feeling a spark of anger towards the old man, "this is not some story! This isn't a fairytale, we aren't being written into this position, we're living it!"

"Of course Harry," said Dumbledore calmly in the face of Harry's rising anger, "but you have just perfectly demonstrated what I was trying to say. She is a distraction, a distraction that could have dire consequences if you don't open your eyes and look at the wider view."

Harry had never felt so alienated from his former mentor than he did at that moment, they were on completely opposite tracks and he couldn't understand the man at all. And anyway, Harry didn't care if Catalina was a distraction, maybe he wanted a distraction. Maybe he didn't want to spend his whole life worrying that Voldemort was going to pop out from the shadows and finish what he started.

"Your upcoming task is very important Harry, and I must admit I was slightly dubious about the pairing of the teams abroad. But you work well together, and her skills will be invaluable to us all."

"Well its nice to know that everyone suddenly likes her when her skills are needed," said Harry bitterly, "what happens when she'd not needed anymore, she goes back to being a complication?"

"Harry, this is not about her!" said Dumbledore, banging his fist down on the table suddenly.

Harry jumped a mile, he had never heard Dumbledore speak like that before, or had the headmasters anger turned upon himself like that. The headmaster however quickly recovered himself and smoothly steepled his fingers together, fixing the shocked boy with a long stare.

"This is precisely what I am talking about. You need to focus right now, do you understand that? This situation is more dangerous than you can ever dream of. And without you full and undivided attention the protections we have all built up could come crashing down around you. It only takes one curse Harry, one curse."

"I know that," he replied defiantly.

"Good. Now, I believe I have said what I wanted to. I want you to seriously consider it all and promise me that you will not be distracted from your purpose. There is much more riding on this than just your safety and well-being."

"I understand that sir."

"Excellent, then you may return to your classmates and I will contact you closer to the date of your departure. Until that time, be careful."

Harry got up out of his chair wordlessly and said a fast farewell to Dumbledore before striding out of the room. He was so confused right then, he didn't know whether to be angry at Dumbledore for his words and dismissal of Catalina, or to sympathise with him. He did understand the importance of his task, and he did understand the facts of his life, but he resented Dumbledore for pointing them out, for making them realistic.

In the end he settled for having no feelings on the subject, and traipsed down to the open common room where he supposed everyone would be spending their free Sunday. When he entered he immediately located his three friends and walked over to them. Ron and Hermione were playing pool and by the looks of things Hermione was winning while Catalina was sat on a nearby table reading her book, back pressed up against the wall.

Harry leant against the table and watched Hermione taking a shot wordlessly. Ron bent down to take his before noticing he was there.

"What did he have to say then?" he asked as he sighted along the cue inexpertly.

"Not much," replied Harry, crouching down and leaning his chin on his crossed arms.

"Was it about last night?" asked Hermione slightly fearfully.

"Yeah. Apparently one of the Order members were undercover in Germany and were killed," he said in a monotone voice, "you know, Marcus Foster, the guy who led us into the Manor?"

"I remember," said Ron in a flat voice, as Hermione merely raised a hand to her mouth in shock.

"That's so sad," she said a few moments later, "What about Lupin?"

"What about Lupin?" asked Harry blankly.

"He's in Germany now remember? Teaching at the school," she told him, abandoning the game for a moment to fix Harry with a worried look.

"Oh I forgot abut that," said Harry, feeling slightly anxious himself now, "but Dumbledore didn't say anything - I think he must be fine."

"We would have been told if not," said Ron firmly.

Harry nodded hesitantly, he supposed Dumbledore would have told him if Remus was in trouble, even now. The other two continued in their game and Harry watched them wordlessly with fresh worries over Remus's safety floating around his head.

Harry watched them for a while, not really seeing anything, rather, deep in thought over what Dumbledore had told him. It was only early afternoon and he was already shattered, he had a ton of homework to do, a letter to write to Sirius and Hagrid to visit before he went to bed, but he couldn't quite bring himself to do any of it right at that moment.

"Maybe you ought to talk to her," said Hermione in a low voice to Harry as she set up shot next to where he was standing, "I think she's in shock."

Harry looked across to Catalina, who was still on the same page of her book yet was staring at the pages with unmoving eyes. She raised a hand to her face and pinched the bridge of her nose for a few moments before trying to concentrate on her book again. He walked over and leant against the wall she was sitting against.

However he couldn't think of anything to say. Not out of shyness of talking to her, just because there was a complete lack of anything adequate to say in that situation. What do you say to someone who's just witnessed their father murder someone in cold blood? The English language was never created to deal with situations like this.

"Fancy going for a walk?" came her voice, breaking him out of his deliberations.

Harry merely nodded, grateful she had made the choice and waited for her to get up. They walked across the common room, shooting Ron and explanatory glance before walking out into the corridor. It was full of people mingling about, many of which were giving them odd, worried looks, but Harry felt he didn't much care. He'd given up a long time ago on seeking people approval.

They didn't say anything as they traipsed around the castle, taking old winding corridors Harry hadn't used since his first year before by some general silent consensus deciding to head outside. They were just proceeding down the stairs of the Entrance Hall when she suddenly spoke up.

"I don't particularly feel like talking about last night, unless you do," she said, in an emotionless voice.

"No, me neither," he agreed quickly as they emerged in the frosty sunlight.

They headed over for the Quidditch locker room and again by some mutual agreement, pulled out the trunk of equipment and carried it onto the pitch. There were a few odd flyers from various teams on the pitch, doing a little solo flying and everyone seemed to be ignoring each other. Harry sat down on the damp grass and watched as Catalina flipped the latches on the trunk and kicked it open, pulling out one of the Beaters clubs without a second thought.

He watched in half-hearted interest as she released the catch on one of the bludgers, which went rocketing up into the sky, completing a slow arc, before pelting back down the pitch towards her. With a well aimed smack the bludger flew away from her, returning like a boomerang a few seconds later.

She continued down this vein for some time, smacking it with all her might and merely waiting for it to come back.

"Wouldn't it be nice," she said suddenly, giving an almighty whack onto the bludger, "if you could be in somebody else's body, just for a day."

It curved in another shallow arc and zoomed down the pitch towards her, the clank of wood on wood ringing through the air.

"Maybe," said Harry continuing to contribute grass stalks to the small pile he had created, "but who would you want to be?"

Whack.

"I don't know, anybody I guess. The average plain Jane or Sally," she said, breathing deeply form the effort of her exercise.

Whack.

"Trouble is, you'd want more than a day wouldn't you?" asked Harry levitating the grass stalks into the air with a wave of his hand.

Whack.

"Maybe," she shrugged, hefting the bat up slightly higher, "Or maybe it would be nice to wake up with amnesia one day, and never be able to remember anything that happened before you woke up."

Whack.

"But that'd be scary," said Harry, creating a small whirlwind in his levitated grass until a small tornado was being formed, "to never know who you are or anything, or be able to remember anything."

Whack.

"Sounds perfect to me."

Whack.

*

Her day was not going well, not going well at all. None of theirs was. While it was common knowledge of the Death Eater attack, no one knew for sure that Catalina's father had been involved at all. But when did and little thing like facts get in the way of good gossip? Now the hate campaign against her had stepped up a notch. Feet came out of nowhere to trip her up, the ever familiar Hogwarts greeting of hissing when she walked past had increased with renewed vigour, and food and spells had an unhealthy attraction to her back.

On one not so very special night, the students feelings towards her had been made quite clear.

She had been walking down the corridor, her thoughts a million miles away - in sunny countries where the heat would shrink and melt the path you were walking, in cold countries where your eyelashes froze when you were outside. Of countries with huge celebrations and festivals, with fireworks and laughter, with food and drink and singing. She had so many memories now, she sometimes thought her head would explode with the sounds, the noises, the tastes.

She hefted her books further into her arms, and thought about her latest country she was going to go to; Poland. She couldn't remember the country, but from what she had read she had already formed a picture. A country of poor people, of myth, religion, magic, a country that had suppressed over the years by muggle and magical folk alike. The school that supplied the textbooks, that gave you one meal a day and expected you to cook your own in-between, a school where you were allowed out until the late curfew.

She wondered about the students, if they'd managed to find these spies the Order feared were there. Whether her and Harry would be able to gather any information - whether she wanted them to.

She heard a sudden noise, and looked around her. She was walking back to the Gryffindor Tower via the corridor the new common room was situated on. There were groups of chatting students dotted down the hall, bidding farewell to each other before they headed separate ways. She could feel them watching her, heard snatches of phrases as she past some and caught the eyes of some of the glare's.

She began to feel very nervous, why did she tell the others she was ok to go out on her own? Why didn't she ask for company? She hugged her books to her closer and kept her eyes and head down, not wanting to see anyone anymore. She approached a large group of chatting girls from mixed houses, and held her breath, begging them not to notice her.

However, she knew she'd failed in her mission when the happy chatter died down slightly, and they all turned to her, whispering amongst themselves. She kept her eyes trained on the flagstones and kept going. Suddenly she saw a leg extended in her path and before she had time to react she was tripped up and fell to the ground hard, books scattering across the cold stones.

All around her she could hear the cold-hearted laughter of the girls, echoing and bouncing around her head reminding her just how much she hated it here. She pushed herself to her knees, tasting the iron tang of blood in her mouth as she tried to ignore her stinging chin. Blinking back the tears, she silently gathered her fallen books that had loose pages dangling off the spines now.

"What are you doing back here Firelight?" asked one of the girls above her.

She ignored them, trying to focus on anything but the laughing voices, climbing unsteadily to her feet. She looked up briefly to see the faces of the girls, most of whom were smirking at her attempts to seem unconcerned or laughing.

"Nobody wants you here," said another.

Catalina cursed the tears in her eyes and found a sudden hope spring into her heart. In the crowd she could see Ron's red hair, which meant he had found her and was going to stick up for her. Her heart plummeted however as the person in front of Ron shifted and she saw it wasn't him at all…lengthen the hair, shorten the height and maybe change the gender and you got the idea.

"The sooner you go the better," said the girl next to Ginny.

Most of them laughed loudly, and Catalina looked into Ron's sister eyes. She could see the pity there, but also the fear, of her and of her own friends. But most of all, deep down, she could see the anger, the anger that drove her to stand and watch the bullying and do nothing.

"God you're so pathetic," sneered the apparent leader, "you can't even stand up for yourself, you can't even bloody speak! I'd get out of here of your own free will, before we drive you out, because either way - you're gone…"

Catalina gave a great shudder, trying to contain her tears, but they betrayed her and slipped down her face. She could tell the girls weren't really saying anything particularly bad, only random things they thought would get the reaction they wanted.

She spun on her heal and hurried down the corridor, to hear the high shrieks of laughter. In a perfect world, Catalina thought bitterly, Ginny would follow after her, stick up for her, tell her she was forced by fear to join in with the others. But this wasn't a perfect world, far from it. Ginny never did come running, and as she ran around the corner she caught sight of her laughing along with one of the others.

All of a sudden all the barriers, all of the protections she built up fell away. For the first time she really understood how much she didn't fit in here, how people hated her here. And she couldn't blame them, she was a murderer, she'd stabbed someone to death, she'd stabbed Harry! How could anyone want to put themselves in danger from her? And no matter how much support Harry, Ron and Hermione tried to give her, she realised they must be just as frightened of her, Harry must have been worried she'd try and finish what she started, Hermione and Ron were just waiting for her to flip.

She entered the common room and viciously wiped the blood from her split chin on her robes and the tears that were falling down her chin, before walking towards her dormitory staircase. She was glad the others didn't seem to notice her. She raced up the stairs and threw the books onto her bed. All she could think about was the sound of their laughter, laughing as she hurt herself, laughing as she cried. The laughter that bounced around her head, turning her hard-earned happy thoughts into meaningless whispers of words which drifted away.

She leant against the wall in between her bed and wardrobe and pressed her hands over her ears, hoping to block out all of the noise, all of the accusations, the hate, the prejudice. Couldn't anyone see she was still just Catalina? She let the tears course down her face and slid gently to the floor until she hit the ground with a bump.

She hugged her arms around her legs tightly and leaned her head against the smooth wood of the wardrobe and just let the tears fall. Why wasn't she allowed to live like everyone else? Why couldn't she laugh and joke and tease and flirt like everyone else? Why wasn't she allowed to love like everyone else? She leant her forehead onto her knees and rocked herself slightly, stemming the flow of the tears slightly.

It had been unprovoked, their had been no need for it, and there was nothing she could do about it. Even if she were to report it to Dumbledore (which she wouldn't) she would have a list of names as long as her arm of bullies and it wasn't worth the bother. And worst of all perhaps for her, was the fact that Ginny had been there, in the crowd. She had known Ron's sister wasn't any particular sort of friend, but she'd never thought of her as an enemy before. She guess she had just assumed that because of Ron, Ginny would be on her side. All those faceless individuals she could handle - but Ginny was a little too close to home for comfort.

Yet she decided to do nothing about it. She didn't even tell Harry, Ron and Hermione about it - they believed the cut on her chin had come from her tripping up some stone stairs on the way to astronomy.

As she skulked around the school, desperate to hide from everyone's accusing glares, Malfoy on the other hand was strutting around as if he owned the place again. His father was back from his 'business tour' in America, which apparently had been well publicised in the Prophet. This had caused Harry no amount of grief as it was obvious to him, as well as a great many other people, that Lucius Malfoy had been in Europe, conducting the masses of crimes that popped up in the paper every day. It galled him to see that money could bring you anything in big enough quantities. Malfoy senior had half the Government and Media eating out of his hand.

What with the unexpected rise in anger against Catalina, Malfoy continuing baiting of Harry, Snape's frankly hideous extra lessons and a mountain of coursework piling up, nerves were stretched. Ron and Hermione had officially ended the honeymoon period of their relationship and were settling into swiping again, which were becoming more frequent as the days progressed. Harry had to worry about Remus's departure to Germany, the reason why Sirius wasn't answering his owl's, the Prophecy, Poland as well as the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Whereas Catalina was still being bombarded daily by the red letters as well as post from Dr Rahn confiding in her that her mother was becoming more unwell (though she told no one about this either).

Nerves were stretched and sooner or later something had to give - just what did was enough to ensure that two of the Gryffindor Dream Team might never speak to each other again.

AN/ Howdie there peeps! Well I am successfully managing to survivie university life and write HP fanfic! How proud of me are you? Saying that, I have read any of my textbooks yet Eeps Oh well…

Hope you liked the chapter - thought we etter get a glimpse of a bit of real evil for the first time in almost the whole story so far!

Please review - I welcome EVERY comment! I have been feeling depressed by the notable lack of reviews in my inbox L Sobs Don't you love me anymore?

Archie - Well then Nick, you'll just have to wait like all the other readers now you impatient Orc! How goes you and you gf Lauren? Why don't you try mailing me once in a while little bro!?

dementorchic - I know, I couldn't really let them spend their whole lives ahting or awkward around each other! Grimbits is going to be a high point - I garuntee it! Just one question to get you a-thinking; What would they be like drunk? sniggers Thanks for the review, as ever!

Dragon Tamer47 - Methinks there is a definite note of sarcasm in your review! I'm sorry that Catalina and Harry don't throw themselves at each other every time they're alone but I'm trying to do canon here, not romanticism. That aside, I still appreciate your comments - more shall be done!

goldensnitch3 - Have been writing, have been writing! In the UK, orientation is known as Freshers Week and I have now successfully completed mine! I am now fully paid up member of the British University system! Wohoo! feels old Glad you liked!

NasserPotter - Sorry about the R/H fluff! I figured if we couldn't get Harry and Catalina fluff we ought to get some! But I'll try and tone it down for you! I also guessed H and C are pretty special coughs::obvious::coughs so I'm thinking that their first kiss ought to be even more special!

Oxi-Nu - Just for you and your weird qwerty keyboard writing, I have written more! Thanks for the review!

Teaser Trailer :

"God, you're insane," he said almost in wonder, pinching the bridge of his nose, "you really are…can't you hear yourself?"

Toodle pips till next time folks!