Author's Note: For those of you who didn't read the *ahem* review I put for my own *cough cough* fic, I ask again for those of you who've read at least part of the DragonLance saga, please tell Crissy and me your favourite character out of Raistlin (oh yeah!) and Tasslehoff. Thank you!!!
Silent TearsPart II:
Expelliarmus
Once they were out of sight of anyone who might be watching, Sirius leapt across the grounds, Ron, Harry, and Hermione literally on his tail. They followed him at a sprint, passing the greenhouses and Hagrid's cabin, (which was empty—the three assumed that he was on business with Madame Maxime) then stopped at the Whomping Willow. Sirius dodged between the fiercely fighting branches and pressed the freezing knot. The willow stopped moving instantly, and the three fifteen-year-olds followed the large black dog through the passage in the roots.
Tens of minutes they walked, each remembering the many twists and turns. It was even more difficult this year, running at a crouch, than it had been two years ago, since Harry and Hermione had been much shorter then. Ron had been dragged down by Sirius, of course.
When at last the snaking track had risen and ended, they stepped over the threshold of the Shrieking Shack. Sirius led them upstairs to the very same room where they had first met. He transformed back into a man and turned to face Harry.
He was well groomed once again, having acquired a wand from Dumbledore. His face was fuller, obviously benefiting from the food packages Harry had been sending him.
'I got an owl from Dumbledore today,' he said to them. 'Harry, I need you to tell me exactly what you saw.'
Harry glanced at Ron and Hermione, who nodded encouragingly, then took a deep breath.
'All right, Sirius," he said, and went on to explain his dream.
When he had finished, Sirius looked at him with his deadened, haunted eyes, full of concern and worry for his godson.
'Harry, I'll say it again: as your godfather, my priority is to ensure your safety. It all sounds very dodgy, but you still need to be on your guard. Don't go out at night, especially since Pettigrew's on the loose again. Though we may be able to catch him this time.'
'Hermione had a point, though,' said Ron. 'She said that—that maybe since he got a new hand, it'll show up when he's a rat.'
Sirius nodded in agreement.
'That is something we could put into consideration,' he mused. He paced around the room, running a hand through his somewhat grimy hair, then turned to face the others.
'Now, don't come sneaking out of school to visit me, okay?' he said. 'We don't want to make this too easy for him.'
Harry hadn't spoken for a long time. He had sat down on the large four-poster bed, his head in his hands, staring at the floor. Hermione sat down next to him and put a comforting arm around his shoulders.
'Sirius,' he said in a quiet voice, 'who do you think the girl is?'
Sirius frowned, his brow furrowed as he thought.
'Well, we don't exactly have no way to find out,' he said slowly, 'but we really don't have a way to, either. So what I'm saying is for you to keep a lookout. If anyone—especially any girls—acts oddly or out of habit, confront her. It's all that we've got.'
Harry sighed, and nodded.
'Why did you take us here, Sirius?' he asked. 'What about that mountain cave?'
'It's caved in,' Sirius answered, 'completely blocked. We really shouldn't meet in this place, since Snape knows about it. But as long as you're not seen, it should be all right.'
'Should we use my dad's Invisibility Cloak?' asked Harry.
'That would be a good idea,' Sirius replied. He glanced out the window. The sky was growing dark; the sun was setting, staining the sky blood red and deep purple. 'You three should be getting back to school.'
With that, Sirius transformed back into his canine form. Harry and Hermione got to their feet, and they and Ron followed him out the door, down the stairs, and through the passage. It was easy for him, with four paws and being so short, but the other three soon had sharp pains in their sides, running bent double.
At long last, they saw the end of the tunnel. Sirius ran ahead to press his paw against the knot on the Whomping Willow. The three friends then clambered safely out of the roots and onto the cold ground. They each patted Sirius on the head before he turned and bounded off towards Hogsmeade. Then Harry, Ron, and Hermione set off back to the castle for dinner.
**********
They entered the Great Hall and sat down at the Gryffindor table. Harry picked at his food in a subdued manner, trying to ignore the stabbing pains in his scar. Ron and Hermione kept shooting him nervous glances as they ate their stew. While he waited for them to finish, Harry scanned the Hall. Over at the Slytherin table, Draco Malfoy was talking in a low voice to Crabbe and Goyle. They looked over at Harry then continued with their conversation. Harry rolled his eyes. Probably some new plot to, 'get us expelled,' he thought. His eyes travelled to the Ravenclaws, where he saw Cho Chang eating with her friends. Harry felt terrible for her as he watched her sad, pale face. She had been like this ever since the beginning of term. Cedric's death had obviously had a more lasting affect on her than anyone else, except perhaps Harry. For a split second, he was almost positive that she had held his gaze, but then, he was equally certain he had imagined it.
Harry then looked across the Hall at the staff table. He had been wondering what Snape had gone to do at the end of last year, ever since this year had started. Snape appeared, if possible, even more sour and twisted than ever, though this may have been because he was sitting next to the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Figg. Yes, this was indeed the same Mrs. Figg whom had babysat Harry in his childhood, in the years he had thought of himself as entirely non-magical. The same crazy old lady who owned hundreds of cats, that the Dursley's had trusted as non-correspondent to magic of any sort. It was enough of a shock finding her teaching at Hogwarts, let alone being a witch. He supposed he should have known, as Sirius had been sent to find her at the end of last year. If the Dursleys knew about all this, they would have been terrified beyond extent. Harry grinned to himself as he imagined their petrified faces.
Then there, in the very centre of the table, as usual, was Albus Dumbledore. For the first time since he had woken up that morning, Harry felt a bit calmer. But then, Ron and Hermione were getting to their feet, so it was time to go. Behind them, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle rose from the Slytherin table. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were just walking into the entrance hall when—
'Potter! Hey, Potter!'
The trio spun around to see Malfoy walking towards them.
'What do you want?' Harry asked coldly.
Harry thought he had a pained expression on his face. Malfoy looked as if he were about to say something, but thought better of it.
'Oh, I was just wondering how your scar was doing,' he said in an innocent tone that deceived no one.
'And what the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?' Harry snapped through clenched teeth.
It seemed as if he couldn't think of anything to say, so he said quickly, 'Well, I only just saw you, rubbing your head, and remembered how, unstable you are.'
Harry raised his eyebrows. This was getting a bit old, so why was he still on about it? Obviously, most people thought so too, because those who had finished dinner were walking right passed them, even some Slytherins. Perhaps Malfoy noticed this, because his face tinged to a slight pink, and he stalked away with Crabbe and Goyle at either side of him.
'What was that all about?' Ron asked, wearing a bemused expression. Harry shrugged.
'He's probably running out of things to pick on you about,' Hermione said.
'He's pathetic,' said Ron, shaking his head, and they walked up to Gryffindor Tower.
Up in his dormitory, Harry lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. Malfoy was being a stupid git as usual, so that wasn't really relevant. But he was afraid for the girl, whoever she was. He really needed to find out who she was, before anything happened. What worried him most was if it was someone he loved. Hermione…or (his insides lurched)—even Cho…
********
By Monday, Harry was exhausted. He had had very little sleep over the weekend, and the small amount that he did receive was haunted by cold, heart-stopping nightmares, that had ended with screams of pain and sorrow, and the occasional, evil cackle, with a strong blast of green light, when he awoke once more, shivering, praying with all his heart, that the girl would be spared. The heavy workload that the teachers were piling down on them (they were to take their O.W.L.s in a few months) was almost as tiring as the emotional battle Harry was fighting within him.
Harry wearily walked to Defence Against the Dark Arts after breakfast. Him, Ron, and Hermione sat at the front of the class, for that was how the seating arrangement had been set up at the beginning of the year. They had no sooner taken their seats than Professor Figg walked through the door.
Mrs. Figg—or rather, Professor Figg—was dressed today in beautiful, deep purple robes. The effect was startling to Harry at first, for he was so used to seeing her in Muggle clothing. She was even somewhat attractive for such an old woman. She sat down at her desk to address the class.
'Now, I know I promised on Friday that we would be going down to the library to research poison-detecting spells and charms,' she paused as the students looked up at her hopefully, 'but Professor Dumbledore wants me to teach you more on duelling.'
Harry and Ron grinned at each other as they remembered the Duelling Club that Professor Lockhart had set up three years ago. Hermione rolled her eyes.
'First I want to see how well each of you can do with the Disarming Spell,' Professor Figg continued. 'For those who don't know, the incantation is, "expelliarmus". Get out your wands, and I will assign partners then move the desks.'
The students stood up with their wands in hand. Ron was paired up with Parvati, and Harry with Hermione. Once everyone had a partner, Professor Figg waved her wand, and all of the desks flew against the wall and out of the way.
'Now, each of you face your partner and bow like so,' she said, leaning forward. Everyone followed suite. She paused, then said, 'On second thought, how about we have one partnership at a time. Nasty accidents can happen with wands flying everywhere.' The teacher gazed around the room. 'How about Mr Potter and Miss Granger?'
Harry and Hermione nodded and walked to the front of the room next to Professor Figg's desk.
'On the count of three, Hermione,' she told her. 'One—two—three—GO!'
'Expelliarmus!' Hermione cried, pointing her wand at Harry. His wand flew high into the air and Ron caught it.
'That was very well done, Miss Granger!' said Professor Figg, 'Ten points to Gryffindor! Now…Mr Potter.'
Ron handed Harry his wand. Harry then turned and faced Hermione and grinned.
'All right, then Harry, on three,' Professor Figg instructed. 'One—two—three—NOW!'
'Expelliarmus!' he shouted.
But instead of Hermione's wand flying through the air, Harry's wand suddenly grew white hot, and so did his scar. He was yelling, and he couldn't stop. The room was spinning, then faded gradually into swirling white mist. From far away, he could hear the screams of a young woman, hardly older than he was. High, petrified, pleading screams, similar to his mother's when a Dementor gets too near. These screams he recognised as those in his nightmares.
All at once, the mist thinned. Rain was falling on his face. Through the haze of water and pain, Harry could make out the shapes of bare trees, silhouetted against the grey sky. He walked forward and saw the huddled figures of a woman, a man, and several children. Harry could hear their sobs even from this far away as they walked down a path to his right.
Suddenly, Harry's foot struck something hard and he tripped headlong. It was then that realised where he was.
He was sitting in a graveyard. He turned to look at the tombstone he had tripped over, and read the inscription:
V.W.
1981-1996
Dear, departed daughter
She will be missed
Forever.
Harry went numb with shock. This meant the girl was going to die. Then he wondered who else would. Shaking, weak-kneed, he shifted his gaze to stare at the headstone next to the right of hers:
Harry J. Potter1980-1996
The best friend
Anyone
Could ever ask for.
He is with his parents
At last.
He just sat there, on the cold, wet ground, shaking with fear and sadness. He suddenly became aware that somebody was standing behind him. He sat up and turned around.
Hermione was gazing down at Harry's tombstone with the saddest expression you could imagine. Nor was she the only one. Ron walked up next to her, his blue eyes, which were usually alight with humour and mischief, were glazed over and staring blankly at the ground. His face looked green, as if he were about to be sick. Hermione drew out a pure white rose, so apparently delicate it could have been made of porcelain. She dropped the perfect flower on Harry's grave, then pulled out another rose, this time blood red, and placed it on the girl's. She turned towards Ron, buried her face in his chest, and wept, wept as if the whole world were suddenly at an end. Ron wrapped his arms around her and held her in his tight embrace. He seemed close to tears as well as he rocked Hermione back and forth. Despite his efforts, a single tear glistened on his freckly cheek and slid down next to his nose. More tears. Silent tears. He turned and looked at the grave next to Harry's and seemed to be fighting a severe inner struggle. He drew in a shaking breath and turned around, his arm around Hermione's shoulders. She leaned into him, and the two of them slowly walked away, Ron's shoulders slumped and Hermione's shaking with every heart-wrenching sob.
Harry watched them disappear with a mixture of many emotions. Sadness. Anger. Confusion…and disbelief. He wanted to wish it all away. This was surely a nightmare that would pass. He wanted to run to Hermione, kiss her lightly on the cheek, all the tears evaporating in an instant with the pain, and tell her he was all right, to comfort her. But he knew it was no use. But still…how could he be looking down at his own grave?
Before he could figure this out, blackness sealed itself around him like a blanket. He was falling through the icy air, forever, and ever, and ever…he couldn't move, he couldn't see or hear. His head was pounding, and he felt his breath catch in his chest. Then, quite suddenly, he felt himself slam, flat on his back, on a soft, feather bed. All the wind seemed to be knocked out of him. His head was swimming, and his wand hand was throbbing. Harry could hear voices around him.
'Well, he's stopped shaking.'
'But Madam Pomfrey, he's so cold and pale.'
There was a pause. Harry felt a hand slide over his throat.
'His heart rate seems back to normal, but his breathing is still far from regular.'
'Isn't there anything we can do for him?'
'Right now, Weasley, all we can do is wait.'
A tense silence followed this conversation. Retreating footsteps could be heard. Where was he? Where were Ron and Hermione? He needed them, and they needed him….
He struggled to open his eyes, but he felt paralysed. His breath was coming in slow, painful gasps. He had to say something. Anything. Harry tried desperately, whispering laboriously.
'Hermione…' he managed to choke out.
There was a sudden gasp.
'Harry!' said Hermione's voice. Harry at first thought his hand was throbbing because of his wand, but when the pressure increased, he realised that Hermione was clutching it tightly in fright. His scar was still stinging.
He still couldn't open his eyes. Help me, he thought desperately, please…do something…
It's okay, Harry, came Hermione's voice.
But how can it be? Harry asked in his mind. I'm going to die….
There was a deathly pause as Hermione drew in a sharp breath.
No, Harry…'No,' she said firmly. To change the subject, it seemed, she asked him, 'Are you cold?'
'No,' he replied shakily.
'But your skin is.'
Harry said nothing. There was a splash of water.
'Your scar is burning,' she said.
'I know.'
'Let me cool it down for you.'
He felt a cold sponge touch his seething scar. It stung for a moment and he grimaced in pain. But after a while, the pain subsided, and he was able to open his eyes. Everything was blurred. He was lying again in the hospital wing, still in his school robes. Hermione was leaning over him, one hand grasping his, and the other sponging his forehead. Her face was stricken with worry, her brown eyes wide. Ron was pale as death.
'You okay?' he asked uncertainly.
'I think so,' Harry answered. He could feel cold sweat trickling over his face. Maybe it was lucky, he thought once he had looked up, that his glasses were off, because he had a bird's-eye view of down Hermione's shirt. Perhaps she realised this, because she sat back quickly in her chair, blushing furiously. Harry managed a sheepish grin. But then he remembered the dream, and stopped immediately. Ron must have noticed this; he leaned forward to talk to Harry quietly.
'What happened?'
Harry tried to sit up, but his head pounded, and Hermione put a hand on his shoulder to force him back down, which he was grateful for.
'I dunno,' he said at last, 'you tell me.'
Ron looked as if he'd rather do anything else, but nonetheless, he dropped his gaze, took a deep, shuddering breath, and spoke in a low voice.
'After you said the incantation,' he began, 'you sort of stiffened, then started yelling, and collapsed. And we tried to wake you up, but you just started saying weird things. It was creepy, you know. Your voice went all deep, and that's how we kind of knew when you were awake. When you said her name.' At this, Hermione gripped Harry's hand even harder, so he couldn't feel his fingers. Harry glanced at her, and she nodded, loosening her grip.
'Professor Figg carried you up here,' Ron continued. 'And we've been here ever since.'
Harry flushed at the thought of his old babysitter carrying him up to bed again, like the child he used to be.
'What kind of just happened a second ago, Hermione?' Ron asked suddenly. It then occurred to Harry and Hermione what had just took place.
'Oh,' said Hermione. She looked down at her hands. 'Nothing,' she mumbled. She looked up at him. 'Maybe you should tell us about your dream, Harry.'
He didn't ask how she knew. Harry tried to sit up again for his glasses, but he still couldn't move properly, so Hermione reached over and picked them up for him. With shaking hands, he put them on.
'I heard screaming again,' he told them. 'They were different from my mum's, but there was something about them that sounded just like hers. Then I was in a graveyard, and it was raining, and I saw a group of people walking down a path and crying. Then I tripped over a headstone. It was a girl's grave. The initials were V.W. and the dates were 1981-1996.' He swallowed, and then struggled with what he had to say next. 'The one next to hers was mine.' Those silent tears he had seen on Ron's face in the dream were now falling slowly down Harry's. At last he could raise his hand to wipe them away. Hermione was surprised. She had never seen Harry cry, never, even in the most trying of situations. Maybe it was the fear of dying, or losing someone you loved.
'And then you two showed up,' he finished, his throat constricted. He blinked and stared up at the ceiling. It was some while before he could speak again. 'When I woke up, I heard your voice inside my head, Hermione.'
Hermione had her hands over her mouth. Ron looked horrified.
'Do you think it was telepathy?' Ron said in a hushed voice.
'Could have been,' said Hermione softly, 'but I wouldn't believe it.'
*********
A/N: Yeah, I know, these chapters are kinda short. I know it probably isn't very good, but according to all my friends and teachers, I'm obsessed. I don't know…
Thank you all for reviewing!! This is my very first fic, so any suggestions of improvement are welcome. Just to clarify, I suck at romanticish crud, snogging (making out) and stuff like that, so don't hurt me!!! Just brace youselves, there might be some in the future…