A/N: *Sniffs miserably* I didn't get hardly any reviews for last chapter! I'm so depressed! I mean, I thought it wasn't as good as Hermione's Big Day, but not that bad! *grins* No, that's okay....I can deal with this ... Anyways, regardless, here's chapter two. A small bit better than last chapter, but still not as good as the story will be, I promise. It does get better. I swear. On to the story! -CM



*

Harry took a seat next to Hermione for the carriage ride back to the castle, and she was partly reassured. Having him next to her was a comfort in itself.

She didn't like Lystra, and there was nothing to back it up. No proof at all. It wasn't like Hermione to dislike someone without a reason, but she did. The girl just radiated coldness.

I wonder how they're going to sort Lystra? she thought, looking hard at her. Will they use the Sorting Hat again? I hope she's not in Gryffindor. Slytherin seems more like it.

The cart bumped its way to the Hogwarts Castle, and stopped in front of it. They got out, one by one, Lystra last. She looked around her surroundings, taking it in in the traditional analyzing manner that had made her famous - who knew when she would have to know her way around?

Mentally she reviewed Voldemort's orders. He had explained to her what happened last time they'd met Voldemort: they had gotten away because of the bond between them. There was apparently some kind of stronger force even then Avada Kedavra, a force that Harry and Hermione drew on without realizing it - love. The same that had saved Harry years ago in the first attack on his parents, different form, but just as powerful.

But to separate them would be to leave them helpless. One without the other was useless.

"How are they going to Sort you, Lystra?" said a sandy-haired boy who was looking very distracted at the sight of her low-cut top.

"I don't know," Lystra lied, working worry into her voice. Acting time, she thought.

But her master had already made sure that Lystra would be well supplied for in the matter of Sorting.

They lead her up to the castle's front doors and entered. The Great Hall was fairly big, but not nearly as big as the one at Voldemort's castle. She got homesick just thinking about it. The birthplace of the Death Angels, it was, and always seemed like home to her.

Everyone was acting like they thought she'd be impressed (pitiful, she thought) so she put on her best face of wonder. "Wow.." she whispered. "It's so much bigger than our Durmstrang one!"

Good, she thought to herself as they all turned away in smiles.

There were five large tables set up in the Great Hall. The students all seemed to know what to do: but most stopped before going to their house table and stared at the fifth table. "What's that for?" - "Where are the first years?" - and the most common, "Where's the Sorting Hat?"

Lystra smiled cruelly to herself.

"Sit with the first years," instructed a stern-looking woman in emerald-green robes to Lystra. She did so.

Once the older students were seated at their House tables, a line of young-looking wizards filed in to sit at the fifth table. The older students stared at them, obviously puzzled, but turned as a tall wizard in blue stars-and-moons robe stood up and cleared his throat.

That must be Dumbledore, thought Lystra.

"I can see you are all curious about this turn of events," Dumbledore said, and he didn't look as buoyant and excited as usual. "I'm afraid that the method of Sorting students, the Sorting Hat, has been destroyed."

There was a gasp from the Hall. Students everywhere were staring at Dumbledore with big, concerned eyes. Destroyed? they seemed to whisper among themselves. How? By who?

Lystra smiled to herself.

"So, this year, students will be sorted according to data collected by Professor McGongagall's very special quill. It has the same magical properties as the Sorting Hat, but we have never had to use it before." He looked down at his plate and sighed, then picked a roll of parchment up from the table.

"The following students are in Hufflepuff: .."

He went on and on, down the list, until the first years had all joined their respective tables, except for Lystra. Lystra waited patiently.

"And," said Dumbledore, his face lighting, "this year is a very special one, for we have a transfer student here from Durmstrang itself. Please, all of you welcome Lystra Riddle!"

Riddle? Harry stiffened at the Gryffindor table. So did Ron, and Ginny. Must be just a coincidence ..

"As we do not have the same magical information about Lystra, we have decided to put her in the Gryffindor house, as according to her previous record at Durmstrang. Will all of you welcome her, please, and help her find her way to her classes?"

The last few words were drowned out by a storm of clapping and applause from the Gryffindor table. Catcalls were mixed in. Lystra stood and walked smoothly to the Gryffindor table, allowing herself a sexy little smile.

"And now that that's done, it's time to eat!"

*

Hermione didn't have to show Lystra to the Gryffindor common room; nearly the entire Gryffindor male population was offering. There wasn't a single female Gryffindor without a scowl on her face, and many of the girls in other houses were angry too -- Lystra's lure didn't just reach the Gryffindor boys. Lystra seemed to absorb the anger, though, and smiled at it.

Maybe tomorrow will be different, thought Hermione, yawning as she climbed into bed. After all, today was a really tiring day. That girl can't be a mystery for too long.

And with that thought, she climbed beneath the covers and fell asleep.

She never noticed Lystra slipping out from the girl's dorm and into a quiet corner of the Gryffindor common room, where she reached for the small black pearl ring she always wore on her hand, signifying her as a Death Angel, higher order. It began to glow faintly - the signal that he wanted to talk to her.

She blew gently on the pearl, and in miniature, Lord Voldemort's image appeared inside the pearl.

"Have you gotten in?" he asked in that charmingly cold voice of his.

"Yes," Lystra answered, her eyes flaming red as she looked at him. "I'm here, and I'm in the Gryffindor common room. Our plan is underway.

"I will succeed, my Master. And first on the list: down with Potter and Granger's 'friendship.' "



*

Harry looked cautiously around. Where was he? He could see nothing but blackness around him.

Then Hermione appeared out of nowhere and he spun to face her. She was in her pajamas, looking like she had leapt out of bed, not bothering to brush her hair or dress properly. Her hair was disheveled and she looked panicked. "Harry?" she called in a small, pitiful voice.

"Hermione?" he said, holding out his arms to her. "What's wrong, why are you so sad?"

But she looked past him as if he wasn't there, and stumbled past him.

Around him the blackness resolved itself into a familiar Great Hall. He was suddenly standing in the middle of the floor. The tables had been pushed to the side and the Hall was draped in black.

Hermione ran past him and he stared after her as she stumbled towards the front of the Great Hall, where the teachers' table usually stood. But instead, it was draped in black, and someone was lying atop it, surrounded by candes.

Hermione was crying, he could see now, as she went up the steps to the table. Her strides faltered and she fell to her knees at the side of the figure lying atop the teachers' table.

Harry came closer. His heart gave a funny jolt as he caught sight of the figure lying motionless.

It was himself.

Harry stared, astonished, at the other-Harry who was still and pale atop the table. The other-Harry was dead.

What the hell is going on??

Hermione sobbed, her tears running down her face in streams, at the other-Harry's side. He longed to go to her and tell her he wasn't dead and take her in his arms and comfort her, but he couldn't move. He was frozen. Slowly, other mourners, all in black, began to file in. Dumbledore led the procession. His face was gray and lined, and full of a deep sadness. The perpetual hope in his face had gone, and he looked extremely frail and old.

Dumbledore, can't you see me? Harry pleaded. I'm not dead - why can't anyone see?

Ron and Lavender, their faces likewise tear-streaked, came up to Hermione and each took one of her arms. She looked up at them and burst into fresh tears, but let them lead her down the steps and away from the other-Harry's body.

"Hermione, it's me!" he screamed, waving frantically at her.

She didn't react.

He was standing there in despair, trying to figure out how to get to her, when from behind him came a low laugh.

He whirled. The new girl, Lystra, was standing at the other-Harry's body and looking down at him with a triumphant glint in her eyes. She threw her head back and laughed maniacally; the sound hurt Harry's ears.

But no one else saw her, no one else raised their heads as they filed past the altar. She must be in the same situation as me, Harry thought. "Lystra?" he said to her.

She didn't hear him, same as the others. He slumped in despair.

But she was doing something odd .. stooping and touching the scar on the other-Harry's pale forehead .. and with a blast of flame - Harry scrambled backward in alarm - the full figure of Lord Voldemort appeared.

Harry gasped and stared up at the Dark Lord, who was throwing his head back in gleeful laughter the same way as Lystra. He stood beside the new girl, tall and skeletal in black robes, the same way Harry remembered him from his fourth year.

Lystra smiled, her eyes flaming red as she lifted her wand.

Voldemort lifted his in unison, and together they began to chant something. Harry had never heard of the weird rhyme they were speaking..

"Foe vanquished - the leader gone, the people mourn ..."

"Love of the foe - silenced, her voice lovelorn ..."

What - Lystra? Voldemort? Harry fell back as the scar on his forehead burned like it had never before. "Hermione!" he screamed -

And woke up.

For a long moment he sat bolt upright in bed, sweat dripping off his brow, staring into the snowy woods outside his window.

Then, slowly, exhaustion overtook him, and he fell back on his pillows into a dreamless sleep.

And when he woke the next morning, he did not remember any part of the dream.

*

Soooo....cliched? Awful? Not worth the disk space it's taking up? I SWEAR it'll get better!!! ;) Reviews would be terribly appreciated. Cyas! ~CM