Harry Potter and Yet Another Fifth Year Fic
By ChaosDragon

Welcome to yet another installment of Harry Potter and Yet Another Fifth Year Fic. This one's also quite short, as I only have 30 minutes a day to write, re-write, read, and edit my fics (in addition to getting anything else on the computer done). Next one'll be longer, I promise!

Please R/R, and once again all flames will be used to warm up my large can of spam.

I don't own Harry Potter, if I did I'd be working on the REAL Fifth Year book and you wouldn't be reading this. I do, however, own Faye and Professor Raffil. Don't use 'em.

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Chapter 3: The Dream

"WHATTTTTTT?" Ron shouted furiously at the staff table. He was among the huge number of protesting Gryffindors at the feast. "Snape? No way!"

Faye turned to Ron. "What? Is that bad?"

Ron, his face now scarlet from screaming, turned to Faye. "Yes! He's the worst... most biased... arrgh, that git!"

Dumbledore raised his hand again for silence, seemingly unbothered at the shouts from Gryffindor. He smiled as the table calmed down. "Now then, that said, tuck in!"

Seconds later, the feast appeared on the golden plates set before the students. Harry looked down at his plate.

"Great. Just great. Snape got his dream job. I'll bet he'll be more biased than ever."

"Oh, well," Hermione pointed out. "At least we won't be tormented by the Slytherins in Potions anymore."

The four looked up to the staff table where Professor Raffil, a squat old witch with long, tangled brown hair and squinty brown eyes, was becoming steadily red in the face from too much alcohol. Giggling madly, she spilled over a goblet of wine. Next to her, Professor Snape sat smugly in his chair, looking down with distaste at the Gryffindor table.

"Hmm... guess so," said Harry, thoughtfully munching on a bit of potato. "But he'll be able to single us out, what with fewer students around and all."

Faye glanced over at Neville, who had turned a dreadful shade of green. It looked as if he'd blow chunks any moment now. She reached over, patted him on the shoulder, and grinned. Harry noticed that her ears were now quite red at the tips.

"Maybe nobody wanted the job after what happened to Professor Moody," suggested Hermione.

The others nodded in agreement.

After quite some time, the feast disappeared from the golden plates. With the screech and clatter of chairs the students stood up. In varying stages of drowsiness, they marched out of the Great Hall. Professor McGonagall shouted over the din.

"Miss Tweed, if I could see you in my office- oh!" she was nearly knocked over by a drunk Professor Raffil, who was retelling a thrilling story as to how she messed up a Polyjuice potion and ended up becoming a werewolf for a month.

Faye smiled, then made her way through the surging crowd and out of sight.

Harry was too tired and too full of food to care about Professor Snape now. Glancing over at Ron and Hermione, he guessed that they were in the same state- Ron's eyelids kept drooping, and Hermione looked dead on her feet. Together they shuffled up to Gryffindor Tower, where Hermione told everyone the new password ("Newt Eyes"). Faye turned up just before Neville climbed into the portrait hole, tucking something under her robes. She smiled.

"Great food!"

Before Harry could ask what Professor McGonagall had asked her about, Faye had passed him and made her way up the spiral staircase to the girl's dormitories, followed closely by Hermione. He shrugged and made his way up to the familiar circular dormitory with its four-poster beds.

Feeling warm, safe, and at home at last, Harry closed his eyes, not caring about Snape, not caring about anything.

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A gray mist swirled about Harry, contorting into strange shapes and figures in the darkness. Wisps of it passed through his body, unconcerned with his presence. Startled and confused, Harry glanced around. His vision was blocked by the sheer volume and density of the gray haze.

A light pierced the darkness.

Red-orange, flickering warmth spread through the cold mist, parting it as it became closer, brighter. Harry squinted through the brightening gray, trying to see the source of this mysterious light. Then for an instant he saw it. A sword, long, thick, and covered in a river of flame, was held by a shadowy figure whose face he could not make out.

"Who are you?" asked Harry. His voice echoed oddly in his head.

What greeted Harry's ears was not English, nor Troll, nor Chinese, nor any language he could remember hearing. Song-like syllables punctuated with the soft chatter or tweet of a bird echoed painfully about Harry's head. The language continued, becoming louder and louder, until-

Harry awoke in a cold sweat to the sound of rain drumming on the dormitory's windows. He sighed and clutched his forehead, which was throbbing slightly. Rolling over, he soon found himself lulled off to sleep, the dream fading quickly from his mind.

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A/N: Well that's it for Chapter 3. I swear the next chapter will be longer. However, I have a deal to strike. Until I get five reviews, I'm not putting up the next chapter. Love it? Hate it? Tell me about it!