A/N: Welcome to chapter three peeps, I wanted to finish this pronto so that my recent cold would not effect it adversely too much. However, I believe what happens here is crucial to the plot and quite entertaining. I was afraid it was dragging, but that's something I always say and your wonderful REVIEWS tell me otherwise. You all know that REVIEWS are very important to an author, don't you? If you're an author, you love reviews too! Reviews is what makes a good author great. I'll spare you a great patriotic speech, for I know you're eager to read. So read, and then REVIEW!
YOU know what? I've already put enough disclaimers on this story. You can consider this story disclaimed and see this message no more.
Chapter Three: Summerray
It wasn't sunshine the next morning that woke Timothy, it was thunder. The usual Florida thunderstorm that would roll over the land in the late afternoon apparently decided to come early, forecasting an entire day of rain. Timothy sat up in bed, running a hand through his hair as he saw Kalina wake up with a start at the sound of another thunderclap.
"Hurricane!" She gasped, looking up at Timothy.
"No… we would've known a lot sooner if it was a hurricane. It's just an early storm, that's all." Timothy assured her.
Kalina looked relieved, but flinched as light flashed in front of the window and thunder followed. She flew out of bed and jumped into his, clinging to Timothy.
"Kalina…!" He sighed, trying to pry his little sister from his neck.
"Do you think mum and dad are up yet?" She asked, ignoring his efforts to pull her off.
At her words, worried mumbling could just be heard from outside the door. After another clap of thunder, Timothy forced his way from Kalina's grasp and went outside. He stopped at the end of the hallway where he could see his father, still dressed in his pajamas, pacing in front of the fireplace in the family room. His mother was standing still off to the side, a mixed expression of worry, disappointment, anger, and something else he couldn't identify on her face. Both of his grandparents were putting around the kitchen making a hasty breakfast. No one noticed Timothy staring at them all, even when Kalina ran out to stand next to him.
"There was no other alternative, I'm sorry Harry… Renee. We don't know what to make of it. I hate to say it, but we need you back here as soon as possible. Things are going downhill quicker than we expected."
As Timothy's father moved his pace, he could just see his Great-uncle Us's head floating in the fire. From what Timothy could see, he looked stressed and worried. Obviously he called his parents with unhappy news.
"Are you sure, Sirius? Is it really so bad that the rest in the Circle can't handle it for another three days?" Timothy's mother asked.
"Without you're expertise, no. There… there's been some deaths." Great-uncle Us said sadly.
Timothy's father stopped in mid-pace.
"Who?"
"A couple called the Dines and another called the Smiths. I believe they were involved with what happened at Hogwarts recently, am I right?"
"Yes," Timothy's father said dryly. "This is not entirely surprising."
"We should have expected…" Timothy's mother sighed, looking away.
"That Taku Smith fellow we arrested has been hard to control for the wardens in Azkaban. Those freak'n wizards keep asking for the Dementors back, but like that'll ever happen… after last time."
"Have you upped security on him?" Timothy's father asked.
"Yes, and I know what you're thinking. Don't worry, that's being handled. But Harry, we really need you and Renee back here for this. Lupin and I are getting too old to keep up with this pace, you know. It really has us baffled." Great-uncle Us pleaded apologetically.
Timothy's parents exchanged looks; his mother disappointed and angry and his father tired and exasperated. Finally, they nodded.
"We'll be there in a few hours. Can you call Ron and Hermione and ask if they can watch the kids?" Started his father, but his mother put her hand on his shoulder.
"Harry, wouldn't it be better if they stayed…?"
"No… no, I want them close in case… in case they…" His father stared at the floor, and after a few moments, his mother nodded.
"Yes, perhaps you're right… yes."
Timothy couldn't believe it. His mind filled with random thoughts as Kalina tugged at his arm.
"Does this mean we're going home today? What has happened?"
"We better go pack." Timothy whispered absentmindedly, turning and going back into his uncle's old room. Kalina followed tentatively, unsure.
"But… Timothy… I don't want to go home so soon."
"We don't have a choice, Kalina." He said, picking up his clothes and putting them on.
Kalina opened her mouth to argue, but stared at Timothy's example and began to get dressed herself. Timothy had begun to tie his shoes on the floor when his eyes fell on the broken yellow pencil under the bed. His eyes widened as his random thoughts fell on the one that had been bothering him the most for the past two days.
"The woods…" He muttered, picking up the pieces and looking at them. There was no way of finding out about the significance of the woods and his mother now. He would never know… unless…
"I'll be right back, Kalina." Timothy got up, dropping the broken pencil, and left the room without another word.
"What? Timothy? Where are you…?" Kalina called after him, but he didn't hear her once he had left the house. Splashing through muddy puddles and jogging through thin rain while thunder rolled around him, Timothy headed down the worn path. It was sooner than expected when Timothy came to the fork in the path, the woods looking more ominous in the muted lighting of the morning from the storm. Pausing momentarily and catching his breath, he pressed onward through the mud and into the woods.
"Hello!" He called out. "Anyone out there?!" It was impossible to see the old trail, so Timothy blundered about in the wet bushes, calling out every other minute. "Hello?!"
It didn't take long for Timothy to realize how stupid he was, running around outside in the rain and lightning calling out for mythical people who most likely didn't exist. His clothes were completely soaked, his messy hair even worse as it clung to his wet face. The broken pencil was still clutched in his hand as he brushed fern palms aside and plants that he couldn't identify.
"I'm not going to hurt you!" Timothy cried, feeling stupid. Only thunder answered him and he finally found a clearing. Peering closely through his misted glasses, Timothy could tell that he was back in the same clearing where he had found the broken pencil. The buds on the nearby hibiscus bush were closed and the tree he had ran into could just be seen in front of him.
"Don't move!" Barked a high-pitched voice.
Timothy yelped and jumped, becoming stalk still. Only his eyes moved as he searched the surrounding plant life for the source of the voice. He couldn't see a thing until he looked down at the leaf-strewn floor. A brightly multi-colored snake was coiled at his feet. Timothy held his breath in fear.
"What colors you see?" asked the voice.
"Uh…" Timothy could hardly speak. "Uh… not sure."
"Does red touch yellow?"
Timothy contained his fear to peer closer at the snake without moving his head.
"No… I don't think so."
"Does red touch black?"
Oh, where's dad when you need him? I can't talk to snakes… but I think I can hear them! Timothy whined in his head, swallowing hard and taking another look at the snake.
"Yes… yes, I think so."
Suddenly a stick came out of nowhere and prodded the snake to move away. Timothy's knees began to shake as the snake tried to move toward him angrily, but the stick just swiped it to the side. He followed the length of the stick to see it originate from a large bush. As he saw the snake finally slither away from the corner of his eye, Timothy let out a loud gasp of relief.
"That was close." His body sagged. As he heard the bush move, Timothy snapped back to attention. "Wait! Come here! Please?"
The bush stopped moving, and Timothy could just see a pair of bright eyes in the light of a single lightning flash. It took a few moments, but slowly, a figure emerged from the bush. Taking a quick look at his feet to make sure the snake was gone, Timothy moved closer. The figure moved back, but didn't leave.
"My name is Timothy… Timothy Potter. Who are you?" He asked gently.
"Surely you would've known the saying… you come from the outside, you." The figure was that of a girl, a little older than he was. Timothy could just make out long dark hair and tanned skin. She was wearing a long tunic, with feathers woven into her hair.
"What saying?" Timothy asked, confused at such an answer.
"Red touches black is a friend of Jack; Red touches yellow can kill a fellow. I learn from father, father learn from the outside. Do you not come from the outside?"
"Er…" Timothy wasn't sure what to say. "From outside of the woods? Yes. I come from a different land though, from far away."
The girl stepped closer with curious and surprised eyes.
"Do you not have color serpents where you come from?"
"Not those types of snakes… no. My dad, he can talk to snakes though… he would know."
"Ohh…" The girl gasped, looking at him. "Your father has the serpent tongue? He must be a powerful Shaman, yeah?"
Timothy nodded.
"He's a powerful wizard, yes."
"Why don't you?" she asked.
"Er…" Timothy wasn't sure how to answer; it was a long story.
"You ran into tree the other day." The girl pointed to the tree that he had blindly ran into.
"Umm… yeah, I did." He ran his hand through his hair, blushing.
"Nimarsho… stupid." She laughed at him, coming closer and brushing past his side. Her movements were fluid-like and her eyes were bright and alert. Timothy watched her in fascination as she ran her hands under the hibiscus buds, making them bloom in full color.
"You still haven't told me your name." Timothy came up to her.
"Summerray, daughter of head Shaman. And you," she turned to stare directly at him. "One with eyes so wide like owl's would know better to see where he was going."
Timothy blushed a deeper red.
"I've been preoccupied." He admitted.
Summerray considered him, cocking her head to one side.
"Emm… yes, you're color is busy. You on a quest?"
"Yeah," Timothy answered, shocked. "How do you know?"
"We don't need special sticks to use our magic. The earth magic knows; it tells me." Summerray answered matter-of-factually.
"You mean ley-lines?" Timothy asked.
"Ley-lines?" She looked at him, confused.
"Never mind." He shook his head. Summerray shrugged and continued with the hibiscus flowers, making their sweet smell become stronger so that Timothy could smell them from a distance. He stared at her with fascination; she was not a "caveman wizard" that took your soul and sells it to pirates on the West Coast. Instead, for a powerful looking girl, she was quite… pretty.
"You are not one of those who come through our woods to hunt us," Summerray smiled at him. "Why, my owl eye, do you come shouting as if in dire need?"
Timothy had to think a moment to process what she was asking. Snapping out of his stare, he blushed and began to stammer.
"I… I er… I was… I mean I was… well," he cleared his throat. "I was looking to see if you really did exist… and if by being so you could help me find out why the woods upset my mum so much."
Summerray looked at him, confused.
"I do not understand. How would I know?"
"I… well, I… uhh…" Timothy suddenly realized that she was right. It was so long ago that his mother last left the woods… whatever the reason could be could be gone for all he knew.
As he continued to mumble wordlessly, shuffling his feet, Summerray considered him again with more intent focus.
"This can't possibly be the reason for you quest. If it was, than you would know the answer right away. No… you seek something more… something much more important."
"My mum is important." Timothy found the words, his eyes narrowed.
"The only one who can help your mother is herself. You should focus on your own problem now… I have a feeling the world depends on it."
Timothy grew annoyed. The idea of his destiny made him curse under his breath. He had plenty of time for that… right now was his only chance to find out about his mother.
"My mum has enough to worry about… I at least want to understand why she suddenly is afraid of the woods when at one time it was her favorite place to be!"
Summerray couldn't answer. They exchanged intent stares at one another before she suddenly stood up straight and stiff as a board. Her ears flicked like a horse and her eyes grew wide as she looked past Timothy and into the trees.
"What is it?" Timothy asked, turning to see where she was looking, but he didn't see anything. "I don't…"
He turned back and Summerray was gone. "Summerray?"
"TIMOTHY!"
A loud sound of snapping branches and swishing leaves came from back behind him; his mother's voice rang out in panic and determination.
"TIMOTHY!"
"Mum!" He cried out. "Over here!"
The crashing sounds of her footfalls became louder and more hurried.
"Timothy!"
"I'm here!" He moved to go toward her, but there was no need. His mother burst into the clearing where he was and instantly grabbed him into a protective hug.
"Oh, Timothy! Oh, Timothy, why? Why did you disobey me? I told you not to go back here, it's dangerous!" She fussed with his hair, hugged him again, and fussed with his hair once more. Her eyes looked close to tears.
"I'm sorry, mum," he mumbled through her shoulder as she pulled him into another hug. "I just had to know… I had to find out."
"Find out what, sweetheart?"
"Why are you afraid of the woods?" He forced himself to pull away, looking into her eyes.
"Yes, why are you afraid, my Artist?"
Timothy jumped, but his mother simply became still. Behind her, where Timothy could see, stood Summerray standing next to a very tall man carrying a large feather decorated spear. He had on an elaborate tunic with long dark hair falling on his shoulders. Strong and muscular, he didn't look that much older than his mother and father. As intimidating as he looked, the man was smiling, his arm around Summerray as she looked at him with an interested glare.
His mother closed her eyes, then opened them again to look at Timothy. He looked back into the same blue that he inherited from her and longed to know the cause of the pain he saw inside of them. Slowly, she stood up straight and turned to the man and Summerray, her expression hard to read.
"When last I saw a child, I now see a woman. My Artist, you've blossomed as the lumfar. Why is it, that you're eyes of sky, now wise beyond years, looks at me so vainly?" The man asked, his voice strong and melodious.
"I thought you would remember, Moonfoot." Timothy's mother whispered, grabbing his hand and pulling him to stand just behind her back.
"What happened then was necessary for now. We've both been blessed during our absence, I can see." Moonfoot peered at Timothy with an interested grin. He stared wide-eyed back, looking from Moonfoot to Summerray with utmost interest.
"You left me when I needed you most." His mother's voice rose.
The smile nearly disappeared on Moonfoot's face, he put a large hand on Summerray's shoulder.
"It was necessary."
"Necessary? Moonfoot, we were friends! You were my only friend! The last time I came after my brother left, I came to you. The one time I needed you the most, you did not come. You ignored me for the sake of necessity that you foresaw. But friends don't do that, Moonfoot, not where I come from. Friends are there for you no matter what… destiny or no destiny." Her voice shook. Timothy looked up at her, searching her face. There it was… the whole truth.
"If I had come, you wouldn't of left. If I had come, you would not have found the one you truly love. If I had come, your son would not be standing behind you. And… if I had come, the world would not be here at all." Moonfoot's face took on the sense of power that he emitted, and Timothy shivered at the sight. Summerray, however, seemed to glow like her father… the power these people had was awe-inspiring.
Timothy's mother wasn't sure what to say. She looked away, her hand grasping his tightly. He looked into Summerray's eyes as she watched them both, curiously.
"My Artist," Moonfoot consoled. "We have always been friends… even though we have been apart. I have never forgotten you… as you can ask my Summerray here. She saved your son today with the knowledge that I had learned from you."
"What?" Timothy's mother snapped back to look from Timothy, to Summerray, and to Moonfoot. "What do you mean?"
"Owl eyes, there, nearly stepped on a color serpent. If it wasn't for the saying that father taught me, I wouldn't have been able to know if it was deadly." Summerray answered her.
"Color serpent? You mean a coral snake?" She turned to look at Timothy. "You stepped on a coral snake?"
"Nearly," he muttered, looking at Summerray. "Summerray stopped me before I could, and got it to go away."
His mother looked flustered, tucking her hair behind her ears. She looked at Summerray and Moonfoot in turn.
"Thank you… I… thanks."
It wasn't until a long paused followed that Timothy remembered just how wet he was from rain. The canopy of the woods had filtered out the raindrops to a sporadic drip. His mother was just as drenched as he was, the hems of her wizarding robes completely covered in mud. Moonfoot and Summerray, however, looked completely unfazed.
"The magics speak to me… times have yet again turned for the worst. Where you have gone and came from is no longer alone, soon it will be felt by all here." Moonfoot said.
"I know," she sighed, whatever anger she had felt was lost and she looked at her old friend desperately. "Oh, Moonfoot… I'm afraid that me… and my husband, my Etam Luos, aren't sure what to do anymore. Malfoy is… is more powerful than we have ever imagined him capable of."
For the first time, Moonfoot moved toward her, and she allowed him to wrap his strong and powerful arms around her. Summerray came closer to Timothy; her expression was much the same as his, knowing and sympathetic.
"My Artist," he sighed. "Like I had told you before we left each other, you have power beyond those who live among you. And yet… and you know… this battle is not for you."
Timothy's mother shook her head in agreement, then looked over and down at Timothy. The look in her eyes told him what she was thinking of. The battle was his.
The thunder had returned, and among the booms came the sound of crashing coming toward them in the woods. His mother pulled apart slightly from Moonfoot, and he lifted her chin and looked at her lovingly.
"You see, I did come after all. No matter how far apart we are, I shall always be in your heart… as you will be in mine." And he kissed her on her forehead.
"Renee?! Timothy?! Are you out there?!" Timothy's father was running toward them in the rain, his wand lighted. Moonfoot had backed away, looking at his mother and then at Timothy.
"May those of the natural powers be with you, Timothy. Remember this, the answers you seek start without seeking at all."
"Moonfoot I'm… I'm sorry!" Timothy's mother cried as Moonfoot began to walk into the woods.
"When you need me again, I will come. Goodbye, my Artist." He took one step backward, and disappeared. Timothy's father could be heard yelling again over the thunder, and his mother took a moment before yelling out herself.
"Harry! Over here! I've got him, we're fine!"
Timothy was looking around for Summerray; she had already disappeared. He felt disappointed at not saying goodbye. When he moved to grab his mother's hand, he felt someone grab his from behind him.
"Shall we meet again, Owl Eyes?" Summerray smiled playfully at him.
"I… er…" Timothy felt himself blush.
"If my father has his Artist, than I have my Owl with his Artist's eyes. May you blunder into my heart as well." She laughed at him.
"Blunder…?" Timothy scowled, only making the high-pitch giggle return. He felt redder than a tomato. Summerray took up his hand and kissed his palm, laughing again at Timothy's expression.
"Grulemo on your quest, my Owl Eyes." And with that, she was gone. Timothy stood stupidly rooted to his spot, even after his father had bounded into the clearing and threw his arms around his mother.
"You just up and left… I had no idea… felt you worried… Timothy was gone too, Kalina told me…" He said through her long brown, and wet, hair.
"It's all right, Harry… I'm fine… I'm sorry…" Timothy's mother buried her head into his neck. After a moment, his father looked over at him. Timothy felt pathetic, standing soaked in the rain, as he father gave him a mixed dangerous expression. Coming from his father, it was a dangerous position.
"Timothy…" he began, but Timothy stopped him.
"I'm sorry, dad, I was stupid. I shouldn't have run out here like that without telling you… and for even going here at all. I'm sorry."
His father was about to say something more, when his mother stopped him, shaking her head.
"It's all right, Harry, he knows. We'll discuss this later, right now we need to finish packing and get back home."
He looked at her then finally nodded, motioning to Timothy for him to come beside him. Timothy did so, cautiously, and was relieved to feel his father put his arm around his shoulders and lead both him and his mother out of the woods. They didn't speak again, even after they had gotten back to the house and walked past Timothy's concerned grandparents and a bemused Kalina. Without a word, Timothy went to pack, scratching his arms and hands as he tossed his clothes into his suitcase. Kalina was already done, and was in the kitchen with their grandmother. He doubled checked to make sure, then went back to his pillow and pulled out the diary. Staring at the beaten leather cover, Timothy debated in his mind on what to do with it. After a moment, he shook his head and was about to place it back behind the headboard where he originally found it when he stopped. Not knowing the entire reason why, he pulled the diary back into the light.
"Perhaps you could help me again, Uncle Timothy." He muttered under his breath, and quickly shoved the old diary under some shirts in his suitcase… scratching his hands without a second thought.
An hour later, Timothy and his family were standing in front of his grandparent's fireplace saying goodbye.
"Keep in touch, honey." His grandmother kissed his mother goodbye.
"I will mom… sorry we have to run out on you like this, we all were looking forward…" she began, but her mother shushed her.
"Serves us right for running out on you all the time. When this all blows over, you all come back now, hear?"
"You've lived in the south too long, mom." Timothy's mother rolled her eyes.
His father had tossed Floo Powder into the fireplace, sending up green flames. He said goodbye, kissing Timothy's grandmother and shaking his grandfather's hand, before stepping into the fire and shouting "Potter residence!". He disappeared instantly. Kalina had to be shoved into the fireplace, reluctantly saying goodbye as she shouted the words too. Timothy was next, stepping into the flames and scratching his hands.
Stupid skin… what's up with this bloody itch? He thought to himself, waving goodbye and saying the words. With a whirl of green, he careened past hundreds of fireplaces before stepping out of his own. Back home where his father and sister were already putting bags away. He stepped out and to the side, dropping his bag and began to scratch frantically at his hands. They were all red and itchy. Could it be the sunburn? He thought.
Finally, after a few minutes, his mother came through the fireplace. She looked depressed and tired, dropping her bag with an attitude of discontent. He gave her a wry smile, still amazed at what he had witnessed in the woods. Had she repented her anger toward the people of the woods? Mainly Moonfoot, her friend? Her face only showed a trace of relief, and she looked over at him and smiled sadly back… but suddenly frowned with concern as she watched him scratch vigorously at his hands and arms.
"Mum, I've got this…" he started as she came forward to look at him closer, when her eyes went wide.
"Oh, Timothy! Oh, no… I had forgotten… why didn't I ever tell you…?" Instead of grabbing his hands to look at them closer and soothe them, she grabbed her own and looked up at her father quickly as if something was dreadfully wrong.
"What is it?" Timothy was taken aback by her actions.
"When you walked through the woods, did you brush by any plants where the leaves were in groups of three?" She asked him quickly, grabbing his shirtsleeve and taking him into the bathroom past the bewildered faces of his father and sister.
"I don't remember." He answered honestly, startled.
"Leaves of three, let them be…" he heard her mutter under her breath as she looked into the medicine cabinet where they kept all their healing potions. "Timothy, you've got poison ivy all over your hands and arms."
"I do?" he looked down at his hands stupidly as she took his elbows and pushed his hands under running water in the sink.
"Yes, and most likely I've got it all over my hands and your father as well. Oh, and we don't have anything for it! Shoot!" she slammed her fists on the counter, making Timothy jump. Obviously this situation only made her stressed state-of-mind worse. "Harry! Harry, come here, quick!"
Timothy's father came running, staring concernedly at his wife and Timothy in turn.
"What? What is it? We have to go soon, you know."
"Harry, did you touch Kalina at all?" Timothy's mother asked quickly, grabbing a potion bottle from under the sink labeled "Anti-Itch".
"Er…" he looked completely confused, beginning to run his hand through his hair. Timothy's mother nearly dropped the bottle, waving her hands at him.
"STOP! Don't do that!"
"What?!" his father jumped, face half-surprised, half-annoyed.
"You've got poison ivy on your hands! We all do."
"Poison ivy?" he blurted out just as stupidly as Timothy had. "But how would Kalina…?"
"It's contagious, and all we have for it is this anti-itch cream. It won't work to get rid of it." His mother sighed, putting a little of the cream on her hands and taking Timothy's in them, rubbing the cream all over.
"Oh… no…" his father moaned. "We can't deal with this now, Sirius is expecting us."
"Just give me a moment and I'll call my mom back. The fireplaces are linked until the end of the day, so if she has something I can go get it real quick."
Nearly an hour later, Timothy's mother came back through the fireplace holding a large bottle of pink goo. By that time, he wasn't the only one scratching at pink and inflamed skin.
"Stop… cut it out, you'll just spread it around and make it worse." His mother scolded all three of them, her face contorted in her own itching agony. She covered both of Timothy's arms with the pink medicine, then conjured up some oven mitts and some spellotape. "It's the only way, sweetheart, to keep you from scratching. Grand says that this should help with the itch and get rid of the poison ivy in a day or so."
When she was through, both Timothy and Kalina were tended to and guarded against the temptation of scratching by the taped oven mitts. His parents' arms and hands were covered in the pink goo, minus the mitts. They did not look happy for more than one reason.
Timothy sat back on the sofa unhappily, when his back was prodded by something sharp. He turned around and saw Jeff's claw clippers lodged in between the cushions. "Mum? Where's Jeff?"
The room fell silent as everyone shrugged. It wasn't until then that muffled yelling could be heard from the kitchen. Everyone leaped to their feet and hurried toward the sound, walking into the kitchen only to see a long yellow and purple tentacle tail thrashing wildly from under the oven.
"Mmmff… 'elllllpppp!" It was Jeff, stuck and mad.
"Jeff?" Timothy got on his knees and tried hard to pull him out with his hands covered by the mitts. It wasn't long until Kalina joined him, but there was no need, for both of their parents had drawn out their wands and shouted a summoning spell… making Jeff nearly fly from under the oven.
"Ahhh! Oh… ow… ow… ooohhh that's it! That's it! I'm calling my lawyer! Abuse, I tell you, abuse!" Jeff moaned, rubbing his head tentatively with his claws.
"We're sorry Jeff," Timothy's mother said soothingly, trying not to touch him as he hands were covered in the pink potion. "But we got a little sidetracked and didn't hear you until now."
"Sidetracked?! I could be dead under there and you wouldn't even notice until the rotting smell got unbearable! What's with this now? Am I a common dog? I'm always forgotten! Did I not help save your life once upon a time?! What thanks do I get?! You all go out for a sunny vacation and leave me cooped up here with only snakes to chase!" Jeff's normal yellow color had turned a hot shade of pink in his anger, fire licking his lips as he spoke. Timothy had never seen him so mad, and Kalina had taken refuge behind their father in fear.
"What do you mean, snakes?" Both of Timothy's parents asked, looking guilty and suspicious at the same time.
Jeff was huffing and puffing too fast to answer. Carefully, Timothy reached out his mitt-covered hand to stroke Jeff's head. It was several minutes before Jeff settled and allowed the comfort.
"I promise never to forget you again," Timothy said. "On my honor."
Timothy gave Jeff his famous innocent puppy-eyes, and Jeff's smug disbelief wavered slightly.
"Yeah, well… I've heard it before. If you leave me out in the cold one more time, I'll fry you faster than you can say 'KFC'."
"What does…?" Timothy began to question the last statement before his parents interrupted him.
"Jeff, you haven't told us what you mean by 'snakes'."
The small dragon had returned to his normal yellow color and disdainfully sauntered back over to the oven. He held his head heatedly above him, regarding both of Timothy's parents as inferior.
"We don't have time for this, lizard lips, spill it out!" Timothy's father snapped, his wand flashing.
"Lizard lips?!" Jeff snorted.
"Harry…" Timothy's mother warned, putting a hand gently on his even with the pink goo nearly sticking them together. She looked impatiently back down at Jeff. "I'm sorry about what happened, but please tell us before the next century, please?"
"Perhaps I will… if you promise not to leave me alone while you frolic in paradise again, and let me have more control over my magic, and allow me to go back with Wild One there when school starts again!" Jeff demanded.
"Jeff, you know…" Timothy's mother started, but now his father interrupted her-
"Whatever… just tell us, we have an urgent meeting to go to and you're keeping us up."
"Well excuse me!" Jeff chortled. "I'm so sorry to keep you! Why not just leave me like you so readily do all the time, huh?"
Timothy had better sense not to mock his parents, with all their power. His father especially. He and Jeff always got into silly tiffs over things, but this took the cake.
"Oh, that's it!" Before Timothy's mother could so much as blink, his father whipped his wand out in front of him and shouted "Transmortica Ramificus!"
Jeff didn't have time to yell protest before the spell hit him. A loud snap and pop amongst red light exploded by the oven. Timothy's mother reprimanded his father with all patience lost. Kalina had scurried over to cower behind Timothy. Timothy himself watched the smoke clear the kitchen in horror and fear of what his father had done to one of his best friends.
"Dad!" he cried, pulling at his hair. "You turned my best friend into… into a goat!"
Sure enough, standing in the spot where the yellow Jefforagon once stood, was a yellow goat.
"Harry! Look what you've done! How can he possibly tell us what he meant by snakes now?!"
Jeff kicked his hind legs and could only baah in protest. Timothy was flabbergasted, but Kalina got over her fear immediately and found the situation quite humorous.
"Ah, the annoying git deserves it. Let him butt his head into more appliances while we're out." Timothy's father looked dispassionately at Jeff who had begun to do just that, then turned and left the kitchen.
"But, Harry!" Timothy's mother rushed after him. Timothy himself tried to corral the yellow goat the best he could with the mitts taped to his itching hands. Kalina was too caught up in a giggling fit to be of any help.
"Get 'em! Get 'em!" She half-giggled, half-yelled to Timothy as he attempted vainly to catch him.
"Oh, shut up, Kalina!" He growled, his own patience lost as Jeff nearly butted his head flat to the floor. It was at that moment that a flutter of wings flew in through an open kitchen window and a letter landed on Timothy's head. He stopped his chase, leaving Jeff to blunder into the pantry and begin kicking out all the groceries. The letter had the Hogwarts seal embalmed on the envelope lip and his address was written in emerald letters across the front. As he looked up at the perch where the family owls stayed, he saw that both Hedwig and Keto (his parents' owls) as well as Windstone (his own owl) were now perched next to a large brown owl that obviously belonged to the school. He opened the letter while Kalina looked over his shoulder curiously. It only held a brief message from Professor Slimak, the deputy headmistress, and a list of his supplies for the second year. He had only just begun to go down the list when a simultaneous call from the living room and bang from the kitchen pantry got his attention.
"Timothy! Kalina! C'mon, we're going!"
His father's voice rang out across the house all tense and irritated, so both Timothy and Kalina did not hesitate to run at the command.
An hour later, Timothy found himself seated on his Godparents' house, next to Kalina. Both of them still had the oven mitts taped to their hands, which the itch had only just begun to ease. Joseph, his "cousin", could hardly contain his snickering as he poked at Kalina.
"What'chu have oven mitts on for?" his boyish grin only made Timothy want to slap him. What use that would have was embarrassing.
Kalina smirked at him as Timothy could only sigh and look away, watching his Godparents scuttle hastily about the kitchen as they bickered about stuff only a married couple could get phased about. This allowed his thoughts to wander, and surprisingly he didn't immediately think about his quest or about his mother's fear of the woods… but of the letters he had written to Darian and John.
"Bet they'll hex me for not keeping in touch," he muttered under his breath. "I really wanted to tell them about the diary and the woods too before school."
"What diary?" Both Kalina and Joseph asked, momentarily distracted from poking each other over the mitts.
Timothy tried hard not to panic and spoke quickly before he could think.
"I didn't say diary, I said… er… hardly."
"Hardly?" Both children blurted in union, suspiciously.
He blanched at the illogical response, using impatience to mask his nervousness.
"Yeah, hardly. Got a problem with that? Keep your noses in your own silly little talks."
Kalina and Joseph begrudgingly left him alone, engaging each other again in another poke fight. Timothy tried to drum his fingers on his knees as he breathed a sigh of relief, but stopped once he realized the idiocy of doing so with mitts on his hands. If there was one thing Summerray didn't save him from in the woods, it was from poison ivy. He thought of her long dark hair and wild eyes. The way she moved fluidly about the bushes and bramble. Her high-pitched giggle rang through his memory, and he could just feel her callused fingers around his…
Whoa, hold on a minute, what was he thinking! Timothy shook his head at feeling so reminisce about the Shaman girl who mocked him so. He didn't think about stuff like that! It sent shivers up his spine at the thought.
Wanting to shake his memory of Summerray, Timothy clambered off of the couch, leaving Kalina and Joseph in a heated discussion over whether waves at the beach were created by magic or not. He was about to wander into the kitchen to see if he could be any help to his Godparents, even with the mitts on, but traces of their conversation slipped to his range of hearing-
"…naked pictures of his girlfriend!" his Godmother's voice rang out.
"Hey, George has a twisted sense of humor. So what if he got caught mooning the Japanese ambassador the last time dad had company over?"
Timothy decided to head in the other direction.
As much as he enjoyed his Godparents, he didn't particularly have fun on his own at their house, especially since after Joseph was born. While even still his Uncle Ron would hang with him, now that Aunt Hermione was pregnant again, he was distracted. This left Timothy to entertain himself in a house where the only thing that sparked his interest was Uncle Ron's Chudley Cannon memorabilia. But as he wandered to the room where Uncle Ron proudly displayed the various moving posters and miniature statuettes of the players, Timothy quickly grew bored again and meandered back into the living room where Kalina and Joseph had moved to taunt Aunt Hermione's ancient cat, Crookshanks.
"Poke him again, see if he moves." Kalina muttered to Joseph, who obliged the request. The old ginger cat simply snored on, moving only like Jell-O as Joseph poked him.
"Stupid cat."
Timothy sighed and sank into a nearby armchair near some heartily glowing candles. He lethargically looked about, still hearing his Godparents clanging pots and his sister giggling with Joseph as Crookshanks made his earthly presence known only by burping. Timothy nearly had trouble keeping himself from giggling as well, restraining himself so by looking over at the coffee table next to the chair. Sprawled on top was an issue of The Daily Prophet. Half-interested and bored, he took it up and read the main headline:
BRUTAL DEATHS DISCOVERED IN KENT
Two cases of dark art related curse deaths were found in Kent yesterday, after an observant witch known as Marian Fluer investigated the absence of one of her employees at her potion shop. She discovered the bodies of Richard and Lauren Dine, apparently killed by excessive use of the Cruciatus curse, in their home not far from the shop. Mrs. Dine had been Fluer's employee for a number of years; the nature of the deaths was quite a shock. "Never in my life did I ever suspect Lauren or her husband to be connected to the dark arts, especially since I thought the practice and threat have been long gone since You-Know-Who was finally killed by the Potters." Said Fluer to The Daily Prophet.
In a completely different side of the town, another couple was discovered dead by the same means in their home as well. Patrick and Nora Smith, the parents of the recently convicted teenager who was responsible for dark magic at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, were in fact related to the Dines. Mr. Smith was Mrs. Dine's sister. It has come to the attention of the Prophet that one of the Malfoy family members, Draco Malfoy, is the one responsible for the deaths, as well as the many that have occurred this summer. Not much is known about him at this time, other than he was a strong supporter of You-Know-Who. Officials and aurors have been working on the case, and continue to do so, including the Potters.
Timothy's jaw dropped as he read the article through. Now he remembered what his Great-uncle Us had said when he called his parents in Florida earlier that day. He said that there were more deaths, the Dines and the Smiths. If he thought correctly, the Dines were Luna's parents! Luna, a Hufflepuff from school, was involved in his trap from Malfoy. He scanned the article to see if there was any mention of her, of what had happened to her, but there was none. As he wondered anxiously about where Luna was at that moment, another sentence caught his eye. The Smiths had been killed too, and the article even mentioned that they were the parents of Taku Smith, a former bad-attitude Prefect who had been working with Draco Malfoy in plans to kill Timothy and his family last year. He had a twisted feeling he knew the reason why his parents were killed… but it wasn't fair that Luna's parents were.
Timothy felt dread well up in him as he realized just how bad things had gotten since he'd left school. His parents seldom talked about their work, most likely so as not to worry him and his sister. He hadn't really looked at a newspaper until that moment and had always found listening to the daily news on the wizard radio boring, thus not hearing about anything either. It made him feel ignorant and guilty for stalling on his quest. If he was the world's only hope to destroy Malfoy, there would be a lot more deaths to come if he didn't get a move on. But how? This article only reminded him of what he had to do… it didn't help him. He was no closer to a clue than he was before he was reminded.
"OK, kids!" called his Uncle Ron from the kitchen. "Dinner!"
Kalina and Joseph bolted from the living room like hungry lions, but Timothy had to force himself to leave the room as the confused thoughts bounced around in his mind. It must of showed on his face, for his Godparents gave him concerned looks as he managed to sit down at the table.
"What's eating you, Timothy? It should be you doing the eating now." Uncle Ron laughed at his own joke while Aunt Hermione rolled her eyes.
It took a few moments for Timothy to recall that his Godfather had even spoke before barking out a forced laugh, even though he didn't even remember hearing the "joke".
"Really, Ron, eat before I hex your potatoes to run from your plate. Then we'll all laugh at you." Aunt Hermione fixed Uncle Ron with a narrowed stare, her wand pointing threateningly at him while Joseph giggled.
"That's fine, then I'll be able to hex your roast beef to sing the national anthem!" He countered with a shrug. Another tiff erupted between the two adults, not in the least distracting Timothy from his automatic eating of food and thinking about the Potter family crest.
Where could it be? Certainly not at my house, and my father's parents' house was destroyed. Is it even possible that the crest still exists? Well, yeah, if they told me to find it. But then where on Earth is it?! He debated with himself in his mind.
"Ron…"
"…and another thing, why can't a man get some scones or something like that anymore? Do I have to live off of health junk forever?"
"Ron…" Timothy's Godmother had suddenly gone flush and her face was serious with surprise.
"No, I'm speaking for every husband and guy out there who's forced to eat stuff that a guy would never dream of eating on his own! Look at me, do I look like I need a diet?!" His Godfather continued his patriotic speech, unaware of the persistent shaking of his arm by his wife.
"RON! Shut up! It's time!"
"You bet it's time… time for something sweet!" He rubbed his hands together and grabbed his wand.
"No, you idiot! It's time! I'm in labor!" Aunt Hermione raged at him.
Everyone fell completely silent as Uncle Ron paled. Finally he shook himself into a panic.
"Well why didn't you say so?!"
If it weren't for the fact that she was in labor, Timothy's Godmother most likely would have really hexed his Godfather to pieces by the glare she gave him. But Uncle Ron didn't notice. He had practically flown out of the kitchen and was back a moment later with a suitcase. Before Aunt Hermione could so much as open her mouth, Uncle Ron muttered a lighting spell and picked her up without so much as a grunt. Timothy, as well as his sister and Joseph, watched the stunt with wide eyes and gaping mouths.
"Ron…"
"Don't worry, I'll have you at the hospital pronto!"
"Ron…"
Sitting stock still in their seats, Timothy, Kalina, and Joseph watched as Uncle Ron carried her out of the kitchen and heard them go toward the living room. No one said a word, still as statues, until they heard them returning.
"Kids! Oh no, I didn't think of this…" As Uncle Ron pondered, Aunt Hermione rolled her eyes again.
"Let's get your mother."
"Right!"
He ran out of the room again. Timothy could only drop his fork.
Not more than 1 minute later, Molly Weasley was bidding goodbye to the expectant couple as she held Joseph's hand and shielded Timothy and Kalina with her other. Timothy sighed as things settled down; Mrs. Weasley was like another grandmother to him. However, as she got them all cookies and milk, the subtle evening just made Timothy worry about the crest even more.
He decided to sleep on the couch in the living room, as he and his sister were spending the night. Their parents were still at work, and had called to ask if they could sleep over. Mrs. Weasley had no objection, and set up the younger children in the master bedroom together if they needed her. Timothy was old enough… and troubled enough… to want to sleep on the couch. It was there that he could muse on his problems.
The candles went out and Timothy closed his eyes, moonlight pouring in through a bay window. If he hadn't of been so exhausted from that day, Timothy might have been awake long enough to see a pair of glittering eyes peering through that same window. Eyes that were fixed dangerously on him…
A/N: If it was short, forgive me. I felt I needed to end this chapter and move on; my greatest fear is dragging, like I said. Not too many reviewed the last chapter, and I'm not sure if that was because of the new system, if people just didn't get the authoralert, or you just didn't like the chapter! PLEASE review, it's important to me, really. I'll stop begging, 'cause I know how annoying that is ::shy laugh:: Because of this chaptered system, there could very well be chapter 4 after this if you're reading this after 2/16/01, so you can review the next one ::smiles:: Otherwise, review now!
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What's next? Well... Timothy goes to get his school things and meets up with his buds from school... where he gets some disturbing news that he's not sure if he should take it as a clue to his quest- or a threat to his life. DUN DUN DUNNNN!
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~OrcaPotter
YOU know what? I've already put enough disclaimers on this story. You can consider this story disclaimed and see this message no more.
Chapter Three: Summerray
It wasn't sunshine the next morning that woke Timothy, it was thunder. The usual Florida thunderstorm that would roll over the land in the late afternoon apparently decided to come early, forecasting an entire day of rain. Timothy sat up in bed, running a hand through his hair as he saw Kalina wake up with a start at the sound of another thunderclap.
"Hurricane!" She gasped, looking up at Timothy.
"No… we would've known a lot sooner if it was a hurricane. It's just an early storm, that's all." Timothy assured her.
Kalina looked relieved, but flinched as light flashed in front of the window and thunder followed. She flew out of bed and jumped into his, clinging to Timothy.
"Kalina…!" He sighed, trying to pry his little sister from his neck.
"Do you think mum and dad are up yet?" She asked, ignoring his efforts to pull her off.
At her words, worried mumbling could just be heard from outside the door. After another clap of thunder, Timothy forced his way from Kalina's grasp and went outside. He stopped at the end of the hallway where he could see his father, still dressed in his pajamas, pacing in front of the fireplace in the family room. His mother was standing still off to the side, a mixed expression of worry, disappointment, anger, and something else he couldn't identify on her face. Both of his grandparents were putting around the kitchen making a hasty breakfast. No one noticed Timothy staring at them all, even when Kalina ran out to stand next to him.
"There was no other alternative, I'm sorry Harry… Renee. We don't know what to make of it. I hate to say it, but we need you back here as soon as possible. Things are going downhill quicker than we expected."
As Timothy's father moved his pace, he could just see his Great-uncle Us's head floating in the fire. From what Timothy could see, he looked stressed and worried. Obviously he called his parents with unhappy news.
"Are you sure, Sirius? Is it really so bad that the rest in the Circle can't handle it for another three days?" Timothy's mother asked.
"Without you're expertise, no. There… there's been some deaths." Great-uncle Us said sadly.
Timothy's father stopped in mid-pace.
"Who?"
"A couple called the Dines and another called the Smiths. I believe they were involved with what happened at Hogwarts recently, am I right?"
"Yes," Timothy's father said dryly. "This is not entirely surprising."
"We should have expected…" Timothy's mother sighed, looking away.
"That Taku Smith fellow we arrested has been hard to control for the wardens in Azkaban. Those freak'n wizards keep asking for the Dementors back, but like that'll ever happen… after last time."
"Have you upped security on him?" Timothy's father asked.
"Yes, and I know what you're thinking. Don't worry, that's being handled. But Harry, we really need you and Renee back here for this. Lupin and I are getting too old to keep up with this pace, you know. It really has us baffled." Great-uncle Us pleaded apologetically.
Timothy's parents exchanged looks; his mother disappointed and angry and his father tired and exasperated. Finally, they nodded.
"We'll be there in a few hours. Can you call Ron and Hermione and ask if they can watch the kids?" Started his father, but his mother put her hand on his shoulder.
"Harry, wouldn't it be better if they stayed…?"
"No… no, I want them close in case… in case they…" His father stared at the floor, and after a few moments, his mother nodded.
"Yes, perhaps you're right… yes."
Timothy couldn't believe it. His mind filled with random thoughts as Kalina tugged at his arm.
"Does this mean we're going home today? What has happened?"
"We better go pack." Timothy whispered absentmindedly, turning and going back into his uncle's old room. Kalina followed tentatively, unsure.
"But… Timothy… I don't want to go home so soon."
"We don't have a choice, Kalina." He said, picking up his clothes and putting them on.
Kalina opened her mouth to argue, but stared at Timothy's example and began to get dressed herself. Timothy had begun to tie his shoes on the floor when his eyes fell on the broken yellow pencil under the bed. His eyes widened as his random thoughts fell on the one that had been bothering him the most for the past two days.
"The woods…" He muttered, picking up the pieces and looking at them. There was no way of finding out about the significance of the woods and his mother now. He would never know… unless…
"I'll be right back, Kalina." Timothy got up, dropping the broken pencil, and left the room without another word.
"What? Timothy? Where are you…?" Kalina called after him, but he didn't hear her once he had left the house. Splashing through muddy puddles and jogging through thin rain while thunder rolled around him, Timothy headed down the worn path. It was sooner than expected when Timothy came to the fork in the path, the woods looking more ominous in the muted lighting of the morning from the storm. Pausing momentarily and catching his breath, he pressed onward through the mud and into the woods.
"Hello!" He called out. "Anyone out there?!" It was impossible to see the old trail, so Timothy blundered about in the wet bushes, calling out every other minute. "Hello?!"
It didn't take long for Timothy to realize how stupid he was, running around outside in the rain and lightning calling out for mythical people who most likely didn't exist. His clothes were completely soaked, his messy hair even worse as it clung to his wet face. The broken pencil was still clutched in his hand as he brushed fern palms aside and plants that he couldn't identify.
"I'm not going to hurt you!" Timothy cried, feeling stupid. Only thunder answered him and he finally found a clearing. Peering closely through his misted glasses, Timothy could tell that he was back in the same clearing where he had found the broken pencil. The buds on the nearby hibiscus bush were closed and the tree he had ran into could just be seen in front of him.
"Don't move!" Barked a high-pitched voice.
Timothy yelped and jumped, becoming stalk still. Only his eyes moved as he searched the surrounding plant life for the source of the voice. He couldn't see a thing until he looked down at the leaf-strewn floor. A brightly multi-colored snake was coiled at his feet. Timothy held his breath in fear.
"What colors you see?" asked the voice.
"Uh…" Timothy could hardly speak. "Uh… not sure."
"Does red touch yellow?"
Timothy contained his fear to peer closer at the snake without moving his head.
"No… I don't think so."
"Does red touch black?"
Oh, where's dad when you need him? I can't talk to snakes… but I think I can hear them! Timothy whined in his head, swallowing hard and taking another look at the snake.
"Yes… yes, I think so."
Suddenly a stick came out of nowhere and prodded the snake to move away. Timothy's knees began to shake as the snake tried to move toward him angrily, but the stick just swiped it to the side. He followed the length of the stick to see it originate from a large bush. As he saw the snake finally slither away from the corner of his eye, Timothy let out a loud gasp of relief.
"That was close." His body sagged. As he heard the bush move, Timothy snapped back to attention. "Wait! Come here! Please?"
The bush stopped moving, and Timothy could just see a pair of bright eyes in the light of a single lightning flash. It took a few moments, but slowly, a figure emerged from the bush. Taking a quick look at his feet to make sure the snake was gone, Timothy moved closer. The figure moved back, but didn't leave.
"My name is Timothy… Timothy Potter. Who are you?" He asked gently.
"Surely you would've known the saying… you come from the outside, you." The figure was that of a girl, a little older than he was. Timothy could just make out long dark hair and tanned skin. She was wearing a long tunic, with feathers woven into her hair.
"What saying?" Timothy asked, confused at such an answer.
"Red touches black is a friend of Jack; Red touches yellow can kill a fellow. I learn from father, father learn from the outside. Do you not come from the outside?"
"Er…" Timothy wasn't sure what to say. "From outside of the woods? Yes. I come from a different land though, from far away."
The girl stepped closer with curious and surprised eyes.
"Do you not have color serpents where you come from?"
"Not those types of snakes… no. My dad, he can talk to snakes though… he would know."
"Ohh…" The girl gasped, looking at him. "Your father has the serpent tongue? He must be a powerful Shaman, yeah?"
Timothy nodded.
"He's a powerful wizard, yes."
"Why don't you?" she asked.
"Er…" Timothy wasn't sure how to answer; it was a long story.
"You ran into tree the other day." The girl pointed to the tree that he had blindly ran into.
"Umm… yeah, I did." He ran his hand through his hair, blushing.
"Nimarsho… stupid." She laughed at him, coming closer and brushing past his side. Her movements were fluid-like and her eyes were bright and alert. Timothy watched her in fascination as she ran her hands under the hibiscus buds, making them bloom in full color.
"You still haven't told me your name." Timothy came up to her.
"Summerray, daughter of head Shaman. And you," she turned to stare directly at him. "One with eyes so wide like owl's would know better to see where he was going."
Timothy blushed a deeper red.
"I've been preoccupied." He admitted.
Summerray considered him, cocking her head to one side.
"Emm… yes, you're color is busy. You on a quest?"
"Yeah," Timothy answered, shocked. "How do you know?"
"We don't need special sticks to use our magic. The earth magic knows; it tells me." Summerray answered matter-of-factually.
"You mean ley-lines?" Timothy asked.
"Ley-lines?" She looked at him, confused.
"Never mind." He shook his head. Summerray shrugged and continued with the hibiscus flowers, making their sweet smell become stronger so that Timothy could smell them from a distance. He stared at her with fascination; she was not a "caveman wizard" that took your soul and sells it to pirates on the West Coast. Instead, for a powerful looking girl, she was quite… pretty.
"You are not one of those who come through our woods to hunt us," Summerray smiled at him. "Why, my owl eye, do you come shouting as if in dire need?"
Timothy had to think a moment to process what she was asking. Snapping out of his stare, he blushed and began to stammer.
"I… I er… I was… I mean I was… well," he cleared his throat. "I was looking to see if you really did exist… and if by being so you could help me find out why the woods upset my mum so much."
Summerray looked at him, confused.
"I do not understand. How would I know?"
"I… well, I… uhh…" Timothy suddenly realized that she was right. It was so long ago that his mother last left the woods… whatever the reason could be could be gone for all he knew.
As he continued to mumble wordlessly, shuffling his feet, Summerray considered him again with more intent focus.
"This can't possibly be the reason for you quest. If it was, than you would know the answer right away. No… you seek something more… something much more important."
"My mum is important." Timothy found the words, his eyes narrowed.
"The only one who can help your mother is herself. You should focus on your own problem now… I have a feeling the world depends on it."
Timothy grew annoyed. The idea of his destiny made him curse under his breath. He had plenty of time for that… right now was his only chance to find out about his mother.
"My mum has enough to worry about… I at least want to understand why she suddenly is afraid of the woods when at one time it was her favorite place to be!"
Summerray couldn't answer. They exchanged intent stares at one another before she suddenly stood up straight and stiff as a board. Her ears flicked like a horse and her eyes grew wide as she looked past Timothy and into the trees.
"What is it?" Timothy asked, turning to see where she was looking, but he didn't see anything. "I don't…"
He turned back and Summerray was gone. "Summerray?"
"TIMOTHY!"
A loud sound of snapping branches and swishing leaves came from back behind him; his mother's voice rang out in panic and determination.
"TIMOTHY!"
"Mum!" He cried out. "Over here!"
The crashing sounds of her footfalls became louder and more hurried.
"Timothy!"
"I'm here!" He moved to go toward her, but there was no need. His mother burst into the clearing where he was and instantly grabbed him into a protective hug.
"Oh, Timothy! Oh, Timothy, why? Why did you disobey me? I told you not to go back here, it's dangerous!" She fussed with his hair, hugged him again, and fussed with his hair once more. Her eyes looked close to tears.
"I'm sorry, mum," he mumbled through her shoulder as she pulled him into another hug. "I just had to know… I had to find out."
"Find out what, sweetheart?"
"Why are you afraid of the woods?" He forced himself to pull away, looking into her eyes.
"Yes, why are you afraid, my Artist?"
Timothy jumped, but his mother simply became still. Behind her, where Timothy could see, stood Summerray standing next to a very tall man carrying a large feather decorated spear. He had on an elaborate tunic with long dark hair falling on his shoulders. Strong and muscular, he didn't look that much older than his mother and father. As intimidating as he looked, the man was smiling, his arm around Summerray as she looked at him with an interested glare.
His mother closed her eyes, then opened them again to look at Timothy. He looked back into the same blue that he inherited from her and longed to know the cause of the pain he saw inside of them. Slowly, she stood up straight and turned to the man and Summerray, her expression hard to read.
"When last I saw a child, I now see a woman. My Artist, you've blossomed as the lumfar. Why is it, that you're eyes of sky, now wise beyond years, looks at me so vainly?" The man asked, his voice strong and melodious.
"I thought you would remember, Moonfoot." Timothy's mother whispered, grabbing his hand and pulling him to stand just behind her back.
"What happened then was necessary for now. We've both been blessed during our absence, I can see." Moonfoot peered at Timothy with an interested grin. He stared wide-eyed back, looking from Moonfoot to Summerray with utmost interest.
"You left me when I needed you most." His mother's voice rose.
The smile nearly disappeared on Moonfoot's face, he put a large hand on Summerray's shoulder.
"It was necessary."
"Necessary? Moonfoot, we were friends! You were my only friend! The last time I came after my brother left, I came to you. The one time I needed you the most, you did not come. You ignored me for the sake of necessity that you foresaw. But friends don't do that, Moonfoot, not where I come from. Friends are there for you no matter what… destiny or no destiny." Her voice shook. Timothy looked up at her, searching her face. There it was… the whole truth.
"If I had come, you wouldn't of left. If I had come, you would not have found the one you truly love. If I had come, your son would not be standing behind you. And… if I had come, the world would not be here at all." Moonfoot's face took on the sense of power that he emitted, and Timothy shivered at the sight. Summerray, however, seemed to glow like her father… the power these people had was awe-inspiring.
Timothy's mother wasn't sure what to say. She looked away, her hand grasping his tightly. He looked into Summerray's eyes as she watched them both, curiously.
"My Artist," Moonfoot consoled. "We have always been friends… even though we have been apart. I have never forgotten you… as you can ask my Summerray here. She saved your son today with the knowledge that I had learned from you."
"What?" Timothy's mother snapped back to look from Timothy, to Summerray, and to Moonfoot. "What do you mean?"
"Owl eyes, there, nearly stepped on a color serpent. If it wasn't for the saying that father taught me, I wouldn't have been able to know if it was deadly." Summerray answered her.
"Color serpent? You mean a coral snake?" She turned to look at Timothy. "You stepped on a coral snake?"
"Nearly," he muttered, looking at Summerray. "Summerray stopped me before I could, and got it to go away."
His mother looked flustered, tucking her hair behind her ears. She looked at Summerray and Moonfoot in turn.
"Thank you… I… thanks."
It wasn't until a long paused followed that Timothy remembered just how wet he was from rain. The canopy of the woods had filtered out the raindrops to a sporadic drip. His mother was just as drenched as he was, the hems of her wizarding robes completely covered in mud. Moonfoot and Summerray, however, looked completely unfazed.
"The magics speak to me… times have yet again turned for the worst. Where you have gone and came from is no longer alone, soon it will be felt by all here." Moonfoot said.
"I know," she sighed, whatever anger she had felt was lost and she looked at her old friend desperately. "Oh, Moonfoot… I'm afraid that me… and my husband, my Etam Luos, aren't sure what to do anymore. Malfoy is… is more powerful than we have ever imagined him capable of."
For the first time, Moonfoot moved toward her, and she allowed him to wrap his strong and powerful arms around her. Summerray came closer to Timothy; her expression was much the same as his, knowing and sympathetic.
"My Artist," he sighed. "Like I had told you before we left each other, you have power beyond those who live among you. And yet… and you know… this battle is not for you."
Timothy's mother shook her head in agreement, then looked over and down at Timothy. The look in her eyes told him what she was thinking of. The battle was his.
The thunder had returned, and among the booms came the sound of crashing coming toward them in the woods. His mother pulled apart slightly from Moonfoot, and he lifted her chin and looked at her lovingly.
"You see, I did come after all. No matter how far apart we are, I shall always be in your heart… as you will be in mine." And he kissed her on her forehead.
"Renee?! Timothy?! Are you out there?!" Timothy's father was running toward them in the rain, his wand lighted. Moonfoot had backed away, looking at his mother and then at Timothy.
"May those of the natural powers be with you, Timothy. Remember this, the answers you seek start without seeking at all."
"Moonfoot I'm… I'm sorry!" Timothy's mother cried as Moonfoot began to walk into the woods.
"When you need me again, I will come. Goodbye, my Artist." He took one step backward, and disappeared. Timothy's father could be heard yelling again over the thunder, and his mother took a moment before yelling out herself.
"Harry! Over here! I've got him, we're fine!"
Timothy was looking around for Summerray; she had already disappeared. He felt disappointed at not saying goodbye. When he moved to grab his mother's hand, he felt someone grab his from behind him.
"Shall we meet again, Owl Eyes?" Summerray smiled playfully at him.
"I… er…" Timothy felt himself blush.
"If my father has his Artist, than I have my Owl with his Artist's eyes. May you blunder into my heart as well." She laughed at him.
"Blunder…?" Timothy scowled, only making the high-pitch giggle return. He felt redder than a tomato. Summerray took up his hand and kissed his palm, laughing again at Timothy's expression.
"Grulemo on your quest, my Owl Eyes." And with that, she was gone. Timothy stood stupidly rooted to his spot, even after his father had bounded into the clearing and threw his arms around his mother.
"You just up and left… I had no idea… felt you worried… Timothy was gone too, Kalina told me…" He said through her long brown, and wet, hair.
"It's all right, Harry… I'm fine… I'm sorry…" Timothy's mother buried her head into his neck. After a moment, his father looked over at him. Timothy felt pathetic, standing soaked in the rain, as he father gave him a mixed dangerous expression. Coming from his father, it was a dangerous position.
"Timothy…" he began, but Timothy stopped him.
"I'm sorry, dad, I was stupid. I shouldn't have run out here like that without telling you… and for even going here at all. I'm sorry."
His father was about to say something more, when his mother stopped him, shaking her head.
"It's all right, Harry, he knows. We'll discuss this later, right now we need to finish packing and get back home."
He looked at her then finally nodded, motioning to Timothy for him to come beside him. Timothy did so, cautiously, and was relieved to feel his father put his arm around his shoulders and lead both him and his mother out of the woods. They didn't speak again, even after they had gotten back to the house and walked past Timothy's concerned grandparents and a bemused Kalina. Without a word, Timothy went to pack, scratching his arms and hands as he tossed his clothes into his suitcase. Kalina was already done, and was in the kitchen with their grandmother. He doubled checked to make sure, then went back to his pillow and pulled out the diary. Staring at the beaten leather cover, Timothy debated in his mind on what to do with it. After a moment, he shook his head and was about to place it back behind the headboard where he originally found it when he stopped. Not knowing the entire reason why, he pulled the diary back into the light.
"Perhaps you could help me again, Uncle Timothy." He muttered under his breath, and quickly shoved the old diary under some shirts in his suitcase… scratching his hands without a second thought.
An hour later, Timothy and his family were standing in front of his grandparent's fireplace saying goodbye.
"Keep in touch, honey." His grandmother kissed his mother goodbye.
"I will mom… sorry we have to run out on you like this, we all were looking forward…" she began, but her mother shushed her.
"Serves us right for running out on you all the time. When this all blows over, you all come back now, hear?"
"You've lived in the south too long, mom." Timothy's mother rolled her eyes.
His father had tossed Floo Powder into the fireplace, sending up green flames. He said goodbye, kissing Timothy's grandmother and shaking his grandfather's hand, before stepping into the fire and shouting "Potter residence!". He disappeared instantly. Kalina had to be shoved into the fireplace, reluctantly saying goodbye as she shouted the words too. Timothy was next, stepping into the flames and scratching his hands.
Stupid skin… what's up with this bloody itch? He thought to himself, waving goodbye and saying the words. With a whirl of green, he careened past hundreds of fireplaces before stepping out of his own. Back home where his father and sister were already putting bags away. He stepped out and to the side, dropping his bag and began to scratch frantically at his hands. They were all red and itchy. Could it be the sunburn? He thought.
Finally, after a few minutes, his mother came through the fireplace. She looked depressed and tired, dropping her bag with an attitude of discontent. He gave her a wry smile, still amazed at what he had witnessed in the woods. Had she repented her anger toward the people of the woods? Mainly Moonfoot, her friend? Her face only showed a trace of relief, and she looked over at him and smiled sadly back… but suddenly frowned with concern as she watched him scratch vigorously at his hands and arms.
"Mum, I've got this…" he started as she came forward to look at him closer, when her eyes went wide.
"Oh, Timothy! Oh, no… I had forgotten… why didn't I ever tell you…?" Instead of grabbing his hands to look at them closer and soothe them, she grabbed her own and looked up at her father quickly as if something was dreadfully wrong.
"What is it?" Timothy was taken aback by her actions.
"When you walked through the woods, did you brush by any plants where the leaves were in groups of three?" She asked him quickly, grabbing his shirtsleeve and taking him into the bathroom past the bewildered faces of his father and sister.
"I don't remember." He answered honestly, startled.
"Leaves of three, let them be…" he heard her mutter under her breath as she looked into the medicine cabinet where they kept all their healing potions. "Timothy, you've got poison ivy all over your hands and arms."
"I do?" he looked down at his hands stupidly as she took his elbows and pushed his hands under running water in the sink.
"Yes, and most likely I've got it all over my hands and your father as well. Oh, and we don't have anything for it! Shoot!" she slammed her fists on the counter, making Timothy jump. Obviously this situation only made her stressed state-of-mind worse. "Harry! Harry, come here, quick!"
Timothy's father came running, staring concernedly at his wife and Timothy in turn.
"What? What is it? We have to go soon, you know."
"Harry, did you touch Kalina at all?" Timothy's mother asked quickly, grabbing a potion bottle from under the sink labeled "Anti-Itch".
"Er…" he looked completely confused, beginning to run his hand through his hair. Timothy's mother nearly dropped the bottle, waving her hands at him.
"STOP! Don't do that!"
"What?!" his father jumped, face half-surprised, half-annoyed.
"You've got poison ivy on your hands! We all do."
"Poison ivy?" he blurted out just as stupidly as Timothy had. "But how would Kalina…?"
"It's contagious, and all we have for it is this anti-itch cream. It won't work to get rid of it." His mother sighed, putting a little of the cream on her hands and taking Timothy's in them, rubbing the cream all over.
"Oh… no…" his father moaned. "We can't deal with this now, Sirius is expecting us."
"Just give me a moment and I'll call my mom back. The fireplaces are linked until the end of the day, so if she has something I can go get it real quick."
Nearly an hour later, Timothy's mother came back through the fireplace holding a large bottle of pink goo. By that time, he wasn't the only one scratching at pink and inflamed skin.
"Stop… cut it out, you'll just spread it around and make it worse." His mother scolded all three of them, her face contorted in her own itching agony. She covered both of Timothy's arms with the pink medicine, then conjured up some oven mitts and some spellotape. "It's the only way, sweetheart, to keep you from scratching. Grand says that this should help with the itch and get rid of the poison ivy in a day or so."
When she was through, both Timothy and Kalina were tended to and guarded against the temptation of scratching by the taped oven mitts. His parents' arms and hands were covered in the pink goo, minus the mitts. They did not look happy for more than one reason.
Timothy sat back on the sofa unhappily, when his back was prodded by something sharp. He turned around and saw Jeff's claw clippers lodged in between the cushions. "Mum? Where's Jeff?"
The room fell silent as everyone shrugged. It wasn't until then that muffled yelling could be heard from the kitchen. Everyone leaped to their feet and hurried toward the sound, walking into the kitchen only to see a long yellow and purple tentacle tail thrashing wildly from under the oven.
"Mmmff… 'elllllpppp!" It was Jeff, stuck and mad.
"Jeff?" Timothy got on his knees and tried hard to pull him out with his hands covered by the mitts. It wasn't long until Kalina joined him, but there was no need, for both of their parents had drawn out their wands and shouted a summoning spell… making Jeff nearly fly from under the oven.
"Ahhh! Oh… ow… ow… ooohhh that's it! That's it! I'm calling my lawyer! Abuse, I tell you, abuse!" Jeff moaned, rubbing his head tentatively with his claws.
"We're sorry Jeff," Timothy's mother said soothingly, trying not to touch him as he hands were covered in the pink potion. "But we got a little sidetracked and didn't hear you until now."
"Sidetracked?! I could be dead under there and you wouldn't even notice until the rotting smell got unbearable! What's with this now? Am I a common dog? I'm always forgotten! Did I not help save your life once upon a time?! What thanks do I get?! You all go out for a sunny vacation and leave me cooped up here with only snakes to chase!" Jeff's normal yellow color had turned a hot shade of pink in his anger, fire licking his lips as he spoke. Timothy had never seen him so mad, and Kalina had taken refuge behind their father in fear.
"What do you mean, snakes?" Both of Timothy's parents asked, looking guilty and suspicious at the same time.
Jeff was huffing and puffing too fast to answer. Carefully, Timothy reached out his mitt-covered hand to stroke Jeff's head. It was several minutes before Jeff settled and allowed the comfort.
"I promise never to forget you again," Timothy said. "On my honor."
Timothy gave Jeff his famous innocent puppy-eyes, and Jeff's smug disbelief wavered slightly.
"Yeah, well… I've heard it before. If you leave me out in the cold one more time, I'll fry you faster than you can say 'KFC'."
"What does…?" Timothy began to question the last statement before his parents interrupted him.
"Jeff, you haven't told us what you mean by 'snakes'."
The small dragon had returned to his normal yellow color and disdainfully sauntered back over to the oven. He held his head heatedly above him, regarding both of Timothy's parents as inferior.
"We don't have time for this, lizard lips, spill it out!" Timothy's father snapped, his wand flashing.
"Lizard lips?!" Jeff snorted.
"Harry…" Timothy's mother warned, putting a hand gently on his even with the pink goo nearly sticking them together. She looked impatiently back down at Jeff. "I'm sorry about what happened, but please tell us before the next century, please?"
"Perhaps I will… if you promise not to leave me alone while you frolic in paradise again, and let me have more control over my magic, and allow me to go back with Wild One there when school starts again!" Jeff demanded.
"Jeff, you know…" Timothy's mother started, but now his father interrupted her-
"Whatever… just tell us, we have an urgent meeting to go to and you're keeping us up."
"Well excuse me!" Jeff chortled. "I'm so sorry to keep you! Why not just leave me like you so readily do all the time, huh?"
Timothy had better sense not to mock his parents, with all their power. His father especially. He and Jeff always got into silly tiffs over things, but this took the cake.
"Oh, that's it!" Before Timothy's mother could so much as blink, his father whipped his wand out in front of him and shouted "Transmortica Ramificus!"
Jeff didn't have time to yell protest before the spell hit him. A loud snap and pop amongst red light exploded by the oven. Timothy's mother reprimanded his father with all patience lost. Kalina had scurried over to cower behind Timothy. Timothy himself watched the smoke clear the kitchen in horror and fear of what his father had done to one of his best friends.
"Dad!" he cried, pulling at his hair. "You turned my best friend into… into a goat!"
Sure enough, standing in the spot where the yellow Jefforagon once stood, was a yellow goat.
"Harry! Look what you've done! How can he possibly tell us what he meant by snakes now?!"
Jeff kicked his hind legs and could only baah in protest. Timothy was flabbergasted, but Kalina got over her fear immediately and found the situation quite humorous.
"Ah, the annoying git deserves it. Let him butt his head into more appliances while we're out." Timothy's father looked dispassionately at Jeff who had begun to do just that, then turned and left the kitchen.
"But, Harry!" Timothy's mother rushed after him. Timothy himself tried to corral the yellow goat the best he could with the mitts taped to his itching hands. Kalina was too caught up in a giggling fit to be of any help.
"Get 'em! Get 'em!" She half-giggled, half-yelled to Timothy as he attempted vainly to catch him.
"Oh, shut up, Kalina!" He growled, his own patience lost as Jeff nearly butted his head flat to the floor. It was at that moment that a flutter of wings flew in through an open kitchen window and a letter landed on Timothy's head. He stopped his chase, leaving Jeff to blunder into the pantry and begin kicking out all the groceries. The letter had the Hogwarts seal embalmed on the envelope lip and his address was written in emerald letters across the front. As he looked up at the perch where the family owls stayed, he saw that both Hedwig and Keto (his parents' owls) as well as Windstone (his own owl) were now perched next to a large brown owl that obviously belonged to the school. He opened the letter while Kalina looked over his shoulder curiously. It only held a brief message from Professor Slimak, the deputy headmistress, and a list of his supplies for the second year. He had only just begun to go down the list when a simultaneous call from the living room and bang from the kitchen pantry got his attention.
"Timothy! Kalina! C'mon, we're going!"
His father's voice rang out across the house all tense and irritated, so both Timothy and Kalina did not hesitate to run at the command.
An hour later, Timothy found himself seated on his Godparents' house, next to Kalina. Both of them still had the oven mitts taped to their hands, which the itch had only just begun to ease. Joseph, his "cousin", could hardly contain his snickering as he poked at Kalina.
"What'chu have oven mitts on for?" his boyish grin only made Timothy want to slap him. What use that would have was embarrassing.
Kalina smirked at him as Timothy could only sigh and look away, watching his Godparents scuttle hastily about the kitchen as they bickered about stuff only a married couple could get phased about. This allowed his thoughts to wander, and surprisingly he didn't immediately think about his quest or about his mother's fear of the woods… but of the letters he had written to Darian and John.
"Bet they'll hex me for not keeping in touch," he muttered under his breath. "I really wanted to tell them about the diary and the woods too before school."
"What diary?" Both Kalina and Joseph asked, momentarily distracted from poking each other over the mitts.
Timothy tried hard not to panic and spoke quickly before he could think.
"I didn't say diary, I said… er… hardly."
"Hardly?" Both children blurted in union, suspiciously.
He blanched at the illogical response, using impatience to mask his nervousness.
"Yeah, hardly. Got a problem with that? Keep your noses in your own silly little talks."
Kalina and Joseph begrudgingly left him alone, engaging each other again in another poke fight. Timothy tried to drum his fingers on his knees as he breathed a sigh of relief, but stopped once he realized the idiocy of doing so with mitts on his hands. If there was one thing Summerray didn't save him from in the woods, it was from poison ivy. He thought of her long dark hair and wild eyes. The way she moved fluidly about the bushes and bramble. Her high-pitched giggle rang through his memory, and he could just feel her callused fingers around his…
Whoa, hold on a minute, what was he thinking! Timothy shook his head at feeling so reminisce about the Shaman girl who mocked him so. He didn't think about stuff like that! It sent shivers up his spine at the thought.
Wanting to shake his memory of Summerray, Timothy clambered off of the couch, leaving Kalina and Joseph in a heated discussion over whether waves at the beach were created by magic or not. He was about to wander into the kitchen to see if he could be any help to his Godparents, even with the mitts on, but traces of their conversation slipped to his range of hearing-
"…naked pictures of his girlfriend!" his Godmother's voice rang out.
"Hey, George has a twisted sense of humor. So what if he got caught mooning the Japanese ambassador the last time dad had company over?"
Timothy decided to head in the other direction.
As much as he enjoyed his Godparents, he didn't particularly have fun on his own at their house, especially since after Joseph was born. While even still his Uncle Ron would hang with him, now that Aunt Hermione was pregnant again, he was distracted. This left Timothy to entertain himself in a house where the only thing that sparked his interest was Uncle Ron's Chudley Cannon memorabilia. But as he wandered to the room where Uncle Ron proudly displayed the various moving posters and miniature statuettes of the players, Timothy quickly grew bored again and meandered back into the living room where Kalina and Joseph had moved to taunt Aunt Hermione's ancient cat, Crookshanks.
"Poke him again, see if he moves." Kalina muttered to Joseph, who obliged the request. The old ginger cat simply snored on, moving only like Jell-O as Joseph poked him.
"Stupid cat."
Timothy sighed and sank into a nearby armchair near some heartily glowing candles. He lethargically looked about, still hearing his Godparents clanging pots and his sister giggling with Joseph as Crookshanks made his earthly presence known only by burping. Timothy nearly had trouble keeping himself from giggling as well, restraining himself so by looking over at the coffee table next to the chair. Sprawled on top was an issue of The Daily Prophet. Half-interested and bored, he took it up and read the main headline:
BRUTAL DEATHS DISCOVERED IN KENT
Two cases of dark art related curse deaths were found in Kent yesterday, after an observant witch known as Marian Fluer investigated the absence of one of her employees at her potion shop. She discovered the bodies of Richard and Lauren Dine, apparently killed by excessive use of the Cruciatus curse, in their home not far from the shop. Mrs. Dine had been Fluer's employee for a number of years; the nature of the deaths was quite a shock. "Never in my life did I ever suspect Lauren or her husband to be connected to the dark arts, especially since I thought the practice and threat have been long gone since You-Know-Who was finally killed by the Potters." Said Fluer to The Daily Prophet.
In a completely different side of the town, another couple was discovered dead by the same means in their home as well. Patrick and Nora Smith, the parents of the recently convicted teenager who was responsible for dark magic at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, were in fact related to the Dines. Mr. Smith was Mrs. Dine's sister. It has come to the attention of the Prophet that one of the Malfoy family members, Draco Malfoy, is the one responsible for the deaths, as well as the many that have occurred this summer. Not much is known about him at this time, other than he was a strong supporter of You-Know-Who. Officials and aurors have been working on the case, and continue to do so, including the Potters.
Timothy's jaw dropped as he read the article through. Now he remembered what his Great-uncle Us had said when he called his parents in Florida earlier that day. He said that there were more deaths, the Dines and the Smiths. If he thought correctly, the Dines were Luna's parents! Luna, a Hufflepuff from school, was involved in his trap from Malfoy. He scanned the article to see if there was any mention of her, of what had happened to her, but there was none. As he wondered anxiously about where Luna was at that moment, another sentence caught his eye. The Smiths had been killed too, and the article even mentioned that they were the parents of Taku Smith, a former bad-attitude Prefect who had been working with Draco Malfoy in plans to kill Timothy and his family last year. He had a twisted feeling he knew the reason why his parents were killed… but it wasn't fair that Luna's parents were.
Timothy felt dread well up in him as he realized just how bad things had gotten since he'd left school. His parents seldom talked about their work, most likely so as not to worry him and his sister. He hadn't really looked at a newspaper until that moment and had always found listening to the daily news on the wizard radio boring, thus not hearing about anything either. It made him feel ignorant and guilty for stalling on his quest. If he was the world's only hope to destroy Malfoy, there would be a lot more deaths to come if he didn't get a move on. But how? This article only reminded him of what he had to do… it didn't help him. He was no closer to a clue than he was before he was reminded.
"OK, kids!" called his Uncle Ron from the kitchen. "Dinner!"
Kalina and Joseph bolted from the living room like hungry lions, but Timothy had to force himself to leave the room as the confused thoughts bounced around in his mind. It must of showed on his face, for his Godparents gave him concerned looks as he managed to sit down at the table.
"What's eating you, Timothy? It should be you doing the eating now." Uncle Ron laughed at his own joke while Aunt Hermione rolled her eyes.
It took a few moments for Timothy to recall that his Godfather had even spoke before barking out a forced laugh, even though he didn't even remember hearing the "joke".
"Really, Ron, eat before I hex your potatoes to run from your plate. Then we'll all laugh at you." Aunt Hermione fixed Uncle Ron with a narrowed stare, her wand pointing threateningly at him while Joseph giggled.
"That's fine, then I'll be able to hex your roast beef to sing the national anthem!" He countered with a shrug. Another tiff erupted between the two adults, not in the least distracting Timothy from his automatic eating of food and thinking about the Potter family crest.
Where could it be? Certainly not at my house, and my father's parents' house was destroyed. Is it even possible that the crest still exists? Well, yeah, if they told me to find it. But then where on Earth is it?! He debated with himself in his mind.
"Ron…"
"…and another thing, why can't a man get some scones or something like that anymore? Do I have to live off of health junk forever?"
"Ron…" Timothy's Godmother had suddenly gone flush and her face was serious with surprise.
"No, I'm speaking for every husband and guy out there who's forced to eat stuff that a guy would never dream of eating on his own! Look at me, do I look like I need a diet?!" His Godfather continued his patriotic speech, unaware of the persistent shaking of his arm by his wife.
"RON! Shut up! It's time!"
"You bet it's time… time for something sweet!" He rubbed his hands together and grabbed his wand.
"No, you idiot! It's time! I'm in labor!" Aunt Hermione raged at him.
Everyone fell completely silent as Uncle Ron paled. Finally he shook himself into a panic.
"Well why didn't you say so?!"
If it weren't for the fact that she was in labor, Timothy's Godmother most likely would have really hexed his Godfather to pieces by the glare she gave him. But Uncle Ron didn't notice. He had practically flown out of the kitchen and was back a moment later with a suitcase. Before Aunt Hermione could so much as open her mouth, Uncle Ron muttered a lighting spell and picked her up without so much as a grunt. Timothy, as well as his sister and Joseph, watched the stunt with wide eyes and gaping mouths.
"Ron…"
"Don't worry, I'll have you at the hospital pronto!"
"Ron…"
Sitting stock still in their seats, Timothy, Kalina, and Joseph watched as Uncle Ron carried her out of the kitchen and heard them go toward the living room. No one said a word, still as statues, until they heard them returning.
"Kids! Oh no, I didn't think of this…" As Uncle Ron pondered, Aunt Hermione rolled her eyes again.
"Let's get your mother."
"Right!"
He ran out of the room again. Timothy could only drop his fork.
Not more than 1 minute later, Molly Weasley was bidding goodbye to the expectant couple as she held Joseph's hand and shielded Timothy and Kalina with her other. Timothy sighed as things settled down; Mrs. Weasley was like another grandmother to him. However, as she got them all cookies and milk, the subtle evening just made Timothy worry about the crest even more.
He decided to sleep on the couch in the living room, as he and his sister were spending the night. Their parents were still at work, and had called to ask if they could sleep over. Mrs. Weasley had no objection, and set up the younger children in the master bedroom together if they needed her. Timothy was old enough… and troubled enough… to want to sleep on the couch. It was there that he could muse on his problems.
The candles went out and Timothy closed his eyes, moonlight pouring in through a bay window. If he hadn't of been so exhausted from that day, Timothy might have been awake long enough to see a pair of glittering eyes peering through that same window. Eyes that were fixed dangerously on him…
A/N: If it was short, forgive me. I felt I needed to end this chapter and move on; my greatest fear is dragging, like I said. Not too many reviewed the last chapter, and I'm not sure if that was because of the new system, if people just didn't get the authoralert, or you just didn't like the chapter! PLEASE review, it's important to me, really. I'll stop begging, 'cause I know how annoying that is ::shy laugh:: Because of this chaptered system, there could very well be chapter 4 after this if you're reading this after 2/16/01, so you can review the next one ::smiles:: Otherwise, review now!
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What's next? Well... Timothy goes to get his school things and meets up with his buds from school... where he gets some disturbing news that he's not sure if he should take it as a clue to his quest- or a threat to his life. DUN DUN DUNNNN!
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