A/N: Chapter four, here at last. Early, and that's how we like it! Everyday, the plot grows in my head, many thanks to my American Govt. and Economics classes... oh and physics as well! The future of this story has changed in my mind- for the better. I think you'll enjoy it and it will benefit Timothy's Story greatly, I feel. So read this chapter, and do REVIEW! For the love of everything fruity, REVIEW! It's gosh darn important to what you read, to the story, to me.... REVIEW! OK, on to the chapter!
Chapter Four: John's Prediction
It was dark and damp within the confines of the earthen room. Not even the fire burning with straining effort in the gloom permeated the pall of evil darkness. A large woven rug covered the stone floor underneath a solitary armchair beside a small coffee table. Next to a mug of untouched tea was a crumpled and ink-smeared newspaper, the letters of the headline gleaming from the light of the fire, enhancing the message's sober tone.
BRUTAL DEATHS DISCOVERED IN KENT
A pale, blonde figure chuckled silently in the armchair. There was a sudden rap at the huge oak double-doors behind him.
"I said I was not to be disturbed!" He barked over his shoulder, fingering the wand at his side.
One of the doors swung open with a slight creak, and a dark robed man peered inside fearfully.
"S-sorry, my lord, but… you have a visitor."
The silence that followed nearly made the man wet himself.
"I said I was not to be disturbed." The figure finally hissed.
"My lord, s-s-she insisted!"
Another pause.
"She?"
"Y-yes, my lord."
"Send her in."
The door swung open completely with another loud creak, and the sound of heels clicked slowly into the room. Never once did the figure in the armchair make any move to face his visitor. When the patter of her heels ceased on the rug just behind his chair, the only sounds heard was the crackling and popping of the fire.
"Well?" He broke the silence. "You intrude upon me, state your reason."
"I come to speak to a Draco Malfoy, not a chair." Came the woman's reply, her voice thick with a Russian accent.
"Oh?" he nearly laughed at the woman's boldness. "Tell me why you're here and perhaps you may speak with him."
"Maybe I'm just wasting my time, it's no wonder you haven't caught your enemy yet, you're too busy being full of yourself." She turned on her heels to leave, but he caught her by the elbow.
"Who are you?" Malfoy sneered, but his face fell as the woman turned to face him. She was taller than him, more so on heels, and her hair was long and silky smooth. Her body was shaped like an art form, the long red dress hugging her features like a glove. Almond shaped eyes bore into his with a visible fire that glittered from the feeble light in the room.
"Veronica Murtov."
"What do you want?" Malfoy nearly whispered, taken aback by her beauty.
"It's not a matter of what I want, it's what you want." Her expression was dark and cold.
"And what would that be?" Malfoy fingered the long scar that distorted his face absentmindedly.
Veronica shifted her weight to one foot and crossed her arms.
"You know very well what it is."
Malfoy considered her a moment, narrowing his eyes.
"What do you know about what I want?"
Veronica smiled sadistically.
"I know where to find them."
Malfoy held himself back as Veronica walked around him slowly and sat in his chair. She crossed her legs and took up the untouched mug of tea and sipped it. Malfoy flexed his fingers as he debated in his mind how to handle this woman… this very… beautiful and dangerous woman. He regarded her as businesslike as he could… however feeling his insides melt at the very sight of her.
"And what does this all matter to you? He asked calmly.
She didn't answer right away, continuing to sip at the tea and glance over the paper that lay on the table.
"Been busy, I see… however, you don't act like it. Very much like the wizard before you."
"Unlike my old master, I get the job done." Malfoy snarled.
"And yet you still haven't destroyed the Potters, have you?" Veronica looked up at him with casual consideration.
He could only look away as she spread a wide knowing smile across her face.
"As much as you desire not to be like your fallen master, you're going about this matter in the same way he did. No… no, I have a better way." She said to him smoothly.
Malfoy looked back at her slowly.
"And what would that be?"
"I shall tell you… but only if my demands are met."
"Ah, and here's the point. What is it that you want?" Malfoy sneered, crossing his arms. Veronica motioned for him to lean close to her, and he did so, feeling heat rush to his cheeks as he breathed in her sweet perfume. She said something in his ear, and the smile that broke his face was the largest ever seen on him.
"Get me the Potters… and you shall have what you wish." He said.
Veronica laughed and her face crinkled in evil lust.
"All in good time, my lord… all in good time…"
****
When the sun rose the next morning, Timothy awoke with his legs all cramped. He was about to stretch out when he realized that he was not lying against the couch… but on top of someone.
"Yaugh!" Timothy jumped.
That someone was his mother, who woke up with a start at his outburst.
"Oh, Timothy! I'm sorry, did I startle you?" She blinked her blue eyes furiously to get the sleep out of them.
"When did you get here?" Timothy asked, putting his hand over his heart as he calmed himself.
"I didn't get here 'till late, and Molly wouldn't let me leave. So, I slept on the couch here with you, if you don't mind." She ran a hand through her long brown hair, looking at him apologetically.
Timothy blushed and felt badly for snapping at his mother; he ran his hand through his own hair and shuffled his feet.
"Of course not, mum. Sorry."
She smiled and pulled him into a long hug. He felt happy and safe in her arms and it wasn't until she finally let him go that he realized another thing.
"Where's dad?"
"Still at work," she sighed. "He sent me home to get you and your sister, but you can see what happened. I can only imagine the damage that Jeff has done, since I never got back to the house."
"So you've heard about Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione?" Timothy asked, wanting to change the subject.
"Oh yes, Aunt Hermione still hasn't had them yet, though. I'm sure Uncle Ron will call when she does, no doubt. However, today, I wanted to get your school things while I still can. Uh, work is going to claim me a little more… your father can't continue like he has on his own anymore."
Timothy nodded, and his heart sank to think that his parents would be away from him even more. It just reinforced the thought of doing his own job… finding the crest. He clambered off the couch and made to go to the bathroom, but his mother stopped him.
"Wait a second, Timothy… I need to talk to you."
He turned to look at her and she had a very serious expression on her face.
"I'd like to thank you… and apologize for what happened in the woods."
"Thank me?" Timothy asked, puzzled.
"I hadn't gone in those woods since I first left Florida to come here. It was when my brother, your uncle, moved here that I was terribly upset and ran into those woods to find Moonfoot. When I needed my only friend… he didn't come, and it broke my heart. But Moonfoot, like his people, know a lot more about one's destiny than any wizard or witch could ever hope to know. Perhaps he was right… if he had come to me I would not have left Florida. And I needed to... and I did. He had told me at the time, but I was so immature and naïve it never occurred to me until yesterday. If you had not gone into the woods, I probably would never have gone back. You gave me my friend back, and now my heart feels less sadness."
Timothy looked at her and felt himself blush. He could feel his chest surge with satisfaction that he had at least accomplished what he was trying to do at the time… help his mother. And he did.
She gave him a kiss on his forehead, and gently pushed him off to wash up. As he nearly skipped out of the living room, Timothy felt lighter than air.
By that afternoon, Timothy was walking beside his mother and sister down Diagon Alley. He could never remember seeing the cobblestone street looking so bare; there was hardly anyone traveling along the heavily used London location. His mother was holding Kalina's hand tightly, and while his sister apparently could not sense the feeling his mother was giving off, he could. The sight of the place looking so vacated seemed to unnerve her and make her eyes more alert.
"Mum, why aren't there many people here today?" Kalina asked Timothy's question. He had to remind himself of his sister being more aware of things than a normal six-year-old would.
"Just not a busy day today, sweetheart. It's a weekday." Their mother smiled at them both, but Timothy could see the worry in her eyes.
They stopped at Gringotts and withdrew some money. Kalina was always skittish around the goblins, and clung to either Timothy or their mother tightly while they were in the bank until they left. Checking his list, Timothy directed his mother and sister to the shops where he needed to go, getting refills on potion ingredients and more parchment and quills. He had only a moment to marvel at the Quidditch supply shop before his mother pulled him away. He could never understand that if she was just as good a Quidditch player as his father, why she wouldn't let him have a little fun in the shop without him. Instead, she steered him and his sister toward the bookshop.
"We don't have much time, today, that's why sweetheart." His mother said, as he asked why they couldn't spend a minute with the Quidditch supplies. He was about to moan protest when someone shouted from across the street.
"TIMOTHY! Hey, Timothy! Over here!"
Darian came bounding across the street, pulling along side him the tall and gangly form of John Stanton.
"Darian! John!" Timothy cried, jogging from his family over to his friends. They embraced each other quickly and surveyed one another. Timothy couldn't help noticing that John looked more lethargic than usual.
"What's up, John?" he asked him, putting a hand on his shoulder.
"Oh… well, the usual. If you get my meaning." John shrugged it off with a small smile.
"I thought you were in Florida for the week, what are you doing here?" Darian blurted out before Timothy could question John further.
"Came back yesterday; Mum and dad got called back to work."
"Oh, bummer." Darian shrugged, but he looked excited to see him. "Well… I found 'ol Too Tall here a little while ago getting our stuff for school. Just got done lecturing him for not keeping in touch."
"Yeah, John, what goes on?" Timothy asked.
"Just… just… can we just talk about this later? Like, at school maybe? My parents are nearby, if you know what I mean." John looked jumpy as he eyed Timothy's mother and sister, and at his desperate look Timothy and Darian nodded in agreement.
"Hey, boys." Timothy's mother smiled at them as she came over.
"Hello, Mrs. Potter." Both Darian and John replied politely.
"Here for your school supplies?"
"Yes ma'am."
"Well then, why don't you two tag along? Timothy just has his books left to get." She motioned her head at Timothy and took up Kalina's arm as she walked into the shop. Timothy looked at his friends and soon followed, Darian and John close behind.
The bookstore was cluttered with every book for every subject known to the magical world. Each shelf held titles Timothy could only come up with in his imagination: Conversing With Your Shrubbery, How to Play Poker With Your Shadow, and The Naked Beauty of Dragons were just a few of the names Timothy could find among the hundreds of books.
"Look at this!" Darian whispered over to Timothy and John, who had been looking at a map of Atlantis. "Check this title out, Medieval Magic in the Nude. Can you believe that? Naked knights?"
"Wild," Timothy shook his head and brushed past John who was looking at the book Darian was putting back on the shelf with indifference. "Naked knights. Now that's something I have yet to see."
"Not like you'd ever want to," Darian laughed, looking over at a shelf filled with Quidditch books. "Are you going to try out for the Quidditch team this year, Timothy?"
"What a question to ask!" Timothy laughed, coming over to look with him. "Of course, dummy!"
"Have you thought about how playing that sport would compromise your homework, Timothy?" John asked somewhat plaintively.
Timothy raised his eyebrows at him and Darian was practically sick with disgust at the words.
"John, you know… you're still a wuss. Compromise his homework! I should slap you cross the face with my wand for such an excuse. Since when did that bother you? You were right by our side when we tried out for last year's team, no problem. Why is homework an issue all of a sudden?"
"Darian, he just said…" Timothy started in John's defense, but John just merely shrugged and wandered off.
"Darian, you big git, lay off him OK? You know how tuff it is at home for John… and he does have a point." Timothy scolded him.
"Hey, are you gonna put off the team to do homework?" Darian looked at him, and nodded when he didn't reply. "Thought so."
"He was just saying…" Timothy muttered.
"He's always 'just saying'. Let him keep 'just saying' and he'll whine and nag the whole time. He knows we're tight, he won't think anything of it. For crying out loud, Timothy, we've known each other for nearly a year now… you should know." Darian went off down the isle with his hands in his pockets, and Timothy left him be, going to look for John. Before he could, his mother had him by his shoulder.
"Time to go Timothy, say goodbye to your friends for now." She smiled wearily at him, pulling Kalina along side her, and walked out of the shop with her other hand filled with purchases. Timothy managed to wave Darian over, but he couldn't see John. They searched the shop before giving up and walking outside, only to find him standing near the door.
"There you are!" Timothy put his hands on his hips. "We were looking all over for you."
"Sorry, just stepped out for a moment." John tried to smile, but it faltered. Timothy glared over at Darian, who looked sheepish.
"Uh, hey man, sorry about snapping at you back there. You know I'm just playing around with you, right?"
John looked at him as if he just noticed he was there.
"What? Oh, no, don't worry. No problem… I know you. I just… I just needed some fresh air, I think."
"Well guys, I gotta go. I'll see ya at Kings Cross on the first, alright?" Timothy waved and made to move off to his mother and sister before John caught his arm roughly.
"Did you see that?" He hissed at him and Darian, looking off down the empty street.
"See what?" Timothy and Darian asked in bewildered union.
"That… that black… thing. You didn't see it?" John looked at them both as if they were blind.
"Noooo…" Darian shook his head slowly, looking at John as if he had just lost his last marble. "What black thing?"
"I… maybe, I… you didn't see it Timothy?" John turned to him desperately.
"No, John, I didn't see anything. What was it?" Timothy looked off in the direction that John was now searching.
"It was… it was long and black… just like in my…" he trailed off.
"In your what?" Timothy asked him, but his mother called for him a little more severely and he reluctantly pulled his arm away.
"Sorry, John, but I didn't see anything. I need to go, but write me, OK? I'll see you both on the Hogwarts Express!" He jogged to catch up with his mother and sister, looking back over his shoulder to see Darian leaving as well. John just stood in his spot, staring out down the street at nothing- or what looked like nothing to Timothy. It was very possible that John did see something, him being an empath and all. Although John had told him before the end of the last school year that he wasn't going to use his powers unless he had to, did empaths see things normal people didn't?
"What was wrong with John, Timothy? He didn't look so good." His mother shook Timothy out of his reverie.
"Oh… uh… I dunno." He shrugged it off and walked ahead of them, glancing down at Kalina who was looking at him strangely. When her stare seemed to bore into his eyes with curiosity, he looked away, turning his mind back onto John.
Why do I have a feeling John knows something I don't? He thought to himself. Much to his dismay, it would be more than three weeks before he found out.
Never had time gone by slower. After the news that his Godmother had the twins, a boy and a girl, things were silent. Timothy was so preoccupied with so many conflicting thoughts that all he managed to do was sit on his bed and stare at his over-polished broomstick. Kalina, who had convinced their father when he finally returned home for more than an hour at one time to turn Jeff back to normal, spent most of the time in her room teaching Jeff the names of all of her stuffed animals. Timothy had to come in and save him from the torture, but his yellow friend did nothing but reinforce Timothy's worries with his interrogation.
"I can't understand why you can't tell me what's really bothering you." Jeff crawled into his lap.
"Nothing… nothing to worry about, just anxious for school, that's all." Timothy tried to brush it off, but Jeff persisted.
"Wild One, you're more nervous now than you were last year. C'mon, I thought we could tell each other anything."
It pained Timothy to keep it from him, about the family crest, but he believed the shadows that spoke to him that no one would believe him if he told. Jeff would just pester him about the crest being ridiculous and go tell his parents.
"Well, I am going to go to Hogwarts with you. I'm not going to lay off ya until you tell me." Jeff polished his claws against his scales.
"Jeff…" Timothy started.
"No… no arguing. You're parents are never home, you're grandmother from Florida is watching you and the runt, I'm always forgotten… there's no way I'm gonna let you go without me!"
"Mum will have to shrink you again," Timothy finally said. "I'm sure you wouldn't want to stay with Whisper."
Jeff shuddered.
"Anything to stay away from her!"
It was a big relief when the first of September finally arrived. Timothy was packed and ready by the time the grandfather clock chimed ten. His parents were determined to see him off to Hogwarts, and so Timothy and his family were soon standing in front of the Hogwarts Express at Platform 9 & ¾. However, while the second go-around at leaving his family should have been easier… it was harder with the vibes he got off of his parents.
"Stay as close to the castle as you can, and never go outside alone." His mother fussed over his hair while his father loaded his trunk. Timothy held Windstone's cage close to him, then handed the owl to his father to load as well. Kalina pulled him down to her level.
"Write me, OK? I'll be by myself, with Jeff gone. Grand's great, but it won't be the same. You know mum and dad won't be home a lot." She whispered as coherently as she could above the noise of the station.
Timothy put on his most reassuring smile.
"Don't worry, Kalina, you'll be fine. I'll send Windstone to ya and tell ya about how much trouble Jeff's gotten into."
"I heard that!" Came a small and muffled voice from his jean pocket.
"Bye Jeff!" Kalina cried just as their mother pulled her away to give Timothy one last hug.
"This time, I want a letter every week, you hear me? If anything, and I mean anything goes bad I want Windstone home immediately with the news,"
"Yes, mum." Timothy hugged her back.
"I love you, sweetheart. Behave yourself!" She gave him a gentle push toward his father, and he hugged him a bit longer.
"You have the cloak?"
"Yep."
"The map too?"
"Uh huh."
"Remember what your mother said, use your common sense if you ever come to need those things. You realize how serious the situation is these days, don't you?"
"Yes, dad." Timothy replied solemnly. His hand absentmindedly went to his other jean pocket, where a book-shaped bulge reassured him that his uncle's diary was safe. It would be his dead uncle that would give him comfort for the task that Timothy had to accomplish. The diary helped him with his mother… could he help him find the Potter family crest?
"I love you, son. Be careful." His father guided him onto the train just as it began to leave, and Timothy waved goodbye to his family, who looked even more sullen than the last year.
"Timothy! There you are! We thought you missed the train!"
Timothy was grabbed by the shoulders and wheeled around to face Darian, elated to see him.
"Hey Darian. No, just saying goodbye, that's all." He followed him into the compartment where John was waiting. John looked even sicklier than he did last year when they first met, and Timothy looked questioningly at Darian who just shrugged back.
"Oh, Timothy! Hey." John smiled at him as he sat down next to Darian.
"Are you alright, John?" Timothy asked him carefully, pulling Jeff out of his pocket and placing him on his shoulder. Jeff yawned and curled up in a ball, falling asleep.
"Huh? Oh, uh, yeah… yeah, no problem." John's smile became pained, and he looked away at Timothy and Darian's disbelieving expressions.
"C'mon man, fess up. We know when you're upset… and you obviously are." Darian crossed his arms and looked at him sternly.
Unlike Darian, Timothy knew when to stop pressuring people to tell something they weren't ready to share. The vibe he was getting from John was alarming from such a normally passive person, and Timothy nudged Darian's arm in warning to stop. However, Darian was not the type of person to let up so easily.
"John just tell us!" he cried.
"Would you just shut up?!" John cracked, his face livid at Darian. Darian immediately sank in his seat, looking down at the floor in shock at his outburst. Timothy merely looked at them both timidly, and they said nothing more until the scarlet colored train long rolled out of London. It was Darian who broke the silence first, speaking to Timothy.
"You never told us about Florida, how'd it go?"
Remembering the fact that he never sent the letters he wrote, Timothy happily told the whole story about the woods, his mother, the Shaman people, Summerray, and the diary.
"I brought it with me too," he said as he pulled it out of his jean pocket. "I thought maybe it could help…" he stopped in mid-sentence abruptly, remembering that he wasn't to tell anyone about the crest.
"Help with what? Homework?" Darian asked, puzzled.
John, the whole while, simply stared at them both with a distant expression. Although, at Timothy's last words, he raised his eyebrows in curious alarm.
"Er… what I mean is, er… it could give me advice on stuff. You know… uncle-nephew sort of stuff." Timothy tried hard to find something else to say.
"Uncle-nephew sort of stuff? What kind of sort of stuff?" Darian was completely clueless.
Jeff stirred awake and started grumbling at Darian, all while Timothy searched his mind for an excuse. Suddenly, John spoke for the first time since they left London.
"Darian? Isn't that the snack-cart witch out in the isle outside?" He pointed to the door window where, sure enough, the old witch was pushing the snack cart down the isle. Darian immediately jumped to his feet, feeling his pocket for sickles.
"Want anything? I'm gonna get me some chocolate frogs!" Without an answer, he flung the door open and jumped at the witch. Timothy shoved Jeff back in his pocket just in case she saw, looking appreciatively at John.
"Thanks."
"I know how it feels to be pressured into telling something you don't want to tell." John said softly, looking out the window.
"I'm sorry," Timothy felt whole-heartedly ashamed. "It's your family, isn't it?"
John didn't answer, but looked back at him. He wasn't sure, but Timothy thought he saw John shake his head slightly. When John looked back out the window, Timothy looked over toward the door where Darian was pocketing candies and handing over sickles and knuts to the witch. Then suddenly, someone brushed past the compartment that looked very familiar.
"Luna?" Timothy whispered in surprise.
Without realizing it, he had jumped to his feet and found himself rushing out into the isle, bumping into Darian who was too busy with the candy to notice. Far down the train he could see a small retreating girl with shoulder length brown hair moving quickly away from him. He started to follow, catching up about halfway, when someone stepped out abruptly into his path.
"Well look, it's the famous Potter. Hey, Sean! Come look! It's the boy wonder come to grace the rest of the train with his divine presence." It was Carla Haughton, the sneering tall blonde Slytherin blocking his path and view of Luna. Her brother Sean, sniveling and subservient to his menacing twin, came skulking out the compartment Carla had jumped out of. While he was nearly more than an inch taller than she was, Sean acted two feet tall. His shaggy dirty blonde hair hung over his subdued eyes, looking at him with no interest.
"So it is." He crossed his arms.
Timothy scowled at them both, standing on his toes to see over their shoulders at Luna… but she was already long gone. He looked at them angrily.
"Move out of the way, Haughton."
"Move out of the way?" Carla shifted her weight to one foot and crossed her own arms. "Why, is that how a famous celebrity asks one of us common folk to step aside? Not good for your image, is it? Or is your mummy and daddy the same way?"
Timothy had become so exasperated that he was halfway pulling out his wand to hex her and Sean's snickering form before John suddenly appeared at his side and stopped him.
"Save you energy, Timothy. No need to waste it on this Slytherin scum." He said bitterly, holding Timothy's wand hand gently and looking at Carla.
"Why, if it isn't poor little John Stanton! My, aren't you brave to come and save the almighty Timothy Potter!" Carla put on mock surprise, elbowing her brother harshly to pay attention- for he was cracking his knuckles and staring at the ceiling.
"If we just ignore her, she'll eventually stop. C'mon." Without looking back at Carla and Sean, John pulled Timothy back into their compartment and shut the door behind them. Darian was happily sitting in his seat with his chocolate frogs and Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. Jeff suddenly jumped out of Timothy's pocket, coughing up lint.
"If I could've risked it, I was ready to jump out and fry her, Timothy!" he called up to him, scrambling up to his shoulder.
"Thanks for the thought, Jeff. I'm glad you didn't though. She's the last person I want to see you." He sighed, sitting down next to Darian. "Thanks for saving me back there, John."
He shrugged, and went to look out the window again.
Hours went by as the sun began to go down. Timothy mainly kept conversation with Darian, while John observed in silence. They had a peculiar relationship, and Timothy was contemplating John's behavior when a voice spoke magically out loud throughout the train.
"We will be arriving at Hogsmeade Station in approximately five minutes. Please gather your personal belongings and be dressed in your uniform. Thank you."
"I need an owl," Darian moaned as they got out their trunks and put on their school robes and hats. "Maybe for Christmas."
Windstone hooted greetings at Timothy as he sat him down on the seat. Jeff scowled at him from Timothy's shoulder, dreading the fact that he would be spending more time in his pocket.
Once dressed and ready, the train now at a full stop with kids streaming out of compartments, the three friends filed out into the isle. Jeff kept wiggling in his pocket, and Timothy had to pat him warningly three times before he settled. In his other pocket, he checked to make sure the diary was safely tucked inside.
"First years this way! Welcome to Hogwarts, dears! All first years with me! Everyone else to the coaches! Come on, move along there young'uns. First years to the boats!"
The huge form of Echolocata Whisper, a Timberlan giant from North America, could be heard above the excited chatter of all the students as they got off the train. She winked at Timothy when their eyes met, and pointed them over to a line of waiting coaches where all the other older students were heading. John and Darian were close at his side as they chose an unoccupied coach and got inside. Only a moment went by before Bran Acott, another second year Gryffindor they knew, climbed in with them.
"Hey guys! How was your summer?" he asked them merrily as the door swung shut. The coach magically rocked to life and began to move up the road toward the castle that was Hogwarts.
They exchanged stories as they traveled the short distance to the huge oak front doors. When the coach came to a halt, they climbed out one by one and filed up the stone steps and into the castle.
"It feels different getting into the castle this way," Darian commented as they moved into the Great Hall. "Last year we went underground. It will be interesting to see the first years and the sorting now."
They all sat down at the Gryffindor table as they continued to observe everything. Timothy couldn't help but feel more a part of the school now that he was older and situated with everything. He looked up at the professor's table where all the professors were settling in. The head of Gryffindor house, Professor Miller, was joking around with Professor Visser. It was obviously funny to Miller, but the potions professor simply blinked at him. Smirking at them both was Professor Jackson, teacher of History of Magic and head of Slytherin. Down the table sat Professor Zan, the herbology teacher, who was looking positively bored. The astrology teacher, Timothy recognized by sight and word of mouth, was Professor Krishna. She was trying to engage Zan in conversation, but the strict Asian man kept his gaze forward and mouth shut. Professor Mali, the flying coach and Quidditch referee, appeared to be flirting with Professor Lupin. Timothy smiled; Professor Lupin was a real close friend of his family, and when not at school he called him "Uncle Lupin". Lupin laughed at something Mali said, just before the headmaster walked in front of him to sit down.
The entire hall quieted as Professor Dumbledore sat down with a weary smile. Timothy had a vague sense that he knew the reason for his apparent fatigue. He took a quick glance at his friends- Darian was staring hungrily at his plate, but John was looking at Timothy instead. The look on his face was that of worry, but before Timothy could question him, Dumbledore had stood up to direct everybody's attention.
"The sorting ceremony will now commence!" he said, issuing for the doors to the side to open. They did so, and leading a line of wide-eyed and petrified first years was Professor Slimak, deputy headmistress, head of Hufflepuff, and professor of charms. She lined them up in front of the professors' table and unrolled a long piece of parchment. The old Sorting Hat was placed on a stool, and one by one, Professor Slimak called names and each first year became sorted.
Gryffindor had received five new students, and Timothy clapped enthusiastically along with the rest of his table as they sat down. When all was settled, Professor Dumbledore called for attention again.
"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts," he smiled at each table. "It's truly wonderful to see familiar faces and new ones as well. I hope this will be a pleasant, productive, and safe year for us all. Let us all eat to our health and our happiness!"
At a flourish of his hand, the plates and goblets on the tables filled magically with every food imaginable. Darian let out a primeval grunt and leapt at the food, piling his plate. Timothy began to serve himself eagerly too, but at a sideways glance at John, he noticed he wasn't moving an inch.
"Don't tell me you're not hungry," he called over to him as he placed mashed potatoes on his plate. "You didn't eat anything on the way here!"
John simply stared at the table with a distant look.
"Timothy?" he could barely be heard over the din of the voices in the hall.
"Yeah?" Timothy replied, starting to butter a roll.
"I need to tell you something." His voice was serious.
"Now?"
John stood up and grabbed Timothy's shoulder, pulling him off of the bench. Still holding his half-buttered roll, Timothy followed John out of the Great Hall while Darian attacked his meal without noticing. John checked the corridor to see if it was empty and pulled Timothy into a alcove near the main staircase. Half of his face was hidden in shadow, making his serious look even more disturbing.
"I wasn't going to tell you… I didn't think it mattered…" he started.
"What? What is it?" Timothy completely forgot about the roll, staring intently at John. John shook his head desperately.
"But it's gone on too long now… it must be real, it's bothering me too much."
"John, please tell me…" Timothy tried hard to contain his impatience.
"I'm sorry, Timothy. You need to know- it apparently concerns you." John ran his hands through his neatly bowl-cut dirty blonde hair.
"Concerns me? John, does this have anything to do with you…" he checked the corridor again to see if anyone was listening. "Being an empath?"
John nodded slowly and looked piercingly at Timothy with a mixture of pity and fear.
"Like I promised, I don't use my abilities without permission. However, over the summer, I've been having visions."
"Visions?" Timothy gasped.
"Of you. And I don't know why! I have a feeling it has something to do with whatever it is that's bothering you, Timothy."
"Of me? What did you see?" Timothy became breathless, worried now that John reluctantly wandered into his mind and knows all about the crest. His jean pocket began to wiggle, and he remembered that Jeff was inside. He put his hand over the pocket to keep him from hearing anything more, and lowered his voice to a bare whisper. "What do you know?"
"About what's troubling you? Nothing. But, what I saw could have some significance… and it's not good." John paused, reluctant to move on, but at Timothy's intent gaze he sighed and nodded.
"What I keep seeing is this black snake, very long and skinny. Everywhere I look, the black snake is there in this vision. Then, I see a powerful looking man with red hair and a beard, holding this long sword. He has this real deep, menacing laugh, and he points the sword at me when it begins this low hum. Finally, you suddenly appear… but then the snake suddenly jumps at you, and in a flash of light you are gone. That's when it ends."
Timothy could only gape at him, the silence that fell allowed the chatter in the Great Hall to be heard quite distinctly.
"I've been having this vision all summer, and that's the reason why I've been they way I have. Never have I had a vision like this- so intense and disturbing. At Diagon Alley, when you were leaving, it was the black snake I thought I saw." John said.
"What does it all mean?" Timothy whispered.
John shrugged helplessly.
"I don't know. But, just be careful. Visions are full of symbolism, so if you see anything that would relate to those things, tell the headmaster or tell your parents as soon as you can."
They didn't say anything for a few minutes, but finally they sighed together and made to move out when Timothy nearly bumped into someone.
"Quite an unusual place to talk during the Start-of-Term feast, isn't it boys?"
The divination professor, Professor Peacecraft, was smiling down at their startled faces. She was the youngest of all the professors, with shiny blonde hair and a warm smile. The look in her deep eyes made her look wise beyond the oldest of intelligent wizards. She placed a comforting hand on Timothy's shoulder and winked. Then she looked intently at John, and Timothy could recognize the familiar stare of wordless conversation. His parents, being Etam Luoses, did it often. Naturally, a more real mental conversation could take place between two empaths.
Finally, with a last smile, Professor Peacecraft shepherded them out in the corridor, where they could see that the feast had ended and students were flowing out of the Great Hall and to the directions of where their houses was located.
"Get some sleep boys, you'll need to be rested." She bid them goodnight and left them to follow the other Gryffindors up the staircase toward Gryffindor tower.
As Timothy silently followed John with the others, he could have sworn he saw Luna walking with the other Hufflepuffs toward their house. He was about to call out to her, before she disappeared. Suddenly too tired to be disappointed, Timothy climbed the steps and fell back in line into the Gryffindor common room. Darian, Bran, and the others in his dorm were already climbing into bed when he got there. John stole glances at him every other minute as he got into his pajamas and into bed himself. When Timothy did so as the lights went out, the moonlight hitting the window caught his eye. If must have been his imagination… it must have been the fact that he was so tired… but as Timothy's eyes slid shut, he thought he saw a coiled black mass sitting on the windowsill. A coiled black mass… with glittering eyes.
A/N: Has it gotten your attention yet? I'm starting to get the hand at this mystery thing, heheh. What do you think? You're thoughts are important to me you know, more than reason enough to REVIEW! So, to keep you on your toes- what's up with these glittering eyes? Will Timothy talk to Luna at all? What does John's vision mean? Can Jeff find a better way to travel with Timothy? Does chapter five hold the answers? Perhaps, you've gotta read it to find out! 2/23/01, it will be out by.
Have questions? Want to know more facts? My website's got it all!
HTTP://WWW.THEWORLDOFRENEEPOTTER.DISNEYFANSITES.COM
Updated nearly daily, and now with a long list of books for you to read on the "What to read after HP" page under the featured books.
Well, REVIEW! And one more thing before I move on- is it not rediculous that my Economics/American Govt. teacher took off TEN POINTS because I went 17 SECONDS over the max. time for my oral report on George Washington Carver?! ::screams and procedes to burn text books in retaliation:: Ok, on to chapter five... you review... PLEASE?! Thanks you ever so mucho.
~OrcaPotter
Chapter Four: John's Prediction
It was dark and damp within the confines of the earthen room. Not even the fire burning with straining effort in the gloom permeated the pall of evil darkness. A large woven rug covered the stone floor underneath a solitary armchair beside a small coffee table. Next to a mug of untouched tea was a crumpled and ink-smeared newspaper, the letters of the headline gleaming from the light of the fire, enhancing the message's sober tone.
BRUTAL DEATHS DISCOVERED IN KENT
A pale, blonde figure chuckled silently in the armchair. There was a sudden rap at the huge oak double-doors behind him.
"I said I was not to be disturbed!" He barked over his shoulder, fingering the wand at his side.
One of the doors swung open with a slight creak, and a dark robed man peered inside fearfully.
"S-sorry, my lord, but… you have a visitor."
The silence that followed nearly made the man wet himself.
"I said I was not to be disturbed." The figure finally hissed.
"My lord, s-s-she insisted!"
Another pause.
"She?"
"Y-yes, my lord."
"Send her in."
The door swung open completely with another loud creak, and the sound of heels clicked slowly into the room. Never once did the figure in the armchair make any move to face his visitor. When the patter of her heels ceased on the rug just behind his chair, the only sounds heard was the crackling and popping of the fire.
"Well?" He broke the silence. "You intrude upon me, state your reason."
"I come to speak to a Draco Malfoy, not a chair." Came the woman's reply, her voice thick with a Russian accent.
"Oh?" he nearly laughed at the woman's boldness. "Tell me why you're here and perhaps you may speak with him."
"Maybe I'm just wasting my time, it's no wonder you haven't caught your enemy yet, you're too busy being full of yourself." She turned on her heels to leave, but he caught her by the elbow.
"Who are you?" Malfoy sneered, but his face fell as the woman turned to face him. She was taller than him, more so on heels, and her hair was long and silky smooth. Her body was shaped like an art form, the long red dress hugging her features like a glove. Almond shaped eyes bore into his with a visible fire that glittered from the feeble light in the room.
"Veronica Murtov."
"What do you want?" Malfoy nearly whispered, taken aback by her beauty.
"It's not a matter of what I want, it's what you want." Her expression was dark and cold.
"And what would that be?" Malfoy fingered the long scar that distorted his face absentmindedly.
Veronica shifted her weight to one foot and crossed her arms.
"You know very well what it is."
Malfoy considered her a moment, narrowing his eyes.
"What do you know about what I want?"
Veronica smiled sadistically.
"I know where to find them."
Malfoy held himself back as Veronica walked around him slowly and sat in his chair. She crossed her legs and took up the untouched mug of tea and sipped it. Malfoy flexed his fingers as he debated in his mind how to handle this woman… this very… beautiful and dangerous woman. He regarded her as businesslike as he could… however feeling his insides melt at the very sight of her.
"And what does this all matter to you? He asked calmly.
She didn't answer right away, continuing to sip at the tea and glance over the paper that lay on the table.
"Been busy, I see… however, you don't act like it. Very much like the wizard before you."
"Unlike my old master, I get the job done." Malfoy snarled.
"And yet you still haven't destroyed the Potters, have you?" Veronica looked up at him with casual consideration.
He could only look away as she spread a wide knowing smile across her face.
"As much as you desire not to be like your fallen master, you're going about this matter in the same way he did. No… no, I have a better way." She said to him smoothly.
Malfoy looked back at her slowly.
"And what would that be?"
"I shall tell you… but only if my demands are met."
"Ah, and here's the point. What is it that you want?" Malfoy sneered, crossing his arms. Veronica motioned for him to lean close to her, and he did so, feeling heat rush to his cheeks as he breathed in her sweet perfume. She said something in his ear, and the smile that broke his face was the largest ever seen on him.
"Get me the Potters… and you shall have what you wish." He said.
Veronica laughed and her face crinkled in evil lust.
"All in good time, my lord… all in good time…"
****
When the sun rose the next morning, Timothy awoke with his legs all cramped. He was about to stretch out when he realized that he was not lying against the couch… but on top of someone.
"Yaugh!" Timothy jumped.
That someone was his mother, who woke up with a start at his outburst.
"Oh, Timothy! I'm sorry, did I startle you?" She blinked her blue eyes furiously to get the sleep out of them.
"When did you get here?" Timothy asked, putting his hand over his heart as he calmed himself.
"I didn't get here 'till late, and Molly wouldn't let me leave. So, I slept on the couch here with you, if you don't mind." She ran a hand through her long brown hair, looking at him apologetically.
Timothy blushed and felt badly for snapping at his mother; he ran his hand through his own hair and shuffled his feet.
"Of course not, mum. Sorry."
She smiled and pulled him into a long hug. He felt happy and safe in her arms and it wasn't until she finally let him go that he realized another thing.
"Where's dad?"
"Still at work," she sighed. "He sent me home to get you and your sister, but you can see what happened. I can only imagine the damage that Jeff has done, since I never got back to the house."
"So you've heard about Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione?" Timothy asked, wanting to change the subject.
"Oh yes, Aunt Hermione still hasn't had them yet, though. I'm sure Uncle Ron will call when she does, no doubt. However, today, I wanted to get your school things while I still can. Uh, work is going to claim me a little more… your father can't continue like he has on his own anymore."
Timothy nodded, and his heart sank to think that his parents would be away from him even more. It just reinforced the thought of doing his own job… finding the crest. He clambered off the couch and made to go to the bathroom, but his mother stopped him.
"Wait a second, Timothy… I need to talk to you."
He turned to look at her and she had a very serious expression on her face.
"I'd like to thank you… and apologize for what happened in the woods."
"Thank me?" Timothy asked, puzzled.
"I hadn't gone in those woods since I first left Florida to come here. It was when my brother, your uncle, moved here that I was terribly upset and ran into those woods to find Moonfoot. When I needed my only friend… he didn't come, and it broke my heart. But Moonfoot, like his people, know a lot more about one's destiny than any wizard or witch could ever hope to know. Perhaps he was right… if he had come to me I would not have left Florida. And I needed to... and I did. He had told me at the time, but I was so immature and naïve it never occurred to me until yesterday. If you had not gone into the woods, I probably would never have gone back. You gave me my friend back, and now my heart feels less sadness."
Timothy looked at her and felt himself blush. He could feel his chest surge with satisfaction that he had at least accomplished what he was trying to do at the time… help his mother. And he did.
She gave him a kiss on his forehead, and gently pushed him off to wash up. As he nearly skipped out of the living room, Timothy felt lighter than air.
By that afternoon, Timothy was walking beside his mother and sister down Diagon Alley. He could never remember seeing the cobblestone street looking so bare; there was hardly anyone traveling along the heavily used London location. His mother was holding Kalina's hand tightly, and while his sister apparently could not sense the feeling his mother was giving off, he could. The sight of the place looking so vacated seemed to unnerve her and make her eyes more alert.
"Mum, why aren't there many people here today?" Kalina asked Timothy's question. He had to remind himself of his sister being more aware of things than a normal six-year-old would.
"Just not a busy day today, sweetheart. It's a weekday." Their mother smiled at them both, but Timothy could see the worry in her eyes.
They stopped at Gringotts and withdrew some money. Kalina was always skittish around the goblins, and clung to either Timothy or their mother tightly while they were in the bank until they left. Checking his list, Timothy directed his mother and sister to the shops where he needed to go, getting refills on potion ingredients and more parchment and quills. He had only a moment to marvel at the Quidditch supply shop before his mother pulled him away. He could never understand that if she was just as good a Quidditch player as his father, why she wouldn't let him have a little fun in the shop without him. Instead, she steered him and his sister toward the bookshop.
"We don't have much time, today, that's why sweetheart." His mother said, as he asked why they couldn't spend a minute with the Quidditch supplies. He was about to moan protest when someone shouted from across the street.
"TIMOTHY! Hey, Timothy! Over here!"
Darian came bounding across the street, pulling along side him the tall and gangly form of John Stanton.
"Darian! John!" Timothy cried, jogging from his family over to his friends. They embraced each other quickly and surveyed one another. Timothy couldn't help noticing that John looked more lethargic than usual.
"What's up, John?" he asked him, putting a hand on his shoulder.
"Oh… well, the usual. If you get my meaning." John shrugged it off with a small smile.
"I thought you were in Florida for the week, what are you doing here?" Darian blurted out before Timothy could question John further.
"Came back yesterday; Mum and dad got called back to work."
"Oh, bummer." Darian shrugged, but he looked excited to see him. "Well… I found 'ol Too Tall here a little while ago getting our stuff for school. Just got done lecturing him for not keeping in touch."
"Yeah, John, what goes on?" Timothy asked.
"Just… just… can we just talk about this later? Like, at school maybe? My parents are nearby, if you know what I mean." John looked jumpy as he eyed Timothy's mother and sister, and at his desperate look Timothy and Darian nodded in agreement.
"Hey, boys." Timothy's mother smiled at them as she came over.
"Hello, Mrs. Potter." Both Darian and John replied politely.
"Here for your school supplies?"
"Yes ma'am."
"Well then, why don't you two tag along? Timothy just has his books left to get." She motioned her head at Timothy and took up Kalina's arm as she walked into the shop. Timothy looked at his friends and soon followed, Darian and John close behind.
The bookstore was cluttered with every book for every subject known to the magical world. Each shelf held titles Timothy could only come up with in his imagination: Conversing With Your Shrubbery, How to Play Poker With Your Shadow, and The Naked Beauty of Dragons were just a few of the names Timothy could find among the hundreds of books.
"Look at this!" Darian whispered over to Timothy and John, who had been looking at a map of Atlantis. "Check this title out, Medieval Magic in the Nude. Can you believe that? Naked knights?"
"Wild," Timothy shook his head and brushed past John who was looking at the book Darian was putting back on the shelf with indifference. "Naked knights. Now that's something I have yet to see."
"Not like you'd ever want to," Darian laughed, looking over at a shelf filled with Quidditch books. "Are you going to try out for the Quidditch team this year, Timothy?"
"What a question to ask!" Timothy laughed, coming over to look with him. "Of course, dummy!"
"Have you thought about how playing that sport would compromise your homework, Timothy?" John asked somewhat plaintively.
Timothy raised his eyebrows at him and Darian was practically sick with disgust at the words.
"John, you know… you're still a wuss. Compromise his homework! I should slap you cross the face with my wand for such an excuse. Since when did that bother you? You were right by our side when we tried out for last year's team, no problem. Why is homework an issue all of a sudden?"
"Darian, he just said…" Timothy started in John's defense, but John just merely shrugged and wandered off.
"Darian, you big git, lay off him OK? You know how tuff it is at home for John… and he does have a point." Timothy scolded him.
"Hey, are you gonna put off the team to do homework?" Darian looked at him, and nodded when he didn't reply. "Thought so."
"He was just saying…" Timothy muttered.
"He's always 'just saying'. Let him keep 'just saying' and he'll whine and nag the whole time. He knows we're tight, he won't think anything of it. For crying out loud, Timothy, we've known each other for nearly a year now… you should know." Darian went off down the isle with his hands in his pockets, and Timothy left him be, going to look for John. Before he could, his mother had him by his shoulder.
"Time to go Timothy, say goodbye to your friends for now." She smiled wearily at him, pulling Kalina along side her, and walked out of the shop with her other hand filled with purchases. Timothy managed to wave Darian over, but he couldn't see John. They searched the shop before giving up and walking outside, only to find him standing near the door.
"There you are!" Timothy put his hands on his hips. "We were looking all over for you."
"Sorry, just stepped out for a moment." John tried to smile, but it faltered. Timothy glared over at Darian, who looked sheepish.
"Uh, hey man, sorry about snapping at you back there. You know I'm just playing around with you, right?"
John looked at him as if he just noticed he was there.
"What? Oh, no, don't worry. No problem… I know you. I just… I just needed some fresh air, I think."
"Well guys, I gotta go. I'll see ya at Kings Cross on the first, alright?" Timothy waved and made to move off to his mother and sister before John caught his arm roughly.
"Did you see that?" He hissed at him and Darian, looking off down the empty street.
"See what?" Timothy and Darian asked in bewildered union.
"That… that black… thing. You didn't see it?" John looked at them both as if they were blind.
"Noooo…" Darian shook his head slowly, looking at John as if he had just lost his last marble. "What black thing?"
"I… maybe, I… you didn't see it Timothy?" John turned to him desperately.
"No, John, I didn't see anything. What was it?" Timothy looked off in the direction that John was now searching.
"It was… it was long and black… just like in my…" he trailed off.
"In your what?" Timothy asked him, but his mother called for him a little more severely and he reluctantly pulled his arm away.
"Sorry, John, but I didn't see anything. I need to go, but write me, OK? I'll see you both on the Hogwarts Express!" He jogged to catch up with his mother and sister, looking back over his shoulder to see Darian leaving as well. John just stood in his spot, staring out down the street at nothing- or what looked like nothing to Timothy. It was very possible that John did see something, him being an empath and all. Although John had told him before the end of the last school year that he wasn't going to use his powers unless he had to, did empaths see things normal people didn't?
"What was wrong with John, Timothy? He didn't look so good." His mother shook Timothy out of his reverie.
"Oh… uh… I dunno." He shrugged it off and walked ahead of them, glancing down at Kalina who was looking at him strangely. When her stare seemed to bore into his eyes with curiosity, he looked away, turning his mind back onto John.
Why do I have a feeling John knows something I don't? He thought to himself. Much to his dismay, it would be more than three weeks before he found out.
Never had time gone by slower. After the news that his Godmother had the twins, a boy and a girl, things were silent. Timothy was so preoccupied with so many conflicting thoughts that all he managed to do was sit on his bed and stare at his over-polished broomstick. Kalina, who had convinced their father when he finally returned home for more than an hour at one time to turn Jeff back to normal, spent most of the time in her room teaching Jeff the names of all of her stuffed animals. Timothy had to come in and save him from the torture, but his yellow friend did nothing but reinforce Timothy's worries with his interrogation.
"I can't understand why you can't tell me what's really bothering you." Jeff crawled into his lap.
"Nothing… nothing to worry about, just anxious for school, that's all." Timothy tried to brush it off, but Jeff persisted.
"Wild One, you're more nervous now than you were last year. C'mon, I thought we could tell each other anything."
It pained Timothy to keep it from him, about the family crest, but he believed the shadows that spoke to him that no one would believe him if he told. Jeff would just pester him about the crest being ridiculous and go tell his parents.
"Well, I am going to go to Hogwarts with you. I'm not going to lay off ya until you tell me." Jeff polished his claws against his scales.
"Jeff…" Timothy started.
"No… no arguing. You're parents are never home, you're grandmother from Florida is watching you and the runt, I'm always forgotten… there's no way I'm gonna let you go without me!"
"Mum will have to shrink you again," Timothy finally said. "I'm sure you wouldn't want to stay with Whisper."
Jeff shuddered.
"Anything to stay away from her!"
It was a big relief when the first of September finally arrived. Timothy was packed and ready by the time the grandfather clock chimed ten. His parents were determined to see him off to Hogwarts, and so Timothy and his family were soon standing in front of the Hogwarts Express at Platform 9 & ¾. However, while the second go-around at leaving his family should have been easier… it was harder with the vibes he got off of his parents.
"Stay as close to the castle as you can, and never go outside alone." His mother fussed over his hair while his father loaded his trunk. Timothy held Windstone's cage close to him, then handed the owl to his father to load as well. Kalina pulled him down to her level.
"Write me, OK? I'll be by myself, with Jeff gone. Grand's great, but it won't be the same. You know mum and dad won't be home a lot." She whispered as coherently as she could above the noise of the station.
Timothy put on his most reassuring smile.
"Don't worry, Kalina, you'll be fine. I'll send Windstone to ya and tell ya about how much trouble Jeff's gotten into."
"I heard that!" Came a small and muffled voice from his jean pocket.
"Bye Jeff!" Kalina cried just as their mother pulled her away to give Timothy one last hug.
"This time, I want a letter every week, you hear me? If anything, and I mean anything goes bad I want Windstone home immediately with the news,"
"Yes, mum." Timothy hugged her back.
"I love you, sweetheart. Behave yourself!" She gave him a gentle push toward his father, and he hugged him a bit longer.
"You have the cloak?"
"Yep."
"The map too?"
"Uh huh."
"Remember what your mother said, use your common sense if you ever come to need those things. You realize how serious the situation is these days, don't you?"
"Yes, dad." Timothy replied solemnly. His hand absentmindedly went to his other jean pocket, where a book-shaped bulge reassured him that his uncle's diary was safe. It would be his dead uncle that would give him comfort for the task that Timothy had to accomplish. The diary helped him with his mother… could he help him find the Potter family crest?
"I love you, son. Be careful." His father guided him onto the train just as it began to leave, and Timothy waved goodbye to his family, who looked even more sullen than the last year.
"Timothy! There you are! We thought you missed the train!"
Timothy was grabbed by the shoulders and wheeled around to face Darian, elated to see him.
"Hey Darian. No, just saying goodbye, that's all." He followed him into the compartment where John was waiting. John looked even sicklier than he did last year when they first met, and Timothy looked questioningly at Darian who just shrugged back.
"Oh, Timothy! Hey." John smiled at him as he sat down next to Darian.
"Are you alright, John?" Timothy asked him carefully, pulling Jeff out of his pocket and placing him on his shoulder. Jeff yawned and curled up in a ball, falling asleep.
"Huh? Oh, uh, yeah… yeah, no problem." John's smile became pained, and he looked away at Timothy and Darian's disbelieving expressions.
"C'mon man, fess up. We know when you're upset… and you obviously are." Darian crossed his arms and looked at him sternly.
Unlike Darian, Timothy knew when to stop pressuring people to tell something they weren't ready to share. The vibe he was getting from John was alarming from such a normally passive person, and Timothy nudged Darian's arm in warning to stop. However, Darian was not the type of person to let up so easily.
"John just tell us!" he cried.
"Would you just shut up?!" John cracked, his face livid at Darian. Darian immediately sank in his seat, looking down at the floor in shock at his outburst. Timothy merely looked at them both timidly, and they said nothing more until the scarlet colored train long rolled out of London. It was Darian who broke the silence first, speaking to Timothy.
"You never told us about Florida, how'd it go?"
Remembering the fact that he never sent the letters he wrote, Timothy happily told the whole story about the woods, his mother, the Shaman people, Summerray, and the diary.
"I brought it with me too," he said as he pulled it out of his jean pocket. "I thought maybe it could help…" he stopped in mid-sentence abruptly, remembering that he wasn't to tell anyone about the crest.
"Help with what? Homework?" Darian asked, puzzled.
John, the whole while, simply stared at them both with a distant expression. Although, at Timothy's last words, he raised his eyebrows in curious alarm.
"Er… what I mean is, er… it could give me advice on stuff. You know… uncle-nephew sort of stuff." Timothy tried hard to find something else to say.
"Uncle-nephew sort of stuff? What kind of sort of stuff?" Darian was completely clueless.
Jeff stirred awake and started grumbling at Darian, all while Timothy searched his mind for an excuse. Suddenly, John spoke for the first time since they left London.
"Darian? Isn't that the snack-cart witch out in the isle outside?" He pointed to the door window where, sure enough, the old witch was pushing the snack cart down the isle. Darian immediately jumped to his feet, feeling his pocket for sickles.
"Want anything? I'm gonna get me some chocolate frogs!" Without an answer, he flung the door open and jumped at the witch. Timothy shoved Jeff back in his pocket just in case she saw, looking appreciatively at John.
"Thanks."
"I know how it feels to be pressured into telling something you don't want to tell." John said softly, looking out the window.
"I'm sorry," Timothy felt whole-heartedly ashamed. "It's your family, isn't it?"
John didn't answer, but looked back at him. He wasn't sure, but Timothy thought he saw John shake his head slightly. When John looked back out the window, Timothy looked over toward the door where Darian was pocketing candies and handing over sickles and knuts to the witch. Then suddenly, someone brushed past the compartment that looked very familiar.
"Luna?" Timothy whispered in surprise.
Without realizing it, he had jumped to his feet and found himself rushing out into the isle, bumping into Darian who was too busy with the candy to notice. Far down the train he could see a small retreating girl with shoulder length brown hair moving quickly away from him. He started to follow, catching up about halfway, when someone stepped out abruptly into his path.
"Well look, it's the famous Potter. Hey, Sean! Come look! It's the boy wonder come to grace the rest of the train with his divine presence." It was Carla Haughton, the sneering tall blonde Slytherin blocking his path and view of Luna. Her brother Sean, sniveling and subservient to his menacing twin, came skulking out the compartment Carla had jumped out of. While he was nearly more than an inch taller than she was, Sean acted two feet tall. His shaggy dirty blonde hair hung over his subdued eyes, looking at him with no interest.
"So it is." He crossed his arms.
Timothy scowled at them both, standing on his toes to see over their shoulders at Luna… but she was already long gone. He looked at them angrily.
"Move out of the way, Haughton."
"Move out of the way?" Carla shifted her weight to one foot and crossed her own arms. "Why, is that how a famous celebrity asks one of us common folk to step aside? Not good for your image, is it? Or is your mummy and daddy the same way?"
Timothy had become so exasperated that he was halfway pulling out his wand to hex her and Sean's snickering form before John suddenly appeared at his side and stopped him.
"Save you energy, Timothy. No need to waste it on this Slytherin scum." He said bitterly, holding Timothy's wand hand gently and looking at Carla.
"Why, if it isn't poor little John Stanton! My, aren't you brave to come and save the almighty Timothy Potter!" Carla put on mock surprise, elbowing her brother harshly to pay attention- for he was cracking his knuckles and staring at the ceiling.
"If we just ignore her, she'll eventually stop. C'mon." Without looking back at Carla and Sean, John pulled Timothy back into their compartment and shut the door behind them. Darian was happily sitting in his seat with his chocolate frogs and Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. Jeff suddenly jumped out of Timothy's pocket, coughing up lint.
"If I could've risked it, I was ready to jump out and fry her, Timothy!" he called up to him, scrambling up to his shoulder.
"Thanks for the thought, Jeff. I'm glad you didn't though. She's the last person I want to see you." He sighed, sitting down next to Darian. "Thanks for saving me back there, John."
He shrugged, and went to look out the window again.
Hours went by as the sun began to go down. Timothy mainly kept conversation with Darian, while John observed in silence. They had a peculiar relationship, and Timothy was contemplating John's behavior when a voice spoke magically out loud throughout the train.
"We will be arriving at Hogsmeade Station in approximately five minutes. Please gather your personal belongings and be dressed in your uniform. Thank you."
"I need an owl," Darian moaned as they got out their trunks and put on their school robes and hats. "Maybe for Christmas."
Windstone hooted greetings at Timothy as he sat him down on the seat. Jeff scowled at him from Timothy's shoulder, dreading the fact that he would be spending more time in his pocket.
Once dressed and ready, the train now at a full stop with kids streaming out of compartments, the three friends filed out into the isle. Jeff kept wiggling in his pocket, and Timothy had to pat him warningly three times before he settled. In his other pocket, he checked to make sure the diary was safely tucked inside.
"First years this way! Welcome to Hogwarts, dears! All first years with me! Everyone else to the coaches! Come on, move along there young'uns. First years to the boats!"
The huge form of Echolocata Whisper, a Timberlan giant from North America, could be heard above the excited chatter of all the students as they got off the train. She winked at Timothy when their eyes met, and pointed them over to a line of waiting coaches where all the other older students were heading. John and Darian were close at his side as they chose an unoccupied coach and got inside. Only a moment went by before Bran Acott, another second year Gryffindor they knew, climbed in with them.
"Hey guys! How was your summer?" he asked them merrily as the door swung shut. The coach magically rocked to life and began to move up the road toward the castle that was Hogwarts.
They exchanged stories as they traveled the short distance to the huge oak front doors. When the coach came to a halt, they climbed out one by one and filed up the stone steps and into the castle.
"It feels different getting into the castle this way," Darian commented as they moved into the Great Hall. "Last year we went underground. It will be interesting to see the first years and the sorting now."
They all sat down at the Gryffindor table as they continued to observe everything. Timothy couldn't help but feel more a part of the school now that he was older and situated with everything. He looked up at the professor's table where all the professors were settling in. The head of Gryffindor house, Professor Miller, was joking around with Professor Visser. It was obviously funny to Miller, but the potions professor simply blinked at him. Smirking at them both was Professor Jackson, teacher of History of Magic and head of Slytherin. Down the table sat Professor Zan, the herbology teacher, who was looking positively bored. The astrology teacher, Timothy recognized by sight and word of mouth, was Professor Krishna. She was trying to engage Zan in conversation, but the strict Asian man kept his gaze forward and mouth shut. Professor Mali, the flying coach and Quidditch referee, appeared to be flirting with Professor Lupin. Timothy smiled; Professor Lupin was a real close friend of his family, and when not at school he called him "Uncle Lupin". Lupin laughed at something Mali said, just before the headmaster walked in front of him to sit down.
The entire hall quieted as Professor Dumbledore sat down with a weary smile. Timothy had a vague sense that he knew the reason for his apparent fatigue. He took a quick glance at his friends- Darian was staring hungrily at his plate, but John was looking at Timothy instead. The look on his face was that of worry, but before Timothy could question him, Dumbledore had stood up to direct everybody's attention.
"The sorting ceremony will now commence!" he said, issuing for the doors to the side to open. They did so, and leading a line of wide-eyed and petrified first years was Professor Slimak, deputy headmistress, head of Hufflepuff, and professor of charms. She lined them up in front of the professors' table and unrolled a long piece of parchment. The old Sorting Hat was placed on a stool, and one by one, Professor Slimak called names and each first year became sorted.
Gryffindor had received five new students, and Timothy clapped enthusiastically along with the rest of his table as they sat down. When all was settled, Professor Dumbledore called for attention again.
"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts," he smiled at each table. "It's truly wonderful to see familiar faces and new ones as well. I hope this will be a pleasant, productive, and safe year for us all. Let us all eat to our health and our happiness!"
At a flourish of his hand, the plates and goblets on the tables filled magically with every food imaginable. Darian let out a primeval grunt and leapt at the food, piling his plate. Timothy began to serve himself eagerly too, but at a sideways glance at John, he noticed he wasn't moving an inch.
"Don't tell me you're not hungry," he called over to him as he placed mashed potatoes on his plate. "You didn't eat anything on the way here!"
John simply stared at the table with a distant look.
"Timothy?" he could barely be heard over the din of the voices in the hall.
"Yeah?" Timothy replied, starting to butter a roll.
"I need to tell you something." His voice was serious.
"Now?"
John stood up and grabbed Timothy's shoulder, pulling him off of the bench. Still holding his half-buttered roll, Timothy followed John out of the Great Hall while Darian attacked his meal without noticing. John checked the corridor to see if it was empty and pulled Timothy into a alcove near the main staircase. Half of his face was hidden in shadow, making his serious look even more disturbing.
"I wasn't going to tell you… I didn't think it mattered…" he started.
"What? What is it?" Timothy completely forgot about the roll, staring intently at John. John shook his head desperately.
"But it's gone on too long now… it must be real, it's bothering me too much."
"John, please tell me…" Timothy tried hard to contain his impatience.
"I'm sorry, Timothy. You need to know- it apparently concerns you." John ran his hands through his neatly bowl-cut dirty blonde hair.
"Concerns me? John, does this have anything to do with you…" he checked the corridor again to see if anyone was listening. "Being an empath?"
John nodded slowly and looked piercingly at Timothy with a mixture of pity and fear.
"Like I promised, I don't use my abilities without permission. However, over the summer, I've been having visions."
"Visions?" Timothy gasped.
"Of you. And I don't know why! I have a feeling it has something to do with whatever it is that's bothering you, Timothy."
"Of me? What did you see?" Timothy became breathless, worried now that John reluctantly wandered into his mind and knows all about the crest. His jean pocket began to wiggle, and he remembered that Jeff was inside. He put his hand over the pocket to keep him from hearing anything more, and lowered his voice to a bare whisper. "What do you know?"
"About what's troubling you? Nothing. But, what I saw could have some significance… and it's not good." John paused, reluctant to move on, but at Timothy's intent gaze he sighed and nodded.
"What I keep seeing is this black snake, very long and skinny. Everywhere I look, the black snake is there in this vision. Then, I see a powerful looking man with red hair and a beard, holding this long sword. He has this real deep, menacing laugh, and he points the sword at me when it begins this low hum. Finally, you suddenly appear… but then the snake suddenly jumps at you, and in a flash of light you are gone. That's when it ends."
Timothy could only gape at him, the silence that fell allowed the chatter in the Great Hall to be heard quite distinctly.
"I've been having this vision all summer, and that's the reason why I've been they way I have. Never have I had a vision like this- so intense and disturbing. At Diagon Alley, when you were leaving, it was the black snake I thought I saw." John said.
"What does it all mean?" Timothy whispered.
John shrugged helplessly.
"I don't know. But, just be careful. Visions are full of symbolism, so if you see anything that would relate to those things, tell the headmaster or tell your parents as soon as you can."
They didn't say anything for a few minutes, but finally they sighed together and made to move out when Timothy nearly bumped into someone.
"Quite an unusual place to talk during the Start-of-Term feast, isn't it boys?"
The divination professor, Professor Peacecraft, was smiling down at their startled faces. She was the youngest of all the professors, with shiny blonde hair and a warm smile. The look in her deep eyes made her look wise beyond the oldest of intelligent wizards. She placed a comforting hand on Timothy's shoulder and winked. Then she looked intently at John, and Timothy could recognize the familiar stare of wordless conversation. His parents, being Etam Luoses, did it often. Naturally, a more real mental conversation could take place between two empaths.
Finally, with a last smile, Professor Peacecraft shepherded them out in the corridor, where they could see that the feast had ended and students were flowing out of the Great Hall and to the directions of where their houses was located.
"Get some sleep boys, you'll need to be rested." She bid them goodnight and left them to follow the other Gryffindors up the staircase toward Gryffindor tower.
As Timothy silently followed John with the others, he could have sworn he saw Luna walking with the other Hufflepuffs toward their house. He was about to call out to her, before she disappeared. Suddenly too tired to be disappointed, Timothy climbed the steps and fell back in line into the Gryffindor common room. Darian, Bran, and the others in his dorm were already climbing into bed when he got there. John stole glances at him every other minute as he got into his pajamas and into bed himself. When Timothy did so as the lights went out, the moonlight hitting the window caught his eye. If must have been his imagination… it must have been the fact that he was so tired… but as Timothy's eyes slid shut, he thought he saw a coiled black mass sitting on the windowsill. A coiled black mass… with glittering eyes.
A/N: Has it gotten your attention yet? I'm starting to get the hand at this mystery thing, heheh. What do you think? You're thoughts are important to me you know, more than reason enough to REVIEW! So, to keep you on your toes- what's up with these glittering eyes? Will Timothy talk to Luna at all? What does John's vision mean? Can Jeff find a better way to travel with Timothy? Does chapter five hold the answers? Perhaps, you've gotta read it to find out! 2/23/01, it will be out by.
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HTTP://WWW.THEWORLDOFRENEEPOTTER.DISNEYFANSITES.COM
Updated nearly daily, and now with a long list of books for you to read on the "What to read after HP" page under the featured books.
Well, REVIEW! And one more thing before I move on- is it not rediculous that my Economics/American Govt. teacher took off TEN POINTS because I went 17 SECONDS over the max. time for my oral report on George Washington Carver?! ::screams and procedes to burn text books in retaliation:: Ok, on to chapter five... you review... PLEASE?! Thanks you ever so mucho.
~OrcaPotter