A/N: Please review! Enjoy!
Chapter Seven: Foretelling
Timothy stumbled into the hospital wing with Darian, still murmuring about pink elephants singing the Star Spangled Banner, as John brought up the rear with his grim expression. Mrs. Hall was beside herself when she saw Darian, immediately setting him up in a bed and checking him over. She didn't even look up at Timothy and John, only calling over her shoulder:
"Quidditch is a horrendous sport! Oh, my poor, poor Dari! You could have been killed! Thank you for bringing him here, I can only imagine himself not wanting to. Go now, he needs his rest!"
Timothy was only too eager to hear what John had to say, and satisfied that his other best friend would be well taken care of, they left the hospital wing. John, to Timothy's surprise, steered him suddenly into an empty classroom and quickly performed a locking spell on the door.
"John, what's wrong with you?" Timothy was quietly baffled.
"There's nothing wrong with me, I can tell ya that much." John said quickly, shoving his hands in his pockets.
"Then can you tell me why you are so spazzed out? Why were you looking at the talent scout as if she were a convicted murderer?" Timothy crossed his arms.
"She's not what she seems." John whispered, standing just in front of Timothy, looking down at him. Timothy's nose reached his chin, and seeing his normally passive friend using his uncharacteristically tall stature to emphasize his conflict made Timothy gulp.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean exactly what I said. She's not what she seems. My gut tells me that this 'Tuvok' woman is not a talent scout at all." John whispered.
"What makes you say that?" Timothy stared at him, but then cocked his head as he realized: "Oh. I keep forgetting that you can-."
"That's just it," John interrupted, shaking his head. "I can't! When I'm near a person, I get vibes… I get feelings and emotions. Peacecraft has trained me to keep all this information coming at me under control. I'm able now to turn down the intensity, plainly speaking, so that it's not overwhelming. But I still get all that information… but here's the thing that's bothering me: I couldn't feel anything from her at all."
"So what are you saying? That Ms. Tuvok is not alive or something like that?" Timothy wasn't sure he was following.
John shook his head and he looked away, his face set in concentration.
"She's definitely alive. So, there's only one explanation on why I couldn't feel anything from her. She's set up a mental shield."
"What?"
"A mental shield. She's deliberately blocking out anyone from sensing her vibes, emotions, and feelings."
"Why would she be doing that?" Timothy asked, halfway between skeptical and believing.
"Because," John looked back at him, "She knows that there are empaths around her. She's hiding something."
"How?"
"Because she's an empath herself." John whispered.
Timothy wasn't sure what to think.
"How do you…?"
John laughed briefly and looked at Timothy with surprise.
"Only empaths can block their feelings so easily! And of course, only other empaths can sense this. It's stupid, really, to block your vibes and such when other empaths can tell."
Timothy blushed, realizing that that was a stupid question to ask. To hide his face, he went to the classroom window and looked out. He could see the Quidditch pitch from there, and with the setting sun it looked wonderful. John came to stand beside him and they watched in silence. His discovery and his reaction to it bothered Timothy to the core- it could only mean one thing:
"This has something to do about my family crest, doesn't it." He said rhetorically.
John let out a deep breath through his nose and said nothing for a while, continuing to watch the window.
"To be honest, Timothy, I don't know enough to be entirely sure."
Timothy looked hard at him.
"What is she hiding?"
"Whatever it is, it's not good. Why else would she block her mental output?" John shrugged, but he looked deeply troubled.
"Don't worry John, this is my problem. You don't have to get any more involved than you already are. This is my quest, and it appears I have to do this on my own." Timothy put a hand on John's shoulder.
"Don't be stupid, I'm your friend. Friends stick together no matter what. Besides, it's not like I can ignore it- the vision keeps coming at me. Nor can I ignore your inner despair."
Timothy smirked, looking away.
"Inner despair… yeah, right. How 'bout, inner clueless? I have no idea what to do, and I've had so many clues it's not even funny. John, I'm not my parents… how can I possibly do this? Why is it that only the Potter family has to save the world? Huh? Why can't someone else have a go at it this time and give my generation a break? I mean, think about it- evil wizards has gotten soo cliché. You'd think by now all the bad guys would get the hint that evil can't prevail 'cause good always does!"
"It's not that simple." John blinked slowly.
Timothy sighed, resting his elbows on the windowsill. He shook his head as he watched some teachers cross the grounds from the Quidditch pitch to the castle.
"Yeah… I know. But why me? I bet you Kalina could figure this all out so fast that there would be enough time to spare for her to throw a tea party for all her stuffed animals before bedtime."
"I don't think she's that bright. Perhaps, Timothy, our search does not begin with the castle- but with Ms. Tuvok." John said.
"And how do you propose we go about doing that, hmm?"
"Catch her off guard." John said sneakily.
"Wonderful," Timothy muttered, looking out the window with John as the adults got closer. "We just jump out and scare the vibes out of her."
They giggled silently, watching the adults walk up to the castle steps. Timothy could recognize Professor Miller and Mali, then bringing up the rear, was the beautiful Ms. Tuvok.
"Look!" Timothy hissed, stopping the laughter.
"Duck!" John shouted.
He pulled Timothy roughly out of the window's view and hid themselves against the wall.
"Did she see us?"
"Do you have your cloak on you?"
Timothy quickly pulled out his father's inherited invisibility cloak and threw it over them, cautiously stepping back in front of the window. Tuvok was standing still on the steps, looking up at them. Timothy let out a slight gasp and shuddered, John gulping loudly.
"She can't see us." Timothy whispered, trying to reassure themselves.
"Not with her eyes, but with her senses." John muttered darkly.
They stumbled backwards, wanting to get away from her gaze. But she quickly disappeared into the castle as they did so.
"What do we do now?" Timothy gasped for breath after being startled.
"Just lie low and not act conspicuous. We can't let her know we're on to her." John checked the door to see if anyone was out in the corridor.
"Oh, well that'll be easy- she's only just an empath who can read our thoughts, for I doubt that she has an honor code like you do about other people's privacy." Timothy rolled his eyes.
"You'll have to learn how to block your thoughts, too." John motioned to him that all was clear.
"And how do I do that? I'm not an empath."
"You don't have to be an empath to block your feelings. It's all willpower there." They whispered as they went up the corridor toward Gryffindor Tower.
"Hey, maybe Peacecraft would have an idea on what's going on." Timothy suggested.
"Worth a shot. I meet her tomorrow during lunch, I'm sure she won't mind if you come along. In fact, she's quite curious about your involvement in my visions."
"Why?" Timothy asked slowly.
"She's a fully-grown and very powerful empath, Timothy. It's impossible for me to hide anything from her. While she says she doesn't read my thoughts- I have yet to learn how to control my feelings completely and broadcast them for all to hear. Now that I think of it… Tuvok may already know I suspect her." They lowered their voices as they got closer to Hagrid's portrait.
"How'd it go, Timothy?" Hagrid called out to him as they came into view.
"I made it, Hagrid! I made the team!" Timothy cried excitedly, glad that even with the Tuvok situation, he had made the team.
"I knew yeh could do it!" Hagrid beamed at him. "Which position?"
Timothy was about to answer, when he realized he really didn't know.
"I'm… not sure. They didn't tell me."
"You're seeker… I could of sworn someone mentioned something 'bout it as they came in. Jus' like yeh father, yeh are! Oh, both yeh parents are gonna be so proud once they hear!" And Hagrid swung open without asking the password.
Timothy and John climbed inside as Hagrid made his congratulations, only to be faced by nearly the entire house.
"CONGRATULATIONS!"
"You did it, Timothy!"
"The Potter legend lives on!"
"Way to go!"
"Ouch! Someone stepped on me foot!"
"Sorry!"
"GRYFF-IN-DOR! GRYFF-IN-DOR!"
The entire common room began to thrum with the chanting, drawing Timothy and John into the beat. It was exhilarating. Timothy felt lighter than air. He accomplished one thing- living up to his father in Quidditch. The worry about the crest began to seep away as students cheered him, and he couldn't wait to write home.
One or two people asked if Darian was all right, and Timothy was so light headed with happiness that he could only stupidly nod. John, however, found this slightly disrespectful that no one was referring to Darian, when he had made the team too. Sure, it was a mysterious and suspicious miracle that the scout picked him… and sadly, it only made John suspect that something was drastically wrong.
Timothy had to force his way into the dorm room, eager to write home. He ran into the room, startling Jeff who was perched on the top of his four poster.
"Hey! Haven't you ever heard of knocking?!" Jeff ruffled his feathers.
"Sorry, Jeff! But, I made it!" Timothy pulled out some parchment and a quill.
"Made what? A lot of noise? 'Cause I already know that." Jeff grumbled.
"No, stupid, I made the team!" he shouted at him as he began to write his letter.
"Oh, well, congrats, wild one." Jeff cocked his head down at him. Timothy was writing hastily, telling his family what had happened and that he'd made it. He quickly got it done and put it in an envelope when he realized that Windstone hadn't returned yet with the first letter he sent earlier.
"Windstone hasn't returned yet, has he?" he asked Jeff.
"No," Jeff ruffled his feathers. "Wonder bird has yet to return. I tell ya, if I were a messenger owl, I would be there and back in a lot less time."
Timothy started to spread a wide grin up at him. Jeff took notice and blinked before realizing what he had just did.
"Oh no… nooo… not me, I'm no messenger! No, this yellow bird is not budging… no matter what you say or do. Uh uh!"
Five minutes later, Jeff was flying over the grounds with the letter strapped to his talons. Timothy waved merrily as Jeff shouted out curses that echoed conspicuously back.
"You know, I love how the two of you always keep me informed on everything. I mean, hey, we're best friends- like I'm gonna care! I'll just stand back and twiddle my thumbs while both of you collaborate on business, which obviously does not pertain to me. Nope, no need to inform little ol' Darian, he'll just pad right along like your little dog, completely oblivious."
Darian was taking the news about what had happened a little too hard.
"Darian, you were so out of it that you were singing the American national anthem, among other things. I didn't even know that you knew the words." John sighed as the three of them sat in a quiet corner of the library after Darian was allowed to leave the hospital wing.
"I don't actually," Darian blinked. "Weird."
"Exactly. Which was why you were recovering in the hospital wing and we were figuring out what to do." Timothy crossed his arms.
"OK then, what did you figure out?" Darian pressed, narrowing his eyes dramatically at him while leaning into his face.
"Uh…" Timothy glanced at John.
"That's what I thought." Darian sat back in his seat slowly, glaring at them both. "
"Let's not go through this again," John said suddenly harsh at Darian. "Now you know about it and that's that. Stop acting like a baby."
Darian bit his lip and his eyes went downcast, saying nothing. Satisfied that he had made his point, John lowered his voice to a bare whisper.
"I walked by Peacecraft in the corridor earlier and made it known that both of you would be coming to my lesson today."
"You just blurted it out in the corridor?!" Darian gasped.
"No, of course not!" John gritted his teeth in exasperation, nearly making Timothy giggle. "How else do two empaths talk privately?"
"Oh."
"Now children," Timothy really did begin to giggle. "We're not accomplishing anything by snapping at each other."
"I can't believe it though," Darian began to smile dreamily. "I made the team! Even after flying into the goal post."
John began to make inaudible noises, but Timothy threw him a look that for Darian to know that he only made the team because of the peculiar Ms. Tuvok was not wise.
"Bran is going to find out when the first practice is, then he'll tell us." Timothy said.
"Has Jeff or Windstone returned with a reply from your parents yet?" Darian asked.
"No, it's too early yet, I think. Maybe by tomorrow when the mail arrives." Timothy leaned back in his chair.
Darian began to chat about different techniques he used and how he'd use them during games. John did not seem interested, and pulled out a book on Historical Objects & Where to Find Them. Timothy was only half-listening, staring around the library at all the students who were making use of the study hall time. He let out a yawn, for he was so excited over making the team that he had hardly slept the night before, and stopped when he spotted Luna pulling a book from a shelf and sitting down on the other side of the library.
She looked different, Timothy thought, she no longer had that air of humbleness and need to be noticed. Instead, even though she was still only tall enough to reach Timothy's nose, she seemed bigger and more asserted. Her green eyes no longer held the eager look to please, but seemed hard and distant. For a reason Timothy couldn't explain, it bothered him that this once innocent girl had to see so much that it destroyed her outward personality. Not that he liked her at all, but it seemed such a shame.
"-and then I just… Timothy? Hey, earth to Timothy! You listening?"
Timothy snapped out of his stare and looked back at Darian.
"What? I'm sorry, you were saying?"
Darian frowned at him but continued his dialogue on different moves. John, apparently, became tired of it and stood up.
"It's about time we go. C'mon." he put the book back in his backpack and began to leave, Timothy close behind. Darian looked put off, but he merely sighed and followed.
Timothy had never been to Professor Peacecraft's office, since Divination was an elective that only became available starting the third year. He could remember the rather humorous and mysterious stories his father told about the boring and stifling hot classroom that was more nonsense than anything else. However, as he remembered his father describing the ladder that led to an upstairs classroom through a hole in the ceiling, where John stopped leading them they were not next to a ladder at all. Instead, it was merely just another office, with another room across the corridor labeled DIVINATION.
John had only just paused by the office door when Peacecraft opened it. She was the youngest of all the professors at Hogwarts, but the feeling she gave off was that of wisdom that only an elder professor could manage. When she smiled, trust and friendship was immediate. She looked at all three of them warmly and beckoned them inside.
"You couldn't of come at a better time. I just finished grading some papers." She strode ahead of them and sat at her desk.
"I hope you don't mind my friends being here… this really is more of a meeting than a lesson." John said, sitting down and motioning for Timothy and Darian to do the same.
"Of course not, John. Mr. Potter and Mr. Hall are welcome at any time. What you had to say last time indeed is intriguing. It's only fitting that they join us." She smiled at them.
"Have you met Ms. Tuvok?" Timothy said, cutting to the chase.
"I'm afraid not. Her field is Quidditch and mine is divination, we don't interlope anywhere. However, I get the sensation that I'm not meant to meet her." Peacecraft considered the thought.
"Why?" Darian asked, but his face immediately after told that he already answered himself.
"Tell me, John, why would I not be meant to meet her?" she turned to him and gave him a penetrating stare.
"Ms. Tuvok is an empath, Professor." John answered after a moment.
"And what brings you to that conclusion?" she pressed, but without doubt.
"She is blocking her outward feelings."
"And why would she do that?"
"She knows there are other empaths here."
"Exactly," Peacecraft smiled grimly. "She knows about you and me. Yes, you, because you are not educated enough to know how to mask your own feelings so that she wouldn't be on to you. It's obvious she's hiding something and she doesn't want to be found. And why else would a Quidditch talent scout be hiding her feelings? Because she isn't a talent scout."
"Than who is she? Why was she so ready to put Darian and me on the team? And without the team's consent?" Timothy asked.
"That, no one can know. It's obvious that something is going to happen… involving you, Timothy. She has something to do with it. There is no way of knowing unless I get close enough to see just how powerful she is as an empath to see past her mental barrier." Peacecraft looked at him closely. Timothy had an odd feeling of being searched from the inside.
"What could she possibly want to do to Timothy by putting him on the team? And me?" Darian spoke up.
"I'm not sure," Peacecraft folded her hands on her desk. "The only thing you can do is be careful, and be weary of what she is doing if she stays at Hogwarts. I will casually inquire about her to the headmaster, and see what conclusions I can draw from him. In the meantime, act as if you suspect nothing. When she is near you, focus on Quidditch and nothing else. Those thoughts she'll expect from you."
"What's going to happen?" Darian asked quietly.
"I'm only an empath, Darian, I cannot predict the future. While I may teach that art in my class, it is really a faulty field and not really a magic… certainly not one of my talents. I can only speculate using what abilities I do have… and from the information you have given me. What I can tell you is this: be aware of what you cannot sense." Peacecraft said.
"How can we do that?" Darian continued, not really following.
"That is only for you three to figure out." She replied darkly.
All three boys then exchanged sidelong glances, not really sure what to do next. Of course, Peacecraft took notice and stood up to signal the meeting over.
"Be careful, you three. If anything should happen tell the headmaster or me at once. John, I'll see you tomorrow for you next lesson."
They nodded and got up to leave, when Peacecraft spoke up once more.
"Timothy? May I speak with you alone for a moment?"
He looked to John, who gave him an encouraging nod, and fell back as he and Darian left the room. Timothy went to stand in front of Peacecraft's desk, where she had sat down again.
"Sit, this won't take long." She pointed at the chair behind him. "I'd just like to know how you feel about the visions your friend John has been having."
"Oh," Timothy took a deep breath as he sat down. "Well I… I'm not sure what to think, really."
Peacecraft gave him another penetrating, yet kindly stare.
"What can you tell me about them? I know John's view, but I don't know yours. You must know that it's curiously apparent that these visions pertain to you."
Timothy looked away and tried hard not to think about the crest. Professor Peacecraft was nice and trustworthy, but he couldn't tell another soul. He and John knew that the visions John kept having had something to do with Timothy's quest- but what it all meant, they weren't sure. How could he explain this to a fully educated empath, who must already know?
"You don't have to worry, Timothy. I don't know anything more than you do, and nothing more than you want me to know. It's not my business." She smiled at him.
He relaxed, remembering that if John had an honor code about reading people's feelings, Peacecraft must assuredly abide by the same honor. In all honesty, however, the only thing that came clear from what John told him about his visions was about the black snake.
"There is one thing… that has made itself clear," he said quietly. "Everything else, I don't know… but I agree that it has something to do with me."
"And what is that?"
"This past summer, my friend Jeff found a black snake in my house while my family and I were vacationing in Florida. When we found him, he was about to tell us about this snake before… well… before other issues came up and the explanation needed was forgotten. Then later, John thought he saw a black snake in Diagon Alley... but neither I nor Darian saw anything. And then, the first week of school, a black snake was spotted in my dorm room." Timothy explained while Peacecraft looked at him thoughtfully.
"And the black snake was always present in John's vision." She said.
"Yes, and this is what bothers me the most." Timothy admitted.
"Besides the snake, nothing else from what John has told you has made itself apparent?"
"No."
She looked at him silently and the room was quiet for a few minutes. Timothy could hear Darian and John pacing outside the office.
"Timothy, you know about your family's history, right?" Peacecraft spoke suddenly.
"Yes," Timothy answered slowly. "Why?"
"I cannot tell you what it is you have to do… although I have a feeling you already know and I have no business to know myself. Yet, this is obviously part of something so large that no one knows what's in store. My advice to you, Timothy, is to do what your heart tells you- and follow your instincts. No matter what happens, remember that as long as you try your best, there's hope." With that, her office door opened and she stood up. John and Darian stood curiously in the doorway while Timothy got up himself and began to leave, trying to take in what Peacecraft had said.
"I'll see you boys later. Take care!" she bid them farewell as he office door shut behind Timothy.
"What did she want?" Darian asked, but recoiled slightly as John gave him a warning look that it was best not to ask.
Timothy merely shook his head and began to walk down the corridor with them.
"She just told me what everyone else has told me." He said quietly.
"What's that?" Darian asked before John could counter him.
"Stop thinking about it and just let my heart figure things out."
If Darian was confused, he said nothing. Timothy's friends merely walked silently beside him, all too aware of the burden Timothy had on his shoulders… and feeling bad that they couldn't do anything to help directly.
Timothy didn't have long to ponder gloomily on his thoughts about the quest, the visions, and Ms. Tuvok, for both Windstone and Jeff returned that evening with letters from home. He was filled with pride and joy as he read very enthusiastic letters from not only his parents, but also his Godparents, Great Uncle Us, and his grandparents in Florida. His father was overjoyed, to put it mildly, and wrote on to tell how he nearly shouted out to the entire Ministry during an auror's meeting that his son had made the Gryffindor house Quidditch team as seeker. Even his sister was happy for him, and in a letter assisted by their mother, she wrote how she was going to draw a picture of him winning a game.
Darian had received a letter from his father as well, that was no less than enthusiastic as Timothy's. Both boys exchanged delighted excerpts while John listened with delighted interest.
"Well, whether you guys making the team is a set up or not, you're still going to lead Gryffindor to victory and make your families proud." He said to them.
Darian got up and paced while holding his letter, still hyped with happiness.
"Are you kidding? Of course! We'll be legends ourselves!"
"Now let's not get too carried away," Timothy laughed. "Although, it's not that hard to speculate that being factual."
"If I may interrupt," Jeff spoke loudly for the first time since his arrival, preening his feathers next to Windstone on top of Timothy's four poster. "I believe we hard working owls deserve our payment for delivery."
"Well I'll be," Timothy looked up at him. "Finally on mutual ground with Windstone, are we?"
Jeff turned his owl eyes down at him and then looked at Windstone, who gave a hoot in reply.
"I believe that we have come to a truce. This big black bird is not so bad after all." He got pecked hard by Windstone that nearly made Jeff topple over.
"More or less." John smiled up at them.
"Hey, has anyone seen my lucky marble?" Darian asked suddenly, searching his pockets.
Timothy and John looked at each other.
"I didn't know you had a lucky marble." John said.
"Well I do, and now I can't find it." Darian got down on all fours and began searching the floor.
"How is it lucky?" Timothy asked, joining him in his search.
"What makes a shamrock lucky or a horseshoe? It just is!" Darian crawled under his bed.
"When did you have it last?" John began to search bedside tables.
"It was in my pocket, it must have slipped out."
"What color is it?" Timothy asked.
"Green. And it's… wait, there it is!"
Darian scrambled to a place near the stone wall where, sure enough, a tiny green marble laid nestled in a groove. He happily picked it up and began to get to his feet when he stepped on his shoelace and began to topple over. Before John could reach him to give him a hand, Darian fell face forward into the stone wall. Timothy nearly screamed in fear that Darian was going to knock himself out or temporarily loose his mind again, but instead of slamming head first into the wall, Darian simply fell through it.
"Darian!" both Timothy and John cried as he disappeared behind the wall with a scream. They immediately went to the spot where he was and tentatively touched the stone wall. Instead of hitting solid stone, their fingers disappeared into a hollow space.
"What do we do?" John moaned.
"Go get him, of course!" Timothy said sternly, and with a adamant look, he pushed himself through the wall after Darian.
John bounced on his heels for a moment before giving a disgruntled sigh and pushed his way in his wake. Jeff, the whole while, watched the scene dispassionately.
"Sure, I'll just hold up the fort. No need for me to go through non-solid walls after you! You just go and I'll stay here… don't ask lil' ol' Jeff for advice or anything. After all, I'm just a yellow dragon turned yellow owl. Nope, I'll just stay here and cough up the dead mice that Windstone so graciously informed me that I should be doing."
Timothy and John screamed so loud that their ears were ringing. They tumbled down an old, dusty, and cobweb littered slope in complete darkness. It seemed like forever before they finally stopped, hitting something soft.
"Ouch! Watch it!"
"Where are we?" Timothy asked, coughing and rubbing his head.
"Someplace in Gryffindor Tower… or under it." John grunted, picking the cobwebs out of his hair.
"Did any of you know there was an invisible hole in the wall? 'Cause if you did, I greatly appreciate the fact that you told me." Darian got up from under them both.
"Lumos." Timothy said, pulling out his wand. Light filled the spot where they stood, and the three of them gasped at what they saw.
They were in an ancient looking stone corridor. Fixtures on the walls held long burned out torches and tattered tapestries hung from the ceiling that was filled with spider infested webs.
"Why do I have an uncanny feeling of foreboding?" Darian whispered.
"What do we do now? I can't see ourselves trying to get out the way we came in." John said.
"Maybe there's an old way out down this corridor." Timothy suggested.
"Maybe there isn't a way out… maybe we're an old dungeon!" Darian hissed.
"Please… I highly doubt this is a dungeon." John rolled his eyes as Timothy began to walk forward.
"C'mon you guys. Standing here isn't getting us anywhere."
Carefully, led by the light of Timothy's wand, the three of them made their way down the old corridor. They didn't come across a single door or opening anywhere, which after nearly thirty minutes of walking, became unnerving.
"It feels like we've walked the whole length of the castle." Darian complained.
"I'm starting to get a bad feeling about this." John whispered.
"John, you always get a bad feeling about everything. But this time, I've gotta agree with you. Timothy, let's go back." Darian stopped them.
"No, let's keep going. We haven't come this far just to turn back." Timothy started moving on again.
"But Timothy! We don't know where this corridor is taking us!" Darian nearly shouted, making his voice echo off the ancient walls and causing bits of dust and rock to trickle from the ceiling.
"Shh! You don't know that." Timothy looked over his shoulder.
Without waiting for a reply, Timothy began to move on again. Despite further objections from both Darian and John, he kept going. For another fifteen minutes, they pressed on. Then suddenly, Timothy stopped.
"Look! I think we've reached the end!"
"Thank God." Darian panted.
"It looks like a way out." John pushed them to keep moving.
Sure enough, they came to an arched doorway with a huge solid oak door. For a moment, they looked over it with awe.
"Is this the way out?" Darian asked eagerly.
"Must be," Timothy answered… peering closely at the door. "Hey look! There's something written on the door!"
He put his lighted wand closer to the wood and the words of an inscribed message became visible. It began near the top of the door and ended near the bottom, written in fancy engraved letters.
"What does it say?" Darian whispered.
Timothy stood back and strained his eyes to see, and he read:
Heart of lion
Quick of pride
Only one shall pass inside
Black of night
Blue of sky
Mito begins and ends with thy
Noble of name
Name of old
You're coming here has been foretold
Mito begin
End with thy
The final battle in your hands lie
"What on Earth does that mean?" Darian asked.
"I don't know," Timothy muttered. "The words look worn out in places, so this must have been written a long time ago."
"What could this message be for?"
"It almost sounds like a puzzle," John read over the message himself with an intent gaze. "A riddle almost."
"And are you good at riddles?" Darian challenged him.
"If we all use our brains, perhaps we could figure it out." John gave him a severe glare.
"Let's divide it up and see what we can do with it," Timothy suggested. "Heart of lion, quick of pride. What does that tell us?"
"You have the heart of a lion and you're quick of pride?" Darian said helplessly.
"You need to get more in touch with your symbolic side, Darian." John rolled his eyes.
"Think about it: lions are often seen as courageous, a symbol of pride. The Gryffindor symbol is a lion. So, that must explain that we're either still in Gryffindor Tower or this message was written by or for a Gryffindor." Timothy explained.
John and Darian looked at him with wide eyes.
"That makes sense," John said, amused. "And the next part, Only one shall pass inside, that part is clear in itself. Only one person is meant to go beyond this door."
"I'm afraid I can't help you with the next part," Darian shook his head. "What could it possibly mean by, Black of night, blue of sky?"
The three of them stared at the passage, and shook their heads.
"The part after that doesn't make much sense either," Timothy muttered. "Mito begins and ends with thy."
"Noble of name, name of old. You're coming here has been foretold. Apparently, whoever it is that's meant to go beyond this door has an honorable name… and the person who wrote this knew that this person would come." John said.
"The rest doesn't help much though, Mito begin, end with thy. The final battle in your hands lie. Well, whatever battle is being waged, the person who goes through this door obviously has to stop it." Darian said.
Timothy read the message a few more times, concentrating on the parts that he thought they had figured out. He strung the parts together, repeating them in his mind over and over- when suddenly his stomach flipped.
"John?" he hissed breathlessly, staring at one particular passage. "Do you think you can unscramble and combine Mito and thy?"
John looked at him and then up at the letters.
"Well, if you combine them both together first… mitothy… then- oh my God."
"What?" Darian asked quickly.
John's face broke out into a combination of wonder, excitement, and a tinge of fear.
"Mito begins… mito, Timo. Ends with thy… Timothy."
Timothy felt light headed… finally, some sort of clue!
"You can't mean…?" Darian gasped.
"Timothy is a Gryffindor- heart of lion, quick of pride. The dark of night… that must mean his hair, his black hair, and the blue of sky his eyes. Noble of name, name of old; The Potter name goes back to the founders, that's how the crest was created in the first place. As for the rest, it's clear: only Timothy can go past this door, whoever wrote this foretold that he'd come here, and because of the crest- the final battle against evil is up to him." John explained.
Timothy could hardly believe it. Now that there was tangible proof of what he had to do, the thought of it nearly made him sick to his stomach. It's true! It's all true! He has to find his family crest so that he could defeat Malfoy and rid the world of evil forever. Now, as he ran his fingers over the engraved letters of his destiny, it hit him with such force that he wanted to run away… run away crying into his parents' arms, telling them that he was afraid and wanted nothing more than to creep behind his mother's robes and feel his father ruffling his hair protectively. How on Earth was he supposed to do this?! This was an adult's job! Crest or no crest, how was he supposed to face an evil wizard?
John must of sensed Timothy's outburst of silent emotion, and put a hand on his shoulder.
"We'll help you in any way we can, Timothy. I know you, you can do this."
Darian came over to his other side and gave him a reassuring smile.
"If not, we can always look for the teacher's manual and cheat."
Timothy laughed bitterly.
"This is one assignment with no written answers, and definitely not a group test."
"The only way to get rid of an assignment is just to do it. This door has been waiting a long, long time. Might as well do what has been expected and get it over with." John smiled wearily, putting pressure on his hand to encourage Timothy to move forward.
Reluctantly, Timothy put his hand out and pushed on the old, ancient wood. Instantly, it began to swing back with a loud creaking sound, the noise echoing down the corridor behind him, making both John and Darian cringe. Timothy's wand, which was still lighted, illuminated what lay beyond the door. However, despite the light, there was nothing but darkness where the glow did not touch.
"If you need anything, be sure to yell." Darian said a little too cheerfully.
Neither of them laughed, for if only Timothy was allowed inside, it was more than likely that no one else could pass beyond the great door. If something should happen, Timothy was on his own.
He looked back at Darian and John one last time, their faces tight with fear and worry. Then, from some unknown place inside him, Timothy felt enough courage to look forward into the darkness… and move on.
After no more than several steps, the door swung shut behind Timothy's back, cutting him off from his friends. The light from his wand was of no use to light anything other than the immediate area around him, which was nothing but the stone floor. Complete silence enveloped him, if John and Darian were shouting or making noise in front of the door it was impossible to tell. Timothy took a huge breath, feeling his heart pounding against his chest and the blood pulsing in his ears. There was nothing he could do but to move forward, moving almost blindly further down the hall behind the door which had his name written upon it a thousand years before then. It was almost too much to bear, as he kept his cautious pace through the damp gloom, but that tinge of courage from an unknown source inside of himself prevented Timothy from breaking out into fearful tears and crying out for his parents to come get him.
The light from his wand told him that the hall he was in was narrow, for now the glow illuminated mildew covered stone walls on either side of him. Then suddenly, the walls were gone, and the light touched nothing but himself and the floor below him. Timothy strained to find something to focus on, but again he seemed to be surrounded by nothing.
He thought desperately about the Marauder's Map, which would show where he was and how to get through to where ever it was that he needed to go. But then, with a sinking feeling, Timothy couldn't remember ever seeing a passageway or corridor secretly branching off from the boys' dorm room. This place was only meant, apparently, for him and whoever came with his presence.
With a quick movement of his arm, Timothy tried to get as much light from his wand out into his surroundings as possible. With a burst of impatient energy, he swung his hand about, thinking that the light would stay for a moment keeping the darkness back a little longer. That was when his wrist hit something hard and bitterly cold.
"Ouch!" Timothy recoiled his hand instantly and brought it close to him, cradling it while he felt the heat of his blood trickle down his arm from a large scrape where his wrist had hit the stone. His wand had fallen on the floor and had rolled away. It stopped just beside what it was that he must of hit and he picked it up deftly as he held his injured hand to his body in pain. Slowly, he stood up, bringing the lighted wand close to the stone obstruction that he'd hit. That was when he began to notice more engraved writing on what it appeared to be a stone pillar. With bated breath, he strained to read the words,
STATE YOUR NAME, MITO BEGIN END WITH THY
His breath stopped and his eyes went wide, his stomach became even more twisted than it already was. What would happen if he said his name out loud? Maybe that's all he had to do, maybe that just by saying his name, the Potter family crest would just fall on his head and that would be that. Then he'd just have to show up in front of Malfoy, flash the crest in his face, and watch the evil jerk shrivel up and die like the witch in that old Muggle story… what was it called? The Wizard of Nog? That was not important, only that this crest business might not actually be so bad after all. He had worried himself sick over something that might actually be really easy.
Timothy found his breath again and stood up as tall as he could. Then with his most authoritative voice, remembering all the times he had tried to sound like his father when he was little, Timothy spoke his name.
"Timothy! Timothy Harry Potter!"
He said his full name as an after-thought, thinking that that was proper. However, nearly cringing and expecting something to come flying at him, nothing happened. A moment passed, and nothing, not even a speck of dust made itself known.
"Okay," Timothy whispered to himself. "I take it that was not what I was supposed to say, if I am to say anything at all."
Then it was like an explosion erupted. In reflex, Timothy flung himself down and hugged the floor. A violent gush of wind blew through his messy black hair and made his glasses hang by one ear askew. His eyes, which were adjusted to near darkness, were blinded by light. Timothy cringed himself into a fetal position, thinking that by saying more than just his name he had messed something up and now was paying the price. Here he was, the supposed foretold hero of the world that would end forever all evil, and he had to go and fail before he even began… just by saying the wrong thing.
The damp coolness of the room he was in was now quickly replaced by warmth. The wind died down and disappeared and the light no longer burned through his eyelids. Slowly, cautiously, Timothy opened his eyes. Expecting a scene of terror, instead he saw a simple pedestal in the middle of this single room. The pillar with the engraved words that had told him to say his name was behind him, almost against the wall. The light and warmth came from evenly spaced torches in fixtures on the stone.
"Whoa." He couldn't help but gasp out loud. Perhaps he had said the right thing after all, and the ancient spells placed upon this room and corridor simply needed a while to get up and going. His eyes fell upon the pedestal in the middle of the room again, and he felt adrenaline pump through his body. The crest! The crest was there! This was so easy!
But as he nearly ran to the raised platform that was the pedestal, his happiness dropped like a stone. Instead of an old and ornate family crest, there was only a large metal key, like the ones Muggles used a long time ago, lying amongst the dust on the bare stone.
"A key?!" he shouted, stomping his foot in exasperation. "A key. I should have known… nothing like this could be that easy."
It was old and rusted, looking nothing like a magical object at all. All this protection for a key? There was nothing keeping it guarded, and so, dubiously, Timothy picked it up and winced at it's remarkable weight.
"Now what?"
Almost immediately, the hall that he had walked through from the door to that room was instantly lit by countless torches, clearly leading the way back to where he had came in. With a last look at the pedestal, and pocketing the heavy key inside his school uniform, Timothy made his way back down the hall. As he passed each torch, they went out, until by the time he had reached the great oak door, only a single torch was lit. Everything was as it was before he entered. Grabbing the large hoop door handle, he pulled with all his strength.
"The door's opening!" shouted Darian from the outside.
"Is it Timothy?" John asked quickly.
"No, it's Big Foot… of course it's Timothy! Look!"
They apparently were helping in pushing back the door, and so Timothy soon managed to squeeze himself out. The door fell back into place with a heavy smash and to everyone's astonished surprise: the message on the door disappeared.
"It's served its purpose. No need for it now." John whispered.
"Well, Timothy? Did you find it? Did you find the crest? Was it there?" Darian hovered over him, looking closely.
"No," Timothy grumbled, searching his pocket for the key. "All I found was this old Muggle key."
"Definitely Muggle," Darian inspected it as Timothy held it out in the palms of his hands. "Why on Earth would your ancestors invoke a magical power in this?"
"Isn't it obvious?" John crossed his arms, taking his turn at looking at the key. "To further protect the crest, it must be somewhere else. This key must open whatever it is that's hiding it. And as for it being a Muggle key- to make it less obvious should anyone come upon it. However, that's impossible if it was kept here all these years"
"So where is it then?"
"I still don't know. There wasn't any clue back there… only the key." Timothy sighed.
They fell silent, looking at the key, when suddenly the ground began to tremble.
"You feel that?"
"Yeah."
"What is it?"
"Don't know."
The frame around the door gave an earsplitting crack.
"This place is collapsing!"
"Oh, just swell!"
"RUN!"
Timothy dropped the key back in his pocket and sprang into a run just as an avalanche of rock and dirt hit the spot he was just in. John, being the tallest, ran ahead of them with Darian and Timothy close behind. They bolted down the old corridor, which was crumbling before them. Boulders of ancient stone rolled into their path, making them dodge left and right at full speed.
"You… know… something… just… occurred to me," Darian panted, ducking his head as a rock nearly fell on him. "There's… no way… out… back here. We'll be… crushed… trying to… climb back up!"
Timothy nearly stumbled over a pile of stone as he remembered. They were trapped! If they tried to crawl their way back up the slide, or whatever it was that sent them tumbling down there to begin with, the collapsing passageway would bury them alive.
"Timothy!" John yelled back. "You still… have your wand?"
Timothy pulled it out from his other pocket, where he had kept it after the torches lit the room. He sped up just as John slowed down enough to get it from him. As the end of the corridor came into view, with the long slide that had delivered them down there from the boys' dorm, John stretched out his arm in front of him with Timothy's wand.
"Ascendio!"
The slide began to shimmer and ripple, like the surface of a pond after being pelted with a stone. When it stilled, there was now a staircase leading up.
"Did I ever tell you… John… just how much… I love you?" Darian cried.
"No," John panted, jumping onto the stairs and going up two steps at a time. "Nor do I want to know."
Timothy had never fled up stairs that fast before, and it didn't seem fast enough, for the corridor was now leveled and the staircase was crumbling as they left each step behind. John was the first to leap into the seemingly solid wall in front of them as they reached the top. Darian stopped and hesitated, just as Timothy pushed him through and fell in with him when the last step gave way and disappeared.
"There you are!" Jeff flew at Timothy as he began to gather himself from the floor. John was already on his feet, brushing off dust and specks of stone. Darian was groaning useless around on the floor, before John grabbed his arm and pulled him up with a grunt. Jeff landed on Timothy's head and scrambled to keep hold on his hair.
"Hey! Ouch! Jeff, stop it! Get off!"
"Just leave me behind again! You know how long you've been gone?! If something happened to you your parents would have my hide- er… feathers!" Jeff settled himself, despite Timothy's frantic swatting to get him off.
Darian flopped onto his bed, exhausted. John sat down on his and took deep breaths. With Jeff still on his head, Timothy crawled to the spot on the wall where the hidden entrance was… but it was no longer there. The wall was solid stone.
"You know… I should poop on you for this. Yeah, that would be right…" Jeff said wistfully.
"Don't you dare, or I'll have you stuffed and sent to my grandparents in Florida for Thanksgiving." Timothy got on his feet, pried the yellow owl from his hair with a painful yelp, and dropped Jeff on top of his perch.
"Fair enough," Jeff grumbled. "Just what were you doing down there?"
Timothy reached into his pocket and pulled out the key, holding it out for Jeff to look at.
"You went down there for that?"
"Went where for what?" Bran suddenly opened the dorm room door and walked in.
"For the- ouch!" Timothy slapped Jeff quickly, "…er… hoot hoot!"
"Nothing," Timothy quickly put the key back in his robes and smiled a little too brightly. "I just got letters from my family, that's all."
"Ah," Bran nodded, looking at Jeff suspiciously. "Yeah, I'd imagine. Last year I was pelted with notes from home when I made the team."
"Speaking of which," Timothy walked away from Jeff and sat down on Darian's bed. "When's practice?"
"Right now, as a matter of fact. I just came up here to get my broom and tell you. Ms. Tuvok wanted us to start right away, so she could see us in action before she has to leave." Bran answered, opening his trunk and getting out his broom.
Timothy paled and Darian sat up straight.
"Now? Right now?"
"Didn't I say now?" Bran rolled his eyes.
They both looked at John, who gave them a helpless look and shrug.
"Well?" Bran shut his trunk closed. "Are you coming or not?"
Slowly, both Timothy and Darian got to their feet and pulled out their brooms. Bran left and when Darian checked the door to make sure he was gone, he looked back at them.
"What do we do about Tuvok?" he hissed.
"Nothing," John said sternly. "Don't give her any idea that you know about her. This is so sudden… you guys didn't have enough time to learn how to block your minds off. Just keep as far away from her while trying to stay as inconspicuous as possible. Don't even talk about her amongst yourselves."
Timothy and Darian nodded and made way to leave, before stopping and looking back at John.
"What're you going to do?"
"Catch up on a little reading." John smiled at them knowingly.
Darian was about to inquire more, but Timothy shook his head and pulled him out.
****
Mary Peacecraft stood before the stone gargoyle. She was rarely in this part of the castle, for she never had any real private business with the headmaster before. However, she could definitely feel that something was very wrong, and to start her investigation she needed to speak with whom she could trust most in the school.
"Utopia." She whispered.
The stone gargoyle slid to the side, revealing a moving spiral staircase. Not the least bit intimidated or doubtful, she made her way up to the office door labeled: HEADMASTER E. DUMBLEDORE.
I wish to speak to you, headmaster, if you have a moment.
Peacecraft smiled, Eian Dumbledore was fascinated with her mind-speak ability, and whenever she called for him, he requested that she would do so that way. While she personally felt not to exploit her abilities, it was only toward him that she spoke to in that manner. Except of course, John Stanton.
The door swung open and Peacecraft quietly made her way inside. Dumbledore was at his huge desk, studying a star chart. When she came into the light of a single lit candle, he smiled and put down the chart.
"A pleasure to see you, Professor Peacecraft. And to what do I owe the pleasure of your company this evening?"
"I find you well, today, Professor?" Peacecraft smiled her beautiful and youthful smile.
"Yes, in fact you do. I have just discovered one of my lost charts of the Qui nebula. A fascinating place! Have you been there?" Dumbledore folded his hands across his desk.
"No, I'm afraid not. I'll have to make a holiday of it sometime." She sat down in the armchair across from him.
"It's quite lovely there, this time of year." Dumbledore studied her a moment. "Well, it doesn't take an empath to know that you are not here for chit chat. What's on your mind, Mary?"
Peacecraft hesitated a moment, her expression wavering.
"I'm quite curious about this Quidditch talent scout I keep hearing about from my students. They are filled with such excitement by her that I'm interested to know about whom she represents."
Dumbledore raised his eyebrows a moment and seemed to consider a thought.
"Well, to be completely honest, I haven't really spoken with Ms. Tuvok at all."
It was Peacecraft's turn to raise her brows.
"Oh? Than who invited her?"
"I believe it was Professor Miller who did. Perhaps he would have more information. Why?" Dumbledore cocked his head.
Peacecraft thought hard to come up with a likely story, masking her anxiety flawlessly as she did so. When she had one, she shrugged innocently.
"I just wanted to know which team she was scouting for. I'm a big fan of the Chudley Cannons, after all."
Not to her surprise, Dumbledore chuckled.
"Oh I don't think she represents a professional team, she could be more of an advisor than anything else, though. And you! A Chudley Cannons fan? I never would have guessed!"
Peacecraft merely smiled sweetly.
"An empath is an ocean of unattainable secrets."
"So is a woman's heart." Dumbledore smiled back.
"Very true." Peacecraft got to her feet. "I'm sorry to keep you, Professor. I'll leave you now."
"Don't hesitate to call on me again, Professor Peacecraft, if you need anything more. Sorry I couldn't be of any help." He stood up to see her out.
"Thank you, Professor."
She reached the door and stopped a moment, feeling a knot tie in her stomach at the thought of what she was about to do. But it had to be done, for the safety of the children. Without a word, she closed her eyes and felt out with her consciousness toward Dumbledore's. As quickly and as efficiently as she could, Peacecraft touched the part of his mind that held memory and made their conversation disappear as if it never happened. When she sensed that the memory was gone, she quickly withdrew herself from his mind and stepped out without a word. Dumbledore would never remember the conversation they had just had. If she had used just a simple memory charm, it would be detectable. Even though her vow to the unwritten law of being an empath forbid her to use her powers on the unaware and unwilling- this was a special circumstance that had to be done. If this Tuvok woman came to Dumbledore and asked if he was questioned by her, Peacecraft would be found and the Potter boy- and perhaps his friends too- would be in even more danger.
The gargoyle slid back into place and Peacecraft calmly made her way back to her office. It was too risky to seek out Tuvok herself. Eian Dumbledore, as grand a wizard as he was, would never be his father. Albus would have investigated Tuvok and most likely would have picked up something strange about her. Eian was younger, not as experienced in this role… nor as talented, as hard as he tries. Tuvok wouldn't worry about him as long as she kept out of his way- he wasn't that oblivious.
Perhaps it was time to contact the Potters. Peacecraft's meeting with Timothy allowed her to respectfully sense an alarming amount of potential inside of him. She had been five years old when she had met his father, Harry Potter. It was her, in fact, that helped guide the legendary soul to his kidnapped mate… even being unaware of her own powers. His son, now that she was learned and skilled at being what she was, has an even greater and more dangerous venture ahead of him. No one would know this child better than his parents… and she knew that they were aware of his destiny. Just how much… she needed to know.
A/N: Please, do tell me what you think. This chapter just gets things rolling, the next chapter will change EVERYTHING, although it won't seem like it at first. Big things are planned!
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Chapter Seven: Foretelling
Timothy stumbled into the hospital wing with Darian, still murmuring about pink elephants singing the Star Spangled Banner, as John brought up the rear with his grim expression. Mrs. Hall was beside herself when she saw Darian, immediately setting him up in a bed and checking him over. She didn't even look up at Timothy and John, only calling over her shoulder:
"Quidditch is a horrendous sport! Oh, my poor, poor Dari! You could have been killed! Thank you for bringing him here, I can only imagine himself not wanting to. Go now, he needs his rest!"
Timothy was only too eager to hear what John had to say, and satisfied that his other best friend would be well taken care of, they left the hospital wing. John, to Timothy's surprise, steered him suddenly into an empty classroom and quickly performed a locking spell on the door.
"John, what's wrong with you?" Timothy was quietly baffled.
"There's nothing wrong with me, I can tell ya that much." John said quickly, shoving his hands in his pockets.
"Then can you tell me why you are so spazzed out? Why were you looking at the talent scout as if she were a convicted murderer?" Timothy crossed his arms.
"She's not what she seems." John whispered, standing just in front of Timothy, looking down at him. Timothy's nose reached his chin, and seeing his normally passive friend using his uncharacteristically tall stature to emphasize his conflict made Timothy gulp.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean exactly what I said. She's not what she seems. My gut tells me that this 'Tuvok' woman is not a talent scout at all." John whispered.
"What makes you say that?" Timothy stared at him, but then cocked his head as he realized: "Oh. I keep forgetting that you can-."
"That's just it," John interrupted, shaking his head. "I can't! When I'm near a person, I get vibes… I get feelings and emotions. Peacecraft has trained me to keep all this information coming at me under control. I'm able now to turn down the intensity, plainly speaking, so that it's not overwhelming. But I still get all that information… but here's the thing that's bothering me: I couldn't feel anything from her at all."
"So what are you saying? That Ms. Tuvok is not alive or something like that?" Timothy wasn't sure he was following.
John shook his head and he looked away, his face set in concentration.
"She's definitely alive. So, there's only one explanation on why I couldn't feel anything from her. She's set up a mental shield."
"What?"
"A mental shield. She's deliberately blocking out anyone from sensing her vibes, emotions, and feelings."
"Why would she be doing that?" Timothy asked, halfway between skeptical and believing.
"Because," John looked back at him, "She knows that there are empaths around her. She's hiding something."
"How?"
"Because she's an empath herself." John whispered.
Timothy wasn't sure what to think.
"How do you…?"
John laughed briefly and looked at Timothy with surprise.
"Only empaths can block their feelings so easily! And of course, only other empaths can sense this. It's stupid, really, to block your vibes and such when other empaths can tell."
Timothy blushed, realizing that that was a stupid question to ask. To hide his face, he went to the classroom window and looked out. He could see the Quidditch pitch from there, and with the setting sun it looked wonderful. John came to stand beside him and they watched in silence. His discovery and his reaction to it bothered Timothy to the core- it could only mean one thing:
"This has something to do about my family crest, doesn't it." He said rhetorically.
John let out a deep breath through his nose and said nothing for a while, continuing to watch the window.
"To be honest, Timothy, I don't know enough to be entirely sure."
Timothy looked hard at him.
"What is she hiding?"
"Whatever it is, it's not good. Why else would she block her mental output?" John shrugged, but he looked deeply troubled.
"Don't worry John, this is my problem. You don't have to get any more involved than you already are. This is my quest, and it appears I have to do this on my own." Timothy put a hand on John's shoulder.
"Don't be stupid, I'm your friend. Friends stick together no matter what. Besides, it's not like I can ignore it- the vision keeps coming at me. Nor can I ignore your inner despair."
Timothy smirked, looking away.
"Inner despair… yeah, right. How 'bout, inner clueless? I have no idea what to do, and I've had so many clues it's not even funny. John, I'm not my parents… how can I possibly do this? Why is it that only the Potter family has to save the world? Huh? Why can't someone else have a go at it this time and give my generation a break? I mean, think about it- evil wizards has gotten soo cliché. You'd think by now all the bad guys would get the hint that evil can't prevail 'cause good always does!"
"It's not that simple." John blinked slowly.
Timothy sighed, resting his elbows on the windowsill. He shook his head as he watched some teachers cross the grounds from the Quidditch pitch to the castle.
"Yeah… I know. But why me? I bet you Kalina could figure this all out so fast that there would be enough time to spare for her to throw a tea party for all her stuffed animals before bedtime."
"I don't think she's that bright. Perhaps, Timothy, our search does not begin with the castle- but with Ms. Tuvok." John said.
"And how do you propose we go about doing that, hmm?"
"Catch her off guard." John said sneakily.
"Wonderful," Timothy muttered, looking out the window with John as the adults got closer. "We just jump out and scare the vibes out of her."
They giggled silently, watching the adults walk up to the castle steps. Timothy could recognize Professor Miller and Mali, then bringing up the rear, was the beautiful Ms. Tuvok.
"Look!" Timothy hissed, stopping the laughter.
"Duck!" John shouted.
He pulled Timothy roughly out of the window's view and hid themselves against the wall.
"Did she see us?"
"Do you have your cloak on you?"
Timothy quickly pulled out his father's inherited invisibility cloak and threw it over them, cautiously stepping back in front of the window. Tuvok was standing still on the steps, looking up at them. Timothy let out a slight gasp and shuddered, John gulping loudly.
"She can't see us." Timothy whispered, trying to reassure themselves.
"Not with her eyes, but with her senses." John muttered darkly.
They stumbled backwards, wanting to get away from her gaze. But she quickly disappeared into the castle as they did so.
"What do we do now?" Timothy gasped for breath after being startled.
"Just lie low and not act conspicuous. We can't let her know we're on to her." John checked the door to see if anyone was out in the corridor.
"Oh, well that'll be easy- she's only just an empath who can read our thoughts, for I doubt that she has an honor code like you do about other people's privacy." Timothy rolled his eyes.
"You'll have to learn how to block your thoughts, too." John motioned to him that all was clear.
"And how do I do that? I'm not an empath."
"You don't have to be an empath to block your feelings. It's all willpower there." They whispered as they went up the corridor toward Gryffindor Tower.
"Hey, maybe Peacecraft would have an idea on what's going on." Timothy suggested.
"Worth a shot. I meet her tomorrow during lunch, I'm sure she won't mind if you come along. In fact, she's quite curious about your involvement in my visions."
"Why?" Timothy asked slowly.
"She's a fully-grown and very powerful empath, Timothy. It's impossible for me to hide anything from her. While she says she doesn't read my thoughts- I have yet to learn how to control my feelings completely and broadcast them for all to hear. Now that I think of it… Tuvok may already know I suspect her." They lowered their voices as they got closer to Hagrid's portrait.
"How'd it go, Timothy?" Hagrid called out to him as they came into view.
"I made it, Hagrid! I made the team!" Timothy cried excitedly, glad that even with the Tuvok situation, he had made the team.
"I knew yeh could do it!" Hagrid beamed at him. "Which position?"
Timothy was about to answer, when he realized he really didn't know.
"I'm… not sure. They didn't tell me."
"You're seeker… I could of sworn someone mentioned something 'bout it as they came in. Jus' like yeh father, yeh are! Oh, both yeh parents are gonna be so proud once they hear!" And Hagrid swung open without asking the password.
Timothy and John climbed inside as Hagrid made his congratulations, only to be faced by nearly the entire house.
"CONGRATULATIONS!"
"You did it, Timothy!"
"The Potter legend lives on!"
"Way to go!"
"Ouch! Someone stepped on me foot!"
"Sorry!"
"GRYFF-IN-DOR! GRYFF-IN-DOR!"
The entire common room began to thrum with the chanting, drawing Timothy and John into the beat. It was exhilarating. Timothy felt lighter than air. He accomplished one thing- living up to his father in Quidditch. The worry about the crest began to seep away as students cheered him, and he couldn't wait to write home.
One or two people asked if Darian was all right, and Timothy was so light headed with happiness that he could only stupidly nod. John, however, found this slightly disrespectful that no one was referring to Darian, when he had made the team too. Sure, it was a mysterious and suspicious miracle that the scout picked him… and sadly, it only made John suspect that something was drastically wrong.
Timothy had to force his way into the dorm room, eager to write home. He ran into the room, startling Jeff who was perched on the top of his four poster.
"Hey! Haven't you ever heard of knocking?!" Jeff ruffled his feathers.
"Sorry, Jeff! But, I made it!" Timothy pulled out some parchment and a quill.
"Made what? A lot of noise? 'Cause I already know that." Jeff grumbled.
"No, stupid, I made the team!" he shouted at him as he began to write his letter.
"Oh, well, congrats, wild one." Jeff cocked his head down at him. Timothy was writing hastily, telling his family what had happened and that he'd made it. He quickly got it done and put it in an envelope when he realized that Windstone hadn't returned yet with the first letter he sent earlier.
"Windstone hasn't returned yet, has he?" he asked Jeff.
"No," Jeff ruffled his feathers. "Wonder bird has yet to return. I tell ya, if I were a messenger owl, I would be there and back in a lot less time."
Timothy started to spread a wide grin up at him. Jeff took notice and blinked before realizing what he had just did.
"Oh no… nooo… not me, I'm no messenger! No, this yellow bird is not budging… no matter what you say or do. Uh uh!"
Five minutes later, Jeff was flying over the grounds with the letter strapped to his talons. Timothy waved merrily as Jeff shouted out curses that echoed conspicuously back.
"You know, I love how the two of you always keep me informed on everything. I mean, hey, we're best friends- like I'm gonna care! I'll just stand back and twiddle my thumbs while both of you collaborate on business, which obviously does not pertain to me. Nope, no need to inform little ol' Darian, he'll just pad right along like your little dog, completely oblivious."
Darian was taking the news about what had happened a little too hard.
"Darian, you were so out of it that you were singing the American national anthem, among other things. I didn't even know that you knew the words." John sighed as the three of them sat in a quiet corner of the library after Darian was allowed to leave the hospital wing.
"I don't actually," Darian blinked. "Weird."
"Exactly. Which was why you were recovering in the hospital wing and we were figuring out what to do." Timothy crossed his arms.
"OK then, what did you figure out?" Darian pressed, narrowing his eyes dramatically at him while leaning into his face.
"Uh…" Timothy glanced at John.
"That's what I thought." Darian sat back in his seat slowly, glaring at them both. "
"Let's not go through this again," John said suddenly harsh at Darian. "Now you know about it and that's that. Stop acting like a baby."
Darian bit his lip and his eyes went downcast, saying nothing. Satisfied that he had made his point, John lowered his voice to a bare whisper.
"I walked by Peacecraft in the corridor earlier and made it known that both of you would be coming to my lesson today."
"You just blurted it out in the corridor?!" Darian gasped.
"No, of course not!" John gritted his teeth in exasperation, nearly making Timothy giggle. "How else do two empaths talk privately?"
"Oh."
"Now children," Timothy really did begin to giggle. "We're not accomplishing anything by snapping at each other."
"I can't believe it though," Darian began to smile dreamily. "I made the team! Even after flying into the goal post."
John began to make inaudible noises, but Timothy threw him a look that for Darian to know that he only made the team because of the peculiar Ms. Tuvok was not wise.
"Bran is going to find out when the first practice is, then he'll tell us." Timothy said.
"Has Jeff or Windstone returned with a reply from your parents yet?" Darian asked.
"No, it's too early yet, I think. Maybe by tomorrow when the mail arrives." Timothy leaned back in his chair.
Darian began to chat about different techniques he used and how he'd use them during games. John did not seem interested, and pulled out a book on Historical Objects & Where to Find Them. Timothy was only half-listening, staring around the library at all the students who were making use of the study hall time. He let out a yawn, for he was so excited over making the team that he had hardly slept the night before, and stopped when he spotted Luna pulling a book from a shelf and sitting down on the other side of the library.
She looked different, Timothy thought, she no longer had that air of humbleness and need to be noticed. Instead, even though she was still only tall enough to reach Timothy's nose, she seemed bigger and more asserted. Her green eyes no longer held the eager look to please, but seemed hard and distant. For a reason Timothy couldn't explain, it bothered him that this once innocent girl had to see so much that it destroyed her outward personality. Not that he liked her at all, but it seemed such a shame.
"-and then I just… Timothy? Hey, earth to Timothy! You listening?"
Timothy snapped out of his stare and looked back at Darian.
"What? I'm sorry, you were saying?"
Darian frowned at him but continued his dialogue on different moves. John, apparently, became tired of it and stood up.
"It's about time we go. C'mon." he put the book back in his backpack and began to leave, Timothy close behind. Darian looked put off, but he merely sighed and followed.
Timothy had never been to Professor Peacecraft's office, since Divination was an elective that only became available starting the third year. He could remember the rather humorous and mysterious stories his father told about the boring and stifling hot classroom that was more nonsense than anything else. However, as he remembered his father describing the ladder that led to an upstairs classroom through a hole in the ceiling, where John stopped leading them they were not next to a ladder at all. Instead, it was merely just another office, with another room across the corridor labeled DIVINATION.
John had only just paused by the office door when Peacecraft opened it. She was the youngest of all the professors at Hogwarts, but the feeling she gave off was that of wisdom that only an elder professor could manage. When she smiled, trust and friendship was immediate. She looked at all three of them warmly and beckoned them inside.
"You couldn't of come at a better time. I just finished grading some papers." She strode ahead of them and sat at her desk.
"I hope you don't mind my friends being here… this really is more of a meeting than a lesson." John said, sitting down and motioning for Timothy and Darian to do the same.
"Of course not, John. Mr. Potter and Mr. Hall are welcome at any time. What you had to say last time indeed is intriguing. It's only fitting that they join us." She smiled at them.
"Have you met Ms. Tuvok?" Timothy said, cutting to the chase.
"I'm afraid not. Her field is Quidditch and mine is divination, we don't interlope anywhere. However, I get the sensation that I'm not meant to meet her." Peacecraft considered the thought.
"Why?" Darian asked, but his face immediately after told that he already answered himself.
"Tell me, John, why would I not be meant to meet her?" she turned to him and gave him a penetrating stare.
"Ms. Tuvok is an empath, Professor." John answered after a moment.
"And what brings you to that conclusion?" she pressed, but without doubt.
"She is blocking her outward feelings."
"And why would she do that?"
"She knows there are other empaths here."
"Exactly," Peacecraft smiled grimly. "She knows about you and me. Yes, you, because you are not educated enough to know how to mask your own feelings so that she wouldn't be on to you. It's obvious she's hiding something and she doesn't want to be found. And why else would a Quidditch talent scout be hiding her feelings? Because she isn't a talent scout."
"Than who is she? Why was she so ready to put Darian and me on the team? And without the team's consent?" Timothy asked.
"That, no one can know. It's obvious that something is going to happen… involving you, Timothy. She has something to do with it. There is no way of knowing unless I get close enough to see just how powerful she is as an empath to see past her mental barrier." Peacecraft looked at him closely. Timothy had an odd feeling of being searched from the inside.
"What could she possibly want to do to Timothy by putting him on the team? And me?" Darian spoke up.
"I'm not sure," Peacecraft folded her hands on her desk. "The only thing you can do is be careful, and be weary of what she is doing if she stays at Hogwarts. I will casually inquire about her to the headmaster, and see what conclusions I can draw from him. In the meantime, act as if you suspect nothing. When she is near you, focus on Quidditch and nothing else. Those thoughts she'll expect from you."
"What's going to happen?" Darian asked quietly.
"I'm only an empath, Darian, I cannot predict the future. While I may teach that art in my class, it is really a faulty field and not really a magic… certainly not one of my talents. I can only speculate using what abilities I do have… and from the information you have given me. What I can tell you is this: be aware of what you cannot sense." Peacecraft said.
"How can we do that?" Darian continued, not really following.
"That is only for you three to figure out." She replied darkly.
All three boys then exchanged sidelong glances, not really sure what to do next. Of course, Peacecraft took notice and stood up to signal the meeting over.
"Be careful, you three. If anything should happen tell the headmaster or me at once. John, I'll see you tomorrow for you next lesson."
They nodded and got up to leave, when Peacecraft spoke up once more.
"Timothy? May I speak with you alone for a moment?"
He looked to John, who gave him an encouraging nod, and fell back as he and Darian left the room. Timothy went to stand in front of Peacecraft's desk, where she had sat down again.
"Sit, this won't take long." She pointed at the chair behind him. "I'd just like to know how you feel about the visions your friend John has been having."
"Oh," Timothy took a deep breath as he sat down. "Well I… I'm not sure what to think, really."
Peacecraft gave him another penetrating, yet kindly stare.
"What can you tell me about them? I know John's view, but I don't know yours. You must know that it's curiously apparent that these visions pertain to you."
Timothy looked away and tried hard not to think about the crest. Professor Peacecraft was nice and trustworthy, but he couldn't tell another soul. He and John knew that the visions John kept having had something to do with Timothy's quest- but what it all meant, they weren't sure. How could he explain this to a fully educated empath, who must already know?
"You don't have to worry, Timothy. I don't know anything more than you do, and nothing more than you want me to know. It's not my business." She smiled at him.
He relaxed, remembering that if John had an honor code about reading people's feelings, Peacecraft must assuredly abide by the same honor. In all honesty, however, the only thing that came clear from what John told him about his visions was about the black snake.
"There is one thing… that has made itself clear," he said quietly. "Everything else, I don't know… but I agree that it has something to do with me."
"And what is that?"
"This past summer, my friend Jeff found a black snake in my house while my family and I were vacationing in Florida. When we found him, he was about to tell us about this snake before… well… before other issues came up and the explanation needed was forgotten. Then later, John thought he saw a black snake in Diagon Alley... but neither I nor Darian saw anything. And then, the first week of school, a black snake was spotted in my dorm room." Timothy explained while Peacecraft looked at him thoughtfully.
"And the black snake was always present in John's vision." She said.
"Yes, and this is what bothers me the most." Timothy admitted.
"Besides the snake, nothing else from what John has told you has made itself apparent?"
"No."
She looked at him silently and the room was quiet for a few minutes. Timothy could hear Darian and John pacing outside the office.
"Timothy, you know about your family's history, right?" Peacecraft spoke suddenly.
"Yes," Timothy answered slowly. "Why?"
"I cannot tell you what it is you have to do… although I have a feeling you already know and I have no business to know myself. Yet, this is obviously part of something so large that no one knows what's in store. My advice to you, Timothy, is to do what your heart tells you- and follow your instincts. No matter what happens, remember that as long as you try your best, there's hope." With that, her office door opened and she stood up. John and Darian stood curiously in the doorway while Timothy got up himself and began to leave, trying to take in what Peacecraft had said.
"I'll see you boys later. Take care!" she bid them farewell as he office door shut behind Timothy.
"What did she want?" Darian asked, but recoiled slightly as John gave him a warning look that it was best not to ask.
Timothy merely shook his head and began to walk down the corridor with them.
"She just told me what everyone else has told me." He said quietly.
"What's that?" Darian asked before John could counter him.
"Stop thinking about it and just let my heart figure things out."
If Darian was confused, he said nothing. Timothy's friends merely walked silently beside him, all too aware of the burden Timothy had on his shoulders… and feeling bad that they couldn't do anything to help directly.
Timothy didn't have long to ponder gloomily on his thoughts about the quest, the visions, and Ms. Tuvok, for both Windstone and Jeff returned that evening with letters from home. He was filled with pride and joy as he read very enthusiastic letters from not only his parents, but also his Godparents, Great Uncle Us, and his grandparents in Florida. His father was overjoyed, to put it mildly, and wrote on to tell how he nearly shouted out to the entire Ministry during an auror's meeting that his son had made the Gryffindor house Quidditch team as seeker. Even his sister was happy for him, and in a letter assisted by their mother, she wrote how she was going to draw a picture of him winning a game.
Darian had received a letter from his father as well, that was no less than enthusiastic as Timothy's. Both boys exchanged delighted excerpts while John listened with delighted interest.
"Well, whether you guys making the team is a set up or not, you're still going to lead Gryffindor to victory and make your families proud." He said to them.
Darian got up and paced while holding his letter, still hyped with happiness.
"Are you kidding? Of course! We'll be legends ourselves!"
"Now let's not get too carried away," Timothy laughed. "Although, it's not that hard to speculate that being factual."
"If I may interrupt," Jeff spoke loudly for the first time since his arrival, preening his feathers next to Windstone on top of Timothy's four poster. "I believe we hard working owls deserve our payment for delivery."
"Well I'll be," Timothy looked up at him. "Finally on mutual ground with Windstone, are we?"
Jeff turned his owl eyes down at him and then looked at Windstone, who gave a hoot in reply.
"I believe that we have come to a truce. This big black bird is not so bad after all." He got pecked hard by Windstone that nearly made Jeff topple over.
"More or less." John smiled up at them.
"Hey, has anyone seen my lucky marble?" Darian asked suddenly, searching his pockets.
Timothy and John looked at each other.
"I didn't know you had a lucky marble." John said.
"Well I do, and now I can't find it." Darian got down on all fours and began searching the floor.
"How is it lucky?" Timothy asked, joining him in his search.
"What makes a shamrock lucky or a horseshoe? It just is!" Darian crawled under his bed.
"When did you have it last?" John began to search bedside tables.
"It was in my pocket, it must have slipped out."
"What color is it?" Timothy asked.
"Green. And it's… wait, there it is!"
Darian scrambled to a place near the stone wall where, sure enough, a tiny green marble laid nestled in a groove. He happily picked it up and began to get to his feet when he stepped on his shoelace and began to topple over. Before John could reach him to give him a hand, Darian fell face forward into the stone wall. Timothy nearly screamed in fear that Darian was going to knock himself out or temporarily loose his mind again, but instead of slamming head first into the wall, Darian simply fell through it.
"Darian!" both Timothy and John cried as he disappeared behind the wall with a scream. They immediately went to the spot where he was and tentatively touched the stone wall. Instead of hitting solid stone, their fingers disappeared into a hollow space.
"What do we do?" John moaned.
"Go get him, of course!" Timothy said sternly, and with a adamant look, he pushed himself through the wall after Darian.
John bounced on his heels for a moment before giving a disgruntled sigh and pushed his way in his wake. Jeff, the whole while, watched the scene dispassionately.
"Sure, I'll just hold up the fort. No need for me to go through non-solid walls after you! You just go and I'll stay here… don't ask lil' ol' Jeff for advice or anything. After all, I'm just a yellow dragon turned yellow owl. Nope, I'll just stay here and cough up the dead mice that Windstone so graciously informed me that I should be doing."
Timothy and John screamed so loud that their ears were ringing. They tumbled down an old, dusty, and cobweb littered slope in complete darkness. It seemed like forever before they finally stopped, hitting something soft.
"Ouch! Watch it!"
"Where are we?" Timothy asked, coughing and rubbing his head.
"Someplace in Gryffindor Tower… or under it." John grunted, picking the cobwebs out of his hair.
"Did any of you know there was an invisible hole in the wall? 'Cause if you did, I greatly appreciate the fact that you told me." Darian got up from under them both.
"Lumos." Timothy said, pulling out his wand. Light filled the spot where they stood, and the three of them gasped at what they saw.
They were in an ancient looking stone corridor. Fixtures on the walls held long burned out torches and tattered tapestries hung from the ceiling that was filled with spider infested webs.
"Why do I have an uncanny feeling of foreboding?" Darian whispered.
"What do we do now? I can't see ourselves trying to get out the way we came in." John said.
"Maybe there's an old way out down this corridor." Timothy suggested.
"Maybe there isn't a way out… maybe we're an old dungeon!" Darian hissed.
"Please… I highly doubt this is a dungeon." John rolled his eyes as Timothy began to walk forward.
"C'mon you guys. Standing here isn't getting us anywhere."
Carefully, led by the light of Timothy's wand, the three of them made their way down the old corridor. They didn't come across a single door or opening anywhere, which after nearly thirty minutes of walking, became unnerving.
"It feels like we've walked the whole length of the castle." Darian complained.
"I'm starting to get a bad feeling about this." John whispered.
"John, you always get a bad feeling about everything. But this time, I've gotta agree with you. Timothy, let's go back." Darian stopped them.
"No, let's keep going. We haven't come this far just to turn back." Timothy started moving on again.
"But Timothy! We don't know where this corridor is taking us!" Darian nearly shouted, making his voice echo off the ancient walls and causing bits of dust and rock to trickle from the ceiling.
"Shh! You don't know that." Timothy looked over his shoulder.
Without waiting for a reply, Timothy began to move on again. Despite further objections from both Darian and John, he kept going. For another fifteen minutes, they pressed on. Then suddenly, Timothy stopped.
"Look! I think we've reached the end!"
"Thank God." Darian panted.
"It looks like a way out." John pushed them to keep moving.
Sure enough, they came to an arched doorway with a huge solid oak door. For a moment, they looked over it with awe.
"Is this the way out?" Darian asked eagerly.
"Must be," Timothy answered… peering closely at the door. "Hey look! There's something written on the door!"
He put his lighted wand closer to the wood and the words of an inscribed message became visible. It began near the top of the door and ended near the bottom, written in fancy engraved letters.
"What does it say?" Darian whispered.
Timothy stood back and strained his eyes to see, and he read:
Heart of lion
Quick of pride
Only one shall pass inside
Black of night
Blue of sky
Mito begins and ends with thy
Noble of name
Name of old
You're coming here has been foretold
Mito begin
End with thy
The final battle in your hands lie
"What on Earth does that mean?" Darian asked.
"I don't know," Timothy muttered. "The words look worn out in places, so this must have been written a long time ago."
"What could this message be for?"
"It almost sounds like a puzzle," John read over the message himself with an intent gaze. "A riddle almost."
"And are you good at riddles?" Darian challenged him.
"If we all use our brains, perhaps we could figure it out." John gave him a severe glare.
"Let's divide it up and see what we can do with it," Timothy suggested. "Heart of lion, quick of pride. What does that tell us?"
"You have the heart of a lion and you're quick of pride?" Darian said helplessly.
"You need to get more in touch with your symbolic side, Darian." John rolled his eyes.
"Think about it: lions are often seen as courageous, a symbol of pride. The Gryffindor symbol is a lion. So, that must explain that we're either still in Gryffindor Tower or this message was written by or for a Gryffindor." Timothy explained.
John and Darian looked at him with wide eyes.
"That makes sense," John said, amused. "And the next part, Only one shall pass inside, that part is clear in itself. Only one person is meant to go beyond this door."
"I'm afraid I can't help you with the next part," Darian shook his head. "What could it possibly mean by, Black of night, blue of sky?"
The three of them stared at the passage, and shook their heads.
"The part after that doesn't make much sense either," Timothy muttered. "Mito begins and ends with thy."
"Noble of name, name of old. You're coming here has been foretold. Apparently, whoever it is that's meant to go beyond this door has an honorable name… and the person who wrote this knew that this person would come." John said.
"The rest doesn't help much though, Mito begin, end with thy. The final battle in your hands lie. Well, whatever battle is being waged, the person who goes through this door obviously has to stop it." Darian said.
Timothy read the message a few more times, concentrating on the parts that he thought they had figured out. He strung the parts together, repeating them in his mind over and over- when suddenly his stomach flipped.
"John?" he hissed breathlessly, staring at one particular passage. "Do you think you can unscramble and combine Mito and thy?"
John looked at him and then up at the letters.
"Well, if you combine them both together first… mitothy… then- oh my God."
"What?" Darian asked quickly.
John's face broke out into a combination of wonder, excitement, and a tinge of fear.
"Mito begins… mito, Timo. Ends with thy… Timothy."
Timothy felt light headed… finally, some sort of clue!
"You can't mean…?" Darian gasped.
"Timothy is a Gryffindor- heart of lion, quick of pride. The dark of night… that must mean his hair, his black hair, and the blue of sky his eyes. Noble of name, name of old; The Potter name goes back to the founders, that's how the crest was created in the first place. As for the rest, it's clear: only Timothy can go past this door, whoever wrote this foretold that he'd come here, and because of the crest- the final battle against evil is up to him." John explained.
Timothy could hardly believe it. Now that there was tangible proof of what he had to do, the thought of it nearly made him sick to his stomach. It's true! It's all true! He has to find his family crest so that he could defeat Malfoy and rid the world of evil forever. Now, as he ran his fingers over the engraved letters of his destiny, it hit him with such force that he wanted to run away… run away crying into his parents' arms, telling them that he was afraid and wanted nothing more than to creep behind his mother's robes and feel his father ruffling his hair protectively. How on Earth was he supposed to do this?! This was an adult's job! Crest or no crest, how was he supposed to face an evil wizard?
John must of sensed Timothy's outburst of silent emotion, and put a hand on his shoulder.
"We'll help you in any way we can, Timothy. I know you, you can do this."
Darian came over to his other side and gave him a reassuring smile.
"If not, we can always look for the teacher's manual and cheat."
Timothy laughed bitterly.
"This is one assignment with no written answers, and definitely not a group test."
"The only way to get rid of an assignment is just to do it. This door has been waiting a long, long time. Might as well do what has been expected and get it over with." John smiled wearily, putting pressure on his hand to encourage Timothy to move forward.
Reluctantly, Timothy put his hand out and pushed on the old, ancient wood. Instantly, it began to swing back with a loud creaking sound, the noise echoing down the corridor behind him, making both John and Darian cringe. Timothy's wand, which was still lighted, illuminated what lay beyond the door. However, despite the light, there was nothing but darkness where the glow did not touch.
"If you need anything, be sure to yell." Darian said a little too cheerfully.
Neither of them laughed, for if only Timothy was allowed inside, it was more than likely that no one else could pass beyond the great door. If something should happen, Timothy was on his own.
He looked back at Darian and John one last time, their faces tight with fear and worry. Then, from some unknown place inside him, Timothy felt enough courage to look forward into the darkness… and move on.
After no more than several steps, the door swung shut behind Timothy's back, cutting him off from his friends. The light from his wand was of no use to light anything other than the immediate area around him, which was nothing but the stone floor. Complete silence enveloped him, if John and Darian were shouting or making noise in front of the door it was impossible to tell. Timothy took a huge breath, feeling his heart pounding against his chest and the blood pulsing in his ears. There was nothing he could do but to move forward, moving almost blindly further down the hall behind the door which had his name written upon it a thousand years before then. It was almost too much to bear, as he kept his cautious pace through the damp gloom, but that tinge of courage from an unknown source inside of himself prevented Timothy from breaking out into fearful tears and crying out for his parents to come get him.
The light from his wand told him that the hall he was in was narrow, for now the glow illuminated mildew covered stone walls on either side of him. Then suddenly, the walls were gone, and the light touched nothing but himself and the floor below him. Timothy strained to find something to focus on, but again he seemed to be surrounded by nothing.
He thought desperately about the Marauder's Map, which would show where he was and how to get through to where ever it was that he needed to go. But then, with a sinking feeling, Timothy couldn't remember ever seeing a passageway or corridor secretly branching off from the boys' dorm room. This place was only meant, apparently, for him and whoever came with his presence.
With a quick movement of his arm, Timothy tried to get as much light from his wand out into his surroundings as possible. With a burst of impatient energy, he swung his hand about, thinking that the light would stay for a moment keeping the darkness back a little longer. That was when his wrist hit something hard and bitterly cold.
"Ouch!" Timothy recoiled his hand instantly and brought it close to him, cradling it while he felt the heat of his blood trickle down his arm from a large scrape where his wrist had hit the stone. His wand had fallen on the floor and had rolled away. It stopped just beside what it was that he must of hit and he picked it up deftly as he held his injured hand to his body in pain. Slowly, he stood up, bringing the lighted wand close to the stone obstruction that he'd hit. That was when he began to notice more engraved writing on what it appeared to be a stone pillar. With bated breath, he strained to read the words,
STATE YOUR NAME, MITO BEGIN END WITH THY
His breath stopped and his eyes went wide, his stomach became even more twisted than it already was. What would happen if he said his name out loud? Maybe that's all he had to do, maybe that just by saying his name, the Potter family crest would just fall on his head and that would be that. Then he'd just have to show up in front of Malfoy, flash the crest in his face, and watch the evil jerk shrivel up and die like the witch in that old Muggle story… what was it called? The Wizard of Nog? That was not important, only that this crest business might not actually be so bad after all. He had worried himself sick over something that might actually be really easy.
Timothy found his breath again and stood up as tall as he could. Then with his most authoritative voice, remembering all the times he had tried to sound like his father when he was little, Timothy spoke his name.
"Timothy! Timothy Harry Potter!"
He said his full name as an after-thought, thinking that that was proper. However, nearly cringing and expecting something to come flying at him, nothing happened. A moment passed, and nothing, not even a speck of dust made itself known.
"Okay," Timothy whispered to himself. "I take it that was not what I was supposed to say, if I am to say anything at all."
Then it was like an explosion erupted. In reflex, Timothy flung himself down and hugged the floor. A violent gush of wind blew through his messy black hair and made his glasses hang by one ear askew. His eyes, which were adjusted to near darkness, were blinded by light. Timothy cringed himself into a fetal position, thinking that by saying more than just his name he had messed something up and now was paying the price. Here he was, the supposed foretold hero of the world that would end forever all evil, and he had to go and fail before he even began… just by saying the wrong thing.
The damp coolness of the room he was in was now quickly replaced by warmth. The wind died down and disappeared and the light no longer burned through his eyelids. Slowly, cautiously, Timothy opened his eyes. Expecting a scene of terror, instead he saw a simple pedestal in the middle of this single room. The pillar with the engraved words that had told him to say his name was behind him, almost against the wall. The light and warmth came from evenly spaced torches in fixtures on the stone.
"Whoa." He couldn't help but gasp out loud. Perhaps he had said the right thing after all, and the ancient spells placed upon this room and corridor simply needed a while to get up and going. His eyes fell upon the pedestal in the middle of the room again, and he felt adrenaline pump through his body. The crest! The crest was there! This was so easy!
But as he nearly ran to the raised platform that was the pedestal, his happiness dropped like a stone. Instead of an old and ornate family crest, there was only a large metal key, like the ones Muggles used a long time ago, lying amongst the dust on the bare stone.
"A key?!" he shouted, stomping his foot in exasperation. "A key. I should have known… nothing like this could be that easy."
It was old and rusted, looking nothing like a magical object at all. All this protection for a key? There was nothing keeping it guarded, and so, dubiously, Timothy picked it up and winced at it's remarkable weight.
"Now what?"
Almost immediately, the hall that he had walked through from the door to that room was instantly lit by countless torches, clearly leading the way back to where he had came in. With a last look at the pedestal, and pocketing the heavy key inside his school uniform, Timothy made his way back down the hall. As he passed each torch, they went out, until by the time he had reached the great oak door, only a single torch was lit. Everything was as it was before he entered. Grabbing the large hoop door handle, he pulled with all his strength.
"The door's opening!" shouted Darian from the outside.
"Is it Timothy?" John asked quickly.
"No, it's Big Foot… of course it's Timothy! Look!"
They apparently were helping in pushing back the door, and so Timothy soon managed to squeeze himself out. The door fell back into place with a heavy smash and to everyone's astonished surprise: the message on the door disappeared.
"It's served its purpose. No need for it now." John whispered.
"Well, Timothy? Did you find it? Did you find the crest? Was it there?" Darian hovered over him, looking closely.
"No," Timothy grumbled, searching his pocket for the key. "All I found was this old Muggle key."
"Definitely Muggle," Darian inspected it as Timothy held it out in the palms of his hands. "Why on Earth would your ancestors invoke a magical power in this?"
"Isn't it obvious?" John crossed his arms, taking his turn at looking at the key. "To further protect the crest, it must be somewhere else. This key must open whatever it is that's hiding it. And as for it being a Muggle key- to make it less obvious should anyone come upon it. However, that's impossible if it was kept here all these years"
"So where is it then?"
"I still don't know. There wasn't any clue back there… only the key." Timothy sighed.
They fell silent, looking at the key, when suddenly the ground began to tremble.
"You feel that?"
"Yeah."
"What is it?"
"Don't know."
The frame around the door gave an earsplitting crack.
"This place is collapsing!"
"Oh, just swell!"
"RUN!"
Timothy dropped the key back in his pocket and sprang into a run just as an avalanche of rock and dirt hit the spot he was just in. John, being the tallest, ran ahead of them with Darian and Timothy close behind. They bolted down the old corridor, which was crumbling before them. Boulders of ancient stone rolled into their path, making them dodge left and right at full speed.
"You… know… something… just… occurred to me," Darian panted, ducking his head as a rock nearly fell on him. "There's… no way… out… back here. We'll be… crushed… trying to… climb back up!"
Timothy nearly stumbled over a pile of stone as he remembered. They were trapped! If they tried to crawl their way back up the slide, or whatever it was that sent them tumbling down there to begin with, the collapsing passageway would bury them alive.
"Timothy!" John yelled back. "You still… have your wand?"
Timothy pulled it out from his other pocket, where he had kept it after the torches lit the room. He sped up just as John slowed down enough to get it from him. As the end of the corridor came into view, with the long slide that had delivered them down there from the boys' dorm, John stretched out his arm in front of him with Timothy's wand.
"Ascendio!"
The slide began to shimmer and ripple, like the surface of a pond after being pelted with a stone. When it stilled, there was now a staircase leading up.
"Did I ever tell you… John… just how much… I love you?" Darian cried.
"No," John panted, jumping onto the stairs and going up two steps at a time. "Nor do I want to know."
Timothy had never fled up stairs that fast before, and it didn't seem fast enough, for the corridor was now leveled and the staircase was crumbling as they left each step behind. John was the first to leap into the seemingly solid wall in front of them as they reached the top. Darian stopped and hesitated, just as Timothy pushed him through and fell in with him when the last step gave way and disappeared.
"There you are!" Jeff flew at Timothy as he began to gather himself from the floor. John was already on his feet, brushing off dust and specks of stone. Darian was groaning useless around on the floor, before John grabbed his arm and pulled him up with a grunt. Jeff landed on Timothy's head and scrambled to keep hold on his hair.
"Hey! Ouch! Jeff, stop it! Get off!"
"Just leave me behind again! You know how long you've been gone?! If something happened to you your parents would have my hide- er… feathers!" Jeff settled himself, despite Timothy's frantic swatting to get him off.
Darian flopped onto his bed, exhausted. John sat down on his and took deep breaths. With Jeff still on his head, Timothy crawled to the spot on the wall where the hidden entrance was… but it was no longer there. The wall was solid stone.
"You know… I should poop on you for this. Yeah, that would be right…" Jeff said wistfully.
"Don't you dare, or I'll have you stuffed and sent to my grandparents in Florida for Thanksgiving." Timothy got on his feet, pried the yellow owl from his hair with a painful yelp, and dropped Jeff on top of his perch.
"Fair enough," Jeff grumbled. "Just what were you doing down there?"
Timothy reached into his pocket and pulled out the key, holding it out for Jeff to look at.
"You went down there for that?"
"Went where for what?" Bran suddenly opened the dorm room door and walked in.
"For the- ouch!" Timothy slapped Jeff quickly, "…er… hoot hoot!"
"Nothing," Timothy quickly put the key back in his robes and smiled a little too brightly. "I just got letters from my family, that's all."
"Ah," Bran nodded, looking at Jeff suspiciously. "Yeah, I'd imagine. Last year I was pelted with notes from home when I made the team."
"Speaking of which," Timothy walked away from Jeff and sat down on Darian's bed. "When's practice?"
"Right now, as a matter of fact. I just came up here to get my broom and tell you. Ms. Tuvok wanted us to start right away, so she could see us in action before she has to leave." Bran answered, opening his trunk and getting out his broom.
Timothy paled and Darian sat up straight.
"Now? Right now?"
"Didn't I say now?" Bran rolled his eyes.
They both looked at John, who gave them a helpless look and shrug.
"Well?" Bran shut his trunk closed. "Are you coming or not?"
Slowly, both Timothy and Darian got to their feet and pulled out their brooms. Bran left and when Darian checked the door to make sure he was gone, he looked back at them.
"What do we do about Tuvok?" he hissed.
"Nothing," John said sternly. "Don't give her any idea that you know about her. This is so sudden… you guys didn't have enough time to learn how to block your minds off. Just keep as far away from her while trying to stay as inconspicuous as possible. Don't even talk about her amongst yourselves."
Timothy and Darian nodded and made way to leave, before stopping and looking back at John.
"What're you going to do?"
"Catch up on a little reading." John smiled at them knowingly.
Darian was about to inquire more, but Timothy shook his head and pulled him out.
****
Mary Peacecraft stood before the stone gargoyle. She was rarely in this part of the castle, for she never had any real private business with the headmaster before. However, she could definitely feel that something was very wrong, and to start her investigation she needed to speak with whom she could trust most in the school.
"Utopia." She whispered.
The stone gargoyle slid to the side, revealing a moving spiral staircase. Not the least bit intimidated or doubtful, she made her way up to the office door labeled: HEADMASTER E. DUMBLEDORE.
I wish to speak to you, headmaster, if you have a moment.
Peacecraft smiled, Eian Dumbledore was fascinated with her mind-speak ability, and whenever she called for him, he requested that she would do so that way. While she personally felt not to exploit her abilities, it was only toward him that she spoke to in that manner. Except of course, John Stanton.
The door swung open and Peacecraft quietly made her way inside. Dumbledore was at his huge desk, studying a star chart. When she came into the light of a single lit candle, he smiled and put down the chart.
"A pleasure to see you, Professor Peacecraft. And to what do I owe the pleasure of your company this evening?"
"I find you well, today, Professor?" Peacecraft smiled her beautiful and youthful smile.
"Yes, in fact you do. I have just discovered one of my lost charts of the Qui nebula. A fascinating place! Have you been there?" Dumbledore folded his hands across his desk.
"No, I'm afraid not. I'll have to make a holiday of it sometime." She sat down in the armchair across from him.
"It's quite lovely there, this time of year." Dumbledore studied her a moment. "Well, it doesn't take an empath to know that you are not here for chit chat. What's on your mind, Mary?"
Peacecraft hesitated a moment, her expression wavering.
"I'm quite curious about this Quidditch talent scout I keep hearing about from my students. They are filled with such excitement by her that I'm interested to know about whom she represents."
Dumbledore raised his eyebrows a moment and seemed to consider a thought.
"Well, to be completely honest, I haven't really spoken with Ms. Tuvok at all."
It was Peacecraft's turn to raise her brows.
"Oh? Than who invited her?"
"I believe it was Professor Miller who did. Perhaps he would have more information. Why?" Dumbledore cocked his head.
Peacecraft thought hard to come up with a likely story, masking her anxiety flawlessly as she did so. When she had one, she shrugged innocently.
"I just wanted to know which team she was scouting for. I'm a big fan of the Chudley Cannons, after all."
Not to her surprise, Dumbledore chuckled.
"Oh I don't think she represents a professional team, she could be more of an advisor than anything else, though. And you! A Chudley Cannons fan? I never would have guessed!"
Peacecraft merely smiled sweetly.
"An empath is an ocean of unattainable secrets."
"So is a woman's heart." Dumbledore smiled back.
"Very true." Peacecraft got to her feet. "I'm sorry to keep you, Professor. I'll leave you now."
"Don't hesitate to call on me again, Professor Peacecraft, if you need anything more. Sorry I couldn't be of any help." He stood up to see her out.
"Thank you, Professor."
She reached the door and stopped a moment, feeling a knot tie in her stomach at the thought of what she was about to do. But it had to be done, for the safety of the children. Without a word, she closed her eyes and felt out with her consciousness toward Dumbledore's. As quickly and as efficiently as she could, Peacecraft touched the part of his mind that held memory and made their conversation disappear as if it never happened. When she sensed that the memory was gone, she quickly withdrew herself from his mind and stepped out without a word. Dumbledore would never remember the conversation they had just had. If she had used just a simple memory charm, it would be detectable. Even though her vow to the unwritten law of being an empath forbid her to use her powers on the unaware and unwilling- this was a special circumstance that had to be done. If this Tuvok woman came to Dumbledore and asked if he was questioned by her, Peacecraft would be found and the Potter boy- and perhaps his friends too- would be in even more danger.
The gargoyle slid back into place and Peacecraft calmly made her way back to her office. It was too risky to seek out Tuvok herself. Eian Dumbledore, as grand a wizard as he was, would never be his father. Albus would have investigated Tuvok and most likely would have picked up something strange about her. Eian was younger, not as experienced in this role… nor as talented, as hard as he tries. Tuvok wouldn't worry about him as long as she kept out of his way- he wasn't that oblivious.
Perhaps it was time to contact the Potters. Peacecraft's meeting with Timothy allowed her to respectfully sense an alarming amount of potential inside of him. She had been five years old when she had met his father, Harry Potter. It was her, in fact, that helped guide the legendary soul to his kidnapped mate… even being unaware of her own powers. His son, now that she was learned and skilled at being what she was, has an even greater and more dangerous venture ahead of him. No one would know this child better than his parents… and she knew that they were aware of his destiny. Just how much… she needed to know.
A/N: Please, do tell me what you think. This chapter just gets things rolling, the next chapter will change EVERYTHING, although it won't seem like it at first. Big things are planned!
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