1 Harry Potter and the Crystal Ball
2 by Hannah
3 Chapter Three ~ The Hogwarts Express
Harry kept true to his self-promise. Although he didn't cling to Alice as though he were her shadow, he kept her under close surveillance for the next week and a half that they were there. She didn't have any more of her 'attacks,' as Harry had come to call them, but several mornings she would emerge from her room looking drawn and weak, dark purple circles beneath her eyes speaking far more than she herself would.
Harry had a good time in Diagon Alley. He managed to complete his shopping, although his unsatisfying and small stack of coins underneath Gringotts seemed to steadily diminish. He couldn't wait to get to Hogwarts. He hoped desperately that he could find a job there.
Alice never talked to Harry about her past. Then again, Harry never told her of his. He didn't particularly care to talk of the way that Voldemort had carelessly slain his parents, and the awful years he had spent with the Dursleys after that.
Harry enjoyed his time in the wizarding world. He had spent a lot of his life with the Muggles, or non-magical people, of London. Yet the time came when Harry had to leave.
"Bye, Tom," Harry shouted to the keeper of the Leaky Cauldron as he tugged his trunk out onto the street.
"Bye, Mr. Potter," he replied, nodding in acknowledgement. "I'll see you later!"
Harry lugged his heavy wizarding trunk to the London Underground, where he got aboard and stopped at the train station. There, he managed to make his way through the mobs of people to the space between platforms nine and ten.
It was a tricky business, the accessing of the platform onto the Hogwarts Express. Harry found it the hardest to do when the crowds of people were large, as they were today. He tried to look inconspicuous as he slowly made his way between the people pushing past him to the barrier between the two platforms. He leaned against it, yawning. The next thing he knew, he had fallen through it onto an almost deserted platform. A large column of purple smoke rose from the smokestack of a brightly colored train on an otherwise deserted track.
"All aboard for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!" the conductor cried. "We are leaving in five minutes!"
Harry looked at his watch. It was 10:55; he did indeed have only five minutes until the train would leave. He managed to haul his luggage aboard and find a seat in the only empty compartment by the time the train started moving.
Harry settled down in one of the spacious padded seats, ready to relax. He opened his trunk and pulled out the crystal ball, stuck inside an old box. He set it in his lap and examined its container. An old socks carton.
Suddenly, he heard the creak of a door sliding open and the light tap of footsteps making their way towards him. He sat up straight and looked around the corner. He leaned back, relaxing. It was only Alice.
She sat lightly down beside him. "Hello," she said to him. "This was the most empty compartment, so I decided I might as well join you, as long as you don't mind."
"Not at all," Harry responded quickly. "I wasn't really doing much. Just looking at some of the things in my trunk."
Alice looked down at the trunk, examining his worn robes and his meager supply of herbs and such. She then noticed the package in Harry's lap. Alice reached for the small paper box. She carefully opened the flaps with her long red fingernails and gently lifted out a crystal ball.
"Ah, a crystal ball," she remarked, setting it in her lap.
Harry looked at her. "I got it from Hermione, for my birthday. It is well known that neither Ron nor Hermione, nor myself, for that matter, were ever any good at Divination."
"Oh, come on, give it a try," she urged him, handing Harry the crystal orb.
Harry sat it in his lap once more and looked at it resolutely. All he could see in the crystal orb was a mass of swirling mist. He could see nothing more.
"It's no use, I can't see a thing. But—" Harry shot her a glance quickly, "perhaps you would like to try?"
She smiled. "You won't leave me alone, will you? All right . . ."
Alice leaned over and took the ball in her careful hands. She gently set it in her lap and leaned over it. She began moving her hands about it in a skillful way. Harry watched them as they appeared to dance over the ball.
"I see . . ." Her brow furrowed in concentration as she glanced deep into the depths of the crystal, past the mists, past the swirling vortex before her. "I see a great number of things, Mr. Potter. Not all of them are pleasant, mind you. No, you have a hard time coming for you. I see that you will get a job at Hogwarts, so you may cease your worrying. Also, you will befriend someone at Hogwarts . . . someone who will later become your bride. Much hardship follows. Evil comes in large forces, and attacks where you least expect it. A child, so weak, so beautiful. She is so like her mother! Yet her mother disappears from the scenario. Will she come back? You cannot be certain . . . Hogwarts brings much woe. You find yourself alone in the world. People shun you. The corruption comes from the blood, they say. Evil forces are strong. Yet eventually, you find yourself overcoming these problems, you find yourself in the presence of friends, and you eventually are happier, and wiser, than you ever were before."
After this revelation, Alice leaned back, exhausted.
"My bride?" Harry laughed, trying to sound relaxed. "Must be a seventh year, then. Most of the teachers are far too old for me." He tried to picture himself sharing spaghetti with the stern Professor McGonagall, and he ended up laughing again.
She smiled. "Perhaps so, Harry." She glanced quickly at the ball again. "Perhaps so."
Harry realized how somber she looked. "So is all of that true? Can you clarify?" Harry was no longer giddy about the revelations she had made.
"Yes, it is all true, Harry," she replied. "And yes, I could clarify . . . but anything more would be dangerous. Do you understand? I could change the future by telling you what lays there. And that, Harry, would make it far worse for all the parties involved."
"But, my . . . my—wife, as you said . . . will she come back? You said she would disappear and I would be all alone—"
"Harry," she said sternly, "please ask no more. I already have said that I cannot tell you."
"All right," Harry muttered. He sighed. I wish I hadn't asked her to do that . . .
She smiled at him. "Yes, isn't that the way it goes, Mr. Potter? You finally find out the future, and then you want nothing more than to hide from it. Can you imagine my life, Harry? I have to look at each person and see exactly what each one is thinking, all that has happened to him or her, all that will happen, and all that is happening. It is not easy. I would do anything to live a life like yours."
Harry could see the sadness buried deep within her gaze. The unusual eyes that he so loved didn't contain the sparkle that they had when he had first met her in the shop in Diagon Alley. The golden flecks within them reflected the sunlight as she smiled at him. The purple circles were beneath her eyes this morning, almost exactly matching the violet of her irises. She must have had another hard night.
Her smile was fixed as she looked longingly out the window. She heaved a deep sigh.
"Nobody ever understands. Everybody thinks it would be so great to know what is going to happen. Instead, it petrifies me. A wave of cold sweeps over me when I think of what is to happen."
"Is it all that bad?" Harry felt a little anxious. Alice sure was acting strangely.
"Your life is not going to be easy," she repeated. "But then again, neither will mine." Her mouth twisted into a wry smile. "No, mine will be far worse than yours, Harry. Your wife may not always be there, but my husband will want me so much—" she forced a wry laugh—"that it will eat me away. I can't live like that, Harry." Her mouth was twisted into a humorless smile. "I do not mind love . . . but I cannot stand for love when it only hurts. Hurts me and hurts others."
Her eyes seemed to beg him to help her.
"Then don't marry this guy. Marry someone else. Or don't marry anyone."
"That would be even worse." That odd emotion that Harry could only match with fear swept over her eyes once more. She quickly averted her eyes to the window.
"Okay, okay, marry the guy," Harry said quickly. He looked down into his trunk and pulled out a small cage. It contained the rat that Ron had given him for his birthday.
"I hate rats," Harry said, trying to make small talk. "I didn't really want a rat, but Ron gave me this for my birthday."
"I know," she said softly. She put the crystal ball back into its box and set it gently into the trunk at her feet. She then lifted the cage from Harry's hands and set it in her lap.
She undid the fastenings on the cage and the rat strode warily out into her waiting hand. She held it, stroking its black fur softly, avoiding Harry's eyes.
"It isn't so bad," she said, holding it out in front of her face and examining it.
Harry laughed. "You can have it!" he exclaimed.
"Thank you . . . yes, you had a rather nasty experience with rats," she responded, tucking it away in its cage. She reached for her own small trunk, ebony inlayed with gold. Harry thought it odd, how often she seemed to use this combination. She unclasped the golden fleur-de-lis that held it shut and removed a few odd looking items, which she placed ever-so- carefully in her lap.
"These are the things that I have brought with me," she informed him, looked at the objects in her lap. One looked like a very battered rag doll. There was a small pouch that was stained with earth tones, perhaps herbs or dirt or some such things. And then there was a small box that floated above the other objects in her lap. It was a small, clear box that seemed to glow with an eerie purple light. Small flashes of pink light darted across the surface.
Harry stared at it. He had never seen anything remotely like it. "What is it?" he finally managed to ask.
She smiled. "It is a persona imager. It will, with the proper spells, put before you the image of any person you wish. And, if the person is deceased, you may speak to them."
Harry's eyes filled with hunger. Speak to anyone who is dead? he thought to himself. Why, I could speak to my parents!
"Could you . . . demonstrate?" Harry asked her.
She smiled. "Of course. Whom would you like to see first: your mother or your father?"
Harry deliberated, and after a few moments said, "My father."
Alice smiled as though she understood. "Very well . . ."
Alice began to mutter to the box. Suddenly, a brilliant, lime- colored light flashed from it, temporarily blinding Harry. When he was able to once again see, he was staring into the eyes of a miniature of his father.
Harry couldn't believe it. His father, of course, didn't look like a normal person. He was blurred around the edges, and the colors were faded slightly, like something out of a very old newspaper. He smiled up at Harry.
"Hi, son," he managed to choke through the tears streaming down his cheeks.
"Father," Harry breathed. He stuck out a finger to touch him, but it went right through his stomach. Harry felt slightly disappointed; it truly was a mere apparition.
"Harry," his father said again. "I've missed you so."
"So have I," Harry managed to say through the tears that now coursed down his cheeks as well.
"I . . . I must go, son," James Potter said. "I will come back, later."
"Alright," Harry said, sniffling slightly. "Goodbye."
"G'bye," James said. The tiny figure vanished with the same green flash of light.
Harry continued to look at the box. "Wow," he said, sniffling slightly, "I didn't know that anything like that even existed."
"Well, you just have to be aware of the fact that there are a lot of things that many people do not know about," Alice said in a gentle tone. "I just happen to know many of them. I don't think you should see your mother right now. There's plenty of time. Take it slowly."
Harry picked up the rag doll in her lap. "What's—"
Alice saw him holding the doll and snatched it from him, saying in a frightened tone, "Be careful with that. That is very powerful."
"What is it?" Harry asked in a quizzical manner. He looked at the small cloth doll, without face or clothing, which she held out of his reach. It was made of brown muslin and was stained and worn, torn in places.
"It's a very ancient form of body control. It is enchanted so that you may move the doll, which will cause any person you wish to move in the same manner. I also have a male one, buried at the bottom of the chest somewhere. Thank heavens I didn't have it enchanted with anyone's name yet!"
"What good is something like that?" Harry was somewhat suspicious. He thought things like that were only used with spells related to Dark magic.
"Well, you see, this comes in handy if you must remind somebody to do something, or if someone wants a little help, I can help them to run a little faster or jump a little higher. I don't use them often. They have been in my family for ages."
So Alice had to be a pureblood. Or at least a halfblooded wizard. Muggle families couldn't get a hold on such things.
"Anyhow, I think I should put this away," she continued, tucking it very carefully inside the trunk.
Harry's eyes roved to the last item in her lap: the small pouch. It, too, looked like it had survived many a generation of use. It was rather small, perhaps the size of a fist. The leather it was made of was fine and rich, but stained and worn with much use. The small thongs tying it shut were also leather, a knot on each end. She slowly loosed these straps and peered inside the bag.
"What's in there?" Harry asked her.
"Well, nothing at the moment," Alice said. "But . . ." Her face squinched up as a look of concentration crossed her face. "It is now full of gold."
Harry looked at her somewhat oddly. The bag did look like it had more in it now, but he wasn't so sure about gold.
She smiled. "Don't believe me? Go on, look inside." She held out her hand to him.
Harry took the proffered bag. "Alright," he said. He slowly held the bag up to his face and peered inside. Sure enough, the bag was full of golden galleons.
He quickly averted his gaze from the small drawstring-bag. "How'd you do that?"
Alice grinned. "Well, it wouldn't be magic anymore if I told you, now would it?"
Harry looked at her, his eyes pleading.
"Not the puppy-eyed look," she said imploringly.
Harry's mouth drooped down at the corners and he tilted his head to the right.
She laughed good-naturedly. "Alright, alright, I give up. I couldn't fill just any bag with gold. It only works with this one. But it doesn't have to be gold. It could be anything: herbs, photographs, dragonstones. Anything."
Harry smiled. "That wasn't too bad, was it?" he asked her in a playful manner.
"No, I suppose not." She took the bag from his hand and tucked it neatly away into her trunk. He saw several more of her silk robes with the gold braid folded into perfect squares, but her swift and steady hands closed the trunk before he could see anything else.
She looked at the clock that hung on the wallpapered walls of the train. "Only an hour has passed? We have quite a wait ahead of us."
Harry yawned. "I think I will take a nap," he said resolutely, stretching his arms.
"Okay. I will wait 'til we get to Hogwarts."
"Wake me up if the snack-lady comes."
"Maybe. It depends on whether or not you're snoring." She smiled slightly.
Harry lay back. Suddenly, a pillow was beneath his head.
"Sweet dreams." He knew no more.
Harry awoke with a start. Dusk light was streaming through the window across the isle. All the others had burgundy satin curtains drawn across them. Alice sat in front of this window, reading a book. He couldn't make out its title; someone had removed his glasses.
Alice turned to him, smiling. "Ah, you're awake," she said. She put down her book and walked to the seat beside him. She handed him his glasses from a pocket in her robes. He put them on and blinked a few times.
"You didn't wake me up," he stammered. "Why—"
"Harry, you looked tired," she stated decisively. A look of worry creased her thin face. "Besides, there wasn't anything for you to do. And you were snoring. Anyone who snores has got to be tired."
"I was pretty tired," Harry admitted. He touched his cheek. It felt hot from leaning against the pillow so long.
Alice sighed. It's still an hour until we get there. I think I'll take a short nap." She glided over to an empty chair in the corner and with a quick flick of her wand made the area surrounding her pitch black. "In a while, Harry . . ." she muttered sleepily. He heard her soft breathing, confirming that she was asleep.
Harry leaned back. He was still pretty tired, but at least not bone-weary. He picked up his wand. "Lumos," he whispered, and a faint light glimmered on its end. Reaching down for something to do, Harry's hand found a small book in his trunk. He pulled it out and placed the cover far out in front of him, squinting near-sightedly at the cover. "Famous Hogwarts Teachers and Their Subjects." He remembered having bought this in Diagon Alley shortly before he left. It didn't look intriguing, quite the contrary. Even so, he figured it would be best to have some sort of knowledge of Hogwarts' staff's past before becoming a part of it.
All was uneventful for about a half-hour. Harry managed to get through the first ten pages of the book (it was very heavy reading), and he was on the verge of sleep when he heard a soft voice from across the isle.
Well, by now the train was almost completely dark save the small light shining on the tip of his wand. Harry stiffened as he raised his head slightly, straining his ears for any more sounds.
"No." It was a soft whisper. He heard the slight thrash of a person stirring in their sleep. "Don't do that," the voice whispered. "Please, don't."
Harry knew who it was—Alice. There was a problem though: he didn't know if it was one of her fits, or if it was just a dream. And if it was one of her fits, he had promised not to intervene, whereas if it was a dream, he could awaken her. Harry sat, undecided. He finally came to the conclusion that he should listen, and if it turned out to be a dream, he could make a move.
"Leave him alone, it's me you want!" Her voice was slightly louder now. "Come after me, coward. You know you cannot face me. You know you cannot! What makes him any different?"
Harry was fairly sure it was a dream, but he was too mesmerized by the mystery of the words to move. He was rooted to his seat.
"Fight me. You know you cannot win, do you not? You know you cannot. I am not strong, nay, but I am wise. And that makes up for it, in my world, our world. I can see that you will not. Fight me. Fight me!"
Alice's voice continued to rise, and by now was a harsh shout. "Fight me! If you cannot win me, you will never win Harry!"
Harry's blood turned to ice. She's talking about me, he thought in horror. It's me who she is worried about. Why is she worried about me?
It was as though his name brought him back to life. Alice was screaming hoarsely as Harry leapt from the satin cushion on which he sat. He stumbled about in the darkness, trying to find her, following her voice.
"Leave him be! Leave him be! Oh, leave us all, you demon. You are naught but a coward!"
Harry ran into a row of seats, knocking him to the floor. "Alice!" he shouted. "Alice, wake up!"
Alice continued to shout. By now she was crying as well. He could hear her convulsive sobs. He was just a few seats away . . .
Harry crawled along the thickly carpeted floors, touching all that surrounded him. Finally, he found a length silk dangling in front of him. He felt two chilled legs beneath it.
Pulling himself up to a standing position, Harry found Alice's arm. "Alice," he said in a desperate whisper. "Alice!" He shook her thin, cold arm fiercely. All was black around him. "Damned spell," he muttered.
"Alice!"
Alice stopped crying and gave a small gasp. He felt her arm flail about her. "Strakum luminus!" she cried, and the dark lifted slightly. A bit of moonlight streamed through the window above her seat. She stood up, shaking slightly. Harry could see the tears streaking her cheeks.
She swallowed, and her purple eyes closed. She then swayed a moment where she stood. She lowered herself back down into her seat.
There was silence for a moment. Harry wanted to speak; he wanted to be assured that everything was fine. But something deep within him kept him silent.
"I beg your pardon," Alice said slowly. "Sometimes I have nightmares that are absolutely—" She paused, took a deep breath, and recomposed herself. "Absolutely horrendous. I have no control over them, and oftentimes I awaken and do not remember what they were about."
Harry stood still for a moment, and then whispered, "You said my name."
"What?" Her eyes snapped open. She looked startled, as though he had slapped her.
"You said my name, in your dream."
She averted her gaze to her hands, which were folded in her lap. She sniffed slightly. "If I did, I do not remember."
Something about the tone of her voice told Harry that she wasn't being quite truthful. She knew something that he did not, and it was driving him crazy. He was about to ask her when—
"Hogsmeade Station, five minutes. Please gather your belongings and prepare to dismount."
Harry looked at Alice for a moment, and then headed off for his luggage. He hauled his trunk and the cage containing Hedwig to the door of their compartment. "You coming?" he asked in a slightly exasperated tone.
"Yes, just a moment. Please, go ahead." She continued to sit in the seat, head down, eyes averted. Something in her voice seemed strained and tired. Like she wanted nothing more than a moment alone and a bit of uninterrupted sleep.
"Very well," Harry said. "I'll see you in a few moments." He left the compartment, the train slowed to a stop, and he threw his luggage to the ground before jumping to the platform. He looked up at the dark sky that was speckled with gleaming stars. Idly walking over to a column, he leaned against it and began to mull over what had happened over the past few days.
Alice seemed to be getting more and more tired. The purple circles under her eyes were growing darker daily, and then there was the episode today in the train car . . .
Harry glanced over at the other people on the platform. Everyone seemed to be out now, but he still didn't see Alice. Then he saw her stumble into view. She was still in the doorframe. She held her heavy trunk in one hand, rubbing her eyes will the other. Harry rushed over to assist her with her baggage.
"Thank you," she muttered wearily as a bevy of carriages drew up beside the dozen people on the platform.
Harry hauled his luggage, as well as Alice's trunk, over to the carriage. He helped the driver fasten it upon the roof and squeezed in beside Alice. The carriage took off and minutes later Alice was dozing lightly against Harry's shoulder.
After a short ride, The carriages stopped and the drivers opened the doors. Harry shook Alice awake and stepped outside, offering her his arm for support.
Harry smiled as he gazed at the dark turrets rising before him. He was at Hogwarts. He was home.
2 by Hannah
3 Chapter Three ~ The Hogwarts Express
Harry kept true to his self-promise. Although he didn't cling to Alice as though he were her shadow, he kept her under close surveillance for the next week and a half that they were there. She didn't have any more of her 'attacks,' as Harry had come to call them, but several mornings she would emerge from her room looking drawn and weak, dark purple circles beneath her eyes speaking far more than she herself would.
Harry had a good time in Diagon Alley. He managed to complete his shopping, although his unsatisfying and small stack of coins underneath Gringotts seemed to steadily diminish. He couldn't wait to get to Hogwarts. He hoped desperately that he could find a job there.
Alice never talked to Harry about her past. Then again, Harry never told her of his. He didn't particularly care to talk of the way that Voldemort had carelessly slain his parents, and the awful years he had spent with the Dursleys after that.
Harry enjoyed his time in the wizarding world. He had spent a lot of his life with the Muggles, or non-magical people, of London. Yet the time came when Harry had to leave.
"Bye, Tom," Harry shouted to the keeper of the Leaky Cauldron as he tugged his trunk out onto the street.
"Bye, Mr. Potter," he replied, nodding in acknowledgement. "I'll see you later!"
Harry lugged his heavy wizarding trunk to the London Underground, where he got aboard and stopped at the train station. There, he managed to make his way through the mobs of people to the space between platforms nine and ten.
It was a tricky business, the accessing of the platform onto the Hogwarts Express. Harry found it the hardest to do when the crowds of people were large, as they were today. He tried to look inconspicuous as he slowly made his way between the people pushing past him to the barrier between the two platforms. He leaned against it, yawning. The next thing he knew, he had fallen through it onto an almost deserted platform. A large column of purple smoke rose from the smokestack of a brightly colored train on an otherwise deserted track.
"All aboard for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!" the conductor cried. "We are leaving in five minutes!"
Harry looked at his watch. It was 10:55; he did indeed have only five minutes until the train would leave. He managed to haul his luggage aboard and find a seat in the only empty compartment by the time the train started moving.
Harry settled down in one of the spacious padded seats, ready to relax. He opened his trunk and pulled out the crystal ball, stuck inside an old box. He set it in his lap and examined its container. An old socks carton.
Suddenly, he heard the creak of a door sliding open and the light tap of footsteps making their way towards him. He sat up straight and looked around the corner. He leaned back, relaxing. It was only Alice.
She sat lightly down beside him. "Hello," she said to him. "This was the most empty compartment, so I decided I might as well join you, as long as you don't mind."
"Not at all," Harry responded quickly. "I wasn't really doing much. Just looking at some of the things in my trunk."
Alice looked down at the trunk, examining his worn robes and his meager supply of herbs and such. She then noticed the package in Harry's lap. Alice reached for the small paper box. She carefully opened the flaps with her long red fingernails and gently lifted out a crystal ball.
"Ah, a crystal ball," she remarked, setting it in her lap.
Harry looked at her. "I got it from Hermione, for my birthday. It is well known that neither Ron nor Hermione, nor myself, for that matter, were ever any good at Divination."
"Oh, come on, give it a try," she urged him, handing Harry the crystal orb.
Harry sat it in his lap once more and looked at it resolutely. All he could see in the crystal orb was a mass of swirling mist. He could see nothing more.
"It's no use, I can't see a thing. But—" Harry shot her a glance quickly, "perhaps you would like to try?"
She smiled. "You won't leave me alone, will you? All right . . ."
Alice leaned over and took the ball in her careful hands. She gently set it in her lap and leaned over it. She began moving her hands about it in a skillful way. Harry watched them as they appeared to dance over the ball.
"I see . . ." Her brow furrowed in concentration as she glanced deep into the depths of the crystal, past the mists, past the swirling vortex before her. "I see a great number of things, Mr. Potter. Not all of them are pleasant, mind you. No, you have a hard time coming for you. I see that you will get a job at Hogwarts, so you may cease your worrying. Also, you will befriend someone at Hogwarts . . . someone who will later become your bride. Much hardship follows. Evil comes in large forces, and attacks where you least expect it. A child, so weak, so beautiful. She is so like her mother! Yet her mother disappears from the scenario. Will she come back? You cannot be certain . . . Hogwarts brings much woe. You find yourself alone in the world. People shun you. The corruption comes from the blood, they say. Evil forces are strong. Yet eventually, you find yourself overcoming these problems, you find yourself in the presence of friends, and you eventually are happier, and wiser, than you ever were before."
After this revelation, Alice leaned back, exhausted.
"My bride?" Harry laughed, trying to sound relaxed. "Must be a seventh year, then. Most of the teachers are far too old for me." He tried to picture himself sharing spaghetti with the stern Professor McGonagall, and he ended up laughing again.
She smiled. "Perhaps so, Harry." She glanced quickly at the ball again. "Perhaps so."
Harry realized how somber she looked. "So is all of that true? Can you clarify?" Harry was no longer giddy about the revelations she had made.
"Yes, it is all true, Harry," she replied. "And yes, I could clarify . . . but anything more would be dangerous. Do you understand? I could change the future by telling you what lays there. And that, Harry, would make it far worse for all the parties involved."
"But, my . . . my—wife, as you said . . . will she come back? You said she would disappear and I would be all alone—"
"Harry," she said sternly, "please ask no more. I already have said that I cannot tell you."
"All right," Harry muttered. He sighed. I wish I hadn't asked her to do that . . .
She smiled at him. "Yes, isn't that the way it goes, Mr. Potter? You finally find out the future, and then you want nothing more than to hide from it. Can you imagine my life, Harry? I have to look at each person and see exactly what each one is thinking, all that has happened to him or her, all that will happen, and all that is happening. It is not easy. I would do anything to live a life like yours."
Harry could see the sadness buried deep within her gaze. The unusual eyes that he so loved didn't contain the sparkle that they had when he had first met her in the shop in Diagon Alley. The golden flecks within them reflected the sunlight as she smiled at him. The purple circles were beneath her eyes this morning, almost exactly matching the violet of her irises. She must have had another hard night.
Her smile was fixed as she looked longingly out the window. She heaved a deep sigh.
"Nobody ever understands. Everybody thinks it would be so great to know what is going to happen. Instead, it petrifies me. A wave of cold sweeps over me when I think of what is to happen."
"Is it all that bad?" Harry felt a little anxious. Alice sure was acting strangely.
"Your life is not going to be easy," she repeated. "But then again, neither will mine." Her mouth twisted into a wry smile. "No, mine will be far worse than yours, Harry. Your wife may not always be there, but my husband will want me so much—" she forced a wry laugh—"that it will eat me away. I can't live like that, Harry." Her mouth was twisted into a humorless smile. "I do not mind love . . . but I cannot stand for love when it only hurts. Hurts me and hurts others."
Her eyes seemed to beg him to help her.
"Then don't marry this guy. Marry someone else. Or don't marry anyone."
"That would be even worse." That odd emotion that Harry could only match with fear swept over her eyes once more. She quickly averted her eyes to the window.
"Okay, okay, marry the guy," Harry said quickly. He looked down into his trunk and pulled out a small cage. It contained the rat that Ron had given him for his birthday.
"I hate rats," Harry said, trying to make small talk. "I didn't really want a rat, but Ron gave me this for my birthday."
"I know," she said softly. She put the crystal ball back into its box and set it gently into the trunk at her feet. She then lifted the cage from Harry's hands and set it in her lap.
She undid the fastenings on the cage and the rat strode warily out into her waiting hand. She held it, stroking its black fur softly, avoiding Harry's eyes.
"It isn't so bad," she said, holding it out in front of her face and examining it.
Harry laughed. "You can have it!" he exclaimed.
"Thank you . . . yes, you had a rather nasty experience with rats," she responded, tucking it away in its cage. She reached for her own small trunk, ebony inlayed with gold. Harry thought it odd, how often she seemed to use this combination. She unclasped the golden fleur-de-lis that held it shut and removed a few odd looking items, which she placed ever-so- carefully in her lap.
"These are the things that I have brought with me," she informed him, looked at the objects in her lap. One looked like a very battered rag doll. There was a small pouch that was stained with earth tones, perhaps herbs or dirt or some such things. And then there was a small box that floated above the other objects in her lap. It was a small, clear box that seemed to glow with an eerie purple light. Small flashes of pink light darted across the surface.
Harry stared at it. He had never seen anything remotely like it. "What is it?" he finally managed to ask.
She smiled. "It is a persona imager. It will, with the proper spells, put before you the image of any person you wish. And, if the person is deceased, you may speak to them."
Harry's eyes filled with hunger. Speak to anyone who is dead? he thought to himself. Why, I could speak to my parents!
"Could you . . . demonstrate?" Harry asked her.
She smiled. "Of course. Whom would you like to see first: your mother or your father?"
Harry deliberated, and after a few moments said, "My father."
Alice smiled as though she understood. "Very well . . ."
Alice began to mutter to the box. Suddenly, a brilliant, lime- colored light flashed from it, temporarily blinding Harry. When he was able to once again see, he was staring into the eyes of a miniature of his father.
Harry couldn't believe it. His father, of course, didn't look like a normal person. He was blurred around the edges, and the colors were faded slightly, like something out of a very old newspaper. He smiled up at Harry.
"Hi, son," he managed to choke through the tears streaming down his cheeks.
"Father," Harry breathed. He stuck out a finger to touch him, but it went right through his stomach. Harry felt slightly disappointed; it truly was a mere apparition.
"Harry," his father said again. "I've missed you so."
"So have I," Harry managed to say through the tears that now coursed down his cheeks as well.
"I . . . I must go, son," James Potter said. "I will come back, later."
"Alright," Harry said, sniffling slightly. "Goodbye."
"G'bye," James said. The tiny figure vanished with the same green flash of light.
Harry continued to look at the box. "Wow," he said, sniffling slightly, "I didn't know that anything like that even existed."
"Well, you just have to be aware of the fact that there are a lot of things that many people do not know about," Alice said in a gentle tone. "I just happen to know many of them. I don't think you should see your mother right now. There's plenty of time. Take it slowly."
Harry picked up the rag doll in her lap. "What's—"
Alice saw him holding the doll and snatched it from him, saying in a frightened tone, "Be careful with that. That is very powerful."
"What is it?" Harry asked in a quizzical manner. He looked at the small cloth doll, without face or clothing, which she held out of his reach. It was made of brown muslin and was stained and worn, torn in places.
"It's a very ancient form of body control. It is enchanted so that you may move the doll, which will cause any person you wish to move in the same manner. I also have a male one, buried at the bottom of the chest somewhere. Thank heavens I didn't have it enchanted with anyone's name yet!"
"What good is something like that?" Harry was somewhat suspicious. He thought things like that were only used with spells related to Dark magic.
"Well, you see, this comes in handy if you must remind somebody to do something, or if someone wants a little help, I can help them to run a little faster or jump a little higher. I don't use them often. They have been in my family for ages."
So Alice had to be a pureblood. Or at least a halfblooded wizard. Muggle families couldn't get a hold on such things.
"Anyhow, I think I should put this away," she continued, tucking it very carefully inside the trunk.
Harry's eyes roved to the last item in her lap: the small pouch. It, too, looked like it had survived many a generation of use. It was rather small, perhaps the size of a fist. The leather it was made of was fine and rich, but stained and worn with much use. The small thongs tying it shut were also leather, a knot on each end. She slowly loosed these straps and peered inside the bag.
"What's in there?" Harry asked her.
"Well, nothing at the moment," Alice said. "But . . ." Her face squinched up as a look of concentration crossed her face. "It is now full of gold."
Harry looked at her somewhat oddly. The bag did look like it had more in it now, but he wasn't so sure about gold.
She smiled. "Don't believe me? Go on, look inside." She held out her hand to him.
Harry took the proffered bag. "Alright," he said. He slowly held the bag up to his face and peered inside. Sure enough, the bag was full of golden galleons.
He quickly averted his gaze from the small drawstring-bag. "How'd you do that?"
Alice grinned. "Well, it wouldn't be magic anymore if I told you, now would it?"
Harry looked at her, his eyes pleading.
"Not the puppy-eyed look," she said imploringly.
Harry's mouth drooped down at the corners and he tilted his head to the right.
She laughed good-naturedly. "Alright, alright, I give up. I couldn't fill just any bag with gold. It only works with this one. But it doesn't have to be gold. It could be anything: herbs, photographs, dragonstones. Anything."
Harry smiled. "That wasn't too bad, was it?" he asked her in a playful manner.
"No, I suppose not." She took the bag from his hand and tucked it neatly away into her trunk. He saw several more of her silk robes with the gold braid folded into perfect squares, but her swift and steady hands closed the trunk before he could see anything else.
She looked at the clock that hung on the wallpapered walls of the train. "Only an hour has passed? We have quite a wait ahead of us."
Harry yawned. "I think I will take a nap," he said resolutely, stretching his arms.
"Okay. I will wait 'til we get to Hogwarts."
"Wake me up if the snack-lady comes."
"Maybe. It depends on whether or not you're snoring." She smiled slightly.
Harry lay back. Suddenly, a pillow was beneath his head.
"Sweet dreams." He knew no more.
Harry awoke with a start. Dusk light was streaming through the window across the isle. All the others had burgundy satin curtains drawn across them. Alice sat in front of this window, reading a book. He couldn't make out its title; someone had removed his glasses.
Alice turned to him, smiling. "Ah, you're awake," she said. She put down her book and walked to the seat beside him. She handed him his glasses from a pocket in her robes. He put them on and blinked a few times.
"You didn't wake me up," he stammered. "Why—"
"Harry, you looked tired," she stated decisively. A look of worry creased her thin face. "Besides, there wasn't anything for you to do. And you were snoring. Anyone who snores has got to be tired."
"I was pretty tired," Harry admitted. He touched his cheek. It felt hot from leaning against the pillow so long.
Alice sighed. It's still an hour until we get there. I think I'll take a short nap." She glided over to an empty chair in the corner and with a quick flick of her wand made the area surrounding her pitch black. "In a while, Harry . . ." she muttered sleepily. He heard her soft breathing, confirming that she was asleep.
Harry leaned back. He was still pretty tired, but at least not bone-weary. He picked up his wand. "Lumos," he whispered, and a faint light glimmered on its end. Reaching down for something to do, Harry's hand found a small book in his trunk. He pulled it out and placed the cover far out in front of him, squinting near-sightedly at the cover. "Famous Hogwarts Teachers and Their Subjects." He remembered having bought this in Diagon Alley shortly before he left. It didn't look intriguing, quite the contrary. Even so, he figured it would be best to have some sort of knowledge of Hogwarts' staff's past before becoming a part of it.
All was uneventful for about a half-hour. Harry managed to get through the first ten pages of the book (it was very heavy reading), and he was on the verge of sleep when he heard a soft voice from across the isle.
Well, by now the train was almost completely dark save the small light shining on the tip of his wand. Harry stiffened as he raised his head slightly, straining his ears for any more sounds.
"No." It was a soft whisper. He heard the slight thrash of a person stirring in their sleep. "Don't do that," the voice whispered. "Please, don't."
Harry knew who it was—Alice. There was a problem though: he didn't know if it was one of her fits, or if it was just a dream. And if it was one of her fits, he had promised not to intervene, whereas if it was a dream, he could awaken her. Harry sat, undecided. He finally came to the conclusion that he should listen, and if it turned out to be a dream, he could make a move.
"Leave him alone, it's me you want!" Her voice was slightly louder now. "Come after me, coward. You know you cannot face me. You know you cannot! What makes him any different?"
Harry was fairly sure it was a dream, but he was too mesmerized by the mystery of the words to move. He was rooted to his seat.
"Fight me. You know you cannot win, do you not? You know you cannot. I am not strong, nay, but I am wise. And that makes up for it, in my world, our world. I can see that you will not. Fight me. Fight me!"
Alice's voice continued to rise, and by now was a harsh shout. "Fight me! If you cannot win me, you will never win Harry!"
Harry's blood turned to ice. She's talking about me, he thought in horror. It's me who she is worried about. Why is she worried about me?
It was as though his name brought him back to life. Alice was screaming hoarsely as Harry leapt from the satin cushion on which he sat. He stumbled about in the darkness, trying to find her, following her voice.
"Leave him be! Leave him be! Oh, leave us all, you demon. You are naught but a coward!"
Harry ran into a row of seats, knocking him to the floor. "Alice!" he shouted. "Alice, wake up!"
Alice continued to shout. By now she was crying as well. He could hear her convulsive sobs. He was just a few seats away . . .
Harry crawled along the thickly carpeted floors, touching all that surrounded him. Finally, he found a length silk dangling in front of him. He felt two chilled legs beneath it.
Pulling himself up to a standing position, Harry found Alice's arm. "Alice," he said in a desperate whisper. "Alice!" He shook her thin, cold arm fiercely. All was black around him. "Damned spell," he muttered.
"Alice!"
Alice stopped crying and gave a small gasp. He felt her arm flail about her. "Strakum luminus!" she cried, and the dark lifted slightly. A bit of moonlight streamed through the window above her seat. She stood up, shaking slightly. Harry could see the tears streaking her cheeks.
She swallowed, and her purple eyes closed. She then swayed a moment where she stood. She lowered herself back down into her seat.
There was silence for a moment. Harry wanted to speak; he wanted to be assured that everything was fine. But something deep within him kept him silent.
"I beg your pardon," Alice said slowly. "Sometimes I have nightmares that are absolutely—" She paused, took a deep breath, and recomposed herself. "Absolutely horrendous. I have no control over them, and oftentimes I awaken and do not remember what they were about."
Harry stood still for a moment, and then whispered, "You said my name."
"What?" Her eyes snapped open. She looked startled, as though he had slapped her.
"You said my name, in your dream."
She averted her gaze to her hands, which were folded in her lap. She sniffed slightly. "If I did, I do not remember."
Something about the tone of her voice told Harry that she wasn't being quite truthful. She knew something that he did not, and it was driving him crazy. He was about to ask her when—
"Hogsmeade Station, five minutes. Please gather your belongings and prepare to dismount."
Harry looked at Alice for a moment, and then headed off for his luggage. He hauled his trunk and the cage containing Hedwig to the door of their compartment. "You coming?" he asked in a slightly exasperated tone.
"Yes, just a moment. Please, go ahead." She continued to sit in the seat, head down, eyes averted. Something in her voice seemed strained and tired. Like she wanted nothing more than a moment alone and a bit of uninterrupted sleep.
"Very well," Harry said. "I'll see you in a few moments." He left the compartment, the train slowed to a stop, and he threw his luggage to the ground before jumping to the platform. He looked up at the dark sky that was speckled with gleaming stars. Idly walking over to a column, he leaned against it and began to mull over what had happened over the past few days.
Alice seemed to be getting more and more tired. The purple circles under her eyes were growing darker daily, and then there was the episode today in the train car . . .
Harry glanced over at the other people on the platform. Everyone seemed to be out now, but he still didn't see Alice. Then he saw her stumble into view. She was still in the doorframe. She held her heavy trunk in one hand, rubbing her eyes will the other. Harry rushed over to assist her with her baggage.
"Thank you," she muttered wearily as a bevy of carriages drew up beside the dozen people on the platform.
Harry hauled his luggage, as well as Alice's trunk, over to the carriage. He helped the driver fasten it upon the roof and squeezed in beside Alice. The carriage took off and minutes later Alice was dozing lightly against Harry's shoulder.
After a short ride, The carriages stopped and the drivers opened the doors. Harry shook Alice awake and stepped outside, offering her his arm for support.
Harry smiled as he gazed at the dark turrets rising before him. He was at Hogwarts. He was home.