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Author's Note: Yes I know I know, but I don't care if its late. It's good. And I had to go to work. You'll get over it. Enjoy.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his surrounding characters belong to JK Rowling.
Chapter 4: Thirteen (continued)
As the six entered the Great Hall, all faces turned toward them, Harry in particular. Rumor had spread like wildfire through the school, (Apparently Hermione had made the mistake of telling Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown what had happened.) As the Weasleys, Hermione, and Harry sat down, Albus Dumbledore stood and addressed the students.
"I am afraid that as most of you already know we are not here for a happy cause. Many of you witnessed the letter Mr. Harry Potter received and its horrible contents. The voice of Neville Longbottom rang out through the Great Hall and the rooms and hallways of Hogwarts yesterday. I fear that it will never do so again." Several sobs were heard from the Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw tables, but Harry noticed that the Slytherins remained composed and overall a bit smug. Draco Malfoy was talking and snickering with his cronies, Crabbe and Goyle. Harry, feeling himself go red with anger, turned his attention back to Dumbledore and tried to take his mind off the things he was imagining happening to Malfoy. "Neville Longbottom is suspected dead by the hands of Voldemort", the majority of the students winced at the name of the Dark Lord, "and the Killing Curse, Avada Kedavra. I ask that we bow our heads in a moment of silence to remember Neville Longbottom, a kind heart, a willing mind, and a loyal friend."
As he bowed his head, Harry recalled specifically the times in which Neville's bravery had stood out. He remembered the time Neville had stood up to them when they had tried to leave Gryffindor tower first year. He remembered Neville trying to come and find them late at night when they were delivering Norbert to the tower that night. He remembered the time Neville had tried to take on Crabbe and Goyle on his lonesome. But most of all he remembered the screams, the cries of agony he had heard only a day before, and the final words spoken by the Dark Lord himself, ending his poor friend's life. And it was all Harry's fault.
As Dumbledore sat down, conversation slowly returned to the Great Hall. No one dared speak to Harry, Hermione, or Ron, but this did not bother the threesome too much. The loudest table by far was that of the Slytherins, who seemed unaffected by the rest of the school's gloom. At the end of breakfast, Dumbledore stood up once again.
"You will resume your schedules as they have been dictated, classes will continue as they must, and you need only ask if you wish to speak to anyone. We must live on with our lives and continue our lessons, to honor the memory of those no longer with us. Good day." He left. The teachers and students followed suit.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione headed toward their first class of the new school year.
"Of all classes that could be first after that, why did it have to be double potions with the Slytherins?" moaned Ron. Harry and Hermione seemed equally downtrodden. As they entered the dungeons and sat in their traditional seats in the back of the class, Neville was missed all the more. "Oh no," commented Ron, "we don't have an even number of Gryffindors any more!" He was quite right of course. Neville had always been the eighth, and, though no Gryffindor really wanted him as a potions partner, he would be preferred to ANY Slytherin, especially…
"Draco Malfoy." Snape finished Harry's sentence for him with a much different tone than Harry would have used for that name. "You will partner with Mr. Potter please, seeing as there are now an odd number of Gryffindors in this class." The Slytherins sniggered. Harry's mouth fell open. He never expected that Snape was actually THAT cruel. The potions master looked in Harry's direction and sneered. "I advise you to keep your mouth closed, Mr. Potter, in a class known for brewing rather harmful potions." More chuckles from the Slytherins. Harry promptly and silently gathered his things and sat next to his arch rival. Malfoy sneered.
"Today I have been asked against my judgement to teach you cheering potions." Harry's mouth nearly fell open again. "I suggest you make concoct your potions correctly or your partner will suffer some rather…unpleasant effects." Harry caught a mad glint in Malfoy's eye, one which he did not like in the least.
But by the end of class, less several nerves and several more house points, both Harry's and Draco's potions had worked perfectly. Harry was happily walking with his friends up the stairs from potions, all sad thoughts pushed from his mind. Ron seemed to have overdone his potion a bit as Hermione was absolutely skipping in circles around the two. "I'm going to Arithmancy, I'm going to Arithmancy," she chanted. Harry's cheering potion wore off very quickly. Snape had said that even the cheerfulness produced by the potion could be overwhelmed by one's dark thoughts. Harry's was: 'If Hermione is headed to Arithmancy, I'm headed to Divination.' Ron seemed to have realized this too, and the smile was wiped from his face. Hermione had already skipped off to her next class.
"I say we skip," said Ron, "I don't think I can handle her telling us how she predicted Neville's death." Harry nodded, but then disagreed.
"Dumbledore must have talked to Snape. I would think he talked to Trelawney as well." Ron resignedly agreed and the two best friends ascended to the Divination tower. Sybil Trelawney greeted them airily as she entered the rooms from the shadows.
"Welcome, my dears, to another year of exploring your pasts, your futures, and you inner selves." Dean and Seamus, still under the influence of cheering charms, snickered loudly. Lavender and Parvati looked as though they were in heaven. Professor Trelawney continued, "I have been asked not to speak of the classmate of yours whom the fates have taken from you," Ron looked relieved. Sybil Trelawney looked disappointed. "So we will begin our studies in the art of nomenclature. Nomenclature is the study of the importance of names and their use in the gifts of Divination. Today we will discuss the possible references of your names to your own lives, and the different ways in which nomenclature can be studied. Please take a blank piece of parchment and write your name on it."
The class followed her orders. Harry felt quite stupid writing his name as an assignment, and wondered drowsily if he could get extra points for writing it more than once. He nearly laughed at the idea.
"Now say your own name out loud." Only two voices ("Lavender Brown", "Parvati Patil") were heard, as clearly more than half the class thought she was joking. She was not.
"Harry James Potter."
"Dean Thomas."
Seamus Finnigan."
"Ron Weasley."
Sybil Trelawney spoke again. "I see Mr. Potter was the only one to use his middle name. There is a signifigance in such things. Why did you do so Harry?" Harry Potter suddenly wished he had hadn't used his middle name, as it had singled him out for the teacher who absolutely loved to single him out.
"I don't know."
"Well, clearly…" started the Divination professor.
"I don't know." Harry repeated. Professor Trelawney seemed annoyed, but went on.
"We will first attempt to use nomenclature by the subtleties of pronunciation. Try to form words other than your names by saying your names, and try to think of possible meanings for the words you find. Say your names once again." They did. "And again, but stress different syllables." They did. "Try to use your knowledge of foreign languages as well. Some meaning in names are found in Latin, French, German, Greek, or other languages." Harry was growing tired of this.
"Harry James Potter" He repeated for the umpteenth time, still finding nothing in his name but that Harry sounded like "hairy" and of course everyone knew who a potter was but where was the significance in that? Everyone else seemed to be having the same trouble until.
"Oh my goodness, Harry!" Lavender Brown had squealed. "Your last name, when you say it like that, sounds like 'pater', which is Latin for father! And the e sound in Harry is Latin for out of. So if you fiddle with it a bit…Your name could mean that you got your hair from your father! And wasn't his name James?" Sybil Trelawney, looked ecstatic, first because one of her "star students" had noticed this, and that it had been about Harry.
"So?" Harry asked. "Everyone knows my hair looks like my dad's." Lavender looked a bit taken back, but Professor Trelawney jumped in.
"Mr. Potter, the art of nomenclature tells you of who you are, whether it is obvious or not. That was very good, Ms. Brown." Lavender's face lightened once again. "Let us now look at a different use of nomenclature. You have your name written in front of you. Jumble it and try to make words with it. This form of nomenclature may tell you of your future."
The bell rang. "You're homework is to use nomenclature to help find more about you and at least three people you know. Don't pick the same people!"
"Stupid old fraud," commented Ron. "I can't even find anything in my own name not to mention three other people's." Harry nodded.
"Hair of my father, really, as if anyone hadn't noticed." They walked into the Great Hall looking for Hermione. She was already eating supper at the Gryffindor table. As they sat down with her, Harry noticed that she hadn't quite recovered from the cheering potion, as she had a large grin plastered on her face.
"Hello Harry, Ron. Any Homework?"
"Plenty."
Hermione laughed, "Well I don't have any." She gave them a big smile. The potion had DEFINITELY not worn off.
"Have you been like this all day?" asked Ron. "It's annoying."
Hermione's smile faded. Apparently Ron's disapproval had hit her a bit harder than he had intended. "Well if you hadn't botched that potion I wouldn't be like that now would I?" The potion was gone. The three sat quietly and concentrated on their dinners, not wanting an argument. Harry especially did not need an altercation at the moment, as the memory of Neville's death had just come back and hit him full in the face after his mind had been cleared for classes for a day. He kept his eyes on his plate as he used his fork to move his food around, suddenly losing his appetite. He barely noticed the large group of owl flutter in with messages for the students.
But then he felt it. A coldness, a bite, a chill. He shivered. He knew what was coming before it came. A loud shriek brought screams from the students. Harry looked up to see the thing he dreaded. A black hawk flying in his direction. He stood up, though trembling and weak in the knees. The horrible bird dropped a parchment into his hand, which was unwillingly outstretched. The parchment unrolled on its own. A cold voice pierced the suddenly silent Great Hall.
"Crucio." The screams were loud and agonizing. They were screams of fear and pain, unending unsurmountable pain. They lasted, they went on, they kept going for an eternity. And finally they stopped. Ended by two words, "Avada Kedavra." Charlie Weasley was dead.
Author's Note: Please Review.