The Wisdom to Know the Difference
God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
The courage to change the things I can,
And the wisdom to know the difference
This is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. It is, perhaps, the end of the beginning.
-Winston Churchill
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Woah! Threw a new quote in there! Did I catch you off guard? I love Winston Churchill quotes, and that one seemed to fit in perfectly with the whole Voldemort rising again thing. Did I impress you? No? Okay, I'll just stop babbling now...
All right! I have had five chapters in, what, three days? That's pretty good, right? I know they may seem short, but I am still adapting to the whole conversion between word and HTML. What seems short for you is four pages of typed text for me! Sorry! This one will most likely be the longest.
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Harry lay in his bed, wide-awake. Which was no different than usual, except for one small thing: he was actually starting to get tired. This was something that hadn't happened in weeks. He had a feeling that it had to do with his visit with Sirius today. He felt almost as though a huge burden had been lifted off of his shoulders. He never knew feeling normal could be so nice. With a few words, Sirius had erased nearly all of the doubt and grief that Harry had. However, the tournament was still hard for him to talk about. Since his visit with Sirius, Harry had been mentally steeling himself to talk to Ron and Hermione, if not all the Weasley's, about what had happened the night of the third task. Even now he wasn't sure if he would be able to do it. But he knew that eventually, it would happen.
Harry had just received a letter from Dumbledore this evening, giving him his final permission to spend the last week of summer holiday with the Weasley's. The letter went over the new protection wards placed around the Burrow, reassuring Harry that he and the Weasley's would be safe for his weeklong visit. Dumbledore also mentioned that Mr. Weasley and Ron would be arriving at noon the next day to pick Harry up, using Floo Powder. Thankfully, the Dursley's had traded in their electric fire for a real-live one, and Floo Powder traveling should no longer hold any dangers. The Dursley's had given their permission for the visit surprisingly easily, but perhaps it was the thought of an abnormally quiet Harry out of their hair that helped them decide. In any case, at this time tomorrow, Harry would be at the Burrow, with a real family at last.
His mind whirling with anticipation (and, yes, some nervousness) about his upcoming visit, Harry Potter finally fell asleep.
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The Same Night,
The Burrow
"Now, I want all of you to listen to me," Mrs. Weasley said, looking sternly at her congregated family, focusing particularly hard on Fred and George, "Harry will be here at noon tomorrow, and we need to talk about a few things. First- you are NOT to question him about the tournament. He will tell us when he's ready. Secondly," now Mrs. Weasley turned full around, with her hands on her hips and glared at Fred and George. They eyed each nervously, but thought it best not to speak, "There are to be NO pranks played on Harry while he's here. That is the last thing he needs." The pranks at the Weasley household had increased dramatically over the summer. It seemed that the twins had come into a bit of a windfall, and everyone was highly suspicious of how they got that money. Ron thought he knew who it was, after receiving dress robes from the twins. But he knew that the last thing Harry needed was more attention. So he kept his ideas to himself, resolving to thank Harry later. "Lastly," Mrs. Weasley continued, looking at all her family members and holding their gazes for a moment, "Harry is family. We shall treat him as such. He needs us now more than he may know. If he wants to talk about You-Know- er, Voldemort, we will talk. The most important thing right now is for him to feel loved and comfortable. I don't think you will need reminding." The Weasleys all nodded. Molly felt comfortable that she wouldn't have any problems with them. "Now, why don't you all go to bed, we have a lot in store for us tomorrow."
With surprising obedience, all of the children went up into their respective rooms. It took a long time before they all fell asleep.
Ron woke up the next morning to hear his mother bustling around downstairs. His sleep-clogged mind took a few moments to remember that today was the day Harry was coming. His jumped out of bed in excitement, and hurriedly glanced around his room. Harry's bed was all set up, and his room was clean enough. He ran downstairs to see his mother cooking enough food to feed a small army. Mr. Weasley had already left for the Ministry, but would be back early to go with Ron to pick up Harry.
"Morning, mum," he greeted, plopping down in a chair and serving himself some sausage and eggs, "So, you have enough food, then?" Mrs. Weasley barely glanced his way before turning back to her pot where she was stirring something, presumably soup.
"Well, now, I don't know just how much Harry has been eating this summer. You know those dreadful relatives of his. He's probably near starving, and he needs fattening up, anyway. He's far too thin for his age, you know."
"Yes, mum, I know." Ron had heard this speech more times than he could count this summer. But, he thought, reflecting back to his last visit to the Dursley household, she is right. Harry doesn't get anything proper while he's there. This visit will be good for him. Mrs. Weasley interrupted Ron's meditation,
"Don't jus sit there, Ron! Go, wake up your brothers and sisters. They can lend a hand cleaning the place up. That garden needs de-gnoming again, and mind you do it properly this time. After you wake them, come back here and make yourself useful." Ron dashed back upstairs and woke his siblings. He felt a long morning was ahead of them.
And indeed it was. The Weasley children spent the morning scrubbing, weeding, cleaning and watering.
"Why can't she just do it herself with magic?" Groaned Fred as he hurled another gnome into the bushes. Ron nodded in agreement, but he thought that it was less that the chores needed doing than the fact that Mrs. Weasley wanted to keep her children occupied until Harry arrived.
"Ron!" Mrs. Weasley called from inside the house, "Your father has just arrived. Come on in and clean up, or you'll be late fetching Harry!" Ron immediately dropped everything and sprinted inside the house. He was downstairs in record time, and joined his father at the fireplace. Mr. Weasley looked down at his son and said,
"All ready then?" Ron nodded eagerly, and stepped towards the fire, but Mr. Weasley wasn't finished,
"Er- are you sure that the fire is safe this time? No eckeltrikity, is there?"
"No, dad," Ron reassured his father, "Harry owled me to say that everything was okay. His aunt and uncle put in a real fire." Relief smoothed Mr. Weasley's worried features.
"Oh, good. Well, what are we waiting for? Number Four, Privet Drive!" Mr. Weasley shouted, and walked into the fire. Ron followed suit, and soon found himself in the living room of the Dursley's house.
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A grinning Harry, who gave him a hand up off the floor, greeted him. How did I get there, wondered Ron. Never mind that, say something to him!
"Harry!" Ron exclaimed, positively grinning from ear to ear. "How are you, mate?"
"I'm doing as well as can be expected, spending quality time with Dursley's." Was it Ron's imagination, or did Harry's happy expression flicker just a little bit before turning back to normal? Ron studied Harry's face carefully. He seemed paler than usual, and there were dark circles underneath his eyes, hinting at long, sleepless night. Other than that, he looked not better or worse than when Ron had seen him last. Which, Ron thought, was neither a good or bad thing. Feeling that the silence had lasted too long, Ron searched frantically for something to say,
"Speaking of them, where are they?" At this Harry gave a true smile and said,
"Oh, they decided that they didn't want to be here when you guys showed up, for some reason." Ron could see his father's jaw tighten at this. Ron remembered last year, when his father had gotten upset at the Dursley's refusal to say goodbye to Harry. How would he react to this? Thankfully, Mr. Weasley said nothing, just turned to Harry and stated,
"Well, it's good to see you. Have you got your things?" Harry nodded indicating to his trunk, already packed with everything he needed. "All right, let's head out, then!"
Ron and Harry followed Mr. Weasley back into the fire, and back into the house which Harry secretly thought of his home. Thankfully, Harry did not fall on the return trip this time, and was greeted by five smiling, freckled faces- Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, Fred, George, and Charlie, (who was on a vacation from Romania). All was silent for a moment, then Mrs. Weasley rushed forward,
"Oh, Harry, dear, it's so good to see you!" She enveloped Harry in a bone-crunching hug. This seemed to trigger a reaction from the remaining Weasleys, and they all surged forward to welcome Harry.
"Good to see you mate!"
"How ya been?"
"How's ol' Dudley doing?"
"Hello, Harry," this was from a very red-faced and shy Ginny. Last to come up was Charlie, who gave Harry a hearty handshake and said,
"Good to see you again, Harry." Harry said all his hellos and then stepped back a little, trying to think of something to say.
"Wow, Mrs. Weasley, what smells so good?" Very intelligent, a nasty voice inside his head whispered. These words sent Molly Weasley into a flurry.
"Oh, dear, how rude of me! Come, come, everyone, sit down, its lunchtime!" She ushered everyone out to the backyard where a large picnic table with all the place settings was laden with delicious-looking food. For the next hour, everyone talked, ate, and laughed. It was just like old times Ron though. Harry was a bit quieter that usual, but other than that, everything was going fine. As they finished up, Ron turned to Harry, and stretching, said,
"Game of quidditch?" Harry grinned and said,
"I'll go get my Firebolt," and raced into the house to his trunk.
Fred, George, Ron, and Harry played quidditch until night, when they came in to eat. Never had Harry felt so utterly exhausted and happy at the same time. He and Ron went up to bed at around ten o'clock and for the first time since school let out, Harry Potter fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.
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Harry was doing well, Ron reflected as he stared up at his ceiling and listened to his best friend's deep, steady breathing. Sure, he hasn't mentioned anything about what happened, but he has been acting pretty normal otherwise. Maybe that visit with Sirius really helped him...Yes, Ron thought, as sleep overcame him, things seemed to be on the up-and-up.
Several hours later, still in the middle of the night, a thrashing sound and a loud moaning awakened Ron. What's that? What's going on? Ron struggled t get awake. The sounds were becoming louder, and they were coming from his room. Oh, no! It's Harry! Ron leaped out of bed and hurried to his friends' side. Harry's cries were growing progressively louder, and Ron now could tell what he was saying.
"No! No, please! No, Cedric!" Ron's heart leapt to his throat. Harry was dreaming of the third task. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley rushed into the room, followed closely by Fred and George.
"What's going on? Who's yelling?" This was followed by a gasp, then, "Oh! What's wrong with Harry?!" Ron said,
"He's having a nightmare. I think he's dreaming of the third task..." Everyone watched, horrorstruck, as Harry started thrashing, and then let out an animal-like scream. All of a sudden, he was quiet. Then he whispered something that made everyone's heart feel like it was about to break,
"Mum? Dad?" Finally, Ron couldn't take it anymore. He bent over Harry and shook him roughly.
"Harry! Harry! Come on, mate, come on, wake up! It's a dream! Harry, please, wake up!" Harry's eyes snapped open, and he looked around, disoriented. He fingers clutched the bed sheets so hard his knuckles were white, and he was breathing in short, staggered gasps. "Harry, you're at the Burrow. You're in my room, it's okay," Ron said, very softly, so as not to startle him. Everyone else was silent.
"Ron? Oh, Merlin, it was so real...so real..." Harry's face was still white and drenched with sweat. Ron asked timidly,
"Were you dreaming of...Voldemort? Of the third task?" Harry nodded, his mind still stuck back in his horrible dream. Then, when he realized what he had just admitted, he looked up at the people crowded around his bed. Should I tell them? If not now, then when? Harry took a deep breath, and before he lost his nerve, plunged ahead, his eyes fixed at a nondescript point on the wall. He began speaking in a flat tone,
"Cedric and I got to the cup at the same time. We argued; I wanted him to take it, he wanted me to. Finally, I told him we would take the cup together. I convinced him that it was a good idea. 'It's a Hogwarts victory,' I said, 'We'll tie.' He agreed.
"The cup was a portkey. It took up to a graveyard. Right after we got there, we heard someone coming...then, a voice. 'Kill the spare', it said. The spare. Cedric dropped right next to me." Molly made a movement as if to comfort Harry, then stopped. Harry continued in that same monotonous voice, "A Deatheater came out. Took me to a tombstone. Tied me to it with rope. It was Peter Pettigrew, Wormtail." At this there were two distinct gasps, from Fred and George, who did not yet know the truth about Sirius Black. Thankfully, they did not say anything. "Pettigrew took out a cauldron, made some potion. He took the bone of the father, the flesh of the servant, and...blood of the enemy." Here, Harry started to rub the crook of his arm, and then rolled up his sleeve to show them. The scar still stood out livid, none of Madam Pomfrey's healing potions could make it dissapear. When Harry said these words, Ron felt a surge of anger. Harry had been stabbed? They had taken his *blood*!
Harry took one, great, shuddering breath, and continued. He outlined everything that had happened in precise detail. He talked of the Cruciatus curse with only the tiniest bit of pain in his voice. When he came to the part of the duel with Voldemort, and how he had seen Diggory and his parents, he buried his face in his hands. When he finished, telling them of how he grabbed Cedric's body and fled, the room was deathly quiet. No one knew what to say.
Finally, Harry looked up at them, holding their eyes for a few moments. No one failed to miss the pain that was there. Then, Harry said in a voice so painfilled and tortured that it made Mrs. Weasley want to throw her arms around him,
"So now you know."
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There we are. I will have a long author's note at the beginning of next chapter, if you're looking for it. So, there it was. I feel like it's awful. I think I did it all wrong...ugh...I feel like I let you guys down. NOW it's time to throw the rotten food. I hope you guys liked it more than me!
Balizabeth
God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
The courage to change the things I can,
And the wisdom to know the difference
This is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. It is, perhaps, the end of the beginning.
-Winston Churchill
************************************************************************
Woah! Threw a new quote in there! Did I catch you off guard? I love Winston Churchill quotes, and that one seemed to fit in perfectly with the whole Voldemort rising again thing. Did I impress you? No? Okay, I'll just stop babbling now...
All right! I have had five chapters in, what, three days? That's pretty good, right? I know they may seem short, but I am still adapting to the whole conversion between word and HTML. What seems short for you is four pages of typed text for me! Sorry! This one will most likely be the longest.
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Harry lay in his bed, wide-awake. Which was no different than usual, except for one small thing: he was actually starting to get tired. This was something that hadn't happened in weeks. He had a feeling that it had to do with his visit with Sirius today. He felt almost as though a huge burden had been lifted off of his shoulders. He never knew feeling normal could be so nice. With a few words, Sirius had erased nearly all of the doubt and grief that Harry had. However, the tournament was still hard for him to talk about. Since his visit with Sirius, Harry had been mentally steeling himself to talk to Ron and Hermione, if not all the Weasley's, about what had happened the night of the third task. Even now he wasn't sure if he would be able to do it. But he knew that eventually, it would happen.
Harry had just received a letter from Dumbledore this evening, giving him his final permission to spend the last week of summer holiday with the Weasley's. The letter went over the new protection wards placed around the Burrow, reassuring Harry that he and the Weasley's would be safe for his weeklong visit. Dumbledore also mentioned that Mr. Weasley and Ron would be arriving at noon the next day to pick Harry up, using Floo Powder. Thankfully, the Dursley's had traded in their electric fire for a real-live one, and Floo Powder traveling should no longer hold any dangers. The Dursley's had given their permission for the visit surprisingly easily, but perhaps it was the thought of an abnormally quiet Harry out of their hair that helped them decide. In any case, at this time tomorrow, Harry would be at the Burrow, with a real family at last.
His mind whirling with anticipation (and, yes, some nervousness) about his upcoming visit, Harry Potter finally fell asleep.
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The Same Night,
The Burrow
"Now, I want all of you to listen to me," Mrs. Weasley said, looking sternly at her congregated family, focusing particularly hard on Fred and George, "Harry will be here at noon tomorrow, and we need to talk about a few things. First- you are NOT to question him about the tournament. He will tell us when he's ready. Secondly," now Mrs. Weasley turned full around, with her hands on her hips and glared at Fred and George. They eyed each nervously, but thought it best not to speak, "There are to be NO pranks played on Harry while he's here. That is the last thing he needs." The pranks at the Weasley household had increased dramatically over the summer. It seemed that the twins had come into a bit of a windfall, and everyone was highly suspicious of how they got that money. Ron thought he knew who it was, after receiving dress robes from the twins. But he knew that the last thing Harry needed was more attention. So he kept his ideas to himself, resolving to thank Harry later. "Lastly," Mrs. Weasley continued, looking at all her family members and holding their gazes for a moment, "Harry is family. We shall treat him as such. He needs us now more than he may know. If he wants to talk about You-Know- er, Voldemort, we will talk. The most important thing right now is for him to feel loved and comfortable. I don't think you will need reminding." The Weasleys all nodded. Molly felt comfortable that she wouldn't have any problems with them. "Now, why don't you all go to bed, we have a lot in store for us tomorrow."
With surprising obedience, all of the children went up into their respective rooms. It took a long time before they all fell asleep.
Ron woke up the next morning to hear his mother bustling around downstairs. His sleep-clogged mind took a few moments to remember that today was the day Harry was coming. His jumped out of bed in excitement, and hurriedly glanced around his room. Harry's bed was all set up, and his room was clean enough. He ran downstairs to see his mother cooking enough food to feed a small army. Mr. Weasley had already left for the Ministry, but would be back early to go with Ron to pick up Harry.
"Morning, mum," he greeted, plopping down in a chair and serving himself some sausage and eggs, "So, you have enough food, then?" Mrs. Weasley barely glanced his way before turning back to her pot where she was stirring something, presumably soup.
"Well, now, I don't know just how much Harry has been eating this summer. You know those dreadful relatives of his. He's probably near starving, and he needs fattening up, anyway. He's far too thin for his age, you know."
"Yes, mum, I know." Ron had heard this speech more times than he could count this summer. But, he thought, reflecting back to his last visit to the Dursley household, she is right. Harry doesn't get anything proper while he's there. This visit will be good for him. Mrs. Weasley interrupted Ron's meditation,
"Don't jus sit there, Ron! Go, wake up your brothers and sisters. They can lend a hand cleaning the place up. That garden needs de-gnoming again, and mind you do it properly this time. After you wake them, come back here and make yourself useful." Ron dashed back upstairs and woke his siblings. He felt a long morning was ahead of them.
And indeed it was. The Weasley children spent the morning scrubbing, weeding, cleaning and watering.
"Why can't she just do it herself with magic?" Groaned Fred as he hurled another gnome into the bushes. Ron nodded in agreement, but he thought that it was less that the chores needed doing than the fact that Mrs. Weasley wanted to keep her children occupied until Harry arrived.
"Ron!" Mrs. Weasley called from inside the house, "Your father has just arrived. Come on in and clean up, or you'll be late fetching Harry!" Ron immediately dropped everything and sprinted inside the house. He was downstairs in record time, and joined his father at the fireplace. Mr. Weasley looked down at his son and said,
"All ready then?" Ron nodded eagerly, and stepped towards the fire, but Mr. Weasley wasn't finished,
"Er- are you sure that the fire is safe this time? No eckeltrikity, is there?"
"No, dad," Ron reassured his father, "Harry owled me to say that everything was okay. His aunt and uncle put in a real fire." Relief smoothed Mr. Weasley's worried features.
"Oh, good. Well, what are we waiting for? Number Four, Privet Drive!" Mr. Weasley shouted, and walked into the fire. Ron followed suit, and soon found himself in the living room of the Dursley's house.
***********************************************************************
A grinning Harry, who gave him a hand up off the floor, greeted him. How did I get there, wondered Ron. Never mind that, say something to him!
"Harry!" Ron exclaimed, positively grinning from ear to ear. "How are you, mate?"
"I'm doing as well as can be expected, spending quality time with Dursley's." Was it Ron's imagination, or did Harry's happy expression flicker just a little bit before turning back to normal? Ron studied Harry's face carefully. He seemed paler than usual, and there were dark circles underneath his eyes, hinting at long, sleepless night. Other than that, he looked not better or worse than when Ron had seen him last. Which, Ron thought, was neither a good or bad thing. Feeling that the silence had lasted too long, Ron searched frantically for something to say,
"Speaking of them, where are they?" At this Harry gave a true smile and said,
"Oh, they decided that they didn't want to be here when you guys showed up, for some reason." Ron could see his father's jaw tighten at this. Ron remembered last year, when his father had gotten upset at the Dursley's refusal to say goodbye to Harry. How would he react to this? Thankfully, Mr. Weasley said nothing, just turned to Harry and stated,
"Well, it's good to see you. Have you got your things?" Harry nodded indicating to his trunk, already packed with everything he needed. "All right, let's head out, then!"
Ron and Harry followed Mr. Weasley back into the fire, and back into the house which Harry secretly thought of his home. Thankfully, Harry did not fall on the return trip this time, and was greeted by five smiling, freckled faces- Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, Fred, George, and Charlie, (who was on a vacation from Romania). All was silent for a moment, then Mrs. Weasley rushed forward,
"Oh, Harry, dear, it's so good to see you!" She enveloped Harry in a bone-crunching hug. This seemed to trigger a reaction from the remaining Weasleys, and they all surged forward to welcome Harry.
"Good to see you mate!"
"How ya been?"
"How's ol' Dudley doing?"
"Hello, Harry," this was from a very red-faced and shy Ginny. Last to come up was Charlie, who gave Harry a hearty handshake and said,
"Good to see you again, Harry." Harry said all his hellos and then stepped back a little, trying to think of something to say.
"Wow, Mrs. Weasley, what smells so good?" Very intelligent, a nasty voice inside his head whispered. These words sent Molly Weasley into a flurry.
"Oh, dear, how rude of me! Come, come, everyone, sit down, its lunchtime!" She ushered everyone out to the backyard where a large picnic table with all the place settings was laden with delicious-looking food. For the next hour, everyone talked, ate, and laughed. It was just like old times Ron though. Harry was a bit quieter that usual, but other than that, everything was going fine. As they finished up, Ron turned to Harry, and stretching, said,
"Game of quidditch?" Harry grinned and said,
"I'll go get my Firebolt," and raced into the house to his trunk.
Fred, George, Ron, and Harry played quidditch until night, when they came in to eat. Never had Harry felt so utterly exhausted and happy at the same time. He and Ron went up to bed at around ten o'clock and for the first time since school let out, Harry Potter fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.
**************************************************************************************
Harry was doing well, Ron reflected as he stared up at his ceiling and listened to his best friend's deep, steady breathing. Sure, he hasn't mentioned anything about what happened, but he has been acting pretty normal otherwise. Maybe that visit with Sirius really helped him...Yes, Ron thought, as sleep overcame him, things seemed to be on the up-and-up.
Several hours later, still in the middle of the night, a thrashing sound and a loud moaning awakened Ron. What's that? What's going on? Ron struggled t get awake. The sounds were becoming louder, and they were coming from his room. Oh, no! It's Harry! Ron leaped out of bed and hurried to his friends' side. Harry's cries were growing progressively louder, and Ron now could tell what he was saying.
"No! No, please! No, Cedric!" Ron's heart leapt to his throat. Harry was dreaming of the third task. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley rushed into the room, followed closely by Fred and George.
"What's going on? Who's yelling?" This was followed by a gasp, then, "Oh! What's wrong with Harry?!" Ron said,
"He's having a nightmare. I think he's dreaming of the third task..." Everyone watched, horrorstruck, as Harry started thrashing, and then let out an animal-like scream. All of a sudden, he was quiet. Then he whispered something that made everyone's heart feel like it was about to break,
"Mum? Dad?" Finally, Ron couldn't take it anymore. He bent over Harry and shook him roughly.
"Harry! Harry! Come on, mate, come on, wake up! It's a dream! Harry, please, wake up!" Harry's eyes snapped open, and he looked around, disoriented. He fingers clutched the bed sheets so hard his knuckles were white, and he was breathing in short, staggered gasps. "Harry, you're at the Burrow. You're in my room, it's okay," Ron said, very softly, so as not to startle him. Everyone else was silent.
"Ron? Oh, Merlin, it was so real...so real..." Harry's face was still white and drenched with sweat. Ron asked timidly,
"Were you dreaming of...Voldemort? Of the third task?" Harry nodded, his mind still stuck back in his horrible dream. Then, when he realized what he had just admitted, he looked up at the people crowded around his bed. Should I tell them? If not now, then when? Harry took a deep breath, and before he lost his nerve, plunged ahead, his eyes fixed at a nondescript point on the wall. He began speaking in a flat tone,
"Cedric and I got to the cup at the same time. We argued; I wanted him to take it, he wanted me to. Finally, I told him we would take the cup together. I convinced him that it was a good idea. 'It's a Hogwarts victory,' I said, 'We'll tie.' He agreed.
"The cup was a portkey. It took up to a graveyard. Right after we got there, we heard someone coming...then, a voice. 'Kill the spare', it said. The spare. Cedric dropped right next to me." Molly made a movement as if to comfort Harry, then stopped. Harry continued in that same monotonous voice, "A Deatheater came out. Took me to a tombstone. Tied me to it with rope. It was Peter Pettigrew, Wormtail." At this there were two distinct gasps, from Fred and George, who did not yet know the truth about Sirius Black. Thankfully, they did not say anything. "Pettigrew took out a cauldron, made some potion. He took the bone of the father, the flesh of the servant, and...blood of the enemy." Here, Harry started to rub the crook of his arm, and then rolled up his sleeve to show them. The scar still stood out livid, none of Madam Pomfrey's healing potions could make it dissapear. When Harry said these words, Ron felt a surge of anger. Harry had been stabbed? They had taken his *blood*!
Harry took one, great, shuddering breath, and continued. He outlined everything that had happened in precise detail. He talked of the Cruciatus curse with only the tiniest bit of pain in his voice. When he came to the part of the duel with Voldemort, and how he had seen Diggory and his parents, he buried his face in his hands. When he finished, telling them of how he grabbed Cedric's body and fled, the room was deathly quiet. No one knew what to say.
Finally, Harry looked up at them, holding their eyes for a few moments. No one failed to miss the pain that was there. Then, Harry said in a voice so painfilled and tortured that it made Mrs. Weasley want to throw her arms around him,
"So now you know."
**************************************************************************************
There we are. I will have a long author's note at the beginning of next chapter, if you're looking for it. So, there it was. I feel like it's awful. I think I did it all wrong...ugh...I feel like I let you guys down. NOW it's time to throw the rotten food. I hope you guys liked it more than me!
Balizabeth