A/N: Sorry you guys who received an "update" notice and was surprised to find nothing new. I'm been correcting spelling errors, etc. My typing sucks, what can I say? Sometimes, I type faster than I think. From all the "???" I've been getting in my reviews, let me just ask, "Does anyone now the ending of a story at the beginning?" Everything (and I mean EVERYTHING) ties together in the end. Sorry *Dumbledore's True Love*, I decided to save that title you gave me for a more important chapter :) And "Golden Snitch," I have no clue what your review means. Oh yes, before I forget. Sorry this doesn't sound JK-ish anymore. I know the real HP series would never show any point of view other than Harry's, but I couldn't resist!
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Chapter 11
Denial
It hit him, like a half-forgotten memory. He felt himself tumble effortlessly down the steps of the Gryffindor Tower. "Not again," he pleaded with the dream. "Please, I don't want to know!" But the dream persisted, soothingly and painlessly taking him through the events again. He head hit the last flight of steps at an odd angle, and a distinct snapping sound echo in the eerie, distant ways dream have of emphasizing points. "Noo! Please..." he thought to himself as, once again, Harry looked up at the top of the steps. And saw Ron and Hermione, with distinctive smiles on their faces.
"No!" Harry cried as, thrashing and turning, he fell out of his bed. He knew he should consciously try to remember this dream, especially since it had left him with a prevailing feeling of uneasiness, but... his friends were the only people left he could really trust. They had gotten through so much *together* that it seemed blasphemous to even try and think of them badly. "This is ridiculous! Ron and Hermione are NOT going to push me down the stairs!" he said to himself out loud, as if convincing himself of that fact. Relieved, he felt the dream fade from his memory once again. He climbed back into bed and fell into a dreamless sleep.
The figure that had watched him from behind the curtains had, at one point, almost rushed to the dreaming Harry, seeing his flailing fists and agonized face. But that thought had quickly evaporated from the intruder's thoughts as Harry fell off the bed and awoke, and had then said the most astounding thing. It was obvious to the intruder what the next step would be. Reinforcements would have to be brought in. "We'll have to keep a closer eye on him." The figure melted back into the shadows.
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"Harry, wake up!" The hand shook his shoulder insistently. "What....I'm up already!" said Harry rather nastily as, squinting, he reached for his glasses. Once he had adjusted them, he glared up at Ron, who was already dressed and ready for the day. "Come on, Harry!" he said impatiently. "I haven't been able to use my wand all summer! Let's go! If we're lucky, I get a chance to warm up by hexing Malfoy again..." his eyes gleamed as this pleasing possibily came to mind. They both shared a grin as they remembered the last time they had used magic together. It had been in the train coming home, when they had cursed Malfoy and his gouls.
A shadow passed Harry's face for a second, marring his face. But it passed quicky. "What's wrong, Harry?" said Ron with a show of concern. Harry could tell that he was trying to make up for yesterday's coldness. It reminded him to ask Ron later just why he had acted that way. "Nothing's wrong," said Harry quickly. I think I might have had a nightmare last night, but I just have this *feeling* now." "You know how important your dreams can be!" said Ron. "Maybe you should go to Dumbledore and he'll fish that dream out..." "No!" said Harry abruptly. "I mean..er... I'm entitled to some normal dreams and nightmares every once in a while, aren't I? Besides, I'm in Hogwarts! Voldemort can't get to me here." "I really hope you're right," said Ron dubiously. "Get dressed and let's go eat!"
They met up with Hermione in the Gryffindor common room. They were running a bit behind schedule, but the tower was already quite empty. "Hermione!" both boys gasped in unison. "What?" she said self-consciously. "What did you do to your hair?" asked Ron in amazement. "Well, it couldn't stay frizzy forever, now could it?" she said rather primly. Instead of the masses of brown hair that typified Hermione, she had somehow managed to sleek it down, not much, but it made a difference. "It's so much easier to handle..." she said hesitantly. "Is it okay?" Ron nodded immediately.
"Harry?" she asked quietly. Harry considered for a second, before saying, "Once I'm used to it, I'll love it. But why the change?" It was her turn to stall. "I... er.... felt like a change was in order. After all, we'll be leaving Hogwarts in only two more years, and it would've been rather strange of me to not have changed at all by then." With that, she picked up her books and and pointedly walked through the portrait hole, waiting for them to catch up. "We'll be late if we don't hurry. Everyone else is down there already."
While walking toward to the Great Hall, Harry considered Hermione's words. "Change," he muttered to himself. He had gone through so much over the past five years, and what did he have to show for it? As far as he was concerned, he was essentially the same person that had first come to Hogwarts as an eleven year old boy. Ron and Hermione were the ones changing. All Harry himself had done was go and get taller. Ron and Hermione had done that as well, but something else had happened.
Now, Harry took a good look at his two friends. A *real* look. He noted that Ron's hair had been cut shorter than usual. He had grown broader... more like his older brothers. He was also looking at Hermione differently nowadays. Did he.... No! Harry shook his head thoroughly. He wasn't going to think of Hermione and Ron that way. He wasn't sure exactly why he felt so adamantly about this, but the feeling was there all the same. To prove this to himself, he didn't even consider analyzing Hermione, at least not yet.
"We're here!" said Hermione brightly. The hall was teeming with life. The whole of Hogwarts was here, and Harry noted with astonishment that he was, again, starving. After dinner last night, he had thought himself full for life.
With a shrug, he sat down, as usual, between Ron and Hermione. "Umm, Harry," began Ron hesitantly. "Would you mind if I sat next to Hermione today?" There was such a pleading look in Ron's eyes as he made that simple request, it would've been cruel to refuse. Harry was about to ask why when his earlier reflections about Ron suddenly came back to mind, and he bit it back just in the nick of time. They traded seats quickly. Hermione looked up questioningly at Harry. He could only shrug and move aside.
There was an akward silence. Harry, feeling rather foolish, and annoyed at the way Ron was acting, was about to joke about the way he was flushing at the moment when Professor Dumbledore stood up at the teachers' table. The room hushed instantly, though some Slytherins made a big point out of continuing their conversations. Harry looked at that particular table in anger, and saw, for the first time, just how many fewer Slytherins there were this year.
"Students!" said Dumbledore with unusual emotion in his voice. "Now that you all have had the chance to rest and refresh yourselves, ("So that's why he didn't give a speech last night!" said Hermione.) I'd like to go over some rules. First of all, no one at all is allowed in the Forbidden Forest. This year, this even applies to the faculty." There was an almost comically surprised look on Hagrid's face, who was sitting at the teachers' table as well, but Hagrid respected Dumbledore too much to interrupt his speech. "Also, there will be no trips to Hogsmeade." Now, a storm of protest did well up. The older students looked aghast. The first years had no clue what the fuss was about.
Dumbledore, unperturbed, continued. "Voldemort, a new, fully revived Voldemort, is now a very real threat." A sixth-year student at the Ravenclaw table said a bit too loudly to her friend, "I hear this whole business about You-Know-Who is a hoax." Professor Gonagall cried out, "Ten points from Ravenclaw!" and the girl cringed back. "I assure you all that Voldemort is back!" said Dumbledore with a strength in his voice that everyone heard clearly. "Cedric Digory did not die in vain!" There was silence in the room, as even the Slytherins paused momentarily before resuming their talking.
"Why doesn't Snape do anything about those creeps?" mouthed Harry to Ron. "Snape's probably a spy for Voldemort and doesn't care," said Ron bitterly. Harry decided that now wasn't the best time to tell him that Snape was Dumbledore's son.
"I want you all to know that you are safe from Voldemort and his dark magic. We have drastically upgraded our security system here at the castle. There will be teachers patrolling the halls afterschool, and a weekly dusting of the school for magical tampering. Not to worry," said Dumbledore with a quick look in Harry's direction. "There will never be a dementor on these grounds. The Minister has no power here." With that, Dumbledore sat down, and a buzz of excited chatter quickly ensued.
"Why did Dumbledore just say that Fudge can't do anything?" thought Hermione out loud. "Of course he can. Fudge can dismiss Dumbledore if he had enough people behind him." "Maybe Fudge and Dumbledore made a deal," said Harry without thinking. "That's it! But what would Fudge have that Dumbledore wants?" pondered Hermione. "Dumbledore always seemed to be one step ahead of Fudge in the past." Harry felt a chill go up his spine. But it passed, and Harry soon forgot all about it.
Harry and Hermione were waiting for Ron to finish his cereal when Professor Snape appeared. He was wearing his usual "I hate Harry" snarl and Harry unconsciously balled up his fists and stood up. Hermione rose up beside him and placed a warning hand on Harry's arm. "Harry, Professor McGonagall wants to see you," he said curtly. "Better tell your girlfriend she can stop holding you back now." With that, he twirled around and made his way hastily to the Slytherin table.
Harry sighed with relief. No battle of wills today. He saw that Hermione still had her hand on his forearm. He arched an eyebrow at her and motioned to it. Hermione started and let go quickly. Behind them, Ron choked.
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"Professor?" Harry asked, before entering the office. "Harry!" she said with a taunt face. "Please, sit down." Harry complied. She began, "Professor Dumbledore said that I should remind you that you're not to discuss the tutoring you've been going through over the past week or two. He wants you to mingle with the other students and not discuss any new spells you might have learned. You are not to tell anyone that you might be the Phoenix." Harry stared at her. Dumbledore had told McGonagall that he was the Phoenix? Dumbledore had sounded so urgent when he had implied that this knowledge was on a need-to-know basis. Still, Professor McGonagall was the head of Gryffindor, and the more Harry thought about it, the more he reasoned that she had all the right in the world to know.
"I'll do that," he said. "You see," she rushed, "most people have heard the legend. We wouldn't want this to get around." She seemed to be done, so he prepared to leave. "Harry." He turned around, expectant. There was a pause before she said softly, "Not even Ron and Hermione. Don't tell them anything crucial. Too much is at stake, and your friends might..." She rolled her eyes helplessly, trying to avoid saying something. "What?" "Your friends might be kidnapped and tortured. People tend to break down under the Cruciatus Curse. I *hear* that a certain deatheater is very adapt at making Veratasium." Harry considered her words. What was going on? McGonagall was looking at him pleadingly, as if trying to convey some message. "Not to worry, Harry," she continued in a barely audible voice. "Rumors can prove false." He looked into her eyes for a while, before she broke the gaze and turned around purposefully, motioning to him with a hand to leave. He did as he was told.
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Dianna smiled to herself, as she waved her hand over the mirror, turning it into a portal. After the initial shock of seeing her, Fudge had tried to convince the guards into arresting her and sending her back into exile. Fools! Just because she had been easy to subdue once before, fifteen years ago, the guards had advanced with cocky sureness. With a wave of a finger, she had sent the four burly wizards into the air and had glued their wands to the ceiling. She had then sent a warning look at Fudge, and left the building on her own.
The portal before her began to shift, as a figure began to sharpen. Dianna gazed with hungry fascination at the sight of a fifteen year old boy in black robes talk animatedly to someone off to the side. She saw, with delight, that the boy had Lily's green eyes and James' wild black hair. Such a beautiful child.
She took one last look at her nephew before waving her hand over the mirror once more, bringing another face to the smooth surface. The woman in the mirror looked about, as if sensing Dianna. She then looked straight into Dianna's eyes and smiled. "How is he?" Dianna said quietly. "As well as can be expected my dear," replied the woman. "I'm concerned. He's denying dreams being sent to him. I'm sure they're like Lily's...glimpses into the future....I need you here to help." I'll do what I can," Dianna promised. The woman looked around quickly. "Someone's coming," said the woman quickly. Dianna quickly destroyed the portal, and the image evaporated.
"See anything you like?" Dianna turned around. A young sales clerk with sandy brown hair gave her a winning smile. "No," she said curtly and walked out of the appliance store. Her business there was done. There was no longer a reason to stay in the muggle store, even if she *was* avoiding Ministry workers. She knew what Fudge was doing at that very moment. She didn't need to spy on him to have some sort of clue. He was probably out there, wasting Ministry resources trying to find her... She shuddered and once again took to the streets.
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"I WANT HER FOUND!" shouted Fudge to the thirty assembled Ministry workers. Arthur Weasely grimaced at the hoarseness of the Minister's voice. With his bulging, red-shot eyes, and pale, unshaven face, the Minister was a mess. He did not exude the calm, commanding charisma that leaders needed, and Arthur found it hard to respect him.
"Excuse me, Sir," said a young, naive official. "Why are we so concerned over this," he paused to flip through his notes, "Dianna DeBourgh?" "Obviously new," thought Arthur. Either new, or incredibly stupid. "It is not your place to question!" said Fudge haughtily. "For your information, she is an extremely dangerous person, a menace to the wizarding world!" "But," persisted the young man, "it says here that her only offense toward the Ministry was being found snooping through some files! We have nothing to hide, so why all the fuss?" Arthur counted mentally to ten and, right on cue, Fudge exploded. His face, a dull red, wreathed itself into an ugly frown as he shouted, "Shut up! I am privy to more knowledge than you! You do not know half the things I know of this DeBourgh character. She's crazy! A real mental case." The guy wasn't a weakling, but he wasn't dumb either. He didn't cower, but he wisely decided to keep quiet. Lucius Malfoy, who had also been called, snickered loudly. The new Ministry worker decided not to mention that Dianna DeBourgh had only been eleven years old when found in the Records Room.
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Voldemort was worried. Dumbledore wasn't doing a thing right. That is to say, he wasn't following the actions Voldemort himself had expected of him. He cursed loudly. Harry was going to be harder to affect than expected. With his primary spy at Hogwarts busy trying to avoid suspicion, and his second locked away in an infirmary and reportedly insane, Voldemort was in a rage. He had no idea what was going on at the school, and Malfoy was being less than ideally cooperative.
"Malfoy! Where is he?" screamed Voldemort. "Ex..excuse me, master," whimpered Wormtail, "but Lucius Malfoy is at the Ministry." "What is he doing there? Why is he not by my side?" raved Voldemort. Wormtail shivered, and asked himself, for the hundredth time, just *why* he had preferred being in Voldemort's service to death at the hands of Sirius Black and Lupin. He reasoned that death at the hands of his former friends would have been less painful than any death inflicted by Voldemort. "Master, Minister Fudge had ordered almost all his workers to report to him. They are off chasing some criminal." "Leave me," roared Voldemort. Wormtail scampered away gladly.
Voldemort considered the new situation. With Harry and his friends safely tucked in Hogwarts, there was nothing, at the moment, Voldemort could think of doing to them. Lucius had proved to be unexpectantly protective of his son. "I don't want Draco involved!" he had said respectfully, but with iron certainty behind his words. It didn't matter. Let Draco continue to be a petty annoyance in Potter's life.
If only he could kill off those relatives of Harry's! That aunt and uncle that he had seen so many times in his dreams. They were probably the ones Dumbledore had charmed to protect Harry. Blood ties did make protective charms stronger.
He absently rubbed the scar tissue on his chest. It brought back memories. Memories he used to fuel his hatred of the last Potter. He smiled as he recalled the joy of striking down James and Lily Potter. The bliss! But the babe... that Harry had ruined everything.
Voldemort felt an ache start in the scar on his chest. Moaning, he rubbed his scar, trying to soothe the pain away. "What..." he cried out as the pain intensified. It had never been so bad before. But why? Eyes clenched, he shouted and swore and cursed the day Harry had marked him in this way. A meddlesome clock somewhere chimed the hour. Nine o' clock.
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Harry listened absently as Professor Sprout began the very first lesson of the very first day. He had been thinking of his parents; of the image he now had of them from his brief encounter with them after Cedric's death. Love and grief clouded his mind painfully as he recalled the way his mum and dad had protected him from Voldemort.
He accidentally caught Hermione's eye during Sprout's lecture and felt a funny, tingling feeling in his chest. A clock chimed. It was nine.
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Dianna saw a group of men walk toward her, with wands gripped in their hands, barely noticeable under their dark trench coats. They pushed rudely through the muggle crowd, obstinately and crudely progressing closer. She recognized them as an elite assassination squad. And there was no question about it. They had spotted her.
She turned quickly into a dark alleyway. If a fight broke out, she didn't want to be the cause of innocent muggle deaths. Finding a corner made by two, close-knitted buildings and laced with spider webs, she made a sudden, well-coordinated twist of her body and drove herself into the darkness of the crevice. In this moment of uncetainty, she closed her eyes, and focused her thoughts on her sister, Lily, and brother-in-law, James. most of all she thought of Harry, the nephew she had never met. A great gush of love prevaded her body and she wallowed in it, finding strength. She opened her eyes and gazed up. She could see Big Ben. "When the clock hits 9:01," she thought to herself, "I'll attack. No matter what. I refuse to die that easily!"
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Chapter 11
Denial
It hit him, like a half-forgotten memory. He felt himself tumble effortlessly down the steps of the Gryffindor Tower. "Not again," he pleaded with the dream. "Please, I don't want to know!" But the dream persisted, soothingly and painlessly taking him through the events again. He head hit the last flight of steps at an odd angle, and a distinct snapping sound echo in the eerie, distant ways dream have of emphasizing points. "Noo! Please..." he thought to himself as, once again, Harry looked up at the top of the steps. And saw Ron and Hermione, with distinctive smiles on their faces.
"No!" Harry cried as, thrashing and turning, he fell out of his bed. He knew he should consciously try to remember this dream, especially since it had left him with a prevailing feeling of uneasiness, but... his friends were the only people left he could really trust. They had gotten through so much *together* that it seemed blasphemous to even try and think of them badly. "This is ridiculous! Ron and Hermione are NOT going to push me down the stairs!" he said to himself out loud, as if convincing himself of that fact. Relieved, he felt the dream fade from his memory once again. He climbed back into bed and fell into a dreamless sleep.
The figure that had watched him from behind the curtains had, at one point, almost rushed to the dreaming Harry, seeing his flailing fists and agonized face. But that thought had quickly evaporated from the intruder's thoughts as Harry fell off the bed and awoke, and had then said the most astounding thing. It was obvious to the intruder what the next step would be. Reinforcements would have to be brought in. "We'll have to keep a closer eye on him." The figure melted back into the shadows.
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"Harry, wake up!" The hand shook his shoulder insistently. "What....I'm up already!" said Harry rather nastily as, squinting, he reached for his glasses. Once he had adjusted them, he glared up at Ron, who was already dressed and ready for the day. "Come on, Harry!" he said impatiently. "I haven't been able to use my wand all summer! Let's go! If we're lucky, I get a chance to warm up by hexing Malfoy again..." his eyes gleamed as this pleasing possibily came to mind. They both shared a grin as they remembered the last time they had used magic together. It had been in the train coming home, when they had cursed Malfoy and his gouls.
A shadow passed Harry's face for a second, marring his face. But it passed quicky. "What's wrong, Harry?" said Ron with a show of concern. Harry could tell that he was trying to make up for yesterday's coldness. It reminded him to ask Ron later just why he had acted that way. "Nothing's wrong," said Harry quickly. I think I might have had a nightmare last night, but I just have this *feeling* now." "You know how important your dreams can be!" said Ron. "Maybe you should go to Dumbledore and he'll fish that dream out..." "No!" said Harry abruptly. "I mean..er... I'm entitled to some normal dreams and nightmares every once in a while, aren't I? Besides, I'm in Hogwarts! Voldemort can't get to me here." "I really hope you're right," said Ron dubiously. "Get dressed and let's go eat!"
They met up with Hermione in the Gryffindor common room. They were running a bit behind schedule, but the tower was already quite empty. "Hermione!" both boys gasped in unison. "What?" she said self-consciously. "What did you do to your hair?" asked Ron in amazement. "Well, it couldn't stay frizzy forever, now could it?" she said rather primly. Instead of the masses of brown hair that typified Hermione, she had somehow managed to sleek it down, not much, but it made a difference. "It's so much easier to handle..." she said hesitantly. "Is it okay?" Ron nodded immediately.
"Harry?" she asked quietly. Harry considered for a second, before saying, "Once I'm used to it, I'll love it. But why the change?" It was her turn to stall. "I... er.... felt like a change was in order. After all, we'll be leaving Hogwarts in only two more years, and it would've been rather strange of me to not have changed at all by then." With that, she picked up her books and and pointedly walked through the portrait hole, waiting for them to catch up. "We'll be late if we don't hurry. Everyone else is down there already."
While walking toward to the Great Hall, Harry considered Hermione's words. "Change," he muttered to himself. He had gone through so much over the past five years, and what did he have to show for it? As far as he was concerned, he was essentially the same person that had first come to Hogwarts as an eleven year old boy. Ron and Hermione were the ones changing. All Harry himself had done was go and get taller. Ron and Hermione had done that as well, but something else had happened.
Now, Harry took a good look at his two friends. A *real* look. He noted that Ron's hair had been cut shorter than usual. He had grown broader... more like his older brothers. He was also looking at Hermione differently nowadays. Did he.... No! Harry shook his head thoroughly. He wasn't going to think of Hermione and Ron that way. He wasn't sure exactly why he felt so adamantly about this, but the feeling was there all the same. To prove this to himself, he didn't even consider analyzing Hermione, at least not yet.
"We're here!" said Hermione brightly. The hall was teeming with life. The whole of Hogwarts was here, and Harry noted with astonishment that he was, again, starving. After dinner last night, he had thought himself full for life.
With a shrug, he sat down, as usual, between Ron and Hermione. "Umm, Harry," began Ron hesitantly. "Would you mind if I sat next to Hermione today?" There was such a pleading look in Ron's eyes as he made that simple request, it would've been cruel to refuse. Harry was about to ask why when his earlier reflections about Ron suddenly came back to mind, and he bit it back just in the nick of time. They traded seats quickly. Hermione looked up questioningly at Harry. He could only shrug and move aside.
There was an akward silence. Harry, feeling rather foolish, and annoyed at the way Ron was acting, was about to joke about the way he was flushing at the moment when Professor Dumbledore stood up at the teachers' table. The room hushed instantly, though some Slytherins made a big point out of continuing their conversations. Harry looked at that particular table in anger, and saw, for the first time, just how many fewer Slytherins there were this year.
"Students!" said Dumbledore with unusual emotion in his voice. "Now that you all have had the chance to rest and refresh yourselves, ("So that's why he didn't give a speech last night!" said Hermione.) I'd like to go over some rules. First of all, no one at all is allowed in the Forbidden Forest. This year, this even applies to the faculty." There was an almost comically surprised look on Hagrid's face, who was sitting at the teachers' table as well, but Hagrid respected Dumbledore too much to interrupt his speech. "Also, there will be no trips to Hogsmeade." Now, a storm of protest did well up. The older students looked aghast. The first years had no clue what the fuss was about.
Dumbledore, unperturbed, continued. "Voldemort, a new, fully revived Voldemort, is now a very real threat." A sixth-year student at the Ravenclaw table said a bit too loudly to her friend, "I hear this whole business about You-Know-Who is a hoax." Professor Gonagall cried out, "Ten points from Ravenclaw!" and the girl cringed back. "I assure you all that Voldemort is back!" said Dumbledore with a strength in his voice that everyone heard clearly. "Cedric Digory did not die in vain!" There was silence in the room, as even the Slytherins paused momentarily before resuming their talking.
"Why doesn't Snape do anything about those creeps?" mouthed Harry to Ron. "Snape's probably a spy for Voldemort and doesn't care," said Ron bitterly. Harry decided that now wasn't the best time to tell him that Snape was Dumbledore's son.
"I want you all to know that you are safe from Voldemort and his dark magic. We have drastically upgraded our security system here at the castle. There will be teachers patrolling the halls afterschool, and a weekly dusting of the school for magical tampering. Not to worry," said Dumbledore with a quick look in Harry's direction. "There will never be a dementor on these grounds. The Minister has no power here." With that, Dumbledore sat down, and a buzz of excited chatter quickly ensued.
"Why did Dumbledore just say that Fudge can't do anything?" thought Hermione out loud. "Of course he can. Fudge can dismiss Dumbledore if he had enough people behind him." "Maybe Fudge and Dumbledore made a deal," said Harry without thinking. "That's it! But what would Fudge have that Dumbledore wants?" pondered Hermione. "Dumbledore always seemed to be one step ahead of Fudge in the past." Harry felt a chill go up his spine. But it passed, and Harry soon forgot all about it.
Harry and Hermione were waiting for Ron to finish his cereal when Professor Snape appeared. He was wearing his usual "I hate Harry" snarl and Harry unconsciously balled up his fists and stood up. Hermione rose up beside him and placed a warning hand on Harry's arm. "Harry, Professor McGonagall wants to see you," he said curtly. "Better tell your girlfriend she can stop holding you back now." With that, he twirled around and made his way hastily to the Slytherin table.
Harry sighed with relief. No battle of wills today. He saw that Hermione still had her hand on his forearm. He arched an eyebrow at her and motioned to it. Hermione started and let go quickly. Behind them, Ron choked.
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"Professor?" Harry asked, before entering the office. "Harry!" she said with a taunt face. "Please, sit down." Harry complied. She began, "Professor Dumbledore said that I should remind you that you're not to discuss the tutoring you've been going through over the past week or two. He wants you to mingle with the other students and not discuss any new spells you might have learned. You are not to tell anyone that you might be the Phoenix." Harry stared at her. Dumbledore had told McGonagall that he was the Phoenix? Dumbledore had sounded so urgent when he had implied that this knowledge was on a need-to-know basis. Still, Professor McGonagall was the head of Gryffindor, and the more Harry thought about it, the more he reasoned that she had all the right in the world to know.
"I'll do that," he said. "You see," she rushed, "most people have heard the legend. We wouldn't want this to get around." She seemed to be done, so he prepared to leave. "Harry." He turned around, expectant. There was a pause before she said softly, "Not even Ron and Hermione. Don't tell them anything crucial. Too much is at stake, and your friends might..." She rolled her eyes helplessly, trying to avoid saying something. "What?" "Your friends might be kidnapped and tortured. People tend to break down under the Cruciatus Curse. I *hear* that a certain deatheater is very adapt at making Veratasium." Harry considered her words. What was going on? McGonagall was looking at him pleadingly, as if trying to convey some message. "Not to worry, Harry," she continued in a barely audible voice. "Rumors can prove false." He looked into her eyes for a while, before she broke the gaze and turned around purposefully, motioning to him with a hand to leave. He did as he was told.
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Dianna smiled to herself, as she waved her hand over the mirror, turning it into a portal. After the initial shock of seeing her, Fudge had tried to convince the guards into arresting her and sending her back into exile. Fools! Just because she had been easy to subdue once before, fifteen years ago, the guards had advanced with cocky sureness. With a wave of a finger, she had sent the four burly wizards into the air and had glued their wands to the ceiling. She had then sent a warning look at Fudge, and left the building on her own.
The portal before her began to shift, as a figure began to sharpen. Dianna gazed with hungry fascination at the sight of a fifteen year old boy in black robes talk animatedly to someone off to the side. She saw, with delight, that the boy had Lily's green eyes and James' wild black hair. Such a beautiful child.
She took one last look at her nephew before waving her hand over the mirror once more, bringing another face to the smooth surface. The woman in the mirror looked about, as if sensing Dianna. She then looked straight into Dianna's eyes and smiled. "How is he?" Dianna said quietly. "As well as can be expected my dear," replied the woman. "I'm concerned. He's denying dreams being sent to him. I'm sure they're like Lily's...glimpses into the future....I need you here to help." I'll do what I can," Dianna promised. The woman looked around quickly. "Someone's coming," said the woman quickly. Dianna quickly destroyed the portal, and the image evaporated.
"See anything you like?" Dianna turned around. A young sales clerk with sandy brown hair gave her a winning smile. "No," she said curtly and walked out of the appliance store. Her business there was done. There was no longer a reason to stay in the muggle store, even if she *was* avoiding Ministry workers. She knew what Fudge was doing at that very moment. She didn't need to spy on him to have some sort of clue. He was probably out there, wasting Ministry resources trying to find her... She shuddered and once again took to the streets.
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"I WANT HER FOUND!" shouted Fudge to the thirty assembled Ministry workers. Arthur Weasely grimaced at the hoarseness of the Minister's voice. With his bulging, red-shot eyes, and pale, unshaven face, the Minister was a mess. He did not exude the calm, commanding charisma that leaders needed, and Arthur found it hard to respect him.
"Excuse me, Sir," said a young, naive official. "Why are we so concerned over this," he paused to flip through his notes, "Dianna DeBourgh?" "Obviously new," thought Arthur. Either new, or incredibly stupid. "It is not your place to question!" said Fudge haughtily. "For your information, she is an extremely dangerous person, a menace to the wizarding world!" "But," persisted the young man, "it says here that her only offense toward the Ministry was being found snooping through some files! We have nothing to hide, so why all the fuss?" Arthur counted mentally to ten and, right on cue, Fudge exploded. His face, a dull red, wreathed itself into an ugly frown as he shouted, "Shut up! I am privy to more knowledge than you! You do not know half the things I know of this DeBourgh character. She's crazy! A real mental case." The guy wasn't a weakling, but he wasn't dumb either. He didn't cower, but he wisely decided to keep quiet. Lucius Malfoy, who had also been called, snickered loudly. The new Ministry worker decided not to mention that Dianna DeBourgh had only been eleven years old when found in the Records Room.
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Voldemort was worried. Dumbledore wasn't doing a thing right. That is to say, he wasn't following the actions Voldemort himself had expected of him. He cursed loudly. Harry was going to be harder to affect than expected. With his primary spy at Hogwarts busy trying to avoid suspicion, and his second locked away in an infirmary and reportedly insane, Voldemort was in a rage. He had no idea what was going on at the school, and Malfoy was being less than ideally cooperative.
"Malfoy! Where is he?" screamed Voldemort. "Ex..excuse me, master," whimpered Wormtail, "but Lucius Malfoy is at the Ministry." "What is he doing there? Why is he not by my side?" raved Voldemort. Wormtail shivered, and asked himself, for the hundredth time, just *why* he had preferred being in Voldemort's service to death at the hands of Sirius Black and Lupin. He reasoned that death at the hands of his former friends would have been less painful than any death inflicted by Voldemort. "Master, Minister Fudge had ordered almost all his workers to report to him. They are off chasing some criminal." "Leave me," roared Voldemort. Wormtail scampered away gladly.
Voldemort considered the new situation. With Harry and his friends safely tucked in Hogwarts, there was nothing, at the moment, Voldemort could think of doing to them. Lucius had proved to be unexpectantly protective of his son. "I don't want Draco involved!" he had said respectfully, but with iron certainty behind his words. It didn't matter. Let Draco continue to be a petty annoyance in Potter's life.
If only he could kill off those relatives of Harry's! That aunt and uncle that he had seen so many times in his dreams. They were probably the ones Dumbledore had charmed to protect Harry. Blood ties did make protective charms stronger.
He absently rubbed the scar tissue on his chest. It brought back memories. Memories he used to fuel his hatred of the last Potter. He smiled as he recalled the joy of striking down James and Lily Potter. The bliss! But the babe... that Harry had ruined everything.
Voldemort felt an ache start in the scar on his chest. Moaning, he rubbed his scar, trying to soothe the pain away. "What..." he cried out as the pain intensified. It had never been so bad before. But why? Eyes clenched, he shouted and swore and cursed the day Harry had marked him in this way. A meddlesome clock somewhere chimed the hour. Nine o' clock.
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Harry listened absently as Professor Sprout began the very first lesson of the very first day. He had been thinking of his parents; of the image he now had of them from his brief encounter with them after Cedric's death. Love and grief clouded his mind painfully as he recalled the way his mum and dad had protected him from Voldemort.
He accidentally caught Hermione's eye during Sprout's lecture and felt a funny, tingling feeling in his chest. A clock chimed. It was nine.
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Dianna saw a group of men walk toward her, with wands gripped in their hands, barely noticeable under their dark trench coats. They pushed rudely through the muggle crowd, obstinately and crudely progressing closer. She recognized them as an elite assassination squad. And there was no question about it. They had spotted her.
She turned quickly into a dark alleyway. If a fight broke out, she didn't want to be the cause of innocent muggle deaths. Finding a corner made by two, close-knitted buildings and laced with spider webs, she made a sudden, well-coordinated twist of her body and drove herself into the darkness of the crevice. In this moment of uncetainty, she closed her eyes, and focused her thoughts on her sister, Lily, and brother-in-law, James. most of all she thought of Harry, the nephew she had never met. A great gush of love prevaded her body and she wallowed in it, finding strength. She opened her eyes and gazed up. She could see Big Ben. "When the clock hits 9:01," she thought to herself, "I'll attack. No matter what. I refuse to die that easily!"
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