The field was cold and dark, drawing all forms of evil to feast in it's bitterness. The field was empty, void of any life save the few blades of yellow grass that somehow managed to survive. A slow, unsteady breeze stirred across the tundra, promising frozen death to any who challenged it. The was a faint 'pop', but the noise of the dead grass trembling with the wind his the noise from any ears. A tall, sickly, pale man stood, with slits for eyes that were the color of blood. He smiled, finding a place as cold as his heart. Seconds later a second man appeared, he was short and balding at a surprisingly young age, and he shook violently, as a combination of fear, anxiety and biting cold demanded his reaction. He muttered some please, before screaming as the Dark Lord touched his bare, left forearm. Men began to appear in the icy environment, all shuddering immediately on arrival. They kneeled before their master, kissing the hem of his robes and forming a circle around him.

                His anger, hatred, frustration, and wrath was about to be felt by them, and they knew it. They shifted carefully, knowing that showing anything but worship to their master would result in pain unimagined. He paced slowly, letting them feel the unforgiving cold, as they so truly deserved. After a few minutes he began his mental torture of them, which was almost as fun as their physical pain. The twelve of them looked on fearfully, anticipating his fury.

                "So my FAITHFUL death-eaters have come. Do you know why I have called you all here? Hmmm? Lucius."

                "I know not, my lord."

                "No one ever does know anything do they. Someone knows something though, yes they do. We have a spy among us. One of Dumbledore's little pets. I admit, I suspected Severus of being a spy, but I had no idea the spy would be this high up in my organization. For only you, all of you knew of my attack on Azkaban, and could have alerted the light, yet somebody did. And it irks me that one of you must be he. Who won the battle, Forscythe?"

                "We did my lord."

                "CRUCIO!" He yelled, as the wind swallowed the scream of the writhing man. The spell was ended and the pacing skeleton like figure continued.

                "No. We won Azkaban, but what was the purpose of our little expedition? To steal an ugly little island? What was our objective Trothington?"

                "To free your loyal followers, my lord."

                "Yes, but were we able to free them?"

                "No, master."

                "No, NO!!! We did not free them, as they are now prisoners of their own bodies, but it tells us something doesn't it. Dumbledore will not just order the Dementor's kiss, he is too noble. It shows his desperation. He is weak, with few followers, and will do cruel acts to try to delay the inevitable. Did not the prophecy say 'The great one will die by his own spell, yet from the ashes like a phoenix he shall rise to glory unmatched'?  I present to you myself, the great one. Dumbledore must know this, for he is not easy to daunt, yet daunt him I have. But that still leaves a spy in our midst. Will you speak now, or must I force it our of you?" Silence. "So be it" He pulled out his wand and looked carefully around the ring. From him the Cruciatus Curse flew everywhere, hitting every one of the Death Eaters, freezing the air with screams of pain. "Step forward and the pain ends, who is the spy?" This continued for what seemed like an hour. Each and every Death Eater writhing in pain, until blood came out of their mouths and ears. One coughed up blood, but a chunk of flesh came out of his mouth as well.      

                Harry felt like throwing up, but in this plane of existence, it wasn't possible. Finally, convinced that there must have been some other way the light side discovered his plans, he let them lay in their misery. The scene appealed to him. Twelve of his slaves cringing opposite him covered in their own blood, and begging for death to end their pain. They would get it someday, yes death always finds it's targets.

                "Now do you know why you do not betray me?" There were a few mumbles of 'yes, master' and 'yes, my lord' but that did not appeal to him. "I asked a question, and I expect and answer. Do you wish not to answer me?" Some answered the first question again, louder than before, but many answered the last question with the appropriate no, creating a deadly contrast. They all thrash as  the Cruciatus Curse made its way around the circle, engulfing them all. "Do you wish not to answer me?" he repeated, obviously enjoying their confusion. A unified no fell flat and disappeared on the tundra. "Well, then. Do you know why not to betray me?" A strong 'Yes, my lord' found its way through the growing wind to him. Most of the Death Eaters were still on the ground, groveling with unseen spirits to be let go of the pain they had felt.

                "You now have a new mission, a new purpose in life you might say. I hear that Potter can use the Floo network, but only he can use his terminal. YOU will find a way to get in. Is that clear?"

                "Yes, Master/My Lord."

                "Good, go home you petty trash. We will meet again very soon." Some were slower than others to muster the strength to apperate away, but their desperation drove on regardless of any consequences. Harry felt the tug of his spirit leaving the temporary existence and returning to his body.

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

                Harry's pain was terrible, but not nearly as bad as the attack the day before. He felt a soft towel dabbing gently at his scar, probably bleeding. He didn't feel at all like screaming, and decided to check all of his body parts. He flexed his fingers and his toes minimally, just to make sure they were still there. He forgot where he was, but felt comfortable with his head on a solid warm pillow.

                "Harry" a familiar voice said in his head. Harry knew what it was, but was too tired to talk back. He just thought of his words strongly, hoping they would make the journey.

                "Yes professor?" Even his head-voice was coarse and cracked from pain. He thought that was rather amusing.

                "Harry, you never disconnected us before you went in. You pulled me in with you. Although I could not see your vision, I could hear it, and it is more helpful than you can imagine."

                "But it was my fault. They were tortured because I was the spy." Harry felt a few cool finger caress his face. He automatically relaxed desiring the sensation never to end.

                "Do not feel guilty Harry. Those men, Mr. Malfoy, Julian Forscythe, and William Trothington have all done acts with more evil than I am comfortable speaking about. They may not have deserved their pain, but maybe they should feel it anyway. We need you to continue to inform us of everything that you see. Where were they Harry?"

                "The arctic. It was cold and icy. I'm really tired. I think I'm going to take a nap."   

                "An excellent idea Harry. Relax. Don't bother closing the link, I'll do it." Slowly Dumbledore's voice drifted away. Harry wrapped his arms around the pillow and nestled tightly into it's firmness, savoring it's warmth and slight vanilla smell. He let out a deep breath, feeling the fingers run over his face and slowly fell into sleep.

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

                The doorbell ringing woke Harry up. Pleased that his now favorite pillow was still there, he smiled. He let go of the pillow and rolled onto his back, so the light of the room cast a red glow through his eyelids. When they adjusted to the light he opened them slowly. He was more than a bit shocked to see Hermione looking down at him, her eyes holding back tears and very bloodshot. She was staring at his face, but didn't seem to notice that his eyes opened. She really was a beautiful person. He was lucky to have a friend like her. He raised his hand and touched her cheek. She was startled, but recovered with a unnatural smile.

                "I'm alright" he whispered. He tried to say it but he supposed his voice box wasn't going to respond properly. It never did.

                "Good, we were all so worried. After you went out an owl came in saying I broke the law and threatened expulsion…"

                "I'm sorry. However, I'm sure Dumbledore will vouch for you."

                "Honestly, I didn't care. I was so scared that, that…that I nearly died." He now noticed his head was on her lap. Not on a pillow. He would have laughed at himself, but he held back. He knew it wasn't the time, though the place worked out fine. He sat up slowly, and glanced around. He was in the large hall, on the long sofa. He swung his feet off the sofa and sat next to her. She immediately threw her arms around him and cried into his chest. He couldn't help but feel this was a little dramatic, but let her cry on him. What are friends for. Voices in the next room caught his attention. He listened closely while he cooed comforting words into her ear.

                "Now, we let you in, what do you want?" said Rick, he was understanding as always but frank this time. It gave him the edge in strange conversations.

                "I need to see Potter." Said a gruff demanding voice that sounded familiar, but it was too quiet to know for sure.

                "I'm afraid you can't. He just had a nasty seizure and is indisposed." Ivy couldn't keep the arrogant contempt from her voice. Harry really didn't like her much, her face was two sided.

                "Ahah. So Potter had another little chat with You-Know-Who? Well, he saved quite a few lives last time, you only made me need to see him more."

                "He is asleep…sir. I do not wish for you to wake him. I'm not the expert, but I believe the attack was hard on him."

                "Firs' of all. Harry ain't asleep. My pretty little eye can see through walls, invisibility cloaks and much more. He is sitting wide awake trying to listen to us. Second of all, our most important leader against the dark side is unconscious and Harry is the only bloody person in the world who can communicate with him right now, so if you please, I need to speak with him." There was no response from the Grangers. He supposed they signaled the man to follow, because there was a clunking of a wooden peg for a leg on the floor. Rick, Ivy and a very scarred man with very uneven clumpy hair enterer. He gave a scary smile on his contorted face. "Ah, Mr. Potter. How are you?" Harry saw how this may look, with Hermione crying on him in front of her parents and the scary old man. Hermione turned to face them and sat back next to Harry. She covered her face, wiping the tears away, but her crying had ended.

                "Professor Moody." Harry nodded to him.

                "What'd you see. I hear you had another listen in with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named." The Grangers were looking at Harry funny. Was that pity, compassion, or disgust? It took him a second, but he remember it from Cornelius Fudge after the Third Task. Fear. They feared him. They were looking at him with horror. It made him feel very uncomfortable, and he returned his attention to Moody.

                "Um, yeah. He was mad at his Death Eaters supreme. He thinks that because of the resistance in Azkaban one of his top eleven or Wormtail is a spy for Dumbledore. They got it bad. If he only knew I was the spy." Moody launched into laughter.

                "Good! Good, it's what those dirty bastards deserve. Now, I'm not familiar with these Speak-O-Graphs. I'm not that involved with the new technology coming out. So you mind asking Dumbledore what he wants us to do with the captured Dementors." Harry touched his finger, and Hermione was fascinated. She had never heard of Speak-O-Graphs.

                "Headmaster, Moody wants to know what you want to do with the captured Dementors."

                "Good afternoon to you too Harry." Harry could hear the headmaster chuckling.

                "Sorry."

                "Don't worry about it Harry. Tell Alastor that I feel it would be best if we destroyed them when the proper arrangements can be made."

                "He says to destroy them when the arrangements can be made." Harry responded.

                "Ask him where he wants us to hold the Death Eaters."

                "Harry, I can hear everything you hear, so don't bother asking me."

                "Oh. In that case, Moody…just talk to me like I was Dumbledore."

                "We can't put the Death Eaters in Azkaban can we. Tell him to consider the hidden dungeons of Hogwarts, that or the war bunker at Bedford."

                "The hidden dungeons at Hogwarts, or the war bunker in Bedford." Moody flashed Harry a smile.

                "What about you Albus. How are you doing?"

                "I am jaded in this near lifeless state. I do appreciate your concern, but I assure you I'm fine." Unable to paraphrase the statement, he repeated to Moody word for word.

                "Alright, there anything you need us to do Albus?"

                "No, just be watchful as usual, Thank you for visiting me."

                "He thanks you for coming and says be watchful." Harry said, learning for the first time that being caught in the middle of a conversation is indeed no fun.

                "Your welcome Albus. Thanks Potter. I'll be on my way, then." Moody stood up and clunked his way out of the room, and eventually out of the house. The Grangers were all left staring at Harry, in disbelief.

                "What?" he said in annoyance. He hated when he was the center of attention.

                "Harry, you can talk to Dumbledore?" Hermione said tentatively. He frowned. Now even she was scared of him.

                "They're not taking it well, are they?"

                "Yes, Hermione. No, headmaster."

                "Harry, you don't need to speak for me to hear you. You just have to project your thoughts. You did so just after the vision. You don't need to speak to chat with me."

                "I've never heard of Speak-O-Graphs before" she said, obviously expecting him to explain.

                "Wait up a bit. Headmaster, I can't have two separate conversations simultaneously. I'll talk to you later."

                "Absolutely Harry. Take care." Harry tapped his fingernail deliberately, so that the Grangers could see he was closing the connection.

                "Alright then. You want to know about Speak-O-Graphs? I only know what Dumbledore has told me. He tore my fingernail off my finger. I grew it back instantly, and painfully, but he said I tried too hard. Anyway, he merged the two nails…"

                "Two?" Rick said. Although Ivy was distraught Rick was attentive.

                "Yes, mine and one of his. He merged them and they formed a hearing connection between us. When switched on, I hear what he says and hears, and he hears everything I say and hear. If I try hard I don't have to say anything, and I can send my thoughts to him. It is a direct, uninterruptible connection between us, and only us."

                "Can you get one between me and you?" Hermione said eagerly. New magic was just the thing to excite her. He hated to be painfully blunt but he had to convince her against it.

                "I guess I could. I have nine unused fingernails, but I wouldn't. It is too painful, and for you the pain would last a while. I only accepted with Dumbledore because I need a foolproof, unstoppable connection after my attacks. He has to know of them immediately. Owls take too long to get to him. I can safely use Hedwig with you and Ron, as it is, only Hedwig. Pig would be intercepted as well as any other owl." Hermione's face fell. By the tone of his voice she knew it was a closed topic. Sure, she was excellent at convincing Harry of things, but she knew when he became serious, there was no leeway, no room for argument. It would all be in vain.

                "What about…" she tried but he interrupted her quickly.

                "What ever happened to Rita Skeeter? And my wand for that matter." Hermione started to fish through her pockets.

                "Who?" Asked Ivy, aware that she was looking like a fool standing rigid and silent behind Rick. Hermione handed Harry his wand and he stood. Hermione walked out of the room and Harry followed. Ivy started after them but Rick held her back, as Harry and Hermione scaled the stairs in silence and entered her room. She closed and locked the door and walked over to her closet. She opened the sliding door and pulled out her trunk. It opened revealing a small glass jar. Harry snatched it and opened it. He took out the beetle, place it on the floor, waved his wand and muttered some words, making sure Hermione couldn't hear them. The beetle who was crawling before stopped moving. It beat it's wings to fly, but stayed on the ground.

                "Change back" Harry said in a demanding voice. It made Hermione shiver. Harry had a very strong persona, and when it showed, it was bold. There was a small pop, and before them stood a middle-aged witch with horn-rimmed glasses. She was disheveled, fuming, dirty and holding a handbag familiar to Harry. He summoned it. Rita grabbed for it but couldn't move her feet, which appeared nailed to the floor. Try as she would she wouldn't budge. Harry opened the bag, took out a quill, and set it on fire. It hovered in the air burning, the ashes disintegrating before they hit the ground. Harry closed the bag and handed it back to the woman, who was red with anger. She grabbed it and held it close as Harry pulled up a chair.

                "I need your help, Rita." Harry said plainly.

                "Go screw yourself." She spat bitterly. He was aware this wasn't going to be easy. He had to choose his words well.

                "I know you would enjoy that, but I need your help, and you will be rewarded justly." She went from red and furious, to red and scared. Was she really that easy to read? Or maybe it was just the higher observing skills of Harry Potter. When Rita didn't respond to Harry's retort, Hermione got angry. She didn't know why, but it was wrong for this old woman to want to have that kind of a relationship with Harry. Especially when Hermione wanted him so badly. It took a while for Rita to gain the composure to speak.

                "What do you want me to do?"

                "Glad to know your interested. I believe Hermione made a deal with you. Something about you taking a one year hiatus from writing, and no lying about people afterwards."

                "Yeah, so?"

                "We drop the one year hiatus. You go back…"

                "Harry!!! What the hell are you doing? After…"

                "Shut up." He said, void of emotion. "We drop the hiatus, and you go back to the Daily Prophet where you will write for me, and only me. I will inform you when and where events happen. You go in your animagus form and report them. Accurately. If you so much as infer gossip, you will regret it deeply. You need to spread the word of Voldemort's rise and activities to the public. Make them aware, and steer them to Dumbledore, and away from Fudge."

                "You want me to report things that happen, and write against the Minister of Magic. Why would I do that?"

                "You regain your freedom, you write again, you gain respect, you subtly spread word on Voldemort and gain power against the dark side. That is why."

                "What's wrong with Fudge?"

                "He disregards Voldemort's return. He is neutral."

                "What's wrong with neutrality?"

                "Do you know anything about muggle warfare history?"

                "A little."

                "World War Two, Britain is the only resistance left other than Russia. The powerful, and neutral United States maintains ties with both sides. What if Japan never attacked the United States, and brought them into the conflict? What if they stayed neutral? Britain would have fallen sooner or later, that was clear, and Russia, though strong could not maintain it's strength through it's losses. Germany would have conquered Europe and then the United States would have been all alone. They had two oceans to protect them, but even they could not defend or defeat a war with both Japan and Germany alone. Being neutral only helps the aggressor. The majority of the wizards and witches in this country are neutral right now, but if united we can defeat Voldemort. If they stay neutral, in the dark, then eventually we all die. It is up to you to unite them. We can't do it without you." Hermione was scared by his determination. He was changed, strong and ruthless. He would not allow Rita to say no. He just had to make it seem like it was her decision.

                "You're saying the fate of the wizarding world in Britain rests upon me?" She laughed.

                "Yes." The grave response cut off her giggling, and she choked on air.

                "You're not joking with me, are you?"

                "No."

                "Why me? There are many other good reporters."

                "You are inconspicuous, sly, smart, and a beetle. You can get it all down without being seen, or noticed. You have the power to jump out from the shadows if things get out of hand. You will have the opportunity to save lives, as well as help us win this. You remember what is was like, before he fell. We have to strike now, and strike soon. Otherwise, all is lost." Rita looked at him carefully, judging his intentions.

                "How am I going to get to these battles?"

                "Anyway you like."

                "How am I going to know when and where to be?"

                "I'll tell you."

                "How do you know where and when he will attack?" Harry thought this over.

                "Sometimes I can see what Voldemort is doing, through my scar. The seizure you so kindly announced to the world last year, was when I was seeing what he was doing. It happens a lot more often now that he's in power. I see his conversations, his torturings, his murders. I will tell you where and when to be." She processed this slowly. It wasn't a bad deal, but it lacked something.

                "I'll do it, on one condition."

                "And that would be?"

                "After the war, if you're still alive, I get an exclusive one on one interview with you."

                "As long as you don't lie, sure." She immediately smiled. Hermione was pouting on her bed. "I will contact you with my owl when the time comes. You can only contact me with my owl. All others will not get through."

                "Good, can I go now?" She was like a little child waiting to go to the toy store.

                "Yes, of course." Harry flicked his wand and she was able to move again. She ran up to Harry and kissed him roughly on the cheek, before transforming into a beetle and flying out of the open window.

                "Why, Harry? Why did you just go behind me on this. You don't control the world, you know." She was on the verge of tears. He felt sorry, but it was necessary.

                "This is no time to hold grudges, if they get in the way of something possibly productive. She has a lot of potential in uniting us against him. In a jar, she is nothing. As much as I dislike her, she could be the best thing we have."

                "But you didn't even ask me! Not a word. You didn't even say what you were doing. You just let her out into the world to spread more lies than truths."

                "She won't lie. An exclusive with THE Harry Potter is worth more than anything to her. It would make her career, and she knows it. It is better this way, Hermione."

                "It doesn't matter if it's better this way. You just ignored me, and didn't even think about letting me in on it."

                "You would have stopped me. Just stop it, now. What is done is done, and it's too late to change it. I'm going to sleep. I'll see you later." He stood slowly and exited the room. As the door clicked shut, tears, being held back by sheer will, poured out of her eyes in torrents.

                Harry stopped when he exited the room, and heard her sob before breaking down and crying. It shred his heart to hear her cry, but he knew it would be worse if he went back in. This was something she had to face on her own. He realized this was their first fight. It didn't make him feel good that it ended with her crying. At least it didn't get rough and bitter like her fights with Ron. Right? It was better that this was a toned down fight. But the crying is what got him. Why did she cry when she fought with him. Maybe she wasn't used to being rejected like that from him. Maybe she cared a lot about Rita's comments. Maybe she just cared.

                He felt his eyelids get heavy, and went to his room. He remembered he was supposed to contact Dumbledore, but he felt it could wait awhile. He removed his shoes and lay down on the bed, careful not to knock over the vase of flowers on the nightstand. He lay awake for thirty minutes, and as sleep claimed him, he swore to never let himself make Hermione cry again.

I hope this chapter is good, my longest yet. I think they'll keep getting long [J] but that means I update less often [L].

Thanks to Stoneheart as always, deep reviewing going on there. I love your honesty and straightforwardness {ahkkkh big word! Choking!!!} Thanks as well to Achilles, Badger Lord, Mark Slade, RJLL(again), AGTB13, Cr1Ms0n^D3v1L, Urania, HarryHermione4ever, I love you all. I say this again. I have a basic plot line up for this, with some scenes to match, but I will consider any ideas, because since like 2000bc, nothing's written in stone. I hope you enjoy my story so far. If you need something more entertaining, I do have a dog that enjoys running into things (I.E.Walls, Tables, Cabinets, People, Parked cars.) That's always worth a few laughs.