Disclaimer: The setting of this story, and most of the characters are the intellectual property of J.K. Rowling, I lay no claim to them. However the characters of Malana Avonell and Schön are of my own creation and to these two, I do claim rights.

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When Harry finally left Professor Avonell's office, he felt utterly exhausted.  He had lost count of how many times he had been required to move that stupid marble and he still didn't see how it was ever going to help him when had to face Voldemort again. 

Frustrated and hungry Harry trudged towards the Grate Hall wondering idly if he would run into Ron and Hermione along the way.  Ron had finally been able to get is gem, an amethyst (what was it she had started to call them, a Kel-gagruw crystal), to glow nearly as bright as Harry could and had been gloating this over Hermione.  Hermione, on the other hand, was still having trouble with her topaz and had nearly given up several times.  Oddly enough Neville was somewhere between Ron and Hermione.  But, Harry was sure none of them understood his frustration.

As he rounded the corner, which would lead him to the marble stairs to the first floor, he nearly ran headlong into Malfoy, Grabbe and Goyle.

"Well," drawled Malfoy in his usual cold tones, "if it isn't Potter.  Been to seeing Professor Avonell have you?"

Harry stuffed his hands in his pockets and tried to push past Draco.

"Did you know she a – Psychiatrist, Potter?" Malfoy taunted, blocking Harry's path.  "Are you having emotional problems?  Or are you just going mad?"

Harry steeled himself, "fat lot you know," he grumbled, trying again to get past Malfoy and his cronies.

"You should really be more careful about the company you keep Potter," Draco continued, "first that Mudblood Granger then that oaf Hagrid and now that shrink Avonell."

Harry narrowed his eyes, "you're the one who needs to be more careful, Malfoy," said Harry through gritted teeth, "or they'll decide you need to see a . . ."

Harry never got a chance to complete his insult for at that moment Professor McGonagall called from the other side of the staircase.

"Mr. Potter, could I have a word with you?" she said in a crisp tone that dispelled any thought he might have had of protesting.

Harry pushed past the others giving Malfoy an icy glare as he brushed shoulders with him.

Draco descended the stairs snickering, followed closely by his bullish friends.

"Potter," said Professor McGonagall more calmly then Harry had expected, "do try and stay out of trouble."

"I didn't start it," he asserted firmly.

"I realize that, Mr. Potter, but you certainly don't need to encourage Mr. Malfoy by reacting.  Professor Avonell will not be pleased," lectured the Transfiguration Teacher.

"Yes Professor," Harry answered her begrudgingly.

***

Professor Avonell dropped into her desk chair and contemplated the stack of student's homework she had yet to grade.  Working with Harry was taking more and more out of her, his raw potential was barely under the boy's control and the constant pressure he was unknowingly asserting on her was taking its toll.

There was a tentative knock at the door.

"Come," called Avonell and the door swung open to admit Professor Trelawney.

The Divination Teacher swept into the room, "I must speak with you," she drawled in the breathy tones meant to foster her mystique.

"Professor Trelawney, Sybil isn't it?" sighed Avonell wearily.  "Please drop the pretence and talk straight with me."

Trelawney huffed indignantly, "Just because you don't believe . . ."

"Actually, I do believe, I'm just very worn out at the moment," Avonell interrupted her politely.

Trelawney considered Avonell for a moment, then relaxed, and with a flick of her wand, drew a chair from in front of the fire to the desk.

"I don't have the gift myself," continued Avonell in a conversational tone, "but precognition was not unheard of among my people."

Trelawney's brow furrowed, not fully understanding the comment just made.  She sank down into the chair.

"I've been getting . . . certain impressions . . ." the Divination Teacher began slowly with some hesitation, "Nothing very clear, but very strong."

Avonell looked sympatric.

"Its there, just beyond the shadow's line," continued Trelawney dreamily, "A presence – actually two.  One very malevolent, and one very innocent, and both are connected to — you."

Avonell sat forward and folded her hands on her desk, "is it precognitive or clairvoyant?" 

Trelawney shook her head, "it's not clear, just a very strong feeling.  I can almost see something but . . . I have also felt a sense of pain, both physical and emotional.  I fear something terrible is going to happen to you before this month is out.  But then, there is this odd feeling of joy and contentment over lying it all . . ." her voice trailed off.

"A bit confusing," Avonell soothed, dropping into her therapist's persona, "but I'm curious, why come to me now, when you don't have the full story, Sybil?"

Trelawney sighed, "Because there's more."

 "And that would be?"

Trelawney sat silently staring at her.

"Sybil?" whispered Avonell, "are you all right?"

She nodded and swallowed hard, "The only thing I have seen is a face, a face with such an expression of anger and despair, that I . . .I . . ." there was another silence.

"Do you know this face?" Avonell asked in an ethereal sort of tone.

Trelawney nodded, then quickly shook her head, then drawing herself up and pulling her shawl more closely around herself, she met Avonell's eyes.

"Just, be forewarned," she said returning to her misty seer's voice, "something horrid is about to take place," with that she rose to her feet and swept from the room, leaving a somewhat confused Professor Avonell behind.

"Now, I wonder what that was all about?"  Avonell questioned the air.

"Meow!"  Schön landed on the desk with a muffled thump.  Turing wide green eyes to his companion he let out a long three-syllable meow.

"You think so?" Avonell asked raising an eyebrow, "I'm in danger?  Schön," she sighed, "when am I not in some kind of danger?"

"Mer-ow!" intoned the cat.

"I already knew that," she chuckled,  "or at least suspected that the dark presence was Voldemort, and I think the innocent is most likely Harry."

Schön sat down and blinked slowly back at her

"Oh come on Schön," she replied impatiently, "you are always seeing conspiracies, when there are none."

Schön hissed.

"Alright, alright, I'll be careful." She sighed, "warning well taken."

"I think we would both feel better about this if you actually took it seriously," The computer's voice sounded from the bottom of the stack of parchment.

"Please, don't encourage him CIM," Avonell whined, pulling the computer out from under the stack and opening it.  "Any information on the whereabouts of Nefra yet?"

"None," CIM replied, "but we've been in a black out for the last five hours.  I'll reestablish contact with Dantor and soon as the relay station is within range again."

"You'll let me know as soon as you find anything?"  Asked Avonell, although she already knew the answer.

"Of course," the computer responded, unemotionally.

***

The Great Hall was already filling with students, when Harry entered.  Spotting Ron and Hermione at the Gryffindor table, he made his way over to them.

"How did it go?" Ron asked brightly as Harry seated himself next to Hermione.

"It went ok," he answered unenthusiastically. 

"I'm beginning to think it's all a bunch of garbage," Hermione muttered under her breath.

"Oh come on, Hermione," groaned Ron, "Just because you're not the best . . ."

"What good is making a gem glow going to do us if we come face to face with . . . you-know-who?" she demanded.

"There's more to it than that," Harry told her gloomily, "and it's not any more fun."

"Fun?  It's not suppose to be fun," Hermione started angrily, but fell into silence, as she spotted Professor Avonell entering the Hall.

"Hermione, you need to give yourself time," Harry soothed, "Professor Avonell said it takes time."

"It's been a month, and I'm no further then when I started," she complained as she watched the Professor's progress up the Hall.

"You do have a lighter color stone then Harry or I," Ron pointed out, "maybe it harder with yours."

Hermione was silent as she stared at the staff table.  Suddenly she jumped to her feet and headed up the hall.

"Hermione, where are you going?" Harry called after her.  But she paid him no attention.

"She's probably going to quit," Ron moaned, "again."

Hermione marched up the hall to the staff table, to stand directly in front of Avonell.

"Yes, Ms Granger?" Avonell asked looking up at her, "may I help you?"

Hermione pulled her topaz from a pocket and slammed it down onto the Professor's plate with such force that not only did Avonell jump, but also McGonagall who was seated next to the Rune Teacher.

"I quit!" she told Avonell firmly.

Before the youth could pull her hand back, Avonell placed her hand over hers.

"You don't mean that," whispered Avonell, looking the girl directly in the eye. "Give me an hour to eat my dinner, then be in my office and we'll talk."

Hermione wanted to turn away, but something seemed to be stopping her.

I'll show you something I haven't shown the boys, she hear Avonell's voice as plainly as if the woman had spoken the words, but her mouth had not moved.

Slowly, Hermione picked her gem back up and nodded very slightly.  She then turned and retreated back to her seat.

"Did you just . . ." started McGonagall in a whisper.

"Yes, I did," Avonell responded turning to her friend. "I can't let her quit Minerva, I believe Ms. Granger is a low grade healer," she looked past McGonagall for a second and her face flushed.  Quickly she turned forward and reached for the nearest bowl.

McGonagall hurriedly glanced at the far end of the table, in time to catch the glare on Professor Snap's face.  She turned back to Avonell.

"I don't think Severus, approves of they way I'm handling the children," Avonell whispered, "and it appears he back to loathing me again."

"I thought he'd gotten over that," McGonagall sighed.

"We finished the scroll yesterday," Avonell informed her as if that was supposed to explain it all.

"Then he's not continuing his studies?"

Avonell looked up at a point somewhere down the hall, "no," she said softly, "he hasn't asked, and I'm not sure he'd accept the offer, even if it was given him."

***

"I'm sorry I'm late," Professor Avonell said as she approached her office door.

Hermione was leaning against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest, a stern expression on her face.

"Why can't I quit?" Hermione snuffed.

Avonell opened the office door and indicated that she should enter.  Begrudgingly, Hermione walked into the office and took a seat by the fire.

"Hermione," Avonell said gently taking the chair opposite her, "I think you're problem may be that you are trying too hard."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Do you have your Kel-gagruw with you?"

She nodded.

"Take it out and let's try, but rather then trying to make it happen, try allowing it to happen."

Without a word, Hermione removed the topaz from her pocket and held it between her figures.  She knit her eyebrows as she stared at the gem.

"Allow it to glow," said Avonell moving forward in her chair.  "Don't force it."

Hermione tried to relax as she continued to stare into the depths of the stone.

"You're still trying," Avonell whispered, reaching out with both hands toward the girl.  "Here, let me show you."

Hermione shuttered as Avonell brushed her fingertips across her temples and there was a gentle but firm pressure on her thoughts.

Find the center, the words were in Avonell's voice, relax and let yourself descend into the center.

Hermione felt she was falling into the golden brown of the topaz; the gem seeming to swell until if filled her vision.  She felt herself relax even though her heart was racing.  She could feel the frustration and self doubt ebbing away as she descended further and further into her gem. Then a small light flickered, her heart leapt.

I'm still with you, Avonell's voice said gently, you have nothing to fear.  Don't push the light.  Call it out.  Call it to life.

The light flickered again.  Slowly, it began to glow brighter, before it flickered one more time before dieing out.

Blinking furiously, Hermione looked up at the Professor, her expression becoming harsh.

"You did that, didn't you?" she accused. 

Avonell was sitting back in her seat, her fingers steepled, the tips resting against her lips.

"No," she answered lower her hands, "I only guided you.  The light responded to you, not me."

"But . . . I don't understand," she sighed.

"Disciplining the mind isn't about force Hermione, it's about control, focus and willingness." Her teacher told her.

The mantel clock struck the hour.  Hermione glanced up at it in horror.  She'd been in Avonell's office for over an hour.  Looking back at the Professor she opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out.

"It's typical," Avonell laughed lightly, "to loose track of time like that.  It's nothing to be concerned with."

Hermione smiled, "I did it?"

Avonell nodded, "now practice what you've learned here tonight and I'll see you latter in the week."

Hermione's step seemed lighter, as she headed back to Gryffindor Tower.  She had done it, she had made, no allowed, the light to glow.  She'd show Ron and Harry.  She'd show them that she could do it.

Well, she thought, after a little more practice.

***

During the next two weeks things remained calm.  Ron, Hermione and Harry continued their training in the Technique.  Ron and Hermione progressed to moving the marble, and Harry began a new phase.

Once again Harry and Professor Avonell sat before the fireplace in her office on a Sunday afternoon.

"We're going to try something new this time," Avonell said as she studied the young man seated before her.  He was maturing into an attractive young man, his body hardened by the physical demands of Quidditch.  The softer facial lines of youth giving way to the strong firm lines of adulthood.  He was going to look a lot like his father, she noted.  Funny, she hadn't noticed this before.  There was a sharp pang of guilt and remorse, stabbing at her very soul.

No, she told herself fiercely, feeling her eyes start to burn. I am not going to buy into that now!  She pushed the feelings from her mind and drew a deep sobering breath.

"On the desk, in my classroom, I've placed an object," she continued, still studying Harry, "I want you to tell me what it is."

Harry blinked in confusion, before he started to get up.

"Sit down," she said softly, "I don't want you to go in there physically."

"Well then," began Harry slightly perturbed, "how am I supposed to know?"

"Now that," she smiled "is what I'm about to teach you.  Its called Sensory Extension, SE for short."

"What good . . ." he started.

"Sometimes Harry, stealth and prior knowledge are important.  Can you see the value of knowing your enemies location, even before you see or hear him?"

"Well, yeah, sure," Harry responded wide-eyed.

"Do you remember when we were tracking the Death Eater in the dungeons?" She asked.  Harry nodded, "that's how I knew where he was, but Sensory Extension."

"But you said to watch Schön," he interjected.

"Yes, I did tell the three of you that," she smiled, "you couldn't extend and a cat's senses are much sharper then humans."

"Ok, then teach me."

Avonell smiled amusedly. 

  "Start by getting comfortable, and then close your eyes."

Harry snuggled back into his chair and closed his eyes.

"Now, I want you to center your mind," Avonell's voice was like that of a soft breeze flowing over him, "that's good.  Pull your self to the center, breathe in through your nose," she paused, "and out through your mouth." Another pause, "breathe in . . . and . . . out."

The room fell into silence as Harry brought his mind to a calm place, feeling only his steady breathing.

"Now, move your awareness beyond yourself, reach out and into the next room, and tell me what smell, hear and feel."

Harry tried to imagine standing at the back of the Runes classroom.

"I can't see anything," said Harry faintly.

"No not see.  Sight can't be extended.  Just try and sense it."

Slowly Harry let himself relax, and little by little something came to him.

"Hmm, I smell something sweet, like flowers," he said dreamily, "and

 I can hear . . . it sounds like a caldron bubbling . . ." his voice trailed off.

"Try to move closer," Avonell's voice was a soft whisper, but he heard her quite clearly.

Harry tried to imagine himself walking to the front of the class, nothing became clearer.

"It's cold," he breathed, "not cold no more like cool, very cool," he lapsed into silence.

"Anything else?"

Harry concentrated hard, but suddenly he could hear something else.  He squeezed his closed eyes tighter and tried hear it more clearly.  It was a heartbeat, no two, no three . . .

His eyes popped open in fear, "There's someone else in here!" he almost shouted.

Avonell gave him a quizzical look.

"There's just you and I, Harry," she said gently, "Schön's not here."

"No," he insisted, "I can hear three heartbeats, mine yours and . . ."

"And mine," she said smiling understandingly, "I have two hearts Harry."

He stared at her unbelievingly, "that's not possible."

"It's possible," smiled Avonell,  "Harry, it's true, I have two hearts."  She held out her hands, "Do you know how to take a pulse?"

He nodded and sat forward reaching out to press his forefingers into each of her writs. He could feel a pulse first in her right wrist, then in her left, then in her right.  He withdrew his hands staring open mouthed at her.

"What are you?" he breathed.

"A medical rarity," she chuckled.  "But, you've done well for your first attempt."

Harry fell back into his chair, suddenly very tired.

"Yes, it takes a lot out of you at first.  But you'll soon learn," she told him, "now there are a few things I need to explain to you."

Harry looked up at her.

"You'll need to practice this, but I want you to be very careful.  Like Truth Reading, this can be abused.  Please don't go listening in on conversations that are not your business," explained Avonell in a very serious tone.  "When you are extended, you are a bit vulnerable, so don't try SE unless you know yourself to be in a safe place."

Harry nodded sleepily.

"Remember, to every act there are consequences," she told him getting to her feet, "now why don't you go back to your dorm and try to regain your strength before dinner."

"Professor, what was in the classroom?" asked Harry as he too got to his feet a bit unsteadily.

Avonell turned to smile at him.  "Why don't you go look for yourself?"

Harry plodded out of the office and into the classroom.  There on the desk at the front of room stood an earthenware bowl, a mist spilling from the rim.  As he approached it he could see the surface bubbling gently, each bubble releasing a smoky mist as it burst, the mist spilling over and traveling along the top of the desk to tumble to the floor.

He reached out and passed his hand through the mist, and it was cool.  And the fragrance of flowers wafted up from the bowl.

Harry smiled.  Dry Ice in water, an old Muggle trick.  Add a little perfume to the water and, well you got this.  He turned and headed back to Gryffindor Tower.

***

Tuesday morning, Professor Snape headed to the Great Hall for breakfast early, hoping he might find Professor Avonell there.  She had not made an appearance in the Hall for nearly a week now, preferring to take her meals in her rooms.  He didn't like to admit it, but he missed being in her company, her light heartedness could be annoying, but it was also strangely uplifting for him.  The expertly controlled power that emanated from her was compelling and although he tried not to acknowledge it, he found her pleasing just to look at.

His step faltered only the slightest as he entered the Hall.  There was a scattering of sleepy eyed students already at the four house tables, and at the staff table were Sprout, Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Flitwick, but Avonell's place was empty.

Snape strode up the hall, his robes billowing theatrically around him, and took his place near one end of the staff table.

He was brooding over his half eaten breakfast when the sound of light laughter wafted into the hall, causing him to look up expectantly. 

Professor Avonell entered the Hall flanked by Ron and Hermione on one side, Harry and Neville on the other and followed by the inevitable Schön, all five laughing over something that had just been said.  She walked with the youths as far as the Gryffindor table and for just a moment, Snape thought she might be planning to sit with them, but he merely patted Neville on the back and proceeded to her place beside McGonagall, still smiling broadly.

So she was in a good mood, Snape mused.  And why not, she had been in the company of her disciples hadn't she?  He sneered at his plate.

Students were trailing in and before long there was the normal drone of many voices filling the room.  Snape chanced a glance down the table in Avonell's direction.  She was half turned in her chair, listening to a joke Dumbledore was telling, but for a brief moment his eyes met hers.  And in that moment she had smiled, lowered her eyes and then raised them back to meet his in that subtle nod of acknowledgement she had given him so often in his youth.  A smile played at the corner of his mouth.

There was the rustling of wings overhead as the Owl Post swept into the Hall from one of its high windows.  All eyes looked up.

Pigwidgeon, Ron's tiny Owl swooped down to the Gryffindor table depositing a note into the boy's plate, then dived headlong at something near the floor.  In a commotion of owl and cat, Pigwidgeon shot upwards, Schön in hot pursuit.  The miniscule owl shot towards the staff table and with a magnificent leap Schön landed on the table directly in front of Professor Avonell.  There was an explosion of porridge as the cat, upon landing, upset a large bowl, sending thick warm cereal splattering everywhere.  Avonell gave a shout of surprise as most of it hit her in the face and upper torso. 

There was silence as all eyes turned to the staff table.

"SCHÖN!" snapped Avonell in grave annoyance, whipping porridge out of her eyes.  She froze, pursing her lips and squeezing her eyes shut, trying to stifle the laughter rising uncontrollably in her.  The silence continued for only a moment, when Avonell lost control and burst into a hardy laugh.

There was a scattering of laughter from both students and staff as Avonell tried to regain her composure.  Managing to control her self, the laughter died away, but when Avonell turned to look at the expression on McGonagall's startled face, she lost it again and wailed with laughter all over again.  Avonell swayed in her chair then toppled out of sight onto the floor still laughing uproariously.

Dumbledore was in tears with laughter, Sprout was holding her sides, Flitwick pounded the table in sidesplitting laughter and even the normally subdued McGonagall was giggling uncontrollably, her hand over her mouth.  Everyone in the hall was joining in.  Snape scowled as Avonell hauled her self back into her chair, tears streaming down her checks, her face red with the mirth that held her.  Snape pushed his plate aside and lowered his head to the table, his shoulders shaking with laughter as he too gave into the infectiousness of Avonell's laughter.

"If you will excuse me," Avonell said trying to gain control again, "but I think I need to change before class."

Still chuckling she hurried from the hall.

Something dropped onto the table near Snape's head with a solid thump.  He straightened up to find something wrapped in a white linen handkerchief in front of him.  Still laughing he picked it up and his stomach lurched so that for a second he thought he might lose what little breakfast he had eaten.  Even before opening it, he knew what it was, the silver dragon and ruby ring that had served as his Kel-gagruw crystal when he too had studied the Sevlorian Technique.  No one noticed as he unwrapped the ring with trembling hands, grinning broadly. He slipped it onto his finger, rose and glided from the hall.