A/N: Thanks to a lot of people, most notably darksamurai13, dragonsprincess, dumbledore-2003, A-man, and harrypotterfreak.

BeholdtheVoid: Would you believe me if I said I were testing you? Lol, I didn't think so. Blame it on my moron ness. That's not a word either, is it?


In the old days it was said that wizardry was a most harmfully eminent curse in itself. One was rebuked at any sign of the faintest perpetuation of the concept, and it was really quite obvious why. Or so the muggles said. Now, magic was all well and good for the people who could do it, but to those who could not, it was just a teensy bit intimidating in terms of power difference. Sure it was like a small ratio of people, but they together could eradicate the entire human population. So the muggles, being so inclined and intent on fearing and hating such a person with the said gift, made quite a deal of getting rid of it. Melly Andrews, being borne of the same category of muggles, was in conflict.

She was forced to suppress her magic for nearly twelve years, which can be quite an ordeal if you went around blowing up everything just for the sole reason that you were afraid, and were told afterwards to look like you had absolutely nothing to do with it. And so random objects just burst to smithereens right behind, or beside her, and she would just gape with wide eyes, her hands clammy and her body shaking with unseemly tremors. Naturally, all the muggles around automatically suspected her to have rigged the previously-having-exploded material. Teenagers these days were getting more and more psychotic--no one ever knew what they would do next.

Melly just got more terrified at their reactions, and there the cycle repeated. When she got her Hogwarts letter, albeit a bit late, needless to say, her parents were scared out of their wits, and confined her in the basement for nearly three weeks before they overcame it enough to feel guilty. Of course, neighborhood curiosity perked, noting the absence of the odd little girl, so they just sent her to Hogwarts to be rid of her, and consequently, the horrible rumors.

So Melly, being of such a background, felt a very personal connection with Harry Potter, the resident Golden Boy, or in the case of the very large minority, just the attention-seeking troublemaker or suchlike. She worshipped him, but like Colin or Dennis Creevey, from fifth and fourth years respectively, she noted that she got a great deal more acknowledgement for it. He actually talked to her, for a welcome change, rather than sullenly or politely steering away from any attempts at conversation on the part of Colin.

Harry had once said to her, when helping her with quillpen to inkbottle transfiguration, that he felt more at home at Hogwarts than he ever had in the 'home' he had known for the whole of his life. Melly had exactly the same viewpoint on the matter. Her parents loved her, but she knew it was more a grudging, and conditional love than anything else. They tried their best, so to keep from straying to self-pity, by Harry's suggestion, she ascribed it to their upbringing that they were so narrow-minded. He was very helpful in most things, and despite their four-year age difference, Melly couldn't help but feel a sort of reverent, slightly romantic affection for the so acclaimed, near legend.

She, by default, fell into the "Fan Club" clique. Ginny Weasley and Luna Lovegood, though in fifth year, took a very personal interest in her well-being, as did Colin and Dennis, when they inferred of her affliction with Harry Potter. They initiated her into an unofficial "Harry Potter Admirer's Society", and as corny as that sounded, Melly actually felt it very appropriate. After a lifetime of separation from her family, and conventionally normal people, Harry was the first to make her feel a little welcome. And it may have been that he was the first to talk to her like she was a human being at the Platform on the first day, but psychologically, she constantly associated him with security, and acceptance.

There were also a few Hufflepuff second year girls, and about five or six Ravenclaw first years--wizard-born, who openly admired him, and she (as well as the Creeveys, Ginny and Luna) were held in a sort authoritarian position among them. Of course, the last, and the most devoted member of the little club was the feared Moaning Myrtle, who had an overlarge crush on Harry Potter, much to Melly's immense aversion, and inadvertent chagrin. She didn't like him or anything, that sort of thing was taken VERY seriously, especially in the preteen years (she preferred the term 'attracted to'), but it was just...disgusting. As a result, she really didn't get along with the sensitive girl, nor spend much time with her. It was more Ginny, who seemed to have some kind of inexplicable, mysterious connection to her.

When she had asked Myrtle about it one day, curious to the point of decent politeness, she had let slip something about a Chamber, and talking to her when she was imprisoned, but nothing more was said. When Melly went back and mentioned it to Ginny offhandedly, her eyes nearly popped out of her sockets, and she cast some kind of charm so that she could no longer talk about it, then yelled at her for nearly thirty minutes afterward. Melly, realizing that she should have kept her mouth shut in the first place, apologized fervently, but Ginny hadn't talked to her since. The occasion had come to pass nearly a month ago, after Harry's record capture of the Snitch, (Melly didn't follow Quidditch, having no exceptional talent at it, and also being muggleborn).

It was Dinner. A week before Christmas break, and Friday the 13th, an occasion, which the wizards treated more like April Fools Day, going about breaking mirrors and tricking the teachers under ladders. McGonagall cheerfully walked about the halls in her Animagus form, a black cat, in an enormously (and uncharacteristically) good mood, as the students (even Slytherins) made a walkway for her. Sibyll Trelawney (whom the younger years were very surprised to see even existed) came down from the Tower where she taught Divination, with a solemn and stony look on her face. She clicked her tongue at any passing students laughing at the number of pranks, many of whom were, surprisingly, orchestrated by Ginny and her feline companion Crookshanks.

"I can't believe you would do that to me! Blatant rule-breaking! I'm ashamed of both of you!" Hermione was saying off to Melly's right, to Ginny and Crookshanks, hard-faced. There was even a slightly ashamed look in the cat's eyes, although maybe she was imagining it. Ginny, although, she was pretty sure, was trying very hard not to laugh.

"Leave it alone, Hermione," Ron said, defending his sister, tempted by yet another opportunity to disagree with her. It was Melody's perception that Ron and Hermione had dated for a very long time, and they were still close, but for some reason, they had broken up. She had no idea what it was, and she hadn't the faintest speculation. Ginny knew something, but she always seemed so sad to speak of Harry, even before the Myrtle incident, and she knew better than to push the somewhat reclusive girl being of such a character herself.

"Yeah," said Harry, and Melly's ears perked, "Come on, she's like replacement Fred and George. And even you have to admit, Hogwarts is dull without them."

"I do miss them," Hermione agreed surprisingly submissive, reaching apologetically over to Ginny's lap to stroke Crookshanks.

"Oh no! Have you gone soft now, Granger?!" said Ron, feigning a shocked expression.

"I'll let it pass this once, but don't make it a habit. I quite like my cat as he is, too, so don't turn him into a delinquent, either," Crookshanks purred in unconscious response, melding his body against his owner's warm hand.

"Ah, that's my girl!"

"Shut up, Ron!" And Harry laughed at them through a mouthful of dessert. The students were mostly finished with their food, but Harry had helped himself to the delightful chocolate pudding, which the house elves had prepared especially by his order, though he was pretty sure that was against the rules.

"Where did you get the pudding from?" Ginny asked suspiciously. He hesitated for a second before replying.

"I have connections, darling, you forget." He wagged his finger at her as she stuck her tongue out. Melly saw, Ginny's seemingly cheerful facade that her eyes held a hopeful look, and her movements were slightly jerky.

"So, Mel, having any problems?" Hermione inquired.

"Yeah, a little, in Herbology, the auto plant watering mechanism. It's almost fourth year Charms work, in my opinion. Really hard."

"Oh no, just know the wand movement the first time, and you'll get it after that. I'll teach you tomorrow, if you're not too tired after Lunch?" she gave a sunny smile, and Melly grinned, nodding back.

When most of the students, and atleast half the teachers had departed from the Great Hall, an untimely owl, Hedwig, swooped in to Harry. Luna, at the precise moment, also sat down next to him, as all her Ravenclaw friends had retired to their dormitories.

"What is it?" Ron asked fearfully. Having lost a brother to Voldemort, he was quite paranoid about letters and owls in odd times of the night, as they had more of a likelihood of conveying bad news.

"It's alright, Ron, just reports from the Order."

"How come no one intercepts those letters?" Ginny asked.

"They're encrypted with first-class, Ministry regulated Cryptogram Charms. Really Advanced Magic. Only a few people in the world can do it." Hermione smirked an annoyingly knowing smirk, which would have worked on many people, but of which her friends had pretty much immunized themselves.

"One of them being Emmaline Vance," Neville said, through a yawn.

"Neville!" squealed Ginny, "You need to be a little more careful, eh?" she whispered.

"Whatever, there's no one here anyway," he replied. "I'm going to bed. Really tired. I was up all night doing those charms Flitwick taught us."

"Which reminds me, Harry, McGonagall told me that Dumbledore said he wanted to see us first thing in the morning."

"Why would that remind you?" asked Ron. Hermione gave him a sharp look.

"Alright, Ron," Harry said resignedly, and Ginny's eyes whipped to him.

"Have you read The Quibbler recently? Rita Skeeter's put out this really good article about Gringotts security," Luna changed the subject almost clairvoyantly.

"Good night all," Neville said a final time, as he left the Great Hall.

"Are you going out tonight, Harry?" Ron inquired. Hermione looked slightly put out at that.

"No, I have that Advanced Potions essay to do. And you promised to help, Hermione," he reminded. The challenging expression on Hermione's face gave way to a mixture of annoyance and eagerness.

"How about thinking of school before midnight, then maybe you'd have time for other things? Like sleep?"

"No way! I'd rather give up sleep entirely if it means I'd get to do more homework," Ron provoked, in a laughing tone.

"Ron," both Ginny and Harry chastised together.

"Lets go back to the Tower, shall we? Even Dumbledore's looking a bit sleepy," Luna suggested. They went up to their respective common rooms, Luna and Melody to Ravenclaw, and the rest to Gryffindor Tower.

"Have fun you two," Ginny said, stifling a yawn, and stumbling up the stairs with her eyes half-closed.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," said Ron, and waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Ha, Ha. I think we're a little more mature than you, Ronald Weasley," Hermione protested. When he had gone up to bed, they pulled out their scrolls and began working. About fifteen minutes into the session, although, Harry had a strange feeling that they were being watched.

"Go to bed, Mr. Prefect," Hermione said sternly, serving as an explanation. Harry smiled within himself.

"Alright, alright," he whined, "you're not that interesting anyway, you two, you and I made a better couple!"

"What did I say, Ron?" she said.

"I'm going! Merlin." Harry let out a giggle, scribbling on some space-consuming tidbit straight from the tediously prepared rolls of parchment about Feet Smelling Potions being an essential ingredient of Odor-Repellent Charms. Immediately, Hermione waved her self-erasing pointer quill, erasing the whole paragraph that Harry had painstakingly plagiarized directly from her notes.

"No, no, no. What in the world does that have to do with the relationship of temperatures to side-effects of a certain potion?"

"Well, the temperature of a Feet-Smeller thing--And Odor-whatever-thing--" Harry stumbled about. Frustrated. he put his quill down, inadvertantly spraying the paper with a little ink. He let out a ragged sigh and gave her a long look.

"Oh, I don't care what you think, but you can't just copy my notes anymore! Harry think about it here, you're not the mainstream student."

"That's not quite what I was thinking," he replied innocently.

"Harry!"

"Sorry, but you really need to lighten up." Hermione pursed her lips in that familiar way, and her face reddened.

"LIGHTEN UP?!" she said. In a slightly more composed whisper, she continued, "Harry! You're turning into RON!"

"Well, I do value his opinion a lot. It's actually sort of a compliment, really." She gaped, opening and closing her mouth like a fish. Harry bent over and kissed her slightly parted lips, chuckling into her mouth.

"Don't do that!" she said, pulling away. "Gawd, you're disgusting."

"Am I?" he cocked an eyebrow as he said this, then you wouldn't mind if I--" he stood up and lifted her small figure up onto his shoulder. Hermione screamed a little, but caught herself, as she was a prefect, and it was nearly one in the morning. She beat his back fiercely, and kicked her legs, but Harry didn't drop her until he was fully out of the Common Room. She landed on an unceremonious heap on the floor, tangled in her flowy robes, and rubbing her aching neck.

"You broke my spine! I'm going to die!" she said whiningly. She felt very happy, despite breaking all of a million rules in mere seconds, out with a boy, in the halls after midnight, without her Prefect Badge pinned on her chest, unprotected ORDER members, with Voldemort running loose trying to kill them. She giggled a little, as Harry stopped to wherever he was dragging her off to. He slid his hand down from her wrist, and wove them with her fingers.

"What's funny?"

"I don't know. I'm just happy."

"Cheering Charm?"

"No. Just--you make me happy." Hermione felt suddenly sheepish as she said it, as it was the truth, but she was never quite sure how Harry would react. With Ron it was easy, because she knew him so well that he was predictable, but Harry, he was just unpredictable by nature. Harry, on the other hand, looked taken aback, eyebrows raised. A second later, he gave a wide, toothy smile, and gripped her hand ever tighter, and walked even faster than before.

"Where're we going?" Hermione asked, "And why aren't we using the Cloak?"

"Well, I didn't want to wake the others by going up to get the Map and Cloak from my chest. And for the past few months I've been wandering around almost every night anyway, till three or four in the morning, so I pretty much know how Filch makes his rounds."

"When do you sleep? It's not healthy, Harry."

"Yeah, well, I'd rather have bad health than those horrible dreams." Hermione said nothing in protest.

"Where are we going, again?"

"We're going to the forest."

"W-what?" Hermione looked stricken, and with good reason. Relations with the Centaurs weren't really too hunky-dory, and they were the least threatening of all of those in the Forbidden Forest.

"I've been planning this ever since I went to Belgarath's Island, and I think I have it, finally."

"Well, would you mind telling me what in Godric's name you're up to, first, so I can tell you its a bad idea?"

"I would like for you to be a little cooperative, but I do a mean Constriction Charm. Which coincidentally you taught me."

"Ok, fine, tell me, and I'll cooperate. Maybe," she added for good measure.

"You know that the Centaurs, according to the Dedigne Codex, are the half Dal half Algar horse-folk, right?"

"No. I don't remember reading that."

"Come on, Hermione?" said Harry, shivering, "Why didn't you think to bring cloaks." She gave him a deadly look.

"Did you ever think that it was edited to protect their identities?" Harry frowned.

"Maybe not." She nodded, with a winning grin. "Ok, so there was this place called Kell, with people--Seers--who maintained and monitored the fabric of time. Seers we have these days are only the Seers from the Ancient Kell going into the future to possess people to change a certain course of time."

"That's a nice idea," she admired.

"Yeah. Well, Centaurs are actual Seers, except, well--like Cassandra from Julius Caesar, no one believes them because they're a little antisocial. Half horses--I mean, and their predictions always tended to seem farfetched and puzzling, so no one cares."

"Do they know that they are from the ancient World?"

"Yeah, you see, they do. They worship the Universe, and the stars. They are the Accursed Ones of this world, like Mara, the Weeping God and his people for when they were Seers."

"So what do you intend to do?"

"Well, since their Dals, and they know the legends and the truth about the world, I intend to appeal to them as Belgarath's apprentice." He grinned.

"What if it doesn't work? How would you prove it?"

"I would."

***

They walked to the edge of the Forest, as a gloomy air enveloped them. Going into the forest in the depths of the night was more scary than they ever thought, as this time they were doing it quite willingly, and not out of some necessity. Harry was, despite his cool appearance (which was almost to convince himself as much as Hermione), immensely nervous, if he screwed this up, he would put Dumbledore in an awful position, not to mention probably getting himself kicked out of the Order, or worse, himself and Hermione killed. He had no idea why she was going with it anyway, but nonetheless glad that she was just...there.

The rotten leaves crackled underneath them sickeningly, as if they were stepping on more than rotten leaves, but not looking down, they wove straight through the trees where they had spotted the Centaurs on previous occasions. They were walking around and around for nearly an hour before ever-resourceful Hermione spotted the headlights of the Ford Impala, zooming closer to them.

"Hey boy!" she said, happily climbing in, as the car sniffed at Harry with its exhaust. He eyed her weirdly. "Take us to the Centaurs." The mossy car--now fully green, with all the paint chipped off enthusiastically went back the exact direction they came. Hermione gave him a triumphant smile.

"I told you we should have called for him the first place."

"You did not!" The car purposefully (Harry suspected) ran nearby a protruding tree branch so that it nearly knocked him off as he ducked, still grazing the tips of his hair as it whooshed past.

"Halt!" They all heard a familiar voice, and as the Impala shrilled to a stop, Harry's vengeful thoughts stuck in his throat. He swallowed, as Hermione stuttered a faint apology.

"It's meddlesome Harry Potter and his loyal friend Hermione Granger?"

"Y-Yes. Hello Bane," Harry replied, mustering an thin, awkward smile.

"What do you want this time? I tell you, if its to take back the Betrayer, we shall not do it. And I'm quite sure that we won't just let you go back to school without retribution this time, for taking advantage of us either.

"I swear, its nothing like that! We never meant to--" Hermione began.

"Quite, Daughter. Come with me to join the rest of us so that we may all decide what to do with you."

"Of course," Harry said, mustering up his courage. This was the moment he could really do something. Completely of his own accord, and not so much an accident. He felt slightly inspired as he began jogging to keep pace with Bane, as Hermione lagged slightly behind.

The rest of the crowd were all slightly younger or much older than Bane. The women and children, or mares and colts rather, were nowhere to be seen, and Harry, seeing the numbers (nearly fifty) began speculating on how well it would all go if they fought against Voldemort with Dumbledore. He pulled all his memory of his time spent on the Island, specifics from when Wolf had taught him the Old Tongue.

"Vankume," he said. There was a gasp from a small, wide-eyed centaur in the corner.

"So I see you know of our Tongue," Bane said. "But words do not impress us."

"Ouney Manike Vekranem Endrum En Kenne?" he asked, and even the presumptuous lead-centaur was speechless.

"I am immensely sorry. I see that you do not seek to do any such thing. We are much aggrieved." Bane lowered his head completely to the ground in front of Harry, and atleast half the others mimicked the action, the rest either neighed, or mumbling in assent. Harry, slightly embarrassed, looked around at Hermione. Who was smiling encouragingly (though looking a bit perplexed) back at him.

"And the Lady? Is she of the People, as well?" Bane said in the old Tongue.

"She is my--companion--if you will--" he replied circuitously, in the same.

"It was written in the stars that there was something about you, but being of this troublesome Algar blood, we could not figure the puzzle though we've tried for centuries."

"Do not despair, and never, as I know this myself, curse your heritage. For you are the Favored, and the Algar strength is your one true protection, though all else may fail."

"Wise words for one so young."

"Lessons from the Eternal." The Centaur's eyes widened, and he bowed again, his nostrils dipped nearly to touch the grassy earth. More of the others than the first time bowed also the second time.

"We cannot give you what you wish to ask, Child, but we will be at your service, not of the politicking of Man, and only as you command will we do."

"Do you mean to say that you will not do as written in the stars, which you have worshipped your entire lives?"

"Forgive me. But we have seen no sign of such a notion."

Harry felt slightly nervous here. How would he turn this argument around? He sighed defeatedly.

"It is my destiny. And for me to fulfill it, I must be free of all this politicking, so that I may meet the other Child at the proper time. He has gathered a giant force, an army of mass, unnatural proportions in attempt to," he struggled to remember the word for a second, "--thwart my plans, and tip over the Prophecy so that he wins. I only ask you to match his forces so that we may ensure equilibrium."

"We will consider." Bane gave a slight tip of the head, and made a circle in front of his face, Harry reciprocated the motion (hoping he was doing something right), and bowed slightly also. He looked at Hermione, and Bane, surprisingly, spoke to her.

"Harry Potter is not all he seems. Never underestimate him," said Bane, and Hermione smiled.

"Of course not," she replied. She walked over to him as the Centaurs' hooves clicked away far enough that they could call the Impala to take them back in to Hogwarts. They got into the car, and as it zoomed through the trees, Hermione turned to Harry.

"What did they say?"

"They were really impressed when I said Belgarath's name."

"You really learned that whole language in two or three days?"

"I told you it was more like a year--and I didn't learn it, he sort of put the seed of it in my head and it just...grew."

"So has Voldemort learned all your secrets yet?"

"No. The dreams these days are always detached. Voldemort has completely blocked out all his emotions because I think Belgarath put some kind of spell in my head to give him nightmares. And he can't do things so easily any more. But its wearing off, so I still have to do that bit of Legilimens so I learn to unblock dream enchantments and things."

As Hermione began another question, Harry stopped her, raising his palm up in the air.

"It's late--four-thirty, and I'll answer your questions in the morning." Through a yawn, he mumbled a password to a droopy looking Fat Lady.

"After the meeting with Dumbledore?" she urged.

"Yeah, sure."

"Good night. I--" she began, but the words died on her lips.

"Good night, 'Mione," he said, already half-asleep. She sighed, walking up the stairs on the other end of the room.

The news that morning at Breakfast was atrocious. Harry and Hermione, waking up a bit later than the others, missed out on the Breakfast Daily Prophet Owls, and by the time they went up to the Great Halls to recieve the Owls, the news was buzzing about in the Hallways. Before even they heard from a student, Professor McGonagall rushed up to them.

"Come, you two, we're having him under Veritaserum in the Hospital Wing now. Dumbledore wants you to see it, for some inane reason."

"Who?" they said together.

"You haven't read the Paper?!" McGonagalll said frustratedly. She jerkily flicked her wand in the air, as a Daily Prophet materialized and floated in front of their eyes. Both their tired faces went completely ashen at disbelief seeing the headline.

MINISTER OF MAGIC GONE MAD, DEATH EATER SUSPECTS