Harry trudged along behind Ron reluctantly. They walked out of the great hall and on outside. Harry shivered, it was cold. "Ron! Can we go back now? They're not here anyway…"

          "There they are." Ron walked on ahead, but Harry caught his arm.

          "Ron, this is ridiculous. It's cold, we're hungry. Why do you really care anyway?"

          Ron narrowed his eyes. "Why don't you care?" Harry took his hand away. "Harry, we've been best friends for seven years, I'm not stupid. Something suspicious is going on, involving your godfather, and you don't wanna go explore this because you're hungry." Ron folded his arms together. "You really expected me to believe that?"

          Harry smiled. "Yes. Yes I did actually. I thought you would because I expected you to be too hungry to care."

          Ron blushed. "Yes, well…I had a big lunch."

          "Fine." Harry sighed again. He knew he wouldn't be able to keep it from Ron very long anyway. He told him everything. "Come back inside the castle and I'll tell you tonight."

          "You tell me as soon as we get to the common room, or I'll march straight up to Dumbledore's office, and ask him instead. Ok?" Harry nodded in agreement, and the two headed back the great hall.

          Harry and Ron sat down in a far corner of the dormitory, where a few people were wandering around. Harry looked around, and then sat back. Neither spoke for a moment. "So," started Ron. "What's going on that you didn't think you should tell me about?"

          Harry leaned forward and rested his arms on his knees, his hands tightly together. He looked down while telling Ron. "Voldemort is strong," he started. He could feel a sudden stillness from Ron. He knew that he hated it when Harry said the name.

          "Of all the things I thought this would be about, believe it or not, I never actually thought it would be about… it." Harry smiled wryly at the way Ron spoke about Voldemort as "it". He'd wrecked both their lives as well as the rest of the magical worlds'.

          "Sirius and Remus are here because Dumbledore thinks that it's getting serious. He's called in Arabella Figg and Mundungus Fletcher as well."

          "Hey, I know them, we met them a few years ago didn't we?" said Ron.

          Harry nodded. He looked up at that moment, straight into Ron's eyes. "They want me to help them," he said softly.

          "What?!" Ron jumped up. Harry stood as well looking around the common room. Luckily, no one had noticed Ron's outburst.

          "Look, I'm pretty sure Dumbledore doesn't want everyone knowing, so just, calm down, ok? Anyway, I'm not…"

          "No, I won't calm down," Ron interrupted, almost hissing. He frowned at Harry. "This guy killed Hermione. This guy killed your parents, for hell's sake, Harry! You can't go into certain death! Not after what they sacrificed!"

          "I kn…"

          "You don't always have to be the hero, Harry! Just walk away! They've got loads of people helping them out, they don't need you! You're 17, you…you've got NEWTs this year, you…you…" Ron stopped and looked at Harry's face. He looked calm, not angry and ready to fight back. "What?"

          Harry sat down and Ron followed. "I'm not helping them."

          "…What?"

          "I'm not helping them," Harry repeated, amused.

          Ron looked momentarily confused. "But…why not?"

          "Why not? Because of all the things you just said! Hermione meant more to me than anything, and she died because of me. I'm not going to throw my life away as well as hers."

          Ron sat still for a moment, then sat back and frowned. "I expected you to say yes."

          "Why?"

          "Because this is what you do. You're always trying to be the hero. You…you fight you-know-who. It's…it's just what you do."

          Harry smiled wryly. "So you're telling me that I'm some kind of superhero?"

          "No! But…look, never mind. The main thing is you're not stupid enough to go find him."

          Harry leaned back in his chair and breathed deeply, thinking. After a while, he said, "Do you think I should have said yes?"

          "Bloody hell, of course not! It would mean almost certain death! No one can ask that from you, Harry. And anyway, you're only 17. You don't know enough, you're not strong enough."

          Harry smiled. Ron was very wrong. Harry thought about what Dumbledore had said about his strength, and about what he could do with his eyes. Harry suddenly realised that he had to help them. He wasn't "gifted" with these special powers or whatever for no reason. And Harry knew that if he didn't help, then he would feel bad for the rest of his life, knowing people may have died because of him.

          "What's so funny?" asked Ron.

          "I hate you," said Harry, still smiling.

          "Wh…" Ron started, but Harry cut him off with a single look. Ron raised an eyebrow. "What?" he asked again.

          "I can't tell you," Harry said secretively. "I need to show you." He looked around the common room. It was getting late, and there was just one person left sitting at a desk reading: Lavender.

          Ron noticed Lavender and turned back to Harry. "Can you show Lavender as well?"

          "No." Harry shook his head. "No one else can know but us, ok?"

          Ron nodded and stood up. He walked over to Lavender and bent down, whispering something to Lavender. She looked over to Harry worriedly, nodded, and scuttled away up to her dormitory. Ron walked over, a grin plastered on his triumphant face. Harry stood and raised an eyebrow. "What did you say to her?"

          "I just told her you were having another of your breakdowns and could she leave us alone." Ron walked over to a more comfy chair as if it was no big deal and sat down.

          "Ron! I don't want people thinking I'm still…I mean…I still have…you know what I mean. I'm over that now."

          Ron didn't look convinced, but shrugged anyway, and gestured his hand towards the chair next to him. Harry didn't sit down. Instead, he looked around for something he could do. When he saw it, he turned his attention back to Ron. "Right," he started nervously. "You know you said "you're not strong enough" to help them, yeah?" Ron nodded slowly. "Well, there's something I need to show you. I've wanted to show someone this for ages."

          Harry scanned his eyes back to the chess board. He concentrated on the white queen and this time, held out his hand to catch it from going in his eye again. That was something he'd have to work on. Not thinking about Ron at all, he concentrated hard and the chess piece flew to his hand obediently. Harry caught it easily, paused a moment, then turned to Ron and opened his hand. Ron's eyes were wide open and looked scared.

          "Ron, don't worry," Harry said anxiously as Ron stood up nervously. "Remember in our second year, everyone found out I could talk to snakes and immediately assumed I was Slytherin's heir? Well you stuck with me through that. I'm still me. I just…don't seem to need a wand anymore.

          Ron walked over to Harry and looked down at the chess piece in his hand in disbelief. "Do something else," he said.

          "Ok," said Harry. He looked over at the fire place. Ron's eyes widened even more (if that was possible) at the growing orange flames that were licking away in the fire place. He looked at Harry. "How long have you been able to do this?"

          "Well, I found out during the summer holidays." Ron's mouth flew open. Harry knew he wasn't supposed to do magic during the holidays. "I know, I know," Harry said, understanding. "But it wasn't my fault! I was sitting in the living room and I was really cold. I looked at the fire place and wished the fire was on, and suddenly, it was."

          Ron sat down again. "How come you've never been able to do this before?"

          "I don't know." Harry shook his head and sat down as well. "I have no answers. All I know is, I can get rid of my wand."

          The two sat in silence. "Can you do anything else?" Ron asked finally. Harry raised an eyebrow. "You know, I mean, other than fire and bringing things to you." Harry cocked his head to one side. He hadn't thought of that. What else…

          "Turn that chess piece into an animal," Ron suggested. Harry stared hard at the chess piece, and soon a fluffy bunny rabbit was sitting in the palm of his hand. Harry smiled and stroked it.

          "Harry, you have to tell Dumbledore about this."

          Harry looked at his friend, and realised he was telling him something he didn't want him knowing. Harry and Ron both knew what Harry had to do. Harry sighed and leaned back in the soft comforts of the armchair. "I know. I owe it to them to help."

          Ron nodded painfully. "Just…be careful, man."

          Harry nodded as well. "Ok. I'm tired, let's go to bed." They both stood and moved to the stairs.

          From a stair leading up to the girls dormitories, Lavender's eyes were still wide open in disbelief at what she'd just seen and what she'd just heard, as she fled up to her dormitory quietly.

          At dinner the next day, Harry tried to blot out all thoughts of Voldemort and Dumbledore. He knew he'd have to think about that eventually, but for now, he thought he'd better make up for the previous day's lack of enthusiasm about Quidditch. Now, he and Kial, one of the beaters, were deep in conversation about beater tactics. "Well, if you stay near the chasers most of the game, and Megan stays near the goal…"

          "But what about you? The other team are gonna wanna knock you out the most."

          "Well, yes, but…"

          Their conversation was interrupted by the chinking of a goblet. Harry looked up to the teacher's table to see Dumbledore standing with a grave look on his face. Harry frowned. This couldn't be good. He gulped. He wasn't going to tell them anything about Voldemort, was he? He wouldn't…

          Harry was trying to convince himself that Dumbledore wouldn't be so stupid as to raise a panic against Voldemort's new strengths, when the headmaster spoke. "Students of Hogwarts, I have a very grave and sad announcement to make." Quiet murmurs flew around the great hall. Dumbledore let them continue for a bit, and then subside. "Not two months into the school year yet, and I am sad to say there has been a death." A tiny whimper came from down Harry's table, and he turned to see a first year being comforted by another first year. He and Ron exchanged glances. This was not good.

          "Not since Cedric Diggory, may he rest in peace, has there been a death. A girl whose name was Martha Jelton." Harry frowned. He recognised that name…Martha Jelton…

          "The cause of the death is unknown, and we shall be investigating this case further, but the hospital wing did all they could before the announced her dead. Raise your goblets for Martha Jelton, the beloved first year Griffindor, whose life had been cut horrendously short."

          "Bloody hell," came Ron's voice from next to Harry. "I wonder how it happened. Did you know her?"

          Harry nodded his head slowly. He had gone a deathly white. "Are you ok, Harry?" Martha. The girl who thought she was safe. The little girl who knew she was safe, when the famous Harry Potter was at school to protect her…

"Professor Dumbledore!" As soon as dinner had ended, Harry had run over to find the headmaster through the swarm of bodies exiting the hall. Everyone, even the Slytherins, seemed saddened, or at least worried, by this mysterious death. And with nothing leading up to it either. But Harry needed to know more. He felt responsible. Martha had thought she was safe. She'd practically told him to look after her. And he hadn't… Maybe she wouldn't have died if he'd just agreed to help Dumbledore. Assuming it was all Voldemort's doings…

Harry called out Dumbledore's name again over the Hogwarts students. The headmaster turned and waited quietly for whoever had called his name. Harry emerged from the sea of bodies retreating up the stairs or down to the dungeons to their common rooms.

          "Harry." Dumbledore nodded his head in acknowledgement. "I thought you might come and see me."

          "Professor, I need to know…what happened?"

          "As I said, Harry, we do not know precisely what happened. Professor Snape, Remus and Lupin are looking deep into it as we speak. We would have asked Professor Goldhammer, your defence against the dark arts teacher, to assist but he fled from Hogwarts tonight. Something about 'evil goings on', I don't know…" Dumbledore shook his head, and began to walk the corridor towards the hospital wing, where presumably Martha's body lay.

          "Professor, I know you don't know exactly what happened, but I know you think you know who did it."

          Dumbledore glanced at Harry. "We both know who we think did this merciless killing, Harry." He looked ahead of him again. "As I said to you earlier, myself, Mundungus, Arabella, Remus, Sirius and Professor Severus are looking into it. We are doing our best to figure out where Voldemort…"

          "I'll help as well."

          Dumbledore stopped walking and turned to face Harry. "You do want to help?"

          Harry breathed out deeply. "No, sir. I never said that. I don't want to help. Every apart of me is screaming at me to run away and hide in my dormitory. But I can't do that. I can help. You need me."

          Dumbledore looked like he would have smiled then in ordinary circumstances, but in the recent death of Martha, perhaps he thought it unsuitable. "We do, do we?"

          "Yes."

          Harry offered no explanation yet as to why they did. He couldn't explain it in the corridor where anyone could hear. It was too dangerous. Too many spies of Voldemort. He would tell him later, when they were in his office.

          "Sir, I want to see Martha."

          Dumbledore's eyebrows rose above his half-moon spectacles. "You knew the girl, did you?"

          "Yes, sir. Remember? She was the one who you sent to fetch for me the other day."

          Dumbledore's eyebrows crinkled into a frown, as if trying hard to remember. "Ah yes, of course." His face saddened. He smiled, and yet said nothing. The two carried on walking to the hospital wing.

          When they got there, there were lots of people standing around the bed. Professor Snape, Professor Sprout, and Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, were feeling Martha's head, taking her temperature (even though she was already dead) and checking just about every inch of her body for clues, and Sirius and Remus were sat on a bed far away, deep in conversation.

          Everyone hushed up as soon as they saw Dumbledore and Harry. Professor Snape and Professor Pomfrey immediately rushed to Dumbledore's side, updating him, it seemed. Harry walked towards Martha's side and kneeled down on the floor. He lifted her hand and felt it. It was cold, limp, and almost solid. Harry looked at Martha's face. Colour had been drained from it; she was as a ghost. Her small delicate eyes were closed gently, and her mouth was open slightly. Her hair was disarrayed, all over the place. There was no soul left in her to care about hair anymore.

          "I'm sorry, Martha," Harry whispered. He kissed her hand and stood. As Dumbledore seemed a bit busy with Snape (a/n: not meant in an ew! way!), Harry walked over instead to Sirius and Remus. "Any clues to who did it?" Harry asked, making them jump. They hadn't even seen him come in. They must have been discussing something real important.

          "Harry! What are you doing here?" asked Sirius.

          "I came with Dumbledore. I…I want to help you."

          Sirius looked at Remus who raised his eyebrows at him then turned to Harry. "Are you sure?"

          "No." Harry sat on the bed next to Sirius. "But I'm going to anyway."

          Sirius shrugged and looked away. Harry guessed he was pretty much the only one against the idea of him helping. Sirius was very close to Harry's parents. He knew what they'd sacrificed to save his life.

          Harry decided to speak to him about it later. "So, any ideas as to who did it?" he repeated.

          It was Remus who answered. "I'll give you one guess."

          "Voldemort."

          "Yeah. Of course, we're not sure; I mean, there are no clues. Whoever this guy was, they were very discreet about it."

          "Which is clue number one," Sirius added in. "You-know-who is a bloody genius. He'd be careful not to leave any paw-prints."

          "How did it happen?"

          "No one knows." Sirius shrugged and looked away. "That's why it's so hard to pinpoint who did it."

          "She was found in the grounds, near Hagrid's hut, on the edge of the Dark Forest. She was just lying on the ground, peacefully." Remus stood up and walked over to the bedside table next to Martha. He walked back over to Harry and handed the object to him. It was a red mirror with cracked glass. "This was found beside her."

          Harry immediately thought back to when he was in his 2nd year. Hermione had been found on the floor with a mirror. She'd been petrified by a giant snake, and had realised that she wouldn't die, would only be petrified, if she'd only seen the reflection of the monster through the mirror. Harry smiled sadly. She was a clever girl. We always made fun of you for liking tests and loving the library…but when we need you, you're not here are you? Harry thought sadly.

          He put the mirror flat down on the bed next to him and realised that Sirius was staring at him. "Um, so, you're all very clever wizards," Harry said, breaking Sirius' stare. "What does this mirror tell us?"

          "Not very much," Remus said, sitting down. "But take a look on the back."

          Harry reluctantly lifted the mirror again and looked on the back. It was a blood red colour, and there were intricate markings on it. Harry ran his hand along them and frowned.

          "Any idea what that is?" asked Sirius, laughing shortly and sarcastically.

          Harry frowned deeper. He closed his eyes and continued running his hand along. Hissnarth, dracorrrnethss, kssopthnusss, indusssnesthh… Harry's eyes shot open. It was in parseltongue. Snake language. Harry knew he could understand parseltongue, and speak it. But he had no idea he could read it. He didn't even know you could write the language.

          "Harry? What is it?" Sirius stood anxiously. "What, do you recognise what it is?" Sirius looked down at the carvings. "What is it?"

          Harry didn't look at Sirius. He didn't say anything. Instead, he turned, and walked straight over to Dumbledore. "Professor? Professor-"

          "Just a minute, Mr. Potter, can't you see we're talking about something very important, here! A girl has just died!" said Snape, then turned back to Dumbledore angrily.

          Harry folded his arms. "Oh, so you won't want to know what these markings are on the back of the mirror then, will you?"

          Snape stopped talking, and turned slowly to look at Harry. He said nothing. It was Dumbledore who spoke. "Harry? What is it?"

          Harry breathed deeply before saying, "It's in parseltongue. It's a riddle. It reads: 'The blood will not stop, the pain shall go on… 'till the heir to the light, shall step forward and fight'." The whole room went a deadly silent. It was Remus who finally spoke. "What the hell does that mean?"

a/n: ooh, long chapter! J any confusions, any questions, any thoughts or ideas on this story, please feel free to email me. Or just review! Thanx..

~rowan

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