~*Harry Potter and the Second War*~
That was easily a horrible chapter. As it turns out, that was one-sided H/G (the side is from Ginny liking Harry) and if I can force it to happen we might see some other one-sided shipping... but I feel in favor of keeping Harry angstily single (or with Luna, cause apparently JK said he'd like someone that isn't Ginny or Hermione, but I don't want to force them into it in one chapter... love at first sight is a hard concept for me), while Hermione and Ron are happily coupled. Adds to the tragedy.
To all the nice people who have reviewed the story, thank you. I dunno if I said that before, but hell, I'm gonna say it again then. You're all so nice!! Um... that was sort of my point...
And on a no doubt different note, The Amazing Snorkack's social life has been taking up a complicating lot of time. I have to go to at least three things after camp per week, so I can't update quite as often... appalling, but true. Even this chapter's late, cause dangit, I had to go from camping trip to 4th of July to social events and that was 5 days! So in that honor I will present chapter 8, with more... um... stuff than you can shake a stick at. Even if you do have a stick and you are bored enough to shake it at the chapter.
Funny Part of Book Five: *unfortunately it has come to a halt.... we'll just have to wait till the author can get her book back from her brother... rrrrrrgh*
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Chapter 8- State of Delusion
"Welcome, everyone, to another year of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Before the Sorting begins, and we eat this bountiful feast, I have several very serious announcements that cannot wait until later.
"Most of you now know that, indeed, there is a threat to our school and way of life. The Dark Lord that threatened your parents and grandparents fifteen years ago has returned to power, and in this time of crisis, we have appointed a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Professor Snape has generously decided to take on this post instead of Potions, and this year we will have a new Potions Master, Leona Fletcher."
The student body clapped warmly. Harry stared, horrified, at the staff table. Indeed, Snape was sitting at the DADA seat, looking smug. The new Potions teacher, Professor Fletcher, was quietly bowing her head, shielding her face from view by the lighting of the candles. She seemed nice enough, but Harry was worried more about Snape being his new educator.
The first years had already come into the room, looking wet and fearful. They eyed the four House tables warily, some even staring at their shoes the whole time they stood. McGonagall brought out a stool, and placed the familiar Sorting Hat on it. It twitched, then a rip at the brim opened wide and began to sing its latest Sorting song.
"Harry!" whispered Ron.
Harry turned away from the Sorting Hat to face Ron. He was taller, definitely, but had the same look of hand-me-down he always had.
"Hey, Ron, where were you?" he asked quietly.
"I'm not allowed to say, but I'll try and tell you whatever I can. It's some Prefect thing, only us eight and the staff know about it, so you're not out of the light." Ron looked over his shoulder. "Why is Snape sitting in the DADA seat?"
"That's a wonderful question, but I think the answer is right in front of your nose," Harry scowled, angry that his best friends were again hiding things from him.
"Look, Harry, you don't have to be so mean about this. . . . It doesn't involve you at all, ok? You can stop being so bloody paranoid every time you're not part of a secret."
"I'm not paranoid," Harry said between gritted teeth, "I'm just trying to keep myself alive until whenever it is I have to face off Voldemort for the last time!"
"What?"
"It's the sole purpose of my life, apparently, and until June nobody thought of explaining it to me. The only positive thing I can think of, regarding it, is how useful I feel now."
Ron could find nothing to say about this. He started to move his mouth in reply, but thought better of it. Harry looked away from his slight expression of pity to watch the last first-year be Sorted into Ravenclaw, disgusted with himself that he had shared anything with Ron.
Within minutes, food appeared on all the shining golden plates down every table, and talking rose to a roar in the arched room. Harry didn't touch any of it, feeling rather shaken for no reason. He looked around instead to find Hermione deep in conversation with Ron, who she was sitting across from. Once or twice he could have sworn she was looking in his direction, but by the time he figured it out she had looked away again.
"Welcome, Gryffindor first-years," Nearly Headless Nick said. He floated up through the table in front of Harry, his head wobbling on his pearly white shoulders. Harry started. Several people looked over at the Gryffindor ghost, a few applauding quietly. Nick wandered right through the thick of the table, away from the bulk of the sixth-years.
It got increasingly boring, not having anyone to talk to. He twirled his fork between his fingers idly. His mind began to wander. By the time he snapped out of his daze, the feast was practically over. Dumbledore was finishing an announcement or two about where the students could not go.
"As I have said many times before, the Forbidden Forest is, indeed, off-limits to everyone, and anyone caught there will be punished severely. For this year only, the girls' bathroom occupied by the ghost of Moaning Myrtle is to be inaccessible. Anyone found inside it will also be severely punished. Argus Filch, the caretaker, will make sure that nobody tries to get in."
There was quiet muttering amongst the students. Harry glanced around. Moaning Myrtle's bathroom was where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets was. There was something suspicious about it being kept hidden from the students. Or maybe Ron was right, he was being paranoid. . . .
Everyone had been excused, and they filed out of the Great Hall, still talking in low voices. The Prefects called their House's first-years to them, and everyone split up. The Slytherins and Gryffindors collided for a brief moment in the entrance hall, but the Slytherin group made it to the dungeons, where Harry knew their dormitories were.
At the portrait of the Fat Lady, Hermione began to fidget and glare at Ron. "You know the password, right?"
"Er, no, I thought you did."
"Well this is no good! I suppose I'd better get Professor McGonagall and –"
"It's 'eye of newt'," Harry stated loudly. Everyone stared at him, and he silently wished that he hadn't been the one to speak out.
The Fat Lady nodded and her painting swung open to reveal the Portrait Hole. Everyone clambered in, taking all of the chairs, couches, and tables by storm. Harry followed, but managed to push past the sea of happy students to the dormitory stairs. Halfway to the boys' dormitory, he was stopped by Hermione grabbing his wrist forcefully.
"Ron told me you sounded a bit lonesome, and I think you should come and talk with us. Maybe we can help." She peered at him. "You don't look too well."
"I doubt I ever do," Harry sighed.
"What?"
"No I – I think I really need some sleep."
"Well, if there's anything on your mind, you can tell me."
"Sure, g'night."
Hermione loosened her grip and went back down the stairs. Harry proceeded into the dormitory, where he found his familiar bed and trunk waiting for him, as well as everyone else's stuff. He fumbled around for his pajamas, then changed into them in the dark. Putting his glasses carefully on his bedside table, he threw himself onto his bed, got under the covers, and stared up at the canopy for a while. When the other sixth-year boys entered the room, he shut his eyes and pretended to be asleep.
"So, how was your summer?" Ron asked. He sounded tired.
"Ah, it was pretty boring. My parents found out about You-Know-Who being loose and all, and they got a bit crazy over it," Dean Thomas answered. "What about you, Seamus?"
"Same old, same old. Me mum was still a bit shocked about You-Know-Who returning, 'specially since she was all for believing he was gone for good. I'm sorry I asked Harry about what happened that night. . . . it must have been hard to deal with."
"I don't know how he survives day after day. I would have expected someone with that much trauma to start cutting themselves," Dean speculated.
"I probably don't know what I'm talking about," Neville interrupted, "but I think he's too strong for that. He's lost his parents, people he know have been hurt in front of him. . . . he's not in Gryffindor for nothing. He wouldn't resort to that kind of thing."
"Wow," was all Ron could say.
Too right I wouldn't, Harry thought to himself, rubbing his wrists. He continued listening as the conversation changed from him to Quidditch, to racing brooms, and finally, Harry was so out of it that he fell asleep.
He began to have a very strange dream. Luna Lovegood was holding out a box with what he supposed was a Crumple-Horned Snorkack inside. She opened the box, but instead of some kind of animal, there was a black veil. He heard shrieks, wails, and whispering.
The box grew into the enormous arch in the Department of Mysteries. The background was muted grey stone. He saw someone jump through the veil, a rope of some kind trailing at their feet, tied to the arch's ancient side, but they did not come out the other side. He couldn't identify the person, but it was not an adult.
Then the Ministry scenery faded, replaced by a familiar man with watery eyes, balding blonde hair, and a silver hand. He looked apprehensively at where Harry felt he was.
"You think he will do it?" Wormtail asked.
"If he is not sent to retrieve the artifact, then sooner or later he will, yes," Voldemort said in his cold voice. "It is only a matter of time before my last enemies fall, and I will have no one to stand up to me."
"It is a very interesting plan. . . . But, after you get rid of the boy, how will we dispose of Lu– the werewolf?"
"It's very simple. You will. I did not give you a silver hand for no reason." Voldemort paused to hold up Pettigrew's silvery right hand, looking like a liquid glove in the pale light. "The best way to kill a werewolf is to burn him with silver after his transformation to wolf. I thought you paid attention in Defense Against the Dark Arts."
"I did, but you see, well, back in school, he was my best friend. . . . I don't want to sound unfaithful to you, but –"
"I did not ask if you knew him. You will kill him, or I will kill you. And for your insolence, Crucio!"
Wormtail began to scream and writhe with pain. Harry felt his scar go from searing to exploding with pain in seconds. His screams of pain mingled with Peter's, until he found himself, gasping and sweating, looking up at the canopy of his bed.
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This chapter wasn't bad, I must admit. My writing style is going through metamorphosis and is at the giant cocoon stage... makes you wonder what's coming next... involving the Chamber of Secrets... the real Chamber of Secrets- oh wait you didn't hear that! La la la I didn't say anything revealing la la la!
Hey that reminds me, I accidentally blurted out where the cover of Book 5 is, right in front of my friend who's only halfway through the book... she's mad at me... oops.
So anyway, I decided to fill this chapter with a load of crap, like a *hint hint* meaningful dream, offensive conversation, and of course, our favorite DADA appointee... I know you all just love who I thought should be DADA teacher. I don't like him either, but it works and that's all I care about. This is all going to interweave by the climax, I can assure you, and by then, well, uh... I don't know.