Author's Notes: Okay, I normally don't have extra written chapters in reserve, but my beta's on vacation so I *had* to get my stuff proofed before she left. I'm too much of a coward to post without proofing. But I have to post because I'm dying to try Sou's suggestion and see if my formatting sticks (Thank you so much for the tip! I *hugely* appreciate it!!! g). I *love* italics. It makes thoughts more intimate when you know you're channeling the character's thoughts directly. I've missed them in my chapters, and I hate how my borders between character's perspectives don't appear all of the time (I really do have borders, and don't mean to make you guess who's perspective you're reading). So here's hoping it works! Remember, notes to reviewers are at the end of the chapter now.
Disclaimer: Sigh Still not mine…
Chapter 20
Percy Weasley paced the length of his tiny, windowless office. The spells that illuminated his room flickered irritatingly, as they always had, and Percy, who, in more liquored up moments (Last year's office Christmas party, to be precise. He'd sworn off mixed drinks… they were far too tasty… that New Years after seeing the pictures), swore that he heard *buzzing* whenever he was there. Percy scuffed his shoes against the shiny floor restlessly, having found himself in a place he *really* didn't like to be: conflicted. Sighing heavily, he absently twirled his wand between his forefinger and thumb.
Minister Cornelius Fudge had formally filed the paperwork to question Harry. Percy frowned as he remembered the telltale scrawl of signature at the bottom of the scroll that now seemed so foreboding.
Percy loved his job. It was detail-oriented, precise, litigious, and informed him of *everyone*'s business. Marriages, divorces, warrants, certificates, awards, deaths, property seizures. If it required parchment and quill (especially multiple copies), it crossed his desk. Minister Fudge had given him this job early in his career. At first Percy had taken it as an insult. After all, he *knew* he was intended for great things within the Ministry, but he understood that 'we all have to spend time in the trenches, lad', although Minister Fudge himself was an upstart, a lateral transfer from the Grindelwald Recovery Foundation.
Percy had diligently ignored the whispered implications that *this* assignment was one-way, that no one got promoted from his present position. Eventually Percy found himself thriving in his job. A lesser man would have run screaming from the bureaucratic nightmare which were his daily duties, but to Percy it was one giant, intricate puzzle with missing pieces and multiple pictures. It was utterly fascinating.
The down side to all of this of course was that he'd become, as the only *underling* Weasley in Fudge's employ (His dad was far too familiar with Headmaster Dumbledore for Minister Fudge's liking), the unofficial delegate of the Fudge brigade to find out all things related to Harry Potter. Percy still had his doubts about You Know Who's return. After all, he didn't believe much until he'd actually seen it himself. But he *knew* that Harry would never hurt a Spanish Fly (Fly, Percy. Fly. Not Spanish Fly. Never again), and that he'd even shown the utmost respect to Cedric Diggory during their time as competitors in the Triwizard Tournament.
He'd felt like the proper fool for grilling Harry about what happened with the Dursleys. He'd always known Harry's holidays spent with them had been unpleasant, but he'd never dreamed it had gone as far as it had. The questions Minister Fudge had instructed Percy to ask had been foolish and condescending, but he'd asked nonetheless… Until Ron came uncorked, that is. Percy's face flamed with shame at the memory of his youngest brother scolding him roundly.
But the thing that chilled Percy now, what he desperately wished he could understand, was *why* Harry had responded the way he had to the newspaper article Minister Fudge had insisted Percy show him. Harry acted as if he'd recognized some of the faces. How could he know these people? There weren't very many students from Hogwarts, and Percy knew that Harry didn't have the opportunity to meet many people. In fact, Percy knew Harry's travel itinerary consisted of: the Dursleys, Hogwarts, Diagon Alley, and the Burrow. So why had Harry backed away, making a strange noise in his throat that was almost a keen, and run upstairs without any discussion at all?
This was the question that burned within Percy now, and he knew it was a question that needed answering. So he'd done the unforgivable… at least as far as his father would be concerned, once he found out about it. And most certainly the rest of his family as well. He'd approved the questioning of Harry Potter.
Percy sighed again, now flipping his wand distractedly, end over end, only partially paying attention to catching it. He liked Harry, and always had. He was a good kid. But there was far too much unanswered, and with the whisperings of disappearing wizards and witches at every turn, if Harry knew more about it than the Ministry… well that would have to change. Some secrets shouldn't be kept. Percy stood by the recommendations he'd submitted in his report. He just hoped that someday the rest of his family would understand *why*.
************************************************************
He's drifted in and out of consciousness now for two days. The damage done by the Cruciatus Curse has been nearly healed, but the lingering symptoms that I've been struggling against are back in full force. Potter's tremors, chills, and lack of muscular control are as bad as I've seen them. Black has taken to sleeping with Potter in mutt form, lying at the foot of the bed and casting soulful glances at whomever enters Potter's room. To be fair, it was Black who first noticed that Potter was no longer unconscious, but rather asleep. I'm not a gambling man, but with Potter's luck I've been ready to pounce at the first sign of rapid eye movement, just to insure he rests without risking more *dreams*.
"….mmmmph…" the lump from the bed murmurs. The other lump. Black's ears have perked up and it's clear he's about to return to human form, but I hold out a hand.
"Black… I need to ask him about what happened. If you're hovering like a mother hen he might very well clam up," I say. I think it's rather nice of me. No biting comments. Nothing snide. Just honesty. He blinks at me, considering my request. Snuffing through his nose, he settles back down at the foot of the bed. Okay. He's not leaving, which is what I'd hoped for, but I'll take him staying in Animagus form. It takes some of the pressure off Potter worrying about his reactions.
Green eyes peer blearily up at me as I seat myself beside Potter's bed.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Potter," I say. He tries to bury his face in his pillow.
"mmmph… go away…" Potter mutters, his voice scratchy and raw. Promising. He's not babbling or foaming at the mouth. He's somewhat coherent. Very good news indeed.
"Wouldn't you like a sip of water?" I ask, holding a freshly poured glass of cool water forth, the straw flopping from one side to the other enticingly.
"…..mmmm…" Potter murmurs, but he turns back to face me and I'm looking at his weary expression once more. There is a great deal of red in his eyes. Frowning, I lean forward even as he struggles to pull himself up to a partially sitting position. His breath hitches, so I know he still feels lingering pain, but he doesn't complain. Gryffindor pride. Setting the glass aside for a moment, I reach under his armpits and physically lift him, suppressing a shudder at how skeletal he is. There's hardly any weight to lift. I ignore his astonished expression at helping him sit. He blinks tiredly, absently reaching for his glasses. I shake my head and still his hand a moment. Frowning deeper, I peer more intently into his face.
"What?" Potter asks sleepily, his eyes still unfocused as he looks up at me, his eyes crossing at the closeness of my face. He has popped blood vessels on both his eyelids, making him look like he's got two black eyes. Indications of extreme internal pressure. Usually I've seen this sort of thing with prolonged dry heaves. There is very little white within his eyes as well. In fact there are broken and swollen vessels throughout his eyes, and I can faintly see a milky white substance on the surface of his retina. I glance over at Black, who's watching my scrutiny with concern.
"Do you think you can hold the glass?" I ask the boy. He scowls at me, so I smirk as I hand him the glass, keeping up pretenses. Pride aside, he still nearly drops it, before simply resting it on a pillow on his lap and leaning forward to sip, his eyes shutting blissfully as the liquid hits his throat. I'm actually quite concerned. These signs are an escalation of his previous symptoms, but there is no need to alarm him at this point. Absently, I set his glasses beside the glass as I stand. Black slips off the bed and pads after me to the corner of the room.
"Let Madam Pomfrey know I'd like her to come by when she has a moment. Also, bring some broth up when you return," I instruct him. He remains sitting at my feet. Awaiting an explanation. Ah, for a good old fashioned house elf. "I would like her to examine him for additional injuries inflicted due to his visions," I say. He still sits there. I sigh martyrishly and glare for a moment, but I give in, as he knew I would. "Look at his eyes. I'm not comfortable with the broken vessels in and around them," I explain. He nods once and bounds out of the room. I don't utter my fears aloud. I don't ask Potter if his vision seems unusually blurred.
"What?" Potter asks, leaning back against the pillows as he hands me the empty glass. Good. I fill the glass again and hand it to him.
"What indeed, Mr. Potter," I reply. He looks at me, and his eyes seem so… old, yet there's a happiness there I haven't seen in a while. I frown. "Your cheerfulness worries me. Would you care to explain?" I ask. Frank and to the point. Good for me. No insults. He smirks as he rests the glass on his lap again. His fingers can barely collect the straw for him to sip.
"Is cheerfulness a crime?" he asks, and his stomach growls loudly. His eyes widen and he turns faintly red, then shrugs.
"Black will be back in a few moments with some broth. In the meantime, I must insist you tell me about your dream. Something happened there, something different, and if I'm to continue to try to help you I need to know exactly what it was," I say firmly. He bites his lip for a moment, and I can see his internal dialogue like a stock ticker across his face. I raise an eyebrow in annoyance. "There's nothing to debate, Potter," I instruct. He looks at me and shrugs again. Annoying habit, that.
"For the past several weeks, there have been brief moments, on occasion, when right before someone dies, they see me," he says seriously. Hmm. Not what I expected.
"In your visions?" I ask. He raises an eyebrow at me. "Yes, yes, stupid question," I wave off his expression. "What do they appear to see? Do they speak to you?" I ask, suppressing a shudder. I feel queasy to think what he's seen. He's fifteen. Potter considers my question for a moment.
"I think I'm like a ghost. I certainly can't touch anything. Mostly, they'll notice me, whereas they hadn't before. They'll stare at me," he says, his eyes growing distant as his voice fades.
"You say it's right before they die. Who kills them?" I ask, interrupting his thoughts.
"I think it's only been when Voldemort kills them, but I'm not sure. Only three times has someone ever spoken to me," he says.
"What did they say?" I ask. The hair rises on my forearms. They've spoken to him? Merlin. I fight the urge to close my own eyes against the memories that flood my mind. Pleas for help. Cries for forgiveness.
"The first was an old woman. This was a while ago. She told me to wake up. The second was a little girl. The third was the girl's mother. She told me 'thank you'," Potter says.
"What did the little girl say?" I ask, my heart in my throat. Potter had danced around what had been said there. Of course he's seen children murdered, I berate myself. I know better than anyone just what horrors he's seen. Merlin help him.
"Well… that's the interesting part," he says, and oddly his face lights up. I lean forward and listen eagerly as he recounts his dream. As I've not read his journal, it's a stark reminder of what he faces night after night. "…so you see, if I take that potion again, I'll be able to stay deep enough in the dream to help people," he says. My wandering mind snaps back to the present. I blink. Slowly. Quite a few times.
"What on earth makes you think I'm going to give it to you again?" I ask, shocked. He pauses then, his enthusiasm wavering.
"Because I saved her life. I *know* she made it, professor," he says, his eyes now pleading.
"Potter, you almost died. No. Scratch that. You *did* die. Look at you. You can't even hold a cup. I'm not giving you anything," I say. His face falls.
"But…" he protests. He's exhausted. The bags under his eyes are far too dark. The broken vessels speak more clearly to me than any words he could ever say. Normally he wouldn't argue with me, but clearly his judgment is impaired.
"Have other children seen you in your dreams?" I ask. This is the part I don't want to talk about, but I know we must. He shakes his head.
"No. Only right before they die. A couple saw me then. They begged…" Potter says, then abruptly his mouth snaps shut. His eyes are pools of pain as he looks at me. "I helped her, Professor. I… don't make me powerless again," he says softly. I swallow, my mouth dry as cotton. Sighing, I lean forward and look intently into his eyes.
"Potter. There is a time and place for all things. Your time will come, but it's not today," I say. I understand his overwhelming need. To do something to make things right. To think a bitter old man like me is overwhelmed with the need to do penance is something few people understand. Okay. Two. Albus and Minerva. I understand his refusal to sit by and idly watch others suffer. I see in his expression that he's exhausted, and I've stripped the only thing that's made his visions bearable, that allows him to fulfill that bizarre 'Hero' complex he seems to have. So, I throw the boy a bone; some small measure of hope.
"You have proven you don't just observe in your visions, you can participate. You say you cannot interact physically. Try other ways," I suggest. He frowns for a moment and looks at me. I see from his expression that he's wondering if I'm humoring him. "Have you tried magic?" I ask him. His eyes go vacant for a moment, then his eyebrows raise and he purses his lips thoughtfully, just as Black returns with beef broth. Leave it to The Boy Who Lived, hero of the wizarding world, to *not* think of trying magic. Heaven help us all. I stand up and swirl around the chair, allowing Black to take my place.
"Make sure he eats all of it, and more if he'll take it. I'm returning to the castle to do some more research," I instruct Black. He turns those fierce blue eyes on me, and I know he's thinking I'm not going to come near his godson with anything resembling a cup. I smile darkly. He may feel that way now, but wait until tonight. He reads my expression correctly, and if he were a mutt, I'm sure he'd have bitten me. As it is, he turns his back on me and sets the tray on the nightstand, settling in to help his godson eat.
"Thanks, Professor," Harry calls, his voice firm but faint. I nod briefly and leave the room. Refusing to feel pleased by how much more cheerful he is.
In retrospect, I think I might have even noticed that damnable rat as I returned downstairs to pack my trunk. I *know* I saw a shadow out of the corner of my eye, but thought nothing of it at the time. There are so many distractions at the Burrow, each more annoying than the next, that I tend to tune out all but the most pertinent details… This of course includes most conversations unless I'm interested. Hindsight, they say, is 20/20.
**************************************************
"I can't keep doing this. There has to be some way to help," Ron said in exasperation. He threw his knight on the Wizard's chessboard angrily. The rest of his men cursed him soundly, raising Hermione's eyebrow.
"That's rather… explicit," she observed.
"I'll give you one guess," Ron said between his fingers as he scrubbed his face in frustration.
"One too many," Hermione replied. The twins.
"Do you think we should go up there?" Ron asked anxiously. It had been days since he'd seen Harry awake, and he found he needed to reassure himself that his friend was still alright. Hermione smiled.
"Give Sirius time to feed him. He's self conscious in front of us about how weak he is. I'd much rather him eat his fill up before we visit," she said. Ron sighed, biting the side of his cheek.
"I've got to do something," Ron said after a pause. He was positively bursting with the need to do something, *anything*, to try to help his friend.
"What do you suggest we do?" Hermione asked curiously. She recognized when he had an idea, but just didn't know how to broach it.
"I overheard how dad's been trying to help Dumbledore," Ron said. Hermione sat forward, interested.
"Yes? What's he doing?" she asked.
"Trying to find a… parchment trail," Ron said, trying to remember the correct phrase.
"A paper trail?" Hermione said, raising an eyebrow with a small smile beginning to light up her tired face.
"A parchment trail," Ron corrected.
"I know what it means. It means they think Fudge's left some sort of bureaucratic proof… So… Mr. Weasley's trying to find what Fudge is doing with the bodies, then?" Hermione asked. Ron suppressed a smile. It was amazing how focused Hermione got once she found something that interested her. And how smart she was. Ron nodded.
"That's it. But apparently he's discouraged because there's *so* much to go through," Ron said.
"Ron, you're brilliant," Hermione said, her eyes shining. Ron frowned.
"I am?" Ron asked.
"Sure. Think about it. You want to *do* something to help out? Let's see if we can get Mr. Weasley to bring some of the paperwork home. You and I can go through it!" Hermione said in triumph.
"Hermione, what would we be looking for?" Ron asked, eager to find *something* to try to get the Ministry off Harry's back, but unsure what they could do.
"The same as Mr. Weasley. Something peculiar," Hermione answered.
"Like?" Ron asked. As much as he wanted to be helpful, he was also concerned that if they divvied up the work and he *missed* something, no one might ever see it. He didn't say this to Hermione, but she shook her head, her hair floating around her face like an unwieldy dandelion.
It was raining outside, and Ron found that he could predict the weather by Hermione's hair. The frizzier and curlier her hair was, the greater the chance for precipitation. Refocusing on the present, Ron watched as Hermione began putting away the chess pieces.
"I helped mum and dad figure out that an employee of theirs was stealing money from the business once," Hermione said.
"How did you find it?" Ron asked, intrigued.
"Patterns. They kept padding money onto small purchases that didn't require receipts. Unless you knew the exact amount, a few pounds either way wouldn't be noticed. But add it up even for a month, and suddenly you've got thousands," Hermione said.
"Pounds?" Ron asked. Hermione shook her head impatiently.
"Muggle money," Hermione explained.
"So that's what you think Fudge is doing?" Ron asked. Hermione shook her head.
"No, but I *do* think he's still got to have money. He's not doing this by himself. We've already determined that. So then the question remains: How is he doing it? He'll need money and manpower, and he'll need to justify it to the Ministry. But he can't just come out and say, 'I want money to persecute Harry Potter and cover up the fact that You Know Who has returned,' will he? He'll hide it, call it something else," Hermione said.
"Do you really think we can find it?" Ron asked her. Hermione nodded her head enthusiastically.
"Ron, you're brilliant at strategy and I'm good at research. I think between the two of us we've got more than a chance. Now we've just got to convince your dad to let us help," Hermione said, looking at Ron expectantly.
Ron stood up, his heart racing. He wanted to start *now*, right this second. Finally, something he could do! He'd been waiting on the sidelines for far too long, and he was getting restless.
*It* was coming. Ron knew he was getting jittery. For a moment, he'd even thought he might have seen that wanker Scabbers last night. After rubbing his eyes, the shadow was gone, but it had spooked Ron enough to actually ask about Crookshanks, who he realized he hadn't seen since Hermione had arrived.
Hermione had actually looked hurt. Ron thought he'd upset her to even ask… They did have a bitter history with that bloody cat, anyways, but he'd moved on. In the end, the cat had been right.
"I wasn't…" Ron had begun to say, but Hermione raised her hand and shook her head.
"It's okay, Ron. It's not you. He's been missing now for a couple of weeks," Hermione said sadly. Ron frowned.
"Why didn't you mention it?" he had asked his friend. She looked at him and raised an eyebrow.
"Like you would have cared?" she had asked. Ron felt heat rising to his face.
"I may not *love* your cat, but he's important to you, so, yes, I care," he'd replied angrily. Hermione sighed.
"Sorry, sorry. I'm just hurt, that's all. I miss him. I could really use his company right now, you know?" she'd asked, her eyes frank. Ron pictured all the times Crookshanks nestled on her lap. His eyes would cross as he purred loudly. He always seemed to *know* when she was settling in to sit for more than a few moments, and would promptly claim her lap as his own. She'd stroke him absently even as she studied, or when she was particularly unhappy or stressed. Of course, the cat also had the uncanny ability to lay on parchments or books of any sort the moment they were spread on the table. He nodded. "He's been acting weird since right before we left Hogwarts last year," Hermione said. Ron frowned. He hadn't known about this.
"What do you mean 'weird'?" Ron had asked. After all, most everything about that cat was rather bizarre.
"Well… One time I came up to visit Harry. I'd 'borrowed' his invisibility cloak," Hermione said, looking guilty at the confession. Ron was stunned. He'd done the same thing.
Things had gone so badly so quickly at the end of fourth year, that sometimes Ron had had to reassure himself that Harry was even still there at all, that he was alive and alright… Well, sort of alright. "It was really early in the morning. Three or so," Hermione continued, gauging Ron's reaction to her confession. Ron shook his head.
"I did it, too," Ron said with a reassuring smile. She smiled in return, and it lit up her face. It was an understanding between them, then. He'd begun to feel, well, a bit protective of Harry. He hadn't been too clear how to interpret that, but was pleased to learn Hermione evidently felt the same way as well.
"Crookshanks was sitting beside Harry on the bed," Hermione said. Ron frowned. Crookshanks typically didn't do that with anyone but Hermione.
"That's weird," Ron said. Hermione nodded.
"I thought so, too. But he's sensitive. I mean, he always seems to know when I'm upset, so I thought at the time that he must be picking up on Harry's unhappiness," Hermione continued. Ron suppressed a sigh at that. Unhappiness was the understatement of the century.
"Makes sense. Is that it?" Ron asked, frowning. Hermione shook her head.
"No. He was at Harry's elbow. The one he got hurt?" Hermione said. Ron nodded. "He was sniffing Harry's elbow like the scent fascinated him. It was kind of creepy. He had the strangest expression, Ron. I swear he looked… furious. His eyes were squinted and his mouth partially open… It was creepy," she said, and her face had gone pale. Whatever she'd seen, it still spooked her. Of course, just seeing Crookshanks in the middle of the night had spooked Ron on more than one occasion. Did he mention he was a weird cat?
"Did he do anything else?" Ron had prompted. Hermione shook her head.
"No. I took him home, and he was fine for a couple of days… but then he ran away. I haven't seen him since," Hermione said sadly. Ron frowned. That was an awful long time.
"Is that normal? Has he ever done that before?" Ron asked. Hermione nodded.
"Yes, but never for this long. A week at most," she said.
"I'm sure he's okay," Ron said, trying to reassure her. But it didn't reassure him. He knew he'd been seeing things, but he still would have felt a great deal better if Crookshanks had been there.
Sirius distracted them both by coming downstairs with an empty tray. Ron and Hermione both stood up. He looked more cheerful than he'd been than he had in days.
"How is he?" Ron asked. Sirius smiled.
"In good spirits," Sirius replied. "I'm getting seconds," he said, indicating the empty bowl.
"Brilliant," Ron said, and meant it.
"Can we see him?" Hermione asked excitedly.
"Let him have a go at another bowl first, then by all means. He's been asking about you," Sirius said. Ron felt his smile stretch wider. Nodding, Ron sat and watched Sirius join the other adults in the kitchen.
"I'll ask dad when he gets home tonight, okay?" Ron asked Hermione. She nodded brightly. They locked eyes for a moment, then jumped as Snape appeared, trunk floating obediently behind him.
"How touching," Snape observed dryly. Ron blushed furiously, and saw Hermione frowning disapprovingly. "I'm so sorry to *interrupt* you two, but I must be going. Be sure to keep trying to get Mr. Potter to eat and drink," he instructed. Ron nodded obediently. "Do *try* to keep him out of trouble, would you, Ms. Granger?" Snape asked. Ron scowled and Hermione nodded her head eagerly, but Snape had already turned his back on them, throwing floo powder in the fireplace.
Ron rolled his eyes at Hermione, who smirked, her eyes dancing. In truth, Ron had to admit that this had been the most… tolerable… Snape had ever been. No one noticed the small shape leap into the fire just as Snape did.
TBC…
Sou: Thanks so much for the tip! I'm posting early just to try it out! 8-)
Harriet, Elizabeth, Centra-gal86, Cedric, serena cherry, amysalinsky2000, Gabriela, Von, Jeva, Sherylyn, Prami, Blade McKay, sk8reagle: Thank you so much for your kind words! Yep, Anna seems to be pretty well received, poor thing. 8-(
Kathy: It's a nice idea, but unfortunately Sirius will be having a lot on his mind soon... Bwah hah hah hah.
Tanya: Thank you. I don't know if Snape will ever be a regular human being… g but he sure keeps things interesting! I'll address this a little more in later chapters, but it does appear that way. Of course, wouldn't it be all the time? There's more to this than meets the eye, but I hope by the time I address it, it'll make sense! I'm glad you like Lupin. I read up on animal symbolism, and the Wolf is considered the teacher, and the dog is considered the guardian. Once again, J.K. astonishes me. Wow. So needless to say, I've been reading up a lot on what animals represent and how it relates to the story. I hope you won't be disappointed! Yes, you can now see that's exactly what Harry wanted, irregardless of what damage it could do to him. She is, of course, but mostly for *why*. I'm really glad you like the story, and thanks a million for reviewing!
Lizard: I totally agree! It's got to be so hard on him, and all he's witnessed. Truly, how can anyone even comprehend what he witnesses and how it will affect him? You can see how much happier he is now that he's been able to actually *do* something! Yep, I relate to Snape too, except he's a lot more honest about it than I am. Ah, if I could only tell the annoying twit… ahem others in my life what I think instead of grinning and bearing it. All for a paycheck. sigh Moi? Thank you so much! blushes happily
-_- : You're sure taking this seriously. I'll even address at some point *just for you*, but please, there's a lot more to the story than this. Besides, consider the source from whence it came. No one other than Snape has mentioned that. Don't you think he might be a bit… biased?
FirePixie28: Sure, and thanks for the nice compliment! I saw I was on your list when I got your email address. Thank you *very* much! 8-)
Kapies: See, I even updated sooner than expected! Enjoy!
WeasleyTwinsLover1112: *One* misspelling! One! lol Yes, yes… I'm busted. Thanks for pointing that out. But in my defense, it only happened once! 8-) crosses fingers and doesn't bother to check previous chapters
Tempest Princess: I know. Poor Remus! He's much like Harry in so many ways. He's born with something that sets him apart, permanently ostracizing him from the rest of society, that does nothing but cause him pain. It's nothing he wanted or asked for, and would trade it away in a heartbeat. Yes, he and Harry have much in common…
Illustrious sorrow: Sorry about the cliffy, but I can't help it. I can only write so much in a week! Besides, I have to admit it keeps people coming back for more. Blame the other authors on this site. They're the ones who've shown me the way (and then leave me hanging, the rat ba$^@*!$) g
AllAboutMe: I must say that I love your name. It's darling! After all, it's All About Me… ba dum dum. Thank you, thank you. I'll be appearing nightly through Thursday I'm glad you liked the dream. It was a careful balance. I didn't want too much emphasis to be on Anne's parents' deaths. That will be hard enough for her to deal with. I wanted to be more about Harry, his empathy and desperate need to help, and how his entire perspective on the visions can change though one positive event. This is certainly not to say that all visions in the future will be happy and nice. It's just he's now got a glimmer of hope.
Kaydee: Yep. I agree with that. I'm glad her characterization rang true. I keep having glimmers of the mature Harry peek through. In truth, I see him more that way all the time now, but he still strives to be as he was for those who love him. But how can he not be mature in the face of all he's endured? Yes, I think that fact that Snape sees what Harry goes through now, time and again, plays an integral part in his perception of him. It's still a hard thing for Snape to do: Reconcile the boy Harry is with who Snape perceived him to be. Yes, silly! Of course I like your reviews! 8-) I'm glad you liked Willaby. I did too. Ooooh! What a nice compliment about Snape! blushes I've come across some characterizations I adore, but so many tend to polarize at some point, and that's just not Snape. He's as far in the middle of things as anyone can be. He's not *all* good, and he's certainly not *all* bad. He's… complicated. I'm glad you liked what I tried to convey about Azkaban. I just started pondering it one day, and realized that people can build a tolerance to most things, no matter how painful… So how would the Dementors remain effective after 12 years time? Also, there's one thing I never addressed in the story, but bothers me greatly. If a person's most painful moments are what haunt them in Azkaban, and the Death Eaters who don't regret their actions are there… Wouldn't the people who are most regretful for what they've done be the most affected by the Dementors, and those who were *glad* they tortured Muggles, etc. be, well, just reliving the time Tommy took their toy wand or Mum refused to let them go to Diagon Alley on their own? Hmmm. I'm not sure about the time schedule for the Dementors. Either way, it will still work, so I'll leave it for now. Must push on with the story! And I'm still keeping you guessing, huh? Hehehehehe. Go me!
Mihoshe, Me: Breathe. Harry's okay. See? And I even updated sooner. g
SilverWolf: 8-) Well, it might help with the continuity… g
Sakura Le: I'm so glad you like my fic! Thanks for reading and reviewing it!
Hyper Princess: Of course I will! Glad you liked it. More to come…
Rozebunny: Well… looks around nervously not for a while yet… crosses fingers
Kate the Great: Thanks. I had fun with that line, too. I switched it from Remus worrying about Sirius (he's always worrying, poor thing) to transitioning his worry to Harry as well.
SpiderGirl05: Hmmm. I'm not sure about that. I hadn't even considered it, truthfully. I've got an original story to get back to, so it might be a bit before I do. That, and I must admit I'm a little daunted about including all the details of Hogwarts. It's so rich in magic and mystery, that it takes on a part as an additional character, and I'm not sure if I'm, well, ready to commit that much time to it yet… At least as much time as it deserves.
Ratgirl: blushes happily Thank you *very much*!
Japangirlcarley24: Ask and ye shall receive. I'm really glad you liked it. More to come…