HARRY POTTER AND THE SEERS' TRUTH

By Lady Lestrange

10 REVIEWS. Here's the new chapter—I really hate blackmailing you into reviewing, but hey, I'm a Slytherin. It's in my nature, so when there are 10 reviews for this chapter, the next one will magically appear. LOL Love my readers and reviewers. Answers to reviews follow the story.

This chapter is especially for all those folks out there who haven't gotten their 5th Harry Potter book yet—yeah! It's coming in the mail tomorrow! But tonight, I still have fanfic. So here's this chapter early. I won't have time to update for the next 2 days or so—until I read JK's new book.

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter characters and previous situations belong to JK Rowlings. No infringement is meant or implied. No money is made from this Fanfic. THANKS JK.

--LADY LESTRANGE

***

(A/N: I've been reading a number of fanfics in installments like this one myself, and find it is sometimes hard to remember exactly what has happened before-In a fic as complex as this one is, I thought having a reminder may be helpful for you. If you want to skip it, just page down FOUR times. --Lady Lestrange)

UP TO THIS POINT: Parvati has been having dreams and visions about the Dark Lord, Harry and a Prophecy Child. So far, they are not sure who the prophecy child is, and it is important for them to find him/her. The Sorting Hat is not sorting, so the students have "little brothers and sisters" to show around. The dream team thinks that The Sorting Hat failing is a plot to hide the Prophecy child from the teachers and anyone who can help insure that he/she stays on the side of light. No one is sure that the brothers and sisters actually belong to the house they are currently in.

The Hogwarts Express has been attacked. Dark Marks have been in the sky. The floo network is compromised. The Minister of Magic has been turned. Snape is now teaching both Defense and Advanced Defense, but it looks like Advanced Defense is just an excuse to let the Slytherins and Ginny and Edward visit the Dark Lord. Mrs. Figg is teaching potions and we know very little about her so far, except that she was against Dumbledore's suggestion to make Poly Juice Potion.

Beatrice is an animagus, a bunny. Edward's granny looks like she could have given the Dursleys a few pointers on cruelty. Slytherin is a house at war according to Snape, divided between Death Eaters and those who want to stay on the side of light. Harry uses his Invisibility Cloak and finds out when it is ripped, the Invisibility spell ceases. There is an unwelcome addition to Myrtle's bathroom, Olive Hornby. Peeves is his usual annoying self, but the Baron seems to have a little less control over him.

Samara, for some reason, lofts some wicked, powerful curses. She doesn't look like she has total control over them, which isn't really surprising since she's learned magic on her own from a book, that Harry is sure is a dark book. She seems to like Draco, but don't assume this is a romance. It is not. Ginny is still hearing voices in her head. Harry's scar is hurting more, and neither he nor Ginny know what this means. Ginny is closer with Harry this year, but again, not romantically. There is Edward, the new Gryffindor, who seems interested in Ginny, but Ginny really hasn't gotten over Tom.

We find out about Neville's powerful auror parents. We learn that Neville has a memory charm that was put on him as a baby. He's a more powerful wizard than anyone ever thought as evidenced by his yew wand and the way he reacts to Snape's ministrations in trying to remove the memory charm. We might wonder why Snape is trying to do this himself, instead of enlisting the help of Madam Pomfrey. Sirius and Lupin are on "fieldtrips" with the sixth and seventh years.

Of course we can also wonder why Snape is so determined to teach his classes advanced spells like the Patronus, or we can just chalk it up to Snape, being mean. The Fifth year class starts apparition classes and we meet Professor Sinistra. We also visit Hufflepuff, where we see The Wall, and Slytherin house, where we discover, to our amazement, a magic room that Draco shares with Samara, but Samara has a very unslytherin use for the room. Ravenclaw to come next weekend.

The chapter, CHAINED AND CHARMED, takes place at the same time as DANCING IS AN OUT OF BODY EXPERIENCE-when Samara was in Slytherin, dancing. It is Saturday afternoon. Harry and the Gryffindors examine Samara's Dark Book, after they come back from lunch. They find an extreme potion, and decide they need to make a trip to the Chamber of Secrets. Ghastly Ghostly Dinner is when Gryffindor's meet with Samara after her little trip to Slytherin. Samara and Beatrice are persuaded by Edward to help him steal his snake back from his brother Ethan. Things get a little out of hand, and Samara learns more about Slytherin than she ever wanted to know.

Now the Gryffindors are mad at her. Samara wants to make up and be friends with them, but is it possible to befriend both Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy? How far will she go to make up, or will she just find some valuable information to store away for future use? (So, don't you want one of those Tee shirts?)

LIONS AND TIGERS: We see a very stressed out Snap both in Harry's memory of what happened with Snap and Neville and in the actual DADA class. We find out Trelawney doesn't want Samara in her class and Samara decides to take Ancient Runes instead. McGonagall assures Samara that Trelawney has done her a favor. McGonagall further talks to Samara about her experiences in Gryffindor, opening the door to give Samara someone to talk to, if she so chooses. We also learned lots more about animagi in McGonagall's class. Snape dismisses the Gryffifndors and keeps the Slytherins after class. We find out it's because Snape wants them to practice their patronus because the Slytherins are so lousy at the spell. Could it be because there are so few happy memories to chose from? In DRAGON BREATH AND BLUDGER BATS, Ginny and Edward set the Slytherins up with fire mints, and Samara gets extremely angry at them both because they hurt her friends. In an effort to contain her anger, she goes to the Quiddich pitch where she meets Fred and George. After lobbing a few quaffles at them in her anger, they decide to ask her to be a Beater for Gryffindor. She refuses, but later when she talks to Draco, he is not very nice to her, (hey, who said Draco was a nice guy?) so she wonders whether or not she should take the Beater job. In WISH IT REAL; WISH IT NOT we see into one of Ginny's dreams. If you don't remember this dream, go and re-read chapter 28. In Chapter 29, THE SPELLING BEE, Samara is feeling homesick and friendless until Draco invites Samara back to Slytherin. Also, includes a short intro into what's coming up in potions class. In Chapter 30, CHILD OF GRYFFINDOR, Neville and Snape break the Imperio part of the Memory Charm. The trio discusses the Founders' spells, which put their gifts in the Sorting Hat; however they do not have the original parseltongue version of Salazar's spell. Ginny also sees Edward painting and the reader sees a bit of Ginny and Tom's relationship.

AND NOW ON TO THE STORY:

Slytherin Games

Chapter 31

Harry was the first one to go to bed. Hermione was still pouring over books in the common room and Ron was playing chess with Ginny, both Lou and Edward were coaching. Harry's scar had been hurting and burning all evening, but he had no specific dreams or visions. When he told Dumbledore, the professor was thoughtful, but unconcerned.

"We know that the scar acts as a kind of barometer for what is happening with Voldemort," said Dumbledore. "We know he is on the move, but until we know anything specific, I'm afraid there's little we can do. If you see anything specific, let me know, or if the pain is interfering with your studies or your sleep—"

"No," Harry assured him. "It's not that bad." But tonight it was. He didn't even want to go to see Dumbledore. He just wanted to go to sleep. Perhaps the headache was aggravated by all of the work that they were doing on the prophecy. All the thinking he had been doing about Salazar Slytherin was enough to give anyone a headache. Harry checked to be sure his trunk was locked and warded, put his wand under his pillow and his glasses on the nightstand, and pulled the blanket up to his chin and closed his eyes. Within minutes, he was asleep.

He was underwater—swimming. It was the second task. He had Ron and was trying to get to Fleur's little sister when the water began tasting very wet, and very cold. The gillyweed was wearing off. He had to hurry. He had one arm wrapped around the little girl and he was kicking with every fiber of his being. He had to get to the surface. He felt like his lungs were on fire—then he saw it—sitting right there in the middle of the merpeople's village—the Tri-wizard cup! It was a portkey. He could escape with them both, if he could just reach the portkey. He couldn't reach it, but he knew he could accio it. He opened his mouth to speak the spell, but only bubbles came out of his mouth, popping like Filibuster fireworks. He was choking on the water. Suddenly, the merpeople were all Death Eaters and Voldemort was standing in their midst. He pointed his wand at Harry. "Crucio!"

The searing white-hot pain felt like an explosion in his head, and he awoke, crying out. Ron was shaking him.

"Harry! Wake up!"

Harry took great gulping breaths of air while gripping Ron's arm fiercely. "Are you OK?" Harry panted.

"Me?" said Ron. "I'm fine. What did you dream? You were yelling."

"Oh—" Harry let go of Ron's arm and looked at the worried blurred faces around him—Dean, Seamus, Neville and Ron. Apparently Harry's cries didn't penetrate Edward's privacy wards.

"Here," said Dean handing Harry a parchment. "You should write it down."

But Harry couldn't see to write it without his glasses. He rubbed his face and started to tell them about the dream, but suddenly he felt self-conscious talking about his terror when he couldn't reach the Tri-Wizard Cup. "I'll just write it down," he said, reaching for his glasses on the bedside table. "I'm sorry I woke you."

Harry rubbed his scar. Amazingly, it was almost painless now, just tingling. It seemed as if Voldemort had burned out a lot of his power in that one strike, but what was it? Merpeople? Something underwater? Dumbledore said to come to him if Harry knew something specific, but what did he know?

"Should you tell Dumbledore?" asked Ron as the others settled back into their beds.

"Not now," said Harry, scribbling notes about the dream. "It's nearly midnight. I'll tell Dumbledore—first thing in the morning."

==

In the morning, the Great hall was deathly silent as Harry and Ron entered. Hermione was already seated and waved them over quickly. Black hangings were the only decoration, and no food was on the tables. Harry felt like his guts had turned to ice.

"What's happened?" whispered Harry as he and Ron sat next to Hermione. Hermione silently handed him her copy of the Daily Prophet. The headline read:

French School Leveled in Freak Storm

"Oh hell, Fleur," muttered Ron. He leaned in to read over Harry's shoulder.

"She graduated," Hermione reminded him. "And her little sister is only nine."

By Special Reporter, Yvette Gagnon

Edited by Lawrence Barrington, Daily Prophet

What originally looked like a typical evening thunderstorm is now being called the worst natural disaster of the century. The coastline, just southwest of the famous Wizarding School Beauxbatons, was basking in Mid September sunshine, totally unaffected by the inclement weather, while on the southeast coast, a downpour drenched residents. These brief periods of heavy rain accompanied by thunder and lightning are not uncommon in the area and originally, there was no cause for alarm. However, as the driving rain reached the school, lightening strikes became more frequent and a section of the northeast dormitory was hit by lightening at 11:45 PM. As the students and teachers evacuated the building, fire raged through the structure.

Witnesses were unable to tell exactly what occurred at that point. Although according to the accounts of the eleven-year-olds who survived the storm, it appears that a typhoon struck the school even though the school is rather far inland for such a storm. The following is a statement from an eyewitness, one of the seven first year students to survive the storm.

I had sat down in the common room, and the deputy headmaster was saying, that we needed to go to the lower level. He said, "students take cover now." And when he said that, I just, I knew it was—Here, the student became hysterical and could not continue her account. Another student took up the story.

The Deputy Headmaster called all of the teachers out onto the grounds—Madame Maxime isn't here—she's on sabbatical—If she were here—I know this wouldn't have happened. The student broke into sobs and apparently was so horror struck by the devastation that she was hallucinating. Another student continued.

We all could hear kind of a roar and we waited and then it got quiet so, Juliet, she's the senior prefect went up to the door and opened it up—She was just sucked out—right out of the door and we never saw her again. I got up and five other students and me got the door shut, but we couldn't get the wards back up. They were shattered. Just shattered, and we never learned how to place them yet--

I've never seen a sky like that. Never. We looked up and the sky was just black, but off to the right I could see these clouds swirling around. And so we slammed the door and we all ran to the lower level and I was calling my owl to come with me, because she had just delivered a letter. I was holding on to the wall. I never made it downstairs. Wind was blowing right through the common room. I just laid down there under the table. I was curled up around the table leg, but I was holding onto the side of the table as much as I could and I was just rocking back and forth, and I was just praying to God for him to save me. As the noise subsided, The Minister said it only lasted 5 or so minutes, but it felt like a lifetime. As the noise subsided, I uncovered and I looked up. I could see the sky and still hear that roar, but not as loud.

And then all at once, I just heard these sounds; they were like-- Crash. Crash. Crash. It was the debris falling out of the sky. There were brooms and cauldrons and books—just everything everywhere. It was unbelievable. I got out of it, and I was the first one to make it to the grounds and there wasn't another living thing in sight. Not an owl or a cat—not even a rat. They were just gone, and everything was burning.

==

This wasn't a natural disaster," said Harry as he finished reading. "I dreamed –I couldn't save Fleur's little sister."

"Harry," whispered Parvati, tears streaming down her face, she grasped Harry's hands. "It was Death Eaters. I know. I knew, and I didn't tell Professor Dumbledore," she sobbed.

"Oh Parvati," whispered Ginny.

"When did you have this vision?" asked Harry. "Mine was last night."

"It was a dream," she muttered. "No wait. I woke up and went downstairs, and maybe I went back to sleep. It was the Yule Ball, and I just thought it was a dream. Except that the Beauxbaton table exploded and—Oh—I can't remember. "

"But you wrote it down, right?" said Lavender.

Parvati shook her head miserably. "I was going to go to Trelawney and Snape caught me and took house points and threatened detention and then—I just forgot—"

Parvati," scolded Hermione. "How could you forget a thing like that!"

"I don't know. I'm just stupid, I guess." Parvati moaned.

"You're not stupid," said Dean reaching over to comfort her. "There have been lots of times when your dreams didn't mean anything. Remember that one in second year that had me so freaked out—no disembodied hands are stirring cauldrons—right? It was just a bad dream."

Harry looked up, staring white-faced at Parvati and Dean as Padma came over to the Gryffindor table to offer her support to her sister. Ron moved over and she sat by Parvati.

"Right," Parvati sniffed. "I sometimes can't tell—and Trelawney says to write them all down. She looks for certain symbols that indicate if the dream is prophetic or not—Oh --. All those people dead," she whispered. "It's my fault."

"It's not your fault," snapped Harry. "It's Voldemort's. Voldemort is the one who is doing this. You may have been able to give a little advance warning, but you didn't kill anyone."

Ron looked at Harry in surprise. "Yes," he said. "Harry's been over this same thing. When he was—after the Tri-Wizard Tournament—when he-who-must-not-be-named got his body back—It's not your fault Parvati."

"When did you have this vision?" asked Padma.

"Uh-Saturday—no Sunday night"

"Parvati," said Hermione. "Don't you have Divination first thing on Monday morning?"

"Yes, but," Parvati blushed furiously. "It just seemed like a dream—I was—I was—" She looked helplessly at Harry and dissolved into tears.

"Your attention please," said Dumbledore, using the sonorous spell, "I have an announcement of great sadness to make. As you can see the Great Hall is draped in black. Last evening, an event of unprecedented horror took place. The Wizarding School, Beauxbatons was attacked. The Daily Prophet tells us that this was a natural disaster, but there was nothing natural about this catastrophe. It was a pre-meditated attack on helpless children—I am sad to say, only seven, that we know of, survived."

"Seven?" muttered some of the students, in horror. "Only seven."

I would like to read to you the account of this terrible night, as seen by Jacqueline, and eleven-year-old Beauxbaton's student, and reported to Rita Skeeter, Witch Weekly Reporter. I think you will notice some differences in her account and the Daily Prophet's account, and for those of you who would like a copy of Rita Skeeter's article--with a wave of his wand, there appeared on each plate a copy of the article, from which Dumbledore read:

Destruction of School Wreaks of Dark Magic

By special correspondent, Rita Skeeter

Little eleven year old Jacqueline (names of the children have been changed to protect them from possible repercussions by dark wizards) is home with her parents, but she is one of only seven lucky students. Apparently, no teachers survived the attack. Little Jacqueline has never seen a sky like the one she saw over Beauxbaton's School on the night of September 14, 1995, she tells, Witch Weekly reporter, Rita Skeeter.

The first thing that went was the protective ward. Some of the students—the veelas, especially, are sensitive to magic like that. They could feel when the wards went down. They could smell the Dark Magic in the air. They were panicking, and some of the younger ones were losing control of their veela powers. The Deputy Headmaster separated us. He told all of the girls to go to the West lower dormitories, and the boys to the East lower dormitories. He told the teachers to follow him.

We looked up and the sky was just black, but off to the right I could see these greenish clouds swirling around. And we all knew who it was—It was you-know-who--so we slammed the door and we all ran to the lower level and I was calling my owl to come with me, because she had just delivered a letter. I was holding on to the wall. I never made it downstairs. Wind was blowing right through the common room. I just laid down there under the table. I was curled up around the table leg, but I was holding onto the side of the table as much as I could and I was just rocking back and forth, and I was just praying to God for him to save me. As the noise subsided--the Minister said it only lasted 5 or so minutes, but it felt like a lifetime-I uncovered my head and I looked up. I could see the sky and still hear that roar, but not as loud.

And then all at once, I just heard these sounds; they were like-- Crash. Crash. Crash. It was the debris falling out of the sky. There were brooms and cauldrons and books—just everything everywhere. It was unbelievable. I got out of it, and I was the first one to make it to the grounds and there wasn't another living thing in sight. Not an owl or a cat—not even a rat. They were just gone, and everything was burning.

The students were safe underground, and I thought, where are all the teachers? I picked up one of the brooms that had fallen. I thought—if I could just see the teachers—I could tell the others when it was safe. So I flew up—and then— It looked as if everything was just melting. I wondered how a storm could do that—melt stone. I thought this was no natural storm because the wind was blowing and lightening was flashing, but it wasn't raining. I was having trouble guiding the broom, it was blowing so hard, but I flew closer to the building, the first dormitory that was hit, I was hoping to see Juliet or someone—and then it started to rain—not just rain—a sudden downpour. I was soaked in seconds. On the ground, it looked like water thrown into grease. It just started to spit and sputter and then—boom! The whole thing exploded. The fire went up into the sky and what was left of the stone crashed into the ground. I panicked. I started to fly away. I don't think it hit me yet, that they were all dead, crushed beneath the rubble. All of the people underground—And then I saw them.

The circle. The circle of black around the school. The Dark Wizards. There were at least a hundred of them—all around the school and I saw some of the golden robes from Beauxbaton's among them. One of them saw me, and pointed. I turned and flew, so fast, I was with the wind and I just let it take me—I still felt the heat of the curse, and then I was out of range. I heard them following me, and I was thanking the Fates that had me pick up a Quiddich racing broom instead of just any old broom. I hid in the trees on the East Hill but it was still the scariest game of search and curse I ever played. I could still hear the explosions. I slowed down and flew stealth, south, to the sea. I realized that I wasn't the only one who learned to play search and curse on broomsticks. I saw another student in front of me: Danielle, and then, Marguerite. As soon as I got clear of the grounds, the sun was shining.

But the sun is not shining in our hearts, writes Rita Skeeter, as we mourn the French children and teachers whose lives were lost because the short-sightedness of a few British officials. We mourn these children because some of those officials are still yet, too cowardly to tell the truth, to say: Yes, Voldemort has returned to wreak havoc upon our cities and our schools. We mourn these children because grown men and women, wizards and witches of note, have hid themselves behind desks and have hidden their faces in their robes and said He-who-must-not-be-named is dead. I say, He-who-must-not-be-named must indeed be named, because he lives. Let us name him for the vile evil thing that he is--Voldemort. Murderer of children. It is he who has turned our world upside down. I ask you, for the sake of these children, call him by his name—Voldemort—and rally to those who have sworn to see justice done.

In the silence following the storm, it is obvious that things will never be the same. At Beauxbatons alone, four hundred forty-four people are missing and presumed dead. Most are children. Several muggles, who lived nearby, have lost their homes and possessions. But for the wizarding world, the greatest loss of all was a sense of security. For many witches and wizards, the sight of foggy green skies will forever revive the dread of September 14, 1995.

This reporter has stood on the ground that was once Beauxbatons---one of the great wizarding schools. The ground itself is despoiled. The magic used was a combination of ancient weather magics and several dark spells and enchantments, in addition to explosives, which may be of wizarding or muggle origin or both. It is this reporter's belief that the wards were broken from inside of Beauxbaton's. As yet, we have not been able to accurately determine the casualties, because the intense flames left no bodies. Those not killed, we can only assume, are with Voldemort. We have been unable to get a statement from the headmistress, Madame Maxime, since she is on holiday abroad.

==

"I don't believe it," said Hermione. "We're trusting Rita Skeeter now?"

"It seems like Dumbledore is," said Ron.

Harry was scanning the Slytherin table, trying to decide who looked tired. There were several sixth and seventh years who were almost falling asleep. Adrian Pucey suddenly jerked awake with a snort as one of the seventh year girls nudged him. Some people were still absent from the table. Harry was sure that there were more empty seats than usual, even though Dumbledore had waited to make the announcement. Who was missing? Draco was there, with his perpetual smirk. Harry tried to see who he was looking at—probably Samara, but he wasn't sure. Ethan was there, unabashedly laying his head on his arm, presumably, bored or tired or both. Crabbe was chewing his fingernails since Dumbledore had not given them anything else to eat, but Harry noticed Goyle was missing. He couldn't see anyone missing from the Slytherin girls, but he didn't know them all well enough to be sure.

He spun around suddenly, looking for Edward, but Edward was at the table talking softly to Ginny. When had he come in to breakfast? Harry was trying to remember if Edward was in bed this morning when he got up. He wasn't sure—of course—Edward put that stupid privacy shield around the bed. He and Ron had joked about it: "It's not like he has any girls to be private with—" said Ron. "Just his books—"

"Except Ginny," Harry had interrupted, and Ron had turned almost as purple as Uncle Vernon did when he was angry.

"What?" Ron muttered.

"In his dreams---" Harry had said. "Just in his dreams."

Almost as if Ginny knew he was thinking about her, she suddenly looked at him. Her soft brown eyes meeting his. For just a moment they looked at each other, and then, Hermione tapped his shoulder, and the moment was gone.

"Are you going to eat, Harry? I know, I don't feel much like eating either, but it won't help anything—"

Harry reached for some toast. "I know," he said as he buttered his toast, and then he turned to Ron. "Was Edward out of his bed last night? Do you know?"

"Oh, Harry," said Hermione. "That's an awful thing to accuse someone of—"

"Was he?" Harry asked again.

'I don't know," said Ron thoughtfully. "Even if he was though, there's nothing to say that he wasn't just in the kitchen getting a snack. Fred and George says he's down there as often as they are."

==

After breakfast on Friday, Ginny was seated, as was her custom in the back row of ADADA. She tried to be inconspicuous in this class. She was early. Students were still filing in. She had written her heading for her notes, ADADA Professor Snape, Friday, September 15, 1995, when she heard Ethan and Edward arguing in the corridor. "But I need her. My next class is transfiguration," said Ethan.

"Well great genius. What am I supposed to do? Go all the way back up to Gryffindor Tower to get her and then run to the greenhouse? Not today. Forget it."

"You could just accio her."

"Oh I'm sure the teachers would appreciate a 6 foot python flying down four flights of stairs."

"Well, some of the Slytherins are accioing their pets after this class." Said Ethan. "What's the problem?"

"Gryffindors," muttered Edward. "How do you think the first years are going to react to a snake flying over their heads, provided I manage to keep it over their heads—And I'm not doing that to Kauket."

"You've done worse," snapped Ethan.

McGonagall will have something for you to transfigure," retorted Edward. He stopped in the doorway as he realized that Ginny was already in the classroom. "Hi Ginny," he said twisting his face into a smile. "I didn't know you were here already."

"Hmmmm?" said Ginny. "I was reading my notes from last time. Did Professor Snape answer who is responsible for the spell on those reflective wards last time?"

"I don't think so," said Edward thoughtfully.

"I don't have it in my notes. They just seem to cut off--"

Ginny raised her hand, as Professor Snape entered the room, followed by Gregory Goyle who had orange goo on his right shoulder and his robe pinned to allow his arm to be free to use his wand. The sight of half of Greg Goyle's chest was not something Ginny wanted to see, especially when they had just talked at breakfast about Beauxbaton's burning. She looked away and caught Edward grinning at her. She looked back at Professor Snape.

"Yes, Miss Weasley," he said wearily.

"I was wondering about the reflective wards we were talking about last week. If someone were to use something like that and the person attacking suffered an unforgivable curse, who is responsible? I mean could the person who reflected the curse go to Azkaban even if he or she didn't originate it?'

"An interesting question," said Snape as the class filed in. "What do you think class?"

"I think it depends upon the curse," said Pansy. "One crucious curse is bad enough, but if it was repetitive and put someone in St. Mongo's or Avada Kedavra and killed them it would be a different story.

"Are we talking about you, Weasley?" growled Ethan, his eyes narrowed.

"Of course not," said Draco. "I doubt a Weasley could even reflect a jelly legs curse properly let alone crucious. It's just a hypothetical situation she's speaking of—"

Much less send it wandless, added Crabbe.

"Who said anything about wandless?" snapped Draco.

"Right," said Goyle "She never even managed to pull energy last week, before we—"

Draco kicked him and he shut up.

"Let's stay on the topic," Professor Snape urged. "Is the reflective curse the responsibility of the originator or the reflector.

I say, it's the responsibility of who ever intended it—originator or reflector," said Pansy glaring at Ethan.

"You wouldn't know," spat Ethan. "You're only good for muggles' sport anyway."

Pansy yanked her wand from her pocket.

"Pansy," Snape said warningly, and she hesitated, then re-pocketed her wand.

"What makes you think Pansy couldn't send a wandless curse," purred Draco "Especially if she was drawing on your illustrious power."

Edward sniggered. "Someone cursed my brother?" he asked.

"Not someone," said Draco lazily "Pansy. And she did it wandlessly." Draco leaned in to confide in Edward. "Crucio. Ethan's pissed."

"Congratulations," said Nott, patting her on the back. "I think Pansy gets the credit."

"She could go to Azkaban," cried Ginny. "This isn't something you should want to take credit for—"

"Gryffindors," sniffed Draco.

And several in the class laughed aloud.

"Whether or not a wizard goes to Azkaban," said Snape depends largely upon the jury hearing the testimony and--other things."

"Including how much money or influence the wizard's friends have," Nott added. "Look at the Malfoys."

"Watch it," sneered Draco.

"Or –um—" Nott ground to a halt staring at Snape.

"Or me?" suggested Snape.

Nott blushed a bright red. "No disrespect meant." He assured Snape. "I'm glad you're not in Azkaban, but you have to admit many incarcerations were just bad luck--lack of money--lack of influence." He glanced at Crabbe and Goyle. "Lack of brains," he said.

Lauren Avery burst out laughing and then covered her mouth. "Sorry," she muttered to Snape.

"So in answer to your question, Miss Weasley, there are no hard and fast rules about who is responsible for the spell itself when it is reflected. As far as Azkaban, well, once again, no hard and fast rules. So in actuality, there may be no dark or light—just varying degrees of twilight."

"I think, leveling a school like Beauxbatons with magic, definitely classifies as dark," said Ginny.

There was an uncomfortable moment of silence and then Snape spoke, "Open your books to page 52, and begin reviewing the exercises there. We will begin this inside. If you're are still having trouble drawing power, Miss Weasley, I believe we will be going outside shortly anyway—"

"Thank you, Sir," said Ginny flatly.

I'm going to pair you with an ally, and then we will play 'Search and Curse'.

Ginny sucked in her breath thinking of that eleven-year-old Beaubaxon student playing search and curse with Death eaters.

"You will have some time to develop a strategy indoors before we go outdoors." Continued Snape. "I will let you keep your wands today, but try to throw the curses without a wand—only Earth elemental today. These are fairly simple." Snape's eyes rested on Ginny. "By October, you will be leaving your wands here," he said ominously. He began announcing the pairings.

Miss Weasley and Miss Parkinson.

Mr. Nott and--Miss Zambini

Mr. Ethan Lestrange and –Mr. Malfoy." Snape paused, looking at the two of them. "I trust that will be acceptable," he said, and then muttered something that sounded like "No unforgivables," but Ginny must have been mistaken.

Mr. Crabbe and Mr. Goyle. Try not to get lost.

Miss Bulstrode and—" He glanced at Lauren and then turned away. "Mr. Edward Lestrange."

Miss Avery, you'll be with me—

Lauren Avery swallowed. "Yes sir," she whispered.

"Next week we'll switch partners—" After a few minutes of studying the exercises, Snape told the class to leave everything behind except their wands. "Put your wands in your pockets. Do not travel with them drawn. We will be going to the edge of the forest, and there we will separate to begin our game. If your partner is cursed, you have the option to reverse the curse or just return to the classroom with your partner."

The class murmured in readiness.

"Let's proceed then," said Snape as they went outside to the edge of the forest. As soon as Snape dismissed them to begin the game, Pansy took off at a dead run straight into the forest.

"Slow down," Ginny called after her. "We're too deep into the forest."

"No," said Pansy. "We're not deep enough. Just a little further is a clearing—Ah, here it is." She sat down on the soft grass to catch her breath. A weak dappling of sunlight filtered through the trees.

"Why did you come here?" asked Ginny, who was panting and holding a stitch in her side.

"Safe zone," said Pansy.

"Snape didn't say anything about a safe zone," panted Ginny.

"Doesn't matter," said Pansy.

A few minutes later, Alvin Nott and Blaise Zambini entered the clearing. Ginny had her wand drawn and threw a jelly legs curse at Alvin Nott, which didn't seem to work. "Hey," he cried, drawing his wand automatically. "Expellaramus!' But Ginny's wand stayed in her hand.

"This is a safe zone," said Blaise, sitting beside Pansy. "Didn't you tell her, Pansy?"

Ginny still held her wand with a death grip.

"Yes, but, I guess she didn't believe me," Pansy replied, pushing her thick dark hair out of her face. "Put your wand away. No one's going to hurt you here. These wards have been set up for years—Your wand won't work, Weasel—some Elemental magic still bleeds through though--"

"My name is not Weasel," said Ginny tightly. "It's Ginny."

Pansy shrugged. "So what now?" She addressed her fellow Slytherins and ignored Ginny completely.

"I can't believe Snape took Lauren as his partner. My heart about fell to my feet. Poor Lauren. Do you think he's—" Blaise broke off and looked at Ginny.

"I don't think so—" said Pansy. "You didn't see him—after Ethan—"

"Did you find out who really cursed Ethan?" asked Blaise.

"No," said Pansy, "But Draco says he knows—"

"Draco thinks he knows everything," spat Alvin. "I think we should follow them. Just in case—"

"Who?" asked Blaise. "Lauren and Professor Snape? And if he—" Blaise looked at Ginny in exasperation. "You know if he wanted to—take her anywhere, there wouldn't be a damned thing you could do to stop him."

"Don't worry," said Pansy, giving Alvin a little push. "Just because you wanted Lauren as a partner-- Snape knew better than to put the two of you together. You might not come back to class—"

Alvin Nott smirked at her.

'What's this about Snape?" asked Ginny hesitantly.

They all looked at her blankly. "Nothing," Pansy said.

"Well, I wouldn't want to be paired with Snape," Ginny commented.

"Right," Alvin said. "Do you think they're gone yet?"

No one answered. Ginny wondered if just hiding out and waiting for her Slytherin classmates to curse each other was the best procedure. She wanted to get a good grade, not just slide by--

"Look," said Ginny at last. "You might be going to blow off class, but I'm not. I—" She started for the edge of the clearing.

"Sit down, Weasel," said Pansy, yanking her back into the clearing. "We're not skipping class. We--I have a special assignment."

"What?" said Alvin.

"Yeah. Teach the Wea—Ginny," Pansy corrected, "To pull power from the Elementals. Don't want you embarrassing yourself in front of all of us. Although I can't imagine why Snape would care—"

"Ok," continued Pansy. "To pull power from the Earth—"

"Earth?" interrupted Alvin. "I think you should start with fire. She seems to have a liking for fire."

"You're still mad about the Dragon breath mints," said Ginny. "It was a joke."

"Yeah," said Pansy. "Some joke. I'm sure you haven't noticed that the whole Slytherin table has been eating nothing but warm soup and cool sherbets for the last two days—And Poor Millie got—" Pansy stopped and looked around. "Where is she?" said Pansy.

"Pansy," said Blaise softly. "I don't think she's coming."

"But," Pansy said, looking around at their faces. "She was paired with Edward, wasn't she?"

"So how's Millie's mouth?" Alvin asked at last.

"Better. Madam Pomfrey had to give Millie a potion to grow back her tongue." Said Pansy, glaring at Ginny. "It's just about as nasty as skele-gro and yesterday was the first time she's been able to speak since Wednesday," said Pansy.

"You have to admit it's been rather peaceful in our room," muttered Blaise.

"Blaise!" admonished Pansy.

"Well, I wasn't the only one involved in the prank," replied Ginny. "I wasn't even the one who blew the dust over the plates." Ginny illustrated by holding her hands in front of her mouth and blowing. "That was Edward."

"Should have known," said Alvin.

There was another long silence, into which Alvin whispered. "I wish Lauren would get here." He turned to Pansy. "Were you going to study something?

"Pulling power from the Earth—" repeated Pansy. She glanced over at her fellow Slytherins, and then turned her attention to Ginny. "Snape specifically told me to start with Earth magic—"

"You have to connect with the power first, Ginny," said Pansy. "You know that the Earth is filled with energy. Think about it. A seed is placed in the Earth, and it grows. A plant won't grow from the seed unless it is in the soil. It will just wilt and die. We, too, need to be connected to the Earth. The Power of the universe exists in the Earth--the power for growth, attracted by the seed and the power for destruction, attracted by the earthquake

"Um-Pansy?" interrupted Blaise

"Hmm?" Pansy turned toward the tall, willowy blonde girl.

"We're going to go look for Lauren," said Alvin.

Pansy nodded and turned back to her explanation. "So, close your eyes and just feel the power. Draw it to yourself as if you were a seed, seeking to grow."

Ginny tried, but nothing happened.

"You are way too tense," said Pansy. "This isn't something to be afraid of—I mean, the power of earthquake is there, but most likely you couldn't harness that. The most you are going to get is a bit of the growth power. Most three year old Slytherins can do this."

"I could do it when I was three too," said Ginny softly.

"You could?" Pansy looked surprised.

Ginny nodded. "The twins set the curtains on fire. I put them out—"

"The twins—"

"Fred and George, you know, the eternal pranksters," said Ginny. "Even at seven they were—"

"Seven," interrupted Pansy. "Seven and they were drawing on a fire elemental!"

"Oh, no," they had Bill's wand," said Ginny, "But I didn't have a wand. The fire scared me, so I flung water at it. Soaked the carpet two floors down." Ginny grinned sheepishly. "I was thinking of it—the fire—" Ginny stopped, uncertain of how to continue.

"I can't help thinking about Beaubaxtons either," whispered Pansy. "It doesn't help though. Nothing does. It's not like we have the power to—do anything."

Ginny stared at her.

After a moment, Pansy brought them back to the lesson. "If you could do wandless magic at three, why are you having so much trouble now?" asked Pansy. "Oh, I bet I know. Your parents forbade you to do wandless magic, didn't they? Did they punish you?"

"No," said Ginny. "They were upset, but they knew it was an accident. Mum gave me this big lecture about causing floods, and hurting myself, but I really don't remember what she was talking about."

"In a Slytherin household that would have been praised," said Pansy.

"I see—"

A rustling nearby caught their attention. Pansy pulled her wand.

"I thought this was a safe zone," said Ginny.

"Well," replied Pansy. "Sometimes Slytherins don't play by the rules. Anyway, whoever they are, they're still outside of the safe zone."

Ginny pulled her wand too.

A moment later, Pansy flung herself forward. "Lauren!" she cried. "We were so worried. What happened with Snape?"

"I'll tell you later," Lauren replied. "Are you working on the wandless magic? How's it going?"

"Not very well," said Pansy. "We're going to have to work on this after class." She glared at Ginny. "Because I'm not going to tell Snape that I couldn't teach you—"

"Did you try pulling through her?" asked Lauren.

Pansy shuddered. "No," she said.

"Well, that should work. We know she's not a squib."

"What are you talking about?" asked Ginny.

"It's a game that I used to play when I was little with Draco—"

"With Draco?" repeated Ginny surprised.

"He's my cousin, first cousin actually," said Lauren. "Aunt Narcissa taught us—Draco's Mum. Draco used to pull power from the Earth through me until—well—until it hurt and then I would say—'quit' and Draco would win. If he couldn't make me say quit, I would win. Then we'd change places. I'll show you."

Lauren stood behind Ginny. "Hold your arms out in front of you," she said, and Ginny obeyed.

"Now, don't do anything. Just close your eyes and relax."

Lauren stood behind her and held her own hands just barely above Ginny's. Her arms never touched Ginny's and yet there was a tingling between them. Suddenly Ginny felt the magic run straight up through her body from the Earth, and the power was pushed out through her fingertips by Lauren. "Quit!" shouted Ginny.

Pansy giggled.

"I didn't hurt you—did I?" asked Lauren.

"No. I—just. It was just strange," said Ginny in a strangled voice. She tried to put her finger on when she felt magic in this way, and her mouth got dry as she realized—she had been used this way by Tom to write her messages on the wall. She felt sick."

==

She could see the words glaring at her from the diary. These are the words you will write. "The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir, beware!"

"I can't," she had written in the Diary. "I don't have a wand."

"WHAT?"

"I left it in potions. Snape always locks his dungeon."

His anger was palpable. She could almost feel it jump out of the diary and strangle her. "You did that on purpose1" he wrote, his handwriting degenerating into a scrawl.

"Yes."

"No matter. You will call my familiar and you will write the message—better write it first—in case the basilisk kills you—"

==

"Hey, Ginny," said Pansy. "Are you alright? You look a little pale. Maybe we should have waited for Alvin," Pansy told Lauren. "I don't think she liked the flavor of your magic, Lauren."

Lauren rolled her eyes. "It's just an assignment," she said.

"No," said Ginny. "It wasn't anything you did. I was just—startled. I think I can do it now." With extreme distaste, Ginny remembered writing on the wall with Tom. She closed her eyes and concentrated, allowing the magic to come to her."

"Release," said Lauren, and Ginny let the magic drip from her hands.

"That's it," said Lauren. "Good."

Ginny shuddered, and then got control of herself. "I could try a simple spell," she said.

"No," replied Pansy. "Safe zone, remember. Spells won't work here. Anyway, Snape specifically said don't do any spells. Just pull and release. And only Earth magic."

Alvin and Blaise returned to the clearing. "There you are, Lauren," said Alvin. "Blaise said you probably made your way back here, but I didn't think you did." He kissed Lauren lightly on the lips. "Are you OK?"

"Yeah, Snape let me go," said Lauren. "Hey, can we show Ginny how we play 'Quit'?"

"Sure," said Alvin taking Lauren in his arms. "But I get to be first."

"Not like that," said Lauren, pushing away from him. "Do it how you are supposed to play." She turned in his arms, allowing him to put his arms and hands over hers. "And don't touch me," Lauren admonished. "That's not fair."

"Ok. Ok. If you insist," said Alvin. "But it's the only way I can win."

Lauren rolled her eyes. "Ready. Go."

In a moment, both Alvin and Lauren fell into silent concentration. Sweat started to bead on Alvin's brow. Lauren was clenching and unclenching her hands in an attempt to release the magic more quickly than Alvin was bringing it in. It was obvious that she was handling the magic effortlessly, but Alvin was working at it. Suddenly he thrust her away, and leaned his hands on his knees. He was breathing hard, as if he had run a race. Lauren was nearly glowing with the excess magic. She laughed. "I win."

"But—"interrupted Ginny. "No one said 'I quit'. How did you win?"

"Because he couldn't pull faster than I could release," said Lauren. "When the weaker person is the one releasing, you have to be very careful. I was too stubborn to say, 'quit' once and Draco sent me to the medi-wizards."

"That's only because he used to practice with his mother," spat Alvin.

"I used to be able to beat Draco," said Lauren proudly.

"Me too," said Pansy quietly. "Until it quit being a game to him."

There was a long silence, and then Pansy said softly. "Class should be almost over. We should get back."

"Yeah," said Alvin. "McGonagall will hang us from our thumbs if we're late for transfiguration again."

"McGonagall?" Said Ginny. "She wouldn't do that."

"No, you're right," said Pansy, "But last Friday we lost 40 points and got 5 detentions."

"I hate that woman," replied Lauren. "She's positively evil."

McGonagall? Ginny decided to keep her opinions to herself.

==

LOVE MY REVIEWERS! PLEASE REVIEW. ONLY 10 REVIEWS UNTIL THE NEXT CHAPTER!

Hey, be glad you didn't have to pay for this book—

Lady Lestrange

--

Kemenran: succinct and to the point. You've got it.

Silverfox: Thanks, You're right, Harry didn't know Kedavra in his second year. I guess Hermione might point that out to him, and he could say—well I could have done something from a little further away than the length of the sword. Have to give it some thought and perhaps re-load that chapter later with correction. Glad you like Neville. More coming. Edward's painting? I don't know; he won't let me see it. I'm not a Gryffindor. Silverfox writes great fanfiction. Go read some of it. Right after you review.

Trillium: Thanks for condoning my blackmailing, Actually it's keeping me on my toes because the reviews are coming pretty fast and although I have most of the chapters written, some of them need some polish before they are put up. Their interpretations of the prophecy are never completely wrong. That would be grossly unfair to the reader; however, the explanations are sometimes incomplete. Remember "bilinguis".

Edward. Author shrugs. Blows kisses. I don't trust him either, but ya gotta love him. Ginny/Harry may have a few teasers, but sorry, Ginny is way too wrapped up in Tom to have a serious relationship with Harry.

Blue-blond sorcerress: You really need to change your name because I keep trying to type it spelled right. I answered this review already. I only have one more erudite Ravenclaw comment to make: HUH?

Blue-blond sorcerress: Now I am really confused. "Great story?"

Bluetigereye13@aol.com : Glad you liked the Tom stuff. Yes, I understand, Ginny sort of inspires insanity. She does that to me too. lol

Melbell: Glad you like my Neville. More coming. Melbell writes a funny short story called Plotting Corner of the Staff Room. Go read it for a lift.

(A/N: For all my bloodthirsty Slytherin Readers: Next time Voldemort get the urge to burn something, I promise you will be there. No more secondhand stories.)