This is a short chapter, but I didn't want to continue it yet. I want the
next chapter to stand out on its own. thanks for all the reviews, hope you
guys are ready for the ride.
I've written three new chapters this week so far, so I can update more frequently for awhile.
As for Harry and Cho right now. Harry has some complex issues he's having to deal with, and he's not exactly in tune with his emotions, or he doesn't know how to read them. I think it's obvious he does like Cho, but he can't identify or admit it to himself, yet. I promise it will all come together, just give me some time to write it out. I hate when I get involved a story like this, it preoccupies every thought in my head.AHHHHH!!!!
Read and Review
Nothing is My Own
***********************************************************
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Purebloods United
"And the Dark Lord will mark him his equal."
Harry gazed at the ghostly silhouette as it rose from the small bronze bowl in front of him. It must have been the hundredth time he had relived that memory of a week ago, and it still mystified him.
"I love you Harry Potter."
He felt angry and confused as her tender lips trembled against his chest. He remembered what Dumbledore said about love, how it was his greatest strength, if he didn't have such high morals he would much rather believe what Voldemort had told him.
"There is no good and evil, there is only power, and those to weak to seek it."
Then there was the nagging voice of Hermione plaguing his thoughts, "I don't think that night was the first time Cho had talked to the book."
Hermione was always right, and though he had defended Cho the next day, swearing she didn't know anything, he knew she did.
"And the Dark Lord will mark him his equal."
Cho had been talking to the Death Journal since their first rendezvous when had told her about it. In his heart, he believed she still was. That was the only explanation for her knowing about the prophecy, only he and Dumbledore knew those words.
Then there was her supposed Herbology project. Harry had felt guilty doing so, but had secretly asked Professor Sprout what kind of project the Seventh years were working on.
"Oh don't be silly dear, the Seventh years have enough to worry about with NEWTs approaching."
He still hadn't confronted her about it yet, and managed to keep a straight face when she would run off claiming to be going to see Professor Sprout. Maybe it was denial.
There was that nagging Hermione's voice again, "Many good Witches and Wizards were driven mad by their words."
Cho had said the Journal had said terrible things, things that could drive you mad. Harry could think of things that could drive you mad. The lingering thought of Sirius never being able to die, and having to wander the world of the dead for all eternity made him suddenly shutter. He often wondered if the living in the realm of the dead, enjoyed the same privileges as the dead themselves, like maybe not feeling loss and pain.
Harry ruffled his fingers though his naturally messy hair and sighed, why couldn't he have just one year where thing didn't go to bloody hell? He had found himself ruffling his hair quite a bit lately, ever since he had seen his father do it in the pensive.
Finally he pulled out his wand and recessed the memories floating from his small pensive. The silence of his empty dormitory room had been his only company for long enough, it was still an hour to curfew, and maybe the library would help him stop dwelling for awhile.
As he descended down the dormitory stairs, he could hear the chipper voices of his fellow housemates, all oblivious to the evil growing in the world around them. All completely ignorant to the fate that Harry Potter alone had to face.
"Whomping Willow," Harry bellowed out somewhere between a sob and a spat.
He somehow found peace in the dark corridor, alone without the distraction of people.
In the silence Cho's sweet voice played again in his head, "I love you Harry Potter."
She had seemed so sincere. He could still feel her sleeping against his chest that night, he had watched her sleep, he had watched her dream.
How could she love him? He was cursed, he would either be a murder or a victim. He involuntarily shook himself trying to forget his sirens song. He couldn't allow her to love him, she'd just end up hurt and alone again.
Yet, when she was around, he never wanted her to leave. Somehow her smile seemed to make his dark days a little brighter. The more time he spent with her, the more he wanted to be there for her, to protect her. She was so frail, and so strong at the same time.
She was supposedly meeting with Professor Sprout about her Herbology project tonight. Rather than question her, he had simply smiled and said he understood. He had convinced himself it was just Hermione's paranoid rants that had made him even suspect Cho was talking to the Death Journal, and so what if she was, how much harm could a book do?
Harry shook his head at himself, he knew better than to think something so ignorant, just ask Ginny Weasley how much harm a book can do.
It sometime amazed him how much he had seen in the past five years at Hogwarts, never would he have ever dreamed something like this could happen to him. Poor worthless Harry Potter, who lived in the cupboard under the stairs with the spiders.
The dark corridors of Hogwarts hides many thing: secrets that have long been forgotten.
He glanced around the foreign hallway realizing instantly he had forgotten to take a left after the second set of stairs. It wasn't unusual to wander into an area of the castle that he hadn't seen before. This passageway definitely wasn't going to go on his list of favorite passages to visit again.
He was about to turn around when a sound of strange chats danced into his ears.
"Des Crues El Willtouth louthatious."
It wasn't the sound of nervous students studying, or chatting school mates, no it was darker.
The voices were chanting in a strange language. A dialect he had never heard before. "Here I go again, always wanting to play the part of the hero," he thought bitterly to himself.
The corridor dead-ended at a statue of a screaming woman, maybe a Banshee, but the voices didn't stop there, he could still here their chant, behind the statue.
"Des Crues El Willtouth louthatious."
It didn't take a super sleuth to deduct that the statue was a passage way entrance of some sort, but he wouldn't even know where to begin to guess at a password. The eerie chant continued, and he stood powerless to uncover its source.
"Des Crues El Willtouth louthatious."
"I wish Hermione and Ron where here," he said to himself. Then it hit him, "Ron is at his Chess Club meeting."
Harry trailed off and focused on the statue, "Purebloods United."
The statue rattled and slowly began to reveal an opening that extended the corridor another two hundred feet or so. Without even thinking twice he walked though the entrance and down the dark passage. As the end of the corridor neared he realized it was a dead-end. There weren't any turns or doors, and he could still here the chanting. He stood staring at the wall in front of him, searching it up and down for some clue.
"Des Crues El Willtouth louthatious."
"It must be charmed," he concluded reaching his hand forward and swiping the wall. He smiled as he saw his hand disappear behind the brick like it did at platform nine and three quarters. He took a deep breath and pulled out his want, if he was right, Malfoy and his followers were on the other side, practicing their dark magic.
He entered slowly, rethinking his element of surprise strategy. He'd rather see what he was diving into before emerging himself into it feet first. Harry's eyes widened as he entered the ancient chamber. The room was enormous, with bright green flames burning around an oval shaped amphitheater. He had entered on an upper level, and from the ground level, he would have been undetectable. The language being chanted was almost parsletongue without the hisses.
"Des Crues El Willtouth louthatious."
The sky was enchanted and the lightning flashed while the thunder grumbled. The cloaked figured where facing forward chanting to a statue of their master, a statue of Voldemort. He suddenly realized, it hadn't been a forest he had seen in his dreams, it had been this room.
"Hey you!" her heard a cloaked guard say loudly.
"Stumpy!" Harry threw, running back though the enchanted wall, hoping he hadn't been seen by the other cloaked figures yet.
He hadn't ever run so fast in all his life. The corridor flew by in a blur as he desperately wished for his destination to appear.
"GAWP!" Harry yelled, remembering the password to the Head Master's office from earlier in the year.
"POTTER! Where in the world do you think you're going?" hissed the voice of Professor Snape from down the hall.
"I have to see Professor Dumbledore immediately," Harry pleaded taking a few more steps up the spiraling stairwell.
"You'll have to wait till he returns, he's on Order business," Snape spat, with a grin of satisfaction on his face.
Harry shook his head, "it will be too late by then, they'll have changed the password!"
"What are you ranting about boy?" Snape continued looking slightly annoyed.
"There is a room past the statue of the woman screaming," Harry started, knowing he was wasting his time, "I figured out the password and found an enchanted amphitheater of some sort, and I saw a group of students kneeling in front of a statue of Voldemort."
"Preposterous," Snape interjected, "no such room exist."
"YES IT DOES!"
"Believe me when I tell you I would have known about it if it did," the Potions Master snarled, "go back to your dormitory Potter, I haven't the time for your vicious lies."
Harry knew it was pointless trying to argue with Professor Snape, he'd just have to wait until tomorrow when Dumbledore was back. Surely, a wizard as powerful as Dumbledore could break a password barricade.
He started heading back in the general direction of the Gryffindor common room when his eye caught the Defense Against the Dark Arts class room.
Professor O'Riley would believe him, even if it was just to spite Snape.
"Professor?" Harry called ducking his head into her class room. The light of a candle flickered in her office and he approached, "Professor O'Riley?"
Her office as barren and empty as usual, Harry feeling a twinge of disappointment, started to turn away when that pensive caught his eye again. The engraved 'P' glimmering in the candle light.
"He warned me there was still two memories of the prophecy in you know who's reach. Wormtail asked me to warn December," Cho voice repeated in his head.
Harry found himself staring into the silvery liquid as it pulled him in.
I've written three new chapters this week so far, so I can update more frequently for awhile.
As for Harry and Cho right now. Harry has some complex issues he's having to deal with, and he's not exactly in tune with his emotions, or he doesn't know how to read them. I think it's obvious he does like Cho, but he can't identify or admit it to himself, yet. I promise it will all come together, just give me some time to write it out. I hate when I get involved a story like this, it preoccupies every thought in my head.AHHHHH!!!!
Read and Review
Nothing is My Own
***********************************************************
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Purebloods United
"And the Dark Lord will mark him his equal."
Harry gazed at the ghostly silhouette as it rose from the small bronze bowl in front of him. It must have been the hundredth time he had relived that memory of a week ago, and it still mystified him.
"I love you Harry Potter."
He felt angry and confused as her tender lips trembled against his chest. He remembered what Dumbledore said about love, how it was his greatest strength, if he didn't have such high morals he would much rather believe what Voldemort had told him.
"There is no good and evil, there is only power, and those to weak to seek it."
Then there was the nagging voice of Hermione plaguing his thoughts, "I don't think that night was the first time Cho had talked to the book."
Hermione was always right, and though he had defended Cho the next day, swearing she didn't know anything, he knew she did.
"And the Dark Lord will mark him his equal."
Cho had been talking to the Death Journal since their first rendezvous when had told her about it. In his heart, he believed she still was. That was the only explanation for her knowing about the prophecy, only he and Dumbledore knew those words.
Then there was her supposed Herbology project. Harry had felt guilty doing so, but had secretly asked Professor Sprout what kind of project the Seventh years were working on.
"Oh don't be silly dear, the Seventh years have enough to worry about with NEWTs approaching."
He still hadn't confronted her about it yet, and managed to keep a straight face when she would run off claiming to be going to see Professor Sprout. Maybe it was denial.
There was that nagging Hermione's voice again, "Many good Witches and Wizards were driven mad by their words."
Cho had said the Journal had said terrible things, things that could drive you mad. Harry could think of things that could drive you mad. The lingering thought of Sirius never being able to die, and having to wander the world of the dead for all eternity made him suddenly shutter. He often wondered if the living in the realm of the dead, enjoyed the same privileges as the dead themselves, like maybe not feeling loss and pain.
Harry ruffled his fingers though his naturally messy hair and sighed, why couldn't he have just one year where thing didn't go to bloody hell? He had found himself ruffling his hair quite a bit lately, ever since he had seen his father do it in the pensive.
Finally he pulled out his wand and recessed the memories floating from his small pensive. The silence of his empty dormitory room had been his only company for long enough, it was still an hour to curfew, and maybe the library would help him stop dwelling for awhile.
As he descended down the dormitory stairs, he could hear the chipper voices of his fellow housemates, all oblivious to the evil growing in the world around them. All completely ignorant to the fate that Harry Potter alone had to face.
"Whomping Willow," Harry bellowed out somewhere between a sob and a spat.
He somehow found peace in the dark corridor, alone without the distraction of people.
In the silence Cho's sweet voice played again in his head, "I love you Harry Potter."
She had seemed so sincere. He could still feel her sleeping against his chest that night, he had watched her sleep, he had watched her dream.
How could she love him? He was cursed, he would either be a murder or a victim. He involuntarily shook himself trying to forget his sirens song. He couldn't allow her to love him, she'd just end up hurt and alone again.
Yet, when she was around, he never wanted her to leave. Somehow her smile seemed to make his dark days a little brighter. The more time he spent with her, the more he wanted to be there for her, to protect her. She was so frail, and so strong at the same time.
She was supposedly meeting with Professor Sprout about her Herbology project tonight. Rather than question her, he had simply smiled and said he understood. He had convinced himself it was just Hermione's paranoid rants that had made him even suspect Cho was talking to the Death Journal, and so what if she was, how much harm could a book do?
Harry shook his head at himself, he knew better than to think something so ignorant, just ask Ginny Weasley how much harm a book can do.
It sometime amazed him how much he had seen in the past five years at Hogwarts, never would he have ever dreamed something like this could happen to him. Poor worthless Harry Potter, who lived in the cupboard under the stairs with the spiders.
The dark corridors of Hogwarts hides many thing: secrets that have long been forgotten.
He glanced around the foreign hallway realizing instantly he had forgotten to take a left after the second set of stairs. It wasn't unusual to wander into an area of the castle that he hadn't seen before. This passageway definitely wasn't going to go on his list of favorite passages to visit again.
He was about to turn around when a sound of strange chats danced into his ears.
"Des Crues El Willtouth louthatious."
It wasn't the sound of nervous students studying, or chatting school mates, no it was darker.
The voices were chanting in a strange language. A dialect he had never heard before. "Here I go again, always wanting to play the part of the hero," he thought bitterly to himself.
The corridor dead-ended at a statue of a screaming woman, maybe a Banshee, but the voices didn't stop there, he could still here their chant, behind the statue.
"Des Crues El Willtouth louthatious."
It didn't take a super sleuth to deduct that the statue was a passage way entrance of some sort, but he wouldn't even know where to begin to guess at a password. The eerie chant continued, and he stood powerless to uncover its source.
"Des Crues El Willtouth louthatious."
"I wish Hermione and Ron where here," he said to himself. Then it hit him, "Ron is at his Chess Club meeting."
Harry trailed off and focused on the statue, "Purebloods United."
The statue rattled and slowly began to reveal an opening that extended the corridor another two hundred feet or so. Without even thinking twice he walked though the entrance and down the dark passage. As the end of the corridor neared he realized it was a dead-end. There weren't any turns or doors, and he could still here the chanting. He stood staring at the wall in front of him, searching it up and down for some clue.
"Des Crues El Willtouth louthatious."
"It must be charmed," he concluded reaching his hand forward and swiping the wall. He smiled as he saw his hand disappear behind the brick like it did at platform nine and three quarters. He took a deep breath and pulled out his want, if he was right, Malfoy and his followers were on the other side, practicing their dark magic.
He entered slowly, rethinking his element of surprise strategy. He'd rather see what he was diving into before emerging himself into it feet first. Harry's eyes widened as he entered the ancient chamber. The room was enormous, with bright green flames burning around an oval shaped amphitheater. He had entered on an upper level, and from the ground level, he would have been undetectable. The language being chanted was almost parsletongue without the hisses.
"Des Crues El Willtouth louthatious."
The sky was enchanted and the lightning flashed while the thunder grumbled. The cloaked figured where facing forward chanting to a statue of their master, a statue of Voldemort. He suddenly realized, it hadn't been a forest he had seen in his dreams, it had been this room.
"Hey you!" her heard a cloaked guard say loudly.
"Stumpy!" Harry threw, running back though the enchanted wall, hoping he hadn't been seen by the other cloaked figures yet.
He hadn't ever run so fast in all his life. The corridor flew by in a blur as he desperately wished for his destination to appear.
"GAWP!" Harry yelled, remembering the password to the Head Master's office from earlier in the year.
"POTTER! Where in the world do you think you're going?" hissed the voice of Professor Snape from down the hall.
"I have to see Professor Dumbledore immediately," Harry pleaded taking a few more steps up the spiraling stairwell.
"You'll have to wait till he returns, he's on Order business," Snape spat, with a grin of satisfaction on his face.
Harry shook his head, "it will be too late by then, they'll have changed the password!"
"What are you ranting about boy?" Snape continued looking slightly annoyed.
"There is a room past the statue of the woman screaming," Harry started, knowing he was wasting his time, "I figured out the password and found an enchanted amphitheater of some sort, and I saw a group of students kneeling in front of a statue of Voldemort."
"Preposterous," Snape interjected, "no such room exist."
"YES IT DOES!"
"Believe me when I tell you I would have known about it if it did," the Potions Master snarled, "go back to your dormitory Potter, I haven't the time for your vicious lies."
Harry knew it was pointless trying to argue with Professor Snape, he'd just have to wait until tomorrow when Dumbledore was back. Surely, a wizard as powerful as Dumbledore could break a password barricade.
He started heading back in the general direction of the Gryffindor common room when his eye caught the Defense Against the Dark Arts class room.
Professor O'Riley would believe him, even if it was just to spite Snape.
"Professor?" Harry called ducking his head into her class room. The light of a candle flickered in her office and he approached, "Professor O'Riley?"
Her office as barren and empty as usual, Harry feeling a twinge of disappointment, started to turn away when that pensive caught his eye again. The engraved 'P' glimmering in the candle light.
"He warned me there was still two memories of the prophecy in you know who's reach. Wormtail asked me to warn December," Cho voice repeated in his head.
Harry found himself staring into the silvery liquid as it pulled him in.