Chapter 11: The First Attack

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"Caesar's spirit, ranging for revenge... 
Shall in these confines with a monarch's voice
Cry 'havoc!' and let slip the dogs of war..." 

-William Shakespeare, Julius Caesar, III:1

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A/N: I realize there was no chapter 10... but if I put one in, then I'll be off on the numbering because of the author's
note!! So sorry. Enjoy and don't forget to review!!

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After seeing the woman in his dreams again, Harry couldn't sleep. Feeling restless, he decided to get up and go to the small
but nicely furnished Head's common room. Harry was surprised to see that it wasn't empty. Hermione was sitting on a small
sofa, staring into the fire as tears ran down her face. She had her hands on her head and seemed not to have noticed Harry's
entrance. Should I ask what's wrong or leave? he wondered, before deciding to talk to her. 

"Hermione?" he asked gently, approaching the sofa. Her head snapped up immediately. 

"Harry," she whispered, looking embarassed and relieved at the same time. "What're you doing up this late?"

"I couldn't sleep," he murmured, pushing his dream to the back of his mind.

"I can never sleep anymore," Hermione said, choking back more tears. "I just keep thinking about what's going to happen... It
feels like everything is coming together, every event has been leading up to something, and I don't know what it is, but I'm 
afraid. People are going to die, Harry," she said forcefully, staring him straight in the eye. "It could be me, Ron, you...
then what?" she whispered.

"Everything's going to be fine," he told her, rubbing her shoulder gently. "We can't change what's going to happen, so it's better
just to not even think about it." He paused. "Is this why you've been acting so odd lately?" he asked. Hermione nodded.

"I'm always tired, because I can never sleep, because I'm so worried about this war. I just wish it could end," she said
mournfully, staring downwards. 

"It's hard on all of us. We just have to pull together, we'll defeat him eventually," Harry said in a hollow voice, lacking the
confidence he had tried so hard to instill in his words. Hermione looked up at him fearfully.

"Remember when you said that you weren't really good at Defense Against the Dark Arts, that you always just got lucky when you
saw Voldemort?" she asked. Harry nodded, not sure where the conversation was heading. "I never believed you, Harry, but what
if it's true? What if you're not so lucky next time?" Her voice cracked with emotion. "What if there's no hope left?"

Harry didn't know how to respond, so he didn't. The Head Boy and Girl sat on the sofa in the early morning hours, staring at 
the dying embers of the fire, an uncomfortable silence filling the air surrounding them.

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Harry had to agree with Ron that 8:00 AM was far to early for Potions as he got up the next morning. He had hardly slept at
all during the night, and was definitely not looking forward to his least favorite class so early in the morning. He laid in his
bed for longer than he should have, trying to get up, and subsequently missed breakfast. He managed to make it to Potions on
time, slipping in the door just moments before Professor Snape began the lesson. He recieved an angry glare from the Potions
Master, but he was still technically on time, so he did not get a detention. Hermione looked just about as tired as he felt.
Professor Snape began to talk but Harry couldn't even concentrate.

"This potion is quite complex, as well as dangerous, so for those of you who wish to remain alive..." Harry's attention waned.
Those of you who wish to remain alive... Yeah, Snape, my life is dependent on a lot more than your ruddy potion... Harry
felt his eyelids beginning to droop. So... tired...

He was woken by a sharp rapping on the desk, mere inches from his face. 

"Mr. Potter," Professor Snape sneered. "20 points from Gryffindor for sleeping during class." The Slytherins were giggling madly
on the other side of the room. Harry shook his head sleepily. "As I was saying before Mr. Potter decided to take a nap, the
potion requires only a very small amount of fluxweed - when you add it, be cautious..." Potions seemed to last forever, and
Harry was thrilled when it finally ended. Ron glanced down at his watch as the trio left the dungeons. 

"Snape kept us longer than he was supposed to," Ron grumbled. "Now we've only got five minutes to get to Defense Against the
Dark Arts." Harry suddenly felt a little better.

"The first Defense class of the year! I wonder who the teacher is?" he asked. Ron shrugged.

"I dunno, Hermione won't tell us," he said. A tiny smile appeared on Hermione's face.

"Do you really want to know who I think it is, Ron?" she asked. Ron focused all his attention on her.

"Yes, of course I do! Who is it?" he asked eagerly. Hermione laughed. 

"Well, I didn't say I would tell you, I only asked if you wanted to know!"

"Hermione!" Ron exclaimed accusingly, as Harry and Hermione laughed. 

"Oh all right, but you both should have figured this out earlier. I'm pretty sure that it's... Hestia Jones," she said, pausing.

"That short, black-haired woman from the Order?" Ron asked curiously. "Why her?" Hermione sighed, rolling her eyes.

"Ron, don't you remember? She got fired from the Ministry of Magic because of her involvement in the Order, and that night
at dinner Professor Dumbledore said that he had a job for her! Don't you think that's a bit of a coincidence?" she asked,
crossing her arms.

"Oh yeah, I'd forgotten all about that," Ron said thoughtfully. Hermione muttered something that sounded like "hopeless" and
strolled into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

"Well, let's see if she's right," Harry said, entering after her. He wasn't at all surprised to see Hestia sitting behind the
mahogany desk at the front of the room. Hermione gave Ron a superior look before sitting down in a a desk. Harry and Ron sat
near her. The class quieted immediately as Hestia stood up; they weren't sure how strict of a disciplinarian she would be.

"Welcome class, I'm Professor Jones," she said quietly, flicking her wand towards the blackboard, where the chalk magically
wrote the words "Professor Jones". "We're going to start off this class reviewing some of the material that Professor Lupin
taught you last year, then we'll move on to some new subjects that will be on the N.E.W.T. tests in May. On Wednesday we'll
have a practical defense class, but for today I will ask you to open your books to chapter 3." The lesson went fairly quickly,
and the trio soon found themselves heading to lunch. Both Harry and Hermione had owls waiting for them, as they had missed
breakfast.

"A practical defense lesson tomorrow! I can't wait," Ron said excitedly, as Harry and Hermione received their mail. "What do
you think it'll be about?"

"No idea," Harry said, shaking his head as he ripped open his letter. It was a short note from Dumbledore, telling Harry to
meet with him later that night. Hermione had one as well, along with a copy of The Daily Prophet.

"Everything's been so quiet lately," Hermione said slowly, opening the paper. "Usually there's a few articles on Death Eater
sightings, at least, but there hasn't been anything for the past week."

"No news is good news!" Ron said as he shoved food into his mouth. "Don wuhe, Mihne." He swallowed. "Don't worry, Mione. I'm
sure everything will be fine."

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Harry and Hermione's meeting with Dumbledore that night began as a uneventful one. Hermione informed him of all of the proposed
Hogsmeade dates, and Professor Dumbledore listened patiently. When she was done, he spoke up.

"Everything sounds fine. I am fairly certain that we will be able to retain Hogsmeade visits this year, provided that there are
no major security threats. However, I am worried about you two," he said, looking sharply at Harry and Hermione. "If someone
were to get into Hogwart's and possibly the Gryffindor tower, it would be dangerous for you to be in rooms by yourselves."

"You want us to move back into the regular dormitories?" Harry asked, feeling disappointed. Dumbledore chuckled.

"Not at all, Mr. Potter. I could never deprive you of your Head rooms; you've earned them. However, it might be more comforting,
at least for me, if another student stayed in each of your rooms. Your choice, of course." He looked at them, searching for
a response.

"That's fine with me," Harry said, feeling relieved. Maybe that would make my dreams go away.

"Excellent. Who would you like to choose? I'll have their things moved upstairs this evening," Dumbledore said. 

"Ron Weasley," Harry answered. Dumbledore smiled, and nodded towards Hermione.

"What about you, Miss Granger?" he asked. Rachel, Harry thought. Pick Rachel, pleeeease...

"Ginny Weasley," Hermione answered.

"Very well," Dumbledore said, rising from his chair. "Please inform Ron and Ginny that they will be sleeping in your rooms
tonight. If they choose not to, come see me and we will find another student to room with you." The fireplace in Dumbledore's
office glowed green and a face appeared.

"Albus, we need you immediately," Mr. Weasley said from the fire. "It's an emergency." Dumbledore nodded swiftly.

"I will be there at once, Arthur. Please go back to your common rooms," he told Harry and Hermione. Harry nodded and left, feeling
a little angry. 

"Why couldn't you have picked Rachel?" he asked Hermione, feeling moody.

"I wanted Ginny," she said simply. 

"Why?" Harry demanded. Hermione stopped walking and turned to face him.

"Because, Harry, she's my friend."

"But Rachel's your friend too!" he protested.

"I preferred Ginny," she answered. "I wasn't going to pick Rachel just because she was your girlfriend."

"But I picked Ron-"

"Because he's your friend, not because he's my boyfriend," Hermione answered calmly.

"You never liked Rachel!" Harry accused. "You're just jealous!"

"Harry James Potter, I am NOT jealous! Rachel's nice and all, but really, I just get an odd feeling when I'm around her. We
just don't click. Ginny will be my roommate." With that, Hermione spun on her heel and entered the common room, going to find
Ginny and tell her the news. Harry strode over to Ron, who was sitting on the floor doodling on some paper. As Harry approached,
he realized it was plans for a Quidditch game. 

"Hey mate," Ron said, grinning. "I think I've got some great new strategies for this year."

"Wonderful," Harry grumbled.

"What's wrong with you?" Ron asked. 

"Tired," Harry grunted, not feeling like explaining the fight with Hermione.

"Oh. I thought you got lots of sleep in your comfy bedroom," Ron teased.

"Well, you'll just have to see for yourself. You'll be sleeping up there with me for the rest of the year." He explained
Dumbledore's idea.

"Awesome! Yeah, I get to sleep in the Head's bedroom! Harry, this is great!" he exclaimed. "Who'd Hermione choose?"

"Ginny," Harry answered. "And after we told Dumbledore who we wanted, your dad appeared in the fireplace and said there was
an emergency, so Dumbledore had to leave."

"What kind of emergency?" Ron asked, suddenly looking serious.

"I dunno, he didn't say," Harry said, at once feeling as though he should have been more concerned about this than he had been
about Hermione choosing Ginny. Harry stood up and walked over to Hermione, forgetting all about their fight.

"Mione, what do you think Mr. Weasley meant? Do you think maybe... there was an attack?" he asked her quietly. She glared at 
him.

"It's possible, Harry, but all you've been concerned about was your girlfriend. I'm sure we'll hear soon enough," she answered.
The door of the common room swung open with a bang and all noise in the room ceased. Professor McGonagall stood in the doorframe
with a group of students, whom she was apparently ushering inside.

"All students will stay inside of this room until further notice. Do not leave the common room. Do not send any owls until you
are told that you are allowed to do so. The portrait will be locked so that no one may leave." Gasps and whispers rang through
the room.

"What's happened?" a terrified-looking second year asked Professor McGonagall.

"There has been an attack," she said heavily. "Right now, your safety is our priority, and we must keep you inside. I will be
back to check on you later." She shut the door and a quiet "click" rang through the room. The fear was visible in most students'
eyes.

"I knew it," Hermione whispered. Ron placed his hand on her back.

"Mione, are you feeling okay?" he asked. Her eyes widened and she spoke, somehow retaining the consciousness she had not kept
during her first prophecy.


The Dark Lord closes in, and the battles increase.
The power he possesses is unknown to all but two, 
One that lives and one that has yet to pass on.
History will repeat itself, and the past will damage the future 
Unless it is stopped by the One Who Lived.
The Dark Lord is approaching....


Hermione collapsed on the ground. Most of the students were screaming in terror. Professor McGonagall opened the portrait door
again. 

"Now really, what is going on here?" she asked sternly, before her eyes fell on Hermione. A hand rose to her mouth as she hurried
forward to help. "What happened?" she asked.

"She told another prophecy," Harry answered gravely. 

"It wasn't like last time," Hermione whispered, close to tears. "I was awake this time. I remember what I said, and I remember
saying it."

"Please go to your dormitories everyone," Professor McGonagall commanded. The group began to complain.

"But it's only 7:00!" whined a first year.

"Go do your dormitories," she repeated forcefully, staring at the first year. The students quickly deserted the common room;
the only ones left were Ron, Harry, Hermione, Ginny, and Professor McGonagall. "Let's take her up to her room," McGonagall
told them. "Hermione, can you walk?" 

"Oh, yes... I'm fine, really..." She stood up, wavering a little bit as she held onto the sofa for support. 

"Make sure she gets upstairs," McGonagall told Ron and Harry. "I have to leave." She glanced around to make sure that the room
really was empty. "The attacks are more severe than we thought at first."

"Where are the attacks? Are they attacking muggle-borns?" Harry asked. Professor McGonagall sighed.

"The attacks are happening all over England, all at the same time. It was very well organized. And their main focus seems to
be on Order members' homes, not muggles..." Ron and Ginny paled. "Please go upstairs," she begged. "I'll give you more information
when I have it."

The four students climbed the spiral staircase slowly. They all entered Harry's room, which now contained Ron's old bed. Ron
sat on it, surveying the room.

"Now what?" he asked.

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