Disclaimer: No, I am NOT claiming to own Harry Potter or anything associated with it. So- STOP BOTHERING ME! ::smacks Warner Bros. representative at her door:: Go away! ::slams door:: At the bottom I talk about this Fisher King- that info was taken from The Mists of Avalon by Marion Zimmer Bradley.
The Clouds Are Heavy [Continued]
By Sabrina Clarke and Edited by Fiona Chan
"Your 5 minutes late boys…let's see, why not take five-" he stopped as Harry and Ron flinched, but Snape merely waved his hand irritably motioning for them to take their seats and set up their cauldrons, continuing, "…lacewings with one dash of essence of Belladonna."
Harry and Ron were dumbfounded, in fact, so was the rest of the class. Snape never passed up a chance to take off points from Gryffindor. Harry looked at Hermione seated next to Neville and mouthed, What's wrong with Snape?
Suddenly, Neville's cauldron began bubbling with intense ferocity, spraying the whole class with drops of magenta potion. Snape darted forward extinguishing the fire and shooting red sparks from his wand to control the unruly class. Many of the students screamed, burned by scalding drops of liquid. Neville was shivering, backing slowly out of prominence, waiting for Snape to explode at him as he always did. However, Snape merely glowered at the twisted remains of Neville's cauldron.
No one spoke as he turned to Neville, spitting, "You'll need to get a new cauldron." Neville stood frozen, staring speechless at Snape's retreating backside.
"I reckon Snape's gone mad," muttered Dean Thomas to Ron and Harry, "Why else would he be nice?" The bell rang, leaving the class still surprised and somewhat scared as they exited the dungeon as quickly as possible.
"He wasn't exactly nice, he just passed up a chance to be mean," remarked Hermione, walking a bit faster then the drifting Gryffindors.
"Well, that's something for Snape," shrugged Ron. Neville nodded vigorously.
"Maybe he's in love," suggested Parvati Patil as she reapplied her large ornamental butterfly to the end of her plait- it had become askew in the chaos several minutes earlier.
"In love?" Ron sniggered, his eyes still on Hermione, "Maybe he's just happy to have a friend."
"I think he's saving up all his anger and in one day he'll SNAP!" cried Seamus eagerly motioning with his hands, "You never know maybe we can 'unveil the depths of the future' for Snape in Divination."
Dean and Ron both burst out laughing as Harry imitated Professor Trelawney's misty voice, "I see in your future…alas, death! Wait, no, I see that for everyone!" he pretended to faint, accidentally dropping his inkbottle.
Dean stopped him from cleaning up the black blots on the stone floor. "Do you see that?" he whispered pointing to the spilt ink.
Harry looked startled. "Erm…"
"It's the Grim, Harry! The Gri-i-im!" hissed Dean and widening his eyes in mock fear. Harry looked up at the trapdoor above him and began to slowly climb up the ladder that led into her classroom.
"Mr. Potter! In your seat, immediately!" scolded Professor Trelawney, as Lavender and Parvati looked at her with admiration and scowled at Harry, Seamus, Ron, and Dean. Immediately, the strong musty odor of the burning incense flooded Harry's nostrils and he felt tired. He sank into a pouf next to Ron.
"As I was saying before Potter, Finnigan, Thomas, and Weasley decided to grace us with their presence…" she stopped and resumed her airy manner. "We will first study the ancient art of the I CHING, then move on to numerology, but I will have to stop our lessons as I will get the flu and your substitute will be ignorant of Divination. Nonetheless, when I recover we will continue on to astral projection…" She stopped and stared at Harry. No, not again, he inwardly groaned, "You're going to-" she stopped. He screwed up his eyes and thought, go on say it, its not I like I haven't heard it before. "You scar is -" but whatever Professor Trelawney was going to say, she was stopped mid-sentence, as Harry had grown rigid in his seat.
****
Harry was in a cavern. Damp, clinging mist hung about the scattered rocks and boulders like an obscuring halo. He slowly stepped into the silent, shadowed unknown. His foot struck something solid- warm and soft.
"Wha-" he uttered in surprise, but he heard nothing. It was an unnatural silence. In quiet- noise exists, but it is not important; here noise was non-existent.
"Anyone out there?" Silence. Harry's unheard voice became frantic. "Hello?"
The silence was deafening. A low cry that seemed to pervade from the entire place, called his name. "Hello?" A moan. Shattered silence. Was that Moody's voice? He will kill you. Harry once more stepped forward. His foot struck something again.
"Wha-" he bent forward, but everything was swallowed by the ensnaring darkness. It lured him forward. Another moan. Another step. He will kill you.
Then he heard Cedric's voice. "Wands out, d'you reckon?" And Harry looked down. Two wide, glassy eyes stared at him- his face permanently frozen into and expression of surprise. It's all my fault. I told him to take the trophy.
"Harry Potter…" I told him to take the trophy. Two red eyes gleamed in the night. I told him to take the trophy. Pale, glowing hands, bearing a wand, emerged in the darkness. Harry didn't move. It's all my fault. A flash of green. And all was darkness.
Dudley Dursley awoke, his enormous chest rising and rippling like the incoming tide, with huge gasping breaths.
****
"The Dark Lord is approaching Hogwarts." Harry heard a sharp intake of breath.
"Are you sure?" whispered a voice that nonetheless carried around the empty corridor.
"Now, that the Dark Lord has returned, he must be taken care of." More whispers.
"He's getting old- his health is unstable nowadays."
"Yes. I am quite certain that action can be taken…" Snape paused, "Ah…Mr. Potter." As though predicting his next move, Snape barred the way to Dumbledore's office, looking twice and ugly and three times as stern as the stone gargoyle behind him.
"Professor Snape, I have to see Headmaster Dumbledore." said Harry, moving around him. Snape sidestepped him and continued blocking his way.
"The Headmaster is busy." Snape's thin lips, curled into a derisive smile. "I think the Headmaster had more important duties then listening to the ramblings of a delusional boy with hallucinations and a headache. See Madam Pomfrey." Snape began to glide away.
"Madam Pomfrey…? No, I-"
"What Potter?" he spat, "Do you truly need the Headmaster to kiss your bruises when you're hurt? Pathetic." Severus Snape saw the Potter boy wince. Ah, he had struck his pride. His thin-lipped smile broadening, Snape waited for Harry to leave.
Harry rocked on the balls of his feet. He wasn't about to let that slimy git instigate him. Snape's eyes bore into him, they were like to dying embers, releasing burning heat, but dark. Coal black. The color of the fathomless deep. The shuttered windows to Professor Snape's soul. "But Professor Dumbledore told me to tell him if my scar hurt…"
"Very well, Potter. You may speak with Dumbledore." Snape held out his hand, indicating the guarded door, with exaggerated politeness. And with a swish, he was gone.
Draco pretended sympathy, "Did ickle Potty have a headache?"
Harry ignored him, but a flash of red in cheeks betrayed his fury. Malfoy smiled and slowly left to catch up with Snape.
"Mars is bright tonight." The gargoyle remained motionless. Harry cursed under his breath.
"Lucky, for dark nights are always unpleasant?"
"The clouds are heavy?" And the door creaked open.
****
Harry sat impatiently in Dumbledore's office, his beaten up sneakers restlessly kicking at the clawed wooden feet of the chair. Headmaster Dumbledore strode into the room and silently stood in front of the four large windows that opened to the Hogwarts grounds. The clouds hung heavy in the sky, framing the old man in halo of gloom, and illuminating his white beard until it shone. His gnarled hands gripped unto the wooden sill with such ferocity it seemed as though he yet protected the school with his formidable strength. He's getting old- his health is unstable nowadays. Harry sighed. What of Hogwarts when Dumbledore is dead?
Harry began hesitantly, "Today in Divination, my scar was hurting-"
Dumbledore interrupted, "Yes, I know." He smiled at Harry and for a moment he personified Hogwarts itself. And in an instant the glamour, the power- was gone and he was just a tired old man. He sighed, "You should get back to Divination."
As Harry left Dumbledore's office he was reminded of the ballad of the Fisher King. He heard it long ago- as a lullaby? The King dwelt in a castle in the middle of a wasteland; and as the king grew older and his power waned, as did the land fade and become barren.
Harry muttered to himself, "What of Hogwarts when Dumbledore is dead?" He whispered to himself, "The clouds are heavy around this place and Voldemort is slowly approaching."
And then he heard it- the swish of a cloak.
A/N: Wow! Contrast my dears, I've slowly been writing more and more. I thought this bit of ….::looks in vain for a suitable adjective:: shortness-y stuff would be interesting to the impatient reader. That is, if anyone is reading this fic. ::looks around room:: Hello? Anyone there? R/R!