Here's chapter three! Sorry if the chapters are only about 2000 words... Kinda short, eh? =)

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related characters, spells, things, everything related to the wonderful world of Harry Potter mentioned in the books is not mine =) All Jk's!

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Hermione Granger fumed silently in her pastel-yellow room. The light blue curtains with yellow flowers fluttered in the breeze that the open window allowed in. However, the cool breeze did nothing to alter her fiery mood. She'd just received the most insulting letter from Ron, even worse than the hate mail she received when Rita Skeeter let out the article entitled "Harry Potter's Secret Heartache".

The letter elicited bad memories...

The undiluted bubotuber pus...

"Harry Potter's well-wishers must hope that, next time, he bestows his heart upon a worthier candidate..."

"You are a wicked girl. Harry Potter deserves better. Go back where you came from Muggle."

"Ron, you can be such a mindless idiot sometimes," she muttered angrily, staring at the parchment in her hands. Behind her, Pig darted about fitfully. The tiny ball of feathers hooted and squeaked a little, hovering above her bed. Groaning, the bushy-haired girl dragged Pigwidgeon away before it could leave droppings on her newly-changed beddings.

As she sat down on her mahogany study desk to write a reply, which she intended to make icy and cold as possible, Pig stopped for a moment to study the object of his master's affections.

She was beautiful, indeed; his deep brown eyes accepted that fact. She looked nice enough to give him a treat or two. He hooted happily when he spotted some cookie crumbs on the floor. Diving, he very nearly crashed into the floor, but months of erratic flying had given him the pleasure of pulling impossibly out of steep dives such as this.

Pig fell over and he hooted dolefully as she practically snarled while scribbling away furiously. Perhaps the female was angry with Master. He wasn't surprised; Master usually did things without thinking straight. Usually blinded by anger, spite or jealousy.

Yes, he'd seen the redhead write as furiously as the female. It looked like jealousy to him. Pig feasted his eyes on silvery thing on the female's table. Master thought he was just an erratic owl, but really, he just liked and enjoyed observing things and people.

"Here, Pig," a soft voice broke him out of his reverie. Excited, the owl shot out his left leg and looked around carefully as the girl tied the letter. He loved nothing more than sending out letters; it made him feel important and useful.

Hermione sighed wistfully as she watched Pig become smaller until he was out of sight. Why did Ron have to be so senseless, yet at the same time, irresistible?

"Damn you, Ron Weasley…

Severus Snape scowled viciously at the pathetic sight before him. Wormtail, curled at his feet, anguish and pain written clearly over his face, was currently begging him to hurry the potion up.

"Please, Severus... Lucius is just about ready to kill me..."

He sneered ungracefully; his mother did say that her "Sevvy" lacked certain skills in that department. Mother didn't think I'd turn out to be the sinister Potions master with no mercy or a traitorous spy, did she?

"Well, Pettigrew, I wouldn't be so crestfallen or afraid if I were you... Think of Lucius doing away with you as his favor to the world by ridding it of one more insolent, incompetent weakling."

He knew exactly what potion the smaller man was talking about. It was a difficult one, as all the Dark Arts related potions were. It was an ancient recipe that required a lot of rarely seen ingredients that took hard work to get. The main purpose of the potion was to cause unbelievably large amounts of pain, and the acid ate up the intestines of the drinker slowly, and in the snail-like process, killing the unfortunate drinker. Thus, it was safe to say that many wizards hadn't even thought of brewing the potion for centuries. The results were rather… nauseating.

"What of the Dark Lord?" Snape was the first to break the deafening silence, oddly uncomfortable under the watery eyes of the apostate. "Does he want me to quicken the impossible, too?"

Wormtail squirmed under the beetle black eyes of Snape. "Master doesn't know yet of the plan. Lucius is going to inform him off it with Nott and Avery tonight, for his confirmation. Lucius just wants the potion ready should the Dark Lord want it to be executed immediately."

Snape nearly let out a sigh, and he was surprised with himself. His first since the inauguration. His first since she was murdered. He mentally berated himself for it. "Then you might as well leave. Don't bother returning until the Dark Lord consents with the plan."

He remembered Dumbledore's words the night after the Triwizard tournament ended...

It had been a moonless night, and the absence of the stars over Hogwarts added to the chilling effect.

Severus stared out across the lake, refusing to allow himself to shiver in the cold. So many things had happened, and he could pretend to others, but he was incapable of lying to himself that he wasn't affected by the death of Diggory.

How he'd gotten into this mess, he did not know. Being a Death Eater, one must know his risks and his limits. He'd been so stupid to allow himself to be led away by Crabbe and Malfoy that starless night long, long ago. Back then, he only had anger for the world, and he was blinded by stupidity, that Muggles and half-bloods didn't deserve to live.

A shadow, the snap of a twig, and the faint outline of a bowler hat on the spot next to him, the light coming from inside the warm castle. He instantly knew who it was.

"Dumbledore."

It was a statement, rather than a greeting.

"Ah, Severus."

It made him want to spill out all he'd been feeling ever since he caught sight of Potter desperately clinging to Diggory's corpse. He couldn't help but trust this man, not unlike many others.

Dumbledore seemed to read his mind, like many other times before. A soft voice, hardly heard over the howling winds that threatened to rock the steadfast castle and its towers.

"Gain his trust again, Severus. Do what he asks, but if it is to hurt Harry Potter in any way, I suggest you find yourself a solution, but one that wouldn't end you up receiving an untimely demise."

And his superior, his mentor, his friend was gone. Severus sighed; he missed the days when life's bad events were when a girl turned you down or when you got a low mark. It was more complicated now, and his actions hadn't helped make everything better or simpler.

Albus' wise words were carried by the same winds that tried to drown them.

Gain his trust.

Again.

I will, Albus... I promise I'll try.

I promise.

A thought occured to him before he viewed the mental image of that idiotic nuiscance regurgitating his insides onto the tiles of a bathroom. Snape almost winced. Again, his first since the commencement.

"Pettigrew, what exactly is the plan of Malfoy... rather, who does he intend on force-feeding this to?" Snape gestured to the bubbling cauldron.

Aha... Exactly what Lucius said Snape would ask...

"Oh," Wormtail brushed the inquiry off gingerly, "It's for some Muggles in Winchester."

Snape was already looking at his books, robes billowing from the air that ran through them. If he only turned around, he would've seen James Potter's former friend whisper as he pointed his wand at the black cauldron, "Finite Incantatem!"

In the future, Snape would rue the moment he turned his back. He should've known then and there never to trust a traitor, even if he was on the same side.

A mere few minutes after Peter left, Snape was sweating from the heat the disgusting potion was emitting. Suddenly, the door to his dungeon quarters burst open to reveal a frightfully white Minerva McGonagall. Severus knew something serious was the matter; he'd been her student before her colleague, and he knew she got worried of only the most important of things.

"Minerva, what is it?" He asked urgently, moving closer to her. She looked at him, face full of… was that worry? Snape peered in closer, and catlike eyes met glittering black.

"Severus, Dumbledore's ordered you and me, along with Madame Pomfrey to go to Privet Drive. It is of importance that we get there as soon as possible."

Privet Drive? He racked his brain for where he'd heard those two strangely familiar words before…

Privet Drive, Privet Drive… Potter's residence! Dear god, I hope Pettigrew hasn't done him in yet…Much less Malfoy…

A few seconds later, his dungeon was locked, and they were walking briskly, their pace getting faster and faster with each new step. Somehow, they both felt like they were running a race.

"What is it, Professor McGonagall?"

"It's Potter's Muggle uncle…" she said bitterly; she never really liked Muggles, not that she was a supporter of Voldemort, far from it, in fact, but Vernon Dursley just added to her already bad view of non-magic people  "He abuses the child."

"And the guards? They didn't notice?"

"You know things have gotten busy with the Order, now that Voldemort's had his attack. No one can take the job of protecting Potter all the time. So the wards were set up. The wards Mad-Eye, Tonks, Albus and Remus set up have been to prevent magical harm to come upon the family and Harry…"

"You mean to say that Potter's safe from the Dark Lord, but not from his own deranged uncle?"

She sighed tiredly, "I'm afraid so, Severus. Who know what state Potter's in? Near death, from the sound of it… He is in mortal peril as we speak… It seems that Mad-Eye's warning didn't really work. The Muggle just forces Potter to write letters, with the threat of death awaiting the boy if he doesn't comply."

Snape regarded this piece of information carefully. As much as he loathed James Potter's son with every fiber of his utter being, he didn't wish death for the boy. That would be… harsh.

They turned a corner, and, to both of their silent annoyances, Sir Cadogan was in the next large portrait of a sunset near an ocean. When the annoying "knight" spotted McGonagall with Snape, he jumped into action.

"My fair lady, not to worry! Don't shed a tear, for Sir Cadogan, the bold, the fearless, the bravest of them all, is here to save you!"

And he promptly fell off his steed. Both teachers paid no attention to the lunatic, intent on getting to their destination without being bothered. Tight-lipped, they walked alongside each other, Head of the Houses with most animosity between them, for once, teaming up to attain one common goal--

Save Harry Potter.

Dumbledore rubbed his eyes laboriously, for once letting his age catch up with him. How he had tried to protect all his students, and he knew that, like all other people, he failed sometimes. He had hope in each and every one of them, yes, even those who have turned against him. Somehow, he always held on to the belief that inside all of them, there was still their innocence and a will to turn against the Dark.

A soft trilling caught his attention, and he looked over his shoulder. With smiling eyes, he met those of his sunset-colored phoenix, Fawkes. The spirit in them had once been fiery, and impossible to defeat. Over the years, they'd dulled, just like Dumbledore's. Their eyes weren't as sharp as before, and they both certainly weren't as agile as they had once been. But their resolve to make the world a better place, a place without evil was stronger than ever, perhaps even more.

Dumbledore eyed his long-time companion and friend equivalent. Though he was no longer the small, wrinkled and flightless being he was after he'd saved his master by swallowing the jet of green light of the fatal spell intended to bring Dumbledore to his demise, Fawkes still had a long way to go before he would regain his full strength.

"We've been together for a long time, old friend," he said leniently, sky blue eyes softening. "I failed with Tom, didn't I?"

Mournful tones followed his question. Fawkes cuddled up to Dumbledore's neck, gently nipping at an earlobe. The Headmaster was suddenly teeming with hope.

"I'm not going to fail with any more if I have it in my power not to. And I most certainly am going to save Harry Potter. I know I made a mistake, he knows it now."

His thoughts swam to the day his student's godfather fell through the veil of unknown in the Department of Mysteries.

How the black-haired boy fiercely shouted…

"I DON'T CARE! I'VE HAD ENOUGH, I'VE SEEN ENOUGH, I WANT OUT, I WANT IT TO END, I DON'T CARE ANYMORE —"

"YOU DON'T KNOW HOW I FEEL! YOU — STANDING THERE – YOU –"

How he'd admitted to Harry the biggest flaw in his foolproof plan…

"I cared about you too much. I cared more for your happiness than your knowing the truth, more for your pace of mind than my plan, more for your life than the lives that might be lost if the plan failed. In other words, I acted exactly as Voldemort expects we fools who love to act."

He looked at the letter on his desk again. The content worried him. He wondered for what seemed like the hundredth time ever since the flamingo departed in a ferment of roseate.

Dumbledore,

Something's wrong at number four. I have reason to believe that Dursley's abusing Harry! His last letter was stained with blood, and I'm pretty sure that it wasn't just a tiny cut or wound, seeing as it looked like numerous pints. Can't go, you know what I'm doing right now. Please, on James, Lily and Sirius' behalf, and mine, save him. He's all I have left…

Remus

Just a few minutes ago, his two Heads of Houses and Hogwarts' resident nurse had left for Surrey, after Severus demanded to know how exactly they found out that Potter was getting beaten to a pulp ("A pathetic pulp", the former Slytherin couldn't help but mutter).

As Albus Dumbledore stared out into the starry night, streaked with a few clouds, thick and fluffy and rolling along, in the wee hours of morning when the entire world was resting in deep slumber, he tried to channel all his strength to the Boy Who Lived, the boy who could very well be the Boy Who Died.

Petunia Dursley rolled over in her sleep as she felt a heavy weight descend on her king sized four poster. She opened her eyes; the pale lavender silk sheets she'd just changed a few hours ago crinkled under the pressure of her husband on the bed. The springs underneath squeaked noisily.

She lay in that bed, silent. In all of her forty-something years, she never thought she'd be smack dab in the middle of a situation with the likes of this, reminiscing her much-hated childhood while beside her heavily snoring, and equally as heavy husband.

Her thoughts surprisingly jumped to the day she received the letter that changed it all…

Her mother pulled her body close to hers in a mighty bear hug. Petunia Evans smiled serenely, enjoying her victory dance with her mother. The equestrienne competition had been hard, but she had pulled through. And she was basking in every minute of her glory.

It's only right… Lily always gets the attention. She's got everything, the brain, the personality… She even got the looks: beautiful red hair, large, soulful green eyes…

She closed her eyes and twirled perfectly in time to the music. Her mother laughed softly.

"You've been practicing, Tuni."

Her eyes lit up. Tuni. Her parents' special nickname for her. For the longest time they hadn't used it, since they were always by Lily's side, praising her for whatever thing she had done.

Her mother dipped her low, and they smiled, Petunia giggling all the while. It felt so good to have all the attention for once, even if it was for a short while.

"May I steal this beautiful young lady away for awhile, Cassandra?"

They both looked up to the twinkling eyes of Edward Evans. Her mother smiled at him before gracefully twirling a squealing Petunia to her husband.

"She's all yours."

For a few moments, they danced in silence, both enjoying the quality time being spent together.

"Congratulations again, Tuni. Have I told you that I'm proud of you?"

She beamed at him. "Yes, Daddy! Seven times now!"

"Counting are we?"

A fast upbeat song came on, and they started moving in unison, her father laughing heartily, and Petunia laughing daintily as well.

Daddy and Mum are finally seeing me! Today must be one of the happiest days of my life! I'll tell Francine, and Anne and—

"DADDY! MUMMY! Look!"

A bouncing redhead entered the living room, a thick yellowing envelope with a torn purple seal of some sort on the front in her hands.

"I'm—I'm a—let me catch my breath…"

Her parents looked worriedly at their younger daughter, gasping for fresh air.

"Is everything all right, Lily Flower?" Her father asked, Petunia and her win long forgotten. Her mum came up behind him, a look of concern crossing her features.

Petunia scowled heavily as her sister smiled brightly. She didn't know that the next words her sister would say would be the beginning of a new life.

"I'm a witch."

The much older Petunia Evans Dursley was surprised to find her cheeks a little damp, and hurried to brush the tears off her face. Beside her, her husband gave a heavy snore and murmured some incoherent words.

She hated her sister, and that dratted old Potter. He'd been nothing but trouble for Petunia the first time she laid eyes on him. And now, here she was, unable to escape the madly envious memories she had of her beautiful sister, seeing as she saw the living testament of her love for Potter.

The boy had also been nothing but trouble. Petunia and Vernon would be damned to hell and back again before they showed any display of love or affection for him. How they'd hope he wasn't one of them. She couldn't bear to cope with another one of her kind.

As much as she hated the boy, she couldn't wish death on him. Or any harm for that matter. She couldn't explain it, she just couldn't.

She hated how Vernon abused the boy, torturing him every night. She'd been the unwilling witness one time, when she was in the closet, cleaning out some things for the summer. He hadn't known his wife was present, hadn't known she'd watched, eyes wide, mouth covered with frighteningly white hands, afraid of the monster that was her sweet loving husband.

"Petunia?"

She very nearly jumped out of her skin. Clearing her throat, Petunia tried to answer in a calm and collected voice, "Yes, dear?"

"Never you mind."

A close call. It was dangerous ground to tread on whenever you were around Vernon these days. He seemed to sink in lower and lower in his terribly foul mood. But he never once hit his wife or son. Just his nephew.

"Remember my last, Petunia."

She'd sealed the charm that old wizard had placed upon the boy. Even though she didn't dare to even think about admitting that she felt like she was bonded with a boy, a very weak bond, but a bond nevertheless.

But she couldn't, WOULDN'T do anything about it. Just like how she didn't do anything to show Lily how much she'd actually loved her before her sister was murdered.

Time… where did you go?

Why did you leave me here alone?
Wait, don't go so fast
I'm missing the moments as they pass…

I'll take what you give me. Please know that I'm learning
I've looked in the mirror
My world's getting clearer
So wait for me this time

In remembrance of her, the girl I used to be. =)

Read and review please! Muchas gracias!