Author's Note: This chapter was so long that I had to split it up into two parts just to allow the computer to upload it! But trust me, it could've been longer; I've pushed some stuff off to the next chapter. Once again, a huge thank you to Hermione-kun, whose ending for one of the scenes I ran off of. Thank you! And to all you readers, enjoy! I spent a hell of a lot of time on this, so I'd appreciate some feedback. Thanks!

Chapter 22 – Part 1

'I waNna rUn awAy, neVeR SaY goOdBye
i wannA knOw tHe truTh, inSteaD of wondErIng whY
i WanNa knoW thE anSweRs, nO morE LieS
I wAnna sHuT The dOor, anD oPen uP My mInD . . . '

-Linkin Park, "Runaway"

It was a storm like England had never seen before. It came as swiftly as a river's current, but as it stretched over fields of waving grain and threw a dark veil on the most lightened cities, it suddenly slowed down. Muggle meteorologists were anxiously anticipating a storm unmatched in decades – in centuries, asserted the magical witches and wizards.

The clouds were ashy, almost black, towering ominously like a permanent curtain over the sky, forbidding the sun's peeking rays from ever touching the earth again. They choked and enveloped majestic mountains, striking fear into the hearts of magical folk and Muggles alike. Soundlessly, the storm closed in on the land, the humidity sending hearts aflutter in gasps. Like a toxic sea high above, it rippled and rolled the clouds along.

People, fortunately, had time to prepare. Flights were canceled. Brooms were stored. Bridges and highways were shut down. Everyone huddled inside houses, looking out the windows at the gigantic storm, and waiting for the smash of the storm.

So fittingly did this storm suit the foreboding events to take place at Hogwarts – piercing memories surfacing, reliving deepest horrors, unbreakable isolation, violent bloodshed – all to take place in one day, all to be timed by the storm.

Now, on the dreary morning of this terrible day, it seemed like the atmosphere was holding its breath, the perfect definition of 'the calm before a storm'. By this calm, Hogwarts tentatively awakened, as did all of its students and staff. Normal activities were slow and hesitant, and all eyes carefully darted to windows in anticipation. Not a drop yet, but the moisture was thick in the air. A great hand, poised in the sky to slap down on helpless mortals, patiently awaited the perfect time to unleash the perfect storm.

"Bloody hell, I can't believe this stupid weather made the paper!" The young redhead quickly rolled up the paper into a tight roll before tossing it back to Seamus.

"It's supposed to be a big one," Neville pointed out hesitantly, half of his egg in the corner of his mouth.

"No! Really, Captain Obvious?" Seamus' overflowing sarcasm accompanied his careless dropping of the paper. Without another glance at Neville's hurtfully twisted face, Seamus stabbed his slice of ham with his fork and spoke seriously. "You think they'll cancel the Quidditch match?"

"Definitely," Ron vigorously nodded, attempting to swallow his egg whole. "They've been closing up all over this country. Fred told me that he and George couldn't even get their daily issue of Tricksy Tricksters Tips out. The owls are all being kept inside today." One side of his mouth quirked up sadly. "It's too bad about the match, though. I was really looking forward to seeing Harry kick some major Slytherin butt."

The referenced brunette vaguely lifted his head at the mention of his name, but one moment later, his eyes focused threateningly. "Yeah," Harry agreed immediately, and his violently lit eyes flickered toward Malfoy at the Slytherin table. "I was looking forward to that, too."

Neville had overcome his embarrassment by now, and turned his head toward Ron. "Hey, by the way, why weren't you at Potions yesterday?"

"You missed my ferociously loud snore," Seamus added proudly before his smile soured. "Snape took off points for that."

A loud choking sound sent orange juice spraying across the table, unfortunately aimed at Seamus. Ron's hand quickly shot to his mouth to block the flow of liquid from his mouth, the other hand hastily grabbing a napkin. "Ron, what was that?" Seamus exclaimed, grabbing a huge stack of napkins and rapidly wiping his face. "Disgusting!"

"Sorry," Ron apologized with a large smile, the napkin now in a wet heap on the table. "It's just that – " An equally loud laugh escaped him again, and he found himself unable to breathe. "You . . . you snored? Oh, god . . . that's excellent!"

Neville seemed a bit impatient with this interruption, and his voice cut in before Seamus could thank Ron. "Anyway, where were you?"

Ron's posture immediately straightened, though he attempted to casually return to his breakfast. "Dumbledore."

Neville and Seamus gave Ron an inquisitive and partly envious look, which made the redhead feel a bit proud. But a glance to his side instantly dissolved the momentary amusement when Ron saw Harry's emerald eyes glaring piercingly at him. "What?" In the absence of an answer from Harry, Ron hastily continued. "He sent for me the day before. I didn't go to him. And he just lectured me about stuff – souls, minds, that kind of crap."

It pained Ron so much to lie about Dumbledore's thrilling wisdom by saying it had been crap, because that was the farthest thing from his mind. In fact, he had lain fully awake in bed last night, thinking about everything that he said. But he desperately needed to stay on Harry's good side. And Ron still wasn't sure of how Harry would react if he told him about what Dumbledore said.

Harry still seemed a bit uneasy and distrustful, but apparently accepted Ron's answer, lowering his gaze to his untouched food. Ron felt the urge to say something to him, perhaps something to make him feel better, but had no time before Seamus intervened.

"You all right, Harry? You seem upset about something."

The question did not affect Harry's murderous glare, which lifted to aim at the Slytherin table once again. "Nothing. I'm fine," he answered a bit sharply.

A wide grin instantly grew on Seamus' face. "Is someone jealous?"

Harry's eyebrows furrowed in threatening confusion at the possible implications of that question, and Ron's heart began to pump faster when the memory of Harry's explosion at the library came to Ron's mind. "Jealous? Why would I be jealous? Of who?"

Seamus apparently did not take Harry's glare seriously, because more of his shiny teeth were exposed. "Of Malfoy, for the way he had his hands all over Aurora."

"Oh, god," came Ron's almost inaudible gasp at that comment, both out of fear of an assured explosion from Harry and from the news itself. Malfoy's father is a Death Eater, and with Harry's idea that Aurora is being possessed by Voldemort, he'll be outraged at the thought of having any sort of interest in her . . . Ron turned his head carefully and fearfully to the side to see that Harry's face had twisted in unmistakable fury. Oh, god –

"Jealous? Jealous!" Harry's hands curled into trembling fists, and Ron's stomach felt like Harry had just clenched it with one of his grips. As Ron braced himself with closed eyes, Harry's voice rose to be heard over the usual mumbling of the Great Hall. "Like hell! That slimy son of a bitch can do whatever he wants with her, for all I care! They both deserve each other!"

With full-blown trembling anger, Harry leapt to his feet and stared murderously at Seamus. Seamus' eyes were so wide in fright that they seemed to bulge out. Harry looked like he was about to kill someone.

"H-Harry," Seamus croaked nervously, but this did not tame his rage. Harry looked like a rapid and snarling dog, and with a low growl he took a step forward.

"How dare you – "

Ron's breath caught in his throat as he hastily scrambled to his feet beside Harry. "Harry!" Though he was as fearful as Seamus, Ron's pale hands shot out to grab a shoulder before Harry could lunge at Seamus. His mind whizzed silently, scrambling to find a way to calm his best friend down. "Come on, he isn't worth it!" Harry's quaking body had attempted to jerk out of his friend's hands, but Ron darted in front of him to block his view, now with both hands placed on both shoulders. "He's not worth it, Harry, let's just get out of here!"

Though Harry never even looked at Ron, his body stopped struggling, though his deathly glare was still aimed at Seamus. Encouraged by this sign, Ron immediately proceeded to gently pull Harry back and toward the exit. "Come on," Ron breathed reassuringly as Harry slowly heeded Ron's touch, his black cloak swishing along. With one last dirty look at Seamus, Harry bent his head downward, his eyes hidden from sight, and followed a very relieved Ron out of the Great Hall. They were followed by the rise of murmurs, and they could hear Seamus' astonished whisper, "What the hell's gotten into him?"

A careless and quick surveillance of the Great Hall informed Ron that quite a few students were staring at them, drilling holes into their backs. However, a disgusted frown grew on Ron's face when he saw a confident and ecstatic grin from Malfoy. As Ron tore his eyes away from the disgusting Slytherin, he caught a fleeting sight of Aurora. Her green eyes were watching them from a distance, and her hand hung limply in front of her mouth, tear streaks visibly leading downward and behind her hand. A twinge of sympathy once again aroused Ron, and he considered giving her a sympathetic smile, but decided against it as Harry's unquenchable thirst for any outlet crossed his mind.

As the pair stepped out, Ron became anxious to shift the attention away from Seamus' comment, and therefore immediately inquired of Harry, "What happened with Malfoy in Potions?"

Harry's breathing began to slow, though his strung muscles did not loose their tension in the process. The redhead let go of him, afraid that any physical contact would for some reason set off some sort of alarm, and concentrated on Harry's slow and deliberate answer.

"Everything was going normally until Aurora started sobbing. No one noticed it at first, but then it grew louder, and everyone could hear it."

With Ron's curious mind now unshakably set on the intriguing story, his red eyebrows furrowed slightly. "What was she crying about?"

"I don't know," came Harry's comfortably calm admittance. At this point, Ron no longer felt as if he were treading on egg shells; Harry seemed controlled with his anger and was talking to Ron as trustingly as they used to.

"Go on."

"So then Snape asked her if she was okay, and that little – " A deep breath interrupted the dull sound of Harry's voice, and Ron saw him close his eyes. After a moment, the story fluently continued. "She told him he was fine, and then Malfoy volunteered to help her to the Hospital Wing."

"For crying?" Ron repeated in disbelief, but Harry's determined eyes gave an unvoiced answer to that inquiry. Harry thinks she was being possessed . . .

"So they left," Harry finished non-dramatically, though his twisted face painted another ending to the story.

I really doubt that Aurora's possessed . . . Ron gazed nervously into his friend's face, which suddenly lifted to reveal a fixed frown. But Malfoy helped Aurora . . . that seems like such clear-cut evidence! But . . . she's innocent . . .

"So, you think Malfoy's working to help Voldemort inside the school?"

A quick nod of Harry's head gave his affirmative, but something else flickered behind his masking dissatisfaction, something Ron attempted to identify as hesitation. Trust seemed to grow back its old roots in his best friend, at least for the moment, and Harry's voice lost its firmness.

"But there's something I don't get."

"What's that?"

Harry's locked gaze faltered unexplainably and stumbled toward the polished floor. The bright effulgence gave a new light to Harry's eyes, which had lost their spark long ago, as the light flickered to the rhythm of Harry's wandering orbs. He was definitely debating whether or not to tell Ron something. "Harry, what is it?"

"It's . . ." After a short breath, Harry seemed ready to tell Ron, though he did so hesitantly and carefully. Just like Dumbledore said . . . he's not trusting anyone. Even me. The unpleasant thought sent a vicious slap on Ron's face, but as usual, he attempted to keep his pain hidden. Oblivious to Ron's hurt, Harry's slow process of telling Ron continued uninterrupted. "It's that, Malfoy's been . . . hinting."

"Hinting? At what?"

"Er . . ." Harry's awkwardly swinging shoe made a sharp screech on the ground, making Harry flinch at the piercing sound. "He's only done this in private, with me, but . . ." A sigh served as a thoughtful pause. "He's been hinting at doing . . . you know . . . with Aurora."

"About her possession?"

Harry immediately shook his head, leaving Ron without the smallest clue. "Then what?"

"Well . . . it's kind of hard to say . . ."

The shiver of fear crawled up Ron's spine. Harry, the furiously vengeful Harry, was completely hesitant about saying this. It must be something horrible . . .

As if to confirm Ron's thought, Harry slowly leaned in and finally whispered it. Not only did Harry's close breath send chilly bumps across Ron's neck, but the actual thought itself scared him even more. "No way!" Ron immediately tore himself away from Harry, searching his face frantically for some sign that this was a sick joke. But Harry's face was as set as stone, and meanwhile Ron felt like vomiting. "You're kidding!"

"No, I'm not."

"Oh, god . . . th-that's . . . that's just low . . . and horrible!"

"I know," Harry hastily said, apparently eager to move on and relieved to have told someone else. "But the real question is, why would he want to do it? I've mauled over it." A frustrated breath spilled out of him. "But I can't figure it out."

A thought sprung unexpectedly into Ron's mind, a possible explanation despite his apparent disgust. Though he sincerely was doubting Aurora's possession right now, with the image of her drowning, innocent eyes floating on the surface of his memory, he felt his obligation to keep Harry's trust to be much more valuable than the truth itself. "Maybe," Ron offered slowly and unsurely, "Maybe You-Kno – I mean, Voldemort . . . thinks that you're still friends with her, and – "

Realization struck Harry like lightning with those few words, and he quietly finished Ron's sentence. "And he said that he would torture all of my friends – ugh, why didn't I think of that?"

One of Ron's heartstrings uncontrollably sang like some hand had plucked it, sending an invisible shudder of sympathy through his body. A tiny, nagging question surfaced in his mind, and though Ron desperately tried to silence its cry, the question ate away at him as it begged to be released. After a few more moments of irritating persuasion, Ron allowed the idea to flow out of his mouth.

"Harry, why do you hate Aurora so much? I mean, it's obvious that you'd hate her for her connection with Voldemort, but why do you hate her?"

The same emotion swirled in Harry's eyes as it did a few minutes ago, and Ron instantly regretted asking the question. Feverish anger was taking over Harry again, and every part of him became subservient to its reign.

"I don't think you understand, Ron," Harry spat out slowly and viciously, as if every word was covered with poison. "Inside that girl is the man who killed my parents and my best friend. Inside that girl is the man who has taken pleasure in torturing me and my friends. Inside that girl is the man I'd give anything to kill. And Aurora must have sided with him somehow in order to allow him to harbor in his body, so I hate her as much as I hate him."

"Well, of course," Ron attempted to calm Harry down by agreeing honestly, "And I hate him as much as you do – "

Something sharply took over Ron, and after two seconds, he forgot his fear of Harry's anger. It was only one name, but it set off an unmatched flare inside Ron's body that transformed Harry's explanation into a direct and deep insult.

"What about Ginny?" Ron slowly let out in a low tone.

The brunette cautiously looked up, as if surprised by Ron's sudden anger. "She has nothing to do with this."

"You say that Aurora must be evil for harboring Voldemort. What about my sister?" The unthinkable was happening in Ron's mind. He had sworn that he would never turn on Harry with such anger, yet this contradiction was so plain and ran so deep that Ron forgot this promise. "My sister harbored Voldemort in her body the first year she was here. Tell me, Harry, does that mean that she's evil?"

Harry's eyes narrowed into threatening slit-like structures. "That was completely different."

"How so, Harry?" Ron stepped forward challengingly, with years of blood bondage to his sister flaming protectively. Blood had turned into indestructible fire. "How is Ginny different from Aurora?"

"Because Ginny didn't know what was going on with her when Voldemort possessed her. Aurora does."

"And what makes you so sure of that? What proof do you have that Aurora knows exactly what Voldemort's doing to her?"

Unable to find a definite answer, Harry instead dug deeper into Ron's interrogation. "Why are you defending her?" The question came with an honest desire for an answer, and Ron was more than happy to give one.

"Because she's innocent," Ron finally and officially declared, his bottled and carefully hidden annoyance at this entire accusation now coming through. "You haven't bothered to even acknowledge her existence, besides saying her name, after you got this idea about Voldemort in your head."

"It was your idea in the first place!" Harry suddenly exclaimed, viciously turning again on Ron.

"I was wrong, okay?" Ron returned with just as much volume and ferocity. "Listen, the day we spent in the library, Aurora got hurt."

"I know that," Harry snapped, "I was in the Hospital Wing while she was there. She hurt her arm, and she didn't know how. It's just more proof that Voldemort's possessing her, Ron. He did that to her."

"No he didn't!" Ron asserted confidently and angrily. "You heard about the injury, but you didn't see how scared she was. I had to walk her to the Hospital Wing, and all that she said was that we have the right to hate her – "

"Damn right," Harry hissed.

"Bloody hell, Harry, just listen! It's guilt about herself, it isn't a warning about Voldemort – she's too weak to harbor Voldemort! She cries too often and she's always on the brink!"

"It's called pain, Ron! He's eating away at her!"

"No, it's her weakness from the start!"

"God, Ron, don't you remember how happy she used to be without Voldemort?"

"She was never truly happy!" Ron concluded with a frustrated yell.

Harry suddenly stepped backward, not in fear, but in distrust. "How would you know that, Ron?"

Ron stopped abruptly, realizing the outlandishness of his declaration. He had allowed his emotions to overpower logic. "I don't – "

"Have you been closer to her than I thought?" Harry whispered accusingly, and his anger suddenly dissolving into sour pessimism with a hint of hurt.

"No, Harry, I haven't," Ron quietly and honestly answered. As he looked into Harry's suddenly glazed emerald shine, it occurred to him that they were on the brink of losing their friendship. They had never argued so heatedly, and the resulting burns were throbbing.

"I never thought, of all people – " Harry quietly broke off, biting sadness beginning to grip his voice and break it. His face jerked away from Ron, hiding his eyes safely behind his messy hair, and a lump protruding in his throat rolled down and up once. "I never thought that you would betray me."

In a futile attempt to blot out Harry's distrust, Ron panicked. "No one has betrayed you, Harry! I'd never do anything like that – you believe me . . ." Ron's voice dropped in uncertainty as he looked at Harry desperately. "Don't you?"

Harry did not answer Ron's question, but instead sarcasm slowly seeped into his weakening voice. "I suppose you can explain what happened with Aurora's arm in the library, or why the son of a Death Eater's suddenly after her. You seem to be very close to her."

The fear drawn out of Harry's accusation seeped into Ron, and out of his desperate desire to keep their friendship, his voice elevated drastically. "Goddamnit, Harry! I'm not close to her! The only person I'm close to is you!"

"Not anymore," Harry nearly inaudibly declared, giving Ron a misted look of betrayal that showed this was hurting him as much as it was hurting Ron. He slowly began to turn away, and the sight made Ron's stomach twist violently. He was losing his best friend.

"Wait!" Ron cried out as he started to walk away. "Harry!"

"Bye, Ronald," Harry quickly and painfully tossed over his shoulder as he disappeared around a corner. Ron just stood there in complete shock, watching the spot where Harry was standing just a few moments ago. It had only taken one minute, but Ron's worst nightmare was coming true.

He's never called me . . . Ron began to feel the deep, gnawing sense of loneliness, much deeper than what he ever experienced in the library after Harry left. Because this time, it was really abandoning. Somehow, Ron knew he couldn't do anything to change Harry's mind. Not even the truth could bring Harry back.

Ron's throat sealed up and a heavy, defeated feeling of rejection settled in the bottom of his stomach. He felt as helpless as he had in his dream long ago where he was invisible while Harry and Hermione had ignored him. He could feel the stinging in his eyes as a picture suddenly floated in front of him on the floor.

It was a picture of the three of them – Harry, Ron, and Hermione – taken before the tragedy at Hogsmeade one snowing day. Each of them was bundled up, with choking scarves around their necks and frozen mist blowing out of their noses. Hermione was squished in the middle, between Harry and Ron, with her eyes sparkling and a wide grin on her face. Ron was bending backward, with Hermione's arm holding onto him, and sticking his tongue out in the air to catch snowflakes. Harry was laughing and his face was twisted upward, the snowflakes melting in his mouth. When the picture moved, Ron swallowed a snowflake while Hermione laughed at his silliness, and Harry gave the camera a huge grin.

A lump of vile formed at the back of Ron's throat as his memory wandered back to the eve of Hermione's death. He had been so helpless, so useless, as Hermione died. He couldn't move to save her, though his body tried as hard as humanly possible against the petrifying curse. She was sitting right there, just out of his reach, taking her last ragged breaths, and all he could do was watch miserably, tears of disbelief streaking down his face.

Just like now, Ron thought sadly, his eyes blanking out on the floor so it turned into a blur. I feel like I can't move. And now . . .

Harry turned his head back to grin at the camera with a small chuckle. Harry's gone.

And as if right on cue, the crowd of students poured out of the Great Hall, flowing around Ron like a river around a rock, but completely oblivious to the rock's eroding in despair.

Outside, through the now foggy windows, the first few raindrops of the storm had begun to fall to earth.

Midday passed, and the rain had ceased as quickly as it had started, shattering the numerous predictions of the storm stopping by nightfall. This drew another cloud of fear over the people, for they could not react to a disaster while sleeping. Yet others were completely calm about the whole ordeal – many at Hogwarts were just so, for after being attacked by several monsters and being saved by the invincible Dumbledore, the majority of the students felt themselves in good hands. Therefore, thoughts revolved not around the weather, but instead around personal dilemmas. And these thoughts would become the catalyst for a psychological tornado inside Hogwarts.

Unknowingly, Aurora would play a huge part in this tornado. But at the moment, nothing seemed to penetrate her mind. Throughout classes, she remained hidden and unnoticed, and now at lunchtime, she journeyed up toward the Gryfindor tower, thoughts whizzing in her head.

'That slimy son of a bitch can do whatever he wants with her, for all I care! They both deserve each other!'

The words had reached Aurora's ears with a singing sting and sent rolling tears down her cheeks. None of the other girls noticed, as expected. She had ashamedly lifted her hand to block her tears from sight and had unintentionally caught Ron's eye before he and Harry left. Ron had seemed soft, too soft in fact, for Aurora had anticipated glaring orbs to match Harry's outrage.

"You!"

Partway up the grand staircase, Aurora's head whipped around to see a girl below her. The girl, whom Aurora recognized as Pansy Parkinson, raced up the staircase in a huge rush to catch up with Aurora. Puzzled as to why Pansy would want to talk to her, she stood on her step, waiting patiently for the Slytherin girl to get there.

"Er . . ." Aurora started awkwardly as Pansy's pug-like face appeared next to her, "Hi?"

"Don't 'hi' me, you bitch!" Pansy suddenly spat viciously, making Aurora nearly step back in shock. "I've wanted to do this for a long time!"

Out of nowhere, a pale hand materialized and smacked Aurora's cheek. A stinging sensation leapt through the entire side of her face as her dark hair danced like black water in the momentum. Aurora's breath came out as a surprised gasp of pain, and her hand quivered as it reached up and gingerly touched her sore cheek. She turned back to Pansy in disbelief to find that the Slytherin girl was hissing her breath through gritted teeth, and her eyes were fogged with unshed tears.

"That's for taking Draco away from me!" Pansy shrieked with passionate hatred as one tear silently rolled down the side of her face. "He was – " In an explosion of uncontrollable emotion, helpless sobs violently rattled Pansy's body before she could even finish her furious fit.

A paralyzing lack of comprehension prevented any words from forming in Aurora's throat as the girl in front of her wept loudly. After life returned to her veins, she still found herself in immobile astonishment. Swallowing a cold lump of air, Aurora was sharply reminded of her brutal encounter with Draco, and understanding flooded through her. Yet she could never imagine the fact that she had taken him in any way; his frozen stare had iced Aurora's insides, and she would do anything to shift his torturous gaze to any other girl. And here was Pansy, weeping her empty heart out for this boy, and Aurora could feel her own eyes glaze with guilt. "I'm sor – "

"Just shut up!" Pansy cut her off sharply with a furious choke, and her pink eyes mustered any hard look left on her tear-streaked face. Her salted lips parted to deliver one final blow that hit Aurora right in the center of her chest. "I – I hate you!"

With that cry of defeat, Pansy leapt blindly down the stairs, her face buried deep in her hands as she nearly tumbled the last few. Aurora's dry throat sealed up at Pansy's harsh words, and her head shook almost involuntarily. "No . . ." As Pansy disappeared, Aurora's memory resurrected the image of Jessie, the girl who, four years ago, had shouted almost exactly the same words without warning.

'You took Nathaniel away from me! I hate you!'

And this time, the raw feeling inside her gut did not lessen its ripping pain. Neither with Pansy nor Jessie did the thought of seduction of their boyfriends even cross her mind as a fading ghost. She would never dream of such emotional backstabbing; she herself knew how deep inside pain could dig, and her memories of nights spent in tearful pain flashed through her mind again. This time, the blonde boy was not Nathaniel; it was Draco.

Oh my god . . . How do I manage to mess things up so badly without even trying? How could this happen twice? No possible explanation surfaced in her mind that did not include scarring insults aimed at herself, and her stomach clenched tightly as she remembered the frightening look on Draco's face, his iron-like grip, and relentless pursuit like a hungry predator . . .

I'd die before thinking about being with him! God, I wish I could just blot his face from my memory! Sourness slowly replaced fear in her unvoiced thoughts. But thanks to my stupidity, I managed to get his attention anyway! Why am I always so oblivious?

"Password?"

These deeply throbbing thoughts pounded away at her so badly that she didn't even notice that she had reached the entrance to the Gryfindor tower. The fat lady's irritated glare did not help to settle the swirling in the bottom of her stomach.

"Er – goblet finch," her mouth unconsciously replied out of habit, though her mind was somewhere far away. As the door swung open, the movement of air hit her straight in the face, tickling her now sensitive eyes so that tears almost squeezed out. Without any further hesitation, she sprung forward, racing blindly in and up the stairs, desperately wanting to be in her room.

How could I have been so stupid? I wish I could just disappear from here! I never should've come in the first place! No, it doesn't matter where I go, I'll always be the same. Everyone hates me, and they should.

A hurried gasp interrupted her thoughts as she realized that she was standing over her bed. She watched her hands shoot out and mindlessly grab her Potions textbook as well as snatch the white flower she had hidden. As she glanced down, horrible memories threatened to toss her miserable form on her bed, but she knew that she couldn't do that.

I can't be in here. There's no one in the Gryffindor common room . . . I'll stay there.

In a mad dash, she ran out the dormitories, not encountering one single soul who would be willing to miss lunch as she was. Only when she stood over an armchair did she suddenly sense the stretch of her searing muscles, the raspy breaths that made her sound like she was drowning, and the mad pounding of her heart in her ears. Her body collapsed, nearly missing the chair, and she slumped backward with her eyes closed, trying to control herself.

After a few moments – or twenty minutes, she couldn't tell the difference – her eyelids fluttered open and she gazed down. Due to her horrible clumsiness, the flower had lost yet another of its three remaining petals, making it look uglier than ever. Tears now rushed to her swollen eyes and flowed down the side of her face as the metaphor of the petal struck her.

I'm losing my friends again. No, I've already lost them.

Her shivering fingers tipped the flower toward her nose, and as she inhaled, no smell infested her nostrils. At this, a sob jerked her body, and her hand reacted desperately to keep the friendship – it tenderly placed the flower upon her head, just like it did four years ago when she had a smile on her face.

With that vaguely resolved, her fingers turned to the Potions textbook. She flipped through the pages knowingly, looking for page 158. She got there, and tucked between the two pages was a familiar photograph and an old letter. The photograph was turned over on its backside, and so her hand sought the letter first, unfolding it gently as her eyes soaked in the words that became too familiar.

'Miss Aurora Withertopp,

It is urgent that you depart for Hogwarts immediately. You will be informed of the reason upon your arrival – '

She could read no further, for her tears blurred the scratched letters into black blurs. Folding the letter back up, she put it back in the textbook, and instead she cautiously turned over the photograph. It was of her and another girl, and the happiness that they shared, and the sight of their grinning faces her body convulsed with uncontrollable gasps and sobs.

I need to get away!

She shot up out of the chair, the textbook tumbling down toward the ground as she leapt away. Her body collided with the Gryffindor door, and after she stumbled through with a helping of curses from the disturbed fat lady, she raced out of sight toward any empty classroom – the haven Nathaniel used to retreat toward, and the one she needed right now.

Outside, thunder clapped approvingly in the far distance.

"Oh, god, did you hear that?" Neville whispered anxiously at the dinner table after the thunder reached their ears.

"Yeah," came Lavender's interrupting voice, sending a wave of irritation through everyone except Harry and Ron. The secluded pair was eating silently at opposite ends of the table, each not daring to look up and face each other and keeping their faces instead stuffed. Harry's previous glare had silently ordered the rest of the boys to shut their mouths about the situation, so Harry and Ron had time in personal and unbroken peace.

"Wonder how bad it's gonna be," Seamus thought aloud, grabbing a goblet of pumpkin juice to cover up his nervously shaking hand. "Look outside. It's darker than any night before. Hell, I've never seen anything this bad."

Neville nodded quickly, with a quiet and barely audible "yeah".

"But I'm sure it'll be okay . . ." Seamus offered uncertainly, taking one serene sip. After a quiet gulp, he continued. "After all, it's just a storm, and we're all witches and wizards. What could possibly happen?"

Yet he was about to be severely contradicted, for Dumbledore had risen out of his chair to speak. Sensing this to be about the storm, the entire Great Hall quieted without protest, each wanting to hear the news.

"I'm sorry for disturbing your late meals," Dumbledore apologized with a not-very-reassuring smile. "But, as all of you can see, there is quite a storm brewing out there. And all of the staff and I have agreed that, as a safety precaution, all students should be ushered to the dormitories."

A loud buzz of murmuring washed over Dumbledore's words, the students now afraid of the storm. A few even stood up to leave at that point. Harry's and Ron's eyes both widened in surprise at the announcement, though each remained as immobile, while Neville spilled his juice all over the table.

Dumbledore held out his hand commandingly to gain attention again, and though reluctant, the students obeyed and the murmurs vanished. "By no means, however, should any of you panic. This is merely a safety precaution, though no true danger lurks in the clouds out there. We simply ask you to finish your dinner at your own pace and calmly exit to your towers. No need to do so in an orderly fashion; in fact, I believe that the traffic would be better if each of you simply left at your own time. So, please, enjoy your meal, and do not worry."

Dumbledore sat back down in an unsure hush. He had not explained the reasoning behind why they were going to the towers, as he would usually. It was probably a simple case of forgetfulness, but it only further proved how darkly the storm had set in everyone's mind. Without a proper explanation, a handful of Hufflepuff students immediately abandoned their food and rushed out the door.

A certain blonde boy across the Great Hall from the Gryfindors smiled widely at the announcement. His blue eyes sparkled wordlessly as Malfoy quickly tipped his goblet till it was empty and rose silently. The questioning stares of Crabbe and Goyle went ignored as Malfoy gracefully left, leaving the Slytherins confused as to why one of their stars was leaving so early and cowardly. Yet the storm was the furthest thing from his mind as Malfoy turned up the dark grand staircase with unmatched ease, his mind fixed on one sole and unshakable purpose.

End of Chapter 22, Part 1. See next part . . .