Disclaimer: They are mostly not my characters.
Warning: cursing, violence, and creepiness.
Author's note: Thanks all you people who reviewed! Sorry it took me so long to up date, I had a lot of stuff going on. Well on with the show!
In Fire Lies Redemption
By Marz
Chapter 7
The Dead and Their Lawyers
The eggs were runny. Harry stabbed them with his fork again. The thought of putting them in his mouth was nauseating, but if he kept them moving, no one would notice he was not eating. He hoped. None of his friends seemed particularly hungry either. He pushed the hair out of his eyes again and glanced at the table at the end of the hall, where the teachers and Headmaster Dumbledore sat. The Headmaster was not looking at him.
Harry usually spent his summers praying some miracle would allow him to return to school early, but now he almost found himself wishing he could return to the cupboard under the stairs in his Aunt Petunia's home. He hated the way the Dursleys treated him, but they would never pretended affection then betrayed him, and some part of him respected that honesty.
Professor McGonagall had refused to let him speak to Dumbledore after the sorting. She caught him half way across the hall and sent Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Neville and him to the hospital wing, insisting that the situation with Draco and his gang was being dealt with. Harry had fallen asleep while Madam Pomfrey was treating him, and woke up the next morning in his dorm room.
He thought again of the way Draco smiled at him before leaving the sorting. Malfoy knows he's already won. Harry's stomach lurched again and he pushed his plate away. It seemed fortuitous that he did so. A snowy white owl landed in the newly emptied space a moment later. It held a letter and a small rectangular box in its beak. A gray blur whizzed into the room and circled Ron's head. Harry couldn't help but laugh at Pig, Ron's hyperactive miniature owl. The snowy owl hooted, reclaiming Harry's attention.
"Thanks Hedwig," said Harry, taking the package and tearing it open.
His new glasses had arrived. He put them on and every edge and line in the room was suddenly clear. He tore open the letter.
Dear Harry,
Molly woke up this morning, and is doing well, except for a minor headache. I hope your trip ended safely. If you have the time I would be very interested in hearing about your new Defense teacher. Good luck with your sixth year.
R.J.L.
Ron read his own letter and sighed with relief. Harry was about to ask him if he wanted to practice Quidditch that evening when a hush fell over the room. They looked towards the door.
Like royalty, Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, and Millicent Bulstrode walked into the hall. A faint white scar ran across Malfoy's right cheek, where Joan had slashed him with a broken piece pottery. Instead of going to the Slytherin's table, they headed straight for the Gryffindors. The entire table, from seventh years to first, rose to their feet. Most also drew their wands. Malfoy and his group did not seem the slightest bit concerned. They kept coming until Malfoy was directly across the table from Harry. Malfoy cleared his throat dramatically.
"I have come to express my most humble and sincere apologies for what I did to you Harry." he began in precise voice that rang with rehearsal. Draco's eyes glimmered with laughter.
"Though I was not acting of my own free will, I remember the terrible things I did, and these actions will haunt me until my dying day. I only hope you may some how find it in yourself to forgive me, for failing to break through the imperious curse, and for the pain I have caused you."
Malfoy finished and the hall waited with baited breath for a response. Dumbledore had let him off with an apology. There has to be more to it then that. Dumbledore couldn't be that stupid, or naive. Harry thought as he looked toward the ancient man at the head table. Dumbledore stared back passively. But he always has a plan. The thought filled his mind. He could be planning to spy on Malfoy, he could be using him as a hostage against his father, he could be doing anything and it wouldn't really matter. He let Malfoy come back, and he didn't even warn me. Harry felt something cold rise up inside him. It did not constrict around his heart to suffocate and strangle him as Voldemort's hateful intrusions did. Instead it was an expanding hollowness, in which Malfoy's words echoed.
Laughter poured from Harry's mouth. The sound exploded off the walls and startled the post owls in the rafters. He could not find words to express himself. He laughed so hard his eyes watered. Ron's voice cut through the sound.
"Haunt you till your dying day, will it? Don't worry Malfoy. You won't have to suffer long."
"Twenty points from Gryffindor, for threatening your fellow student, Weasley," said a cool voice from behind them.
They whirled. Professor Snape stood there glaring. He could not look down his nose at Ron, as Ron had grown several inches taller then him, but he impressed upon them their unworthiness none the less. Harry looked up at him the laughter still bubbling intermittently from his throat.
"Did you write Malfoy's little speech for him Professor?" Harry asked loudly. "It was very convincing. You could get a job at the Ministry."
Before Snape could react, with detentions or point deductions, Professor McGonagall swept up to them.
"You've said you're piece Mr. Malfoy. Return to your table. Potter, Granger, Weasley, Longbottom, here are your schedules."
She waved her wand and rolls of parchment appeared in their hands.
"Go up to the defense class room now. The new Professor may need help setting up."
They nodded and stalked off. As Harry walked out the door he could not help but give Dumbledore an icy glare.
*****
As Potter and his little gang of worshipers marched out of the hall Snape returned to his seat at the head table. He went back to picking at the runny and unappetizing eggs the elves had prepared for breakfast. Malfoy and his cronies sat down to their meal, chattering triumphantly about whatever great victory they thought they had won. All he had to do was sound sincere, even a Hufflepuff could have pulled off a better fake apology. His father spends thousands of galleons to get a ministry pardon for him, and he risks it all for ego, he thought. Sounds a bit familiar doesn't it? asked a little voice in the back of his head. The voice sounded almost like Dumbledore.
He looked down the table at the ancient man, who was now filling out the crossword in the Quibbler. He must have had a hand in it. Snape though miserably. Potter and Weasley may have somehow manager an outstanding O.W.L. in potions, with enough help from their mud-blood girlfriend, but there was no way in Hades Neville Longbottom could do better then Poor.
He looked up as muttering broke out at the Slytherin table. Oh Joy! My new headache has arrived. Verdad walked into the hall and slouched into a seat in the seventh year area of the table. If she was still there when the seventh years came down to breakfast there was sure to be hexing. The girl will have to learn the pecking order anyway, he thought, not getting up. She scooped food onto her plate as if it was her last meal and proceeded to cram that food down her throat with both spoon and fingers. The ring protruding from the center of her lip did not slow her down in the slightest. As if sensing him watching she looked up at the head table, caught his eye, and winked.
He felt the vein in his temple stand out. He got out his wand and conjured up the schedules for his students. Verdad's was at the very top of the pile. She was starting off in third year classes, although she clamed never to have attended a school before. Dumbledore had thought the age difference would be too great a distraction if they put her in with the first years. I still don't believe she's fourteen. He thought looking at the tall girl, whose face was half hidden by her curly black hair. But St. Mungo's had confirmed it. Dumbledore had dragged her there, then in front of the Ministry, still catatonic after the collapse of Azkaban. He insisted she be treated and allowed to attend school. How the old man ever got involved with that one is well beyond me, he thought. As Snape was the head of her house, the Headmaster had thought it only fair to provide him with a copy of her Ministry record; four muggles killed with accidental magic, though the report did make it sound entirely un-accidental, assault on five different Ministry agents with muggle weapons, not to mention fifty odd escape attempts and property damage in the hundred galleon range.
A group seventh year Slytherin girls walk pompously into the hall, and immediately noticed the girl in their place. They surrounded her seat, blocking the teacher's view. Snape could hear some angry muttering in the group, then over it all Verdad laughed. One of the seventh years, Mordra Avery if I'm not mistaken, pulled a wand. Snape jumped to his feet, too late. Mordra shrieked and clutched her leg, falling over. He strode around the teacher's table, sweeping down on the group like a giant bird of prey. The seventh years backed away.
"What is the problem here?" he demanded in a voice just above a whisper.
Verdad turned to him, her bizarre speckled eyes staring into his. She smirked slightly, and then inclined her head toward the girl on the ground, who was still writhing in agony as she pulled at the piece of metal jammed in her leg. Verdad spoke in a very innocent tone.
"She's taken my fork, Professor."
*****
As they climbed the stairs to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom an icy draft blew down on them. Harry's scar prickled and his fingers tightened around his wand. He forced the issue of Draco from his mind. They had a double session of defense first period, but the teacher had not appeared at breakfast. Some students had muttered that the Headmaster was going to be teaching, but he had made no announcement. A few had speculated a ministry replacement was on the way.
Harry took the lead. Ron and Hermione followed closely behind him, and Neville was again last. The rest of the Gryffindors were still at breakfast. When they came to the top of the stairs they paused. The hallway had been changed. Last year magical portraits of landscapes and famous wizards had lined the way to the classroom, but now the stone walls were bare. The torches that burned in sconces were gone as well. The only light came from small red tea candles lining the right side of the corridor. The plane wooden door of the classroom had been replaced by a huge stone archway, carved with hundreds of runes. The double doors that hung closed beneath the arch were carved as well, but instead of archaic symbols, two faces bulged out of the wood. Candlelight flickered across them, flinging shadows. The left face was female, with thick lips and almond shaped eyes. Her hair was a mass of serpents and insect legs, and her smiling mouth was filled with polished fangs. The face on the right was male, with a heavy brow and a pair of horns. The lower half of his face was a spider's mouth and all the veins stood out of his wooden skin. There were no knobs or handles.
"Anybody want to get an early lunch?" asked Ron, as he stared at the right hand door.
Harry was about to say yes when the doors swung inward of their own accord. The four Gryffindors looked at each other tensely. Harry took the lead again and they entered. The doors slammed shut behind them. There were no handles on the inside either.
The classroom had been expanded since the previous year and was much better illuminated then the hall. Sunlight streamed in through high windows causing bits of airborne dust to glow. Two rows of tables ran up the center of the classroom. On either side of the door countless cauldrons simmered. Racks of ingredients hung above them, with enough disgusting things in them to make even Professor Snape squirm.
The right hand wall, which housed all of the windows, was plastered with life-size magical paintings. Dark Creatures and Dark Wizards sulked and paced their canvas prisons. A lady vampire leaned against the frame of her portrait licking her fangs. She blew a kiss at Neville, who quickly looked away.
Harry's eyes were drawn to a magical moving photograph of a tired looking man. He was posed, sitting on a stool by a window. He looked nervous, wringing his hands, and as pale light shined through the window he looked terrified. The portrait screamed silently and Harry stumbled backwards. The man in the picture fell over and writhed on the floor, his face and hands contorted and stretched. His clothing tore and fur sprouted from his skin. The transformation took less then a minute. The werewolf lurched to its feet and its amber eyes glared out at him. It charged forward. Harry put up his wand, but the werewolf vanished a moment before it reached the frame. The tired man was back sitting on his stool.
"Poor Professor Lupin, the same thing must happen to him." whispered Neville, who had walked up next to him. Harry could only nod. He wanted badly to tear the photograph from the wall and free the poor man from an endless miserable cycle. Hermione gasped and they all looked at her. She stood by the left hand wall, which was covered, floor to ceiling, in books.
"Most of these are from the ministry's restricted text list," she said in an excited whisper.
The four Gryffindors turned as a raspy whisper echoed from the front of the room. The angle of the sunlight blinded them to the front most wall, and they had to walk forward into the shadows to see it.
Two huge chalk boards stood on twisted iron stands. On the wall, a few feet behind the boards, was a bizarre display. Countless objects hung there, covering it entirely. Clothes, musical instruments, cookware, and other ordinary items were attached near the ceiling. Below them hung ancient muggle weapons; spears, swords, shield, bows, arrows, blow guns, and chains. Near the floor were items of a more obviously magical nature. There was an empty birdcage from which a fluttering noise emerged. Cloth dolls, some with runes painted on them, others stuck full of pins, hung above ropes made of hair and tied with intricate patterns of knots. Carved bowls and what looked like primitive dentistry tools sat on a rickety wooden shelf. A basket of loosely woven reeds held a bleached skull which snapped its jaws at them. Three shrunken heads, tied up together by their long gray hair, whispered softly in a language Harry could not identify. Jewelry made with bits of bone and teeth hung over an abstract painting, whose canvas looked like uncured skin. The collection seemed endless and merciless.
At the base of the wall, exactly in the center, was a throne like rattan rocking chair. The seat was woven around huge antlers instead of wood. Harry could not guess the animal they came from. The ends of the antlers rose high above the back rest of the chair. More voodoo dolls and bits of macabre decoration hung from those as well. Tiny silver bells were strung between the tops of them. They jingled softly.
Despite the other marvels and horrors of the room, the chair's occupant soon held all their attention. The corpse was wrapped up in heavy embroidered blankets, and only its face and the shriveled tips of its fingers lay exposed. The skin was yellowed and leathery and pulled tight across the sharp bones of its skull. Wisps of orange hair peeked out of the hood the blankets formed around its head. The eye sockets were sunken and the lids were closed, a situation Harry was very grateful for. The lipless mouth lay open, revealing surprisingly white teeth. So slowly it was almost imperceptible, the chair rocked back and forth.
Behind them the doors burst open.
"Hello Potter," said Malfoy. He grinned sinisterly as he walked in, with Crabbe and Goyle flanking him. "Did you like my apology? I am sorry you know. Sorry…"
"Sorry I lived?" Harry cut him off.
Malfoy continued to smirk. How can Dumbledore keep doing this to me? It's bad enough I have Potions class and Care of Magical Creatures with that…that… Harry could not think of an accurate word.
"How can you say something like that Harry?" asked Malfoy as other students began to file into the room behind them.
Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville seated themselves at front right table. Malfoy and his gang sat down at the table behind them. Ron turned furiously.
"Sit somewhere else, you boot licking piece of filth," he growled. The other Gryffindors and Slytherins stood watching.
"Why?" Malfoy asked innocently.
"Because I said so." Ron growled again.
"Everyone knows you tried to kill Harry." said Seamus Finnegan stepping out of the group of 6th years. During much of the previous year Seamus was convinced and proclaimed loudly that Harry was a raving lunatic. Harry smiled faintly. Everything seemed a bit overly ironic lately.
"If you think we're going to let you sit behind him and throw curses, then you're as stupid as they are ugly." Seamus declared pointing at Crabbe and Goyle.
Malfoy turned in his seat. "Shut your mouth half blood. How's your muggle father by the way? Still work at that bank on Fifth Street in Fairfield?"
Seamus was a blur of black robes. He tackled Malfoy, in what Harry recognized as a rugby move, and slammed the blond boy's head into the floor. Crabbe and Goyle tried to pull him off, but Seamus' fellow Gryffindors; Dean, Ron, and Neville were on them a second later. The Slytherin Pansy Parkinson drew her wand, but not as fast as Hermione. Instantly every student from both houses was fighting with wands or fists.
The tiny silver bells hanging across the top of the antler chair rang sharply, and the doors slammed shut. Only Harry and Hermione seemed to hear them. They turned towards the front of the room. The shrunken corpse in the chair raised its head and its eyelids sprang open. Two round black stones were crammed deep into its sockets and a point of red light glowed in the center of each of them. Its mouth moved. The shriveled flesh rasped across the too white teeth, producing a soft hissing mumble. The fingers twitched. Harry's scar twinged.
"Get down!" he shouted.
The Gryffindors instantly obeyed, throwing themselves to the floor. A silvery light flashed across the room. A few Slytherins saw it coming and dove down as well, but only Malfoy and Millicent were quick enough. The rest of their class mates turned to stone as the light passed through them.
"Reducto!" shouted Harry, knocking all the tables onto their sides. The 6th years scrambled to shelter behind them. The silver light washed over the room again, but no one else was petrified.
"We need to get out of here. Hermione," Harry said. "Ron and I'll try and distract it. Get the doors open. The rest of you go with her, drag the tables for cover. When you get out, run and find Dumbledore."
Most nodded, but Neville, Seamus and Dean shook their heads.
"We're helping you," Neville said.
Harry was about to argue but his scar twinged again.
"GO!" he shouted. As he spoke the tables jumped into the air, exposing the students.
Lavender shrieked and broke for the door. A red light flashed toward her, but her friend Parvati tackled her at the last moment, knocking her out of the way. Seamus, Neville and Dean fired stunning curses at the thing in the chair but their jets of red light faded to nothing before they got within three feet of it. Harry caught Ron's eye and pointed at the chalk boards. Harry heard the doors swing open just as he and Ron shouted.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
The chalkboards swung into the air, blocking the creature's view of the room. Hermione shrieked and Harry and Ron whirled about.
The doors had opened, but not into a Hogwarts hallway. Instead, through the arch, they could see nothing but misty darkness. Long slimy tentacles reached into the room. One had pinned Hermione's arms to her sides and was dragging her away as she kicked and shouted. Ron forgot about the chalkboard and ran towards her. He tried to blast the tentacle with curses but they had no effect. He dropped his wand and grabbed her around the waist, trying to pull her free. Another tentacle swept his legs out of under him, and they were both dragged into the blackness.
Harry's insides felt numb. He took a staggering step and then sat on the floor, unaware of the battle around him. This can't be happening, not again. Not again. A silver light flashed past his head. It struck Draco Malfoy but Harry could not care less. This can't be happening.
"Harry get up!" Someone was shaking him by the front of his robes. He looked up at Neville, whose eyes were huge and sad and terrifying all at once.
"Harry get up!" he shouted again, flinching as a red light flashed over them. "Help me kill it."
Harry blinked up at Neville. "Help me Harry." Neville said again.
The numbness did not go away but Harry jumped to his feet and turned on the thing in the chair. The chalkboards lay on their sides ignored. The thing sat watching them. Its stone eyes glowed and it mumbled with its withered mouth. The desks and chairs flew to the sides of the room, leaving Harry and Neville alone and exposed. Harry saw no one else actively fighting. Dean lay unmoving on the floor near the throne like chair. Lavender, Parvati and Millicent huddled behind one of the huge cauldrons in the back. All the rest had been turned to stone. The thing pointed a finger at Neville. A red light shot towards him.
"Protego!" Neville bellowed, and the light was sent hurtling back towards its caster. The light vanished before getting near it.
As Neville did this, Harry threw a blasting hex at the creature, but that too, failed to reach it. The skeletal thing raised its hands and a huge wave of green light, stretching from wall to wall, flew at them. There was nowhere to hide. Harry stepped in front of Neville. The light washed over him.
It was like an electrical shock. His arms and legs twitched and his eyes shot open.
"Protego!" Harry shouted waving his arm, only to realize he was no longer holding his wand. A few people laughed nervously. It took him a moment to realize he was still lying on his back on the floor. Suddenly Ron and Hermione's faces appeared above him.
"Alright Harry?" Ron asked nervously. Without thinking Harry grabbed both of them around the necks in a strangling hug.
"You're alive!" Harry declared in a cracking voice.
"Um well yes…" said Hermione as she and Ron tried to untangle themselves.
"Get a room Potter!" called Malfoy, and his cronies laughed.
"Shut up Malfoy!" shouted Seamus and Dean together.
Harry looked around in confusion. The chair in the front of the room was empty.
"What happened?" he asked, allowing his friends to escape, "Where'd it go?"
"I'm over here actually."
A strange echoing voice echoed from the back of the room. Harry turned. The skeletal creature, in its cocoon of blankets, was floating over the still forms of Lavender, Parvati and Millicent, who lay sprawled on the floor by the door. It waved its knobby fingers and the girls sprang awake.
"You're Potter, are you?" the voice continued.
"Yes." Harry said slowly.
"You get fifteen points, which house were you? Lions or snakes?"
"I'm in Gryffindor."
"Fifteen points to Gryffindor then, find a seat now." said the voice.
The sound did not come from the creature, but instead from the walls around it. Ron and Hermione helped Harry up and he sat at a table with them. Lavender and the other girls climbed to their feet. They looked in confusion at the class and the thing floating above them.
"Name and house please." The voice asked.
"Lavender Brown, Gryffindor."
"Sixteen points, go find a seat." The voice instructed.
"Parvati Patil, Gryffindor."
"Sixteen points, go sit. And you missy?"
"Millicent Bulstrode, Slytherin."
"Sixteen points, get going," the voice echoed and the skeletal thing made little shooing motions.
Harry looked around the room. Everyone was seated nervously at a table; everyone but Neville Longbottom. Harry whirled, searching for him.
"Now for the big prize," the voice said.
It raised a hand and a human shaped shadow formed on ground. It expanded and filed out, taking on three dimensions. The thing snapped its fingers. A howling wind passed through the room. The darkness covering the human shape on the ground blew away, like dust off an old piece of furniture. Free of the shadows, Neville sat up, eyes wide and gasping for air.
"Name and house?" the voice asked. Neville looked around blearily.
"Neville Longbottom, 14 Stormbridge Way…" he said blinking rapidly.
Lavender and her friends giggled.
"Slytherin or Gryffindor dear?" the voice asked.
"Gryffindor…"
"Fifty points to Gryffindor. Find a seat," the voice said.
Neville got to his feet and walked backwards to the table at the front of the room where Harry and the others sat. He did not turn his back on the skeletal creature. As soon as he was in a chair it floated to the front of the room, settling gently in the rattan throne. The chalkboards righted themselves with a loud bang, and everyone jumped. Neville fell out of his seat.
"Your first homework assignment is to write an essay on what you did wrong in class today…"
The spoon rattled against his teeth, and he threw it into the bowl in disgust. Harry looked around the hall at all the other students attempting to eat dinner. He could tell from the shell-shocked expressions who had had Defense class that day. All during potions class his hands had shaken, and Snape took every opportunity to creep up behind him and make a startlingly loud noise. No one in class was surprised when Harry's potion blew up in his face, halfway through the lesson. In charms class he was still so jumpy he nearly set Professor Flitwick on fire with a warming charm. The adrenalin would not go away.
He looked toward the head table. Headmaster Dumbledore was calmly eating his dinner. Snape was glaring. Professor Graypond had not come to this meal either, though Harry had some doubt she was capable of eating. Ron and Hermione continued to argue about who had done what wrong in their "surprise exam" in class that day. They did not seem particularly upset by it.
"I'm going to bed early." Harry declared getting up.
His friends just nodded. He walked up the stairs feeling exhausted and wired all at once.
"Harry!" shouted a voice.
Harry jumped, almost falling over a banister. Neville jogged up the stairs after him. Neville had been almost completely silent since the end of defense class that day.
"Sorry, Sorry. I just wanted to ask you something." Neville said.
"What?"
"It's about the thing in class today…"
"Oh. How did that end anyway?"
"After you got hit with the green light, I thought you were dead or something. Professor Graypond came flying out of her chair and I tried to throw a few of the tables at her. They didn't get anywhere close. Lavender and the other girls tried to close the door and they got hit with another wave of green light. I thought it was only me left." Neville said in a small voice.
"I tried a few more hexes and nothing work, and she had me backed into a corner…" Neville paused again.
"What happened?" Harry asked.
"I tried to use an unforgivable on her. It's just I couldn't think of anything else to do, and I was so angry and…"
Neville seemed terrified that he had even said the word unforgivable. I guess that's what's been bothering him so much.
"Which one did you use?" Harry asked.
"The killing curse," Neville said, looking at the floor. "Nothing happened when I tried to cast it though. Then all these shadows poured out of the floor. I think I passed out then."
"I don't think anyone's mad at you. The Professor gave you fifty points."
"You don't understand. I..." Neville trailed off uncertainly. "With my parents…and I swore I'd never…"
Neville looked back at the floor.
"You're not the only student who's ever tried to use one." Harry said in a low voice as they arrived at Gryffindor tower.
"The Slytherins maybe but…"
"I used the crucio curse on Bellatrix Lestrange." Harry admitted in a hushed whisper. "It didn't work so well either."
Neville's eyes widened. "You? You did? When?"
"After she pushed Sirius through and I ran after her. Dumbledore didn't see though."
"Oh."
There was a long awkward silence. Harry started to walk away.
"Wait! That isn't what I wanted to ask you about." Neville said.
"What?"
"I wanted to ask you… I wanted to know why you did it."
"Why I threw the cures at Bellatrix?"
"No, I mean in class, why did you step in the way of that curse?"
"Because I thought it was going to hit you." Harry answered, confused.
"But why?"
"I don't understand."
"Aren't you mad at me? I smashed the Prophesy about You-Know-Who and now we don't know how to beat him and hundreds of people will die and…and…it's my fault."
Harry shook his head. "That was my fault more then anyone else's. Neville that Prophesy didn't tell how to beat Voldemort. That stupid useless thing, I should have given it to the Death Eaters. Let them worry over it."
"What do you mean?" Neville asked sound hopeful and horrified all at once.
"There was another copy of that prophesy. Trelawney made it, right before we were born," Harry said with a snort. "You want to know what it said? It was almost about you anyway." Harry asked as they entered the empty 6th year dorm.
Neville nodded.
"Voldemort heard this part of it too. That's why he murdered my parents, trying to get to me. Trelawney said that a child born at the end of July, to parents who had defied Voldemort three times, would have the power to defeat him. He had two choices, me or you. The second part he didn't hear though. The one he attacked and marked would be the one who got the power. It also said one has to kill the other. That's really great, isn't it Neville? Kill Voldemort or die."
Neville just looked in shock.
"Who else knows?" Neville asked.
"Now? You, me, and Dumbledore. I don't know if he ever bothered to tell my parents."
"It didn't say what power you were supposed to have?" Neville asked, sounding a bit suspicious.
"No."
There was another long awkward pause.
"Oh. I guess I'll go finish my charms essay now." Neville said, and then scurried off.
Harry watched Neville jog back down to the common room with his books. He knew he probably should not have told Neville, but he felt better, as if he was not carrying so much on his own. Of course Neville had not exactly volunteered to share the burden. It was too early to sleep, and too late to go back to dinner. Harry sat down on his bed and sighed. After a few minutes he pulled out parchment and quill from his trunk and began to write.
*****
The tap water tasted odd. Odder then usual anyway, thought Jeremy Clements as he took a drink of the slightly cloudy stuff. He sat down on the couch and hit the remote. The football match was nearly half over, and unless there was an incredible, earth shaking miracle England was not going to win. The Brazilians are all on steroids anyhow, he thought with a disgruntled snort. In a fair match we could beat them with out cleats, or a goalie. His stomach clenched painfully. Stupid lazy politicians can't even get us healthy water to drink. He poured the rest of the glass onto the dead potted plant by the coffee table.
His stomach turned again just as England scored a goal. He groaned, and started for the bathroom. The living room spun as he got to his feet, and bright sparks of light popped before his eyes. Forgetting the bathroom, he staggered towards the phone. His legs gave out and he fell to the ground. Burning pain ran through his veins and it grew more intense with every beat of his heart. His fingers caught the cord of the phone and he pulled. It crashed to the ground next to him. He pounded the key pad.
"Operator assistance, how may I help you?" asked a cheerful voice.
"Help…Doctor…sick…" he wheezed, his chest contracted and he could not breathe.
"Sir, do you want me to connect you to emergency services?"
"Help…me…please…" his throat closed up.
He clawed at his neck, but he could not draw air. The room seemed to be shrinking around him. He turned towards the television. It was a tiny box on the floor. He waved his hand before his eyes. His fingers were bulbous and distorted and the veins bulged out like horrible black worms. His skin puffed outward and he felt as if all his bones were breaking. The television smashed and he felt the walls of his apartment crushing in on him. The plaster cracked and the beams shook. Jeremy Clements tried to shout for help, but a strange wailing shriek tore from his mouth instead. Someone in the apartment next door screamed.