Typing more now...why? My friend has called me and she reviewed so I think I
owe it to her. Which is weird, 'cause she sort of half way beta'ed this and
she already knows what happens in the end anyway! Yeah...
Anyhow, on with this!
Ron returned to the common room an hour after he had left. The party was over, and the dim ember in the grate let out a low, sensual, yet foreboding glow over the two morose figures on the couch and lighting the stonewalls with rosy auras. Harry looked up to him as he entered the portrait hole.
"Ron, your back." Harry stated, his eyes tired, and disturbed, "Come have a look at this. Hermione's discovered something. The dates I have my dreams. They seem to be, specific...like clockwork."
"Every Tuesday and Thursday, along with every other 15th of the month." Hermione specified. She went on to explain how she'd come to this startling fact when she saw Ron's expression. "Ron? Are you alright?" Ron snapped to attention like a doe in the headlights of a speeding suburban.
Harry's dreams...they came when the Psi meetings took place. This was just a little too odd to be coincidence.
"Yes, I'm fine. What does all of that mean, Herm?" He asked, coming out of his stupor. Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron and began explaining ho Harry may be being given the dreams by an outside source, say, He-who-must- not-be-named, or perhaps by some strange spacial pulse the item worked on the oddest schedule that ever existed. Ron feigned attention.
'I must speak over this with the international senior representatives. Maybe one of them will know! This is a matter of the highest priority!'
The room was lit nicely, as far as Ron could tell. But then again, his Psi hood prevented him from physically seeing in any sense, it fell over his head from the nape of his neck to almost the top ridge of his lips. What he or any other Psi saw though the hood was merely an impression of what was really there. For all he knew, it could have been pitch black. It did not matter in all honesty.
He reclined in the black leather seat he rested on, and prepared himself to wait patiently as Mercury Squadron commander finished speaking on his recruit's numbers and levels and all the other things they were required to speak upon. Pushing the dream schedule to the back of his thoughts, Ron heaved a sigh and stood. His own presentation was to begin now.
"Skull Squadron commander—Level six." He began, waiting for the intake of breath that always followed his introduction, "As always, we have run into few difficulties. Skull Squadron has twelve new members—most of which whom can now 'see.'
"Our Martial Arts training has gone better this year than the previous and—Yes, your question?" Ron said, pausing as Halo-Squad commander raised his hand. Already the other commander was giving him a headache!
"I still do not see, Skull-one was it that you liked to be called? Yes, well, I still do not see, Skull-one, why do Psi need to learn how to fight? We haven't had anyone who could lead us to battle in over 300 years, besides which, why would we need to? As far as I can tell, Skull-one, your teaching you adepts to fight is to put it nicely—Ridiculous. Utterly, ridiculous."
Ron, through his hood, gave Halo Squadron commander a flat stare. The flattest, most know it all stare he could muster.
"Are you muggle?" He asked.
"What? I beg your pardon?"
"The answer I yes, then. You, and I'm assuming at least some of the others here, are muggle.
"What does that mean? You ask? Well, a muggle is a non-magical person. This," said Ron in a business tone that would have fooled even Harry, "is a magic wand." Ron held up the instrument, pointing it like a fencer's sword toward the offending commander.
"You're delusional!" Cried Crypt Squadron commander.
"No, I'm not. See this?" Ron asked, pointing to his level insignia on the hood's forehead. "It glows when the wearer uses Psi power, yes? Now watch. Wingardum Leviosa!" Ron shouted, making a swish-and-flick movement with the polished piece of wood. And Halo commander floated lightly upwards until his head gently tapped the ceiling.
"LET ME DOWN! LET ME DOWN!!!! HOW IN THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU DOING THIS?!! LET ME DOWN!!" Halo commander screamed, drowning out several other scared Muggles.
Ron let the boy down again, and when all was quiet, began to speak. "We are wizards and witches in a world you cannot see, in a loud community that fall deaf on your ears. We live in a place where you cannot taste or touch us because we use chaos itself to make you forget. As it is, our world has just fallen waist deep into a war it refuses to believe is happening. Because of our location, it is more that beneficial that my squad learn the technique we all used to apply. It is more than a good idea. It is a necessary knowledge. Why?
"Because the enemy is this war will kill you and not care. You, well you may be mostly safe from them. We're not." Ron sighed a sigh that made him seem much older than he actually was, and sat in the leather seat once more. Groaning, Ron realized how little sleep he'd gotten over the last week, and set his face in the palms of his hands, resting the weight on his elbows. He felt very...stiff.
"Magic is real? Well, with all of the Psi, I suppose that that's not that inconceivable..." said one from the group of muggle commanders huddled together.
"Yes, actually. I'm not that much in denial. It feels much more like shock." Said Xian-pu commander in his Chinese accented voice.
Ron rolled his head about his neck, and then resumed his previous position. "I'm not done." He muttered, only just loud enough to be heard.
The gathered junior Psi looked at him, conversation stopped. Ron turned his shaded gaze to the elder Psi across the hall, separated by a thin Psi sept style sound barrier. He gave it a small mental push, easily breaking it.
"Hey!" Ron called to them, stopping two who had risen from their seats. "We have a major situation over here, and are requesting assitance!" Ron hoped that the elder Psi did not ignore them, as they usually did, it tended to cause the junior's to have a grudge.
They elder Psi gave him dissaprooving gazes, and he countered with flattening his features to be calm. They hated having someone calmer then them ask for help. "I'm not joking. I go to Hogwarts, the same school as Harry Potter, and he's been having nightmares about a magical something in its walls with enough power to destroy the planet."
The few wizarding elder Psi backed up in disbelief. Then one of them, Hawk commander, spoke. "So? What can we do about it? Its not as though we'll be able to anything. We are not able to go into battle without a seventh level with us. I don't think I need to point out that there are none!" Hawk was usually calm—Ron had hit a nerve.
"Please let me finish. This, thing, may not be a thing at all, or it may be a thing that feeds off Psi power. We know this because it leaps in power on the days that the skull-squadron meets. Brief jumps whenever Psi power is used on the grounds. Elders, do you know of any such object? DO you know if it can be deactivated? What it will do? If not, then Hogwarts wil be attacked! The students there will be killed! My FAMILY will be slaughtered!" Ron slumped down, 'odd, when did I stand up?' he thought, suddenly very exhausted.
The elders looked at each other then at Ron. "I'm very sorry, Skull Squadron commander. We know of no such object." Said Xian-ye commander.
After this, no one said much, and Ron seemed to withdraw into himself even more so than usual. (He was known for being a very quiet and calm leader.) Eventually, the meeting ended, all the Psi leaving held an air of pity or sadness for the strong teen leaning against the wall, Ron having settled there when everyone else cleaned up.
One of the elder Psi laid a hand on Ron's shoulder before transporting away. Ron did not find comfort in it.
I think that's where this chapter will end. It was so late when I started it, that I had to come back to it today to finish typing the last parts of it. So yeah, we've still found nothing out about this object that Voldemort wants, what is it? WHAT CAN IT BE?!?! To bad I'm not telling you, yet! ME
Ron returned to the common room an hour after he had left. The party was over, and the dim ember in the grate let out a low, sensual, yet foreboding glow over the two morose figures on the couch and lighting the stonewalls with rosy auras. Harry looked up to him as he entered the portrait hole.
"Ron, your back." Harry stated, his eyes tired, and disturbed, "Come have a look at this. Hermione's discovered something. The dates I have my dreams. They seem to be, specific...like clockwork."
"Every Tuesday and Thursday, along with every other 15th of the month." Hermione specified. She went on to explain how she'd come to this startling fact when she saw Ron's expression. "Ron? Are you alright?" Ron snapped to attention like a doe in the headlights of a speeding suburban.
Harry's dreams...they came when the Psi meetings took place. This was just a little too odd to be coincidence.
"Yes, I'm fine. What does all of that mean, Herm?" He asked, coming out of his stupor. Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron and began explaining ho Harry may be being given the dreams by an outside source, say, He-who-must- not-be-named, or perhaps by some strange spacial pulse the item worked on the oddest schedule that ever existed. Ron feigned attention.
'I must speak over this with the international senior representatives. Maybe one of them will know! This is a matter of the highest priority!'
The room was lit nicely, as far as Ron could tell. But then again, his Psi hood prevented him from physically seeing in any sense, it fell over his head from the nape of his neck to almost the top ridge of his lips. What he or any other Psi saw though the hood was merely an impression of what was really there. For all he knew, it could have been pitch black. It did not matter in all honesty.
He reclined in the black leather seat he rested on, and prepared himself to wait patiently as Mercury Squadron commander finished speaking on his recruit's numbers and levels and all the other things they were required to speak upon. Pushing the dream schedule to the back of his thoughts, Ron heaved a sigh and stood. His own presentation was to begin now.
"Skull Squadron commander—Level six." He began, waiting for the intake of breath that always followed his introduction, "As always, we have run into few difficulties. Skull Squadron has twelve new members—most of which whom can now 'see.'
"Our Martial Arts training has gone better this year than the previous and—Yes, your question?" Ron said, pausing as Halo-Squad commander raised his hand. Already the other commander was giving him a headache!
"I still do not see, Skull-one was it that you liked to be called? Yes, well, I still do not see, Skull-one, why do Psi need to learn how to fight? We haven't had anyone who could lead us to battle in over 300 years, besides which, why would we need to? As far as I can tell, Skull-one, your teaching you adepts to fight is to put it nicely—Ridiculous. Utterly, ridiculous."
Ron, through his hood, gave Halo Squadron commander a flat stare. The flattest, most know it all stare he could muster.
"Are you muggle?" He asked.
"What? I beg your pardon?"
"The answer I yes, then. You, and I'm assuming at least some of the others here, are muggle.
"What does that mean? You ask? Well, a muggle is a non-magical person. This," said Ron in a business tone that would have fooled even Harry, "is a magic wand." Ron held up the instrument, pointing it like a fencer's sword toward the offending commander.
"You're delusional!" Cried Crypt Squadron commander.
"No, I'm not. See this?" Ron asked, pointing to his level insignia on the hood's forehead. "It glows when the wearer uses Psi power, yes? Now watch. Wingardum Leviosa!" Ron shouted, making a swish-and-flick movement with the polished piece of wood. And Halo commander floated lightly upwards until his head gently tapped the ceiling.
"LET ME DOWN! LET ME DOWN!!!! HOW IN THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU DOING THIS?!! LET ME DOWN!!" Halo commander screamed, drowning out several other scared Muggles.
Ron let the boy down again, and when all was quiet, began to speak. "We are wizards and witches in a world you cannot see, in a loud community that fall deaf on your ears. We live in a place where you cannot taste or touch us because we use chaos itself to make you forget. As it is, our world has just fallen waist deep into a war it refuses to believe is happening. Because of our location, it is more that beneficial that my squad learn the technique we all used to apply. It is more than a good idea. It is a necessary knowledge. Why?
"Because the enemy is this war will kill you and not care. You, well you may be mostly safe from them. We're not." Ron sighed a sigh that made him seem much older than he actually was, and sat in the leather seat once more. Groaning, Ron realized how little sleep he'd gotten over the last week, and set his face in the palms of his hands, resting the weight on his elbows. He felt very...stiff.
"Magic is real? Well, with all of the Psi, I suppose that that's not that inconceivable..." said one from the group of muggle commanders huddled together.
"Yes, actually. I'm not that much in denial. It feels much more like shock." Said Xian-pu commander in his Chinese accented voice.
Ron rolled his head about his neck, and then resumed his previous position. "I'm not done." He muttered, only just loud enough to be heard.
The gathered junior Psi looked at him, conversation stopped. Ron turned his shaded gaze to the elder Psi across the hall, separated by a thin Psi sept style sound barrier. He gave it a small mental push, easily breaking it.
"Hey!" Ron called to them, stopping two who had risen from their seats. "We have a major situation over here, and are requesting assitance!" Ron hoped that the elder Psi did not ignore them, as they usually did, it tended to cause the junior's to have a grudge.
They elder Psi gave him dissaprooving gazes, and he countered with flattening his features to be calm. They hated having someone calmer then them ask for help. "I'm not joking. I go to Hogwarts, the same school as Harry Potter, and he's been having nightmares about a magical something in its walls with enough power to destroy the planet."
The few wizarding elder Psi backed up in disbelief. Then one of them, Hawk commander, spoke. "So? What can we do about it? Its not as though we'll be able to anything. We are not able to go into battle without a seventh level with us. I don't think I need to point out that there are none!" Hawk was usually calm—Ron had hit a nerve.
"Please let me finish. This, thing, may not be a thing at all, or it may be a thing that feeds off Psi power. We know this because it leaps in power on the days that the skull-squadron meets. Brief jumps whenever Psi power is used on the grounds. Elders, do you know of any such object? DO you know if it can be deactivated? What it will do? If not, then Hogwarts wil be attacked! The students there will be killed! My FAMILY will be slaughtered!" Ron slumped down, 'odd, when did I stand up?' he thought, suddenly very exhausted.
The elders looked at each other then at Ron. "I'm very sorry, Skull Squadron commander. We know of no such object." Said Xian-ye commander.
After this, no one said much, and Ron seemed to withdraw into himself even more so than usual. (He was known for being a very quiet and calm leader.) Eventually, the meeting ended, all the Psi leaving held an air of pity or sadness for the strong teen leaning against the wall, Ron having settled there when everyone else cleaned up.
One of the elder Psi laid a hand on Ron's shoulder before transporting away. Ron did not find comfort in it.
I think that's where this chapter will end. It was so late when I started it, that I had to come back to it today to finish typing the last parts of it. So yeah, we've still found nothing out about this object that Voldemort wants, what is it? WHAT CAN IT BE?!?! To bad I'm not telling you, yet! ME
