It was through sheer force of will that Harry was able to return to normalcy for the remainder of the week. He pushed the entire incident out of his head, refusing to dwell on it even for a moment. All of the Occlumency had to have been paying off, because for the most part, he convinced himself entirely that he didn't care one way or the either – that they were all completely platonic friends, that nothing would ever come of this. He ignored Ginny's batting eyelashes, blocked out Hermione and Ron alternately rowing and sneaking glances when the other's back was turned.

"This is ridiculous," he mentally screamed at himself, after Hermione had casually picked some lint off of his uniform, causing an icy stab of panic to cut through his chest, "You have more important things to worry about. Like, I dunno, maybe [I]Lord Voldemort[/I]?"

That cleared his head for a while. The thought of the impending danger to himself, the school, his friends – he reminded himself that Ron was now his Secret Keeper.

"There's more important things," Harry told himself sternly, "They're all your best friends, and that's all that matters. You don't need to worry about anything else right now."

"That's awfully convenient," said the nasty little voice, "Are you going to hide from your own feelings forever, or just until Lord Voldemort kills you? How much time do you think you have?"

"Shut up!" Harry said aloud.

He blinked and looked into the confused faces of his friends. He was sitting at lunch with Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville and Luna, as usual, and they were all staring at him as though he'd gone mad.

"Sorry," Harry said, "Err-sorry."

"It wasn't..." Ginny asked, going pale.

"Remember, clear your mind," Hermione added sternly, her face nearly as anxious as Ginny's.

"NO!" Harry said, shaking his head, "No, it wasn't...nevermind. Just...stressed out. About the match on Saturday."

Ron snorted, "That inspires confidence."

"Well, you let in that goal this morning," Harry said, and felt guilty even as he said it, "And I was just worrying what Malfoy would say if—"

"Yes, Harry, but I scored that goal," Ginny said, "So really, it's a good sign, too."

"Look, Harry, we've been practicing morning and night, and we've all gotten loads better," Ron said reassuringly.

"Even Ronald," Ginny added sticking her tongue out at her older brother playfully. He returned the favor in his typically mature fashion.

"We're going to mop the floor with Slytherin," Ginny said to Harry, "So don't worry about it."

The finality in her voice was comforting. Harry smiled at his friends.

"It was stupid," he said out loud, with a smile, "I was being stupid. The whole thing was just temporary insanity."

"Right," he repeated mentally, "Temporary insanity."

Hermione smiled, and returned to her lunch. Harry noticed she kept her peas meticulously separate from her potatoes, and smiled. He then cursed himself for having noticed, and crammed a roll in his mouth.

Halloween Day dawned crisp and clear. Throughout the entire day, classes had been a joke – no one was able to concentrate because of the Halloween Ball that night, and the Weird Sisters coming to Hogwarts again. Most of the girls actually skivved off their last classes of the day, so they could start getting ready...Owls kept arriving with hastily scrawled notes – "Terribly ill...please, have Parvati send the assignment via owl..." "Can't stop vomiting, shall get the assignment from Lavender." McGonagall finally threw her hands up in disgust, and dismissed the Gryffindor boys.

"After all," she said dryly, "No sense depriving you of a well-earned sick day just because you're healthy."

Harry also noticed a number of oddly familiar wrappers in the hallway corners, marked suspiciously with three W's...he had a feeling that more than a few Hogwarts students were enjoying some Snackboxes purchased via Owl Order.

Harry had just finished his last class of the day, when one of the school owls swooped down upon him in the hallway, and dropped a note on his head.

"Who's that from, I wonder?" Ron said broadly, elbowing Hermione.

"Shut up, Ron," Harry said in a long-suffering voice. This sent Hermione and Ron into fits of giggles. It was wearing thin.

Harry opened the scroll – it was not, however, from Ginny.

"Dear Mr. Potter – I have foreseen that I will be unable to attend our usual meeting this upcoming Tuesday...the interaction of Mars with Ios, one of Jupiter's moons, makes it a very poor day indeed for Seeing, and I think my time would be better spent grading papers that day."

"Translation," Hermione said wryly, "We're halfway through the first term, and I need to catch up."

Harry continued.

"I was crystal gazing in my study, seeking the solution to the problem, when, to my great surprise, I saw that you were in fact going to conduct your meditation with me today, after school. It is an unavoidable consequence of fate that you will most likely be late to the Ball, and I am sorry for it, but it is our responsibility to meet our destiny. I shall give you ten minutes to set your affairs in order with your friends, and make your way to the tower. Looking forward, Sybill Trelawney. PS, Don't be too upset about the Quidditch match, dear. I'm sure you'll try your best."

"Brilliant," Harry added, crumpling up the scroll ill-temperedly, and putting it in his bag, "Well, I guess I'll meet you at the Ball. Party. Whatever."

"Okay," Hermione said, frowning concernedly, and placing a hand on his bicep, "Are you sure you're alright, Harry? You've been...well, a lot less happy the past couple days."

"I wonder why," Harry said dryly.

He felt hot all over and he prayed his face wasn't turning red. God, that would be awful. He'd never realized how often people touched each other, even in casual conversation.

"You're a bad person," the nasty voice said, "She's worried about you, you idiot! And all you can do is—"

"You're right," she said, "I'm sorry. You've got a lot on your mind. We'll see you at the ball."

"See you later, mate!" Ron grinned, with a roguish wink, "Don't worry, I'll keep an eye on Roger Davies for you!"

"Yeah, thanks," Harry said, grinning back emptily.

Harry turned his feet to the Divination Tower, already putting his mind on auto-pilot.

In general, meditation with Trelawney wasn't as bad as he'd first thought it would be. Once he'd gotten into the habit of taking deep, cleansing breaths, and clearing his mind, he actually found the hot, quiet room to be somewhat of a sanctuary – if only Trelawney would close her trap for a brief moment. She seemed to have decided that it was her responsibility to lead him through "guided meditations" now, droning in a sing-song voice about walking up mountaintops and consulting your "spirit guide."

And right now, at this very moment, all the Gryffindor boys were laughing and tying ties and cracking jokes. Seamus was making a great performance out of "casually" shaving the little facial hair he had. Dean was trying to determine the fine line between original and weird, while Ron was carefully mussing up his hair, and trying to determine the fine line between "casual" and sloppy. Neville was probably trying pitifully to get his tie even in the mirror...One would think, having worn a school uniform for six years, he'd have mastered it by now.

To his great dismay, the fleeting image came to mind of Hermione, Ginny, Parvati and Lavender in their slips, giggling inanely and fussing with each others' hair, but he pushed it sharply out of his head.

And here he was sitting up here. With Sybill Trelawney.

Harry had a feeling his spirit guide was just as irritated as he was. He heaved a sigh regardless, and decided that as long as he was here, he might as well at least try to clear his mind. It was, after all, what he'd been hoping to do the past few days.

Trelawney had her eyes closed, and was rotating her neck in a wide circle. "...and let the white light bathe you...your spirit guide hands you a book...you open the page to find it is the story of your life..."

"'Once upon a time'," Harry thought calmly, "'Harry was sitting in the Divination room, wishing he was elsewhere...' "

"He encourages you to read ahead...you turn the pages slowly...glimpsing into the near beyond..."

"I see...the Halloween ball," Harry thought, in a mock-prophetic tone, "Ron is skulking about Hermione, Ginny is fending off an entire Quidditch team waiting for me, Luna's wearing a radish on her head, and I'm sitting here alone."

He was surprised to suddenly feel an odd twinge of heartache – he felt the gap between himself and the people around him. Why was he always so alone? So completely separate, even when surrounded by friends?

"And now...release your mind from the cares of today...let it slide out of your control...falling...tumbling..."

Harry's head drooped, and he jerked it upwards again.

"Sliding...tumbling earthwards...."

He was walking down a Hogwarts corridor...Ron was shouting...Harry could hear it echoing off of the walls...just up ahead...torchlight flickering...

"Never!" Ron shouted, but he was panting. Was he tired? Or afraid? "N-never tell you..."

"How [I]noble[/I]" said a sickly sweet, honeyed voice, "But you're going to die either way...surely you knew that? Don't you want to ease your suffering before you go? I can make it quite painless, you know..."

Ron let out a ragged, weary laugh of triumph. "Can't m-make me...tell you," But Harry could hear the underlying panic, the desperate urge to run, to escape the pain...

He tried to reach him, tried to run...why wouldn't his legs work? Why couldn't he reach him? He could just see the back of his Weasley sweater, his mussy red hair...

"Tell me, little hero, was it worth it? The sum total of your mediocre life is about to be thrown away...and all for a boy named Harry Potter. The meaning of your pathetic little existence is entirely defined by someone else. What makes him so special and you so un-special? What makes you willing to be second best, time and time again? Would it be such a crime to give in? Even Harry himself wouldn't begrudge you a painless death..."

"Never...Might as well...kill me," he panted triumphantly.

"Oh, we can do better than that," Bellatrix Black said, her baby voice sweetly menacing, "Now beg, little hero...Beg for death...[I]Crucio![/I]"

Ron fell to the ground, twitching.

Harry's eyes were clouded by a red haze, and there was a high-pitched whine in his ears - this was the woman who had stolen Sirius from him...And now she was after Ron.

"I'll kill you!" The cry ripped from his throat, his legs suddenly working beneath him, charging down the flickering corridor, "[I]I'LL KILL YOU![/I]"

Suddenly, Harry's scar burst into white-hot pain, as though someone had stuck a lightening-shaped brand into his forehead. He fell to his knees.

His knees landed not on the familiar stone hallways of a Hogwart's hallway, but onto smooth marble. Gone was the warm, cheerful torchlight of Hogwarts, replaced by an eerie blue. He was in the Department of Mysteries.

"HHhhaaaaaaaarrrrryyyyyyyy..."

Sirius's voice echoed and bounced off the walls of the blue-torch room. Harry clutched his pounding head in his hands, as though trying to hold it together. When was this going to stop? He couldn't take much more of this.

Suddenly, another voice was in his head. A high, cold voice that sent chills up his spine and turned his arms to gooseflesh.

"You do want him back, don't you?"

Then the same voice...but different somehow...echoing distantly. "I can bring them back, you know..." It was his voice...from first year. He'd just gotten the stone from the Mirror of Erised...

"Or did you think I was lying?"

Harry looked up at the door in front of him. The latch undid itself, and the door swung open an inch or two, with a slow creak. There was an audible sigh of cold air, as though the room were breathing...Harry knew what he would find behind the door...

The cold, stone theater...the veil...

And...

"Mr. Potter!"

"No," he said aloud, "I have to see...I have to see what happens!"

"Tell me what you see!" said Sybill Trelawney, anxiously, joyfully. The Department of Mysteries faded around him, and he was peering up into Trelawney's eyes, grossly magnified behind her spectacles...she was looming down upon him eagerly, incense wafting about the hot attic room.

"Get off!" Harry said, shoving her roughly away, "I've had enough!"

"Tell me what you saw, Harry!" Trelawney insisted.

"NO! I wasn't [I]supposed[/I] to see any of it!" Harry snapped, "That was the whole point! I'm not going to let Him do this to me any more!"

"My dear boy, who? Who?" Sybill asked, her face a mask of horror...yet, at the same time, Harry was disgusted to note how eager she was. This was just the sort of drama she craved –

"Was it –"

"NO!" Harry lied recklessly, "It wasn't Lord Voldemort! It wasn't the Grim, or my dead parents – and it wasn't Father Christmas! I've had enough!"

She'd be only too happy to hear about dead Ron, dead Sirius, Lord Voldemort...no. He wasn't going to give her the satisfaction.

He turned on his heel, kicked open the trap door, and climbed down the ladder.