A/N: Okay, I must admit now to an error on my part. In 1995, Harry's fifth year, September 1 was a Friday. That means that the next day would have been a Saturday and there would have been no classes. However, for the continuity of this story, September 1 was a Thursday, meaning that the first day of classes is a Friday. Hey, pretend that it's magic. :)

Thanks again to all of the reviewers! The input helps a lot!

Harry Potter and the Prophecy of the Phoenix - Chapter 3

Harry burst back into consciousness, panting heavily as his hand flew to his throbbing scar only to find it bandaged once again. He had broken out into a cold sweat, reminding him of his reaction to dementors, and the room was spiraling hazily around him. Blindly, he reached for his glasses and slid them on. The world was still rocking, but at least now it was in focus.

"Goodness child, you shouldn't be up yet. Lie down immediately." Madam Pomfrey chided, helping Harry back into a supine position.

The dizziness had evolved into full-blown vertigo, causing Harry to close his eyes against his swirling surroundings and the nausea buzzing through his nervous system. Exhaustion began to wrap dark tendrils around his brain, pulling him into a state of slumber, when he heard his headmaster's voice calling softly to him.

Harry's eyelids rose wearily as the visage of Dumbledore danced in front of his eyes. The relief of the elder wizard was almost palpable, and Harry could just barely see the same glint of fear that had graced Dumbledore's eyes when his scar had first started bleeding.

"Welcome back, Harry. How do you feel?"

"Tired."

"I promise that I will let you rest soon, but first, you know what I must ask of you."

Once again, Harry found himself lamenting the age that had tarnished Dumbledore's eyes, but what he did not know was that Dumbledore was lamenting the same of him.

Taking a breath to steady himself, Harry let the words fall from his lips, "I was back at Professor Lupin's house before-" Harry's throat closed, and he could not bring himself to finish the thought.

Dumbledore's eyes locked with his, and Harry had the distinct impression that Dumbledore was peering into his very essence.

"I understand. Please continue."

"Something went really wrong. I kept hearing the conversation with Wormtail and Malfoy, and there were these voices in my head that I couldn't understand. And my scar hurt."

The last part of the statement was spoken more softly as if admission of his pain was a mere afterthought. Hope flickered through his headmaster's features for a fleeting moment, and Harry sensed that there was something that Dumbledore was not sharing with him.

A solemn air descended upon the hospital wing as Dumbledore spoke, seeming to choose his words carefully. "You gave us quite a scare Harry. You stopped breathing, and we almost were not able to revive you."

Harry's already pale features turned ashen. "Do you mean that I died?" The words came out in a choked whisper.

"No." Dumbledore's eyes were now burning with intensity. "As I said at the end of last year, there is no spell that can reawaken the dead, but it was close. You've been unconscious for almost twenty-four hours."

The silence of the room was intense and thick as Harry's mind whirled dangerously. His stomach was restating its threat to flip inside-out.

Then, Harry saw the corners of Dumbledore's lips twitching slightly as if he was trying to keep a straight face, but there was a mischievous glint to the aged headmaster that reminded Harry strongly of the Weasley twins.

"You might be interested to know that Professor Trelawney had all of the candles destroyed. She was muttering something about evil spirits disrupting the vibrations of the room."

Despite himself, Harry felt a small smile tug at his lips as his eyelids began to grow heavy.

Sensing the younger wizard's losing battle with exhaustion, Dumbledore smiled paternally, "I'll let you rest now. Take care of yourself, Harry. These meetings of ours are becoming too frequent for my liking."

Before Harry had a chance to voice his agreement, the slumber that had been lapping at the edges of his brain pulled him under.

Harry sighed with relief as he put the finishing touches on his Potions essay. He felt much improved from the previous day though his head was still buzzing and his normally untidy scrawl was borderline unreadable as his hand had been trembling slightly.

He had actually managed to get some rest before his nightmares came to assail him. Thankfully, Madam Pomfrey had been in another section of the hospital wing when he had startled out of his dream state. Otherwise, she would have been hovering over him like an overprotective mother hen.

All of the supplies that he needed to complete his homework had been left at his bedside, and Harry was willing to bet that Hermione was the one responsible. He was also willing to bet that it had been under Ron's protestation that she had done it.

He had just managed to put his ink and quill away before he heard his name squealed and found himself in a tight embrace. Harry put his arms around his friend as her form began to shudder and hitch with tears of relief.

"It's all right, Hermione. I'm fine." He met the eyes of his other best friend, whose face was paler than normal, to let him know that the statement was met for him as well.

An uneasy silence descended upon the group as Hermione composed herself and extracted herself from Harry's arms.

Unable to hold it in any longer, the words he had been dying to ask burst from Ron's lips, "Harry, what happened. One minute, you were staring into the candle, and the next, your eyes turned white and you were surrounded like what happened in the Great Hall. Your scar started bleeding, and I thought you were dead, and..."

Ron only stopped when Hermione placed a restraining hand on Ron's arm.

The blood had drained from Harry's face as he took in Ron's description of what had happened. In his discussions with Dumbledore, somehow the facts that his eyes had bleached and that he had been surrounded by flames had been neglected.

"Harry-" Hermione started before Harry interrupted.

"I'm fine." He was lying, and it was obvious that neither Ron nor Hermione accepted the words with any reassurance. Harry took a deep breath to steel himself and then continued, "I think that the two of you need to take a seat. There's a lot I need to tell you, and I need you to promise not to interrupt."

They both nodded, pulling up chairs as per his instructions.

Harry told them everything about what he saw in his visions both in the Great Hall and during Divination, omitting only the details involving the wandless magic and the unknown spell. For some reason, he could not bring himself to disclose that bit of information. A part of him lamented the fact that he had lost the ability to confide completely in his friends while the other part demanded secrecy. It was the same part that protected them from the information involving his summer holidays.

Hermione had squeaked as he revealed the fate of his godfather and their former professor, but she waited until he was finished to exclaim, "Oh, Harry!" and pull him into an embrace once more, crying freely.

Ron, like Harry, appeared to be fighting back tears.

It was not until Hermione pulled away that Ron found the words, "I'm sorry, mate."

The uneasy silence was taking a hold of the group once again, and for the first time, despite spending almost a decade of his life in the cupboard, Harry began to feel the slightest bit claustrophobic. He needed to be alone for a while.

"I'm really tired." He whispered finally.

It was a half-truth. Telling them had taken a lot out of him as if his emotional exertion was actually a physical one.

Though Ron was oblivious, Hermione caught the underlying meaning. She bid him a farewell and forced Ron to do the same before pulling Ron out of the hospital wing, and Harry barely caught the word "library" as they left.

Harry forced aside the slight dizzy spell he felt as he entered the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. He had just barely convinced Madam Pomfrey that he was well enough to attend classes, but she made him promise to return if he started to feel poorly.

As he entered the classroom, he felt the eyes of his classmates burn into him and heard an unfamiliar tenor voice speak, "You just made it on time, Mr. Potter. Please have a seat."

Harry took his customary seat next to Ron as he took his first good look at his new defense teacher.

What struck Harry the most was how ordinary he looked, not having the timid posture of Quirrell, not being incredibly handsome like Lockhart, not seeming incredibly ill like- Harry cut off that thought before he got to the name, and not having the facial scarring of impostor-Moody. His hair was sandy with a bit of gray peaking through, and his eyes were some nondescript color, coming closest to being defined as hazel. However, upon closer inspection, there was a glint of knowledge and experience in those otherwise indistinct eyes.

"Welcome to another year in Defense Against the Dark Arts. If you don't remember from the Welcoming Feast, I'm Professor Mundungus Fletcher."

Harry visibly started, having missed the name in his daze that first night and recognizing the name as one Dumbledore had instructed Sirius to inform of Voldemort's return.

Sirius.

This time he had been unable to curb his thoughts in time. The wound was still too new, and the memory of his godfather only served to rub salt into the open wound.

Forcing his inner turmoil into a far corner of his mind, he was able to bring his attention back to the classroom where Fletcher was taking role.

When he got to Harry's name, his eyes stopped on Harry a little longer than they had on the rest of the students, but, surprisingly, they did not do the customary flick to Harry's scar. It seemed as if he was taking in Harry himself instead of the legendary Boy-Who-Lived

It's because he knew my parents.

The thought shot through Harry's mind unwittingly. He was unsure as to where it came from, but he seemed to know that it was true.

Finished with the role, Fletcher half-leaned back against the front of his desk with his hands crossed casually against his chest. "Today we will be focusing on protective shielding, a general defense mechanism that will appear on your O.W.L.S. at the end of the year. Having said that, producing shields is one of the most advanced magical tasks that you will be asked to perform this year. I'm warning you all that this spell will require dedication and practice. I don't expect any of you to get much more than sparks this morning. Now, before we begin, can any of you tell me what some disadvantages of shields are?"

Hermione's hand shot up, waving slightly as if to attract the new professor's attention.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"It takes a lot of magical energy to keep the shields up, and in a duel it can tire a wizard before his opponent."

"Very good. That's why long-term shields are very seldom used in a duel. Can anyone think of another reason?"

Harry's hand went up slowly, earning him a smile from Fletcher.

"Go ahead, Mr. Potter."

"The shield can't block the Unforgivables."

"That's correct. Ten points to Gryffindor for both of your answers. Now, everybody stand up and spread out. Move your wand like this, and repeat after me. Armorum caeterus."

The room could have been filled with a room full of muggles waving fallen sticks from trees with two exceptions: Fletcher and Harry.

Harry felt as if he had just wrapped a warm cloak around himself, and his surroundings seemed slightly obscured through the translucence of his shield. Quickly, he broke the spell with a flick of his wand, feeling as if he had just completed a marathon.

If Madam Pomfrey ever found out, she would throw a fit.

Harry was acutely aware of the silence of the room and the eyes fixed upon him.

Why couldn't he ever be normal? Was it really too much to ask?

The end of the Defense Against the Dark Arts class could not come quickly enough for Harry. Fletcher had insisted that he sit out while the others continued to practice, and while Harry silently agreed that if he was to continue practicing, he would probably end up back in the hospital wing for exhaustion, that decision only served to enhance Harry's sensation of isolation. He could not remember a time when he so eager to get to History of Magic.

At least there, all he had to do was sit in the back and try not to fall asleep. There was nothing that could happen that could shine a spotlight on him.

Harry was poking at the food on his plate with his fork, not feeling the least bit hungry.

"Harry-"

"Don't start, Hermione."

Whatever response Hermione had formulated was interrupted as the Weasley twins suddenly took seats on either side of him, mischief dancing merrily over their identical features. Something was up.

"Ah, Harry. It's good to see you back." Fred started.

George wrapped a jovial arm around Harry. "You see, we have sort of a belated birthday present for you."

The looks on their faces clearly conveyed that this was more of a thank you present for the funding than a belated birthday gift.

"We've been waiting patiently for the grand unveiling of our new masterpiece."

"Keep an eye on the Slytherin table."

Harry's gaze naturally migrated to Malfoy, and even though he had been warned, he was not prepared for what happened.

There was a series of pops, and instead of the Slytherins, the table was suddenly occupied by a mass of bouncing ferrets.

There was a shocked silence in the Great Hall for a couple of seconds before it erupted with gales of laughter.

It had been a long time, too long of a time, since Harry had been able to laugh freely, and he realized how true his departing words had been to the twins. He snuck a look at the staff table to look at Dumbledore, who was trying and failing to conceal the humor he found in the situation. In fact, the only two people who managed to keep the stern expressions on their faces were McGonagall and Snape.

They all really did need the laugh.

As the Slytherins all began to change back, Ron, holding his sides from laughing so hard, managed to say, "That was bloody brilliant."

"Well, George, it looks like Ferret Fudge was a huge success."

George did not get a chance to respond before McGonagall was behind the two of them. "You two, come with me please."

As the twins were led away, Ron spoke, "I don't care how many points they lose. It was worth it."

The look in Hermione's eyes, the prefect look that looked frighteningly like Percy's, signaled that another argument was about to ensue.

The trio exchanged horrified glances as Hagrid approached the class with a rather large, moving box.

Ron gulped, "Hagrid, what's in there."

A broad smile spread across his face, "Serikits. I've got one fer each of the three of yeh to raise this year."

Hagrid opened the box, beaming paternally at the creatures before revealing them to the class.

"Aren't they beauts?"

Harry had another word in mind entirely to describe the creatures. They looked like large, furry-bodied lizards with bald heads and tails. If Harry did not know better, he would have sworn that they were a Transfiguration assignment gone wrong, and he was thankful that Hagrid already had the creatures leashed.

Hermione raised her hand timidly, "But Hagrid, aren't serikits poisonous?"

The class looked appalled as Hagrid answered, "Aye, but it won't kill yeh, jus' put yeh to sleep fer a few days. They don' really bite 'less they're provoked."

"They smell." Malfoy complained succinctly.

"Ah, that's cause they don' know yeh yet. They put out an odor fer protection."

Great. Smelly poisonous animals. Well, at least they won't explode.

"How big are they going to get?" Neville questioned. He too was remembering their previous project.

"They're full-grown."

That was a small amount of relief, and most of the class released something that resembled a sigh.

"Now, I need yeh to get into groups o' threes and have someone come get one o' these fellas."

Seeing the looks of the other two, Harry reluctantly approached Hagrid. Smiling like a kid in a candy store, Hagrid handed Harry one of the leashes.

Soon the serikits were all handed out, but most of the groups had the serikit out long on the leash and were as far away from them as they could be. Hagrid did not seem to notice this reluctance.

"Al' righ' get to know 'em. Pet 'em."

"Pet them?" Ron repeated quietly as if he could not quite believe Hagrid had actually uttered the words.

Malfoy was louder and ruder about his dissension. "He wants us to touch these vile creatures?"

Malfoy's serikit seemed to understand exactly what he had said, and Harry could see it crouch into a position ready to pounce."

"Stop!"

The creature froze, and it was too late that Harry realized that he had spoken in Parseltongue. It was like second year all over again. Being a Parselmouth was associated with being a dark wizard, and even though everyone there knew about Harry's ability, he did not use it often. Thus, they had been taken by surprise at the hiss that had passed through Harry's lips.

"Why? Someone needs to teach the brat some manners."

"Because the last animal that inflicted injury upon him was almost executed. He may be a brat, but he has a very influential father."

Harry turned his attention to his rival, "If I were you Malfoy, I would treat him with a little more respect. He didn't take kindly to your rudeness."

Malfoy sneered at him, "I don't need your advice, Potter."

"Harry, are you mad?" Ron questioned. "You can't just go around speaking Parseltongue."

"It was an accident, Ron. Besides, I really don't see what the big deal is. Everyone here knows that I'm a Parselmouth."

"Because- because you just can't. It's not right."

"Ron-" Hermione warned.

"If you hadn't noticed, Ron, there are a lot of things about me that just aren't right. What's one more. I'm the bloody Boy-Who-Lived after all."

With that statement, Harry was pretty much silent for the rest of the class, and when Hagrid called Harry over after class, Harry waved them to go on without him.

"How're yeh doin', Harry?"

"I'm fine, Hagrid."

"I was a mite worried about yeh with what happened with yeh relatives an' all. If yeh ever need to talk..."

"Thanks, Hagrid, but I'm fine, really. I'll see you later."

"Al' right. Take care o' yourself."

Harry started to walk towards the castle but was intercepted by the last person that he wanted to see.

"Well, well, if it isn't Potty and without Mudblood and Weasel."

Harry could not find the words to respond as a wave of panic shot through him. Had Malfoy heard what Hagrid had said? Of course Hagrid had not said anything outright, but it would be enough for Malfoy to start circulating something.

"Maybe it's a good thing to get used to being alone. After all, my father says that the Dark Lord will go through anyone that he needs to in order to get to you."

"Stuff it Malfoy!" His anger was growing at an alarming speed.

Malfoy's eyes glittered coldly as he continued to push, saying much the same things as he had on the ride home last summer, knowing that the subject was still sore. "I wonder who he'll go after first. Probably the Mudblood. Wait, that's right. Diggory was the first one used to get to you, so that would make the Mudblood second."

Malfoy would have turned his lips into a victorious smirk at the look on Harry's face, but he found that he had no lips. Instead, a smooth expanse of skin covered the area that should have split into his mouth.

Two sets of eyes widened in disbelief, and Malfoy was making panicked guttural sounds while flailing his arms. Then, forgoing the Malfoy family dignity, he turned and raced toward the castle.

The rage that had been burning through him was now accompanied by astonishment and fear. What was happening to him? It was like he was having some sort of surge in his magical abilities, and he had just performed a charm that he didn't even know existed without his wand.

He began to run as well but away from the castle. He focused on the rhythmic pounding of his feet on the ground as if the physical content could protect him from his emotional upheaval.

He ran blindly, enjoying the sensation of the physical release. His mind went numb, unable to tolerate his wildly swirling thoughts any more, and it was with some surprise that Harry realized that he was no longer running.

He was flying.

A/N:

I'm so sorry that this took so long. School started, and I just did not like this chapter. I rewrote it three or four times. I'm now satisfied enough with it to post. I hope that you enjoy it, and I'll try to post in a more timely manner. Now for my reviewers.

Tanya: Oh, thank you so much. Yes, I am planning to continue. The next chapter is one that a lot of you have been waiting for.

Becki: It's not nice to grrr at the author. I agree that it's not fair, but that is unfortunately the nature of fanfiction.

The Game: Thank you. Sorry it took so long.

baasheep: I'm not allowed to hurt Harry? Oh dear, I think that I'm going to be hunted. By the way, thank you so much for adding me to your favorites. You're the first to ever do so. Wow. So, can I beg for an extraordinary third review?

angelhitomi: Thank you so very much.

Fin-Phoenix: Look see, the cliffie's not as bad this time, and you know that you love them.

ratgirl: I'm really afraid that this won't meet your standards of interesting, but the next chapter is better.

JaimeyKay: The answer to your question about our two favorite Marauders will be in the next chapter. I'm glad that you like the way I write Dumbledore. He and Snape are two of the hardest for me, and I hate it when fics go OOC.

Reiken: It's posted. I'll do better next time with the time between postings.

Akiko SkywalkerGreenleafPotter: As you can see, Harry is still alive, for now anyway.

Balizabeth: Please babble. I love long reviews, and you tend to get longer responses simply because you write more to respond to. I'm glad that it's believable. As for Ron and Hermione, I want him to tell to, but every time I write it, it just sounds wrong, so we'll just see where this story takes us.

Ariel: Okay, so now I added Draco into the roughness. Glad you liked it.

Cokefreak: Thanks!