Hayleigh walked outside, behind Harry, with her broom in her hands, and flew up to the stands, to watch. She was amazed at how much everyone had managed to change over the summer, and even more so over the Christmas break. They zoomed about in front of her, throwing the Quaffle amongst the Chasers, beating the Bludgers away from the other players, following the Snitch, blocking the Quaffle from the goal. She could do it all, of course, but not as well as those on the field. She heard the laughter again, and turned around, confused. She was the only one up there, and turned back around to see the Quaffle go past Oliver.

"Alright! Half time! Who wants to trade with Hayleigh?" Angelina flew over, and sat down on the benches.

"Go on, Hayleigh. My hand hurts." She smiled, and flew out, positioning herself back by Fred. He threw the Quaffle, and Hayleigh caught it, flying over, towards the goal. Seeing George appear in front of her, she spun on her broom, and threw the Quaffle over to Alicia. She took it, and hurled it past Oliver, who only missed it by a couple of inches.

He threw the ball back out, and Katie caught it, heading towards the goal and going around the stands with it. Hayleigh followed her, looking around at the others on her team. Katie turned, tossing the Quaffle to Alicia, who spun around to throw it to Hayleigh, who wasn't too far from the goal. As she held out her hand to catch it, she heard the chanting. It was faint, but she knew it was there, and tried to listen harder, to hear what they were saying. Even as it grew stronger, and more defiant, she couldn't understand. It was a wordless chant to her. Confused, she looked around: no one was chanting. The team was staring at her, wondering why she didn't catch the Quaffle. She began to blush, realizing they hadn't heard it, and flew down, grabbing the ball, and flew back up.

"Sorry." Oliver shook his head, and looked up at the sky.

"Alright. Let's go inside. It's getting darker out here," he said. Hayleigh sighed, and flew down, hopping off her broom, and jogging inside, tossing the Quaffle to Alicia.

She pulled her hair back into a ponytail, and headed out of the changing rooms. Oliver jogged up, and took her hand. She turned her head.

"What happened out there, Hayleigh? Why didn't you catch the Quaffle?" he asked.

"I don't know.didn't you hear it?"

"Hear what?"

"The chanting."

"Uh, Hayleigh, there wasn't any chanting," he said. She scratched her head, confused.

"I don't get it. I heard chanting. I mean, I don't know what was being chanted, but I know I heard it!" she exclaimed. He slid his arm around her waist.

"I believe that you may think you heard something."

"No! I know I heard it! Like the laughter yesterday!" she exclaimed, pulling away. He held up his hands.

"I can't say I heard it, Hayl. Is it possible that, you know, your just hearing it?" She sighed, and put her hands over her face, shaking her head.

"I don't know, I don't know!" she cried. He put his arms around her.

"Listen, why don't you go lay down, Hayleigh? Maybe your just tired." She took a deep breath.

"Maybe your right.sorry." she said, smiling up at him. He put his arm around her shoulder, and kissed her neck. She smiled, and put her arms around his waist.

Hayleigh sighed, and dropped onto her bed, pain throbbing through her head, pulsating at her temples. She closed her eyes, and hoped that the darkness inside her mind would melt away the headache. She could hear Hermoine and Ginny giggling as they came up the steps, but it became faint, and before she knew it, she was asleep.

She was on the Quidditch field, playing the match against Slytherin. It was slightly blurry, and she couldn't hear the cheers or the cries of the crowd, so instantly, it clicked that she must be dreaming, but it was so believable, she had doubts. She caught the Quaffle, and threw it to Alicia, wondering why she was playing, wondering if Katie had gotten hurt: she was Chaser alongside Alicia and Angelina. Faintly, as Oliver caught the Quaffle and threw it onto the field, she heard the chanting. Still wordless, she looked around, and could sort of see the mouths of the Slytherin's moving. All of the Slytherins: the ones on the field, the ones cheering, and Snape, even. Confused, she moved closer, trying to hear it.

"He's going to miss the ball. He's going to let it pass. Soon he will fall, and receive a face of grass." She squinted to see the faces in the crowds, but they were still blurry. "He'll be taken to the prison, he'll be held against his will. He's going to be accused of a crime, a sin, a kill." She began to hear the voices of her team, and turned around, to try and get out there, to drown out the chant she couldn't understand. "She's going to be heartbroken, she is going to have cried. It won't be until it's too late when she realizes that Wood's died." She spun on her broom, hearing only his voice over the chanting.

"Get the Snitch, Harry. We may only be in the lead for now!" he called. She saw Harry's lips move, but heard nothing come out. Her eyes began to mist over as the chant continued.

"It will be disgusting, horrifying, unjust. But at least we will win, and be harmonious." She began to cry, finally understanding what they were saying, but not wanting to believe it. A wave of panic washed over her, and then a long wave of nausea, as the faces of the Slytherin's ripped apart, revealing the most revolting sight she had ever seen, whether it be real or in a movie. As they got bigger, dripping with the thickest, slimiest ooze she had ever seen, they stretched onto the field, wrapping their tentacles around Oliver, pulling tighter and tighter by the second. She began to cry even harder, and tried not to scream, slamming her eyes closed. One scream passed her lips, unable to be stopped, and she faintly heard the voices around her.

"Hayleigh, wake up.wake up, Hayleigh." She was still crying, with her blankets and sheets entangled around her legs. Her eyes opened widely, and she shoved herself into a sitting position, seeing Hermoine and Ginny around her. She was breathing in short, deep breaths, trying to calm herself, realizing it had only been a dream.

"Hayleigh, are you alright?" Ginny asked, pulling the curtain on her bed further back. Something inside her wasn't settling, and she needed proof that it had only been a dream.

"I have to know."

"Know what?"

"I have to know." she muttered again, getting out of her bed and pulling on her bathrobe. She began down the steps, hoping she'd be able to sleep when she went back up them. Oliver had been sitting in front of the fire, doing some extra work for Potions.

"Hayleigh, where are you going?" Hermoine called. He had just finished and was standing up, his books on the couch, when he heard Hermoine's voice, and looked up.

"I have to know!" she called back, dropping her feet onto the landing. Tears staining her red cheeks, she ran across the room and threw her arms around his shoulders.

"Hayleigh? What is it, what's wrong?" he asked. Hermoine ran down, straightening her robe, her hair pulled back into a ponytail.

"It was so horrible, Oliver! I dreamed you.you.uh!" she cried, unable to pull herself back and look at him. He ran his hand over her hair, keeping one steady on her back, trying to calm her down, giving confused looks to Hermoine.

"She was having a nightmare, apparently having something to do with you and Quidditch.and some chant.but she screamed once, and almost every girl was awake."

"Go on back to bed, Hermoine. Tell the others to go back to sleep. Let me talk to her.." Hermoine nodded, and walked up the steps, shaking her head.

Oliver sat her on the couch, finally getting her to stop crying. He pushed the hair off her face, and lifted her chin to look her in the eyes. She sniffled, unable to look at him.

"Hayleigh, look at me."

"I can't.I just can't.I don't really think you wanna look at me in the middle of the night, either," she said, her hands flying up to her hair to pull it into a quick ponytail. He pushed her hands away. Her face was pale, her eyes were red and bloodshot, and her lips were quivering.

"I don't care what you look like, Hayleigh. You know that. Now.come on, look at me." She took a deep breath, and lifted her head, but couldn't look him in the eyes. She stared over at the fireplace, instead. "That's better.what happened?" he asked, taking her hand. Hayleigh took a deep breath.

"We were playing the match against Slytherin," she said in an unusually calm voice. "I heard the chanting on the field, and found it coming from the entire Slytherin house, including Snape. But that was all I could hear. They said your name, something about you dying in prison, and I could hear you, too. But they continued the chant about how it would be unjust, but they'd win and be happy.and then they turned into these.horrifying." Her voice began to break as she said this. "It was disgusting. They grabbed you with these.tentacle things and strangled you.That is why I screamed. I hated it.I just had to be sure it was a dream." She dropped her head into her hands, and began to cry again, but this time not as hard, as the images came back into her mind. Oliver put his arms around her.

"I'm fine, Hayl. I'm right here, and besides, what reason would they have to drag me off to jail?" he said, sitting her up. She sniffled.

"I guess your right." she said. She shook her head, smiling. "God, I feel like an idiot." He smiled.

"Well, your not. Dreams do have that effect on people. Listen, do you want me to stay up with you for a little while longer?" he asked. She shook her head.

"Nah.we both need our sleep.I'll be fine." she said, standing up. He leaned down, giving her a quick kiss, and headed upstairs with his books.

Hayleigh opened the bottle in front of her, and reread the directions on the board quickly. Oliver glanced over.

"Hayleigh? What step are you on?" he asked, eyeing Snape as he passed them.

"Five." she whispered, sprinkling some of the dust into her cauldron. He smiled, and turned back to his own potion.

"Alright, put a little sample into your flasks, with your name clearly written on them, and place them on my desk. Then you may clean up," Snape said, walking up to his desk. Hayleigh bottled a sample, cleared her place, and set the flask on the desk.

She dropped down for lunch, and glanced over at the Slytherin table, seeing them whisper to each other. Shrugging, she took a bite out of the food on her plate, as the Daily Prophet landed on the table.

"What the.?" she asked, pulling back. Reaching out, she picked it up, scanning it.

"Doesn't mail usually come at breakfast?" Ron asked, leaning over to see it. Oliver looked over from his place across from her.

"What's it say?" he asked.

"I don't know what's so important.someone won an award.someone.died," she said, looking up.

"Who?"

"Nikolas Gryffindor.my father." Oliver lifted his eyes, meeting hers.

"What does it say about him?" Hayleigh scanned the article.

"The Death of A Ministry Wizard: Accident, or.Murder?

News reached the reporters of the Daily Prophet early this morning that Nikolas Gryffindor, wizard, 43, had died during the night. Gryffindor, a dear friend of Hogwarts Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, was a Ministry of Magic worker, who specialized in Underage Wizardry. He had been out on a case, to check his sources for an Underage Wizard, who had used magic for fun, and had not returned home that morning. His wife, Melissa Gryffindor, who works alongside her husband at the Ministry, reported him missing, and arrived at the Ministry in time to hear of his death. When questioned, she gave one statement: 'It was no accident. This was murder.it was planned, and carried through, by someone who was against him and his choices, since the beginning.'
Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, was questioned, asked where Gryffindor had been sent, the night he died. 'Nikolas was responding to a case of a third year Hogwarts student who had abandoned his chances at the school, and began to torture Muggles with his wand. He was a brave man, who died doing his job. It was just a horrible accident that he died away from his friends and family.' Mrs. Gryffindor, however, does not believe that. 'He was murdered. Fudge will not admit it, but I will say right now that Nikolas had a bad feeling about this job. Even though he did not want to go, knowing something was wrong, he went because it was his duty. Someone called him out that night. Someone who wanted him gone.' The only suspect to this crime, however, is a seventh year Hogwarts student, who was reported missing from his dorm and common rooms last night. The suspect's name is."

Hayleigh stumbled, and stopped, reading the last line of the article.

"Hayleigh? Who's the suspect? What student?" Hermoine asked. Hayleigh's hand slightly shook as she read the name to herself again.

"Hayleigh?" George asked, looking up from his glass. Very slowly, she lowered the paper, looking up across the table.

"What does it say?" Harry asked. She couldn't find her voice, but did open her mouth, expecting it just to come out. Ron reached out for the paper, but she folded it into her lap.

"Who is it?" Fred asked, opening his hands expectantly.

"'The suspect's name is.Oliver Wood.'"