Harry Potter and the Spirit Within

by Maven Cree

Harry gains an unexpected mentor and learns more about himself than he may have wanted to know. The secret to defeating Voldemort was there all along, will he find the strength to use it?. Cannon until Book 4.

6. Privileges

Disclaimer: See Chapter One.

Special thanks to Drusilla Dax, special correspondent in this chapter and to Arabella and Zsenya for letting me borrow Goldie's Liquid Curse.  Ya'll are bu-t-ful!

Harry Potter and the Spirits Within

by Maven Cree

Chapter Six:  Privileges

Friday afternoon found a jubilant air in the fifth-year Gryffindor's dormitory.  The reason was quite peculiar… for once the Gryffindors were looking forward to their double Potions period with the Slytherins.

The five boys had returned to their dorm to change following a particularly soggy Care of Magical Creatures lesson.  Professor Fletcher had gotten his hands on a Kelpie and the Gryffindors had spent a rather cold hour bobbing around in the lake… fully clothed.

"If you come across one of these," he explained, "chances are you won't be dashed in your swimwear."

Their Potions class the day before last had been a pleasant surprise.  Rather than the black sweeping robes of Professor Snape, the class was greeted by the colourful robes and sparkling eyes of Albus Dumbledore.  Professor Snape, he explained had been suddenly called away on personal business.  Dumbledore himself would be taking over his classes until his return.

The Slytherins had been crestfallen.

The Gryffindors were ecstatic.

They proceeded to have the most enjoyable Potions lesson that they'd ever attended.  Dumbledore proved, much to the dismay of the Slytherins (who'd attempted to slip him up, asking questions that only a true Potions proficient would know) to be quite the competent Potions professor.

"Well he'd have to be," Hermione instilled. "How else could he have discovered the twelve uses for dragon's blood?"

The Gryffindor boys were anxiously preparing for their second class with the Headmaster, which would begin in fifteen minutes.

"Come on," Seamus said, heading for the door.  "Don't want to give Dumbledore a reason to take points."

"Doubt he'd do that if we missed the entire first hour," Ron commented, tying up his shoes.

Seamus opened the door.

"…Oi, Harry!  Someone at the door for you."

Harry squeezed his head through the neck of his jumper and turned to see Sebastian slithering towards him across the floor.

"'Lo, Sebastian." Harry said.

Seamus spasmed disgustedly.  "Ugh!  Creeps me out when he does that.  I'm leavin'."

Dean and Neville quickly followed suit; Neville giving the snake a wide berth.

This was not the first time Harry's friend had visited their dormitory.  The first visit, Harry had found Neville standing on his bed, trying to hex the poor Adder and upending the entire room in the process.  He'd then decided it was a better idea to introduce the serpent to Gryffindor house, lest any other similar incidents occur.

"Haven't got much time to talk right now Sebastian," Harry said, finishing with his shoelace.  "I've got class.  Do you want to come along?"

"All right then," the snake replied.

Harry lowered his arm, the snake slid up it and perched himself around Harry's neck.  Harry grabbed his book-bag and left the room.

"So what have you been up to, Sebastian?"

Harry asked, going down the stairs.  He spoke quietly and was rather glad that Parseltongue required almost no movement of his lips.  Sebastian was not immediately visible on his school uniform and he would prefer not to appear to be talking to himself.

Sebastian flicked his tongue silently for a moment.

"You need a veterinarian Harry." 

"What?"

"You are hurt."

"Sebastian," Harry rolled his eyes, a movement lost on the Adder, given his position on the Gryffindor's neck.  "I'm fine.  No fights, no cuts, no bruises.  I'm fine."

"Inssside hurt.  Not where you can sssee.  But I can sssmell."

"I'm not hurt inside either.  No bad potion.  No bad food.  No internal bleeding.  Honestly Sebastian, I think you're becoming a little paranoid."

The snake slithered up so that he could speak directly into Harry's ear.

"Inssside that cannot be touched.  Inssside that makesss you, you.  Ssspirit."

Harry stopped in his tracks.  He was one flight up from the dungeon steps.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said firmly.

"You need to sssee a veterinarian Harry.  Put me here pleassse."

Harry extended his hand to the stone windowsill to his right.  Once Sebastian was upon it, the snake turned his head to look back at his friend.

"You are much ssstronger now, Harry.  But you need to fix your hurt.  You will loossse your balance." 

"I'm fine."

"The Dark One lost his balance.  Only dark now."

The snake turned and slithered away through a space in the wall.

Harry blinked after him, then continued on to Potions class. 

*~*~*~*~*

Severus Snape was dying.

He knew it.  He could feel the life draining from his body with every laboured breath.  His left leg dragged sorely behind him; he was almost thankful that he could barely feel it anymore.  His right knee felt as though it would collapse at any moment.  His right arm hung uselessly at his side and his left arm was hardly able to steady him as he made his way along the dark corridor. 

He stopped and leaned heavily against the stone wall.  The part of the wall next to his head had a small crack in it. He reached into his robes, and withdrew his wand.  He could barely hold the tool in his hand.  He couldn't close his fist all the way around the mahogany.  With great effort (and three tries) he tapped the wand on the crack which was at eye level.  "Atone," he said.  As his arm dropped back down the wand fell to the floor.  The effort had been enough, however.  The crack on the shifted and grew until it looked as though someone had blasted a hole in the wall with a bomb.  It was now large enough for him to pass through.

He sighed and looked at the wand at his feet… as well as he could look.  His vision was completely blurred.  If he didn't know exactly where he was going, he wouldn't have made it this far. 

He used the wall to slide carefully to the floor.  It was a long way down. When his hand finally found the wand he picked it up as best could and tossed it through the entrance.  He then used his left arm and heaved himself through the hole.  Inside, he clutched at the wall and by some grace managed to pull himself back to standing.

"Suffer," he muttered and the wall closed up behind him.  He passed the wand on the ground.  If he lived, he would return to pick it up later.

The few short yards to his living quarters seemed to take hours.  He stumbled into the dimly lit apartment.  He was home.

There was no outside light here.  His apartment was located deep within the dungeons of Hogwarts.  He preferred it that way.  No one to bother him.  No one came to the dungeons unless they absolutely had to.  He was left to himself, as he preferred.  Professor Dumbledore was the only other human ever to enter his home and his visits were few and far between.

The rattling in Snape's chest grew and he was drawn into a violent coughing fit.  He collapsed onto the deep coloured rug in the centre of his sitting room.  The coughing continued and he could taste blood in his mouth.  His insides were on fire and his left arm felt as though the meat were slowly being peeled from the bone.  He could not get back to his feet.  The little strength he had, had all but left him.  Not one to give up without a fight, he used his one 'good' arm and one 'good leg to 'crawl' towards his open bedroom door.  He'd be damned if he were going to be found sprawled on the floor in this fashion. 

As fiery as his will was, his body was beyond the point of listening.  He fully collapsed after only a few strides, his head falling heavily to the floor.

He was dead.

He was certain of it.

His body had gone achingly numb.  He couldn't even feel himself breathe.  He closed his eyes.

At least this horrible existence was over.

…Or was it?

He felt a warm, a pressure coming from… somewhere.  He tried to focus his senses… It was coming from his back.  A point of pressure on his back.  It was moving… shaking him?  He heard a muffled sound from somewhere in the distance… cloudy and obscure.  Focus, he told himself.  The sound appeared to be closer and louder. It became more distinct.  …A voice?

"—ape!  Pwessa Sape!  Professor Snape!  Please!"

His eyes creaked open at the recognition of his name.  He was on living room floor.  Someone was kneeling beside him.  They were shaking him.  His voice (his?)… he recognized it, but he could not place it right away.

"Professor Snape, please wake up!"

"P… Potter…?"

"Yessir."

He managed to roll up onto his left arm. "What--?  What are you doing here?!" He demanded, his pride giving strength to his voice.  A student in his apartment!  A Gryffindor finding him in such a weakened manner!

"I—I overheard Professor Dumbledore saying your password yesterday… and I had a dream about… well, I knew you were in trouble," he rambled in one quick breath.  Somehow Snape understood what he'd said.

"Get out!" he hissed.

"But--"

"OUT!  NOW!"

Harry scampered to his feet and disappeared from Snape's narrow line of vision.  He could hear the Gryffindor's footsteps run back towards the secret passageway.

He began coughing again.  However, the rush of anger (and embarrassment) had given him the strength he felt he needed to continue on his journey.  Unfortunately, his re-awakening had also brought his pain back.  He struggled in vain to pull himself into an upright position.

He started when a pair of hands reached under his arms and tried to help draw him up.

"POTTER!  I told you to leave!"

Harry ignored the man and managed to get him to his feet.  He draped his left arm over Potter's shoulder.  Despite his best efforts he found that he needed to place almost all of his weight on the boy, as he could no longer support himself.  He was mildly surprised that Harry was able to take the weight.  Though he should have reprimanded him more, Snape's little strength was now focussed on remaining conscious.

Slowly Potter helped him into his bedroom and to sit on his bed.  Without his support he was unable to remain in a seated position and so slumped onto his side.  Harry took this opportunity to lift the man's legs onto the bed.  Snape rolled onto his back, his raspy breathing continuing.  He wasn't certain but he thought he felt Harry removing his boots.

"Tell me what to do."

"Leave."

"No.  Tell me what to do."

"Go. Away."

Harry angrily narrowed his eyes.

"If I leave, I'm floating your body through the halls up to the Hospital wing.  Is that what you want?"

Snape glared at him.  The boy knew full well that was the last thing he wanted.  Even if there were no students or faculty about at that early hour, the walls had eyes and ears… and mouths.  The speed at which gossip spread throughout the school was not surprising when you considered that the paintings had little else to do in between taking passwords.  The Boy-Who-Lived floating a helpless Potions master though the corridors would be around the castle three times before breakfast.

"Tell me what to do.  You must have something prepared."

Snape closed his eyes again.

"The table, you nitwit.  What have I taught you about observation?  Do you not see a goblet sitting there?"

He waited until he heard the boy moving towards the goblet.

"It contains Calkrie Potion."

Three more steps and Harry stopped walking.

"But-- Wait-- Calkrie Potion?  But doesn't that---"

"Precisely, Mr. Potter.  I was not intending to be absent this long.  As I've said, there is nothing for you to do here. Leave."

He heard Potter stuttering around in his steps for a moment.  He felt a blanket being draped over him before hearing the boy's footsteps disappearing out of the room again.

Good, he thought bitterly.  Let me die in peace.  Though he's probably gone to fetch that irritating Pomfrey.

Professor Dumbledore had visited him two hours before he'd been called to tell him that he would be attending the Castle Funerals and going to the Ministry.  He would be leaving on Friday night and not return to the school until noon on Saturday.  He'd wanted Severus to 'keep an eye on things' in his absence.  The Headmaster did not know that he was going to be been called, or that he'd be in such a state upon his return.

Severus closed his eyes.  Unfortunately his mind now refused to loose consciousness.  He was aware of every ache and every pain.

Every pain.

Every pain.

Someone was touching his shoulder.  It seemed as though he'd been lying there for days.  He opened his eyes.

*~*~*~*~*

"Atone!"

The crack in the wall slid open and Harry stepped through.  He followed the narrow hall, taking extra care not to spill the contents of the goblet he was carrying.

He only hoped he was making the right decision.

He was sure that Professor Snape believed him fully gone.  He had left in truth.  After depositing the Professor onto his bed, he'd run to the sitting room, and after igniting the fire tossed in some Floo Powder and said, "Gryffindor Common Room!"

A dizzy second later he'd tumbled out of the familiar hearth.  Not taking the time to dust himself off, Harry stumbled up the staircase towards the Fifth Year Girls' dormitory. He carefully opened the door and crept inside.

Harry had never been in the Girls' Dormitory before, but even if Crookshanks hadn't lifted his squashed face and cast his lamp-like eyes in Harry's direction, Hermione would have been very easy to find, with her distinctly bush hair matting over her pillowcase.

Harry shook her shoulder

"Hermione," he whispered.

Hermione shifted slightly, her mouth curling up in a contented smile.  She sighed satiably.

"Oh, Ron…" she cooed.

Harry jumped.

What?!?

Harry shook his head.  He would have to ponder that later.  He shook her again.

"Hermione," he whispered, a little more loudly, then clamped his hand over her mouth, as it appeared she was about to start out of her sleep.

The young witch looked around in panic for a moment.  It was only when her eyes focussed and he knew that she recognized him, that Harry released her.

"Harry," she scolded quietly.  "What are you doing?  You're not supposed to be up here!"

"I need you to come with me right now," he said urgently.  "It's an emergency!"

"But what?--"

"I'll explain to you on the way.  Just put on a robe and meet me in the common room."

He didn't wait for her response.  He left the girls' dormitory and headed for his own.  From his trunk he pulled a dark covered book bound in dragon's hide.  Hermione was waiting for him with an irritated look on her face.  She was fastening one of her school robes over her nightgown.

"Harry what's this all about?  Is it Ron?"

"No," he replied absently.  He'd been flipping though the book by the light of the fire.  Finding what he was looking for, he turned the volume towards her.

"Can you make this potion?"

Hermione ran her eyes over the page.  "Calkrie potion?  Harry, that's very advanced magic.  We won't even be learning that in seventh year.  Why do you need--?"

"Can you make it?" he stressed.

"If--if I had the right ingredients… I think so, but--"

"Good enough for me," he said, snapping the book shut and grabbing her by the arm.  He dragged her through the portrait hole.

"Harry!" she hissed.  "Where are we going?  And where's your invisibility cloak?"

"Snape's quarters," he said, peeking around a corner.  "Answer to both."

"Why--"

"He's dying Hermione," he said looking right at her.  "Voldemort, he-- tortured him.  I saw it when I was asleep."

"Oh, no!" she exclaimed.  They continued on their trek.  "Then hadn't we better tell someone?" she asked.  "Dumbledore or Madame Pomfrey?"

"Dumbledore's gone to the Castle funerals.  He won't be back until later today.  And Snape would fry us both if we got Madame Pomfrey.  Besides, she wouldn't have this potion.  It doesn't keep more than twenty-four hours."

"But Harry," Hermione said, stopping.  They'd begun a quiet jog through the corridors.  "I'm not a Potions Master.  I'm sure I'm nowhere good enough to-"

"Hermione, next to Snape and possibly Dumbledore, I'd wager you're the best Potions brewer in the entire school.  You've got to have more faith in yourself.  Especially now."

Hermione had chewed on her lip for a moment before giving a determined nod.

The two friends successfully made their way to the dungeons without incident.  Harry let them into Snape's private workroom.  Apprenticeship has its privileges, he thought.  He was not all together surprised to find the ingredients for the Calkrie potion already laid out.  Snape had probably expected exposure to the Cruciatus curse, and planed to make himself a batch of the strengthening and healing solution upon his return.  He couldn't have expected it to be as bad off as he was… unable to even sit upright, let alone stand over a boiling cauldron. 

Harry assisted when he could, fetching or preparing ingredients when Hermione asked.  Every now and again he would return to Snape's quarters and peek his head in to assure himself that their Professor was still breathing.  It was very low and closer to a final rattle than Harry would have liked, but Snape continued to draw breath.

After nearly ninety minutes of steady, near silent work.  Hermione carefully ladled the thick potion into a goblet Harry had found.

"He has to drink all of it," she instructed.  "Every drop, and then another dose, exactly twelve hours later."

"Aren't you coming?"  Harry asked at the door when he noticed she hadn't moved.

"I think Professor Snape will be upset enough at one Gryffindor invading his privacy.  Best not to push it.  I'll just wait here."

*~*~*~*~*

Potter was standing over him again.

"Drink this, sir," Harry said holding out a bronze coloured goblet.  "It's fresh Calkrie Potion."

"I'd sooner die," he crocked, looking suspiciously at the goblet.

"Sir..."

"Get that away from me, Mister Potter and get out!"

Harry angrily narrowed his eyes.

"I meant what I said about floating you through the halls."

"You're threatening me?!"

"Yes."

"I'm not drinking anything that you've…"

"Hermione made it."

"…"

Snape's eyes flickered to the goblet.  Under most circumstances, he would never acknowledge to anyone the faith that he had in Hermione Granger's potion making, but he was not fool enough to let his pride get in the way of his life.  This was a battle he wasn't going to win.  He took some comfort in the fact that he could always get back at the boy later.  Being a Professor had its privileges.

He let out a weary sigh and tried to push himself up onto his elbow.  He allowed Harry to help him with that as he was having trouble, but he refused to let him help steady the goblet as he drained it.

*~*~*~*~*

As Snape finished the last drop, Harry could immediately see an improvement in his colour.  He moved from a deathly grey pale towards his more usual scarcely – human – vampire – pale.

He handed the goblet back to Harry and leaned back closing his eyes.

"Most fully qualified wizards cannot correctly brew that potion.  The slightest mistake in any way and it is rendered useless," he said, never opening his eyes.  "Return to your dormitory Mister Potter."

"But--"

"I shall be fine.  Professor Dumbledore, will return soon and one of his first steps will be to inquire as to my status.  I will survive until then."

"Er… Hermione said that you'll need another goblet in…"

"Precisely 12 hours.  Yes, I know.  Return to your dormitory, Potter."

Harry questioned him no further and turned to leave.

"Potter," Snape stopped him at the door.  Harry turned.  The Potions master had not moved nor opened his eyes.

"Inform Miss Granger that she has earned fifty points for her house."

One of his dark eyes opened.  "I'll assume that Mr. Weasley has already been made aware of these events.  You would be hard pressed, not to tell him.  However, I hardly need tell you that this should go no further than that."

"Of, course not," Harry replied and then went to collect his friend. 

*~*~*~*~*

Ron stretched lazily, an excited tingle moving throughout his body.  He'd awakened early that Saturday as he always did on Quidditch mornings, whether Gryffindor was playing or not.  Looking towards his best friend's bed, he was surprised to find it empty.  He changed his clothes, headed downstairs and began to feel a rising panic.

Harry wasn't there either.

His stomach clenched as he remembered the last time Harry had been absent before dawn.  Should he check the Hospital wing or go down to the Great Hall?  Should he find Hermione?  He didn't want to worry her needlessly.

His questions were rendered moot when the portrait hole swung open and Harry entered followed by immediately Hermione.

"Where the bloody hell have you been?"  Ron demanded.

"Ron!"  Hermione exclaimed, but Ron was focused on Harry.

"No note!  Bed empty!  Not in the Common Room!  No one's seen you!"

"Sorry, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, his eyebrows furrowed at this curious display. He turned to Hermione.  "What's got him?"

Hermione bit her lip.

"Well, Harry…" she started quietly, "the last time you were gone like that, you were… you… we found you in the Hospital wing…"

Harry turned on Ron, his eyes wide and filled with guilt.

"Ron… I'm sorry.  I--I didn't even think about that…"

Ron huffed, his arms crossed.  "Are you all right?" he asked tersely.

"I'm fine, Ron.  I promise."

Ron looked around Harry.  "Hermione?"

"I'm fine too, Ron.  I swear," she said quickly.

Ron gave them both a searching look before finally relaxing his form.

"All right then," he said.  "So where were you?"

The two proceeded to inform him of the night's events.  Harry told them that he'd had a dream about Snape and Voldemort and knew that he had to help him.  If he hadn't known how to get into Snape's quarters, the Professor probably would have died right there on his floor.

"Madame Pomfrey couldn't have any of the potion on hand.  It's no good after twenty-four hours.  And Professor Snape told me that he makes all the medical potions for the school, so she probably couldn't have done it anyway.  It's a lucky thing I ran into Professor Dumbledore the other day."

"Why, Harry?"

"I was on my way to the Great Hall.  I ran into him and he asked me to walk with him.  He asked me how I was doing and such.  I asked him where we were going and he said that he needed to speak with Professor Snape about something.  But we were in a part of the dungeons I'd never seen before.  He finally stopped at this wall, said a password to open it and said goodbye to me.  I heard him greet Snape as the wall was closing up again."

"Lucky thing," Hermione said.  Ron didn't comment.  He was looking at his watch and couldn't help a small smirk on his face.

"What's that?" Harry asked him.

Ron snapped the watch closed and looked up, his face reddening.

"Uh—Er…"

Ron had yet to tell his two friends about Dumbledore's revelation about his ability.  He was by no means forbidden to talk about it.  It was simply that he was still somewhat shell-shocked about the whole thing.  And the fact that he'd only made one prediction thus far, and it hadn't had the time to come to pass yet… well, he wanted to be certain first.

"Ron!"

Hermione grabbed the timepiece out of his hand.  She flipped it open.  "This is an Arithmancer's Watch!  Where did you get this?"

"It's a what?"

"An Arithmancer's Watch, Harry," Hermione said looking at the piece with reverence.  "We learned about them in class.  They're used by Natural Arithmancers mostly.  People who don't need to use numbers or runes to do Arithmantic predictions.  They just are able to see it in front of their eyes.  It's a rare and wonderful gift.  And these watches are even rarer.  No one even knows how to make them anymore.  They're usually passed down from one Natural to another, but if there's no one to pass it to, the Ministry holds onto it until another Arithmancer is found."  She looked up at Ron.  "Where did you get this Ron?  Why do you have it?"

"Well… er…" he started, "Dumbledore gave it to me.  It was his father's.  He was a Natural Arithmancer and… well… so am I."

"..."

"..."

"You're what?!?" Harry and Hermione exclaimed in unison.

Ron grinned and began to tell what had happened in the Headmaster's office.

"Ron, that's amazing," Harry said once he'd finished.  "So does the watch tell you everything, like… I don't know…"

"Answers to a test?"

"Ron!"

"Don't worry Hermione," Ron said with a grin, "It doesn't work that way.  It's more… the watch tells me what I need to know.  Dumbledore said that eventually I'll be able to control what it shows me, just by thinking a question, but I won't reach that level for years."

"Why didn't you tell us before?"  Hermione asked.

"Well I wasn't sure about it yet," Ron said.  "I mean, I'd made only one reading and nothing had… happened yet."

"But it has now… sort of."  Harry commented.  "I needed to know how to get into Snape's quarters.  Don't know about the other part, but that was right."

"Yeah, I suppose so."  Ron replied, a goofy sort of grin on his face.  "Not bad for a first go then?"

Both Harry and Hermione wanted to examine the piece in closer detail, which Ron happily let them do.  However, he noticed that while Harry seemed rather impressed by this new revelation, Hermione's face held a look that Ron couldn't quite decipher.

*~*~*~*~*~*

The trio went down for breakfast not long afterwards.  Most of the school were carrying yellow and black drapings in support of the Hufflepuffs.  The Hufflepuff table was almost completely silent; their faces set with grim determination.  The Slytherin table, despite the continued absence of their Head of House, was nonchalant.  The Hufflepuffs had never even come close to defeating them in all of Hogwarts' History.  They weren't worried in the slightest.

Their mistake.

Two hours later, the Hufflepuffs took the pitch like a team possessed.

It was not usual for inter-house teams to have anything other than their house crests adorning their robes, but today, magically emblazoned across their backs were the words: FOR CEDRIC.

They appeared to be holding the Slytherin team personally responsible for the loss of their previous seeker and team captain.

They certainly played that way.

They were fierce.  Determined.  Aggressive.  Everything not associated with Hufflepuff house, save for foul play.

Draco Malfoy didn't seem to know what to do as the Badger's new seeker, Martin Hyde, flew circles around him… literally, obscuring any clear view Draco might have of the snitch, while keeping his own eyes clear.

For the Slytherins, it was messy.  For everyone else, it was beautiful.

At Madame Hooch's whistle, Lee Jordan's voice rang out:  "HUFFLEPUFF'S WIN!  HUFFLEPUFFS WIN!! 21O to 30!!!  TAKE THAT YOU LOUSEY, STINKING--"

The Hufflepuff team gathered in the centre of the pitch in a group hug.  Elation and tears danced across their various faces as their broomsticks slowly descended to the ground.

For the first time in Hogwarts' history, Hufflepuff had decimated Slytherin house at Quidditch.

To most present, it was a very fitting tribute indeed.

*~*~*~*~*

Three days later, the match was still a big topic of conversation among the student body.

"So I guess we really have to start taking the Hufflepuff team more seriously now," Ron said.

"Good thing Oliver's not still here," Harry smiled.  "To hear you haven't been taking them seriously before now?  He'd have you flying laps from three in the morning."

Ron snorted and closed his Charms book.  He furrowed his brow slightly.

"Hermione, what are you working on?"

The bookish Gryffindor was near buried beneath a pile of large tomes.  They hadn't seen her with that many books at once since third year when she was attempting to take all the third year courses at once and form a defence for Buckbeak the hippogriff.

"Homework,' she said, rather curtly, without looking up from her notes.

Ron tilted his head to look at some of the titles:

When Worlds Collide: Advanced Arithmancy for the Professional Minded by Alwhite McDolby

Any Number, Pick One: Arithmancy Made Easy by Kelly Digitus

Arithmancy for Dummies by Dixon Dale

"Hermione, some of these are 7th year books."

"So."

"Are you doing a special project or something?"

"I told you. I'm doing my homework."

"Need any help?"  Ron asked with a grin.

Hermione's head finally looked up, though only long enough to throw Ron a venomously sour look.

Ron looked a little surprised.  He reached into his robes and withdrew the Arithmancer's watch.

"This tells me I should be very careful about what I say for the next few minutes."

"Well, at least it does something right," Hermione muttered, going back to her work.

"Does it really?" Harry asked Ron, choosing not to comment on what Hermione had said.

Ron grinned again.  "No.  At least I don't think it does.  I can't see things about my own life too well, unless they intersect with something or someone else --too much emotion -- which is really weird because everything we do is a lead to som--"

"Ron!  Supercalafragilisticexpialidocious!" Harry blurted.

Ron blinked.  Hermione snorted.

"What?"

"Exactly.  I have no idea what you just said.  Now we're even."

"At least what I said used real words.  What he devil did you just say?"

"It's a real word," Harry said, pushing up his glasses.  "It's in a Muggle film.  It's about this magical nanny."

"She's a witch?" Ron asked.

"No, she--"

"Yes."

Harry looked at Hermione.  "What?"

"Yes, she's a witch."

"Hermione, what are you talking about.  I was telling Ron about Mary Poppins, that fictional--"

"She's not fictional Harry.  She's a real witch.  She even went to Hogwarts for her final two years.  A Hufflepuff.

"But if she's in a Muggle film…" Ron began.

Hermione shook her head.  "Honestly, you two."  They both knew that that was her indication she was still exasperated that neither of them had taken the time to commit Hogwarts: A History to memory.  She folded her hands neatly on her books and spoke as though explaining something to a very small child.

"Michael Daley wrote the story the Muggles know.  He was the little boy Poppins looked after.  The name Banks was made up for the cinema.  He was only a child when Poppins cared for him and his older sister, so it's understandable that when he wrote the tale as an adult, some of the facts would have been askew.  Anyway, Poppins went to the Ravenwood Academy for Witches for her first five years of school, then transferred to Hogwarts for her sixth and seventh years."

"The Ravenwood Academy for Witches?"

Hermione nodded.  "In Oxford.  Some parents would rather their daughters educated away from boys.  The school's not very big.  Only one hundred students or so."

Harry shook his head.  "The number of 'little things' in the wizarding world that I still don't know about…"

He sighed and looked down at his Potions essay.

"How's Professor Snape?"  Hermione added.

"We just had him, Hermione," Ron said.  "He's the same miserable git he's always been."

"I doubt he would let the class see any form of weakness or injury, Ron.  He has too much pride for that.  But Harry might know something from… you know…"

Snape had indeed returned to the classroom that morning, just as scathing and cruel as ever.  You'd never know that just a few days earlier, he'd been lying on his deathbed.  Forty of Hermione's earned points were lost when Neville melted his fourth cauldron of his Hogwarts career.  Harry had gone for a training session (theory mostly) the night before.

"He's fine," Harry said.  "Well… at least he's not letting on anything to me."

Hermione harrumphed.  "Maybe we could have helped him sooner if Ron's new toy had been working properly."

"What are you talking about?"

"That… thing of yours," she said waving a disagreeing hand at the Arithmancer's Watch resting on Ron's book.  "It said Harry would die if he couldn't get into Professor Snape's quarters.  But it was Snape who would have died."

"You don't know that, Hermione," Ron said defensively.  "A bolt of lightening could have struck Harry in bed if he'd not gone to see Snape.  Or something else.  What are you on about lately anyway?  You've been acting funny since weekend."

Hermione jumped to her feet.  She slammed her book shut, pushed it and the others into her bag and stormed up the steps towards her dormitory.

"What's she on about?"

"Dunno," Harry replied.

"Well, isn't it obvious?" came a new voice.  Ginny had walked over to their table upon Hermione's curt departure, Fred and George trailing closely behind, Fred munching on an apple.  Ron had revealed his new talent to his siblings the day before.

"What do you know about it?"

Ginny rolled her eyes and sat down.

"Ron, you know Hermione's always trying to prove herself.  She feels because she's Muggle-born that she always has to prove she's good enough to be here.

"We know that.  We think she's mad, but we know that.  She's the best student in the school.  She doesn't need to prove anything!"

"And what's her favourite subject?" Ginny continued.

"Arithman--oh…

"…Damn."

"So, she's upset that Ron can do her favourite subject naturally when she has to work so hard at it," Harry stated.

"Right," Ginny said.

"So she's doing all that extra work for what?  So she'll be even with me?  That's ridiculous!  I'm not even taking Arithmancy.  I'm not getting grades for this!  It's just something that I can do!  And I'm not that good at it yet either!

"Blimey.  I finally have something that stops me from being a useless git.  You'd think she'd be happy for me!"

"What do you mean 'useless git'," Ginny asked.

Ron rolled his eyes and began counting off on his fingers.

"Bill's the popular one, first born and a Head-boy.  Charlie was the Quidditch star--a legend.  Percy's the smart one and works at the Ministry-- Mum's perfect example of everything.  You two are the jokester – this school will be remembering you for centuries.  Ginny's 'the Girl' and the youngest.  What the hell am I?"

The group stared at the ruffled Weasley for a moment, blinking in disbelief.  Fred and George were looking at him as though he'd sprouted two extra heads.  They looked at each other, then back at Ron.

"Ron…" Fred began slowly.

"You're 'the Hero', ya git," George finished.

Ginny was nodding silently, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.  This time it was Ron who looked at his siblings as though they'd sprouted extra parts.

"What are you all on about?  I'm not a hero.  Harry's the hero."

"Ron," Harry interjected "don't you know that there's no way I could have done any of what I've done since coming to Hogwarts, without you and Hermione?!"

"Harry--"

"You don't see that?"  Ginny asked, incredulously.

"You've all gone balmy!"

"Ron, none of us, Bill and Charlie included have done half the things that you've done."  George pressed.  "You helped Harry get to the Philosopher's Stone and stop You-Kn—Voldemort in your first year."

"You helped save me in your second year," Ginny said.

"I got trapped behind the rocks with Lockhart!"

"You went, Ron.  And as happy as I was to wake up in that Chamber and see Harry there, I was ecstatic to see your face peaking through the hole in the rocks.

"It's like talking to a Flobberworm," Fred said to Harry.  He turned to Ron.  "You're the special one, Ron.  You're the hero.  If anything, we should all be jealous of you!"

"When Mum wants to send the four of us a letter or care package, who does she direct it to?"  George asked.

"At King's Cross, who does Dad tell to look out for the rest of us?" Fred said.

"We're two years older!  They never say anything like that to us!"

"That's because they know you're a protector," Harry added.

"You're a hero," Ginny repeated.

By this point, Ron's face was actually brighter than his hair.  His mouth was snapping open and shut like a codfish on a boat deck.

George put a hand to Ron's forehead.  "Merlin," we actually managed to shut him up without using a silencing spell!"

"Gerroff!"  Ron exclaimed, batting his brother's hand away, as he'd started ruffling Ron's hair.

"So what do I do about Hermione, then?" he asked, wanting to change the subject.

"She'll come around eventually," Harry said.  "She's just got to get used to this first.

"I hops so," Ron said glumly.

*~*~*~*~*

Harry sat staring, his brow furrowed in concentration.  Before him, on the desk sat a marble; cracks and stress lines flowing throughout.  His task was to heal the fractures - more difficult than he would have expected.  His previous sessions with the Potions Master had all been focussed on big things.  Wordless defence, throwing hexes and curses.  Things that could be used in a battle against Voldemort.  When this exercise was first presented to him, he'd failed to see how it could have been of any help and it became increasingly frustrating that he could barely supposedly simple thing.

"Detail, Mr. Potter is just important as power," Snape said from the other side of the desk, as though reading his mind.  "The magical abilities of Misters Crabbe and Goyle are a prime example of what lack of focus can do – or not do as it were.  You are quickly becoming… proficient in your wandless abilities, however you need to learn precise control, or the power will get away from you."

Harry nodded mutely and focused back on the sphere.  Slowly, achingly slowly (and only one at a time), the cracks began to heal themselves.  It was not perfect.  The impressions of where the cracks had been were still visible, but he was making progress.

"Enough," Snape said, after a time.  Harry sat back, panting.  He ran a hand across his forehead and found it wet with perspiration. Snape tossed him a handkerchief.  "For your first attempt, that wasn't… a compete failure."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said, wryly.  He now knew that this was Snape's way of complementing him… er… sort of…

"You may return to your Common Room, Potter.   You and the others will be expected to attend a meeting of the Order tomorrow at midnight.  Do not be late."

"No, sir."

Harry stood up but did not leave.

"Is there something else, Potter?"

Harry squirmed.  Should he bring it up?

Snape signed.  "Out with it Potter.  What's on that tiny mind of yours?"

"Er… Well…" Harry fiddled with the cuff of his sleeve.  "It's just… after what happened to you…"

Snape's face darkened and Harry knew he had better hurry up.

"Doyouthingkit'ssafeforyoutokeepspyingonVoldemort?"

Snape's eyes narrowed.

"I mean… what if he's suspicious?  What if he finds out?"

With the way the Professor was now looking at him, Harry began to think he probably should have just gone up to Gryffindor Tower and kept his mouth shut.  As such, he was rather surprised when the Potions master gave a weary snort and leaned back in his chair.

"Do you honestly think that Lord Voldemort does not know where my true loyalties lie?  Do you really think him that blind?"

Harry's eyes widened.

"You--you mean, he knows you're a spy?!"

"Of course he knows, you twit.  He's known since I first defected.  What's more, he knows that I am aware of his realization.  Not that he has ever openly said it."

"But--But--"

"Oh, do spit it out, Potter.  The hour is late!"

Harry could not believe what the elder wizard was saying, "But why then?  Why do you keep going?  Why hasn't Voldemort killed you?  Why does Dumbledore still allow you to go?!"

"It's all part of the game Potter.  Voldemort is fond of games.  The information I gain at the meetings may be true, or it may be false, or only partially true.  This is his way of challenging me, and through me, Dumbledore.  He fancies himself the mental superior to every wizard alive.  In his eyes, I am no real threat.  I don't have brains enough to piece together his little truths and misinformation.  Recently, I was a little too accurate in my guessing.  The result of which, you unfortunately witnessed weekend last. 

"And Voldemort will kill me, Potter.  Of that I have little doubt.  He's simply not done playing with me yet.  He will kill me when he's good and ready.

"As for Dumbledore, the last I checked I was still an adult wizard.  I go where I will.  This is my job.  I will see it through.

"Now, if you're done tearing pages from the sordid book of my life, I have marking to do."

Harry swallowed and gave a brief nod before leaving the room, still quite stunned. 

 

*~*~*~*~*

"You know, I think I'm actually getting the hang of it," Ron said, "saying his name I mean."

"Saying who's name?" Harry asked with a smirk.  He was promptly hit with a pillow.

Harry was pleased that his friend mostly no longer feared saying the name 'Voldemort'.  He'd even stopped flinching (mostly) when he heard others say it.

During the very first meeting of the Order of the Phoenix, Dumbledore stated in no uncertain terms that he would no longer tolerate anyone within their group referring to Voldemort as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, or You-Know-Who.  This was a twenty-four hour a day, seven day a week standing order and he wanted them to encourage the change in others.  "Fear is Voldemort's strongest ally," he'd said.  "We need to take as much power away from him as possible. There is no benefit to our cause in giving Voldemort even more power by continuing to fear the sound of his name."

"Oi, we'd better get on then," Ron continued.  "Breakfast will be gone by the time we get there.  Why didn't those gits wake us up?"

"Maybe they tried," Harry said.  "We were both up so late with training."

The two Gryffindors headed out the door and down the steps to the Common Room.  At the bottom they were greeted by a very grim-faced Hermione…

…who was holding a copy of the Daily Prophet in her hand.

"Her--Hermione?  What is it?  What's wrong?"  Harry asked nervously.

Hermione held out the paper to him.

"I think we'd better take breakfast elsewhere today," she said.

Harry felt his stomach clench as he looked down at the Headline.

Boy-Who-Lived… Abused?

By *Drusilla Dax

Special Correspondent

Has Harry Potter, the boy whom we all love so, been subject to abuse by those assigned to look after him?

Sources inside the Ministry of Magic - who wish to remain anonymous, though their word cannot be questioned - have brought some extremely disturbing facts to this reporter's attention.

Details are scarce as those involved are remaining stubbornly tight lipped, however, this reporter has been able to obtain certain undeniable facts, which even the likes of Albus Dumbledore could not keep secret. And we at the Daily Prophet believe our readers had a right to know what is going on in our community, especially in light of so many strange events of late, not the least of which is the common appearance of a certain 'Mark' in the sky.

What we have been able to ascertain for sure is that the Muggle relatives whom had been given custody of Potter since the night of his parents' deaths, are being detained at the Ministry for Law Enforcement in London awaiting trial. They are charged with abuse of a minor wizard. One can only logically assume that said minor was our very own Boy-Who-Lived.

The sanity of the Boy-Who-Lived has been brought to question in previous issues of our publication. Now, perhaps we have the cause.  Perhaps we should consider whether or not his supposed mental disruptions were a side effect of the treatment he received at the hands of his own family.

We can only wonder what the exact nature of this abuse was as we have been unable to reach Mr. Potter for his side of things. It seems that Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, has taken it upon himself to prevent all external sources from contacting the boy, including the Minister for Magic himself, Cornelius Fudge.

At first, one might think Albus Dumbledore was merely taking precautions for Harry's own protection.  But perhaps the Headmaster is not as altruistic as we might believe him to be.  Sources have informed me that it was Dumbledore himself who not only arranged, but hand-delivered Potter into his Muggle relative's clutches, despite the fact that any number of our kind would have been only too honoured to take him in.

The Daily Prophet has also learned that Dumbledore has gotten his hands on a rare Argumentum Stone, and that he attempted to do so in secret, without registering it with the Ministry.  This precious gem hasn't been used in Wizarding court for nearly fourteen years.  The Argumentum Stone acts as sort of 'reverse Pensive', projecting a recorded memory into the open, rather than bringing the viewer into the souvenir. The main drawback of these stones is that the memory can only be viewed twice.  First, when it is recorded and second, during its playback. It is used when witness are unable to testify verbally either due to curse or extreme trauma.

Of course, there is no evidence linking these two events happening at Hogwarts, but it is a rather large coincidence.

If, as we suspect, the Argumentum Stone is to be used in the trial of Harry Potter's Muggle relatives, we can only wonder what horrors The-Boy-Who-Lived has suffered.  Horrors so vast that he is unable to recall or to speak them without magical assistance.  We are left to our own speculation.

And apparently we are not the only ones.

Minister Fudge's office has informed us that the Minister had only found out about both of these events until just two days ago.

One must question why Mr. Albus Dumbledore would keep Minister Fudge out of the loop of such an important situation.  What could Dumbledore be planning?  How does young Harry fit into all of this?

This reporter will not rest until I have the answers that we as a community deserve.

*~*~*~*~*

Ten minutes past midnight found Harry sitting quietly in his seat at the front of the Order's chamber.  Ron and Hermione kept throwing him anxious glances.

The Boy-Who-Lived hadn't spoken a word since reading the article.  Indeed he had been in a misty sort of haze for several minutes afterwards.

His friends had decided that mingling with the rest of the student population at that time was not in Harry's best interest.  Instead, they had gathered some things to amuse themselves, a deck of Exploding Snap, Ron's Chess set and a few books for Hermione's sake, and led their friend out of the school to Hagrid's hut.

Earlier on in the school year, they had been sent a letter from the half-giant, telling them that they could use his cabin any time they wanted to if they needed to 'just get away', as long as they were back before curfew.    Dumbledore had set up the wards (as Hagrid could not do magic) and he had requested that the three of them be given full access.  This was the first time the trio had taken advantage of the refuge.

Dobby showed up not long after their arrival with a full and hearty breakfast for them to enjoy.  They suspected that the Headmaster probably knew they were down there and had sent the excitable House-Elf to tend to their needs.  Dobby would not leave until they promised that they would call him should they need anything, no matter how small.

The three spent the entire day hole up in Hagrid's cabin.  Harry seemed to be humouring his friends by playing chess and such with them.  Through it all, he never spoke and maintained a look of distance in his eyes.

They headed back to the castle, just before curfew.  Harry marched through the crowded Common Room, up to his dorm and hid himself behind the drawn curtains of his four-poster bed.

At eleven thirty, Ron and Hermione, having spent the better part of two hours fending off questions from their housemates, started feeling uneasy again.  They weren't sure whether or not their friend would remember or even care that there was a meeting that night.

At a quarter to twelve, after the last of the non-Order Gryffindors had made their way upstairs, Harry silently came down and joined the Weasley's, Neville and Hermione.  The group made their way to the forbidden corridor on the third floor.

Ten minutes into the meeting and Harry still had that separated look about him.

"—And I am pleased to inform you that in the past three weeks, seventeen Death Eaters, three of them from Voldemort's inner circle, have been arrested and will be put on trial.

"They were caught red handed as it were at the scene of their crimes.  Damian Nott was captured just last night.  It would have been rather… difficult to miss him thanks primarily to the efforts of our own Sirius Black and Messers Fred and George Weasley."

A slight, yet happy murmur passed through the Order.  Sirius was smirking.  Fred and George looked ready to pop from barely contained excitement.  They were actually bobbing up and down in their seats.

"For security reasons, I had asked the three to keep their development secret, at least until it could be more firmly established," Dumbledore continued.  "But now that they have had such success, I think it only proper that you are now all privy to their invention.  Sirius…"

Sirius leaned back in his seat and waved a hand.

"Oh, no Albus.  This was the twins' doing.  I merely assisted in the method."

"I'm certain you are being too modest, but if you insist.  Fred… George…"

The Weasley twins practically sprang from their seats.  They turned and faced the Order, excitement and devilish pleasure playing across their identical faces.  As with the times they were up to the most mischief, the two began talking rather quickly, finishing each other's sentences.  Two bodies with one voice.

"Mr. Black really came up with the foundation--"

"question, because he said that one of the main problems was when the--"

"Death Eaters did something foul, it was next to--"

"impossible to pin anything on them because they often used--"

"throw-away wands and left the scene of the crime before--"

"any officials showed up.  So we needed a way to--"

"stick their crimes to them and then, if possible,"

"force them to remain where the crimes were committed."

Here the boys took one simultaneous breath, as though they'd been breathing from one set of lungs.  The members of the Order had just enough time to let their rapid words sink in before they were off again.  This time it was Fred who began.

"Well, following suspected Death Eaters around was definitely out of the question."

"And even if we did, it would've been our word against theirs."

"So we decided to mark them."

"Tag them."

"But only when they did certain illegal--"

"immoral--"

"or Unforgivable Curses."

"But how?"

"We were so stumbled by it that a few months back--"

"we actually forgot the new password--"

"to get into Gryffindor Tower."

"Neville let us in."

"Then it hit us."

"Passwords!"  They said in unison.

They smiled at the group before thundering on.

"Sirius decided that a Potion would be best--"

"something to stick with them--"

"So with a little of his help--"

"and Professor Snape's--"

(Snape rolled his eyes form the back of the room.)

"and Headmaster Dumbledore's uses for Dragon's Blood numbers three and seven--"

"several explosions--"

"and two fires later--"

"we had it!"

"Passworded Potion!"

"We've leaned that Ogden's Old Firewisky, Maven's Bell Brandy and **Goldie's Liquid Curse--"

"are all very popular among the Death Eater set."

"And we were also lucky to find that a certain--"

"very--"

"exquisitely--"

"lovely pub matron--"

(Mrs. Weasley cleared her throat rather loudly as George winked in Madame Rosmerta's direction.)

"is very well connected--"

"to the distributors of these fine beverages."

"Bottles throughout Britain were--"

"laced in record time--"

"and the results very soon presented themselves--"

"more effectively that we could have hoped."

"And thanks to the Dragon's Blood, the spells are--"

"permanent until the person is given the antidote, which--"

"only Professor Dumbledore has."

"Because we couldn't very well test the potions on people--"

"and because one needs to actually cast the curse--"

"not merely say it, for the potions to work--."

"we didn't really know if they would work--"

"till they did."

"And they did."

"And if Mr. Black will give us a hand…"

Sirius took out his wand and waved it at the space the twins had created between themselves.  A translucent figure of a man appeared there.  No one specific, but with his white-blond hair and cold pale eyes he did bare a 'remarkable' resemblance to Lucius Malfoy.

"Thanks," George said.  "We'll use this fine fellow to show you all the marker effects we've come up with so far."

"They're all legal, but 'unpleasant' when combined."

Fred pointed his wand at the tall figure.  "This is what happens when the Dark Mark is conjured."

He waved his wand and the figure doubled over holding his stomach.  Tears appeared in his tightly closed eyes.  His skin glowed a bright fluorescent yellow, dashed with bright pink polka dots.  The word 'Guilty' was scrawled on his forehead, 'Death' on his right cheek and 'Eater' on his left.  'Dark Mark' was written on his chin.

"'Morsmodre' activates a sort of Rictusempra-like tickling curse--"

"Only much stronger.  And he can't move from that spot."

Fred waved his wand again and the figure returned to his original state.  George pointed his wand.

"For the Impious Curse…"

He flicked his wand.  The figure opened his mouth and a small stream of fire shot from out.  His hair turned purple.  The same writing appeared on his face, only  'Imperius' appeared on his chin.

"The fire only comes out about ten centimetres and happens every time he opens his mouth.  The added bonus is that he won't be able to tell his victim what to do."

The image was returned to normal, and Fred showed the effects of the Cruciatus next.  The figure glowed like a lantern.  His mouth opened and his tongue fell out and stuck to his shoes.  His eyes followed suit.

For the Killing Curse, the hair tuned stock green.  The figure's face was frozen in a painful grimace.

"Petrificus Totalus combined with a Forever Itch hex – multiplied in strength." George said.  There was the equivalent writing on his face as there was also for the Cruciatus curse.

"That's all we've got," he said, setting the image back to normal.  Sirius banished it completely with his wand.

"For now…" Fred added.

A round of hearty applause rang off the chamber walls.  Comments like, "Brilliant!" and "Knew all that mischief had to lead to something…" were tossed around as the boys happily took their seats.

"Yes, yes, well done boys, well done," Dumbledore said.  "You all may be interested to note that Mr. Damian Nott was captured breathing fire and Mr. Pemberton Avery had to have his eyes put back in.  And something else of note of which you may not have been aware, the Passworded Potion worked so quickly, that it prevented the Unforgivables from ever actually leaving their wands.  Their victims were spared."

This brought about another round of applause.  Dumbledore continued.

"Another… er… mark for our side is that on Monday, Minister Fudge will be announcing the possibility that Lord Voldemort may have found a way to return.  Not much, but a step up from the blatant denial he had been spouting until this point.

There were a few nods, however, most sill seemed angry that Fudge was still dissembling.  Professor Fletcher spoke up.

'What's he doing about the Dementors then?"  he asked.

"Nothing, for the time being."

"Nothing?!  Albus, those things have to be--"

"I know Mundungus, I know," Dumbledore said raising a hand.  "But there is little we can do about it at this time."

"What is Fudge doing then?"  A witch Harry didn't know, asked.

"Reminding the public to remain alert.  Increasing security at national checkpoints and at secure areas, and opening an Information Hearth, should anyone have any questions."

There was a unified groan among the Order.  Fudge's action was hardly better than his inaction.

The Headmaster continued.

"With this latest development, we all of us need to be…"

Dumbledore stopped in mid-sentence.

There was a great 'CLANG' from the back of the gathering hall.  The large, black door was being unlocked.  It swung open, bringing the Order to their feet, their wands out.  Everyone who was supposed to be there, was already present.  And the wards and passwords on the door should have been near unbreakable.

From the shadows of the hall emerged a slight figure.  Her silhouette, bunned hair and cane included were all that was visible at first.  The sound of the cane and her soft footfalls echoed throughout the hall. As she stepped into the chamber light, several shoulders relaxed.

"Mrs. Figg," Dumbledore said, smiling kindly.  "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

To be continued…

Drusilla Dax is wonderful Potter writer, who pens the "Battlefields" Universe.  You can find her at  (adults only).

Goldie's Liquid Curse is featured in the UNBELIEVABLEY AMAZING epic "AFTER THE END" written by Arabella and Zsenya.  It can be found at The Sugar Quill.

A/N:  I would like to take this time to thank all my reviewers.  I recently realized that I haven't done that yet.  Shame on me.  I love each and every one of your reviews.  I even copy them and save them on my hard drive.  Whenever I need some inspiration to get writing, I go back and read your reviews.  So the more the merrier.  Some people have stated concerns that their reviews are too long.  Not possible as far as I'm concerned.  So keep 'em coming.

I now have a scene-by-scene outline for the rest of this story and many of those scenes are already written.  (They'll have to be re-written, but hey, it's a start.)  Anyway, this will help me move it along much quicker.  Chapter Seven is about ¾ done.  I've recently altered something in it so it might be holding at ¾ for a bit.  But it shouldn't take me as long as the last time.  There will be a total of fourteen chapters in this story.  So you can start counting down.

I had hoped to post Chapters 6 and 7 at the same time, but I've added something important to Chapter 7 which needs more working on.  Didn't think I should keep you waiting for this one, just so that I could do a double post.  I hope you enjoyed!

Review please!  Fuel me!