Disclaimer: Bah.

A/N: HI. How y'all doin'? I'm back. FINALLY. As is guess who. Slavemaster Meg, for those of you who are a little slow. NOT saying that any of you ARE. But maybe. :D Love you! Kissies!

Dumbledore was pacing in his room.

He had listened to Alan Grathcher's message hours ago, and had sent dispatches out to other members of the Order immediately, informing them of Voldemort's most recent doings. He had a sneaking suspicion of what the man – if you could call him a man – was going to do with the Angevellius Key. The white opal feather was among the more powerful magical objects in the world, and was most often used for healing purposes. Was Voldemort trying to gain immortality again through the Key?

Worry, worry, worry! That's all he seemed to ever do anymore, worry. He had sent out Aurors to Vatican City to snoop around and find out anything they could, but there had been no word yet. It had only been a few hours; he couldn't assume the worst until he had been given a basis to it. So Dumbledore paced. And worried.

If only he could actually assign Harry, Ron and Hermione to the task. Of course that was preposterous and out of the question, but they did seem to have a knack for finding things out that they weren't meant to. When their curiosities were roused about something that they thought concerned Voldemort, there was no stopping them until they found out what it was. If only they could apply themselves like that to their schoolwork (in the boys' case, at least), they would be at the top of their grade in Hogwarts.

He smiled slightly to himself at the thought. They would discover information about it on their own anyway, he knew. Grathcher had mistook Ron for Dumbledore himself – the disguise was rather convincing – and told him that the Angevellius Key had been stolen by Voldemort. Within days, the three teenagers would be close to finding out what it was, Dumbledore was sure. After that, it would likely be that they would want to know more about its uses, and what the dark lord could possibly want from it.

"Ah, the young and inquisitive mind," he said to himself.

A force surged through him, making him stumble backwards a step and filling his old body with a strange tingling sensation that he had felt some times before in his long life. He knew that the entire school was probably now awake and tingling as well, and depending on the magnitude of the summoning, the whole country could be.

A few seconds later, a head popped into his fire.

"Headmaster, what's going on?" asked Professor Sprout. She looked worried. "I just woke up suddenly, and I'm prickling all over."

"Come up to my office, please, Ivy. I'm calling a teachers' meeting."

"Yes, sir," said Sprout, and she disappeared. Almost immediately Flitwick's head came into view in her place, also looking confused.

"Headmaster –"

"Yes, I know. Please come up to my office, I'm calling a teachers' meeting."

"Righto," said Flitwick, also disappearing.

Dumbledore sighed heavily and massaged his temples, then called Fawkes to his arm. Explaining softly what he wanted the bird to do, it nodded in perfect understanding and flew gracefully into the fire, flames engulfing it promptly as it disappeared.

He sank down into an armchair by the hearth and stroked his long beard absently. It had become a bit of a habit when he was distracted.

Snape entered first, black nightrobe billowing out behind him as all his clothing seemed to do. He was frowning darkly. Dumbledore didn't rise when he came, but looked up. "What is going on?" Snape said in a low, curt tone.

"I will explain when the other Heads of Houses are present as well. Please, sit. Toffee?"

Snape declined with just a slight upturning of his pronounced nose, and sat down on the edge of another chair, staring intently into the fire. Sprout and Flitwick came in together. "Hello, Headmaster," said Sprout.

"Any idea what happened?" Flitwick added anxiously, and Dumbledore waved for them to sit.

"We will wait for Minerva to join us, and then I shall explain. Make yourselves comfortable, have a toffee."

They both accepted a small brown candy and popped them into their mouths. They waited for about fifteen minutes, growing more and more restless but not complaining, until Snape looked at Dumbledore impatiently.

"Albus, she is obviously not coming, and I would very much like to know what is going on."

"Patience, Severus. Fawkes will return soon with the reason for Minerva's delay, which I'm sure will be excellent."

As the words left his mouth, the phoenix burst out of the flames and lighted on Dumbledore's knee. He removed the short note attached to the bird's leg and read it quickly. A deep frown creased his face as his eyebrows snapped together. He stood up.

"Harry Potter is in the hospital wing. He suffered some minor convulsions a few minutes ago, and collapsed. His scar is bleeding. If you will excuse me?" he said gravely, and strode swiftly out of the room, leaving the three professors shocked in his office.

Snape caught up with him on the way to the infirmary. "I still don't understand what is going on here, Headmaster," he said tersely. "Regardless of Potter's state, I should think that informing us of our current situation would be the top priority here."

"I don't know exactly how, I don't know why, and I don't know where, but someone – I have reason to believe that it was Lord Voldemort – summoned a creature of immense power to him. I believe that the force of the magic that opened the portal is what is causing the prickling sensation. That is all I know. I am going to see to Harry now. Severus, if you wish to join me, by all means do."

Snape snarled to himself but didn't fall back, instead continuing on beside the Headmaster, matching his fast pace stride for stride.

Dumbledore pushed open the doors and burst into the hospital wing, going immediately to Madame Pomfrey. "Where's Harry?"

"Right over here, sir," she said hurriedly, looking frightened. "I've never seen anything like it," she continued, following him over to Harry's bedside. "Professor McGonagall said when she brought him in that he was burning up like a dragon's fire, but now he's cold as ice."

On cue, McGonagall rushed out from the back of the room behind some screens. "Headmaster!" she cried. Dumbledore was leaning over Harry by now and was peering closely, inspecting for visible damage. Other than the fact that his scar was still bleeding and his hands and knees were bandaged, there was none.

"Tell me everything," he said urgently.

"I had been woken up by the...that strange occurrence, and I went to the common room because of the...students, to calm them down. Longbottom came running down – he said something about Harry, something was wrong with Harry. So I went up – I went up – and, well..."

Dumbledore looked at her expectantly. "And?"

"He was sitting up in his bed, all rigid and stiff. His eyes were open wide – he was staring at something in front of him, but none of us could see it. And he looked – oh, Albus – he was terrified. Of course his scar was bleeding and his hands were scraped. Then he started shaking, he screamed without making a sound..."

"What?"

"Well he looked like he was screaming...but there wasn't any noise...and then he fainted. Oh, and Weasley's hands were burned when he touched Potter's skin."

"Burned? Where is he now?"

Madame Pomfrey gestured hastily over to the bed next to Harry's, separated by a screen. "I treated him, it should be fine soon."

"Good. What happened then, Minerva?"

"Well, I put Potter on a stretcher and brought him down here. Weasley followed me because of his hands...and that's all I know."

"First he was burning, now he's freezing..." Dumbledore said, reaching out and touching Harry's forehead with one long finger. An abrupt burst of cold shot up into his hand and up through his arm to his head, making him recoil and clutch his temples in pain. Snape, McGonagall, and Madame Pomfrey all leaned forward in alarm.

"What's wrong?"

Dumbledore groaned slightly and squinched his eyes shut. "Brain freeze," he said tightly. After a few seconds he looked up at the teachers. "If you've ever drunk a Muggle slushie all in one go, you'll understand what I mean."

"Oh, ouch," said Madame Pomfrey, wincing.

"What on earth could be causing these hot and cold flashes?" McGonagall asked, determined to bring the conversation back to explaining what was going on. Dumbledore shook his head to clear it and straightened up.

"I have a theory – it could be bunnies!" he cried.

Everyone stared blankly at him. A tired voice rose from behind the screen.

"And what's with all the carrots? What do they need such good eyesight for anyway?" Ron asked, and then emitted a loud snore.

"Exactly!" Dumbledore agreed. McGonagall cleared her throat.

"Are – are you quite all right, Albus?"

"Do you want to lie down?" Madame Pomfrey asked worriedly. "Perhaps the stress is getting to you –"

"No, no, I'm fine. I really don't know where that came from. But truly, I have a theory about what caused the odd sensation everyone was left with. Has it worn off on anyone here yet?" The other teachers shook their heads. "Nor on me..."

"Albus, if I may, I'd like to suggest that perhaps it was a Mehrfach Cancello Potion," Snape said quietly, speaking for the first time. "I've been thinking about it and the symptoms would be similar in a case such as this, but less widespread. If the Dark Lord has summoned something from another world...he would have had to use one."

"Less widespread...how far do you think this has gone?" Dumbledore asked.

"There's no way to tell right now," Snape said gravely, "but if it's just within the school, then the Dark Lord must be here."

In the split second of horrified silence that followed, all the glass in every window of the hospital wing exploded.

Harry screamed.

His eyes flew open, lurching into consciousness and sitting bolt upright in the bed. The pain in his head was excruciating, but paled in comparison to the horror in his mind. All he could think about was the girl, the little girl that Voldemort had murdered –

"NO!" he cried. He was screaming, screaming until his voice became hoarse. Around him the three professors and healer were frantically trying to protect themselves from the flying shards of shattered glass, but he didn't even notice they were there. He didn't take in his surroundings, didn't even register that he was in the hospital wing or that there was glass everywhere. The image of the girl's face as Voldemort pulled her head back and lifted the sword was burned into his eyes, permanently imprinted on his brain –

"HE KILLED HER!"

"What!" Dumbledore cried, looking up from his arms. "Who!"

Harry didn't hear him. He stared around frantically with wild eyes. Something was obstructing his vision – everything was blurry and unfocused. For the first time since he'd fallen asleep hours ago, he was aware of his surroundings. Where was he? From what he could see, it was a large room – the Great Hall? Not big enough – there were green curtains around him – the hospital wing then. His head hurt enough to make him think it was about to split apart.

Suddenly Dumbledore's hazy face appeared in front of him and he felt something grip his arms. The old man's mouth moved but it was only meaningless babble underneath the roaring in Harry's ears. He shook his head and pleaded with the Headmaster to understand. "He killed her, and the unicorn's dead too, and the blood and the blood and the blood and the bl-"

The words wouldn't come anymore. Another indistinct figure came up beside him and tapped him on the top of his aching head. A splash of coolness washed over him from the spot, slightly diminishing the roaring but not helping with his sight. Dumbledore was still trying to say something but Harry couldn't hear it. He was panicking – why couldn't he hear anything? Why couldn't he see –?

Someone slipped something onto his face – he felt cold metal along his temples and behind his ears – his glasses. Oh. He could see again. He blinked and registered the fact that McGonagall was standing over him and had just put them on. He wanted to thank her but his mouth wouldn't move. There was a crashing noise from around the curtains – and yelling. People were yelling. The roaring was fading and people were yelling. Nothing made any sense –

"–OW! Goddammit, woman, don't drop me!"

It took a few seconds but Harry recognized that voice...

"I didn't drop you! You clearly tripped over your own feet!"

"I CAN'T SEE!"

"And that is my fault HOW!"

The teachers around him tore back the curtains to see who was coming into the hospital wing. Harry already knew two of them. Now that he had his glasses on, he could watch as Elendil stumbled into the room, supported by Blackstorm and Moonshine. The silver-haired man was having a yelling match with the former of the two women.

"What is going on here?" Dumbledore asked loudly. Elendil looked up in his direction, and Harry got a good look at the man's eyes. They were completely silvered over. The irises and pupils were gone, absorbed into the silver colour that made up the whites of Elendil's already unnatural eyes. As the party of three entered the room, he cursed loudly.

"SHIT! What the hell's all this broken glass doing everywhere! That's a bloody health hazard! And in a hospital wing! Really!"

"Reparo!" cried McGonagall, pointing her wand at a window. A million glass shards jumped up from the floor and fit themselves back together into the windowpane. She repeated the charm for the rest of the windows, and soon there was no glass left.

"What's wrong?" Dumbledore asked.

"I'm blind!" Elendil promptly replied. "I woke up tingling and couldn't see a thing. It's rather annoying, actually, I don't like it much."

"Lie down please," trilled Madame Pomfrey, hurrying over and grabbing his arm.

"GAH! Warn me when you touch me!" Elendil yelped, but complied, allowing her to lead him over to a hospital bed and lie him down. The five professors in the room all clustered around the bed, leaving Harry sitting on his own.

"We'd better examine him..."

"What could have caused it?"

"I don't know..."

Their voices blended and swirled through Harry's mind. His eyes rolled back. All he could hear was the girl's screaming and all he could see was her tears, mixing with silver blood.

Then there was blackness, and he was left alone with a splitting headache and the image of her dull eyes, empty of the glint that signified life.