Disclaimer: I'm not sure if I have ever put up a disclaimer, so here it is now: I do not own anything owned by JK Rowling. I am not making any money, though I'd be happy to ghostwrite for her if she asked me.
Author's Note: I'm back! Nice to see all the wonderful reviews. They do help me write this, so please take the time to give me some constructive criticism if you have any suggestions. The review can only help to improve the story. Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter!
Harry opened his eyes and found himself staring into Jack's face. "Gah!" Harry jerked back away from him. Jack raised a party noisemaker to his mouth and blew. "Jack, what are you doing?" Harry asked, pulling the blankets over his head and burying his face in his pillow.
'Good morning, 007." Harry rolled his eyes. "Our informants have told us that your birthday is today."
"Yeah. So?" Harry asked, trying to get further into the bed. He was so comfortable and bed seemed like the best place for him.
"So, you know what that means?" Harry poked his head out from under his blanket and eyed Jack.
"Another secret mission?" He asked, wondering when Jack would go away.
"Cake and ice cream." Hack answered. "Hurry and get dressed." Harry groaned and went back under the blanket, curling into a ball to preserve the warmth. He just wanted to stay in bed. "I know its Saturday, but you have to get up." Harry groaned again and sat up.
"All right. I'm up." He folded his arms and looked at Jack. "I'm certainly not going to get dressed with you in here." Jack disappeared through the door and shut it behind him. Harry tolled out of bed and started pulling on his uniform. It was more comfortable than his Hogwarts uniform, only a polo shirt and khaki slacks. The shirt didn't even need to be tucked in. He left it loose, decided that his hair was a hopeless cause, and pulled on a pair of trainers. Jack and his entire floor were waiting for him. He stopped when he saw that all of them had slightly evil grins. "What?" He ducked as handfuls of confetti were tossed at his head.
"Happy Birthday!" Harry smiled and attempted to clear some of the confetti from his hair.
"Thanks, guys." He said sincerely. Bug reached out and helped to clear the confetti.
"You don't think that's it, do you?" Bug said, grinning at Harry.
"There's more?" Bug didn't answer, for his face told Harry everything he needed to know. Merlin, there was more. The entire floor walked down to the dining hall together, everyone talking at once about the party that evening. Harry stayed quiet. He couldn't get a word in edgewise.
"Waffles!" Bug pulled Harry to their table. "Whenever a floor has a birthday here, they get waffles for breakfast and a pizza party and cake and ice cream that night, along with a movie. We celebrate birthdays here." Harry nodded. A birthday party. That sounded like fun. Bug took charge of the plate of waffles and doled them out equally. Harry thought that Ron was a big eater until he had come here. Everyone, well, except Sparky, loved to eat. He decided it was because they were all teenagers. Harry jumped in surprise as a paper crown landed on his head.
"You've got to be kidding me." He said, reaching up to take it off. The entire table protested.
"You need to keep it on." Sparky said. "It's tradition." Harry decided it wasn't worth arguing over. He slouched down in his chair and started eating his waffle, fending off Bug's efforts to give him another one. He had three already, thank you. They were just finishing up when Paul started over.
"Hey, Sparky!" Sparky looked up from his plate. "I need someone to keep this for me until later. I was thinking you could wear it because you ate two whole waffles in celebration. You know, share in the fun." Sparky smiled.
"Sure, Evan." Harry reached over and put the crown on Sparky's head. Sparky grinned. Harry didn't need to be told that that had been the right move.
"Hey, buddy." Harry looked up and smiled at Paul. "Happy birthday."
"Thanks." Harry finished his juice and stood up. "I'll see you guys later." His entire floor gave a loud good-bye.
"Hey, 007!" Harry looked at Chef. Chef didn't speak often, but Harry liked him. Chef's favorite hobby was cooking, so his nickname was apt. "What movie do you want to watch tonight?" Harry thought about it. He didn't know many movies, thanks to the Dursleys. Oh, Hermione had mentioned one.
"Um, Star Wars?" Chef smiled and nodded.
"A classic. We'll see you then!" Harry waved and followed Paul out of the dining.
"Star Wars?" Paul asked. Harry shrugged.
"Hermione recommended it. Thought it would be a good idea."
"You know that there are three, right?" Harry shook his head. "Well, maybe we'll fit in the other two later. How about a walk outside?" Outside. Harry thought about it. No twinges from Voldemort. He felt his wand under his pant leg. Yeah, he could go outside.
"Sure." Paul led Harry outside and Harry stopped just outside the door, looking around for anything dangerous. Paul waited patiently, as though he knew what Harry was doing. "Okay." Harry moved to Paul's side and they started out on the path.
"How are you, Harry?" Paul asked. Harry bit back a 'fine', his usual answer, and smiled a little bit.
"Well-rested. Jack had to fight to get me out of bed; though that noisemaker might end up somewhere he doesn't want it if he does that again." Paul laughed. Note to self: wake Harry up from doorway in future. "I haven't had a Voldemort dream since you started giving me sleeping pills."
"Yes, we'll have to be careful so that you don't develop a dependency. Those are only temporary until we get this Occlumency stuff down." Paul leaned against a tree, while Harry sat down on a handy bench. "I'd like to return to something you said earlier." Harry looked up at him and nodded. "You mentioned that Voldemort makes those dreams comfortable, soothing, and calm. Everything that your life is not. Why don't you tell me about that?"
"My life? What do you want to know?" He asked. There were so many places to start.
"You're famous, right?" Harry's scowl gave Paul his answer. "Tell me about that." Harry folded his arms. Oh, where to start?
"Well, let's see. I lived with Muggle relatives for eleven years. I didn't know I was famous. There were always strange people, strange-looking people, coming up to me on the street and shaking my hand, staring. One even bowed. I, of course, had no idea what they were on about. When I was told what happened, I learned that the only reason I was famous was because I didn't die when I was supposed to and Voldemort disappeared. Some thought he was dead. I was one year old when that happened. Famous for something I can't remember and I had not done." Paul sat down with Harry, motioning for him to continue.
"Once I went to the wizarding world, well, that was different. It was like a movie star just showing up on the street. Mobs. People shaking my hand. Women crying over me. That was frightening." Paul smiled. Harry could manage a shell-shocked face when he wanted to. "Once I went to Hogwarts, the students were all very happy to see me. They stared, whispered about me. It wasn't too bad the first year." Harry paused.
"Second year, well, that was different. It started out oddly. When I went for school supplies, I managed to land in the newspapers. Gilderoy Lockhart was a famous author and he was there that day in the bookshop. When the newspaper photographer saw me there, he grabbed me and put me next to Lockhart and started taking pictures. The pictures later showed me trying to get out of the picture. Once school started, Lockhart started giving me advice on how to handle fame, giving autographs, fans, stuff like that. I couldn't stand the man or his advice. I didn't want anyone sending me fan mail. Now or ever."
"People in school were getting attacked, petrified, by something in the school. The 'Heir of Slytherin' had come back. People found out that I can speak Parseltongue." Harry smiled at the look on Paul's face. "Snake language. I can talk to snakes."
"That is so cool." Paul said. "I am so jealous. I have a snake and sometimes I wish I knew what he was thinking." Harry smiled.
"If you bring him into your office, I could tell you." Paul sat back, a contented look on his face.
"I'll do that." Paul looked at Harry. "So, was this Parseltongue a bad thing?"
"I don't think so. I didn't even know I could do it until then. Everyone else thought that I was the one attacking the students. Except for Snape and most of the teaching staff." Harry paused. "That was really odd."
"Who's Snape?" Harry pulled a face.
"Potions Master. He hates me." Paul looked like he was going to object. "No, really. He hates me." Paul dropped it.
"Then what happened?" Harry shrugged.
"Rumors, suspicion. The usual." The usual? Harry had had that happen more than once? "Once Ron and I went to the Chamber of Secrets, where the monster was, and rescued his sister, all was forgiven, and Lockhart lost his memory because of a charm he tried to use on Ron and I." Harry laughed.
"You know, everyone thinks that I'm some powerful wizard." Paul sat up.
"Are you?" Harry shrugged.
"Now, that depends on who you ask." Harry said, relaxing back on the bench. "Almost everyone will say yes. I don't think so. Voldemort marked me as his equal." He gestured to his scar.
"Is that some magical tradition?" Harry smirked.
"I wish. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal…but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…And either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives…The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies." Paul looked at him, perplexed by the words. "It's a prophecy." Harry explained. "About me."
"So, what does it mean?" Harry smirked.
"Well, according to Dumbledore, either I kill Voldemort or he kills me." Paul held his breath. Surely, the headmaster had not said that. "So, if I want tot survive, I've got to become a murderer." Harry had taken on his usual position when he was upset. He was pacing. "Why did it have to be me?"
"Was there someone else to fit the prophecy?" Harry nodded.
"A boy named Neville. Voldemort thought that I was the bigger threat." Harry sat down again and sighed. "I don't want any more blood on my hands." Paul looked at Harry. He had not meant to say that last part aloud.
"Are you sure that you are required to kill him?" Paul asked. "That prophecy said you are marked as his equal, but would have a power that Voldemort wouldn't or couldn't know about." Harry nodded. "It could just be telling you that you inspire a certain person to fight, or your society to band together, or something similar." Paul looked at Harry, seeing that Harry wanted to believe that idea.
"What about the 'neither can live while the other exists' part?" Paul shrugged.
"Have you lived like a normal kid?" Harry shook his head. "Well, when he dies, your life will be normal. I think that's what that part means." Harry pulled his feet up and thought it over. It made sense, just as much sense as Dumbledore's explanation. "What do you think?"
"It makes sense." Harry told him. "Much more sense than me having to kill him." Paul smiled and pulled Harry's feet down.
"Why don't we go with that interpretation then? You, Harry Potter, average kid, super powerful wizard." Harry gave him a look. "What?" Paul asked. "Voldemort picked you as his equal. Let's face it. You're doomed to be powerful." Paul said in mock seriousness that reminded Harry of the Weasley twins. Harry snorted.
"I'll confirm that suspicion when I get my OWL scores." Paul nodded.
"Sure thing, buddy. Oh, excuse me, powerful wizard." Harry glared.
"If I'm so powerful, why aren't you afraid of me?" Paul smirked and threw an arm around Harry's shoulders.
"I'm too lovable to hurt, Harry. You knew that." Paul got to his feet and pulled Harry to his own. "Come on. I have something for you in my office." Harry tried to find out what it was, but Paul wouldn't tell him a thing. Harry almost beat Paul to his office and flopped on the couch once Paul opened the door. "I know you love chocolate, so here you go. Just don't eat it all at once." Paul pulled out a colorful bag and put it next to Harry. "Happy Birthday."
"You didn't have to." Harry told him. Paul waved off the comment.
"I wanted to. Come on, open it!" Harry opened the bag and saw several bars of chocolate and a book. He pulled out the book and looked at it. It was a journal. "You're about halfway through your other one. I figured you might need another." Harry smiled.
"Thanks, Paul. It's cool." Instead of the leather bound ragged edges like the one from Hermione, it was spiral bound and had black paper. "Er."
"Oh, right. There should be a pack of pens in there." Harry dug in the bag and found them. He picked out a green pen and wrote on the inside cover. "Wicked." Harry showed Paul his name. Paul took the pen and wrote something next to it. "Super Powerful Wizard." Harry shook his head in amusement.
"If anyone sees that, I'm holding you responsible." Paul smiled.
"Sure thing." Paul checked the clock. "I do believe that it's time for your martial arts lesson." Harry looked at the clock and leapt to his feet.
"Give a guy some warning! Thanks for everything, Paul." Harry rushed from the office and took off running for the gym. Paul sat back in his chair, mind going over everything he had heard.
Author's Note: Thanks for reading.