Mad-Eye Moody

When John awoke the next morning, his headache was nothing more than a lingering irritation. He cracked his eyes open and was confronted by the wide, ugly face of Trevor the toad. He groaned and sat up. 'Neville, I found Trevor,' he said groggily.

'Oh. Just leave him, he'll find somewhere comfortable,' Neville said back, equally as groggy.

The storm had blown itself out overnight, but the sky was still gloomy. They all examined their new timetables at breakfast.

'Today's not bad… outside all morning,' said Ron, running his finger down the Monday column of his timetable. 'Herbology with the Hufflepuffs and Care of Magical Creatures… Damn, still with the Slytherins…'

'Double Divination this afternoon,' Harry groaned.

'What have you got?' John asked Sherlock.

'Transfiguration and Potions this morning,' Sherlock said. 'Then Magical Creatures this afternoon.'

'Wait, since when do you do Care of Magical Creatures?'

'Since I dropped Divination,' Sherlock shrugged.

'You're eating again, I notice,' said Ron, watching Hermione add liberal amounts of jam to his buttered toast.

'I've decided there are better ways of making a stand about elf rights,' Hermione said haughtily.

'Yeah, and you were hungry,' said Ron, grinning.

There was a sudden rustling noise above them, and a hundred owls came soaring through the open windows, carrying the morning mail. The owls circled the table, looking for the people whom their letters and parcels were addressed. A large tawny owl soared down to Neville, who always forgot to pack something. Then, much to John's surprise, a letter dropped in front of him.

'It's from Dumbledore,' he said, opening it.

John,

I would very much like to hear about your summer, and we still have much to discuss. I would be grateful if you and Sherlock could come by my office after dinner today. The password is 'Chocolate Drops'.

Professor Dumbledore

'What does he want to see you for?' asked Ron.

Sherlock shrugged. 'Most likely he wants to ask how John's powers are progressing.'

'Best be off,' said John, rising and tucking the letter into his pocket. He was preoccupied all the way down to the greenhouses until he saw a familiar face. 'Molly!' he said, greeting her with a hug. 'How was your summer?'

'Oh, hello, John,' she smiled. 'It wasn't too bad. Yours?'

'Oh, you know. Spent most of it with Sherlock and you know what he's like. Never any peace, eh?'

'Yes, he's certainly something…'

But then the lessons started and Professor Sprout showed them the ugliest plants they'd ever seen. They looked less like plants and more like giant, thick black slugs, protruding vertically out of the soil. Each was squirming slightly, and had a number of large, shiny swellings that appeared to be full of liquid.

'Oh, those are lovely,' John said, eyeing up the one in front of him.

'Aren't they just,' said Molly, pulling on her dragon-hide gloves.

'Don't know if we need those yet.'

'I'm not likely to be touching them with my bare hands, no matter what they are,' she pointed out.

'Bubotubers,' Professor Sprout said briskly, standing at the front of the class. 'They need squeezing. You will collect the pus-'

'The what?' Seamus said, disgusted.

'Pus, Finnigan, pus, and it's extremely valuable, so don't waste it. You will collect the pus in these bottles. Wear your dragon-hide gloves, it can do funny things to the skin when undiluted.'

Molly gave John a brief, smug look.

'Yeah, all right,' John said good-naturedly, pulling on his own gloves.

Squeezing Bubotubers was disgusting. As each swelling was popped, a large amount of thick, yellowish green liquid burst forth, which smelled strongly of petrol. They caught it in bottles as Professor Sprout had indicated, and by the end of the lesson, had collected several pints.

'This'll keep Madam Pomfrey happy,' said Professor Sprout, stoppering the bottles. 'An excellent remedy for the more stubborn forms of acne. Should stop students resorting to desperate measures to rid themselves of pimples.'

'Like poor Eloise Midgen,' said Hannah Abbot. 'She tried to curse hers off.'

'Silly girl,' said Professor Sprout, shaking her head. 'But Madam Pomfrey fixed her nose back on in the end.'

The bell echoed across the wet grounds and the class separated: The Hufflepuffs up to Transfiguration and the Gryffindors over to Hagrid's for Care of Magical Creatures.

Hagrid was already outside waiting for them, with several open wooden crates at his feet. As they drew nearer, the crates rattled and emitted what sounded like small explosions.

'Mornin'!' Hagrid said, grinning at them. 'Better wait fer the Slytherins, they won' want ter miss this – Blast-Ended-Skrewts!'

'Come again?' said Ron.

Hagrid pointed down at the crates.

'Eurgh!' squealed Lavender Brown, jumping backwards.

'Eurgh' just about summed up the Blast-Ended-Skrewts. John peered into one of the crates and saw a clutch of what looked like deformed, shell-less lobsters. Horribly pale and slimy-looking, with legs sticking out at odd places, and no visible heads, there were about a hundred of them in each crate. At about six inches long, they crawled over each other, bumping blindly into the sides of the boxes. They gave off a very powerful smell of rotting fish, and every now and then, sparks flew out of the end of a Skrewt, propelling it forweard several inches.

John was suddenly flashed into a location he didn't recognise. It was dark and he was quite alone, at least he thought he was until he turned around and froze. He was facing a giant creature that could only be a fully-grown Blast-Ended Skrewt. At ten feet long, it looked like a huge scorpion, its tail curled over its back like a sting, and its thick armour made it look impervious to most forms of attack. John backed away from it, but tripped on his own feet and fell. His back hit the ground, the sky lightened, and he was back in front of Hagrid's cabin.

All the other Gryffindors were crowded around him, looking concerned.

'I'm okay,' he said, clambering to his feet and dusting himself off. He looked down at the crates distastefully. 'You're going to need bigger boxes,' he said to Hagrid.

'Really?' Hagrid said eagerly.

'Oh yeah. Way bigger.'

Hagrid grinned broadly. 'On'y just hatched,' he said proudly, 'so yeh'll be able ter raise 'em yerselves. Thought we'd make a project of it!'

'And why would we want to raise them?'

Malfoy and the Slytherins had arrived.

Hagrid looked stumped at the question.

'I mean, what do they do?' asked Malfoy. 'What's the point of them?'

Hagrid paused for a moment, thinking hard. 'That's next lesson, Malfoy,' he said. 'Yer jus' feedin' 'em today. Now, yeh'll want ter try 'em on a few different things – I've never had 'em before, not sure what they'll go fer – I got ant eggs an' frog livers an' a bit o' grass snake – just try 'em out with a bit of each.'

'First pus and now this,' muttered Seamus.

The endeavour seemed entirely pointless, because the Skrewts didn't seem to have mouths.

'Ouch!' yelled Dean Thomas, after about ten minutes. 'It got me!'

Hagrid hurried over to him.

'It exploded!' Dean said angrily, showing Hagrid a burn on his hand.

'Ah, yeah, that can happen when they blast off,' said Hagrid, nodding.

'Eurgh,' Lavender said again. 'Eurgh, Hagrid, what's that pointy thing on it?'

'Ah, some of 'em have got stings,' Hagrid said enthusiastically. 'I reckon they're the males… the females've got sorta sucker things on their bellies… I think they might be ter suck blood.'

'Well, I can certainly see why we're trying to keep them alive,' Malfoy said sarcastically. 'Who wouldn't want pets that can burn, sting and bite all at once?'

'Just because they're not very pretty doesn't mean they're not useful,' Hermione snapped. 'Dragon blood's amazingly magical, but you wouldn't want a dragon for a pet, would you?'

John smiled to himself, remembering Norbert the Norwegian Ridgeback.

'Well, at least the Skrewts are small,' said Ron, as they made their way up to the castle for lunch.

'They are now,' said Hermione in an exasperated tone, 'but once Hagrid's found out what they eat, I expect they'll be six feet long.'

'More like ten, actually,' said John.

'Oh, fantastic.'

'Well, that won't matter if they turn out to cure sea-sickness, or something, will it?' said Ron, grinning slyly at her.

'You know perfectly well I only said that to shut Malfoy up. As a matter of fact, I think he's right. The best thing to do would be to stamp on the lot of them before they start attacking us all.'

They sat down at the Gryffindor table and were joined by their other friends.

'What did you see?' Sherlock asked, sitting next to John.

'And hello to you too,' said John, grabbing a ham sandwich.

'John, please.'

'It was nothing special,' John shrugged. 'Just a nice, up close and personal look at one of Hagrid's murder lobsters.'

'Murder lobsters?' Dean interrupted. 'Sounds like you met the Skrewts.'

'What are Skrewts?' said Sherlock.

'When's your next Magical Creatures lesson?'

'After lunch.'

'Oh, then you'll find out.'

Hermione, meanwhile, was eating at top speed.

'Is this your new stand on elf rights?' said Ron. 'You're going to make yourself puke instead?'

'No, I just want to get to the library.'

'What?' Ron said in disbelief. 'Hermione, it's the first day back! We haven't even got homework yet!'

Hermione shrugged and continued to shovel down her food. Then she leapt to her feet, said, 'See you at dinner!' and departed at high speed.

'Have fun with the Skrewts,' John said to Sherlock, as the afternoon bell rang.

'Well, I'm not the one that has Double Divination,' Sherlock shot back.

'You know what, I don't even know which is worse.'

The familiar perfume of Professor Trelawney's classroom filled their nostrils, as they climbed into her circular tower room.

John sat down in his regular seat, feeling relaxed, as he always did in Trelawney's classroom.

'Good day,' said a misty voice, as Trelawney emerged from the shadows.

John allowed his mind to wander while Trelawney performed her usual routine, predicting Harry's imminent death.

'My dears, it is time for us to consider the stars,' she said eventually. 'The movements of the planets and the mysterious portents they reveal only to those who understand the steps of the celestial dance. Human destiny may be deciphered by the planetary rays.'

John leaned back in his chair and was surprised when he saw the stars filling the ceiling, similarly to the charm showing the sky in the Great Hall. The stars were moving ever so slightly, but when he looked around at everyone else, he realised he was the only one seeing it. Odd, he thought. Visions rarely presented themselves without tearing him away from the present, and often with the added bonus of knocking him out. Some stars moved and made themselves more prominent until they formed the constellation Sagittarius. Subtle, he thought. Then one of Trelawney's candles went out. The smoke curled up to the ceiling and briefly looked like two people dancing. Written in the stars, John thought, chuckling at his own joke.

'What are you looking at, dear?' Trelawney broke in.

'What?' The stars disappeared and John looked back down at Trelawney's bespectacled face. 'Oh, nothing.'

She turned away to look at Harry. 'As I was saying, dear, you were clearly born under the baleful influence of Saturn,' she said.

'Born under – what, sorry?' said Harry, who clearly had not been paying attention either.

'Saturn, dear, the planet Saturn!' said Trelawney, irritated that he wasn't riveted by this news. 'I was saying that Saturn was surely in a position of power in the heavens at your birth… your dark hair… your mean stature… tragic losses so young in life… I think I am right in saying, my dear, that you were born in mid-winter?'

'No,' said Harry, 'I was born in July.'

Ron hastily turned his laugh into a hacking cough, and John hid his own amused smile.

Half an hour later, each of them had been given a complicated circular chart, and was attempting to fill in the position of the planets at the moment of their birth. John filled his in easily enough. Without the need to consult timetables or calculate any of the angles, he was finished fairly quickly.

'Surely that's cheating,' Ron complained.

'I don't think so,' John grinned. 'This is Divination.'

'I've got two Neptunes here,' said Harry, frowning at his parchment, 'that can't be right, can it?'

'Aaaah,' said Ron, imitating Trelawney's mystical whisper, 'when two Neptunes appear in the sky, it is a sure sign that a midget in glasses is being born, Harry…'

John, Seamus and Dean Thomas sniggered.

Trelawney swept over to John and examined his chart. 'I'm sorry, but this is all wrong,' she informed him. 'Perhaps I should instruct you in the calculations once more.'

'What? No, it's not wrong.'

'Yes, it is, Mars is completely out of place.'

'No, no, Mars is – is right there,' John said. 'It's right there, and it's – it's very bright.' He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath, trying to slow the spinning sensation that had accosted him. 'Fine, I'll change it.' He tried to see what was causing the spinning, but could only see the night sky, in which Mars was shining particularly brightly. He ground his teeth, frustrated that he couldn't see more.

'Oh, Professor, look!' Lavender squealed excitedly. 'I think I've got an unaspected planet! Which one's that, Professor?'

'It is Uranus, my dear,' said Trelawney, peering down at the chart.

'Can I have a look at Uranus, too, Lavender?' said Ron.

Unfortunately, Trelawney heard him, and it was this, perhaps, that made her give them so much homework at the end of class.

'A detailed analysis of the ways the planetary movements in the coming month will affect you, with reference to your personal chart,' she snapped, sounding much more like Professor McGonagall than her usual misty self. 'I want it ready to hand in next Monday, and no excuses!'

'Miserable old bat,' Ron said bitterly, as they joined the crowds descending the staircases back to the Great Hall. 'That'll take all weekend, that will…'

'Lots of homework?' said Hermione brightly, catching up with them. 'Professor Vector didn't give us any at all.'

'Well, bully for Professor Vector,' Ron said moodily.

They reached the Entrance Hall, where they were joined by Sherlock, Cas and Dean. They were just about to go into the Great Hall, when a loud voice rang out behind them.

'Weasley! Hey, Weasley!'

They turned and saw Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle standing there.

'What?' Ron said shortly.

'Your dad's in the paper, Weasley!' said Malfoy, brandishing a copy of the Daily Prophet, and speaking loudly so that everyone in the Entrance Hall could hear. 'Listen to this!'

FURTHER MISTAKES AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC

It seems as though the Ministry of Magic's troubles are not yet at an end, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondant. Recently under fire for its poor crowd control at the Quidditch World Cup, and still unable to account for the disappearance of one of its witches, the Ministry was plunged into fresh embarrassment yesterday by the antics of Arnold Weasley, of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office.

Malfoy looked up. 'Imagine them not even getting his name right, Weasley, it's almost as though he's a complete nonentity, isn't it?' he crowed. He straightened the paper with a flourish, and read on:

Arnold Weasley, who as charged with the possession of a flying car two years ago, was yesterday involved in a tussle with several Muggle law-keepers over a number of highly aggressive dustbins. Mr Weasley appeared to have rushed to the aid of 'Mad-Eye' Moody, the aged ex-Auror who retired from the Ministry when he was no longer able to tell the difference between a handshake and an attempted murder. Unsurprisingly, Mr Weasley found, upon arriving at Mr Moody's heavily guarded house, that Mr Moody had once again raised a false alarm. Mr Weasley was forced to modify several memories before he could escape the policemen, but refused to answer Daily Prophet questions about why he involved the Ministry in such an undignified and potentially embarrassing scene.

'And there's a picture, Weasley!' said Malfoy, flipping the paper over and holding it up. 'A picture of your parents outside your house – if you can call it a house! Your mother could do with losing a bit of weight, couldn't she?'

Without anyone noticing, Castiel had walked around the Entrance Hall, and came up behind Malfoy. He reached over Malfoy's shoulder and jerked the paper out of his hands.

Malfoy turned angrily, but faltered at Castiel's now drawn wand, held loosely in his hand, and his now intimidating height. 'You won't do anything,' he said boldly. 'Look at you, you're pathetic.'

'Pathetic, am I?' He threw the paper down, pointed his wand, and the paper burst into flames without a word from Castiel. The paper curled and the Hall was silent. Castiel had not broken eye contact with Malfoy. He leaned closer. 'I will thank you to keep your mouth shut in the future,' he said in a low voice, then walked back over to the others. The students parted to let him through.

BANG!

Several people screamed and Cas felt something white hot graze the side of his face. He spun around, but before he'd raised his wand again, another BANG, and a roar echoed through the Hall.

'OH NO YOU DON'T, LADDIE!'

Professor Moody was limping down the marble staircase. His wand was out and pointing straight at a pure white ferret, which was shivering on the floor, exactly where Malfoy had been standing.

There was a terrified silence in the Entrance Hall. Nobody moved a muscle. Moody turned to look at Cas, at least, his normal eye was looking at Cas. The other was pointed into the back of his head. He reached out to touch the graze on Cas's face, but Cas instinctively slapped it away. Cas's eyes widened fearfully, then looked down at the floor. 'I'm sorry,' he said, voice barely louder than a whisper. 'Please don't touch me.'

Moody nodded. 'LEAVE IT!' he shouted.

Cas jumped, then curled inward, rubbing his arm.

'Not you – him!' Moody growled, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at Crabbe, who had just frozen, about to pick up the ferret. Moody started to limp towards Crabbe, Goyle and the ferret, which gave a terrified squeak and took off, streaking towards the dungeons.

'I don't think so!' roared Moody, pointing his wand at the ferret again. It flew ten feet in the air, fell with a smack to the floor and then bounced upwards once more. Cas inhaled sharply.

'I don't like people who attack when their opponent's back's turned,' Moody growled, as the ferret bounced around, higher and higher, squealing in pain.

Castiel watched, unable to tear himself away, becoming more and more distressed with every bounce, until someone covered his eyes.

'It's okay, it's me, Gabriel,' he said. 'Just me.'

'Gabriel,' Cas whispered, trembling.

'That's right. We're just gonna turn you around now. Everything's fine, I just need you to keep your eyes closed. Can you do that?'

Cas nodded, and Gabriel lowered his hands. Gabriel then gestured over to Dean, who squeezed through the crowd over to them. 'Dean's here now, and he's going to help you.'

Dean nodded at Gabriel. 'Hey, Cas, I'm here,' he said gently. 'I'm gonna hold your arms and help you outta here, is that okay?'

'Yes.'

Dean took hold of Cas's forearms and guided him out of the Entrance Hall, quietly murmuring to him.

'What was that about?' said a small voice.

'Oh, hey, Sam,' Gabriel said warmly, looking down at him.

'Is Cas okay?' Sam asked concern furrowing his brow.

'He will be. He's just really afraid of being Transfigured into an animal.'

'That's super specific. How come?'

Gabriel hesitated. 'Someone once turned him into a lizard and did something very similar to that,' he told Sam, nodding at the ferret that Moody was still bouncing around. 'Then he was stuck as a lizard for about a week until we figured out how to change him back. He wouldn't talk to anyone for months after that.'

'What?' Sam exclaimed. 'Who would do that?'

Gabriel was spared having to answer by Professor McGonagall, who was coming down the stairs with her arms full of books.

'Professor Moody!' she said in a shocked voice.

'Hello, Professor McGonagall,' said Moody calmly, still bouncing the ferret.

'What – what are you doing?' said McGonagall, her eyes following the ferret's progress through the air.

'Teaching,' said Moody.

'Teach- Moody is that a student?' shrieked McGonagall, the books spilling out of her arms.

'Yep,' said Moody.

'No!' cried McGonagall, running down the stairs and pulling out her wand. A moment later, Malfoy reappeared with a loud popping sound, lying in a heap on the floor. He got to his feet, wincing.

'Moody, we never use Transfiguration as a punishment! Surely Professor Dumbledore told you that?'

'He might've mentioned it, yeah,' said Moody, scratching his chin unconcernedly, 'but I thought a good, sharp shock-'

'We give detentions, Moody! Or speak to the offender's Head of house!'

'I'll do that then,' said Moody, staring at Malfoy with great dislike.

Malfoy, who looked utterly humiliated, muttered something in which the words 'my father' were audible.

'Oh yeah?' said Moody quietly, limping forward a few steps. 'Well, I know your father, boy… you tell him Moody's keeping a close eye on his son… you tell him from me… now your Head of house will be Snape, will it?'

'Yes,' Malfoy said resentfully.

'Another old friend. I've been looking forward to a chat with old Snape… come on, you…'

He seized Malfoy's upper arm and marched him off towards the dungeons.

The Entrance Hall remained silent for a moment.

'All right, everyone, let's go!' Gabriel called. 'Time for dinner, there's nothing more to see here.'

The buzz of chatter swelled and everyone filed into the Great Hall at Gabriel's words.

'Is it me, or does Moody seem a bit dodgy to you?' John said to Sherlock as they sat down.

'Why do you say that?' said Sherlock.

'It's a bit much, isn't it, turning someone into a ferret?'

'Not at all. Exactly what I would have done.'

'Yeah, that's what I mean.' John spooned some beef casserole onto their plates, and Hermione began eating at top speed again.

'Don't tell me you're going to the library again?' said Harry.

'Got to,' said Hermione. 'Loads to do.'

'But you told us Professor Vector-'

'It's not school work.' Within five minutes, she had cleared her plate and departed.

No sooner had she gone than he seat was taken by Fred. 'Moody!' he said. 'How cool is he?'

'Beyond cool,' said George, sitting opposite Fred.

'Supercool,' said Lee Jordan, sliding into the seat beside George. 'We had him this afternoon,' he told them.

'What was it like?' Harry said eagerly.

'Never had a lesson like it,' said Fred.

'He knows, man,' said Lee.

'Knows what?' said Ron, leaning forwards.

'Knows what it's like to be out there doing it,' said George.

'Doing what?' said Harry.

'Fighting the Dark Arts,' said Fred.

'He's seen it all,' said George.

''Mazing,' said Lee.

Ron dived into his bag for his timetable. 'We haven't got him 'til Thursday,' he said in a disappointed voice.

Just then, Dean returned and sat down.

'How is he?' Harry asked.

Dean shrugged. 'He was practically catatonic by the time I got him to Madam Pomfrey, but she says he'll be okay.'

'Gabriel told me what happened to him,' said Sam, who had run over to them when Dean came in.

'What do you mean? What happened?'

'Gabriel said someone turned Cas into a lizard once, and get this, he was stuck like it for a week.'

'A week? Wow. Yeah, that'll do it. Who was it?'

'I don't know, Gabriel didn't say.'

John chewed thoughtfully. 'Maybe I could…' He looked over at Gabriel and concentrated. As he watched, time slowed and then began to speed backwards. He watched Gabriel through his classes, the feast the night before, and onto the Hogwarts Express. The further back they went, the darker it got, until they reached King's Cross and it was pitch dark. He couldn't see anything beyond that.

'It'll come eventually,' said Sherlock.

'Yeah, well, just an idea. Didn't think I'd actually be able to see that far.'

'One day, perhaps.'

'You've got burns on your hand,' said John, suddenly spotting some fresh, shiny burns on the back of Sherlock's hand.

'Yes. It seems that your assessment of the Skrewts as murder lobsters was quite accurate. I tried to pick one up, and it was not pleased.'

'You tried to- you absolute- why would you-?'

Sherlock's lips twitched. 'Are you finished? Dumbledore will be expecting us soon.'

'Right, yeah, I'm done.'

They got up from the table and John let Sherlock lead the way, as he had never been to Dumbledore's office. He stopped them in front of in front of an extremely ugly stone gargoyle.

'Chocolate drops,' Sherlock said to it.

The gargoyle sprang to life and hopped aside, as the wall behind it. Behind the wall, a spiral staircase was moving smoothly upwards like an escalator. They stepped onto it and rode it upwards, higher and higher in circles until they came to a gleaming oak door with a brass knocker in the shape of a griffon.

Sherlock knocked on the door, which opened on its own. He took that as their cue to enter, and pulled John inside a large and beautiful circular room. It contained a number of curious silver instruments that were stood on spindle-legged tables, whirring and emitting little puffs of smoke. The walls were covered with old portraits of previous headmasters and headmistresses. There was also an enormous, claw-footed desk, behind which, the Sorting Hat and the sword of Gryffindor were sitting on a shelf, and Dumbledore was smiling at them from his seat behind it.

'Good evening,' he said to them. 'Please sit.'

They sat in chairs that had seemingly been put out for them. As they did so, Fawkes the phoenix lifted off his golden perch by the door and gracefully placed himself on Sherlock's shoulder.

'Firstly, I am quite grateful to you both for your letter. I did not receive it in time to catch Voldemort himself, however there was much to be gained from visiting the old Riddle house.'

John deflated, although he supposed there would have been more of a celebration if Voldemort had actually been caught.

'What about the Ministry witch he killed?' asked Sherlock. 'Have you told anyone about her?'

'There are a select few at the Ministry who have been made aware. Your brother, for example, whose recent appointment as Head of the Department of Mysteries may prove to be a great asset. May I ask, are you avoiding saying her name for any particular reason?'

'It seems to trigger the vision John has of her. It's not pleasant.'

'I see.' Dumbledore leaned forward slightly and looked John in the eyes. 'John, what happens in this vision?'

John shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat. 'I see her. She's floating in the air. I don't know where it is, but there's a fire. Wormtail is there and he's holding Voldemort in his arms. Then it- then it gets a bit fuzzy. All I can really hear is – is her screaming and Voldemort laughing…' He trailed off, cringing at the memory.

'Do they speak at all?'

'I – er – I think so. I see her lips moving, but the screaming – it echoes too much.'

Dumbledore considered him for a moment. 'I'm very sorry, John, but I have to ask you to look again.'

John sat back in his chair. 'Why?' he asked, his heart jumping.

'I need to know what she said to them. Anything that may give us an advantage or a clue as to what his plan might be.'

'It's all right,' said Sherlock, turning to face John. 'You can do it.'

John looked from Dumbledore to Sherlock, then swallowed hard. 'Okay,' he said.

'Professor, do you have some water?'

Dumbledore took a jug and goblets from a shelf and placed them on the desk. He conjured a stream of water from the tip of his wand into the jug.

'Are you ready?' said Sherlock.

John took a deep breath and nodded.

'Okay, John,' Sherlock said softly. 'Tell me about her. Tell me about Bertha Jorkins.'

It was almost instantaneous. John was sucked into near darkness and took a moment to get his bearings. The fire was flickering and there was Bertha, hanging limply in the air. Wormtail swam into view, as did the grotesque, foetus-like Voldemort. His wand was raised and then came the screams.

High-pitched, terrible, and accompanied by a twisted and agonised expression. John automatically shrank away from it, the screams encompassing all.

Slow down. Sherlock's voice reached him and he caught a brief of Sherlock still sitting in front of him. Slow down, he said again. John breathed deeply and moved closer to Bertha, allowing Voldemort and Wormtail to fall out of his field of vision. 'What are you saying?' he asked.

'Triwizard Tournament,' she said, breathing heavily. Her voice, though ragged and raspy, was now quite clear to him. 'They're doing the Triwizard Tournament.' Her head lolled forward, then Voldemort cursed her again.

'Please!' she screamed. 'I don't know anything else.' She began sobbing uncontrollably. 'Please let me go. That's all I know.'

'Perhaps you are right,' a high, cold voice said. John shivered. 'I see no more use for you.'

Suddenly a jet of green light shot through John's chest, freezing him from the inside. It hit Bertha and her sobbing ceased, then John was thrown from the vision, back into Dumbledore's office. He gasped at the sudden change, and clutched at his chest with both hands. Sherlock tried to give him some water, but he swatted it away. 'No,' he said. 'Too-too cold.' He wrapped his arms around himself. 'She-she told them about the Triwizard Tournament,' he said to Dumbledore. 'I couldn't – I couldn't see anything else.' His teeth chattered.

'Thank you, John, that was very helpful,' said Dumbledore.

'How was it?' said Sherlock. 'We already know that he needs Harry for something, so he won't be looking for a way to enter him, would he? He wouldn't want to risk Harry's death.'

'Quite astute of you, Sherlock,' said Dumbledore. 'Please do not concern yourself with this. I assure you, Harry is quite safe.'

'But-'

'I think it's time John got back to Gryffindor Tower. He may benefit from a nice warm fire, wouldn't you agree?'

Fawkes flew back to his perch, singing softly and effectively ending the conversation.

'Goodnight,' said Dumbledore.

'Goodnight,' they replied.

They made their way back to Gryffindor Tower, John shivering the whole way.

'You did well, you know,' Sherlock said as they approached the Fat Lady.

'W-w-what d'you mean?'

'You're getting better at controlling it.'

'I suppose. B-b-balderdash,' he said to the Fat Lady.

Hermione still seemed to be in the library, but Harry, Ron and Dean were all sitting around, not doing much.

Sherlock sat John down by the fire, but he could barely feel it.

'I m-m-might as well just go to b-bed,' he said quietly.

'I'll join you. You could use the extra body heat.'

John didn't protest and they both went up to the dormitory, though neither of them could sleep for a long while.

Welcome back everyone! Thanks to TimedragonD, DaughterofMagic3, Sherlock Harry Winchester, wildtrance, King Simin the Warrior and Jaggedwing for the awesome reviews!

Some good news, I got a new computer and desk and everything so things are going a lot better now. For some context, my setup before was a broken laptop hooked up to my tv and a wireless keyboard, so writing was a bit difficult. Now that it's better I'm going to attempt to stick to a two week schedule, so look out for me every two Sundays!

See you next time!