Disclaimer: Anything you recognize from the Harry Potter books and/or movies is not mine.

A/N: Once again, not much was added. Just a few spelling mistakes fixed, and a sentence or two added. I'll get the next chapter up soon, since I know you're all waiting eagerly for it, as this was where the other story left off. Has anyone else been having trouble with ff dot net? Stories wont show up for me, and I've been having log-in troubles. I don't know if it's something about my computer, or something else. Anyone know:o Now onwards!

Preternatural

By: xScenex and Rubber Ducky Loser

Chapter Six: Thunder Before the Lightening

That following night, Harry found himself up in the Owlery after curfew, writing a letter to Sirius. He was feeling quite depressed, confused, and angry all at the same time, and he didn't understand, which only succeeded in making him even angrier. He didn't know why, exactly, but his constant run-in's with Malfoy weren't helping his mood, nor where the looks he continued to receive from fellow students or teachers.

After signing his name on the bottom of the letter, he searched out one of the school owls and sent the letter off into the dreary night.

Harry leaned against the Owlery door, staring out into the curtain or rain that fell heavily from the sky. He didn't now what to do anymore - school was definitely something he wished he could get away from. He used to love going to Hogwarts, but realizing now that Hermione and Ron weren't his friends made him feel like he were missing something huge in his life. They used to be the one's he counted on every year to be there with him; now they were gone.

Nothing was the same as before. In his old life, Sirius, his parents, and Dumbledore were dead, and war had already hit a high note. But in his current life, that was all changed. Voldemort hadn't made a huge move yet - which actually made him wonder what the wizard was up to. He was only ever quiet in his activity if he was planning something, and that usually wasn't a good sign.

Sighing heavily, the boy shifted a bit and stared around him. The owls were active, hooting and darting about restlessly, wanting to fly out in the night but unwilling to get wet from the rain. He vaguely noticed a familiar white owl up in the rafters and gulped down the tightening in his throat. He couldn't dwell on things that just weren't meant to be there. Hedwig was no longer his, and he had to deal with that.

Just as he dealt with everything else.

After a few more minutes of just standing in the doorway, the boy decided to head back inside before he was actually missed. He pulled his invisibility cloak over himself before heading off down the staircase and into the building.

The halls were dark, as was usual for the middle of the night. His footsteps echoed quietly around the walls as he walked down one of the many staircases that resided inside of the old castle.

After about fifteen minutes, Harry found himself turning a corner, only to hear voices coming from the far end of the next hall. He ducked behind a suit of armor, hoping that he wouldn't be caught by Filch or Snape.

As the voices got closer and the light from a lumos charm became visible enough to make out features, he realized that it was Dumbledore and the new defense teacher, Braubaker.

"Albus, I just know that's what You-Know-Who's after. It's the only possible thing," the woman stated.

"Eliza, I understand what you're saying, but we have no proof that he's got a student doing insider work for him," the older wizard stated tiredly. "We really don't have the evidence."

"Yes, but Albus, you must realize that it would be a Death Eater's child-"

"We have no proof of that, either," Dumbledore cut in.

"But it's obvious!" Braubaker exclaimed, waving her wand around a bit and casing eerie shadows around them, "There's no one else who'd be willing to do it."

The Headmaster sighed and Harry watched as he ran a hand over his beard, "Alas, even if that was true, we couldn't hold a child against their will for questioning without parental permission. The only thing we can do is try and find Gaia's Mirror before Voldemort can get his hands on it."

Harry strained his hearing, trying not to miss anything spoken by either of them. What was it that Voldemort was after?

"Then you must send out men to find it immediately! Gaia's Mirror is a dangerous artifact that will bring destruction if You-Know-Who gets a hold of it!"

Gaia's Mirror? Harry listened intently once again.

"But," Dumbledore said thoughtfully, "We have no clue to where the mirror is. It could be anywhere - the only thing we have that could lead us to the place are a few scattered clues in the library. Otherwise, there is nothing. In all my years, I have never stumbled across information of the whereabouts. It was hard enough finding out about the object itself. Obviously, it wasn't meant to find, Eliza."

"But He will find it if we don't," she said fearfully. "We can't let Him get it!"

Harry had to take a few steps closer to hear the rest of what was being said as the two professor's walked to the end of the corridor and Dumbledore mumbled, "We only have a matter of time before we find out who will get it."

Harry took in a deep breath, realizing he'd been holding it the entire time. What was that conversation about? What was it that the new defense teacher said Voldemort was after? Gaia's Mirror?

It didn't sound familiar to Harry. Obviously, it was like in his first year with the Philosopher's Stone. Only - he knew by instinct that he'd never heard of that object by anything, especially by a chocolate frog card.

Chuckling lightly to himself at old memories, of how ironic that whole situation in his first year had been, he started walking again down the corridor, being careful not to get too near the distant footsteps of the two professors, whom he guessed had just headed up a flight of stairs. Turning to the right, he headed up a different staircase that had just planted itself firmly after shifting position so that he would find him in the corridor that led to the Gryffindor Tower.

By the time he made it into the warm common room of his beloved House, it was empty, all except for a House Elf who had just popped out of sight at the noise of the portrait opening. Harry vaguely wondered if the elf was Dobby but banished the thoughts as soon as it brought a wave of sadness over himself.

Plopping down into an overstuffed armchair near the fire, he stared into the flames, his mind weary and working a mile a minute.

He still wasn't adapting as well as he'd hoped in his new home. When he had lived at Sirius' during the summer, he'd thought it would be better because of how life was then. But since he'd been thrust back into Hogwarts, where all his worries seemed to reside, he realized that things weren't what he had thought.

How did Neville put up with it? Being made fun of, having been looked down upon, and having no friends there to comfort him? Harry wished more than anything that Ron and Hermione would rush down from their dormitories and engulf him in their old conversations.

But he knew it wouldn't happen. They weren't his friends - never again would they be the same as they had once been. Making his wish that night at Aunt Petunia's was one of the most tragic he'd ever made - in gaining so little, he lost so much.

Sighing heavily, he placed his head against his shaking hands. He felt tears prickle at his eyelids but he held them back. There's no use in crying over spilt milk, right?

But it was so hard - all his life, he'd felt alone but was never truly by himself; now he was. He was completely lonely, with only a missing toad as his companion and that hardly helped the fact. Not that he wanted the blasted toad to be there…

Steering his mind away from those thoughts roughly, he forced himself to think of what he'd overheard the new Defense teacher and Dumbledore talking about.

So Voldemort was after something - something that obviously held power. But since when didn't Voldemort go after something that could more than likely do worse harm than he?

Harry wanted to laugh out loud, but kept the bubbling mirth inside. He didn't want anyone to overhear him and think him to be insane - although, that wouldn't be a first. Hadn't he been declared insane in his fifth year by the Daily Prophet and many of his peers?

But that hadn't happened to him in the new world. All that had happened to Neville and not him.

Not him…

He couldn't hold it in anymore. He felt like he was loosing his mind. He let out a loud, riotous laughter and clutched onto his hair in attempt to stifle the amusement with pain, finding it more and more hilarious as the seconds ticked by. The sound seemed loud in his ears, and oddly not like himself.

But he couldn't help himself; everything he had known himself to be was now gone. He wasn't 'just Harry', he realized. He wasn't even Harry anymore - he was Neville from his old life. Harry James Potter was gone. In his place was a man who had been stripped of all he had grown up to be.

Harry was so caught up in his sardonic amusement that he didn't hear when someone stepped down from the boys staircase. He continued to laugh, albeit quieting considerably as the reality was starting to slowly fade back into place, fighting to rid of the cloudy illusions that played in his mind. Was he going crazy?

Before he could think further, he heard someone cough lightly and his head jerked up to see the frightened and unsure face of Neville - the last person he wanted to see.

They stared at one another for a moment, Harry's chuckles finally dying out into the silence, despite the crackles from the nearby fire.

In that time, Harry took in the new Boy-Who-Lived's appearance once more. It was obvious he hadn't slept well as of yet, as large, dark rings surrounded his eyes and his skin looked pale and clammy. His hands shook with well hidden emotions, and Harry only guessed that he'd had a vision.

"Er- Harry?"

Focusing his attention back on Neville's eyes, he inquired, "Yes?"

"W-was that you, down here just now?"

"Do you see anyone else?" Harry spat irritated, waving exasperatedly around the room.

This only caused Neville's face to cloud over with an unknown emotion as he shook his head unsurely. Harry realized he must look and seem like some St. Mungo's patient who'd lost his mind. And in a way, he felt he had. The reality of the situation was pressing into him - he felt as if he'd suffocate from it. And the worst part of this all was that it had been his choice to take such a road.

"Can you believe it?" Harry asked, more to himself than to Neville. "So ironic, really…"

Neville stepped back a bit, still confused but Harry dismissed the fact as he wasn't even looking at the boy anymore. He pressed his fingers together, and sat facing a blank spot in the wall opposite of him.

"It's changed now," he continued, "changed in ways I'd never believed possible."

"Harry…"

"And it's all because of me!" he laughed loudly. "Me! Always me!"

"Harry, you're acting cr-"

"What? Crazy?" he stood up so suddenly that it startled Neville. He whipped around so that his back faced the roaring fire and his face was plunged into dark shadows. "This whole place is crazy Neville. The whole lot of it!"

"Harry, I think you need hel-"

"No!" Harry spat once more, brushing hair out of his face and for the first time that night, he realized he'd been crying. His cheeks were wet with the tears he'd never known had fallen. He stared at his damp hand, wondering when he'd started weeping. Why was he crying? He knew he was stronger than that…

"Look, I'm going to go get McGonagall. You need help," Neville stated and backed away slowly with fear in his eyes. What the fear was for - Harry's sanity or his own safety - he didn't know.

Harry grabbed roughly at Neville's shoulders, shaking him thoroughly and nearly shouting, "They can't do anything to help me! No one can-"

"Let go of me!" the boy tried shrugging Harry off him but the bony fingers gripped tighter, showing strength that he himself hadn't known he'd possessed. "I said, let go!"

Suddenly, Harry found himself on the floor with a heavy body above him and the side of his face throbbing painfully. He lay there, dazed and a bit disoriented for a bit until he realized that the weight had lifted from him and a person stood above him.

Neville was on his feet, breathing heavily with a raised fist. He backed away slowly as Harry tried to get up but quickly sunk to his knees as his weight gave way.

His ears rung from the force of the hit against his face and his eyesight was a bit unfocused. He looked once more at Neville before his head dropped and he cupped his face in his hands.

Reality was once more closing in on him and he'd realized his actions. He truly felt as if he were going insane. He didn't want that - and it was his own fault for falling into the insanity that assaulted him. Or maybe it was his Aunt's, he thought bitterly, remembering that it was her who had given him the object that granted his one wish.

He wanted that object back now, to get home. He wanted to go back to his old life, his old friends. He wanted to go back to what he knew and understood.

"I want to go home," he mumbled, rocking forward a bit to stop the aching in his chest. "I want to leave here, I want to go home."

He wasn't aware that Neville had disappeared. He rocked backwards seconds later, his hands sliding away from his face and into his hair. He stared at a ink stain on the rug in front of him that he'd vaguely remembered from his own world.

"I want to go home," he repeated, louder this time. He continued to say that until he was nearly shouting it, his mind settling into final shock as his body only responded in constant rocking movements.

That's how McGonagall found him moments later, followed closely by Neville and a few students who had woken up - those that included Ron, Hermione, and Ginny; his former friends.

Oh, how he wanted to go home.

But that was only the beginning… a cross storm of light and sound, where the thunder sounds before the lightning strikes; nothing but utter chaos.

Review? Please? Anyways, thanks for reading guys. The next, unread chapter will be up soon! Maybe even today, but who knows.