A/N: Here's the next installment of TFTNF! I'm already working on the next chapter.

Refer to ch. 14 for the Whomping Willow story.

Picking A Fight With Amaranta

Amaranta sat on her bed, looking at a small bamboo plant that Malfoy had bought her, including the little orb of light that hovered around it. She glared at it furiously, trying her best to focus all of her mind on that plant.

"Argh! Bollocks!" She cried out in frustration. "It's impossible to make a plant move with simply your will!"

"Nothings impossible in the wizarding world," a familiar, deep voice came from behind her.

Amaranta turned around to see her childhood friend leaning against one of the bed posts. "Draco, you're not supposed to be in the Girls' Dormitories," she said.

"Oh, it's not like there's anyone around to complain about it," Draco rolled his eyes. "I can go anywhere I damn well please in here."

"Just because you're a prefect doesn't mean you can disobey school rules!" Amaranta pointed out.

God, she sounds more and more like the Mud-blood everyday, Draco sighed. "How's your leg?"

Amaranta allowed the change of subject. "It's as good as new. Madam Pomfrey's potions work wonders."

"Still no dice, huh?" Draco looked at the bamboo plant sitting on the nightstand.

"Dianthe said that Blommarians could bend plants at their will, and I saw her do it, but," Amaranta let out a frustrated sigh. "I can't do anything! Maybe only certain Blommarians can do it."

"But didn't she say that you taught her," Draco said.

"She said a lot of things that I don't understand," the young girl flopped back against her bed and stared at the green flames dancing on the torches. "She seemed to know me. But I don't know her." Or Jake, Amaranta thought. Of course, Amaranta hadn't told Draco about that. She told him everything of her talk with Dianthe Greene, but she left out that little detail. Who knows how Draco would react to that. He was always just a little over-protective.

"Maybe you knew her in a past life," Dracosuggested.

"That's quite possible…" Amaranta sighed. "I just don't know." Then an idea struck her. "Maybe I can ask Albus. Surely he would know something about all of this."

Amaranta jumped out of bed and straightened her clothes. "Are you coming with me?"

"Sure," Draco answered nonchalantly, but in truth, he was just as eager to know the answer as her.

When they arrived at Dumbledore's office, they found him sitting at his desk alone, writing something down and looking very busy, but when he saw Amaranta, he smiled, and put down his quill as if it were an unnecessary thing.

"My dear Amaranta, and young Mister Malfoy, what do I owe the pleasure?" He smiled kindly at her and nodded to Draco.

"I'm sorry for not coming in earlier, Albus," Amaranta apologized. "I didn't realize I would have so little time when I agreed to live in the dorms with the other students."

"It's perfectly alright," Dumbledore beamed. "I knew that when the school term came around that our time together would be limited. I'm quite sure that you didn't come here to simply pay me a visit?"

Amaranta stopped petting Fawkes to turn to Dumbledore. "Yes, actually, I have a question. Okay, quite a few questions."

"Sit, my child, sit," Dumbledore motioned to the two velvet chairs before his desk. "Mister Malfoy, too."

Draco frowned at the old man, but sat down anyway. Amaranta seated herself as well, and took a deep breath before speaking.

"It's about our new student, Dianthe Greene," Amaranta began. "Did you know she was a Blommarian?"

Dumbledore's bushy eyebrows rose, but then fell back to their position. "To be completely honest with you, yes, I did. When Miss Greene asked me if she could start her sixth year term here, I thought it would be good for you to have one of your own to look to."

"Then, did you know about her intentions towards me?"

"No, what are her intentions?"

"Revenge."

Dumbledore's eyes grew sad. "Oh, I see. I'm terribly sorry."

"It's not your fault," Amaranta looked at the floor before continuing. "Do you know anything about her?"

"I'm afraid not," Dumbledore sighed. "I don't usually delve to much into my student's personal lives. I believe in the sanctity of privacy."

"How could you allow such a dangerous woman here, near Amaranta?!" Draco shouted suddenly.

Dumbledore remained quiet, looking sternly at Draco. "Dianthe has every much right to be here as you do. Yes, she has a deadly power, but I know she will not harm any of my students."

"Uh, newsflash, old man, she already did!" Draco said, pointing at Amaranta.

"Draco, it's not his fault," Amaranta pleaded quietly.

"Mister Malfoy, if I were to expel students simply for their antipathy towards other students, even if they are my favorites," Dumbledore's wizened face crinkled in a smile at Amaranta before growing serious again, "then you would be sent home just as fast as Miss Greene would."

Draco frowned deeper, and sat back down.

"Albus, can you tell me what her connection to the Whomping Willow would be?" Amaranta continued.

"That's Professor Dumbledore, and no, I'm afraid I can't tell you, but do you might want to ask Mister Potter about the story of the Whomping Willow. I'm sure it will bring much insight into what you're looking for."

"Thanks, Albus!" Amaranta smiled, hopping out of her chair. "I mean, Professor Dumbledore. I'll go ask him right away!"

Draco, too, stood up, and walked towards the door. Amaranta was about to leave when Dumbledore called her name softly. She turned around and looked at him curiously.

"Remember, that no matter what happens," Amaranta lost her smile as she saw the small, black hand sticking out of his sleeve, "you will always be my daughter, and I will always love you."

The young girl smiled softly. "Thanks….Dad," she muttered that last word much more quietly before walking down the spiral staircase.

"I don't trust that old codger," Draco fumed the minute they were out in the hallways. "He's planning something, I just know it! And how come Potter knows something about all this, but he hasn't told us?"

"I don't know," Amaranta said, still smiling giddily. "There's probably no connection at all, so he never thought it would be helpful."

They found Ron, Hermoine, and Harry together in the library. They smiled when they saw Amaranta, but frowned when they noticed Draco following her.

"Hey, guys," Amaranta called out cheerily, but then lowered her voice to a whisper when the librarian gave her dirty looks. "We've been looking all over for you three."

"Oh really?" Harry raised an eyebrow and gave a skeptical look at Draco. "What do you want?"

"I just got back from visiting Alb-I mean Professor Dumbledore, and he says that you might know something about the Whomping Willow."

The three froze and looked at each other. "Of course!" They rasped in unison. Hermoine dashed away and soon came back with a dusty, worn book. "We're sorry, Amaranta! We completely forgot about it!"

"What?" Amaranta sat down at the table with them, while Draco stood behind her, his hand on her chair.

"Dumbledore told us to look this up last year," Harry whispered. "It's a story about the past of the Whomping Willow."

"I can't believe we didn't realize it before!" Hermoine sighed. "It's so obvious! Even the names-just here, Amaranta read this page."

Amaranta looked at the book that Hermoine shoved towards her. She saw a small picture of a willow tree at the top with the words "THE WHOMPING WILLOW" underneath it.

Quickly, Amaranta read through the page, and Draco read over her shoulder. Amaranta read it three times before finally sitting back and letting her brain digest it. "There's no way…"

"Amaranta's not like this," Draco rasped dangerously. "This isn't her! It's someone else!"

"We don't think it's her, but…" Hermoine looked at the boys.

"It's just too much of a coincidence," Ron said.

"Hermoine," Amaranta spoke without looking at her. She was still staring unbelievingly at the book. "Is there any potion or spell that can revive old memories?"

"Umm…none that I really know of, but there's the Remembrall, but that would be useless in this case," said Hermoine.

"What about memories of the heart?"

"Memories of the heart?" Ron looked at her stupidly. "Hearts don't have memories, or at least not as specific as your brain does."

"No, think about it, Ron," Amaranta said, still staring at the book, but this time more fixedly. "I can be reborn over and over again, unless some one were to take my Heart Fruit, or my tree was hacked down before I could be born again. The only thing in me that remains constant is my heart. Like Dianthe said, 'your heart will always remember.' That must mean that these memories are locked deep within my heart. I must've done all of these things in a previous life."

"But there's no way, you—"­ Harry interjected.

"It's just as Ron said. This is too much of a coincidence. I need to remember."

"I'm sorry, Amaranta, but I don't know anything about the memories of the heart," Hermoine sighed.

"It's alright Hermoine," Amaranta stood up. "I'll go do some research on my own."

"No, Amaranta, I will," Draco held her arm. "You still need to figure out how to use your powers before Dianthe kills you."

"You're right," Amaranta nodded. "Well, I'll be off."

Amaranta walked down the hallways quietly, unable to shake off a foreboding feeling. She decided to head outside where there was plenty of vegetation and sunlight, to begin her experimentation. However, she bumped into a very unwanted person on the way there.

"Ugh!" Was Dianthe's immediate response upon seeing her.

"Is that what you say when you meet someone in the corridors?" Amaranta shouted angrily.

"Sorry, it's become a reflex now," the perfect blonde snorted, looking away.

Amaranta growled. "Look here, I don't know what I did to you in the past, and I'm sorry if I might have nearly destroyed the world or something, but I'm sorry now, ok?"

"No!" Dianthe punched the wall next to them, fury in her eyes. A couple of teenagers walking by looked at her warily. "It's not ok, Amaranta! Do you know how frustrating this all is? I won't accept any apologies or anything until you remember, and until then…" she leaned in closer to Amaranta and dropped her voice so that only the two of them could hear, "I'm going to make your life miserable!"

"I've been through some pretty bad things, I don't see what you can do," Amaranta rolled her eyes, trying not to sound scared.

"Oh, really?" Dianthe straightened her back and smiled menacingly. "Well, then, I suppose I'll just steal your boyfriend, since you stole mine."

"Wai-Wha­—?" Amaranta began, but Dianthe ignored her and strode down the corridor and disappeared behind the corner.

Was…that a threat? Amaranta stared off into the distance. BRING IT ON, BIATCH!

With new found fervor, Amaranta stormed into the courtyard, cheeks flushed and fuming. "Stupid, big-boobed, slutty…" Amaranta grumbled steamily. She stopped and strode around in a few circles, unable to sit still, her mind thinking of all sorts of colorful names.

She stopped when she heard a rustling beside. She looked up and saw a bright green birch tree rustling in the wind. Wait…wind? Amaranta looked around. There was no wind. Amarants swirled around and looked at the tree again. It was beginning to calm down again.

"No, wait!" Amaranta whispered to the tree. "Uh…come back!" The tree remained still again, standing out no more than the other trees.

"Graah!" Amaranta howled in rage and kicked the tree. "Dammit! This is just my day!"

The tree shook at her in response.

"Yes! Yes! That's it!" Amaranta nearly screamed aloud. Then the tree began to wave more gently, as if it were seaweed in the water. The topmost limbs reached out towards the sun, steadily growing. "Yes! Yes! Yes!"

And then it dawned on her.

"I've got it!" This time she actually did yell aloud so that the whole courtyard turned to look at her.

Clicking her heels, Amaranta ran straight to her room so she could try out her newly found power.