She woke up screaming, again. She took a deep breath, ran both hands through her hair and held on to the ends for dear life. Her breathing was hard and her heart was beating painfully fast. Panic shot through her being. Fear gripped her, as it never had before. Her eyes darted about the room, as though expecting to see a murderer with a hockey mask, looking at her with his machete raised high, ready to stab her through the heart. Or worse, to see Voldemort, glaring, wand poised, and a blast of green light penetrating her body. 'Or maybe one of the things I encountered in hell,' Elizabeth thought jumpily. She felt like she was waiting for the old fire demon to attack her again.

She shook her head, trying to block images of green lights, balrogs, and hockey masks out of her head. As she tried to slow her breathing, she rocked back and forth on her bed.

She stood up, about ten minutes later, stretched and went to go walk around, seeing how closing her eyes only made her see the horrors she never wanted to live through again.

"I am beginning to think you are somewhat of an insomniac, Ms. Pentillo," Professor Dumbledore said as he walked around the corner.

Elizabeth bumped right into him. "Terribly sorry, sir," she mumbled.

Dumbledore nodded.

"Why is it you think I'm an insomniac, Professor?" she asked him.

"Because, when you were at Hogwarts, I could recall many a night you were up late, either reading, thinking, doing homework, walking around, getting a glass of water, or retrieving a letter you misplaced in the Shrieking Shack with Mr. Potter. You name it, you did it at three in the morning," Dumbledore informed amusedly with a twinkle in his eyes at the memory of it.

"I apologize," Elizabeth muttered, looking at her feet.

"Don't be sorry. If it wasn't for your restlessness, Mr. Potter would be dead and the world would be destroyed," Dumbledore explained.

"Oh, please. I did not save the world," Elizabeth said, her head shooting up to get a good look at the old man before her.

"Really? If I remember correctly, you died the last year you were here. You were seventeen. You died because you were killed, yes. But, afterwards, everyone realized you had to die," Dumbledore informed.

"I had to die?" Elizabeth repeated.

"Yes. You were one of the Falling Stars. In order to use your power as a Falling Star, you either had to die, or have your innocence broken. As Mr. Potter found that out a little too late, he couldn't do the honors..."

"What!" Elizabeth blurted out in humiliation. 'This old man is talking about me losing my virginity…and to Harry, too! Lord, help us all!' she thought, 'But I'd be surprised if I still had it…who knows what creepy evil demons down in hell like to ravage pure little seventeen year old virgins…' A cold chill of recognition made her hair stand on end and her legs draw together as though told by instinct.

"Oh, dear. It seems I've said too much. Well, do what you need to do, Elizabeth, then, please, try to get some sleep. Tomorrow is July 31. It is a very special day and we do not want you missing out on it," Dumbledore asked.

"Yes, sir," Elizabeth sighed. She turned around and went back to her bed. She didn't even want to think about the virginity thing.

'How odd,' Elizabeth mused, 'it is that, now, I can close my eyes without worrying about Jason or balrogs, or Voldemort…How do I remember their names?' was the last thing Elizabeth recalled thinking about before she drifted into (for her, a very rare) dreamless sleep.

The next day was a big party. It seemed the lot of the wizarding world was celebrating. Elizabeth found out exactly why when she got the Daily Prophet delivered to her. There was a big picture of Harry on the front page.

'Happy Birthday to The-Boy-Who-Lived!'

"I wonder when they'll notice I'm not a boy, anymore," Harry thought aloud, distracting Elizabeth from her trance.

"They were talking about you?" she asked. 'Well,' a voice in her head said as she mentally slapped herself, 'Obviously! That is him in the picture, one-of-little-intelligence.'

"Oh, yes. Undoubtedly. An evil wizard tried to kill me when I was one, and I survived, when no one else had," Harry explained.

"Why would anyone try to kill you?" Elizabeth inquired.

"I-I…ah…that is to say…er," Harry stuttered.

---Meanwhile, in Dumbledore's office---

"We've hid her long enough, Albus," Minerva McGonagall said to Professor Dumbledore.

"Minerva, she can't leave, now. Definitely not. Remember I told you about how bad the elders muddled this plan?" Dumbledore retorted.

"But it can't have been as bad as the elders described. They described a type of…well, like what muggle Christians call hell..."

"Exactly. That was it, exactly. Only it's not a place to send particularly evil people," Dumbledore explained.

McGonagall's eyebrows furrowed with confusion. "What is it, then?"

"It is a type of obstacle course. The only point is to survive. If you really want to go back, if you really have the will power, the courage, the stamina, you can make it back. But if you want to move on, you let the first peril destroy the temporary body given to you by the elders," Dumbledore said.

"What does this have to do with Elizabeth?" McGonagall questioned.
"She went through more than she should have. I helped her along for about ten minutes, but I was rejected out of her mind by some magic the elders instilled. It wore off after while, but when I found her, the damage had already been done. Not only were her fears already imprinted on this hell, some of mine were, as well. Those horrors were to follow her, tormenting, torturing, until she knew she could take no more, with no sign of escape," the old man sighed.

"Why would you want to help her?"

"The fate of the world still sits on an unbalanced pedestal, Minerva."

"You are getting better and better at confusing me."

"Then let me spell it out. Harry has the power to destroy Voldemort."

"Yes, yes, I already know that, Albus. Tell me something I don't know."

"Here's something you don't know. If Harry isn't completely satisfied with what he did, Voldemort could still come back."

Professor McGonagall gasped as she put her hand to her mouth. "How do we know if Potter is satisfied or not?"

"I always knew I had more than one reason to care for the boy's happiness. We target his problems that are causing him distress."

"What do you mean? Target?"

"We fix them."

"Once again, what does Elizabeth Pentillo have to do with this?"

"Everything."

A/N: It's a bird! It's a plane! It's...Funness returning? Muahahahaha!

Tikvah Ariel: Yes, here I am! Thank you so much for reviewing, and I hope you haven't given up on me...-sweat drop-