A/N: Sorry for the long wait, finals. But summer is here, so updates should come quicker than ever before! And here's a nice, long, plot-laden chapter with a cliffy at the end to make up for the wait! Oh, and by the way, last chapter title was from 'The Sixth Sense.' Cookies to HiddenDemigod for getting it right first!

Chapter Eleven: The Dark Side to Being a Medium

Harry

I'm drifting here, alone. It's dark, it's cold. I can't see my own hand in front of my face. Whispers are echoing in my ears, right next to me, yet when I put out my hand, I feel nothing. Where am I? What is this? A dream? Death? Unconciousness?

"Hello? Is anybody there?"

"Why hello there. You know, you killed our master. Which brought us down. Oh well." Fingers close around my throat, and I try to struggle but can't throw off whoevers grabbing me. Whoever it is has a gruff, masculine voice, and is very, very strong.

"I suppose I'll just kill you. That should be a fair trade, wouldn't you say."

Air...air...need...air...

The fingers let go and I gasp in the sweet, sweet oxygen frantically, filling my lungs.

"But not just yet. No, no, what use would it be to kill you in a dream?"

A faint speck of light appears, and I can hear someone calling my name. I'm waking up. But just as I vanish, I hear the voice again, just a faint whisper.

"See you around, medium."

"Harry?" I groan and sit up, glancing around. I'm sprawled on the couch in the common room, must have fallen asleep doing homework last night. First week back and they're already swarming us with work, honestly.

"Max?" I ask, blinking sleep out of my eyes. "What time is it?"

"Midnight," she answers casually, as if it's perfectly normal to go and wake someone up at midnight. I glare at her, trying to put the strange, unsettling dream out of my head.

"And why would you wake me up now?"

"I thought now would be a good time to go for a fly, when no one can see us."

"True, true," I say, reaching over and rooting around in my schoolbag. "Let me just...ah, got it!" I pull out a filmy, floaty cloak and a tattered sheet of parchment. I quickly activate the map and throw the cloak over my and Max's shoulders.

"Lead on," I say with a grin. She sighs, and pulls us out of the portrait hole. The Fat Lady snores on as we sneak by, creeping through the hallways, heading towards the Astronomy Tower. After a few minutes of silence, we reach the stairway and begin to climb. Max deems it safe enough to talk. And it's then when I find out the real reason she woke me up at midnight.

"So, have you thought about telling your friends? As I told you before, it's up to you when you want to."

"No," I say decisively. "I can't."

"Why?" she asks, stopping and crossing her arms over her chest. "You have to face them sooner or later, Harry. You can't hide forever."

"I don't need to last forever," I snap, pulling the cloak off and storming up the steps. "I just need to keep our secret until June. Surely you haven't forgotten that."

"Harry...please...you have to..."

"No, Max. I couldn't bare to see their pitying looks."

"But maybe they could find a way-"

"-to what? Save my life? Forget it. It's never going to happen." I take a shaky breath and grab my left arm, turning my face away to hide the fact that I'm almost in tears. "Can you please not talk about it?"

"Yeah...sorry." She pulls the cloak off too, before pushing past me and heading up the stairs. I sigh and rest my head against the stone, before forcing a smile onto my face and heading after her. I need to stay strong. For Max. The Flock. And my friends.

Because they know I was captured...

They know I was tortured...

But they don't know I'm dying.

And I intend to keep it that way.

I step out onto the hard stone of the Astronomy Tower and walk over to the narrow ledge that seperates the tower from the long, long fall.

"Hey," I hear, and I turn to see Fang grinning at me. Apparently Max woke the entire Flock for this little escapade. "I've never sparred with you before. Wanna try? First one to fall loses," he says, gesturing to the railing. I smile.

"Sure, why not?"

And we begin the fight. Fang is at a totally different level than I am, but I manage to get in a few punches before he knocks me off the tower. I unfurl my wings and swoop upwards, landing semi-awkwardly on the ledge again.

"Nice one," I say, extending my hand to shake his. He takes it. I tighten my grip and whirl around, sending him flying.

"Shouldn't let your guard down," I laugh, still carefully keeping my mask up, before jumping off the roof and soaring into the night, not fancying letting Fang catch me.

At least...I have this, I think, relishing the freedom and the feeling of the wind in my hair and feathers. I can fly, and it's pretty incredible. But still, if I could, I'd give it all up in a heartbeat just to live to my sixteenth birthday. Life is too short. It really is. I just didn't realize it until now. I try to lose the depressing thoughts, and allow myself to become one with the wind, swooping and dipping, thoughtless, just pure pleasure.

But I've never been much good at meditating. Or Zen-type stuff in general, really.

Still, I'm alive today. And that's what counts, right?

Right?

2 weeks later

"So, I've been scouring the library for books on how to train Medium powers." I look up from my homework. It's Hermione of course, and she doesn't look all that happy. Ever since I've become a Medium, she's been dead-set on helping me.

"And?" I ask, already knowing the answer. It will be just the same as the last ten times she went to the library.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I just don't get it."

"Well he is the first one in like, five-hundred years," remarks Ron, scrawling down another false death-sentence. I've always hated Divination, but now it's just plain torture.

"True, it's logical there wouldn't be much information," said Hermione, sitting down and throwing her hands in the air in exasperation. I smirk slightly. I liked it when she did that. It was almost...cute?

Woah, woah, woah. June, remember? No crushes, no romance. Do you want her heart broken?

Stupid subconcious.

"But really, nothing?" she continues.

"Well, if you can't find it with your amazing research skills, than I highly doubt there's any info," I say, snapping my book shut. I stretch, rolling my shoulders back, and reach out for my potions kit. I need the knife inside, we're supposed to draw up diagrams of what various ingredients look like diced, sliced, minced, etc.

I pick it up, along with some lavendar roots, and begin chopping. There's something niggling at the back of my head, but I push it out. Probably just my subconcious. Again.

It came again. And it felt almost...sinister.

What the hell? I manage to think, before the world goes black and an overwhelming pain shoots through my stomach.

Hermione

It all seems to happen in slow-motion, yet so fast I can barely comprehend it. Harry's slicing the lavendar, and I'm about to comment on his remark about my research skills (they really aren't that amazing) when his face goes blank and he snaps up, dropping the lavendar.

It's the same as when he channeled his mother in Potions. Yet this seems different. Wrong.

"Ah yes, finally," he says, in a voice that's not his own. "I've been waiting for an oppurtunity like this for weeks now."

"O-oppurtunity? Who are you?" I stutter, staring at Harry. He has a slightly crazed look in his eyes, and is waving the extremely sharp knife around as he's talking.

"An oppurtunity to take over the brat who killed my master and sent me to Azkaban. See, you all are so excited about his Medium abilities. But what you all forget," he raises the knife into the air, "is that not all ghosts like the brat."

I know what's going to happen before it does, but I'm powerless to stop it. I lunge forward, frantically trying to catch Harry's hands, to stop him. But I can't. I can't stop the knife from plunging into his stomach, can't stop him from twisting the blade, can't stop the horrible gush of blood spilling from his stomach and from his mouth as he coughs.

He laughs insanely before slumping over, still clutching the blade. Screams are erupting all around the common room and Ron stands in horror, running over to Harry. He looks up, his eyes back to normal. He stares at the knife in his stomach for a split second, as if surprised, before screaming in agony and lurching forward, throwing up a fountain of blood. His breathing becomes labored and I swear I can hear his heartbeat growing fainter.

"No!" I yell, grabbing his shoulders. "Harry, look at me, look at me! It's okay, keep breathing, we'll get you help!" I whirl around. "SOMEONE GET HELP!" I wait until a terrified first-year runs off, before spinning back around to face my dying best friend, who's now choking on his own blood and thrashing around, unable to comprehend what happened or why he's in pain. My hands hover over the knife uncertainly. Do I take it out? Leave it in? What do I do? No one's ever told me what to do in this kind of situation!

I choke back a frantic sob and clutch his shoulders again, deciding to leave the knife in. It must have been stopping some of the bleeding right? Stopping up the gaping hole in his stomach? Ron drops beside me, looking at Harry with the same desperation I feel reflected in his blue eyes.

"Harry, come on!" he yells. "You're strong, you can get through this! It's not your time to go yet, you hear me! It's not your time to die! Please keep breathing! Please! We need you!"

His breaths are growing weaker and weaker, and there's more blood than I thought was ever possible. His eyes are slipping closed, and I know that he has only minutes left, if that. He's going to die here, in my arms, and there's nothing I can do about it, absolutely nothing.

"Maybe this is for the best."

It's Max's voice, next to me, in a whisper. She had come over to sit beside Harry, and had said those six words in a whisper, to herself, clearly not meaning for me to hear them.

But I did. And they made me want to slap her. No, kill her. How was this for the best? How was my best friend dying on the carpet for the best?

I would have killed her in that moment. I really would've.

But then Harry's breathing fades away.

His heart stutters to a stop.

And all is still.

A/N: *insert dramatic music here* Please don't kill me! Please! *Goes and hides in Crona's emo corner* I HAD TO! OKAY! I HAD TO!

Speaking of Crona, any Soul Eater fans out there? I'm planning a crossover...Harry Potter/Soul Eater

-Winged Quill