A/N: Sorry for taking so long to update. Life has not been kind to Frau and myself. Hopefully, this makes up for it.

Disclaimer: See chapter 1. The songs, "Willie McBride" and "Blowin' In the Wind" belong to their respective artists and composers. --GF and the Frau

Chapter 32: Asking the Impossible

The next morning, Albus Dumbledore came down to breakfast, looking like he hadn't slept at all.

"Are you alright Albus?" Minerva asked, as she fixed her morning cuppa.

The aged headmaster rubbed his forehead gingerly, flaring his nostrils a bit. "I had a nightmare, that's all." And he had, all night long, he sighed as he reached for a pastry. "It was the same nightmare over and over again. I dreamed I was suspended on a single fraying rope over the vilest, smelliest, the most disgusting bog that could ever be imagined. The rope that held me was breaking, strand by strand, and when it finally broke, and I started to fall, I would jerk awake! The most horrible part of the whole damn thing is I can't get the stench out of my nostrils! Even my lemon drops have a nasty taste to them," he whimpered with a shiver as he took a bite of the pastry, only to gag on the taste. It tasted like the bog of his nightmare smelt.

Filius snickered into his tea cup. The man deserved it. He wondered how long the King deemed sufficient for Albus' stupidity.

0o0o0

Sarah sat staring at her computer screen. She was drawing a blank on how to continue the scene she was working on. She had never given up her writing, in fact Jared had encouraged her to continue. He had repeatedly told her that she was one of the few Gifted mortals that could create magic, why should he discourage her?

"Nice Lady."

Sarah looked down at the small goblin standing by her chair. He was one of those that flittered about at the school Garion was forced to attend. She bit down on her inner cheek. She hadn't liked sending her son there. She hated that he was gone for so long and she definitely hated all the things that senile old coot of a headmaster was putting her son through.

"Yes....?" she asked, smiling down at the small goblin.

"Skittle, Nice Lady," the goblin smiled back. "The young prince asked me to deliver this note to you."

Sarah thanked the small creature. She had long since given up asking the goblins to call her by her title, or even Sarah. She was forever known as the "Nice Lady," while Jareth had several titles depending on his mood at the time.

"Dear Mother,

It is late at night and I can't sleep. The Third Task is only a week away and it feels me with dread. I know what is going to happen and . . .

Mother, why does Cedric have to die? Why can't I just wish him away? Father could keep him there until the right time to return him. I hate this.

The night has never been this oppressive before. The dark has always been my friend and now, it taunts me.

I have made friends like my old timeline demands it but Ron is a jealous prat that can't see beyond his narrow minded nose. Hermione is alright for a girl but she can get on my nerves about studying. Personally, I rather spend more time with Luna then anyone else.

But still Mother, I am afraid. What if ol' Moldy Voldy gets my Bardic magic when he comes back?

Hate this! Hate this!"

Sarah sighed as she read the disjointed note. Strong arms wrapped around her waist as a chin rested on she shoulder. "Go to him my Sarah. He needs you more then me at the moment," Jareth whispered into her ear.

"he knew this was going to happen," she said, folding the note.

"You know as well as I that he relives his past life in his dreams. He has always known," Jareth said, burying his face in her hair, breathing in her unique scent. "Go to him. He needs his mother."

0o0o0o0

The leaving feast was a somber affair. Fudge and his cronies had all left. The two schools and their entourage had also left. It was the last day of school year and no one felt like celebrating.

Harry sat on the Gryffindor table strumming his guitar while his feet softly tapped out the beat on his chair. His music case rested on the floor next to him, emitting the soft strains of Scottish bagpipes playing "Flowers of the Forest."

Harry looked over at Hermione and said, "This song came about when as young traveler walked through France on a summers day. He stopped in his travels to rest beside a green sea of white crosses." Harry's fingers ghosted over the strings of his guitar as he began the first stanza of a mournful ballad.

"Well, how do you do, Private William McBride,
Do you mind if I sit down here by your graveside?
And rest for awhile in the warm summer sun,
I've been walking all day, and I'm nearly done.
And I see by your gravestone you were only 19
When you joined the glorious fallen in 1916,
Well, I hope you died quick and I hope you died clean
Or, Willie McBride, was it slow and obscene?

Did they Beat the drum slowly, did the play the pipes lowly?
Did the rifles fir o'er you as they lowered you down?
Did the bugles sound The Last Post in chorus?
Did the pipes play the Flowers of the Forest? "

It was as if a sea of quietness slowly ebb and flowed over the Great Hall as students turned to listen to Harry's lament. Tears flowed as the sad poignant song gained momentum.

"And I can't help but wonder, no Willie McBride,
Do all those who lie here know why they died?
Did you really believe them when they told you "The Cause?"
Did you really believe that this war would end wars?
Well the suffering, the sorrow, the glory, the shame
The killing, the dying, it was all done in vain,
For Willie McBride, it all happened again,
And again, and again, and again, and again."

Harry bowed his head as his voice died in a whisper and the sounds of the bagpipes faded. Harry slowly lifted his angry eyes to the Head Table defying anyone there to deny his right to speak. His green eyes glared at those that had forced him to live through one of his most heart-breaking and horrifying nightmares.

With a curt nod of his head, Harry went right into another song. "This one's for you, Headmaster. Listen closely." Harry began to sing, his bardic magic shifting the mood from sorrow and grief to righteous anger.

"How many roads most a man walk down
Before you call him a man ?
How many seas must a white dove sail
Before she sleeps in the sand ?
Yes, how many times must the cannon balls fly
Before they're forever banned ?
The answer my friend is blowin' in the wind
The answer is blowin' in the wind."

Although it was a protest song from the 1970's, Harry found the words to be appropriate for this occasion. Dumbledore really needed to get his head out of his arse. Did the man even see himself in this song? Harry poured his heart and frustration into the song.

"Yes, how many times must a man look up
Before he can see the sky ?
Yes, how many ears must one man have
Before he can hear people cry ?
Yes, how many deaths will it take till he knows
That too many people have died ?
The answer my friend is blowin' in the wind
The answer is blowin' in the wind."

"Mr. Potter!" came Professor McGonagall's stern voice as she strolled down the aisle. "There will be no sitting on the tables." Thus effectively breaking the spell Harry's music had woven.

Harry sighed, "Yes, ma'am," as he stood on the chair. The students around his slowly shook off the last lingering effects. Some started to whisper among themselves. Hermione and Ron exchanged looks and then shrugged. Harry ignored all of them as he packed his guitar.

McGonagall frowned in disapproval waiting for Harry to look at her.

"Harry, my boy," called the Headmaster. " We can't leave on such a sad note. Could you. . ."

Harry swung the case onto his back and said, "I'm sorry, Professor." He bowed slightly to his Head of House as he turned away.

Over his shoulder, he answered the Headmaster. "I know things have to play out as they are meant to, rather like a chess game," he spat out bitterly before muttering to himself. "It just doesn't mean I have to like it." He strode out of the Great Hall quickly with his head held high.

0o0o0o0

Filius Flitwick muttered quietly. "Fifty points to Gryffondor for asking the unanswerable questions."

0o0o0

Frau and I are doing the NaNoWr challenge. Hopefully, we will be able to get this song as well and "Wardrobe" finished this month as well as write a new story. At least that is the goal. For daily updates and sneak peeks, check out my yahoo group found on my profile. Comments, suggestions and proof-reading help are always welcomed here or on my mailer. Flames aren't.

Until next time. --GF and The Frau.