A/N: Ok here's the third chapter. I'm being weird now and I'm referencing both the Harry Potter movies and books. I keep switching to make the story flow better.

Raven's POV

The days passed, and Saturday came. I had aimed to sleep in, but Hermione crushed that dream.

She shook me awake about as early as I'd have woken up on a school day.

"Hermione, its Saturday!" I groaned, half-awake. "What are we getting up for?" I demanded.

"We're going to watch Harry practice Quidditch. Get dressed and meet us in the Common Room," she said and left.

I groaned, but got up and dressed. I went down to the Common Room to meet up with Ron and Hermione, and the three of us walked down the Grand Staircase toward the Quidditch Pitch.

"Where are we going, again?" I asked.

"We're going to watch Harry during Quidditch practice." Ron said.

"What's Quidditch?"

Ron had a good time explaining the entire thing to me; He explained in full detail the rules, the players, the balls, the ways to score, and which teams were the best. I must say it was very interesting.

We took our seats in the stands. Hermione was rereading Quidditch Through the Ages for like the third time while Ron and I talked Quidditch. This squirrelly, spazzy kid with a camera was sitting not far from us, snapping pictures. Each time he did, the flash clicked very loudly and it made it difficult to stay on my train of thought.

Ron and I were just starting to discuss brooms when the players landed and began talking to a group of players dressed in green robes. At first I thought that it was an early Christmas convention, but it was obviously not, as they seemed to be bickering.

We went down onto the field to see what was up.

"What's happening?" Ron asked Harry. "Why aren't you playing? And what's he doing here?" he gestured toward a short, pale, white-blonde boy.

"I'm the new Slytherin Seeker, Weasley," he said, "Everyone's just been admiring the brooms my father's bought our team."

While Ron gaped at the brooms while the kid went on about how they were better that Ron's. Then Hermione interrupted.

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in. They got in on pure talent."

I grinned and was about to yell "Burn!" when the boy spoke before I could.

"No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood."

All hell broke loose.

He'd obviously insulted her, because the entire Gryffindor team went into an uproar (except for Harry and Hermione, who had the least knowledge of wizard slang out of anyone). Ron pointed a broken wand and pointed it at the kid who I now knew was called Malfoy (everyone had begun screaming his name).

Out of nowhere—well, actually, out of Ron's broken wand—came a loud banging noise and a flash of green light. He was thrown backwards and out of the frenzy.

"Ron! Ron, are you alright?" Hermione squealed as I exclaimed, "Oh, my gods, Ron!"

Ron rolled over onto his hands and knees, vomiting a mass of slugs.

"Oh, gods!" I looked away. I had no problem with slugs, but the one thing I cannot stomach is vomit and/or vomiting, and I can stomach a lot.

"We'd better get him to Hagrid's," Harry said, "He'll know what to do." Hermione and I nodded, and she and Harry helped Ron to his feet. I turned back to them, walking with them and wishing I could conjure up a bucket for him.

The spazzy kid Colin came over, babbling. He was talking so fast—and he was drowned out by the Slytherins' laughter—that I hardly understood a word he said. Ron blew slugs again and I looked away, disgusted. Colin, when I looked back raised his camera.

"Wow! Can you hold him still, Harry?" he asked, excited.

"Get out of the way, Colin!" said Harry, and he and Hermione pushed past him and out of the stadium. I followed them closely behind.

As we neared the hut in which Hagrid lived the door swung out, but it wasn't Hagrid who exited.

I reacted so fast, I surprised myself. My hand whipped forward, gripping Ron's shoulder. I shadow-traveled us behind a bush by Hagrid's hut, much to Harry, Ron, and Hermione's surprise.

"What was that?" Hermione hissed.

"Shadow-traveling. It's a means of getting around by traveling through a shadow and appearing through a shadow somewhere else. It's a child-of-Hades thing."

Lockhart, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher walked away and we entered Hagrid's home. Hermione and Harry set Ron in a chair and Hagrid gave him a large bucket, which he promptly spewed into as Harry hastily explained the situation.

"Better out than in," Hagrid said. He started to make tea while his boarhound greeted me, a new visitor. I smiled, scratching behind his ears. I had a way with dogs; I have several hellhounds and a giant three-headed Rottweiler who all love me.

"What did Lockhart want with you, Hagrid?" Harry asked as he scratched behind the dog's other ear.

"Givin' me advice on gettin' kelpies out of a well," he growled, obviously put off. "Like I don' know. An' bangin' on about some banshee he banished. If one word of it was true, I'll eat my kettle."

"How does a kelpie get in a well?" I asked.

"You don' wanna know."

I nodded and went back to petting Hagrid's dog. I kind of tuned out the rest of their conversation until it got interesting.

"Who was Ron tryin' ter curse anyway?" Hagrid asked.

"Malfoy. He called Hermione something—it must've been really bad, because everyone went wild." Harry said.

"It was bad," said Ron hoarsely, emerging over the tabletop looking pale and sweaty. "Malfoy called her 'Mudblood' Hagrid—"

Ron dived out of sight again as a fresh wave of slugs made their appearance. Hagrid looked outraged.

"He didn'!" he growled at Hermione.

"He did," she said. "But I don't know what it means. I could tell it was really rude, of course—"

"It's about the most insulting thing he could think of," gasped Ron, coming back up. "Mudblood's a really foul name for someone who's muggle-born—you know, non-magic parents. There are some wizards—like the Malfoys-who think they're better than everyone else because they're what people call pure-blood." He gave a small burp, and a single slug fell into his outstretched hand. He threw it into his basin and continued, "I mean, the rest of us know it doesn't make any difference at all. Look at Neville Longbottom—he's pure-blood and he can hardly stand a cauldron the right way up."

"An' they haven't invented a spell our Hermione can' do," said Hagrid proudly, making Hermione go a brilliant shade of magenta.

"It's a disgusting thing to call someone, "said Ron, wiping his sweaty brow with a shaky hand. Hagrid offered me treacle fudge, and I made up the excuse that I was allergic. "Dirty blood, see. Common blood. It's ridiculous. Most wizards are half-blood anyway. If we hadn't married Muggles we'd've died out."(J.)

"And a half-blood is…?" I asked.

"You know, when—"he retched and a fresh mass of slugs plopped into the basin,

"When only one parent is a witch or wizard. Most of the time, the other parent is a Muggle." Hermione explained.

"Ah. So I'm technically a half-blood in two ways," I pointed out.

oOo

Later, as we headed back to the castle, I approached Ron.

"This might seem random, but I don't know a lot about the different kinds of brooms. Is the Nimbus series the best kind?"

"There are better ones, but they're the best kind that's affordable. The World Class Racing Brooms are really expensive."

"Is a Firebolt a Racing Broom?"

"Are you joking? It's the best, the fastest broom in the world." He gave a hiccup and two small slugs fell out of his mouth. "why do you ask?" he said as he wiped slime off his chin.

"Just…" I realized that the talk of expensive brooms was making him a little depressed, so I decided to stop the conversation. "Just wondering. I saw one at Diagon Alley the other day and I just wondered."

He nodded as we walked into the cool Entrance Hall. Professor McGonagall came up and told Harry and Ron that they would serve their detentions at 3:00.

I told the three of them after she left that I wasn't hungry and would just hang around. They shrugged and went into the Great Hall.

I climbed the Grand Staircase, spoke the password and entered the Common Room. I found and shouldered my bag, going back and descending the stairs. I crossed the grounds to the Pitch, which was empty of Slytherins for the time being. They must've gone in for lunch.

I walked onto the grassy field. It was very spacious, and it was a shame it was never used in a game.

I let my bag drop onto the ground. I bent down, opening and reaching into it. I pulled out my brand-new Firebolt, looking at it carefully. This whole time, I never knew that I owned one of the greatest brooms in the world, a broom better than the Slytherin team's brooms all pulled together.

I mounted it awkwardly. Gripping the handle tightly, I kicked off.

I felt like I was in a jet, going so fast that I bet Zeus couldn't follow me if he knew where I was. I quickly found out that was really good at flying already. I had complete control over the broom, which turned at my every tilt. I felt free for the first time in my life.

I tilted the handle of my broom skyward, rising higher above the clouds. I flew higher and higher, until I just slowed and stopped (Even the best broom in the world has limits. Good thing, too, I was getting lightheaded and short of breath.) I let go of the broom with one hand, stretching it behind me. I put it back on the handle, making a slow back-flip before pointing the tip of my broom handle toward the Pitch.

I sped faster and faster toward the ground. Right before I slammed into the ground, I evened the tilt of my broom. I started gliding inches above the grassy field. I laughed joyously; for the first time in my life, I felt alive.

"Hey!" shouted a ginger-haired girl, "Catch this!" She flung her ink bottle as far and high as she could.

I caught sight of it and my battle instincts kicked in. I sped up and climbed a few dozen feet and quickly snatched the bottle out of the air.

I slowed down and floated down to the girl, handing the ink bottle back. "There you go."

"That was amazing!" she said excitedly. "Do you fly often?"

"Um…actually, that was my first time," I said, touching down.

"Your first time? Wow, you're brilliant! My name's Ginny, Ginny Weasley." She held out her hand for me to shake. I shook.

"Uh, thanks. My name's Raven." I stuffed my broom back into my bag. "Hey—Weasley—you're Ron's sister, aren't you? The one he and Harry are always—"

"You know Harry Potter? Can you get me his autograph?"

"Um…" I was now slightly uncomfortable now that the conversation turned on Harry. "What were you saying about my flying?"

"Oh, right! I was going to say that you should seriously consider trying out for the Quidditch Team. You're really good!"

"Thanks," I said as the Slytherin team walked onto the field.

"Oy!" shouted the Slytherin team's captain, Flint. "Off the field, no Gryffindors allowed!"

I had half a mind to tell him to shove his broom up his rear, but I knew it wouldn't do me much good. I just gave him and his teammates the trademark 'Death Glare' of a child of Hades and exited the Pitch.

I spent most of the afternoon in the empty Common Room, practicing my Umbramancy. I bent shadows around me, solidifying them into random forms. Finally, I got bored and made an acoustic guitar and a pick (I learned how to play when I was younger, and decided to start again).

I was playing one of my favorite songs when Hermione came in looking for me.

"Hey," she said. "It's time for dinner. Are you going to join us?"

"Sure," I said. I let the shadows dissipate, returning to where they belonged. I got up from my chair and followed her to the Great Hall.

oOo

Ron returned from his detention during supper, and he wouldn't stop talking about how awful it was. I wasn't surprised; I mean detention with Filch? Mr. I-Hate-Life-And-Everyone-So-I'm-Gonna-Find-Any-Way-To-Ruin-Your-Day Filch? Might as well shoot yourself and suggest yourself for Punishment.

We waited for Harry to come back from his detention with Lockhart. I began to fear that Lockhart had either bored or annoyed him to death.

Finally, during dessert, we decided to go looking for him.

As we neared the Defense Against the dark Arts classroom, I sensed someone living coming down the corridor ahead, moving fast. "Come on," I told Ron and Hermione, and broke into a jog. They struggled to keep up.

As I rounded the corner, I nearly rammed into a black-haired boy.

"Harry!" I breathed a relieved sigh.

"Did you hear it?" he asked desperately.

"Hear what?" asked Ron.

"That voice!"

"Voice? What voice?" Hermione questioned.

"I heard it first in Lockhart's office. And then, again, just—"He stopped, as if listening for it—or to it. "It's moving. I think it's going to kill." He took off running down the corridor.

"Kill?" Ron said as we ran after him.

As we came to an intersection in the corridors, I noticed something. "Stop!"

The three of them stopped. Harry's left shoe splashed in a puddle of water, of which there were many all down the corridor.

"I smell something," I reported. I took another whiff. It didn't smell like death, but similar. "Smells like…blood."

"That's what the voice said," said Harry, his eyes widened. He began walking down the corridor, and we followed.

"But it's stale blood…" I said, my face twisted in disgust. It wasn't a very pleasant smell, I was grateful that the others couldn't smell it.

I noticed it first. "Holy…"

Written on the wall were large words that looked to me just a jumble of shiny red letters.

"The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir, beware," Hermione read for me. "It's written in—"

"Blood," I finished. "Stale blood."

"Oh, no," Harry said faintly. I glanced at him, then followed his worried his gaze.

A long-haired tabby cat was hanging from a torch bracket by her tail. It was Filch's cat, Mrs. Norris. Harry edged closer to her, examining her.

I realized too late. "We've gotta get out of here, people are—"I was interrupted by students flooding the corridor on both sides, surrounding us, seeing the writing and the cat. "Damn…" I muttered under my breath.

"Enemies of the Heir, beware!" shouted Malfoy. I turned. There he was grinning at the front of the crowd. He glanced at us. "You'll be next, Mudbloods."

My blood heated with anger at this insult, then ran cold as another voice rang from within the hoard of students.

"What's goin' on 'ere?" It was Filch's voice. He pushed his way through the sea of students. "Go on, make way, make way!" He stepped out, seeing Harry, who was nearest. "Potter. Wha're you—" He stopped when he noticed his beloved cat hanging next to Harry.

"Mrs. Norris?" his voice rose with fear and worry. He then turned to Harry and his voice dropped menacingly. "You've—murdered—my—cat."

"No, no…" Harry said weakly. I guessed he'd intended to say it louder, but couldn't find his voice.

"I'll kill ya," said Filch, his eyes flashing wildly and nodding vigorously. He grabbed a fistful of Harry's collar. "I'll kill ya!" he repeated louder.

"Argus!"

The cavalry of various teachers arrived to the rescue.

Dumbledore quickly took down Mrs. Norris. "Come with me, Argus," he told Filch. "You, too, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Necros, Miss Granger."

Lockhart didn't hesitate to volunteer his office. We all headed there quickly.

As Dumbledore laid Mrs. Norris on the table, he called me over.

I walked over, a cold wave hitting my stomach. "Yes, Headmaster?"

"Could you please examine Mrs. Norris to determine the cause of death? You are, after all, the most fit of any of us for the job."

I shrugged, stepping up to the table as the other teachers backed away.

As I began to check the cat for any cuts, gashes, or rope burns, Professor McGonagall asked why I was the most fit to examine Mrs. Norris. I Gave Dumbledore the 'OK' to let them in on my secret.

It was hard to concentrate with Lockhart babbling: "It was definitely a curse that killed her. Probably a Transmogrifian Torture. I've seen it used so many times. So unlucky I wasn't there, I know exactly the countercurse that could've spared—"

"Forgive me for interrupting your unspeakably fascinating rants," I interjected, "but she's not dead. She's been Petrified."

"How can you figure?" asked Filch. "She sure looks dead," he added miserably.

"I'm sensitive to these things. Her soul is still within her body, still active. But from examination alone, I can't determine the cause."

"Why don't you ask him!" he stared pointedly at Harry. "You were there! You saw what he wrote on the wall!" he pointed an accusing finger in my direction. "Admit it!"

"It's not true, I swear!" Harry spoke up. "None of us laid a finger on Mrs. Norris!"

"I was there the entire time," I said, "and he never—"

"Rubbish!" Filch spat.

"If I might, Headmaster," said Snape, a teacher who scarily resembled my father, "perhaps Potter and his friends were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged glances. I guessed that Snape didn't support them often.

"However," Snape continued, "the circumstances are suspicious. I, for one, don't recall seeing Potter at diner."

"I'm afraid that's my doing, Severus," Lockhart said. "You see, young Harry was helping me to answer my fan mail."

I gave my friends a look that said "Let me talk" and said, "that's why Ron, Hermione, and I went looking for him. We'd just found him when he told us that he wasn't hungry. We were on our way back to the Common Room when we found Mrs. Norris," I said, rather convincingly.

Snape looked like he didn't believe me, but he turned to Dumbledore.

"Innocent until proven guilty, Severus," he said.

Filch seemed just as furious as Snape. "My cat has been Petrified. I wanna see some punishment!"

Dumbledore assured him that she could be cured, then let Harry, Hermione, Ron, and I go. We went back to the Common Room.

oOo

That night, I lay awake in my four-poster, thinking. It was weird, the voice Harry heard, the blood on the wall, Filch's cat…

I decided to get my mind off it by reading. I lit my wand, reaching for my bag. I realized that I'd left it in the Common Room. Groaning, I got up and went down the stairs.

Harry was sitting alone on the couch in the Common Room, staring miserably at the fire. I sighed, tossing my bag into a chair. I sat down next to him on the couch; he didn't look up.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

He shook his head.

"Are you thinking about earlier, about the voice?"

He nodded.

"What did it sound like?" I blurted. Damn ADHD.

"I…can't explain it." He managed to say.

"You don't have to. You can just show me," I said.

"What?" he asked greatly confused.

"Here, face me," I said, turning away from the fire and toward him. He did the same.

"Okay, practice first. Close your eyes, clear your mind. Breathe slowly, in through your nose and out of your mouth. He did.

"Okay, now for real. Do what you just did, but think of that moment when you heard that voice."

I knew he was, because he looked uneasy.

"Alright, now, this won't hurt a bit." I assured him. I cracked my knuckles, loosening up.

"I hope," I amended, closing my eyes.

"What?"

I focused my energies on Harry's mind. It was like watching a movie, only I was in the place of the main character. It was intense. I was walking down the corridor, and there was this cold, raspy voice saying, "Blood…I smell..blood…" I focused back on my own mind. I told Harry to open his eyes.

"Wow, that was weird," he said.

"Oh, I didn't—you didn't feel invaded or controlled or anything?" I asked.

"No, but I definitely felt an outside presence."

"Okay, Ευχαριστώ τους θεούς," I said, which meant "thank the gods" in Greek.

"Ξέρω, ότι θα ήταν κακό," Harry said. My eyes widened. He just said "I know, that'd be bad" in Greek.

"What?" I said.

"What?" Harry said, looking worried. I immediately felt more worried, but it wasn't me (Does that make sense?).

"You just spoke Greek!"

"What?"

I had a terrible thought. I flicked him on the forehead. A sharp pain jabbed my brow.

"Ow!" we chorused and clutched our foreheads. I now felt outraged and slightly angry. I realized that that's how Harry felt.

"Oh, my gods."

"What happened?" Harry asked. He felt worried.

"I think I accidentally made a connection with you. I now feel what you feel, emotionally and physically."

Harry looked and felt even more worried.

"Well, this might turn out to be a good thing. Who knows, we might be able to talk through our minds." We chuckled.

On that happy note, we went to bed.

Okay, that concludes this chapter. (: Let me know what you think of the new "bond" between Raven and Harry. Wow, I can't wait to write the Goblet of Fire based one now. Also, I've changed the title of the story. (:

Constructive criticism welcome. Peace until next update! XD