A/N: Thank you to all my reviewers! Reading a review is so much fun :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter; I'm only borrowing it from JK Rowling! Please don't sue me (sniff sniff). All I got is this story idea! Besides, does my story look like a JK Rowling work? I thought not!

It Ends Now

Part 12: "Discoveries"

Ron hit Harry full-force in the face with a pillow, jerking the teen abrubtly awake.

"Whazzat?" he exclaimed groggily, feeling for his glasses with unseeing hands. He found them and stuck the spectacles onto his face. Harry squinted as the bright sun of the morning became more distinct.

"Classes, Harry! You can't sleep in when we have Snape first period!" Ron laughed, shoving on his robes.

"WHAT?" Harry yelped, flying out of bed. Ron seemed to laugh even harder, face a beautiful shade of plum as he tried to catch his breath.

"Only joking, mate! You're so gullible in the mornings! We're going to get our schedules at breakfast this morning. Can you believe Hermione was up at 5'o clock this morning in anticipation? She's already down there!"

Harry just groaned- it was too early for this. He threw the discarded pillow back at Ron.

"You'd better just hope I don't have Snape first period or I will be cranky!" Harry threatened unjokingly, giving Ron a slightly dirty look. Then he smiled. "And I can't believe 'Mione's down there either!"

"Well, just get a move on. You slept in a little late," Ron said, going to the door.

"Yah, but I was up thanks to someone I know," Harry grumbled, making his bed. Ron chuckled.

"What would you do without me?" Before Harry could return a witty retort, Ron was gone.

"See you at breakfast!" his voice called, then all was silent. Harry began pulling on his robes, in a sudden cheery mood. He entered the Great Hall feeling very much awake and refreshed.

"Morning!" cheerily greeeted Hermione, who was reading a copy of the Daily Prophet. The newspaper was propped up against the orange juice jug. The brainy girl herself was eating eggs. "Sleep well?"

"Mm-hmm." Harry pulled a bowl of porridge towards him.

"Do you know when McGonagoll's due to hand out our new schedules?" Ron asked, glancing over at Hermione and implying that the question was directed at her. She set down the orange juice she had been sipping and licked her lips thoughtfully. With a shrug, she replied:

"Don't know. All I gather is that it'll be after breakfast."

The end of breakfast came quick, and soon Professor McGonagoll was moving from student to student down the Gryffindor table, handing out each's new schedule. Harry took his with a 'thanks', then glanced down it... No Snape first period, at least! Ron and him compared eachother's, like they had with O.W.L. results.

"Great! We've got all our classes together, Harry! Except Snape. I don't have him anymore, since I'm not in N.E.W.T," Ron stated with a content sigh. He looked at Harry in euphoria, and a slightly mocking look. "Poor you... anyways, lemme see yours, Hermione." Hermione handed her rather elongated schedule to him. Ron broke into a grin.

"Well, the famous trio still has first, second, and third periods together! Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, and Charms!"

Part of Harry felt a little dejected that he could not have Ron in his Potions anymore, especially to be a consolation source when Snape got rough. Together, they would mock the greasy git behind his back, which felt quite satisfying after Snape had just done the same thing. At least he wouldn't be completely alone; Hermione was taking the course as well and they shared the class (which, most irritatingly, would be a double period today). However, the one fault about the girl was that she refused to insult teachers, even Snape (although she was much more lenient about letting it slide when it came to him).

"Harry Potter?"

Harry turned in his seat, face-to-face with a second year. The little boy looked nervous and was blushing profusely.

"Here, I was told to give this to you." He stuffed a rolled up parchment into Harry's hand, his own hands shaking. Then the kid scampered away. Ron watched him leave in humored revulsion. Harry, meanwhile, turned his attention to the scroll he held. In curly, well-formed letters, it read:

Harry Potter

Instantaneously, Harry recognized the fine handwriting as Professor Dumbledore's. Ron and Hermione did too, having seen the writing form many times before in other notes to Harry or in general.

"Open it!" they eagerly demanded, full of curiosity. Harry needed no prompting, he was even more interested than they were! He unfurled the note carefully.

Dearest Harry,

As I informed you over the summer, I should like to continue on with your Occlumency lessons. Please come to my office every Monday night at 8:00pm, in which we shall diligently work until 9:00pm (curfew for sixth years). Kindly only tell Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley- inform no one else. We shall begin tonight.

Always Yours Sincerely,

Professor Dumbledore

P.S. Lemon drops are the key to life's doors.

Ron snorted. " 'Lemon drops are the key to life's doors'? What the heck does that mean? Talk about mental." Harry shook his head.

"No, no; I get it. The 'key' to the 'door'- he's saying 'lemon drop' is the key to open the door... it's the password!"

"Tricky," Ron responded in a slightly bored tone of voice. It turned more excited though as he continued. "So, you're doing Occlumency with him? Cool! It'll be a right side better than with Snape." Harry agreed, pocketing the note. Hermione tugged his and Ron's sleeves.

"Come on, we'll be late for Defense Against the Dark Arts!" she admonished chastisingly. They followed her to the classroom, not knowing what to expect of this newcomer.

The trio took seats at the back of the room just as Professor Livey Piremost entered. He smiled delicately at the class before him, vaguely nervous. His stature and edginess made Harry feel some sense of deja vu, but he had no clue from where. The Professor's green eyes glittered oddly, reminding Harry of Snape's own gleaming black ones.

"Good morning, class," he greeted in his deep voice.

"Good morning, Professor Piremost," the class chanted back in unison. However, the Professor just shook his head obstinately.

"Please, call me Professor Livey. I am not fond of my surname," he instructed. The class nodded as one, but Harry saw on many faces a look of dubious perplexion, even disbelief. No teacher had ever asked such a thing; it was like Snape asking to be called 'Professor Severus'! Harry glanced over at Hermione, who held a look that clearly said she felt like doing no such thing, probably thinking it disrespectful and unthinkable. But, all ended up complying- a teacher's wishes were law.

After the short silence that followed his request, Professor Livey continued. "In this class, we will master the art of dueling, as well as acquire many new defensive spells. Along with this, we will do much notetaking on the aspect and theories of defense against the Dark Arts. Today is to be an informative class in which we shall learn the derivation of defense theory and an overview of Dark Arts through the ages. Quills out, please." Professor Livey began scribbling down information on the board amidst many groans. Ron's was among the loudest.

"This guy's turning even more into a male version of Umbridge every second!" he complained, pulling out his notebook and quill quite reluctantly.

"Well, he isn't completely," Hermione cajoled to Ron, trying to keep on the optimistic side. "I mean, at least we'll be doing some spellcasting. We'll get to duel!" Ron still felt pessimistic, but he turned to Harry and smiled, poking his friend in the shoulder.

"You'll ace the duels, Harry! You're top dueler in our class!" Harry blushed modestly, shaking his head in disagreement.

"Oh, I'm not that good. There's probably loads of people who could beat me!"

"Harry, stop being humble! You've dueled Voldemort; fighting a sixth year is no sweat compared to him!" Hermione reasoned. Harry just pursed his lips, not wanting to push the subject further as he pulled out his notebook. They'd had this conversation last year... I mean, didn't they understand that it was just pure luck? If help hadn't come right at the nick of time, then he wouldn't be sitting there that very moment.

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The next few classes passed on quite uneventfully, the teachers just giving an overview or lecture of what they'd be doing and learning that year. All too soon, N.E.W.T. Potions had arrived, which happened to be the class Harry was least looking foward to. As he stood in the queue line with Hermione, millions of doubts and questions swirled around in his head. He felt very nervous about this class, and had a sneaking suspicion that he was not at all as advanced as he had originally thought himself to be. Harry felt as if he would not be good enough. Why on earth had he chosen to continue on with Snape again? Harry suddenly remembered that this would help him on the way to fufilling his ambition of being an auror, even if it meant dealing with the Snape for two more years.

But as the dark-haired Potions Master came gliding down the dungeon hallway at them; narrowed eyes glaring daggers and venom, black robes billowing out behind him; Harry suddenly had a fleeting thought that he'd rather be a bloody caretaker or some other miniscule occupation than face two more years with this greasy git. But then Snape was upon them, ushering all into his dark, dank classroom, and Harry's mind shut down.

The dungeon door slammed shut, echoing loudly around the totally silent classroom. No one ever dared to speak and push Snape's fragile and volatile limits. Harry and Hermione were seated once again in the way back, trying to be as far away from Snape as humanly possible. However, due to the decreased number of students now, there wasn't much distance between the back table and the inscrutable man currently sweeping up to the front of the room,obsidian orbsglittering dangerously as he observed his pupils.

"Sooo... I see some infantile numbskulls have decided to return..." Snape's eyes swept over the room, lingering on Harry a fraction longer in loathing passion. The boy felt his whole being burn hate right back at the man. No, being an auror was definitely not worth this torture. Harry dearly wished he could exchange this class for something else more docile, but now it was too late to turn back. He centered his attention back on Snape (with difficulty).

"In this class," the man was saying, "we shall continue on with the divine art of Potions brewing at a more complex and higher level. Hopefully, this will not be too hard for some of our...less gifted peers... I will give out more homework, which I expect to be done promptly by the next class unless otherwise instructed. Any violators shall receive detention with me for a week." Harry resolved to do his Potions homweork every night, knowing his consistency as a procrastinator (at least he wasn't as bad as Ron!). "For those who managed to get in this class with pure skill rather than luck (Snape's eyes moved to Draco Malfoy and gave him a very small smile that the blonde returned smugly), then you are in a better position than the...others... (the eyes roved back to Harry contemptously). Questions?" Without waiting for anyone to raise their hand, he said, "Good. Let us begin."

Snape flicked his wand casually in a lazy manner and the board immediately was full of difficult instructions.

"Today, you are required to aduequately produce a Dreamless Sleep Potion.Some of you have had much experience in the use of this mixture," Snape malevolently smirked at Harry. The boy kept his face quite neutral, despite the odd looks his classmates were giving him. Harry didn't want to give Snape the pleasure of showing reaction. In his head, he vehemently cursed his Potions professor. However, this savage pleasure didn't last long as he had to unfortunately (once again)return his attention back to the teacher.

"Your instructions are on the board. Begin now; no talking unless it is your wish that your House be cost points on the first day. No doubt some will be on the receiving end, as usual..."

Harry struggled to make the Dreamless Sleep Potion, sweating profusely and nervous. He could feel Snape's eyes boring into his steaming cauldron constantly (which was an emerald green color, matching his eyes). The git was always able to find some fault, which truthfully was caused by himself- if he wasn't constantly hanging over Harry menacingly, then the boy would be able to produce a substantial potion for once! The O.W.L. results had proved that.

"Your potion is all wrong, Potter. It should now be progressing to Stage 2, and should be a light blue color. No doubt you added too much crushed powder root of asphadel," Snape criticized dangerously, observing Harry hatefully because of the long-held grudge as he looked down his long, crooked nose. Harry bit back a retort and kept on working. If only Snape wasn't constantly berating and belittling him, then maybe his bloodypotion would have progressed to damned Stage 2! Harry's anger broiled inside him like hot fire, ready to erupt any second. Lucky, Snape became bored and moved on to regard other's in that condescending way of his.

Hermione looked at Harry with an angry expression on her face. She checked to make sure Snape was out of earshot, then hissed to Harry sympathizing and complainedly. "He's so cruel, saying that about yours! Even mine is coming out all wrong. We shouldn't be doing such a complex potion so early on; even professed Potions masters have trouble with this elixir!" Snape's extra-sensitive ears picked up on Hermione, and she shut up as he stalked over. However, it was too late.

"Miss Granger, I'm ashamed. Whispering instructions to fellow peers again? Potter must suffer on his own, lest he will never learn how to do the potion correctly," Snape scolded unjustly. Harry scowled, wanting to make his professor understand.

"But sir-"

"Do not interrupt me, Potter. You are not included in this conversation and therefore have no excuse for butting in. Is your arrogant ego so big that you must cut in on conversations just to get attention? Five points for you insolence, Potter. And Granger, take another five. Not everyone enjoys your Know-It-All attitude," Snape sneered. Both Hermione and Harry mouthed wordlessly in fury, mouths opening and closing in dumbfounded shock. How dare he? Harry fought for control as Snape swished away smugly.

"Damn you," Harry swore under his breath, livid. Hermione didn't even acknowledge it; she herself was too flustered and could only agree.

At last, class ended as the welcoming bell rang. Snape bid the class to set their potions thus far on his desk. "Let's see how imbecile your work turned out." Harry put his on the desk and turned around, bracing himself... there was a loud noise from behind the boy, and he gave a crooked smile and turned around, laughing inwardly at Snape's venemous-looking face. On the floor, unbroken and intact, lay his potion. Harry picked it up and set it back on the desk.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Professor. Did I say I put an Unbreakable Charm on my bottle?" Harry leered, giving a devilish grin. If possible, Snape's face grew even more riddled with hate. Harry whirled around and left the room before he lost anymore points for Gryffindor. He knew his enduration had been worth it, just for that one moment of triumph. He had learned from last year's mistakes, that was for sure.

Harry made his way to lunch alone, Ron and Hermione having gone ahead as he provoked Snape. The boy basked in happiness for having made that come back. Served the greasy git right! Harry's happiness only heightened as he turned a corner and ran into a very familar somebody.

"Remus!"

"Harry!" Harry flew into his father and godfather's best friend's arms, overjoyed.

"How are you? I didn't know you were here!" Remus Lupin grinned broadly.

"I'm actually on duty. Dumbledore wanted some Order members patrolling Hogwarts in case the need arose for action," Remus informed his young friend. "And today's my day on duty!" Harry nodded, still in disbelief.

"This is really great, Remus! So is that what you're doing for the Order then?"

"Sort of. I alternate between Hogwarts duty and trying to accumulate followers for Dumbledore among the werewolves."

"Werewolves?" Harry questioned.

"Some are in the service of Voldemort, who's trying to get as many on his side as he can. He uses things like promises, bargaining, blackmail, and just plain out saying he'll kill them and their families if they don't obey him. Others are indesicive. They were good people once, and a lot don't want to be in the service of the Dark Lord. My job is to push them in the direction of the Light," Remus said. The bell rang for a second time, and up above, sounds of many feet and talking reached the conversing friends.

"I'm supposed to be at lunch right now, but I'll see you around, right?" Harry asked, trying to not show emotion so as to sway Remus if he had other things to do. But a little bit of hope leaked through and it shown in Harry's eyes, as did some of the yearning he felt, in his voice. Remus patted Harry on the shoulder, showing unseen caring and protectiveness. This was his little "cub", the only part of James left in this world.

"Of course, Harry. Hurry off now," Remus reassured genially. Harry nodded and did as told. Remus rounded another corner and disappeared from sight. Harry started up the stairway that would take him to the Entrance Hall. However, he hadn't even gone four steps up when searing pain ignited in his scar. Harry cried out at the unexpectedness of it all, dropping his books that flopped down the stairs. His footing faltered as he missed the step he had been about to take. With another startled exclaimation, Harry feel backwards, arms flailing as he desperately tried to grab hold of something. He fell onto his back hard on the cold, stone floor of the dungeons hallway, stars erupting in front of his eyes.

Dazedly gathering up his breath, Harry pulled himself up using the wall as support. He could only pull himself up halfway due to the jarring pain in his middle back, making his breathing hard. The pain in his scar was receding, but a nauseaous feeling in the pit of his stomach had replaced it. A sudden sick feeling came over Harry, and it rose to his throat. The boy vomited, emptying all the contents of his stomach. He gave a few last dry heaves, nothing else coming up. Harry wiped his mouth, disgusted. Waving his wand, he vanished the puddle on the floor away, making it just as spotless as when Harry had arrived. He stood there, panting and trying to regain calm. Finally, he felt a little better and with a wince began gathering up his belongings and books on the floor. Then he slowly took the rest of the stairs up into the Entrance Hall and then into the Great Hall, letting the sick feeling leave him gradually.

Ron and Hermione were instantly upon him.

"Harry, where were you? Are you OK?"

"You look real pale, mate! What happened?" Harry hushed them, not wanting to have all of Gryffindor Table watch his two friends go hysterical.

"I'm OK. My scar hurt after Potions and I...well... I sortafelldownthestairs," Harry mumbled at an alarmingly fast rate, feeling his face redden with the sheepish sounding-ness of it.

"YOU FELL-"

"Shh!" Harry warned, clamping a hand over Ron's big mouth at his exclaimation. "Please, I'd rather the whole school not know, thanks." He released his hand.

"Sorry," Ron genuinly apologized.

"Could you infer the reason as to why it hurt?" Hermione asked smartly. Harry tried to collect the bits and pieces of what he felt during the lapse of pain.

"Voldemort was happy- really happy. Something good had just happened; an attack or something..." Harry suddenly felt a warm hand resting on his shoulder, and he looked up into the lined, yet powerful aged face of Professor Dumbledore. He looked unusually somber- the crystal blue eyes were devoid of their usual twinkle, filled with a grave look.

"Are you alright, Harry?" the Headmaster asked concernedly. "You don't look well."

"Yes, sir. I'm fine. But Voldemort's really happy about something," Harry informed. The Headmaster looked neither surprised nor moved by this statement.

"Yes, that would seem so," was his slightly enigmatic response. He looked over at Hermione. "Miss Granger, would you mind stepping into the hall with me? There is something we must discuss." Hermione's brows creased in confusion.

"Alright," she complied, nonplussed. The girl got up and followed the Headmater out of the Great Hall. Ron turned to Harry, just as perplexed.

"What's this all about?" Harry shrugged, looking down at his food. The feeling of nausea was suddenly renewed, and Harry found it hard just to look at the meal laid before him. He wasn't even remotely hungry, and there was an unnerving feeling in his stomach, like a gnat that wouldn't go away.

"It's free period next, right? I think I'm going to take a rest then," Harry stated, feeling fatigued and wanting to rest his aching back. Ron fully understood, and bid Harry goodbye as the boy went up to the dormitory wearily.

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The next few classes after that just flew by for Harry, and by dinner he felt rejuvinated and invigorated. However, Hermione wasn't at dinner that night, and the two boys missed her in her absence.

"Where has that girl gotten to?" Ron questioned, an edge of humor lacing his voice. "If she's skipping eating just to got to the library or do homework or some other mental thing like that, then I'm going to sit down and have a talk with that girl!" Harry laughed, but his spirits just weren't in it. Maybe Ron didn't feel like anything was wrong, but Harry did. The uneasy knot in his stomach didn't leave, it only tightened as Harry wondered where his friend had gone.

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When 8:00pm rolled around, Harry was found standing in front of the stone gargoyle, the secret entrance to Professor Dumbledore's office. It was time for Harry's second Occlumency lesson with the Headmaster.

"Lemon drop," Harry said clearly to the scultpture. The gargoyle suddenly leapt to life and sprang up from its plinth. Then it jumped to the side, permitting Harry passsage and revealing a long, winding spiral staircase. The boy bounded up the stairs two at a time in ill-concealed excitement, then knocked on the great, wooden door.

"Come in, Harry!" Professor Dumbledore's voice beckoned cheerily. Harry pushed opened the door, and with a creak revealed the room's wise occupant. The Headmaster greeted him fondly.

"Hello, sir," Harry returned kindly. He seated himself in front of the desk and was met with a smile. Dumbledore's eyes roved over his frame, searching swiftly and showing relief.

"You are looking much better than last time I saw you," Dumbledore intoned conversationally.

"I took a rest in my free period, and I do feel a lot better," Harry replied, inclining his head ever-so-slightly.

"Good, good," Dumbledore said happily, bringing the tips of his fingers together meditatively. The usual twinkle had returned, as had the old man's calm, easy-going demeanor and benign smile. "As you know, we will be practicing your Occlumency every Monday night. It is crucial Voldemort not have access to your mind, so therefore you must build up your internal defensive skills. Do you remember what we discussed in the summer?" Harry dug deep in his mind, scouring up the wanted information.

"You said that building up a sort of 'mental wall' would help block out invasions, as long as it was strong. To do that, you need a clear mind and need to be peaceful," Harry recited. "Also, you should build up the wall little by little, to ensure durability and strength." Dumbledore clapped his hands jovially.

"Excellent! Couldn't have said it better myself," he praised, and Harry felt his insides glow with pride. "Shall we begin?" Harry nodded eagerly. Dumbledore stood up and moved around his desk, pointing to a spot a few feet from where he was standing.

"Harry, kindly take a stand right there," he requested politely, and Harry obeyed. He closed his eyes expectantly, knowing the drill.

"Now, envelop yourself in your mind; become one with your inner being... try not to think about anything. Just let the warmth and bliss of being clear-headed encompass you..." the old man's voice was softly saying. Harry felt like he was floating atop a cloud, free...

"Build up your defense wall now."

Brick by brick stacked up, and Harry made it taunt with strength, using his mind to hold it up... he felt ready.

"Alright, Harry. I'm going in now... Legilimens!"

The spell was quick, pushing its way into Harry's mind forcefully. It pushed against Harry's mental wall, prodding; feeling... a sudden, powerful thrust and Harry could not longer hold it, the strain too large- the wall crumbled, tumbling to the ground. Then the memories came forth, freed from their bondage.

Harry was being chased up a tree by Ripper, the Dursleys mocking and laughing at him in mirth... Harry was looking into the Mirror of Erised, gazing longingly at the shadowed faces of his parents... A menacing basilisk hovered above him, fangs bared and lunging down to produce the fatal strike as Tom Riddle's voice yelled in the background "KILL HIM!"...Voldemort stood, sneering and wand pointed at an injured Harry on the ground, coughing up blood... Sirius was falling through the veil for the umpteenth time (as it seemed to Harry), gone foreverthrough the swaying, blood red veil... Harry's parents, Sirius, and Cedric were gloating at Harry in a dark void, blaming him for their deaths...

The cruel words stabbed at Harry like knives, bringing him down at their mercy and anger. Harry couldn't bear their heartless words and enraged faces, seeing how every mistake and slip-up he had made had just ensured their deaths, their murders on his behalf... 'Stop! I don't want to hear it! I didn't mean to! Stop! Stop!'

A large burst of raw energy burst forth from Harry, and he cried out at the sheer force. He was angry, wanting the painful vision memory to end...Suddenly, Harry's vision cleared cogently and he saw a very surprised looking Dumbledore conjuring a shield charm in personal protection, such was the surge of magic flowing at him angrily. Harry's eyes widened as he realized that he had sent his power upon Dumbledore, but not knowingly or purposely. Calling all his concentration together, Harry desperately screaming inwardly at his magic to dissipate. Instantly, the powerful aura disappeared and Harry dropped to his knees weakly.

"Harry!" Dumbledore was suddenly kneeling in front of him, grasping Harry's elbows and pulling him to his feet gently.

"Sir... I didn't mean to...to... to do that!" Harry struggled to explain, a pleading look on his face. He hadn't meant to throw so much power at his Headmaster. What if the old man had been thrown off-guard and injured?

The man shook his head genially, the astounded look still emanating off his face.

"On the contrary, dear boy. That was amazing! With that much power, you could succeed in throwing off an attempt by Voldemort, with practice of course. Child, you may not realize it but you possess great magic potential; your power is growing at an astounding rate. Already, you subconsciously possess the power of an adult much older than you! As to you directing it at me, I fully understand that you were merely trying to protect yourself from that memory," Dumbledore reassured. Harry nodded in relief, feeling a bit bewildered at the revelation.

"I still feel badly."

"Don't," Dumbledore said simply, but with a warm smile. "Perhaps you should take a rest."

"I'm fine!" Harry persisted, already getting in position. "I want to practice more." Dumbledore knew the child would remain defiant as long as need be. He chuckled, also moving into stance. His tone took on a more serious one as he continued.

"Remember, I am not using my full extent of power, as Voldemort will undoubtedly do when trying to pervade your mind. Do not get discouraged if you fail, for mistakes are only detours on the road to perfection. I am very proud of how you kept me out just now. A word to the wise- try to focus your energy more on pushing me out, rather than spending your time holding up the'wall'. More than likely, the invader will get through eventually, so your main priority is the pushing out of them. But don't get me wrong, the wall still must be held up. This is where practicing will come in handy. Already, you are learning nicely...Now, are you ready? Good. Legilimens!"

And so this went on for an hour, Dumbledore having to stop and encourage the boy sometimes, when it seemed he felt dismal at his failings. Always, he reminded Harry that this was only their second lesson and that he would get better with time.

Finally, 9:00pm came and Dumbledore helped Harry to his feet for the seemingly millionth time. Harry was exhausted; he'd used his powers and brain to the max and felt ready for a good, long night's rest. The boy stumbled a bit into Dumbledore's arms, and the Headmaster had to steady him.

"Please get a lot of sleep, Harry, and practice your Occlumency every night," the old man recommended firmly. Harry nodded, making his way to the door. But the pressing question nagging at him made him stop and turn around to look back at Dumbledore when he reached it.

The Headmaster noticed that the boy looked troubled, as if he were gathering up the courage to ask a question. He immediately sensed this.

"Harry?" he prodded delicately.

"Sir..." Harry intoned with a pause. "Where's... Hermione? I never saw her anytime after lunch, when you talked to her..."

Dumbledore's face fell a fraction of an inch, and he looked older and sadder. The wrinkles became more defined.

"Child... I'm not sure I'm the one to tell you..."

"Is she OK?" Harry cried, fear welling up instantly. Dumbledore shushed him, holding up a pacifying hand and trying to bring him back to calmness and avoid a panic attack.

"Miss Granger is fine, but only in one sense. Currently, she is being treated in the Hospital Wing," Dumbledore informed lightly.

"Treated... in the Hospital Wing..." The words seemed to be processing very slowly through Harry's befuddled brain. "Why?"

"I don't think I'm the person to say; she will when she's ready- perhaps you and Mr. Weasley should go visit her in the Hospital Wing, under your Father's cloak, of course..." Dumbledore suggested mildly. Harry nodded, planning on doing just that.

"Thank you, Professor. Good night."

"Good night."

A few minutes later, Harry and Ron were hurriedly making their way to the Hospital Wing, clothed in invisibility by the cloak. Given their pace, they reached their anticipated destination within a matter of minutes. Harry pushed open the large white doors, and the two were greeted with an unnerving and confusing sight.

Hermione sat rocking on one of the white hospital beds, sobbing her heart out in heart-wrenching, choked cries. Her eyes were puffy because of prolonged crying, and her face was drenched with the flow of tears. Her hair was disheveled, and her clothes were as well- she looked a soggy mess. Madam Promfrey was there, trying to console her and make the girl drink down a vial labeled: 'Shock Solution'.

"Her-Hermione?" Ron asked in a dry, raspy voice. His tone suggested concern and disbelief; exactly what Harry was feeling.

The girl's face snapped over to their direction, and she gave another loud wail. Bounding off the bed, she flew at the boys with a pained and distressed expression on her contorted features. Suddenly, Harry and Ron found their arms full of Hermione. Her body trembled as sobs racked her body violently.

Harry found words to speak at last. "Hermione? What's wrong?" At first, Hermione didn't respond. She shook her head despairingly, cries crescendoing in undulation.

" 'Mione?"

Her muffled voice entered their ears from the place where she had buried her face in Ron's shoulder. "Horrible... horrible..."

"What is?" Ron questioned, in ultimate worry. He didn't even seem embarassed by her face in his robes. No answer.

At last, Hermione looked up into their faces, taking deep breaths to calm herself, despite the deep aching sorrow betrayed in her eyes that Harry could relate to so well. Finally, she let forth the words of explaination in a shaking voice.

"It's m-my parents...V-Voldemort... Voldemort killed them!" And then she broke into hysterical howls, and Madam Promfrey led her away. Harry could only stand there, numb shock and anger filling him...

Voldemort had hit again, this time striking home. And suddenly, Harry knew why Voldemort had been so gleeful when his scar had hurt him- the cruel Lord of Darkness had found another way to make Harry suffer... through his friend's pain.

--Wow, what a long chapter! I'm so proud of myself, but it took forever... was this chapter good?Do you like the way this story is heading? Please, please, review and tell me your thoughts!--

The next chapter: "Dementors". Now you all have an inkling of what is going to happen next chapter... or do you:) Wait and see!

Luv- Angel