Disclaimer: The same as it's been for the last 19 chapters...

AN: 1. Thank you, everyone who has enjoyed the story and reviewed. Reading them makes a good homework break. Anyway, here's chapter 20, a result of my boredness and daylight savings screwing with my sleep.
2. Now that Luna Lovegood will be showing up, I thought I'd just point out; most of the creatures Luna believes in are never proven to exist in canon - it will remain like this here, for the most part, until further notice. Perhaps she will discover Snorkacks one day, crumple horned or otherwise. But one creature that most assuredly does exist is the Wrackspurt. I think wrackspurts are incredibly fascinating things, and some of you may have caught Jean referencing them at an earlier point - so yeah, they're real.

Chapter 20: Of Alliances and Apples

September the first found Harry Potter standing on platform 9 ¾ , waiting to board the Hogwarts Express. Despite his usual behavioural patterns, Harry wasn't feeling impatient at all, as one might expect him to be in such a situation – no, rather, he was in a dazed, zombie-like trance state. The last week had been a whirling mass of chaos for him; Borgin had him working overtime to finish the August inventory, Walburga wanted to spend as much time with him as she could before he left, and then there was his divination. To prepare himself for using both decks, which would require careful control and the ability to sustain the power it took, he had been obsessively performing readings on himself. At least two or three times a day, he would pull a card out of his pocket, and then close his eyes and interpret the meaning on the spot. Jean had insisted that before he performed a true tarot reading, his ability to interact with the cards would have to be second nature. So Harry had practiced. Practiced. And practiced some more. And now, on top of overtiredness work and temporary deafness from Walburga's nigh incessant shrieking, he was suffering from acute magical exhaustion.

His unfortunate condition made the chattering of the other sentient beings on the platform grate viciously on his nerves, hence the ever darkening scowl on his face and the twitching of his hands, as he listened intently for any indication of the arrival of the Hogwarts Express.

Only a few moments passed - thankfully - and the train finally rolled into the station. Harry immediately stepped onto the train, stowing his luggage away before he made his way down one of the cars, brow set in a thoughtful crease. On one hand, he would really benefit from a nap (preferably one seasoned with a dream depicting him cursing the life out of some Slytherins or particularly annoying Gryffindors...he missed school), but on the other, he knew he would hear about it if he didn't at least try to find Hermione, Neville, or his housemates. Whether to lock himself in his own compartment, or try to find his friends…what a quandary…

Suddenly, though, the quandary was made obsolete as he was jerkily lifted off his feet several centimetres, by two strong grips under his arms. Frantically glancing from side, he was shocked to see the two diabolically grinning Weasley twins holding him captive.

He gaped at them, outraged. "What the hell –"

"Why Harry," Fred began, followed by George's, "Fancy seeing you here."

"We've been waiting..."

"For a time to speak with you -"

"Ever since July."

Together, they began to walk in perfect synchronization, carrying him down the car.

"Put me down!" Harry snarled.

"Patience…"

"Patience…"

"It's a virtue," they concluded together, turning into one of the corner compartments and tossing Harry onto one of the seats as they slammed the door shut, locking it behind them, just as the train jolted, gradually accelerating forward.

"Alright, you've got me alone, now what do you want?" Harry snapped, mentally cursing the fact that he had not yet hit his growth spurt, and jerkily straightening out his black and green casual robes – Walburga had insisted that he take some of Regulus's old clothing with him to school, because it was not fitting for a son of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black to wear filthy muggle rags. Harry knew better than to argue.

"Now, now, Harry," George said.

"You should be a little nicer to us," said Fred.

"Especially since we know your secret."

"After all, you know ours, so it's only fair."

"What secret?" Harry gritted out.

"Well," Fred began airly, "We were quite confounded and disconcerted when you told us apart so easily."

"No one's ever done that."

"And we figured there was something to it."

"So we did some research."

"Lots of it."

"And you'd never believe what we found."

"Oh really," Harry drawled, nonchalant tone belying his nervousness.

"Yeah – turns out every witch and wizard has a unique magical core."

"In fact, it's one of the only sure-fire ways to identify someone –"

"That is, if it could be identified."

"You see, very few witches and wizards can sense another's magical core –"

"- consciously or unconsciously –"

"But either way, the only magical folk who can do this…"

"Are Seers," they finished together.

Harry sneered at them distastefully, feeling exceedingly put-off. "I'm well aware that a Seer can recognize anyone after meeting them once, even if they look differently or are disguised; it's a division of a rare form of divination known as auramancy - a few hours in the Hogwarts library would tell you that; in fact, plenty of muggle occult texts could tell you that," Harry responded tonelessly, "But you forget, Misters Weasley, that I had never been introduced to you prior to Christmas day. No aura to recognize."

"Ah – " Fred began knowingly.

"We were stumped by that too…"

"But then, we remembered:"

"You watched the Gryffindor vs. Slytherin quidditch game."

"We played, and were wearing our names on our uniforms."

"So don't try to deny it!" they exclaimed.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Or, I could just be a very lucky guesser. People say I'm known for my luck." One way or another...

"Yeah, we thought of that too…"

"And we were prepared for being wrong,"

"Until…" Fred grinned as retrieved from his pocket and smugly displayed Harry's tarot card deck.

Lightning fast, Harry snatched it away from him, running his fingers over them to make sure it was of the same size and weight as before. He gritted his teeth and glared at the two red-haired menaces with a vicious sneer on his face. "Fine! You caught me! You going to tattle?"

Both twins gasped, horrified.

"Tattle?"

"We would never!"

"No," Fred said, regaining his composure.

"We were more thinking…"

"Of an alliance of sorts."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "An alliance?"

"Yeah, like a business arrangement –"

"For mutual profit."

"You know, you help us, we help you –"

"And we're all better off for it."

Harry blinked. "That sounds rather brilliant, actually." Relaxing his posture and crossing his legs, and then gesturing for the twins to sit down across from him, he continued, "Fine, what were you thinking?"

Both of them grinned.

"Well," George drawled.

"Divination's a pretty big business," Fred put in, nodding.

"A lot of witches and wizards will pay good money for an accurate reading."

"And our money's on the fact that you want money -"

"And practice too."

Harry smirked. "So you're proposing…that perhaps, you two make contacts and set up appointments, and I perform the readings in disguise. And we split the profits between us."

"We knew you'd understand."

"Oh yes, I do – I've been meaning to get more practice, anyway. But the whole keeping quiet about it – it's sort of an obstacle."

"Which we'll alleviate."

"We'll handle all your appointments."

"And transactions."

"And make sure everyone knows –"

"That there's a Seer roaming the halls of Hogwarts, willing to divine the future…"

"For the right price."

Harry grinned between them. "I believe this is the start of a beautiful business relationship, gentlemen."

The Great Hall was exactly as Harry had left it – enormous, colourfully bright, and the epitome of magical; the ceiling swirled like the windy sky outside, candles floating daintily above the happy, excited chatter that wafted through the warm atmosphere, all the students obviously eager for the imminent feast. However, he instantly found it ruined by one thing, one horrifying thing that nearly caused him to faint on the spot – at the staff table, there sat a tall, grinning, golden-blonde man dressed in robes even more silly and ostentatious robes than Professor Dumbledore's. Eyes morbidly fixed on the white-toothed menace, Harry followed his housemates to the table in a traumatized daze.

"Harry? Harry?" Terry was tugging on his sleeve.

He snapped to attention, before a dark look came over his face. "Sorry...I'll be right back." Purposefully, he strode right over to Slytherin table, plopping himself right beside Draco Malfoy, gaining him disbelieving looks from Parkinson, Nott, Crabbe, and Goyle, who sat nearby. "Why hello, cousin mine," he said tonelessly, stealing the blonde boy's goblet and drinking out of it.

"Harry! What are you doing here?" Draco snapped, ignoring the incredulous glances from his housemates.

Harry turned toward to him with a furious glare, causing him to wither slightly. "What am I doing here? Well, my dear cousin, please spare a glance at the staff table, and you shall know."

Draco did so, but only frowned. "What?"

Harry hissed. "It's the thing, the sexually-harassing, cross-dressing, fake-blonde haired thing with the permanent grin on its face that makes me want to vomit! Why's he so happy anyway? What gives him the right to be anything but as miserable as I am right now?" Granted, if the Lockhart-thing was miserable, Harry would probably be the one grinning...

Draco coughed incredulously. "Lockhart? What about him?"

"Your father is on the Hogwarts Board of Governors! You must have known he'd be here!"

"I just found out…about a week ago," Draco said slowly, still puzzled.

"A week? A whole week! And you did nothing!"

Draco sneered at him. "And what was I supposed to do?"

"Warn me - we're family! You should have owled me or something – I might have considered homeschooling this year, had I known that atrocious excuse for a drag queen would be here!"

Draco sniffed, "I was more interested in the other addition to the staff, to be honest."

Harry stilled, blinking. "What?"

"My mother agreed to take the position of History Professor, at least temporarily, since Binns seems to have mysteriously disappeared. "

Eyes widening and drifting over to the head table once again, Harry was shocked to find, sure enough, Narcissa Malfoy seated beside Severus Snape, in all her regal glory, nose stuck in the air as her piercing eyes swept over the chattering student body. "Huh."

Draco glanced about, noticing Professor McGonagall leaving the hall. "Look," he said quietly, rolling his eyes, "Nothing to be done about it now – get out of here, though, the Sorting's about to start!"

Harry scowled at him, but swept away from the table, calling, "You so owe me, Malfoy!"

"What was that about?" Anthony asked suspiciously as Harry sat down at the Ravenclaw Table, just before the group of first year timidly paraded into the hall.

Harry glanced at the other boy. "Nice to see you too, Anthony. Yes, my summer was fine, though filled with entirely random events of miniscule probability – how was yours?"

Anthony rolled his eyes and sighed exasperatedly. "Boring. We spent most of it with relatives in Germany."

Harry pointedly ignored the grating noise of the Sorting Hat's gravelly tenor. "Yes, well at least you weren't being stalked by a psychotic house elf. They're rather unstable creatures, I've come to realize."

Anthony froze a moment, but then simply shook his head, just as the song ended. "Just...quiet, the Sorting is starting."

Harry huffed, turning to Terry beside him. "Did you see the new history professor?"

Terry's lips twitched. "Sure prettier than the last one…"

Truth be told, Narcissa Malfoy nee Black was a beautiful woman – with a lighter, fairer complexion than most other Blacks, she still bore their sharp, aristocratic features. Her regal appearance was something akin to a carefully sculpted ice statue – slim, fragile, and even still, strong. Drawing his eyes away from his cousin, Harry scowled. "Watch it. She's my cousin – Draco's mum."

Terry coughed, choking on nothing, and garnering a glare from Anthony. "Y-you don't say…"

"Well, at least we know which house she'll favour," Michael drawled from across the table.

"What are you guys talking about?" Stephen whispered, leaning closer.

"The new history professor," Kevin supplied, eyes still fixed intently on the sorting.

"Oh, Mrs. Malfoy? Yeah, she actually got her Mastery in History – who would have thought?"

"It's not that hard to imagine," Michael interjected, "Malfoy always seems to know quite about wizarding history and traditions, doesn't he Harry?"

Harry shrugged, watching the sorting with a bored expression. "Hard to imagine that was us, up there, only a year ago."

Terry snorted. "Yeah, let's hope there aren't any sortings like yours was."

Harry glanced away as "Lovegood, Luna" sat down. "Why?"

"Because," Stephen said, "Yours took forever mate."

"You actually broke a record," Lisa said suddenly from beside Padma, a few seats down. "Mandy said she heard some of the prefects say that."

Mandy nodded distractedly beside her.

Harry nodded thoughtfully, a pleased look coming over his face. "I had no idea I was that awesome."

Michael rolled his eyes. "Don't lie."

Harry smirked, his gaze shifting when he heard the hat call out "RAVENCLAW!" as the blonde haired girl began to skip toward the Ravenclaw table, a hazy, dreamy look on her face. Her distant gaze immediately met Harry's, their eyes connecting with an indistinguishable familiarity as she sat herself down right beside him.

"Hello Harry Potter," she said brightly, staring straight at him.

Harry didn't know why, but he wasn't at all unnerved by the girl's intense, blue-grey stare. "Hello Luna Lovegood."

She tilted her head slightly. "The hat told me to come see you."

Harry's eyebrows rose. The girl was certainly right to the point. "Did it now?"

"Yes, it did. It said that I should tell you well done – he said that Eris would be very proud."

Harry smirked.

"He also said you'd have competition this year."

Harry blinked. "What?" He narrowed his eyes. "Is it you?"

"Oh no," Luna said honestly, wide blue eyes growing even wider, yet still distant and hazy, "I would never interfere with your reign of chaos. I will be happy to help you in utterly devastating the competition in any way I can – the wrackspurts seem to like what you've done with this place, anyway. I spoke to them earlier - they think you're very clever. But you never know with wrackspurts..."

"Huh? Wrackspurts? Oh, yeah…the little buzzing things live in the cushions in the common room." Harry nodded to himself, remembering the odd glowing shapes that he had found in the common room couches at Christmas. Jean had called them wrackspurts, saying that only Seers and magical creatures could see them, the little buggers that liked to feed off of rational thought, somehow – but that would mean…Luna…

"Oh? You have a good eye," she said admiringly.

"I'd like to point out that, in fact, I have two."

Luna squealed with delight. "Oh! So do I!"

"Yes, that I see – a very interesting blue, I might add, rather like blue bubblegum ice cream," Harry said musingly, and a little distractedly, finding himself quite giddy and hopeful at the fact that he may have found another Seer.

"But not as pretty as yours – they rather look like a snake I once met. I called him Tom."

Harry was about to respond, but was interrupted by the sound of several heads bashing on the table. "What?"

Terry looked at him wearily. "Not another one…"

Luna tilted her head curiously. "Another what?"

"Another lunatic!" Terry exclaimed.

"Well that is my name," said Luna, before frowning ever so slightly, "Oh wait, no, it's Luna."

"That's alright," said Harry, "You can have 'em both – I'll be Harry the Horrible, and you can be Luna the Lunatic!"

The other Ravenclaws looked simply horrified at the designations.

Luna clapped her hands together daintily. "Oh yes! I do like that! You have wonderful taste in names, Harry."

Harry grinned triumphantly, glancing about at his fellow Ravenclaws."See? See? I have wonderful taste!" Harry turned to Luna. "They always say I'm tasteless."

"But that would make eating rather pointless, wouldn't it?"

"Exactly! If I had no taste, I'd just stop eating, and die!"

"And that would be positively dreadful," Luna concluded, though there was no dread in her voice.

Harry nodded. "After all, what's the point of living if you don't enjoy it?"

Luna sighed rather sadly, a visage of serene grief washing over her face. "That's why Crumple-Horned Snorkacks are almost extinct – they forgot the joy of living. They've retreated to their home in Sweden, to try and rediscover their happiness. No one has seen them in hundreds of years..."

Harry blinked. "I'm afraid I've never heard of Snorkacks, Crumple-Horned or otherwise."

"That's because they don't exist," Michael hissed from across the table.

Harry glanced back at Luna questioningly.

"Don't worry – they exist. He just doesn't know it yet."

"Oh, alright."

Terry suddenly burst out laughing.

Harry looked at him oddly. "What's your problem?"

"It…it's just…" Terry gasped out, "You've finally met someone as mad as you."

Harry glared at the boy intensely, grimacing when he heard several others crack up and snicker at the comment. Determined to ignore them, he huffed, turning back to Luna, who was far more fun than the rest of his housemates at the moment. "I like your earrings. Are they crab apples?"

"Why yes, they are." She pulled a string out of her robe, revealing a rather large, juicy look apple tied to the twin about her neck. "This is just a plain, normal apple. It's rather heavy, though. Would you like it?"

"I think I would," Harry said, as Luna took the apple and hung it around his neck. Looking at the bright red shape it thoughtfully, he glanced to the side, watching "Weasley, Ginevra" make her way over to the Gryffindor table, but suddenly jumping out of his skin – for he thought, for a moment, that someone had been walking behind her; a tall, shadowy shape of a man, eerily familiar to his eyes. He blinked, and it was gone.

"Are you alright, Harry?" Luna asked, not at all sounding concerned, but rather fascinated.

He shook his head. "Oh, yes. This is a very nice apple."

"Ever heard of a Lovegood?"

Jean's portrait blinked stupidly for a moment. "Wha's that? Oh, like…the family?"

Harry nodded.

"Oh, yeah, met one once – his name was Xenophilius. He was one of the few people I'd met who could actually stand my presence. But we kind of broke contact after he had his first kid – said he didn't want me corrupting his sweet, adorable daughter."

"Huh. Guess I'll have to do it for you."

Jean looked at him oddly.

"Her name is Luna, she was just sorted into Ravenclaw. And she's brilliant. Most interesting person I've ever met, I think."

"What about me!"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "You haven't met her. But listen, what I was really wondering was…"

"Whether or not the Lovegoods have Seer blood."

Harry frowned slightly, but nodded.

"They do; very unique, though – the Lovegoods are Seers, but with no talent in divination at all."

Harry blinked.

"See, they're exceptionally strong Seers, much like yourself – but the connection's a little…messy."

"Huh?"

"They've got a strong connection to the divine, in fact, they can't ever turn it right off – it's just…things get a bit garbled in between."

"I get it…it's like broken record player, or something. It's blaring loud and clear, but you can't hear the actual song."

"Exactly."

"So that's why she's so..."

"Strange? Nope, probably got nothing to do with it - it's most likely her father's doing. Xeno was the nuttiest oddball I'd ever met – awesome guy though. Totally whacked, but awesome. If his daughter's anything like him, you two will have a blast."

Harry chuckled. "This is going to be an interesting year."

"How could it not be?"

"Good point."

"Best get a good night's sleep before it starts," Jean said pointedly.

"Yeah, yeah," Harry grumbled, rolling over into his bed.

But good his sleep was not - really, he should have known better. It started fine, and everything, until he thought he'd woken up – in a dark room, if it was a room at all. Somehow, it was completely formless, utterly disorientating, a swirling, yet still, mass of chaotic nothingness. Feeling a disturbed chill creep down his spine, Harry desperately hoped that his initial guess that he was, in fact, in a dream of sorts, was accurate.

Turns out he was right. Feeling a cold, foreign breath on the back of his neck, he spun around, finding himself face to face with…himself. But oh, how he wished the serene face on the figure before him wasn't his – for the figure was covered, no drenched in blood. It was dripping down his face like sweat, dampening his hair, staining his white shirt and dyeing his tie crimson, contrasting with his pale skin and his glowing green eyes.

"Where did all that blood come from?" he whispered confusedly, enthralled by the little crimson droplets dripping from the other's glasses.

The eyes of the other him flickered downward for a moment, before a strange, knowing smirk came over his face.

"Who are you?" Harry tried again, his voice shaking.

"Why," drawled the other, sounding, in Harry's opinion, far too much like the original would on a normal day, "I thought that would be obvious."

"You're not me," Harry insisted.

"Why not?" the other asked, head tilted curiously.

"Because that blood's not mine. And I wouldn't kill someone. Not like that."

"You think?"

"I know."

"But knowledge is a funny thing, isn't it? It's strange how feeble it actually is..."

Harry bit his lip. "Who are you?"

The other sighed dramatically, feigning disappointment. "Feeling a little off are we?"

"Just answer the question."

"Fine. I'm you."

"No, you're not."

The other stared at him piercingly for a long moment, and then chuckled. "Fine, fine. Can't fool you, can I? Well, here it is – I'm almost you."

Harry gritted his teeth. "What's that even supposed to mean?"

"It means…you're almost me."

"You don't say," Harry bit out, belying his rising anxiety.

"Oh, I do. I do indeed. And you're almost there, just one more step over."

"Over what?"

"The line, of course," the other said.

"What line?"

Once again, the other's eyes turned downward. "That line."

Harry didn't move.

"What, are you scared?" the other mocked.

"No."

The other's eyes flashed. "Then look."

Steeling himself, Harry let his eyes fall, forcing them to remain open as the he observed the line with emergent horror – as the panic, the disgust rose up in his chest like the bile in his throat, gripping him like an icy torrent of rain. It made him want to run away, far away, but yet he could not draw his eyes away, the dreadful shape at his feet like a sweet poison you couldn't help but drink up desperately. But he had to. He had to get away from the image.

Snapping out of the frozen state, his eyes snapped upward…but he was alone once again, the other nowhere in sight.

Taking a deep breath, Harry convinced himself that the dream was over, that there was nothing more to be seen, attempting to will himself into a state of empty, dreamless rest – trying desperately to forget the question gnawing viciously at the back of his mind: who was that dead, bloodied girl that had lain at his feet?

Now, I know some of you may be thinking - wtf! Harry's spilling his secret to everyone! I'd like to point out that it is not so - the actual core of Harry's secret is that he is a true seer - his connection to the gods is completely fluid, and when it comes to divination, his skills are limitless (no, that doesn't mean he's all-powerful, it means his potential abilities encompass a certain field entirely. big difference), with only his lack of knowledge and expertise holding him back. Fred, George, and Hermione don't know this; they don't know about the Pythia, the gods, or the Fates. There are lots of seers out there - but Harry's the only one of his kind. It's one thing to admit to someone that you play an instrument, it's completely different to reveal your world-famous virtuosity. Same idea here.

Another chapter done, and we're finally at Hogwarts again. Any thoughts?