Note: I don't really have much to say in these. Now begins year 2 of Harry's trials and adventures at Hogwarts. I've mostly been getting reviews that say things like 'great story!' or 'I really liked this chapter!', which is brilliant. Seriously, keep it up. I only ask that you tell me why you liked it. Tsukyomi God of the Moon is great at this, shout out to you for giving me some decent reviews. I'm trying to slow down the pacing a little, but this is a story about Harry, not about Harry at Hogwarts, if that makes sense. If it doesn't, PM me and I'll talk your ear off.

One more thing. Ryandark, my boy. You hit the nail on the head. I'm using the first three years to show why Harry is the way he is and establish what he can do. Come fourth year, though, shit gets real.

So much for not having a lot to say.

And here...we...go!

CHAPTER THREE: HIDDEN MYSTERIES

He lay gasping for breath on the cold stone floor. His blood was pooling beneath him and his limbs were bent the wrong way. He tried to draw power to himself, but the pain in his mind prevented him from doing anything. He had lost. Even after throwing everything he'd had at it, he'd still lost.

And now he was going to die.

The wraith wearing the face of the man who'd been Professor Quirrel floated over him, thin lips stretched over rotting teeth in a victorious grin. It held up one of its talons, and his heart stopped. It had his blood. He watched in horror as it licked the blood off and shuddered.

"Thank you, Harry." it hissed. "For helping my master return. Take pleasure in knowing that your life will bring about his rise to power. "

Harry screamed, defiance and agony rolled into one sound, and tried to force his broken body to move, to do something. He was done. He could only stare as the wraith reared back and slashed down at his throat.

With a jerk, Harry woke. His hands and eyes glowed as he looked wildly around the room-his room- for any signs of it. His jackrabbit heart slowed it racing beat as he realized that he was safe. He was at home, with his family, behind the strongest wards Dumbledore could make. More importantly, the wraith was dead.

He was safe. He was safe. He told himself this until he believed it enough to let the power fade from him. The golden glow in his room disappeared, leaving only soft moonlight coming in through his window. From her perch on his desk, Hedwig hooted at him. He scrubbed at his face and looked at his clock.

Four in the morning. The closest he'd come to a full night's sleep in months. Physically he'd fully recovered. In fact, he was in the best shape of his life. Mentally, on the other hand...

The nightmares were fading, but they hadn't truly left. Not yet.

A soft knock on his door almost had him blowing it to splinters before he stopped himself. It cracked open and Petunia's tired, worried face peered in. "Harry," she said quietly. "I heard a noise. What was it? Another nightmare?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, mum."

She came into the room and sat on the edge of his bed. She fussed with his sheets before placing a calming hand on his leg. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

She gave him a look. "Harry, you know talking about this helps. It's the only way you'll ever get past it."

He sighed. "I know, but...It's hard. Having these nightmares is bad enough, but knowing I'm making you and dad worry? That's even worse. I don't want to make you worry."

"Oh, you silly boy." she gathered him close and kissed the top of his head. "We're your parents, it's our job to worry about you. No matter what happens, we worry. But shutting us out just makes it worse for everyone."

He sighed again, deeply. "Fine, but remember, you asked for this."

Then he told her everything he remembered. About that night, about the dreams, about everything that bothered him. He talked from four in the morning until half past five, and the entire time Petunia didn't say a word. She just held him close and listened. When he was done he felt...lighter. Like talking had shed some of what he was feeling. He wanted to smile, so he did.

"Thanks, mum."

"For what, sweetie?"

"Listening."

She hugged him tighter. "Always, Harry. Always. Now, what do you say to a cup of tea? I sure could use one."

Harry nodded and grinned. A cup of tea sounded like just the thing he needed.

Down in the kitchen he sat at the table and watched Petunia bustle around with the ease of someone intimately familiar with the room. This room was her throne room. She was queen of the house; he and the rest of the men of Number 4, Privet Drive knew this, but the kitchen...that was hers and hers alone. They were there on an invite only basis. A few minutes later Harry had his steaming cup in front of him and he sipped it gently. While he waited for it to cool enough to drink in earnest he thought about the last few weeks since he'd been home.

Dudley hadn't known what to make of Harry's new appearance. All he'd done when he saw his scars was hiss and says, "Ouch. Sorry, Harry. Wanna go to the pool?" Petunia told him later that night that Vernon had warned his brother ahead of time so he wouldn't stare. The next morning while Vernon was enjoying the morning paper Harry had jumped on him and given him the biggest hug he could. When asked why, he'd said, "Cuz you're the best dad ever."

It took the neighborhood kids a lot longer to get used to his changes. Even though for some reason they glossed over the runes on his face, the scars on his chest and leg were enough to draw attention at the neighborhood pool. He got asked a lot of questions, questions he didn't want to answer. Dudley took it upon himself to act as a sort of wall between him and them, which he was eternally grateful for. He'd never admit it, but he was.

The true highlight of that summer came about a month in, when the phone rang. He was in the living room, being thoroughly trounced by Dudley in a PlayStation racing game. He registered the phone ringing somewhere in the back of his mind, but was too focused on not crashing his race car to notice.

"Harry!" Petunia cut through his concentration much easier. "Telephone for you!"

"Who is it?" he shouted back. His car bounced off a wall and sent him, Dudley, and six other digital cars into a massive accident. "Bollocks!"

"Language," she shouted back, "and she says her name's Hermione!"

Harry dropped the controller, earning a "Hey!" from Dudley, vaulted the couch and scrambled into the kitchen.

"Oh, here he is now." Petunia said into the phone, smiling at him as he skidded to a stop in front of her. He snatched the phone from her grasp and took a moment to calm down so it didn't sound like he'd raced through the sitting room.

"Hey, Hermione." he said. Petunia laughed for some reason and left him some privacy.

"Harry!" she nearly yelled. "Why haven't you written back? I've sent you loads of letters and you've not written back once. You better have a good explanation!"

"Nice to hear from you, too, Hermione. How've you been? Me? I've been great. Swimming at the pool, mowing lawns for pocket money, beating Dudley at racing("No he hasn't!"), you know, summer stuff."

"Harry!"

He laughed. "Sorry, you're just too easy to wind up. What letters? I haven't gotten any letters."

"Really?" Harry could imagine her thoughtful frown. "That's odd. Hang on, I've got an idea." he heard her set down the phone and run off, so he waited patiently for her to return, humming the racing game's soundtrack under his breath. After a few bars, she was back. "Sorry, but I just sent you another letter. After we get home I'll send you one by normal post and we'll see what happens."

"Sounds good," he said, perplexed. Who else had written him letters he hadn't received? "Listen, where are you, anyways?"

"Oh, we're in Blackpool, staying for a few days until they turn on the lights. Then I'm back at home until school starts. We were going to go to Nice, but then Mum and Dad changed their minds. Blackpool's nice, but it's not France." he could hear a little pout in her voice. "What about you? Is that all you've been doing?"

Harry shrugged. "Pretty much."

In a much softer voice she asked. "And the nightmares?"

"Only sometimes. Honestly, it's getting better. Talking with mum helps."

"I'm so glad you're talking to someone, Harry! Oh, wait, Mum's waving at me, looks like we're going to lunch. Got to go, bye Harry! See you soon!"

"Bye, Hermione!" Harry laughed, then hung up. He turned to go back to the game only to see Dudley with a rather evil look on his face.

"Who's Hermione?" he asked. "Is she your girlfriend?"

The resulting fight nearly destroyed the sitting room couch. It did break a lamp.

Now Harry had to mow even more lawns. Sometimes having a brother was crap.

He was pretty sure someone was following him. Sometimes, when he was at the pool or just wandering about, the hairs on his neck would stand for no reason. But whenever he looked, no one was there. It freaked him out enough to send a letter to Professor Dumbledore, but so far he'd gotten no response.

Even weirder was the fact that, a few days after he sent that letter, it stopped.

Meanwhile, the nightmares had almost completely ceased. They only came once or twice a week. The trade off for their rarity was their potency. Each one had him waking in a tangle of sheets and covered in sweat. Petunia said she could hear him scream sometimes before he woke up. These ones he didn't remember, and some part of him said to be glad about that. He still wasn't getting any letters from owl post, though the one Hermione sent normally arrived just fine. So he asked to tell everyone else how it worked so they could talk that way, and letters started arriving.

The weird block on owl post circumvented, he then started thinking about the homework he wasn't doing. His trunk was currently in the cupboard under the stairs, he passed it every morning on the way to breakfast, and yet he couldn't make himself open it up and get to work. Even though Hermione had sent him several letters along the lines of getting it done.

July passed in a haze of heat, rain, and chores. The first few weeks of August were the same. In the third week of that month his school list had arrived, and the next day Petunia took him to Diagon Alley to get his shopping done.

Diagon Alley was the same as before. As far as he could tell, not a brick was out of place. Flourish and Blotts was still on the corner, if a little crowded, Gringotts was still massive and intimidating. The Leaky Cauldron...was there. Nothing had changed.

Why, then, did it feel so different?

Harry couldn't put his finger on it, but something about the Alley had changed. He buzzed through the owl emporium to pick up some treats for Hedwig before heading over to the apothecary for Potions ingredients. It wasn't until he was on his way to the bookstore, where he'd promised to meet Petunia in half an hour, that it hit him.

The Alley hadn't changed.

He had.

As revelations went, it wasn't earth shattering, but it was enough to make him stop in the street and earn a rude comment from the heavily laden wizard behind him. There'd been little clues. People were staring, they always had. Now they weren't staring at his scar, though. Now they watched his face, or how he limped occasionally when his missing toe twinged. He could feel the magic of the Alley in the air like a breeze. He half expected it to ruffle his hair.

"Sweetie?" Petunia's voice drew him out of his thoughts. "Is everything all right?"

He'd reached Flourish and Blotts and hadn't even realized. Harry joined her and leaned into her arm. She wrapped it around his shoulder and gave him a squeeze.

"Did something happen?" she asked.

"No," he shook his head. "it's nothing, just... everything feels different, mum."

Petunia ignored the crowd of women trying to bull their way into the bookstore behind them. "How do you mean?"

"It's like everything looks the same, nothing's changed, right? But it all feels different. I think I know why."

She waited.

"I don't think the Alley's changed. I think I have."

A long minute passed before she answered. From inside the store there came a muffled cry of "No pushing, no shoving! One at a time! One at a time!". He could see Petunia gathering her thoughts before she answered and waited impatiently for her to do so.

"I think it's because you have, sweetie. Most of the people...what you've experienced in this last year, nothing they'll do in their lives will measure up. What is it I've always said about you?"

Harry frowned. "That I never bring my dirty clothes to wash?"

Petunia laughed and kissed his head. "No, though that's true as well. You're unique, Harry. There's only one person like you in the world."

"Mum, every mum says that about their kid." he protested. "I heard Piers' mum saying it the other day."

"And she meant it just as much as I did." she looked intently at him. "If this is about your ability, Harry, then I don't know what to tell you. I doubt anyone does."

"Is that all I am? Gold eyes and a scar?"

She steered them into the store and into the mass of women, kissing his cheek again. "Not even remotely. It's just what you see at first glance."

Her words didn't take away his worries like they did when he was little. They did help, though.

Harry frowned at the crowd. "Wonder what's going on?"

What had been going on was a man so thoroughly annoying that immediately following the purchase of his books Harry had grabbed Petunia's arm and dragged her out of the store. After they'd seen a fight between a red headed man and someone who looked a lot like Malfoy twenty years from now, they'd left the Alley and returned home. That night he lay in bed, unable to sleep. For some reason he kept coming back to the man who looked like Malfoy.

The fact that he was Malfoy's father was obvious. That wasn't what was keeping him up. Nor was it the way in which the man sneered at everyone, or even in the way he either ignored or berated his son. He and Harry had made eye contact for a brief moment. It was the look in Malfoy Senior's eyes that kept him from sleep. They practically burned with hate. Harry had seen that sort of hate, once before.

The wraith that had once been Professor Quirrel had looked at him with eyes like that.

It was why he didn't fall asleep until half past two.

Malfoy's dad wanted to kill him.

"Up!" Sharp rapping. Couldn't they see he was sleeping? "Get up, Harry!"

Harry? Who was Harry? He wasn't, that was for sure. He rolled over and prepared to go back to sleep.

"Harry, you're going to miss the train!"

That woke him up. He was Harry, after all. A bleary eye checked the clock on the nightstand, sending a bolt of energy rushing through him. He was late, he was late, he was late. Quick scan of the room.

It was a mess. Clothes were scattered over any available surface. A pile of socks lay at the foot of his bed. His robes were draped over the door to his closet, out of which a small monster of dirty clothes was growing. His shoes were long gone, buried under a mass of socks. Somewhere by his desk was his trunk, which was how the whole mess got started.

"Crap," he muttered, throwing off the blankets and dressing hurriedly. The knocking came again, louder. "I'm up!" he shouted.

"Five minutes!" was the reply.

Five minutes. Right. He could do this. He waved his hand at his room and felt a brief heat where the runes on his face were etched. His room packed itself without any of the drain from last year, and in two minutes he was down stairs and ready to go. Petunia was in the kitchen with Vernon, sharing an exasperated expression between them.

"...I swear," she was saying. "every single year it's been rush, rush, rush. You'd think he'd remember by now the train leaves at 10:30."

Vernon was going to say something, but cut himself off at Harry's arrival. He paused only long enough to hug his dad goodbye before rushing out the door, shouting, "Come one, mum, we're going to be late!"

Vernon's belly laugh followed them into the car. It was a great start to the year.

This, however, wasn't. He'd been having such a good time, too. They'd missed the early morning rush into London because he overslept, so when they pulled into King's Cross it was with twenty whole minutes to spare. Plenty of time, Harry thought. Petunia disagreed, vocally and all the way to the station. He made a promise to himself not to oversleep again, if only to not make that vein in her forehead pop out like that.

Then there was this. This being the barrier to the platform not opening. He'd already bounced off it and bruised his sternum once, and wasn't in a hurry to try that again. Petunia had an appointment in town that she'd had to rush off for, apologizing the whole way, so that wasn't an option.

He went to a nearby bench, propped his feet on his trunk, and thought. As he did an entire family of redheads, the father of which he vaguely recognized from the fight in the bookstore, went through with no problem.

"Huh." he leaned forward, elbows on knees. "How about that? What do you think, Hedwig? Someone trying to keep me off the train?"

Hedwig hooted. Harry nodded.

"I thought so, too. Now, the only question is what to do."

Hoot.

"I could do that. Of course, using my power isn't exactly easy to hide, what with the glowing and the heat and such. I'll write Dumbledore, just in case something goes wrong."

Course of action decided, he dug through his trunk for parchment, quill and ink. Then, balancing all three on the curved surface of his trunk, he scribbled a hasty note.

Professor,

Barrier to 9 and ¾ blocked. Don't know why. Going to try something. If it works, I'll see you at the feast. If not, I'm still at King's Cross, or at home if I can get some change for a pay phone.

Harry

He rolled up the parchment and tied it to Hedwig's foot, who took off before he could tell her where to go. Still, he thought, she's a smart bird, she'll know where to go.

Hopefully.

He sighed and took his trolley back to the barrier, already drawing power to him. It circled his fingers, danced the gaps between the digits and eddied in his palms. His heart picked up speed and he grinned. He reached the barrier, stepped around his trunk, and laid his hands on the rough brick.

"Open." he mumbled, and felt his power leave him in a rush, like a river bursting from a dam. Which would make the platform barrier another dam further downstream. His magic smashed into a very solid...something that he couldn't see. He could only feel it. It pushed back against him and he poured on more magic. His face burned again, and he was sure his eyes were leaking wisps of light.

It was a struggle, one that made the space behind Harry's eyes ache and his stomach turn circles, but eventually the barrier gave and he and his trunk fell through onto the platform. "Yes!" he pumped his fist. The train whistled. "No!"

He scrambled aboard, never seeing the increased stares as he passed. It was when he reached a compartment, Neville and Hermione already ensconced inside, that he saw something had changed.

"Harry...?" Hermione trailed off, frowning at his face before shaking her head and damn near crushing his ribs in one of her hugs. "It's lovely to see you! How have you been? Get all your work done? Did you figure out why you weren't getting owl post?"

"Yes, yes, and no." he said, returning the hug. "Hey, Neville. Good summer?"

Neville nodded. "Not bad. I managed to crossbreed a new strain of plant, but I'm not sure if anyone else can see it."

"Why not? Is it invisible?" Harry asked as he loaded his trunk and sat down. Neville blushed and looked down.

"No, it...sort of explodes if anyone but me goes near it."

Both his and Hermione's eyebrows rose at that. "Well," she said after a moment. "I'm sure there could be a practical application for that. Home defense, maybe?"

"Yeah!" Harry warmed to the idea. "That could work. People could have you come plant them, and then if an intruder tries anything: Bang!" He smacked his palm. "Out like a light! You'd make millions."

Neville's head rose and he started smiling a little. "Yeah," he said. "I could do that." then he frowned. "But what would I call them?"

Harry shrugged. "Flaming Longbottoms?"

The three of them lasted all of half a minute before they started laughing.

Weirdly, or maybe alarmingly, they weren't bothered by Malfoy on the train. If that wasn't a clue something was up, Harry didn't know what was. It was because of this that he closed and locked the compartment door when there was about fifteen minutes left in the journey. "Guys," he said, "I have to tell you something."

After he was done Hermione waited a few seconds to gather herself before speaking. "Harry, are you sure? I mean, Lucius Malfoy is a very powerful man, and I don't think-no offense- that you're important enough for him to want to kill you."

"Maybe." Harry said doubtfully. "But I've seen the look in his eyes before, and that guy wanted me dead pretty badly too."

"Either way," Neville said. "you should be careful. I told you last year the Malfoys were trouble, and I meant it."

"I will," Harry promised. He decided to keep his conversation with Dumbledore about Malfoy and his dad last year to himself. He didn't know what to make of it, the idea that someone couldn't care about their kid. Hermione shuffled them out into the hall so she could change into her robes. He decided to keep an eye on Malfoy this year.

Maybe he'd figure out what was going on.

The sorting and welcome feast were the same as last year. There were only two things of note to occur during it. The first was that the extremely annoying person he'd seen in Flourish and Blotts was their new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. When he was introduced to the school he stood like he was going to give a speech, but luckily Dumbledore stopped him before that could happen.

The other noteworthy thing was a small year girl with dirty blonde hair and silver eyes named Lovegood, Luna. She took a good twelve minutes to get sorted. For a good ten minutes she sat on the stool and smiled happily before the hat laughed and shouted, "RAVENCLAW!"

Harry had applauded with everyone else, listened to half of the start of term speech, and dug into the feast. He ignored the stares and whispers with practiced ease. They'd been happening since he'd entered the Wizarding World, and had really picked up in October of last year. So he was used to them. He didn't like them, but he was used to them.

Now, though, he was occupied with something more alarming. He was in the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist, staring into a mirror at the runes on his face. Over the summer he'd gotten used to them, and in fact barely noticed them anymore. He did know where they stopped. It wasn't the tips of his ears. He ignored the faint scars on his chest and fingered an ear.

They were spreading. It wasn't a pleasant thought to go to sleep to, but Harry managed somehow.

Their first Defense lesson was a disaster. The first hint of which was the sight that greeted someone when they entered the classroom. Quirrel, before he'd become a wraith and tried to kill him, had filled the room with his various gatherings from adventures. The teacher-Harry had yet to learn his name- had filled the room with pictures of himself.

It was all him, all the time, and it was creepy. Winking, smiling, blonde faces with perfect teeth surrounded Harry as he filed into the room and made him want to scream or set them on fire. Possibly both. He sat down and waited. Neville sat to his left. Hermione sat to his right and removed from her bag every single book written by this guy.

Whoever he was.

Vernon had a friend that came round for tea every Thursday. He had a flair for the dramatic and neck scarves, no matter the weather. Petunia always muttered that he clearly "batted for the other team." Whenever Harry asked what she meant, she'd say she would explain later and send him to his room.

He had the feeling that this professor would be a lot like Vernon's friend. Seconds later the door to his office burst open, and he wasn't disappointed.

"Me," Professor Teeth said. "Five time winner of Witch Weekly's most charming smile award. Receiver of three Orders of Merlin, Second Class, and most importantly, your new Defense professor! In case you don't know me-" he laughed like the idea was insanity to suggest. "-allow me to introduce myself. I am Gilderoy Lockhart, and welcome to my class."

Exactly half of the class swooned. Hermione included.

Until Harry kicked her leg.

"Ow!" she hissed, and rubbed her shin. "What did you do that for?"

"You were drooling."

"Was not!"

"Was too."

"I wasn't!"

"You were." Neville cut in. Hermione rounded on him, missing Harry's broad grin. "Now hush, he's looking at us."

To Hermione's mortification and Harry's increased amusement, Professor Teeth was indeed watching them with what could only be described as a predatory grin.

"Well, well," he said, descending the steps from his office one at a time. "Harry Potter. I have waited so long to meet you."

Harry was suddenly and brutally reminded of the last person who'd waited to meet him. It soured his already low opinion of Professor Teeth, and it must have shown on his face, because the Professor quickly changed his mind and made for the covered cage on his desk.

"Now," he clapped his hands together. "I have this year to prepare you. Out there, in the wide, wide world are all manner of nasty creatures. Creatures that don't care if your parents love you, or that you know how to cast a certain spell. They don't care if you brush your teeth every night and go to church on Sundays. All they care about, all they think about, is what you taste like, is how much of their stomach you will fill."

He had the class spellbound.

"It is my job to prevent that." he said gravely. He gestured towards the cage. "In my travels I have encountered some of the nastiest, darkest creatures this world has to offer. I am uniquely prepared for this position, and now I will reveal to you something so terrifying that grown wizards have fled for their lives. Do not scream. You may provoke them!"

With that, he ripped the cover off the cage. Silence reigned in the class room. It stretched for a minute until Hermione's incredulous voice sang out.

"Pixies?"

"Freshly caught!" Professor Teeth assured her, and just like that the spell was broken. Beside her, Harry rolled his eyes at Neville. Pixies were irritating, true, but they couldn't be dangerous. Neville told stories about chasing them out of his greenhouses all the time, and he never looked worse for wear. That train of thought lasted until the cage door was opened and the pixies were freed.

Pandemonium didn't imply the amount of chaos that ensued.

Professor Teeth was completely useless, casting a spell that Harry was sure he made up on the spot before running back to his office. Somehow, Harry still wasn't quite sure, Neville ended up dangling from the chandelier. Hermione started stunning them one at a time and chunking them into the cage. A redheaded boy had his wand thrown out a window by an irate pixie and was in the process of being tossed out himself before Harry stunned it and caged the dazed little fiend.

It took the better part of an hour and several bruises on all parts, but Harry, Hermione, and the rest eventually got the pixies caged. Then, she grabbed him and Neville by the arm and dragged them from the room. Neither of them said a word. She was muttering angrily to herself under her breath and they had nearly reached the Great Hall before she'd calmed down enough for him to dare venture a question.

"So," Harry ventured cautiously. It had been about a minute since she'd mumbled something threatening. "your crush. Gone?"

Her reply was cold and angry. "Completely."

September passed in a haze of nightly study groups. After realizing how ill fitted for the job Professor Teeth was, Hermione had spread the word that if the teachers weren't going to help them, they were damn well going to help themselves. Under her tutelage they learned the book that should have been assigned, then spread out into ones that were recommended by that author.

Harry had to admit that if Hermione wanted to be a teacher, she all but had it in the bag. The girl was a natural.

The day of the Halloween feast he found her in the library he found her thumbing through the Defense texts, mouthing words as she moved along.

"Hey, Hermione?"

She stopped, looked up, and smiled at him. "Hey, Harry. What are you doing here?"

"I can't come to the library?"

"No, you can!" she blushed. "It's just that-you never do."

He shrugged. "Got me there. I just-I just wanted you to know how cool it was, you teaching us all this. You'd make a better teacher than Teeth, I'd wager."

She turned even redder and laughed. "Harry, don't call him that. Not where people can hear you, anyway. And I don't know what I'm doing, I'm just making this up as I go. I'm sure it'll all fall apart sooner or later."

Harry just stared at her for a moment. "You're kidding right? We got kicked out of the library last night there were so many of us. By the end of this semester I wouldn't be surprised if more people were here than in the actual class. Hermione, you're brilliant! Anyone can see it. Even," he grinned. "Neville."

Was there any blood anywhere else in her body? Her face, ears, and neck were almost beet red, and her feet had become the most interesting thing in the known universe. "Y-you think so?"

He grinned wider. "I know so. He always does better after you come by when we practice. He walks with you, he talks with you, he opens doors for you. Come on, does he have to write you a letter?"

She shook her head. "Don't tell him." she said suddenly. "I don't think I could face him if he knew."

Harry shrugged. "Mum always said boys are clueless. I don't know what she means, but I think it works in your favor here. Now let's get to dinner. I'm hungry."

Hermione wouldn't explain why she laughed so hard on the way to dinner. He was so focused on trying to get her to tell him why that he almost forgot that it was Halloween.

Almost.

It hit him all at once just outside the Great Hall. Through the doors he could see the food and candy and laughter. He didn't want anything to do with it. Last year today he'd nearly died. They were still rebuilding the southern tower. Ten years ago today he'd become an orphan. Today was not his day, and he was well aware of it.

So, he stopped at the doors and turned to Hermione. She was already looking at him, knowing etched on her face. "You're not coming in, are you?"

"Nah." he shook his head. "Think I'm just going to go back to the common room. Bring me some turkey, or something?"

"Sure."

"Thanks." he smiled at her, and walked off. His dark mood took him all the way up through the portrait hole and into the common room. Then he took the steps to his dorm two at a time and dug through his trunk for a particular book. Finding it under his socks he brought it back down to the chair nearest the fire.

Hagrid had given him the book when he'd come down for tea last year. He said it was an apology for taking him into the Forest in the first place. The giant of a man had sent owls to all of Harry's parent's school friends for pictures. The result was sitting in his lap. Inside was picture after picture of his parents, alive and happy.

He had never opened it, nor told anyone about it.

Now it felt like it was time. He took a moment to brace himself and opened it to the first page.

"Hi, mum." he whispered to Lily's smiling face waving up at him.

Tears welled and he let them spill. No one was around to see him cry, anyways.

"Harry! You're here!"

He looked up, bewildered, just in time for a bushy haired blur to tackle him out of his chair. Hermione was hugging him as tightly as he could, like she was afraid he wasn't actually there. Hesitantly he returned it. He looked over the top of the chair at Neville's slowly appearing face. He looked grim and worried, which transitioned to relief when he saw Harry. Behind him the other Gryffindors filed into the common room and took up the seats.

Behind them all came Professor McGonagall. "Mr. Potter! Are you in here?"

"Here, Professor!" he called. "Down here! Let me up, Hermione."

With a great deal of reluctance in every movement, she did. Harry took in everyone's face. They looked scared. Very, very scared. In the back of his mind he wondered if his life was destined to go to crap every Halloween or if it was just bad luck.

"What's happened?" he asked. Hermione seized an arm and squeezed.

"It's Lavender Brown," she answered. "she's disappeared."

END CHAPTER THREE

Note: Yeah, I know. Cliffhanger. Yada yada yada. I'm an evil bastard. Here's the thing. The last chapter update was not even a week ago. How long do you think it'll be before the next one comes around? I realize this is a pretty insane update schedule. Don't expect it to last. I'm on the road for the next few days and there's not a whole lot to do but write or read or sleep. Once I get back home I'll have a whole host of lovely distractions to make writing harder. Until then, enjoy my lack of alternative activities.

Also, the next chapter contains trace elements of Luna.