Because I promised that there'd be another chapter soon, and you've waited for over a week already - here it is.
As always: Harry Potter is owned by Rowling, I took large liberties - ENJOY!
Dumbledore looked at the bushy-haired, young wizard in front of him. Mister Granger had asked for a word and as it appeared that he had some information to forward… looking rather nervous about it.
Which was not surprising, given that last time he'd been in his office, the headmaster had spoken rather sternly to him – at the time he'd deemed it necessary, but after this year, he wasn't too sure anymore. Had it really been necessary to ban him from wand-use for half of the Triwizard Tournament? Had it really been necessary to threaten with a close look on the uses of his wand? Had it even been necessary to try and prod his mind? This year the young man had shown so much courage, so much loyalty and strength… so unlike Tom…
"Sir, I am sure that you are informed about Mister Potter's… dreams." He began, stopping to wring his hands and taking a deep breath, before he finally dared to look him straight into the eyes. It was as if he was trying to evade something, just what was the question. Dumbledore nodded his head in acquiesce.
"Of course, Mister Lupin and Black have both come to forward me this problem already and I have made sure to take care of it, Mister Granger, be sure of it." He nodded, but still did not stand up. "That's not why you have come here, then?"
The boy didn't give himself away. "It is part of it, sir. Professor Snape… might have started his lessons with Mister Potter in December, but maybe he has told you about, Mister Potter being a little more prepared than he had anticipated."
Indeed, Severus had practically complained to him that Harry was better than he had thought, but he had written it off to Harry being a natural Occlumens, surely he'd have known if the boy had started teaching the old art to himself, he was such an easy book to read after all.
"Well, sir, the reason, is me." Now his ears perked up – so he was going to be let in on the mystery that was Hermes Granger? He always liked to know secrets. "Mister Potter has come to me with his problem and I am sure that you have noticed I had rather convincing arguments since my battle with the Firecrow."
Indeed Mister Granger had almost miraculously survived his one-on-one with the Firecrow last year, after Karkaroff had so gallantly shoved him into the arena. And after all, Dumbledore himself had tried to enter his mind, only to find that certain information was not for him to see. Mister Granger continued.
"I have been reading on Occlumency in my third year, have trained myself and found that I could block out people relatively easy." Dumbledore nodded, Granger was disciplined, organized and controlled – everything a wizard needed to be in order to thrive in Occlumency, yes. "Pushing thoughts was a harder thing to do, but I managed anyway. So when Mister Potter came to me about these dreams… I suggested Occlumency – it is the reason he was better than Professor Snape expected and the reason I am aware of what I am going to tell you now."
This time around, the young man took another fortifying breath. "Mister Potter is… despite his training, only an acceptable Occlumens. He can block obvious attacks, but is open when he is not suspecting anything – meaning during his sleep. It is why the dreams have not really stopped."
It did not surprise the headmaster that Granger had a theory on these occurrences, he always needed to have an answer it seemed. The boy continued: "He dreamt of the attack on Mister Weasley, which was why we sent him a letter that was ignored, but the dream itself proved to be true. I find it prudent to inform you of another dream that Potter does not want to share with anyone."
Dumbledore stood this time around, not sure whether it was a good idea to be involved in all this – after all he'd kept his distance from Harry purely for the reason of not feeding him to Tom, had it been the wrong decision after all?
"Sir?"
His eyes zoomed to the concerned face of Mister Granger, he nodded at the boy to continue as he started to pace up and down in his office – Granger continued as asked.
"He came to me yesterday and told me that he dreams of a door in the Ministry that he had supposedly seen the year when he was at the Ministry for trial of having conducted magic in front of muggles, on a muggle – you might remember the incident with his aunt. Anyway, he dreams of that door, goes past it in his dream, and then sees Mister Black – being tortured for information, on something that he is supposed to know its location of. Potter screams his throat out nowadays, and Mister Weasley… is unlikely to help since he wasn't informed of the attack on his father beforehand."
Dumbledore nodded. It was no news to him that Voldemort wanted the prophecy – he only had half of it after all, Severus had come too late to overhear all of it. Preparing for a war meant to be prepared for every eventuality and that meant gathering as much intelligence as possible, and a prophecy meant a lot of intelligence. Harry was undoubtedly involved with Tom's future – he'd defeated him once, wielded the same wand and prophecies could only be plucked by those who they concerned.
He watched the four witches hurl across the Room of Requirement – he had entered upon a rather peculiar scene.
They stood back by back, wielding their wands against dummies that carried the former regalia – black cloaks and skull masks. Silent and loud curses echoed through the room, bounced off shields, riveted off walls and hit an unsuspecting victim if they were not careful.
Of course the Room of Requirement gave what was needed, but he had never thought of using it that way. It took a while – the dummies were trying to split the Clover apart, but that was easier said than done, they had excellent aim and watched out for one another, as if they were connected in mind, having occluded each other to realize dangers before the other noticed it – was such a thing even possible? – fighting with wands and hands, or even completely silent.
They were fifteen, sixteen at best, and Snape had to admit that they would stand a real chance when facing off not dummies but real Death Eaters… well, they had already stood a chance, and had been able to part all in one piece at the resurrection of the Snake.
But Voldemort had reorganized his terror-group, had re-recruited his old forces and forced those that were old enough to join his cause, so long as they were from the right family. They collected and assembled their forces, but were soon ready to strike.
Just when he had finished that thought, a Voldemort dummy himself appeared, casting a curse that very much resembled the Killing-Curse in colour, but acted as nothing more than a slicing hex that bounced right of Luna's shield. Combined forces finished the foe and the Death Eaters vanished.
Good. They were sweaty and beaten, but they were prepared… for all eventualities.
"One day, I swear, just after I've managed that animagus thing, I'll tackle apparition." Cho seethed when they arrived at the ministry. Hermione had to agree, that stupid turning and falling with the portkey was going to break her bones one day, she groaned. Harry seemed unharmed, but that was just as usual – nothing seemed to ever faze Boy-Wonder.
The Ministry was suspiciously silent at this time, and Hermione wondered just why exactly it was so silent – normally officials worked 24/7 every day of the year. That was, after all, the reason why the best way to get a safe job in the wizarding world was to employ at the ministry – they always needed someone to cover for someone else, or to take over a night shift, or weekend shift, or holiday shift, or whatever… But right now, the dark halls of the ministry were deserted and silent.
"Ostendeo." Harry whispered.
Hermione had taught him the 'Point-Me'-spell earlier that week, and since he was the only one who really knew what they were looking for, it was prudent to let him work the magic.
"Wands at the ready."
And what a good thing it was that they were at the ready. For as soon as they had reached the cross-road that Harry had dreamt about they realized that not only had the Occlumency-trainee fallen for a faked memory, but that it was an ambush.
"Death Eaters."
It had ensued in an all-out fight. No one had held back, several Killing Curses hit something over their shoulders; badly aimed and apparently more meant to frighten them than to really hit them. The Clover clustered around Harry, as they had trained, and kept fighting. Luna's bunny hopped off into distance, hoping to catch Dumbledore before anything grave happened.
"Now, now, peace my brothers." A mocking voice admonished from the side of the cloaked men – Hermione's heart stopped, she recognized Malfoy's voice everywhere, even in the middle of a battle when her blood rushed through her ears. The masked man stepped forth.
"We are here for one thing, dear students and you can help us get it. We want nothing more, not from you, not from old man Dumbledore… only, the prophecy."
The prophecy. Hermione growled – of course they wanted the prophecy and Dumbledore knew it. If a war was about to start knowing of the cause and maybe even the outcome could be essential to one side, it could even mean defeat or victory. Harry's fate was intertwined with that of their Lord – of course he'd want the prophecy, he needed to know.
"What aisle?" she asked – there was only Harry to get hold of the prophecy, and there was only Harry to destroy it. But they did not know where it was, their enemies did. Behind her, her friends held their breath.
Malfoy smirked contently at her, when he pointed at something over her head. Hermione's eyes were quicker than her head and she found that the crossroad they had been led to was exactly the point where the prophecy stood. Hermione turned to her friends.
Lu, what about Dumbledore?
The blond shook her head almost unnoticeably – there had yet to be an answer of the old man, Hermione silently despaired. Of course her maniac brain had come up with a different plan, but she could only put that plan into action if she was sure they'd make it. As it was now, they needed time – Harry could give them time.
"Potter, reach up and grab it."
Harry did not take lightly to orders, but after she'd glared at him, he slowly rose to the tips of his toes and grabbed the glassy ball. As soon as it rested in his palms, the blue essence in the ball transformed and the face of none other but Trelawney – Hermione sneered – appeared in the ball, her voice was raspy.
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. … Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies… He Who Shall Not Be Named, shall be hindered once… and shall return…" The air around them was dense as everyone listened to the prophecy, not even their enemies dared to move – curiosity was, after all, human. "And with renewed power, with the blood of his foe marked as his equal, shall rise again… to never be defeated by a man… in a war where beast shall unite with men… The Dark Lord shall return…"
Silence reigned shortly, and as the pause stretched, Lucius stretched out his hand on which a velvet, black tissue lay, Luna raised her wand and her left hand, Hermione did the same, as did Cho and Pansy.
Harry let the glassy ball fall – curses blasted at three Death Eaters, and Hermione raised her arms to the shelves that towered above her. "Reducto."
Silvery-blue memories, shards of glass and voices boomed around them as they fled, their enemies on a wild chase. A door appeared not far ahead and with renewed energy they made for it – they realized too late that it was not the exit.
Hermione could still remember Harry's howl when Sirius fell behind the veil, but it paled in comparison to the horribly loud silence when Cho sank to her knees.
"Avada Kedavra."
And Dumbledore had been too late, had watched impotently when the beautiful Asian took the hit meant for Harry Potter and died in the foyer of the Ministry, just as the Floos lit up with green flames and the Aurors stepped out.
They dared not speak as their magic assembled itself out of its own volition, covering the girl with additional Glamours as hers fell away in the face of death. Malfoy and LeStrange apparated away before they could be caught, Pansy caught Cho before he lifeless body touched the ground, Hermione and Luna helped support the limp body.
Cho, dead, but still eerily beautiful Cho, stared up at them with lifeless, black eyes, she looked as if she was sleeping. Hermione hid her sob in her friend's shoulder, Pansy pushed her head against Cho's and Luna held her cooling hand.
The Minister stepped forth, but Hermione heard none of his words, heard none of the yells and outraged cries of the Aurors, heard none of the words of the headmaster, or even felt his hands on her shoulder when they were side-alonged back into the school, Cho's body was still lifeless in their arms.
Joan was clad in black today, he noticed when the witch smiled sadly at him and silently swung open to reveal Hermione, Luna and Pansy huddled together in the large bed. Snape sat down in front of the bed and looked at the tear-stained cheeks of the girls.
Cho Chang had given her life for Harry Potter, he had heard of the courageous actions of the 'Founders' as Lucius liked to call them – he could never remember anyone's name save for Granger's, but liked to mock the Clover. Cho had given the ultimate sacrifice one can give in a war between men – a woman had paid with her life, over a glass ball that spit out words and had not even worthy information.
The Dark Lord did not need the prophecy anymore, now that he had Lucius' memories of the prophecy, but Cho had let her life nevertheless.
He sighed as he pushed the blanket over the three entangled bodies, if only he had arrived earlier that day when he had been meant to spy on the prophecy… if only he had listened more closely, then the Snake wouldn't have felt as if he had to know more, the whole prophecy – Cho would still be alive and the Clover would still be complete.
Hermione, his beautiful Hermione, would still have all of her friends and would have been spared the pain of losing a loved one to the horrors of war.
His witch, as he liked to think of her, lay in the middle of the bed, her arms around Pansy and Luna, who were both pressed to her sides. It would be harder on her, from now on; Pansy and Luna would both rely on her, she was the oldest now, Cho had been before.
His mind was at a still stand when he left the room to slide down on the hallway, coming to sit on the plush carpet in this hallway. As he lowered his head into his hand, all he could think about was that he could have spared Hermione the pain of losing someone so dear if only he would have paid closer attention earlier in his life.
I give my thanks to douglas. bailey. 7946 (yes they did, thank you), renaid (XD, he sure is going to be addicted, I'm glad that you are still so enthusiastic about this story), Guest (no unfortunately only 3 chapters, but hey here's another one!), Et Cadet Satan Stabit (thank you =D), llittlebigmouthOKC (not for some time yet, if all goes as planned and no plot-bunnies interfere), Lost O'Fallon Girl (now that you're aware of it, I'll finish it - I hate leaving business unfinished), wingsrookie (Yay, reviews!), Helen Roston (this concerned writer will do everything in her power to please her loyal readers... almost everything), arabellagrace (of course he is, but as the civilized people we are, let's rephrase that into: he's a hot-head with purely idiotic moments ;P), TequilaNervous (angsty Harry can be so much fun to write... and stupid Ron, I love to write stupid Ron), bushyhaired-american-nerd (he's a spy, creepy is a. his second name and b. well, he doesn't know it any differently) for all the encouraging reviews, you stoke my ego =)
Also, thank you waterangel55, BreadQuenn42, Lady of Tenn, Lost O'Fallon Girl, LadyLithie, Nimidas, LaraBeeXx, DutchNight, and Rosi01 for the Story Alerts.
And lastly, my gratitude to waterangel55, Pat17 S and Lost O'Fallon Girl for the Story Favs.
I hate myself for having killed Cho :'C
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