HUGE THANK YOU TO mattblue, Lord Mortensen, ViolatedMonkey, FleeingReality, phoenixfyre2552, Firehedgehog, dave7x7, ourfandomhp, amata0221, Shellzbells24, Le Diablo Blanc2, newboy, jrock919, RockaRosalie, .127, Dee3, Aquajacks, semexx, Arawn D. Draven, Aaron Leach, Sweet Bitter Life, Lunary, Srutokirti, PinkIsMyColor, eh, lightning king, OoOXylionOoO, MissSelenity, shugokage, , Perpetual Dreaming, HarryPotter'sCharmedTwilight, Ahsilaa, Penny is wise, TheSandyToadfish, Summer's Vice, Shadowsmage, , KeegSlytherin, DarkStrider, Jamesk19, jgood27, Anka7995, BBRAE623, MooNOrchid, and LUTCY! :)

DISCLAIMER : I own nothing. Except the plot and some original characters.

Words : 6304

This is the un-beta'ed version. I'll re-upload it as soon as it's ready!

He saw Viktor emerging from the curious crowd. There was a mixture of shock, confusion and fear in his face as he walked towards them.

"Why do you care?" Harry whispered harshly.

Viktor had arrived, but Harry was still staring intently at Ginny, who now had lost her earlier confidence. Something had torn between them. He didn't know how, but he couldn't find a bit of him to care.

"It was nice," He said. "Talking to you, that is."

Harry spun, dragging Renesmee with him. He forced himself to not look backwards, leaving Ginny and Viktor arguing behind his back. He could still feel Renesmee's warmth lingering at his mind. His fears gradually crippled his insides, like water spreading in a piece of paper. The anger, the horror, the sadness was battling inside his chest. But for now, he focused himself at the only thing that could keep him sane: Renesmee's warm presence by his side.

Chapter 12 – The Coldness of the Ice

Since the wedding day, Harry had not talked that much.

He talked. He smiled. He laughed at her pathetic jokes, but even Emmet Cullen would notice the change in his behavior. He stared at her intently when she spoke, absorbing every word almost like a life line. Renesmee knew that it might be a good sign, but not in this particular way, where his eyes widened slightly and his jaw tightened. He wasn't that interested in what she was saying. He was desperate. Desperate for distractions.

There were also times when he stared at nothing. It usually happened out of blue, like when Renesmee was telling him a story. For several seconds, he looked like he was listening, but in a fraction of seconds, his eyes emptied. It was brief—unseen by human eyes, but it scared her.

She had tried to talk about it. But Harry's eyes immediately narrowed a bit, looking as if someone had cut his air pipe. So she dropped it. Instead, she tried to soften him somehow, with a few new jokes from George or just a silly story from her childhood. He was always amused, even laughing sometimes, but she could tell the difference.

Days passed quickly after the wedding. Like in a boring story, they had reached the climax, and now were forced to rest at home while they didn't really want to. It was such a hysteria preparing and experiencing the event—which, by far, is the most magical moment Renesmee had underwent—and as everything was finished, they had run out all of the hype they were engulfed in.

Ron and Hermione departed the night they wedded, so they could only send a pair of Patronuses to send their goodbyes. As for George, he decided to stay for awhile but they had not met yet. The author Renesmee was so excited to meet, Luna Lovegood, had mysteriously disappeared, but Harry told her that she did that a lot to find another species of Bumblehingger. She didn't know what a Bumblehingger was, neither did Harry, but she was determined to find out, much to Harry's annoyance.

So they spent the passing days in Grimmauld Place. Renesmee didn't mind, seeing as she had a night full of magic that could last in her memories for a life time. It was Harry's sudden quietness that bothered her. It was as if he was slowly falling apart, but Renesmee's hands were too small to hold the holes at the same time.

When the Grimmauld Place couldn't get any cleaner, or the newspaper couldn't update the news hourly, Harry went to the house library. Renesmee knew what he was searching, of course. So without talking, the pair walked to the third floor and started putting their noses behind the books for hours. The Black Library surprisingly held an unbelievable amount of books, not all of them necessarily light magic. She finally put down the one hundred seventy fourth book when nothing had even mentioned a condition that was remotely similar to Harry's. Watching Harry's face, she knew he found nothing either.

One morning, Renesmee found Harry waking up earlier than she did. She found it peculiar, as she was always the one that was the early riser, due to her short-timed need to rest. It was raining outside, and Harry was staring out of the window, watching the raindrops that fell freely to the earth. His back was facing her, and the door handle on her hand creaked slightly. He didn't move though, so she walked in without bothering to cover her footsteps.

"Morning," Renesmee gave him a cheerful smile. "I'm in the mood for some coffee. You want some?"

His eyes flickered briefly to her. "No, not really."

Harry's face was as stoic as the passing days, his green eyes empty like a broken glass. The lack of the warm sunlight made his face appear paler than usual. His lips were pursed in a sign of discomfort. His hair was even more disheveled, and something in his expression made her swallow tightly.

"Oh, come on," Renesmee tried. "It's cold. Besides, I learned to make a really good one from the best."

The corners of his mouth quirked downwards. "No."

"The cold affects you much, Harry?" Renesmee teased. "Oh, right, you've been cold from the start."

"Just go."

It was good that Harry's gaze was fixed to the empty road outside, because she couldn't mask the hurt that flashed her face.

"Fine, you don't have to drink it," She said. "Then just come down to the kitchen with me."

Renesmee put a hand on Harry's shoulder. Her mind formed the image of the coffee that Esme once made her. The steam lingered in the air, arising from the brown, hot coffee that made her mouth watered..

A hand snatched hers away.

"Shut it," Harry snapped. "I remember how coffee looks like. Stop treating me like I'm bloody insane."

"What?" Renesmee exclaimed, unable to mask the disbelief in her voice. "That's not what I—"

A real emotion finally flashed Harry's face. "Sod off."

And for the rest of the day, Harry did not come home. Renesmee stared at the rain once, before going back into her room and locked the door.

The only sound that filled the dark room was the sound of her pencil scribbling against the paper. It was her thirty-eight attempt, and still, the lines she produced were much more awful than she wanted it to be. Dozens of papers laid innocently on the floor, on the sheets, even on the window, where two papers were stuck under it, all glimmering under the moonlight that sneaked through the window. None was crumpled, because no matter how ugly her drawings were at times, she didn't want to destroy it. The one on her hands, however, didn't serve the same sentiment; the dark-haired young man on the paper had a smile that seemed too bitter to her liking. The paper shivered by the pressure of her hands.

Despite her photographic memory, she was unable to draw a good picture of his smile. She could draw the lines of his mouth right, but the eyes would appear hateful, full of coldness. Accompanied by a row of pearly teeth, Harry could only look mean no matter how she imagined it.

The silence was broken by the sound of the front door squeaking downstairs. There were two footsteps, then the sound was completely gone. Renesmee immediately left her drawing on the sheet. The next second, she was already on the first floor, staring at Harry who was still locking the door.

"Where were you?" Renesmee asked.

"Just a quick walk," Harry replied shortly. "On a second thought, there's something I need to fetch."

He unlocked the door again, and was ready to depart, but Renesmee offered, "At least bring an umbrella."

Harry stopped. He turned his head very slightly to look at her. "What are you worrying for? I'm a wizard."

There was something wrong. She could know just by listening to his tone, and she couldn't do anything else but to hold him. "Harry."

He still didn't move.

She tried again, this time more forcefully. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"I don't buy it—"

It wasn't her intention, but her hand had caused him to finally to turn to her. Dark red marred the right part of his face, as well as the shirt that was soaked.

"You're bleeding," She whispered. "Wait here—"

"No," Harry grabbed her hand tightly. The grip was weak, but the tone was harsh enough to make her stop. "It's nothing."

"Nothing?" She repeated. "It's nothing? You're practically soaked in blood!"

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but he closed it again. He looked away. "It's not painful."

"Doesn't mean it's okay!" She was half shouting now. Panic grabbed her like a tight leash. Harry's protest was ignored this time, and before a second pass, she was already back with the saggy backpack. She forced him to sit on the sofa, ignoring his mouth that was set into a straight, thin line.

His eyes never left the fireplace. He did not even flinch when she pressed a wet cloth against his wound.

"What happened?" She asked. Her stomach had churned the moment she realized how deep the wound was, but now it felt like dragging her heart down. "Who did this?"

"Just a group of random snatchers."'

"You're lying," She retaliated without a beat. "You can handle snatchers without a hair falling from its place. What happened?"

His eyes hardened. "None of your business."

She threw the wet cloth against his injuries. "It seems like something I should know if you're hiding it from me."

"And what makes you think I'm hiding it from you?"

"Muffliato spells. The lack of scent of blood. Your attempt to leave again. I could go with numerous reasons."

Silence answered her. Her eyes felt hot.

"It was vampires, wasn't it?"

This time, Harry didn't avert his eyes. His expression was still hard, but after seconds of doing nothing but staring into each other's eyes, he closed his. "Yes."

"They're searching for me."

It wasn't a question. But still, she hoped for him to deny that.

"How many?" Her voice sounded weak, even for herself. She had thought that all of the vampires problems would stop once they were out of Japan. They were careless, both of them.

"Three women, two men."

She raked her hands through her hair. Something was not right. Her guts was screaming.

"What's bothering you, Harry?"

Harry bit his lip. For a second, something in his expression reminded her of a scared child. "They're.. like you."

Her brain froze. It felt like dozens of ice cubes were thrown over her head. She ignored the building pit in her stomach. "What do you mean?"

"They're not as fast. Not as powerful. Their skins aren't as pale. They were cold, but warmer. They're.. like you, in every sense."

"What is it?" She whispered. Even such a small sound quivered shamelessly. "That they want?"

"I don't know."

Harry's answer threw her off guard, easing her worry a little bit. "You don't know? They refused to say anything?"

"Yes," Harry answered without a beat. But then he closed his eyes, frowning and looking as though he might cry. "No.. That's not quite right."

"Harry," Her hand reached out to his hand. It was all sweaty."What is it?"

When Harry spoke, his knuckles tightened. "They didn't say anything. They didn't get the chance."

But she still didn't understand. "Because?"

It was the wrong thing to say, because Harry stood up so quickly that it surprised her. His eyes flared, and after being weeks with him, this was the first time she had seen him so angry. "I ended them."

She couldn't help one tear that escaped her left eye. She was so terrified, and she didn't know why. Harry's back was facing her, as he seemed absorbed by the warmth of the fireplace. She didn't move from the couch.

"I ended their lives before they could speak. I ended their lives at once, the very moment when I realized what they were. There was no time to register their intention, you see. They set their eyes on me, and the next second the spells were casted. One of the women looked terrified, but it didn't matter. Everything went black. There was no blood, but there was fire," He paused for a moment. "Huge enough for my liking."

She forced her voice out, but it was very small. "You went—"

"Berserk? Psychotic? Insane?" His laughter was harsh. It was one of the laughters she knew every madman would be able to do. The sound was wretched, cracking, like corrosive acid. But then it slowly faded, until it disappeared. Harry slowly turned, and his eyes were glistening in tears. "I'm scared, Renesmee."

His lone tear broke the dam in her eyes. She rushed for him—to ease his pain, to assure everything was going to be okay..

"Don't," Harry warned, his eyes wide. "Just—let me be."

"How could I?" She croaked out.

She despised it. Everything. She wanted the night to end. She simply wanted to welcome the morning and be off for another joyful day.

But Harry's wide eyes reminded her of the terrifying part of their journey. It was indeed a colorful ride; but for the past week, all she could see was darkness marring the vibrant colors she painted on their canvas.

"Harry, I want to help, alright?" Her voice raised an octave. "This isn't healthy—whatever is this you're doing, it's changing you—"

"I said," Harry hissed, turning his green eyes fully at her. Cold, but burning. "Sod. Off."

"No," She said. They were only inches apart now. It took all she had not to flinch away from his fiery gaze. "I promised to be your partner. I'm in this thing too."

"YOU'RE NOT!" Harry bellowed. "You don't get it. This is a fight. Between me and something that I don't even bloody know."

"Then I'll help you win!" She struggled through her own words. It was hopeless, she knew.

A snort made its way to Harry's pained face. "What can you do?"

It felt like she had been slapped. Harry seemed to know this, as he continued. "There's nothing you can do. Stay out of this."

Renesmee stared at the slammed door in front of her. Tears made their way to wet her cheeks, and this time there was nothing she could lie to herself to make her feel better.

The raindrops on the window slowly turned into ice, as if sympathizing with the crying girl.

The faint sound of Harry's hand against her door jerked her awake.

In one full second, she hesitated. Her eyes were still red. A pair of human eyes wouldn't be able to see it, of course. But still, her heart pounded harder than the knock that had woken her up. Another knock made the wooden door shiver, and Renesmee's hand had pulled the knob down.

The first thing that came into her vision was his stony, blank face.

"Morning," He drawled. "There's a place I want to go. Are you coming?"

She would never admit it aloud, but his smooth calmness made her feel even worse. It was absurd to wish to see him holding her hand to say that he didn't mean it. But she did, and while all she wanted that chilly morning was to sleep, she answered, "Okay."

Everything they would need was already in the backpack. It was easy to get ready under two minutes and silently wait in the living room. The hard part was when Harry appeared, led her outside and extended his hand.

She knew what he was suggesting, but she only stared.

"Take my hand," Harry finally muttered.

She obeyed without a word. The moment they linked arms, the nauseating sensation that could never be familiar to her appeared, and their surroundings had changed into a peaceful, small town. The sun was barely up.

They didn't walk side by side. Harry was ahead of her, without turning his back once. It was very easy to leave, but Renesmee followed him quietly through the chilly road. One of the doors squeaked open.

"Harry?" A very well-endowed woman of her 30s with a radiant smile came out. She was wearing a rather tight night dress. Renesmee found it hard to look away from her 'assets', as it was the first thing that came into view, but Harry's eyes were on the woman's face.

"Madam Rosmerta," Harry greeted politely.

"Harry," The woman smiled jubilantly, one of her hand trailing her blond locks. "You look charming as always."

Harry didn't seem flattered. "You too. I'd like to chat for awhile, but we're off to Hogwarts."

But Madam Rosmerta wasn't paying attention to him anymore. Her eyes were on Renesmee, with one of her eyebrows up. Renesmee felt incredibly uncomfortable, as if she was being poked by numerous sticks.

"Huh, I see," She whistled, turning amused. "Your girlfriend, Harry?"

"No," They countered instantly. Then Harry added, "No, she's not."

"Huh," The woman said again. She didn't seem like she believed him. "Off you go then. If you need another help for the night, call me."

The blonde woman winked, and Harry immediately rushed away from the house. Renesmee followed, her footsteps harder than before.

"Another help for the night?"

Harry held his hands up in defense. "One year ago, a huge drunk mistake, nothing actually happened."

"Huh," Renesmee huffed, too infuriated to realize they were on the same pace now. "She doesn't act like nothing actually happened."

"That's Madam Rosmerta for you," He replied. "We're almost there."

She still wasn't too thrilled because of the recent event, but she said nothing. If there was one thing good about the situation, it was Harry's more relaxed features. His breath was longer, his heartbeat steadier, and she could swear that she saw the hints of a smile on his lips.

Hogwarts was more fascinating than she had anticipated. They had only reached the huge front gate, and still, it managed to awe her in seconds. The castle, the ground, the trees; it was like a fairy tale arising from her childhood books. Yet aside from the classical beauty, there was something akin to home here. By sparing a few glances to Harry, she knew that what he felt for the castle was much bigger than what she was experiencing.

"Amazing, isn't it?"

True. It was breathtaking. "Yeah."

Harry's eyes were lost in nostalgia. "This is the only place I've considered as home."

His face became peaceful; something she had not seen for days. His eyes were on the castle, but she knew that his mind was travelling far, far back into his joyful years. He might be thinking of his first dance. His first laugh with Ron and Hermione. His first detention. His life began the moment he stepped through the gate. Now, with a tender smile on his face, he was walking through it again. With her.

The small smile on his face was enough to make her smile too.

But her eyes caught something else in the woods. It was an ugly, skeletal horse with a pair of gaunt wings that resembled ones of a bat's.

"Harry, what is that?"

Harry looked startled. "You can see them?"

The thing croaked a hoarse sound—something similar to a horse's, but higher.

"Am I not supposed to?"

Harry stared at her for a long time before replying," It's called Thestral. Extraordinarily quick and loyal creature. They're also really friendly. But they're seen as bad omens, you see. You can only see them after you've witnessed death."

"Oh." Was the only thing she could say.

"I'm sorry," He muttered. "I didn't consider a vampire dying as 'death'."

"Actually, I've seen a vampire dying before I met you," Renesmee said, reaching for the creature. "Can I?"

The Thestral responded as if she asked it. It shivered, its eyes moving to her sharply. When her hand touched its cold head, it moved away, growling and screeching.

Harry immediately reasoned, like a father to a spoiled child. "It's probably just agitated on this particular day."

"Or maybe it could detect that my kind denies death," Renesmee found herself saying. "And it doesn't like it."

"No one can really deny death," Harry said. "Some just postpone it. Come on, Renesmee."

Sparing the gaunt-looking thing a glance once again, she felt sadness hugging her tight. The Thestral looked so alone, yet denied her approach instinctively. Even the thing that represented death was repulsed by her kind.

This particular thought still haunted her until they had entered the building. Harry had insisted on wearing the Invisible Cloak, much to her disappointment. She understood his reasoning, though. They would attract too much unneeded attention just by walking into the enormous castle. But still, that fact didn't stop her from having a little fun with tiny details. Like sliding down the moving stairs, or poking several paintings that had blamed each other for the sudden interruption. She would look at Harry as she did this, but Harry's eyes were always at something else.

When Harry was off for awhile to see the current Headmistress, Professor McGonagal, she stared through the windows. There were many, many things she could see from this angle and height: the Hogsmeade, the Owlery, even the Quidditch Pitch that Harry had always told her in unnecessarily high spirits. There were visible marks of the war, but they were rebuilt almost perfectly. Every building stood majestically, and she couldn't imagine it being destroyed, burned, as if nothing because of one man's rage.

Her inner musings was interrupted by a sight of a familiar skeletal being in the sky. The Thestral was floating in the air, but its wings were not functioning well. It was a second later that she realized there was something else beside the horrible-looking creature. It was a beautiful, icy white bird with crystallized tails that reflected the light of the rising sun.

"Renesmee."

She turned around to see Harry hopping the stairs towards her. "Harry, those things—"

"I've got the access to Library's restricted sections," Harry cut her, a new hint of hope in his voice. "Not that I need that one, but McGonagal also said that I'll be welcomed in Headmaster's private library."

"Okay," She said. "So, which one first?"

"I know it's still morning, but I want the information as fast as possible," He said. "It's best to just split up. Here's a guest card. Show it to Madam Pince in case you need some help. And here's a map. You'll find your way easily to the library if you pass the second-floor potrait, Basil Fronsac, he'll give you a question, and if you can answer, you'll go right to the passage to the library."

"Alright," She held up both of her hands. "What if I can't answer the questions?"

"Then you'll have to go through the long way, see the map," Harry tilted his head. "But you're intelligent, I'm sure you can answer it."

It wasn't enough to reassure her, of course, but Harry was already gone. Huffing, she pulled the cloak all over her head and leapt across the stairs, the map on her hands. The map was surprisingly enticing with all of its details. It even had the names of the people in the castle! She watched Harry Potter who was walking into the Headmaster Office, where Minerva McGonagal was. Far, far away from that, she stared at the dot that showed Rubeus Hagrid in the woods. Filius Flitwick, Sybill Trelawney, Jonathan Burginkins, Jane Dethrone, Kyle Heatherwings.. So many names on an old parchment.

When she reached the second floor and was right in front of the supposed portrait of Basil Fronsac, she pulled off the cloak. "Excuse me."

The old man with thin gray hair jerked away. It was an odd sight to see that only his head moves.

"Dear girl, what do you intend to do to wake me up very early? The sun wasn't even that much up!" He grumbled, but when he looked at her, he paused. "I see you are not a student."

"Of course I am," Renesmee retaliated as if she was offended. "Just because I'm not wearing the uniform doesn't mean I'm not a student. I'm a very proud Gryffindor, and I am righteously offended by your uncalled-for accusations."

The portrait narrowed his eyes. "A Gryffindor, I see. I don't know what that hat had told you, lad, but you'd do better in Ravenclaw."

Renesmee actually beamed at his comment. "Thank you."

"What is your intention, young Gryffindor?"

She smiled sweetly. "I'd like to pass, if that's alright?"

"Ahh, of course you would want to pass," The man grumbled. "I'd like to help, but still, I am bound to my duty. Until you demonstrate your aptitude for learning, you may not pass. Tell me, young woman, where did Rowena Ravenclaw come from?"

"Uh, Scotland?"

"Tsk!" The portrait didn't look amused. "I take the part where I said you'd do well in Ravenclaw back. You are not as smart as you seem to be."

Renesmee pouted. "I'll be right back."

The map showed one student in front of the Great Hall. It was surprising to see one in this hour; so she took the chance as fast as it was served. It was a dazed brown-haired girl, walking alone with a book in hand. Her tie was that of Ravenclaw's.

Renesmee called after her, "Excuse me!"

The girl appeared startled. "Um, yeah?"

"Do you know where Rowena Ravenclaw came from?"

The girl looked even more put out by the out of blue question. "Of course. She came from the glens."

"Thank you!" Renesmee smiled brilliantly. The girl smiled too, but it was clear that she thought that the bronze-haired girl was insane. In an instant, Renesmee was already in front of the portrait, a smile of triumph in her face.

"Rowena Ravenclaw came from the glens."

The portrait jerked awake again, but this time, with a satisfied look in his face. "Excellent! My faith in the generation is maintained. I would say your exertions warrant an O for Outstanding! The way is open to you."

He flipped open, and with a bright smile, Renesmee stepped inside. "Thanks!"

"Just doing my duty, lass. Oh, and next time, simply say 'Studious Success.'"

"Studious Success, got it."

"Ahh, a healthy mind is an inquisitive mind."

Renesmee couldn't help the giggle that escaped her lips, echoing in the dark hallway. It was incredibly short—hence the name shortcut—and even for human pace, she was already standing into the huge foyer that was connected to the library. It was the first time for her to see a real castle, especially full of automobile ordinary-looking things—a mop that was scrubbing a floor by itself?—and despite the lack of glitter and bright light that the wedding had, she liked the castle very, very much. It had the sense of welcome that she could only feel within her family.

A tiny set of footsteps made her hurry to wear the cloak. It was a small man, with his spectacles and neatly-parted hair. Professor Flitwick, she thought, as she remembered what Harry had described of his school teachers. She turned right to the library, her feet barely touching the maroon carpet that decorated the granite floor. It was only one quick turn left, but right in front of the entrance to the library, there was placed a giant portrait that covered the entire side of the wall. It was a portrait of a very beautiful woman.

The woman had one of the softest features she had ever seen. Her blue eyes were as bright as the thin ice that covered the corners of the frames.

It was very cold indeed, this morning.

With a sigh, she turned left as she remembered Harry's quick demand. The library was huge—but she didn't expect anything less. The room was full of shelves, and it was impossible to scan everything without attracting anyone else or spending a great deal of time.

Of course, the lady that was guarding the library seemed to have the complete books list in her hand.

"Good morning," She said very slowly, afraid to surprise the strict-looking woman. "I'm a guest."

The gray-haired woman looked bewildered for some reason. She narrowed her eyes. "Do you have the permission card..?"

Renesmee handed the fragile-looking card Harry gave her.

"Hmm," She hummed as she read it, displeased for some reasons. "Well, good morning Miss Cullen. Madam Pince at your service. What would you like me to do?"

"I'd like to see the books list, if I may."

If Madam Pince tried to hide her suspicion before, she didn't bother now. "Even with the guest card marked with access to restricted area in your hand, I'm afraid that the book list remains only and only in the hands of Hogwarts library regulator."

It never occured to her that she would be this persistent. "I am searching for information under the order of Harry Potter."

The statement seemed to throw her off guard, but her dislike had increased. "I don't know what that troublesome lad has been telling you, but even the Head-Aurror has to hand in a piece of paperwork to legally search every detail of the library. And the last time I checked, Miss, he's not even an aurror anymore."

The corners of her mouth quirked up. "You don't like him?"

"He's exceptionally troublesome, that boy, along with his friends," The old witch grumbled. "Always making ruckus everywhere he goes! Even the books weren't spared.."

Renesmee quickly moved away from the fuming woman, into the restricted section. With no other choice, she read multiple books, mostly simple quick-reading to search for some particular keywords. The books were as old as in the house, but the ones here were more fragile, more scented. Even a few had curious marks left by students reading them, like side-notes, drools, or even vomits that made a whole paragraph unreadable. It was a little disgusting, indeed, but still, they were all old artifacts passed down from one generation to another. The sentiment, even with the scarred physics, remained strong.

After what had probably been hours, Renesmee picked one last book. The book didn't seem to be taken cared of properly; the cover were unreadable because of blank ink that colored most of it.

She didn't think it was possible, but her mind felt drained, exhausted. She had gone through numerous books about mental conditions and psychological problems, even going as far as reading old folklores that were even more insane compared to world she had experienced.

Aside from the rest of the book, only one paragraph captured her attention entirely.

"And as the bloodbath of a history continued, only one among thousands was able to withstand the immense power bestowed upon him. He was deemed the King, or 'the Master' by his peers. But the moment the golden light showered him, he disappeared fully from the earth, never to be seen again."

Under the paragraph, there was a very neat writing.

Some say he's gone mad. Some say he's gone somewhere better: the land where you can manipulate striking power, like lightning crashes the earth.

I, personally, believe the latter.

That one section managed to baffle her mind with curiosity. But the next page was blank, as well as the next one. The page after that was a completely new subject with no prominent relation to the topic of the paragraph.

She put the book back in frustration; she wanted some air to free her from the sights of books. So she dashed outside the restriction area, changing her pace abruptly the moment Madam Pince came into sight. After she was hidden from Madam Pince's view, she was about to pull the cloak on, until her eyes caught the sight of the huge portrait right in front of her.

It was the very same picture that held her for a second before she entered the library. It was the portrait of a beautiful woman with a proud look upon her face. She wore an ocean-blue old dress that covered her entire body but her hands, hair and face. Her hands held a book, and upon her ebony hair, there was a shining tiara.

Her hands trailed the frame. She whispered, "Rowena Ravenclaw."

"Indeed."

Surprised, she turned around really quickly. There was no warning; the voice spoke almost directly next to her ear.

In front of her, there was a pretty woman with the same shade of hair with that of the portrait's. She too, wore an ancient dress, although this one was less gallant. She appeared normal, aside from the fact that she was transparent.

"You are not a student," The ghost said. "You are not even human."

She was a bit put-off by everyone in the castle to point that out. "Neither are you."

"I was, once," Her face turned sorrowful. "Though I don't remember much anymore."

"When did you die?"

"That is a very rude question," The ghost snapped. "Some of us like to keep it to ourselves."

"I'm sorry," She said. But her eyes weren't at the ghost anymore. "She's very beautiful."

"She was."

Her eyes flickered to the transparent woman. "The two of you look alike.. Almost like siblings.."

"We were related."

"Were?"

"She's dead, girl." The woman almost snapped, as though admitting that hurt her.

"No," Renesmee shook her head. "The tone of your voice. As if it wasn't death that separated you."

The ghost looked at her for a really long time. Finally, she spoke again, "You are surprisingly perspective," She turned to look at the picture, a hint of sadness showing in her eyes. "I left her when both of us were still alive."

"Oh," She muttered, not quite sure what to say.

"I've talked this much about myself in this single day," She shook her head. "You are lucky to hear my voice this frequently."

Renesmee gave her a small smile. "I'm honored."

The ghost huffed in clear disbelief. "Of course. Now tell me, what are you?"

"I'm not quite sure," She said. "I'm.. kind of in the middle of searching for myself."

"Searching for myself," She mocked, which Renesmee found amusing. "Children these days. You do not search for yourself; it's inside of you all the time."

"Still, not that easy," Renesmee crossed her hands. "Oh, do you know Harry?"

The woman turned fully at her. "Do you mean Harry Potter?"

"Yes."

"He's one of the brightest. I don't mean his intelligence, unfortunately, he doesn't belong to Ravenclaw. He has the brightest mind, the clearest, when it comes to dividing between wrong and right. He knows where justice line should be drawn," The ghost paused. "And what business do you have with him?"

"We're companions," Renesmee said. "You know, traveling around.."

"I had a companion once," She nodded her head. "He died too and became a ghost."

Renesmee wasn't quite sure how to respond to that.

"I have only talked with Harry Potter once," The ghost told her. "And it was in the middle of the war. He was desperate, almost begging for the answer to the location of the diadem."

"Diadem?"

"Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem. The one on my mother's head."

"Rowena Ravenclaw is—"

"My mother, yes," The ghost stared at her. "My name is Helena Ravenclaw."

Renesmee was wide-eyed. "Helena.. Ravenclaw.."

The ghost looked up to the portrait. "It is a diadem unlike any other. It has the power to increase the intelligence and wisdom of the wearer. Many have searched for it, and when he came to me, I brushed him off like anybody else."

"He wanted the intelligence to win the war."

"Wrong," Helena shook her head. "I also initially thought of that. But he wanted to destroy it. You see, before him, a very dangerous wizard defiled the diadem. It was a horcrux. Harry Potter didn't tell me, but later on, I figured it out myself. He wanted to kill the man."

"Voldemort."

"Correct," She nodded elegantly, like a strict teacher handling the highest-scoring student. "It is very brave for you to say his name, though I wouldn't give you that much credit. You didn't live in his reign."

"And he succeeded," Renesmee finished softly.

"I've told that he's very brave, haven't I?"

Renesmee couldn't help the smile. It was easy to blacken her own vision with the recent accidents, and that was what she was doing. She had so easily forgotten of all of his finer points; his bravery, chivalry, kindness, warmth..

All of the things that are in danger of turning into something of the total opposite.

"Helena," Renesmee called. If she was offended by the familiar approach, she didn't show it. "Have you met someone so kind that turned.. insane in certain moments?"

Helena was quiet for awhile. "Are you referring to outbursts triggered by emotions?"

"Yes. But stronger."

"I read a story once, when I was a child," She furrowed her eyebrows to remember. "It was about the man who conquered power beyond measure and lost his sanity because of it. But I don't think it has anything to do with the case you're saying."

Renesmee licked her suddenly dry lips. "I see."

Worry began to kick her emotional balance again. She paced, looking for things to talk about.

"Helena, where did the ice around the frame go?"

Confusion flashed Helena's face. "Ice?"

"Ice, this morning I saw—Oh! Do you know about ice birds?"

"Ice.. Birds?"

Renesmee took the line for a completely new topic. "I saw a Thestral battling against an ice bird this morning. In the sky."

Her tone turned sharp. "A Thestral battling?"

"Yeah, the bird was really peculiar. It was pretty big. As white as frozen ice. It's really beautiful."

"Did this bird have crystals glittering across its tail?"

Renesmee grinned. "Exactly!"

But Helena didn't look thrilled. "That is the Ice Phoenix. Known to be only one in the whole world."

"But Harry said it's rare. It's Japanese."

"Lies," She snapped. "It's not the boy who lies. They're lies spread by everyone, to hide the fact that my mother had once told me. There is only one Ice Phoenix, and its life cycle never stopped."

Renesmee felt a sudden chill down her spine.

"Think, girl. There are only two types of Phoenix. The most common, even though remarkably rare, is Phoenix with fire affinity. Fire Phoenix represents life."

"Then—"

"Ice Phoenix represents death. It is the pet of Death itself."

ANSWERS TO FELLOW REVIEWERS (who left a question but didn't leave me any way to contact them, so I'll answer it here)

To : Dee3

Wow, that's a long review. Don't take it wrongly—I totally love your reviews! It's so perceptive, and I really love how you point out what you loved about the chapters; made me smile like an idiot!

I guess I'll have to cut this short, so that the other readers won't feel too annoyed. So I'll just touch the parts of your review that demand a response.

For Harry being turned into the vampire bit, I can't really say much. It might be super cool if he stayed human after the problems that will be thrown to his face. Then again, if the situation demands it, Harry can't really stay human, can he? I don't want to spoil too much, but IF Harry is going to turn into a vampire, it certainly won't be for a reckless, hyped reason like 'he wants a forever with Renesmee'.

I understand that you—and possibly other readers as well—disliked Edward's protective side in the last chapter. Actually, I think he was being the most rational person. I mean, what kind of father would brush it off if he found out that his ONLY daughter was running away with a guy? I'd be pretty disappointed if Meyer wrote Jacob and Renesmee running away in the book and Edward was like, "Oh, well.". That being said, since you said that Edward generally irritates you, I understand. Jacob generally irritates me too xD

And yes, Hermione's parents were present at the chapter. Ron had contacted them first, so they were there. Hermione walked from the tent to the platform (after she was dressed up by Renesmee) with his father, remember? And as Ron and Hermione had the first dance, Molly danced with Mr. Granger and Arthur danced with Mrs. Granger.

For the last part about Harry staying human, again, I won't talk about it here since I'd spoil too much ;) Thank you for the review. Really loved it. You might want to write some more in the next chapters! ;D

340 Reviews! Thank youuu so much. I'm really sorry for the late update. School's insane, and it's gonna be even tougher from the next monday on. I'm writing it on the papers as I went to school (on the break or when we've got free period) but inspiration doesn't really grow on trees, sadly. Sometimes I get stuck, and the best time to write is at late night-which is hard for me considering all the tasks and teacher's ridiculous demands. Sorry for blabbering, but the point is I'm really sorry for the late update.. I'll try to get it done faster, the keyword being "Try". Sorry, please bear with me :)

Please review. They make my day! I don't mind flames, but if you think this chapter (or the story in general) sucks, tell me the reasons.

Love it, hate it, couldn't care less, let me know!