And just like that - New Year's Day had come and gone; it was finally time for Harry to return to the castle to start up the second half of his first term. Although Harry enjoyed his time with his aunt, uncle and godfather in Surrey, he was beginning to feel the itch to return to school so he could spend time with his friends.

Around eight thirty Sunday evening, Harry, Anastasia, Othniel and Tallulah were gathered in the Horned Serpent common room, going into detail about how their respective holiday breaks went. Ana couldn't help but grin like the schoolgirl that she was when she held up a pair of history books from Magical Britain. To Harry's relief, she made no mention of Harry being referenced in the British history book, but did offer Tallulah a chance to read over them once she had finished.

"So Harry, what's this special garment you were aching to show me again?" she asked with big, innocent eyes.

"Erm…" Harry drew his lips into a straight, thin line. "I don't think it's something I should be showing you, right here at least. Maybe we could go to the choir room where it's a bit more private?"

Ana nodded. "Lead the way."

Harry grabbed the box which contained the cloak, and beckoned for his friends to follow him downstairs. Once they were in the choir room, Harry double-checked to see if anyone might be lurking nearby, before pulling the lid off the thin cardboard box. He deftly pulled the silvery material with both hands, letting it hang down in front of him.

"Oh, that's very lovely," murmured Ana, as she let her fingers run on the silvery material. "It looks like it's a little large still, but you'll grow."

Harry flashed a grin reminiscent of a Cheshire cat. He draped the cloak over his shoulders, and all three of his friends gasped in awe – everything below Harry's neck was rendered completely invisible!

"Who gave that to you?" gasped Tallulah.

"It's something my godfather brought with him when he left Magical Britain over five years ago," answered Harry. "It used to belong to my father, and Sirius – along with my aunt and uncle – have all kept it safe for me ever since."

"That's flippin' brilliant," added Othniel. "D'you mind if I try it sometime?"

"Sometime," agreed Harry, "but not right now. My aunt, uncle and godfather told me to save it for something special. It's extremely valuable, like probably more than ten no-maj luxury cars."

"Something special?" repeated Tallulah. "What d'you reckon they mean by that?"

Harry shrugged. "I asked them the same thing, but Sirius simply told me – 'you'll know'."

Harry then opened the cloak. "I wonder how many of us it can hold; it's pretty roomy. Othniel, you wanted to try it, so get over here and huddle close." Othniel practically yelped for joy as he nestled himself next to Harry inside the cloak. "Okay, that's a little too close, man," Harry groaned. "We still have a good bit of room. Ana, would you like to try it?"

Ana smiled and nodded, and huddled with the two boys inside the cloak. Harry then nodded toward Tallulah. "All right, 'Lu. There's just a bit of room left – it may or may not hold all four of us, but we might as well find out." He opened the cloak once again to let Tallulah inside it. "Blast it," Harry spat as he noticed that it couldn't quite cover all four children up. "It looks like three's about all it can hold. Sorry, Tallulah." He then opened the cloak to let his friends out.

Tallulah just smiled. "Don't be sorry, Harry. I think it's better we find this out now, than to figure it out on the fly in the event of an emergency!"

"I s'pose it's probably time we start moseying on back upstairs," said Othniel. "We don't have all that much time before lights out."

Back upstairs in the Horned Serpent boys' dormitories, Harry was looking forward to the comforts of his four poster. The train ride back to the castle was long and tiresome, not to mention it was hard to sleep in his compartment with all the sudden twists and bumps. It didn't take long for him to fall asleep after lights out, but his night would be anything but restful.

Not long after he drifted out of consciousness, he felt a force yanking him to his feet. He looked around him – he wasn't in his bedroom, but rather in a strange, dimly-lit passageway with a mildly unpleasant, musty odor. He looked under his feet – the pathway was cobblestone, with occasional patches of lime-green moss. The air was on the cool side, and thick with moisture.

He looked around himself to try to figure out where he was, why he was there, how he even got there, but he was startled from his thoughts by a sharp jab in the small of his back. "Go on, boy," a strange voice commanded. It didn't sound particularly menacing – it was a rather high-pitched, ratty-sounding creak. Harry took a few slow, tentative steps forward, but made a sidways glance to try and identify his captor. To his disappointment and dismay, it wasn't a very good look; all he could tell was that the man was short – not all that much taller than Harry – and carried a long yew wand that seemed far too large for his short, stubby fingers to properly grasp. He also wore a black cowl over his face, ostensibly to prevent Harry from identifying him.

"Keep going," the masked assailant demanded in his whiny voice. Harry pressed on in the same methodical manner. He kept his head on a swivel, trying to find something – anything – to distract or disarm the strange kidnapper. He silently cursed to himself as there was nothing but cold, hard rock for as far as he could see.

The masked man compelled Harry to keep going down the passageway, and down a long, winding staircase which culminated in an elliptical room. The only landmark of note was a small pool near the center of the chamber. "Look into the pool of reflection," the masked man commanded, jabbing his wand in Harry's back again. "Look into it, and tell me what you see." He gave Harry a bit of a rough shove with his other hand, and Harry staggered toward the shallow pool.

The water – or some sort of aqueous substance – seemed to glow. It wasn't bright enough to illuminate the chamber, but at least Harry could see enough. It was fairly shallow – no more than a half-meter in depth – and clear enough that Harry could see the smooth granite bottom. "I just see myself… my reflection," he said in a soft voice.

"No, no, no," the masked man yelped impatiently. "This is an enchanted pool, you foolish boy. Only one who is sufficiently pure of heart is able to obtain the Orb of Exuberance. Now, try again before I add to your scar collection…" He swirled his wand in the air a few times, then pointed it down at the pool. A flash of whitish-blue light emitted from the wand's tip, and the glowing water began to steam.

"I will not ask you again – look into the pool, Harry, and tell me what you see."

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat, and did as he was commanded. He looked into the pool, and watched his own reflection melt away. Seconds later, the reflections of two young adults appeared in the pool. The man looked much like Harry, with the same type of glasses and dark messy hair. The other was an attractive woman with shoulder-length auburn hair and brilliant green eyes – much like Harry's own.

"Mum? Dad?" Harry whispered at the reflections. There was something difference about his voice this time – was he speaking in a British accent, as if he'd never left Magical Britain?

His father smiled and nodded, while his mother Lily spoke in a soft, gentle tone. "Harry… oh Harry, it's really you! Our hearts have been aching to see you again… you were but a wee toddler when we last saw you; you're growing into a talented and handsome young man…"

"We're proud of you, Harry," added his father, James. "I'm sorry we couldn't be there for your hockey games, or your first day at Ilvermorny, but we have no regrets. You've had a happy childhood…"

Harry sniffled. "Yeah, I've had a very happy childhood. I would have loved for you to be there too, but Uncle Roger and Aunt Rhonda raised me as if I were their own. And Sirius has been nothing short of awesome…"

The tearful reunion was interrupted by a sharp, impatient growl. "Well, Harry?"

"It's my parents," Harry replied in his usual Canadian accent. It was a soft and wistful tone, as if Harry were talking to himself more than to his captor. "I need another minute, if you don't mind."

His captor let out a reluctant growl. "Oh, very well… get on with it, boy."

Harry turned back to the reflecting pool. He looked at the pleasant expressions on his parents' faces. "Is there anything I can do to bring you back?" he asked earnestly, again in a posh Southern English accent. "Anything at all? I miss you…" He began to sob openly.

"Nothing of this world can bring us back," began Lily, but something about the quality of her voice sounded a bit different. A little hollower, a little deeper.

"However, the power of the Orb of Exuberance can restore us to life for three days," continued James. "And each mortal soul you claim with the Orb will buy us another day." The strange reverberation in his voice shook Harry to his core – the tears quickly retreated as his eyes widened with fear. "Use the Orb to avenge us, Harry! Destroy the Dark Lord, and the one who betrayed us! Only you are powerful enough to wield the supernatural artifact, created from the forges of the Burning Hells!"

"No," Harry said softly, shaking his head in disbelief. "I… I can't. The price of using the Orb is too great, even if it means I can never see you again…"

"Do it!" both Lily and James commanded in such a forceful way that the very chamber itself began to shake. "If you love us, you must avenge us!"

Harry slowly backed away from the pool, tears again forming in his eyes. "I do love you," he whispered. "But this isn't how any child should honor their parents' memories." He blinked, and found both hands grasping the fabled Orb. For a moment, he was drawn to the silvery-white clouds swirling in a deep cerulean sphere, but forced himself to look away.

"Heh heh heh heh," cackled the masked captor. "Just as I thought – the great Harry Potter is indeed fit to wield the legendary Orb. Now, hand me the wand, and I'll make sure you and your future children shall not want for anything."

Harry contemplated turning the wand over to the man in the cowl, but just as he was about to hand it over, he had a change of heart and retracted at the last second. "I… can't. Don't you get it? This wand is cursed! It only causes misery for the people that use it, and those that they target with it! It needs to be destroyed…"

"Idiot boy," growled the cowled man. "What do you know of power? Of sacrifice? Of pain? This is the last time I shall ask cordially - hand me the wand. You do want peace in both the magical and non-magical worlds, right? If so, do the right thing, and give it to me. I will make it where there will be no more wars."

"No," snapped Harry. "Forget about wealth and power already! I'm telling you, the wand is cursed – it's going to kill you! Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow – but it will be the end of you eventually! I don't care what you do to me, but you're going to regret this day if you take the wand and fail to destroy it!"

"Accio, orb!" barked the masked man as he pointed his long yew wand at the unholy artifact. The orb was quickly torn from Harry's grasp and landed in his captor's free hand. "Ha ha ha ha ha ha," he cackled. "At long last, I have sole possession of the most powerful wand in all creation," he said to himself gloatingly. He then turned to Harry and sneered. "As for you, Harry Potter, I gave you the opportunity of handing me the Orb of your own accord. I will have to teach you a lesson in obedience…" He lowered the Orb at Harry, and whispered, "Crucio."

A pair of scarlet lighting-like bolts forked towards Harry at dizzying speeds. Harry tried to use his limited skills of wandless magic to block it, or even try to soften the effects, but to no avail. He found himself on his knees, feeling a searing pain he had never felt before. He screamed in agony, while his captor laughed and laughed. "Scream as loud as you want, Harry… nobody is going to save you!"

His captor broke off the attack momentarily. Although Harry was in pain, he was able to stand to his feet to face the cowled man again. "Oh, that is but a taste of the power the Orb," he squealed. "I'm going to savor every moment. Now, on your knees, boy!" He lowered the Orb, and again, the same red energy flew towards Harry. Although he was already in a great deal of pain, the intensity of the Cruciatus curse actually increased. Harry screamed so loudly that his lungs began to burn, while puffs of smoke came from his clothes.

His captor took a single step forward. "I suppose you'd like to know the identity of the man who's behind the mask," he taunted. "Get a good look while you can, Harry, as it's the last face you'll ever see…" He ripped his cowl off, and…

"Peter Pettigrew," Harry mouthed. His words were practically inaudible as his seared organs were on the verge of failure. "You should have died a long time ago…" He tried to use the memory of his parents as fuel to get up and attack his assailant, but he was in such agony that even breathing was a laborious chore.

"Yesssss," Pettigrew hissed. "The Secret Keeper who betrayed your parents, then went into hiding for ten years." He cackled ominously. "It it's any consolation, once I use the Orb to end the Potter line, I shall use it to end the Slytherin bloodline once and for all. I'll personally ensure that Voldemort's failure is absolute… and permanent. He was too weak to conquer Magical Britain, and too stupid to divine the location of the Orb. With the most powerful wand in creation in my hands, I shall succeed where he has failed…" He then sneered at Harry. "In the meantime, I shall enjoy watching you die… goodbye, Harry Potter… AVADA KEDAVRA!"

"Waaaaaaaaaaaaugh!"

Harry jolted upright in his bed, sweat dripping from his forehead.

All three of his roommates woke up and rushed to him. "Are you okay, dude? That scream sounded, I'unno, like someone was trying to kill you or something," Othniel said.

"Yeah, that's exactly what happened in my dream," panted Harry. "I've had a few of them this term, but this was the worst one, and most life-like one to date…"

"D'you need to go to the infirmary tomorrow or something?" suggested Quentin.

"No," Harry answered grimly. "I need to talk to Professor Lupin. He told me to come to him if I have more of these nightmares… in fact, I need to write as much down now before I forget. It's too important not to tell him."

Jeremy, their other roommate, rolled over on his bed and covered his head with a pillow. "Keep it down, guys," he said in a muffled voice from under his pillow. "It's nearly two in the morning – some of us are trying to sleep."

"Our Defense professor?" Quentin replied in a softer voice, full of skepticism. "I don't think he's qualified to interpret dreams, but if he offered…"

"I don't think he specializes in dream interpretation, but I know he can help. Plus he can consult Professor Haatali, who out of all the faculty at Ilvermorny, might have the most insight," mused Harry. "He's the Shamanism teacher, and he can do things most regular witches and wizards can't."

Quentin nodded. "I see. Well, good luck, Harry. I'm going to try and go back to bed. See you two in the morning."

"Harry, could you tell me at least some of what happened in your dream? I won't be able to, y'know… interpret it, but if it'll help get things off your shoulder, I'm here to listen," offered Othniel.

Harry shrugged, and told Othniel what he could.

Othniel just blinked a few times. "That's… heavy, Harry. Like I said, I don't know the significance of that dream, but I think you're right… you need to owl Professor Lupin first thing in the morning. It's not that I don't trust our other teachers, but ever since we spent Thanksgiving together, I feel a bit more ease with him for some reason."

"That makes two of us," chuckled Harry.