Another one bites the dust

Harry hesitantly walked through the opened door, which appeared for him in this abandoned corridor on the seventh floor. He was pleasantly surprised to find exactly what he was imagining in the corridor outside. Hermione would be excited by the possibilities, but for tonight - Harry needed privacy.

Soon enough, he was seated in front of a clear table, staring at the three objects on its top. His father's folded cloak, a little dark pebble, and Dumbledor's wand.

Must find a safe place to hide them!

Well, according to what he read, that wand wasn't exactly Dumbledor's, as much as the cloak wasn't truly his father's - both had a much more important role to play, as well as another ultimate owner.

Does he, Harry, have the right to use them? Would he dare? What will happen when the three are now united?

She practically gave them to me to unite them.

Collecting his resolve he stood up and put his cloak on. It was the one item he was least apprehensive about using. He then laid his own wand on the top of the table and picked Death's one up. It felt peculiar in his hand. There was a coldness to it, which Harry used to associate with his cloak. A coldness which touched on his magic - not his hand.

Out of curiosity, Harry tried a spell with her wand. A simple one - just making some light. Magic came easily with this wand and its tip lit instantly. Harry, however, didn't feel any connection with it. The wand was an efficient tool. Very efficient even, but not the close acquaintance his own wand had become, ever since it 'chose' him a couple of years back.

Harry was even more curious now. He picked his own wand back up and tried the same charm once more. The tip of his holly and Phoenix feather wand lit just as easily and just as brightly too. Harry found himself smiling at the warmth he felt while using his own wand.

Back to the issue in hand, Harry replaced the wand in his right hand once more. He then gingerly picked up the pebble with his left. Nothing happened. Was something supposed to have happened? Should he use it? Just how does one use a resurrection stone?

This is getting odd by the minute.

He stood up and looked more carefully at the pebble on the palm of his left hand. It was insignificant in every way, except for the slight marking on it, which Harry just now noticed. He lit the wand once more to have a better look at it. A circle within a triangle with a line halving both.

Very geometrical.

Suddenly, a feeling of dizziness washed over him. For a moment, he was afraid he was about to be sick. He reached with his hands to get a hold on the table in front of him and carefully seated himself back. It was a bit of a while before Harry felt better and frowned at the offending objects - only to not find them there any more. He frantically looked around, on top and below the table, for the wand and the pebble he might have dropped in his moment of dizziness. All he managed to find was his own wand still laying on top of the table. He picked it up urgently and lit it up to have a better look around. Doing this, he noticed that the cloak too was no longer on his shoulders.

Bollocks!

"Already tired of your mortal life?" a cold cold voice from behind shook him.

"What?!" he called in fright and turned to look behind his back. "I didn't…"

"Otherwise, do you miss the afterlife so much?" she went on, just as coldly. "Is it Hell that you truly desire?"

Death stood there in the dim light. She wore a black, elaborately embroidered, short muslin dress. Her hair was pulled into an intricate braid which was held around her head. The light of the torches played a game of shadows with her pale face and dark dress, making her look truly menacing.

Harry was dismayed. He was rather confused as well.

"Or maybe it's a 'someone' you miss in the hereafter?" Death asked.

Now Harry was mostly speechless. Not that he knew what exactly to say beforehand.

It was a long long moment before Death broke into a delighted giggle and the warmth returned to her face. "This is priceless!" she stated. "Thank you! I don't often get to have so much fun."

Understandably, Harry was still unsettled. Whatever he thought might have happened here this evening - This certainly wasn't it.

Death has a sense of humour - who would have thought?

"I'm so sorry," he pleaded. "I just wanted to see what your gifts are, but now they are lost. I promise I'll find them!" He still fidgeted under her smile. Surreptitiously, he kept looking around after the missing objects.

"What are you sorry for?" Death asked him fondly.

Harry did his best to not look at the woman's face. Or he might think about how kind she looked. Or he might think about how pretty she was. Or he might fail and show familiarity to her.

Disrespect?

"I tried to use your gifts," he mumbled. "And I don't deserve them," he whispered.

Death giggled a little more. It made him light hearted. It wasn't mean in any way. She was amused, not laughing at him. Still, he felt uncomfortable. Unworthy.

"Look at me?" she asked gently.

Harry, very reluctantly looked up to see her now sitting on an armchair, which wasn't there just a moment before. "Come, sit with me?" she offered, motioning at the free armchair across from her. On the table between them stood two glasses of steaming beverage. "This is something I tasted for the first time the same night I met your ancestors, some seven hundred years ago. You might like it," she explained and took a sip. "sweeter than it used to be," she added mostly to herself.

Harry took a sip and hummed agreeably. "Buttery," he remarked.

"It's called 'Butterbeer'," she explained. "Very little alcohol in it."

Harry enjoyed another sip.

This is good!

"You didn't lose anything," she told him, to ease his anxiety. "By uniting them you made them part of you - look at the palm of your left hand," she suggested.

Harry did and found a small mark of a circle there, which wasn't there before.

"I'll leave you with the pleasure of finding out how to use them in this state by yourself," she explained. "There are also a few perks in this 'condition', if you like. I'll let you discover these by yourself, as well."

Harry frowned. "I didn't earn any of it," he remarked, mostly to himself.

Death was enjoying herself. "Don't fret? These were earned long ago by your ancestors. They were truly some of the best wizards I have ever met. These were also not my personal gifts, for as much as the story says so - they were part of a challenge offered by a few of my younger brothers."

Harry nodded minutely - still not convinced of his self worth.

"You also sell yourself short," Death told him kindly. "Very few unique individuals have ever found their way out of one of Hell's cells. I'm uncertain if Lucifer himself would have been able to do so without help."

"Did..." Harry hesitated to ask. "Did I lose my soul? Had a deal with the Devil?"

Death's melodic laughter was like a ray of sunlight on a stormy day. A breath of fresh air.

"My gifts come with no strings attached, Harry," she set him at ease. "I'm not some monster going around collecting souls. I could, y'know," she commented offhandedly. For a brief moment she was changed: Her face hardened; Her eyes shone with an ominous light from within; Her hands took a boney quality to them. She then snorted and returned to being her free-spirited warm self.

Herself she is showing me, that is.

"Almost every soul will end up with me, sooner or later. I don't need to go and look for them. I was actually looking forward to Riddle's expression when he discovered that all his efforts only brought him to me sooner," she shrugged.

"And Lucifer? Offering favours is in his nature. You were told that he seldom collects on people's dues, and if he does - it's, more often than not, something that person will gladly offer. He too isn't missing on souls," she went on. "You've been to Hell - You know well enough that what brings souls to hell and keeps them there is their own guilt. In fact," Death was amused once more, "If you'd ever want to properly annoy Lucifer, say, to his face, that he tricks people into sin."

"So, just go on with my life?" Harry asked. There was some incredulity in his voice. Understandably so.

"For as long as you like," Death agreed. "Did you read the tale," she then asked softly.

Harry nodded minutely.

"Ignotus told Mr Beedle that story, just before we met for the last time. I gave the Peverell brothers the same promise I gave you. Only Ignotus used it well. This story you read was his way to warn people about the three tools. 'Hollows'," she then said to herself and dramatically rolled her eyes.

Harry had to stifle a giggle at her antics. "These are rather dangerous artefacts," He deadpanned.

"Indeed," she easily agreed. "My family and I exist to handle our responsibilities. We were never meant to be kind." She then laughed curtly again.

Harry stared at her in confusion.

"Should have seen your ancestors' faces that night when I met them. All this was a challenge by my brothers, so I had to go the full monty in front of the poor three brothers. Scythe and all."

It made Harry snort in amusement. He then hurried and covered his mouth in both fear and shock.

"It was quite amusing," Death set him at ease. "Maybe one day you might hear the true full story. Try and ask Antioch about it," she offered. "Goodbye Harry Potter," she then said and faded from sight.

Harry stayed seated, looking at the empty armchair in front of him, deep in thought. He then looked at the small circle on the palm of his left hand.

A glance at his watch told him it was late at night.

Already well after curfew.

Well, learning how to use it will wait for another evening.

They say brekkie is the most important meal of the day. Often it's also the most annoying one.

Harry was just taking a first sip from his tea when Wood appeared at the other side of the table.

A flash of light notified them all that this memorable moment was recorded for posterity. This irritating first-year got into the habit of following Harry with a camera at the ready and making a nuisance of himself.

"Our new training schedule," Wood said, handed Harry a parchment with some writings on, and dug into his porridge. "You're a second-year, so you'll have no issue with it," he added with a rather full mouth.

Harry took only a glance at it and pushed the parchment towards Hermione on his side, disgusted.

"Are you having a laugh?"

"Mad as a hatter," Hermione agreed.

"We," Fred intervened in the conversation, pointing at himself, his better twin-brother, and the girls.

"Are all fourth-years," George went on.

"We can't possibly train more than twice a week?!" Angelina finished it up.

"Bananas," Alicia agreed, after just a glance at the parchment.

"Mates?" Wood looked around, not truly understanding his teem-mates issues with his straight forward training plan. "We need to be in our best form!" he insisted. "You want a repeat of last year?"

"We were in our best form last year," Katie Bell insisted. "We were ahead in all our games."

"Only thing we didn't have is someone who could catch the Snitch against Hafflepuff," George went on.

"Exactly!" Wood stated, as if it explains everything.

"I can't do more than two hours during the week, and another couple during weekends," Harry returned the parchment to Wood, disgusted.

"We have additional studies to do," Hermione tried to explain. Harry wasn't certain he wanted this reason to be public.

Harry kept looking about, in case a kind acquaintance of his might show up for this festive get-together. He was here, in the dungeons, accepting their house-ghosts' invitation to his five-hundredth death-day party. Meanwhile, all the other students were in the great hall, enjoying the usual Halloween festivities and feast.

It was quite fascinating, truth be told. Well, except for the issue with the rotten food, it was. Harry kept looking at the ghosts the whole evening. Something about them felt strange to his senses.

"What do you feel from them?" he asked Hermione, who was the only person mad enough to miss the Halloween feast in the Great Hall, to attend this event here with him.

I should do something nice for her.

"Coldness?" Hermione answered with the obvious. She shivered a little, when a passing ghost touched her slightly.

This was not it. To Harry the ghosts felt like empty shells. He could feel no substance in them. The only comparison Harry had was the shades of Riddle he met before. They felt twisted, torn, and shallow, yet had a presence, which the ghosts here didn't have. He didn't know just who to ask about it - Certainly not Nick. He didn't want to ruin his party with some insensitive questions.

Heads will roll…

The Fat Friar looked at him in surprise when Harry finally asked. The Friar was now the oldest of the Hogwarts ghosts, after the Baron and the Grey Lady moved on, late the former year. He was also kind and easy-going, so Harry chose to approach him with this question. Surprise was soon replaced with interest and then with calm focus.

"You're an interesting one?" the Friar replied lightly. I didn't know any of your peculiar genetics were still around.

"Genetics?" Hermione mumbled, shocked by his choice of words.

The Friar glanced her way, clearly amused, then turned his attention back to Harry. "It was triggered too - not surprising you're asking this question."

Harry didn't know what to say. No one ever told him about him having any peculiar genetics?

"We don't have a soul," the Friar answered his original question. He then snorted and took a long swig from his ever-present mug of beer. He then turned sombre once more. "Most of us are here, at least partly, out of fear of what awaits." He pointed at myrtle, who just went by on her way to the food-table. "Truth is, by the time we manifest as ghosts, our soul has long moved on to experience exactly what we fear."

Harry glanced at his friend to see dozens of questions fighting in her mind for priority. He almost laughed. She was about to, but was stopped by the Friar with a raised finger.

"Why did you stay?" Harry softly asked.

The Friar smiled thinly at the question. He then sombred once more and looked around, deep in thought. "This was a fine school once," he whispered, mainly to himself.

It hurt Hermione's sense of propriety. Once more, she was about to say something, but was interrupted - this time by Harry.

"I stayed because I was angry about Helga's, and to a lesser degree - her friends' life effort being ruined by one stupid man with an agenda." He then laughed bitterly and took another long swig from his beer. "Turned out no one was willing to listen. Who would believe a mere ghost saying that the 'greatest wizard of all time' was nothing but a daft berk with a chip on his shoulder?"

This was clearly a rhetorical question, so neither Harry nor Hermione said a word.

"They knew how to transcend the physical body, while keeping their souls tethered to this world," he added. "The ancients," he further explained. "I wasn't helped by the fact that the Baron wasn't willing to say anything regarding and Helena wasn't willing to say anything at all."

"Ancients?" Hermione finally asked, what was probably a safe(ish) question.

"The first evolution of humans," the Friar didn't truly answer. He then looked at Harry once more with a serious look on his face. "Thank you for helping Helena," he told him softly.

Harry only bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement.

"We can carry it on at a later time," the Friar wore his cheerful face once more. "I need to go and cheer dear Nick up now." He started towards the party, then turned back once more. "You can try and ask Hogwarts too, if interested," he added. "Or go out and speak with one of the elder Unicorns. Also, it might be a good idea to learn to protect your mind, lad."

It was late already when both Harry and Hermione were on their way back to the Gryffindor tower. They made a slight detour through the kitchens, for some yet-to-be-rotten sustenance.

Harry said nothing all this while. He had lots to think about. Hermione on the other hand…

"Genetics?" she asked. "First-Evolution-Humans? Asking the castle? And just how does one go about speaking with a bloody Unicorn?" the questions kept flowing.

Harry glanced her way and smiled fondly. "Not here?" he offered. "And not right now? I would also like to see what he meant about 'protecting our minds'?"

"And from what," Hermione agreed.

Once more Harry found himself walking the long dark corridors long after curfew. It wasn't only his inability to sleep for a while now. Something was disturbing him ever since the new school year began. Niggling at the edge of his perception. It has been getting worse since the start of the year. Whatever it was, was mostly manifesting in the common room, but he sometimes felt this annoying uneasiness in his dorm room too. Once or twice - even in the Great Hall.

This night, his wandering ways led him to the second-floor, where the incident with Mrs Norris happened. This wasn't the most popular of spots in school, what with the only place of interest nearby being the girl's bathroom. This bathroom was usually infested by an annoying moaning ghost, albeit, being the most accessible from the Great hall.

Back then, during Halloween night, Harry wasn't present for the excitement. He was a guest of honour, sorta, at Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington's five-hundredth death day. By the time Hermione and him were back from their foray into the dungeons - all that was left were rumours.

And a Petrified cat.

He lingered to stare at the wall on which the writing once was on. There was nothing to see there any more, though. A few waves of a wand easily clears any trace of chicken blood from any surface. That, or about an hour's worth of work by Filch.

Speaking of the devil,

"Good evening, Mr Filch," Harry offered to the sight of lantern light and the sound of heavy steps coming closer. He only got a grunt in response.

"How is Mrs Norris?" he asked, after the silence got uncomfortable.

Once more, the silence weighed on him.

"Come," Filch finally offered. "My office is a couple of floors up."

Harry entered the small cramped room slowly. It was his first visit here.

Thank Merlin!

A small desk was stuck in between filing cabinets. A small window was opened to the outside and might have brought in a little light during daytime. On a small pedestal, near the door, Mrs Norris' stiff body laid on a pet bed. Harry petted her lightly, walking in. Now, when he could understand, he could feel the soul of the cat still there. It was tiny really. Was it because the cat was petrified? Since she was only a cat? Harry didn't know.

Two cups of tea appeared on the table, as soon as both took a seat. A small plate of biscuits soon followed.

"Thanks!" Filch said out loud. "House elves," he then explained, took a sip, and sighed heavily. "There is no way for me to convince you not to wonder about the castle after-hours, is there?"

Harry shrugged. "I can't sleep much. Staying in the common room all night is boring. Also, people will notice and ask questions." He then smirked. "For a law-breaking hooligan - walking the corridors after-hours isn't that bad?"

Filch glanced towards the shiny and well lubricated chains hanging in front of the brick wall across his table. He then sighed.

"You're no hooligan," He finally answered. "Ye'r kind and respectful. You remind me of your mother, even if you look much like your yob of a father."

Harry smiled minutely, but hid it well.

"You don't like it much here," he stated the obvious. "Why did you choose to be the caretaker of a magical school?"

Filch gave Harry a probing stare, but found nothing in his face but pure curiosity. "I wrote to Professor Dumbledore, when my letter didn't arrive by the time I was eleven," he replied. "Not that I had much hope for it to come, by then. Dumbledore offered me this, a few years later on, to get me away from my family."

"I reckon he did you a disservice," Harry offered softly.

Mr Filch just shrugged.

The first game of the season arrived relatively late in the year. Sky was overcast and ominous with the promise of rain.

"Welcome, young and old, to the first game of the season!" came Lee's excited voice from outside the locker room.

Locker room's mood was less than excited. Those new brooms of the Slytherins were a real issue. Even Wood's expected pep-talk sounded hollow.

"Don't fret," Harry offered. "Wood doesn't need a faster broom to be the best Keeper in school."

"And fast brooms will not help the slytherin's Beaters much," George agreed.

"We, on the other hand," Katie Bell sighed, "are utterly buggered."

No one argued with her.

"Just get the Snitch," Wood ordered. 'Or die trying' his eyes added.

Harry smirked.

This is fun!

Harry didn't enjoy himself so much since he was trained, sorry - 'helped' by Mazikeen.

I should find out what happened to this Bludger and see if it can be replicated.

He was sitting on his broom high over the pitch, drawing his lazy circles and eight-forms in the sky, and pretending to look for the Snitch. He kept his eyes on the rogue Bludger, moving minutely every few seconds to let it miss him with every pass, while keeping his amusing trash-talk with Malfoy going. He was also keeping an eye on the Snitch, to make sure it doesn't get close enough to Malfoy for him to get lucky.

Below, the game went well enough. Apparently the best team in school could hold its own against the most brutal one - even with some equipment disadvantage. Gryffindor were two hoops behind, as opposed to the three or four ahead they could have been, but no pressure.

He drifted, with Malfoy following, towards the Slytherin crowd.

"Oi, Higgs!" he called. "The daft buggers replaced you with this?" he asked for all to hear, pointing his thumb at Malfoy above and behind him. He then moved his head slightly to let the bludger pass and hit Malfoy in the stomach. "He couldn't win the Snitch from you even with your eyes covered!"

Higgs' face showed he couldn't make up his mind whether to be amused or pissed off. Harry moved slightly up, letting the Bludger pass once more and forcing Malfoy to almost fall off his broom, trying to barrel-roll and avoid it. This proved to be too much for the Slytherins. A girl - probably third or fourth-year, pulled out her wand and pointed it at Harry, only to have it plucked out of her fingers by an incensed Snape. Crowd cursing a player was a certain defeat. Last thing Snape needed was to concede a technical, when Malfoy Snr and his lovely wife are sitting beside him, looking forward to celebrating another Slytherin game being won.

Harry looked at Malfoy, turned his head back to wink towards Malfoy's father, and shot off to wave away the Snitch - which was hovering just near Draco's ear.

According to the grimace on Snr's face, he just swallowed an especially foul-flavoured bean.

Below, the game was still moving onwards as expected. Gryffindor were in a three-hoop disadvantage at the moment, but had possession and did not seem to be intimidated any more. Then the rain came and Harry's smile widened.

"This is so much fun!" he shouted at Malfoy, who looked like a green-dressed, drenched stray at the moment.

A motion from Wood pulled Harry's attention. By the look of things, his teammates were not having as much fun as Harry was. This motion distinctly ordered Harry to get the Snitch and end the game. Soon!

Harry nodded and marked the snitch once more. It was hanging about, not far from the Slytherin stands. Harry made sure to hide the rogue Bludger from Draco's sight till the moment he moved out of its way. He then used Draco's moment of disorientation to dive towards the centre of the stands. It took Draco a second to regain his balance. It took him another precious second to get his wits about him. He then dove after Harry, pushing his broom to its limit.

Draco was faster than Harry. This was what his new broom was all about - speed! Speed, and an ever-so-slightly better varnish. Well, speed, an ever-so-slightly better varnish, and a hefty price-tag as well, but nevermind that. Draco was also furious and humiliated. All he could focus on was the shape of Harry, flat on his own older slower broom, getting closer to him - till suddenly Harry stopped and moved aside. The last thing Draco noticed were the shocked faces of his parents, a split second before he crashed into them, at the highest speed he could push his new broom to. Then came the bludger…

Harry waited patiently for Snr to sort himself out and stand back. He and Snape both stared at him with pure hate. Harry returned their hate with one of his too-wide-for-comfort smiles, though his wasn't nearly as effective as Lucifer's. Experience - most probably. Pure competence had something to do with it too. He then soared a little, to pluck the tiny Snitch off the air and present it in front of the Slytherins - Just as Draco managed to get back on his feet and look up.

This quickly proved to be a mistake. Harry was so focused on his little moment of satisfaction that his attention to the rogue Bludger wavered. It came back a moment later to punish him for this moment of hubris. Punish his left arm, that is. Harry barely managed to land, holding both his broomstick and the Snitch with only one good hand. He couldn't manage to stay on his feet when he did.

The Bludger was back again and Harry could do nothing about it, sitting as he was on the muddy pitch with a broken arm. Luckily Fred landed quickly enough to smack the Bludger away. It came back once more only to be blasted by Wood. Now that the game has ended, he was permitted to use his wand on the pitch, without forfeiting the match.

By now, the whole Gryffindor team had landed and were standing around Harry. Sadly, they weren't in a festive mood at all.

"Should have just caught the Snitch," Fred told him angrily.

"Could have done so probably within five minutes into the game," Wood stated coldly.

"Or did being the Quidditch star go to your head?" Angelina asked in clear disgust.

"Naff," Alicia agreed.

"Blinking idiot," Hermione, who arrived on the pitch by then, added. She was occupying herself with fussing about his broken arm, though, which made him feel a little better.

Mazikeen would have stuffed me back into my cell for this stupidity…

By then, faculty started arriving. Unfortunately, ahead of them all was Professor Lockhart.

"Not to worry, Harry. I'm about to fix your arm," he said with a smile, which was probably intended as 'reassuring'.

Harry had only one answer for this - "No!" he said, and raised his good hand in a clear sign for him to stop.

Lockhart wasn't deterred. He twirled his wand and a second later directed it straight at Harry's broken arm. However, whatever spell he used was rebounded back at him and he found himself collapsing to the ground, quite bonelessly.

That was strange? Was Harry's last thought before he succumbed to the quite horrible pain in his left arm and lost consciousness.

Harry hid in the library. It was already a week and a half after that eventful game and the school had yet to truly get over it.

First, Harry got an earful from his teammates. They bluntly reminded him that his place on the team was offered for Gryffindor to win games and hopefully a cup - by the end of the year. Not for his own personal amusement.

Hermione's opinion on his own stupidity was even less charitable.

Other reactions varied:

Many just passed by to give Harry a thumb up for humiliating Malfoy and the whole Slytherin Quidditch team. Others, to tell him he was just a big twit, which he probably was on this occasion.

The whole Slytherin team made a visit of intimidation to the Gryffindor table, at lunchtime one day. It was somewhat limited in effect, since they were so thoroughly humiliated in front of the whole school. They were also circuitously followed by Professor Snape in an effort to make sure things didn't go out of hand.

Almost a year after the disappearance and subsequent death of the old Headmaster, Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry was finally starting to change. Some things which had traditionally been smoothed over, or just brushed under the rug, were now frowned upon.

Things like useless teaching.

This intimidation visit was actually underwhelming.

"How's the father, mate?" some older boy asked Malfoy. "Did he recover from you bumping into him?" He then added in mock concern.

"They came asking for a training match, so they would not humiliate themselves again against the Ravens and Puffs," Wood explained lightly. "Reckon we can push in another session next week?" he asked his teammates.

"Just why you insist on coming here to humiliate yourself even more, I will never understand," Hermione stated.

It was too much for Draco, and soon enough he was dragged away by Flint, so as to not lose Slytherin even more house-points.

Last of the Slytherin to turn and leave was Higgs. He had the proper annoyed expression on, yet bowed his head minutely towards Wood and Harry before parting.

Now Hermione and Harry were sitting in the library, in an effort to avoid the crowds and find these three hours of concentration needed for both their regular and extracurricular work.

"What are you learning?" asked a timid voice next to their table.

"Can we join?" asked another.

Hermione and Harry raised their eyes to see three Hufflepuff students by their table. Susan Bones, Hanna Abbot, and Justin Finch-Fletchley.

"Geometry," Harry answered matter-of-factly.

"This is self study," Hermione added in explanation.

"What's geometry?" Sue asked timidly.

It was late Saturday night, or early Sunday morning - if you like. Harry just walked in through the portrait from his wandering ways and a last tea with Mr Filch before Christmas break. The end of next week will see them on the Express on their way to London and the Christmas holiday. Harry was invited to have his with the Grangers. He promised to visit the Weasleys for a couple too and return to school with them. He was actually quite intrigued to see a purely magical home for the first time and was looking forward to this visit. A meeting with the dowager Longbottom was in the plans as well. As was a visit to Gringotts to start the ball rolling about that small flat he wanted.

"Hello!" he said out loud, as soon as he walked into the almost-empty common room. This too-wide smile he adopted in hell came to his face. For the first time, this elusive something which annoyed him so much ever since the start of the year, was well defined and right there in the common room. A glance around told him that it was focused around that first-year redheaded girl. She was sitting alone in the corner by the hearth and writing furiously in something.

His knives found their own way to his hands, swishing around his fingers. Slowly and silently Harry walked closer.

Weasley?!

"Whatcha doin'?" he asked, when right next to the girl.

She shrieked in fright, turned to look at him, and hurried to hide the small book she was writing in behind her back.

"Nothing?!"

This wasn't convincing at all. For more than a month now, ever since Harry had that strange conversation with the Friar, Harry felt and looked at souls all around him. There was not a lot of variety in it. Most were just that - souls within a body.

Weasley was different: Her own soul was smothered, overgrown,

Mutted?

The other soul, though, was different too. It was a familiar one, even if this was the first time he was able to see it with his eyes and understand what he felt. It was as shallow and twisted as the other ones. It was also diffused. The main part of it was focused in this small book Weasley was trying her best to hide behind her back. A tiny grain of it was nestled within the girl. Some, though, was around, sending tendrils into the girl, trying to reinforce the little seed already there.

Compulsion? Possession even?

Harry's smile grew wider and he tried to make it easy and comforting. By the look of the girl's face he had only mediocre success with it.

Waesley turned to look at him. She then eep'ed and blushed, recognising just who he was. Soon after, her face hardened. "What are you doing here, Potter?" she asked coldly.

To Harry's eyes, the seed of a soul, which was Riddle's control over her, brightened. He softened his smile even more and stopped swishing his knives.

"Writing to my friend Tom Riddle?" he asked with a show of a happy surprise.

Weasley's eyes widened in surprise, then a smile crept to her face. "You know Tom?"

"We met," Harry answered easily with the truth. He was having trouble lying about things now and this would have been a significant lie. "I have another object that could communicate with him. Is this his diary?" Harry pointed behind her back. "He told me about it!"

"He's so wonderful!" she gushed. "He's clever and knows so much about things. He listens!"

"Right!" Harry agreed. "When he explains things he can go on and on and on!" This wasn't exactly a compliment, but…

"Exactly!" Ginny agreed happily.

"Can I see it for a moment?" he asked the girl, faking his excitement. Well, the excitement was real - he was close to sending another one to hell. The reason for it was faked. "Tom told me that Malfoy had this diary. Did he give it to you?" he then asked. "I wanted to go and visit, but then - Draco is such a twit!" Harry rolled his eyes at that.

Ginny giggled at this. "He might have dropped it into my things when he had that fight with daddy at Flourish and Blotts," she whispered.

She then took the small black diary from behind her back. For a moment, she looked at it hesitantly. Harry could see the tendrils renew their effort to penetrate her. That little seed intensified for a moment. He offered her what he hoped was a warm and reassuring smile. Trying his meagre best to imitate Death. He was getting ready to launch and snatch it out of her hands, but there was no need.

With a friendly smile she posted the diary on the table, in front of Harry.

Quick as a snake, Harry stabbed the diary with a knife. Both the Diary and the girl shrieked - one in fright. The other in desperation. Ink and soul vapours bled from the punctured hole. That soul seed was ripped out of Weasley's body - all gathering to the expected Human-formed cloud. It then focused into a ghost-like shade of a young man.

"What have you done?!" the girl shouted. Harry hushed her with his finger to his lips and pointed her at the shade.

"Tom?" she asked, trembling. "I'm so sor…"

"Silly girl!" the shade snapped at her.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle," Harry offered, waving at it with his knife. "Jr!" he added, with some apparent glee. "Introduce yourself, why don't you?"

"Everyone knows and fears me!" The shade was furious, but Harry wasn't impressed much.

"Possibly, but the girl can't make the connection. Tom?"

Tom turned and stared at Ginny. His eyes gained an ominous quality to them, for a short moment. "I am Lord Voldemort!" he lashed at her again, and she whimpered in fright. "I'll be back!" he stated, "and remember you both!"

"Hey Tom!" Harry called when the shade started to dissipate, "A favour? Pretty please?" He was surprised when the shade focused once more. "Please tell Mazikeen 'hi'?" he asked cheekily. They then watched the shade dissipate with some satisfaction.

On the sofa, in front of him, Waesley was now sobbing in hysteria. Understandably so. He got up and moved beside her, hugging her lightly for comfort, giving her the time to cry it out.

"I'm such a stupid girl," she finally mumbled to his side, when her sobs and hiccups finally diminished.

Harry did his best to channel Death a little more and offered her a truly kind smile. "You did well, Ginny," he promised her. "Very few did more than you did to fight the stupid sod."

"Seriously?" she asked in hope. "Can he truly come back to kill us?"

"I don't think so," he tried to reassure her. "Not any more."

He let her cry some more - this time in relief. "I'm also very serious," Harry promised. He then smiled - just a little. "Dead serious!" he added.

AN:

Feel free to review and tell me what you think - It's appreciated!
usually, I answer each and every review, but this system is down and replies to reviews won't even reach your inbox (checked).

So sorry...

Many many thanks to flyboy38 my beta, who invested time and effort to make this readable for you all.

Cheers!