Chapter 2

Beware! Those Shadows Cast in Forgotten Corners

Harry was standing on a vast plain of silver stone, under a sky that shimmered with stars unlike any he had ever seen in his life. The Earth hung low in the sky, a radiant blue and green orb. His feet felt almost weightless compared to few moments ago, as though gravity barely held him to the ground at all. It was then that he noticed what he was wearing—a flowing white gown, a soft dress that shimmered with ethereal light. He tried to run his hands over his clothes, but what he saw reflecting in a perfectly still pool of water stunned him.

Slender hands. Soft skin, golden locks and impossibly blue eyes. This wasn't him! He tried to reach the pond's surface, almost hypnotized. Before he could do so, a figure emerged next to him. She was tall, elegant, and radiated warmth like a warm fire in a cold night. Her long white hair flowed freely, her crown glittered with silver crystals, and her eyes, her blue eyes—burdened with deep sorrow— she looked upon him with such fondness. Harry was enveloped by the same warmth and power that protected him from Voldemort at the graveyard.

"Serenity," she whispered, though her voice trembled with emotion.

Harry felt a pang in his chest at the sound of the name. It stirred something deep within him, something deeply personal. "Serenity," the woman repeated. "My dear daughter."

Harry wanted to deny it. He wanted to tell her she had the wrong person, that he wasn't this Serenity she spoke of, that he was Harry. But his throat closed up, and his body wouldn't respond to his thoughts. Instead, his slender hands reached up to grasp the woman's fingers

"Mother?" The word escaped his lips before he could stop it, a question, a plea. His voice sounded foreign—softer, lighter, completely alien to him.

Suddenly, the sky darkened, and a harsh, chilling wind swept through the courtyard preventing their hands from touch. Harry turned instinctively, and his eyes widened in horror. From the shadows beyond the gardens, a great mass of dark energy swirled and twisted, coalescing into the shapes of monstrous creatures. Their red, glowing eyes flickered with malevolence as they advanced, their bodies cloaked in shadows that writhed like living nightmares.

Harry's heart raced as he tried to process what was happening, his mind spinning with fear and confusion. He opened his mouth to ask a hundred questions, but before he could utter a single word, a group of figures appeared at the far edge of the courtyard, moving swiftly and purposefully toward them.

The first was a young woman clad in blue, her eyes sharp and calculating. Behind her, another figure appeared, tall and strong, her green themed uniform was dirtied as if by fire. And then came two more—a fiery figure dressed in red and another with long blonde hair, her eyes fierce with determination.

"Queen Selene!" the woman in blue called out, her voice filled with urgency. "The Negaverse has breached the outer defenses! We must act quickly!"

The Queen nodded gravely. "I feared this would come to pass. But we cannot allow them to harm our people. Protect Serenity and evacuate anyone you can! Take Sailor Moon and go!"

The figure dressed in red locked eyes with him. "Princess, we need to move," she said, her tone commanding yet gentle. "We'll keep you safe."

Harry's head spun. He wasn't a princess, he wasn't Serenity, and he certainly didn't belong here, wrapped up in ancient battles with monsters from another dimension. But before he could protest, the ground shook again, and the sky above seemed to crackle with dark lightning. The Negaverse forces were closing in, their terrible energy growing more oppressive by the second.

Queen Selene turned to the group of her Senshi, Harry's mind whispered, though he wasn't sure how he knew that. "Take her," the Queen commanded, her voice strong and resolute. "Take her somewhere safe. I'll hold them off."

Sailor Venus stayed behind as the rest of the senshi dragged off the screaming blonde princess, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword as she glanced at Queen Serenity. "I stand by your side, my Queen." she said, her voice resolute.

The Queen's eyes softened with a mixture of pride and sorrow as she met Sailor Venus's gaze. "Princess Venus…. Victoria." She said softly. "You have always been my most loyal guardian. But now, I need you to protect Serenity. You must ensure her safety. We cannot let our way of life end."

Venus hesitated, her expression conflicted as she looked back at the Queen. "But, Your Majesty, I—"

Before she could finish, Queen Selene stepped forward and enveloped her in a heartfelt embrace. The gesture was tender yet firm, filled with a love that transcended the boundaries of time and space. "You are the heart of our protection, Victoria. You must lead them away from here. It's my duty to defend our people and our lands, your duty lies elsewhere now."

As the vivid images of the dream began to dissolve, Harry's senses gradually returned to the present. The ethereal light of the dream world faded, replaced by the soft, familiar glow of morning sunlight streaming through the infirmary windows. The comforting hum of the hospital ward's enchantments replaced the haunting whispers of the dream. The events of the previous night felt like a distant nightmare, yet the residual soreness in his scar reminded him of the reality. The strange dream was still playing out in his head. It was all so confusing. He groaned and tried to sit up, but a gentle hand pushed him back onto the white pillows of the infirmary bed. Overwhelmed by the whiplash and the fresh memories of what happened at the graveyard, he flopped back to the bed noticing the smell of antiseptic that came only with the visits to infirmary.

"Easy there, Mr. Potter," said Madam Pomfrey, her voice soothing but firm. Her eyes were filled with a mixture of concern and professional detachment one would expect from a medical professional. "You've been through quite an ordeal." She explained checking the boy's pupils.

Harry blinked, blinded by the light, his vision coming into focus once more when the oppressive light ceased. Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall stood at the foot of his bed, their faces etched with worry. Dumbledore's eyes, usually twinkling with mischief, were now shadowed with deep concern for the boy who lived once more. Beside them was Professor Moody, his magical eye whirling as it scrutinized Harry with an intensity that made him shiver. There was something not quite right, almost sinister in his gaze.

"Harry," Dumbledore began, his voice grave and filled with a paternal gentleness, "we need to know exactly what happened Yesterday." His expression turned tense. "I have a dead student and a grieving parent on my hands. Who killed Cedric? Was it Voldemort?"

The two exchanged glances. Taking a deep breath, Harry nodded and recounted the events from grabbing the Triwizard Cup with Cedric to the graveyard, Voldemort's strange and gross resurrection, and Cedric's death. His voice broke when he described Cedric's final moments, tears streaming down his face. He left out the burning sensation on his forehead and the strange silver energy. Hell if he said anything about his dream, they would think he was crazy. He felt too overwhelmed and confused to even begin to explain all of this. His hand ached, He unrolled his sleeve to discover a bandage over his wound. The cursed knife with which wormtail extracted his blood… it felt like the blade was still sliding over his hand.

"I am sorry harry. The wound resisted any attempts at healing your hand. This was the best I could do." Madam Pomfrey explained, looking over the teenager.

"It was horrible," Harry said, his voice trembling. He massaged his wounded hand. It both itched and hurt at the same time. "Cedric... he didn't even see it coming, neither did I. And Voldemort... he just... he enjoyed it. The sick bastard! He actually enjoyed killing Cedric." The young potter said, detached, looking at his hand.

Dumbledore's eyes were filled with sorrow, and McGonagall's lips were pressed into a thin line. "I'm so sorry, Harry," she said softly, her voice shaking slightly as she held back tears.

"Moody's magical eye swiveled to focus on Harry with an intensity that made him shiver. 'Spit it out, Potter. I want every detail of what happened next. Don't leave anything out,' Moody demanded, his voice edged with a harshness that was out of character for the usually gruff but fair professor." The staff all looked at him in confusion.

Harry hesitated, trying to recall the moments after Cedric's death. "There was a ritual. Wormtail used my blood to bring Voldemort back. He... he cut me. I already told you." Harry gestured at his hand. "Then Voldemort called his Death Eaters, and they... they just stood there, watching as if I wasn't a threat. As if I was already dead. They didn't even acknowledge me. They just stood there waiting for the show."

"And then?" Moody pressed, his tone intense, his normal eye narrowing suspiciously. Harry looked down, his hands shaking. "I don't remember much. There was so much pain, and then... I must have blacked out. The next thing I knew, I was back here at Hogwarts."

Dumbledore and McGonagall exchanged glances. "Harry, are you sure that's everything?" Dumbledore asked gently, his voice full of a subtle probing.

Harry nodded, not meeting their eyes. "Yeah, that's all."

Madam Pomfrey looked at the black haired boy with pity. The last thing Harry wanted, honestly. "Should be fine. I called for your friends to pick you up. They should be here any minute. You should come by tomorrow to have that hand checked, before going home."

Harry nodded, feeling too depressed to put up any resistance.

"We should be going harry." Dumbledore nodded to his colleagues. "I trust your friends will take care of you."

As Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Moody left, Harry couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered. He would cry if he wasn't under the influence of what he thought was a calming potion.

It didn't take long before Hermione and Ron arrived to pick Harry up. He was released from the infirmary into their care with strict instructions not to overexert himself. After several hugs and reassurances from the young wizard that he was ok, the trio made their way to the Gryffindor common room in mostly silence. Except for some rambling from Ron. Most Gryffindors were getting ready for breakfast and classes, so the common room was mostly empty, and those who were present paid little attention to the three. It was almost hard to believe, but Harry was given a little respite to process things for once. A few students who noticed them greeted the group with a mix of relief and worry. The warm, familiar surroundings, with its crackling fire and comfortable chairs, offered Harry a brief respite from the horrors of the previous night.

"Harry, are you okay? I mean… " Hermione asked, not wanting to discuss anything until Harry felt safe. Her eyes scanned his face for any signs of lingering pain. Her hands trembled slightly, betraying her anxiety. "What happened yesterday was just horrific."

"You have no idea," Harry replied, still finding the whole thing surreal. He massaged his forehead. "I'm still a bit tired, I guess. That and I just never saw…"

Ron patted his back, his touch grounding and reassuring. "It's ok to be roughed up. I can't imagine what it was like, mate. We will figure this out."

"There's nothing to figure out, Ron! He's back! He wants me dead! He killed Cedric, for God's sake," Harry replied, his tone a bit harsh. The few students lingering in the room stopped to look at the group of friends.

"It might sound harsh, Harry, but what's done is done. You can't undo what happened. No one can."

Harry threw her a harsh glance. "Yeah! Sure. Those time turners might have been handy just about now."

The ginger girl froze and looked apologetic. "You know as well as I do that those things were more trouble than worth."

Harry nodded his stare blank

Then the young witch moved closer to Harry and half-whispered, trying to avoid drawing more attention. "I don't know if you noticed, Harry, but when you came back yesterday, your forehead was glowing."

"Yeah, it totally did," Ron added, lacking tact. "I thought it was just sweat reflecting the torchlight, but since Hermione saw it too…"

Harry stared into the flickering flames, his mind racing. Should he tell them about the silver energy that protected him and the burning sensation on his forehead? He trusted Hermione and Ron more than anyone, but the memory of what happened was overwhelming, and the strange warmth felt deeply personal—almost too personal. He feared they would think he was strange. Besides, the attention they were getting didn't sit well with him.

"I... I don't know," Harry mumbled, shaking his head. "It all happened so fast. I'm still trying to make sense of it myself."

Hermione reached out and squeezed his hand. "We're here for you, Harry. Whenever you're ready to talk about it, we'll listen."

Ron nodded, his expression serious. "Yeah, mate. No pressure."

"There's not much to talk about. You know how these things happen." Harry said, looking at the two. "One moment you're like a deer in headlights, and the next it's all over. Only your racing heart and lack of oxygen remind you that something happened. But this time..." Harry's head dropped into his hands, the weight of grief pressing down on him like a heavy blanket. The chilling realization that Cedric was gone surged through him, leaving an icy void where hope used to be. Tears welled in his eyes as he whispered, 'Someone died. Cedric… he's gone, and I couldn't do anything to stop it.' His voice cracked under the enormity of his helplessness, each word a painful reminder of his failure. Before I knew what happened, he was dead, and I wasn't far from it either." Harry looked at his friends, tears threatening to escape. "He was so cold. So cold…"

Hermione quickly hugged Harry, seeing his distress. "It'll be okay, Harry. We'll get through this," she said, looking into his pained eyes. "We always knew we might not live past one unlucky day, ever since we discovered the Chamber of Secrets."

"Thanks." Harry smiled. And wiped the wet feeling around his eyes. "I guess I needed that." He looked around noticing that they were making a scene and got up. "I guess we should get ready for…" He looked at the two… "That I should get ready for classes."

Ron smiled. "Well, wait for you here, bud."

The sun was just beginning to rise over Hogwarts as Harry Potter arrived in the Great Hall, clad in his fresh school uniform. His thoughts were still tangled in the horrors of the previous night, but he found a small comfort in the presence of his friends.

When Harry, Hermione, and Ron entered the Great Hall, the usual hum of morning chatter was conspicuously absent. The tables were filled with students who spoke in hushed tones, their faces somber. The enchanted ceiling mirrored the overcast sky outside, casting a gray pallor over the hall that seemed to echo the heaviness in Harry's heart. The Great Hall, typically filled with cheerful energy, felt strangely somber. The enchanted ceiling reflected the overcast sky outside, enhancing the gloomy atmosphere. The Gryffindor table was quieter than usual, with many students casting concerned glances in Harry's direction. Hermione and Ron flanked him, their faces reflecting their worry.

"Harry, are you sure you're up for breakfast?" Hermione's voice was gentle, her eyes full of concern.

Harry managed a faint smile. "I'm fine. I just need to get through today." He met her gaze. "You know how it goes—step by step, day by day." He smiled weakly.

He picked at his food, but his appetite was as absent as his confidence. Everything felt surreal—the empty seat where Cedric should have been, the whispers of students, and the heavy weight in his stomach made it all seem distant. As he tried to focus on his meal, he noticed Draco Malfoy sitting across the hall, unusually quiet and with a serious expression watching him. Harry wondered if the events had affected Malfoy too or if he was plotting something. He didn't dwell on it; it was just Malfoy.

The day's classes passed in a blur. In Charms, Professor Flitwick's enthusiastic approach did little to lift Harry's spirits. The lesson focused on summoning charms, but Harry's wand movements were off, and he struggled to produce even the simplest results. Hermione, ever perceptive, noticed his difficulty and raised her eyebrows in concern. Harry could feel everyone walking on tiptoes around him which made him feel even worse.

"You didn't seem like yourself today," she said quietly after class. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm just tired," Harry replied, shrugging. "It's like... a scratched lens. I can't focus. My wand doesn't respond the way it should. It feels like it's resisting me."

"That is strange." Hermione's concern was evident, but she didn't press further. "If you need anything, you know where to find me."

Her support was comforting, but Harry still felt detached. In Herbology, Professor Sprout's cheerful demeanor and the vibrant surroundings did little to lift his mood. As they worked with magical plants, Harry's thoughts kept drifting back to the graveyard. Ginny Weasley, sitting beside him, tried to engage him in conversation.

"Did you know that Fluxweed is supposed to help with memory problems?" she asked gently.

Harry managed a weak smile. "That's interesting. I could use something like that just about now." He grinned sadly.

Ginny's understanding look made Harry feel a bit better, though he still struggled to concentrate.

The afternoon brought Defense Against the Dark Arts with Professor Moody. The lesson on the Unforgivable Curses was disturbing. Moody's intense gaze and the dark magic they studied served as a harsh reminder of the evil Harry had faced. After class, Harry approached Moody, hoping for some answers.

"Professor Moody," Harry began hesitantly, "I wanted to ask about the unforgivables, especially the Killing Curse."

Moody's face grew curious, almost perversely so. "The Unforgivable curses, huh? They're intent-driven. You have to mean it, boy! You've seen firsthand what they're capable of." The class fell silent, and hushed murmurs filled the room.

Harry nodded, feeling the weight of Moody's words. "Yes, I saw it used on Cedric. It felt like all the light and joy went out of the world as it struck him. I saw the bloodlust on Voldemort's face."

Moody's expression turned to one of awe. "I see." He nodded. "Anything else?"

"Is there a way to block these curses?" Harry asked.

Moody looked intrigued. "The Killing Curse can only be countered by its target. You could do nothing for the boy except throwing yourself in front of him." Moody turned away. "Class is over for the day. Potter stays!"

The students filed out slowly. Harry nodded to Hermione and Ron to go with them.

After a while, only two remained: Moody and Harry.

"So, professor…" Harry began.

Moody cut him off with a wave of his hand. "Follow me, Potter."

They entered the staff room, and Moody closed the door behind them with an ominous thud. "Sit down, Potter!" Moody ordered, pointing to a chair near the fireplace.

As Harry sat, Moody smiled. "You know, Potter, it eludes me how someone like you could survive the Killing Curse from the Dark Lord."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean, professor?"

Moody ignored the question and stepped closer to Harry, rolling up his sleeve. "This thing! This means he is alive again! Not only that, but he has reached his full power once more. And you, a common filth, survived a Killing Curse from him?" Moody spat on the ground and slammed Harry's hand against the wall, causing it to bleed.

"Professor?" Harry's voice trembled, his fear palpable. "What's going on? Why are you doing this?" His hand shook uncontrollably as he fumbled for his wand, the sense of danger making every move feel slow and heavy.

Moody turned his back on Harry. "I heard about what happened yesterday! How you managed to counter the Dark Lord with some kind of spell. Let's see if you can do it twice!" Moody's disarming spell sent Harry's wand flying across the room. Moody reached into his pocket but found only an empty bottle. He cursed under his breath.

Harry, frightened, looked for an escape route. With his wand out of reach, he felt a strong sense of danger and attempted to flee. He grabbed for the door, but it was locked by the caricature of the professor, who was now rummaging through a chest of empty vials. "No matter," Moody cursed.

He turned toward Harry, who backed up against the fireplace.

"I will finish what the Dark Lord started!" the fake Moody said, pointing a wand at Harry.

Suddenly, the locked door flew open with an explosion of wood and metal shards, accompanied by the shout of none other than Headmaster Dumbledore, "Expelliarmus!"

The impostor Moody was thrown against the wall and slammed into a chair by Professor Snape, who poured Veritaserum down it's throat.

The interrogation that followed was brutal. Professors McGonagall, Dumbledore, and Snape extracted vital information from the fake Professor Moody.

Harry slumped into the chair next to the fireplace, feeling faint. This was all beginning to get to him. Once more, the teacher of the defense against dark magic turned out to be either a fraud or outright bad guy. Not only that. He was the one that made sure that things fell into place and he ended up at the cemetery. The young wizard was dazed. He noticed Snape dragging off the impostor named Barty Crouch Jr.

Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall were engaged in a heated discussion in the hallway. Their voices were hushed, but Harry could catch fragments of their conversation: "...extremely dangerous...another plot by Voldemort...must increase security..." The words only deepened Harry's anxiety.

Finally, Dumbledore approached Harry, his face calm but his eyes reflecting the weight of recent events. "Harry," he said gently, "I'm sorry you had to go through this after what happened yesterday. It was the only way to confirm our suspicions. Your friends are waiting for you outside this room. Please take some rest. I will visit you later to explain what just happened if you happen to have any questions." Dumbledor stated in a calm fatherly voice.

Harry nodded, feeling exhausted. "Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked, his voice weary.

Dumbledore placed a reassuring hand on Harry's shoulder. "For now, focus on your recovery."

Harry left the staff room leaving behind the two professors and found Hermione and Ron waiting anxiously in the hallway. Hermione's eyes were red, and Ron looked tense. As they saw Harry approach, their expressions softened.

"Are you alright, Harry?" Hermione asked, her voice filled with concern.

"I'm okay," Harry replied, though his tone betrayed his nervous exhaustion. "Let's just get out of here."

Harry stood in the corridor, gazing out the windows at the students making their way out of Hogwarts. The grounds were alive with activity as both the Hogwarts students and the visiting delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang prepared to leave for their respective homes. The air was filled with a mix of excitement and relief as the end of the school year approached.

As he watched the bustling scene below, Harry's thoughts were a jumbled mess. The tension of the day's events, coupled with the confusion and fear from the attack, left him feeling disoriented. He barely noticed the approaching figure until he heard Dumbledore's calm, familiar voice behind him.

"Harry," Dumbledore said gently, drawing Harry's attention from the window. "May I have a moment of your time?"

Harry turned to face the Headmaster, his expression a mix of weariness and resolve. "Of course, Professor."

Dumbledore nodded and gestured for Harry to walk with him. They moved a short distance down the corridor, away from the commotion, until they reached a quieter part of the castle. The soft light from the torches cast a warm glow, contrasting with the coolness of the stone walls.

"Harry," Dumbledore began, his tone reflecting the weight of the day's events, "I wanted to speak with you privately, away from the chaos."

Harry looked up, his eyes still reflecting the anxiety and confusion he felt. "What happened with Crouch? What's Voldemort planning?"

Dumbledore took a deep breath, his expression serious. "Barty Crouch Jr., using Polyjuice Potion, was impersonating Alastor Moody as part of a larger scheme. Voldemort sought to manipulate the Triwizard Tournament to create a direct path to you."

Harry's eyes widened in understanding and fear. "So it wasn't just about the Tournament? There's something bigger going on?"

"Yes," Dumbledore confirmed. "Voldemort's plan was to use the Tournament to weaken the protective barriers around you and other key figures. His ultimate aim is to confront and defeat you, as part of his broader goal to regain full power."

Harry clenched his fists, grappling with the enormity of the situation. "What can I do? How do I stop this?"

Dumbledore's gaze softened as he spoke. "First, focus on your well-being. The Ministry, Hogwarts, and the Order of the Phoenix are all mobilizing to address the threats. It's crucial that you prepare yourself for what lies ahead, but you are not alone."

Harry nodded, taking in Dumbledore's words. "Thanks, Professor. I've got a lot to think about."

Dumbledore placed a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder. "Remember, Harry, tomorrow marks the start of the summer holiday. It is a time for rest and reflection. Use it wisely. You have the support of your friends and many others who are dedicated to fighting this darkness alongside you."

Harry glanced back out the window at the departing students, feeling a mixture of determination and exhaustion. As the last of the visitors disappeared from view, he knew that while the summer would offer a brief respite, the challenges ahead would require all his strength and courage.

With a final nod to Dumbledore, Harry turned to leave.

"Harry, before you go, there's one more thing I need to discuss with you."

Harry turned back, curiosity piqued. "What is it, Professor?"

Dumbledore's gaze fell to Harry's forehead, where the lightning-shaped scar was found. "I've noticed that your scar has slightly faded." Dumbledore said, his tone a mix of concern and curiosity. "Do you feel anything unusual?"

Harry touched his forehead instinctively "I don't know, Professor. It's been… itching a bit, and there's a sort of tingly sensation, but I didn't think much of it."

Dumbledore studied Harry closely, his expression thoughtful. "This reaction could be linked to the recent events. Voldemort's connection to you is more than just physical; it's also emotional and magical. When he is near or when his plans are in motion, it can affect the scar's sensitivity."

Harry's heart sank at the thought. "So, you think this might be a sign that he's getting closer or that something's about to happen?"

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "It's possible. The scar is a conduit for his presence and emotions. If it's reacting strongly, it may indicate that his influence is growing. We'll need to keep a close watch on it and be vigilant."

Harry's face tightened with determination. "I'll keep an eye on it, Professor. If there's anything else I should be aware of?"

"I couldn't help but notice that crescent-shaped mark on your forehead yesterday. It seemed to be glowing faintly before it faded and you blacked out."

Harry's hand instinctively went to his forehead as he remembered the crescent moon shape that had adorned the forehead of Selene and Serenity in his dream.

Dumbledore's brow furrowed in thought. "It is unusual, indeed. While the lightning scar is well-known and has a clear connection to Voldemort, this crescent moon mark is something different. It could be a manifestation of a new magical influence."

Harry felt a shiver of apprehension mixed with intrigue. "So, what should I do?"

Dumbledore offered a reassuring smile. "For now, I would suggest paying close attention to it."

Harry nodded, feeling a mixture of confusion and resolve. "I'll do that, Professor. Thanks for bringing it up."

Dumbledore's gaze softened as he placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Remember, Harry, every new development has the potential to provide us with valuable insight. Stay vigilant, and continue to trust in your own instincts and the support of those around you."

With a final nod, Harry turned and walked towards the exit, the warm evening light casting a soothing glow on his path. As he stepped out of the castle and into the quiet grounds, he couldn't shake the feeling that this new mark might be a sign of something significant to come. The summer holiday was just beginning, but with it came a new layer of mystery.