Prophesied

Chapter 8

Creevey Snatching

"Erm...Harry?" I heard from behind Lita. "Sorry to bother you, but..." Collin looked uneasy as Dennis shuffled the letter in his hand from one to the other. "He's got our parents," the fifth year Prefect finally said.

"He left a letter," Collin added. Dennis handed it to me and I saw my name written in handwriting I've never see before. It reminded me of a snake slithering in the sand or something and I knew exactly this letter came from. I knew of only one person who loved snakes as much as to model their writing after them. Voldemort.

I had to give him props though, you had to know him to figure out who wrote it, and he definitely wanted me to know who he was.

I broke the green seal on the back and read the letter.

Harry Potter,

I have the Mudbloods' parents. If you do not surrender, they die.

I cursed and threw the letter. "Follow me," I said weary. Why this? Why now?

By the time we had reached my common room, both Hermione and Ron were a part of our group. Dumbledore was standing at the balcony doors; worry clearly etched on the old man's frail face. "You know?" he asked.

I nodded. "I know. Is there something you failed to tell me?" I was mad, needless to say. Lita traced a pattern on my back as a way to calm me down, a first, but it was working. She probably knows what I'm feeling, empath that she is. Some times I really hate that. "How long has he had them?"

"I do not know, Harry," Dumbledore informed me. Great. "He seems not to have planned this in its entirety."

"That's not like him at all," I interrupted. "You know that, Dumbledore. He planes everything to the last detail; you of all people should know that. And if that's the case, how do we even know he really has them? How do we know he isn't just trying to distract us?"

Finally, I'm starting to think like Hermione. It's about time.

Everyone stared at me. My scar started to burn and I felt a rush of anger and impressiveness.

Lita snatched her hand away and stepped away from me.

"What is it, Harry?" Dumbledore asked.

"He's angry," I answered. "I've figured it out, so he's angry, but he's also impressed. He doesn't have them. He may have said he did, but he doesn't."

I heard two sighs of relief behind me. I looked at the two brothers. "Your parents are fine," I promised. "They're safe." I looked at Hermione and saw her look of pride that I figured it out on my own so quickly. "Guess I really can learn," I joked. We really don't need another Department of Mysteries incident.

Collin and Dennis left and I looked back at Dumbledore. Who told him about the Creeveys? Was it Snape?
~*~*~*~

That scared me. Almost nothing in this world scares me, but that did. I felt You-Know-Who. I don't think I've been more terrified.

As Dumbledore left, I surrendered myself to my sanctuary on the balcony and stared up at the darkening sky as I sat on that 12-inch wide rail and cried.

I wiped the tears away on the sleeve of my robes as the door opened and Harry walked out.

"Think I'm crazy yet?" he asked.

"No," I answered truthfully. "I felt it too."

"You felt Voldemort?"

I flinched. Don't say that name! I nodded. "I felt You-Know-Who, and I've never been more scared in my life. Not even when the Death Eaters attacked my mom." Stop it, Lita; we don't need to talk about mom. "How can someone be so angry?"

"Voldemort--" I flinched "--is an interesting person. And would you please stop flinching every time I say that name? It's just a name, nothing more.

"Anyway, Voldemort is half Muggle. His real name is Tom Marvolo Riddle. His mum lived only long enough to name him after his father who wanted nothing to do with him. The man had a sort of Pureblood attitude only he hated magic and anything to do with it. So Tom was raised in a Muggle orphanage.

"When he came to Hogwarts, he was top of his year, like Hermione. Made Prefect and Head Boy. When he was 16, he left behind a diary and opened the Chamber of Secrets. He sent the Basilisk on the Muggle borns and finally killed one. Do you know Moaning Myrttle?"

I laughed. "Of course I know Moaning Myrttle. She's a bit taken with you."

He smiled sheepishly. "I know.

"Did you ever wonder how he got the name?" he asked changing the subject back. "How he came up with 'Voldemort'?" I nodded. "He wanted a name that he knew wizards would one day fear to speak. He took the letters of his name and rearranged them to read 'I am Lord Voldemort'. And he was right. Wizards everywhere fear to speak it."

"So Voldemort's like Hitler? Being half of what the hates?"

"Nothing gets by you, does it?"

"Some things do," I admitted. "So why did he say he had those kids' parents?"

"Didn't you hear Dumbledore?" he asked leaning against the rail. "He wants to know how far I'll go to save someone. He should have figured that out when he said he had my godfather."

"He said he had your godfather?"

"Didn't anyone tell you how my godfather died?" he asked. I shook my head. "We were at the Department of Mysteries. All year Voldemort had been showing me this corridor in my dreams and I didn't understand until an Occlumency lesson with Snape when a memory of my trial came up. When O.W.L.s started, I had a dream that he was torturing Sirius. I went to rescue him, he went to rescue me, and he died because of it."

"How?"

"He fell behind the veil."

"He's not dead then." I informed him. "He can't be. He fell behind the veil alive, right?"

"Right," Harry said slowly.

"Then he's not dead. He's just waiting for someone to pull back the veil. Merlin, Harry, didn't anyone tell you?"

"No," he said. "Not a soul. His own husband said he was dead."

I am very jealous now. I looked over to the forest away from him. at least he could bring back his godfather, I had completely lost my family right before my very own eyes. I swear, I'm damned to the depths, damned to the depths of hell to feel this much despair after so long.

I rested my head against my knees and heard Harry's footsteps bring him closer to me. I looked up to see his shining emerald eyes inches away from my own. He put his arm around me and kissed the top of my head.

"Do you remember when you told me that you didn't know if you had the strength to choose differently than your brother?" he asked. I nodded. "What did you mean?"

"Suicide," I answered softly looking away. I could not face those eyes now that he knew.

Gently, he turned my face so that I would face him again. "Don't," he whispered. His voice was so quiet and filled with so much emotion that it brought more tears to my eyes. I wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my face in his shoulder and cried.

I've spent so much of my time crying lately. I've spent so much time asking for a reason to hold on, to keep going, to not give up. Ron and Hermione have asked me to help Harry. I don't think they realize just how much he's helping me instead.