Equal Nemesis

Equal Nemesis.

Chapter 6.

The Misshapen Allies

After a hot day with a long Order meeting, Remus was glad to inhale some fresh night air. He sat on the porch stair with a badly needed coffee in his hands. He didn't care that it was piping hot, the mug scalding his palms and pain stabbing into every pore. It was sort of a wake up call, needed to break out of his dreamy thoughts and stupor. It was essential for Remus to be more alert, especially since-- he looked up. The nearly full moon rose above in the night sky, surrounded by a murky white halo and tiny twinkling stars.

Remus used to sit outside his childhood, countryside home when it neared the time of his werewolf transformation. He would hide from his parents who would call out for him, in fear that their werewolf son would go missing. It would have been disastrous if that happened.

Remus had always lain down in the long grass on one particular spot, every month, before the moon waxed. He'd sit on the very spot he'd been bitten as a child, as though that very spot was the birthplace he had to return to by instinct. If he were there, at his home, which lingered only as a memory after his parents had died ten years before, he would be doing it again; Remus would have been sitting outside in the long grass that precise moment.

Remus had always ignored his parents' pleas to come back into the house, since he wanted to stay outside in the night sky, watching the moon in nearly all its brilliance. He wanted to sit there for a long time, because soon he would be locked in the basement for a few days in agony. Remus shivered at the thought of being locked away. He hated it; he loathed being a deadly creature. Without the recent development of the Wolfsbane Potion, his claws would be tearing his skin, sometimes ripping his claws off as he ran them on the walls, desperate to get out of the bland, unfriendly room, howling in pain; in discomfort ... He wanted to search for the prey he lusted for.

He cursed the beast for preying on and biting an innocent child who lay in the grass, hypnotised by the full moon.

Remus glanced at the moon, blinking away his memories. The dark wounds on the Luna surface, craters created by meteors, were scrupulously positioned to look as if it was an unrefined face. Remus wanted to appreciate the moon's natural and mysterious elegance ... to love the moon before he feared it, but how could he do it, when its hallow dark eyes watched him, silently knowing what he will become.

Remus trembled, feeling something stir behind him. The scrunching of leaves and the atmospheric disturbance he sensed told him he wasn't alone any more.

"Would you like to barter the coffee for some delicious Wolfsbane Potion?" Sirius' smug voice rang.

Remus snorted, still staring at the moon. "I'd rather not."

"Remus, the smoke is blinding my sight. Take the bloody thing." Sirius cringed, handing his best friend the goblet. "Smells awful too."

Remus snarled before gulping down the disgusting potion. Grimacing, he grabbed his coffee and noticed it was half empty. He gave Sirius a scolding look, but Sirius' mind was elsewhere, because he too looked up at the starry sky. Though the light pouring out of the windows did dim the night from its wonderful display.

"I've been at Morganna's for a while after Kingsley let me go from the Ministry," Sirius said.

"As I can see ... after all, you brought me back the potion, didn't you?"

"--You insufferable git, Remus!" Sirius retorted with a grin.

"Not as big as you are, dear Sirius!" Remus included, taking a break from sipping his coffee.

"I was walking by the Auror department when I saw Quenby Warwick and Charles Billsbarough arguing. Kingsley told me about their situation, so they say. Amelia Bones had been getting complaints from both the men to arrest the other," Sirius laughed. "Quite funny actually. I can't believe their feud had been going on for a year now. Nobody knows what they're fighting about anyway."

Remus looked appalled. "Arthur said Charles wanted to be a Confederation member because he couldn't stand the sight of Quenby's face in the Wizengamot."

"I don't blame the poor fellow. Have you seen Quenby's face?"

"No, but unlike you, there is nothing amusing about his appearance," Remus scolded. His best friend laughed silently and looked at the moon.

Sirius quieted down for a while, his carefree nature washed away by a pensive sigh. "Dumbledore sent a message telling us about what happened with Neville. Harry?"

"I couldn't say. Harry seems a little forlorn," Remus mused. "Niamh should be speaking to them soon. Remember, Dumbledore halted further instruction on Niamh's part until they began to show signs of the power, in order to tell them how to control some aspects of it. After all, she was the Guardian's wife. She knew things about her husband -- her son and Harry's ancestry."

Remus rested his head on his arms for a while, happy to be in Sirius' company. He felt empty and only the company of his best friend could help him through his little bout of misery. "I hope what Neville said won't come true," he heard Sirius say.

At the proclamation, Remus watched his best friend attentively. "So do I. But even if it won't come true, Harry will have to face something like that eventually--"

"What if he just stumbled across the body? I mean he could-- He's too young Remus! He's not an Auror. He's just a ... a boy."

"A powerful wizard with a lot of enemies, Sirius," Remus said. "And unfortunately, he'll have to learn more faster than anyone else." Remus closed his eyes, sighing. "Whatever happens, Sirius, he has us to pull himself through."

Sirius shook his head, disheartened. "No. I have this weird feeling that he'll be alone when he faces that. Maybe this is what it's like to be a parent: overreacting is part of the job." He smiled lamely. "But somehow, I really do feel that he'll be alone, and I don't want him to be alone."

"It would've been worse if you had actually died in the Department of Mysteries, Sirius, because Harry would've been alone -- completely lost for guidance."

"Remus, Harry has you too!" Sirius snorted. "What are you? The spectator?"

Remus smirked. "I'm tempted to dump the rest of my coffee over your head."

"Try it and I'll turn you into a chocolate biscuit. I'm starving." Sirius added, rubbing his stomach which growled with hunger pangs, but a furrow line appeared between his eyes, considering his mind still concentrated on Harry.

"What, Morganna didn't have anything edible in the house?"

"If you must ask ... no! Her mother has been ill for a while and everything in storage went off. Though she did offer me a boiled dragon's heart, but I passed."

Remus winced and leaned his head back, allowing the wind to lift his greying air, like leaves of a tree. "Sirius ... really, she must have said something insulting when she offered the heart. A Snape is a Snape."

"I'm not saying anything," Sirius said curtly with narrowed eyes. "My ego has been tarnished enough the past year by this woman."

Remus chuckled silently and observed the moon hiding briefly behind a lonely, muddy cloud. His thoughts on Harry slowly morphed into his father, James. Remus began longing for the more innocent times, when troubles about Voldemort, prophecies and children getting involved and dying by the Dark Lord was rarely heard of. Remus remembered his adventures at Hogwarts with Sirius, James and ... Peter.

Remus looked away, suddenly remembering about Wormtail. His heart constricted at the thought of that traitor.

"I didn't tell you this Sirius, but I met Mrs. Pettigrew ... twice. Once, soon after your trial. The second time in May, after Peter was killed." Sirius didn't speak, and that was a reaction Remus was not waiting for.

"Sirius?"

"What?" Sirius frowned, turning to look his best friend in the eye. His eyes blazed with anger, hurt and betrayal again. "What happened?"

"As you could imagine, she was deeply upset in both occasions. Peter was her son, Sirius. Her sweet little angel. Hero to the world in her eyes. She had lived for fifteen years with the notion that her son had courageously died saving thirteen people and sending you to jail ... as you can expect she was pretty angry with it all, denying the truth that he was a murderer and the traitor to the Potters."

"Why should we care?" Sirius scoffed loudly, digging the toe of his boot into the dirt. "We didn't know the woman that well."

They had all met Peter's mother, Agnes Pettigrew in their days at Hogwarts, but they had met her just twice on Platform Nine and Three Quarters. Peter wasn't exactly fond of talking about his family life ... he seemed a little embarrassed talking about his private life, and therefore Sirius, Remus and James never knew much about Peter. Only the facts that his father had died when he was very young and they lived poorly with his mother's older sister Alana.

Remus closed his eyes. "Because Peter's mother didn't betray us. She, at least, deserves respect and the truth."

"Oh Remus, you didn't tell her Peter saved Harry and Hermione's life after all he did?" Sirius eyed his best friend in horror. "As if one good deed -- unwillingly made, would make up for all the agony he had caused to all our lives."

Remus nodded sadly. "But I had to. Albus told me Mrs. Pettigrew stormed into the Department of Law and Enforcement, demanding a retrial, crying in hysterics that her son was innocent. One of the Aurors knocked some sense into her. When she finally realised, she gave up! She went almost catatonic for a while, refusing to eat or drink. Then she locked herself in her room, crying non-stop. Her sister, Alana, contacted Albus fearing the worst... he referred her to me. I had to do something. I didn't want to do it -- to say it. However, if it was the only truth in this man's blackened heart which could help his mother, then it was a chance I had to take."

The look of betrayal and heartache evident on Sirius' face softened a bit. "And...?"

"Well," Remus shrugged. "She's a little better ... the last I heard from her. She mourns her son's death, naturally, and she mourns for what he did ... but she'll always be a mother who has unconditional love for her child."

A silence lingered for a while. Remus didn't want to push his best friend into changing his feelings. He was the type of person who held onto a grudge, unwilling to compromise on the innocents involved with someone who hurt him.

Sirius rubbed his aching eyes in frustration. "I was angry at you, for even talking to that woman, but now ..."

Remus observed the moon reflecting off Sirius' dark eyes, waiting patiently for his next words. Sirius was a little lost; his feelings were confused, but Remus understood what his best friend was going though. They were still torn about Peter and his betrayal. No matter how they tried to forget him, there was something pulling at their hearts, stretching the pain further. The pain would never be healed, because they were never willing to let go of what Peter did to them.

Sirius picked up a small rock from the ground and threw towards the rickety fence. "I don't blame Mrs. Pettigrew for her outrage, her blame and her denial anymore," Sirius spoke, "she's a mother Peter didn't deserve ... even after he had saved my godson and Hermione from death."

***

Harry lay on his bed staring at the ceiling, watching the shadows dancing by the candlelight as he listened to Ron read out a letter by Parvati. Harry was glad he had stopped thinking about Neville's prophetic vision, but he wondered why his new powers were taking time to appear. Maybe it was only meant to work in Neville. But then Harry remembered that it could take months or years for the power to develop. Yeah ... Half the wizarding world will be dead by the time The Water of Knowledge starts taking effect in me, Harry thought drearily.

Harry tore his depressing thoughts away, and realised he still had his mother's pendant resting between his fingers. Its cool touch was pleasant on his skin, driving the thought of the horrid heat from his mind. Aunt Petunia had given him the silver pendant in sixth year. She had kept it secret in her possession with the letter that Dumbledore gave them, when Harry was left on their doorstep.

Harry contemplated on putting it on a chain around his neck, but he felt safer with it in the drawer where he could always find it. He was scared he would lose it while playing Quidditch or worse.

"...Oh and look, Buster destroyed her favourite teddy bear," Ron said loudly, talking about Parvati Patil's cat, who was Lilac's sibling . "How lovely." Ron had been trying to distract them from Neville's news by reading out some funny articles in the Quibbler when an owl dropped Parvati's letter.

"Oh dear," Hermione muttered, looking over an old text of: Prophecies: Are you Completely Boggled by Them? By Pendle Noitall, a book which she had found in Sirius' library. Hermione read it with complete cynicism. Harry was still surprised that she became more open-minded when it came to prophecies. However this book she found was utterly unbelievable and she had not been shy to tell them about her thoughts of disbelief.

Neville whimpered, his form half hidden within Harry's armchair. "That cat earned me detention with the Potions Mistress when he destroyed my essay last year."

Harry snorted lightly, putting his pendant into the bedside drawer. "Buster must have all the bad genes in Crookshanks' and Persia's gene pools."

"What's a gene pool--?" Ron tried to ask at the same time, but Hermione spoke over him in defence of the cat.

"Oh leave Buster alone. He is very curious." Hermione retorted. "Genes are -- how can I best phrase it, when you have no knowledge of Muggle science." Hermione bit her lip thinking. "Genes are elements passed on by your parents which make you different from the next person. They are like the jigsaw pieces-- part comes from your mother, another from your father -- which mix and match and come together to make you, who you are."

"See Ron, you've inherited your Dad's nose, while Ginny's got her Mum's nose, but you've both inherited the same brown eyes your Mum has," Harry added. Ron seemed to have gotten a vague idea and didn't prod further with the question. "Now, what was I going to say... Oh, my cat! Lilac is curious too, Hermione, but do you see my cat acting like something which sprouted out of hell?"

"Well, except when Lilac's near Mrs. Norris," Ron said, "then chaos and destruction is so much more interesting -- Say-- that's just given me an idea!"

"What?" Ginny asked bemusedly. She sat down on the edge of Harry's bed, as Hermione narrowed her eyes at Ron.

"Why don't we lock Buster in Filch's office and see what happen--"

"RON!" Hermione yelled.

Harry, Ginny and Neville doubled up laughing, hearing Ron say, "I know, I know! I'm a Prefect and must uphold all authority, " he said in a monotonous voice, which made him sound as if he had said it over and over again.

Hermione heaved her chest, pursing her lips. "I'm Head Girl now so you all better watch out."

"Hermione, school starts in two days. I would like to enjoy my freedom without you telling us off every other second," Harry piped up, getting up from his bed to look out of the window. He saw Sirius and Remus sitting on the porch steps.

Hermione shot up and picked up her books. "I'm going back to the library to find something on An Tobar Le Fios, just for background reading. Ron, I'll need your help." Ron rolled his head back in annoyance, but reluctantly followed Hermione.

Ginny walked by Harry's side. They both wondered what Sirius and Remus were talking about. By the way their backs were hunched, Harry guessed it wasn't anything good. It wasn't until Harry heard Brian squeal that he turned his back from the window. He saw Mrs. O'Connor enter with her son. Ginny waved to the baby brightly.

"Right ..." Mrs. O'Connor said drearily in her heavy Irish accent as she put her baby boy on her lap. She looked around with a frown and said, "I thought Hermione wanted to absorb as much information as she could."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, she does. She's gone to get a book on An Tobar Le Fios."

"She won't find much other than what is already known. You all know it is a vague legend, but nothing else to most people." Mrs. O'Connor blinked.

"Hermione knows, but she likes to have any bits of information at hand," Harry said.

"Does the girl ever take a break from study?"

"No," both Harry and Ginny said. Neville shook his head.

"You should've seen her in third year. She took up all twelve subjects Hogwarts had to offer."

Mrs. O'Connor furrowed. "I'm guessing she had some authorised help to accomplish them. But really no one could survive twelve subjects."

"Yeah. She nearly had a breakdown."

"Too be expected, I daresay," Mrs. O'Connor said with a side-glance.

Harry heard a door slam and Ron walked in, passed by Harry and whispered in his ear. "I'm never, ever going to help Hermione find a book ever again, Harry! That was it! I can't take the pressure anymore. What she was looking for wasn't there, but no, Hermione has to make a triple check of the shelves."

"I'm sorry mate, but you knew what you were getting yourself into," Harry laughed.

Harry began coughing, and tried to keep his face straight when Hermione entered, with her arms empty, her frizzy hair bouncing up and down. She sat down next to Harry, looking a little disappointed.

The light in the room improved by lighting some more candles which Harry ignited with his wand. He and Ginny watched Brian comfortably from their seats, waiting for Mrs. O'Connor to begin what she needed to say.

"Well, you all know the history about An Tobar Le Fios and the well's powers. The ancestry behind the production of the Well of Knowledge spans back 1500 years before our time to the three great witch and wizards; Tailisin, Merlin and Ceridwin Gryffindor. Do you remember what Professor Dumbledore said when he spoke to you all in the Hospital wing last year?"

Harry tried to remember the exact words, but he sensed that all eyes were focused on Hermione.

"Professor Dumbledore said to us," Hermione explained slowly, "that their inspiration to give people their gifts blinded them, because at times great knowledge corrupted people."

Mrs. O'Connor nodded, her eyelids swooping down for a moment in reflection, Harry could see she was trying to not think about her deceased husband.

"Yes, which means that there will be times when you, Harry and Neville, will experience blindness of knowledge. You-Know-Who will surely experience also. There will be times when you will know something, but will not be aware of something else that is important and connected to it.

"You-Know-Who may be more affected. His ambitions are strong and he may not realise what other things are happening around him. This is an advantage to the Order and the Ministry."

"That's one good thing," Harry said.

"You can also will your power to discover something new; to make yourself realise what you need to know. However, you can also suppress it at times or it may suppress itself without you willing it to do so. Premonitions and prophetic visions of the present and future come sporadically. You know that by now. But things of the past you can find out willingly."

Mrs. O'Connor paused, brushing away her son's black hair from his eyes. Her eyes were without emotion. She seemed blank. Harry noted her voice was monotonous, like the conversation was beginning to bore her.

"Having this power will not make you an 'O' grade student," she continued

"See, Hermione? Told you, you'll still be top of the class," Ron snorted. Hermione blinked and gave Ron a reproving glare.

Harry wasn't exactly keen on using this power for school, he was only interested in stopping Voldemort fulfil his ambitions.

"To use your power, you must first ask the question to the answer you yearn for, and it will come. At first it will be slow to react; you will feel that you know the answer but cannot fully pinpoint what it is. As the power strengthens the answer comes quickly..."

"I understand now ... but why can't I get an O for my potions essay?" Neville asked curiously.

"Because you will not realise every question you want to ask. You may know many things you ask for, but others you will not. It depends on the differences of mind and determination."

After answering a couple of questions Hermione put up, Mrs. O'Connor left with her son. Brian needed a nappy change. Tears were spilling down his cheeks and his face screwed up by the discomfort.

When Mrs. O'Connor tottered off with her son, Epona bustled in with some tea, biscuit and cakes for them all. Harry was glad Epona brought them in. He was feeling drained and weak, his stomach growled, even though they had dinner two hours before.

Harry turned round to pass some biscuits to Hermione and saw Neville wringing his hands. He was staring down at his tea, making Harry wonder what he was thinking about.

"What's wrong, Neville?"

"I've been thinking a lot about this power, Harry," Neville finally spoke, displaying a daunted look in his eyes.

"About what? You're not regretting it, are you? Please don't tell me it was a big mistake. Neville?" Harry had been having nightmares ever since he was told he should let Neville drink the water. Neville kept popping into his dreams blaming and hating him for ever letting him. Harry just hope it never came true like that.

Neville shook his head, wide-eyed, seeing the alarmed look on Harry's face. "No, Harry, quite the contrary!" He smiled. "I mean ... before Vedas the Salmon of Wisdom gave you the speech potions to help you talk again, you felt lost, didn't you?"

"Of course I did!" Harry said. "Professor Snape told me at the Muggle hospital that he would try to make one, but there was no potion known to help me. Then he died and that was a bad blow. I thought I was never going to do proper magic ever again."

"But Vedas discovered one for you and all was made well ..." Neville grinned broadly. "You know what this means, don't you?"

Harry blinked, quite clueless to what Neville was going on about, when he suddenly realised. Hermione smiled happily knowing why.

"My parents, Harry ... I can bring back my parents."

Harry couldn't help but feel joy as well. Amongst the depression of trying to stop Voldemort, here was a chance to heal the Longbottoms from their insanity.

"If I do what Mrs. O'Connor told us to do ... to really concentrate on what we want to know ... it may takes months or even years-- I don't care because I'm going to hear my mother say my name for the first time."

Harry grinned and his eyes twinkled as he gazed at Hermione, Ron and Ginny. "It's a great ambition Neville. I'm sure it'll happen."

After talking about Neville's parents, Neville was allowed to stay for the night after Sirius notified his grandmother. She was more than happy to let him stay, and Neville was glad that his uncle had found Trevor, who was hiding beneath a kitchen saucepan. Neville was to sleep in Harry's room after another bed was hauled in by his godfather. Sirius admired his handiwork and said it was coming to resemble a Hogwarts dorm.

Harry longed for Hogwarts: the atmosphere of the castle, the ancient rooms, sitting in the Great Hall for meals and playing Quidditch. But his new home equalled the serenity and happiness of Hogwarts. Harry felt as though his home at Black Manor was a holiday home, a home away from home. This made his ache to return to Hogwarts lessen. Maybe it was because he wasn't living with the Dursleys anymore and he had found a place besides school where he truly belonged.

***

It was one in the morning when Harry awoke to hear Ron and Neville snoring. Harry lay in his bed for a minute or so, hearing Ron mumble in his sleep in between snores.

Harry loathed when his friends had nightmares, because whatever they dreamed about was out of his own doing. He thought everything he had put them through had created irreparable wounds. He couldn't get the feeling of guilt out of his heart, but he knew very well that his friends would never leave his side no matter how hard he tried to make them think otherwise. He wasn't sure if he should feel grateful or more despaired at that thought.

Deciding to make himself some warm milk, Harry held his breath, hoping to catch a word or two as he tiptoed past his best friend's bed. Ron lay sprawled, his gangly feet hanging off the edge of the bed and his bed sheets were wrinkled over his body. Occasionally his arms would twitch. Ron didn't say much as his bad dream reeled its devastating images, but when he did say some fragmented words, Harry struggled to decipher them. He hoped Ron wasn't dreaming too badly as he leaned over him to listen in more closely. Ron made an almightily grunt and when Harry looked down, he discovered Ron had opened his eyes.

"Whas wrong 'arry?" he said, very groggily.

"No-nothing. I thought you were having a nightmare. I just wanted to make sure you were all right," Harry whispered.

Ron smiled weakly. "Thanks." Then he fell asleep so quickly, it was as if someone had put a Stunning Spell on him.

Harry stood over Ron for a moment, just to make sure the dream didn't start up again and it didn't, so he quietly snuck himself into the kitchen. Harry tried not to bother Epona as he passed her sleeping quarters. The last thing he wanted was to wake the sleeping house-elf to get him something as simple as milk. But Epona mysteriously appeared in front of the sink in the kitchen, before he had the chance to grasp onto the milk bottle.

"Shall I makes you something, Master Potter?" she asked, twiddling her thumbs. Harry noticed pink frilly bows tied on her ears.

"Nah. No need to, Epona. I can handle this myself. I just didn't want to disturb you," he said, looking for a pot.

The house-elf drooped her ears, tears forming in her big round eyes. Harry widened his eyes in alarm. He definitely didn't want to make her cry and wake the house up.

"Master's too good ... too humble." She shook her head, wiping her tears on her floral pillowcase. "Lets a lowly elf like me get some rest."

Harry rested his hands limply by his side and sat down. "Epona, you can do some things you like, you know. I mean, we're not like the family you grew up with before you came here. We allow you freedom, but you never take up the opportunity."

The house-elf sniffled. "Mother taught me to do what Master says, not to do what I wants."

"Yeah, and I understand, but I'm teaching you that you don't have to all the time in this family."

"My duty is to serve my family every minute of the day, forever," she declared defiantly.

Harry sighed, giving up. Epona would never take some time to do whatever she wanted. "All right, all right. But the offer still stands anyway. If Hermione starts talking about SPEW, then just make an excuse and run off quickly."

Epona covered her mouth and giggled.

"Did I hear something about SPEW?" Hermione whispered by the doorway.

Harry turned around in fright at hearing Hermione's voice. Harry hoped she didn't hear the entire conversation.

Epona giggled some more before disappearing from the kitchen, leaving Harry by himself with Hermione staring vividly at his figure.

"Thanks for trying Harry ... I mean, telling Epona that she has freedom. It's my number one declaration on my SPEW document."

"Oh you heard." Harry bit his lip, pouring the milk in the pot and turning the stove on.

"Yeah ... I thought I changed your mind about SPEW until the last thing you said." Hermione pouted, making Harry snort at the look of disappointment on her face. "Harry, SPEW is a serious organisation--"

"I know, I know. I'm not laughing at the organisation Hermione, It's just that maybe some things will never change."

"Change takes time. I don't care how long, or how many generations pass, but I believe that in the future, elves will have their freedom," Hermione replied, walking in. She flexed her fingers over the fruit bowl on the pantry and chose a peach to eat.

"How come you're up?" Harry asked, hopefully changing the subject, grabbing an apple to eat.

"I fell asleep in the library." Hermione rolled her eyes when Harry nearly choked on his apple. "What about you?"

"I just woke up and decided to make some warm milk," Harry said, stirring the milk as it warmed. "Ron had a bad dream, but he's right now." Harry sighed. "It's funny really!"

"What is?" Hermione said sitting down at the table.

"How everyone notices my nightmares, but why doesn't anyone notice the ones you and Ron have?" Harry said quickly.

"It's nothi-"

"It's not nothing, Hermione," Harry interrupted, turning to face her.

"Harry, they're just dreams. At least we don't have the visions you do. I don't know how I'd survive knowing that something that is happening in my dream is real." Hermione stood up and walked to his side. She reached for Harry's raven hair and stroked the fringe away from his eyes. Harry was motionless as she did it, staring at the simmering milk. He clenched his eyes shut trying to forget about the visions he had suffered in the past.

Hermione sighed, switching off the stove. "Do you really want to know what I dream about sometimes?"

Harry nodded. He just wanted to know. He guessed that she dreamt about the events which had occurred in the summer before sixth year and ...

"In one way, one of my dreams is selfish." She gulped. Harry listened in bewilderment. "I dream about the time I drowned. I wasn't afraid of death, but I was afraid of leaving you, because I was so scared of being alone."

"Hermione--"

"No matter how much I tried, I could never come back to you. I just saw myself falling deeper in the darkness with your voice fading away..."

"Hermione, you'll never be alone." Harry looked at her, seeing her eyes glistening with tears reflecting off the candlelight. He leaned forward and kissed her gently upon her forehead.

Hermione closed her eyes, letting out a trembling breath. Her nose snuggled softly against his and Harry felt her breath tickle his cheek. "I love you so much that sometimes I think I can never let you go."

"You let me go quite well when you went overseas." Harry smiled as Hermione lightly planted a kiss at the corner of his mouth.

"I didn't mean it like that." Hermione opened her eyes. "I mean letting you go fight Voldemort."

A pause followed. Harry wasn't sure what he was supposed to say.

"But- but I'll come back to you." Harry gulped. Hermione locked her eyes on his. It sounded quite forced and Harry knew it, because underneath the words, a dark doubt covered his heart, and he really meant the opposite. Hermione pulled away from him, an act Harry had expected would happen.

"Oh, Harry. I can't believe you're thinking like that."

He had gone too far and it broke his heart seeing Hermione upset. But inspiration soon flooded back into his soul as he observed her frustrated and hurt expression. He grabbed her hand, pulling her towards him again. "I will come back!"

Hermione let out a small whimper, but she rested her head on his shoulders, wrapping her arms around Harry. "That's more like it!" she said sniffling. "I have to know you'll come back Harry, because if I don't, I'll be looking at you from now on knowing that I'll really have to let you go."

***

The water was smooth and still, like a fine sheet of glass reflecting the near full moon in the sky. The clouds passed lazily and a lone dark seagull soared above their heads. The view became disturbed when Voldemort dipped his wand within the shallows, destroying the fragility of the water's surface. Everything reflected soon became distorted beyond recognition. Voldemort sighed, looking into the dark horizon of the ocean.

In the distance, the sounds of waves crashing into the rocks roused their ears. But near them, nothing moved. The wind did not exist. It was as if nature knew what was coming and it feared it.

Voldemort removed his wand from the water and waited, resting his arm on his knee. His Death Eaters were behind him, waiting for the sign. The water sat peaceful once more. The moon, which had been blinking in the ripples. now watched unmoved. That was until Voldemort saw something splash and the white orb vanished again. Voldemort backed away, his arms out spread for his Death Eaters to remain attentive.

The creature splashed, slithered onto the beach.... then another followed its path, and another, until the wet sand in front of Voldemort was filled with thin, black water snakes, creating a moving, slippery carpet of black.

This was usually the first sign of the approach.

Voldemort leered in excitement and in anticipation as he heard the growing hisses like a beautiful opera. His heart was without fear, but filled with adrenalin. His pupils dilated for a moment and he could hear the whispers of the snakes telling him that they were coming.

"My Lord," Lucius started, but he was silenced by a cheerful looking Dark Lord.

"Hear and observe, Lucius. Our new allies will come soon ... listen to the music of the dear animals."

Lucius turned back to a hesitant looking mob of Death Eaters, who stood quiet. Some moved back in haste at seeing the serpents slithering onto the beach, while others stood frozen in awe at what they were seeing. "Very well, Lord, I will return to my post."

Voldemort turned, his cloak spiralling as he watched Lucius' black form retreat into the shadows of the night. Then something made him turn again to observe the quiet ocean in front of him.

The snakes which showered the sand, slithered and hissed no more; they had turned into wilted black seaweed. Voldemort's eyes trailed up and he saw a path on the water, blacker than the ocean could possibly muster at night. In the distance Voldemort saw something penetrate the surface. It grew bigger as it floated to the shore, rising above the surface with each step. A figure, that of a woman presumably, waved her hands delicately in the still surf. The water beneath her black shadowy fingers, splashing around. She was black ... her face unseeable, for she was like a black blur painted on air. She was solid, yet like a slick shadow moving in air and space.

She opened an eye- the only one she had. Voldemort could see straight through it, and into the ocean, where more figures of different shapes and forms emerged with her. Some towered over them like giants, others small, barely knee high. All were like her in a shadowy black, except they had either one eye, or one arm or leg.

"The Formorii, I presume?" Voldemort hissed diplomatically, seeing the others form a straight line along the beach, behind the woman. "I have not yet seen you for what you are. No one has seen your presence for more than a thousand years."

The woman in front of Voldemort opened her mouth and fangs emerged. Two long spikes protruded from her mouth, like visible weapons. Her white tongue, glowing brightly, licked her teeth showing off what she had to the Dark Lord. "Yessss Lord ..." She hissed so coldly that the Death Eaters felt like they had been bathed in ice cold water . She waved her hand behind her slowly, like a gentle ballet she was performing within the water. "We are at your command." She bowed.

Voldemort eyes blazed and he welcomed them into his fold. "Your name, Mistress."

"Nathairyn. We welcome your authority, Master. Many have died because of our inner wars, but size does not matter. We will conquer what you tell us to do," she whispered. Her voice travelled like it was on a non-existent wind.

Voldemort inclined his head a little and looked at each figure in turn. Standing still, blacker than their surroundings, he hoped that the stories he had heard were buried in the past. "You will not challenge my power, will you? The deceitful, cunning and traitorous manipulation of your people between battling sides of man make your people infamous."

The woman shook her head and her hair swayed, reminding Voldemort of a Veela, except it swayed like seaweed, as if water surrounded her and them.

"No ... we will not. We have been in anarchy without any sense or purpose for so long. We will not challenge those we have allowed to become our leader. But will use our ways to stir trouble in peaceful areas, my Lord ... with your permission that is."

"Very well, I will call for you when needed. You will deal with those I want sorted."