Rating:
R
House:
Schnoogle
Characters:
Draco Malfoy Luna Lovegood Neville Longbottom
Genres:
Drama Romance
Era:
Multiple Eras
Spoilers:
Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire Order of the Phoenix
Stats:
Published: 04/20/2004
Updated: 05/23/2005
Words: 183,271
Chapters: 28
Hits: 51,099

HARRY POTTER AND THE PROPHECY TRUE

dan's girl62

Story Summary:
Year six is over, Harry has grown into a great wizard with powers even surpassing and surprising the Dark Lord and Dumbledore. He has found his soul mate and has discovered the fifth point of the star. But can he find the Green Flame Torch prophesized to be the link to Voldemort’s destruction? Can he save the wizarding world before the son of evil is born and will he be able to let go of the past and build a future, or will he use his powers to change all that he has become to regain all that he has lost? Rated R for future chapters.

Chapter 03

Posted:
05/20/2004
Hits:
1,904
Author's Note:
Thank you as always to "D" for your support and help and to my son Jamie for giving me additional support and ideas. I love you both. Sorry folks, I was on my own for this one. Please read the post note!


Chapter three

"Did I hear correctly? Has Harry gone off on his own?" Dumbledore asked stepping into the kitchen of the burrow, followed behind by Snape and Moody. The twins turned to look at the old wizard in surprise, along with Ron, Hermione and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley who looked up from their breakfasts.

"We just learned about it ourselves," Mr. Weasley said in a disgusted tone, his eyes looking upwards as if he could see his daughter sulking in her room above him.

"Doesn't that boy realize what he's getting himself into?" Snape asked, joining the headmaster.

"He knows," Mrs. Weasley said, setting a cup of tea in front of the greasy haired git.

"It was foolish for him to run off alone," Moody complained after accepting a cup of tea from Mrs. Weasley.

"It was careless and reckless," Snape added bitterly, shaking his head when offered a cup of tea. "Typical Potter attitude. Acting just like his father."

"If Harry were here, he'd thank you for the compliment," Ron said, defending his best friend.

"Ginny said, Harry had a visit from the three witches of old," Hermione explained as she joined them at the table. "They told him of the quest he had to go on to find the Green Flame Torch."

"The witches are a legend," Snape insisted bitterly, using his usual classroom tone.

"They are not legend," Ron argued from beside Hermione. "Harry's dreams have all come true and he would never lie about something this important."

"Harry doesn't lie, regardless," Mrs. Weasley defended, glaring at Snape.

"I had a feeling if they were still alive, they would contact him," Dumbledore said at last, looking over his half moon-shaped glasses. "Harry's skills of Occlumency have grown stronger than expected. The prophecy predicted the powers of the mother would save the son."

"You mean you knew about all of this?" Ron asked the old man with a frown.

"Most of it, Mr. Weasley. There are still mysteries surrounding Harry that needs sorting."

"That prophecy didn't by any chance happen to mention when Harry was going to defeat Voldemort, did it?" Ron asked again, receiving a glare and a nudge in his ribs from Hermione.

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said with a serious tone. "But Harry is a very resourceful young man. I have a great deal of faith in him."

"We all do," Mr. Weasley added.

"What do you think he's doing?" George asked while the room became silent, each imagining their own answer to the question.

"Knowing Harry, he's probably apparated to a deserted island, with lots of native girls willing to be his slaves," Fred said in a wistful sort of tone.

"That's your wish, not Harry's," Hermione said in a bitter tone. "And if you're not careful what you say, I'll make certain Angelina learns about your daydreams."

"You wouldn't dare?" Fred asked with a shocked expression.

"If she doesn't I will," Ron added, a smile of daring on his freckled face.

"I need to be getting to work," Mr. Weasley interrupted with a hidden smile. It was nice to know some things never changed. "Today is Percy's first day back on the job and I want to make certain there's no problems."

"I thought something was quiet around here," Fred said with a smirk. "Where's Penny and little Molly?"

"They moved back into their own flat last night," Mrs. Weasley said with a sad sigh.

"No more stinky nappies?" George teased. "What's Ron going to do for cologne now?"

"Very funny you prat," the younger sibling growled.

"Well, all of this is fine," Dumbledore said with a warm smile, knowing from the years past that once these three got started, it would be quite some time before it ended. "But we must be leaving as well. There's still much to do to ward the school against any further intrusions. Molly, thank you kindly for the tea." Dumbledore stood as he spoke, receiving a disapproving glance from Snape. He rather enjoyed watching the Weasleys go at each other, especially if Ron was on the receiving end.

"You're welcome anytime Albus," the woman answered as Snape stood and followed the Headmaster out the kitchen door.

"I'll join you Albus," Moody added, standing from his seat.

"Give my best to Ginny," Dumbledore told Ron and Hermione with a fatherly smile. "Tell her not to worry. Harry always seems to come out on top."

"We will sir," Ron assured him, watching as he and the potion's master disapparated, before turning back to Hermione. "Where is Ginny anyway?"

"She's in her room," Hermione told him, as they walked back into the kitchen, their arms wrapped around each other's waist.

"Still? She hasn't left that place since Hedwig arrived with Harry's letters."

"She misses him, Ron. She knows he did what he had to do, but she really wants to be with him. That's what love does to two people who's totally committed to each other."

"You don't have to tell me," Ron said, pulling her into his embrace and kissing her tenderly. "I've spent five years going crazy trying to tell you how I felt."

"And now?" Hermione teased.

"Now, you're mine and I have no intention of letting you go. Besides, now that everyone knows about us, we're not going to get off the hook before we make wedding plans. My mum even brought down her wedding dress for you to try on."

"Ron, have you seen that thing?" Hermione whispered. "It's horrible."

"It's just a dress, 'Mione. What's the big deal? You wear it for a few hours, put it in a box and hide it in the attic."

"Ronald, I want my dress to be stunning. No fancy lace and ruffles. Just simple and elegant."

"Well, if that's what you want then just tell mum. She'll understand."

"I couldn't bare to hurt her, Ron. She's been so kind and now helping with the plans for the wedding, I couldn't stand it if she got angry with me."

"She's not going to get angry. She'll understand, I promise."

"I don't know."

"Do you want me to talk to her for you?" Hermione frowned at the young man standing a good foot above her.

"What would you say?"

"I don't know. But if you want me to deal with it, I will."

"I don't know Ron, I mean sometimes you can be a little...tactless."

"Sometimes that's what is needed. Just watch," Ron smiled, turning back to the box in the corner where Mrs. Weasley's wedding gown was tucked away in. He slipped the lid off and pulled the massive layers of lace from it. In a louder than normal voice, Ron asked Hermione;

"What in God's name is this thing?" His voice carried into the sitting room where the elderly Weasleys were bidding each other a good day, causing Mrs. Weasley to turn around and see her youngest son tugging her old wedding gown out of it's sealed container.

"Ronald Weasley, put that back!" she snapped, leaving her husband to floo back to the Ministry of Magic, shaking his head. He was glad he had work to go to. It didn't look like the house was going to be a very pleasant place to be right about now.

"I'll put it back, if you can tell me what it is?"

"It's my wedding gown," Mrs. Weasley insisted, taking it from his clumsy hands. "I brought it down for Hermione to look at."

"Why? Mum, no offense but that thing looks like a bloody mass of ribbons and lace. She'll kill herself just putting it on and I don't want to spend my wedding night in hospital. Besides, who would want to wear something like this? I mean back in your day it was probably nice and all, but look at it now. It's all...girly."

"That's quite enough of that, young man," Mrs. Weasley barked. "Hermione is the one who will decide if she wants to wear it, not you."

"Bloody hell if she will," Ron argued, his ears turning red as thought of how complicated it would be trying to get Hermione out of the garment come their wedding night. "I won't have my bride taking her vows in a ruffled marshmallow. She needs something simple and flattering. Hermione has a gorgeous figure, I want to hold her not ten meters of...that."

"Maybe it would be best to look at some different designs before we make up our minds," Hermione suggested, irritated at the way Ron was treating his mother. "I don't want any arguments surrounding my wedding day."

"You won't have any, dear," Mrs. Weasley said. "But if this little git has that many objections, then I think perhaps you should keep looking. It may be the only way to show him just how lucky it is to have a gown like this at hand. But he needs to understand exactly what type of dress this is and remember where he lives."

"I know where I live mum," Ron argued. "But it is not in a fluffy white cloud of lace."

******************************************************************************

The sun shone bright, the wind warm and the air humid. Ginny sat on the edge of her bed, re-reading Harry's last letter to her before he left Surrey, for the hundredth time. The tears she had cried over the past week streaked the words on the parchment; her eyes seemed to be in a constant swollen, red state. She had lost interest in everything, even arguing with her brothers. The Weasleys had returned to the Burrow, not having Harry with them during the summer meant they had no reason to stay at Grimmauld Place. Ginny's attitude and mood swings had caused so much tension in the house that even the twins had stopped teasing her. Everyone seemed to be walking on thin ice around her. Just the mention of Hogwart's or Harry caused the girl to erupt in a display of tears and run out of the room.

Hedwig sat on the windowsill staring at the young woman. She had arrived with the letters as Harry had ordered and had yet to be sent back out. Ginny had tried writing Harry a letter and gave it to the owl, but there was nowhere to deliver it so she didn't fly off. The letter, begging Harry to come for her, remained folded and unopened on the desk by the window. The owl hooted softly from his perch, causing Ginny to look up with sad eyes. Hedwig cocked her head and hooted again.

"I'm sorry girl," Ginny said, picking up the bag of treats Harry had sent her for his owl and gave her one, allowing her to affectionately nip at her fingers. "Don't think he's back yet, do you?" she asked the owl with a crack in her tone. Hedwig looked at the girl and hooted again. "Yeah I know. But there's no harm in asking." A knock on the door brought Ginny's attention back to the silent, empty room. She turned to see Hermione poke her head through the barrier.

"Hi," the bushy haired girl said pushing the door open a little further. Hermione had arrived for the summer the day before and had tried relentlessly to occupy Ginny in conversation. Every time she tried, the red head would openly ignore her attempts or make an excuse to leave the room.

"Hello," Ginny answered, returning to her bed where she folded Harry's letter and put it back in her desk drawer.

"I was wondering if you would like to help me?" Hermione asked, tossing a stack of magazines on the bed and sitting next to them. "My mum has been helping me plan Ron's and my wedding, but we have a problem figuring out how to mix magical folks with Muggles, so Ron and I have decided to have two receptions. My mum is planning the one in the Muggle world, while your mum is helping me with the ceremony and the reception at Hogwart's."

"So what's the problem?" Ginny asked, sitting on the end of the bed and looking at the stack of Muggle wedding magazines with little interest.

"Have you seen the wedding gown your mum has picked out? It was her mum's or something and even though I love your mum, the dress is a nightmare. I swear if I have to wear it, I'm going to die from embarrassment."

"Just tell her, she'll understand."

"I know, but I was hoping to have another one chosen so I could show her. Would you help me? After all, you and Harry are getting married in another year. It will give you some ideas on your own wedding." Ginny looked down at her hand where she wore the rings Harry had sent to her with Hedwig, twisting them around her finger.

"I doubt that will ever happen," Ginny said sadly.

"Why? Harry loves you with all his heart. You know that? Or are you having second thoughts?"

"Of course I'm not. There's nobody for me besides Harry. It's just that he hasn't written to me, or anything, since he left. He promised me he'd be back, but it's been so long."

"Ginny, it's only been a week," Hermione said patiently. "I'm sure if he could, he would have taken you with him. But the three witches told him he had to go alone. I know Harry; he's not the sort of person to leave you behind if he didn't have to. I can't help but wonder what the tasks are, though. How's he going to answer the witch's riddles? He's never been good at riddles."

"He hates them," Ginny said in turn.

"I wonder where he is." Hermione looked out the window past Hedwig.

"I wonder how far he's gotten in the tasks," Ginny added.

"Knowing Harry, he's doing just fine. He always does. I can't imagine where any of us would be right now, if it weren't for him."

"I really miss him, 'Mione," Ginny told her suddenly, her eyes filling with tears. Hermione reached out and hugged the girl to her, allowing her to cry.

"Hey come on," Hermione said after a few minutes. "Let's stop all this. Harry's fine and he'll be back in no time at all. When he comes back, we don't want him to find a sorrowful girlfriend, do we? Chin up. Help me find a wedding gown and I'll help you find some ideas on your own. Just wait until he gets back and you have a dress to show him. He'll know then just how serious you are about him."

"So what kind of gown do you want?" Ginny said, sniffing her tears away.

"Something stunning with no lace. Have you seen that dress of your mum's?"

"Yeah, it is pretty horrid. But it is made of morphed silk, so it won't be that bad when you put it on."

"What's morphed silk?" Hermione frowned. She had spent six years proud of her ability to learn everything possible about the magical world, but she had never heard of this before."

"Morphed silk is made from a morphite worm. The material changes shape when the wearing puts it on. Granted, my mum's dress has a ton of lace, but it is quite beautiful. It will fit perfectly."

"I still think I'd rather have a gown of my own."

"Are you having it made by a Muggle?"

"I'm not sure," Hermione said, taking the stack of books and flipping through them to find the gowns. "I suppose it doesn't really matter. I know my mum would love to help me get it though."

"Then you'd better hurry and find one. You only have ten months to get it made and convince Ron to keep to his promise and walk down the isle."

"He'll keep his promise, or I'll hex him so hard, he'll never stop regretting it."

"Sounds like it may be an interesting year."

******************************************************************************

Harry packed his tent on the back of his Firebolt before taking his wand out of his pocket and balancing it on his hand. He thought hard casting the Four-Point spell on it and asking in a strong, firm voice;

"Point me to the land where time begins." The wand spun around twice then slowly settled to the south. Harry frowned, returning his wand to his pocket and slipping gingerly on his broomstick. He tugged his father's old cloak across his shoulders, head and broom and soared high into the sky. He looked back down to where he had camped and waved his wand, returning the snow to the mountain undisturbed. He flew slowly across the wooded area where Gilda's cabin was and smiled down at it. Below him was the old woman standing by the front door, Nugget sniffing the snow a short way beyond. Harry made a mental note to bring Ginny back here. She would love Gilda and love the area. Ginny had a thing for snow and this would be a perfect place to spend a few weeks alone.

As he flew south, Harry continued to think of the red haired girl. He wanted desperately to go home, to hold her in his arms and never let her go. He couldn't imagine what life would be like without her. The day she kissed him was the day he knew he wanted to live. He wanted to make a life for her, to give her the kind of life she deserved. He had since learned he had inherited a castle from his father, a fortune from both his parents and Sirius, enough to support Ginny and all two dozen of the children she wanted.

He closed his eyes as he flew across the western coast of America. It was warm and the sun felt good after spending the past week in the frozen land of Alaska. He could only hope that by heading south, that meant he would be somewhere warm and inviting. Maybe near a beach so he could swim and sunbathe.

Harry reached Mexico by late afternoon and decided to stop and eat. He found a secluded spot in the forest and pulled his broom down. He used is wand to secure the area from Muggles and pulled his pack off his broom. He desperately wanted to set up camp there, to rush back to England and steal Ginny from her bed and bring her here with him, but he knew he was running out of time. He had to finish this quest as quickly as he could, so he could return home.

The smells of exotic plants lingered in the air, the warmth of the sun shining on Harry's face, forcing him to remove his heavy cloak and jumper. He looked around with a sense of awe. The trees seemed to touch the sky, the sounds of birds and wild animals welcoming him. He smiled at the peaceful feeling as he drew in a deep breath. The urge to explore was overwhelming. There were large stone structures of temples nearby, but there were also a number of Muggles as well. He was forced to stay as far away from them as he possibly could. That meant his explorations would have to wait until a more opportune time. Perhaps his and Ginny's honeymoon.

Harry waved his wand and within a few seconds his tent was up and ready for him to make use of it. He guessed the time must have been closer to supper than lunch, though it didn't feel that late. He had successfully made his way this far south in just a few hours, but knew without a doubt he couldn't go any further today. It would be even later and much darker by the time he found his destination, and since he still had over two months to search, he could spare a day or two to relax in the sun. After all, he had never had a holiday, not a real one and being in the forest surrounding the ancient stone structures made him yearn for some time off.

The sounds of voices nearby made Harry turn toward them. The spell he placed on the area surrounding him made sure nobody saw him, even if they looked directly at him, but that didn't stop Harry's heart from leaping in his chest. He watched as a small group of people walked by. There were three women and four men, one appearing to be a guide. He was instructing them on activities for the following day; when they would all participate in a meditation service in the temples. Harry turned back toward the area he knew the ancient structures to be. He was eager to see what the excitement was all about. Gathering his father's old cloak, he slipped it across his head and shoulders, stepping cautiously through the woods to where the people had just come. The trees narrowed to reveal a large clearing with massive ornamental structures of stone. Harry was in awe with them. He had seen them from the air as he flew over, but nothing had prepared him for the actual sight of them up close.

Harry stepped closer, avoiding a small group of tourists snapping pictures of the temples. They resembled the pictures of the pyramids in Egypt that Ron had brought back from his trip there three years ago, but with distinct differences. These were accessible to visitors, with a large open room at the very top of the largest temple. He listened to the guide telling her group about the ancient Mayan people.

"The ancient Maya had a complex pantheon of deities," the guide, a short stalky women wearing shorts, tank top shirt, hiking boots and a backpack. "Rulers were believed to be descendants of the gods and their blood was the ideal sacrifice, either through personal bloodletting or the sacrifice of captives of royal blood. The Maya's view of the universe was divided into multiple levels. The heavens and below were positioned within the four directions of the earth, north, south, east and west. After death, they believed the soul would go the Underworld, a place where sinister gods tested and tricked their unfortunate visitors.

"Many people see the story of the Popl Vuh as a story of extraterrestrial Gods who came down to earth and made man in his own image. When they first mad man he was perfect and lived as long as they did, sometimes hundreds of years. Men were clairvoyant and possessed with magical powers, as it were. The Gods realized their competitors were as wise and powerful as they were, so they destroyed him and started over by creating the man of present. Modern man is here to act as a servant race to the Gods."

"But that's ridiculous," one middle aged man with a balding head and round stomach said. Harry rolled his eyes, thinking of how much he reminded him of Uncle Vernon.

"Perhaps, but the beliefs of the ancient world, do have some basis in reality. Many have thought Noah was a myth or folklore, but the past century has brought about a number of expeditions and research that may lead to proving the myth as fact. It's all basically in the eye of the beholder." The older man snorted his disapproval, but at the jab of his wife's arm in his side, chose not to rebuttal.

"Within the Mayan culture, there are legends of visiting Gods from outer space and there are a number of hieroglyphics implying this. In the last thousand years, the being known as Quatzequati the Great Feathered Serpent was a god who brought the teaching of peace to this part of the world and appeared as a white god with a long beard. The drawings of him look almost identical to the drawings of the being known as Ea or Enki in the ancient Sumerian teachings. Many statues depicting this creature can be seen all around us."

"There's one," a young girl said, pointing to the statue not far from where she stood.

"There was also a god called Yum Cimil, who the Mayan believed was the death god. He is also known as Ah Puch, the god of the Underworld. His body is told to be predominantly skeletal and his adornments are also made of bones. Yum Cimil has been represented in drawings with a body covered with black spots. He wears a collar with eyeless sockets which was the typical symbol of the Underworld."

"He sounds gross," a teenaged boy said.

"Perhaps, but it was enough to intimidate and frighten followers into obeying the laws set down from the gods."

"I wonder if there really were anything like the Yum Cimil," an older woman asked, her gray hair cut short, her weathered skin tan and wrinkled.

"Today we believe in a devil with a pitch fork and a pointed tail, or think of evil as wearing a long dark cloak with a hood. We even assimilate the snake as being from an evil creature, though the Mayan worshiped them as a god who taught and protected the people." The guide drew a deep breath, allowing the group to take this in before she continued.

"The Mayan also believed in duality, which means that a god/goddess could have a dual or contrasting role, such as being a ruler of the sky and underworld, or being good and evil. Another aspect was being part human and part animal. Kukalcan was depicted as being part human and part reptile. The dualism also extended to life after death. The good souls were cast into heaven while the evil souls were cast into the underworld, where they were tortured by cold, exhaustion, huger and sadness.

"Kukalcan is also known as the feathered-serpent. Many believed that he was a living man who could transform into a serpent at will. The Mayans also held many different types of sacrifices in order to appease their gods. They would shoot arrows at the victim's heart during a ritual. There was also torture by bounding and throwing the victims into a well. After a time, sometimes days, the victim was withdrawn from the well. If he was still alive, he was considered to be spared by the gods and left to live.

"The most common of torture and sacrifice was the heart sacrifice. In this type of sacrifice, the victim was taken to the top of the pyramid where a priest would stab the victim and remove his beating heart. He passed the heart to the other high priests, who would smear the blood all over their bodies. The dead body was then rolled down the side of the pyramid, where the priests would dismember, skin and eat the dead person."

"Gross," a young teenage girl said, her pale skin looking slightly green.

"In our way of thinking, this would be considered inhumane," the guide continued with a smile at the group. "But overall, the Mayans were a very religious people who took their beliefs and gods and goddesses seriously. It was a part of their daily lives to be sacrificed to the gods and it was considered a great honor. The families of those sacrificed were honored and showered with gifs and praise."

"Cool way to get rid of your older brother," another teenage girl said, glaring at the tall dark haired boy next to her.

"It's said that the spirits of those who have passed on still haunt these structures," the guide continued. "We have a special meditation group that assembles at dawn in the top of the great pyramid, where the spirits are said to communicate to the living. There is a vortex into the next world that is believed to exist in the temple's sacrificial alter at the very top. It is there that some claim to have made contact with spirits during meditation sessions. Now, if you'll come with me, we'll go to the top of the pyramid and have a better look."

Harry was fascinated by what he had heard. He quietly walked the long stone steps to the top of the temple, staying as far out of the way of the others as possible. He imagined the sacrifices and lives that had once passed these steps, the noise of an active, thriving community and the screams of the victims being put to their deaths. He had to see the top for himself, to see if he could feel the presence of spirits as well. Living at Hogwart's made it easy for him to accept the idea of ghosts, but to speak to the ones you had lost was close to impossible, even in his world of magic and belief.

The open alter at the top of the temple was amazing and Harry reached it within just a few minutes. It was very peaceful there, very relaxing as the breeze blew through the open walls. The whisper of the wind sounded like voices, but Harry knew that was impossible. There were no voices, no lost spirits, no loved ones waiting to contact him. There was no area vortex waiting for him, no door into the next life, no passers by eager to make communication with him. What there was, was just a simple space of solitude. The voices of those in the tour group echoed up the steps as they made their way to the top of the temple. Harry knew he had to be careful to avoid the group that crowded around, but could resist staying to hear what the guide told them.

"This symbol is called the Galactic Butterfly," the guide said, holding up a golden emblem. "It is said to represent all of the consciousness that has ever existed in this galaxy. This is all our physical ancestors both human and animal, reptile, fish, shellfish and plants. The consciousness is organized all of the raw material from a whirling disk into stars then planets and solar systems. In the original Maya culture, there was no symbol for this. It was like having no name for God. Just knowing the concept was good enough. The pattern was devised by Toltec or Zapatec weavers, as a pattern for blankets and this is where Jose Arguelles came across it. He called it Hunab Ku. The indigenous people call it The Galactic Butterfly. Butterflies are seen as ancestors returning for a visit to physicality. Wearing one of these symbols is very powerful as it broadcasts your reaching to actively join the consciousness of our galaxy. Now if you'll all take a few moments of silence, perhaps you can see past the realm of our present world, and into the vortex of time."

The group remained silent for several moments, their eyes open and looking as if they expected the Galactic Butterfly to materialize before their eyes as a real being. Harry was growing tired and the sun was starting to set. He was hungry and thought about his campsite and the inviting bed and supply of snacks and food waiting for him. Without warning, his stomach began to growl, causing the eyes of the group of tourists to turn in his direction. He blushed, regardless of his hidden state beneath his father's old cloak. Slowly and as silently as possible he tried to push past the gasping group and make his way down the massive flight of stairs. He was nearly to the opposite side of the room where he knew he could make his escape, when the bald man from below backed into him. He gasped, the man turned, eyes wide and mouth agape.

"I just ran into something," the man said, causing the eyes to turn in his direction, staring at the empty spot where he stood staring. Harry was trapped between the wall and the man's wife. His heart was pounding and he wanted more than anything to apparate, but couldn't there was something about the pyramid that prevented him from vanishing.

"What did you feel?" the guide asked, her tone filled with curiosity and excitement.

"It felt like a body," the man said, his tone quivering with nervous tension. "It was warm and hard. I swear it was a person." The man's wife turned with a frown to look at the spot where Harry stood. The doubt was visible on her face.

"Martin, there's nothing here," the woman said in a calm tone.

"I'm telling you Angela, there was somebody there."

"Well there isn't now."

"All right, everyone just calm down," the guide said in disappointment. "This temple holds many secrets and mysteries. You may have touched into the vortex of time."

"Hogwash," the older man grumbled, still looking around him.

"Does that happen very often?" the young girl from below asked, her face looking paler than it had a short time ago.

"Oh sure," the guide answered. "It's very common to make contact with the supernatural, especially when you consider the history of this temple." Harry sighed a breath of relief as the woman blocking his way moved aside enough for him to slide past. He was nearly out of the way, when the woman stepped back catching the hem of his cloak and pulling it off his head. She screamed at the floating dark head of a young man. The others turned to see a very surprised Harry staring at them. He quickly tugged the cloak from beneath the woman's foot and covered his head, rushing to the exit.

"I told you I felt someone," the man was shouting.

"That was awesome," the young man said in complete amazement.

"I don't believe it," the guide was saying, her voice echoing down the stairs to where Harry was running. "I actually saw one. I finally saw an image of the gods. I can't believe it." The sounds of voices both fearful and excited echoed down to the courtyard below as Harry ran as hard as he could back to his tent. He rushed into the room, collapsing in one of the chairs, his breath coming in heavy pants, his heart pounding furiously within his chest. Outside the sounds of voices hurrying past his campsite echoed through the seclusion. He recognized them as the group he had just escaped, their tones filled with excitement and astonishment. Harry closed his eyes and laid his head back against the seat. How could he have been so stupid as to allow himself to get trapped like that? In the six years he had used his cloak at Hogwart's, he had never allowed himself to be caught - except the one time Malfoy saw him at Hogsmeade during his third year.

"This is great," he said aloud to the empty room. "Wait until Fred and George hears about this. I'll be known as the headless spectra forever."


Author notes: Okay, here it is and I'm very VERY sorry it took so long. This chapter is not as long as the last and hopefully the next one will be longer. Our new baby was in the hospital, I've got a new job as well as college (both full time!) and my beta has had a personal tragedy in her life, so she was unable to help me with this chapter. You have to promise NOT to be mean. Without "D" I'm hopeless! Don't think about the grammar, spelling, etc. I know it's horrible, but I couldn't make you wait any longer. I promise, I'm working on ch 4 and I hope it will be coming shortly. Please R/R, I love hearing from everyone!