Harry Potter and Unexpected Beginnings

Chapter eighteen

The following few weeks were as uneventful as any could be. Harry had set up Quiddich tryouts for the second week of school, and was busy nearly every evening arranging for interested students to give those Harry had already assigned to the team, a chance to see what they had. Ron was appointed as this year's Keeper, since he had such an outstanding record from last year. Ginny was given the position of Chaser along with Colin Creevey, who was actually an excellent tryout. Natalie MacDonald tried out for Keeper, but showed excellent skills as Beater, and was given that position along with Dean Thomas, much to everyone's surprise. Dean was thought of more as an academic striver and artist, then athlete, and much to Ron's objections the last position of second Keeper was given to Geoffrey Hooper, who had tried out last year but was rejected by then captain Angelina Johnson, because he was a real whiner. This year, he appeared to be an improved version of his former self, however when he was told that he would be second Keeper after Ron who would be helping teach him the finer points of the game, he showed his true colors and complained for nearly fifteen minutes.

Harry felt secure with his new team, after practicing and training every night and twice on Saturday for three weeks. He was a hard coach, pushing his team to near exhaustion night after night. He found himself plotting maneuvers and game strategies while sitting in Binns class and during breakfast and lunch, and again after practice. He was becoming obsessed with the sport, putting his homework off even more than usual, having to finish it up in the wee hours of the morning, or just before class. He had even found himself asking Hermione if she still had her time turner from third year, so he could fit in enough time for everything else he still hadn't found time for, like sleep.

Ron and Hermione continued in much the same manner as usual, with the exception of being seen snogging while on their Prefect rounds. They argued and complained on a regular basis, but surprised everyone by smiling and passing love notes to each other during Transfigurations, which McGonagall had once intercepted, reading to the entire class. They had somehow found an easy pattern to fall into, much to the irritation of Ginny and Harry, who hadn't found enough time to hold hands, much less be alone.

Summer was quickly dissolving into autumn, bringing with it the early bite of cold air. Practice was becoming increasingly difficult for the entire team, as rain began early in October and didn't seem to let up for weeks. The mood inside the castle was nearly as dismal as the weather itself, with everyone snapping and arguing at the slightest word. Even the ghosts seemed to be temperamental, and Peeves had stopped tormenting students, keeping himself strictly on reserve for Filch alone. It wasn't until the week of Halloween, that the memories of what lie outside Hogwart's walls came back to the minds of those inside, with a vengeance.

As the morning mail was being delivered, the moods seemed to pick up slightly, as it had everyday around this time. Harry was delighted to get a letter from Lupin, who told him of plans to get him and the Weasleys together for Christmas. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn't spent more than ten minutes with Ginny in weeks, maybe he'd be able to make up for lost time during the holidays. He mentally began to make plans to look for a special gift to make up his lack of attention, when he noticed his copy of the Daily Prophet. He reached for it, unrolling it absent-mindedly when the Great Hall became deathly quiet. He looked around, following the eyes that seemed glued to the Slytherin table.

"What's going on?" he whispered to Ginny next to him, as she nodded toward Malfoy, who abruptly stood up, hurrying out of the room, followed by Snape and Professor Dumbledore. "What was that all about?" he asked again.

"Read this," Hermione told him, reaching for the paper and showing him the front page. Harry read the headline;

"Body of Narcissa Malfoy Found on Ministry of Magic Steps"

"Oh God," Harry said softly, scanning the article. His eye caught a sentence and was unable to move forward, reading and re-reading it.

"A note attached to the lifeless body of Mrs. Malfoy said simply, 'A gift from the Dark Lord. A traitor returned to her own kind.'"

"I can't believe it," Ginny said softly. "How horrible. How could he just kill her, as if she meant nothing at all?" Harry looked up from the paper to the red haired girl next to him, his face pale. "What's wrong Harry?"

"My vision," he told her, glancing back across the Ron and Hermione. "It was her, she's the one Lucius Malfoy killed." They sat staring at him, wide eyed with disbelief.

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked.

"Positive. I saw a woman with long pale blond hair," he told them, pointing to the old picture of a happy Narcissa Malfoy smiling back at them from the front page. "It was her, I know it was."

"Poor Malfoy," Ginny said sadly. "How do you deal with the thought of your father, killing your mother?"

"Maybe he doesn't know," Ron said.

"He was reading a letter when he left," Hermione said. "He wasn't looking a the paper."

"I feel sick," Ginny said, pushing her plate aside.

"Students," McGonagall said, interrupting the outburst of conversations in the hall. "Professor Dumbledore has canceled all classes for the day. Prefects are to lead their houses back to their dormitories. Further orders will be relayed to you from your house Prefects." The students stood up and walked quietly back to their houses. The only sounds in the halls were the shuffling of feet on the stairs and the rustle of cloaks as students walked along.

"I wonder what's going to happen to Malfoy now," Hermione said, as they quietly sat at the corner table.

"Do you think he's going to stay in school?" Ginny asked.

"I can't imagine what he must be going through," Hermione said again. Harry and Ron remained silent. Neither cared much for Draco Malfoy, in fact the three were happier hating each other, but they couldn't imagine how something like this could happen, or wouldn't have wished it on their worst enemy, which just happened to be Draco Malfoy.

"I'm going upstairs," Harry said, standing up and walking up the stairs to the sixth year boy's dormitories. He couldn't think anymore, he could only stare. He lay on his bed, looking up at the ceiling. In a way he felt like he could understand how Draco felt, having lost both of his parents, but in another larger way, he couldn't even begin to fathom how the Slytherin's Pride and Joy must be feeling. Harry closed his eyes, trying to shut out the image of his premonition, seeing again and again, how Lucius Malfoy just walked forward and spoke the words that took the woman's life - his own wife.

"I know what you're thinking," a soft voice said, bringing Harry's eyes open to see Ginny leaning against the post of his bed. "It's not your fault."

"If only I could have seen who it was," Harry said, a sick feeling in his stomach. "Maybe I could have warned her, or done something to help."

"You couldn't have stopped it, Harry."

"What good is seeing the future, if I can't stop what's going to happen?"

"You can stop it, if you know what it is you're seeing. You didn't know who the woman was, or where they were. You just need time to refine your visions, to control them."

"I can't help it, Ginny," Harry said, sitting up on his bed, pulling his legs up to his chin. "I don't want this thing anymore. I don't know how to do it. I can't be the hero everyone expects me to be."

"Nobody expects you to be a hero, Harry," Ginny said, sitting on the bed and laying her hand on his knee. "They just want you to be you. If this is a gift, then you have to try and look for the reason behind your having it. Things happen for a reason. You know that."

"My parents' being murdered was for a reason?" Harry said, his tone rising, his temper growing hot. "Malfoy's mother being murdered was for a reason? Sirius, Cedric, Neville's parents, they were all for a reason? Tell me Ginny, what possible reason could there be for cold blooded murder and torture, because frankly, I can't see it."

"Maybe I should leave you alone," she said, aware that there was no way of trying to make him feel better right now, and there was very little she could say that would make him understand he wasn't at fault.

Ginny stood to leave, when he reached out and grabbed her by the wrist, pulling her back down to the mattress. He sat there staring at her, unable to say anything more, but unwilling to let her leave. Ginny understood what he needed, and crawled up on the bed, leaning against the headboard next to him. They just sat there together. No words were necessary; nothing could be said that would help make sense of what was happening around them. But the one thing they definitely knew was that things had changed for all of them. There would never be any going back. The future had just reached them, and it was demanding attention.

Halloween this year was less then the joyous occasion it usually was. Nearly Headless Nick had arranged his Deathday celebration, but knew it wouldn't be the same either. The Headless Hunt had been canceled, and even the Hogwart's ghosts were feeling the despair and tension of the times. Harry had started feeling the urge to run, and began getting up at dawn, running laps around the lake five times every morning, before returning to the castle, showering and going down for breakfast. His activity wasn't as rewarding as it had been over the summer, and he found it difficult to think of anything else but death and Voldemort. He spent many long nights sitting alone by the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room, practicing his Occlumency lessons, hoping to focus his mind and prepare for the next time he had a vision of Voldemort.

It was the eve of Halloween, and Harry found himself focusing his mind on the flames leaping from the fire. The other students had turned in hours ago, leaving him alone in the room. The thoughts of the impending celebration scheduled for the following evening did little to aid in the improvement of the castle's mood, especially with Harry. He didn't want to think about celebrating; instead he tried to focus on his Occlumency lessons, with a great deal of difficulty. He couldn't stop thinking about the events of the past week. The more he thought, the more tired he became. All he wanted to do was sleep, knowing eventually he would have to wake up and face reality. With a reluctant sigh, Harry stood, leaving the warmth of the common room and climbed the stairs to his dormitory. He didn't bother changing into his pajamas, instead lying on his bed fully clothed.

He closed his eyes, trying to block out the images that had been plaguing his thoughts for the last several days. He could feel himself drifting into a state of slumber, when he suddenly found himself standing on a dark sidewalk. He knew instantly what was happening, and looked around for any signs of Death Eaters or Voldemort, but there was nothing. The sound of the night whispered around him, the street lamp above his head was dim; the ashbins lining the curb were abuzz with flies. Nearby a dog barked emphatically, then was silenced with a yelp. Harry could hear the sounds of footsteps approaching and had the instant urge to hide. The night seemed to suddenly cool, as a rustle in a nearby alleyway caught his attention.

Harry looked hard, straining to see through the shadows. The footsteps continued to echo up the street, coming closer with every second. The urge to run was pounding in his ears, but instead he found himself walking forward. He glanced down to the sidewalk as he stepped, his shoes silent on the pavement, the light above him from the street lamps could not detect him to cast a shadow. He edged closer to the alley, hearing a rattling breath and feeling the air around him turn to ice. The footsteps were coming closer, and Harry felt the need to cry out, to stop the owner from coming closer. Then he saw them, two dark figures moving slowly from the alley as if floating on air; Dementors. They were moving forward, past him. Harry hurried to follow, a slight sense of pleasure at not being affected by the hooded creatures as he always had been. He heard the footsteps falter in the night, then stop altogether. The gasp and scream of misery echoed in the night and he knew what had happened. The Dementors had found their prey. He rushed past them, seeing them leaning over a shadowed figure. As he neared he could see the red hair of the man lying on his back, his eyes opened to the sights before him, his mouth in a silent scream. The hooded creatures straightened up and glided away, leaving the man soulless and worse than dead. They returned to where they had once come, and Harry heard a man's voice.

"That should stop him from conspiring against me," the man said as the two hooded figures joined him in the alley. "Leave now, before anyone else should come by." Harry heard the rattling figures and the swish of cloaks as they disappeared into the night, and then stared at the lone figure standing near the alley's entrance. He glanced back to the figure lying on the ground, laughing as a loud pop sounded and he disappeared into thin air. Harry turned back to the lifeless body, stepping closer to him and looking down.

Percy Weasley lay in the shadows of the night. His soul kissed by the Dementors, his eyes open to the horrors of what had happened. In his hand was a bouquet of roses wrapped with a pink ribbon that read:

"To Daddy's Little Girl, With Love."