The Serpent and the Eagle

INTERLUDE: Wait

St. Mungo's Hospital, London

'Albus! Come back!'

The clicking heels of his boots hesitated and stopped. He stood, poised like a cat deliberating on whether to fly or to stay. His silhouette was eerie against the black and silver backdrop of the window.

'Please,' she asked softly, leaning on the doorjamb for support.

He turned, and in the moonlight that seeped through the windows she could almost imagine the elegant figure he would make in later life. She could see the image of him from her prophetic hallucination; straight and unbowed despite his age and battling against that wicked, cruel wizard...

'No!' she whispered in horror, and fell heavily to the floor in an explosion of tears.

In seconds, Albus was at her side, half leading and half carrying her to her bedside. She seemed to him to be a wilting flower, one deprived of sunlight and fresh rain for too long.

'Cassandra,' he murmured. 'What's wrong?'

'Oh!' she wept.

'Come now, Cassandra, tell me...' Dumbledore continued gently.

She merely continued to weep into his arms until a Healer peered around the door.

'What is going on here?' she demanded.

'Cassandra is...a little upset right now,' Albus replied.

'Cassandra? Oh...well, let it all out, girl! If you continue to make progress like this you may well be able to go home soon!'

'Of course I will!' Cassandra snarled.

The Healer beat a hasty retreat, while Albus looked at her in wonder.

'Cassandra?' he said hesitantly. 'Your eyes...they're, well...red.'

She slammed her eyes shut in horror and turned away.

'Don't look at me,' she whimpered. 'It's beginning to emerge...'

'What is?' Dumbledore asked, highly confused and not a little alarmed.

His mind worked quickly, factoring in how often he had thought her eyes were blue and their normal hue of amethyst...and wasn't purple a blend of red and blue?

'Nothing!' Cassandra snapped. 'It's just...my vision.' She passed her hand across her eyes wearily, adding, 'One of those visions I had.'

'Which one?' Albus asked in honest mystification.

'You!' she sobbed. 'I saw it again, as clear as crystal, and you were battling a dark wizard with red eyes, and he killed you!'

'But why should that upset you so?' Albus asked, perplexed and also unwilling somehow to believe that all his dreams were simultaneously coming true.

Cassandra lay back on her pillows and pressed her hand against her eyes.

It was such an exhausted and despairing gesture that Albus almost found himself weeping along with her.

'Isn't it obvious?' she asked, some of her habitual sarcasm creeping back into her voice.

'No, I'm afraid not,' Albus replied.

Cassandra turned away from him and pulled the blanket about her shoulders like some comforting talisman.

'If you are so young that you cannot understand,' she said coldly, 'you'll have to wait until you can.'

Albus stood and pulled his cloak tightly about him, reluctant to allow himself time to think. If he thought more about this, he would realise the truth, and he would go every bit as insane as his brother Aberforth...

'I'll visit you again,' he said timidly.

'No, you won't,' Cassandra said, 'and that's not a prediction. It's a fact.'

Albus Dumbledore retreated from the ward, never once looking back. Inside, his heart was being ripped apart by his mind's accusations and curses. Beautiful angels that once bore her face now contorted and morphed into demons, taunting him with her beauty and scorn.

And Cassandra Trelawney watched him leave, praying that he would realise what she had meant soon. If he didn't...then she may well be transferred to another ward of St. Mungo's. One from which she would never return the same.

Chapter Three - A Different Kind Of Sorting

[Closest Thing To Crazy]

[Katie Melua]

How can I think I'm standing strong,
Yet feel the air beneath my feet?
How can happiness feel so wrong?
How can misery feel so sweet?
How can you let me watch you sleep,
Then break my dreams the way you do?
How can I have got in so deep?
Why did I fall in love with you?

This is the closest thing to crazy I have ever been
Feeling twenty-two, acting seventeen,
This is the nearest thing to crazy I have ever known,
I was never crazy on my own.
And now I know that there's a link between the two,
Being close to craziness and being close to you.

How can you make me fall apart
Then break my fall with loving lies?
It's so easy to break a heart;
It's so easy to close your eyes.
How can you treat me like a child
Yet like a child I yearn for you?
How can anyone feel so wild?
How can anyone feel so blue?

This is the closest thing to crazy I have ever been
Feeling twenty-two, acting seventeen,
This is the nearest thing to crazy I have ever known,
I was never crazy on my own.
And now I know that there's a link between the two,
Being close to craziness and being close to you.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

The train rattled and screeched to a halt, its wheels screeching in protest as the brakes slammed firmly into place. Steam billowed from the engine, while excited students trundled onto the wet Hogsmeade platform.

The rain was falling more heavily than ever, and thunder sounded ominously overhead like the clashing swords of angry gods. Forked lightning split the sky soon afterwards, startling several nervous first years.

'Firs' years! Firs' years over 'ere!'

The booming voice of the Keeper of the Keys rumbled around them, almost indistinguishable from the thunder despite its Scottish brogue.

'Hi Hagrid!' Ron yelled, waving madly at the Hogwarts gamekeeper. His red hair was plastered against his skull with rainwater, and it coursed down his freckled face in little rivulets.

Hermione shook her head fondly and pulled his hood up.

'Have sense, Ron!' she scolded gently. 'You'll catch a cold, or worse!'

She was already safe and dry beneath her own periwinkle blue cloak, a non-standard uniform item, but it was very pretty. It was clasped with a bronze Celtic-style brooch. Harry himself had forgotten about the uniform cloak ruling, and was clad in a forest green cloak that intensified the natural hue of his eyes.

'Since when did you turn into Mum?' Ron grumbled under his breath, but he made no move to remove it.

Harry smiled tightly. Not even back a whole minute, and already Hermione and Ron were winding each other up!

'Heya, Ron! And look, it's Hermione and Harry!'

Hagrid greeted them each in turn and ushered the first years towards the lake edge and the waiting boats. The lake was tossed and choppy from the poor weather, and Harry was almost certain that he saw the giant squid's tentacles breaking almost languidly across its surface.

A first year caught sight of this and screamed.

'A monster!' she shrieked.

Chaos broke out amongst the first years, while Hagrid tried his best to calm them.

Hermione shook her hand in pity and caught Ron and Harry by their wrists.

'Come on, or else we'll drown in this weather!' she urged.

Just then, Cho and Draco pushed past them, laughing snidely and making a great pretence of straightening each other's robes. Cho's cloak hung open, and Draco stopped her so that he could clasp it closed, letting his hands linger a little longer on her chest than was necessary.

'Just look at them!' Ginny fumed.

'Yeah...' Harry agreed sullenly. 'Just look.'

As they scuttled forward again, Draco squeezed Cho's bottom, much to her delight.

'Oh, Draco, you absolute beast!' Cho howled.

'The only "beast" I see,' Hermione said, just loud enough for Cho to hear, 'is her. At least, I've always thought that bitches counted as beasts, too!'

Cho turned red and scurried inside a carriage with Draco. Crabbe and Goyle joined them, while Pansy Parkinson flounced by, obviously irritated by Draco's newfound plaything.

'Nice one, Hermione!' Neville praised, clambering into the nearest carriage. 'This one's free; come on!'

Harry padded forward to their steed. He patted the thestral on the neck. It was invisible to all of his friends except Neville, as they had both seen death.

'Good boy,' Harry crooned, stroking its smooth head. It whinnied in pleasure, much to Harry's delight.

'Come on, Harry!' Luna called. 'There might be silver-spotted knids out there.'

Luna, Ginny, Neville, Hermione and Ron were staring out of the windows at him. Harry realised that it may look strange to them; for it seemed that he was patting thin air.

'Thestrals again?' Ron asked, shaking his head softly.

Harry nodded as he took his seat.

'Last time we...or rather you saw one of them was back in London,' Ron said softly.

Harry noticed that Ron pulled his sleeves as far over his hands as they would go. They were still slightly scarred from the incident last June wherein a brain in the Department of Mysteries had wounded him, leaving his arms and hands horribly scarred.

Neville showed them the new trick that Trevor could do.

'Look!' he said proudly, gesturing towards the toad.

Trevor sprang up into the air, and with each hop, he achieved a greater height. Soon, he was almost grazing the roof of their carriage, and doing flips and twirls as elegantly as a Muggle diver as he descended.

Ginny, Luna and Hermione laughed in delight.

'However did you teach him to do that?' Ginny asked. 'He's like a kangaroo!'

Harry admired how animated she was, how much like a quick, darting flame she could be. At times, she appeared to be a candle ready to sputter out and die at the slightest puff of wind. Whatever could be making her feel like that was either not bothering her, or else pushed to the recesses of her mind (where Harry always imagined you remembered your shoe size and the colour of your toothbrush) until she could deal with it. Right now, she was happy and full of life and mirth.

They discussed OWL results briefly.

'I got 'Outstanding' in Herbology,' Neville declared, swelling with pride.

'Oh, well done Neville!' Ginny said delightedly. 'How about you, Harry?'

'I got 'Outstanding' in Defence Against the Dark Arts,' he said in a low voice.

'We all did,' Hermione said fondly, 'thanks to you.'

The arrival at Hogwarts was uneventful apart from the spectacle of Cho Chang and Draco Malfoy dribbling upon each other like rabid nymphomaniacs.

Hermione had seethed and made scornful remarks about their lewd behaviour, while Ron shook his head and muttered foul names beneath his breath. Luna and Neville chatted animatedly about how it was just a phase of Cho's maturity development, or else just relating directly to the phases of the moon.

Ginny had trailed off at this point of the conversation.

'What do you think, Ginny?' Luna asked.

Startled, Ginny replied, 'Oh, she's just a tart, isn't she?'

The others laughed and debated this further.

She exchanged a meaningful glance at Harry as the carriage came to a stop.

'I'm here if you need me, ok?' Ginny said encouragingly. She squeezed Harry's hand.

'Thanks, Gin,' Harry replied with a rare smile.

Only Harry and Ginny were silent as they entered the Great Hall. Harry's green eyes opened and closed slowly and almost painfully. Ginny imagined she could feel every throb of his blood. It weakened her like a wound, and she pressed her eyes shut in an effort to quell the sympathetic pain she felt for the boy closest to her heart.

She took the liberty of patting his shoulder encouragingly. He caressed her hand in gratitude, sending thrills through Ginny's body.

She had often wondered if Harry would push her away if she kept her hand there, and wrapped her free arm around him, holding him to her and gently pushing her trembling lips against his mouth...

Stop, stop, stop... she thought desperately. You'll drive yourself crazy!

How could he have this effect on her and not realise it?

Unbeknownst to her brothers and parents and friends, Ginny was a songwriter. She wrote reams of love songs, all dedicated to Harry and his quest for survival and the destiny that he was marked for.

None of them, however, managed to portray precisely how she felt for him.

It tore her heart in two.

She was not a good enough songwriter, and she wasn't good enough for Harry. If she had of been good enough, surely he would have given her some sort of sign by now?

She was separated from him now for the duration of the Sorting, but she was amongst her closest friends again. It helped to dull the edge of the knife-like pain that lanced her heart every time she thought of him. He was near her, and that was enough to make her feel shivery all over.

Luna's hand found purchase on her shoulder and patted it once or twice.

'You all right?' she asked.

'I'll be fine,' Ginny said, adding quickly, 'really!'

Sometimes Luna was more observant than the people who had never seen a Crumple-Horned Snorlack.

'Please, everyone, be seated!' Dumbledore boomed jovially.

A light smattering of applause greeted his words, with an ear-piercing whistle from some rowdy Gryffindor second-years.

'Thank you, Theodore and William!' said Dumbledore, bowing to his fan club. 'Now, where was I? Ah, yes...I would like to welcome you all back, but firstly I would like you to welcome the new first years, who are undoubtedly cowering just beyond those doors.'

A chorus of laughter passed around the room. Harry appreciated the joke and smiled in response.

Just then, Professor McGonagall threw open the doors and entered the Hall, followed by twenty eleven-year-olds. They stood there, for all the world like rabbits stunned by headlights. Clustered together, they made an amusing sight to Ron and Ginny.

'God, d'you ever remember being that small?' Ron gasped.

'Or looking that young!' Ginny agreed.

As ever and always, the Sorting Hat began its annual song.

'It's always seemed so foolish
At least to one as old as I,
For students here to hate and fear
And let old alliances die.

Gryffindor's faith lay in his heart,
For his heart was stout and true,
In every kind of emergency
He knew just what to do.

Wise Ravenclaw, clever lady fair,
Trusted to her mind,
For in the recesses of her brain
Would she the answer find.

For Slytherin, it was to his own self
That his faith would fall.
He had his cunning, what need had he
For many friends to call?

And sweet Hufflepuff, that lady dear,
Would always be at hand.
Helping others and being kind to them
Won her fame about the land.

But each of our Founders
Always trusted in their friends.
In your friends, my little ones,
Is where the alliance begins and ends.

Faith in others is what is lacking,
All I hear is selfish bragging.
Extend the hand of harmony,
Or a bitter end will come to ye!'

The Sorting Hat's song was startling. Even Dumbledore seemed disconcerted at its ominous lyrics. The new first years looked ready to wet themselves at a moment's notice.

'Cheerful little rag, isn't it?' Ginny said lightly.

Fortunately, Dumbledore recovered enough to welcome them and explain the custom of being sorted by the Sorting Hat. Shoulders sagged and long-held breaths were exhaled as they realised they were not in any danger. Several elbowed their friends, while others started to chat animatedly.

The chatter and noise died down when Professor McGonagall stepped forward with a list.

'When I call your name,' explained the head of Gryffindor, 'come forward and sit on the stool.'

Ron turned to Hermione and groaned, 'I wish they'd hurry up; I'm starving!'

Hermione rolled her eyes in exasperation.

'The Sorting Hat was being very angsty, Ron, or didn't you notice?'

'Nope,' Ron replied. 'I was listening to my stomach. Can you hear it? It's saying FEED ME!'

'Oh, shut up!' Hermione giggled, pushing him playfully. Ron was caught off guard, and fell off the bench. He hit the floor. Professor McGonagall glared thunderously at him until he took his seat again, all the time his ears blushing to a shade of deepest crimson, all the while conscious that Hermione and Harry were laughing at him.

'Federica Appleby,' called McGonagall.

A petite girl with brown hair took her seat beneath the Sorting Hat.

'HUFFLEPUFF!' the Sorting Hat shouted.

The Hufflepuff table erupted with cheers as they greeted their latest member. Little Federica almost vanished beneath the older students who crowded around her with friendly handshakes and pats on the back. Harry could see Justin Finch-Fletchley shaking her hand pompously.

'If only Fred and George were here...' Harry murmured, shaking his head.

'They'd be dropping Wildfire Whiz-Bangs, Harry,' Ginny giggled.

'Oh, yeah...' Harry said, remembering Fred and George's pyrotechnical creations with a bright smile.

'Arlen Bainbridge?' came the Professor's voice again.

A handsome kid walked up to the Sorting Hat as though he did it every day of the week. His hair was dark and reached his chin. Swollen brown eyes that sparked with mischief crossed and uncrossed playfully as the Sorting Hat lowered around his ears.

'It is ALIVE!!' Arlen yelped in mock terror.

The other first years laughed merrily.

'I think we have a new Fred. Or George,' Hermione said with a smile.

'RAVENCLAW!' bellowed the Sorting Hat instantly.

The boy moonwalked his merry way towards the Ravenclaw table, much to the amusement of his schoolmates.

'Amanda Burnaby,' said Professor McGonagall.

Yet another girl, but Harry could not help but notice how pretty she was. Her hair was lustrous and bright red. He couldn't think of who he was reminded of...

He dismissed it as his imagination, and his eyes roved over the table, taking in the faces of the people he had known so well for the last five years of his life. Dean and Seamus were vainly trying to chat up Parvati and Lavender. Beside them was Neville, who was laughing at their attempts along with the girls. To his right was Luna, and next to her was Ginny.

Harry caught her eyes and gave a feeble smile. She returned the smile and winked at him.

Harry's mind raced. So that was who little Amanda reminded him of! A younger Ginny!

'SLYTHERIN!' roared the Sorting Hat.

As she joined the table, Harry's fists balled angrily as he watched Malfoy snub her. The little girl scowled, her lower lip trembling angrily as Malfoy teased her.

'Why does he have to be like that?' Harry snarled, watching the cheap mockery with disgust.

'Who?' Hermione asked. 'Like what?'

Draco yelled something that made the entire table laugh, and Amanda's face redden.

'Malfoy!' Harry snapped.

'What's he done now?' Hermione asked.

'He's being really nasty to that little first year...look at him!'

Draco was laughing at her, pointing and laughing so hard that Harry hoped he would wet himself.

'What?' Ron asked. 'What's going on?'

Amanda casually flicked her hand and knocked Draco's pumpkin juice across his lap.

Harry shook his head. 'Never mind.'

'Gabrielle Delacour,' Professor McGonagall said.

Harry and Ron exchanged identical looks of amazement as the little girl they remembered sat gracefully on the stool.

'GRYFFINDOR!' shouted the Hat.

A stunned silence greeted her for a split second, and then the whole table exploded with cheers for the new Gryffindor.

Catching sight of Harry, Ron and Hermione, whom she remembered from the Triwizard Tournament, Gabrielle hurried to join them.

'Salut, Harry Potter!' she said breathlessly. 'Perhaps you are not remembering, but you and ma sœur were...how you say...opponents in zee Triwizard Tournament. You and your ami - I am guessing you are zee best of friends - you saved me! Mais, c'est si bon pour faire mes études en 'Ogwarts!'

'Er, bless you,' Ron said weakly.

'She said that it's so good to be studying at Hogwarts,' Hermione translated.

'Oh.'

'Of course we remember you, Gabrielle,' Hermione said warmly.

'Er, yeah, hi, Gabrielle,' Ron added, extending his hand to her. 'We couldn't forget you. Could we, mate?'

Ron elbowed Harry in the ribs. Gasping with pain, Harry kicked Ron in the shin.

'Oh, yes,' Harry said anxiously. 'Hi, by the way.'

He glanced up, and Gabrielle's eyes locked with his for the briefest of moments.

'How is your sister Fleur?' Hermione enquired politely.

'She is fine,' Gabrielle smiled.

'And don't I know it!' Ron muttered.

'Ron!' Hermione snapped.

'Hey, come on, it's a compliment!' Ron protested vainly. 'Right, Harry?'

Harry, however, had started to leave the table.

'Harry?' Ron said, looking around for his friend.

'There he is!' Hermione said in bewilderment. 'Harry, where are you going?'

People were looking up, watching him as he broke into a run for the door. Their whispers and funny looks grew loud and threatening to Harry's frightened mind. The guileless eyes of junior students seemed to hide wicked thoughts and dark motives, whereas the senior students seemed to be sentinels barring his way.

''Arry! 'Arry! Where are you going, Monsieur Potter?' Gabrielle's voice rose above them all, still sweet, innocent and little girl like, but it seemed unbearable to his mind.

All around him, he could hear people calling his name, and teachers shouting angrily at him to come back.

'Potter!' roared Snape, 'Come back here right now!'

'Get bent, sir!' Harry replied, continuing at his run.

Ginny finally cottoned on to the source of the commotion. She did not shout his name. She shook her head and whispered a prayer that he would calm down. After all, what could be done until he had regained his peace of mind?

Harry glanced back, and noticed that Dumbledore had not moved. His silvery beard was pooled at his feet, and his blue eyes were solemn instead of merry. His aged hands lay clasped loosely in his lap, and he shook his head gently as Snape asked him something. Furious, the Potions Master sat back in his chair.

Professor McGonagall's pitying gaze irritated him, while Hagrid's confused expression mirrored Harry's own turbulent feelings.

You understand, don't you? Harry thought. You all know that something's wrong!

The Headmaster nodded to Harry, as if to say, 'Go on and sort yourself out. Take all the time you need.'

Ron and Hermione were getting to their feet, anxious to know what was wrong. He quickened his pace, unwilling to let them follow him. As a result, he ploughed into a second year, accidentally knocking him down. His friends picked him up, shouting at Harry and demanding to know the big idea.

He did not even pause to apologise.

He couldn't! It could only mean one thing...but it was so hard to believe! How could it be true? How?

He burst through the doors and did not stop until he reached the Room of Requirement. Pacing up and down outside of it, Harry wished for dark detectors, especially a foe-glass, and some food. He intended on being there for a while.

He had to stop feeling sorry for himself, he had to shake off this melancholy that shrouded his dreams and disturbed his waking moments and most importantly he had to stop thinking about Cho Chang.

There was no particular reason for his panic really, unless he counted the fact that his scar had started to burn white-hot the second little Gabrielle had looked at him. And in those moments when his eyes had locked to hers, Harry was certain that he saw something crimson stir in their depths, something with a forked tongue that darted from between venom-laced fangs and wielded a dark power far greater than any Harry, or anyone else for that matter, had encountered.

The door clicked open, and Harry raced inside. He took a seat in the large armchair and inhaled deeply to calm his breathing. He glanced around the room and found it to be quite grim and foreboding. On the table lay a foe-glass. Harry perused its image briefly before slamming it back down. The image shown in the glass was a shadowy form with red glints where its eyes should have been.

'Voldemort!' he hissed. 'He's possessing Gabrielle!'