The Pounding Rain

The Pounding Rain

Chapter Four

Yesterday

You sit on a cold wet bench

Waiting for something to happen

It's like your relieving yesterday

And you're grinning ear to ear

Isn't it funny how it's always the simplest things in life that can make a person ecstatic with joy?

For instance, receiving the doll she wanted for her birthday could thrill a little girl. And for that brief moment in time, she's never been so content. But then, times change and the doll is cast aside and she wants more. Or maybe the doll's moment of glory just passed away. The girl is sad again. It's these tiny, happy moments in life that can somehow outshine the dark ones, but sooner or later the moment is whipped away and nothing is left but the broken heart of a dreamer.

If it weren't for those moments, those terrible, dark moments, we'd all be weak and unchallenged, I suppose. That doesn't mean they're not hard, but people expect life to be easy. I know better.

The sky was dull and shadowed in grays: the signal that a storm would be here soon. For the past few days, all we'd been getting was rain, rain, and more rain, and everyone was getting antsy with boredom. Yet everyone had managed to escape the confines of the common room to find something more exciting to do. I enjoyed the solitude.

As I gazed out the window, at the tense sky, the images of the past few hours flashed through my head. I could practically see Harry sitting at the table next to me, laughing and playing chess. Inside I was beaming in elation at the memory of him and me. But he's only a friend.

And my happiness melted away. I wanted to more moments like last night, wanted more gold in my world of grays. Even still, the hope that Harry would love me back was growing every time I saw him. Is it possible?

'No, of course not.'

But a heart never listens to the mind.

A streak of angry yellow ripped the sky in two, illuminating the dreary landscape and creating a world of dark and foreboding shadows. Lightning... a symbol of danger. The scar on Harry's forehead blinked before my mind's eye. Is that a message to me: a message to stay away from Harry? Or was it a warning that he's dangerous? Or is it just a strange coincidence?

Why is always raining?

})({

Later, sitting on my bed immersed in a book, I vaguely heard the sound of knocking on my dormitory door. It creaked open and clicked shut, and Hermione pushed aside the curtains of my four-poster.

"Ginny? Are you okay?" she fretted, putting a hand to my forehead. "You look a bit feverish."

"I'm fine," I assured, pushing away her hand. "Fine. Did you tell Dumbledore?"

She bit her lip and slowly shook her head. "I couldn't find him anywhere." Her eyes were a muddy brown, dejected and sad. "Even the teachers don't know where he went." She tilted her head to the side and stared at me. "Are you sure you're okay? You seem distracted."

"I'm fine!" I insisted again. "Just as worried as you are. I just want to relax... before You-Know-Who comes. I want to be alone."

She bit her lip and then let out a frustrated sigh. "I'll be downstairs if you need anything." And then she left in a huff.

})({

Outside the night air was crisp, and the sky was finally free of overbearing clouds. Once again, the stars could wink to the earth below. I was returning to Gryffindor Tower after Astronomy, and had opted to take the longer, yet quieter, path. However, upon glancing out the window and finding the sky clear for once, I stopped and stood by the window. It was luck that a Professor hadn't happened to find me just standing here after hours.

I should go.

But there was something I wanted to do first. So, instead of turning up the stairs that would lead me to Gryffindor Tower, I started off towards the Owlery.

"Dear Bill"

Since second year, I'd kept up a correspondence with my older brother, Bill. A month or so had passed since I'd sent him a letter, so he was probably curious as to what was keeping me from writing. It was about time I sent him something.

"I'm sorry I haven't written in awhile."

The corridors echoed with the music of the forest and night. An owl hooted as she glided through the air, circling the towers and turrets of Hogwarts. Off in the distance howled a lone wolf, desperate and lonesome amongst the dark trees.

"But I've been a little preoccupied."

The creatures of the night emerged from their day-slumber and began their chorus. I rushed down the empty halls and basked silence. With dreams on my mind and melody in my eyes, I silently, yet quickly, tiptoed through the halls.

"You'll probably already know this by now, as you're in Egypt, but You-Know-Who is on his way here. By the time you receive this owl, he may even have set foot on Hogwarts ground. This will be impossible to ask, but ask I will: please do not worry about us."

I slowed down. It wouldn't matter if Bill got his letter late, because no matter what he'd get it after You-Know-Who arrived. Yet even so, I was entertained and caught up in the trance of the stars and night music. I wasn't sad... until I realized. You-Know-Who had, unfortunately, the power to destroy everyone's lives: that was a power no one should have, but have it he did. And with it, he would obviously wreak havoc on the world...

All those people... all the world... dead. At the hands of this nasty, despicable man - no, creature - the world's innocence, if there ever had been any, would vanish like dandelion seeds whipped away by the wind. And the children of the world, most of all the Muggle children, would never understand why the people around them cried out, would never comprehend the disaster befalling them... they'd just know sudden darkness, and then...

"Never mind, I know you won't be able to promise that. I know the dangers I'm about to face, and I'm not going to sugar coat it to you. You-Know-Who - no, call him by his right name. Voldemort. He is heading for Hogwarts, for Harry, and if we don't do something then everything is lost anyway."

Would the children ever be able to see the good things about the world before they were thrown into the inevitable? Perhaps some. But what about all those out there whose lives were already terrible? They deserved so much more. I pressed my eyes closed. Life's not fair...

"If I... If I don't make it, tell Mum and Dad and Charlie... tell everyone that I love them and I was only trying to help. I don't even want to do it. I'm scared. I feel like such a child. But then I look at Harry's face everyday, and my heartbreaks all over again about how much he's been through. And every once in awhile, I look in his eyes and I see the Chamber of Secrets. Tom Riddle all over again. That fear from my first-year is all welling up inside me, but I can't stop it. Can't hide it. It's just another reminder of what Voldemort can really do, and I don't want what happened to Harry and I to happen to anyone else, especially not the Muggles who don't even know Voldemort exists."

We were just standing there, letting life pass us by. That's what it means to live, doesn't it? I don't know anymore. Voldemort and the terrors of the Wizarding World have twisted my own life. Would it have been easier to live naively, like the Muggles do, without knowledge of the Dark Magic? How had peace escaped me?

"Bill, I miss being a little girl."

I miss feeling safe.

I'm racing towards peril. I'm running from it at the same time. Out of the frying pan, into the fire. Why can't I have a normal life? I was shaking under the pressure of my memories... the Chamber of Secrets. I would have to face him again.

"I don't even remember why I'm doing anything. I can't remember the words to the song Mum used to sing to us as children. What's happening to me, Bill?"

Tom Riddle... Harry... I clenched my fists and glared at the stone. Then the wall was a window, as I sped once again towards the Owlery. I was almost there. But I stopped to stare at my reflection in the window.

"It's almost like first year all over again, except I'm not involved in any dark devices... unless the heart counts as a dark device. Because that's what it feels like now. I feel like I've been corrupted, and I don't know why. It doesn't even have to do with Voldemort. It's with Harry."

Imagine the words on the paper. Think of what you will write to Bill in your mind so you can write quicker. But no. The words aren't coming. Just me... I was so pale, so pathetically desperate looking. Is it just my imagination?

"I feel like my heart and my life were stolen from me. Or will be, soon. I can't place the feeling, but it's weird and it scares me."

A single tear ran its path down my cheek. I took a breath as I opened the door to the Owlery. Hands shaking, I took out a piece of parchment from my bag and reached for my ink and quill.

"I write this letter to you because I know you worry about me, not that I'm expecting this to help any. Maybe I just want my thoughts on paper, and can't think of anyone better to talk to than you. You've been there for me, which is more than I can say for the twins, and sometimes even Ron. They look out for me, but they don't understand me. I still love them."

My hand hovered above the parchment. Quill shivering, I began to write my thoughts on paper. I poured out my soul like a spilt inkbottle, and before I knew it the parchment was covered in violet ink and fragments of my heart.

"Be proud of me, please, Bill. I'm doing only what I think first to do. I'm trying to be strong and brave like the rest of the family."

First year replayed itself over and over in my head. No.

"I'm trying to make it stop. Make the nightmare stop."

'Dear Tom... rooster feathers all over my robes and I don't know how they got there. Dear Tom... I can't remember what I did the night of Halloween... Dear Tom... Dear Tom... I think I'm going mad... I think I'm the one attacking everyone!'

No. Make it stop.

I dropped the quill.

'Weakness... that's all you are. Weak.'

Stop it...

My hands were quivering; my heart was racing.

'Don't tell Harry... You didn't tell Harry, did you? He can't know... no... no...'

Stop it...

'Foolish, foolish girl.'

Stop it...

The dead roosters in my hands and their feathers covering my robes, the paint on the wall... 'You! Couldn't stand up to a diary!'

"Stop it, please..." I heard my hoarse voice whisper. I shook my head. Had I fallen asleep, or did the nightmares haunt me during the day now, too? I couldn't tell. "Stop it!"

He was touching me... his hands caressed my cheek... and then I shouted and he slapped me for it. 'They can't hear you, you know! You're wasting your breath.'

The logical part of my mind knew he couldn't have slapped me; he hadn't been real. He couldn't have touched me. Yet I remembered it. It was just another terrible vision.

"Stop it!" I shouted. "Get off of me!"

Cold hands brushed my forehead.

Laughter... his cold shriek screaming at me...

"Ginny!"

Warm... the voice was warm. It burned away the icy memories of my past. I shook into reality.

"Harry!" I gasped. "I - I... I'm sorry."

He sat down beside me and I folded up my letter to Bill.

"Sorry? For what?" he asked. His eyes flitted to the letter I was covering with my hands to my face, then back to the letter. But he didn't say anything.

"I... Did I disturb you?" Heat flamed on my cheeks. "I didn't mean to."

"No," he answered shortly. "No, Ginny. But why...?"

My hands closed tightly around the parchment. In my dry, raspy whisper, I told him, "Tom Riddle." And that was all he needed to hear to understand. He sucked in air and blew it out in an angered sigh. His eyes darkened in hatred at the name, and he glared up at the sky. All in a moment, he shook himself from his phase and looked at me, expression much gentler. My heart had a sudden desire to flutter up in my chest.

"You know," he confided, "I still feel guilty for Cedric's death at the end of fourth year. Even though I know that it wasn't my fault, I... don't accept it."

I nodded meekly. "I was too weak and too stupid. I should have known better."

"It tears you up inside," he added, "and there's nothing to do to make it go away."

I'd never talked about this too Harry before. It was too evil of a subject, buried to deep in my heart to ever bring it up in front of anyone. But Harry would understand the way that Ron, Hermione, or anyone else would not.

"I'm afraid that I won't be able to stand up to him," I admitted, feeling the burning behind my eyes that signaled the storm of tears threatening to overcome me. "Afraid of being defeated again."

"So am I."

Outside the wind whistled, carrying the forlorn cry of the wolf and the screech of a bird. I felt absurdly cold, even though I was wrapped in my cloak.

"Why don't you send your letter," he suggested, "and then we can return to the warmth of Gryffindor Tower."

})({

The rain was icy on his flesh, and it burned his skin in its chilling manner right down to his bone. His steps were dangerous and foreboding as he tread across the muddy lawn towards the Hogwarts lake, where the water had frozen and showed no sign of breaking under his heavy feet, so he made his way towards the center of the lake. He did not understand the reasons of his trail, nor did he understand how the lake could solve his problems. Looking down, he could see the images of Cho dancing. Like a television screen, he watched her singing to herself in front of a mirror, staring dreamily into his eyes. He continued on, and the images moved with him. His stride grew less weary and bolder and he came closer and closer to the center of the lake. And suddenly, the pictures were no longer Cho, but Ginny. Surprised, he nearly lost his footing on the ice, but regained it quickly. He could see Ginny clearly in the glassy surface, chin arched defiantly, yet majestically in a way he'd never noticed. Her brown eyes were sparking with an animosity he'd never expected of her. The image captivated him, and while he stared hypnotically at her he continued his trek across the ice. Then his own image stood protectively beside her. He put his arm around her. Calm washed over her like the soothing tide, and she smiled in his embrace. Had she always been that beautiful? No, she was the same Ginny. He just saw her differently; he could see the brightness of her eyes shining up at him now. He could see the aura of happiness haloed around her. But there was darkness at her core, nightmares that haunted her. He slipped at the shadows at the back of her eyes, shadows that danced to the fire of fear. He slid endlessly towards the center of the lake, and he could feel the ice getting thinner and more brittle. He stopped in the center.

Voldemort.

The monster hovered above him, cackling cutting through the air like a knife grating on iron. The monster's hands raised and wand extended towards the cowering boy on the ice. The inescapable words of fate's worst curse hung in the silence between them. They left his mouth. The boy prepared for death.

Death never came, though.

Voldemort's hand twitched just a fraction to the right. Before he even had a chance to breathe a sigh of relief, an earsplitting scream shook his soul. He twisted on the ice to see who the screech of fear belonged to. Ginny. Dead. Frozen. Pale. Gone.

})({

I shivered awake, gasping for air. My mouth opened to scream, but I swallowed it down. Sit up. Calm down. It's over.

"You're safe," I reassured myself, "in your dormitory."

I stood on shaky legs and went to the side table where the pitchers of water were kept. Shivering, I gulped down a glass of water. Moonbeams danced on the floor, dusting it with a pale white glow. The floor was cold as ice. My stomach was cold slush. I took another sip of water and lay down in bed.

})({

Skeptic faces stared back at me. The library was mostly empty, but Hermione insisted we get the back table and speak in hushed voices. I observed their expressions.

Harry was looking sullen as ever, his eyes dull and shadowed from lack of sleep. Hermione was pale and worried, and Ron was mortified and angry at the same time. He shook his head.

"You think this dream you had... of You-Know-Who killing you... you think it means he's getting closer?" he questioned. "I mean, it's just a dream."

"Right," I snarled, "just a nightmare. Silly. Shouldn't have brought it up."

Hermione sent me a stern look. "No reason to get angry," she reasoned. "Ron, sometimes dreams can give us a foresight into the future."

He frowned, but his eyes stared despairingly down at the wooden table. Something was bothering him. "What did you say happened in the dream, then?" his question dripped with doubt. "Maybe we can stop it from happening."

"There was ice... I slipped," I lied, "And then he pointed his wand at me and killed me."

Ron shifted in his chair. "Don't go near ice, then."

Harry's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "That's all that happened?" I nodded, paled, and sank into my chair. He tried to catch my eyes, but I looked away and out the window.

"Yes," I maintained. Change the subject. "Now, then. Can anyone help me with my Transfiguration homework?"

})({

Drops of rain splattered on the window. Rain all week. Great. My dormitory was tranquil. I don't know where the other girls were. I didn't care. I just sat on my bed, staring out the window instead of reading the book in my hand. Too many thoughts were pounding in my head to concentrate.

Then I left the window, left my bed, and stormed out of the dormitory. I needed to do something. Sitting and thinking would not help. I pounded down the stairs and found Hermione peering over a length of parchment, rereading what she'd written.

"Hey, Hermione," I yawned, falling into a seat across from her. "How's the essay?"

"Finished," she grinned proudly, setting down her quill and stretching.

"That's good." Silence followed as Hermione packed up. Then she sat stiffly in her chair and drummed her fingers on the table.

"Finally," she muttered, watching the portrait hole. I turned to see Harry enter, wet and exhausted. "Hi, Harry!" she greeted, once he reached the table. He threw down his bag and slid into a chair. "Err... Harry?"

He frowned. "Hullo, Hermione. Ginny." I nodded in reply. Once more, hush held the table in a tight, uncomfortable meeting.

"What's up?" I dared to ask.

Running his hand through his hair, making it even more of a tousled mess, he sighed and started digging around in his bag. "Cho," he said carefully, glancing sideways at me. "She... confronted me in the halls today."

Hermione dropped her jaw in shock. "What for? What did she say?"

"She misses me," he answered primly, finding his quill and ink and setting it on the table. "And wants to know if I feel the same."

"What?" I ventured. "She wants to get back together with you?"

He shrugged. "Just wanted to know if we were still friends and why I hadn't spoken to her in awhile."

"And? What about you?" I bit my lip nervously.

"I don't know!" he huffed. "No. I told you. I don't like her anymore."

My eyes narrowed. "What is irritating you?" I asked crossly. I hated it when people were angry and refused to talk about it. If you don't talk about it, don't give me an attitude.

"Here I am, about to face Voldemort," Hermione flinched, "And here is Cho, yelling at me for not talking to her and if I'm mad, why don't I say something? No, I'm not mad. Then why don't I talk to her? Is it some written law that I have to? No! I'm busy, I insist, but... but..." He took a deep breath. "I don't hate Cho. I just don't want to have to deal with this when I have worse things on my mind. It's irritating."

"Understandable," I consented, "I suppose. But just because you do have Voldemort at your doorstep doesn't mean you can forget about friends. Don't let him ruin your life! Don't give him that power!"

"He already has it, Ginny. You were the one who said so!" He argued back. "Forget it. Forget it." He stood up and left.

"Ginny," Hermione said. Here it comes. "Harry is under a lot of stress. Cut him some slack."

"I don't know if you've noticed, but we're all under a lot of stress, and I don't see what makes him think - "

"Let him be, Ginny," she said softly. "Or be there for him. Don't yell."

"It's the only way to knock some sense into his head!"

But I was fighting a losing argument, so I fell quiet and sat in thought for a minute or two.

As if she could see the battle in my mind, Hermione said, "Ginny... you can't go on like this. You need to tell Harry how you feel. If you love him, tell him now. Directly. Before you lose your chance! Harry will surprise you, he always has."

I glowered at her. "I don't need a lesson, Hermione," I said darkly. "And you say the same thing every single time."

"And you never listen!" she scolded. "Are you going to watch him walk out of your life? What if he doesn't come back from You-Know-Who?" The thought pained her as she spoke it, but she plunged ahead. "What if he dies..." she closed her eyes and swallowed, "and you never get to tell him? Or do you think it's noble to keep it a secret while he leaves you behind?"

"I'm not keeping it a secret!" I said shrilly. "And he's not leaving me behind! I have every intention of walking out there with him when Voldemort gets here. It's noble to stick by him, and that is what I'm doing. No one is leaving anyone." I stood abruptly and stomped up the stairs to the dormitories. What does she know? She doesn't understand. Ron loves her back. And I've loved Harry for years. It isn't really a secret. For goodness sakes, I'm happy!

But I knew I was lying myself, and it was getting harder every time. Before I entered the safety of my dormitory, I peered over the banister at Hermione. She stood soundlessly at the end of the table, shocked and sad looking. She shook her head and picked up her bag, heading dejectedly towards the stairs. I rushed inside to the confines of my room.

})({

In the morning I woke feeling well rested and even a bit cheerful. I think I just got tired of sadness. Why was I happy while my life slowly spun out of control? Maybe it's just an illusion. Sighing, I dressed and hurried down to breakfast.

"Good morning Harry," I greeted at breakfast, trying to sound sorry. "Good morning, Ron, 'morning Hermione." I didn't have to try to smile as I sat down and began buttering a piece of toast.

"I see you haven't declared war on your breakfast yet," Hermione teased.

"Ah, but the day has only begun!" I laughed. I could see Hermione send Ron a pointed look out of the corner of my eye.

Harry commented, "You seem especially jubilant today, Ginny. It's good to see you happy for a change."

"Jubilant - is that your big word of the day, Harry?" Ron joked. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Thank you." I wondered if they noticed my grin widen.

"I think," Hermione said cautiously, "that we should tell the teachers. About You-Know-Who."

Harry and Ron seemed dubious, but I nodded in agreement. "If they don't already know."

There was only a millisecond of hesitation before we all leaped from our chairs and raced towards the doors, ignoring the confused glances of our peers and the jeers from the Slytherins. The halls were crowded with students heading towards breakfast, and pushing against them we felt like salmon swimming upstream. Eventually, the horde of pupils started to thin, but none of the teachers were in sight - they hadn't been in the Great Hall, either.

Where are the professors? Why haven't we seen any at all?

"Neville!" Ron said, jumping in front of him. "Do you know where all the teachers are?"

Neville blinked and stared at us as though we'd gone insane. Perhaps we had. We watched him intently, as if our lives depended on his answers. Perhaps they did. "The teacher's lounge," he answered hesitantly. "McGonagall called I meeting... I heard."

"Thanks!" we yelled over our shoulders, already halfway down the hall. Ron got there first, and started pounding relentlessly on the door. Professor Sprout opened it to find us standing side-by-side and gasping for air. They pushed me forward to talk.

"I'm sorry, children," she told us, looking exhausted herself, "but we don't have the time - "

"No!" Hermione interrupted, "This is urgent. It's about You-Know-Who!"

Professor Sprout shook her head. "I know you want to help, but right now - "

"Who's at the door?" came a voice from inside.

Hermione started to explain, when all of a sudden Seamus Finnigan's voice floated down the hall. "Wait!" he shouted, sprinting down the corridor. "Wait. They... can... help!"

"Professor? Is everything all right?" Professor McGonagall came to the door. "What seems to be the problem?"

Hermione, Ron, and I looked at Seamus, wondering what he was doing here, how much he knew, and whether he would explain. He hesitated, glanced at Harry - and we followed his gaze - who nodded back at Seamus, who seemed to have caught his breath. He spoke.

"Professor, we know where You-Know-Who is," he began, staring urgently up at McGonagall. "There's a newspaper that explains it, really goes into detail about his methods. It wasn't any publicly known newspaper, and um... well, Ginny can explain better." But he took out a copy of one of the newspapers I'd been using and handed it to McGonagall. Everyone's eyes turned to me.

"Well, you see, Professor," I spluttered, surprised at Seamus, "I thought it might - err - help if I tried to trace You-Know-Who myself, but surely you already know... where he is... but even if you did, you wouldn't tell us, and I had to be resourceful. Certainly you understand; I couldn't just wait for him to show himself, because that would only be an attack."

"Miss Weasley," said Professor McGonagall, "I cannot say I'm surprised by your behavior. I'm quite impressed, actually. However, you must know that we have the situation completely under control, and you're quite safe at Hogwarts."

Seamus shook his head. It was obvious that he knew more than he'd let on by now. How did he know, though? Harry was the one taking the newspapers, not Seamus. "Professor," he contended, "you have no idea what's going on."

"Mr. Finnigan, are you suggesting that five young students at Hogwarts would know more about You-Know-Who's status than the Professors who have been working on this every moment possible since You-Know-Who returned to our world?"

"Yes."

We all stood there, in the middle of the hallway, gawking like birds at Seamus. The Professors were even more surprised at Seamus' sudden defiance than we were. Seamus cast a glance at Harry, who nodded in return. It clicked. Harry told Seamus, didn't he? He even shared the newspapers... do Neville and Dean know, too? Hermione whispered something to Ron. Feelings of old were rekindled as I stood, watching these people who knew each other so well. On the outside, again.

"Ginny," Seamus address me, shaking me from my reverie, "would you please tell us where you ordered the newspapers from?"

The query shocked me. It's not important! I thought, hands twitching at my side. They were all watching me now; I could not avert the subject. "It's... really not that important, is it? They're just newspapers, after all."

"I'd like to know whether they are liable or not," McGonagall answered, "Now, Miss Weasley, please tell us the publishers of the newspaper."

Feeling the blush rise to my cheeks, I stared down at the floor.

"They were my father's," I mumbled. "I... took them, from him, and changed the address to my dormitory." I looked away. "They were Ministry papers, I think. Something Dad was subscribed to."

McGonagall did not contain her surprise or anger. "Miss Weasley, do you know that your father is part of an important organization against the Death Eaters." She examined the paper, and then her eyebrows shot up in recognition. "This paper is an issue from the Order of the Phoenix's volumes. I cannot believe you would stop these from reaching your father."

My eyes stung. "I'm sorry, Professor. But it isn't fair that you hide information from us..."

"Would you really like to see your peers panicking? Because that is what more than half the student populace would do if we told them." She paused, and then continued in a thin, disappointed voice, "I'd expected better of you than to interfere with something so dangerous. Not to mention that Arthur was one of the very few subscribed to the paper." She sighed. "This is not the time for reprimands. We'll need to know what you found in those articles."

I nodded, and she motioned me to enter the room. "Mr. Potter, you may join us also."

We followed her into the staff room, Professor Sprout closing the door behind us. Immediately, Snape stood up to object to our presence.

"Mr. Potter and Miss Weasley have some information to share with us," McGonagall explained, "and so I suggest you listen carefully. Their sources are indeed accountable, Severus," she assured, as he opened his mouth to protest. She continued to explain what happened in the hall. "Now, Ginny," she said, finishing the story. "Please tell us what you found."

"He's in France or Norway," I replied at once, "but that's a guess. I lost track of him for a week or so because I got distracted..." Harry bowed his head guiltily. "And in that week, Voldemort traveled a fourth of the amount of distance that, previously, it'd taken him six months to travel. He started in Hong Kong, and - "

"We know that, Miss Weasley," Snape interrupted. "So please, get to the point or this discussion is over."

Swallowing, I nodded and continued. "He went to Istanbul, right, building up his armies on the way. And then he went to Hamburg. Rumors say that he awakened Dracula, but no one can confirm this. He hasn't even informed his Death Eaters in his Inner Circle."

"But Dracula is dead, isn't he?" piped up Professor Sinistra. "Even I know that."

Snape disagreed. "There are dark ways to raise a vampire from the dead that I would not put below Voldemort."

"Right. And the articles are pretty certain that he has followers gathering everywhere along the English Channel, and some filling the Norwegian coast. But Norway's been good with filtering out suspicious figures. His own whereabouts are completely unknown, classified information, but he can't do too much without his followers.

"He could be here by tomorrow," I ended, realizing that I as still standing. I sat down in one of the comfy plush chairs of the staff room.

"No," refuted McGonagall, "even for Voldemort traveling is difficult if he wishes to remain in hiding. He must find a way to transport hundreds - or even thousands - of wizards, witches, and other creatures across the ocean and onto Britain without raising suspicions of Muggles and wizards alike."

Snape shook his head again. "Do you think he will care about Muggles? He is powerful enough to kill them and evil enough not to give it a second thought. If he has the command of 'hundreds or even thousands of wizards, witches and other creatures', he will not hesitate once he is ready. The only delay might be creating a sufficient plan."

Their discussion quickly turned into a heated argument. I couldn't believe they couldn't decide on anything. They'd always put up this façade of having everything under control in front of the students, but practically alone with only the other staff members their defenses fell down.

"Does that mean he'll be here by tomorrow?" Harry asked me. I shrugged.

"It's impossible to tell."

Before I could go any further, the door burst open and Colin Creevey's panicked face peered in. He looked dreadful, like he'd just seen the basilisk again. Face pale and shocked, eyes round, he stood stiffly before us. Whatever he was trying to say wold not come out.

Then, he said it.

"C-Cho... Cho Chang! S-she..." he stopped when he saw Harry's piercing gaze on him, but tried to continue. "Cho..." Colin fainted before he could finish his sentence.