The Seers' Truth: A Broken Beginning

Chapter 1

Trapped in Twilight

The dream started like it always did, with the diary. It came sliding back into her life like a dementor, and it was about as welcome. She had thought she was free of him. She had not dreamed of him since first year. She d not heard his voice in her thoughts. She had not clutched his wretched book to herself in the darkness. She did not lie awake at night wanting. She had schooled herself not to think of him at all. She almost succeeded. All that had happened to her happened a lifetime ago. It felt like yesterday. It was two years, two months, two weeks and two days since she had felt his touch. It was over. Or was it just beginning?

Ginny Weasley rolled over and clutched the sheets trying to wake up, whimpering in her sleep and shivering. In the dream, the night was cold, but the weather had nothing to do with her tremors.

"That was a stupid stunt!" The writing appeared harsh and round like a child scrawling on the paper, pushing too hard and making thick black lines of ink. "Green as a fresh pickled TOAD! How did you keep this Valentine stuff from me?"

"I didn't think ahead. The dwarf asked some of us girls if we wanted to send a Valentine and I just wrote it--started to write it and then you made me change it. If the dwarf hadn't read it back to me--"

"Yes. I know. If the dwarf hadn't read it back to you, I might not have known and it is possible that Harry Potter would have gotten the message, though not likely, considering how stupid Gryffindors are."

"Harry is not stupid," wrote Ginny. "He would have figured it out. He still might, even though you made it all mixed up."

"You better pray he doesn't. You're lucky. If this little stunt had succeeded I would have had to hurt you, Virginia."

She knew he had underestimated her, but it would not happen again.

"Don't make me have to punish you. Didn't you learn anything from our little session after you tried to flush the diary?"

She whimpered in her sleep and tried to push the memory away.

The diary itself was trembling with anger, and she couldn't withdraw her hands from it. If she could, she would have slammed it shut.

"I'm sorry," Ginny sobbed. "I won't do it again." She felt the panic starting to rise as she thought of how angry he had been that she tried to flush the diary down the toilet-- No, she wouldn't think about that.

She sniffled, wishing she could blow her nose and wipe her face. "I was so embarrassed." She sniffed again, "Did you have to embarrass me?"

"Embarrassment is the least of your worries, Virginia. You do realize what spell I've been using on you these past few weeks when you've been obstinate, don't you?"

"No--I--"

"The Imperius Curse," answered Tom.

"It's an Unforgivable--"

"Yes, well, if they put me in Azkaban, you're coming too," he sneered. "And you realize I have other spells at my disposal if you need some incentive to be obedient."

"Yes." She tried to pull her hands away from the diary, but as soon as she did so, waves of nausea shot through her. She grasped it again and wrote, "I need my handkerchief."

"Are you crying? Good," came the words, but the diary did not release her. "Copy this. Harry Potter did not conquer Lord Voldemort," wrote the diary.

"But he did," wrote Ginny.

The words came fast and furious. "It's not finished yet!" wrote the diary. "What the fuck do you think you've been doing with my basilisks all this time? You're lucky your fellow Gryffindors are as stupid as you. Now write. Harry Potter did not conquer Lord Voldemort!"

She started to write, brushing at her tears as they continued to fall making wet splotches on the diary. "Harry Potter did not conquer--" She stopped and started again, writing, "the poem said Dark Lord not Lord Voldemort."

The words appeared, lightening fast. "I'm well aware of what you wrote, but I am not The Dark Lord."

Ginny just stared at the page. After a while, she wrote, "You're not?"

And abruptly, she didn't need the diary to communicate with him.

"No, Ginny Love," his voice was infinitely patient, explaining as if to a very young child. "The Muggles must die. It's very simple really, just like the roosters had to die to make way for the basilisks, the Muggles have to die to make way for the wizards. It is not Dark to do what others are afraid to do. It is courage. Now write. Harry Potter did not defeat Lord Voldemort."

She didn't know how many feet of parchment she had used in writing the letters in perfect symmetry, but her hand started to cramp and she wanted to quit. She put the quill down wondering if he had left her.

"Do you know what day this is, Virginia?"

"My birthday," she murmured. "I'm twelve today."

"Wrong, Virginia. It's the day you learn to obey me."

Within seconds, the nausea was back, followed by an awful tingling that felt like tiny knives piercing her skin all over her body.

She awoke shaking, the same tingling feeling echoing through out her body and making her cringe and cry out.

Ginny blinked awake, thinking she had been dreaming but the dream now eluded her. It was something about Tom. Well, she thought, she was going back to Hogwarts tomorrow. She looked out the window at the pale light of the stars. No, she corrected mentally, not tomorrow, today. It was probably past midnight. She was alone in her bedroom at the burrow, but the image of Tom Riddle stayed in her mind. She reminded herself it was just a memory and no longer a vision of her future.

===

Another was also dreaming of the past, but it was a dream that affected her future. It affected everyone's future...

Little over 50 years ago in a small Muggle town a grand manor stood, and in its shadow a boy waited. Dark haired and pale, he looked older than his 18 years his face aged with hate and anger. He pushed his hair out of his face and drew his cloak about him. He worried about what he came here to do but it was too late to turn back now and they disserved it. Taking a deep breath and setting his jaw he walked defiantly onto the large wrap-around-porch. Up to the double doors with the big brass knockers and the words The Riddles stamped on above them in gold letters. Locked! But locks couldn't keep him out for he was no ordinary boy.

No, I'm much more, and I will make them pay for what they've done to me.

"ALOHOMORA!"

The door swung open soundlessly on well-oiled hinges. He walked into the dark entry. The black marble floor flecked with silver and gray swirls, was covered with beautiful rugs. On the walls hung expensive tapestries and paintings.

All this could have been mine! All this should have been mine! It's my right!

Down the corridor a door was slightly open and a light shone though the crack. The forest green carpet muffling the sound of his feet the boy inched closer to the door, listening. Loud voices could be heard inside. He wouldn't let them know he was here. Not just yet. A male voice, flat and angry, floated though the crack

"And who is this girl?"

"Lorrissa--"

"Not her name, boy! Who IS she? A nobody, that's who and not suitable."

"Tommy, you're barely more than a baby--"

"I'm not a baby, Mother. I'm seventeen!"

At this the cloaked boy's breath caught in his throat '17! 17! So my father didn't waste any time did he?'

"Go to college and make something of yourself, Tom," his mother added. "Why would you want to marry this girl?"

"Mother I..."

The boy's name was Tom? The silent stranger reached into his robe pocket and slowly and carefully wrapped his fingers around his wand. How could they name this boy Tom?

The boy's father was speaking again. "You're too young and that's final!"

"No, Father, you misunderstand. I didn't come here to ask your permission."

"Well, you don't HAVE MY PERMISSION," he shouted. "You are my child and you WILL DO as I say."

There was a crash as if the man had hit his fist on the table, and the tinkle of some fine crystal breaking and then silence.

The cloaked boy outside the door couldn't keep quiet any longer. He pushed the door open a crack and stiffened as he heard the man continuing to speak, "You're my son." His arm was draped over the tense shoulder of the boy. "You must carry on the good name of Riddle. You are my son. The only one I've got."

The pale-faced boy stepped quietly out of the shadow. "Now, Father," he said, "you know that's not true."

He removed his hood, throwing his face into harsh light. The woman screamed.

"Mother!" The son wrapped a reassuring arm around his mother.

"How did you get in here?" growled the father.

"It's a simple spell Father, all I needed was a word, not a wand or a potion or a..."

"LIAR! I WILL NOT HAVE MENTION OF SUCH UTTER RUBBISH UNDER MY ROOF!!"

"Utter Rubbish? UTTER RUBBISH! BEFORE THIS NIGHT IS OUT YOU WILL LEARN THE POWER BEHIND THAT UTTER RUBBISH!!"

"See here, boy, if you do not leave this instant I will call the authorities."

At this the boy began to chuckle: a cold mirthless laugh which did not reach his eyes.

"That's funny Father," the boy said calmly. "As if the Muggle police could contend with LORD Voldemort! I'd like to see them try. By the way, Father, you won't have to worry about your precious name. I am no longer Tom Riddle. I am LORD VOLDEMORT!" The chandelier rattled with the sound of his voice.

The father was silent, his mouth opening and shutting like a fish turning red around the gills. "Get out!" he shouted, "Get out!"

"Tut, tut, Father, is that how you greet the son you haven't seen for 18 years? Shame, Shame."

"Thomas--" croaked the woman who was still being fussed over by her son. She seemed to have finally regained the ability to speak--but noo him--only to the father. "Thomas, who is this boy?"

But before her husband could answer, Voldemort cut in.

"He never told you about my mother? No. He preferred to pretend she never existed. So tell me, Father, after she died, did you dump me in the orphanage and run off with this harlot in the same night, or did you wait a whole week in respect for the dead?"

Both the woman and her son seemed too shocked to speak.

Apparently the boys' father was not.

"I will not be spoken to like that!"

"I--WILL--SPEAK--TO--YOU--ANY--WAY--I--WISH!" Voldemort's voicdropped dangerously low. His fingers closed slowly around the wand in his robe pocket. As he expected, it was hot. He could almost feel the phoenix feather core within it bursting into flame with the intensity of his emotion. So be it. With the fiery anger of this spell he would purge himself of this final weakness, and be re-born.

A dozen curses flew into his mind, each vying for the right to be used on his father--

Crucio!--

Imperio!--

His wand felt alive in his hand--a spell dancing on the tip--all he had to do was say the word, but for a moment, he hesitated. He saw his father, as--no--this Muggle was never his father. He saw Tom Riddle as a greasy little rat and even that was too good for the likes of him...RAT...

I used to have one once, long ago, when I was a boy...The thought was a fleeting one, and the wand in his pocket was suddenly warm and reassuring.

Voldemort became aware of the stinking Muggle poking his finger into his chest, emphasizing each hateful word.

"YOU SHUT-UP AND LISTEN TO ME, BOY!" His hot breath in Voldemort's face smelled of wine and smoke. "YOU AND YOUR MOTHER!" White drops of spittle began to collect in the corners of his mouth as his face turned red and he continued to poke a finger in Voldemort's chest. "LIARS! ALL OF YOUR KIND! FREAKS AND WEIRDOES! YOU'RE A NOBODY! A LYING WORTHLESS NOBODY LIKE YOUR MOTHER...BUT SHE COULDN'T LIE TO ME. I KNEW." Specks of spit flew from his mouth as he spoke and splattered Voldemort's chest. "I KNEW HER FOR WHAT SHE WAS. YOU'RE NO SON OF MINE! THIS IS MY ONLY SON!" Mr. Riddle yelled. His hand was groping out behind him toward the silent, shocked boy who was still standing next to his mother.

With tremendous control, Lord Voldemort refrained from using any of the forbidden curses. He pulled his hand out of his pocket away from his warm wand. "I'm sorry you feel that way Father. If you're going to renounce me, and deny my existence, I'll show you the same courtesy. You will never be my father. I am my mother's son."

"It doesn't matter who you are. You're nobody. As far as I'm concerned you were never born. YOU'RE DEAD TO ME!"

"No Father," Voldemort said, his hand flying back to his wand, which was now so hot he felt his fingers sear. He closed his haabout it anyway, determined to force his will through it. "You are dead to me, Tom Riddle."

A V A D A

K E D A V R A !

There were three flashes of green fire as three human lives were snuffed out and one wizard was reborn as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

===

Faraway, safe in her bed, a young witch awoke screaming.

"Parvati, what's wrong?" called her mother as she came in and the glow globes flickered into life.

"Nothing mum, just a dream," she answered. Her heart was beating fast and her breath coming in short gasps. "Or maybe..." Parvati jumped out of bed and hurried over to her desk, where she started shifting stacks of parchment and looking though large divination volumes. Her mother gave her a quizzical look.

"I'm ok mum, really."

"Alright then. Try and get some sleep sweetheart. We have to get up early to catch the Hogwarts Express." She left, closing the door softly behind her.

Parvati was skimming though page after page until at last her finger ran across what she was looking for:

Oneiromancy: Divination by the interpretation of dreams

She was glad she'd be going back to Hogwarts in the morning. She couldn't wait to tell Professor Trelawney about this dream. Lavender was going to be so jealous. She snatched up her dream journal parchment and sitting cross-legged on her bed, she began to record the dream in meticulous detail, just as Professor Trelawney had taught her.

===

The next day, Parvati couldn't wait to share her Seeing with Lavender, but Kings Cross was crowded with people: wizards and Muggles alike. Platform 9 ¾ was just as crowded. There was no time to talk privately with Lavender and Parvati had no intention of sharing her divination with Hermione Granger nearby. It was no secret that Hermione thought Divination was just a bunch of fairy tales made up by people who didn't have her cleverness. Or perhaps just didn't want to study. Well, Parvati wasn't going to open herself up to ridicule. She could wait.

"I have something important to tell you,&rdqu she whispered to Lavender as they entered the Hogwarts Express. "As soon as we find an empty car I'll tell you."

"O-o-o-o, you've had another Seeing. I can tell."

Parvati hushed her as several of their fellow Gryffindors came their way. It was Harry Potter and his friend Ron Weasley, followed by the entire camp of Weasleys and, of course, Hermione Granger. Hermione seemed to have gained a new friend: a pitiful, sallow skinned child who looked like she never heard of a glamour charm, and her clothes couldn't be any worse if they were Ginny Weasley's cast offs.

"Oh, hi Parvati, Lavender. This is one of the new students, Beatrice Ellis."

"Hi Beatrice." Parvati wondered why Hermione seemed so intent to introduce her to a first year. "First year at Hogwarts?" she asked.

Beatrice nodded vigorously while sticking a potion holder of some kind into her mouth and squirting the contents. She took several deep breaths while Hermione continued. Lavender looked away uncomfortably, and exchanged glances with Parvati.

"Beatrice is a fifth year, like us," Hermione said. "She's been studying with Mrs. Figg at home."

"Why would you want to do that?" interrupted Ron, looking at Beatrice, but she didn't answer.

Hermione did. "Beatrice's father was a wizard, but she lives with her mother in the Muggle world. Her mum wouldn't let her come to Hogwarts, so Mrs. Figg has been tutoring her. But now that her asthma is under control, her mother finally agreed to let her come to Hogwarts--with Mrs. Figg."

Harry moved closer at the sound of Mrs. Figg's name. "You live on Privet Drive? I've never seen you there." He wondered what her father thought of her living in the Muggle world, but didn't ask. He hated when people asked him personal questions before they could be considered his friend.

Beatrice nodded again and took a deep breath. "I knew you lived there, and you were...are..." She started to blush around the ears and the red quickly colored her whole face.

"The great Harry Potter!" cut in Ron, laughing as he licked the last of the chocolate frog from his fingers. "So what's your dad think of living on Privet Drive? My dad would probably love it. He works for the Ministry: Dept of Muggle Studies."

Suddenly it got very quiet. There was a quick spray of Beatrice's puffer, and then she said, softly, "My father is dead. He-Who--" she took another breath. "Who-Must--"

"I'm sorry," Ron interrupted her labored explanation. "Hey, let's get moving so we can get a car to ourselves. If I have to put up with Fred and George for the whole ride, I might move to Privet Drive!"

The group chuckled quietly as they turned the opposite direction from Fred and George. Lavender and Parvati also moved away from them. Beatrice looked uncertainly from one group to the other as if she were worried they all would abandon her. "You can sit with us," Hermione said. Beatrice looked visibly relieved. Ron looked at the ceiling. Inviting Beatrice meant that their conversation would be limited. They couldn't discuss Sirius or Lupin openly. In fact, Beatrice looked as if she might faint if she saw or heard anything remotely like Dark Magic. Wait until she had her first look at Snape's dungeon and potions. Ron wagered she wouldn't last very long at Hogwarts. It was going to be a very boring ride.

Before the four of them even had their trunks stowed, the train started to inch forward. Harry leaned his forehead against the window. His scar hurt. It had hurt a lot this summer, which was proof that he and Voldemort were more firmly entangled than before. He heard the snakes that lived under his Uncle Dursley's porch every time he went outside. They were just garden snakes, but sometimes he'd imagine...

Harry opened his eyes wide. Someone was trying to catch the train. The stranger was sticking a trunk upon the train several compartments forward. After a quick flick of a wand, the trunk was stuck to the side of the train as if by glue and the stranger put his wand in his mouth and started to jog alongside of the train with one hand outstretched to catch a handrail. Harry remembered his panic when he and Ron had missed the Hogwarts Express and he was instantly in action. "Alohomora!" The glass disappeared from the window and a rush of cold wind poured in on them even though the train was barely moving yet.

Beatrice screeched and huddled in the corner. Harry already had flung himself half way out of the opening he had made and was reaching toward the jogging stranger. Ron dropped the chocolate frog he was eating and grabbed the back of Harry's shirt. "Bloody Hell Harry!"

With a gigantic tug, they managed to pull the stranger into the car. They all sat panting and laughing on the floor. Hermione stood beside her partially stowed trunk and looked down at them. The wind was blowing her hair wildly about her face now. "What are you going to do about this?" She gestured toward the open end of their car, but before anyone could move, the stranger flicked a wand--

The opening knitted itself up from side to side, leaving a window and a pocket for belongings. Then the stranger reached up and pulled her hat off of her head. "Whew!" A cascade of curly dark hair fell to her waist. "I thought I missed it. Thanks guys!" She twisted her hair up into a bun, tucked her wand into her hair, and stuck out a hand to Harry. "I'm Sam," she said. "Well, Samara Donnally."

Harry was looking thunderstruck. When he yanked the stranger aboard the train, he had thought it was a boy, not a girl--he wouldn't have yanked so hard--but then she might not have made it aboard.

"And you are?" she continued. Her dark eyes twinkled mischievously.

"Harry Potter."

"Whoa! THE Harry Potter." She reached up and brushed the hair back from his forehead. "Yep, scar and all. Only one to survive Voldemort..."

"I know," said Harry coldly. "The whole world knows."

"Oh. I'm sorry. That was really rude, wasn't it? It's just that I was just reading about you in Hogwarts: A History...you know you have a whole chapter!"

"You've read Hogwarts: A History?" interrupted Hermione.

"It's on the suggested reading list," said Samara matter of factly.

"Yes, but not that many people have read it!" Hermione looked pointedly at Harry and Ron.

"I don't see why not, it's terribly informative..."

"Chocolate frog?" offered Ron.

"Might as well," said Harry, leaning his head back against the newly made window.

After a few minutes Ron asked, "Hey Harry, where did that other girl go to? Beatrice. Don't suppose we knocked her out the window, did we?"

"Maybe she went to the bathroom," Harry suggested without opening his eyes.

"I'm here," said a small voice from the corner.

Both Harry and Ron jumped. "Don't do that!" Ron scolded. "Where did you go? I didn't see you there a minute ago."

"I was--I was--" she reached for her puffer.

A knock at the door was followed by Lavender's voice. "Hello? Gryffindors? Can we share this car with you? There isn't a car open all the way down the train."

"Please," said Parvati, "we really don't want to sit with Malfoy or Pansy Parkinson. The Slytherins are spread out all over."

Everyone squeezed a little closer together and introductions were made. Since two more trunks wouldn't fit under the seat, they had to leave Parvati's in the aisle way. "It's really no wonder the Slytherins are nervous, with You-Know-Who on the Rise," Lavender said.

"It's not just the Slytherins," commented Ron.

"But at least you don't have parents who are Death Eaters," said Parvati.

"Whose parents are Death Eaters?" asked Samara.

No one answered.

"Aren't those Voldemort's followers?"

"Beware of speaking the name of the Dark Lord," intoned Parvati.

"Voldemort?"

"Stop it!" cried most of the people in the car.

"Where have you been all your life that you think you can just say the name of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?" asked Parvati. "Don't you realize it's dangerous, especially now?"

"No," said Samara, "I didn't know. I'm sorry."

It became silent; everyone thinking of his or her own personal terrors of the Dark Lord. After a few moments Samara asked quietly, "I'd like to know. Why is it dangerous now? This wizarding stuff is new to me."

"You're kidding. After that spell?" Ron pointed to the beautiful window she had conjured. "I thought you were an exchange student."

Samara shook her head. "No, First Year. Professor Lupin said that the wizarding world couldn't afford to leave any talented wizards and witches in the Muggle world even if they ignored the Hogwarts letters in their eleventh and twelfth years. Apparently, someone named Dumbledore sent these wizards to search us out. I was so glad! When the letter came when I was eleven, my parents called it a hoax..."

"Your parents are Muggles--er, not wizards or witches?" questioned Hermione.

"Right. Anyway, several more letters came when I was eleven, but my parents threw them all away. I wanted to go so badly! I made a pretend wand and I practiced. Nothing worked for a long time, of course, but I read everything I could find on wizardry and witchcraft. Some of it was really bad."

"You have no idea," said Ron. "Remember the monster book that we had last year for Care of Magical Creatures?"

Several of the group shushed Ron, and Samara continued.

"Some of the books were helpful, but one was wonderful. I found it buried under a bunch of old books in a used bookstore called Trash and Treasure. As soon as I touched it, I knew it was a real wizard book and I studied it. That's when I started experimenting with wood for wands. I didn't know to use willow or ash or hew. My first one was oak, absolutely useless. I tried it first because the druid books said it was the most powerful, but I soon got bored with druids. They would wait around for years for the wand to come to them. Now, I know the wand picks the wizard, but still you can't expect it to walk up to you and say 'I'm your wand, take me.' You have to go find it."

"You made your own wand?" Hermione asked interested

"Yes," said Sam, taking it out of her hair again.

Harry noticed it looked very different than the wands from Ollivanders. It wasn't stained to look beautiful nor did it have anything remarkable about it. It looked like a simple piece of wood but sanded and obviously well taken care of.

"Then, when I was twelve and thirteen, the letters came again. I caught one of the owls last July and I sent a message back that I wanted to come."

"So your parents relented?" Harry asked.

"Oh no. I didn't tell them. Another owl came in August and told me to come to Platform 9 ¾ but I couldn't find it. Then, I thought I would miss it AGAIN this year even after Professor Lupin made a special trip to convince my parents. Harry, I'm so glad you pulled me in--"

"Harry pulled you in where?" asked Lavender.

Sam just realized that Lavender was there.

"I'm talking too much, aren't I? My mother always says never get Sam started on the subject of herself because she'll never stop. I suppose she's right. I do tend to babble on and on and..." Sam took one look around her. "And I think it's time for me to shut up."

Harry explained to Parvati and Lavender how he pulled Samara in to the train.

Sam was fast becoming bored. Well, if she was going to be at Hogwarts for three years, she might as well see who was here. Sam decided to explore the train.

"I'm going to take a little walk," she said. "See who's about."

"Be careful," Parvati said, sounding a little like someone's mother.

"Sure." Samara closed the door behind her and started to walk down the narrow passageway between the compartments. Some compartments were open and over-flowing with occupants. She noted one such compartment contained two red haired boys who could be none other than Ron's brothers. Several of their companions were sporting yellow feathers and the whole group was laughing uproariously. After an initial moment of shock, Sam smiled and continued walking. She passed the witch who was pushing the food cart.

"Would you like anything, deary?" the witch asked. "A sandwich?"

Samara shook her head.

"A tart or sweet perhaps?"

"No. Thank you."

The witch continued past Samara and knocked on the next closed door. It was opened by one of the biggest, ugliest boys she had ever seen. Samara stared and the boy stared back.

"Goyle, close your mouth before something nasty flies in," drawled a lazy voice behind him. "It's just a girl. You've seen several of those, I believe, but perhaps none this close."

Goyle closed his mouth. "Food cart," he mumbled, still staring at Samara.

The boy with the lazy drawl sauntered forward, laying some money on the cart as he passed it. The two boys behind him began picking sweets from the cart. "You'll have to forgive Greg Goyle. He doesn't get out much."

Samara had to laugh. "Samara Donnally," she said, holding out her hand.

"Draco Malfoy," he said, taking her hand in his own and holding it. He brought his other hand up and wrapped it possessively around her wrist. His eyes never left hers. "You don't look like an eleven year old," he said softly.

"And you don't look like a Dragon."

Draco laughed aloud. "Looks are deceiving," he said, his eyes flashing fire and Samara realized he was teasing her.

"So what did you study before you came to Hogwarts?" he asked.

"Oh, this and that," Samara answered. For some reason, she didn't want this one to know she hadn't really studied magic formally. She thought he would think less of her if she told him, and she wanted to make a good impression. Her heart was pounding and her hands were getting sweaty encased in his. "Druids...Elven Magic..."

"Ah. The Old Magics," Draco pronounced, pulling her into the compartment. "We have to talk. I think the old magic is awesome. We've lost so much." He turned to Goyle and the other boy, who were still picking sweets from the cart. "Take a walk," he said shortly. "But remember what I told you."

They immediately gathered up their sweets and their brooms and headed for the door. "Wait a minute," Samara interrupted, suddenly nervous about the prospect of being left alone with this stranger who both excited and frightened her. "I didn't say I wanted to talk."

"We don't have to...talk," Draco said, spinning around and placing his hands on both sides of her. Samara realized that she was against the wall of the compartment with one of his hands playing with the edges of her hair and the other at her waist. She couldn't have gotten to her wand if she wanted to. Did she want to? His face was inches from hers, when suddenly there was an explosion. The train car lurched sideways, tried to right itself, and then fell hard and rolled. Sparks flew and the metal grated on metal as cars slid off the track and over the embankment.

She felt Draco's left arm tighten around her. In his right was his wand. "Accio Nimbus!" he called and a broom struggled to get itself beside him. "Alohomora!" he said and the night wind billowed in upon them as the side of the compartment opened to him. In an instant, he was airborne on the broomstick with her held tightly in front of him. He let go of the broom, guiding with his legs, she surmised, and put his wand away.

Below them, the train was in flames. Several more explosions rent the air and Samara gasped. People were crawling out of the train from the rear compartments, but several in the front were in flames and still sealed. "We have to help those people," Samara said.

"Do you think so?" Malfoy drawled.

"They're trapped!" Samara could almost feel their panic.

Goyle flew up beside them. "First years," he said. "They don't know how to get the compartments open."

"Draco!"

Draco sucked in his breath sharply between his teeth and the broom dropped several feet suddenly.

Although Draco still had his arm around her, Samara did not feel safe. She clenched the broomstick with her legs and grabbed with both hands. Immediately the broomstick halted mid-air in response to her movements. Draco collided with her and nearly pushed her off the front of the broomstick.

"Sit still," he hissed, but he flew in a more sedate path to the ground. "Maybe you should get off," he said as he hovered a few feet from the ground. She slipped her leg over the broom and before she could turn to speak to him, he was gone, darting upwards, presumably to open the front compartments to let the trapped children out.

===

"Look. We're almost at Hogwarts," Harry said softly and Beatrice pushed her nose against the window to catch the t glimpse of the place she dreamed about. The sudden jolt, the explosion and the piercing pain in his head happened simultaneously. The group felt their car uncouple and start to roll downhill on the track as a second explosion wracked the train.

"Broomsticks," shouted Harry. The first years have no way to escape. "Alohomora!" For the second time in a few hours the window was opened.

As they started to scramble to get their brooms out of trunks or from under the seats, they heard several of the upperclassmen coming through the train yelling: "Open all the doors. Turn loose your pets or put them in your pockets. Owls fly to Hogwarts. Everyone with a broom take someone with you."

Harry and Ron were already out of the door and airborne. Beatrice, with a bloody nose from where it had hit the window, stood shock still looking terrified. She hadn't even tried to stop the blood from running out of her nose. Instead she was wrinkling and un-wrinkling it as if that would slow the blood flow. "It's ok, Beatrice," said Hermione. "We aren't that far from Hogwarts. You can ride with me." Then she thought for a second and frowned. "Oh Crookshanks," she moaned, "I don't think I can levitate you and fly a broom double." Hermione looked around for some help. "Lavender! Parvati!"

Parvati hadn't moved. Lavender was shaking her. "Hermione, I think Parvati's in a trance," she called, terrified.

"Get her on your broom with you," demanded Hermione. She turned to Beatrice and held out Parvati's broom. "Can you fly?" she asked.

Beatrice choked. "No."

Hermione stepped into the hallway and grabbed the first little person to pass her. He looked about eleven. "Can you fly a broom?" she asked.

"Yes, but..."

"Good," said Hermione. She handed him Parvati's broom. "Take someone with you and get off the train. Help's coming."

Flying wasn't her favorite subject, but she could do it. Although she had never flown with another person on the broom with her, she had no choice. Hermione looked at the billowing smoke around her. She had to hurry. She opened the owl cages and told Hedwig and Pigwidgeon to fly to Hogwarts.

Suddenly, Harry was there on his broom narrowly missing the owls that had immediately taken flight. A soot covered first year boy sat in front of him. "Hermione!" he yelled. "Get out of there!"

"Crookshanks!" Hermione moaned.

Harry swooped in and grabbed the handle of the cage and looped it over the front of his broom as he whisked back upwards. "Get out now!" he shouted, as he raced forward to add another passenger to his already crowded broomstick.

Hermione settled Beatrice behind her. "Don't touch the broom," she warned as she shot upwards. "Keep your hands on my waist." She took a deep breath and kicked off. Once Hermione was airborne she looked around. She saw one of the Weasley twins with a hysterical first year on his broom. He was using both hands to restrain her from jumping off. Cho Chang had her little sister in front of her and another girl behind her. She flew nearer to Cho and saw Lavender and Parvati at last leaving the train. The other Weasley twin had also just left the train with two passengers. He flew towards them. "Roger Davies went for Dumbledore," he shouted. "He was going to Apparate closer to Hogwarts."

"Good," said Cho. "If anyone can manage the Apparition, Roger can."

"Should we put our passengers down and see if anyone else needs help?" asked Hermione.

"I think we got them all," said whichever Weasley she was talking to. "Did you see Ron or Ginny?"

"I saw Ron leave the train," said Hermione, "but not Ginny. I thought she was with you."

The Weasley immediately headed for the ground, where he dropped off his passengers. Cho called after him. "Fred! It's Dumbledore!" She pointed into the distance. Sure enough, Dumbledore, followed by what looked like the entire staff of teachers, were flying towards the train.

"We think everyone is off the train, Sir," called Cho. "Just the animals now."

Flitwick immediately began raising the abandoned animals with a levitation charm. He had at least a dozen up and in front of his broomstick within a few seconds. Some were still in cages; others were prowling along the ground looking forlorn and frightened until he caught them. Then they just looked frightened.

McGonagall circled the students like a shepherd dog gathering a flock. "All students follow me," she ordered as she flew several loops around them and then gathered up other airborne students. "We're going back to Hogwarts."

"My brother!" howled the first year on George Weasley's broom.

"I think Susan Bones took him back to Hogwarts, Professor," Fred told McGonagall. "He looked like his arm was broken and needed Madam Pomfrey. He couldn't fly his broom."

McGonagall nodded and turned back towards Hogwarts. Just as they turned a burst of green light filled the sky and then sizzled darkening and forming. Hermione looked back towards the train and clenched her broom, which ground to a sharp halt. There, in the sky right above the Hogwarts Express, was a huge skull with a snake crawling out of the mouth: the Dark Mark. She heard McGonagall suck in her breath. "Ignore it," she said. "Hogwarts, now." She turned her broom and hastened into the night. The students followed her.

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