Mark of Ancients

Chapter 6: NOW WHAT

    "One thing's certain," said Ron, trying to sound cheerful. "Harry has to go and win Hogwarts the International Wizard-School Duels! Eh!? Eh... bah." Ron went back to grudgingly eating his pancakes.

    "Yeah, Ron's right," said Harry, trying to sound cheerful as well. I have another duel this afternoon."

    "Do you know who it is yet?" asked Ron.

    "Nope, but I just thought of something more important," said Harry, as if it wasn't important... it's about Sirius. "I wonder how the... other... You-Know-Who is doing?"

    "The other You-Know-Who?" said Hermione, looking at Ron's blank face.

    "Yeah, his name... you know... starts and ends with an 'S'?" said Harry trying to clue them in. A light went on over Ron and Hermione's head.

    "Oh!" they said in unison.

    "Oh..." said Hermione grimly.

    "Yeah," said Harry. "Haven't heard or spoken to him since..." He poked some of his pancakes with a fork and put it up to his mouth.

    "You... don't think..." started Hermione, as Harry stopped chewing, "that... you know..." Harry dropped his fork.

    "I'm not hungry anymore," he said. "Why can't classes start earlier."

    "Harry, we have a half hour."

    "I'm going to bring the rest of this to Hedwig and see if she'll deliver a letter to him for me." Hermione opened her mouth but Harry had already stuffed the pancakes in a plastic bag and walked out.

    Hedwig ate a small portion gratefully on his shoulder.

    "Hedwig?" he said, waiting for her to respond. She gave a "go on..." hoot. "Will you deliver a letter to Sirius for me?" She fluttered onto the window and stuck her leg out for Harry to tie a letter to -- and she looked very eager. "Oh, I don't have one yet, but thank you!"

    She pulled her foot back, flew into her cage and took a few sips of water. She then proceeded to pace back and forth waiting impatiently. Harry laughed airily, glad to see she wasn't bitter anymore. He took out a piece of parchment and a quill and his hand just wrote without him thinking.

    "Lots to tell you," he started writing, "Guess I'll start with Voldemort. He's still trying to get control of me but it's not working. I have been doing a lot of blowing up on people lately. One of my episodes was in front of Dumbledore and after that I realize I need to control it or I'm going to get in big trouble. I've been using spells I never knew. It's hard to explain, I just say stuff without knowing what it is. One of them Professor Dumbledore called Clades Ultimus and it made him very upset when I used it." And that was one paragraph.

    He continued to write, jotting down everything inside him out and onto parchment that has happened since the last time Sirius and him spoke. He wrote about the voice in Divination saying an ancient is among them (and how they know the ancient is Voldemort), how they think the ancients themselves turned to the Dark side... all in all, Harry filled up three pieces, front and back. He stuffed it in a small envelope, barely able to contain it all. He tied the envelope to Hedwig's leg and she flew off. He felt like the great weight that was attached to him since the first day of school was finally letting go. It's a great feeling, spilling out all of your worries to someone you can trust... Sirius' reply would never come soon enough for him, though.

    "Harry! We're late!" Hermione came in screaming at Harry with Ron at her side.

    "Potions, ugh." Harry's skin glittered, then glowed and they were in their seats.

    "Potter!" said Snape threateningly.

    "Don't start, Snapey. I had a good morning, best in weeks, and I don't want your sourness to ruin it." He glared at all the Slytherins. "You too," he threatened, making sure to stare at Malfoy.

    "Very well," said Snape, heeding Harry's warning. Harry looked in Ron and Hermione's direction, who were trying their very best to keep from bursting out in laughter. "We will be making Spirit Potions today, which aids in calling random spirits to talk to. I, personally, believe spirit-talking is rubbish but she insisted... citing the class I'm sure you all still remember very well. Now. You will take juice of eye of dragon, do not drop it in yet, five three inch strips of flesh from a Blast-Ended Skrewt and stir in a base of dragon pus. You will then pour in a pint of your own blood. After that you will drop the eye in the cauldron." Everyone squirmed at the second to last ingredient. "You will probably feel light-headed after extracting your blood and so remember that I will not care if you faint. Use the needles provided to extract it and pour it into the measuring cups also provided."

    Snape brought out the dragon eyes, thin, gross sheets of Skrewt skin and dragon pus from his office. Everyone grabbed as much as they needed... or in the case of the Skrewt skin, as much as their stomach's could take. Small cutting knives and surgical needles were left out on his desk as well as measuring jars.

    "I think I'm gonna be sick," said Hermione. "I had enough blood this summer to last me a life time."

    "Hey look, Neville threw up!" screeched Ron.

    "And would you like to clean it up, Mr. Weasley?" barked Snape. Ron swallowed down the rising food.

    "Get off it, it's not that bad," said Harry. Hermione picked up a one foot sheet of Skrew skin.

    "Yes it is, do you want to cut this?" Harry tore the skin out of Hermione's hand, literally. It made a disgusting sound the entire class winced at. "HARRY DID YOU HAVE TO DO THAT? Ugh! And to think we spent an entire year with them with Hagrid last year."

    Harry took a knife from Snape's desk and cut it, casually and calmly, into neat strips three inches long and gave them to Hermione.

    "There you go, all your strips," he said smiling.

    "I wouldn't touch that if you paid me," Ron said to Harry. "It doesn't look like anyone else would either."

    The three of them looked around. Indeed, no one had touched a single sheet of Skrewt skin. Neville was poking it with a needle and Malfoy had taken to rubbing it on peoples faces.

    "No one is going to make their potion? Maybe no one would like to pass!" said Snape rather loudly. He walked over to Neville. "Neville, grab your scissors and START CUTTING!" Neville did nothing more than cower away.

    "Oh gimme a break," said Harry in frustration. He snatched a surgical needle and a knife from Snape's desk. Snape turned to Harry, who cleanly sliced five, three inch strips of Skrewt skin. "Hermione, hand me that dragon pus ball." He grabbed it from her forcefully, cut it open and squeezed all the gross pus out into his cauldron. Harry then dropped in one sheet of skin which caused the cauldron to bubble slightly. He put in the second, third, fourth and fifth and it let off a steamy mist. "Accio!" he barked at a dragon eye. He poked a hole in the iris and a white, thick liquid poured out of it. He squeezed the small ball with his fingers, squirting himself accidentally, to get all of it out.

    "Now for the fun part," he said. Harry took the surgical needle, cut the end off and poked a hole with in under his forearm. Nothing came out of it the first try... or the second try... or the third try. He accidentally jammed it through his arm on the fourth (the sight at which made a Slytherin girl faint). He nearly fainted at the sight (and pain) himself, but his skin glowed white and the wound vanished instantly. After painfully pulling it out, the fifth try was successful. Harry sucked out a little bit, spit onto the floor and let a full pint of his own blood pour inside his cup. It took about several gross seconds and the entire time Hermione and Ron looked away. The rest of the class stared awestruck. When the cup read one ounce, he pulled the needle from his arm, glittered his skin so the cut healed instantly and said quietly at the needle "Reparo," making it repair itself instantly. He dropped the eyeball inside the cauldron to finish the potion.

    "Very well..." grumbled Snape. Harry beamed up at Ron and Hermione, still sick at the thought of him putting a needle through his arm.

    "That was really gross," said Hermione quite grossed out.

    "Let's see you do it then, go on." Most of the class started to cut their Skrewt skin, pour out puss and squirt juice from dragon eyes.

    "You do not need to stick your needles through your arms to get blood out --"

    "That takes too long," interrupted Harry.

    "I'd rather do that than suck my own blood out," Hermione whispered to Harry.

    "Trust me, you don't want to do it Snape's way. Here, I'll do it for you." Harry cut the end off the needle again and looked up to see everyone else trying to do it Snape's way. Neville and Malfoy were having the same problem: they both looked white in the face.

    In fact, most everyone was looking very pale. Harry shook his head. "It's going to take a half hour that way, do you really want to sit here for a half hour with a needle in your arm?" Hermione shook her head. "Then let me do it this way." He looked carefully for an artery in her forearm and poked the needle in her arm causing her to jump. "Don't look." He looked over at Ron who had just made a strange noise. "You too." Harry sucked out a little bit of blood and then put the needle into the cup. Slowly but surely, it filled up and Hermione made a point not to look at it.

    "C-can you do me, too?" said Ron quivering.

    "Sure," Harry said brightly. He repeated the same process only Ron took two tries to find an artery.

    "Me too?" asked Neville.

    "And me?" asked Lee.

    "Come here and help me too, Potter," snarled Malfoy. Harry walked over to Malfoy first. His skin glowed white and he looked for an artery, as usual, in Malfoy's forearm.

    "Oh look, here's one," he squealed with delight and jammed the needle right through Malfoy's arm, pulling it out violently from the other end.

    Malfoy pulled his arm from Harry's grip, covered both holes with his free hand, staggered, then fainted. Harry left him there but not before closing the wound. It was, after all, either that or getting put to sleep again by more Sleeping Potion. Snape actually laughed at this. Within a half hour, everyone at least had their blood poured into cups (the stench would remain for days). Some still refused to touch their Skrewt skin but Snape warned that they would fail (Hermione, unfortunately, was one of them). This convinced them all, but a few still passed out.

    The bell didn't ring soon enough.

    "Pour your cauldron's contents into your jar, label it, and put it in a safe place. We will be working on them tomorrow and you will be using them later that day," said Snape.

    "Ugh, do you believe that?" said Hermione disgusted. "That is the single worst potion we've had to make yet."

    "I found it rather enjoyable," said Harry innocently.

    "Only because you got to hurt Malfoy." Harry giggled to himself.

    "Well anyway, Transfigurations next. McGonagall said we would be learning how to transform ourselves into animals! Remember?" he said excitedly. Hermione groaned.

    "Does it hurt?"

    "You know the answer to that, remember when we used the Polyjuice Potion three years ago?"

    "That just felt funny."

    "My side was killing me," said Ron. Harry and Hermione glared at him. "What?" Hermione sighed. Ron and Harry went through the potion perfectly. Hermione's final ingredient, which should have been a piece from the person to transform into, turned out to be cat hair. The potion was not meant to do animal transformations...

    They walked silently to Transfiguration. McGonagall sat and purred on her desk (she can transform into a cat).

    "Is she a registered Animagi?" asked Ron.

    "Has to be. All Animagi have to register with the Ministry of Magic, you know that," said Hermione. "Hey wait-"

    "Relax," said Harry interrupting her. He knew exactly what she was thinking. "She said she's be glad to see if one of us sprouted whiskers. I asked her about me and she said the mark wouldn't do me any good. Something about the ancients and Animagi. Didn't say exactly why though." Ron shrugged. It didn't matter much to Harry, a class he didn't have all attention centered on himself was a good class.

    They went in, sat down and listened. And listened... and listened... and listened. Professor McGonagall went over all the fine and unfine points of Animagi transformations. When she said it might hurt, Hermione nearly had a heart attack ("Oh, no!"). She did say that someone would be lucky if just a small part of their body began to transform. The reason she gave Harry that his mark would not help was because, quite simply, the ancients had no experience with transformations. All of the magic he found himself doing, the ancients were capable of. No experience from ancients, no help from the mark. Animagi did not exist five thousand years ago.

    The speech took up quite a bit of the class time, almost the full hour.

    "I will call your names and assist you one by one. We will only get to a few of you today, the rest, you can just watch. First up, Lee." Lee Jordan stepped up to the front. McGonagall spoke as if she was going to repeat this many times.

    "First, pull out your wand, grab it tightly in one hand and rest your arms at your sides. Think of an animal you want to transform yourself into." Lee pulled his wand out, grabbed it and rested his arms at his sides. "Close your eyes and picture the animal." He did so. "Look straight upwards and relax yourself." He did so. "No, I said relax yourself." She pushed on his shoulders and after a few seconds, his arms hang limp. "Say, to yourself, as if casting a spell 'Transformis Agito'."

    Lee obviously did that as well, because his head began to let off a gray smoke and he sprouted one horn, a small horn, not bigger than a one inch bump on his head, but a horn nonetheless on the left side of his head.

    "Oh!" said McGonagall jumping up and down totally ecstatic. "Excellent!" Lee looked up at his forehead where the horn stuck out. It was, clearly enough, a dragon horn. It was sharp, too... Lee pricked his finger with it. "Try again, this time picturing yourself instead of an animal and you will remove the horn."

    Within seconds, the horn vanished and Lee took his seat. "Neville, come." Neville got up from his seat, shaking from head to toe. McGonagall repeated the speech in full. Neville, however, only had smoke come from his rear and nothing else.

    "Something! It is something! Last year, many students barely got a mist or smoke. Hermione, you're next." McGonagall repeated her words yet again. Hermione sprouted a three inch tail resembling that of a cat. She had complete control of it, too, able to bend it in almost any direction. After five minutes of McGonagall trying to catch Hermione's attention, she finally removed her tail.

    "Ron, up front, please?" Ron walked up all hearty and confident, confident he was going to grow whiskers, he said. He barely got more than Neville -- all he got was smoke from his nose and rear. Upset and belittled, Ron sat folding his arms.

    "Harry? Last one for today."

    "I'm going to send smoke out my rear and my nose, just for you, Ron," said Harry as he got up. A few girls giggled. Harry stood up and McGonagall started to repeat her speech yet again, but,

    "No need to, Professor. I think I know what I have to do." What animal would he use? There was, of course, the Horntail he flew past last year. There was a small model of it somewhere in his trunk. He would, however, like more to be able to transform into the stag his father transformed into. Keep the memory of his dad alive, he told himself. It was a reminder, a sad reminder, but a reminder. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, clasped his hands ("Potter!")... okay, he put his hands by his sides and clutched his wand tight. He mutter "Transformis Agito" to himself.

    Harry's neck extended outward and slightly up. Thick smoke surrounded him and a light but pleasant pain entered his forehead -- horns were starting to protrude just below his hairline. Hooves appeared where there were once toes and feet. Harry's back arched and grew and he fell forward on two more feet that used to be hands. A bone behind him extended and he sprouted a short tail. Skin continued to darken, the horns grew to their full length and body hair thickened to a full coat of fur. The lightning-shaped scar was clear as day under one horn and where there were glasses, there were now light rings around the eyes.

    He transformed into his father, or at least a form of, and his skin neither glittered nor glowed. Harry looked up at the class to see that Neville and Hermione had fainted, the other students were either gaping or cheering and Professor McGonagall sat in a chair with a hand over her mouth.

    "Oh, m-my goodness," she said. A great deal of shakiness was apparent in her voice. She stood up and examined Harry, horn to foot. She walked a full circle around him, touching the horns, feeling the fur... "A perfect transformation," she said, looking for any human-like qualities that, if any, remained. "S-stay here, all of you. I'll be back in a moment." She ran out the door in a hurry.

    "Who do you think she's getting?" asked Ron as he revived Hermione.

    "I'll give you one guess and his name ends with Dumbledore," she said flatly.

    "Wow," said Lee, examining Harry as well. "The mark didn't do anything!" Harry pulled his hind legs, crossed his front legs and sat down. Neville tried to pet him but Harry hit his hand with his horns. McGonagall had, indeed, come back with Albus Dumbledore.

    "And the mark did nothing?" he asked. Harry looked up and gave a small nod. "On the first try, you say? I'm seeing it, and I still don't believe it." He examined Harry as well. "This takes years of practice," he said aloud. He then whispered to Harry and McGonagall, "James did learn how to transform rather quickly but it took a good three months before he could get further than horns and some smoke." He took a few steps back. "Well..." he said aloud, rubbing his chin, "let's see him change back, then."

    Harry stood tall on all fours, closed his eyes and looked up. His skin glittered but stopped so fast all he could make out was one small spark of gold. It was so fast, in fact, he was sure no one else saw it. There was a puff of gray smoke surrounding him and some mist filled the air but it all abruptly stopped. He tried again without hesitation. The smoke, the mist, the extremely fast glitter... but his form did not change. Harry looked up at Dumbledore, his fur all awry in confusion.

    "Keep trying!" said McGonagall. "If you can get there, you can certainly get back." She sounded very confident.

    Harry tried a third time. The glitter was faster than ever. Mist and smoke became thick... turning dark and clouding his vision. Harry felt weak like the strength of the stag was leaving him. His head dropped like the neck was disappearing and his hind legs started to quiver. The mist fouled up his consciousness and the smoke overtook his senses... he wasn't transforming into a human, he was fainting.

    Madam Pomfrey was standing over him in the hospital wing.

    "Quite a feat you did, there. Too bad you couldn't change back. Took Dumbledore several tries to remove all the fur," she said. "You should feel perfectly fine. You merely fainted from exhaustion. Been out almost two hours." Harry's eyes slowly focused on her frame. "You better get running along, you have a duel in five minutes!" Harry's eyes widened having forgotten all about it. He jumped out and ran out of bed and into the Great Hall. Hermione met him at the front door.

    "Hurry up and get over to Dumbledore!" Harry walked calmly, or at least tried to, up to Dumbledore followed closely by her and Ron.

    "Today you face Viktor Krum." Ron's eyes lit up with excitement.

    "Krum! Oh, no! Poor Krum!"

    "Poor Harry if Krum is any good," said Hermione sighing heavily at Ron.

    "Krum has no mark, therefore it is asked that you do not use yours. Now, go win us another!" It wasn't Dumbledore's place to promote competition, but Harry appreciated the enthusiasm all the same. He stepped onto the platform after seeing Krum step up.

    "Tonight's duelers..." said a magnified voice coming from Dumbledore's direction, "Viktor Krum and Harry Potter! Fight fair... fight clean... and... duel!"

    Krum was exactly like Harry had seen him last, of course it was only a year ago. Krum played for the Bulgarian international Quidditch team. He was a well known Seeker who Ron, as well as millions of other, fancied.

    Harry brandished his wand like a deadly sword in front of him. Krum did just the same. The ritualistic circling of each other followed. Both of them muttered words for a body bind charm but it was only Harry who stopped just before saying the last syllable. Krum's just missed. They eyed each other like hawks and it looked as if they thoroughly despised each other. Krum had just finished casting a spell. Harry leapt sideways and rolled perfectly, stopping and getting to his feet on the very edge ignoring the gasps from the crowd around him.

    "EXPELLIARMUS!" shouted Krum at the top of his lungs. It was a strong disarm charm but Harry had gotten himself ready. He jumped and pushed his weight backwards throwing his hands out over, or at this point, under, his head. He landed on a cleared space off the platform and did a handspring back onto his feet then ran back and jumped onto the platform once again.

    "This is how you disarm someone," said Harry smirking at Krum. "EXPELLIARMUS!" Krum had expected it and did just the same except Harry's charm sent him back against the wall. Krum hit flat against the far wall and fell down a few feet. Harry walked broodingly over to him.

    Krum, still crouched on the floor, pointed his wand at Harry and muttered something only he could hear. Harry was instantly getting pelted by invisible heavy objects. One hit him smack on the head nearly knocking him out. Krum advanced and Harry had to struggle to stay conscious. The outcome was grim. Harry tried to stand up but another object hit him on the head. He fell down on his back and another one hit him square between the legs. "Serpensortia," said Krum aloud. Krum, however, had no idea Harry could speak Parseltongue, the snake language. One quick look at his own hourglass assured Harry Krum had only taken one quarter of sand.

    A five foot long black snake snake fell out of the tip of Krum's wand followed by black smoke. It slithered up to Harry who just grinned with excitement, still hurt, however by the misguided object. "Tie up his feet, you slime." The snake obeyed, gripping Krum's feet tight with it's tail. Krum stood, agasp. He staggered as the snake tightened it's grip and rode up his cloak. Harry stood up, still pained and dispelled it. One more shout of "Expelliarmus!" and Harry had removed the remaining dribble of sand from Krum's hourglass.

    "Potter wins!" said Dumbledore proudly. Krum walked up to Harry but Harry's attention was focused on a Ravenclaw girl he liked that was a year above him: Cho Chang. She had been waving at him whenever he could see her. Cho Chang played Seeker for Ravenclaw's Quidditch team. She almost cost Harry a game, but he decided it best to put aside strange feelings erupting from his stomach and focus his attention on the Snitch. He tried to ask to her to a dance in his fourth year, but Cho already had a partner. Harry was thoroughly embarrassed, yet happy that she didn't laugh.

    His attention was quickly, and annoyingly, diverted by Krum. "'Arry! I did not know you vere a Parselmouth," said Krum. He almost look scared. Harry lifted his bangs so Krum could get another close look at the scar. Krum couldn't help but stare. Harry didn't mind, this was the usual reaction, but not only did Krum stare, some people Harry didn't recognize did as well.

    "I got this from You-Know-Who and a few other surprises as well," said Harry, smiling. Harry put his hand down and shook Krum's. "Good match."

    "You missed lunch, Harry," said Ron behind him. Harry turned around. Ron had a strange look on his face. He wasn't exactly focused on Harry.

    "I'm not really hungry." Harry recognized the look and nodded to himself. "You going to ask Krum for an autograph?"

    "All you 'af to do is ask!" said Krum. He took out some parchment and a quill, apparently ready for autographs. Harry moaned and walked over to Hermione who was waving him over.

    "What?"

    "Harry, you noticed that Hedwig hasn't come back yet?" Indeed Harry did.

    "She's been gone longer than a few days before. She might still be trying to find Sirius. Hedwig doesn't have foresight, you know," he said grinning.

    "I'm just nervous, because Sirius was accidentally seen and all. I still think he's fine but I'm waiting for a reply more impatiently than you are." Her worry was obvious, but there just wasn't much to side with. Hedwig had only been out a few days. The last time she went searching for Sirius, she was missing for over a week.

    The next few days passed with only minor incidents. McGonagall had asked Harry to transform into a stag again on Thursday, which he did successfully, but it was quite the same situation when he tried to transform back. McGonagall and Dumbledore didn't look like they were going to have answers any time soon. It was no worry for anyone, though. It stood quite a miracle he could transform in the first place.

    Professor Trelawney had postponed the use of the Spirit Potions because Snape had forgotten to buy ingredients from Hogsmeade for the next step of the potion. Trelawney said she would go out Friday evening after dinner to buy them herself. She seemed very upset with Snape and most likely would be for the next several weeks. Rumors were spreading saying she would start predicting his death instead of Harry's for a change. After all, ever since Harry attended Divination, in some form or another, every week Trelawney would tell Harry he would be dying.

    "Would someone tell that woman I'm not going to die?" whispered Harry to Ron that Friday.

    "She was so happy with herself when you did," said Ron truthfully, "but so very upset when you came back to life." The two of them laughed during the middle of a speech Professor Trelawney was giving on spirit-talking.

    "Mr. Potter, if you must know, next week your death will be from sadness," she snarled. Harry guessed she heard their conversation.

    "Oh, good," he said sarcastically, "now can you tell us what the potions we made in Snape's class will be used for? I want to know if stabbing Malfoy with a needle was worth it." All the students laughed because none of them really liked Malfoy... at all.

    "They will be used in aid of conjuring random spirits to speak and learn the future from. Spirits of the dead are the best tellers of fortune and misfortune. Even the Inner Eye cannot compare." Harry shook his head and sighed as soon as Trelawney turned her attention back to her crystal ball.

    "This class is such a waste of time," Harry whispered extra quietly to Ron.

    "If this class is such a waste of time, Mr. Potter, then I suggest you change subjects." The bell rang and Harry packed his bags never faster. Hermione was coming down the hall.

    "Get out early?" asked Ron.

    "Yes, in fact. We finished our runes today and we were let out fifteen minutes early."

    "Honestly, I don't know what's so fascinating about staring at rocks with words on them," said Ron.

    "What's so fascinating about hearing how Harry is going to die next? She hasn't been right about the method yet!" squealed Hermione. Harry glared at her. "Sorry," she said shortly.

    They spent the afternoon arguing about how boring Hermione's classes were and Hermione was sure to put in her two pence about Divination. She was, however, at least halfway interested in spirit-talking. Word had got around fast about the voice in class that day and some more people were considering it. Rumors were passing around Trelawney was trying to get the spirit of an ancient. That was shot down when Trelawney barked during dinner Saturday night that you can absolutely not call upon specific spirits. She made it a point to mention it has not been done in the ten thousand plus years spirit-talking has existed.

    Harry had a duel Friday evening, Friday night and Saturday morning. All three of which were about an hour long and consisted of many oohs and aahs from around the room. Fleur Delacour of Beauxbaton's school of wizardry had the displeasure of losing to Harry in a mere ten seconds Friday evening. She conjured two snakes which Harry used to tie up her legs and hands. Her hourglass emptied itself, presumably because of fear. Harry's victim that night had the mark. One successful Disarming charm in the beginning and two quick infernos did the poor girl in.

    The opponent Saturday morning was rather rough. After an hour of exchanging unsuccessful, yet flashy (powered by their marks), Disarming charms they resorted to Stupefy charms and a string of shouting "Lacarnum Inflamoree." A half hour of that with half the crowd sleeping, Harry livened things up by finally revealing the nature of the objects in a spell that rains invisible heavy objects on a target. It was, quite simply, garbage from a nearby garbage can. The random litter, boxes, bits of food, et cetera, would disappear upon contact with the ground and reappear back inside the can.

    Everything went smoothly Saturday. Harry, Ron and Hermione spent the day talking Thantanos Brev. They seemed to agree he was a better wizard than everyone except Harry. Harry, however, felt Brev would be better than him. He didn't let on about it and kept the opinion to himself.

    Sunday night, half past midnight, Hermione snuck into the boy's dormitory and had been in deep conversation yet again with Ron and Harry. They were sitting Indian style on the floor in a circle between Harry's and Ron's bed.

    "What d'you reckon that hag is gonna make us do?" asked Ron.

    "We'll probably bring up dead people we never knew-" started Hermione.

    "And Professor Trelawney will make us talk to them and they'll scare us half to death," interrupted Ron. "Who knows, one of them might join in her fun and say how Harry might die this week."

    "I really wish she would stop," said Harry nervously. "Makes me quiver whenever I have a brush." He put his arms behind his head and laid back onto the floor, stared dreamily up at the ceiling and pulled up his legs in, bending his knees. He was entirely truthful. Nothing was more nerve-wracking than having someone continually tell you you're going to die and then give a method at least once a week, except perhaps Voldemort. Harry's eyes began to wander.

    "Do you think we'll get someone scary?" said Ron.

    "I sure hope not. I heard enough about that horrible class this week," said Hermione quite obviously annoyed.

    "She said all of us are going to get to try and call a spirit. Said we can ask it questions and supposedly it's going to tell us something. I'll be happy if it just tells me I'm not going to fail Divination."

    Hermione giggled. Ron wasn't doing very well in Divination and Harry was very close to failing. Professor Trelawney had cornered him during their last class and said he would pass, however, and with flying colors. Harry had absolutely no idea what she was talking about.

    "You two have any idea how I'm going to pass Divination?" asked Harry.

    "No clue," said Ron. "You're doing just as bad as me and she said you're going to pass with flying colors? Ugh, someone slap her."

    "I wish there was some way we could call people we wanted to," said Ron dreamily.

    "Why? Who would you want to talk to?" asked Hermione. Harry started to think of who he would want to call.

    "Oh, I don't know. My mum and dad sometimes talk about my great grandparents." Ron looked at the floor in front of him and picked at the carpet.

    "I'd like to bring up my grandmother's spirit," said Hermione thinking wishfully. "Never knew her very well. Died a few months before I was born."

    "Yeah but we can't," said Ron gloomily. "Not in " - and he copied Professor Trelawney's voice - "ten thousand years has someone brought up a spirit of their own choice. Honestly, that woman makes me want to barf." Harry's eyes stopped wandering and he sat up. He stared directly between Ron and Hermione. A thought he couldn't pinpoint sat lodged in his mind.

    "Harry?" said Hermione, looking at him, turning her head as if there was something on his face. Ron did, too. Harry continued to stare straight between Ron and Hermione, expressionless except for the slight quiver apparent at the corners of his mouth. "Oh... Harry..." she said trying to sound consoling.

    Harry didn't need to say anything. Ron and Hermione knew instantly what the face Harry was making was all about. A single tear dripped from Harry's left eye and glided slowly. A solitary tear... mimicking the loneliness he felt since the day he discovered their real cause of death. He went into a daze, the vision of Ron and Hermione disappearing behind a waterfall.

    "Of course we knew! How could you not be?" rang Aunt Petunia's voice in his head. "...And we got landed with you..." Her voice was cold as ice like it always had been. How could she make it sound like he was an unwanted parcel dropped on their doorstep? "...Just as strange, just as -- as -- abnormal -- and then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up..." Aunt Petunia's voice was never forgiving around him.

    "Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!" Lily Potter's voice tore through the evil sound of Aunt Petunia like a ray of heavenly light among a swarm of dementors. If he could only talk to them, his worries would be whisked away.

    Harry hadn't noticed the waterworks erupting from his eyes. He stopped day dreaming when Hermione had slapped him.

    "Snap out of it," she said. "Harry, are you okay?"

    "Yeah," he lied. "Just fine." The familiar weight attached itself to his stomach and it's grip was tight as ever. "Wonder how Sirius is doing?" Whatever good sending Sirius a letter did abruptly left. There was no substitute for standing in front of the Mirror of Erised and seeing Lily and James for the first time... the first time he would ever truly remember them, at least.

    "You," said Dumbledore's voice in his head, "who have never known your family, see them standing around you."

    "Harry," said Ron with a sense of understanding, "you need to keep your mind off it. No one's going to say it flat out, so I won't either. You know what Professor Dumbledore said." He sighed... and he was right. Dumbledore's voice became clear as day again. "It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live." Quidditch practice took a great deal of worries off Harry's mind. A good two or three hour practice, covered in mud or drenched in rain -- or both -- and he was ready to look death straight in the eye and laugh... hard. Hermione and Ron both looked down and Harry continued his stare between them.

    "Then there's Cho..." Harry said quietly. He just needed something to remove the memories.

    "What?" said Hermione. She looked up. "Can you stop staring like that, Harry? It's scaring me." He closed eyes and shook his head then looked down at the floor directly in front of him.

    "She was smiling at me whenever I looked at her during the duel Wednesday afternoon," he said gloomily and with a new sense of hopelessness, still in the dazed state. This was not a good direction for the conversation. He didn't know much about Cho except that he thought her very pretty. Was she starting to notice him? Or was it just because of his... ability. Harry would rather have no friends than have made friends out of popularity. Despite popular belief, attention never mixed well with him.

    "Maybe she's got a thing for you!" said Ron, trying to inject some happiness. Harry turned his head quickly to Ron and stared coldly at him, which made Ron jump.

    "No. I hate her. I'm going to bed. Good night." He bolted upright and crawled into bed, not bothering to change into pajamas. Hermione's footsteps faded away. Ron didn't speak and Harry would have it no other way. He ignored the further quivering of his lips and the slow but steady stream of tears pouring from each eye. The Mirror of Erised, a mirror he had come across in his first year, provided his first glimpse of his parents in ten years. It showed the on-looker centered in it's view what their hearts clamored for most... but it was only a picture. Anyone else that looked at the mirror while one person was looking into it would be able to use it as if it were a normal mirror. Dumbledore properly told him people have gone mad staring into it. But now, Harry had a thought. Could he call the spirits of his parents? No, it was wishful thinking. It hadn't happened in ten thousand years... but then again, he has been doing some pretty amazing stuff lately.

    He forced his eyes closed and commanded his mind to stop wandering. Harry would go insane over old memories being there was nothing to properly take his mind off them. Thoughts stopped badgering him when he finally fell into the welcome state of sleep.