Mark of Ancients

Chapter 9: THE LONG DAY

    Christmas had come and gone. Nothing outside of the ordinary had happened since Christmas Day. The next term was to start tomorrow. Dumbledore gave the start of term announcements one lazy evening.

    He stood up from his chair, staring around the room and silence fell upon the Great Hall. "I'm sure you will all be pleased to hear the first announcement," he said bursting with excitement. "This term will be the return of the Quidditch Cup!" He was right, the Great Hall exploded into applause, stomping of feet, tears of joy and screaming. "Now, now, there are a few... slight changes in light of recent events. Games and practices will only be allowed to start after the hour of seven in the morning and must be finished by eight in the evening.

    "Now, as most fifth years should be aware, this is the term you will be taking your O.W.L.s." Ron and Harry grinned at Hermione. They didn't get the look they expected. She wasn't shocked to hear this news. They turned their attention back on Dumbledore. "Seventh years note you will be taking your N.E.W.T.s, if you so desire, as well. Fifth years are to report here the Friday after next at nine o' clock. Seventh years are to report here this Friday at nine o' clock. At such times, you will be introduced to the tests and can begin study. The date of both exams will be announced at their respective meetings.

    "Lastly, you will have noticed there were no allowed visits to Hogsmeade the previous term. The first Hogsmeade weekend will be the Saturday after next, the day after fifth years are given an explanation of their O.W.L.s

    "That is all. Now... let the feast begin!"

    Harry and Ron looked at Hermione again.

    "You knew?" said Ron.

    "Of course I knew, I thought you two had forgotten!" Hermione gave them the kind of cold eyes Professor McGonagall had become almost famous for and she was becoming very good at it, too, Harry thought.

    "Do you know what's on them?" asked Harry.

    "Everything," said a stern and upset Hermione, making sure to sound as clear as possible. Harry was sure she was going to explode in anger. What was she so mad about? The answer came next. "Everything from our first five years."

    "That's a lot of stuff!" said a clearly shaken Ron glaring at Harry, who wore the same confused expression. Harry, too, felt worried. Neither of them had no idea how much material would be on a single test.

    "Yes it is," said a still very stern and very upset Hermione, "which is why you were supposed to start studying LAST TERM!"

    "But-"

    "They don't tell you. The tests are designed that way because students' grades were getting so high so they made them longer and harder. You're supposed to start studying before they tell you if you're to get any kind of good grade." She gave them some more McGonagall eyes and then added hastily, "Shut up and eat."

    The next day came, the first day of classes in the new term. Harry's first class was a new required one called,

    "Paladism," said Ron, standing just outside the door of an empty classroom down in the dungeons they've never been in. He blinked a few times in confusion at Harry and Hermione and, "What the bloody hell is Paladism?" Malfoy snuck up behind Ron. Harry caught glimpse and whatever Malfoy was going to say, he decided against it. Paladism was to be a double class with the Slytherins.

    "The branch of magic devoted to healing and aiding," said Professor Dumbledore as he walked down the hallways. All the students turned to look at him. He was carrying a wand in one hand and a small trunk was floating behind him.

    "You're teaching Paladism?" said Ron.

    "Yes," he said coolly."You won't be needing your books today, just your wands. Today's class, as well as many others, will be hands on." He walked to the door and opened it up. It was a huge room, bigger than any classroom yet. The floor, walls and ceiling were made of pure stone. Light was provided by candles that seemed to glow much brighter than they should be. There were no desks, only tables lined up along the walls with chairs facing in. The room was fairly cold, average for a classroom in the dungeons. A smaller table for Dumbledore sat at the far end of the room in the center. He placed his wand and the small trunk on top of the desk and sat in his chair, motioning for everyone to do the same.

    Ron and Hermione took a cautious seat next to Harry, as if something bad might happen. Neville took a seat next to Hermione and Lee sat next to Ron. Harry ignored them. Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson and a few other Slytherins parked themselves on chairs directly opposite Harry.

    "Paladism is not truly a branch of magic. Paladins are warriors of light, fighting for a religious cause. This class... is based on the magic Paladins were known for best: the arts of healing and aids." He walked to the door and opened it up. Fawkes, his phoenix, came flying in and perched himself on Dumbledore's shoulder. "Today's class will be a simple lesson in mending wounds. I'm sure many of you will not volunteer." He smiled brightly at Neville, who sat trembling in his chair.

    "There are a few ways in which wounds can be mended. One, of course, is by wand alone. Wand magic, is unfortunately, the weakest form. If you were, to say, lose an arm, your wand would not suffice in reattachment. Potions are a highly effective first alternative. There are potions to regrow bones, Mr. Potter can attest to that, potions to cure poison, as Mr. Longbottom knows very well and, last but not least, potions to remove hexes which Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Crabbe and Mr. Goyle found out this passing summer." He glared at them for a moment. Harry, Fred, George, Ron and Hermione had hexed the three of them all at once leaving them unconscious.

    "You already have experience in defensive magic. Defense Against the Dark Arts teaches counter-curses, for example. In here, however, you will be learning all about regenerative spells, augmenting abilities and more of that nature." He opened the small trunk. "Fortitudinus," he said, pointing his wand at one arm. Dumbledore picked up a hunk of red metal that could be no bigger than one foot long and a few inches thick. He placed it on the desk.

    "Someone come try to pick this up," he said. Lee tried his luck. He made a face like he was going to lose all sanity but the block didn't budge. He sat down, disgruntled. Ron got up defiantly and walked towards the block. He put one hand behind the block and the other in front of the desk.

    Ron pulled the block and pushed on the desk. He managed to do nothing but move the desk. He, too, sat down disgruntled. "Anyone else? Mr. Malfoy?" Malfoy stood up and walked casually to the block. He, too, could not even budge it. "Mr. Potter?"

    Harry got out of his chair and walked up to the block. He put one hand on either side of the block, managed to pry his fingers underneath it and pulled - hard - very hard - so hard he felt like his arms would come tearing off. Like expected, he strained every muscle in his arms but the block did not budge. Out of frustration, or out of his own will, his skin glowed perfect white. He gripped the block one last time with one hand, fingers wrapped tight around the sides and gave one last hard yank with all his might. His arm lifted fast, too fast for him to react. Shocked, his hand released the block and the block went flying, flying right through the ceiling of the classroom, shattering the stone blocks. Harry stared, dumbfounded, at the gaping hole above his head. He knew Dumbledore wouldn't be mad, he had to have expected something like this.

    "And that, my students, is how to move a block magically made heavier without the use of potions or wands." The block came crashing down onto the floor, plummeting a foot or so down into the ground. "Now, Harry, would you be so kind as to repair that?" As Harry expected, Dumbledore didn't look mad, he was smiling.

    Harry's skin continued to glow. He clasped his hands and looked up at the hole in the ceiling once more. Sunlight was visible; he had sent the block up above them, breaking every floor and ceiling and out through the top of the castle. Fragments of broken stone rustled on the floor. Fragments crawled across the floor joining up with other fragments to form whole blocks. As everyone gathered around to see what was happening, they shot upwards through the terribly deep hole. The castle's own ceiling was repaired first and the blocks continued to shoot up through the hole, locking in place where they used to be, then down through the hole in the ground, repairing it, looking as if nothing happened.

    A minute later, there was no damage done and the block rest again upon Dumbledore's table.

    "Strength. Something everyone wishes they had a lot of." He pulled out four more blocks exactly like the other one. "The chant is simply 'Fortitudinus' while pointing your wand at the target. You will be granted large amounts of strength for, at your level, a mere few seconds."

    Within a mere few seconds, everyone was shouting "Fortitudinus" while picking up everything imaginable with various parts of their body. Ron stood, elbow's pointing down and Harry picked up Ron by placing his arm across both elbows and pushing up gently.

    "Please come and try picking up these blocks." Some more "Fortitudinus" shouting and Malfoy found himself unable to do more than slide the block across the desk. Hermione managed to pick it up a few inches. About a half hour passed before Neville got it a foot before dropping it heavily onto his hand, breaking all the bones in it.

    "Numbus!" shouted Dumbledore, pointing his wand at Neville's hand. Neville's screaming stopped immediately. "I think it safe to say every single bone in Mr. Longbottom's hand is broken. Numbus is a charm that simply removes pain. Mending bones is quite a bit trickier." He took out a small potion from the trunk as well and told Neville to take one sip. Dumbledore put his wand down finally. Neville's hand twitched in pain but it was gone. "Wands are not capable of repairing them unless the magic is very, very strong. Removing them is much easier."

    "Any volunteers for the next example?" Scared of what happened to Neville, everyone sat frozen in their chairs. "Come on now, this won't hurt a bit," said Dumbledore innocently. "Miss Granger, if you will?" Hermione was one of the few who didn't look terrified because she knew, above all, Dumbledore would never intentionally hurt a student. "Please roll up your sleeve as high as possible and rest your elbow upon your desk, arm facing outwards."

    Dumbledore shouted, "Numbus!" at her exposed arm then gripped his wand like a knife, the tip pointing at Hermione's arm. He etched a cut, sitting from his seat, on her arm, that extended from the top of her wrist down to her elbow. "Now, rest your arm on your desk." She did so and let out a small gasp of horror at the huge cut that had suddenly appeared, painless as it was. Blood had started to leak out of it in small amounts.

    Fawkes immediately dived over and landed between her and her arm, so everyone could see. He lowered his beautiful head upon her huge cut. Pearly tears emerged from his eyes and dripped onto Hermione. The cut immediately began to seal itself. The bleeding stopped and Fawkes then perched himself upon her shoulder. A tail feather dropped from Fawkes as he turned around and it fell upon the small puddle of blood, absorbing all of it.

    "There are many creatures you will come across in your Care of Magical Creatures class, but there are not many like a phoenix. The tears of a phoenix are as powerful as the best curative potions and the best magic," said Dumbledore. He raised his arm. Fawkes clutched his tail feather in his beak, fluttered onto Dumbledore's shoulder and dropped it in front of him.

    "The very tears of this phoenix has mended broken bones, closed huge gashes, removed deadly snake poison and brought people back from an inch of death."

    Harry couldn't help but remember that Dumbledore had been talking about what Fawkes had done for him. Fawkes fluttered onto Harry's shoulder this time. Harry began to sink into his own thoughts, remembering the time Fawkes had saved him down in the Chamber of Secrets, coupled with the Sorting Hat and blade of Godric Gryffindor. A violent flash of a terrifying face crossed Harry's eyes. He blinked, very aware of the vision. Harry rested his head on his arms.

    "I imagine," started Dumbledore, looking around at the faces, smiling, "that no one else will be volunteering for today." Dumbledore's voice faded into a sea of other voices. One of the voices Harry clearly recognized. His vision gave and he was staring into blackness.

    "Where is he now?" The cold, listless, emotionless and venomous voice without sympathy could only come from one person. The face of the owner came clear into view. It had become darker, fuller with color but remained white like a skull. Those livid, wide scarlet eyes stared back at Harry, piercing through him, filled with virulence. The same nose, the same flat nose with mere slits for nostrils disturbed the image of Lord Voldemort even further.

    "Azkaban, master... Azkaban." Harry's vision whipped absent of his own control to face a Death Eater he knew by the name of Lucius Malfoy. He was standing directly next to Lucius. He knew from previous experience of this kind he could not be seen or heard.

    "And tell me once more, Lucius, how you accomplished this..." said Voldemort. The threatening tone in his voice made even Lucius shake. "And why... why I should not punish you for FOR - LEAVING - ME!"

    The scar upon Harry's forehead began to tingle. Lucius trembled visibly where he stood at the pure insanity that echoed in the surrounding air. Harry could see Lucius' chest beating in and out. It was not his breath, it was his very heart struggling to get enough blood around him.

    "Intercepted a-a-an owl, master. B-brought it straight t-to you!" He shook so visibly it looked like a small earthquake was localized directly under his feet.

    Harry turned so he could see both Voldemort and Lucius. Voldemort raised a wand and spoke too quietly for Harry to hear under his breath. Lucius fell to the floor, a pile of black robes and loud cries, cries so loud the heavens could hear. He jerked and writhed on the floor, affected by the Cruciatus Curse. Voldemort lowered his wand and with a motion of his free hand, sent Lucius flying backwards several feet. He landed with a thud and got slowly to his feet, half walking, half crawling back to his previous position.

    Voldemort's skin began to glow smoky-quartz black. It looked much more solid and brighter than Harry had ever seen his. Voldemort laughed a shrill, deafening, mad laugh. And without warning, the scar upon Harry's forehead exploded into pain like the entirety of the Cruciatus Curse was fixed upon it.

    Harry dropped to the floor, hands tight over the bane of his existence, the scar alight in fire, rolling and writing more madly than Lucius, or he, had ever been. It as if there was a blade digging into it, cutting into his forehead. Harry squinted so tightly another pain had erupted from his eyelids, his teeth clenched so tightly he was sure he would crack a tooth.

    Something soft fell heavy on his hand and he flailed the arm, shaking it off. Someone shouted.

    Suddenly, the dungeon room came back into focus and the pain subsided a little. Harry was curled into a ball of tears... and blood. His hands, arms and sleeves were reddened slightly with blood that could only have come from the scar. His breathing became very deep and steady gasps for life mostly to calm himself down. The pain was so strong he kept his hands over the scar to relieve aftershocks and continued to sob lightly. It was still affecting him and the excruciating memory of it was not leaving any time soon.

    "Oh my God," shrieked Hermione. "Harry!" Harry closed his eyes as Hermione drew nearer. His skin began to glitter a faint gold. He didn't need Ron to tell him --

    "Again! All over the floor, clutching your scar!"

    It had happened just last year during Divination but the scar didn't bleed and it didn't hurt nearly as much. He opened his eyes and peeked around the room. The table he sat at was split in two and the chairs around him where thrown all over the room. The room was filled with murmurs and shouts half of which he couldn't make out. He wished the yelling would stop as it continued to upset his already terrible headache.

    "What was it?" Hermione was breathing almost as hard as Harry had been during the vision and looked twice as scared. Harry motioned for her and Ron to bend down.

    "Sirius..." he said softly. "Caught. Lucius... got Hedwig..." Harry could feel nothing aside from the rising surge of hatred towards Lucius and Voldemort. Dumbledore strode swiftly over to Harry and put an arm down for Harry to grab. He pulled on it and stood, staggering on his feet.

    There was another quick flash of Voldemort's face and the shrill laugh. He staggered on his feet again and his knees gave. He fell onto his hands, his scar tingling again slightly with the entire class staring at him, horrified. No one had any words to say. Dumbledore simply motioned everyone to leave the classroom, holding back Hermione, Ron and Harry. Harry took a seat near the wall, leaning against it, holding his legs up to himself with his arms, staring blankly at the opposite wall. Ron and Hermione simply stood on either side of him.

    "Voldemort..." said Harry quietly, his voice shaking. "Talking to Lucius. Said he caught... Hedwig. Someone was put in Azkaban... has to be Sirius." He looked up at Dumbledore, full of fear, then exchanged the same expression with Ron and Hermione.

    "As much as you hate to hear it, nothing can be done as of now, Harry. Are you up to attending the rest of your classes?" said Dumbledore.

    "Yeah," he lied, springing to his feet.

    "Go get changed," said Hermione. "Once is enough."

    Harry felt exactly the same way. As used to the smell of dried blood as his nose once became, it took a week or two of being unconscious for that to happen. He went up to his bedroom and put on a quick change of robes, washed himself up and went back to the dungeons. Potions was next.

    "Wonder where Snape is," said Harry.

    "You sound like you miss him," said Ron.

    "Of course not."

    "I can't wait until he gets back," said an irritating voice behind them. Harry turned around to look at Malfoy, his skin now glowing perfect white.

    "Malfoy, I swear, if you don't stop one of these days I'm really going to kill you," threatened Harry.

    "And the Dark Lord will kill you soon after, Potter. I don't have anything to fear from you."

    "You will when you find yourself under the influence of both Cruciatus and Imperius then I decide to use the Killing Curse," said Harry, flatly. "Run, Malfoy," he said softly, "Run away before I explode into more violent behavior." Hermione gaped at Harry's words, hardly believing he said it. Malfoy raised his wand, but Harry was far too quick. "Expelliarmus!" Malfoy's wand jumped out of his hand and into Harry's.

    "You expect after all this time for me to not become a very, very skilled wizard?" A grin crossed Harry's face. "AVADA KEDAVRA!" he bellowed, wand pointed at Malfoy, his voice echoing through the dungeons.

    A rush of something huge, something massive ran through the corridor, stopping halfway between Harry and Malfoy, but the green light was halted halfway between Harry and Malfoy. The surrounding crowd stood horrorstruck. Harry stood shaking his wand violently from his own fear.

    "Do it..." said a venomous voice. "You want him dead... just let it go..." The voice spoke to Harry and he would have done it had a voice in the back of his head not have said, "What would Dumbledore say?" The green light faded and Harry chucked Malfoy's wand at the farthest wall.

    For the next fifteen minutes, Harry stood alone. Ron and Hermione were talking with Lee and Neville and everyone wondered where Snape was. Harry didn't feel sorry, Malfoy had it coming.

    After fifteen more minutes, everyone thought Snape wasn't coming and left for their commons. Harry sat in a corner with Michelle, neither of them talking. It appeared Ron and Hermione shared Harry's feeling Voldemort had gotten Snape... but how? They were not going to tell Dumbledore and Harry thought it best to keep his mouth shut, too.

    Michelle forced Ron and Hermione to speak to Harry during lunch that afternoon, but it wasn't talk amongst friends and Harry was not eating again.

    "You could've killed him!" squealed Hermione. Harry sat calmly at the Gryffindor table, arms folded, hands dangling off the edge, staring just ahead of his arms.

    "So what?" said Harry apathetically. He then suggest Malfoy go do something that turned a number of heads.

    "Harry!" barked Michelle, astonished.

    "I don't care," he said. "He had it coming. Dumb git wants to make me mad when he knows I'm going to do something bad. I think I'm losing control. I've heard a voice three times now."

    "Heard what?" asked Michelle very suddenly.

    "The basilisk..." said Harry sulkily.

    "What?" shrieked Ron. "No," he said, denouncing Harry's words. "Can't be... you killed it, it's dead!"

    "What do you mean..." said Hermione, and after taking a breath, "'talking to you'?"

    "Talking to me," said Harry, looking up. "First time it said 'I smell fear' then, 'You're right' when I said I was going to lose the duel against Brev and just now it told me to let the spell go towards Malfoy. I don't know what to do anymore."

    He went back to staring down. Michelle put an arm around him and let him rest his head on her shoulder. Harry found her warmth very comforting.

    "Well, what do we do?" said Ron.

    "WE aren't going to do anything!" snapped Hermione. "The last thing Dumbledore wants is Harry in harm's way."

    "He's been in harms way since-"

    "Sirius..." said Harry in a voice, quivering, but full of confidence, "we have to get him back." He pulled away from Michelle and looked up at them with an air of determination.

    "Well, there's no changing his mind," said Ron, seeing the look in Harry's eye.

    "I don't like the sound of that..." said Hermione, seeing it too.

    "You're not going to try to... break into Azkaban, are you?" said Michelle, looking more worried than Ron or Hermione.

    "That's exactly what I had in mind," said Harry matter-of-factly with a bit of finality. He finally took a sip from his goblet and stuffed some food onto his plate. The four of them ate quietly through the rest of lunch.

    Defense Against the Dark Arts was next. Snape had taught it last term but no one seemed to think he would be showing up for this either. Everyone took a seat inside the room.

    Clunk, clunk, clunk.

    "Hello, class." All heads turned upon the scarred and torn face of Mad-Eye Moody. Harry, Ron and Hermione looked almost cheerful. "Unlike most of your classes, this will be primarily hands on. I'll be teaching Potions as well, by the way." He walked to his desk, sat down, put both his legs up on the desk and gazed around the room. He looked quite refreshed and cheerful, the exact opposite of Harry at the moment.

    "Ah, I devoted my life to this stuff and look what's happened to me. I hazard to guess that my impostor covered the Unforgiveables?" droned Moody, still clearly bitter over it. Hermione nodded. "Well then," he said, getting up from the chair, "I think we should cover something I think they should teach in your first year. Spell deflection is as much an art as it is a skill. Some of us are just naturally bad at it... Some of us are naturally good at it... and some of us have natural defenses against it."

    Harry sat slumped in his chair while an eye or two turned to look at him. "Ah, Mr. Potter... Come, stand here," Moody said, pointing right in front of his desk. "Hold your wand out and don't move. I'm one hundred percent sure what to do will come to you." Harry got lazily out of his chair and stood up where Moody had been pointing at.

    "Rictusempra!" shouted Moody lazily, as if to weaken the spell, pointing his wand at Harry. And Moody was right, Harry didn't think and he shouted back --

    "Declino!" with his skin glowing perfect white. A white light shot out of Harry's wand and hit the Imperius Curse dead on. The two spells fizzled in mid air.

    "Excellent! The most basic form of spell deflection is simply the Deflector Charm. It requires very quick reflexes, mind you, and does not normally work, even with the mark of ancients."

    Moody talked and talked about various methods of deflecting spells but Harry's mind continued to wander towards Sirius. He wondered if he would eventually slip off into another vision and wake up with his scar hurting and bleeding again. He hoped not because once a year is enough. Is this the spell that can deflect Avada Kedavra with the mark?

    "No," said Moody. He must have been answering someone's question. "Deflector Charms are very weak and cannot dream of deflecting one of the Unforgiveables even with something as powerful as the mark of ancients." Harry's question was answered just as the bell rang. He sprang up and walked out the door.

    "That was a very useless class," he said to Hermione.

    "Useless as it was, Harry," said Moody from behind him, "it's just an introduction. Professor Dumbledore asked me to introduce ways to defend oneself, especially you, in the heat of a battle."

    Whatever Moody had to say, Harry didn't expect that. What was Dumbledore thinking? He had been successful so far in defending himself...

    Divination was the usual bore except for Professor Trelawney's weekly Harry prediction.

    "The return of ones you love will be brief," she said eerily to him as he climbed up the ladder into her smoke-filled room. Sirius? Would Sirius' return be brief? Harry had a wrenching feeling that Sirius would be killed on their way out... or that he would be killed on his way in.

    Divination passed by as a blur of Trelawney speaking. Harry didn't catch a word, his mind was on Sirius.

    Dinner came that evening. Ron and Hermione seemed to be continuing their speechlessness to Harry.

    "So, did you hear what Professor Trelawney said to me on my way in, Ron?" said Harry, trying to initiate conversation.

    Ron didn't reply, he continued to chew on his food then take a sip from his goblet. Hermione gave Harry a short glance as she stuffed a huge forkful of chicken into her mouth. It was mostly hopeless, he thought. Michelle tried to act innocent, eating her food quietly trying not to look out of her usual self but she wasn't fooling anybody -- something was on her mind as well.

    "She said someone I love will make a brief return," said Harry, not willing to give up so easily. Hermione dropped her fork nervously as she went to put it back up to her mouth. Michelle dropped her fork too.

    "You don't honestly think you're going to get in and out of Azkaban with your soul still attached to your body, do you?" she said to the startlement of both Ron and Hermione.

    "Yes," said Harry defiantly. He stuffed a piece of chicken in his mouth too big for him to chew properly.

    "What about us?" said Hermione.

    "What about you?" said Michelle, giving her an eye like a worried parent.

    "You don't think we'd let Harry go alone, do you?" Harry accidentally swallowed a piece too big and started to choke on it. What did Hermione just say?

    "Harry!" said Michelle, slamming him hard on the back.

    He continued to choke on the piece holding his throat with both hands for several seconds. He stood up from the table, coughing madly and trying to force the piece either down or back up. He couldn't breathe any longer. The mark grew a blinding white but what good was it going to do in as simple a matter as choking on food? Michelle let go of his back and he fell backwards, starting to turn blue in the face.

    "SOMEONE HELP!" screamed Hermione frantically.

    It took a moment for people at the surrounding tables to realize what was going on. A girl from the Ravenclaw table dashed out of the Great Hall. Hermione looked just as clueless as Ron. The two of them stood up gaping at Harry. Harry felt ready to pass out from lack of air. No one did or said anything for several frightening seconds and Harry's face turned a deeper and deeper blue. His vision started to blur itself when,

    "Out of the way!" said Madam Pomfrey hurriedly, running back with the Ravenclaw girl. She pulled on Harry's shoulder to sit him upright, put her hand on his back, held out her wand and said, "Disintigrus!" She let go of his back and he fell hard onto the floor but was no longer choking. He let out a few mad gasps for air and the color returned to his face before settling to just heavy breathing. Both Ron and Hermione jumped up right over the table.

    "Harry! Are you okay?" said Hermione, leaning in front of him. Harry propped himself up with his hands behind him.

    "I'm fine," Harry croaked, catching his breath.

    Madam Pomfrey exited the Great Hall, leaving Harry, slightly shaken, to ask something.

    "What'd you say?" he asked Hermione through heavy breath.

    "I said 'are you okay'!" she repeated. He looked up at her.

    "No, when Michelle said 'What about you'?"

    "You're not going to Azkaban alone," she said sternly. "Ron and I decided we're going with you." Harry sat up and got back into his seat. Hermione and Ron jumped back over the table onto their side.

    "No you're not," said Harry. He started to feel sudden sadness again. He really needed to know what Sirius would have to tell him. "You two have families. My parents are dead, my godfather is in Azkaban and I need to talk to him. You have a family to worry over you."

    "What about me?" said Michelle. She tried not to sound insulted but it was clear. What about her? Harry couldn't help feeling something odd around her lately.

    "You're not going with me," said Harry, hastily changing the subject.

    "No changing his mind," said Hermione. Harry finished up his dinner, not taking part in Ron's, Michelle's and Hermione's conversation about how Harry could possibly get Sirius out of Azkaban. Michelle was very nervous about them attempting it.

    As everyone left the Great Hall, Harry continued to sit there, thinking. He didn't notice Professor Dumbledore had been sitting in his chair in back of the great hall, hands folded neatly in front of him, keeping a watchful eye on Harry. Harry, arms folded, hands dangling off the edge, stared sulkily at the empty seats of Ron and Hermione. He breathed slow and steady and thought about Hermione and Ron going with him to Azkaban. After about ten minutes --

    "Everyone left, you know," Dumbledore called to Harry calmly, who broke quickly out of his gaze, shook his head and looked at Dumbledore. Dumbledore got up and walked slowly over to Harry. "Something has been bothering you for a long time," he said as he took a seat opposite him.

    "You can answer that," said Harry, going back to his sulky position. Dumbledore paused for a few minutes.

    "What were you, Ron, Hermione and Michelle talking about?" he asked, trying to catch Harry's stare. There was no way Harry would spill the beans on him trying to get Sirius back. If Dumbledore knew, there was no telling what he would do to prevent him.

    Harry wanted to talk to Sirius more than Dumbledore right now and there was only one way to make that happen. Harry kept his mouth shut. A small voice told him to tell Dumbledore what he's been hiding, but another voice said not to. The second voice spoke louder and it was this one that Harry had been listening to lately.

    "Nothing," he lied. "Nothing very interesting." Dumbledore peered through his half-moon spectacles with the utmost notice of Harry having just lied.

    "Sleep well, Harry," said Dumbledore smiling, as he got up and stepped out of the Great Hall. Harry spent another few moments before getting up as well and walked back to his four-post bed.

    He didn't get in bed, though. The window on Harry's side was cut out of the wall and lay inside it, leaving a small ledge to place things on. The ledge was about three feet thick and about two feet up from the ground. The window rose from the ledge up to the ceiling. Harry often left Hedwig's cage on it... but she had been missing for many weeks now... Her cage now rested at the foot of Harry's bed.

    Harry sat on this ledge and stared through the open window, looking out into the night sky as he leaned against the wall, holding his legs up with both arms. A cool, welcome breeze blew in his face, rustling his untidy hair. It was peace and quiet he wished that he could have more often.

    The absence of Hedwig was like Harry missing a small part of himself. Little things, such as stroking Hedwig's soft feathers began to mean a lot. Harry began to realize he was losing control and Voldemort was starting to overtake him; the voice in his head almost had him killing Malfoy. He had to get Sirius back and he had to get rid of the mark. He had to find out how Voldemort could control him and he had to get his life back to normal.

    Just then something, came into view in the far distance of the night. It was very big but the shape could not be made out. It soared through the air, criss crossing drunkily towards Harry. The object jerked up and down as it made its way towards him. It stopped at one point, sinking a few feet, but began to rise in the air again as a big breeze came billowing through the window.

    Harry stared intently as the object came closer and closer. He could begin make parts of it out. Two arms ran out each side of it's slender body, looking awfully long and thin. The head was fluffy and two beady eyes stared back at him. It looked white, it looked like an owl... Hedwig!

    Hedwig fell hard onto Harry's lap, looking sickly and tired. Her feathers were a mess and she couldn't stand up on her own two feet. Harry, eyes filled with tears of joy, picked her up, walked over to his trunk, pulled out his Invisibility Cloak and made a surprise visit with Hedwig to the kitchen to grab some food for her. Harry let her sit on the ledge that night and stared at her as he lay in bed, falling asleep.