Ancient Prophesy

Chapter 13

Hasten, ready! The Sun awaits us,
Quicken, race! A Son is born,
Burning Yule with Bells at Dawn...
Flying windsong--cross the Sunrise!
Past a Winter Sea we sail, far behind us
Weep the Birches, bent with ice and branches frail.

A young girl by the name of Amanda had rushed forward to where Dobby lay, completely unaware of who or what Lucius Malfoy was. Looking up at the man still standing at the top of the stairs, she suddenly froze, her face draining of all color.

Lucius Malfoy's shape blurred into a white fog from which another sharp crack! reverberated and Harry stared in disbelief as an eight-foot creature mbered out of the mist. With short horns behind its ears and purplish skin beneath thin straggly fir, the bipedal river troll began to lumber down the stairs toward the now shrieking Amanda.

"A boggart!" he said, as the realization of what really stood there hit him. "How did a boggart get in my office?"

Fighting a boggart in a room full of terrified first years was bad enough. Fighting the dementor into which it would turn as soon as Harry confronted it was more than he wanted to deal with his first day of teaching - and he knew it would change into a damn dementor as soon as he drew the bloody thing away from his screaming student. Steeling himself against the cold waves of nausea that would soon surround him, Harry stepped forward and quickly lifted Amanda up and out of the way of the towering troll. Setting her down a few feet away, he spoke quick instructions to his class.

"Everyone to the back of the room and watch carefully," he said as calmly as his racing heart would allow. "What you are seeing is a boggart--it's a shape shifter and it will take the form of whatever frightens us most -usually we wait until third year to tackle boggarts --but there's no sense wasting the opportunity to learn. Groups are best to stop a boggart with, because they won't know what shape to take first; they can't lock onto one person in the confusion. " Harry spoke in a rush, knowing the troll had reached the bottom of the steps.

A menacing growl sounded just behind him and he ducked instinctively as a huge ham fist swung out. The troll's blow skimmed the top of Harry's head and he rolled away from the creature, regaining his footing a few feet away. Stopping, the creature hesitated and shifted its attention.

Crack! Where the troll had been a man in torn cloths and a hockey mask stood banishing a knife.

"Only making the boggart less frightening, laughable," Harry stressed, wondering what in the world he was staring at, "will rid you of it."

"Who's afraid of Jason?" a sarcastic voice dared to ask from the back of the room.

"Jason who?" Harry asked, maneuvering himself into a position once more to distract the boggart.

"It's...it's a Muggle thing, sir," a mousy blond in the front of the group stammered. "He--he--my brothers would..." She was breathing heavily now, near panic, and Harry stepped quickly to her side.

"You must be able to find humor in your fear--laugh at it--and then use the spell Riddikulus! All of you," he instructed while throwing a disarming spell to rid the advancing boggart of the knife, "think what your fear might be and how you could laugh at that fear. Then concentrate hard on the image and speak the word Riddikulus!"

"Well I'm not afraid of Jason," said the young boy who had spoken earlier. He stepped forward expecting to play the hero and banish the creature. Another resounding crack! filled the air and where Jason stood a decomposing zombie had taken his place. The boy froze and a pale frightened looked appeared on his young face, replacing the look of determination that had been there a moment before.

"Imagine him falling apart one step at a time," Harry directed encouragingly. "You can do it! Then concentrate, raise your wand and speak the spell Riddikulus!"

The boy's determination returned and he stepped forward once again.

"Riddikulus!" He cried.

The zombie began to advance on him but with each step, parts of his body thumped to the floor with dull splats.

Several "ughs" echoed around the room and Harry hollered for a boy named Piers to step forward.

Crack! A huge stallion reared on hind legs, his headless rider holding tight. Several students hollered out and scattered back and around the room as the horse and rider turned circles, knocking aside desks and chairs in their wake.

"Riddikulus!" shouted Piers.

The stallion reared once more and turned into an ostrich. His rider grabbed for reigns as he slid back and landed with a thump, clusters of feathers clutched in each hand.

An undercurrent of laughter filled the room and the headless-boggart stood and stumbled around in confusion.

"There, see we're doing it!" Harry shouted excitedly. "Vicky, can you handle it?"

Stepping forward she raised her wand but the Boggart had oriented on Harry this time.

Crack!. Tall and thin, a man stood before him, his livid scarlet eyes glaring directly into Harry's green ones. Black robes barely concealed his naked chest as he stepped forward, his white paper skin stretching across his skeletal frame with each step. Harry stood there frozen in disbelief. Slowly, a bony finger reached out to caress Harry's cheek.

At once, Harry dropped to his knees in agony, his students' shrill screams adding to the torture of his scar. Memories of pain and unawareness, of screams and sobbing, of his parents' voices around him pulled him deeper into that pain. Forcing himself to stand, he opened his eyes and yelled for the class to get out of the room. As they ran toward the door, Professor McGonagall entered, followed by Professor Flitwick, each expecting to see Lucius Malfoy.

"Good Lord in heaven is that...that Voldemort?" she stammered, her blood running cold as she pushed students behind her and out the door in an effort to shield them. "Filius, get them to safety!" she cried out, stepping forward as the little man scampered from the class.

~*~

The last twenty minutes had been spent in a silent dance called 'Size Up Your Opponent'. Provided with a long list--well, a scroll-- of ingredients, Raven realized Severus Snape would not easily relinquish the upper hand he had in the little war she had begun. Oh yes, she knew he was making her pay for the pink robes. Barely speaking, other than to bark orders, he had her pulling supplies for the day's classes. She also knew he was testing her knowledge. Snape had showed her the list of supplies he would need, told her the use of the potions being made, which year would be making each, and then had bid her to get everything ready accordingly.

"You can handle this?" he stated flatly, the only indication of a question coming from his raised brow.

Determined not to disappoint her mother's memory, Raven turned without answering him and set out to show the arrogant ass just what she could do. The job of lab assistant was not new to her and she had done it for teachers much less organized than he. That, and she had assisted her mother for as long as she could remember. If she had to she could work with him as well, if only long enough to find the answers she sought.

One by one she pulled the items from the student cupboard, carefully noting each label. Then she examined each container both visually outside, as well as by carefully noting the smell and texture of the ingredient inside. So many things could go wrong and often did while using natural botanical items. One had to know the ingredient by heart to determine whether a change in it had occurred. Both an increase in odor as well as a diminished odor could indicate spoilage, and each individual ingredient behaved differently depending on the type of spoilage occurring.

Some spoilage was good in fact. Rye for example grew a fungus known as Ergot, which became a powerful abortafactant as well as a pain suppressing hallucinogenic. Items having undergone a change had to be placed in new containers and re-labeled before mistakes could occur.

By the time she gathered the needed ingredients together for the first two potions classes--she'd have to get used to that word--she began to feel uncomfortable under his constant scrutiny. She expected him to double check what she had pulled, but his watching her every move irritated her. Fine, let him check the supplies, let him see what Mum had taught her. But the gaze with which he stood watching her was so unsettling.

Ezmarelda had taught her well, too well in fact, but as Raven looked at the last items needed for the seventh years' potion she realized she had no idea where to find them let alone what Snape used them for. She cringed at the thought of asking him the use of the three remaining items, thus admitting she knew nothing about them, but she knew she had to learn their use. Mum had made it quite clear, the first and most important rule, as second nature to her as breathing--if you don't know what it is DO NOT TOUCH IT.

To make matters worse, Snape's first year class had started to arrive and the staring had begun. Maybe pink hadn't been such a good idea. Watching them back, she noted several shift their wands uncomfortably and continue to their desks where they sat in silence awaiting further instructions. She knew Snape would take the first chance he could to discredit her and to do it in front of students would be an even greater pleasure for him. She had to ask now before class began, or not at all.

Meeting his gaze straight on, she gathered about her every acting skill she knew and walked confidently forward to hand him the list. With a calming breath, she leaned in next to him and pointed to the three items in question, only to lose her train of thought completely as her mind reeled from his proximity to her. Sandalwood, lanolin, neroli - the very air around him spoke to her of dark and exotic. He coats his hair with the very same lanolin compound as Mum, she thought, trying to regain control of her composure. And sandalwood with neroli, how often had she seen Mum combine the two and then smile as she inhaled their fragrance before bottling the final product for delivery.

"Professor Trelawney reads minds, not I. What is it you want?" he snapped.

Flushing from her momentary loss of composure, she did her best to stop from stammering as she spoke. "I am unfamiliar with boomslang skin. It's a snake, isn't it? Slugs, revolting. You really drink this? Also bicorn horn, not a clue as to that one either."

His look indicated neither the emotion of success at stumping her or the disappointment at being unable to catch her at failure. He simply looked at her through his mask of a face while his eyes spoke of something else. Turning, before she could determine what, he answered her as he walked away.

"Those items are unavailable for general student use. They can be found in my private stores, but you've been in there. Perhaps you knew that already?"

Ah, finally his move...Severus Snape--2, Raven Klause--1.

She followed him, knowing he would never bother to actually speak the words ordering her to do so. Immediately he retrieved the items in question and set two of the three jars on the work counter.

"A boomslang is a poisonous snake native to Asia. They must be captured and skinned alive for their scales to be effective. In this potion it aids in an easier transformation of the human skin."

Setting down the first craft he picked up the second, labeled bicorn horn. "Exactly as it says, it is the horn from any two-horned animal such as a goat or an impala. I only use the horn of the chamois found in the Himalayas. They are prepared to my specifications by a wizard living just out of Kathmandu. The magic in the horn allows for strengthening of the human bone if growth is required."

Picking up the largest of the three containers, he proceeded to remove the lid and pull out the biggest slug Raven had ever seen. "The fortunate results of a student's hex gone wrong," he stated smugly. "You will need twelve of them. Watch."

Turning to the counter he drew a shallow dish to himself and then grasped the slimy creature between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. With the fingers of his left hand he pulled back on the creature while exerting pressure with his right fingers. With skill born of years of practice, Severus Snape quickly and neatly *milked* a liquid secretion out of the unfortunate slug and into the dish.

"The enzyme in the bile affects the human blood in the transformation process, allowing for any change in blood type to occur. Only seventh years are allowed to attempt this lesson but they are not allowed access to these creatures. They are the only ones in existence. Do not harm them. I need twenty-four grams all together. As for the bicorn horn it needs to be powdered. You will find a mortar and pestle for horn on your right. You have used one?"

"Yes!" she snipped back, not meaning to sound so defensive. "Though I did get Mum to use a coffee bean grinder these last few years."

He shot her a look of disdain at the coffee reference and continued without comment. "When you are finished, you will join the class for their lesson, as you will do with each successive class until I feel there is no longer a need to do so. Between the hours of three and half past four you will stay with me for private tutoring. Ask Madame Pince in the library for the books you shall need and have them ready for tomorrow's lessons."

Turning, he walked toward the door without another word to her.

"Don't harm them, they're the only ones...powder the horn...private tutoring...blah, you'll get yours Professor Higgins." Cutting off the cockney accent, she stuck her tong out at Snape's retreating backside and watched as his posture stiffened at her words.

Without turning around, his retort bit into her all the more forcible in its calmness. "Behave like a lady and I'll treat you like one Miss Doolittle."

A dull, wet thud echoed off the open door behind him and Severus realized simply by the reaction of his wide-eyed students that Raven had thrown something at his retreating backside. By the sound of it, the slug.

Several thoughts entered his mind simultaneously. Turn and kill her being foremost. Preferably with his bare hands because a curse more than likely wouldn't work well on her. The memory of Ezmarelda hurling a book at his head had also flashed to the surface of his mind. He had almost killed Ezmarelda then, realizing nearly too late just how much like his father he had become. Letting go of her, he had walked out of her life, never knowing that the ardor they had shared earlier in the night had created the very life so closely echoing in her mother's footsteps. With a snap of his wrist the slug disappeared from the floor, and Professor Snape took control of his emotions the only way he knew how - he began to teach the first year dunderheads.

Raven took the rest of her frustrations out on the chamois' horn, grinding it to a finer powder than she had ever made before. The slugs proved challenging, but once she got past the revolting feel of the process - accomplished quickly by imagining it to be Snape's neck - she quickly finished her work.

Venturing into the classroom, she quietly took a seat on a stool to the right of Snape's desk and commenced to watch Hogwarts' Potions Master in his element. As much as it pained her to admit it, Severus Snape knew what he was talking about. His methods were right out of the Inquisition but...she certainly could not judge him. With the skill and ease of a man in his natural environment, Snape had set himself the task to hone these young children into something resembling competent apothecaries. Not an easy job considering the complexity of, as well as the dangers of, tackling such a task.

Raven knew poisoning someone with a mistake was far easier and likely to happen than saving someone with this learned skill, for it took something of a natural inclination to excel at it. And excel he did. She listened to his words and followed his motions just as he had followed hers the hour before. He positively moved like energy, feeding and empowering the minds of these empty vessels.

He tracked every student's progress and steered those who needed it back on course. Well maybe not steered...jolted would be a better description. Considering the fact that most in the room appeared to be frightened out of their wits at making a mistake, Raven wondered in fact if this was not a good thing. Better frightened than dead.

Jerked out of her thoughts by a sudden flash from the fire grate, Raven watched as a silver blur of ash arched its way across the room and landed with a hiss on Snape's desk. Appearing to be a letter written in a hasty scrawl, Raven leaned in to read its contents as Snape advanced across the room, robes billowing in his rush.

Death Eaters in Defense classroom--implement Slytherin House evacuation.

~*~

More screams of terror could be heard from the hall as several students realized for the first time just who stood in the Defense classroom.

"No..." Harry struggled, uncertain if he had spoken out loud or not. The pain had intensified and he doubted whether he was really hearing his own voice or voices induced by the boggart - Voldemort.

"No. A boggart. Put in my office." He straightened again, determined not to look the fool in front of McGonagall and his class. He would do this without help.

Focusing, he blocked out as much pain as he could and readied his wand for the spell, but before he could even begin to think of anything remotely funny about Voldemort in Hogwarts, the boggart began to morph and shift into a new shape.

He had only seen her true face in photos and the Mirror of Erised; in his dreams he had seen visions of her in shapes and shadows, but the woman standing there now was clearly his mother.

"Mum?" Harry mumbled, confused now beyond all logical thought. "I don't understand."

She reached out, brushed his hair back, and spoke to him, her voice echoing as if from a distance. "We will give you time Harry," she whispered, stepping away from him. Then as if a storm were raging within the room her hair flew back and suddenly she stood clutching a child while she screamed in abject terror, "Not Harry! Not Harry! Please--I'll do anything--."

At that moment, Harry felt a hatred for Voldemort that he had never experienced before, not even when Cedric Diggory had been killed next to him. This was his mother begging for his life. Begging Voldemort.

"Harry, step back," Professor McGonagall intoned softly. "Let me do this."

Walking forward she attempted to distract the boggart from Harry, attempting to draw its attention away from him to no avail. The full focus of its attention lay with Harry and distracting it was now impossible. She watched helplessly as Harry battled with the reality of his fears.

A facsimile of James had replaced Lily, and McGonagall cringed as the boggart repeated words drawn straight from Harry's nightmare of memories.

"Run Lily...take Harry and run! I'll hold him off! Take him and go!"

Harry stood transfixed and McGonagall wondered if he even realized she still stood there watching the horrific memories unfold. As he struggled with the vision before him the anguish showed clearly on his face. How did one find humor in the destruction of a family? A family she knew he had longed for all his life.

A commotion in the hall caught her attention, distracting her for a moment from Harry. The majority of Gryffindor's seventh year class at some point had arrived ready to fight, Ginny Weasley leading the charge. McGonagall felt Dumbledore's presence before she saw him. Students parted to let him through and he stopped at the door to the Defense classroom with Flitwick at his heels. A palpable energy radiated around him and she watched as the look of fierce determination changed to a look of confused disbelief.

The boggart shimmered and cracked once more and its shape altered into a tall gaunt man with torn clothes and matted hair, his eyes haunted and frightening. McGonagall turned back to Dumbledore in question.

"Albus?"

"Sirius," he whispered, holding up his hand in a gesture to silence her. "It's a boggart?" he asked her, already knowing the answer.

All she could do was nod her head in confirmation and turn to Harry, watching once more as he circled around the shape of Sirius Black. Harry looked as pale as the boggart-Black and she realized with a start that both Harry and the man standing before them shared the same haunted look.

"We'll see each other again," echoed the voice of the boggart. "You are--truly your father's son, Harry...."

The boggart drew from Harry, drew out from him the heart of his fears. The apparitions that materialized before him, the people they were meant to be, had never done anything to hurt Voldemort and were in mortal danger simply because they were family to Harry.

He knew he had to distance himself from those who still survived, because if he didn't, one day or another Voldemort would murder them too. One by one they would die, and it would all be his fault. And he didn't know how to stop Voldemort any more than he knew how to stop this boggart. How could he laugh at the murder of his family and friends and then simply shout Riddikulus? What could anyone find funny about his life?

A shift, and Cedric stood before him. The boggart reached out to him just as Cedric in the maze had, helping him so long ago to stand on his injured leg.

"Harry..." whispered the figure of the boggart-Cedric as though from very far away, "take my body back, will you? Take my body back to my parents..."

A high cold laugh echoed around the room; the same sound that had confirmed Cedric's death. Harry again wondered how he went on, knowing that there were souls that no longer graced the earth because someone had wanted him dead. How could he go on?

Ron replaced Cedric and Harry looked on in shame at the figure before him. Death Eaters had tortured Ron in a failed attempt to lure Harry to them. Only through sheer luck had they found Ron before he was killed. A sob sounded from the door and Ginny Weasley entered the room to stand next to McGonagall.

"Harry, mate...why'd ya come? You gotta leave me...GO! YOU BLOODY FOOL. GET OUTTA HERE!!"

The speech was slurred as Ron spoke through broken teeth and a fractured jaw. There was blood oozing from around his temple and ear, while his wand hand could hardly be recognized as a human appendage. Fingers dangled at crazy angles and white shards of bone poked through torn skin as if the hand had been smashed as if by a hammer.

As the hatred welled up in him, Harry felt the boggart feeding off of him, its power growing on the fear and anguish in which it was now immersed. He had to stop this! He had to find a way to break out of the spell he was under or these visions would be locked in his mind forever.

"Harry, Harry!" Another voice, not Ron's, was ringing in his ears. "Harry, you've got to stay with me. I can't lose a defense teacher on his first day. I'd lose my bet at Gringotts that you'd last to teach a second year. Think of how funny that Daily Prophet headline would be - 'Dumbledore's Doubloons Down the Drain in Defense Debacle.'"

Dumbledore's voice. Focus on his voice. He could hear the humor in his tone. Laughter. Daily Prophet and Rita Skeeter. Hermione and that silly jar. Harry could feel the boggart struggling to maintain its hold over him, unwilling to let him go. Hermione catching the Skeeter-beetle on the hospital window ledge...the third task...Cedric...Voldemort.

"Crack!" And once again Voldemort stood before him as the boggart dug into his sub-conscious and pulled his fears hard to the surface. It would not let him go without a fight.

The pain in his scar became twice as intense this time and he swayed, reaching out to keep from collapsing. Strong arms at his side caught and held him up as he fought the need to blackout.

"Come on Harry, just look at what it's wearing! We've got some of Lockhart's garish robes still around. We can offer it those to wear."

Dumbledore's voice broke through the haze of pain as Harry focused on the skeletal half-clad figure of Voldemort. He felt himself being pulled back across the classroom floor as the Voldemort figure reached out for him. He couldn't let Voldemort touch him. He couldn't withstand another contact with the boggart. Yet he couldn't bring himself to find humor in the vision of Lockhart's robes on Lord Voldemort. The boggart reached for him again and he found himself half lifted, half dragged away from its grasp. Dumbledore was physically attempting to wrench him away from the connection the boggart held over him.

With a jerk, Harry felt Dumbledore pulling him closer toward his body and he stumbled, falling hard into the man. Something whizzed by his side and with a resounding thunk! landed hard on the chest of the boggart. Lifted up and off its feet, it flew back careening into the desks behind it. Another woosh! and a second streak of black flew over Harry and Dumbledore, this time catching the boggart on the right shoulder, spinning him around hard. A larger, red blur came by at leg level and smacked the boggart square in the knee, causing it to swear out as viciously as the real Voldemort would have. Harry's eyes focused on the smallest of the objects now buzzing annoyingly around the boggart face and head. The Snitch.

Regaining his footing, Harry stood on his own as the connection the boggart held over him began to wane. A shrill voice broke through the haze in his head and he realized Dobby's voice was shrieking in anger at the boggart.

"You shall not hurt my master! No! You shall not harm Harry Potter!''

Again the quidditch balls rose in the air and began a fresh assault on the boggart-Voldemort. Dobby controlled them one by one, hurling them with the force of a cannon.

Rushing forward, he stopped at the towering form of Lord Voldemort and wailed again and again, "You will not hurt my friend, you shall go. Now! Go!" Drawing his little foot back he kicked out hard and landed a blow directly at the shin of the boggart.

The absurdity of Dobby daring to kick Lord Voldemort like a child throwing a tantrum was too much for Harry. Watching the quidditch balls pummel him while an elf kicked him in the shins was in the simplest way, funny. He could stop this; he could break the hold of the boggart.

Concentrating on Voldemort Harry roared out "Riddikulus! "

There was a loud crack and Voldemort stood before him wearing a blazing orange Chudley Cannons' uniform.

Out of the corner of Harry's eye he saw Professor McGonagall step forward, forcing the boggart to deal with her. Another crack followed and he watched in exhaustion as McGonagall assumed her animagus shape and pounced on the large rat scampering across the floor.

Harry's legs felt like water and his feet like lead, but he managed to walk unassisted to his desk. Dobby ran over to right the toppled chair, and held it steady as Harry sat down hard upon it. He absentmindedly pressed his hand against his forehead, using the pressure of his palm to try to ease the aching pain radiating from his lightning scar. He nodded in thanks to Dobby, who beamed proudly back at him, and then he looked up at Dumbledore managing a week smile.

Speaking slowly Harry asked, "So tell me sir, was your first day of teaching this hard?"

Dumbledore placed his hand on Harry's shoulder and shook his head. "No Harry, I can say with certainty only you would start a career out like this."

"Thanks."

"One thing was learned by all this though," Dumbledore said with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

"What."

"I know now why Minerva likes a cat so much as her animagus form."

Both Harry and Dumbledore watched in silence as Minerva McGonagall carried the lifeless body of a dead rat out of the Defense classroom, all the while threatening to take house points from the students who had disobeyed orders, showing up to help Harry do battle.

"Miss Weasley, she's correct," Dumbledore admonished. "As head girl you were given orders to get your charges out of the castle and into the tunnel leading to Honeydukes. Why are you here?"

Ginny stood straight and held her head in such a way that Harry knew instantly that Ginny was about to become a miniature version of Molly Weasley. With six older brothers and Molly for a mother, Harry knew Ginny was not one to run from a fight. None of the Weasleys were, and it was that very fact that worried Harry the most.

The Weasleys, Hermione, Sirius and Remus were everything to him. They were his friends. They were his family. They had taken him into their home and their hearts, supporting him and laughing with him, crying with him and loving him. Losing any one of them would totally destroy him. Thoughts of Hagrid came crashing to the surface and the anger Harry had experienced battling the boggart burst forth.

"You have no business being here, Ginny!" he yelled, pushing himself up with the help of the desk. "Your responsibility was to get Gryffindor house out! That's why I told Dumbledore about that passage..."

"Don't even start with me Harry. They are safe, but you weren't!" she bellowed back. "Colin has every one of them plus two of the Hufflepuffs who couldn't make it to their own location. We'll have to change Gryffindor's escape plans or modify their memories. The poor things, they're terrified of..."

"If that had been Voldemort with Death Eaters then they would have been more than terrified," he said raising his voice over hers, "they'd be dead!" He slammed his fist hard on the desk and looked up at the faces of his former schoolmates who had joined Ginny in the room. "Voldemort is my fight not yours!"

"That's where you're wrong Harry." John Parris stepped forward and stood next to Ginny. "You're not alone in this. Everyone in this room has family or friends who have been victims of the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters. Monthly there are new attacks! We want to see him stopped as much as you do Harry."

"Voldemort may not know me Harry," Ginny continued, "but I know him. Too well. Don't you dare tell me I don't have the right to try and stop him."

"Harry, they are correct. Voldemort has threatened the lives and prosperity of the entire wizarding community," Dumbledore interrupted, reaching out once more and putting a calming hand on Harry's shoulder, slowly pushing him back into his chair. "I can't stop your friends from wanting to stop Voldemort any more than you can. I can, however," with this, his voice became much sterner, "insist that when students are given orders to leave this castle that they do so! Or at least those who are not of age." His formidable gaze swept the room conveying the seriousness of his message. As Headmaster of Hogwarts he had to insure the safety of his charges; only those acting as adults of their own accord would ever have an excuse to disobey him.

Ginny nodded her head in brief acceptance of his statement. She'd be of age soon enough and until then she would obey.

"Mr. Parris, if you would be so kind as to retrieve your housemates from their location, Miss Weasley and myself will see to getting Harry up to Madam Pomfrey."

"No. I'm fine!" Harry practically spat out at them. "I've got four more classes to teach today and I intend on doing it."

Dumbledore looked at Harry for a moment, and then a begrudging smile slipped to the corners of his mouth. "Very well then Harry, but please no more boggarts for now."

~*~

Jumping to her feet Raven realized that what she had just read involved Harry. Death Eaters in the Defense class meant that Harry, once again, was a target of an attack. Snape's reaction to reading the letter, though, startled her more than the letter had. She could have sworn that for just a moment a smirk crossed his face. What she saw now could not be mistaken for anything other than disgust. With a toss of his hand he discarded the letter and turned, walking toward the back of the room to the group he had left.

"Excuse me! Are you just going to ignore that?" Raven asked trailing after him in disbelief.

"Yes."

The entire class had stopped, all eyes now trained on their professor and the mysterious woman in pink challenging him once again.

"Look, I may be new here but I know enough to realize that Harry just might be in danger. A fact that obliviously doesn't bother you...but the rest of these students certainly didn't ask for a formal introduction to your friends!"

Severus whirled and advanced on her, his dark gaze narrowed, eyes blazing like embers. "Don't you dare speak to me of things you do not understand!"

"I understand enough to know that YOU understand exactly what I'm talking about. Ravenglass and Godric's Hollow both. It's not enough for them that our parents are dead; now they're gunning for us as well!" she shouted, the fury of weeks of suppressed emotion finally bursting forth.

Grabbing her by the elbow Snape half lifted, half turned Raven in the direction of the classroom door and shoved her through it. He didn't even need a wand to will the door shut behind them. It slammed with a jarring crunch, its hinges once again cracking loose from the mortar into which Filch had just fixed them.

All hope of self-control gone he stepped toe-to-toe with her and in a roar of enraged anger lashed out. "CARELESS PHRASING LIKE THAT WILL LIKELY GET YOU KILLED, YOU STUPID GIRL. HOW DARE YOU PRESUME TO KNOW WHO MY FRIENDS ARE OR WHO I AM!"

"THEN JUST WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?" She snarled back, matching his fury with her own. "Tell me that, will you, because the conclusions I'm coming to tell me my mother was right in keeping me the hell away from this place and most certainly away from the likes of you."

Turning, she fled from him, her entire being filled with fury. She felt a palpable energy gathering within her, an energy she had felt before in moments of anger or excitement. Only this time she recognized it for what it was and pulled the Ravenclaw wand from the pocket of her robes in an effort to focus it. Oh he just...he infuriated her so much...she'd like to take one of those precious potions of his and...and. Blue lighting sparks flashed from her wand, but she hardly made note of them as she turned the corner and started up the stairs. She couldn't work with this man. She wanted out of Hogwarts and as far away from Severus Snape as she could get.

Severus Snape noted though the results of those sparks. Standing in the doorway of his room, the classroom cauldrons, full of simmering potions, simultaneously flew from their bases and showered him in a torrent of thick battleship gray sludge. His students sat in stunned silence, too frightened of the maniacal look on their professor's face to even smile.

Reaching the front entrance in what seemed like seconds, Raven stopped in front of the great oak doors and looked about her. The castle appeared empty, void of all activity and sound. Turning full circle and seeing no one she assumed the other instructors must have done as directed and evacuated their classes. Why hadn't Snape? A better question, had Harry gotten out? Looking once more at the doors in front of her, she realized she just couldn't walk out without knowing that Harry was all right. She didn't even know where to begin to look for him. She also realized the thought of confronting Death Eaters frightened her to death.

Looking up the Great Stairs she walked forward with her wand still drawn and paused at their base. A week ago she would have felt safe with a baseball bat in her hand to defend herself. Not now. She had seen what magic could do. Harry had taught her a dozen spells on the way to Ravenglass, all used in defensive magic, and she certainly had experienced Stupefy first hand, but she had never actually cast any of them. Armed with only a thin wand she barely knew how to use, she began to climb the steps. Dumbledore...she knew she could locate Dumbledore's office, the hospital ward and Harry's quarters. She would start with Harry's room, working her way around the castle and up to Dumbledore's tower the best she could.

~*~

The wind had picked up overnight and had done nothing to help Remus sleep. Every bump, creek or groan of the old house had caused him to open his eyes and listen intently for any sound that would indicate that Sirius had come home safely. Leaves blown by the energetic wind plastered themselves in dull wet streaks against the partially open window and Remus scented the smell of autumn rain through the opening. The soft drip of water fell from the tree branches like silent tears, tears shed with the knowledge that the coming winter would also bring evil.

As a cool draft played across his forearm, Remus turned his head on the pillow toward the fresh air and opened his eyes once more. The room was filled with a gray early morning light that washed the color from everything and he realized it was useless to try and sleep any longer. As he moved slightly, the light caught the faint shine of the scars on his shoulder and arm, proof of the evil that Voldemort would try and use. This knowledge made him nauseous, knowing that the sick desire to kill and maim lay dormant within him. Each time this evil came upon him it cleaved a piece of his soul away, bringing him closer to the animal he fought with monthly. He knew what he was. All werewolves knew, and Voldemort knew too. The last six full moons had lent their light to Death Eater attacks. Several of the victims had been torn to shreds. Yes, it seemed Voldemort had brought a few wolves to his flock of sheep. A fact that Snape had confirmed.

Now it was his job to see that no more would be swayed to Voldemort's side. If he could offer them more for their lives than Voldemort could then maybe there was a chance. He had approached Dumbledore after the first mauling victim had been discovered. Then he had approached Snape.

"Of course Lupin, I'll just whip up a couple of extra batches in my spare time," Severus had sneered, his lips curled up in a parody of a grin. "Shall I deliver the goblets in person or will all your friends," he hissed, "be traipsing through Hogwarts everyday for a week?"

"Just make enough Severus, leave the details of delivery up to me."

For the first time in his life he had said the word 'please' to Severus Snape. At Snape's goading of course. Pride was a small price to pay. He didn't have much left but what little he did have he gave freely to Snape to insure that no one would use the evil in him or any other werewolf as a weapon. He'd tear himself apart limb by limb before he'd let that happen.

Moving the covers aside, he ignored the stiffness the scaring on his legs caused and sat at the edge of the bed, the mattress springs creaking under his slight weight. His hands found the hollow of his back and he arched, trying to ease the ache of morning. Everything in the house was falling apart with him but he did his best to make it a home for he and the black dog with whom he shared it. The last three years had been spent working tirelessly to slow the rising number of attacks on the society that shunned them both with nothing to show for their efforts save aches in their backs and a roof that needed another water-repellent spell cast upon it.

Ah well, on the plus side, he and Sirius had been forced to deal with their past and move on with that part of their lives. Dumbledore had been right to send Sirius to stay with him upon learning of Voldemort's return. Living with a man who was forced to live half the time as a dog had proven its own set of challenges, but they had met them and triumphed...most of the time. Fleas were still a big issue he noted with a snort of humor, scratching at a real or imagined itch at the base of his neck.

"Damn it, Sirius! Where are you?" Standing and shaking himself from the stupor he felt, he slipped his feet into his slippers and grinned down at them. A gift from Harry, they had come from a Muggle store and Remus had laughed harder than he had in ages when he received them. He shouldn't have laughed, but he had. Staring down at his feet, two identical fuzzy, gray wolves stared back at him, their pink felt tongues hanging out through peacefully grinning teeth. Remus noted Muggles really could be so stupid at times.

Listening once more to the sounds of the house, Remus noted things were quiet, too quiet, and he felt the familiar prickle of nerves that never failed to warn him of something 'not quite right'. Hoping he had just failed to hear Sirius come in during the night, he checked his room and found it empty. Reaching the back stairs that lead down to the kitchen, Remus quickly descended them cursing Sirius every step of the way.

He knew recording the movements of the Death Eaters was an important job and one that made Sirius feel useful, but he still dreaded every time Sirius left the house on another mission for Dumbledore. Not that what he had agreed to do would be any less dangerous. Dumbledore had asked him to pick up where Hagrid had left off in the Forbidden Forest. Every creature, 'beast or being', was a possible ally in the fight against Voldemort and those alliances needed strengthening.

Reaching the landing at the back door, Remus sighed with relief at the sight that greeted him. Large muddy paw prints trailed in from the dog door that had been installed, much to the pleasure of Sirius, at the rear entrance. Magical, it opened only for Padfoot, allowing him access in and out of the house in his Animagus form, making it much easier to explain how he had gotten out of the house with Remus gone. After all, real pets just didn't open doors with their paws and take themselves for walks.

Following the trail into the kitchen, Remus' feeling of relief turned quickly to anger as he looked about him. The kitchen chairs, cupboards and walls lay splattered with mud where Sirius had shaken himself sometime in the night. Gray streaks ran down the door of the pantry where he had scratched it open and a large ham lay half chewed upon the floor. A milk bottle lay spilt upon the counter among additional paw prints and it appeared to Remus that Sirius had lapped up the milk as it had puddled to the floor.

"Bloody hell, Sirius when you're in the house as a dog the least you can do is act like a dog with manners! That ham was for dinner tonight, I've got a guest coming, you big oaf!"

Storming into the living room, Remus stopped ranting at the sight of the prone form of Sirius on the living room floor and rushed to his side. Lying on the floor in front of the fireplace he had rolled himself into the hearthrug like a banger in a bun. His face was scratched and coated with dried mud and blood. His hands, curled around the edge of the rug like a child grasping his blanket, looked cracked, his knuckles split and raw. Remus only realized he was asleep by the loud snore that rolled out from a nose that appeared to be broken.

"Ah, Sirius. What did you do now? You were supposed to watch them not interact with them."

Drawing his wand Remus spoke several healing charms and watched as Sirius' wounds vanished, leaving only bruising and the need for a good bath. One eye peeked slowly open and a half smile appeared across his dirty face.

"Thanks," a raspy voice spoke. "The nose was really starting to hurt."

"Sirius, why didn't you wake me last night? Or at the least, why didn't you just crawl on the couch?"

"Because I didn't want to listen to you bitch at me and I'm certain Padfoot was quite muddy," he answered, struggling to sit up against the stiffness of the rug. "Besides, I'm used to the floor."

"Well you need to get unused to it! We've had this argument before..."

"Which is exactly why I didn't wake you."

"Fine," Remus sighed. "Have it your way."

Letting go of the rug, Sirius pushed himself into a sitting position as Remus tugged it back into place. Standing above him Remus offered him a hand and helped him up from the floor. Holding it for a moment he looked hard at the knuckles and raised his brow in question.

"Padfoot didn't do this, Sirius. Dogs don't fight with their fists."

"No."

"Well, what does the other guy look like?"

"Snape?"

"Padfoot, you didn't!"

"Not until he broke my nose, I didn't! Greasy git. I actually felt sorry for him tonight. For about a minute, at least. Moony," Sirius closed his eyes in memory and shuttered, "I got in behind them. I'm not sure how but no one noticed. I guess a black dog just blended in well enough with the hill entrance that no one noticed me laying there. Well almost no one...Snape knew I'd followed him."

"You actually witnessed a Joining?" Remus asked, both shock and anger in his tone, "You had no business getting that close. Dumbledore only..."

"Yeah, yeah I know. That's what Snape said, so for bloody sake don't start sounding like him too."

"How did Snape find you?"

"Um...well." He stopped and turned, stretching his neck in an uncomfortable gesture Remus recognized. He'd done something to Snape to antagonize him. Again.

"I kinda let him know I'd followed him."

"Padfoot."

"I was just marking the territory," he said innocently. "You know, to find the place again and well...Snape was in the way. I might have gotten a little on him."

"SIRIUS!" Remus sat hard on the couch, staring in horror at his friend. "Padfoot, he's helping Dumbledore - he's helping me! Without his advancement with the Wolfsbane potion who knows where the others and I would be right now. Gee Gonway, Jean Grenier, all of us can function now - can think, act, and control what we do. Before, the beast was just controlled, but we were useless for days after, too lethargic to even eat. Severus has changed that for us, and that's a fact we intend to take full advantage of in the coming battles. "

He stood up glaring at Sirius, and walked to the kitchen. He needed to calm down before he said something he would regret. Sirius of all people should understand the hatred he felt for the beast within him. Sirius had spent years watching the Wolf take control of him, take control of all their lives once a month. Look what they had done to help control the Wolf; broken the law as unregistered Animagi, deceiving Dumbledore in the process, and endangered themselves and others with their foolish exploits.

And then there was Peter. Sirius and James had helped him, trained him, and drilled him until he could morph easily, all in the effort to keep the Wolf company. In the effort to keep Remus from hurting himself, everyone that mattered in Remus' life had suffered. All Peter could manage was a small rat. But it was that rat that had delivered James and Lily into the hands of Voldemort and Sirius into Azkaban and Harry...God, he tried not even to think about how Peter had affected Harry's life. The rat meant to keep the Wolf company had in fact left him a very lonely man for thirteen years.

Filling the kettle with water, he selected an assortment of leaves for tea and quietly set it to brew upon the stove. Sirius had followed him in and was looking quite contrite at the mess he had left. Grabbing a rag he began to swipe in anger at the mud on the table in an effort to tidy things up a bit.

"Leave it," Remus directed, without bothering to turn around. "I'll get it."

"No. It's my mess."

With a curt flick of his wand the mud began to drop to the floor, trails of dust gathering in piles where it landed.

"I said I'd get it," Sirius growled, grabbing the broom and sweeping the smaller piles into the center of the floor. Bending, he retrieved the ham and tossed it around Remus and into the sink where his friend still stood, staring out the window. Not a word was said about it and Sirius followed Remus' gaze to see what held his attention so completely.

A break in the clouds allowed for a shaft of sun to catch the raindrops lying heavy on the leaves of the garden plants, their blooms all but spent before the coming frosts. Sirius stopped and joined Remus at the window, watching the various flower fairies jumping from petal to petal gathering the raindrops as they went. The blue delphinium looked to Sirius like it attracted their attention the most, but the Bells of Ireland held the most water and a squabble seemed to have erupted over whether to play in the delphinium or drain the Bells of their moisture. One fairy splashed another playfully and soon the entire garden was alive with the spray of splashing water reflecting like diamonds in the air.

"Such simple beauty in a task as simple as gathering water," Remus remarked quietly.

"Remus, I'm sorry." Tossing the broom carelessly aside Sirius sat hard upon the kitchen chair and rested his face in his large, rough hands.

"You just can't even imagine what I saw last night. Voldemort's a mad man, Moony! And people call me mad?" He laid his head down upon folded arms and looked up imploringly at his friend. "They have no idea, no idea whatsoever how powerful he has become, Moony. The Dark Magic he called upon last night...and Snape's right in the middle of it...helping him...the useless, slimly, arrogant..."

"Padfoot."

"I know, I know. He's helping our side. Didn't look that way to me!" he snapped. "Snape could have stopped him tonight. It would be over for all of us and then Harry... and don't look at me like that!"

"No, Padfoot. You know better. You know it's not that simple." Setting a cup before Sirius, he slowly poured the tea into it and motioned to the pantry, a box of sugar cubes floating out at his gesture. "We need to learn how deep into the Ministry Voldemort has reached. Who's helping him. Not enough of the guilty were stopped last time. I shouldn't have to remind you of that. "

Sirius shot him a hateful look, but said nothing.

"Killing him is not going to end this. We need proof of who willingly supports his agenda and who has been manipulated through spells or potions. That's where both you and Severus come into play. Every potion used by Voldemort now comes from Severus and your..." At this he paused and leaned down to look closely at Sirius' nose in the light of the kitchen window to check for any remaining damage. "Well, Padfoot's nose can scent out Dark Magic or spells like no other. Both you and Severus have done more and given up more these past few years than anyone will ever know."

"Right next to him Moony," Sirius answered shaking his head, thick black hair still caked with mud. He stood right next to that abomination and...and." Unable to continue he just shrugged.

"And you were correct to feel sorry for him," Remus added soberly. Though I'll never admit to saying that." He added three cubes of sugar to Sirius' cup and pushed it toward him. "Drink. After half a ham you should be quite thirsty."

Taking a big gulp, Sirius looked at his friend once more wondering just how he managed to stay so calm and focused through everything they had endured. Didn't the irony of the situation ruffle him at all? A Death Eater, a werewolf and an escaped convict thrown together in an effort to stop a deranged wizard from destroying the very society that shunned them.

"How much is our testimony going to count for when this is all over? Assuming we even survive," he asked, letting out something between a sigh and a growl. Standing, he paced the length of the kitchen. "Unless Pettigrew is brought back alive for questioning to prove once and for all everything we've known to be true, then what we're doing is useless."

"Hardly Padfoot. Stopping Voldemort cannot be considered useless. Now go clean up. We're meeting with the Headmaster in two hours and I'm not dragging a dirty dog into his office. Besides, I've got someone I want you to take a sniff at while we're there and tell me what you think; but as nasty as you are now she'd be smart not to let you within ten feet of her."

"She? Oh do tell. Who is she?"

Remus smiled mysteriously at Sirius. "That's what I'm hoping you'll tell me."

A/N: Before class begins I have to apologize for last chapter's pity trip. Yes, of course I'm going to finish. I just needed to know that people were really reading because I'm really working on this. Next, I have to once more thank Jedi Boadicea. Poor thing was forced to beta the wrong version of this chapter, getting the rough draft rather than a pre-betaed one by my editor. But as usual she is gracious and kind even though I'm a dolt! Wahlee gets her normal hug and everyone's prayers because she is on the last leg of her college career. Schools over April 25^th. Lastly a new hello and thank you to Midnight-reader (I gave her that name, but she likes it) a new beta who like myself LOVES to get into Snape's head. We'd like to get into his *ahem* too but Jedi Boadicea tells me I'm walking a fine Freudian line here. House points to anyone who gets the connection with the Ms. Doolittle line. Now on to class.

If I hadn't been tripping out last chapter, I would have pointed out to you that the opening stanzas for each chapter were no longer coming from The Witches Rede. Broke up into 10 to 12 chapters and I figured that would be plenty for my story. Adding chapters is fine, except I never intended AP to be over 200 pages--HA! At the start of chapter 12, with no more Rede left, I had to decide what to intro the chapters with. Now you will get the chance to learn the break down of the Celtic ritual year with the use of The Roebuck in The Thicket.

Penned by an unknown author, it is taken from a sixteenth century manuscript and details the Celtic calendar. This calendar divides the solar year of the seasons that coincide with the Celtic seasonal festivals. The purpose of this calendar was in fact to schedule these sacred events, rather than to simply mark the passage of time. It is laid out the way it should be--solar in structure--not based on another cultures mythology. The wheel was set up to reflect the annual cycles of the seasons and the pagan/druid/Wiccan life that revolved around them. Paganism is a religion of great and ancient traditions far older than many other religions can claim including Christianity. Examples of The Wheel influencing planting and harvesting, which connected it with death and rebirth, have been found everywhere dating back millenniums.

Since the Druids were primarily a priesthood based on nature, it made no true sense to end their year on the 31st of a month, or to begin it on the 21st of another; this was merely 'squeezing' the Celtic system into a foreign one of 12. The mythological birth of a year should start an Midwinter's Day (Dec. 21st-Yule), and the regular increments of days from that point onward, should be measured straight to the next Cross-Quarter...45 days hence. The Wheel of the Year consists of eight Sabbats. All Sabbats are solar in nature, marking the passing of the year with natural milestones; thus, the Druid break down is in 8ths matching the symbolism in the Druid Zodiac as well as the Eight Grove Festivals. I'm trying to link a chart of the Wheel I have but I'll probably need Wolf to do it.

The Roebuck in the Thicket is a Druid poem that describes this Wheel. According to the legend it is based on, mankind ran his life according to the cycles of the Sun and the Earth. Each year at Midwinter, a stag of seven tines--a magical Roebuck from the other world, crashes his way through the dark, 5-day thicket into our world, carrying on his back the spirit (babe) of the New Year. Hmm...sound Prongs enough for you? Also, you might want to start noticing Raven's room rug. If you'll recall when she first sees it, there is a Stag being chased by hounds. As the seasons change so will her rug and this IS SIGNIFICANT. Any who...Why did the Roebuck do this wonderful thing? He had no choice. He was being chassed by the dreadful Hounds of Destiny also know as the Hounds of Annwn whose name you will/should recognize from the Joining scene in chapter 11. Hell Hounds in other words.

The Roebuck makes it through the thicket-doorway safely, just in time for the moment of Winter Solstice. The bright sun, the Holy Son (Christian Crossover by the 13 century) was born! But the poor thing is still not done running. For another 45 days the sun will cross the cold sky, as the birch trees bend heavy with ice all around.

Mabon the beautiful spirit of youth is carried safely at last where he finds warmth and safety in the Mother's (earth) arms and rests, deep within a Willow wood bathed in moonlight (Imbolic). Yes, you will see this on Raven's rug next chapter. Watch carefully.

Another 45 days and he finds himself in Hawthorn blossoms, amidst the tides of spring (Ostara), watching birds returning in flocks from the sky. Then, alive with the spirit of adventure, He waited as a solitary Raven circled down to perch upon his sword arm. The Raven bore a message. "Life rushes on!" The raven or third Gilgal (stone in a calendar circle, ie like Stonehenge) or 45day station represents the bringer of destiny into the world. This period marks the festival of the birds and the Fate of the Divine Child.

And so, on they ran, 45 days distance until the boy was a man (Beltane/the first of May/May poles and love). Now at this point you get maidens and dragons and all sorts of stuff, which I will post on my Yahoo group if anyone is interested in the rest of this information.

What you will find and what will be explained latter in the story is that for each of the characters--Raven, Harry and Ron (who's d.o.b. I did have to play with because it doesn't fit the theory) were conceived and born on important feast know as Esbat or Sabbat days.

Most readers assume (you've read my play of words on that one ;)) Harry was conceived on All Hollows Eve--Oct. 31st know as Samhain and born on Lammas--July 31^st /Aug. 1st. Raven was conceived on December 21^st/22^nd--Yule and born on the Autumn Equinox of Mabon--Sept. 21^st. Ron in Ancient Prophecy, and I do take some creative liberties here because JKR has never said, is conceived on the Summer Solstice, Litha--June 21 and his birthday again for the point of the story is March 1 with his due date set at Ostara which would be March 21^st. I had to work in Molly falling down the stairs with Ron delivered early, sorry, work with me here! That leaves just one other: Tom Marvolo Riddle. JKR has never said anything on the subject that I'm aware of, and this is for my story, totally. Tom, it shall be pointed out in later chapters, was conceived on April30/May 1 Beltane or in some cases called May Day. His d.o.b. for the story shall be Imbolic--February 2^nd. With each character's conception and birth, the entire Wheel Of the Year is covered, making this something that Helga Hufflepuff would 'freak out' over when she foretold this event.

As usual, I hope I haven't bored you. Chapter fourteen is in beta and should at least be on my Yahoo group by the end of March. Off to finish fifteen. Damn, dragons are causing me fits!!!!!!!!!