The town was emptying, as the rain began to come down. There was only one man left on the street, and he was moving quickly to his destination. Lightning struck down again, and forced him to move a little faster.

As he reached the door of the fourth-to-last house on the block, he stopped and heaved slowly. Pulling open the gate, he stared at the beautiful house. It was a tall sloping house, with several columns holding up the vividly white roof. It was larger and more ostentatious than the houses around it. The garden, where he stood, had a sweet smell to it; the flowers, wet from the rain, smelled like heaven.

He moved swiftly up the cobbled pathway, which glittered as if made from silver. He reached the door, large and stone and began to rap on it. The knock sounded throughout then entire neighborhood with a large resounding boom.

"Who is there?" Answered a high and squeaky voice. The voice was dimmed through the heavy door, and sounded as if it were coming from an out-of-tune radio.

"It's me, Odet," Responded the hooded man at the door. He stood for a moment, waiting for the door to be opened. A small snap could be heard and the heavy door opened with ease.

The man stepped in slowly. A small creature stared up at him adoringly. The creature had large bat like ears and bright yellow eyes the size the tennis balls. It was a house-elf.

The young man swept past her with an air of callous disregard. She didn't seem to notice, and was soon taking his cloak and hanging it up.

He moved over to the ornate mirror, which hung from nothing, and stared into it for a moment.

He was a lank, tall, unbearded man, in fact there was not a bit of hair on his face, in long black robes that might have been made from the best of material, and on his head was small cap-the pointy kind. Masses of ashen curls burst out from under it. His hair was so wild and ashen and bushy, yet bursting with youth that it was hard to tell how old he was. Maybe twenty? twenty-five? At any rate, older than you'd expect to see at a childish event-a puppet show?

Unless, his heart was that of a child?

"Hello, Master Reid."

The small House-Elf had finished hanging the jacket and was now fussing over the bottom of the young man's robes, which were terribly wet. With a small snap of the house-elf's finger they dried.

"Hello, Odet," They young man's voice was less than involved. "Where are my brothers?"

"They have not returned. Odet has been waiting and waiting for them and you sir, but it has only been Odet and Master's mother," Odet stopped and ran after Reid, who had walked into the other room.

It was a large and a cozy room; full of small silver instruments and assorted chairs. Light was not particularly good to this room, for there was not a thing in it that was not scarred by time. Reid sat down in a small chair by the inglenook. Odet, with another snap of his finger, lit the fire and then went to stand in front of Reid.

"Odet, please inform my mother that I have arrived."

"Yes, Master. Odet will inform her."

The house-elf scurried from the room quickly. As he sat alone, Reid pulled from his pocket a small piece of wood and flicked around in his finger.

After performing several spells to make objects transfigure, the door that Odet had scurried out of swung open again.

"Clow," Screamed a women's voice. She rushed over to him, and stood in front of the chair, her face full of love.

She had dark violet eyes, so like the eyes of the person she stared upon with such affection, that were not ovals, but two long, rectangular cuts edged by parallel lines of lashes; she had an air of cold serenity and an exquisitely sweet mouth. Her face, her pale blonde hair, her robes, in fact, seemed to have no color, but only a hint, just on the verge of the reality of color, making the full reality seem odd.

"Hello, mother," He said with the first hint of caring in his voice that night. "You can leave us Odet."

Odet smiled and then left back out the door. There was a vast amount of silence, in which the women stared down at him. Her eyes never moving off of him, as if he were a dream that she could forget with ease or a mirage-to good to be true. However, she soon moved away and grabbed a chair; pulling it over to the head of the couch. She pulled it so far up, that Reid could no longer see his mother. Yet, he did feel her pull his small cap off of his head.

"So, when do the brothers arrive?" He asked. His eyes stared down; the only part of his mother he could see was her small feet. She coughed.

"Broderick is coming later tonight, and your brother Aidan should be down from Hogwarts tomorrow," She paused, and coughed gracefully again. "And, Dean said that he can't make it today or tomorrow."

"What?" He said in a sad tone. His eyes moved down to the floor, where his mother's feet, the only part of her he could see, sat daintily. "I took off for tonight and tomorrow. I thought we would all be here."

"Oh," His mother said shockingly. "You took off. Why did you do that? I mean you are still studying aren't you? At the Auror's office?"

"Yes." He spoke easily. "Although, I am the only person from Hogwarts there. Still top of the class, I've been offered a job with Alastor Moody when I'm done my training." His voice was humble and caring.

"Alastor Moody? He was in the Prophet, not just three day's ago-said he had tracked down another Death Eater," His mother said in a wispy, yet burly voice.

"Yes, he tracked down the Death Eater's who murdered Edgar Bones," Reid said in a very solemn voice.

"Let's not discuss things like that. It gets so tired of talking about him," She spat out him with utter disgust, as if it were an angry curse word.

Her son shook his head, as his mother ran her small delicate hand through his hair. She sighed heavily, and just then they heard something from the front room. The heavy door had been opened and the high voice of Odet could be heard from where the sat.

"Has anyone arrived yet, Odet?" Said the person who had entered, his voice was distinguished and gave each syllable a high ring to it.

"Yes, Master Brody," Odet answered, they heard another snap of the house-elf's finger, and the slight laugh of Brody. "Master Clow and Mistress Bianca are in the next room, should Odet go in an introduce you."

"No, Odet," Brody answered. "I'm not the minister, no matter what they say,"

They could hear the sound of feet scouring toward them; and then the door swung open. Odet smiled and continued out of the room, after asking them all if they wanted something. Bianca asked that diner be made for the night, and then sent Odet to inform the other house-elves to start diner.

"Hello, Mother," Said Brody, as he stood in front of them.

He was rather tall man; He looked rather like an old lion. There were streaks of grey in his mane of tawny hair and his bushy eyebrows; he had keen yellowish eyes behind a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles and a certain rangy, loping grace even though he walked with a slight limp towards the chair that Clow and Bianca sat in.

He kissed her on the cheek, and then moved over to Clow, who had sat up from his seat and was staring at Brody with an odd glint in his eye.

"Hello, Clow," Brody said. His voice was husky and warm, like a warm breeze on a cold day it comforted Clow. He smiled.

"Brody, when did you get so old?" Clow asked as he sat back down, his mother laughed, a laugh that became a cough very quickly. Brody's turned his yellow eyes over to her.

"Oh, I'm fine," Bianca said from her chair, although she was soon up from the chair. "I'll be back. I'm going to go-er-check on the House-Elves; they tend to get a little weary late at night."

She moved fastidiously past the chair that Clow was lounging in. In fact, she didn't seem to walk at all, but glide around the room. Her cough resumed as she swung the door open.

"She's not well," Brody said, his voice had lost some of its deep resounding noise, at most he seemed tired. It was as if a dark cloud had descended upon the room. "She should really accept it, and get some help. We'll lose her like we lost father soon, if she doesn't get help."

"It's not curable; she knows that," Clow said, as he sat back up from his chair. His face was shadowed his mood evidently worn. "What's the point?"

"The point! The point is that, while there may not be a cure, there are things, potions and spells, which could keep her alive longer. The point is Aidan, he's still at school, and he just lost father. That's the point."

Clow stood up in anger.

"Don't you think I know that? I know that, but it is still incurable; she should enjoy the time she's got. As for Aidan, he will always have us."

"Clow," Brody said, his voice was deep and passionate again. "How are you?"

"Me…I'm fine, but I do get tired sometimes. With father, and all. How long does she have?" Clow said as he eased himself back down on the chair.

"I don't know…six, maybe seven months, but she'll get worse in the next few weeks. However, with the potions and spells, she could last another year or two. There was a chap at the hospital that lasted for seven years on the stuff," Brody said, he had lowered his voice. It was clear that he didn't want his mother to hear them.

"Let's not talk about it. I mean, how are things at St. Mungo's?" Clow asked. His voice tried to put some depth into the question, but it seemed force.

"Fine and you?"

"Great, I've been offered an apprenticeship with Alastor Moody, after I graduate" Clow uttered.

"That's great. It really is. Shall we go in and find mother?" Brody said moving over towards his brother. Clow stood up and the walked together towards the door, that there mother had gone through.

"Harry," Said the solemn voice of Professor Reid. Harry looked up from the pensieve. Reid's face was looking bright and full.

"Yes," Harry said. However, that wasn't really what Harry was thinking. He was thinking about what he had just seen. What had that answered? How was seeing Reid and his family an answer to his questions? How was all this important?

"It is," Clow said. His bright violet eyes were locked on Harry's. "It is…very important. But, then there is still more to see, there is much more to see. In fact, I think this lesson may have to be a two-parter; we will not finish tonight, but there is still more. Any questions, before we continue?"

"No."

"Alright," Reid said as he picked his wand from his desk, and placed it as his temple; slowly pulling it away-

"Professor, why is it important?" Harry said because he didn't fell like holding this question till the end.

"Because, my crime, and it was not right, was done, because of something that was done to me-that you will see, but first you must understand what my family meant to me," Reid said with his wand still pulling out that silvery substance that filled the pensieve.

The mist in the pensieve began to dissipate, again. Harry stared down as the images became clear and distinct.

The room was small, and it seemed-from the windows-that it was mid-day. Reid sat lazily at his chair, his mother next to him was chatting with Brody, and the only real piece of furniture in it was the round table that they sat around, and the ornate chairs that they sat in.

"Really, mother," Brody said a large small upon his face.

"Yes, Fanny Miller was over hear the other day trying to sell me something from her new Witch Weekly paper, as if I set store in such things." Bianca said laughing.

"Did you hear that, Clow?" Brody asked taking a sip of tea from his china.

"What?" Clow asked from his chair. His eyes were staring out the window.

"Are you okay, dear?" Bianca asked. She looked over to his cup, which sat untouched and she called for Odet to heat it.

"No, that won't be needed mother," Clow said. "I was just thinking about work, I mean I was thinking about the work that I'm missing."

"Why don't you go?" Brody said pulling his wand from his robes and conjuring a chess board. "Fancy a game, mother?"

"Oh, Yes," Bianca said in an excited tone. "I haven't played in ages. But, really Clow you should go and come on back tomorrow evening. Your brother's will be here by then."

"'Brother's' you mean Dean has decided to come?" Clow asked in a fiery, but somewhat sarcastic, tone. His eyes still fixed outside; a number of children ran past the house.

"Yes, he sent an owl this morning. He and his wife are coming early tomorrow."

"Oh, well I suppose that I could go and come back tomorrow. I mean the feast isn't until then."

Clow turned from the window and stared at his mother and brother, ordering there pawn's like soldiers on the battle field. Bianca's knight snatched Brody's rook with a quick punch, and was now standing in front of the king, valiantly.

"Exactly," Brody said absentmindly as he ordered his other Rook to move back a space, and protect the cowering king.

"Mother, you really wouldn't mine?" Clow said moving behind his brother and glancing down at the board. Bianca's well-placed pawn had just smashed Brody's knight.

"It's fine, but do try and be back by tomorrow night. I want everyone to be here for the party. It's not everyday your little brother leaves Hogwarts," His mother said, while sending her queen to tale the other rook.

"I promise," He said as he moved over to the other side of the table, where his mother sat serenely. "Knight to queen seven, Brody."

And, with that he disappeared from the room with a violent shock, and the room around him began to fade into silver wind. But, the wind soon spread out into a dark black sky, and the surrounding homes of Clow Reid-who was standing, once again, walking toward his house.

It was midnight; but the night seemed evaded by some outlandish emerald light. However, the light was not the inviting light but something harsh. Reid's eyes were closed as he turned the corner into his years, and there he stopped.

Hovering over his house was something…something…he had never wished to see there. His eyes were wide with shock, as he stared up into the night's sky. There-hovering over the scene like some ghastly spectator-was a large green skull with a giant snake protruding from its mouth.

"No," Reid screamed aloud. He had fallen to his knees and tears were flowing down his eyes quickly. His voice sounded as if he had something stuck in his throat. "This can't be."

He stood up slowly, and began to walk toward the house; the daunting figure still watching from above.

Clow soon found the heavy stone door wide open, and he walked into the hall slowly. He called out to Odet, the house-elf. There was no answer. He continued to walk swiftly, as if he was being pulled by invisible strings.

Soon, Clow, found himself standing in the room where he had sat with his mother….

And, there on the floor laid six people. They seemed to be sleeping serenely, but Clow-from the abashed look upon his face-knew that they were not sleeping.

He moved past the body of the house-elf and over to his mother's body. He took her hand, she was cold and lifeless.

"Why?" He said out loud as he moved over towards Brody's limp body. His wand was lying in front of him. "You fought them, didn't you Brody? Did Dean help you or was he too taken by the entire event?"

Clow waited, as if he expected an answer; there wasn't one.

"No," He said to himself silently. "No, this can't stand. It's not fair." He rose from the floor, and glanced over the bodies of those he had loved and with another blink…he was gone.

"That's it for tonight, Harry," Said the clear voice of present-day Reid. Harry began to lift his head from the pensieve.

Harry was unsure of what to say. What was there to say? Was Reid waiting for him to comment on what he had just seen?

"I'm-"

"It's alright. It was a very long time ago," Reid seemed to be speaking from the other side of the table, rather than the other side of the table. His eyes were wet with tears. "You best to run along. I've kept you long enough and I do believe that Professor Flitwick is giving an exam tomorrow, so you best trot off. "

Harry rose from his chair and turned with a swish of his robes. He took one last look around the room, full of books and his head filled with reasons why the man-the man who had just told him to 'trot off'-had spent any time in Azkaban.

"Oh, Harry," Reid called from his desk. "Same time next week."

The next morning Harry told Hermione and Ron about the night's events. Ron seemed to be thinking on the same term as Harry. Why had such a nice man been sent to Azkaban? However, Hermione thought, as usual, something different.

"Who knows? I mean the pensieve-I researched them, a bit, when Ron told me he was getting you a mini-pensieve-can be tricked. A powerful Confondus Charm would be enough to change the contents of the pensieve," Hermione added as she flipped through her Charm's book. The three of them were sitting in the Great Hall eating breakfast.

"Yo'r a 'eal rusting' person, 'Ermione," Ron said, his mouth full of porridge-that was soon sprayed all over Dean. "Sorry Dean."

"I don't think so, Hermione," Harry said as he, learning from Ron, placed the bacon on his plate. "He seemed genuine."

"That doesn't mean much…look at Barty Crouch Jr.," Hermione said almost absentmindly. Her face was now completely hidden by the large Charm's book.

"Herm, he got off on Dumbledore's request," Ron said in a loving tone. Harry turned to stare at him. He had never heard Ron call Hermione 'Herm' before.

"So did Snape," Harry said forgetting the little term of endearment. This revelation seemed much more interesting; so interesting, in fact, that Hermione raised her head from her book.

"Yea, maybe they had something to do with each other," Ron said, in an almost hopeful tone.

"No," Hermione said in a matter-of-fact type of way. "Reid's arrest was way before Snape's. I doubt that it had anything to do with each other, but-"

"But, what?" Harry said, once again placing his bacon on the plate.

"Well…" She paused, and placed the book down. Her bushy brown hair was tied back into a bright red bow. "Most people who were arrested for 'heinous acts against the magical community' were Death Eater's"

"That really doesn't mean anything, does it?" Ron said in an easy tone.

"No, I mean look at Sirius-everyone thought he was a Death Eater," Harry alleged quickly. He tried to push down the large lump, which arose every time he spoke of his Godfather.

"I am just saying," Hermione said, as she stood up and through her Charm's book into her bag.

"Where are you going?" Ron asked. Harry thought, solemnly, of how fast Ron had asked. There was slight loneliness in his heart; he knew it had to do with this new familiarity between Ron and Hermione.

"To the library. It really is terrible how much I have been neglecting my S.P.E.W. duties," She said, taking the last sip of juice from her goblet and departed from the table with nothing more than a wave.

"She really is mental," Ron said as he stared after her, with an odd look in his face. Harry couldn't help it, he snorted loudly. "What?"

"Aren't you going to tell me?" Harry asked; there was a fire in his voice that he wished wasn't there. The small voice in his head-the voice that he had feared would return-was murmuring something. Ron. Liar.

"Tell you what, mate,"

Mate. Ron. Friend. Harry's own voice was fighting back. He could no longer hear the other voice so clearly.

"Nothing. Listen, I know about you and Hermione and I'm happy," Harry said; he wanted to say it now, before the voice came back.

"Oh," Ron said ripping his eyes over to Harry. "I was all for telling you, mate, I really was, but Herm said that we should keep it to ourselves."

"It's fine," Harry said. He didn't really want to talk about this. "When's the first Quidditch practice?"

"Tonight. I held practice last night and got us some other team members," Ron said nonchalantly, but Harry almost hoped for joy. A clear night of Quidditch practice was exactly what he needed; and the growing threat of the first match was looming over him, as Malfoy began to talk about how better he had gotten over the summer to anyone who would listen.

"That's great, but we had better head off-don't want to be late," Harry said as he crammed the last piece of toast of his plate into his mouth and threw his books over his shoulder and began to take off.

Harry could hardly wait for Potions, a chance to finish his Draft of Peace. Harry couldn't believe how well he was faring in the class, much better than he was in Transfiguration, and he couldn't help but hop-for grades sake-that Snape would stay wherever he was. It was a much more pleasant experience really, Potions with Trewlawney.

"It really is great that you invited Luna over to the table," Hermione said as she continued talking to Harry avidly about what she had written in the library. "I have found out some very interesting things. Like, did you know that in 1894 a group of House-Elves refused to work and protested to the Ministry but they ignored them?"

Harry knew that he didn't have to say he had never heard that before in his life, although he would have liked to say that he could have gone his life without knowing it. He liked Hermione but her devotion to S.P.E.W. was at times less than tolerable. Why wouldn't she listen to reason?

Suddenly there was an empty felling in the pit of Harry's heart. He wished that Ron was there with him; someone to roll his eyes at.

Harry pushed the door to the dungeon open, and he and Hermione walked in slowly.

There was a violent difference to the appearance of the dungeon room. Where it had once been bright with conjured light and warm from the enchanted fire, it was now, once again, dark and dank with a strange sense of foreboding.

"Harry, look," Hermione gasped, as she stopped at the door out of shock.

But, Harry didn't need Hermione to warn him; he had already seen who was standing in the front section of the room.

His dark eyes, that seemed to hold no emotion, surveyed across the room from behind greasy shoulder length dark black hair. His swallow pale skin looked even whiter against his midnight robes. Snape was back….

Harry looked with disbelief down at his Professor as a number of Slytherins stood behind him-he was blocking the door way. Hermione, by this time, had taken a seat at the back of the room and was flipping through her Potions book.

"Potter, have you lost the little sanity you? Or has your scar begun to hurt? Get him to the nurse," Said the cold drawl of Draco Malfoy, who had moved from the back of the crowd to the front. His pale, contorted face flickered with a smile, as a group of fourth-year Slytherins laughed behind him.

"Shut-up," Harry said. "Why don't you save that smart mouth for the Quidditch match next Friday?"

"Gladly, Potter," Draco exclaimed as he looked over Harry's shoulder slyly. It was clear he wanted to see where Trewlawney was; his face brightened when he saw who was standing there; it was a known fact that Draco was his favorite student. "Move Potter. You're blocking the way."

"What are you playing at?" Harry said in a shocked tone.

"Potter," Said the malevolent voice of Snape, it was clear that his dislike of Harry had not changed with his vacation. "I see you have not learned any manners in my absence; ten points from Gryfindor. Now sit down-in the front row-before I add another ten to that."

Harry-shocked by the unfairness of it all-swept past Hermione in the last row and took a seat next to a Slytherin he had never seen before. The boy was very stout and short, and Harry was sure that he had smiled at him when he sat down.

For a moment, Harry hoped that the class would go by without Snape bringing any more attention to Harry. But, this was quickly dismissed when Snape reached the front of the room and the room fell silent.

"Now, let us get down to business," Snape said as he began pacing. His hooked nose-Harry noticed-looked slightly askew, as if it had been broken. "I have gone over the work that Madame Trewlawney left for you while I was-er-indisposed, and I am appalled that, in your sixth year, you would be doing such elementary work. However, this will soon be fixed and we will be back on track. Now a few questions."

Harry flinched slightly; he had been through this once before. On his first day of lessons he had been given question-that even know in his sixth-he was unsure he could answer. He knew that Snape was coming to him. He began to work over all he had read over the last few weeks.

"Mr. Potter," He said in an indignant fashion. "When was the Wolfsbane potion created and what are its affects?"

Harry paused; his mind began to rush quickly. He had read this…it had only been a few nights ago. What was it? But, his mind lost even more concentration when Snape began to laugh silently, his dark eyes full of merry.

"Well, once again it seems that fame is not everything. I suppose you have been to busy mollycoddling around the school to know that the Wolfsbane potion was invented in-"

"1977 by the famous wizard-er-Romulus Quinn. It's affects are highly valued, due to the fact that, while it does not cure lycanthropy, it does subdues the violent nature of the person when they are transformed," Harry said in a very Hermione-ish voice. He smiled, sarcastically, up at Snape.

"Good," Snape said quickly. Harry was shaken; he never thought that Snape would reward him. "You can read, but you are not here to repeat to me things out of a book. I can read, so the next time I ask you please don't just answer me with something out of a book. Another ten points from Gryfindor."

Harry scowled as Draco and his Slytherin crew began to laugh and Snape swept over to them.

"We missed you Professor," Draco said. "Some of us liked that horrid woman Trewlawney teaching, but I was just telling Parvati that I would ask Professor Dumbledore if I could leave the class if you didn't come back, didn't I?"

Parvati shook her head in an obvious manner, which either Snape didn't see or didn't care about.

"Now Draco, I am sure that it was not all so bad, and I am glad to hear that you didn't leave the calls. You-" Snape's eyes flashed over Harry. "-Unlike some of us-belong in this class, and others are only here due to external circumstances. But, we must get to work. Copy these ingredients off the board and then concoct the potion-we will be making the Wolfsbane potion today. It should simmer with a color of bright silver."

Harry, whose potion, when done, had shined dark silver, skulked out of the room slowly. He didn't even bother to talk to Hermione; the only thing he wanted to do was to get his broom and take to the sky. He wanted to put Snape behind him, and his Firebolt was the price of the ticket.

He found that his desire for the air made his next two classes go by swifter. Although, he noticed that during Defense against the Dark Arts Professor Reid avoided his eye until the end of the lesson when he called him back.

"Don't forget Harry, same day next week," He said as he conjured the desks back from entropy. "Unless, are you going to Hogsmeade on Friday?"

Harry heart sank; he had not talked to Luna about going to Hogsmeade, even though he had dreamt about it. Did she still want him to go with him? Either way...he wanted to go to Hogsmeade-if only for some Butterbeer and a trip to Zonko's.

"Yes. Yes, I am," Harry said as he departed, after promising to come and meet him next week to finish there session.

"Harry," Yelled the excited voice of Colin from the stands, as Harry entered from the locker room.

Harry waved back at Colin and noticed that there was someone sitting next to him. It was the small silhouette of a young woman, and she seemed to be wearing a large lion on her head. Harry's heart gave a small leap-Luna had come to see him practice.

"Ron, I'll be back," Harry said loudly as he mounted his broom and flew smoothly. The soft wind ripped threw his hair and he could feel his eyes begin to water.

"Wotcher, Harry," Colin said again, as he stood up in excitement at Harry's presence. Luna, however, remained seated with an airy expression on her face.

"Hi, Colin," Harry repeated again. He stared to the large lion on Luna's head, and she finally seemed to come back to reality.

"Hello, Harry," Luna said. Her voice was more definite than Harry had ever heard it, but it still had a small ring to it like a bell. "Look what I've made it do when it hears someone say: Gryfindor scores,"

And, Harry was sure by magic, the large lion that sat atop her head let out an ear shattering roar that made Colin fall from his seat.

"So, Luna-er-do you still want to-um-go with me to Hogsmeade?" Harry asked from his broom.

She stared at him for a long moment, and then turned to Colin, who was still trying to get back to his seat. Luna then moved her large procumbent eyes back to Harry, which caused him to blush heavily.

"Sure," She said in a lay about way. "But, I have to go now, Hermione Granger wants me to look at something; I think it's for my dad. See ya, Harry, and may the wottlesnot protect you," She said rising from her chair and then moving away from Colin and Harry.

"She really odd. What do you reckon she wanted? I mean she is in Ravenclaw," Colin said, although he made sure that Luna was out of ear shot before he said it.

"I think she's extraordinary."

Harry found that the rest of the practice went by swiftly; after all he now had a date for Hogsmeade. However, Harry was slowly becoming surer about Ron's choice for the new Quidditch team. Euan Abercrombie and Jack Sloper were tolerable beaters; Ginny and Andrew Kirke (who looked, to Harry's astonishment, much like Oliver Wood) were great Chasers; Ron had clearly gained more skill over the summer, and his new broom was wondrous in the air.

But, Harry couldn't help think that they were going to need a lot of practice before they faced Slytherin in one week.

"I know there not great, but we might win," Ron said to Harry as they walked back up to the dormitory. Harry tried to look optimistic, but he felt this way too.

"It'll be alright. Even if we lose," He paused. "We can make it up against Hufflepuff in the next game."

This was, of course, true, but the idea of losing to Malfoy filled Harry with an odd empty feeling.

"Listen, I'll do anything I can to make sure that we win," Harry added, causing the melancholy on Ron's face to fade away.

"Thanks mate," Ron said as the stopped at the portrait of the Fat Lady. "I really didn't want this; it's so much pressure. Dues Ex Machina," Ron said, as he began walking into the Gryfindor common room. For a moment, Harry stared at him; Ron hadn't wanted this. He hadn't been prepared for it all.

"Hermione, what are you still doing up?" Ron asked, as he saw Hermione sitting in the chair next to the fireplace serenely.

"Oh," Hermione said shockingly. "I was just doing some homework for Potions."

This made Harry's heart sank; he was trying his hardest to forget that Snape was back.

"Trewlawney coming down on you guys," Ron said slouching down on another chair. There was an odd grin on his face and an almost I-told-you-so sound in his tone.

"No, no, not at all," Hermione said. "Snape is back and he says we are behind in our work."

"What?" Ron exclaimed in a shocked tone. He turned quickly to Harry. "Did he say where he was?"

"No," Harry said in a louder tone, as the last few seventh years had finally gone upstairs to their rooms. "But, I think it's pretty obvious where he was."

"I agree, Harry," Hermione said. "The question really is: What kept him there so long."

The days at Hogwarts, as they became hotter, seemed to slip by faster. Harry, Ron, and Hermione took to doing there homework by the Great Lake and delighted in visiting Hagrid's hut, where they would try to convince them what the next creature to study was. Save the Slytherins, many people found that Hagrid's teaching style had flourished and that his choice of creature was more select. Harry could hardly believe it, but before he knew it-it was Friday; the day of the Hogsmeade visit.

He woke up early that morning, but couldn't remember what had forced him to sit up with such a violent force. Had he had another dream? But, Harry didn't have much time to ponder this as before he knew it….

"Harry," Ron whispered from his bedside. Harry could see his outline from behind his bed cover. "Harry, are you awake?"

"Yes, what do you want?" Harry asked. He found this particular behavior in Ron very odd. For Ron very rarely woke up early, and seldom whispered unless in class.

"Oh, just wanted to know-er-what you're doing today," Ron said, his outlandish whisper had dimmed, and was now nothing more than silent confession.

"-Er-I have plans with Luna," Harry said quickly. "I'm going back to sleep, mate,"

But, there was no answer to Harry's last claim; with the shut of the door Ron was gone. Harry decided to lie back down, at least until Breakfast.

"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"

"Stand aside, you silly girl…stand aside, now…."

"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead–not Harry! Not Harry! Please – I'll do anything –"

"Stand aside. Stand aside, girl!"

"Harry, come on," Ron yelled from the hallway, afterwards opening the door and entering the room slowly. "Are you still asleep? It's time for breakfast, you know."

"Yeah, I'm awake," Harry said as he pulled open his bed cover. He was sweating heavily and seemed to be out of breath. What had he just heard?

Harry's mind began to race with possibilities; but he was sure what he had heard, very quickly. He had just heard the last moments of his mother's life. Nevertheless, what had caused that dream? Had a Dementor been in his room? Or had-

"-What's up with you?" Ron asked, as he finally stopped fumbling around near his be. He looked genuinely concerned for Harry, who was, by now, patting heavily as if he had just ran a large marathon.

"Nothing, let's go," Harry responded as he got up and began to dress. Ron left the room, and said that he would see him in the Great Hall. Harry found this greatly refreshing, as he didn't really want to be around anyone right now. He pulled his shirt over his head and began to head down the steps. His mind was racing so quickly that nothing seemed to be concrete.

Ron and Hermione ate breakfast in a loud fervor; Harry, however, sat in silence eating his cherry apple porridge. He couldn't stop himself from hearing his mother pleading to Voldemort in his head. And he could hear Voldemort's cold response to her pleads. Why hadn't he just killed her? Hadn't he just killed my father?

"Are you alright, Harry?" Hermione asked; she and Ron had stopped talking and she noticed that he had been quiet. Ron was now chatting to an enthusiastic third year about his plans for the first Quidditch match of the season.

"No," Harry said. He didn't want to keep this in; it hurt too much, and maybe-just maybe-they would be able to help him. "Last night, while I was asleep I had a dream-a dream about the night when Voldemort killed my Mum."

Hermione's reaction was almost immediate. Her face filled with concern, and tears began to spout from her eyes; an odd choking sound erupting from her throat as she tried to succumb the tears.

"Are you okay? I mean-are you okay?" Hermione asked as she took a napkin and wiped her still tearing eyes.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Harry lied. He still couldn't shake it-that feeling that welled up in him every time he thought about it. "Listen, can we keep this between us? Ron has too much to deal with now."

Hermione stopped wiping her eyes, and looked over to Ron, who was still chatting with the third year. She turned back and shook her head. They didn't have time to say anything more, as Professor Flitwick was calling all Hogsmeade visitors to the Front Hall.

"Your not going to Hogsmeade, are you?" Hermione said in shock, at Harry getting up to go over to the Front Hall.

"Yes, I am. I have a-er-thing with Luna today," He said. He began to set off for the Front Hall, but turned around and said "I'll see you guys later."

Harry and Luna began to walk down the cobbled pathway, and even though Harry wanted to ask her something he was content to talk about anything that she brought up. As they reached the town of Hogsmeade-which was brightly illuminated under the autumn sun-they were talking about how hard a time Luna was having with the Silencing Spell in Transfiguration.

"I just can't seem to get them right-it works for a moment and then the things sound comes back. My last tea kettle was only quiet for about three minutes."

"Hermione says-" But Harry stopped himself. He was enjoying himself to much, and his last date with a girl had been ruined with talk of Hermione. Did Luna think that he, Harry, liked Hermione as Cho had?

"What? What does Hermione say?" Luna said, as she grabbed Harry by the arm to make him stop.

"She says that learning that method helps-you know, like, reading up on the spell," Harry said slowly. He noticed then that Luna had stopped them in front of a store he had never noticed before, but he could hardly believe that he had not noticed it. It was, by far, the oddest building in Hogsmeade that Harry had ever noticed. It was large and bright gold with large scarlet letters emblazoned on the roof, that said: McClagan's Magical Do-Dad's.

"Oh," Luna said in an airy tone, it was clear she no longer cared about that subject. "Listen, can we go into this store and then to the post office. I need to mail my Dad something for his birthday?"

"Sure," Harry said in a loud tone. He was happy to have an agenda for now. He wasn't sure how to do this-be on a date.

They walked into the store, and Harry was almost sure that he had never seen anything that matched a person's personality like this store matched Luna's. The store was full of an odd assortment of items; in one corner sat a group of dancing ornaments and in another was a group of talking mirrors that kept spouting out things to random passers.

"Tuck your shirt in, scruffy," Shouted one of the older mirrors.

"That shirt doesn't go with that, try another," Said resonating female mirror to an austere looking man.

"What do you think of this," Luna said. Harry turned and saw that Luna was holding a small silver object that was whirling around slowly. "It's called a mini-pensieve. I think that they just came up with it-pretty cheap. You think that he would like it?"

Harry thought for a moment. A mini-pensieve, which Ron had given to him for his birthday, was, by far, the second worst gift he had ever received-second only to the socks the Dursley's had given him.

"I don't know-I mean what can it really do," Harry said in an unsure tone.

"The sign says that it can hold dreams and some memories. My Dad is always talking about his poor memory, and I can't afford a big one." Luna said as she began to move over to the register. "I'm going to get it."

Harry followed her over; standing behind her in a sloped over motion he was shocked at her manner, but slightly interested.

"It'll cost you six galleons, four sickles and twenty-three knuts," Said the young boyish wizard, whom Harry was sure had only left Hogwarts last year.

"Oh, Lemon Pop," Luna exclaimed angrily. "Harry, do you have an extra knut?"

Harry searched around his pocket for a moment, and felt a few bronze Knuts, which had escaped his change bag; he grabbed one and gave it to Luna, causing her to smile softly at him before paying the man, and asking him to wrap her item.

They left the store and headed toward the Post Office, walking slowly away from McClagan's Magical Do-Dad's. Once there, Luna left him outside the Post Office and quickly returned empty handed.

"Where do you want to go now?" Luna asked, as she stared at Harry with her large silvery grey eyes.

"How about Madame Puddifoot's?" Harry said as they continued there walk down the warm avenues of Hogsmeade.

"Sure," Luna said. Harry thought for a moment that Luna didn't know what Madame Puddifoot's was.

"Luna, can I ask you something?" Harry said in a small hidden voice.

"Sure," Luna said easily.

"You know that veil, the one in the Department of Mysteries-er-did you-um-hear voices when you got close it."

Harry barely wanted to speak about it. He could almost see the tattered hanging veil, which could be walked around. He could almost see the swinging veil, and hear the murmured voices coming from behind it.

"Yes," She answered. "I could hear them-I think that everyone who can see Thestrals-would be able to hear them. Can I tell you what I think?"

"Yes," Harry said quickly; he was taken by her serious manner and matter-of-fact tone, as if she knew exactly what she was talking about.

"I think that the veil is the key to seeing the one's that we love again. I think that they are the one's that talk to us, but we can only hear a murmur."

Harry was quiet for a moment. He stared at Luna, and thought to himself how truly amazing she was. She really did believe truly amazing things.