A/N: Remember, this chapter is a continuation of Ch. 18. With that said, I hope you enjoy. Ch. 20 and 21 will be up soon...figuring out how to proceed in writing them. But I will give you a preview: they're both in parts and entitled "Halloween". And you will find out who the stranger is. :)

Ch. 19

"A Sirius Argument"

"Looking for this, Harry?" asked Abigail, holding up Harry's Invisibility Cloak.

Harry went white. Ghostly white. Sweat now poured down Harry's forehead and face. His heart began to race, feeling it violently pump blood as if it were about to jump out of his chest. Harry couldn't move. Both feet were planted to the ground, hands by his side. Fear flooded him. Fear for what Abigail might do. Fear for what she might find out. Harry stared directly into Abigail's face, seeing the anger. What was he going to do? What could he say?

"Abigail? Wha—what—are you doing here?" asked Harry, standing stock still.

At this question, Abigail's anger had reached its boiling point. Her face turned a shade of red. Her hand edged near to her pocket, ready to draw her wand. She slowly walked toward Harry, lowering the Cloak with it, grass crunching beneath her feet.

"How dare you? How dare you insult my intelligence with a question like that! I know you were following me! What I don't know is why. Why, Harry? Why were you following me?!" exclaimed Abigail, now close to Harry's face, starting out cold and low in volume but growing to a scream.

Harry stared at Abigail. Not out of defiance but out of fear. What was she going to do to him? Although she couldn't see it, Harry was shaking internally. He began to stutter for words. He was afraid that he would say the wrong thing and cause more anger. Backing away from her slowly, at least so there was two feet between them, Harry averted his gaze from Abigail to everywhere else. He looked up towards the sky, seeing that it was now past high noon. He then turned his gaze back towards the forest. Oh how he hoped that stranger would return! Maybe it could get him out of this situation. But the more he looked around, the more he could tell that Abigail was growing fiercer.

Indeed, Abigail had not taken her eye off of Harry. She continued to stare at Harry, with angry eyes, the Invisibility Cloak now touching the grass again. "I'm waiting for an answer, Harry," said Abigail tersely.

Harry racked his brain for an explanation. How could he explain what he was doing without revealing the nightmares? What could he say without her being suspicious? For the first time since he was caught by her, Harry shifted his stance. He gazed upon the ground and tried to come up with an answer. But nothing came. Instead, he looked back up toward Abigail and uttered, "I was just going for a walk on the grounds. I needed some space. Besides, you're paranoid if you think I was following you."

Instantly, Harry knew that was the wrong thing to say. Before he could react, Abigail drew her wand and flicked it. Harry flew back in the air and once again hit the ground hard on his back. Groaning, Harry gazed up at the sky, seeing that the stars were out very early. Oh wait! he thought. He soon realized that it was still daytime and that he had been knocked back by a spell. Harry began to roll gently on his shoulders, trying to relieve the pain. And then, Abigail stood over him, blocking his view of the sky. She still had the Invisibility Cloak in her hand, but her wand was now back in her pocket. She kneeled down and leaned forward so that she could see the green in Harry's eyes.

"That was the most pathetic excuse I have ever heard. Get up!," she exclaimed, suddenly standing back up with her arm extended out, palm facing Harry.

Immediately, Harry began to rise against gravity. He closed his eyes, afraid of what she might do. When he felt the wind wisp through his hair, Harry opened his eyes again, against his better judgment, and saw that he was suspended in mid-air. He looked down to the ground and noticed Abigail with her palm still out towards him, looking up with malice upon her face.

"Abigail! Please! I'm sorry!" exclaimed Harry.

Abigail slashed her hand through the air rather quickly. Like a reflex, Harry was sent flying through the air until he hit a tree trunk. THUD! As soon as Harry hit the tree, he fell down and landed in the bushes on the edge of the forest. Harry groaned loudly, bringing his hand up to his head, his glasses askew upon his face. Then, he was lifted into the air again and turned around so that he was facing Abigail once more. Malice still full upon her face, she slowly brought Harry back down to the ground. Feet touching the ground once more, Harry's heartbeat began to slow. Abigail walked toward Harry, Invisibility Cloak still in hand, until she was right up on him. She fixed his glasses so that they weren't crooked. Giving him a sweet, devilish smile, Abigail seized the collar of Harry's jacket and began leading him away from the entrance gate, back up towards the castle.

Seeing that they were heading back towards the castle, Harry quietly asked, "Where are we going?"

That sweet, devilish smile appeared upon Abigail's face once more. "To see Sirius."

Chatter filled the Grand Staircase. Class was over; lunchtime had begun. As first and second years rushed up the stairs to their dormitory, Ron and Hermione walked down the stairs, in silence. Ron sported a smile upon his face. He couldn't wait to see Sam. It had been a whole morning since he saw him. Meanwhile, on Ron's right side, Hermione had a look of concern upon her. Her mind kept going back to the end of class just a few minutes ago. What was up with Harry, she wondered? Why was he acting so remiss?

They drew closer to the end of the Staircase. Hermione kept her head down to the floor, trying to figure out an answer. Unfortunately, nothing came to her mind. Instead, she finally looked up, staring at the moving portraits, and turned to face Ron.

"Ron?" she uttered.

"Hmm? What, Hermione?" the red-headed boy replied, a smile a mile-wide still upon his face.

Ron and Hermione reached the end of the stairs. Stepping onto the landing, they both stopped in their tracks, and Ron turned to face his other best friend. He immediately noticed the look of concern upon her face, but that did not alter the look upon his own. His hands in his pockets, Ron shrugged his shoulders and leaned forward.

"Well? What's up?" he again asked.

Hermione put her hands together up by her chest, searching for how to say what she wanted to say. She briefly gazed at the floor and then back up to the surrounding scene. Fellow students passed them by; others climbed the stairs leading from the Entrance Hall; and still others climbed up from the bottom floor of the Moving Staircase area. Hermione drew a look of panic upon her face, afraid that someone might overhear their conversation that they didn't want listening. She grabbed Ron by the sleeve of his shirt and pulled him over into the corner.

"Hermione! What—what's going on? What's up with you?!" exclaimed Ron.

Finally stopping, she moved Ron into the corner while she stood before him. Letting go of his sleeve, Hermione stared straight into Ron's face, serious concern etched upon it.

"Ron, did you notice anything about Harry in the last five minutes of class? Anything unusual? Like he wasn't fully there?" she asked him.

Ron looked up to the ceiling rolling his eyes. Here we go again, he thought. Staring at the ceiling just a moment longer, he lowered his head to gaze back at Hermione, head shaking to and fro. "Hermione, I sleep in the bed next to the guy. I hear shouts, whispers, cries. Sometimes I even hear Parseltongue! So, if Harry was acting unusual in class just now, I didn't really notice. When it comes to Harry, Hermione, I've learned to expect the unusual."

"But Ron, the way he was looking at Abiga—," began Hermione.

"Hey guys!" called a voice from behind and interrupting Hermione.

Hermione swung around quickly, her hair flying into Ron's face. Closing his eyes, Ron scrunched up his face, trying to get bits of hair out of his mouth, producing spitting noises. Hermione's eyes turned to the side, rolling in that annoyed fashion. Immediately, they turned back to face Sam squarely. Hermione's back arched, her shoulders tensed, and her mind began to race with thoughts.

"Sam! It's great to see you! What's going on?" asked Hermione rather nervously.

"Umm, thanks Hermione," said Sam, putting his hand on the back of his head, scratching it. He then brought it back down and into his pocket, stepping forward. "Hey, do you mind if I talk to Ron for a minute? I need to ask him something."

Taken aback by this, Hermione turned around slightly to give Ron a quizzical look. Ron shrugged his shoulders once more and now sported a confused look on his face. Hermione turned back to Sam and said, "Um… sure. I'll be in the Great Hall having lunch."

And with that, Hermione left the corner and made her way down the stairs into the Entrance Hall. It was now just Ron and Sam standing facing each other, a gap between them. Everything that Hermione had just said soon spilled out of Ron's mind. The smile returned to his face, prompting Sam to slowly walk forward with a smile in return. Ron held out his hand for Sam to take. Closing the gap between them, Sam entwined his hand with Ron's and gazed up into his face. If it were possible, the smile upon Ron grew only bigger.

"Hey. I was just about to come find you. Sorry I missed you this morning." said Ron in a low tone.

"It's alright. I'm glad I found you. There's something I need to ask you." replied Sam in a hesitant manner.

Stepping evermore closer to Sam, Ron proceeded to pull his other hand out of his pocket. Entwining his hand in Sam's, Ron and Sam stood chest-to-chest with each other, their hands down in front of them. Ron leaned his head in slightly, smile still plastered to his face.

"What is it, babe? You can ask me anything." said Ron.

"Umm…well…" began Sam, averting his gaze from Ron down to his front. He racked his mind for what to say. Ron, meanwhile, leaned his head down and put it into the space between Sam's shoulder and head. Ron moved close to his ear and whispered, "You can tell me anything, Sam. There isn't anything I wouldn—,"

"Can you let a few goals of Ravenclaw's in at the first Quidditch match next Saturday?" interjected Sam.

Suddenly, the smile upon Ron's face faded. He drew away from Sam's ear and stood straight back up, letting go of Sam's hands. As much as possible, Ron stepped back from Sam until he could feel the cold, hard wall of the castle upon his back. The look that formed upon Ron's face was now one of hurt.

"What?" asked Ron, quietly.

Sam stood straight up and gazed into Ron's face. "The first match next weekend is Ravenclaw versus Gryffindor. Everyone knows that Gryffindor is going to win, so could you maybe let some of our balls go into your goals? No blocking them?"

Ron felt like he was just hit in the gut by a large crater. He could barely breathe, let alone stand. How could Sam be saying this? Why would Sam be saying this? Ron fought back the tears, for he did not want to make a huge scene. He turned his gaze to the floor and searched for what he was going to say. Actually, he didn't even know what he felt at the moment! Had it all been a lie? Had it all just been for Sam to try and get him to betray his House, his best friend?

At this thought, anger swelled up in Ron. His hands began to form into fists. His heart began to pound wildly. Ron stood up from the wall, straight as could be, and looked upon the guy who was now, in his mind, his ex.

"No. I am not going to cheat for you. I am not going to betray my House and my teammates just so that you can have some points on the scoreboard! I am not," Ron paused, walking slowly towards Sam and bending down to stare him in the face, inches from his lips, "going to betray my best friend, who happens to be the captain, for you. We are finished, Sam. Goodbye."

Ron stood back and unclenched his fists. Giving Sam one more look, staring down slightly at his anger-ridden face, Ron shook his head, hurt even more. It was too much to hope that Sam would've changed his mind. Too much to hope that Sam would've apologized. Holding out for a moment longer, Ron side-stepped Sam and began walking away towards the stairs to the Entrance Hall, a single tear falling down his face.

Harry had never felt so humiliated in all his life. As he and Abigail walked through the corridors of the castle, he could hear the snickers and the whispering of various students they passed. At one point, they passed a group of Slytherins, and Harry knew that he would never live this down. Abigail tightened her grip upon Harry's collar, making sure that he didn't run away. Wincing in pain, he began to bash himself for even thinking of spying on Abigail. But then, his mind turned to the figure that he had seen on the forest's edge. Why did that light look so familiar? Why did it keep glowing brighter and brighter? And why did he have this feeling that he knew the figure?

All of these questions swirled around Harry's mind. So much so that he was not even paying attention to the stares and the whispers anymore. Before he could form any theories, however, he and Abigail had reached the seventh floor. As they passed the portrait of the Fat Lady, Harry soon remembered that he was going to be late to Quidditch practice. Panic filled Harry's face, and he began to think of reasons for why he had spied on Abigail. Reasons that would be quick and easy to explain but also believable.

Harry turned his gaze towards the ground. He racked his brain for what he could tell Sirius so that he would not have to tell him the real reason. But the more he went over various excuses, the more he realized that none of them would be believable. He sighed internally, conceding to the thought that the time to tell Sirius the truth was now.

As they approached the portrait of the wolf, stag, and dog, a glimmer of hope grew inside of Harry. He turned his head as much as he could until he could see Abigail in his periphery. "Abigail, please. I'm sorry for spying on you. Do we have to tell Sirius?"

"Shut up," replied Abigail, instinctively tightening her grip upon his collar, pulling him forward. At last, they reached the portrait. Abigail uttered the password, to which both climbed in to see a fire going in the grate. Walking in a little more, Abigail finally released her grip of Harry but still kept a hold of the Invisibility Cloak. Sirius, meanwhile, was sitting on the couch with his front towards them, reading essays. Abigail cleared her throat, causing Sirius to jump a little on the sofa and finally look up.

"Hey guys! Just a minute. Snivellus gave me these essays from his first-year Defense against the Dark Arts class to grade. I swear, if it didn't get me fired by Dumbledore, I'd jinx that grease ball of a man." said Sirius.

"Sirius?" asked Abigail.

"Yeah, Abby?" turning his gaze back to shuffle some essays away. When Sirius looked back up towards her, he then noticed the Invisibility Cloak in her hand. A quizzical look formed upon his face, and he stood up from the couch.

"Abigail, why do you have Harry's Invisibility Cloak?" he asked.

"Because, Sirius, I found the little brat following me off the grounds. When I was close to the front gate, I heard something from behind. When I turned around, I noticed Harry on the ground, this," she held up the Cloak to Sirius's eyeline, "having slipped off of him!"

For a few minutes, Sirius could not utter a word. He gazed up at Abigail, processing all that she had just said, and then turned his gaze towards the Cloak. A light then suddenly went off in Sirius's head. Looking upon the Cloak some more, Sirius finally realized who the Cloak belonged to. He knew the Cloak looked familiar. But as this realization hit him, confusion grew upon his face, and his eyes narrowed somewhat. He turned to look at Harry. Soon as he did, he was reminded of James and their years in school. But why would Harry do this? Why would he spy on Abigail?

Sirius crossed his arms upon his chest and shifted his body to face Harry. "Harry? Is it true that you did this? Did you spy on Abigail?"

Harry simply looked at Sirius, unable to say anything. He then placed his hands into his pockets and turned his gaze towards the floor. He knew that that question was coming. But the only other question that swirled around Harry's mind was how to tell Sirius everything. How could he tell Sirius about the nightmares? How could he tell Sirius that he has nightmares of Abigail stabbing him in the stomach? Better yet, how could he tell him anything with Abigail standing near, listening to him?

With his face towards the floor still, Harry muttered, just audibly, "Yes."

As soon as Sirius heard the word from Harry's mouth, it felt as if something heavy just bowled him over. Sirius's eyes widened; he dropped his arms from their crossed position. How? How could his sweet little boy do that, he wondered?

"But why? Why, Harry, did you do that?" asked Sirius in return, taking a small step towards the 16 year old.

The question Harry had dreaded from Sirius was finally asked. And still, Harry had no solution as to how he would word his answer. Harry quickly gazed back up at Sirius. Looking into his face, Harry could see the disappointment. Although they were not about to burst, Harry could tell that Sirius' eyes were welling up with tears. Quickly, Harry fixed his gaze upon Sirius, giving him a half puppy dog, half defiant look that said "I'll tell you, but she has to leave."

For the next few seconds, Harry stared at Sirius in this way, Sirius squinting his eyes at Harry, unsure of what he was trying to say. But then, Harry subtly moved his eyes over to the left, where Abigail stood. Seeing this, another light went off in Sirius's head. He then turned his gaze from Harry to Abigail, careful to watch his facial expression.

"Abigail," he began, Abigail's head tilting slightly up, excited for what Sirius was about to do to Harry. Sirius turned away from Harry and began walking towards Abigail. He knew the look that was on Harry's face, and he knew that it must have been something big that led Harry to do what he did. Sirius was now upon Abigail, while Abigail shifted his stance towards Sirius, holding the Invisibility Cloak by her fingertips.

Sirius looked directly into Abigail's eyes. "Abigail, could you leave us? I want to talk to Harry alone."

A confused look grew upon Abigail's face. Her eyes darted from Sirius to Harry in a matter of seconds. Why did Sirius want to speak to Harry alone? What was the point, when she was involved as well? Abigail placed her free hand upon her hip, shifting her waist to the left.

"Why?" she asked, lifting her eyes and head slightly some more.

"Because," Sirius began, leaning in further towards her, "if you're here, Harry won't tell me everything. He'll just give a reason for why he did it. But if you leave, I'll be able to get all the information."

Sirius and Abigail stared hard at each other. Sirius fixed his eyes upon hers, not blinking nor looking around at anything else. If there was anything he learned in the past two months, it was that Abigail drives a hard bargain. Meanwhile, Abigail stared into Sirius's eyes, seeing the plea for her to go. This melted her resolve some, until she turned to look at Harry again. But then she realized that she had to trust Sirius. That he knew what he was doing. Abigail lifted up the Invisibility Cloak and handed it to Sirius.

"Here. I'll go. I've got to get back to the coffee shop anyways." she said.

Sirius smiled at her. As Sirius grabbed the Cloak, Abigail leaned in and put her lips upon Sirius's. Watching this, Harry felt the chill, the eerie chill, once more. What was he going to say? How was he going to tell Sirius about the nightmares? Harry looked at the two of them with a disgusted look, or at least, directing the look towards Abigail. When the both of them pulled away, Harry turned his gaze back to the floor, while Abigail said goodbye and soon retreated from her spot. With his eyes still to the floor, Harry heard the portrait open again, footsteps going through, and the portrait shutting once more.

Silence filled the Marauder's Den. Both Harry and Sirius stood stock-still in their respective positions. Suddenly, words began to fill Harry's mind, piecing together how to explain everything. But as the words began to flow, the feeling of awkwardness grew more and more. Harry placed his hands inside his pockets, waiting for Sirius to break the silence.

Meanwhile, Sirius stood where Abigail had left him. He held onto the Cloak, feeling the silky fabric beneath his fingers. Memories suddenly rushed back to him, of when him and James would play jokes upon Snape in school. Of when they would sneak off at midnight to the Shrieking Shack to be with Remus. Sirius looked to the floor, a tear falling down his cheek. He missed his best friend. He missed his smile, his laugh. Sirius stood with his back to Harry for another minute and then turned around to face his godson.

Ever so quietly, Sirius began to shuffle his feet towards Harry while holding the Invisibility Cloak in his hand. When he reached Harry, Harry brought his head up, waiting for the disappointed look. Instead, Sirius held out the Cloak and uttered, "Here."

Harry grabbed the Cloak from Sirius and swung his book bag down from his shoulder. As Harry stuffed the Cloak back into his bag, Sirius turned away once more. He made his way over to the fireplace, stopping a few feet away from it, crossing his arms. Harry finished zipping up the bag and swung it back over his shoulder. Looking at Sirius's back, he stood up and waited for Sirius to say something. Finally, Sirius turned back around, arms still crossed.

"Harry, why did you follow Abigail? I thought things were good between the two of you. What's up, Prongslet?" asked Sirius.

Harry sighed. The time had now come. There was no turning back, no making excuses anymore. Harry closed his eyes for a moment, gathering himself and his thoughts. After a minute, he reopened them to find Sirius still standing, arms still crossed. Harry hiked up the book bag on his shoulder and opened his mouth.

"I've been having nightmares. About Abigail." said Harry.

Immediately, a confused look grew upon Sirius's face. He now let his arms down and took a couple of steps forward. "What kind of nightmares, Harry?"

Harry closed his eyes again. Oh how he wished Sirius hadn't just asked that question! How does he tell him about the knife in the back? How does he explain waking up in the middle of the night in the dormitory sweating and screaming? Harry brought his feet together and stood straight up in front of Sirius.

"I've been having nightmares where I'm getting on the train, and Abigail comes up behind me and plunges a knife into my back. Others involve Abigail using 'Avada Kedavra', and then there are those where she puts a knife into my stomach." explains Harry.

As Harry speaks, Sirius's eyes begin to widen. A worried look soon takes over the confusion, while a shade of green begins to color Sirius's face. Sirius puts his hand upon his stomach, beginning to feel a huge knot within. He backs up to the couch, grabbing onto the edge, balancing himself. Meanwhile, Harry continues.

"After she does that, I look up into her face, and it morphs into Voldemort, with him saying 'I win'." uttered Harry.

Sirius stares directly at Harry. But instead of more knots in his stomach, the tension and worry begin to fade away. Sirius drops his hand from his stomach and turns his head to the floor. Suddenly, Sirius begins to chuckle to himself. As Harry stares at Sirius, a quizzical look covers his face.

"What's so funny?" asked Harry, somewhat perturbed that Sirius was laughing.

Sirius finished his chuckle. Turning to Harry, he uttered, "Harry, I love you, but you are the worst at jumping to conclusions."

"What?" replied Harry, shifting his feet a little.

"Harry, nightmares are just that: nightmares. They have no basis in reality. Besides, Abigail is not a Death Eater. She's good." explained Sirius.

Harry was hurt by those words. How could Sirius not believe him? How could he think that the nightmares wouldn't become real? "You don't believe me?" he asked Sirius.

"I do believe you, Prongslet. About the nightmares. It's just… you're blowing it out of proportion. Those things aren't going to happen." replied Sirius.

Harry extended his free arm out into the open, palm up. "But what about Mr. Weasley last year?! When I was the snake that attacked him in the Department of Mysteries?" asked Harry.

Sirius walked over to where Harry was standing. Reaching out his arms, Sirius placed his hands upon Harry's shoulders, looking at him directly in the eye. "Harry, that happened because of the connection between you and Voldemort. You were seeing into his mind, feeling what he feels. There is no connection between you and Abigail, Harry. It's just a dream."

Harry stood before Sirius, a straight look upon his face, feeling perturbed. This was not the reaction that Harry had expected from Sirius. He thought that Sirius would be more concerned, worried that maybe Voldemort was trying to control Abigail. He certainly wasn't expecting this.

Staring directly into his eyes, Harry asked, "You're not the least bit concerned that Voldemort could be trying to control Abigail? That he might be trying to use her to get to me?"

"No," replied Sirius, shaking his head.

It was as if Sirius had just slapped Harry in the face. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Harry took his gaze away from Sirius, staring down to look at both sets of feet so close together. He would have expected this from Ron and Hermione but never Sirius. As Harry tried to grapple with how hurt he felt, Sirius spoke once more.

"Harry, what did you think? Did you really Voldemort was trying to get to you through Abigail? Buddy, Voldemort doesn't have reason to use Abigail to get to you." said Sirius.

Harry jerked his head up. Was Sirius really trying to understand what Voldemort would and wouldn't do? What was he really saying that Harry did not understand Voldemort? Harry shrugged off Sirius's hands violently, making Sirius jump back a few steps. Confused and concerned now, Sirius cautiously took a step forward again.

"Harry, what's wrong?" he asked.

Harry could feel his anger bubbling now. It's one thing for Sirius to say that he didn't believe the nightmares; it was something else entirely for Sirius to suggest that Harry didn't understand Voldemort at all. Scooting his bookbag higher onto his shoulder, Harry now stared at Sirius with a fierce look.

"What do you know about Voldemort's reasons? The guy murdered my mum and dad all because of some stupid prophecy! The guy wanted to murder me, when I was baby, all because he was afraid I'd threaten him! He kills because he likes it!" exclaimed Harry.

Sirius held out his arm in a way to try and calm Harry down. "Ok. Harry, I didn't mean—,"

"And you're not the one who has these terrible nightmares! You don't know what it's like to be inside his mind. But of course, you don't really care, considering you're getting shagged every night," interjected Harry.

Now it was Sirius' turn to look taken aback. Dropping his arm to his side, Sirius began to heave in great, deep breaths. How could Harry say that? How could his best friend's little boy say that to him? Like Harry, anger began to boil up inside of Sirius. Looking at Harry, he did not feel disappointed or concerned; he felt rage and wanting to jinx to his own godson.

Standing completely still, Sirius stared directly into Harry's face and uttered, very coldly and softly, "Excuse me?"

Harry did not step back nor change his stance. He kept his position and uttered, "You heard me. All you do nowadays is hang out with Abigail and shag her every chance you get. I bet that's what you did this morning before the shower, before I came in to try and talk to you. All you care about these days is Abigail; you don't care about me!"

At these words, Sirius' anger boiled over. He drew himself up to his fullest height, raised his head slightly so that he was staring down at Harry, and said, very coldly and sternly, "That is none of your business. What I do with Abigail is none of your business. And how dare you to think I don't care about you. I care about you a great deal…a very great deal," finished Sirius, his voice now slightly shaking.

Harry scoffed and looked towards the ceiling. For the first time since the argument began, Harry shifted his feet and tightened his grip upon the strap of his bookbag. Harry shook his head slightly, with his tongue out of his mouth just a sliver. After a few moments, Harry lowered his head and stared back at Sirius. He looked so livid with Harry that he could almost see the steam billowing from his ears and nostrils.

"Yeah right," Harry simply uttered, and then turned his back upon Sirius, beginning to walk away. Halfway to the portrait hole, Harry turned back around, hiked his bookbag up his shoulder more, and finally said to Sirius, "You know, I've been just fine with just Ron and Hermione. At least they believe me. So, go ahead and marry or do whatever you want with Abigail. I don't really care anymore, and I'm already late to Quidditch practice."

When Harry finished, he turned back around to the portrait hole and eventually exited the Marauder's Den. The portrait swung closed behind him once more, and silence engulfed Sirius. For a few moments, Sirius simply stared at the back of the portrait, hoping that Harry would rush back through and yell, "Gotcha!" A few minutes passed; no sign of Harry. Suddenly, Sirius burst into tears and collapsed to the floor, unable to hold himself up.

Having dropped of his bookbag to the dormitory, Harry now marched down the lawn away from the Stone Circle and towards the distant Quidditch pitch. Carrying his Firebolt by his side, he clutched it very tightly, making a fist around the broom handle. Harry felt as if steam would issue at any moment from his ears, frightening anyone who walked close by him. How could Sirius not believe him? How could he take the side of that stranger over him? Even more, how could Sirius insinuate that he didn't understand Voldemort at all, yet he did?

As Harry passed Hagrid's Hut, someone from afar called out, "Hiya, Harry!" Too angry and into his own thoughts, Harry mumbled a "Hi" under his breath but kept on walking past Hagrid's Hut. Now walking down a clear pathway, surrounded by trees, Harry noticed that there was no one else around and finally lifted his head upright. A gentle breeze soon blew through, hitting Harry in the face. Immediately, Harry stopped walking, closed his eyes, and allowed the breeze to overtake him. Once it was over, he opened his eyes and looked around the grassy path. His anger had subsided some; his grip on the broomstick handle had slackened; and his head was beginning to clear again.

Taking in more deep, calming breaths, he saw it again. That faint golden light. Harry caught his breath as the light grew stronger, and he heard a rustling of something in the trees. And then, he saw it: the figure. It was just standing in the brush on the edge of the forest. Harry noticed that it was wearing a long, black cloak with the hood up over its head. Remembering another time when he was in the forest, at night, and he had met a strange, dark-hooded figure, Harry slowly began to reach for his wand in his pocket. Then, with one hand, the figure waved him as if to say "No". Confused and scared at this as Harry was, the figure then proceeded to pull something from the front of its robes. Suddenly, the golden light grew much bigger as the figure pulled out a tiny object around its neck.

Harry squinted his eyes. The golden light was growing so strong that it was almost blinding Harry. He couldn't tell, through the slits in his eyes, if the light was coming from the sun, reflecting off the object or if the light was coming directly from the object itself. Harry slackened his grip upon his wand and his Firebolt and began to move slowly towards the figure. As the light began to burn into his retinas, Harry stopped abruptly, for the figure made a sudden movement. Harry's grip on his wand tightened again, ready to strike. The figure, however, did not reach for his pockets but instead to the object itself. Harry watched as the figure's covered hand moved over the front of the object and opened something.

Harry was panting now, unsure about the figure and the object shining in front of him. His grip on his wand slackened, as the grip on his broomstick was so loose that it might just fall to the ground. The figure once again removed his hand from the object, and the light again hit Harry full in the face. The figure made a motion with his free hand for Harry to come closer. Harry did not put his wand away, nor did he tighten his grip. Harry moved one foot forward and slowly, ever so slowly, began to put one in front of the other. As he grew closer to the object, which was dangling from the figure's hand, the light began to lessen in its intensity. Soon, Harry could make out an outline of what the object was.

Harry opened his eyes more, not being blinded by the light. Looking at this outline, one thought popped into his brain: this object looks vaguely familiar. Moving ever closer, the light growing dim now, Harry could see faintly inside what the figure had opened. Harry stopped, afraid to move any closer. From his position, he squinted once again to look at the contents of the object.

"Harry!" yelled a distant voice.

Instinctively, Harry and the figure looked around at the noise. But before Harry could look back, the light was gone and so was the figure into the forest.

"No! Wait!" yelled Harry after the figure.

But it was futile. Having run at a fast speed, the figure was probably now out of earshot, deep into the forest. Harry turned his body to the forest and walked over the tree line. Harry craned his neck as far as he could, trying to see where the figure had gone. After a few minutes, Harry heard grass crumbling from nearby and a familiar voiced call, "Harry! There you are!"

Harry turned around immediately to find Hermione standing there, concern written upon her face. Harry had an annoyed look upon his face. Why did Hermione have to scream out? He was so close to the object. He wanted to see what was inside that object. Harry stowed his wand away and tightened his grip upon his broomstick.

"Where've you been, babe? Everyone's waiting for practice," said Hermione.

Harry peered over his shoulder once more to the forest. "I was—I just—,"

Harry was unsure of how to put into words what he just saw. Of course, he already knew what Hermione was going to say. And he did not want to hear it at that moment. Harry looked away from the forest and took a few steps closer to his girlfriend.

"I had stopped for a few minutes. To catch my breath. Today's been pretty lousy," uttered Harry, mumbling the last few words under his breath.

Hermione tentatively stepped toward him. "Harry, what happened after you left Sirius's class? Ron and I were worried."

At the mention of Sirius's name, everything before the figure had come back into his thoughts. Some of his anger returned, while his grip on his Firebolt tightened evermore. He looked at Hermione straight in the face, but he did not want to talk about Sirius at the moment.

"I don't want to talk about it, Hermione. Let's just get to the Quidditch pitch." replied Harry.

Hermione nodded, saying nothing further. Harry walked to her and held out his free hand. Hermione smiled at him; Harry felt that familiar, welcoming chill every time she did that. He reciprocated her smile, and they both entwined their hands. They both began trotting off to the Quidditch pitch, silence ensuing around them. The only sound that was made for a while was the rustling of the leaves on the trees. When Harry saw the stadium, and the flags on top of the pillars between the stands, he broke the silence between him and Hermione.

"So, what happened when I left? Anything exciting at lunch?" asked Harry.

"Well…" said Hermione hesitantly.

She stopped walking and took her hand away from Harry. Turning to him, she gazed at the ground with an uncertain look upon her face. Harry was now confused and scared. What was it, he thought? Why was Hermione not looking at him? Harry now turned to face her, staring at the top of her bushy, brown hairy that he loved. Every so often, Hermione would stare at Harry and then look back down to the ground. After a couple of minutes, Harry said, "Hermione, just tell me. I can take it."

She looked up at him. Both hands were in front of her, grabbing the tips of her fingers. "Just—when we get inside, go easy on Ron. He's not himself," she uttered.

Harry stared at her, unsure of what to say to this. After a few minutes, he suddenly realized that he needed to Quidditch practice started. He held out his Firebolt to Hermione and said, "Will you take this in for me while I go change into my Quidditch robes?"

"Yeah," she uttered. She grabbed for the Firebolt and took it from his hands. Leaning forward, Harry planted a kiss upon cheek, whispered "See you in a sec", and turned away from Hermione.

Harry walked into the Changing Rooms. He trotted over to his locker and opened it. Taking off his school robes, he grabbed his Quidditch robes and took off his glasses. He pulled them on and attached his Captain's badge to the front. Putting his glasses back on, he grabbed his whistle and closed his locker once more.

He left the Changing Rooms and walked out onto the pitch. The light breeze was continuing to blow, and the sun was now high in the sky, hiding behind some clouds. Perfect conditions for practice, he thought. He noticed the rest of the team over by the goalposts, chatting quietly to one another. As he began to walk over, he noticed that they were one player short: Ron. Harry moved his head left and right, scanning the whole pitch for his best friend. And then, he saw Ron slunk away in the shadows by the stands, sitting with his knees up and head bowed. A concerned look drew itself upon Harry's face.

Catching up to the rest of the team, Harry said, "Sorry I'm late, guys. Got caught up. Ready to practice?"

The rest of the team stopped their conversation and looked at Harry. Their broomsticks in their hands, everyone stood up to his fullest height.

"It's okay, Harry. We were just talking about who were going to replace." said Ginny.

"Replace? Why would I replace someone?" asked Harry.

Ginny, Demelza, Peakes, and Coote looked at each other. Harry soon sported another confused look, feeling as though he had just missed something. When they saw that his mind was jogging along, Ginny spoke up again.

"Katie, Harry. She was cursed and sent off to St. Mungo's. Remember?"

Harry stared at Ginny for a moment. Then, realization hit him. His eyes grew wide; his hand hit his head; and a look of panic took over in place of the confused look. Harry began to stutter for words, unable to think of what to do. Ginny, seeing this, spoke.

"It's okay, Harry. I found someone to replace Katie for now. You want to see them?" she asked.

Processing Ginny's words, Harry simply nodded. He still couldn't believe that he had forgotten about Katie being cursed. What with the recent lesson of Dumbledore's, the nightmares about Abigail, Sirius, and then school, what happened to Katie on the way back to Hogsmeade completely slipped his mind. At Harry's nodding, Ginny smiled and turned. Waving at someone from over at the stands, he then noticed another person running, with broomstick in tow, towards the group. Making their way over, Harry saw that it was Dean Thomas.

Relief flooded over him. The panic he had felt now subsided. Dean. His other Gryffindor dormitory mate. Harry looked over at Dean, who was now smiling broadly.

"Hey Harry. Thanks for letting me replace Katie," replied Dean.

"No problem, Dean. Tell you what: let's get everyone into the air, practicing passing and shooting, and then we'll do a scrimmage with Bludgers and the Snitch. Sound good?" asked Harry.

Everyone nodded, still looking at Harry. Harry reciprocated the nod, gave orders to Ginny, Peakes, and Coote to get the Quaffle and the Beaters bats, and went over to Hermione to grab his broomstick. Taking it from her, she then pointed to the shadowy part of the pitch near the stand to where Ron was. Nodding at her, he clutched his Firebolt, gave her a kiss, and went back to where they stood under the goalposts. When everyone returned, Ginny with the Quaffle and Peakes and Coote with their Beaters bats, he uttered, "Hang on, guys. Let me go get Ron."

He turned away from the group and ran, with his Firebolt by his side, to the shadowy section of the stands. He first caught a glimpse of the mat of red hair and then heard stifled sobbing from underneath it. Reaching Ron, he knelt down in front of him and quietly said, "Ron. Come on, we're all ready for practice."

From beneath his arms, Ron replied, rather muffled, "Get another Keeper, Harry. I'm not playing."

Harry was taken aback by this. He put his Firebolt on the ground and inched closer on his knee to Ron. He placed his hand upon Ron's shoulder and knelt his head closer to where Ron's buried face was.

"Look, I don't know what happened. Hermione didn't tell me. But, what I do know is that no matter what happened, you still have me, Ron. You always have me. We're more than just best friends, mate. We're brothers. And you still have Hermione. So, no crying right now, because I am not letting you off the team. You are too good, Ron, to let go."

When Harry finished, he lifted his head back up and his hand away from Ron's shoulder. The stifled sobbing ceased, and for the first time since Harry got there, Ron looked up into Harry's eyes. From all the crying that he had been doing, his eyes were red, and stuff was coming out of Ron's nose. He lifted the sleeve of his Quidditch robes to his eyes and nose and wiped them. When he could see clearly again, he looked at Harry and smiled.

"Thanks, Harry," said Ron.

"No problem, mate," replied Harry.

Ron then pushed himself up from the ground and so did Harry. They stood for a moment, gazing at each other, and then Ron moved forward and hugged Harry. He wrapped his arms around Harry's shoulders, his head laying on Harry's right side. Harry reciprocated. Ron then whispered into Harry's ear, "I feel the same way too, mate."

Harry smiled at these words, and they both released each other from the hug. Once more, everything that happened before the figure was wiped from Harry's mind. All that mattered right now was that he had his best friend standing right here and his other best friend, who was also his girlfriend, right beside him no matter what. Both still smiling at each other, they picked up their broomsticks and headed back to the rest of the team. Harry put his arm around Ron; Ron the same to Harry. As they made their way back to the team, they saw on everyone's faces huge smiles, some tears falling from their eyes. Harry and Ron let down their arms, and silence ensued amongst the Gryffindor team. After a couple of minutes of awkward staring, Harry then broke the silence, yelling, "Well, what are you waiting for? Let's practice!"

People shook their heads, coming out of various trace-like stares. After they all had processed what Harry just said, Ginny gave the Quaffle to Harry, and her, Demelza, and Dean flew up to the middle of the stadium, ready for practice. Ron flew up to the center of one the sets of goalposts, while Harry made sure his whistle was around his neck. Then, flying to the center of the stadium where the Chasers were, he held out the Quaffle, yelled "3, 2, 1", and released it. Ginny caught the Quaffle and took it down the side of stadium they were using, passing it amongst Demelza and Dean. Harry raced down to the ground to watch them.

It became clearly evident, after a few minutes of the Chasers practicing, that Ginny had made a good choice of replacement for Katie. Dean, when passed the Quaffle, did not drop or miss catching it, whatsoever. Even more, he was able to put five goals past Ron at the goalposts. Speaking of which, Harry noticed that Ron was playing better. Yeah, there were balls that went in that he could have saved easily, but on the whole, Ron had improved in his Keeping skills. Looking up at the playing, Harry smiled all the more at the performance that each one of his Chasers and Keeper were giving.

After about 10 minutes, Harry blew the whistle. Right as he did, Ginny had thrown the Quaffle from the side, and Ron caught it on the tips of his fingers. Everyone's mouths dropped, including Hermione's, as Ron proceeded to tuck the Quaffle under his arm. They all flew back down to the ground towards Harry, Peakes and Coote walking towards them as well. Once Ron landed with the Quaffle, Harry bellowed, "Great work, guys! Ginny, excellent choice! Dean, you played well! Demelza, great improvement! Ron, spectacular save!"

Each of them beamed after Harry had given them praise. Harry walked over to the wall of the stands and grabbed up his Firebolt (having placed it there 10 minutes previously) and walked back to the semicircle of his team.

"Okay! Now, let's do a scrimmage with the Bludgers and the Snitch, and then I think that will be practice for the day. Everyone, go ahead and fly back up; Peakes, Coote, go ahead and release the Bludgers and the Snitch," instructed Harry.

Peakes and Coote nodded, heading over to the remaining balls. Ginny, Demelza, Dean, and Ron flew back up to their respective positions, while Harry mounted his own broom and took off. The wind through his hair, the sun's warmth on his face. Oh, how he wished he could just stay out here for the rest of the day. Harry flew up above the Chasers, grabbing his whistle.

"On the whistle, release the balls! Remember, scrimmage! 3…2…" yelled Harry.

Everyone got into position, Peakes and Coote with their hands on the locks, ready to release the rest of the balls. Harry looked over at Ron, who was ready once more to block some goals. Smiling at his best friend, he then yelled "…1!" and blew the whistle.

The bludgers and the Snitch zoomed into the air, so did Peakes and Coote. The Snitch immediately flew out of sight. Ron threw the Quaffle into the air, and Dean was the first to catch it. For the first five minutes of the mock Quidditch game, Harry simply sat on his broom above everyone, watching everyone's performance. Every now and then, he did have to dodge a Bludger, but for the most part, Peakes and Coote kept them away from him.

From what Harry could see, the real MVP of today's practice was turning out to be Ron. Ginny, at about 10 minutes into the scrimmage, could only get two balls past Ron; Demelza only got one past him; and Dean the same. Harry smiled all the more at his best friend, happy for the turnaround in his mood. And then, suddenly, he saw it: the Snitch.

It was hovering, as it likes to do, by the right goal hoop of the ones Ron was protecting. Immediately, Harry dived for the spot. He leaned forward onto his broom, practically flat against the handle. As he could see the white wings of the Snitch, Harry stretched out his arm. He dared not look into his periphery at how the rest of the practice was going, for fear of losing the Snitch. And then… he caught it!

Pulling out of the dive, Harry raised his right arm to reveal a fist with the little wings sticking out from the sides. He stopped his broom, grabbed his whistle, and blew it to end the scrimmage. Harry made his way back down to the ground, everyone else following suit. When his feet touched the ground, he walked over to the Quidditch chest where the balls were and placed the Snitch back into its case. Demelza, who had the Quaffle last before Harry caught the Snitch, placed it back into its spot. It took a few minutes, and everyone on the team, to put the Bludgers back into case.

Once all the balls were safely placed, and the chest closed, Harry turned back around to face his team, all of them wearing smiles at their performance. Harry imitated them and then said, "Well done, everyone! With the way we've played today, I definitely think we'll be able to beat Ravenclaw next weekend in the first match of the season. Now remember, next Friday night at the Halloween feast, Dumbledore is going to recognize each of the Quidditch teams, so have on your Quidditch robes, all right?"

The rest of the team nodded, and Harry dismissed practice. As everyone made their way back into the Changing Rooms, Hermione came down from the stands and over to where Harry and Ron were standing. Having both thrown their brooms on the ground, they picked them up and went over to the chest with the Quidditch balls. Hermione reached them and gave Harry a peck on the lips.

"You did great, Harry," she said, pulling away from him and turning to Ron, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "So did you, Ron. You feel better?"

"Yeah. I do, actually," he replied.

At this, Harry dropped the Quidditch chest and looked Ron directly in the face. "Okay. Practice is over. What happened earlier, Ron?"

Ron gently lowered the Quidditch chest and looked down to the ground. Quidditch practice had driven everything out of his mind, but now that it was over, the thoughts of what Sam did entered his mind once more. Harry could see another tear fall from Ron's eye, and he dropped his Firebolt again to the ground and walked over to his best friend. He placed his hand once more on his shoulder and whispered, "Ron, you can tell me. What's wrong?"

Ron looked up and faced Hermione. She nodded her head, a sympathetic look on her face. Ron took a deep breath and turned to Harry. "I broke up with Sam. He had asked me to throw the game next Saturday against Ravenclaw so that they could have a few goals against Gryffindor."

At these words, the anger that had subsided within Harry began to boil again. "That little git! I'll jinx him! No! I'll punch him!" yelled Harry, backing away from Ron and turning around to race off back up to the castle to find Sam. But before Harry could get very far, a hand grabbed him by his arm and restrained him. He looked back to see who it was that had held him back and saw that it was Hermione.

"Harry, don't. It's not worth it. If you got into a fight with Sam, you wouldn't be able to play next Saturday," explained Hermione.

"She's right, mate. Just forget it. It's great knowing that you have my back, Harry, but I'm alright. It just…hurts, you know?" said Ron, shifting his feet upon the grass, lowering his head.

Harry gave Ron a small, sad smile. Hermione let go of Harry, and he walked back over to Ron, swinging his arm around his shoulder.

"You know I do, Ron. Both of us do," he said, indicating Hermione as well.

Ron smiled slightly. "Thanks, you two. Shall we take this back to the Changing Rooms and get out of these robes?" he asked, pointing to the Quidditch chest near their feet.

"Yeah, let's go," replied Harry, taking his arm off Ron and walking over to the other side of the chest. Hermione grabbed Harry's Firebolt and settled in step next to Harry.

As all three of them headed to the Changing Room, Harry looked from Ron to Hermione. Ron was walking with his head halfway down, scratching his nose every so often. Hermione walked with her head held high, a small grin upon her face. Harry looked back to directly in front of him, eyeing the grass that was coming their way. Like Hermione, a grin crossed his face. He hadn't felt this happy all day. Indeed, he had completely forgotten to tell them about what happened with Sirius and Abigail.

The Great Hall was filled once more with the sound of clattering knives and forks upon golden plates. The ceiling above twinkled with a few stars and revealed the slow extinction of light as night took over. Outside the windows, the dazzling orange and red sunset made its way into the Great Hall to shine upon everyone one more time for the day. Below the ceiling, the candles flickered and floated up above the students, giving them light as they ate their dinner.

Across the four tables, there were plates of roast chicken, whole potatoes, and various vegetables in which to choose. Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked into the Hall, their stomachs growling and their mouths watering. They walked over towards the Gryffindor table and sat near where Neville, Seamus, and Dean were talking. Once seated, Harry poured himself some Pumpkin Juice into his goblet. As he scooped food upon his plate, his eyes scanned over the other House tables and landed upon the place where Sam was sitting at the Ravenclaw table.

Harry made a snarling face at the unbeknownst Sam and then turned away. Putting whole potatoes onto his plate, Ron finished a bite of roast chicken and said, "Ohh, that is so good."

Harry gazed over at his plate and noticed that it was filled from edge to edge. Clearly, Harry thought, Ron was feeling much better. Harry returned to his own plate and was about to stab at some potatoes when Sirius walked into the Great Hall. Harry looked up to his godfather, making sure that they wouldn't meet each other's gaze. First thing he noticed, however, was that Abigail was not with him this time. As Sirius walked past their row between tables, Harry kept his head toward his plate, his ears growing red and his knuckles white. When he thought that it was safe, he slowly turned his head on his shoulder and gazed up at the staff table. From the looks on his safe, Harry knew that he was upset about Abigail.

He turned back to his food and began cutting into his roast chicken. Hermione, however, noticed the odd transaction that had taken place between Sirius and Harry. Holding her knife and fork over her plate, she stared from Harry and then up to Sirius, a confused look upon her face. Wanting answers, she put down her silverware, leaned forward on the table, and asked, "Harry, what's up with you and Sirius? He just walked past here and neither of acknowledged the other."

About to put a potato into his mouth, Harry looked up at Hermione. An annoyed look soon came over his face, as if saying "I'm eating here". Hermione persisted, however, and crossed her arms in front of her. Ron, meanwhile, heard what she said and added, "Yeah, you never told us where you went after class today."

Harry looked over again at Ron with a desperate look. But he too put down his silverware and stared adamantly at Harry. When the pressure had mounted, Harry sighed deeply and put down his own silverware, potato still on the end of his fork. He straightened his back and looked at the pair of them.

"Okay. After I left Sirius' class, I hid myself under the Invisibility Cloak and followed Abigail."

Instinctively, Ron and Hermione raised their eyebrows but did not say anything. Harry took their silence to say "Go on". "I followed her out into the Grounds, and I was about to follow her out of the gates when—,".

Harry paused. Should he tell them about the strange figure and the golden light that he kept on seeing? Should he tell them about the figure showing up again on his way to the Quidditch pitch? Once again, he knew what Hermione's response would be. Ron would probably echo Hermione, given what the situation was. Harry stared out beyond Ron and Hermione and tried to think of what he should say next. It was only when Ron uttered, "When what, Harry?" did Harry know what to say.

"When I tripped over a rock in the ground and my Invisibility Cloak came off. I guess I had made such a loud noise that Abigail saw me and went berserk. She asked me why I was following her, but I couldn't tell her without revealing the nightmares. Well, she got mad, picked me up in the air using magic—," he paused, looking at Hermione who had now gasped and put her hand over her mouth. Harry continued, "—, and threw me across the path into a tree branch."

After he finished, he looked over at Ron who was trembling with fear. He then turned his gaze over to Hermione and saw that she had now brought her other hand up so that both covered her mouth and nose. All three of them remained silent, while the chatter in the Hall continued around them. After a few minutes' silence, Hermione finally brought her hands down and said, quite softly, "What happened then?"

"She took me to see Sirius and that's when I—,". Harry stopped and looked around them at the other Gryffindors, making sure that no one would hear him. To be safe, Harry leaned in closer so the edge of the table was cutting into his chest and whispered, "—told Sirius about the nightmares. Abigail had already gone."

Ron placed his elbow upon the table, shifting his position to stare at Harry full in the face. "What did he say? Sirius?"

"He basically said that he didn't believe me," said Harry bitterly.

Ron simply stared at Harry, while Hermione gazed at him with a sad look. Harry sat at the table, hands now in his lap, looking down at them. Once again, the three of them sat in silence, unsure of what to say next. Then, after a while, each of them turned back to their plate and resumed eating their dinner. Harry was just about finished with his food when he felt a small prickle from his scar.

"Aaah!" he exclaimed, dropping his silverware and rubbing his scar.

Ron and Hermione looked up from their plates, alarmed. "What's wrong, Harry?" asked Hermione.

Harry rubbed his scar. The prickle was over just as soon as it had started. But Harry felt something: anger. Voldemort was angry at something. He didn't know what, but whatever his anger was directed at, Harry knew that it couldn't be good. Bringing his hand down once more, he saw Ron and Hermione continue to stare at him. He then said, "I'm fine. It's all right."

Ron and Hermione looked at Harry apprehensively. Harry took his fork and knife off his plate and sliced himself a piece of treacle tart. As Harry dug into it, Ron and Hermione stared at each other, concerned looks on their faces. But with nothing more to be said, they returned back to their own plates.

Harry looked up from his treacle tart, seeing Hermione and Ron stabbing at the last little bit of potato on their plates. He then turned his head to look down the table at the other Gryffindors. He glanced back down at his treacle tart, wondering what it was, or who it was, that Voldemort was angry at.

Far away from the warmth and comfort of Hogwarts, a scream of agony filled the drawing room of Malfoy Manor. Lying on the floor, in front of a long fireplace where tall, hot flames billowed, lay Abigail. She was tired and weak, every area of her body aching from the torture. Voldemort stood above her, rage and impatience etched upon his face, his wand still high above his head.

"You are taking too long, Abigail. I am growing impatient." uttered the cold, high voice.

"Please," trembled Abigail, shaking from head to foot, "I'm trying. I'm almost there. They're in a fight now; they're not talking to each other."

"Crucio!"

Abigail screamed out once more. As soon as it had started, it was over. Abigail lay on the floor, panting, unable to say anything. She looked up into Voldemort's slits for eyes and was terrified at what she saw. Voldemort bent low over Abigail and said, "I want Harry Potter. I shall have Harry Potter. I am giving you one more chance to give me what I want. Make it happen, or you can watch your mother die as I torture her to death."

Abigail's eyes widened, sweat now pouring down her face. She stammered, shaking her head, trying to utter the word "No". Seeing this, Voldemort simply laughed at her. He raised his wand again, and another horrible scream emanated from Abigail, laughs and jeers filling the room from Voldemort and a few Death Eaters.

Voldemort stopped. All laughs and jeers towards Abigail ceased. He lowered his wand and stared down at Abigail. Seeing the pain and the agony that she was in did not have any effect upon him. Giving one last snarl towards the woman, thinking to himself "Weak", Voldemort turned away from her and said, to no one in particular, "Escort our guest out. I am finished with her, for now."

Voldemort returned to stand in front of the long fireplace as men scrambled to where Abigail lay and picked her up by force. As the men led Abigail out of the drawing room and out of the house, Voldemort placed his hands behind his back once more, wand in one of them. The feel of the white-hot flames matched his rage towards everyone being so incompetent. And then, a gleam of red appeared his eyes. That feeling of burning desire rushed through him. He was determined to capture Harry Potter, one way or another.