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Storyville by Carebear

Format: Novella
Chapters: 10
Word Count: 15,713
Status: WIP

Rating: 15+
Warnings: Strong Language, Scenes of a Mild Sexual Nature, Strong Violence

Genres: Romance, Action, Mystery, Drama
Characters: Draco, Ginny, Harry, Cho, Dumbledore, Hermione, Neville, OC, Remus Lupin, Ron, Snape, Voldemort, Fred/George, Tonks, Luna, Lucius
Pairings:

First Published: 01/09/2005
Last Chapter: 12/09/2005
Last Updated: 12/09/2005

Summary:
Over 4,000 Reads!!!

In their 6th year, Harry, Ron and Hermione are in a new class offered to 6th and 7th years, Wizard Studies. The trio and their classmates will be visiting wizards in Azkaban. They soon meet their project, Samara Walker, the youngest witch to ever be put in Azkaban. As they dig deeper into her past, connecting the dots and filling in the blanks, will they find out what Voldemort's ultimate plan is? Will they be able to stop him? Or are they already too late?


Chapter 1: In The Begining
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Harry stared out the compartment window at the landscape he had grown to know, and found himself thinking of Sirius. He had been thinking of his godfather more often, now that he is gone. The trees, the sky, the grass, the wind, just about anything would trigger a memory. Memories that he would have been happy to recall three months ago, but now he wished he could forget. He could hear Ron and Hermione’s inaudible arguing in the back round of his thoughts, but paid them no mind. He just hoped that his two friends would realize their mutual feelings for each other soon. Everyone else knows but them.

“Harry!!” They both yelled at him. He jumped, startled from his mind consuming thoughts and looked at the annoyed faces of his friends.

“Sorry, what?” He asked, not really caring what they had been discussing, but didn’t want to start another bickering session, one was enough.

“We just asked if you were alright, mate. Are you?” Ron asked, with an aware look on his face. Harry hated keeping the prophecy from them, but he couldn’t bear to lose anyone else - least of all them. He looked from Hermione to Ron. He knew they would figure out he was hiding something, but he wanted that to be later rather than sooner.

He shrugged, looked at the floor and said, “I’m fine, just thinking… about stuff.” He looked back up at them. They nodded, grief clinging to their eyes like a shadow. He hated that look, he knew it all to well, like an old friend that betrayed you. His gaze returned to the window, comforted to see the same scene in front of him. It wasn’t a dream. He really was going home.

“We’re going to change into our robes, prefect meeting starts in ten minutes.” Hermione said while walking to the door and opening it.

Ron followed her, then turned and asked “You going to be okay by yourself for a bit?” Harry looked over at him, plastered a fake smile on his face and nodded.

“If I get bored, I’ll go find Neville and Seamus, maybe even Luna.” He said. Ron smiled, waved and left. The compartment door slid closed, and the sound echoed through Harry’s head. This is going to be a long year…



The walls of Azkaban Prison were cold and damp. No lights were burning. All was silent, except for a distant humming. It’s a hauntingly sweet yet sad sound. The kind of sound that pulls at your heartstrings, like that of a whimpering puppy or a newborn child’s cry. The Dementors were drawn to that sound, because it still held the frail hope of happiness. They trailed closer, and the sound became clearer and more distinct. They came to the cell that sound was advancing from, but as soon as they opened the door, the Worden appeared next to them, banishing them with a patronus. They scattered like rats, and he entered the room and placed a tray of food on the end of the twin size bed. The humming all the while never faltered.

He looked up at the source of the sound. She was looking out the window, again. That’s all she ever did anymore, since Sirius escaped. Hum and stare out the bars of her cell at the stormy gray waters as they crashed against the rocks. Jesus, Mary & Joseph… she thinks he’s coming back… no one told her… Even though she was just another criminal he was to look after, he couldn’t help but admire her. Working at Azkaban for twenty-five years is enough to give anyone nightmares for a lifetime. He had seen the kiss performed over three dozen times, and seen what Dementors can do to a person, just being in the same room as them. Of all his years, he had never seen anyone look healthy - let alone sane – after the Dementors have been near him or her, especially after as long as she’d been there.

If she were to be set free tomorrow, no one would suspect her to have ever set foot in here, let alone for six years… He walked towards the door, but was stopped by the sound of a voice he hadn’t heard in over four years.

“I miss him, terribly… he’ll never come back… he was all I had, now I have nothing…” She said just above a whisper. He turned to see her facing him, tears falling down her face like a flood. He was speechless. He hadn’t heard her speak since the night Sirius had escaped. The last words she had uttered where ‘he promised to come for me…’ and she had been silent ever since, except for her heartbroken humming. He stared at her sobbing form. How did she find out? He dismissed this thought. He knew of her powers, but still couldn’t think of anything to say that would comfort her.

So he just said, “I’m sorry for your loss…” and left quickly, before she saw the tears threatening to fall from his own eyes. She turned away from her food and back to the window, looking up at the sky. The sun had just set, but the sky was still a beautiful pinkish purple swirl among the gray clouds. She could hear the voices, whispering to her, but couldn’t understand them. She never could, and probably never would. She groped at the air outside her cell while sobbing.

“You promised… you promised…” was all she said as the sky turned black and the waves crashed harder into the rocks below.



“Harry?” Someone had roused him from his sleep. He yawned, stretched and opened his eyes. He couldn’t see, so he felt around for his glasses, only to have them dangled in front of his face. He graciously took them, put them on and saw a very familiar face.

“Luna.” He said. She smiled at him and gave him a hug. He hugged her back; glad to see she was okay. He had wondered about her over the summer. She had been knocked unconscious and thrown in a desk at the Ministry at the end of last year, and he worried about her.

As if reading his mind, she said in her dream-like voice “I’m fine Harry, I’ve been fine, and I will be fine. What about you? How are you holding up?” He looked at her and shrugged.

“I’ve been better…” He said honestly. She gave him a sympathetic look and hugged him again. He was just glad she wasn’t asking him questions he didn’t want to answer. They parted and she sat down across from him. They talked about how their summers went and their O.W.L. scores, then Hermione and Ron walked back into the compartment.

Hermione smiled at Luna. “Hi Luna, how are you?”

“I’m just fine, and you?”

“I’m good.” She looked to Ron, becoming annoyed. “Ron, be polite.” Hermione scolded.

He looked at her and said, “I was going to say ‘hi’, but you weren’t done yet.” He turned to Luna and said. “Hey Luna.”

“Hey Ron.” Luna replied, giggling under her breath at the two of them. Her and Harry exchanged knowing glances and burst out laughing. It was the first time he had laughed in over four months. Hermione and Ron looked like deer in headlights.

“What’s so bloody funny you two?” Ron asked in a bitter tone. That just made Luna and Harry laugh harder. Hermione started to blush, but Ron just got more confused and annoyed by the minute.

“What’s that?” Harry was broken away from his train of though and laughter by Luna’s question. She sounded afraid. He looked to her; she was staring out the window at the night sky. But something was wrong. He took a better look and saw it. He heard Hermione gasp and Ron say ‘bloody hell’. In one part of the sky, it was swirling, like water going down the drain in the bath. Coming from the inside-out cyclone was hail, rail, snow, and lightening. He could faintly hear the sound of thunder rumbling. Harry realized the direction of which it was approaching. Northwest. That’s just over Azkaban…


Chapter 2: Welcome Back
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She couldn’t breathe. She felt like the walls were closing in on her, her heart was beating so fast, she thought it would explode inside her chest. Her eyes burned and her hands where shaking. Her face was coated in a glaze of sweat and her eyes were glowing gold. She snapped them shut and tried to stop what was happening right outside her window in the night sky.

Not now… not now… stop this. Stop this… you can stop this… she repeated in her head. She couldn’t lose control, not now. She focused on her breathing and her heart beat. She willed her heavy breathing to ease to a regular pace, and her heart to quiet inside her chest. She felt her eyes relax, so she opened them. Her concoction that was in the sky a moment ago was no longer there, but there was no trace of clouds in the area. It was as if the contraption had swallowed them. The stars could be clearly seen. She recognized the constellations. Andromeda, The Big Dipper, Canis Major, Cygnus, Gemini, and Orion.

She remembered, back before all this, when her life was simple. At the time, she thought she had it rough. She did miss her old life, but she thought it was better not to dwell on what she couldn’t change. The truth was, she missed her parents, her school, and her friends. But mostly, she missed Sirius.

When she first came to Azkaban, she was eleven years old, alone and vulnerable. She knew nothing of the powers the Ministry was talking of and didn’t know that they wouldn’t emerge till her thirteenth birthday. She had been in her cell for about half an hour, Dementors surrounding her. As she screamed, reliving her worst memory, she heard a man yelling and banging on the bars of his cell. The Dementors left her and went to him. She looked at him as she fainted, and he was smiling at her.

That’s when she first met Sirius Black. He was accused of the same crime as her. He claimed to be innocent as well. She had found someone to confide in, someone to look after her. They told each other about theirs lives, and comforted each other when they needed it. He became her father figure the three years they spent there together, and she was grateful. He wasn’t frightened away by her, and she thought he would have been; after all, she was a monster.

One night, after her thirteenth birthday, Sirius called to her. He said he had found a way out, and was going after Peter Pettigrew, the real traitor to the Potters. She begged him to take her with him. He said it wouldn’t be safe for her to leave now that her true powers where forming, but he would come for her soon. And with that, he was gone, and now he was gone for good, and was never coming for her.

She brushed away a stray tear from her crystal blue eyes, and ran her hands through her shoulder length blonde hair. She didn’t want to think about this now, she might have another fit, and god knows what will happen then. She turned her attention to her now cold food. She grabbed the tray and nibbled on it as she stared out at the water.

What I wouldn’t give just to be outside again… She thought as the voices returned with their monotone incoherent words. She pushed away her half eaten food, got under the covers of her bed, got situated and placed the pillow over her head. She wanted to block the voices out, not knowing they were warning her of what was to come.



Harry got off the train, followed by Luna, Ron and Hermione. The two lovebirds where quarreling, again. Harry went to get into the first carriage he saw, but not before glancing at the skeleton-like horses called Thestrals. He got into the carriage, Ron, Hermione and Ginny following suite. He smiled at Ginny.

“Hey Ginny.” He said

“Hi Harry.” She replied. He hadn’t spoken to her since he left for the Dursley’s at the end of last year. She was in the Ministry as well when Voldemort had lured him into the vicious trap he fell for. She had suffered a broken ankle and was stunned. He wished that he could say something to her, but no words would come out.

They all sat in silence as the carriages came to the castle. They got out and walked into the school to the Great Hall. They took their seats at the Gryffindor table, waiting impatiently for the first years to come through to be sorted. As they entered, Harry glanced at them. Some of them looked excited, some absolutely terrified, and some look impressed.

Ron looked up and said, “Finally, I’m starving. If they had taken any longer I would have jinxed them all-”

Hermione cut him off. “Ronald you’ll do no such thing, you are a prefect-”

“Yeah, I bloody well know I’m a prefect. You can’t take a joke can you?”

“Well, if I could tell you where joking, I wouldn’t have-”

“Oh, don’t go there. Yes you would have, and you know it.”

Harry covered his ears and placed his head on the table. Damn… they will never realize it, will they? As soon as one argument ends, another one begins… welcome home… He thought sarcastically. He turned his gaze to the Ravenclaw table, and saw Cho. He immediately turned away before he was caught staring. He needed to forget about her. She only wanted to talk about Cedric, and was always crying. He couldn’t handle that on top of everything else.

The hat sang the same song as the year before, and then Professor McGonagall began reading off names. As each first year went up, he could see the apprehension in their eyes. He would applaud if one of them happened to be placed into his house. Hermione made it her job to welcome each and every one of the new students to the house. Soon the sorting was over, and it was time for Professor Dumbledore’s yearly speech.

The old wizard got up to the podium and held up his hands, the hall was silenced in seconds. Even though Dumbledore had lied to him, kept vital information from him, he still had respect for him as an authority figure.

“Welcome to another year at Hogworts. As a review for the older students, but fresh information for the new students, The Dark Forest is strictly forbidden. During the course of this year, your achievements will win your house points, and any rule breaking will cause you to lose points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points will receive the House Cup. Curfew is nine o’clock on weekdays, and ten o’clock on weekends. And now, without further a dew, let the feast begin.” He said.

The plates in front of them filled up with food. Ron, as usual, stuffed his face in. Harry wasn’t all that hungry, but tried to eat so no one would ask any questions. When everyone had their fill, they headed up to Gryffindor Tower. Hermione took this time to point out that the stairs change, just in time for a first year to nearly fall when one of them moved as he stepped onto it. They reached the Fat Lady, and like every year before, she was trying to sing, key word being trying.

“Devilsnare!” yelled Hermione, getting extremely flustered by the ignorance of the painting.

“Wait a minute… AHHHHHHHHH!” The Fat Lady belted out what was supposed to be a high A flat, but turned out to be a high pitched screech. They all covered their ears; afraid she would cause their eardrums to burst.

“DEVILSNARE!” Hermione looked likes she would tear the painting into bits.

“OH ALL RIGHT! You just can’t appreciate good opera music…” the Fat Lady complained as the portrait opened up to the common room.

“Oh that wench thinks she’s an opera singer now, what next? Rap? Hip-hop? Pop?” Lavender said with a laugh as she headed up the girls stairs. Ginny followed her up. Ron and Hermione where giving the first years the tour of the common room, so Harry decided to turn in early. He climbed the boy’s stairs and went to the sixth year room. He found his things and Hedwig by his bed, nearest the window. He let his beautiful white owl out of her cage, went to the window and opened it.

“Go stretch your wings girl, you’ve been caged up all day.” She flied out the window into the cold night air. The breeze stung his face, but he didn’t care, he sat at the window for a good hour before closing it and getting under the covers.

It’s good to be home… was his last though as sleep overtook him.

Chapter 3: What is to be Expected
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“Time to get up scum of the earth!!!” The first shift Worden said as she banged her wand against the cold ugly bars of her cell. Samara awoke, used to her antics, and retired from her bed. She looked at her and gave her the same wicked evil grin she gave her every morning. “Shower time.” She said as she opened the door.

“Oh joy.” She exclaimed sarcastically. The Worden looked astounded, since the girl had never spoken to her. Samara walked down the familiar halls. She heard screaming and whimpering, begging and pleading. Everyone is a scared child here… she thought, Even the workers. They reached the shower room, the Worden handed her a towel and a clean uniform. She opened the door to a large room full of women who were showering as well.

She walked up to an empty stall, removed the uniform she was wearing and got under the cascading water. It was lukewarm, but that’s all it ever was. She hadn’t had a steaming hot shower in a long time; she hadn’t had a shower alone in a long time either. As she ‘washed away her past transgressions’ as they call it, she could feel that something was going to happen today.

The water rolled over her ivory skin. She was exceptionally pale, but everyone in Azkaban was, since they never saw the light of day. Her blonde hair looked darker now that it was wet. Her hair had natural high lights in it. Her crystal blue eyes that once held so much happiness, now showed nothing but emptiness. She couldn’t tell if it was just water flowing down her face, or if it was water and tears.

When she was done, she dried off and put on the clean uniform. She walked back towards the Worden of her cellblock.

“Have fun dear?” she asked like she did every morning, evil smile still glued to her face.

“Oh yeah, just a barrel of monkeys.” Samara announced, her reply dripping with mockery. The Worden’s smile was wiped away and became a smirk.

“You know they way dear, lead it.” Samara walked cautiously around the woman and headed to the main cafeteria. She sat in her usual spot, alone. Her tray was set in front of her by one of the kitchen helpers named Terri. She was a nice woman with curly brown hair tied back in a long ponytail and brown eyes. She was about five foot three, and was pleasantly plump. Samara liked her; she was the only person other than Sirius who wasn’t afraid of her. That’s just because she doesn’t believe the rumors…

“Good morning dear, how are you today?” Terri asked. Her voice was always pleasant and comforting. Samara paid attention to her after Sirius left, and she came to love her like a mother. Even though Samara never spoke to her, she always asked how she was, even though the girl only gave a nod to acknowledge that she heard her.

She came up with a playful comeback. “Oh, can’t complain. Yourself?”

Terri faltered, not thinking she heard right, but then she saw her smiling. She smiled back and expressed a comment she thought only the girl would get. “Oh, I’m alright. My job sucks, I’m stuck working with criminals, murderers and other people that I hate, but other than that, I’m good.” Terri chuckled. Samara was the only one who got her unusual banters, which weren’t unusual to her. After all, she was an American too.

She plastered on a fake half-smile. “Surprised?”

“Very. Never heard you speak before. Enjoy your breakfast, and I’ll see you at lunch.” Terri said. Samara waved at her as she departed.

Before she was even finished with her meal, everyone in the prison knew of her speaking again. She went back to her chamber and focused outside again. Her barred window faced southeast. She could see the sun hanging in the sky as if by an invisible thread. She could tell it was around ten o’clock, even without a watch.

Her Worden came by the cage and said, “After lunch you’ll have visitors… from Hogworts, a bunch of students doing a project… be ready.” Then she stalked off. Samara just stared at were the woman was before. She couldn’t believe it. The only people to ever visit her were her parents the first year she was in there, and they never visited her again.

I knew something would happen today… whether it be good or bad, I have yet to know…



Harry stared at his breakfast, unable to shake a feeling he had. He had a feeling that something was going to happen today, something unexpected. He didn’t sleep well the night before. Nightmares of that day at the Ministry clung to his mind like a small child to his or her mother, even in his dormancy. Hermione, Ron and the other prefects were handing out the schedules for classes this year. Ron handed him his as he sat down beside him, and Hermione sat down across from him moments later.

His schedule read:

Mondays and Wednesdays -
Double Advanced Potions
Lunch
History of Magic
Ancient Ruins

Tuesdays and Thursdays -
Advanced Herbology
Divination
Lunch
Double Defense Against The Dark Arts

Fridays -
Double Advanced Charms
Lunch
Double Wizard Studies

As he read his schedule, he groaned at the fact he had Snape first thing every Monday morning twice as long as the years before. He didn’t mind Ancient Ruins, because Hermione already had taken it. He didn’t want to take Divination anymore, but he was stuck with it for now. He would grin and bear it, well, not grin. He also wondered who would be this year’s new DADA teacher, and then he noticed something different on his schedule than the years before.

“Wizard Studies?” The trio asked at the same time.

“You two as well?” Ron asked. They all provide confused glances. Hermione looked around and asked some of their peer’s about their schedules.

“Quite a few sixth years and seventh years have this class as well.” She said as she got up.

“Where are you going?” Ron asked, still a look of bewilderment on his face.

“To ask Professor McGonagall what this class is and who teaches it.” She promptly stated as she walked toward the Professors table.

Harry and Ron exchanged knowing glanced. “Good old Hermione.” They said as one, and then turned back to their schedules and breakfast. Harry wonder what this new class was about, but his thoughts were interrupted by Hermione’s presence being detected and her motioning to the table she had just been at.

Dumbledore was raising his hands to silence people, and just as the night before, it only took a moment for it to take affect.

“It seems that a great many students have come to myself or their teachers to ask about a new class on their schedule for this year. It is called Wizard Studies. For all of you that have taken Muggle Studies, grew up or live in the muggle world, you know of a college class called Women’s Studies. The students visit women in prison and do a biography on that prisoner’s life. That is basically what the select sixth and seventh years students here at Hogworts will do, only you will travel to Azkaban and visit with the wizards there. Any questions, feel free to ask them. Now, breakfast is over, please depart to your first class of the day.” He responded, and then stepped out of the Great Hall.

All Harry could do was stare. He couldn’t believe it, now he was going to Azkaban. The place his godfather Sirius had stayed for thirteen years. Now he had to be face to face with someone who possibly knew him, or knew of him. He didn’t want to think about it.

“Harry, are you alright?” Hermione sounded distressed. He looked at her and nodded.

“Yeah, just… puzzled. Why would the Ministry give him permission to let us go to Azkaban every Friday to visit known criminals? Why would he even want us to go there?” He asked, desperately seeking an answer like he would seek the snitch at a Quidditch game against Slytherin.

“I don’t know Harry, but we better hurry. Double Advanced Charms starts in five minutes, and it takes fifteen minutes to get there.” Ron stated as he grabbed his things, flew them over his shoulder and made a break for the door, Hermione hot on his trail.

As Harry followed suite, he remembered. Today is Friday… today we meet our new teacher and our criminal to dissect… this ought to be interesting, very interesting in deed… he thought as the sound of his heels echoed actively through the empty halls.

Chapter 4: At First Sight
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Samara did the usual thing she did every morning. She stayed in her cell reading one of the many books that Sirius gave her before leaving, this one being his journal. She read a few entries from when he went to Hogworts since she would be having visitors from there later in the afternoon. She was about to put it away – thinking of him brought tears to her eyes and a burning sensation from the previous night that she didn’t want to relive – when she heard a voice coming from the cell across from her own. A voice all too familiar and she wasn’t in the mood to hear it.

“Hello Samara sweetie, heard the cat let go of your tongue, let me see?” The voice belonged to a woman in her late forties. She was six foot two with short graying brown hair and green eyes. She was extremely pale, thinner than a rail and her voice was shrill.The woman’s smile revealed several crooked and stained teeth with a few gaps from fallen out ones. This sight was enough to scare most small children; Samara had never been afraid of her, she was more deadly than that sorry excuse for a woman.

“Hello Rachel, don’t you have better things to do than bother me?” She looked to Rachel for the smartass remark that she was famous for, but only saw her looking around the cellblock, seemingly making sure no one was there that could hear her.

“You hear about those Hogwort’s students that be coming after midday?” She looked anxious, something Samara had never seen in the six years she had known Rachel.

Well looky here, Hell has frozen over…

“Yeah, I’m one of the ‘lucky ones’ that gets to be visited by them.” She looked around to see that the Worden from this morning was walking down the cellblock, stopping at various cells and saying an assortment of words to each prisoner. She was now heading for Samara.

Rachel took this time to whisper from across the hall, “Me too.” She then looked at the Worden with hateful eyes as she came up to the girl. The Worden smiled her devilish grin and waved at Rachel, then gave the same greeting to Samara. The young girl stared at her blankly, as if saying ‘what could you possibly want to say?’

The Worden looked down the hall and spoke a simple, but frightful phrase. “Try anything funny with them young students, and it’s off to The Hole.” Then she walked down the row to the holding cells of other prisoners who would be visited.

She heard Rachel gasp after the Worden was out of earshot, or maybe it was hers? Or Both? She didn’t know. All she knew is she didn’t want to be put in The Hole again for as long as she lived. Anyone who had ever been placed there would state the same as she.

‘The Hole’ is a three-story building separate from the prison. As punishment, they set you loose there for days on end, with only the Dementors for company. Inside the walls of Azkaban, the Dementors are monitored and watch, so they don’t attack anyone without reason. In The Hole, they can do as they please. It’s the worst possible disciplinary action given to the prisoners.

Samara herself had been there twice. The first time was when she began her sentence in Azkaban, being questioned about You-Know-Who and what she had to do with him. The second was after Sirius escaped, being asked where he went and how he escaped. She didn’t know who You-Know-Who was, nor how Sirius escaped or where he went. She was placed in The Hole for a week both times.

She heard Rachel crooning to herself, “Not again not again not again…” Samara looked across the hall and saw Rachel on her bed rocking back and forth, repeating that sentence over and over. She felt sorry for her, but didn’t think she could do anything to help her. She walked back over to her own bed and put the journal away. She returned her gaze to her favorite view, the water and sky outside.

“Same here Rachel,” She placed a hand on her barred window. “Same here…”



Harry was boring down at his uneaten plate of food. His Advanced Charms class was long and uninteresting, mostly reviewing previous years work. He had fallen asleep and dreamt of Sirius. The same dream he had had every night, Sirius falling through the veil, and Harry jumping in after him. Before he could see what lies beyond it, he was awakened by Hermione’s sharp elbow in his ribcage.

He absentmindedly rubbed the sore spot while daydreaming. His thoughts where interrupted by a waving hand and snapping fingers in his face. Ron was staring at him, shaking his head.

“You alright mate?” Ron wasn’t looking at him now, but at Hermione who was next to him. She looked worried and concerned. Harry nodded and glued a fake grin on his face that he had grown accustomed to using.

“Yeah. Just nervous, and worried…about the visit.” He didn’t have to look at them to know that they understood. He just wished that they wouldn’t look at him that way, they way you look at a limping stray cat. Pity.

“Yeah. I just hope we don’t get Draco’s dad. Wouldn’t that be fun?” Hermione slapped Ron upside his head for that comment, but Harry did genuinely giggle. He felt sorry for whoever got Lucious Malfoy.

That will be one interesting biography, I’d like to read that one day… if I live long enough…

Ginny seemed to pick up on his train of thought and put her hand over his. He looked at her, and she suddenly looked much wiser and older than sixteen. “Don’t think on it Harry. Not even for one minute, that’s not the way to live.”

He looked away quickly, trying to avoid her gaze, but only came across the faces of his two friends. They were nodding in agreement. Harry sighed and nodded himself, making a silent promise; one he wanted to keep, but couldn’t stop himself from breaking.

His friends knew he couldn't keep it, but wanted the hope that his agreement implied. That one day, the war would be over. Voldemort would fall, Harry would be victorious, and life would go on. Little did they know how close the beginning – and the ending – of that tragic, cursed day was coming.



Samara was being walked back to her alcove when she felt that frequent feeling of knowing. She entered her six by eight foot cell and sat on her bed. The sliding bars closed with a jolt. That sound made goose bumps cover her skin. She stared at the walk as she felt that sensation grow stronger. She started to hum a tune she heard Terri singing earlier. She smiled as the sound of her haunted voice bounced and echoed along the cellblock.

Welcome… welcome to Azkaban, Harry Potter…



Harry, Ron and Hermione shared a compartment on the train as usual. They didn’t say much. Mostly the silence was comforting rather than uncomfortable, at least for Harry. The ride was short, and when they reached the waters that surrounded the prison, they got their first glimpse of what Sirius had endured for thirteen years.

My God, it looks like Hell, and it is for them… it is…

The prison was at least twenty-stories, and as black as pitch. They could faintly see the barred windows, and even though it wasn’t an overcast day, clouds loomed over the Island and rain bored down on its evil head. The penitentiary seemed to be grinning at them. Grinning at them and saying ‘you haven’t been truly terrified if you haven’t been behind my closed doors and barred windows’.

Oh but I have… I have… Harry thought back at the murderous looking building.

“Now is where I leave you. Get into the boats in threes, and your new Professor will be awaiting your arrival on the other side by the entrance.” Dumbledore had taken it upon himself to escort the sixth and seventh years to the boats and see them off. As the old Headmaster departed on the train, Harry could have sworn he saw him wink at him. When the train was out of sight, He followed Hermione and Ron to a boat close by.

“Well, well, well. Look, it’s Potty, Weasleby, and the Mudblood. Who would have thought you three would be allowed here, especially after last year.” Harry’s blood was boiling. He turned around to see Draco and his two goons on either side of him. Smirk permanently attached to his pale face. His bleach-blonde hair – no longer gelled back – hung loosely in his piercing blue eyes. He took pleasure in catching them off-guard and moved closer.

“Leave us alone Malfoy, don’t you have a relative to visit? Your father perhaps?” Hermione’s tone reminded Harry of that day third year when she punched him for getting Buckbeak sentenced to death. He hid a grin and saw Draco’s smirk wiped clean off his face. It was immediately replaced with lividness.

“No thanks to your precious Saint Potter.” He walked up to Hermione, just within inches from her face, and glared at her. “You should watch what you say, Mudblood.” She stood her ground, in fact, she took one step closer to him. Her eyes seemed to be gleaming with hatred.

“What are you going to do about it, Draco?” With that, she pushed him violently backwards. He landed hard on the ground. While his goons helped him up, she turned and walked toward the boats.

Draco screamed. “Watch your back Mudblood, Potter won’t always be there.” Harry ran to catch up with her and Ron.

“What happened to violence isn’t the answer Mrs. Prefect?” Ron asked, trying to hide the fact that he was impressed. She looked at Ron and gave him a grin and giggle.

“When have I said that? Besides, I didn’t push him that hard.” Harry looked at her like he’d never met her before, and it was part true; he had never met this side of her.

“Hermione, if there had been a wall behind him, there would only be rocks left!” She laughed out loud at Harry’s statement and shrugged.

“I guess I underestimated my strength.” The got into the boat and sailed across the stormy waters with caution. Soon they reached the other side they departed from the boats and went to the main entrance. There, a man was waiting for them. Just about everyone gasped with surprise and joy at the person they saw before them.

“Remus?!” The trio questioned in unison. Remus Lupin smiled at them as they ran up to hug him. Harry was overwhelmed with joy. He hadn’t seen Remus since Kings Cross station at the end of last year. He was very happy to see him; he was the only family he had now.

“Harry, my boy. Come here.” Harry hugged Remus tightly –afraid if he let go, he would leave him too – and silent tears appeared in his eyes. Lupin held him just as tightly, and rubbed his back. “I’m sorry Harry. I don’t think I got a chance to say, but, I’m sorry.”

“Me too…” Harry pulled away from him and wiped away the traitorous tears that fell. Remus smiled at the rest of the students and bade them to follow him inside.

When they entered, they were asked to hand over they’re wands. “For your protection more than theirs.” The Guard said. They did as ask. Remus read off the groups. Harry, Ron and Hermione were in their own group. After that, the guards escorted them to the cells of the prisoners. Remus walked with the trio.

“You will have the pleasure of visiting Samara Walker, our youngest inmate. She has been found guilty of having ties with You-Know-Who.” The Guard said as they walked down the many corridors of the facility.

“You-Know-Who? How old is she?” Hermione asked with a hint of fear hovering in her voice. The guard looked at her up and down.

“Oh, I recon the same age as you there.” Harry looked stunned.

Seventeen?

“How long has she been here?” Ron was hoping she was a new inmate, but his hopes where dashed as they rounded the corner and started to slow down to a cell on the left side.

“She’s been here six years boy, six long years. But she doesn’t look it.” This information was making Harry very uncomfortable. “Wait here.” They complied with the guard as he opened the cell door and with his wand, made three chairs appear inside.

“She’s all yours kiddies.” As they walked in they saw her.

Unbelievable…

She was sitting on her bed, staring at the wall. She was paler than fresh milk, which made her full red lips seem even darker than they were. Her blonde hair was hanging just below her shoulders and her eyes seemed to be shining like blue diamonds. The guard was right; she didn’t look like she had been here for six years.

Remus decided to say with their group and entered the cell with them. The door slammed shut, startling all but the girl they were to study. As the trio sat, she finally turned to look at them. Her eyes darted over Hermione and Ron, lingered a bit on Remus, and stayed locked on Harry. She smiled as she eyed his scar. His breath was caught in his throat.

She spoke in a sweet yet mysterious voice, eerie even. “Hi there…”

Chapter 5: Emotions Not In Check
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A/N: The song that Samara sings later in this chapter doesn't belong to me. It's from Tim Burton's "The Nightmare Before Christmas." I do not own it. Thanx



Samara did all she could to hold in her excitement, but was doing a very poor job at it. Here, right before her very eyes was Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived. Lord Voldemort’s mortal enemy. The one person in the wizarding world that would defeat him, or die trying. Right here. Right in front of her.

“I’ve been waiting for you… I knew you were coming.” She smiled at him again. She could see in his eyes that he was scared stiff. She could hear his labored breathing and his hearts rapid beating. He soon regained his poise and gave her a blank stare that covered his true feelings. Fear. Fear and regret.



“Hi there… I guess you must like this, don’t you?” Harry had a nasty look in his eyes. This girl seemed so frail, but you can’t judge a book by its cover. Hermione and Ron exchanged scared expressions, turned to Remus. He just held up his hand, signaling that this shouldn’t be interrupted.

“Not really. I could have gone today without this, but it gives this day a change and me a variety. Makes things so much more exciting.” She seemed amused, except her eyes. They sparkled, but didn’t hold any emotion.

“Well, you must. I mean, here I am, right within your grasp. That must tick you off, that you can’t finish what he started.” She just looked at him, silent for a moment. He thought for a moment there that he might have struck a nerve, but he was mistaken.

“Why would I want to?” She cocked her head to the side like a puppy would, a questioning expression playing across her soft features.

“Oh, right. You haven’t spoken to him in what? Six years. He’s not coming for you; he could care less that you are here. He has thousands of followers just like you; he replaced you at the drop of a hat, because you got yourself caught.” He stood up, his eyes gleaming in the dim light flowing into the small cell.

Against Remus’ suggestion, Hermione got up and walked up behind Harry slowly. Ron stood up, but didn’t follow. He just stood there, shocked at what he knew would happen next. How he knew, he didn’t know; but he did.

“Your right, but your wrong… you know not of which you speak. Your confusing what is true, and what you think is true…” Samara turned so she was facing him completely. He could see she was getting flustered, and enjoyed it. He wanted to see her squirm. See her suffer more than she ever had, for she was on ‘his’ side.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and heard a calm voice. “Harry, don’t do this now. It’s not the time or the place-” He shook off Hermione’s hand and she backed away frightfully

“And when will it be the time Hermione? Answer me that. You always have an answer for everything. Tell me that. WHEN WILL IT BE THE TIME?” Hermione shrunk back and Ron put a protective arm around her.

Harry swung around to Samara, who was giggling under her breath. He was losing it, and he couldn’t care less at the present moment. He wanted to inflict pain, and that’s all he thought as he walked up to her with his hand raised in the air, ready to strike down like lightening.



Samara had to admit, she didn’t think it would get this intense, but it was still going as planned. She had giggled at his livid actions toward his friends and pretended to be offended by the things he accused her of, or was she truly upset? She didn’t know; all she knew was that it had worked. All she had to do was wait till he got close enough…

And there he came, his right hand up and to the side as if to smack her. She waited patiently, and at the last second she caught it, just inches from her cheek. And there. She saw it. Just about everything.

She saw the murder of his parents, life with his relatively horrible relatives, years at Hogwort’s, encounters with Voldemort, death of his godfather Sirius, friends and enemies. All of it flashed before her eyes in a millisecond. She gasped as she let go of his hand, and he fell to the floor, dizziness and disorientation filled his eyes.

His friends helped him up as Remus went to the door, yelling for a guard. “What did you do to me?” Harry was now leaning against the wall, looking at her as if she had just sprouted wings.

Now faze two…

She stood. As he started to back away, she started to sing. Her voice echoed off the cold walls and bounced down the cellblock. Her voice was sweet, light, as if floating. It also held a hint of something mysterious and haunting, which chilled them all to the bone.

“Oh somewhere deep inside of these bones, an emptiness began to grow. There’s something out there far from my home, a longing that I’ve never know.” She moved closer to Harry, he was still, as if frozen to that very spot. The only evidence that showed he wasn’t stone was his breathing and blinking. The others assumed this state as well. She moved slowly closer to him as she continued to sing. “There’s something deep inside of these bone’s, that calls out for something unknown. The fame and praise come year after year, does nothing hold these empty tears…” She was now just inches from his face, and brushed away one stray tear that fell from his deep green eyes.

He came out of the trance-like state as she did this, he’s demeanor completely changed. He was calm, cool, and collected. His stormy, raging emotions were now in check. She went back to her bed and acquired the same pose she was in earlier, facing the wall.

The guard came up to the door, looking at Samara with murderous eyes. Remus quickly shooed him away, saying things were fine. The guard took one last look at the group and left.

“You’re a siren, aren’t you?” Hermione was moving closer to her chair so as to sit back down, Ron helping Harry following her lead.

“Among other things…” Samara didn’t look at them, she was thinking of her first years in prison, recalling what had happened. She didn’t like it.

She saw Harry staring at her, but she couldn’t look at him. Not after what she saw.



Things were silent for a while after that. Harry just sat there, thinking about what she saw from his life, and her song. Hermione and Ron looked at each other every so often, then at Harry. Samara was staring at the wall, thinking of something that must have been awful to recall. Remus walked farther into the middle of the room, glancing at everyone, as if wondering how to fix this mess.

“Well, um… shall we call you Ms. Walker or Samara?” Harry wanted to thank Remus immensely for breaking the awkward, stale silence. Samara glanced over at him and sighed.

“Samara is fine.” She went back to focusing on the wall again. Harry glanced pleadingly at his two friends. They took the hint and Hermione stood up.

“Well… it’s nice to meet you Samara, I’m Hermione Granger. This is Ronald Weasley,” Ron stood up and smiled at her. She just nodded. “And this is our Professor, Remus Lupin.” At that, Samara’s gaze drastically turned to Remus, staring in disbelief. Her eyes were full of hope, something that looked natural on her pale face, but unnatural in the present location. Remus looked at her, concern etched on his weary face.

“Your Remus, Remus Lupin? The werewolf?” Samara was smiling now, joy spreading from her face to her eyes, eyes that just minutes before looked dazzling yet dead.

“How did you know that?” Remus was walking closer to her. Harry was just gaping at the girl before him. There was no way that she could possibly have known that, could she? He knew she didn’t see everything from his life, just the drastic events. So how did she know?

Hermione and Ron were whispering in the back round, but softly so know one could hear them. Samara reached under her bed as Remus came up to her. She handed him a small, tattered book. It was a journal, a red journal with the letters SB engraved in gold on it.

SB… Sirius Black…

Harry couldn’t believe it. She was found guilty of working with Voldemort, and yet there she was, giving Remus his godfather’s old journal. Apparently, Hermione and Ron had connected the dots, because she tapped him on the shoulder as Remus skimmed the pages, reminiscing.

“Harry, we think that she might also have been falsely accused, just like Sirius was. I mean, why would Sirius give her his journal if he didn’t believe she was innocent?” Harry gave her a look that gave her his ten cents. She didn’t notice. “Look at her… does she look like a follower of Voldemort? Does she look that dangerous to you?” Harry looked at her. He had to admit, she didn’t look like she could hurt a fly, but appearances can be deceiving, and after what she just did to him, he was going to keep his guard up around her.

She was looking at the journal as if it was a lifesaver and she was drowning. She looked lost without it. As if sensing he was staring, her eyes darted over to his. Their eyes locked, and he could see just how astray she truly was.

“How did you get this my dear?” Her eyes left his and returned to the Professor in front of her.

“He gave it to me, right before he left… to go find Wormtail.” Hermione and Ron where whispering again, this time a little louder, but Harry wasn’t listening. He was boring down on Remus and Samara. Remus sat beside her on the bed and looked her directly in her crystal blue eyes.

“He never told me about you, why I don’t know… how long have you known him?” She looked down at the floor, becoming more upset, and sighed.

“I’ve known… I knew him for three years, the first three years I was here.” She looked back up and out the window at the sky, tears threatening to fall from her eyes. “He won’t be coming back for me like he promised.” At that moment Harry’s heart shattered into even more pieces at the sound of her frail, trembling voice. He stood up, walked over to the window and leaned against the concrete wall. He now felt even more responsible for Sirius’s death, because this girl before him had lost probably the only person in the world that had ever truly cared about her.

“That’s a lie, and you know it.” He looked to her with a confused expression. Samara turned around, facing him and looked deep into his emerald green eyes. “It’s not your fault, I saw it… in a dream just last night. It wasn’t your fault… he tricked you. Just like he… planned on, you-”

“Hang on, what were you going to say? It wasn’t ‘just like he planned on it’ it was something else. What is it?” She turned away from him, looking out the window. He could hear her whispering softly, almost inaudibly.

“Seven, six, five, four, three, two, one…” The door slide open, and the guard entered. Harry turned to see Samara smiling at her success.

“Times up kiddies, lets go.” Hermione and Ron went out first, muttering goodbye to Samara, who only looked at them to acknowledge their leaving. As Harry walked toward the door, he heard Remus say goodbye to Samara.

“Do you think I could borrow this, just till next visit?” Samara looked longingly at the journal, but nodded and smiled. Remus walked past Harry and waited outside the door for him. Harry smiled at the girl, and she smiled back.

“Until next Friday…” She nodded and got up from her bed.

“Yeah, until next Friday.” He waved and walked out of the cell. As the door slide shut with a bang, he could have sworn he saw her jump slightly, but it could he easily been him jumping. After what just happened in that cell, he knew the next visit would be even more eventful.

I thought this was supposed to be a biography, not a mystery novel… he thought as his friends and himself walked back towards the land of the living, leaving the prisoners in the dark.

Chapter 6: Feeling...
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A/N: Sorry this one is so short, but research paper isn't going to write itself. And like before, The song mentioned doesn't belong to me. It's from Tim Burtons "Nightmare Before Christmas." I own nothing but the storyline involving Samara. Thanx.



As Samara stared at the spot Harry was just at a few moments before, she started to feel… what’s the word… empty. She was feeling like she had the day before. When she had finally found out what happened to Sirius, before she knew that Harry, his two friends, and Sirius’s old friend would be visiting her, trying to figure her out. Like a jigsaw puzzle, something that needed to be pieced together for completion.

Well, I am a project… a mystery to everyone, including myself.

She went to the cafeteria for her dinner, which she hadn’t done since Sirius left. Everyone turned and looked at her as she sat. The only person unfazed by her presence was Terri, who greeted her as usual. Samara ate in silence, thinking about what she saw from Harry’s past. All that death… made her feel… something unrecognizable. Unnamable.

She walked back to her cell and entered, taking her usual spot on her bed, facing the window. The Worden walked past her cell, stopping momentarily to say, “You’re lucky we didn’t see what you did to young Mr. Potter, or you’d be in The Hole till their next visit.” Samara glanced at her and smiled. The Worden became uncomfortable and left to attend to other matters.

The girl stared out the door, remembering his eyes. Those deep, emerald green eyes of his. They captured her when they locked with her own. She felt something she had never felt before in her life. She felt like there might be someone else out there that knew a fraction of what she was going through, even if it wasn’t exactly like her current situation. She felt that she wasn’t alone.

She heard the voices return. She sighed, hating them. She had started to hear them after she first came to Azkaban, and never knew why. But still, they were familiar, something she had grown accustomed to whenever she was alone. That’s the only time she heard them.

As she sat there, recalling every detail of his face, she realized something that she hadn’t conceived until then. They weren’t just voices, they were singing voices. She tried to listen closer, hear what they were saying, but it was too soft to recognize.

If only I could hear them, maybe I could unlock my own mysteries…

But how soon to that day was it?



Harry sat on the train, looking out the window, unable to get her voice out of his head. Every wandering thought his mind conceived was of her. Her eyes, her lips, her voice, her touch. He shook his head side to side, in hopes to throw off any further images of the haunted girl, but they kept coming back each time his mind drifted. Ron and Hermione were to absorbed in their own conversation about the visit to notice that Harry was not there, mentally speaking.

Ron and Hermione tried to talk to him after they got off the train, but he sped up his pace, steering clear of any other Gryffindor’s on the way. He bumped into Malfoy as he got closer to the front of the group, and for some strange reason, he didn’t mouth off to him. He just stared at him, as if confused of what to do, and stalked off with his goons following close behind him.

Must have been the visit… no way he would act like that any other day.

As they entered the Great Hall for dinner that evening, all the sixth and seventh years that had Wizard Studies were ranting and raving about their projects. Harry ate very little, and still managed a pleasant conversation with Neville and Seamus about their visit with a man named Robert Collins, convicted murderer of children and teenagers.

That must have been a frightful visit… Harry thought gravely. After he was finished, he left the hall, not waiting for his two friends. As he was heading up the stairs, he was stopped by a dreamy voice behind him.

“Harry! Wait up, can I talk to you for a moment?” He turned around to Luna, who was still running to catch up with him. He probably wouldn’t have noticed he was running until he had reached Gryffindor Tower out of breath.

“Yeah, sure Luna. About what?” She stopped in front of him, breathing heavily, hair clinging slightly to her pale face. She waited for a few seconds before she spoke, and he noticed that as she asked him this, her voice had changed. It was no longer dreamy and light, it was serious.

“I heard your visit. I was in the cell across from yours… I mean hers…” She looked at him with the same look he had hoped he would never see coming from her. Pity and sadness. “Are you okay?” He glared at her, tired of being asked if he was okay. Of course he wasn’t okay. Didn’t they see it? Or where they too busy wanting him to save them all to even care?

“Leave me alone Luna, just leave me alone.” And with that, he stormed off to Gryffindor Tower. He slammed the door to the sixth year boy’s dormitory, ran to his bed and fell onto it. He felt tears threatening to fall, but forced them back as he took in a shallow, sharp breath. He once again thought of Samara, and her song. He finally let the tears fall, realizing that they were in fact empty.

He realized that he didn’t want the fame, praise, and glory. The strife and sacrifice. The prophecy, or the death and destruction. He didn’t want the weight of the world on his shoulders anymore.

When will it end? I just want it to be over… He curled up in a ball, and cried himself to sleep, the last two lines of Samara’s haunted song replaying in his head like a broken record.

‘The fame and praise come year after year, does nothing hold these empty tears?’

Chapter 7: New Bond & New Begining
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The usual banging of the Worden’s wand on her bars didn’t awake Samara; the temperature rapidly decreasing in her cell did. Her eyes popped open like the cork from a champagne bottle. She could see her breath, and felt all the happiness being drained out of her.

Dementor’s

She sat up in her bed, holding her sheets and blanket close to her shivering flesh. She saw the ice forming on the floor and bars of her cell, including Rachel’s across the hall. She heard women screaming and crying. Panic was thick in the air. Goose bumps covered her entire body as she saw the dark hooded figure come into view. It turned its demonic face in her direction and she stopped breathing. It opened her cell with a wave of its skeleton-like hand.

Oh no… please, not The Hole. Anything but The Hole…

As it advanced towards her, her worst memory started to flood her mind.

Six years ago, she was eleven. Christmas was only a few days away. She was eating dinner with her parents and her older brother, Joshua. They were all laughing and having a good time. Samara got up to clear her plate, and while she was in the kitchen, she felt a large explosion from the dining room. It knocked her down and she hit her head on the floor, passing out.

When she came to, smoke was filling her lungs and fire blinding her vision. She crawled to the dining room, and found her brother. He was lying close to his chair, blood covered his tanned face, his deep hazel eyes open but blank. He wasn’t breathing. Samara’s eyes were enveloped in tears as she tried to drag him to the door, but he was too heavy for her. She crawled to the door, promising herself she would come back for him with help.

When she entered her front yard, she was going to head straight for her neighbors house to call the police. She was stopped in her tracks. She saw her parents being levitated in the air a good six feet over her head. About fifteen people in black hooded cloaks were surrounding them. The one in the center was holding a wooden stick in the air, pointed at her parents. She was confused, because she knew nothing of magic or anything like that before this event occurred.

“Stop! Leave them alone! What do you want from us?! Why did you kill my brother?!” She knew they probably wouldn’t answer her questions, but her outburst did make the leader of the band of henchman divert his attention for one moment from her parents, dropping them to the ground. She went to run to them, but was knocked ten feet away into her parents Civic by an unseen force. Snow covered her as the anti-theft device went off, and the car was blinking and making a disturbing siren sound, but she didn’t care; all she cared about was her family.

“Naughty girl.” The leader came closer to her, and she could now she his face clearly. He was probably in his mid thirties. He had long blonde hair and bluish grey eyes that made her feel like he could see her every thought. She tried to scoot away from him, but he grabbed the collar of her sweater. He looked her up and down as she shivered, part from the cold, part from his probing eyes.

“Why would he want you, girl?” He had a thick British accent, and he talked to her as if she was a piece of merchandise for sale. “What could you possibly do… to arouse his interest so?” His hand left her sweater and he reached up to her face. His fingers were cold as ice on her skin. She flinched at his touch, and he took offense. He raised his hand to slap her…


Samara’s eyes opened again, realizing that she was in the holding cell. She was taken there the two times she was questioned before, but now she wasn’t alone. Rachel was in the chair next to her. She smiled weakly at the young girl, and she smiled back, not knowing what else to do.

She came to a quick conclusion. This must have something to do with the visit yesterday…

She looked at the mirror that covered the whole wall on the north side of the room, and knew that people were in there watching. She could feel their eyes on her every move. She sat up straight and waited for them to make the first move.

I’ve got all day boys, I’ve got all day…



Harry woke to the sound of Ron’s snoring. He rolled over, found a comfortable position, and tried to fall back asleep, but was unsuccessful. He sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and grasping his glasses. He looked to the clock; it read 9:57 am. He sighed, glad that for once he got a goodnight sleep that lasted more than four hours. He also understood that he didn’t have his usual nightmare about the Ministry, Sirius and the veil.

He got up and dressed in blue jeans and a long sleeved black shirt. He exited the dorm, walked down the stairs and saw Hermione sitting in her favorite chair. She was wearing a blue shirt and a jean skirt, which wasn’t her usual wardrobe style. She had her schoolbooks and parchment scattered across the coffee table. He sat on the couch and smiled at her when she turned to him.

“Morning Harry. Did you sleep well?” He nodded, and she smiled at him, her eyes sparkling with joy. “I’m glad, but not about this Advanced Potions assignment. He wants to murder us, doesn’t he?” Harry grinned, agreeing totally. He wasn’t surprised by her dedication to her schoolwork. She always had her nose in a book or was lecturing him and Ron to study more and not to wait to the last minute to do their assignments.

A few minutes later, Ron came down. He was wearing a red t-shirt with ‘Gryffindor Rules!’ written in gold on it and blue jeans. He collapsed on the couch next to Harry.

“Bloody Hell! How much schoolwork are you doing?” Ron gaped at the clutter on the coffee table in horror. Hermione gave him a glare, but it turned into a smirk, then to a smile.

“Just Advanced Potions. I haven’t even started on my other work yet.” Ron’s look intensified. Harry waved his hand in front of his face, and he snapped out of it.

“Yeah, don’t forget, you haven’t even started any of your work yet, Ron.” Ron looked at him, expression saying ‘your one to talk.’

“You haven’t started yours either, Harry!” Harry took this into consideration, and he was right. He didn’t even remember they had work, but that was what Hermione was for, to remind them again and again of their priorities as students.

“Your right Ron, which is why I’m going to go for a walk.” He got up and headed for the entrance. Ron looked confused and Hermione just stared.

“What do you mean go for a walk?” Harry turned to Hermione, and Ron also yelled at him.

“Yeah, how is that going to help you with Advanced Potions?” Harry just shrugged and walked out of the common room. His friends exchanged puzzled glances, but then Hermione gave up, going back to her studies. Ron just stared after his friend, knowing that something was up.



Samara had waited patiently: as patiently as anyone could due to the circumstances. She had waited for three hours before the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, entered the room, followed by a man who she had understood to be called an ‘Auror’. Fudge sat down across from Rachel and herself, the Auror standing behind him, daring them with his eyes to give him any excuse to pounce.

“Samara Walker and Rachel Harris, it’s nice to see you again.” Rachel wasn’t looking at Fudge, she was looking right through him, not really seeing him. She probably was still reviewing what she saw as the Dementor’s escorted her here. Samara was a different story. She was glaring at him, not afraid to show how intense her hatred was for him.

Fudge took no notice. He soon opened up a file, skimmed the pages and looked to the two prisoners in front of him like children about to be punished.

“Samara, it is understood that something happened between you and Mr. Potter yesterday during the visit. Care to tell us what?” She shifted her gaze to the Auror standing behind the Minister – who was reaching for his wand, just in case – and returned her eyes to Fudge. She didn’t want to be put back in The Hole again, but didn’t want to tell them that she provoked him. She sighed. They looked to her expectantly, and she spoke.

“Harry started ranting and raving about me being in cahoots with You-Know-Who, and when his friends tried to talk to him, it didn’t work. He came up to slap me and I caught his hand. I didn’t mean to, it just happened… He was scared of me then, so I sang to him to calm him down. That’s it. If I had better control of my powers, I wouldn’t use them period. I don’t like them, and don’t want them.”

Fudge looked at her disapprovingly, but seemed grateful she gave up this information willingly, unlike the last two times. She looked at him, pretending to be remorseful, hoping he would take the bait. He turned his attention to Rachel, and as soon as he spoke her name, she fell from her day dreaming state and looked at him fearfully.

“Rachel? How are you?” She just stared at him, expression never faltering. “Well, since your cell is across from Samara’s, I just wanted to make sure her story was straight. What she said, did it truly happened, Ms. Harris?”

Rachel turned to her, and Samara could feel her emotions radiating from her. It was almost unbearable. She knew that Rachel disliked her for being everything that she wasn’t. Young, beautiful, smart, and gifted in more ways than one. She would probably tell Cornelius the truth at the drop of a hat, just to save her own skin and to get her own twisted revenge on what Samara couldn’t possibly control, even if she wanted to.

Rachel spoke just above a whisper, but what she said surprised Samara more than anything in her life after that day ever would. “Yes, Cornelius Fudge. That’s what happened.” Samara tried to hide her disbelief, and accomplished, even though it felt like an impossible task at hand. Fudge nodded, believing his dishonest eyes and ears.

“Well then, your breakfast has long since past and lunch has come upon us, so I’ll leave you to walk yourselves there. Good day ladies.” He tipped his hat, and left, the Auror following behind him slowly. When the door closed, Samara knew there wasn’t anyone in the mirror room looking at them anymore. She stared at Rachel, at a loss for words.

“What?” Rachel peeked at her from the corner of her eyes. Samara shrugged.

“Why?” Rachel swerved around in her chair to face her, Samara doing the same. They observed each other this way for a few minutes before Rachel answer her question.

“Because you’re just as scared of The Hole as I am… you’re only seventeen, and deserve happy memories, not darkness and pain… you’ve been through enough without me adding to it… plus, your kind of growing on me, kid.” She paused for a moment, looking down at the floor. “If I told the truth, you probably wouldn’t survive for the length of time they would have put you over there… and then who would I hate?”

Rachel looked up, then stood and walked to the door. She looked back at the young girl sitting, still fazed by the events that passed within the last ten minutes.

“You coming? Or do you want to be escorted by those bitches again?” Samara couldn’t help but laugh at her name for the horrid creatures that loomed in the prison. She got up and followed Rachel out of the room, leaving the past relationship behind, and carrying the new one with them.



Harry had taken a walk. He drifted over the beautiful grounds, thinking of nothing in particular. When he reached the lake, he sat down under a tree, the shade being very enticing. He removed his shoes and socks, letting his bared feet rest on the cool, moist earth. A slight breeze tickled his face and played with his hair and robes. He could smell the water, grass, and the freshly turned soil.

God this feels good… I haven’t felt this relaxed since… I don’t even remember.

He closed his eyes, breathing in deeply the clear air, exhaling slowly. He felt his eyes becoming weak, even though his lids were closed. Sleep almost over took him, but something heavy landed on him. He pried his eyes open to see Fawkes, Dumbledore’s phoenix, perched on his shoulder. He had a rolled up piece of parchment in his beak, and dropped it on Harry’s lap. He petted the stunning fire bird, then unrolled the note.

Dear Harry,
Please come immediately to my office. I have something to tell you, as well as give to you. Do make haste my dear boy, I know you’re not as trusting with me as before, but you need to hear me out. The password is ‘Fudge Cakes’.

Albus Dumbledore


At first Harry thought of not going at all, but he knew that sooner or later he would have to face him. After all, he was Headmaster. He was bound to run into him at anytime. He put his shoes and socks back on and got up, Fawkes flying off of him as he did so. Both headed back up to the castle, not knowing what Dumbledore wanted.

He entered the ancient castle and climbed the enchanted stairs that never stayed in place for more than five minutes. He reached the statue that leads to the Headmasters office. He spoke the password and entered the spiraling staircase. When he reached the top, he knocked on the old oak door.

Dumbledore said, “Enter.” Harry opened the door to the office he knew so well, not ready for what was waiting for him within it.

Chapter 8: Three's The Magic Number
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Samara was being walked back to her cell. She couldn’t help but smile. For the first time in the entirety of her prison sentence, she didn’t eat alone. When she had gone to sit down at her usual table, she saw that there were other people sitting there. She thought they might be new; new people wouldn’t know anything about her and would have just sat at an empty bench. She sat down and the two women turned toward her. The faces seemed familiar, but she didn’t know the names to go with them.

“Hi.” The women looked a bit startled by the sound of her voice, but they didn’t move. The woman sitting across from her had medium length brown hair with green eyes and looked like she was in her late twenties or early thirties. She was somewhat tan, but looked like it was fading rather quickly. The woman sitting next to her had strawberry blonde hair down to her waist and brown eyes. She appeared to be in her twenties, and was almost as pale as Samara herself.

“Hello. I-I’m Sarah Schneider… a-and that there is E-eva Leighman…” said the strawberry blonde. Samara tried to give her a warm smile, but the fact that Sarah had stuttered caught her attention. Samara observed Sarah for a moment, extremely confused. Sarah was becoming uncomfortable under her scrutinizing gaze, but kept quiet. Samara finally looked away.

Nah… it couldn’t be…

“So, I know you two aren’t new here, so… why exactly are you sitting over here? I mean… I thought that everyone was afraid of me.” She looked to the two women for an answer, knowing that whatever they say will probably not be the truth. Sarah and Eva exchanged glances, and turned back to Samara. Then they both started talking excessively fast and in unison. Samara held up her hand at them and they were silenced instantly.

“Okay, let’s try that again, only this time… slower.”

Eva then spoke up, “We heard that your visitor was Harry Potter…”

“And we wanted to ask you about it…” Sarah finished for her.

Samara almost lost control of her jaw as it fell slightly. She couldn’t believe. Two fully grown women, had crushes on a seventeen-year-old boy. Okay, yeah… he’s famous and all, but still. Samara couldn’t blame them though; she herself was having trouble erasing his gorgeous emerald eyes from her mind when it wandered. She shook her head, clearing it of those tantalizing thoughts and placed her focus on the women at her table.

“Well, the visit wasn’t what I expected, but it was still… interesting…” And for the rest of lunch, they were hooked on Samara’s every word about her encounter with ‘The Boy Who Lived.’



Harry exited the Headmasters office. His face held deep emotion, but you wouldn’t be able to define it. There where no words for how he felt at that exact moment. His footsteps echoing along the ancient halls of the school were his only companion. He had missed lunch, but he wasn’t hungry. He reached his hand in the pocket of his robe and felt the three objects that Dumbledore had given him, two of which were his new prized possessions. He was to play messenger with the third object. As he made his way back to the common room, the past few hours replayed in his head…

He entered the room… Dumbledore was sitting at his desk; tears were visible in his pale blue eyes. Harry had never seen him like this; he was always one step ahead of them all, now he looked like the world was about to end – which in a way, it could.

“Harry… please sit down.” Harry complied. He saw that the Headmaster had several piece of parchment on his desk. Harry was about to ask what they were, but Dumbledore started to speak. “Harry, something… very terrible happened last night…”

Please, not Lupin…

“What happened, Professor?” His voice was trembling terribly, and the muscles in his throat started to constrict. The wise old man stared at the young man sitting before him; the young man who had already gone through so much in his short years. Who didn’t deserve all that had happened to him already, and was going to go through another loss… again.

“Last night… something happened to your Aunt, Uncle and cousin…” Harry’s heart stopped.

What?

“There was a fire… and no one survived… I’m terribly sorry my boy. It was found to be arson, we believe it was the work of one of Lord Voldemort’s Deatheaters.”

Harry couldn’t breathe. He felt his chest tighten and a scream get caught in his throat. If he hadn’t been sitting down, he would have fallen, and in a way he did; he was now at rock bottom, the floor you can’t fall below.

He ran both hands through his messy black hair while placing his elbows on his knees, the conclusion being the cradling of his head in his hands. He closed his bright green eyes, forbidding the tears to fall for his relatives. The people who locked him up with no food for days on end; The people who made him their slave as repayment for taking him in; The people who never accepted him because of ‘what he was’ and ‘who his parents were’, never loved him like family, which is all he ever wanted.

He didn’t want to show any form of sorrow for their lives being ripped from him. He hated them, with the burning passion of a thousand suns. They made his life a living Hell since as far back as he could remember.

Then why do I feel like my world is crumbling around me, and there’s no one around to see it?

But there was. The old man had walked around the ancient desk and crouched before the young savior. He placed an aged hand over the smaller ones covering Harry’s head, and patted them; the tears that had glazed over his eyes were now melting softly down is face; a face full of character and wisdom. A face that now meant nothing, and knew nothing.

“I’m sorry my dear boy. But you must hear me, and hear me well…” He took Harry’s hands in his own and lowered them from his face. The expression on the boys face could only be one thing – determination. Determination to not let the flood-gates in his eyes buckle, to not let his already broken heart shatter once more, to not let anyone know how much he really did care… even though they didn’t.

Dumbledore leaned closer to Harry, and spoke in a voice he didn’t recognize to be his. It had changed drastically so, that Harry had to look into his eyes as he spoke, as if to be sure it was the Headmaster speaking.

It was the voice of a scared man, something he had hoped to never see on the wise Headmaster, but maybe this was just what he needed. He needed to know that Dumbledore was, indeed, human.

“It is okay to cry for them… to mourn over their short lives. Even though they weren’t very good to you, they still were family. They still took you in when your own parents were killed by Lord Voldemort. In a way, they did love you, Harry. They were just too scared to show it, for fear of if they lost you, they would lose James and Lily all over again. So… it
is okay… to feel for them.”

That was all Harry needed. At that, he let out a sob – a sob that pierced the very center of Dumbledore’s heart. He pulled the boy to him in an embrace that Harry accepted without hesitation. He sobbed like a newborn baby, cried tears that he had been ashamed to let flee, and clutched at the old man as if a lifesaver. Dumbledore simply rubbed the boys back, letting him rid himself of the pain that he was feeling, because there would be more to come. Oh boy, there would be more.


As Harry entered the boy’s dormitory, he noticed no one in the common room. They were probably taking advantage of the nice day, like he hand been earlier. He then closed the door and went to sit on his bed. He took the three items out of his robe, three envelopes.

The first one held Sirius’s Last Will and Testament, stating that Harry and Lupin were to receive everything of his, and that they split it up between themselves. The second one held the key to Number 12 Grimmauld Place, his new home; the Headquarters of The Order of The Phoenix. The third one wasn’t for him, he was to deliver it to someone else – someone Dumbledore couldn’t reach.

Guard this with your very life, Harry. If the recipient doesn’t get this… the consequences could be… catastrophic… Dumbledore’s voice spoke in his head. He had made it very clear that what was in the plain muggle envelope was of extreme importance, and that the only person to open and read it was the person it was to be delivered to.

Harry put the three objects in his trunk for safekeeping and went to the bathroom to take a shower. He disrobed and stepped under the waterfall that made his skin tingle in pain. The steam made it hard for him to see anything, but he didn’t care at that moment. He didn’t want to see anything. He didn’t want to feel, he just wanted to escape.

When he stepped out, the water was ice cold and his entire body was red from the burning shower. He dried off and put on some cloths, not wanting to leave the Tower. He went immediately to his bed and turned down the covers. He got under and closed the curtains around him. He laid down, just staring at the ceiling, thinking over his life. He only had one thought running through his head as sleep finally overtook him.

Why me?

Chapter 9: Truths & Terrors
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The creak of floorboards, the squeak of a door’s hinges, the pitter-patter of feet on wooden floors. This is what stirred Harry from a dreamless sleep. He kept his eyes closed and his body relaxed. He heard the curtains being drawn away and he knew someone was staring down at his seemingly tranquilized body. He felt a hand come down and brush stray hairs out of his eyes, its owners voice ringing pleasantly through the mostly empty room.

“You look so peaceful when you sleep… one would never know what’s happened to you just by watching you sleep. What happened today Harry? You were fine this morning, and then you go for a walk – skipping lunch and dinner – just to be found sleeping, when you slept very well last night. What’s wrong?” Hermione’s voice started breaking, and her fingers where trembling on his skin, causing goose bumps all over his flesh.

“Ron and I are worried about you… we don’t know what to do to help, Harry. The only way we could know is if you tell us how, and you won’t even speak of it…” She grabbed his hand in hers. “I know, that it hurts… and it will always hurt, but at least you’ll be able to live with it if you talk about it more… Please?”

Harry could feel the burning tears singe the insides of his eyes, but wouldn’t let them escape their haven. Hermione’s gentle sobs made the task more formidable, but he didn’t have to last long. She soon released his hand and quickly fled the dormitory. Once the door was shut, he opened his gorgeous green eyes and silently let the floodgates buckle. He knew now that keeping silent about the terrible tragedies would serve him no satisfaction. He would tell them… everything. Only one question remained.

Where should I begin?



Samara awoke with a start. She didn’t hear a wand banging on her bars, or feel ice-cold waves covering her skin. She woke up on her own… which is never a good thing. She sat up, not recognizing her surroundings. The walls were covered in dried blood left in slashed sprawls, the floor had dry-rotted wood and dust scattered everywhere, and the air smelled stale. Next she heard a horrid scream, only it wasn’t really a scream. It sounded more like laughter; crazy laughter. Realization hit her like a ton of bricks.

I’m in The Hole… Oh God…



Harry was down in the common room when Hermione and Ron descended the stairs for breakfast. He had been plagued with images of fire in his dreams last night, and gave up on slumber around 2:48 am. He had now finally finished his potions assignment, and he threw down his quill, a new task at hand. Being how to tell Ron and Hermione about the Prophecy… and the Dursley’s.

“Hey mate, missed you at dinner last night, you alright?” Ron’s question bothered him a bit. He didn’t like the consistency of that particular question, but he just nodded and stared at his finished paper, wondering how to bring up what needed to be.

“Ah, I see you finished Snape’s essay… you must be ill then…” Ron held up his hand to Harry’s forehead to check his temperature. Harry swatted it away like a fly and ran his hand through his untamable hair. He finally turned his attention to his two friends. Hermione had been quietly observing him, and had her trademark ‘I know something is up’ look on her face. He let out a sigh and gave in.

“Listen… we need to talk, and it’s very important. Can we skip breakfast, and go to the Room of Requirement?” He spoke this just above a whisper, so that students passing by wouldn’t overhear. Even though the room wasn’t a secret anymore, he didn’t want others poking into his private business; it was bad enough his friends and teachers did that.

This bests friends nodded, knowing if he needed extreme privacy, then something serious was wrong. They walked out of the common room and cautiously made their way to the portrait of the fruit bowl. Harry paced himself in front of it three times, thinking of a place comfortable to talk in that had breakfast prepared for them. They entered and saw there a fireplace and a table set for three. On the table was three plates filled with food that was being served in the great hall at that present moment.

“Well lets eat first, for I know Ron is hungry, and I haven’t eaten anything since Friday…” Harry explained. They all settled down and ate their breakfast in silence; even Ron paced himself, when usually stuffs his face in a matter of minutes. When they were finished, the plates disappeared. Harry looked at Hermione, then Ron.

“Well… I know you both have suspected for quite some time that something’s wrong… but I’ve kept it from you guys, because… I was afraid of losing you. You two are the closest thing I have to family besides Lupin, and I wanted to take the burden as my own. I know that was wrong now… and I’m prepared to let you both help me.”

Hermione was smiling sadly, tears brimming her soft chocolate eyes. Ron… his look can’t be explained, but you know that he’s just as relieved as Hermione that their friend wanted their help… finally. Harry adjusted his glasses and took a deep breath to begin his tale.


Chapter 10: What Will You Do
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Samara had run to another level of The Hole, praying not to run into a Dementor, or whatever made that horrid scream. She now was crouched on the floor, listening intently to any sign of movement. She heard nothing, however, she didn’t repose. Her heart still beat wildly inside her rapidly rising chest, and her breathing was short and depthless. A thin layer of sweat formed over her skin from running, and she could taste her own fear. It was almost unbearable.

She didn’t know how long she sat there, waiting for the inevitable to come. Once she thought it safe to move on, she felt the cold. She saw her breath in the air, thick as butter. Goosebumps covered every inch of her as the floor before her was coated in a fine layer of ice.

No… not again! I won’t let it happen again!

She broke into a run and skidded on the ice down the hall. She fell and slid into the far wall. The impact almost knocked the wind out of her, but she scattered quickly down the nearest set of stairs, taking four steps at a time. She finally made it down to ground level and turned around. Nothing was following her.

She sighed in relief. She turned around to find a new hiding spot and…

Oh my God

She screamed at the creature before her.



Harry just stared at his best friends as they went over the last hour of information that he had spilled upon them. He had told them everything, about the Prophecy, the deaths of the Dursley’s, everything. Now he could only hope that they would understand, and give him his one wish: to not be pitied.

“Wow Harry… How long have you been holding all this in?” Hermione’s question was a good one, and Ron looked to him for an answer as well.

“For far too long, I guess. That would have to be the correct answer to that question. I just have one thing of you to ask.”

Ron smiled and said, “Anything, mate.” Hermione nodded. Harry sighed.

“I ask you not to treat me any different, now that you know everything. Don’t pity me, don’t feel sorry for me, just treat me like you always have.”

Hermione looked at him in shock. “Did you really think you’d have to ask? Harry, we are you friends, we’d never do that to you.”

“Yeah, we care a lot about you, and just want what’s best for you. And we’ll obey your wishes, no worries.” Harry smiled at them and stood up. He hugged Hermione, who squeezed him tightly, but he didn’t mind. He went to shake Ron’s hand, but he grabbed him into a big bear hug that Harry gladly returned.

“Come on, I think we all have some homework to do. Study session anyone?” Ron and Harry groaned, but then giggled and nodded. As they followed Hermione to the Library to finish their dreaded assignment, a girl 30 miles away dreaded her fate.

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