Whole New Worlds: A Fanfiction Archive

"Seamus, if I go to sleep now it'll just happen again. My scar is still burning some. Comes through more when I'm asleep," Harry offered awkwardly, remembering how Seamus had been one to doubt him last year. He tensed and began shivering violently as another curse struck Bellatrix LeStrange's husband and the ice seeped into his bones again.

"Well, get your sweats on and get in the bed, I'll read to you or something." Seamus shrugged and began rummaging through Harry's dresser drawers for pajamas or sweats.

A short while later Harry found himself in sweat pants and t-shirt, snuggled into bed with a glaring, mother-henning Seamus who had declared Harry was laying down if Seamus had to lay down on him.

He wasn't sure what Frigis Ossis was exactly, or if that had even been exactly what the Curse was, but it felt like all his bones had been turned to ice and another Cruciatus on top of that. He was still chilled. He had to wonder if Bellatrix had survived the cursing she had received.

"Bloody hell, you're freezing," Seamus said worriedly, and then cast the strongest warming-charms he knew on Harry's clothing and then the blankets.

Harry stubbornly looked over at his mother's trunk. Another wave of cold washed over him, causing his teeth to chatter. Voldemort was still torturing his followers; Harry had managed to pull out of the vision enough that he was not still trapped--or rather Hogwarts blocked the vision off almost entirely--but little bits were still seeping through.

"Fine," Seamus growled and quickly opened the trunk. He rummaged through it with barely half an eye on the books and odds and ends. A deep purple book with swirling lavender paisley designs and the words 'My Diary' in silver on the front caught his attention ... As well as a couple of photo albums and a journal-style spell book, the type research was usually kept in.

Harry watched, shivering and disbelieving, as Seamus shucked off his own clothes and helped himself to a pair of sweats and t-shirt of Harry's. He spelled them a couple of sizes larger to fit.

Books in hand, Seamus hesitated a moment, then shrugged and crawled into the bed, arranging pillows and Harry so that Seamus was half sitting, leaning against the headboard and Harry half next to him half leaning across Seamus' chest. Harry had scared the bloody hell out of him in the common room. Harry felt frozen through, he needed the body heat, and Seamus needed the contact to reassure himself his friend was all right.

Harry stiffened as another echo of Cruciatus hit him.

"Harry, it's not like I'm going to bloody well try anything with y'," Seamus murmured, hurt. They had practically lived in the same room since they were eleven; they had been friends since. Granted, they hadn't gotten along all the best most of last year, but the last couple of weeks they had gotten closer than Seamus had ever been with even Dean.

No, make that since Harry had stumbled across Seamus in an unused room in the North Tower. Then Neville had come across them both, searching for Harry. Neville had been the one to notice Harry missing last spring, while Dean had been too busy investigating Ginny's tonsils to notice Seamus was gone; Hermione and Ron were so busy bickering on how to help Harry that they had not noticed Harry was not about. Seamus had confessed why he had been up there--well, bawling like a little kid--half hoping one of them would pitch him out the tower window.

Ginny had continuously tried to set him up with one of her friends. The girl had not taken "not interested" well the first time, and worse the twentieth time. Out of pure spite, she had started a rumor--ironically one that was true, she simply hadn't known that. The rumor led to a pair of seventh years harassing him badly. He had just managed to escape them before he had ended up in the Astronomy tower.

Harry had not so much as blinked. He had simply said "Is that all? I have a prophecy: either I kill Voldemort or he kills me but we both can't live," and that had pretty well been that. Neville had managed to put his foot in his mouth a few times, on Seamus' preferences and Harry's prophecy, but that was simply Neville being Neville.

Harry swallowed. "Voldemort." he managed. "Vision. Not you."

"Y' alright there, then?" Seamus asked awkwardly. He had written off Dean's friendship, which was a kick in the gut every time he thought of it. Seamus didn't think he could handle Harry turning his back on him as well.

"Yeah. It's just ... don't take this wrong but ..."

"We never speak of this and kill Zabini if he walks in," Seamus said quickly.

"Yeah," Harry smiled weakly.

Seamus felt like a furnace, the warmth was more than welcome. He would probably die before admitting it, but it felt good to be held. No one ever did, never had. Even Hermione and Ron, when he had a vision, just sort of stood there and gawked. Not that he could blame them, or begin to imagine snuggling with either of them. This felt good though. Seamus holding him. He just didn't want it interpreted the wrong way.

Seamus had drifted off an hour or so before, but Harry still did not dare go to sleep. Quietly, he summoned a notebook and quill, scratching down what little bits he could recall from the vision.

Voldemort was after a crystal. That was new, but not particularly helpful. Crystal of what? Something like the Sorcerer's stone? Something to do with a prophecy or ritual? What? He had sent the LeStranges after it, and Mr. LeStrange was probably dead.

Harry didn't need a vision to tell him there was a mountain of research on magical crystals in his near future. He wished Hermione were about, that she was still speaking to him. Even if she wouldn't speak to him, she would likely still help research magical crystals, simply because that was the necessary thing to do to try to stop Voldemort.

The green-eyed wizard shoved aside the quill, notebook and the photo albums they had been looking at reaching for his mother's diary. Harry stilled as Seamus mumbled in his sleep but did wake. He burrowed deeper into the covers as another wave of chills crashed over him and began reading.

10 July 1971

Dear Diary,

Today I am 11 years old. I got this diary from my sister Petunia--the bestest sister in the whole wide world!--for my birthday.

My name is Lily Rose Evans. My mother is Violet, my father Henry. I have a sister, Petunia (Petty) who is older than I am by four years. She's fifteen...

Harry skimmed over the entries of the next few weeks; the girl emerging from the pages was an interesting character. Harry saw a lot of his own curiosity in the girl who had written the words; she seemed quite brilliant, though not as scholarly as Hermione. One moment she was giddy and babbling in her writing, the next quite thoughtful and mature. She had a temper, evidenced on the page and a half long rant of why Charles Miller was quite possibly the slimiest boy on the planet. Her babbling excitement over her Hogwarts letter made Harry smile.

He had had an uncle? His mother and Aunt Petunia had had a younger brother named Henry Jr. and called Harry who had died as a small child. He had never known that.

7 August 1971

Petty is being just awful! I don't understand it at all. She is so upset about my going off to school. She says I'm going to "meet my doom". I know Petty can be dramatic, but that is a bit much even for her...

A chill ran through Harry that had nothing to do with the echoes of Voldemort's curses as he thought of his Aunt Petunia's strange tone of voice when she'd made him promise to watch Dudley and keep Dudley from doing anything to his youngest child, who would be a witch or a wizard and have Gentry Green eyes. There were extremely girlish bits of gushing over some actor and a new movie. An amazed babble over her first trip to Diagon Alley. Sad musings over "how perfectly awful Petty was being".

1st Sept 1971

Hogwarts is simply AMAZING. It is ever so late and I really should be sleeping. But I just had to write a little.

Mum actually managed to come along with us to King's Cross to the station. I don't think she has been out of the house in a year or more, but she came to see me off.

Petty was quite rude most of the trip. Just before I left, she told me to be careful, that this place was going to be the death of me. Mum started sobbing and Dad hushed Petty up.

Anyway.

The Hogwarts Express. Oh my, the train was amazing! Though I'm not at all certain about chocolate that jumps around! Aisling bought us both Chocolate Frogs. Strange, strange things. A jumping FROG??? The chocolate is good, if you can get past biting into something that is squirming. Ewww.

I met Aisling straight off. She and I chatted all the way to Hogwarts. She had never met a Muggle before. She was just as curious about telephones and televisions as I am about brooms and well, EVERYTHING. Alice ended up in the compartment with us. She is really sweet, if a bit clumsy. Dead clever though--just shy and a bit clumsy.

It was a bit disappointing that Alice was sorted into Gryffindor, and Aisling into Slytherin, and I am in Ravenclaw. But we are going to be grand friends even if we are in different houses.

That sorting hat was sooo creepy. I did not like that thing messing about in my head and talking in my mind.

I'm not all that impressed with my dorm mates. They are nice enough, they are just--well, er, Janice immediately began sorting out about 50 books and wondering about tests. Kate was right with her, Laura was giggling how *cute* the Slytherin 6th year prefect was. (Not impressed, he is MEAN.) The Head girl this year is Bellatrix Black. I *think* it is her sister that is Aisling's only dorm mate. At least Narcissa Black was the only other girl sorted into Slytherin, and Bellatrix and Narcissa look quite a lot alike, well, if you *really* look the features of their faces are about the same. Though Bellatrix has dark hair and a cruel air about her. Narcissa is very blonde and seems scared of her own shadow. Laura thinks it is a crying shame that such a handsome boy as Lucius Malfoy (the Slytherin 6th yr prefect) is going to be wasted on a mouse like Cissa Black.

There was a boy that ended up in with Aisling, Alice and I in the compartment. He was chased in and hid under the seat from a bunch of boys that ended up in Gryffindor.

He seems too young to be in with the rest of us. He's tall but so skinny and--just *young*. I bet he's not more than nine instead of eleven or nearly 12 like the rest of us. (Alice will be twelve in a couple days, she said. Have to be 11 by Sept 1st without special permission to enter early--so she just missed starting school last year).

Aisling tried to find out if this odd little boy was hurt, he was crying and shaking so badly. He looked awful, his clothes were a bit raggedy and he was dirty (I think part just dirty, and part made even dirtier by the goons that were chasing him) His response was "Fuck off, bitch" Kind of looses its bite when it is hiccuped out, followed by blowing his nose on his sleeve. Poor kid was--*feral*, there is no other word for it.

His name is Severus Snape--the scruffy, scrawny fellow with the foul mouth that is. He ended up in Slytherin.

It is really late and I have to get to bed, more soon.

Lily

Harry had no doubt that the group of boys who ended up in Gryffindor included his father and Sirius. He could picture Snape too, especially after accidentally looking in Snape's pensieve last year.

Harry frowned slightly, reading through September. His father and Sirius were nothing short of a pair of little bullies by his mother's description. Well, more his father was a spoiled brat, and Sirius was a bully and as obsessed with Slytherin's being the source of all evil as Ron by the events recounted by his mum.

Having been to 12 Grimmauld place and seen some of the things there, including the portrait of Sirius' mother, who had to have been worse in life, Harry could see some of Sirius' behavior stemming from that.

15 October 1971

SIRIUS BLACK IS THE BIGGEST GIT THAT EVER LIVED!!! I HATE HIM!! I HATE HIM!! I HATE HIM!! MY HAIR IS BLUE AND STANDING STRAIGHT UP STIFF AS A BOARD!!!

THAT--THAT--THAT DUMBLEDORE!! HE WON'T LET ANY OF THE PROFESSORS FIX IT!! SIRIUS HAS TO AND HE'S REFUSING TO!!!

16 October 1971

Aisling, Alice and I got my hair fixed. Sirius Black is going to PAY!!

1 November 1971

I can't believe this. I simply can't. I am so furious. The Headmaster knows what took place but refuses to do anything. Aisling says there really isn't anything he can do, Alice agreed as well not in the big picture but for he could at least stop it from happening at school.

Aisling, Alice and I have detention for the next two weeks for attacking Lucius Malfoy! He had beaten Cissa Black up badly. (The three of us were out after curfew yes, but that is only one detention, fourteen more for stopping that awful Malfoy from beating Cissa to a pulp!)

It is so UNFAIR!!

Harry snorted softly. It was probably 'all for the best'. Dumbledore had a way of ignoring anything he could not do anything about or would be detrimental to his own position to bother with. Seamus stirred at the sound. "Alrigh' 'Arry?" the Irish boy mumbled.

"Go back to sleep, just reading."

"Shoul' slee'."

"Can't," Harry shook his head.

3 November 1971

Aisling scared the life out of Alice and me tonight. Filch set us to polishing in the trophy room without magic. ICK!

She dropped a trophy, screamed and started crying and just ran out of the room. If you ever met Ais, you would know she is just not the crying, flighty sort. We did get as much out of her as she can see Auras sometimes. That the women in her family could almost all of them to some extent from time to time. It was more than that. I know it. So does Alice, but Aisling's buttoned up on it. She, well, nutty as it sounds she saw something in one of our auras that scared the living daylights out of her.

Another week of detention, officially we saw a mouse and ran away. It was all but impossible not to get the giggles we got drug up to Dumbledore's and all this 'now girls there's nothing to be afraid of, a little mousy won't hurt you'. Professor Flitwick kept fussing at me like I was going to break. Had my hands coving my face. Flitwick made Dumbledore stop his lecture cause he was making me cry, I was about dieing trying not to laugh.

4 November 1971

Sirius Black and James Potter dropped a mouse down the back of my robe in potions. I have two more weeks of detention. Sirius has a concussion from my cauldron upside his head. Worth it I think. They were out after curfew. That is the only way they could have come up with the mouse. However on the fact that they had put a mouse down my back--that old crackpot Dumbledore just laughed and said 'boys will be boys'. They didn't get in trouble at all!!

7 November 1971

Aisling has been odd since she saw whatever she did. She dragged Alice and me to a painting of snakes.

The snakes were awfully chatty. Bad as Sirius Black and James Potter with the stupid things they were saying.

Alice nearly fainted. Aisling threw up.

I'm a Parseltongue. Aisling is still not fessing up her vision. Tomorrow is Saturday; we are spending it in the library. That I'm a Parseltongue is staying a secret for as long as we can manage. Forever hopefully.

20 November 1971

Aisling finally told us what she saw...in my Aura. It was me that set her off.

Harry flipped through the next couple of months of entries. Nothing more was said of the vision or whatever it was that Aisling had seen in his mother's aura. What were they looking for in the library?

19 April 1971

Grandma Serena confirmed what we found out and to an extent, what Aisling saw. Grandma Serena is a squib. Grandma Dahlia was a witch. And my eyes are from Grandma Dahlia's family.

This is something from Aisling's Great-Aunt Bridget's diary. Aisling dug the diary out of the attics at the Morrigan estate when she was home for Easter hols.

(Bridget Morrigan was like Aisling, not only saw auras but saw things in them, the older she got the stronger the visions in the Auras were. Bridget Morrigan killed herself when she was 22 and was completely insane for a good four or five years before that.

That is not going to happen to Aisling. We won't let it.) Anyway, here goes...

"Well, what is it?" Harry muttered, frustrated, as the next four pages of the diary were utterly blank. On the 21st of April his mother had gotten 112 on her Charms pop quiz and a detention for slapping James Potter during flying class.

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