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Darkness and emptiness. A scream. One golden sarcophagus. A noise. My eyes suddenly wide open. It's still dark, but at least I'm in my bed in the tower, instead of being lost somewhere under Los Angeles.

I sob. I can't sleep. OWLs were yesterday. I look at the desk next to my bad. I have five more hours that I can spend sleeping, but I can't count on a possibility to fall asleep now. I can't fall asleep once I wake up.

It's cold, even though it's the end of the school year. The fog is levitating beyond the ground, and it is so high that I have a feeling it's right on the floor, touching my feet. I look up at the ceiling of the Gryffindor tower.

Of course it's not the fog, I think. Only certain professors can't figure that out.

My name is Fay and my life is strange and dangerous. It's complicated. I'm a witch (sometimes you can even use that word to describe my personality) and a demigod. My home contains two places: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and Camp Half-blood. And the house where my mom lives? I basically don't go there. It's too dangerous and scary. My two sisters both go to Hogwarts, well, not at the moment, and my mom works as merchant for herbology. She's quite satisfied with her job.

I'm cursed by Apollo. I mean, I like to say it that way. He gave me some prophecies to handle with. That means that I see thing in one possible way they can happen, right before they happen, so I can stop them if they are to dangerous for the others. I don't know why. Gods don't think so you can understand them, they usually think about the greater good or whatever. Chiron thinks that Apollo might thought about my situation this way: my head is safe at Hogwarts, safer than it would be in muggle schools or even in camp. I'm the prophecy stock, the box full of pieces of paper where the predictions are written.

And on top of everything, I have to deal with amazingly stupid professors, read: professor. Dolores Ambridge. I want her out of this castle more then I want You-Know-Who dead.

Sometimes, like now, I have an urge to cut someone's head off. I can't control my anger when I think about something that produces it. If I could only use my sword here. There's one frame in the Great hall, saying, "Fay Adams must not use her sword during her education, unless she wants to get expelled". Well, not since Fred and George made those fireworks.

Which were absolutely epic and useful, thanks.

She's such a sweetheart.

And yesterday's mess. I must say that I'm so proud of centaurs. I would've kill her, but Harry only said calmly, "I must not tell lies". And I swear on the River Styx that I won't give her a pleasure of being alive if she says "filthy halfbreeds" ever again.

"Fay", Hermione calls my name. She is totally dressed up, my eyes now gotten used to darkness notice.

"What is it?"

"We have to go..."

"Where?"

"To the Ministry, Ambridge's fireplace is available now".

Oh, brilliant. I quickly stand up, checking if my silver-colored bracelet, a complete replica of Hercules' old sword, is still on my left wrist, and I take my wand from the night table. We run downstairs. We meet up with the others and run to her office. I make my brain blank, and I keep in my mind only two tiny objects, so I don't even notice when we arrive. The only thing I know is that there is eight of us: Harry, Ron, Neville, Jared, Hermione, Ginny, Luna and I.

We reach the room that Harry dreamt about. His dreams only ratify my theory that not only my camp mates and I have dreams that come true. And I wish that they could be dreams like I want to become a hair dresser.

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