"OUCH!"
Harry had the towel he was using pressed against his face, and I could barely make out a grimace.
"What's up?" Several people piped up, halting their cleaning up for a moment. Angelina's face was concerned. She hadn't yet had to deal with an injured teammate as captain.
"Nothing," Harry said, emerging from behind his towel, eyes narrowed as he tried to focus on people without the help of his glasses, "I — poked myself in the eye, that's all..." But he sent me a look, and I knew it was more than a towel touching his eye.
"What happened?" I asked as soon as everyone else had left the changing room. "Was it your scar?" Harry nodded.
"But..." Ron looked around in fear, "he can't be near us now, can he?"
"No," Harry sat hard on a bench, rubbing his forehead. "He's probably miles away. It hurt because... he's... angry."
I think that was scarier than Voldemort being close — I didn't like Harry knowing what Voldemort was feeling.
"Did you see him?" Ron questioned, horror written across his face. "Did you... get a vision, or something?"
Harry didn't answer, instead saying, "He wants something done, and it's not happening fast enough."
"But... how do you know?"
Harry shook his head and pressed his palms against his eyes. I slowly sat down beside him, "Is this what it was about last time? When your scar hurt in Umbridge's office? Voldemort was angry?" He shook his head again. "What is it, then?"
Harry thought about it for a moment, "Last time, it was because he was pleased. Really pleased. He thought... something good was going to happen. And the night before we came back to Hogwarts..." He paused, pulling away from his hands. "He was furious."
Ron was gaping, "You could take over from Trelawney, mate."
"I'm not making prophecies," Harry frowned.
"No, you know what you're doing?" Ron said, eyes wide with fear, yet still he seemed impressed. "Harry, your reading You-Know-Who's mind...."
"No," Harry said heavily. "It's more like... his mood, I suppose. I'm just getting flashes of what mood he's in.... Dumbledore said something like this was happening last year.... He said that when Voldemort was near me, or when he was feeling hatred, I could tell. Well, now I'm feeling it when he's pleased, too..."
We didn't say anything for a moment, then I let out a sigh, "You've got to tell someone."
"I told Sirius last time," Harry shrugged.
"Well, tell him about it this time!" Ron input.
"Can't, can I?" Harry said darkly. "Umbridge is watching the owls and the fires, remember?"
"Well then, Dumbledore —"
"I've just told you, he already knows," Harry quickly got to his feet, taking his cloak off its hook and pulling it around himself. "There's no point in telling him again."
"Dumbledore'd want to know," Ron said slowly, pulling on his own cloak, looking distant. "He should know."
Harry just shrugged, "C'mon... we've still got Silencing Charms to practice..."
We didn't talk as we made our way back to the castle, all lost within our own thoughts. I was worried — the whole scar burning things was growing more frequent, and to see into Voldy's feelings? Not very good. I couldn't judge though, I had a connection with a half-goat.
At least the half-goat wasn't trying to kill me.
I decided not to join the Gryffindors for their pitiful attempt at catching up on work — I had too much to think about.
***
The next morning at breakfast, Harry told me he had found a place for the defense meetings. Or, really, Dobby had found it. The Room of Requirement, better known to the house-elves as the Come and Go Room.
Magic was impressive, and was capable of many things, but the idea of the Room of Requirement seemed far fetched. A room that would become whatever the user wanted? Crazy.
I probably wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't had my own encounter with the room on the seventh floor. I'd been pacing back in... second year, maybe? I'd needed a place to think, and when I turned, there was a door. It had led to a small room that was mostly taken up by a very deep pool. I'd spent probably two hours under the water. I'd just assumed it was Hogwarts being Hogwarts — doors appearing was normal, and the pool didn't seem that strange. I should've looked into it more.
We spent the day looking out for everyone who needed to know about the meeting, since we'd decided to hold it that day. Probably should have waited a little bit, confirmed the room existed, but nah, that's not how we roll.
By the end of hour last class we were certain everyone had found out about the location of our first meeting.
At half-past seven the four of us made our way to the hallway the Room of Requirement was supposed to be in. Even though we were fifth years and were allowed to be out until nine, we still looked around anxiously, as if we were in trouble.
At the top of the last staircase leading to the seventh floor hallway, Harry said, "Hold it." He unfolded the Marauder's Map and tapped it with his wand. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." Ink floated across the parchment, revealing hallways and little moving dots. "Filch is on the second floor," Harry peered closely at the paper, "and Mrs. Norris is on the fourth."
"And Umbridge?" I asked.
"In her office," Harry scanned the paper. "Okay, let's go."
We hurried along the corridor to a stretch of blank wall across from one of my favorite tapestries — Barnabas the Barmy's witless attempt to train trolls for the ballet.
"It was a valiant effort on Barnabas's part," I said sadly. "If only he hadn't been involved in sort of inappropriate conduct for a morgue."
Harry stared at me in terror, then quickly looked away, "Dobby said to walk past this bit of wall three times, concentrating hard on what we need."
We did so, my friends concentrating very hard. Harry's fists were clenched, Hermione was muttering beneath her breath, and Ron's eyes were narrowed.
I stuck my hands in my pocket and thought like a normal person, I wonder what I'll teach first. Probably basic hand to hand. Punching people without your thumb in your fist. Some first aid, regular and magical. I'll ask Will for advice. Definitely survival skills, these people couldn't survive a minute in a forest. They would get eaten alive by the nymphs. Probably crying "The trees are attacking!" While the nymphs are shouting, "You have awakened the gazebo!" I know how much that sucks. I'll also show them some unorthodox uses of jelly beans.
Next thing I know, a polished door had appeared on the wall, bronze handles gleaming invitingly.
"I'm gonna be mad if there aren't any jelly beans," I informed my friends seriously, stepping forward and opening the door.
Ahahsjhrkwhelebjevwjsbhs. Haven't done anything. Worked more on my other book yesterday, it's going nicely. I wrote the first chapter without finishing the plot in any way (in fact, I have only the plot for the first two chapters) to try and find out what kind of voice I would use for the first narrator. I like it, I guess. The problem is setting the stage. I want to start already in the Darkside, because of personal reasons??? I don't know, I want them seeing the sun or the moon to not be a thing until the very end, so main character is already on his way to the prison city at the beginning of the book, in an elevator with some other people. But that means he has to explain the world as he goes — the real problem? He doesn't know much about this world. It's also hard to describe the background whenever it's pitch black. It'll have to come in later chapters, I suppose. The first chapter was also shorter than I would have liked, but that's okay for the first chapter. The second one will be longer, hopefully. I'm not going to work on it though, even though I want to figure out what kind of voice I use for the other narrator. Idk. I should figure out the plot first. I know the ending, and I know how they'll achieve that ending. I know there is a person antagonist, and who this person is and what her goal is, but not how I want her to act. I know how I want part of the story to be, and since if I just went off that it would be a very short story, I've introduced another plot device — basically one plot pertaining to each character, in a way. Each will get their emotional damage. Ooh. Had an idea. Won't share it. Haha. Also, the gazebo thing and the jellybean thing and the morgue thing were all stolen from funny tags. I don't know who made the tags, but good job, I really liked them.
Anyway, I hope you guys have had a happy Sunday, and I'll see you on Tuesday CT. Love ya!