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.
"What are those balls?" Jared asks, and Harry's words hit me badly.
"Those are prophecies".
I groan, "Anything but more prophecies".
And they appear. The Death Eaters. I recognize mister Lucius Malfoy. I make a disgusted face and raise the wand with my left hand. My right hand is still free, ready to break the bracelet. I can curse them using left hand. But the sword. I can never know, so I keep my routine. I hear the battle beginning a millisecond before I flash a curse at the Death Eater in front of me. But he flies away in a cloud of black mist. Cowards. I hate cowards, and that's just what they are. There's eight of us, aged fifteen to sixteen and those folks are flying? That offends my ego. I concentrate so hard to do something I've been trying to do for months now. Moment by moment, I feel the exact thing that I should. I dissolve into the tiniest drops of water. My body disappears from where it is and lands in front of the same Death Eater again. The plan is simple: injure him and run. The only question is: how? In that moment I hear someone yelling, "Expeliarmus". Jared. The wand with silver unnecessities falls to the ground next to Malfoy's daddy who was trying to kill me from behind my back. I quickly curse the guy in front of me and pull my bracelet. The sword grows in my hand from pieces of celestial bronze. It scratch the black dust that Malfoy Senior leaves after flying away. I say a loud and quick "Thank you" to Jared and continue chasing the cowards. I wish Ambridge can see how filthy I can play. The Aurors join us, along with Sirius. He is fighting along with Harry against someone when I see it. I see Bellatrix Lestrange yelling something and Sirius falling to the other side of the Veil. I press my watch, which turns into the shield perfectly made and designed out of celestial bronze. While doing so, I see many other things: One chrystal ball being crushed, Lord Voldemort trying to destroy Harry, professor Lupin holding him while he calls Sirius' name. I know that none of those pictures were in order, but I want to change them. I throw my shield as strongly as I could and pray all the gods that I can remember that it takes the right position at the right time. It flies like a starship. My heart stops beating. The only two persons following the spell, my shield and Sirius who doesn't even know what could be expecting him are Bellatrix and me.
The celestial bronze slips through the air and reflects Bellatrix' curse just in time. Horrified, she disappears in black smoke and the curse hits the wall.
I have to keep my consciousness, I think, but it's too late. Prophecies take too much energy. I want to fight it back but I can't. I fall to the ground skipping the following events that scare me badly.
Jared wakes me up about an hour after I fell asleep. Naturally, I'm angry with myself because of two things. First, what kind of a warrior faints in the middle of a battle? And second, what kind of a girl am I if I can't control my face turning red?
He tells me everything. Most of all, I enjoy the fact that Lucius Malfoy is in Azkaban. Yeah, already. Magic is magic, after all.
It seems like our Minister finally figured things out. Everything seemes almost normal. Rita Sceeter is in the mob of interviewers. Some of them where murmuring the things they were writing, mainly things like: "The One Who Must Not Be Named is back" and "Fudge was wrong, Dumbledore refuses to tell the details". They all had horrified faces. In the middle were Harry, professor Dumbledore, Cornelius Fudge and Sirius. Sirius who makes way for Harry and himself through the crowd.
"Fay!" he starts. "You've saved my life! Now I have my reputation back! Thank you!" I look at Jared's eyes. I could see that he's a bit fascinated. Sirius leaves Jared, Harry and me there, speechless.
"Billion times, thank you", says Harry. "You've saved me from Dursleys".
No way that I did that. I'm aware of the fact that I can use weapon, but I'm not precise at all. Then I make a mind memory to throw my entire meal in the fire and say every single gods' name as soon as I get to camp.
"Harry, I don't think so. For some reason, Sirius thinks that it'll be better for you to stay with Dursleys one more summer", I groaned hearing my own words.
"Why", he is totally confused. Just like me, though I have a slight headache, Apollo style. He looks even more miserable, considering that he is covered in blood. A half of his leg is uncovered, his jeans ripped and his T-shirt not any better.
"Gods know", I answer, really meaning it. I mean, how could I know that? I just know stuff, but usually it's not my fault.
"Ok, I'll suffer", he concluds and tries to cover the hate that was appearing on his face. Hate for the next summer, of course. And I can understand him. You can't call it a life, what he lives there.
"You'll survive, I believe in your nerves", I smile. The others join us and we follow professor Dumbledore towards the fireplaces.