Categories > Books > Harry Potter > Harry Potter and the Chronicles of Time: Part II

Chapter Seven: The Shattering Begins

by SoccerDevil22 1 review

Category: Harry Potter - Rating: R - Genres:  - Warnings: [!!!] [V] [?] - Published: 2008-04-10 - Updated: 2008-04-10 - 5864 words


The Black Phoenix Curse:

The Black Phoenix Curse is one of the most dangerous and deadly curse known to Wizard-kind. It is only dulled in comparison by the Unforgivables [1]. The Black Phoenix Curse escaped being added to the list of Unforgivable Curses [1] due to Tiberius Malfoy, a highly respected and prominent Pureblood in the Wizengamot, pointing out that so few people had even heard of the curse, let alone knew the incantation. Also it took an immense amount of hate towards the person you were casting it on, more so than even the Killing Curse [2]. Finally, it was so magically draining, that it would leave the witch or wizard casting it, near squib level for a few days, making the witch or wizard in question vulnerable. Therefore it was written of as a dead spell. The symptoms of the Black Phoenix Curse are marked by a series of stages that the victim will go through. There are a total of three stages to this curse. The first stage is called ‘The Marking’. ‘The Marking’ would, as it sounds, mark the victim with the symbol of the Black Phoenix. During this stage the victim will get extremely sick extremely fast for a short period of time. Also it will be both physically and magically draining. The second stage is known as the ‘Shattering’. In this phase the victim would constantly be fluctuating between sick and extremely sick. It is also the stage where the victim is most mentally and emotionally vulnerable. The mind will turn on them and start telling them to give in to the curse, to try to get the victim to kill him/herself. Very few make it past this stage. Only those strong minded, usually ones who are skilled in Occulmency [3] survived this far. In the final stage, which is known as ‘The Burning’, the victim will seem healthy and cured, but once it approached the seventh month anniversary of the Marking, the victim would literally be engulfed in flames and be burned alive.

Incantation: Unknown

[1] For more information on the Unforgivable Curses, turn to page 394.
[2] For more information on the Killing Curse, turn to page 394, paragraph three.
[3] For more information on the Art of Occulmency, turn to page 523.

”Oh joy! Oh rapture! I have until May thirty-first until I’m burned alive. Mite as well go to Dufftown and see if their willin’ to start up another set of witch trials.” said Harry quite loudly after reading the passage, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

It had been a week since the duel and Harry’s symptoms were starting to show. The trio was trying to learn as much as they could about the Black Phoenix Curse. Unfortunately, since it was considered a ‘dead curse’, meant that there wasn’t much on the subject. That and just about everyone in the school was trying to find more information about it. Most turned to the Ravenclaw’s and were surprised to find that even though they had heard of the curse, few actually knew even as much as the trio now did which was to say very little. It had only been after they were given a signed note by Dumbledore were they able to get Madam Pince, the librarian, to get them the book from the restricted section.

Across the library Madam Pince glared at them and said “Shh…”


Most of the library, including Ron and Hermione, were gawking at him. Madam Pince, however, didn’t like to be threatened in her ‘realm’, no more than Madam Pomfrey like to be told what to do in hers, meaning she saw fit to levitate dozens of the heaviest, thickest tombs Hogwarts Library had to offer and set them to repeatedly whack the trio on the head as they packed up and bolted out of the library.

“Bloody wench,” Harry muttered, halfheartedly and stomped off down the hall.

“Where are you going?” Ron called after him.

“Flying…” came Harry’s only response.

Ron made to go after him, but Hermione stopped him. “Leave him, he need’s to be alone.”

“Are you bloody mental?” Ron cried out. “You know what the book said. He is going to get really sick soon. He shouldn’t be flying, especially when he is unstable.”

“DON’T call him unstable.” Hermione growled.

“HE IS THOUGH!” Ron shouted.






Ron just stood there open mouth before he could finally say “How the bloody hell does she know my middle name?” he asked no one in particular, but got an answer anyway.

“Don’t know little,”

“Brother oh mine,”

“But I’ll tell,”

“Yer one thing,”

“That girl is,”



“Scary. ” The twin’s chorused together.

Ron spun around looking back and forth between his brothers, sputtering “But… how… and you… how… WHERE THE BLOODY HELL DID YOU TWO COME FROM?”

“Now, now ickle Ronniekins,”

“That is a secret,”

“Between us and,”

“The Marauders!” they said together.

“That and the,”

“Fact that you,”

“Could hear the,”

“Shouting on the,”

“French coastline,” they finish grinning.

“By the by,”

“What would mum,”

“Say if she,”

“Had heard you?”

“A moment ago?”

“I think you,”

“Said the word,”

“’Bloody’ at least,”

“Five times,” They sang.

-- (Meanwhile Hermione’s PoV) --

(That Ronald Weasley is so infuriating that… argh!) Hermione thought. (Calling Harry unstable, where does he get off saying that about his purposively ‘best mate’? Saying I’m mental. I know more about Harry then he’ll ever know.)

Another part said, {Well, the only reason you know so much about him is because of the twin thing.}

(Still he makes me so angry. Skiving off homework like it doesn’t matter.)

{Though you have to admit he is fun to have around.}

(Yes, he is but sometimes I wonder how he isn’t as blank faced as Crabbe and Goyle. I will admit that hearing him say ‘spontaneously combusted’ caught me off guard. I really didn’t think his vocabulary was that big.)

{I guess that is one of the reasons we love him. Being around him is almost dull as being around Harry, and since it’s never a dull moment around Harry, that’s saying a lot.}

(Yeah I guess…wait a second…love?)


-- (Meanwhile [again] Harry’s PoV) --

Harry sat on the cold floor of the Astronomy Tower with his chin resting on his knees which were drawn closely to his chest, his arms wrapped around himself and he shivered in when a draft blew in. He had had every intention of going for a fly, but he really didn’t want to have to go through Gryffindor Common Room, having all those eyes watching him. He just wanted to get away from all that. And the only time people ever came to the Astronomy Tower were fifth through seventh years for midnight classes, or sixth and seventh years for midnight snogging sessions. The idea of how funny it would be for a couple of older students to burst through the door with a snogging session in full process then to realize that Harry was sitting there almost brought a smile to his face.

“Do you wish to be left alone, child?” said a soothing voice from behind him.

Harry didn’t even have to look as he replied, “Yes, Headmaster.”

Albus Dumbledore walked over to Harry and sat down besides him. After a moment he said, “But should you be left alone?”

Harry let a sad smile grace his lips. He sighed and said “Probally not.”

Dumbledore nodded and the two sat in silence. After about ten minutes Harry began to open up.

“It’s enough by itself that I have to either murder someone or be murdered but now with this curse, it means I have to do it in seven months or no one will ever be able to kill Voldemort. I figured I’d a least be seventeen when I had to kill him. At eleven…it just seems too much. And it’s not just that. At my old school, kids always looked at me like I was some freak that belonged in the circus or in a zoo. The few that tried to be kind to me were threaten and sometimes beaten up by my cousin and his gang. I thought coming here I’d be able to become someone new and start over, but instead to the Gryffindor’s I am what’s going to help them win the Quidditch Cup and their House celebrity. To the Ravenclaw’s, I’m something to study about and examine like an animal. To the Hufflepuff’s I’m like their messiah and savior. The Slytherin’s…well to them I committed a cardinal sin by not dieing to their psychopathic leader and am thus automatically their mortal enemy. The staring lessened a little bit when they realized I was just like them, but know with this curse, they’ve all started to whisper again. My hearing seems to be sharper now and I can hear them as if they were talking directly to me.” He stared down at the tattooed bands around his wrist that had some form of runic symbols on them. “These tattoos are constant reminders of the fact that I’m technically already dead. That my time is running out. They gawk when they see them and keep asking to see the one on my back. I JUST CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE!” Harry finished his rant in a yell of frustration, an immense amount of magic crackling around him.

Dumbledore sighed. “Harry, you’ve carried a heavy burden on your shoulders since before you were born. A burden that you didn’t even know about until recently, a burden that I wished you could have waited to find out about. This curse will only add to the burden. If I could, I would lift you of both of them. Alas I can not. What I can do, however is try and lessen the burden. Would you please come to my office with me?”

Harry nodded and they both got up. He barely remembered the walk to the office. All he knew was that once he got there, several Professors’ were waiting. Including Professor’s McGonagall, Snape, Flitwick, and two others that he didn’t know, along with Madam Pomfrey and an elderly man who looked even older then Dumbledore.

“Harry most of the Professor’s you know. However, then ones you don’t know are Professor Vector who teaches Arithmancy and Professor Xavier who teaches Ancient Runes, both classes are for students third year and above. The last person is my very good friend Nicholas Flamel.”

“To those of whom I haven’t met, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Harry replied.

“You are probally wondering why we have called you here. Over the last week, the eight of us have been working on a way to cure the Black Phoenix Curse, or at least to lessen its effect on you. While we haven’t found a cure, we have managed to create something that will lessen the pain and sickness of the curse to some extent.” Said the one named Nicholas Flamel, he reached into his cloak and pulled out a simple wooden box and opened it up. Inside was a beautifully crafted glass bracelet with runic symbols carefully carved on the outside and a swirling, multi-colored liquid inside.

“This bracelet,” Nicholas continued. “will give you mental strength and help you think clearly in times of great stress, as well as act as a pain reliever in times of intense pain. It is indestructible from any form of outside attack, including both Muggle and Wizarding destructive weaponry. It will shrink or expand to fit your wrist size and will burn anyone whom you don’t allow to touch it. Therefore making it unsteal-able.”

Nicholas handed Harry the bracelet who then tried it on. The bracelet shrunk to fit his wrist so that it was tight enough that it wouldn’t slip off, but loose enough that it wouldn’t cut off the blood circulation. Harry was surprised when he didn’t feel as tired as he had and that the slight burning feeling inside was almost gone.

“Wow,” he said in awe. “Thank you all very much.”

“One thing you should know,” said Professor Xavier. “The bracelet will only dull the pain and sickness up til about two to three weeks before you enter the burning. No potion, charm, runic, or arithmetic equation is strong enough to dull that amount of power of the curse at that point.”

“Still,” continued Professor Vector. “It’s better then what you would have to endure otherwise.”

“Thank you all, again.” Harry said with a smile that for the first time in days, reached his eyes.

All of the Professors’, including Snape, smiled in return and began to leave and go about their daily business.

Once the last one had left, Dumbledore turned back to Harry. “There is something else I’d like you to have.” He said. “We are going to go to Gringotts and retrieve something from your Family Vault.”

He walked over to the fireplace, picked up a red pot with the Gryffindor Lion on it and held it out to Harry. Harry stared into it and saw a bluish, green powder. He turned back to Dumbledore with a furrowed brow. “Er…Professor?” Harry asked.

“What? Oh!” He laughed. “Silly me, you’ve never traveled by Floo Powder before, have you? Of course not, well all you got to do is grab a hand full of the powder out of the jar, step into the fireplace. Then very clearly say Gringotts Bank, Lobby and throw the powder down. Be sure to keep your arms tucked in so you don’t get your elbows scrapped. Actually, if you are anything like I was when I first Flooed, you might want to take off your glasses.”

Harry did as he was told and grabbed a handful of the powder. He walked into the fire and took off his glasses, then threw the powder down shouting out very loudly, very clearly “Gringotts Bank, Lobby!”

-- (Gringotts Bank, Lobby) --

Harry stumbled out of the fireplace and promptly fell face first into the marble floor. He shook his head which was throbbing and took out his glasses.

“Alright,” he said. “Note to self: When Flooing, be sure to come to a complete stop before trying to step out. Side effects of trying to step out while still spinning results in falling flat on your face and making a complete arse of yourself in public.”

Someone laughed and offered him a hand. Harry took it and looked up to see a tall well built red head, with a long ponytail tied in back. He had a fang earring in his right ear and had several almost indistinct freckles on his face.

Behind them, Dumbledore gracefully stepped out of the fireplace. “Show off,” Harry muttered as he dusted the soot off himself.

“Ah, Bill!” Dumbledore said. “Great to see you, again! How many years has it been?”

“I’d say at least since I graduated, Headmaster.” Bill replied.

“Come now Bill, I haven’t been your Headmaster in years. Call me Albus.”

“Sorry Head- ah… Albus, but old habits die hard. Plus it’s strange to call a former professor by their first name.”

“Yes I know. I remember when my Headmaster told me to call him by his first name, I still haven’t gotten used to it.” Dumbledore said with a smile, thinking of years long since past.

“How are my brothers doing? Are the twins still a pulling pranks? Is Percy still a perfectionist prat? What about Ron? How is he handling school?”

“Yes, the twins are still trying to see how manly detentions they can get before they are expelled. Percy is a Prefect and is getting school record breaking grades. Ronald, however, may be getting good grades but seems likely to set his own school rule breaking records.” said Dumbledore with a smile, while looking at Harry.

“So,” Bill said turning to Harry “who do we have here?”

“The names Potter, Harry Potter.” Harry said imitating Pierce Brosnan, in the 007: James Bond movies.

Bill raised his eyebrows. “My brothers have written me about you, said you made a Malfoy look like a squib while dueling.”

“Yeah well… I may have won, but he got the last laugh so I mite as well have lost.” Harry said

Bill nodded grimly, “Yes, the Black Phoenix Curse. It was originally an Egyptian Curse known only by the High Priest, but when the hieroglyphic code was cracked, we were able to translate many of their spell. Essentially, it helped us to learn how to disable most of their protections on the Pharaohs tombs. Makes things a little easier for us Curse Breakers.”

“You’re a Curse Breaker?” Harry asked. “What’s it like?”

“Very challenging, very dangerous, you need all O’s level N.E.W.T.’s in Transfiguration, Charms, Ancient Runes, and Arithmancy. Many Curse Breakers die due to spell backfires, but don’t tell my mum that. She’d want me to get a desk job. I love working in Egypt and would never get it up for anything.”

A goblin came up to Bill and said “Rhuurthokaan dech taan o khruul, Rhech.” (Bloodrune will see you now, Bill)

Bill replied, “Dac o, Tarluur.” (Thank you, Slagtooth)

Before the goblin turned to leave and Harry asked, “Who’s Bloodrune?”

The goblin stopped in mid step and whirled around to face Harry. Bill and Professor Dumbledore just stared at him in amazement.

“He speaks our tongue? Who taught him?” Slagtooth asked.

“No one to my knowledge.” Dumbledore said starting to smile.

“Interesting,” Slagtooth said. Then he said with a faint gurgling sound “Shac o akaagac dar A'gh tac, molkac?” (Can you understand what I'm saying, human?)

“Or shuugaan.” (Of course.) Harry replied but he realized that it hadn’t been in English but instead in the same croaking sound he had heard a pair of goblins talking in when he first came to Gringotts with Hagrid.

“Dar daan...” he started to say but he corrected himself “I mean: What the bloody hell is going on?”

“It appears you can speak the language of the goblins,” Dumbledore explained.

“It took me two and a half years to learn how to switch my accent so that they could understand me better. You did it in like three seconds,” Bill said in awe.

“Dar an or khralkaan, shech?” (What is your name, child) Slagtooth asked.

“Magec, Magec Huukhaar.” (Harry, Harry Potter) Harry replied.

“At on daan shech or daan kec. Ar an or kekhaan togeraan duun ghaan khruul. Togaal'dec o duuch rhaan heklaal der ton dal'daac.” (Ah yes the child of the light. It is of little surprise to me now. Surely you would be gifted with such talents.) said Slagtooth, but surprise was still evident in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” apoligised Slagtooth in English “I would love to stay, but there are many things that need my immediate attention so I must be going. Haar dec agaan duun rhaan ogaalaal or o. A magaan kekhaan druur dar o duuc'd kegaan ac duun or khralkaan. Huul kon, Magec Huukhaar” (Great things are to be expected of you. I have little doubt that you won't live up to your name. Good luck, Harry Potter)

Once Slagtooth had left, Bill said “That was…interesting. I also would like to stay and chat, but I shouldn’t keep Bloodrune any longer then I already have. See-yah.” He started to turn when he stopped and said “Oh and Harry, keep on fighting don’t give up.” Bill said fiercely, his eyes set in determination.

Harry nodded as he and Dumbledore headed toward the front desk. “Harry Potter wishes to visit his Family vault.”

“Of course.” The goblin said. He beckoned a goblin to come over.

Harry recognized him as the goblin that brought him down to his trust vault when he had first come here.

“Hello, Griphook.” Harry said.

Griphook stared at him in shock. He managed to stutter out “You-you remember my name?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I?” Harry asked in confusion.

“It’s just that, most wizards don’t take the time to remember a goblins name. Most wizards don’t give a ‘ter’ (shit) about the goblin people, let alone remember ones name.”

Harry frowned. “That doesn’t seem right.” He said.

“No it doesn’t.” Griphook said with a sigh. “At least we are treated better then house elves.” He shook his head. “No offence but how wizards could take such an elegant and power race of creatures and turn them into brainwashed slaves is beyond me.”

“Now Griphook, wizards aren’t all bad. Some have made strides to improve the lives of magical creatures.” Dumbledore said.

“Yes I know. I know the Potter and Longbottom Families house elves got vacations and the Potter Elf’s even got paid, but families like the Mal- like some of the darker families still abuse and mistreat their house elves. Sometimes I wish we goblins had followed the centaur’s example.”

“Griphook,” Harry said. “If you had followed the centaurs, you would be just as bad as the darker families who mistreat houses elves. Centaurs think themselves superior in all fields compared to anything else. While they are greatly attuned to the planets and their movements, they lack any magical powers or knowledge of said magic. They hate human’s beings, not just wizards, as much as a lot of purebloods hate muggleborn’s. Besides, you and your people are in control of the banking systems in the Wizarding world. Remember ‘Aurum est Postestas’”

“Gold is Power.” Griphook nodded in agreement. “Now, shall we proceed to the Potter Family Vault?”

Dumbledore and Harry nodded. Griphook lead them to the carts and as they road all the way down to the double digit vaults, Griphook told Harry a lot about the Goblins that were a little obscure in the history books. The way he explained it, was in a very interesting way. Harry wondered if all goblins liked to tell about their history as Griphook seemed to. If they did, then Harry was going to have to talk with Dumbledore about hiring a new History of Magic’s teacher. Griphook continued to fascinate Harry until they arrived at Vault Twenty-five.

“To open the vault, place your palm over the indented area. You’ll feel a slight pinch as it draws some blood to make sure you are indeed a Potter heir. I am not allowed inside, bank policy. The vault has a privacy dome over it so I can not hear anything even if you were to scream it. Take your time. I have all day.”

Harry did as he was instructed and placed his palm over the indented area. At first nothing happened, but then it felt like a needle poked him and he heard the sound of heavy bolts unlocking after over a decade of no use. The door slowly opened up revealing a blinding light from within. If Harry had thought he was rich before, he realized that he was nowhere even close. The chamber was about the size of four Quidditch pitches and as tall as Big Ben. There was a library the size of which Harry had never seen. It was so large it made the one at Hogwarts seem like a mere bookcase that you might see in a bedroom, in comparison. The library took up about half the room, while the other half was taken up by a seemingly endless mountain of gold coins and bars. There was not a glint of silver or bronze in the lot. All of it was solid gold. Scattered around the mountain were chest marked with various names that Harry couldn’t see from where he was standing. He stared, open mouthed at the treasure trove. Probally what shocked him most was how causally Dumbledore seemed to make of it all as he strode over to the mountain of gold and opened a chest. Harry dumbly walked over to it and saw that in gold lettering it said: James D. Potter. The one right next to it said: Lillian R. Evans.

As Dumbledore pulled a leather book from the chest, a very fast, very small object shot out. Acting on instincts alone, Harry reached out and snatched it in midair. As he stared at it, he realized that it was what he had thought it was. A snitch with three letters carved into it: JDP.

“Aw yes, I had forgotten your father had that. Your grandfather gave it to him for Christmas his sixth year when he kept getting detentions for nicking the Hogwarts one. It is a Training snitch. It is smaller and faster than average which is suppose to help a Seeker’s reflexes. Though it was a nice surprise, these are what I thought you should have.” Dumbledore handed the brown leather books he had taken from the trunks to Harry.

“They are your parent’s journals from when they were at school. I thought you and Hermione would like to read them. They may explain some of your unasked questions you have, like why Hermione was placed with who she was.”

Harry stared speechless. Tears were in his eyes. He tried to say something, but couldn’t so he threw his arms around Dumbledore and gave him a hug. The aged Headmaster was momentarily caught off guard, something that seemed to be happening more and more with his pupil, but hugged Harry back.

“There are other things I will eventually give you, but I think I’ll save one in particular for Christmas.” Dumbledore continued.

“Thank you, sir.” Was all Harry could say.

“By the way, have you and Hermione figured out any special powers you posses?”

Harry gave him a wicked grin and said, “Oh yeah.” Harry switched his stance and furrowed his brow. “You see Headmaster, Hermione and I are…” he summoned seven large tornados of fire from thin air “elementalist.” He finished.

Dumbledore stared awe struck. The power he felt coming off Harry was enormous.

“Amazing! What element does Hermione control?” Dumbledore asked.

Harry frowned. “Well like me she can control all four elements, but her specialty is water.”

Dumbledore gaped at him. “All…all…all four elements. Harry, you two aren’t elementalist. You’re Avatar’s! There are incredibly rare. Why the only known Avatar was Merlin for…ah…Merlin’s sake.”

“Wicked,” was all Harry said as he extinguished the tornadoes.

Dumbledore shook his head in disbelief at Harry obvious lack of understanding on just how ‘wicked’ it actually was. “Come on. Let’s get you back to school.”

Harry started to go when something caught his eye. Behind his dad’s trunk on a plastic stand as a blue acoustic guitar. He walked over to it and picked it up. On the back in big bold letters it said: Prongs. He strung a note followed by another. He felt something relaxing in the music. Dumbledore had turned around and looked at him with a smile.

“Sir? Do you know who Prongs was?” asked Harry.

“Yes, that was your father’s nickname at school.” Dumbledore replied.

“I’d like to take this with me as well, sir.” Harry said.

“Sure, let me shrink it so it’ll be easier to carry.”

Harry handed the guitar to Dumbledore who shrunk it and gave back. They then exited the vault, sealed it back up, and rode back to the surface. Once there, the Flooed back to Hogwarts where Harry left the office and headed down to his favorite spot by the lake. He un-shrunk the guitar and started to play a song he had heard ages ago on a summer night while walking alone in the neighborhood park.

-- (Hermione’s PoV) --

Hermione had decided to go for a walk around the lake after her fight with Ron. She was coming up on her fifth lap when she heard some music near the tall tree her, Ron, and Harry usually sat under. As she got closer, she could hear soft words being sung. She saw that the person singing was Harry.
She was about to go up to him, but instead listened to what he was singing.

“A long, long time ago
I can still remember
How that music used to make me smile.
And I knew if I had my chance
That I could make those people dance
And, maybe, they’d be happy for a while.
But February made me shiver
With every paper I’d deliver.
Bad news on the doorstep;
I couldn’t take one more step.
I can’t remember if I cried
When I read about his widowed bride,
But something touched me deep inside
The day the music died.
So bye-bye, Miss American Pie.
Drove my chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
And them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
Singin’, this’ll be the day that I die.
This’ll be the day that I die.
Did you write the book of love,
And do you have faith in God above,
If the Bible tells you so?
Do you believe in rock ’n roll,
Can music save your mortal soul,
And can you teach me how to dance real slow?
Well, I know that you’re in love with him
`cause I saw you dancin’ in the gym.
You both kicked off your shoes.
Man, I dig those rhythm and blues.
I was a lonely teenage broncin’ buck
With a pink carnation and a pickup truck,
But I knew I was out of luck
The day the music died.
I started singin’,
Bye-bye, Miss American Pie.
Drove my chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
Them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
And singin’, this’ll be the day that I die.
This’ll be the day that I die.
Now for ten years we’ve been on our own
And moss grows fat on a rollin’ stone,
But that’s not how it used to be.
When the jester sang for the king and queen,
In a coat he borrowed from James Dean
And a voice that came from you and me,
Oh, and while the king was looking down,
The jester stole his thorny crown.
The courtroom was adjourned;
No verdict was returned.
And while Lennon read a book of Marx,
The quartet practiced in the park,
And we sang dirges in the dark
The day the music died.
We were singing,
Bye-bye, Miss American Pie.
Drove my chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
Them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
And singin’, this’ll be the day that I die.
This’ll be the day that I die.
Helter skelter in a summer swelter.
The birds flew off with a fallout shelter,
Eight miles high and falling fast.
It landed foul on the grass.
The players tried for a forward pass,
With the jester on the sidelines in a cast.
Now the half-time air was sweet perfume
While the sergeants played a marching tune.
We all got up to dance,
Oh, but we never got the chance!
`cause the players tried to take the field;
The marching band refused to yield.
Do you recall what was revealed
The day the music died?
We started singing,
Bye-bye, Miss American Pie.
Drove my chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
Them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
And singin’, this’ll be the day that I die.
This’ll be the day that I die.
Oh, and there we were all in one place,
A generation lost in space
With no time left to start again.
So come on: jack be nimble, jack be quick!
Jack flash sat on a candlestick
Cause fire is the devil’s only friend.
We started singing,
Bye-bye, Miss American Pie.
Drove my chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
Them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
And singin’, this’ll be the day that I die.
This’ll be the day that I die…” He finished closing his eyes.

“That was beautiful.” Hermione sniffed. “I didn’t know you could play the guitar.”

Harry snorted. “Neither did I until a minute ago. The music just seemed to…I don’t know…flow through me. It calmed me.”

“Where’d you get the guitar anyway?” Hermione asked, curiously.

“It was dads.” Harry replied. “Dumbledore took me to our family vault, which has more gold then there are blades of grass on the planet and a library that I bet contains a copy of every book ever written.”

“There’s a library! Do you think Dumbledore could take us back?” Hermione asked.

Harry laughed. “Trust you to care more about books over a scale replica of Mt. Everest made up of gold.”

They both laughed and decided they would head back to the common room where Harry tinkered with his guitar and Hermione began to read their mum’s journal until a bloodied, torn up, and pale Neville stumbled in.

“Neville! What happened?” Harry asked.

Neville just stared blankly until he could finally stutter out “G-g-g-giant thr-thr-three h-he-hea-headed d-do-do-dog.” He then promptly passed out.
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