Fire of Your Heart

[RememberTheScar]

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

NOTE: This story is quite violent/sad and if you don't like reading about death then I recommend that you don't read any further. It only just made the PG-13 rating, in my opinion. Other than that it isn't too bad, not rude or anything.


PROLOGUE

They raced for the train, puffing and panting. Their cheeks were red as they hurried as fast as they could down the platform, dragging trunks, pets, and Mrs Weasley. She gave them a quick peck on the cheek as they boarded.

"Have a nice term, you three! We hope to see you at christmas, so keep in touch! Oh - Ron - your shirt's untucked, here, let me sort it out -"
"Mothers," Ron muttered rebelliously as he endured her fussing. They waved goodbye out the window as the train slowly began to move out of sight, away, away, away to Hogwarts.

******

The train thundered along the railway. The steam billowed away in a stream behind it and the wheels screeched as they revolved with gathering speed. The rumble of the many carriages jolting and twisting as the train sped round the corners followed the Hogwarts Express's progress as it raced higher up the country, a scarlet blur against the speckled green landscape around it.

A crow alighted on the roof of one of the carriages. It was pure white, with red, glittering eyes. It was not affected by the slipstream and merely acted as though it was resting its feathers in a gentle breeze. More crows began circling, landing, their screeches and cries echoing over the sound of the engine. The train began to slow, the wheels halting in their revelations and screaming. The birds began to flap their wings and it became obvious that they possesed some magical power and were causing the slowing of the train. The shouts and screams of young voices could be heard from every carriage.

Then suddenly everything changed. Black figures materialised beside the door to each carriage, on the roof of each carriage, wearing black robes that billowed and swirled around them. There was a dreadful silence. Then a man with a flat, snakelike face stepped out from among them. He was hairless and had gleaming red eyes that warned of torture and death and every emotion that formed the world of pain. He opened his mouth very slightly, and whispered, "Kill them all."

His followers raced inside towards the students, shooting jets of green light at everything in their path. Small bodies went limp and stayed that way as they were trampled by the rush of students panicing, racing to escape from the nightmare. The crows were pecking and gnawing at the faces of others who got in their way. One little girl clambered out of a window, tripping and stumbling through the long grass and rocks. The man with a snakelike face casually flicked his wand at her without even looking first and she was dead in an instant.

"Where is Harry Potter." The snakelike man whispered, almost to himself. One of his followers approached him, bowing low to the ground as he did so. "We cannot find him, my Lord... he must have escaped..." he had a look of terror on his face.

The man's face had gone white with anger. He murmered, "Crucio...". The man who had approached him fell to the ground, writhing and screaming. The man then turned his attention to the train. All his followers were leaving now, dragging bodies from the scene of the massacre. He pointed his wand at the train.

There was an almightly boom and the train exploded. Birds, injured and lifeless, fluttered everywhere. Metal gears and wheels went flying, slicing through the undergrowth, rolling and tumbling away and away and away. Trunks scattered everywhere, bursting into flame, the glass from the compartments shattering and splintering into a million deadly fragments. Soon the train was nothing more than a smouldering pile of deadly shards of metal and glass. A slight smile touched the man's lips as he disappeared as quickly as he had come, and what remained of his flock of crows flying off into the distance after him.

[harrysgurl201]

Wow...this is really great so far! So are there stalkies on here as well?

If there are then you have to stalk me!

-Joanna

[R.A.B]

Yeah they are. And sorry, there are no stalks on here, like HPANA. There are PMs ... which are like messages. Sorry.

[RememberTheScar]

Ooh! You like it! I'll try and do part 2 tomorrow!

[RememberTheScar]

They raced for the train, puffing and panting. Their cheeks were red as they hurried as fast as they could down the platform, dragging trunks, pets, and Mrs Weasley. She gave them a quick peck on the cheek as they boarded.

"Have a nice term, you three! We hope to see you at christmas, so keep in touch! Oh - Ron - your shirt's untucked, here, let me sort it out -"
"Mothers," Ron muttered rebelliously as he endured her fussing. They waved goodbye out the window as the train slowly began to move out of sight, away, away, away to Hogwarts.

I've realised it works better if this goes before the prologue, so i've edited the first post.

[RememberTheScar]

CHAPTER ONE

Harry came to slowly. His muscles ached and his eyes stung. He closed his eyes again, and began to inspect himself for damage, blindly. A patch of wetness and a gash in the skin that was oozing blood on his leg made him recoil. He rubbed his eyes gently, then opened them very slowly.

The first thing he saw was Hermione. She was standing over him, holding her arms up high, and Harry couldn't think why until he saw the silvery cloak clamped in her fingers. He turned his neck slightly to where she was gazing and the sight shocked him.

Black robed figures were patrolling around the wreckage of the Hogwarts Express. Here and there flashes of green light were targeted at the bodies around it as the Death Eaters silenced the grieving and wounded. He saw people he recognized among the dead. Dean... Parvati... Terry Boot... his heart lurched uncomfortably as he saw Cho resting on a pile of blood-soaked grass, her long shiny hair hiding her blank eyes. His eyes traveled further and he saw Voldemort.

He let out a soft cry and his face was scarred with anger. He made for his wand, but Hermione had heard him and she was looking at him now. Her eyes were sparkling with tears and she shook her head.

Harry now turned his head the other way and saw Ron. This time he almost cried out. Ron was lying on his side, a splinter of jagged metal piercing his hip. Harry saw some rough cloth binding the wound, but nothing else had been done. Judging by her bloody fingers, Hermione had evidently tried to prise the shard out, but Harry saw that it went in very deep. Ron was very pale and his breathing was noisy and shallow. Harry closed his eyes again and tried to remember. The last thing he could recall was screaming, screaming, screaming, a rush of people at the door, and a huge explosion that had wrecked their compartment, showering the contents everywhere. He shook his head, and in doing so banged his head on something. Checking he was still covered by the invisibility cloak, he looked around, and saw his trunk, which, like many of the others around it, was open, the lock shattered by the blast. Hermione must have taken the cloak from there.

After some time he felt someone shaking his shoulder. It was Hermione, and she was kneeling beside him, with one hand on his shoulder and the other clutching her ankle. Her face was white with pain and anguish.

"Hermione..." Harry gasped, sitting up and repairing his glasses, "Hermione... are you ok?"

She burst into tears. Harry watched them sliding down her nose and into her lap before she answered, "Oh, Harry... m-my ankle really hurts... i must have sprained it..." she put her head on his shoulder and cried still harder. Harry got out his wand and put a cast on her ankle after wracking his memory for the spell Proffesor Lupin had used to do the job. "There," he said, "You should be all right for the moment. We need to contact the Order, now."

Hermione looked up, "Harry... it was terrible when they were here... my leg hurt so much... I just wanted to go away, Harry, I wanted them to go away... oh, Harry - they must have been looking for you..."

Harry sighed, staring at the bodies. It was true. Why else would Voldemort attack the train? What reason would he have to do such a terrible thing if not to find him, Harry? He looked down at his feet, shaking slightly at the though that he was responsible for all the death. He stood up suddenly. Hermione fell off his shoulder but stood up herself, using him as a support as she tried not to put weight on her injured leg. He muttered, "Expecto Patronum." He heard Hermione do the same beside him.

Two patronuses, a shining silver deer and a shining sliver otter, flew from their wands. They gamboled about for a minute, lost, until they turned to Harry and Hermione, waiting for instructions.

"Go to Headquarters." Harry said, wondering if they'd understand, "Tell them what's happened. Tell them we don't know how many have lived. Please hurry!"

[RememberTheScar]

Ok! Here is chapter 1! Inspect the *edited* prologue. Enjoy!

[harrysgurl201]

I really liked it! Great Job!

-Joanna

[RememberTheScar]

Nice long update to make up for me being away for a week! Enjoy

CHAPTER TWO

The wizards came swiftly. In almost no time at all Harry and Hermione saw them cresting the horizon, shooting over the landscape on brooms and smashing the laws of secrecy they themselves had helped to create. They weren't just members of the Order - Harry saw the symbol of the crossed wand and bone on several of their robes and realised that there were healers present. He heard Hermione collapse beside him, overcome by pain and exhaustion, and it wasn't long before the blackness skulking in the corners of his eyes forced him to do the same.

******

When Harry woke, he thought for a moment that he was still dreaming. He was lying on a soft mattress of downy feathers, which was just as soft and white as a cloud. A pale golden light lit the room, and he heard the sweet voice of running water. His vision was foggy and clouded.

Nearby he heard a voice. “Ah. He’s awake, Poppy.”

Harry was fed a spoonful of a pearly blue liquid, but the taste was nowhere near as fair as the colour. He coughed and spluttered, brought back to the real world with a jolt, feeling around for his glasses. He jammed them on his nose and looked around.

He was in the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts. The golden light was emanating from a small yellow stub of a candle, which guttered and flickered as he watched. The sound of running water had come from Madam Pomfrey, who had been pouring him a glass of water that she now pressed into his hand. He looked to his left and saw Ron, breathing lightly but no longer as pale, still asleep. To his right he saw Hermione. She looked like she was in a trance – her eyes were wide and staring at the ceiling. But the hospital wing curtains surrounded them, and he could see no further.

Harry frowned. These were usually used on grievously injured – he knew only too well – but surely the three of them could not be the most injured. Harry gulped as he remembered the screaming, then the unearthly silence… he stood up.

A voice behind him startled him. Professor McGonagall was sitting on a chair beside his bed, a handkerchief clasped in her hand. “Don’t, Harry – don’t look – Poppy-.”

Madam Pomfrey tried to pull him back into bed, she even whipped out her wand, but Harry would have none of it. He made towards the curtains, still dressed in his ripped clothes from the train, and shouted, “Don’t look after us! There’s nothing wrong with us! What about the others? You have to help them!” And with that, he ripped apart the curtain.

What he saw invoked an immediate pause in all noise around him. The scene looked like the aftermath of a terrible battle. Children, young and old, were arranged around the sanctuary of the curtains, the victims of the Hogwarts express massacre. But nothing, no one, had been tended to. The people who had made up Harry’s life now lay in a decorated, reverent, pattern emphasising the cruelty of Voldemort. They now had greyish skin, and someone had closed all their eyes. Harry new the truth the moment he saw them.

He walked shakily back to bed. Madam Pomfrey helped to tuck him in. She said, “Miss Granger had to be given a calming draught… when she saw…”

Harry nodded. He felt sick. As sick as he had the night he had witnessed Lord Voldemort’s snake attack Ron’s dad Mr Weasley. They were dead. At the scene of the massacre he wasn’t sure that all of his classmates had been killed, but now he knew. Madam Pomfrey blew out the candle and returned to her office. Professor McGonogall was nodding in her seat. Harry lay back onto his pillow. But he did not slumber that night.

[RememberTheScar]

CHAPTER THREE

The wizards emerged from the hall in a huge mass, which was dotted here and there with flickering pinpricks of light – for some of them still carried yellowing, dripping candles from the service. The Memorial Hall was a recent addition to the Hogwarts grounds, and an unwelcome one. It was made of black stone and had high, emotionless windows that were now being assailed by the barrage of rain that was falling from the high, black clouds.

Inside the building, there were rows upon rows of wooden benches, carved with the images of childhood – toys, tears, and countless words. But these words were not words; they were names. Names of the fallen. Named of the innocents. Names of those who perished the day the Hogwarts Express didn’t arrive at the station.

These benches all faced the same way, towards the largest of all the unforgiving windows. On a small table beneath it, there rested bunches of many beautiful, elegant flowers. Daffodils. Roses. Hyacinths. There was no doubt what they were for. in memoria. In memory.

[RememberTheScar]

Chapters 4 and 5. Enjoy!
harrysgurl201

CHAPTER FOUR

The classroom, which had once been so full of life and vigour, was silent, except for the vague scratching of a quill on a piece of parchment.

There were four people in the room. They were Harry, Hermione, Ron and Professor McGonagall. Professor McGonagall was dressed in black, like all the other staff. The Headmistress of Hogwarts privately felt that mourning could heal nothing, and definitely not so deep a hurt to the school as this. She brushed at her eyes impatiently and carried on scratching on the piece of parchment laid out on her desk.

Ron was sitting beside his two friends behind a desk in front of her. He was staring vaguely into the distance, his eyes clouded. His hair was unwashed, his robes were messy and he knew this very well. He just didn’t care anymore. He looked down at the desk and began tracing the initials GW there with a finger.

Hermione was sitting at a similar desk beside Ron. Unlike Ron, however, she had her schoolbooks out in front of her, but unusually, they were unopened and Hermione wasn’t even looking at them. She was looking at her hands with a slight frown creasing her forehead. Now and then she glanced over at Ron, and then quickly back down at the table as he sensed her gaze. He hadn’t seen much of the death on that day – but he had been affected by it far more than her. She couldn't speak about Harry. She wondered vaguely what it would be like to loose a family member, or a lover – for she alone, out of all three of them, had only ever lost a friend. A dear friend. She saw Ron tracing the initials and immediately knew who he was thinking about.

Harry, alone of all the people in that room, was angry. Angry at himself for allowing such a thing to happen. Disgust and hatred coursed through his veins and a glittering pearl of a tear formed at the corner of his eyelid. He brushed it away but it appeared again. He turned his chair slightly so that the others couldn’t see, but the noise of it scraping against the icy stone floor made them look up. He stopped moving, and he sensed their attention wavering, reverting to whatever they had been doing before.

She had been so beautiful. So perfect, like a cloud on the corner of the world that stands fast, prominent, swirling and perfect, a wonder of the past and present. He imagined her to be like his mother – but, like his mother, she was gone. He stood up, and walked to the door. It slammed shut behind him.

CHAPTER FIVE

In fact, Harry didn’t actually know whether Ginny was dead. When the bodies had been collected for burial, the names of the fallen were noted down in black ink on a scroll that stretched from one end of the Great Hall to the other. As was to be expected, several were unaccounted for – Ginny one of them. However, some of the bodies were so grievously injured that they were unrecognizable, and Harry had no hope left in his heart. Though he had told her to leave him at the end of last year, the day Dumbledore died, he had never stopped feeling for her, and deep in a endlessly deep cavern at the back of his mind he knew he had been wrong to leave her.

But now she was gone, and nothing could ever heal his pain.

******

Ginny woke in the dark.

For a moment she was unsure where she was. The blackness stretched around her, coiling itself around her fragile form and beyond, toying with her hair, stroking at her cheek, pulling at her neck. But then she remembered, and with remembrance came pain. She sat up, rubbing her eyes. A sliver of the moon could be seen at the entrance of the cave she had hidden herself in, tentatively poking translucent fingers around the silent corners of the world. It was by this light that she inspected herself.

A long scratch ran down the length of her cheek. Ginny touched it with a trembling finger and it stung sharply under her scrutiny. Her clothes, the muggle clothes she had worn on the train, were ripped in various places and dirtied with blood and dirt. This led her back into the past, and so she was forced to remember.

The screams are deafening. I cannot hear myself think. The Death Eaters swarm around us, and we are the mice in their claws. My friends fall as, one by one, we are overpowered. I stand fighting, and thoughts of Harry fill my mind as I cast spell after spell at the enemy. Where is Harry? I cannot see him. My heart lurches as a red jet of light, powerful beyond all the others I have had to endure, batters my shield, shattering it. I look for the culprit and see only a flash of silvery blond hair. I am now very weak and I am forced to run.

I dodge this way and that, away from the jinxes and curses. But they are not the only things that give me cause to halt. People I know, used to know, stare up at me from the ground. “Come back” they call “Come back, don’t leave us here to die, come back…”

But they are already dead. I sprint for the cover offered by some pine trees up ahead. I expect to feel every second the spell that would finish me, the flash of green light that would be the last thing I would ever know, but it did not come. I make it, panting, my lungs screaming and heaving, telling me to stop. I do. But a cursed white crow with glittering red eyes is my only pursuer. But instead of going for me, it goes for my wand, held loosely in my right hand. Its beak is strong as it closes over the varnished wood; I fire a stunning spell at it just as it breaks my wand in two. The bird falls, and the two pieces of my now useless wand drop to the earthy floor,

I am now almost past caring. Reaching down, I pick up the bird, grimacing as I see the flecks of blood that was not blood leaked from its veins spattered over it’s white feathers. In one quick movement I break its neck. The crack is loud. I look back at the Hogwarts express, and see that it is now a smouldering pile of wheels and steam. I care no longer. I stagger to the entrance of a cave, feeling weak and empty. I fall to the ground. My eyes flutter closed. I see no more.

Ginny looked up. Her eyes were haunted. She stood, stretching her aching muscles, and moved to the entrance of the cave, looking out over the railway track. The earth for at least a hundred metres around the track was clogged with blood. The bodies were gone. Nothing stirred among the wreckage. She was lost among the wilderness. She fell to the floor, put her head on her knees and for the rest of the night her body was shaken by her sobs.

[RememberTheScar]

CHAPTER SIX

Harry ran and ran – along corridors, down stairs, through doors, until finally he was sprinting along the edge of the Lake. The sky above was overcast and the ground glittered with early frost. Small fingers of ice stretched across the water, thin and fragile. Harry picked up a stone and threw it with all his heart into the very centre of this beautiful masterpiece. It punched through the glassy surface, a cold spray billowing around it as it sunk, ripples spreading around the hole and over across the water.

Harry knelt. His eyes were closed. His lips parted, but no sound came out. He began to crawl, weakly, blindly, into the Lake. The water was icy and he could hardly feel his fingers the moment they gripped the slimy pebbles littering the Lake bottom. He went further forward, until he was swimming, swimming blindly, but he was oblivious to the pain, the touch of frost. His heart, which should have been beating faster because of the raging emotion coursing through his body, began to slow down. His breathing was shallow, choked. He shook with cold – his clothes dragged him down – his frantic kicking was growing slower, weaker, as he began to die.

The only place inside him that still was showing desperate signs of wanting to live was in his mind. “Why, why, why must I leave, she would want me to stay, Harry, Harry, Harry, she may yet be alive, find her, save her, she will join you and you will never part again, don’t go, stay, stay, stay, but who would tell you if she lived?”

But a voice, clear and sad, cut through his thoughts – it speared directly through his head and into his heart, and began winching him in, holding him, saving him. He found a burst of strength left within him that seemed new, and his floundering feet kicked out and he was drifting back towards the bank. He opened his eyes. A pair of protuberant, silvery-grey eyes stared back at him.

“I would.”

[harrysgurl201]

Wow...wow...wow...very very good...I am liking it a lot. Please uppie as soon as you possibly can...

[RememberTheScar]

CHAPTER SEVEN (8 on the way)

harrysgurl201

CHAPTER SEVEN

“You would?” Harry spluttered, gasping as a breeze whipped around his ankles. Water ran off him in rivulets, sparkling trails of water that congregated in a pool about his head. His vision flickered, blurring; the eyes of the girl swam before his eyes. His conscious self wavered, and soon he was up among the stars, prancing and dancing and singing and flying, a flickering flame that burnt too bright.

Luna gazed down at him, smiling. She pushed back his dark fringe, feeling how cold his skin had become. She took his hand, holding it tight. She leant forward, and brushed her lips against his forehead. She could still see his scar.

******

Ginny opened her eyes. It was morning. Shafts of light penetrated the leaves of the trees around her, casting a green glow around the entrance to the cave. She got up slowly, testing the air. All was still – a glassy silence had descended on the world. She went to the entrance of the cave and again gazed out upon the battlefield. The blood was still there – swarms of flies whirled and spun, desperate to access the food spread out before them. Something brushed against her foot, and she looked down. The broken pieces of her wand were still there where she had dropped them. A scarlet feather poking out from the pieces drew her attention. The phoenix feather that had resided in her wand was now under the piercing gaze of daylight.

She picked it up. It was lighter than any normal feather. She held it to her cheek, where her cut had begun to throb, and it cooled her skin, easing the pain ever so slightly. She pulled a piece of string from her pocket, and tied it in a knot around the feather. She then tied the two ends together and drew the talisman over her head. The broken pieces of her wand she kicked aside. They were no use to her now.

She walked out into the clouds of flies. She cared not how they swarmed around her, delving into the wisps of her flaming red hair and diving into the corners of her eyes. She kept on walking, away from the battlefield, up the track, her boots impacting with the wooden boards as she increased her speed, her hair whipping around her and the phoenix feather beating against her chest in time with the rhythm of her heart.

She would find him. She would find Harry. She would make him take her back. She would join him and they would never part again. The sun rose high into the sky, and with it rose her hopes. Harry. The man she loved. And as she traversed the steep hills and that the train had always climbed with ease, she whispered his name. And it brought comfort to her. Comfort to ease her pain.

[RememberTheScar]

CHAPTER EIGHT

The Dark wizards of old never would have touched it. That was why it stayed hidden. So when all the world was covered in shadow and shade, it was the relic that did not die. It stayed, at the heart of the world; its light never failing though no beast could see it. Then the Dark wizards departed, and the Pure Ones found it, and knew of its value. So they secured it, and put their lives into making sure it stayed secure, and as their life-blood was smeared across the stones of its chamber, they fell and so perished – but they had completed their purpose, and that was never forgotten.

The boy cowered as another curse flew towards him. He endured the pain, welcoming it. He had learnt that it did not do to fight what one could embrace.

“Useless…” his master murmured, barely raising his arm another degree as he sent another spell at his apprentice. His pale fingers traced the outline of the letters on the parchment as he set down his wand, not paying attention to the boy writhing on the floor. “Am I supposed to believe that this… effort… is all you could bring me after you searched the world for three months for the knowledge that I so desperately require?”

The boy stood shakily, his brow shining and his usually neat blond hair obscuring his eyes. He looked up at the snakelike face, and replied, “Yes, my Master.”

His master rose. “Well, it is not good enough. I have been unsatisfied, Draco, with your efforts for some time. How can I be sure that you are not one of the enemy?”

The boy paled, but his master did not seem to expect an answer so he kept silent. Voldemort stood and walked slowly over to the window, his snakelike face covered in shadow as he stared out at the world before him. His red eyes flickered for a moment. “This task is relating to one of the two things in existence which give me pause for thought,” he snapped. “It is vital that I can either destroy it or use it for my own ends. I sent you to acquire it. Being my youngest follower, I thought it likely you were not so… tainted… and so it may have been easier for you to take it, if you found it. But you fail me again, and all you find is a short description that may or may not be referring to the item I am searching for. Draco… do not fail me again. If you do, it will be for the last time.”

Draco knelt, shaking. He turned, making for the door, forcing himself to appear calm and relaxed whilst inside his heart was broken and his life was crumbling away. He placed his hand on the door, twisting the handle, and he left the room.

The world before him had once been alien but he was now becoming accustomed to its strangeness. He was underground, in a huge cavernous hall of earth that smelt and steamed without stopping. Pillars of smoke rose from the ground, and ashes carpeted the walls and floor. It was unbearably hot. The only place that was cool and at a healthy temperature was the room he had just left. Draco’s master would not endure such hardship, and had covered his chamber in sheets of ice that spiraled into designs, which were full of the terrible beauty of cold.

He crossed the hall. The dwarves to whom it belonged were seldom seen these days, as this had once been a hall of treasure but now the bounty was gone and so were its keepers. Voldemort had taken it a month a go, and the dwarves were delighted to serve him.

In a far corner a woman with white blond hair like his was lying, covered in blankets. Her eyes were small and squinting, and her face was red and feverish. Her body was combating an alien illness, and none of the other Death Eaters situated around the hall had the power or the inclination to help her. Save Draco.

“Mother…” he said, caressing the side of her face with love in his eyes. She sighed, enjoying the feel of his still-cool hand.

“My son.” She tried to stand, pushing at the ground, but her arms gave way and she collapsed. Draco frowned, his eyes shining as he tried to help her.

“No… Draco… listen to me.” She coughed, her chest heaving, her eyes closing momentarily. Draco closed his eyes too. He knew his mother was dying. The fact that he could do nothing, that he had done everything since his return and nothing had helped, only made it worse. He knew in his heart these were going to be some of the last moments they would spend together.

“My illness is destroying me. I shall not die, not yet, but it will claim me. I must tell you now.” Draco leant down, putting his ear close to her mouth so she did not have to cause herself any more pain by talking so he could hear her better. “Draco… I will tell you two things of great importance. The first is this. You are still powerful, Draco. You can escape. You have a heart – I know that it can love because you have cared for me all this time. Wait –‘ he had opened his mouth to speak “Hear me. You can leave. You can undo all the evil our family has committed. Do not let others hear that I have said this, but I believe the Order of the Phoenix can help us. Please, my son, my only child, help me as I die. Make me proud.”

“The second is of far greater importance. You know, have always known, that I have a Seer’s blood in my veins. I have only ever had one vision. It was of a man. He was dressed in white, with dark hair and dark eyes and pale skin. I looked into his eyes and saw the whole of Time. But then he turned from me, and when I woke lightning struck my home. He is someone you must find. I feel in my blood that he can help us all, that he is great beyond imagining. Find him, Draco. Fail me not – find him.”