Anxiety

A loud gong sound woke Chris up. The blanket piled on her waist as she immediately sat up on the soft bed. She held her wand tight, watching the surroundings cautiously. But now everything was completely silent. Chris slowly crept out of her bed and opened the door, which she had locked with protection charms so no one could sneak up on her. Chris peered out of the door but the hallway was empty. There was no one at sight. Checking one more time, she closed the door and checked the time. It was 4:15 in the morning. According to the vampire schedule here, the vampires should be going to sleep now but then who was at her door this late? Frowning Chris scanned the entire room and concluded whoever tried to enter didn't get very successful. The magic on the door held and hence that gonging sound. But someone was trying to get in while she was asleep and they ran away when the sound woke her up. Things were getting more and more strange. . . and dangerous. Chris sat down on the bed, every drop of sleepiness had left her. She sat there staring at the mirror and her reflection stared back. She wasn't surprised right now, she was exhausted. She was tired of always watching and doubting everything and everyone around her. There was no one with her whom she could trust completely. She felt awfully alone.

Chris picked her bag and opened a secret compartment inside it. One by one she took out the contents from it and spread them on the bed. There was an ordinary red crystal pendant, a perfume bottle, a charm bracelet and a photograph. After staring at the things in front of her for a few minutes, Chris picked up the half-full bottle of perfume and gave it a sniff. Hyacinth, her favourite fragrance. The label on the bottle said, "Christina Creations by Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes". It was her own perfume. She invented it. Chris had packed it before leaving Hogwarts, even she didn't know why. She didn't even use it, not a single drop, she just kept it with herself. Next, Chris picked up the red crystal pendant. It was the last year Christmas gift from her father, he had brought it from Nepal. It was nothing magical but some Muggle sold it to her father saying it was a protective amulet. Smiling she put on the pendant chain around her neck. Her smiled dropped as she looked at the moving photograph, where three happy faces were grinning at her. It was a photograph taken in Grimmauld Place, Colin was standing between Ginny and Luna, he had a turkey leg in his hand, while Ginny was flipping her hair back and Luna looked she just remembered they were taking pictures so she suddenly looked at the camera with surprise. And they all had this big smile on their faces. Chris stared at the photo for a long time, then finally she moved on to the last piece of memory in front of her: the charm bracelet. On the bracelet, there were four different coloured stones and on the middle was "CN" engraved in the varnished wood. Chris brushed her thumb over the charms then stopped and leaned back on the bed. After Dumbledore's death, there was always a knot in Chris' stomach. Usually, with all other heightened senses, she ignored the uneasiness in her heart and stomach. The weird thing was, the more she wanted to forget it the more her mind reminded it to her. And right now she felt so suffocated by the feeling that her breathing started to shallow. Feeling betrayed by her own body, Chris quickly collected the things from the bed and put them back inside the bag. But the feeling didn't go away. She closed her eyes and tried to force herself to think something else but it became worse.

"Save it, Chris. We are not leaving you," Chris remember Ginny's words.

"As long as we are together, I am not worried," Luna had said once.

"We will always have each other's back, Chris. We will be fine," Colin had said smiling.

"We will be with you, till the end," Aurelia had said reassuringly after learning about the legend.

"Chris, will you come with me?" Harry's pleading voice.

"Dammit," Chris cursed holding her head in her hands. Her suffocation was getting horrible. She was gasping for air. She was feeling dizzy. "I did the right thing . . ."

Suddenly, there was a burst of fire which illuminated the darkroom and a Phoenix appeared. He gently pressed his feathery head on Chris's forehead. Slowly but steadily Chris's breathing returned to normal and after a while, she finally looked up at the Phoenix and smoothed her hand over his feathers.

"Thanks, Fawkes," muttering Chris lay down on the bed and Fawkes, the Phoenix got comfortable resting his body on Chris's arm.

***

"Give it to me, Gregorovitch."

Harry's voice was high, clear and cold: his wand held in front of him by a long-fingered, white hand. The man at whom he was pointing was suspended upside down in mid-air, though there were no ropes holding him; he swung there, invisibly and eerily bound, his limbs wrapped about him, his terrified face, on a level with Harry's. He had pure white hair and a thick, bushy beard.

"I have it not, I have it no more! It was, many years ago, stolen from me!"

"Do not lie to Lord Voldemort, Gregorovitch. He knows . . . he always knows."

The hanging man's pupils were wide, dilated with fear, and they seemed to swell, bigger and bigger until their blackness swallowed Harry whole –

And now Harry was hurrying along a dark corridor in stout little Gregorovitch's wake as he held a lantern aloft: Gregorovitch burst into the room at the end of the passage and his lantern illuminated what looked like a workshop; wood-shavings and gold gleamed in the swinging pool of light, and there on the window ledge sat perched, like a giant bird, a young man with golden hair. In the split second that the lantern's light illuminated him, Harry saw the delight upon his handsome face, then the intruder shot a Stunning Spell from his wand and jumped neatly backwards out of the window with a crow of laughter.

And Harry was hurtling back out of those wide, tunnel-like pupils and Gregorovitch's face was stricken with terror.

"Who was the thief, Gregorovitch?" said the high, cold voice.

"I do not know, I never knew, a young man – no – please – PLEASE!"

"Find that thief, Bellatrix, if you want to prove your worth," said the same cold high pitched voice.

Then a burst of green light and the scream –

"Harry!"

Harry opened his eyes, panting, his forehead throbbing. He had passed out against the side of a small tent; had slid sideways down the canvas and was sprawled on the ground. Hermione was standing above him, and her bushy hair obscured the tiny patch of sky

visible through the dark branches high above them. There were camping in an unknown forest to avoid Death Eaters and Malgino's minions.

"Dream," Harry said, sitting up quickly and attempting to meet Hermione's glower with a look of innocence. "Must've dozed off,

sorry."

"I know it was your scar! I can tell by the look on your face! You were looking into Vol—"

"Don't say his name!" came Ron's angry voice from the depths of the tent.

"Fine," retorted Hermione. "You-Know-Who's mind, then!"

"I didn't mean it to happen!" Harry said. "It was a dream! Can you control what you dream about, Hermione?"

"If you just learned to apply Occlumency –"

But Harry was not interested in being told off; he wanted to discuss what he had just seen.

"He's found Gregorovitch, Hermione, and I think he's killed him, but before he killed him he read Gregorovitch's mind and –"

"I think I'd better take over the watch if you're so tired you're falling asleep," said Hermione coldly.

"Hermione, please listen —" Harry tried again.

"Go and have rest Harry, I will keep watch and after me, Ron can do it. You need some sleep," Hermione said and dropped down in the mouth of the tent, looking stubborn.

"She would have understood," growling Harry ducked inside the tent.

"Sorry, mate," Ron poked his head from the lower bunk; Harry climbed into the one above him, lay down and looked up at the dark canvas ceiling. After several moments, Ron spoke in a voice so low that it would not carry to Hermione, huddled in the entrance. "I offered to watch first but she refused. She is really upset, you know with — anyway, what's You-Know-Who doing?"

"He found Gregorovitch. He had him tied up, he was torturing him," Harry whispered into the darkness.

"How's Gregorovitch supposed to make him a new wand if he's tied up?"

"I dunno . . . it's weird, isn't it?"

For a moment, Harry closed his eyes. He imagined Chris there, with them. He thought about what she would have said hearing his vision of Gregorovitch.

"There was a young boy in Gregorovitch's memory. The boy stole something from him," Harry mumbled thinking about Chris. "I think Vol- I mean You-Know-Who wants that thing. The thing the boy stole."

"Did you see what he stole?" Ron asked.

"No, it was small and - wait, Gregorovitch is a wandmaker just like Ollivander," Harry sat up very quickly. "Ron, what if You-Know-Who is after a wand? A wand that doesn't counter my wand. A wand that will help him duel me without our same wand core thing."

"Merlin's pants! It's totally possible," Ron also sat up alarmed. "But then -"

"Ron! I think I need you to take the watch duty for a while," came Hermione's angry voice from outside.

Harry and Ron exchanged a startled look. They had almost forgotten that they were supposed to keep their voices down. Before they could say anything Hermione called again and Ron hurried outside. Harry heard them arguing in a low voice as he thought about the wand Voldemort was after. He thanked Chris mentally for giving him enough belief to be a little less scared in this situation. Dumbledore had said once, "Maybe sometimes we don't see our close ones but we could always feel their presence." Now Dumbledore was gone and Chris was far away but somehow Harry felt they were with him and slowly he drifted off to deep sleep.

____________ ____________

To be continued. . .