Harry,

I would ask you what exactly happened on that night, but I hope that one day you’ll just open up and tell me.  And I feel the same way about the dreams.  I…I keep having some bad one’s too.  Maybe we should owl Professor Snape about some Dreamless Sleep Potion.

^_^  I can hear them now.  Well, Jardin anyway.  But I’m sure it was funny, the two of them yelling at each other and one not understanding the other.  Not fun to you I see.  And SNAPDRAGON?  Oh, I’ll have to remember that one.  He’ll probably kill me for it, but I’ll die happy.

I can try.  My father is leaving for a month on business.  So I can ask Mum then call Aunt Maeve.  Maybe I can convince her to let Mione come with me.

                                                            Cha,

                                                            Ni

Harry folded Niamh’s letter and shoved it into his back pocket.  Jardin had been waiting for him when they’d returned from Diagon Alley.  The raven had sensed his mood and had simply handed over the letter then headed back outside.

Harry sighed and lay down on his cot, closing his eyes.

Abram had said Tyls was alive.

But that was impossible.

Wasn’t it?

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

Harry would have to say that the birthday he spent at the Weasley was one of the best he ever had.  It was not only because he was with most of his friends but also because it took his mind off of what had happened a day earlier.

A present had arrived from nearly everyone he knew: Ron had given him a box of Bertie Bott’s beans; Ginny’s was a collection of Sugar Quills; Fred and George’s was a box of more prank things from them (what they’d managed to keep their mother from destroying); Hermione’s was a book as usual – Dueling Strategies.  Harry had to smirk at the book and shake his head; Mika had found another rare book, this one on hexes and curses instead of potions; Hagrid had sent a package of rock cakes (Harry winced); his father’s gift was a Sneak-o-scope, which caused Harry a pang of remembrance at last term; Sirius sent a necklace with a silver flower dangling from it – it had apparently belonged to Harry’s mother; even Bill, Charlie, and Percy had given him something – a leather duster.  As Harry stared at the jet-black coat, Bill leaned down and said in his ear, “We made Percy chip in.  He wanted to get you a book.”

Harry snorted and smiled at the eldest Weasley child.

It was one birthday he was never going to forget.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

Two weeks before term…

Niamh arrived at the Burrow on a bright morning.  Harry and Ginny immediately rushed out to meet her as she got out of her aunt’s car, Ron following them at a slower pace.

As soon as the car pulled away, Ginny fell upon Niamh with all the fierceness of a tiger.  She hugged the older girl tightly, earning a pat on the back and a wry smile.

“Nice to see you too, Gin.”

“You too,” said Ginny, stepping back.  She then frowned at Niamh’s cheek and asked, “What’s that?”

Niamh put her hand over her left cheek, blue eyes wide.

“Its nothing.”

Harry stepped forward, reaching out a hand to pull hers away from her cheek.  He succeeded but Niamh turned her face away from him.  Harry grasped her chin and forced her head back around.  Ginny gasped.

A dark purple bruise covered Niamh’s cheekbone and it looked like her eye had been swollen at one point in time.

“What happened?” asked Ron as he saw the bruise.

“I – I ran into a door.”

Niamh looked up at Harry, who still cupped her chin in his hand.  He was looking at the bruise on her cheek with contempt.  Then his eyes locked with hers and she saw that he didn’t believe her.

“A door,” he said coldly.

“A door,” said Niamh, looking at him, her eyes begging him not to say anything.

“Humphf,” said the dark-haired teen and turned, striding across the lawn into the Burrow.

“What was that about?” asked Ron.  “He’s been acting more and more like Snape lately.”

“With good reason!” snapped Ginny.  She then hugged Niamh again and said, “C’mon.  Let’s go inside.”

“That’ll be nice,” said Niamh, allowing the younger girl to steer her inside, where Mrs. Weasley greeted her with a warm hug and a smile.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

That night after everyone in the Burrow was asleep, Niamh crept downstairs into the kitchen and went outside into the yard.  The moon waxed full in the dark sky above her and the stars twinkled like winking eyes.

Niamh sighed heavily and sat down underneath a tree, leaning back against the unyielding wood and closing her eyes.

“Nice night.”

The girl jumped at the voice and looked up to see Harry perched in a tree above her and to her left.  She watched as he swung down, landing on the grass in a crouch.  He rose and moved towards her, his footsteps silent from his years on the streets as a pickpocket.

“What are you doing out here?” she asked as he spread himself out on a patch of grass beside her, hands folded behind his head.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

Niamh winced slightly, not knowing why, then turned away from him, leaning back against the tree.  There was a soft rustle and then cold, nimble fingers touched her bruised cheek.

She turned her head slightly, looking at Harry.  The boy had pushed himself up onto an elbow, his hand probing her cheek.  Then his emerald eyes met hers.

“You didn’t run into a door.”

It wasn’t a question.

Niamh sighed and said, “My father.”

“He hit you.”  Harry’s voice was cold.

“Yes…”

“How long?”

“A second.”

“No,” said Harry, cupping her chin in his hand and turning her face so she looked at him.  “How long has he been hitting you?”

Niamh’s eyes searched her friends face for a moment.  This was Harry, the first friend she’d discovered at Hogwarts.  He’d always been there for her.

So she poured out a scarred part of her soul to him.

“Since I got my letter.  He said - ”  She stopped, remembering.

Harry sat up, seeming to sense her worried thoughts.  He scooted close to her and wrapped an arm around her.  Niamh leaned her head against his shoulder and was reminded of when they’d sat like this during third year after the boggarts.  She took heart from his close presence, her mind touching his, sensing the patience there.  And the well-hidden fury.  It was a gift she had discovered over the summer.  She had been practicing with them, these gifts she had.  During the first few weeks she had concluded that she was telepathic (which explained how she could hear Jardin all the time except when he and Harry spoke privately; even then she could sense it) and empathic.  Though how she’d seen Cedric and Harry taking the Cup during the last task and then disappearing, she still didn’t know.

“ – he said he wouldn’t let me go.  He wouldn’t let me learn that – that – evil thing.  He called magic evil, Harry.  Evil.”

“Some people do that, Ni,” said Harry softly.  “He found out magic was real and he couldn’t take it.  He couldn’t understand it.  Some people can’t.  Just like they can’t see how people can live on the streets.”

Niamh turned to her friend and whispered, “Harry…”

“Shh,” said Harry, looking up at the stars.  Niamh looked up as well, wondering what was so entrancing to the boy beside her.

“I used to always watch the stars at night,” said Harry softly.  “Whenever they were out, I’d look at them.  They seemed…comforting in an odd way.”

He slowly looked down at her and whispered, “You won’t go back.”

Niamh looked at him in surprise, knowing what he was talking about.

“Harry, I have to…”

“Hell if you do.  I won’t see you hurt like that.  I’ll stand aside if its someone like Zabini, when you can defend yourself, but not when you can’t.”

“Harry…”

“No,” said Harry firmly, his expression stony.  Niamh could sense his emotions without reaching for them, which she tried not to do, considering that an invasion of privacy.  He was angry – fiercely so.  And he was afraid.

“I’m okay,” she said.

Harry looked at her in surprise then smiled.

“Yeah.  Yeah, you are.”

“What’re we going to do?  About my father…”

“We can tell Dumbledore when he get back to Hogwarts.  Maybe he can do something.  Get you and your mother out…”

“My mother wouldn’t survive two seconds without my father,” said Niamh.  “She’s just cowers.”

Harry looked at her for a moment the nodded slightly.

“Then with your aunt then.  She’d take you in, wouldn’t she?”

“Yeah.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do.  After the Feast, we’ll go talk to Dumbledore.”

They sat in silence for a moment then Niamh leaned her head on her friend’s broad shoulder and whispered, “Thanks, mate.”

Harry hugged her and leaned his head against hers.

“Anything for you, Ni.”