Title: Eyes of the Chosen
Author: Emcee
Summary: A brutal murder on Hogwarts Grounds leaves everyone disturbed-- especially the one who witnessed it.
Author's Note: Thank-you to my muses, Rae and Fre and my beta and Pablo. This story is AU to "Order of the Phoenix". It is the sequel to Labyrinth of Illusion.

Disclaimer: "Harry Potter" and the characters, places and things related to it do not belong to me. They are from the brilliant mind of JK Rowling. They belong to her and her publishers. I am not making any profit from this fan fiction.

CHAPTER ONE
The Prophecy

The sun had dipped below the horizon. The sky was a dark blue. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry loomed large on the landscape. The ornate castle towered above all of the scenery, casting heavy shadows over its barren courtyard.

The ground was covered in a thick layer of crunchy snow. The January deep freeze had set in. Clutching her robes tightly around herself, the young raven-haired girl continued through the courtyard.

Her visit to Hogsmeade had been fruitful. She had been able to get all the supplies she needed. Zima needed bloodroot for his stiff joints, which were acting up in the bitter weather. Machka required Marnok leaves to boil down to a furball potion. Half the camp wanted Ogden's Old Firewhiskey. Why they couldn't go down to the Three Broomsticks themselves was beyond comprehension. Getting roped into going to the Merlin town was the curse of the younger Kalderasha women.

It was late enough in the day that she did not worry about running into any stray Hogwarts students. Most were still on winter holiday. The weather had driven all the remaining students indoors, to huddle in front of fires.

Albus Dumbledore had no quarrel with the Romany using the grounds as a shortcut to their camp. Quite the contrary, he encouraged it. Of all the Merlin wizards the Kalderasha had met since migrating to Scotland, the Headmaster was the most understanding. He felt if his students saw the Romany, perhaps the prejudices against them would wane.

Too many insults had forced them to decline this kind offer. They had, at one time, mingled with the student body. That had been long before she was born. It had been the Black issue that had finally severed the ties. The Kalderasha felt betrayed and would not open themselves to another outsider. So now they waited until the students were in their dormitories to tread through their property.

The yard was completely deserted. Even Hagrid was nowhere to be seen. It was quite common to see him tending to his menagerie of creatures. Sometimes, the Kalderasha would help him house some of his magical beasts in the forest. He was one of the few outsiders they still trusted. He had been gameskeeper almost as long as they had resided in the forest.

There had been whispered rumours Hagrid had a run in with the Dark Lord. Of course, considering the current situation, whenever anyone went missing there were rumours about the Dark Lord. While nothing had been definite, many hushed conversations included hope Hagrid had not been grievously injured.

The wind started to pick up, sending a chill down her spine. The tightly packed trees of the forest began to rattle. The barren branches knocked together. The sound rang in her ears.

Shaking bones...

She paused, waiting for the sound to die down. She chastised herself, laughing quietly. She was being ridiculous. Why should a little wind frighten her? She had lived in the forest her entire life. Tonight was no different than any other.

Instead of dissipating, the wind picked up. Her loose robes whipped around her ankles, impeding her walking. Icy cold bit into her flesh. Her ears filled with the howls.

The wails of the damned...

Her heart beat a furious tattoo. She tried to pick up her pace. With each step, she sank deeper into the snow. The tree line was still ten paces away. It would not be until she was deep in the forest that she would fall back under the protection of the Romany camp. Should she activate her mark? Someone would come to get her. This was becoming much too familiar.

It was not deja vu. This was not an irrational phobia filling her. Her stomach was tied in knots. Her eyes burned, as if she had ventured too close to a fire. Her heart cried out.

Run.

Her steps were too clumsy in the snow. Her foot caught on a blanketed rock. She toppled over, her bag spilling open. The jar holding the bloodroot shattered. The crimson liquid preserving the root spread over the snow.

She recoiled, her eyes widening. Her heart felt like it would explode. She brought a hand to her gaping mouth. She had dreams for years. She thought them nothing more than childhood worry, not true divining. But there it was, covering the snow.

The Blood of the Innocent...

The third sign.

The crunching sound of footsteps alerted her to the new presence. She struggled to stand. Her knees felt weak, barely able to carry her weigh. Her hand shook as she faced the new arrival.

It was a man. At least, she thought it was. He was draped in jet-black robes. His face was covered in a white mask. The mask was smooth, expressionless. Only cold eyes were visible through small slits. The steel gaze bore into her.

It was Death.

"I know who you are." She would face him bravely. She had not been raised a coward. Despite her resolve, her voice was hoarse.

She raised her hand, preparing to curse him. He had no wand on him. He was defenceless against her hex.

Before she could yell the charm, he whipped his hand out. She only glimpsed the flash of silver before the knife's blade hooked her bracelet. It tore through the unicorn hair binding the beads. They fell to the ground, useless. She was disarmed.

"I will scream," she whimpered. Her heart had stopped, her breath caught. She backed up, trying to plot any escape. She ran into something. She turned her head, glancing up at an identical masked assailant.

"You won't get the chance, my dear," the first one laughed.

Pain lanced through her. It originated at the back of her neck. She was overwhelmed with the urge to scream. All that escaped was a wet gurgle. A trickle of blood dripped down the side of her mouth.

She was pushed to the ground. She did not resist. The excruciating agony overpowered her mind. All she could think about was the pain. She convulsed as her fingers clawed vainly at the snow, just digging trenches. Her eyes were wide as she looked up. The second man held a knife. It was coated in blood-- her blood.

She opened her mouth, attempting another cry for help. Instead, she let out a string of bloody phlegm. Her body was useless. All she could do was give into the pain, pray to black out. She couldn't move, looking up at her attackers.

The first man knelt over her. He cocked his head as he examined her. "She is still alive?"

"Yes," the second man chuckled. His voice was filled with depraved glee. "She should have seen it coming."

She saw the silver knife, long and curved. The runic etchings were barely visible in the dim light. They moved closer. Then there was nothing but anguish.

****

Ron Weasley's eyes snapped open. His hands gripped the sheets as he bolted upright. His insides lurched. His body was wracked with the unwavering agony. It seared into him. He blindly fumbled at the side of his bed. He grabbed a bedpan in his trembling hands. His entire body heaved as he emptied the contents of his stomach. He leaned back, gasping for air. His body didn't relax one jot, his muscles tight. He jerked forward again, vomiting a second time.

The pain in his body was slowly ebbing. Now all that was left was a dull throb behind his eyes. The nausea was still coursing through him. At least there was nothing left in his stomach to throw up.

"Ron?"

He was only dimly aware of the hesitant voice. He placed the bedpan on the table beside him. He brought a hand to his forehead, massaging his aching temples.

"Ron?" The padding of stocking feet didn't register in his mind. The deep breathing perked his ears. His muscles clenched as he felt the hand on his shoulder.

The knife.

With shaking hands, Ron gripped the attacker's wrist. With what little strength he had, he pulled. He was going to face his attacker, making him fight him. The Death Eater fell easily. Much too easily, considering Ron's current state. The assailant let out a yelp of pain as he fell onto Ron's legs. Ron reached forward to rip off the Death Eater's mask. He instead met with glasses. This "attacker" was not wearing black robes, but white pyjamas.

Turning himself over, Harry Potter stared up at his best friend with wide green eyes. His eyebrows were arched in surprise. He pulled himself up, getting to his feet. He backed away, never taking his eyes off Ron. "Okay... Bad dream?"

Ron blinked, looking around. He was still in the Hospital Wing, wasn't he? He hadn't left in days, not since they returned from Akkei's Labyrinth. The last time he had been in the courtyard was weeks ago.

It was very late. The lights were out and Madame Pomfrey was nowhere to be seen. He could hear his father snoring from the nurse's office. Hermione was still sleeping soundly. Harry's bed shows obvious signs of use.

Had he dreamed the whole thing?

Ron nodded at Harry, lying back in on the bed. He sank deeply into the soft matress. His rigid body slowly relaxed in the comfortable, warm bed. "My head is killing me."

"Want me to get Madame Pomfrey?" Harry was already moving to the door. He walked oddly, unwilling to look away from Ron even for an instant. He was very stiff in his posture, as if worried Ron would attack him again.

Ron shook his head frantically. He immediately regretted this as the pain in his head doubled. It felt like someone was jamming hot pokers in his eyes. "No... No... I'm sure it's not anything. Just a bad dream. Like you said."

"I heard you throwing up," Harry sat in the chair beside Ron's bed. His gaze finally left Ron to glance at the full bedpan. "That must have been some dream."

Even though he didn't say it, Ron knew Harry mentally added, 'Even my dreams aren't that bad.'

Harry's dreams. Of course! Of all of the people at Hogwarts to talk to about odd dreams, Harry was the best. For two years now, he had been having funny visions. He would surely understand. Ron just needed to find the best way to address it. Harry's dreams had been even worse of late.

Ron looked to Harry, worrying his lower lip. He wrung the sheets in his hands. His knuckles were white. "Harry? Do you mind if I ask you a question? Personal like."

Harry nodded, leaning forward. His face was still puffy and red. The welts, cuts and bruises from his fight with the Kitsune Queen had not healed. Akkei's preternatural strength and magical ability had hindered normal healing. Madame Pomfrey said they just needed to wait out the injuries. It unnerved Ron to see Harry so beat up. It also made what he had to ask so much more difficult. "It's about You-Know-Who. About your dreams of him."

Harry sat up, suddenly rigid. His eyes narrowed, glinting at the memories. He clenched his fists. His jaw was set tightly. "What about them?" His voice was strained, forced to sound calm.

Ron felt his stomach clench. He hated to be the one to call up such painful memories for his best friend. He twisted the sheets hard. "What do they feel like? Do they hurt?"

Have gave a quick nodd. His hand drifted up, brushing his fringe aside. He rubbed his scar. "You know my scar hurts when he happens. It feels like it will split open. Except the last few months. You know--" He lowered his head, looking down at his feet. "When Gwendolyn-- Yasha-- Whatever-- Was controlling me." Harry's voice faltered and he sank deeper into his chair. Ron knew the healing Harry had to do was not just physical. "I didn't feel anything then."

Ron swallowed hard, nodding. He finally released the sheets. His headache had finally disappeared. "Are the vis-- dreams really vivid? Like you're right there, seeing them happen? Or--" He paused, unsure how to continue. Surely he would sound mad.

"Or what?" Harry asked. He slid forward in his chair. His hardened gaze had changed to a soft look of concern.

Ron shook his head, laughing feebly. He raked his fingers through his red hair. "Never mind. It's stupid." He gave Harry a weak smile. "I'm tired."

Harry's dropped his guarded demeanour completely. He got up, sitting next to Ron on the bed. He locked eyes with him. "Tell me."

Ron turned on his side, away from Harry. He looked to Hermione, who still slept soundly. She was blissfully unaware of anything wrong right now. "You're going to think I'm nutters."

Harry sighed deeply. "You feel like it's happening to you."

Ron's head skipped a beat. It had been said out loud. It was real now. He sat up again, still facing away from Harry. He shut his eyes, running his index finger over the closed lid. The burning had returned. "It was just a dream."

Harry reached out, gripping Ron's shoulder. His fingers dug into him. "Ron, did you have a vision?"

Ron tensed at the touch. He pushed Harry away. He shook his head, vainly trying to push the thoughts away. "It was a dream. It was a really intense dream. A really intense, bloody, horrific dream."

"Ron..."

Ron turned to Harry, shaking his head. He was closing the discussion. He would have no more talk about visions or dreams. He was sorry he had brought it up in the first place. He just wanted to go back to sleep, to let the pain slip away from him in rest. "I'm sure of it. It was a dream. How could two Death Eaters murder someone right in the courtyard?"

"Right out in the open." Albus Dumbledore shook his head sadly as the blood stained face was turned up to the sky. Her eyes were closed tightly, as if she were only sleeping.

Minerva McGonagall knelt beside the body, sighing deeply. "How could this happen? How could someone be murdered on the grounds, without us knowing?"

"Hagrid was most likely asleep. He is still terribly affected from his experience within the Labyrinth of Illusion. He would have been the only one who would have heard." Waving his wand, Albus summoned a stretcher. Choking back the bile which threatened to rise in his throat; he levitated the corpse onto the stretcher, pulling a sheet over the body.

Minerva stared at the pool of blood marring the pristine snow. "I just thank Heavens most of the children are on holidays. We may be able to keep this from the student body." She charmed the area in which the body had been, putting a protective barrier around it.

"You would keep this from them?" Albus blinked at Minerva. "You would hide what could be an incredible danger to them?"

"No-- Of course not..." Minerva ran to catch up with Albus as he walked up the courtyard towards the school. "I just meant that they not see the body."

"What are we supposed to do with this girl, Minerva?" Dumbledore kept his eyes trained on the subtle contours of the girl's covered face. "The Ministry will do nothing. They will refute this is part of Voldemort's plan."

"Are you sure it is part of You-K-- Voldemort's plan? We have no idea what has become of him. Akkei cast him out of the Labyrinth. She could have sent him to any number of Hell dimensions."

"I cannot believe Akkei would do such a thing. While she despised what Voldemort had become, she was a creature of Chaos. The war Voldemort threatens is too much an opportunity for such disaster. She would never destroy him. Just send him back here."

Minerva looked uncertainly at Albus. "But why would he murder a random woman? It just doesn't make any sense."

"There was nothing random about this, Minerva. And I do not trust the Ministry to handle this. I'm afraid we're going to have to get help from within."

"From who?"

Sirius Black put a hand to his mouth, trying to ignore the swell of nausea that passed over him as Dumbledore pulled back the sheet that covered the young woman. His ashen face went even more colourless.

Remus Lupin turned his head slightly, shutting his eyes. He shivered slightly, swallowing hard.

Sakura Tsukino crossed her arms tightly over her chest, taking a deep breath. She bit her lower lip, looking to her companions for their reactions.

Dumbledore surveyed the trio. He paced up and down the empty classroom, his eyes flicking back and forth between his three former students and the corpse lying on the desk. "I realize you three have been through a very traumatic experience. However, I can think of no one else to do an examination. The Ministry would try to cover up what has happened. And while Madame Pomfrey has a vast amount of medical experience, she had never dealt with a dead body in this manner."

Sirius nodded, standing up. "We're made of tough stuff, Dumbledore. I think we can handle this."

"I'm sorry for the unprofessional environment. You understand, don't you? With Harry, Ron and Hermione in the hospital wing it hardly seems prudent to set you up in there."

Remus stood beside Sirius. "This will be fine, Headmaster. We've done examinations under worse circumstances."

Giving a nod, Dumbledore started towards the door. "I will leave you to it then. Good luck."

Sirius slid gloves onto his hands, turning to Sakura. "So, Fox... You're probably the most up-to-date. Where should we start?"

Sakura slipped her own gloves on. "No different from the last time you did a post-mortem, really. How long has it been?"

He let out a barking laugh, shaking his head. "Not nearly long enough."

"General curse check, I suppose?" Remus stood back, letting Sirius and Sakura take the reins. He never had much of a stomach of autopsies. This close to the full moon, the wolf always began to call out. This girl reeked of blood.

"Moony?"

Remus looked up at Sirius, who was staring, concern marring his gaunt face.

"I'm fine," Remus assured both Sirius and Sakura. He braced himself. He had done autopsies before. It had been necessary for Aurors to learn how to perform autopsies. The only way to know what to expect from a murderer was to know what they had done before.

Sirius picked up a wand from the table. It was Remus', as he had not had one of his own in years. He pointed the wand at the girl's forehead, muttering the revealing spell.

The body remained still. Sakura moved the cascades of black hair off the girl's forehead. "There's no mark."

"What do you mean?" Sirius stared at the wand, then shifted his gaze to the girl. "I cast the spell right. There should be a symbol on her forehead. It should reveal the curse that killed her."

"Let me try," Sakura stepped forward, pulling the fan from her belt. She pointed the fan at the body, speaking in Japanese.

The body remained unmarred. Remus swallowed hard. "This was no curse." He pulled his wand. "Corpus Leviosa."

Levitating about a foot over the desk, Remus turned the body over. He gestured to the blood stained hole. "She was stabbed."

Sirius moved closer. "The places she was hit... It would have immobilized her. But she would have been... Alive. She bled to death."

"Couldn't run... Couldn't scream..." Sakura shivered.

Turning the body over, Remus sniffed close to the girl's face. "There's more..."

The body's eyelashes were glued down by congealed blood. Remus put his hand gently on the eyelids, trying to pry them open.

The eyelids stayed firmly shut. Remus held out his wand again, casting a spell.

The corpses' eyes flew open, pent-up blood finally finding a way out of the empty sockets.

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