the butter is on a roll!! except, im eating toast, so maybe the butter should be on toast instead........

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~


Chapter Twenty - I'm The Psychic

Walking as fast as she could, up all the moving staircases and through the long corridors of Hogwarts, Indie was running over many thoughts in her head.
"Indie!" Harry called, having trouble keeping up with te tiny blonde, "What do you mean you know? Who was it?"
Pausing for a moment outside Dumbledore's gargoyle, she realised she didn't know the password yet...
Sighing, she turned to Harry.
Holding up the newspaper, she pointed to the mad woman.
"It was her," she said, a tremble in her voice, "I remembered the hair, the eyes....the scream...."
Taking the Daily Prophet from Indie, Harry read the caption aloud.
"Bellatrix Lestrange?" he murmured, confused, as he didn't actually know who this particular witch was.
A raised eyebrow from Indie met his confusion.
"You don't know who this is?" she asked, "Harry! You're friends with me AND Neville, yet you still don't know Bellatrix Lestrange?"
Although, you couldn't really blame the boy, he did live in MuggleVille when he wasn't at school.
"Don't you recognise her, though?" she asked, taking the paper back from him and holding it up again, "From Grimmauld Place?"
Indie saw the light in Harry's eyes as realization hit, but it left soon after as he realised just who Sirius had introduced her as.
"She was on the wall," he muttered, "Sirius' cousin..."
"Yes," she said, nodding, "and also Dora and Malfoy's aunt."
The gargoyle moving startled them both, as Indie made no haste in stepping onto the moving staircase that took her to Dumbledore.
"Harry, she has a reputation, and not a good one," she began, "my parents were at school around the same time, and that was when MouldyWart started his little 'gang'. She was absolutely in love with him, infatuated, and still now is his most loyal servant."
The staircase stopped, as did Indie's narrating, as she headed for the big, wooden door, behind which was Dumbledore's office.
"So you mean, that this mass breakout was Voldemort's doing?" he asked his eyes wide now.
"Don't say his name," Indie said, "and yes, of course it is, he needs an army, so he's breaking his Death Eaters out of Azkaban."
"Come in," came the quiet voice of Albus Dumbledore, as Indie made her way in to see him sat at his desk.
He looked pleasantly surprised to see Indie and Harry his eyes twinkling over his half-moon glasses.
"Ah, to what do I owe this pleasure today?" he asked, popping a licorice snap into his mouth, smiling.
"Good Afternoon, Professor," Indie began, "I was reading the paper today, and it would seem that last night's events are somewhat, reformed, in my mind."
Harry noticed the distinct difference between how she spoke to Dumbledore, and how she spoke to others.
"I see," Dumbledore murmured, after a moment of silence. Looking to Indie, a confused look once agian set on Harry's face, he noticed she held a blank expression, as if she weren't quite awake.
Dumbledore on the other hand looked as though he were watching an excellent movie, but looked straight back at Indie as the credits began to roll.
"So you have worked out who your attacker is?" he asked, taking the Daily Prophet from Indie's outstretched arm.
"Yes, Sir," she added, "Bellatrix Lestrange was the attacker, but as for her company, I cannot say."
"There was another, yes," Dumbledore said, contemplating thoughts in his brilliant mind, as Indie opened her mouth to speak again.
"His mind was familiar, like a book I'd read before," she said, "I can't put my wand on it..."
"His identity will come to you in time, Indie," he said, standing and walking toward the two fifth years, "Just, for now, concentrate on your classes. This is your O.W.L year, you can't afford to be taking unnecessary trips to the minds of others."
Laughing quietly, Indie nodded, Harry now beside her as they headed out.
"Yes, Professor," she added, smiling, "Enjoy your afternoon."
A light wave accompanied them out the door, as Harry looked quizzically at Indie on their way down the stairs.
Indie noticed of course, and knew exactly why.
"I hold a lot of respect for Dumbledore," she said, turning to Harry, "you should make priority to remember that."
Harry was puzzled. He'd ever seen the serious side of Indie before, and certainly had never been at the wrong end of her temper.
"What do you mean?" he asked, "I respect Dumbledore just as much as you do."
"No, you don't."
"Yes, Indie, I do."
"No, Harry, you don't."
"Yes, I -"
"Harry!"
Ron's voice amongst the spat caused both heads to turn.
"There you are!" he said, walking quickly toward the pair, but not looking to Indie at all, "We've got to get to Hagrid's, mate."
Harry didn't bother saying goodbye to Indie, but instead followed Ron without a look back.
Indie knew she'd offended Harry, but she was right. He didn't hold the same respect for their headmaster; he wanted to know how and why for everything he did. He thought he was close to him. But Indie knew that, Dumbledore, in all his brilliance, had his reasons. And often, would not endeavour to make close relations in fear of loss.
But, that's just what Indie could gather from her knowledge of his history.
She let her mind drift along after Harry, wanting to leave her footprint firmly on his conscious. There were other places she'd like to leave her footprint, but that would be for later, when he was actually in reach of her foot.

"Just remember, Harry," she said, as she turned to make her way to the lower levels,

"I'm the psychic."