A/N: I do not have a beta; if any of the readers find that I need one, please send me a PM and we can discuss it.


All men by nature desire knowledge

- Aristotle


Chapter 2

Morning arrived too early for Draco. His sleep had been dreamless yet he felt as if he had slept too few.

He stabbed his eggs when he heard Goyle attempting to talk through a mouthful of sausages, no doubt trying to engage him in a conversation.

"Did you sleep well, Draco?" The oaf smartly swallowed before trying to repeat himself.

"As well as one can, Goyle." His housemate grinned at being acknowledged by him.

"Did you hear? Potter had detention with Umbridge last night" he turned to Goyle as the tall boy gulped pumpkin juice without stopping to breathe "and it was prime time she'd do something about it, spewing aloud things which he shouldn't... He had it coming."

"Tell me, Goyle, is it your lack of creativity or intelligence that makes your poor social skills stand out in conversations?" He was satisfied by the frown appearing between Goyle's eyebrows. "In case you don't remember, which makes me believe the reason was the latter, I was there when Umbridge announced Potter's detention."

Some Slytherins around them snickered at Goyle and others rolled their eyes at Goyle's appalling table manners.

Goyle turned to his plate and murmured under his breath "just trying to make conversation" but did not openly defy him.

He snorted at Goyle's submission. Couldn't the boy come up with a flourished retort just once? He was beginning to get disappointed with his housemates' lack of eloquence in their speech.

He glanced at Umbridge.

Maybe that was the only thing the hideous excuse of a woman could teach them. How to underline insults clear as crystal under some carefully selected words that did not come out as blunt as a Quidditch bat.


DADA was never one of his favourite subjects.

It went against his magic's nature.

Pushing aside the Dark Arts with Light magic? He scoffed at the mere idea. How foolish of people to push that much power aside. Although he did see an advantage in it; the power would not fall in the hands of those undeserving.

He immediately thought of the Mudblood and the Weasel. Maybe Potter too but somehow he couldn't say that the image of The Boy Who Wouldn't Die tinkering with the Dark Arts was negative. It would have made His return much easier, without doubt.

"Wands away, quills out."

Umbridge's voice got to his nerves every time, especially when she tried to smile nonchalantly at her students. It reminisced of a toad that had caught a particularly fat fly.

His only satisfaction out of these ridiculously useless classes was Potter's permanent frown and grimace as he scratched the back of his right hand...

Draco smirked as he caught a glance of a portion of red skin.

Punishment indeed. How he would have loved to be there and witness whatever Umbridge had done to the infamous Harry Potter. His submissive demeanor in these classes was something he very much appreciated.

Draco's smirk widened.

Umbridge passed along his desk and she mistook his expression as a smile for her. She smiled politely back at him.

Know your place, clot. Although his smile didn't falter in front of her.

His eyes turned to the textbook in front of him pretending to read, words not registering. He eyed Umbridge as she walked to her desk with her back turned towards him. She approached Potter's desk and he grinned when he saw the green eyes trying to stab daggers on her back.

So be it, Potter. For the first time I will grant your wish.

"Colloshoo" he whispered quietly under his breath and aimed the curse at Umbridge's feet right when her back was to Harry.

Crabbe looked at him oddly and Draco merely returned the stare, daring him to say anything.

He wanted to curse Crabbe's insisting stare when he heard a pig-like squeal and a heavy thud. He turned his eyes to the fallen professor and frowned sadly at what he had missed. Potter's face was terribly contorting into what seemed to be a shit eating grin and surprise. The whole class watched silently what had happened, some stifling mad laughter behind their hands and books.

Umbridge's eyes were wild as her head snapped back and roamed over every student in a murderous fashion.

Draco's snicker quickly faltered, masking his expression into confusion when the teacher's eyes met his. He etched his face in a concerned frown all the while laughing inside. His eyes darted quickly to Potter, knowing Umbridge would misinterpret that as a sign of the Gryffindor's culpability.

His wand had been immediately pocketed after he cast the charm so as not to arise suspicion. Crabbe was smirking and almost burst laughing out loud if it wasn't for the look or promised pain Draco gave him.

Do not attract attention to our desk.

He wouldn't mind testing the cruciatus curse on Crabbe if he intended to go against his silent order. He looked at the Golden Trio and frowned when Potter was managing to control his bubbling laughter.

Well that wouldn't do. He needed to make him look like the culprit. And what other way than... Umbridge was already staring daggers at Potter so she could not see him sliding his hand into his robe's pocket and taking his wand out silently.

Rictusempra.

His eyes gleamed in satisfaction when the silent spell hit its target. Potter's face was first of surprise, then dawning and then pure horror as his lips could not contain the loud laughter inside his chest.

That's for the second year.

Granger looked at Harry as if he had declared that he and Ron were both tossers over her naked picture and Weasley looked at Harry as if he was an acromantula.

He noted with sadistic pleasure as Umbridge's beady eyes became smaller as her rage tried to burn Potter in his spot. All his laughter had died in his throat.

Draco's grin was threatening to split his lips when he saw Potter's wand in his hand, no doubt trying to counter the spell. And at that moment he could hear bells and angels singing in his head over the bloody sweet victory of his prank.

"Mister Potter!" Umbridge boomed at Harry who was now trying to form a coherent explanation but his nerves failed him when...

"Two months of detention with doubled hours! How dare you attack one of your teachers?"

Granger was about to sit up and defend her friend but Potter's look silenced her so she wouldn't get in trouble along with him. The green eyes momentarily flashed to his direction but Draco lowered his head quickly, pretending to scan the pages innocently.

Potter knew.

And that made it so much better. Potter knew but he didn't have any proof on him. His wand was safely tucked away while Potter's was stupidly still in his hand, probably not able to get over his shock.

Crabbe looked at him with what seemed a conspirator-y glint to his eyes and at that moment he wished he could grab the back of his thick neck and smash his nose into the table they shared.

Couldn't the idiot be more bloody obvious?

He was glad that his fears weren't met, Umbridge completely concentrated on Harry who was in the middle of the classroom and he was gladly at the back. Else he wouldn't have been able to pull this plan without consequences.

He dully noticed the Weasel raising from his chair and banging his fist at the table, trying desperately to prove a point with his Neanderthal manners.

Two months, Potter.

He lowered his head again for this time he couldn't suppress the sadistic grin that coated his face.


"That was bloody brilliant, Draco!" Crabbe and Goyle were walking on his side after they left the classroom. He turned his grey eyes at the overweight sack that was his bodyguard.

"What was?" He asked nonchalantly.

Crabbe seemed lost for a good of one minute when realisation finally sparkled in his tadpole sized brain. He winked at him.

"Right."

As in winked. He grimaced at Crabbe and turned around walking along the corridors to his next class - Charms. Other students were moving along in groups too.

"MALFOY!" The booming voice made him stop in his tracks, his bodyguards doing the same. He turned around to see two bodies blocking his view but he recognised the voice of the red headed blood traitor.

"You fucking bloody bastard!" He sneered at the crude language and heard a female voice belonging to the Mudblood reprimanding him lightly. So disgustingly sweet of her to care about his manners.

"How DARE YOU? DOING THAT TO HARRY?" He reacted quickly when he saw Weasley grabbing his wand and beat him up to it. He was caught in his thoughts analysing what offensive spell to use or if he should resume to defensive in case a teacher strolled by so he could look the victim in the situation but as his mind furiously scanned through tactics in his head...

"Incendio!" His opponent shouted and Goyle and Crabbe who were big and slow barely had any time and option but to dodge to the side leaving him uncovered with a blast of red light moving towards him at lightning speed. How very courageous of them.

He knew he didn't have time to raise any shields so he let the hex hit his robes before countering the small flames with a quick aguamenti.

Weasley furiously threw the same hex at him and he scoffed at his ridiculous duelling skills. No opponent should attack with the same spell twice in a row. This time he was prepared.

"Protego." He said lazily, as if he wished to be in another place at the moment. He waved his wand in an elegant C in front of him and the transparent white shield deflected the spell away from him.

He heard Granger yell something at him that resembled 'stop, not worth it' but the Weasel was so intent on avenging his friend that he completely ignored her as he threw something that he suspiciously identified as a binding leg jinx.

He rolled out of its way and hoped a teacher would come and interrupt the duel before he had to get serious. He did not want to use one of his advanced Dark spells with witnesses fit for a Quidditch match. Students made a circle some feet away from him and the fuming red head.

"What is it, Weasley? Did your time of the month arrive?" He grinned in an irritating fashion to tick even more the read head and noticed Granger looking slightly affronted at his misogynistic words. He rose himself from the ground where he had been crouching.

"You bloody darn well know it, Malfoy!" He said with a sneer. "Don't try to act innocent! We know it was you who pulled that shit in front of Umbridge!" He saw Weasley take three steps toward his direction.

"Incarcerous!" He noted with satisfaction as Weasel's feet were bound and the read head fell onto the ground flat on his face.

"Flipendo!" His eyes widened when the curse travelled in his direction from Granger's wand. Who would have thought that Granger would step into a duel and turn the tables around in a very Slytherin manner? Certainly not him.

He was thrown some considerable feet away, his back slamming painfully into the wall behind him. He groaned as he felt some ribs pop out of place. He opened his eyes and saw Granger being approached by Goyle and Crabbe and he admitted that she was holding herself pretty well against two buffoons. Her intelligence compensated for the lack of physical power the other two useless bodyguards had. He didn't need to think twice to know exactly which muscle would win over the other.

His eyes snapped back to his situation when he saw the red head jump from the ground and look between him and Granger for a second and maybe somehow the Weasel had a partial brain inside his skull for he understood that Crabbe and Goyle were no magical match for Granger.

He saw the taller boy springing in his direction and Draco made a swift move for his wand which had been on the floor at his feet but that was the only thing he had time for because the next moment he felt a hand clenching around his neck and snapping his head back against stones of the wall.

He saw white for a moment and he felt dizzy when he tried to fix a grey glare on the Weasley.

"Just admit to it, Malfoy" His surname felt like an insult the way the red head spat it. He frowned in defiance at the bloody git and then switched his mouth into an enervating smile.

"So now you accuse without having any evidence, do you?" He was about to bring his fist up on the blood traitor's face but it seemed he had predicted that action and he was backed to the wall even further when the Weasley pressed into his body to stop any movement from him.

"Proof? I need proof?" The hand around his throat gripped him tightly and he suppressed wheezing for breath. "Everyone knows it was you, Malfoy, who else could it have been?"

The Weasley backed away slightly and he almost grasped the opportunity before he felt a very much well aimed fist in his stomach. He doubled forward and gasped mutely as his knees fell on the ground. He couldn't breathe.

He tried to regain his breath but the little Gryffindor fucker had aimed his punch right at his diaphragm. He was suddenly grabbed by the front collar of his uniform to face the angry red face of Potter's right hand.

"I will get you, Malfoy, one day I will. Don't think your bodyguards will be able to defend you."

Speaking of whom, he looked to his right as much as he could to see Crabbe and Goyle being interrupted and scolded by professor McGonagall. He was shaken slightly out of his stupor by the red head.

"I will get you, Malfoy." He felt hot breath on his face as Ronald Weasley whispered the threat so the approaching teacher couldn't hear him.

"Mr. Weasley, remove your hands from Mr. Malfoy this instance." The order was smooth and cold, not giving any signs which one of the two she favoured.

Obviously it would be 'Mr. Weasley' he mentally sneered. The hand grabbing him left him and he staggered slightly but he was able to keep himself standing. He would have had come back with an insulting retort at Weasley if he could speak. At the moment he was slowly and painfully regaining breath.

What a muggle way to duel. Leave it to the Weasley, the pureblood traitor.

"Fifty points from Gryffindor, Mr. Weasley." He gloated at the struck face of the idiotic Gryffindor.

"B-but... professor! Malfoy started it!"

That little... He dare attack him without even having proof of what he accused him of – not as if he was innocent – and then he dared to lie to his Head house that it was him who incited the muggle brawl? Draco sneered visibly at Weasley and got one back in return. He wondered if the Sorting Hat was losing its touch.

"I do not care who started it, Mr. Weasley. Fifty points from Gryffindor. From each of you." McGonagall turned to Granger who was panting slightly from the magical exertion of fighting off two bullies. "And I expected better from you, Ms. Granger." The condescending tone would almost have hurt him if it had been directed at him.

He smirked at the ashamed expression Granger gave to her Head House.

"And fifty points out of each of you too, Mr. Draco, Mr. Goyle and Mr. Crabbe." He sneered at the teacher. Those two oafs were not going to get unpunished for their stupidity at being caught and thus rendering the Slytherin house with minus one hundred and fifty points.

That would hurt.

At least Gryffindor didn't come out unscathed.

"Now about the punishment..." The professor trailed off and that got his attention, for McGonagall never left her sentences unfinished.

"... professor Umbridge will take care of assigning each of you a rightful punishment." He frowned in contemplation. Umbridge? Had the Ministry's influence grown over the past few months so rapidly in Hogwarts?

"Professor High Inquisitor, professor McGonagall." That sickly fake sweet voice made him grimace. Dolores was walking towards them with what seemed an extremely satisfied aura. She glanced at him briefly and then at Weasley and her eyes turned harder.

Well, wasn't it his luck that Ronald wasn't kept in her high regards...

Sometimes he appreciated being a Malfoy too much.


"What punishment did you get?" Parkinson sat next to him at diner. He looked at her for a moment and resumed eating his fried rice mixed with vegetables and bean sprouts. Most definitely proof of the Headmaster's eccentric tastes in cuisine. And clothes.

His mind took in Pansy's eye-liner and mascara.

"What's the look for?" He asked her uninterestedly.

"Oh." She blushed and started fidgeting.

"Is a monosyllabic answer the best you can come up with?" He brought his fork to his mouth and had to admit that rice, although it was food for the poor, was something he wouldn't mind eating more often.

"No... I just..." She frowned and stopped fidgeting as if knowing that the gesture annoyed him.

"Blaise asked me out for a stroll tonight." She sputtered quickly. But her gaze lingered on his face, as if expecting something.

He stopped for a second but resumed to his meal without giving her a reaction.

"I hope... you don't mind that he..." She looked at him trying to search for any type of emotion but he did not give in her hopes. He took his sweet moment swallowing the pumpkin juice feeling Pansy growing more stressed as he dragged each minute.

He turned to her finally. "Parkinson, whatever notion you have and made you ask for my permission to date a bloke is only inside your girlish fantasy filled imagination and does not correspond to reality."

She parted her lips but then closed them again.

"You never answered my first question." She said tentatively.

He looked her up and down as if assessing if she was worthy enough to question him. She fidgeted under his gaze.

"Umbridge gave me a punishment only to keep suspicions at bay of her favouring Slytherins." He waved his hand nonchalantly. "I am to clean the Library for one week with the aid of the wand if I so prefer."

"That is hardly a punishment." She snickered.

He kept to himself that he was permitted access to the Restricted Section. He had grabbed the opportunity when he was in her hideous and abnormally pink office. She of course permitted him since he was a prefect and a Slytherin. And a pure blood, of course. Nothing was above the purity of blood, except, perhaps, magical power.

"Weasley got the male bathrooms for one week and he has to do it without a wand. Not like I couldn't imagine that; after all, he does have dirty hands."

He couldn't figure what Pansy had against Weasley; of course being a blood traitor was never favouring in anyone's eyes but her remark sounded personal and made him think she had some hidden motives that drove her to hate him more than he did.

Blaise walked over to them and nodded at Draco as a sign of respect and turned to Pansy. "Are you ready?"

"Yes." She beamed at him and sneaked a glance at him.

Draco pretended not to notice. How disgusting the fake display of public affection was. Blaise looked at him for a moment and he returned the stare back. The brunette shook his head and took Parkinson's arm in his before finally leaving him in peace.

Well, if a relationship formed between the two he wondered if Blaise was aware how Pansy had lost her virtue to him and had continued to come back to him.

Parkinson chose a good time for her to have her... date. It was her shift tonight – along with him – to roam the castle grounds in search of fools who dared to break the curfew.

He hoped he could catch some Gryffindors tonight. Maybe he could make the teachers deduct some points as a pay back for what had happened earlier with Weasley.


He went to the library to find it still open considering the late hour. Madam Pince looked up from her books to smile at him coldly. He returned the smile without reservation.

"Well, since you have arrived Mr. Malfoy I will take my leave. I have been waiting for your arrival." He looked at her, unbothered that she would suggest he came late. He wasn't. The clock on the wall confirmed him so.

"I will expect you to lock the doors once you've finished with your... detention." Ah, so she knew how lenient Umbridge had been. Good for her to notice how important he was.

"A simple locking charm will do. After that you only need but to say the words 'cogito ergo sum' and it's done."

He wasn't familiar with the sentence. Latin had never been his best but he could figure out it meant 'I think, therefore I am'. Didn't sound like a wizard quotation. Perhaps a muggle one? That would be expected out of Dumbledore's character.

"Goodnight, Mr. Malfoy. I do think it's unnecessary to mention that any damage to the books is on your own responsibility." She gave him a last tight smile before walking out of the library, closing the doors as she did.

He rolled his eyes at her unsocial persona.

He snorted.

Not like he had any rights to complain.

He smirked knowingly. Weasley... the excuse of a wizard was getting what he deserved. Degraded to cleaning toilets and urinals. He couldn't stop the grin at the humiliation the red head must feel. Perhaps, if he knew where the idiot Gryffindor was stationed, he would visit him and empty his bladder clumsily.

He turned on his heel and waved his hand silently at some bookshelves which had been purposely dirtied – he was sure it was the work of Madam Pince – and it did not bother him in the slightest.

He walked along the rows of shelves without any spark of interest to pick any of the ancient looking tomes, some organized in a messy fashion on chairs, other lying peacefully next to each other on shelves.

Books hadn't been his favourites but he would not deny a precious one from time to time. And that's what he wanted now. To go to the Restricted Section. The knowledge that would be contained there would certainly appease his delicate palate.

Why did he want the Restricted Section and not the common Library? Although he did admit the Library itself had valuable books hidden between piles of gibberish, Draco knew it was all about Light spells or Neutral spells.

If he ever put his mind into reading a book it would be focused on the Dark Arts. Light spells were mostly weak and few were the ones which helped in battle. Expecto Patronum was certainly a very powerful Light spell but his magic did not allow him to perform it nor did he have anyone to teach him how to mould it to allow him to cast it. Ask father? He chuckled at the thought of his stern father ever teaching him magic that Dumbledore would.

There was just no possibility.

With Light magic that is.

But Dark magic certainly compensated with offensive spells. And that was the major difference between these two opposite branches of magic. One focused on being offensive and to cause real damage to the enemy while the other focused mostly on protecting the caster and restraining the enemy.

If he ever spoke of this knowledge to Crabbe or Goyle they would without doubt stare at him and scratch their heads. No, he didn't need to share knowledge with anyone, even if they were his housemates. Keeping to oneself was the greatest privilege of all.

He had the upper hand.

Let his enemies underestimate him. For if others did see him as a threat they wouldn't let their shields down around him and wouldn't allow themselves not to be aware and alert if he was nearby.

People shared secrets with people whom they thought were inferior.

Know thy enemy, his father always told him that. And he took it to heart.

He walked calmly to the rope marking the difference of knowledge contained in the books further on. Sliding it aside, he entered the Restricted Section with slight eagerness. The dark wood of the polished shelves added to the eeriness of the room.

He inhaled deeply finding that he did like the aroma of old pages barely touched by humans.

He looked around, not knowing where to start. He decided to walk in further the room and at that time something caught his eyes. He stopped and turned left and his outstretched hand seemed to prickle in response to the book he was aiming for. Sitting on a low shelf, out of people's attention was a black hard cover with intricate designs. He pulled it out and eyed curiously the front cover when he noticed the swirls and lines somehow formed an open mouth and pitiless eyes, as if the book was screaming at him in agony. Interestedly, the cover did not have any motion to it. He glided his fingers over it and opened the first page to–

A sudden horrendous scream echoed in the room as the chilling sound bounced off the walls. The hair on the back of his neck stood on edges and his body was frozen to the spot.

He dropped the tome quickly as if it had burned him. He breathed in and out harshly. Fucking hell. That must have been the most notable scare he had had in his life.

Now, Draco, don't be silly. It is just a book. He gulped as he eyed the non comforting atmosphere of the room as if he became suddenly aware of how oppressing the darkness was.

He picked the book again, carefully so he would not open it by accident and placed it in the same place. His eyes fixed on the tome to its right. How odd. Odd indeed. He felt some kind of... attraction to it.

He could compare it to Pansy going inside Twilfitt and Tatting's and eyeing the perfect dress for the Yule Ball.

He picked it immediately and sat on an old wooden chair by the window which did not allow the moonlight to seep in.

"Lumos". The cover was dark brown, simple. Too simple to attract his attention as it had. The title was too faded for him to understand it. He opened the book and scanned through its contents with some effort as some letters were blurred and he had to figure out what words belonged there before. It did not help that it was written in Old English.

Once again he found himself putting to practice what he had learned from his private tutors when he had been a child. No, it was not reading Old English, his father had not been that antiquated with his education. A translating charm would suffice.

"Reddo libri." He said clearly as he pointed his wand to the surface of the book.

He had to wait quite a bit as the pages flipped one after the other as if an invisible hand was touching them. He saw the ancient words transform into Modern English before his eyes and he was satisfied to be able to comprehend them. The table of contents was finally readable before his eyes.

The book was Dark, very Dark he could understand that from skimming through the pages and its titles. It mentioned mortality and immortality and spells and complicated rituals which would post pone one's exterior ageing and he read the ingredients they required feeling slight aversion. Hippogriff liver, vampire's blood, Horntail's wing... and human cerebellum.

He paused there. He didn't need to read more.

He skimmed some more pages and stopped when he read a title in bold.

The unknown of Ignotus'

He raised his eyebrow at the odd title. The unknown of the unknown? Well, isn't that redundant...

His eyes trailed after what seemed like a journal entry mentioning fears about Death and the desire to cheat it and becoming immortal.

It fixes you in the eye of the mind, reading your thoughts, yet not reading. It feels you, yet you cannot feel it. Traitorous is the mind; it betrays your own thoughts. A mind which has a mind of its own. Traitorous indeed.

I find it hard to keep to myself the thoughts which I wish to keep. Sometimes they ask me and yet I want to lie but my mind does not allow it. So I speak the truth. A mind which has a mind of its own.

So I found a way, so simple and yet I was delayed in finding the simplicity of it; a complicated matter can be simple in a simple man's view and a simple matter can be complicated in a complicated man's view.

So I finally write the truth down. It knows that I do, but it does not bother me. It wants to take me soon, I feel it. My brothers deny my fears; they say the age is to blame. So I have found an intriguing word in my researches. A word that does not come from my brothers, no, but it soothes me more than they do. Horcrux.

If one stores the mind which has a mind of its own somewhere, Death cannot take you. Even if it does take you, only the materiality of you is gone. But the substance of you is not lost.

How do you store it? By committing the most dreadful act a human being is capable of...

The long and abstract passage ended there. He turned the page yet he could not find the continuation of the thought. Horcrux? His father had never spoken of it, his tutors had never mentioned the word and the Malfoy Library had no books on it.

A chill ran through his spine. He looked at the book and promptly closed it.

"Finite." He knew the words had returned to their original gibberish. He would have to ask his father about this. About... horcrux. The inner walls of his stomach clenched in yet another chill.

He would not think about the word again. It made him feel uneasy.

Draco looked at the window to see trough some cracks on the design a full ominous moon casting its rays on his skin. It wasn't soothing as he had expected it to be. He stood up and was about to put the book next to the screaming one when his hand hesitated. He looked at the tallest bookshelf. Bringing the chair near it, he stepped on the creaking wood and raised his hand. He placed the book horizontally far away from view.

He nodded to himself, satisfied that even he couldn't find it from the ground's perspective. Memorizing the bookshelf as the one near the west window, he briskly turned his back to the unnerving atmosphere the Restricted Section had suddenly adopted.

He was glad to enter the safety of the illuminated part of the common Library the students were allowed to visit on a daily basis.

Turning to close the doors behind him, he muttered a colloportus under his breath to seal the door.

"Cogito ergo sum." He was embarrassed at the way he pronounced the sentence. His Latin pronunciation was not as good as he suggested with his spells.

"Tempus."

It was eleven. He walked through the corridors on his way to the Slytherin common rooms, not expecting to bump into any student who missed curfew. He did hope he wouldn't have to face Parkinson and Zabini heavily snogging into a wall.

He wouldn't want his housemates acting awkward and all flustered like girls around him for having them caught in the spotlight.

Parkinson was already annoying enough.

Feeling a bit disappointed that he did not catch any Gryffindors sneaking around without permission, Draco found himself later in bed with silver pyjamas that accentuated the coldness in his eyes.

The thought of theDark Lord suddenly popped into his head.

He would have to face the man.

He knew from his father the man was an extremely skilled legillimens and for that he needed to perfect his Oclummency skills over the course of the year. To him it was not very hard to cleanse his mind before going to sleep. The environment he was forced to grow in when he was a child always reminded him not to let his emotions seen, not to let emotions take over your rational mind.

So as he drifted off without having a thought on his head, his eyelids fell and he was taken by a deep dreamless sleep.