((A.N. Chapter 4 is here! I'm really excited about the amount of response this story is getting... thank you to all of my reviewers. I've decided I'm going to thank you all individually every five chapters, due totime constraints and whatnot... I'm so busy that I don't even have time to breathe. In this chapter I started writing a subplot with Lupin as the main character, and Lupin's story will pop up every couple of chapters from now on. Lupin is connected to the main story, even if it's not obvious yet.
Enjoy the chapter, then. :D))
PART I: COME TO ME IN DREAMS
Come back in tears;
O memory, hope, love of finished years.
From "Echo" by Christina Rossetti
Chapter 4; Darkness of Durmstrang
The next morning dawned, ironically, bright and clear. Harry and Hermione had been bidden farewell by the rest of the seventh year Gryffindors, and despite herself, Hermione was excited to be going.
"You'll all be sitting in one compartment," Professor McGonagall said firmly, ushering them into a side compartment. "You are almost adults, and as adults I am speaking to you now. You two are responsible and level headed, but you must be careful. I do not doubt that there are plans afoul amongst the other schools. This is our chance to unite with the other schools, and you must do your best to create strong friendships." She said all of this very quickly and sternly. "And, good luck."
"This is going to be interesting, to say the least," Hermione told Harry after McGonagall had left. She looked casual and confident in khaki pants and a collared, button up blue blouse.
"It would almost be fun, if Malfoy weren't . . ." Harry started, but was startled as the door clicked.
"Speak of the devil," Hermione said loudly as Malfoy waltzed in. His face contorted into an ungainly sneer when he saw them.
"There must have been some mistake," he said in a calm voice. It was smooth and confident, as if he knew every word he said was true. "Granger, I can see why you're here . . . they needed to enter at least one Mudblood to make it look fair. But Potter? What redeeming qualities do they possibly imagine you to possess?"
"Maybe, Malfoy, you're just sore because Harry's defeated your boss six or seven times in a row now," Hermione said stonily, glaring up at him. She was implying that he was a Death Eater.
"I wouldn't go making assumptions like that, Granger," Malfoy said, his voice deadly calm. "You never know where you might end up."
"Did you just threaten her?" Harry asked incredulously. The tension in the small compartment seemed to mount.
Draco considered briefly. "That would be a 'yes'," he said lightly, after a moment. "Though I shouldn't waste threats on her . . . killing her outright would be far more fitting to her worthless bloodline."
Harry stood up suddenly, upsetting his trunk. It clattered to the ground.
"Insulting me is one thing, Malfoy. Insulting my friends is another."
"Okay," said Draco softly. "I'll keep that in mind next time I need to provoke you."
"Malfoy, you–" Harry reached into his pocket for his wand, but their attention was diverted to the compartment door as it opened. Ginny stepped in, looking flustered.
"Well," she said weakly, "It's been thirty seconds and you're already at each other's throats. I can tell this is going to be a lovely journey."
Harry, looking a bit ashamed, sat down and righted his trunk. Wordlessly, Ginny took a seat on the opposite side of the seat Draco was sitting in. Draco threw up his hands in disgust.
"A Weasley, now, too? What happened to equality between houses? What happened to common sense? When a plebeian, a Mudblood, and a reckless prat are the top three students in the school, you know something's gone wrong."
Ginny seemed to have regained her composure.
"Not to mention a rat-faced coward with an ego the size of a Norwegian Ridgeback," Ginny said loftily.
Hermione thought that this description was dead on. Perhaps not the rat-faced part, but that was aside from the point. She needed them to stop arguing, because she knew that this would only lead to another brawl.
"Speaking of top students," Hermione cut in quickly. "Does anyone know who the fifth Ambassador is?"
Draco ignored her question, but Harry and Ginny shook their heads.
As if on cue, the compartment door slid open. Ernie Macmillan looked back at them.
"Hello, all," he said cheerily.
Draco apparently could not find the words. Finally, he did.
"A Hufflepuff? This is a new low. It could have been a Ravenclaw, or a Slytherin, or, Merlin forbid, a Gryffindor . . . but Dumbledore has chosen someone from an absolutely worthless house!"
"My house is highly superior to yours, Malfoy," Ernie said haughtily. "We did far better than you Slytherins on the O.W.L.s."
Draco rolled his eyes, draping his arms on the back of the seats. "Go on, then, Macmillan . . . name one famous witch or wizard from Hufflepuff."
Ernie opened his mouth.
"And don't say Cedric Diggory, he was only famous for dying, and that was all Potter's fault."
Ernie closed it.
"Point proven," Draco said after a moment.
"Listen, Malfoy," Harry said, "none of us has a problem with Ernie but you–"
"I have a problem with all of you, really," Draco added helpfully. Harry decided to ignore him.
"– no one has a problem with him but you, so lay off."
"Oh, well said, Potter. I'll 'lay off', as you put it, because I'm actually at a loss for words at the prospect that I'll be spending the next month or so with you lot."
"You're a right little ray of sunshine yourself, Malfoy," Hermione retorted.
But after that, they were silent.
FACT: King Arthur was a legendary knight of the Dark Ages. He was rumored to have existed in Britain and to have died around 537 A.D. In Malory's retelling of his life, Arthur has a wife, Guenevere.
Remus Lupin stepped into Dumbledore's office, and was immediately bombarded with a thousand memories. He had been here many times, mostly for punishment, along with the other three Marauders. They were happy memories, memories of a younger, healthier time.
"Sit down, Remus," Dumbledore said, gesturing expansively.
Lupin took a seat, and wondered why Dumbledore had called on him. Dumbledore did not seem in the mood for idle conversation. After a few pleasantries, Dumbledore folded his hands and looked gravely at Lupin.
"You are aware, Remus, that Voldemort grows stronger with every passing day."
"I am aware," Lupin confirmed.
Dumbledore stared across the desk at Lupin. He felt as if he were being measured.
"There is something of grave importance I am going to reveal to you," Dumbledore continued, "but you must tell no one. Not your closest friend, not your most trusted ally."
There will be no danger of that, Lupin wanted to say bitterly. My most trusted friends are dead.
Instead, he nodded his head.
"An inside source has informed me that Voldemort has devised a way to regain his full power. It involves the use of an object so ancient and mythical that I had believed it long ago vanished into the ages. He has, however, found proof that it still exists."
"What object is this?" Lupin asked, his interest piqued.
"It is so long lost that I do not know even that much. It has been rumored to be a coin, a bottle, a cup . . . perhaps the Holy Grail itself."
Lupin raised an eyebrow. "And how does Voldemort plan on finding this . . . object?"
Dumbledore sighed. "That I do not know either, Remus. He has more information, I am sure. I do know that if he succeeds in finding this object, the war will be lost before it has even begun."
"Albus, this is madness." Lupin said, shifting uncomfortably. "The Dark Lord is searching for a mythical treasure that does not even have a name, a location, or a history? An object that very likely does not even exist? I say leave him to it, Albus. He will rot trying to find it."
"There is one thing," Dumbledore said, holding a finger up.
Lupin sighed noisily. "There's always one thing. What is it? And what in the name of Merlin does this all have to do with me?"
"Everything, I'm afraid," Dumbledore said, a hint of sadness in his voice. He sighed, and then leaned back. "I do not know why I try to avoid the unavoidable," he said, half to himself, "time and time again."
Dumbledore stood up and strolled over to a cabinet. Lupin frowned.
To Lupin's great surprise, he withdrew a Pensieve. It had snakes as a border, and the words "Mind's eye" engraved in Latin.
"I want you to enter this Pensieve," Dumbledore announced, "and watch carefully at what occurs. There is only one memory stored in here."
Dumbledore set the Pensieve in front of Lupin. "Go on, then."
So without another word, Lupin submerged his head below the shimmering surface.
The rest of the journey on the train went by slowly, though quietly. Harry and Hermione talked, their heads close together, for some time, but all Draco could hear was the deep rumble of his voice and the calm alto of hers.
As Draco watched them through slitted eyes, he tried to puzzle out their relationship. They knew each other well, but often friends knew each other. It was more than that, though . . . it was almost uncanny. When the lunch trolley came, Hermione ordered for both of them without asking Harry what he wanted. When he got his food, however, he grinned at her and she smiled knowingly back.
They were a couple, they had to be. Yet he saw none of the telling signs that betrayed a young couple. They were never closer than they needed to be, and Harry looked at her with happiness and respect and mischief, but never love. He did care about her a great deal, Draco supposed, because when the train gave a massive jot he clamped a hand on her shoulder to steady her. She seemed to think nothing of it, however, and Harry acted as if it were completely natural.
They didn't like each other that way, he supposed, but if this was the case, then he didn't understand their relationship.
Ginny, also, seemed used to being left out. It wasn't that Harry and Hermione snubbed her or were rude to her. On the contrary, they talked to her openly and were friendly and polite. It was just that when those two were together it was as if they had a secret little world of their own and were oblivious to all else around.
Ginny seemed to be brooding for the majority of the train ride.
Ernie was reading a book titled Wizarding Finance; How to Become Chief Executive Officer of Your Own Company by the Time You Turn 18.
Lengthy title, that one had.
As for Draco, he spent the entirety of the ride Owling his father and the other Slytherins. Aside from the mandatory little quip or snide comment, he was silent also.
Needless to say, they were all grateful to arrive.
Draco could see his own breath as he stepped off of the train and onto the snowy platform. The air smelled salty and had the taste of the sea. The light was waning, it seemed; it had taken them the majority of the day to get there. Hermione gasped, and Draco assumed that it was from the cold. Then he looked up, and saw why.
His first impression was that it was some ancient military fortress. Up a steep snow white inclinestood a shockingly black structure, looking so solid and emphatic that he was sure if the whole world came crumbling down around them, that one building would stand erect, untouched. The great looming black turrets rose menacingly into the sky, and unrelenting eyes of stone overlooked the angry blue sea. He heard waves crash on the cliffs below, but seemed nothing more violent than the contrast of the fresh snow and the midnight black castle.
It was a castle, after all. It was the great stronghold of Durmstrang.
"Unbelievable," Harry breathed. "Is it even real?"
"The logistics of the architecture," Ernie said in awe. "How can such a structure be built?"
Draco was sure they would have stood there for the remainder of the evening if he hadn't said something.
"Stop gaping like fish," he intoned wearily. "It isn't polite to stare at anything in Bulgarian culture."
They tore their eyes away from it. "What do you know about Bulgarian culture?" Hermione challenged.
"My father has taken me on vacations and business trips many times here, Granger. I know a lot about their customs, so if you're unsure of anything, just ask me," he said with a wink. He said it only because he knew it would annoy her to death that he knew more about something than she did. She grumbled incoherently and looked away.
Presently a man appeared out of thin air. Harry choked, and Draco realized it was none other than Igor Karkaroff, a Death Eater to this day. He had been punished for running away, but Voldemort had taken him back. Harry's mouth was working soundlessly.
"Manners, Potter," Draco spat his way before Igor was in hearing.
"Professor Karkaroff," Draco said immediately, sticking out his hand. "Always a pleasure to see you."
Igor took Draco's hand, smiling entreatingly back. "And you, Mr. Malfoy. My how you've grown."
Malfoy nodded. In Death Eater terms that meant, you've taken the Dark Mark, haven't you?
"And Harry Potter," Igor said pleasantly.
"Nice to . . . see you again, Professor," Harry said, smiling a half-hearted smile. They were staying under the same roof as a convicted Death Eater? Things were not looking good.
"And this is . . . ah, I remember, Hermione Graker, wasn't it? You and my student Krum were quite fond of each other, if I recall correctly. He's still here, you know."
Hermione studiously ignored Draco's muffled snort, and smiled brightly at the Headmaster. "It's Granger, sir. And how can that be? If I remember correctly, he was seventeen when I was fourteen. Shouldn't he have graduated by now?"
"He is nineteen right now and his birthday is in December. My castle contains a Finishing School for students who wish to study further. Wizards of up to twenty-five study here."
"How wonderful."
"I don't believe I know you two, however," Igor said quietly.
"Oh!" Draco smiled as if it were all the pleasure in the world to introduce them. "This is Ginny Weasley, sir, a sixth year at Hogwarts."
Draco smiled as they shook hands, and Harry was scared at how pleasant he was being.
"And Ernie Macmillan, from the esteemed house of Hufflepuff."
There was not a trace of mockery or agitation in his voice, and Ernie was surprised that it sounded like a compliment.
"A pleasure." Igor intoned. "Well, we won't be wanting to climb the steep slope up to the castle, so we will take a Portkey."
They each put a hand on the proffered Portkey, and soon landed on firm ground. Draco was immediately aware of his vast surroundings. They were smothered by black marble halls inlaid with gold veins. A grand staircase spiraled below them.
The whole of the castle seemed dark and rich and foreboding. It was exactly as Draco had always imagined it to be. It had a shadowed and enigmatic beauty that seemed to weigh down heavily on their movements. He related it to the deep, rich, sound that rang out after striking a gong.
"You all will be staying on the fourth floor, the highest of all floors."
He led them down the hall until they came to three adjoined rooms.
"Here you are. Your luggage is inside," Igor told them cheerfully. "The Welcome Feast begins at seven, so I will send someone up to remind you. There we will make formal introductions to the other Ambassadors. I hope you will all enjoy your stay at Durmstrang."
He left.
They entered the rooms and were surprised to see that they were as nice and straightforward as the rest of the castle. Two rooms had two beds, and one room had a single bed. Harry and Hermione decided to share a room, and Ginny, feeling decidedly awkward about sharing a room with either of the two boys, took the single. That left Ernie and a slightly disgruntled Draco with the other. Each room had deep marble floors, a roaring fireplace, and a view of the sheer black cliffs and the ocean. Everything was gold and black, and the beds were covered in dark cashmere and silk.
"This is amazing," Hermione said to Harry, once they were alone in the room. She watched a wave crash violently onto the cliffs just below them. Durmstrang was powerful and intense, and perhaps had the dark and elliptic quality that Hogwarts lacked. The light was fading.
"I'm going to check up on Ernie," Harry said after a while, "just to make sure Malfoy hasn't thrown him off of a cliff or anything like that."
"Sure," Hermione replied, "I think I'll stay here."
After he had left, she pulled out Eleven Ways to Earn All Eleven Newts, a book she was completely immersed in. Harry stayed in Ernie's room longer than she expected, and when Hermione checked her wristwatch it was half past six. She decided to get ready for the welcome feast.
She chose a soft cream blouse and tailored trousers, and took off her traveling shirt. She wore jeans and a rather flimsy undershirt when she heard the doorknob turn.
"Oh . . . Harry," she said, rather relieved. For a moment she had expected Malfoy. She continued putting her hair into a bun.
Harry, noticing what she was wearing, grinned. "You really shouldn't let me see you like that," he said teasingly, "it's indecent."
"C'mon, Harry," Hermione chided with a small smile, picking up the shirt. "It's you. You've known me since I was eleven years old. You're not going to do anything."
"Oh, yeah? How do you know I'm not going to do . . . this!" And he sprang at her and snatched the shirt out of her hands.
Her mouth formed into a small 'O' and she whirled around. "Harry Potter! Give me that blouse back!"
A grin played at his face. With a laugh, she lunged at him, but he was too quick for her. He dodged her lunge easily, and hovered on the other side of the bed.
"Just wear that," he said with a laugh. "It looks good on you."
"I will kill you!" she said, exasperated, but a smile was playing at her lips all the same. "Now, Harry, that is the only blouse that goes with these trousers . . ."
"Since when did you care about style, Hermione?"
"Oh, Harry, of all the clueless, conniving, blundering boys, you must be the very wo–"
Two things happened simultaneously, then. Looking only slightly reproachful, Harry had decided to give her back the blouse, and had reached across the bed to hand it to her. The door also clicked open, and Malfoy was standing there.
He saw Harry with Hermione's shirt in his hand, and the two of them were leaning over a bed.
He cleared his throat, and they looked over at him, startled.
"I'm terribly sorry to interrupt whatever kinky moment you two were probably about to have, but it will have to wait. We're needed downstairs in five minutes."
He didn't leave, but instead just stood there, looking quizzically at the two. He whistled. "And here I was, Potter, thinking you had never–"
"Get out, Malfoy," Hermione said vehemently. As a sarcastic afterthought, she added, " you too, Potter."
They both left, but Harry couldn't help sticking his tongue out immaturely at Hermione when Malfoy was not watching.
Draco shut the door, with Harry right behind him. So Potter and Granger are together, he thought. End of that mystery.
Harry turned to Draco.
"Look, Malfoy, Hermione and I aren't–"
Draco was rapidly shaking his head. "You know what, Potter? I really don't need to know. I don't even care what you and Granger are doing, just don't ever do it where I can see or hear you. Bad images, you know what I mean?"
Harry was angry. "We're not–!"
But Draco was striding down the hall.
Draco next came to Ginny's room. He opened the door, checking his watch as he did so.
"Five minutes, Weasley. And wear something halfway decent, not your usual shabby . . ."
He looked up and for the second time that day had intruded on something he had not meant to. And no, it was not Ginny and Ernie making out. It was Ginny, without a shirt on.
Perhaps I should kill myself now, Draco thought, before I die a horrible and painful death by torture.
Ginny stood perfectly still for a moment. Draco took a deep breath. "Believe it or not, I did not mean–"
"GET OUT, MALFOY!"
He got out, slamming the door behind him. Exasperated, he went to Ernie's room, reached for the handle . . . and knocked. Most emphatically and certainly knocked. If there was one thing he was not up to seeing, it was Ernie with any article of clothing removed.
Ernie opened the door, fully dressed. "What are you knocking for, Malfoy? This is your room. And did you hear screaming a few moments ago?"
"Erm . . . it was just the wind . . . howling through the cliffs," Draco said jumpily. "Anyhow . . . we need to be downstairs in five minutes, and . . . put a new tie on this instant, you have the worst sense of fashion I've ever seen in my life!"
He slammed that door shut too, upset with life in general.
Five minutes later, they had all conjugated at the top of the stairs. They were fully, and, in Ernie's case, stylishly, dressed.
Harry turned to Draco. "I'm going to try to say this one more time . . ."
"Oh, tell it to someone who remotely cares, Potter," Draco drawled wearily.
"Do you ever knock, Malfoy?" Ginny asked angrily, glaring at him through slitted eyes.
"Yes, he does knock. Quite a bit, actually . . ." Ernie trailed off, confused at the heated conversation. Ginny rounded on him.
"Who asked your opinion, you Hufflepuff sissy?" she boomed, her voice rising steadily. Ernie looked surprised.
"This coming with a freckled Gryffindor with a wench for a mother," Malfoy retorted, his voice deadly calm.
Ginny just stood there, trembling with anger. Ms. Weasley was like a mother to Harry, and he was personally affronted.
"Malfoy, why I'll–" he lunged for Draco.
"What is your problem?" said Ernie to Ginny.
Harry collided forcefully into Draco, and Ginny pointed her wand at Ernie threateningly.
"Expelliarmus!" a voice cried, and wands flew into the air.
Shocked, they all turned to see Hermione holding five wands, and breathing through her nostrils.
"All of you," she said in a dangerous voice, "in my room, now."
Wordlessly, they marched in a single file line into her room. She slammed the door shut behind them, and stared with disgust and anger. Draco reached to take his wand back.
"No," she said venomously, evading his grasp. He backed away.
"Look," he said at last, "it's no big secret that we're all not the best of friends. Actually, most of us hate each other," she continued, sounding resigned.
"When we go into public and meet the other Ambassadors, we must put on a facade. In public, we are all friends. In public, we all trust each other."
She shot Harry a deadly glare when he snorted.
"If the other Ambassadors find out that we cannot work as a team, they will shatter us apart in a moment. We are all to be polite to each other, though I say it would be so much more fun to bite each other's heads off. Understood?"
Everyone nodded.
"And one more thing," Hermione added, as an afterthought. "I believe that you all are familiar with the saying, when in Rome, do as the Romans do. It applies."
Little did she know how fully she would regret her words later on.
Hermione opened the door, handing everyone back their wands.
"I hate you all," Draco mumbled dramatically as he grabbed his own wand. With that they headed down the stairs, and in the distance Draco could swear he heard a gong ring.
((A.N. Next chapter... the Hogwart's Ambassadors meet the Bulgarian and French Ambassadors... then the real games begin. Muhahaha. I'd probably be okay with it if you gave me a review... :D))