Chapter 6 (A)
"Alastor Moody! Ex-auror, and your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Any questions?" Said man turned away from the chalkboard to access his combined class of currently, apprehensive and nervous students.
Harry gulped and against his better judgment, slowly raised his hand. Heck everyone's questioning gaze and Hermione's keen sense of observation. The boy who lived knew that if he didn't see her any sooner, he would explode from the anxiety. Scary new professor be damned.
"Yes, Potter?"
"P-Professor, I was just wondering, um… Joan isn't here yet, so-"
"Oh, you gotta be kidding, Potter!" chortled a familiar taunt from the back of the class.
Draco was resting his head on the palm of his hand, raising his eye brows in an intimidating fashion when his all-time rival whirled around in his seat to glare at him. He ignored the glare and continued the mocking. Joan wasn't here to stop him so there.
"Joan's not coming for class, or any Dark Arts class for that matter. I'm surprised you didn't know… " Draco's eyes suddenly narrowed to a fierce glare, the previous relaxed expression gone from his face.
"So, Champion," he sneered with contempt. "I suggest you stop wasting your time on her… literally."
Harry resisted the urge to punch that arrogant smirk clear off the blonde's face. The rest of the Slytherins chuckled darkly, but Harry paid them no heed. Draco hadn't appeared to want to humiliate him...
Was that a threat?
"Enough of your blabbering, Malfoy, if you don't want to serve detention for a week!" Professor Moody's voice cut in, putting an end to the discussion.
Harry turned back to face the ex-auror who was staring down intently at Harry, as if debating how to phrase his next statement into proper words. He cleared his throat and began, loud enough for the entire class to hear so as to prevent further questioning on the current subject matter.
"Professor Snape has given me clear instructions not to let Ms. Snape participate in any Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, ever. She is banned from coming into contact with any form of Dark Magic. Now, who can tell me-"
"OH MAN NOOOOOOO. WAIT."
As if to mock him, said topic of discussion had just burst into class, hair in a complete and utter mess, school uniform rumpled with the blouse hanging slightly off one shoulder, and missing an outer robe. She looked like she had overslept. Harry's face brightened considerably. Moody's fell. And if he was the one the class happened to be laughing at, it wasn't his concern at the moment.
"I AM SORRY." Joan exclaimed in her usual loud manner, probably to hide her awkwardness.
"BUT I AM HERE NOW. YES."
"ONE!" Moody hollered, towering over her.
"You aren't supposed to be here! I believe you know that very well! And two," he surveyed the state of her clothing.
"You look as if you had a row with a Hippogriff! What happened to your robe and your uniform! And why in Merlin's name are you wearing pants!?"
"Em. Er. Bad- nightmares- dream… Goblet- But I always wear pants! Besides, I feel that this class is too important to miss out on, Professor Snape's orders or not."
Moody groaned in exasperation from the girl's muddled up speech and poor excuse for disobeying the Potions Master's orders. However, he couldn't fault her on her last statement and grudgingly asked her to take a seat. Whatever consequences that came his way weren't going to be his problem.
Satisfied upon convincing (or annoying) the DADA professor, Joan made her way down the center aisle of the class, looking for an empty seat as she went. When her eyes stumbled upon Lucas, her smile turned into an evil smirk and she stood next to where he was seated and bent low to whisper into his ear.
"Hello, Lucas." She giggled in false charm.
"Don't worry; I'm still going to hold you onto the end of your bargain. But not anytime soon. Too much going on, you know? We shall postpone our little chat until further notice."
Lucas stiffened and clenched his fists but otherwise said nothing. Ron, who was seated next to Lucas looked at Joan in question, but the Slytherin just shook her head and smiled sweetly, before continuing to look for a place to sit. She slid in next to Neville, who looked like he could use some air. And a hug. And a break. Along with many other things. The shy and timid boy gazed at Joan nervously from the corner of his eye. She gave him a friendly smile.
"Neville, right? Don't worry, I'm no Potions Master. I won't bite… much." She winked. It seemed to give the poor boy some assurance.
Class soon commenced with Professor Moody focusing on the awareness of the 3 unforgivable curses known to all Wizarding world. As usual, Hermione, who was seated next to Harry, had raised her hand instantly and gave the first curse: The Imperius Curse.
That seemed to have greatly excited Professor Moody as he demonstrated said curse with one of the live specimens in class: a spider. Controlling the spider's every movement he brought it sailing throughout class, on Ron's head, Parvati's hand, Lucas' chest and even Draco's face which served as a good morning laugh.
The laughter immediately died down when Moody opened his mouth to speak.
"Many Wizards," he explained while walking down the aisle, "claimed to have only done The Dark Lord's bidding, due to the effects of the Imperius curse. But here's a question," he turned to face his students.
"How do we sort out the liars?"
A few nervous hands slowly crept up, but what surprised Joan, was that one of those hands, belonged to Neville. She frowned when the professor ushered him to the front of the class. Neville had looked so scared; even more terrified than usual. She had a bad feeling about this.
"Longbottom, is it?"
Words seemed to have failed Neville who only managed to nod his head in consent.
"Come on, boy, what is it?"
"T-The Cru-Cruciatus –his voice hitched- Curse, sir."
"Correct! Correct!" Again, Moody sounded too excited for comfort. "The torture curse: known to cause its victims excruciating agony. The Dark Lord used this to torture his victims for either information or punishment, leaving them begging for death during the process."
A sliver of emotion ghosted past Neville's eyes and his fingers started to twitch. Professor Moody was oblivious to the boy's sudden discomfort and cast the Cruciatus on the spider as a form of demonstration. The spider on the table began to screeched and twitch in agony, its legs going up to rest on its head seemingly in agony as the curse invaded its mind and body. The poor creature started convulsing and Neville stood rigid, biting his bottom lip as he shut his eyes tightly to tune out the pained cries. His fingers began twitching more and his breath came out in shallow gasps. He felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes.
"THAT'S ENOUGH!" A sudden voice cried out, followed by a spell.
Before Neville knew it, he found himself being pulled backwards into the air by an unseen force, as he was slowly and gradually guided back to his seat. With wide and shocked watery eyes, he gazed up at his apparent savior who still had her wand out.
Joan turned to stare at Professor Moody, anger and disappointment sounding clearly in her voice. She lowered her wand. By now, the entire class fell silent, shifting in their seats awkwardly as the tension in the air rose to a suffocating level.
"Couldn't you see how much it was bothering him?" she placed a comforting hand on Neville's shoulder. "You alright?"
Moody looked a little awkward, doing his best to salvage the situation by deciding to drop the matter totally. He picked up the now weak and weary spider and walked towards the table where Joan and Neville sat. He cleared his throat and placed the creature before the raven haired female. Joan stared at it emotionlessly, having totally lost her mood from the previous display.
"Perhaps you would like to give the final curse, Ms Snape."
All eyes rested on the silent female as she seemed continued to gaze down upon the twitching spider, not moving a muscle. In fact, she remained seated for a good minute. However, just when Moody was convinced she wasn't going to disrupt his lesson any further, Joan slowly rose, a passive expression on her face.
Quiet whispers travelled across the classroom but Joan paid them no heed, her mind too preoccupied with other things. She couldn't explain it, but a sudden impulse beckoned her forward, filling her head with bitter-sweet whispers and clouding her mind with dark temptation. As the dark clouds of her mind swirled, there was a barest glint in her red eyes before raising her wand.
"Avada Kedavera!"
A bright green light shot forth, consumed the spider, before it lay motionless on the table, dead. Immediately, as if coming out of a trance, Joan's eyes widened in horror as she gasped. Her hands flew to her mouth as her wand clattered on the floor, the noise seemingly amplified by the deafening silence. Joan's body shook, her hands still clasped firmly over her mouth and tears had already begun to fall. She felt sick.
What had she done? How? Why?
She saw her nightmare all over again.
Her knees felt weak and she would have lost her footing if not for Blaise who had rushed forward from his seat behind her, to support her trembling frame. Most were too shocked and terrified to speak, never having witnessed that curse performed before them. The display was unsettling. They were called the Unforgivable Curses for a reason, and for a student to have used it, and a fourth year no less…
"The Killing Curse: the one curse that cannot be defended against. If one should fall victim to it, the result is instant death." Moody turned away from Blaise who was fussing over Joan, the later refusing to respond to his voice.
Joan's body had gone rigid as she kneeled on the floor, refusing to stand, refusing to move, like a lifeless puppet without a master's skilled commands. Her expression was blank and haunted. Next to her, Neville could only gape dumbly as the dark Slytherin gathered her into his arms and hoisted her back on her seat. Blaise's eyes conveyed a look of deep understanding; his mannerisms surprisingly calm and collected, as if it was common for his friend to behave this way. Neville made a mental note of that.
"Only one person was known to have survived this, and he is sitting in this room right now…"
Moody turned his back to the class, the previous events weighing heavily in his mind. There was a reason why Severus' daughter was forbidden to so much as set foot to DADA class, and today's spectacle had proven just that. He would definitely have to speak to the Potions Master about this, but first he believed that Dumbledore deserved this newfound knowledge more than anybody else.
After all, for a Muggle-born to have performed a curse she had never learnt or so much as heard of before, warranted immediate attention.
"… Class dismissed."
"Did you see what she did back there!?" Ron exclaimed half terrified, half in awe.
The red head had seemed to have forgotten his persistent feud with his best friend and was busy gesturing madly and pointing back in the direction of their DADA classroom. All this while Harry had remained silent, trying to process and figure out a possible explanation behind the sudden turn of events.
How in Salazar's name had Joan managed to perform such a dark and powerful curse, the very curse that killed his parents, and the very curse his mother had protected him from? Could Professor Snape have taught her that spell? No, he seriously doubted it. If Snape had wanted his daughter to be a master of the Dark Arts, he wouldn't have banned her from class to begin with. Which reminded him…
"Say, Hermione, you know the school history, curriculum and rules like the back of your hand, right? Is it even possible for a student to be prohibited from participating in a core subject?"
The brunette looked surprised from the question, but answered anyway.
"Not from what I know. It is imperative for all witches and wizards to attend, complete and pass all core subjects because they are unable to be dropped. These subjects make up the main requirements for O.W.L.S, N.E.W.T.S and any other future magical career. Why do you ask?"
"Nothing…" Harry trailed off, his eyes following the two figures of Malfoy and Zabini as they hurried Joan off in the opposite direction.
Harry figured they were heading straight for the Slytherin dungeons.
"Just wondering."
"Harry."
Three pairs of eyes turned to regard the Hufflepuff who had remained silent until now. Lucas' eyes accessed Harry suspiciously.
"This might sound like a long-shot, but I think… Joan might've placed your names in the Goblet as there is a strong possibility that with magic potential like that, she could have nullified Dumbledore's age line - he held up his hand to stop any arguments from the trio- However, she might not have consciously realized what she was doing."
Ron's brows furrowed in confusion.
"You mean… like some sort of split personality? Like back there in class?"
Lucas nodded. "Possibly. She couldn't have been under the Imperius because the castle wards would have picked it up."
At the corner of his eye, Harry noticed the familiar black trail of robes and uptight posture of a certain Potions Master cross the hallways and disappear round a corner in the same direction the Slytherin trio had went. His expression had looked worse for wear, pale and ashen as if he hadn't managed to get enough sleep from worrying too much; and Harry figured as much. What with the Tri-Wizard scandal and the happenings from DADA lesson, there was no doubt that Snape had his hands full, over-flowing in fact.
Harry almost pitied Snape. Almost. After all, it couldn't be easy to be in charge of Slytherin, teach Potions for all houses of all years, and now, manage the affairs of his child.
"I don't know guys… Something tells me Snape knows more than he's letting on."
Hermione bit her lip.
"Do you mean to say that he's keeping secrets from his own daughter?"
"You know what they say, 'Mione," added Ron seriously. "A parent would do everything in their power to protect their child, even if it means keeping the truth from them. Isn't that right, Harry?"
Harry unconsciously reached up to touch the scar on his forehead.
"Harry!"
The group of four whirled around in surprise, coming face to face with an out-of-breath Neville Longbottom. The panicky boy pushed his way past a few students to stop before them, panting and collecting his bearings.
"N-Neville? What's wrong?" Hermione asked worriedly.
"Yeah, you looked like you saw Professor Snape or something." Ron joked, but all words fells flat when he, like the others, realized Neville had come for more than just a friendly chat.
"Harry, it's your girlfriend! She-"
"W-Wh-Wha-What!?" Harry sputtered, face flaming red in embarrassment.
"She's not my girlfriend! Whoever said she was my girlfriend! I don't like her that way-"
"Er… So you DO know who I'm talking about then?"
"…"
If Harry could have face-palmed, he would've, if not from the fact that he would further embarrass himself. He couldn't believe- argh! Never mind. He heard a cheeky giggle from his side and knew without looking that it was Hermione.
"N-Never mind, Neville… what is it?"
"Oh! Well, it's what happened in class just now, really. It was Zabini-"
Ron sighed in exasperation.
"Look, Neville, we already know that! We all have eyes you know?"
"No, no, no! You don't understand!" Neville quipped desperately, eager to get his point across. For once, he felt like he had something important to say, to offer and help his friends in some way.
"You weren't next to him! It was the look in his eyes! It was so full of understanding, so… unfazed. And his actions were almost as if they were clockwork, like he had seen and done what he did many times before."
When it seemed that he had the group's full attention, he continued.
"And just before class ended, I heard him and Malfoy whispering something about 'nightmare', 'snake' and 'old man'. I don't know, guys… whatever it is, I think… I think you need to be careful, Harry."
"… I need to speak with Sirius. But first..."
With that, Harry thanked Neville hastily and jogged off in the direction of the Dungeons. His two best friends hurried after him, leaving Lucas alone and confused, before realizing he was late for Herbology and ran off in the opposite direction.
No matter, he would get his answers later. It wasn't worth getting on Professor Sprout's bad side, especially not this early.
"Harry! For goodness sake, Harry! Slow down!"
"Yeah, mate! Where're we going?"
Harry whipped his around as he continued down the corridor, calling out to his friends.
"Isn't it obvious? We're going to speak to Zabini!"
"No."
"Oh, come on!"
Ron threw his hands up in exasperation, giving the Slytherin a withering stare.
"Ok, Harry! Your turn! I give!"
The golden trio had found Zabini loitering around the corridors outside Dumbledore's office, looking bored above anything else. Why he was there and by himself, they weren't sure, but they were willing to bet their entire Gringotts accounts that he was waiting for someone; someone by the name of Draco Malfoy no doubt.
"Zabini, what is Malfoy doing in Dumbledore's office?" Harry pressed on tersely.
He was really getting impatient with Blaise's difficult and nonchalant attitude. Said boy yawned and folded his arms.
"I'm sorry, Potter. Last time I checked, there wasn't a sign that said 'Harry Potter Only'. Although the amount of times you go whinging to the Headmaster could easily contribute to-"
"Zabini, please," Hermione stressed. "If Malfoy is in there with Joan, please tell us! We're her friends! We just want to help…"
Cold obsidian eyes narrowed dangerously at her, as Hermione squeaked softly and backed down. Why the hell were Slytherins so damn good at death glares?
"I have no interest in helping a Mudblood."
It was that word again.
"Well!" Hermione huffed. "Isn't Joan a 'Mudblood' too?"
Zabini opened his mouth to fire back, but seemed to have thought better of it and closed it. Hermione knew she had him now. As the dark Slytherin kept silent and tried desperately to remain distracted by rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, Hermione cleared her throat and tried again.
"Please," she coaxed softer now. "We're really worried about her. If you know anything, any information at all…"
Zabini frowned and seemed to weigh his options. On one hand, he found no reason to help these insufferable Gryffindors; he owed them nothing. But on the other hand… He and Draco had come close to nothing in helping Joan's strange condition; and even though the stoic Slytherin would never openly admit it, he was worried about her too.
"Does 'nightmare', 'snake' and 'old man' ring any bells?"
At Zabini's surprised gasp, Harry took it as a good sign to continue.
"Oh, it does now, does it? Well, what if I told you I knew exactly what's been bothering Joan? Right down to the very detail."
Harry smirked in triumph, doing a little victory dance in his head. He knew Slytherin's weren't as easily moved by compassion and pleadings, so he opted for the more appropriate approach: incentive.
Zabini seemed to hesitate for a bit, as he shifted a little from where he stood. He appeared to be having an internal battle with himself, before he sighed in surrender. It seemed that Pride gave into Friendship.
"Fine, Potter. This way."
And with that, he turned and briskly made his way towards the dungeons. The Golden trio struggled to keep up, confused.
"Wait! Where're we going!? Dumbledore's office is back that way!"
Zabini laughed in his usual condescending fashion.
"I didn't exactly say that Draco was in Dumbledore's office now, did I?"
The Slytherin common room was shrouded in a comforting and relaxing silence. Its students had left its quarters for the various classes, not due to return until after late noon. This gave plenty of alone and conducive research time for a certain blonde boy to shift through the few thick, leather-bound volumes he managed to snag from the library. The books were all on the Dark Arts and the only reason he had access to them was because Professor Snape had given him access to the restricted section (wouldn't Granger be jealous?) of the library. On top of that, ever since the DADA incident, he and Blaise had been given permission to skip classes and look after their unstable female companion.
Draco was currently lounging on a black leather couch, flipping through ones of the volumes, engrossed with its contents. His silver eyes read and scrutinized the text word for word, not wanting to miss out on anything important. Something had been plaguing Joan ever since her name emerged from the Goblet, and he was determined to get to the bottom of this.
It was moments like these that Draco often found himself wondering how much he had changed. Well, he didn't exactly treat and regard others differently – still with the same amount of pride and haughtiness; not to mention he still hated Potter's guts. However, when it involved her or simply being around her, a small part of him knew that his inner Malfoy could do nothing but concede to her overwhelming aura of open acceptance.
There was just something about Joan that made him feel comfortable, safe, relaxed, and dare he say it, happy. All his life, he was brought up under strict Malfoy customs and despite being doted on by his parents, it didn't mean they weren't hard on him; oh no, in fact they demanded more from him than anyone else – stricter, firmer, colder, and more ruthless. Perhaps Joan's eccentricity eased the expectations and helped him be less uptight.
The sound of the common room entrance jarred Draco out of his thoughts. He continued reading from where he left off, not bothering to look up to know that the visitor was his best friend. Apart from himself, Blaise was the only other person allowed off of classes today.
"Well Blaise, took you long enough! Anyway, I think I'm close to figuring out what's wrong with – Draco looked up – WHAT IN BLOODY HELL ARE THE GOOFBALL TRIO DOING HERE!?"
Blaise saluted the blonde with a blank stare as Harry, Ron and Hermione stood determinedly behind him.
"Yo."
"Don't 'yo' me!"
A veined in Draco's head popped as he and Blaise launched into an argument over betraying trust and how much he loathed Potter. Well, more of Draco shouting and Blaise remaining calm in his friend's fury.
"I TRUSTED YOU-"
"They cornered me-
"CAN'T YOU KEEP SECRETS-"
"They can help-"
"WHY DOES POTTER GET INVOLVED IN THINGS THAT DON'T-"
"Now you're just sounding like a petulant-"
"GRYFFINDORS ARE STUPID-"
"What the hell Draco-"
"WHAT COULD POTTER HAVE THAT COULD POSSIBLY HELP HER? JOAN'S GETTING WORSE AND WE WON'T ACCOMPLISH ANYTHING BY ENTERTAINING A BUNCH OF IGNORANT GYFFINDORS!"
Draco lashed out, breathing deeply in the silence of the common room. Four pairs of eyes stared at him in shock at the obvious hidden meaning of his words. As the Slytherin prince fought to stay calm, Harry, Ron and Hermione shared look of understanding. Harry's expression softened, deciding to let Draco's previous insults slide.
Because for once in 14 years, Malfoy cared; he actually cared.
"Malfoy," Harry stepped forward.
"I think I might know what's been haunting Joan's dreams."
Draco snorted, unconvinced.
"Right, Potter. You expect me to believe that after you waltz right in and-"
"Listen. Unless what you found in that book is exactly what Joan is suffering from, I'm the only lead you got."
Harry waited patiently for Malfoy to ponder over his words. Like Malfoy, he too was worried and scared for the young Snape. If whatever she was suffering from was what he suspected, then…
"Alright, Potty, I'm listening."
"Could you please stop calling me by those names?"
"I agreed to listen. I didn't agree to start liking you."
Harry sighed tiredly. Malfoy would always be Malfoy. Some things just don't change. In a way, it made Harry feel a little relieved in a sense that at least not everything in his world was going topsy-turvy.
"Whatever. Correct me if I'm wrong, but has Joan been… muttering the words 'nightmare', ' snake' and 'old man' a lot?"
Draco nodded.
"Yeah… she sometimes slips in and out of consciousness at the most bizarre of times, sometimes even when walking or in the middle of her cereal. It all started on the night when the results were announced. She woke up in the middle of the night screaming. Gave us all quite a scare."
"Does she remember what her nightmares, or day-mares, are about?" Harry pried.
"No. Probably just fragments. The snake and old man are the only things she seem to be able to recall."
"Anything else? Malfoy, try to recall even the slightest detail."
Draco frowned intensely doing his best.
"I don't- At least- Well-"
"Green light. A Burst of green light."
The five occupants in the room turned to regard the owner of the voice. Leaning against the railing of the stairs, which led to the female quarters, was none other than Joan. Her hair was slightly ruffled and she still looked a little drowsy as if she had just woken up (which she probably did). She was clad in a long-sleeve white shirt that looked too big for her, which ended at mid-thigh, with the collar falling slightly off her left shoulder. The sight caused the four boys in the room to blush a little, before remembering this was their friend standing before them.
"Joan, why are you down here?" Draco asked softly.
"Couldn't sleep; too much screaming."
She walked towards them. Her eyes met Harry's before she sighed in disappointment.
"Blaise… I was hoping you could have distracted him longer. I didn't want him getting involved."
Blaise shrugged.
"Sorry. Stubbornness is a Gryffindor trait. Can't do balls about it."
"Joan…"
Said girl found pleading and confused green eyes boring into her own and immediately felt bad for leaving the boy in the dark. Harry wore his heart on his sleeve and it was incredibly easy to read him. Joan didn't need to think twice to know that the owner of those brilliant green eyes missed her terribly. That knowledge warmed her heart, making it flutter.
Bare foot, she bounded lightly over to Harry, before wrapping her arms around the boy's neck, leaning into the embrace. Harry tentatively wrapped his arms around Joan's waist and pulled her closer against him. And as he leaned forward to bury his head in the crook of Joan's neck, breathing in her scent, Harry knew he could get through this tournament as long as he had her by his side. At that moment, he didn't care where they were, who was watching and what they were doing; to him, all he knew, all he felt, was himself and Joan. That was enough for him.
"Missed you…"
"I missed you too, Harry."
"Oh enough you two! Get a room!" Hermione chided, causing the pair to blush profusely and pull apart.
Next to her, Ron had gone silent as he stood awkwardly, feeling out of place. Suddenly, his best friend's obvious interest in the young Snape didn't seem so rumored now.
A loud cough from Blaise brought the group's attention back to the matter at hand. As the six of them got comfortable on the couch and began delving into deep discussion, Harry felt a strange prickling sensation from his side and looked up to find Draco glaring at him so intensely, Harry swore he would've ran off screaming if he happened to be alone in the room. Malfoy looked positively furious.
"So, Potter, you were saying?" Draco hissed as he forced his words and false politeness through his teeth.
"R-Right. Well, recently, ever since the summer break, I've been having the exact same nightmare every night… about Voldemort."
"Voldemort!?" The Slytherin trio exclaimed in disbelief.
"Potter, I knew you had issues, but not this bad!"
Harry sighed and looked at Ron and Hermione pleadingly for help. How else could he get them to believe him unless someone else testified for him first; or at least helped him in coming up with a decent explanation. Surprisingly, Ron decided to come to his friend's aid. Twin looks from Hermione proved her shock.
Ron was still mad at Harry – nothing had changed. However, he knew there was a time for everything so his anger had to be put aside to address something far more important. After all, this was Voldemort they were talking about.
"As you know, Harry received his scar from Voldemort when the Dark Lord failed to kill him – they nodded – Well, every year since then, at random periods of time, Harry's scar would hurt and sometimes, he would wake up from a nightmare with his scar burning.
"After a while, the three of us figured that Harry's scar is somehow linked to Voldemort's mind, his thoughts and consciousness. So sometimes the visions that Harry gets are what Voldemort's seeing."
"So let me get this straight," Joan clarified, tapping her index finger against Harry's forehead where his scar was. The boy grumbled in irritation.
"Harry, you're able to see into Voldemort's head and heart because the two of you are linked through this scar? Meaning, you can see what he sees and he can see what you see?"
Harry paused, processing Joan's last question. He hadn't actually thought of that last bit. If that was so, his life just got more dangerous and complicated. However, nothing of the sort had happened to him yet and he'd like to savor this moment of peace and privacy while he could.
"Probably. And regarding your nightmares, Joan… I believe that they bear a strong resemblance to mine."
Harry had no idea why he was divulging such private information to anyone other than Ron, Hermione, Dumbledore and Sirius. Heck, even Ron's family knew nothing about this. However, desperate times call for desperate measures.
"In my nightmares, I would always be looking at my surroundings in Voldemort's point of view, with narrowed and slightly blurred vision. Recently, my dreams consisted of 'myself' seated in an old and abandoned manor – Harry's face scrunched up every now and then as he recalled his dream –
"I would hear a soft high pitched hiss belonging to that of Voldemort I believe. At the foot of the chair is a man – a short, fearful, beady-eyed man. Voldemort would command him cruelly and threaten his life over something I'm not quite sure of. This man is called Wormtail.
"There I another man in the room who appears to be taller and younger than the other. He seems to carry himself more confidently and respectfully and considers himself a loyal servant. Him and Voldemort discuss about something before a large snake slithers into the room through the open crack of the door.
"'Someone's outside the door' the snake would hiss at Voldemort. Voldemort would command Wormtail to open the door and an old man with a limp leg will hobble into the room. The dream always ends the same way: There would be a bright green light and the old man drops onto the ground, dead."
Harry finished his story and stared at his audience, who appeared to have trouble digesting his tale. Amongst the three Slytherins, Joan seemed the least upset, which further confirmed Harry's suspicions on the girl's strange new visions.
"Whatever it is, this is a clear and absolute sign. Voldemort's back or at least, his presence is confirmed."
Understanding the weight of Harry's silent request, Joan turned to face her two male companions, her expression pleading. Blaise, after much deliberation, sighed and nodded, promising not to breathe a word about this to anyone outside this circle, not even his mother. Draco however, remained silent, staring intently at his hands.
Gently, Joan reached out to place hand comfortingly over Draco's causing the boy to look up and fix her with a sour expression on his face. Sighing, Joan held her friend's hands in hers, her thumbs rubbing soothing circles over his knuckles.
"Draco, I know this is hard for Harry, for me to ask this of you, but you have to promise not to mention a word of this to anyone, especially your father. I'm not asking you to betray your father's trust, but, please Draco… for me?"
Draco's mind was in turmoil. The temptation to inform his father on his recent discovery on Potter's abilities and the Dark Lord's return was far too great. He couldn't pass up such an opportunity to receive praise from his father. However…
The blonde found his once sour expression melt away to be replaced with the tiniest hint of a smile. As Draco gazed down into deep, attractive red eyes, set on a face that never failed to make his day complete and happy, he found himself giving in once again. Draco could be many things, but he was no murderer. He couldn't have Joan in danger, Lucius Malfoy be damned.
"You can hold me to it."
Joan smiled gratefully, before her face and voice took on a serious tone as she addressed Harry opposite her. She could tell that Harry was still paranoid over Draco telling on them, but she knew the blonde better than anyone else in this school and was confident their secret will go on kept. She had faith in her friend.
Joan chose her next words carefully.
"So, are you saying that Voldemort and I are somehow… linked as well?"
The boy who lived sighed heavily, hunching over as his head hung low, hands clasped together so tightly that they shook. He closed his eyes, not knowing what to think anymore.
"I don't know, Joan… I don't know."
"See, all you had to do was talk to them!" said Hermione with a big smile, in a tut-tut know it all sort of way.
Lucas threw himself back against the wall in an exasperated manner, but his lips held a grin. "Okay, whatever."
The two were sitting on the floor at the corner of the library at Lucas' insistence, assuring Hermione that it was far more comfortable and relaxing than sitting on a cold chair and a desk.
Of course, Hermione argued that the purpose of a library wasn't to be as relaxed and comfortable as possible, in which Lucas promptly stole her heavy pile of books ('you have really strong arms!' he groaned) and brought them over to his favorite corner, where they were now sitting.
Earlier that morning, they had been in the great hall when Ernie Mcmillan and Hannah Abbott had come in. Hermione had insisted that he stop 'giving them that face' and make nice with them, and Lucas debated with her until she literally called them over to the table. It had been awkward at first, but now Lucas had two new friends.
Though, as Lucas let himself be momentarily captivated by the pretty, brown haired girl's cute smile as she happily opened a six hundred and seventy-eight page size book, she was already enough.
He wasn't completely sure why she was so determined he should make friends with everyone else, because in Durmstrang he only made friends with people who he could make use of…and he had convinced himself it was just the way he was, but it wasn't true. He wanted friends and companionship, like everyone else. It was just…
Like a high sobering down the next morning, Lucas' felt a chill down his body and a disturbing realization that he was already very emotionally involved with this girl. She was a real friend, accepting him despite what she had heard and constantly putting herself out for him with no benefit to herself. What was it he had told himself again? She would have been a very useful ally…it was just impossible not to want to be genuine friends with Hermione Granger.
If something were to happen to her…
"Lucas?"
His face was all scrounged up uncomfortably, in a very tense way.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah, why?"
She frowned. "It's your stomach, isn't it? I told you not to eat that many cream puffs for breakfast."
At this, he laughed and almost rolled over. "It's really not!" he struggled between coughing and laughing.
Hermione pouted.
They sat there for a few minutes, sitting quietly and contentedly reading their respective books.
After a while, Hermione peeked over at him. He was looking tense and intimidating as usual…when they were not talking, he was always like that.
It was really difficult not to look in those eyes-they were such a unique silver. And the rest of him wasn't too bad either; even with his thick clothes she could tell that he was ridiculously fit. Maybe he played Quidditch…
And his lips were always fidgeting. Like a little show, she giggled internally. It was by watching his lips that she could tell the rest of the general expressions his face was making-he was very animated…
"Hermione."
His voice felt like someone had just dumped cold water on her. She blushed furiously; how long had she been looking at him like that? Had he noticed? Why was she looking at him like that? Was he going to get really angry? Wh-
"Oh my gosh," he said, his eyes widening in panic. "What's wrong? Are you okay?" He placed two cold hands on her warm face, which made her blush even more. "You look like going to start crying at any time."
Just like that, she breathed easy. He was a dense as a lightbulb, it seemed.
"I'm okay. Just…a little hot." And as if to illustrate, she pulled a bit at her collar.
She looked great as usual, but that little tugging of the collar suddenly jabbed him in the heart, and made his body flush.
"Yeah, no kidding..."
"What?" She asked, a little irritated as she recovered. He was always muttering.
"Nothing," he said hurriedly. "What time is it?"
"Almost ten…" Hermione started packing. "I think I'll go see if I can find Ron again, he was still a little moody this morning. I don't want him to say anything to Harry that he might regret."
He grinned. "Let me show you something."
Before Hermione could say anything, Lucas had taken her by the hand rather excitedly, and led her to another section of the library. The clock there showed 9.59.
"And three, two, one…"
Lucas snapped his fingers.
And at ten on the dot, Viktor Krum rushed in with a big pile of books. The two of them watched, almost laughing too loudly as he laid them all out on the desk like unraveling a new deck cards and began with the biggest one. It was like watching a machine go at it, which was somewhat impressive but also quite funny at the same time, because of the way his stiff body moved.
"He does this everyday, at the exact same time," chirped Lucas animatedly. It's really amusing to watch, but also pretty impressive, don't you think? It's some sort of Quidditch discipline, I think, because of the time he has to spend playing for the Bulgarian team he has to miss out on some classes, and has to study a lot on his own…I've heard that half of the Bulgarian Quidditch team don't have a complete education, but he wants to be better…"
And though Hermione tried to listen to him, she couldn't help but notice that he was still holding her hand.
"You're really off, Hermione," said Lucas, worriedly. "Did you hear anything I said?"
"Um, yeah…" Hermione pushed a curl behind her hair. "I was just thinking…about Joan. I'm pretty worried. You're really worried too, aren't you?"
For a moment, she could have sworn she saw a dangerous expression flash across his face. But it left as soon as it came, and there was only a small crease on his forehead to accompany thoughtful eyes.
Lucas pressed his back against the wall, his head lightly bumping off it.
"You know, people can't justcast Avada Kedavra any old time they feel like it. It's unblockable, and there's no counter curse. Otherwise, people in duels would use it all the time."
He turned to look out the window over the great lake, the sun just kissing the water's surface. "The taking of a life is so sacred that it could split your soul…I don't think a spider counts, but…you have to really want it to die so badly that you'd give up your life for it. And it doesn't matter how skilled you are…"
He turned back to face Hermione, his expression grave and piercing. Hermione gulped at his next words, which undoubtedly served as a warning. "It's a personality thing. A desire to kill. Sadistic, ruthless, homicidal…whatever you call it."
"That girl is dangerous."
Hi guys,
I hope you've enjoyed the story and our take on it so far. Sorry if I haven't answered any reviews, but I'm really just uploading work we finished some time back. Constructive opinions are very much welcome for our next efforts.
Till then,
Lightning