Meanwhile, beneath the dungeons of the castle in the Slytherin dorms, one particularly troubled Forth Year was staring into the fireplace and thinking of the same event that had been on his mind ever since it had happened: Weasley cursing his clothes off in front of the whole school. It was on the forefront of his mind even more so than the strange events of the day. First Weasley had cursed his clothes off with his clumsy spell-work, and then he had yelled at him in some weird, unintelligible language? It was too much for a Malfoy to bear.

He had owled his father immediately after it had happened, and his father had ensured that Weasley's father would pay through the nose for the embarrassment and possible "permanent psychological damage" to him. The thought made him smile, but would it be enough? He had mulled it over in his mind for the last several days and decided that it might be enough for his father, but it would never be enough for him. He was determined to make Weasley's life miserable; he just needed the perfect plan. He had already come up with several, but none of them hardly seemed good enough for the pain he was still going through.

Girls still giggled and blushed at him in the hallways. Boys pointed and laughed at him and called him all kinds of names. Of course he had threatened to make their lives miserable, but it hadn't worked. Oh, on some of the younger ones perhaps. He always managed to strike the proper fear into their weak hearts, but those in his class and above…..it was nearly unbearable. He gripped the arms of the chair he was sitting in until his knuckles turned white. His sneer deepened into a scowl, then a frown, then an absolute nasty glare that cleared the room quite quickly. As funny as Draco Malfoy's situation was, when he looked like that it was better to laugh about it in private lest you risk the possibility of your family being dishonored forever. Draco muttered nearly inaudibly to himself as he glared around the quickly emptying room,

"I'll get him. I'll make sure him and his damn brothers never see the light of day again. He'll wish he was never born, the stupid, lousy, idiotic, no-good excuse for a pure-blood. Not even worthy of the title; stinking blood-traitors. I'll bury them in the deepest hole I can find. Bury them alive, and bury them all so deep that no one will be able to hear them scream. All of them, from their fat mum to the little ginger girl. Oh yes, I'll bury them all."

He kept up like that until (like so many previous nights) his lids began to get heavy and his limbs grew weary. The scowl never left his face as he pulled himself from the chair and headed around the corner to his room. He took off his dressing gown and climbed into bed and slowly slipped off into dreams. Although tonight, his dreams were strangely troubled. He saw, on the landscape of his mind, a great Hall. It was not the Hall at Hogwarts, this place was grander. It was crafted of stone that appeared stronger than the stuff Hogwarts was made of, and throughout the stone were veins of what looked like silver, although it was brighter than any silver he had ever seen.

There were great columns that stretched from the tall double doors all the way to the end of the Hall. Each of them was carved to look like a thick, twisted tree that stretched from the floor to the ceiling, and through them ran more thin veins of that bright silver. If he looked closely enough, Draco could have sworn the silver almost seemed to flow through the walls as though it was the very life-blood of the stone. Between each column was a window that let in bright sunlight, and was inlaid with complex patterns carved from metal and wood. The floor was laid with two different colors of rock: a darker color that formed the foremost part of the floor, and a lighter more vibrant stone that was nearly white. The darker stone had flowing patterns cut out of it that were filled in with the brighter, causing a stunning contrast that was unlike any Draco had ever seen in his life. Even the vast rooms at his home in Malfoy Manor were not as ornate as this place.

His eyes went from the gorgeous floor to the ceiling where the columns shaped like the thick trees continued to twist upward and form a great canopy of carved leaves and branches above his head. It was truly, in a word, beautiful. But the most stunning sight was at the end of the hall. A long platform had been raised about three feet from the floor, and upon it rested four thrones. But the thrones were not occupied by the most savory looking of characters. Instead of what looked like four benevolent rulers sitting on them, people (if they could indeed be called that) that looked like they could have easily done murder sat upon them.

As Draco looked at them, the beauty of the room seemed to diminish. The silver flowing through the walls tarnished, and the beautifully carved stone crumbled. As he observed them he almost felt his heart sink. He didn't want the brightness to go away. He had stumbled in the dark for a long time, and here he had finally glimpsed light. But it slipped through his fingers as sunlight is wont to do. But his mind turned from the diminishing brightness of the place, to the voices of the occupants of the thrones. They were unpleasant, nasty, mean, and Draco didn't like them in the least. They reminded him of something that he had once glimpsed inside of a shop inside Knockturn Alley.

Draco had been around nastiness most of his life, and as he looked at the monstrous-looking men sitting on the thrones he was reminded quite vividly of how nasty he himself had been to people and he felt an emotion that he had rarely ever felt in his life: shame. These men were horrible to look at, and more than once Draco nearly turned away in repulse at the sight of them. They wore crowns of gold on their heads, their clothes were finely made, and they looked, in all manner of the word, like kings. But their demeanor and their overall presence was repulsive and cruel. They had unkind looks on their faces, all manner of weapons on their persons and little bulges in parts of their clothing hinted to more weapons that might be hidden; their eyes were sharp as flint, and seemed as though they could cut just as easily.

But probably the most noticeable thing about them was the chains that were attached to their left wrists. Each was connected to a shackle clasped about the wrist, the chains themselves were only about a foot and a half long, but they were solid gold and set with precious jewels. The man on the far right throne had his chain set with rich rubies the color of blood. The man next to him had deep blue sapphires set into his chain. The third man had his chain set with brilliant clear diamonds, and on the far left, gorgeous forest-green emeralds decked the chain of the final king. Draco hid himself quite completely behind one of the gargantuan columns so the men didn't see him as he watched them, but he could see and hear them quite clearly and their conversation frightened him. The man on the far right throne said to his companions,

"There is a possible threat to us. My Dragon has grown headstrong and unmanageable. He claims that his true Master has reclaimed his birthright and the others will be found soon as well."

All four of the men scowled even more deeply, and Draco found himself cringing. These men were not right. Not right at all. But he continued to listen to them.

"How could such a threat even be feasible?" the man next to the far right throne growled. "We did away with those fools long ago. It is impossible they could have returned."

"It is not impossible, you great simpleton!" the first man shouted. "Did you honestly think those Four would give up so easily? No; they were smarter than that."

"First of all, do not call me a simpleton. I am a king, same as you. You do not rule me or the rest of us. Second of all, how do you suggest they could have lived on? I drove my blade into the King of Earth myself. His blood flowed over my hands, and I saw his eyes die."

Then he began to laugh, and Draco felt a knife of fear pierce his heart. The laugh was cruel, unfeeling, and utterly without human emotion. As he laughed the king said,

"I remember it well. He cried for his son, and his hands grasped at air as though it was the only thing that could save him. I was almost disappointed. He died too easily."

"Not easily enough, apparently," the king that occupied the far left throne remarked. "I have never known such Four who were harder to kill. What are we to do? Our very lives could be in jeopardy. If the Four have found a way to return….." he trailed off, and his scowl changed ever so slightly into a look of mild concern.

"Oh, my dear friend," the king on the far right soothed, "You always were the most cautious of all of us. But I believe we all worry needlessly. Even if those Four had found a way to return to the land of the living, they would be shadows of their former selves. Mere incorporeal spirits incapable of handling the lightest of arrows. The threat is mild, and my Dragon simply needs to be brought under control. I shall discipline him more severely should his great forked tongue run away with him again. Come, my friends. Let us put this event from our minds, and return to business at hand. I believe we have overgrown lizards to bring back under our control."

The other three kings laughed and once again, Draco found himself trying to steel himself against the sounds they made. They rang in his ears as though they were a massive church bell, but whatever had been holy about the ringing was wiped away. The only thing left was cruelty and malice, and Draco hated it. He had enough. He wanted to be away from these men and back in more familiar surroundings. He plastered his hands against his ears, squeezed his eyes shut, and whispered to himself,

"Wake up, stupid! Wake up! You're dreaming; wake up! Oh God, please wake up! I don't want to be here anymore; wake up!"

He pleaded with himself over and over to please rouse from this nightmare. These men were monsters! They looked human, but they were nothing of the kind. These people had done murder and were proud of it! How could such evil inhabit a place like this? He continued to try to prod himself awake, but it wasn't working. Then…..the worst that could have happened to him did happen. He opened his eyes the tiniest slit and saw the men were no longer laughing. No, they appeared to be listening. What were they listening for? Then he found out.

"Do you hear that noise?" the king with the sapphire-encrusted chain asked.

"I do," replied the king with the ruby-studded chain, "It sounds like a child."

"What would a child be doing here?"

"Snooping." The word was spoken with a kind of finality that meant death.

"Find him."

That did it for Draco. He was done pleading with himself. He turned and ran for the doors. He went as fast as he could, but the Hall was long and Draco was still a mere boy. His legs were not as fast as he needed them to be, but he ran even faster when he heard one of them scream,

"There he is! After him!"

He didn't dare look back. Instead he screamed,

"SOMEONE HELP ME!"

Of course, he didn't really expect anyone to answer his call. He was certain of his death. He knew that they would catch him and they would certainly kill him. These men did not care if he was a child or not. No one was here to help him. His last thoughts as he heard the thudding footsteps grow closer to him were,

"What am I even doing here? I was asleep in bed!"

Then they caught him. Draco had only just reached the doors, and placed his hands on the massive when he felt their rough hands on his shoulders. He uttered one final scream and collapsed in a dead faint.

Several hours later, Draco felt himself begin to rouse. The first of his senses to return was his hearing. Loud clanking sounds filled his ears and he felt his head swim again. He forced himself into consciousness. If he was going to die, he would do it like a man. He would not snivel and cry, like a little boy. The next of his senses to return was his sense of smell. A moist, earthy scent filled his nostrils and Draco thought: I'm in a dungeon underground. They didn't want to dirty up the throne room with my blood, so they put me in this stinking dungeon to rot. Then his sight began to swim back into focus. Soft green light filled the plane of his vision and slowly his eyes refocused themselves. He looked around and saw that he was not, as he had thought, in a dirty dungeon. He was in a forest glade. The clanking sounds that he heard were merely birds singing their song to welcome him back to the land of the living. The last sense to return, and this was worst of all, was a parching dryness in his throat that no amount of swallowing would cure. More than ever, he needed a drink of water.

His head swam again and he closed his eyes. It was better that way. When his eyes were closed, the dizziness and the thirst weren't so bad. Then he heard another noise: a voice. But this wasn't the harsh, malicious voices of those kings. This was a lady's voice. She said,

"Come back to me, Draco. Listen to my voice; come back to the light. Lasto bethir; parar nun galad."

That language; it was familiar. Where had he heard it before? Then his memory came back in a rush and his head swam so hard his stomach nearly revolted. It was the third time he had heard it. The first time was when he had heard Weasley say something in that language after he had cursed Draco's clothes off. The second time, he had only heard a whisper, but Weasley had said something during the First Task when Potter's spell-work had gone wrong and that Horntail nearly burned him to a cinder. Was there some connection?

"Draco? Answer me."

He opened his eyes again and this time, he tried to find his voice. But when he tried to use it, it came out as little more than a whispering croak. His throat felt hoarse and sore, and to talk was nearly excruciating, but he managed to get out a single word.

"Water."

It was the only thing he could say. His damaged voice would not allow more. Luckily, the Lady seemed to be waiting for this request. She placed her hand gently under his head and lifted it up. She brought a cup to his lips and when he felt cool liquid touch them he opened his mouth and allowed her to pour more over his dry tongue. As he drank she continued to speak to him, and he found that her voice was even more refreshing than the water.

"Go slowly. You have had quite an ordeal. If you drink too fast, you will only bring it up again. That's good for now. Your body must become hydrated slowly."

She took the cup away from him and laid his head back down. When he was comfortable he managed to ask a question. It was only two words, and after he spoke them his voice still stubbornly refused to return, but now that he had a little water his throat didn't feel quite as damaged.

"What happened?"

"Shhh. Don't talk so much now. You gave me quite a scare. What happened was you wound up in a place that you were not supposed to be. The place you saw was a Hall. It was, in fact, the throne-room of four very important individuals."

Draco tried to ask another question, but she placed her finger to his lips to silence him.

"Your voice is not well. If you keep speaking, you will permanently damage it. In a little while I will give you some medicine to soothe and cool it, but you are too dehydrated at the moment."

She lifted his head up again and put the cup to his mouth.

"Here; have another sip. By the way, my name is Lorien."

He eagerly drank the water, (she let him have a little more this time) and when it was half-empty she took the cup away and laid his head back on the soft grass. Then she continued describing what he had witnessed.

"The four men you saw are evil, but I believe you gathered that at your first glance at them. They killed the original owners of those four thrones and usurped their power. How in the world you got to that place, though, mystifies me. What were you doing before you found yourself in that place? Before you answer, have another sip."

She gave him a little more water, and when she took the cup away again Draco swallowed and answered,

"Sleeping."

"Sleeping? You were asleep in your bed at school?"

He nodded. She turned away from him for a moment and her face grew thoughtful. After a moment, she locked eyes with him again and said,

"You have the right to know what happened to you. They caught you. Yes, they got you and they were about to kill you. I managed to get you out of there, but not before they did some damage to you. Lucky for you, you had fallen into a faint from the stress of the situation."

Draco's eyes widened at this news and he looked down at his body to see where those men had hurt him. Then he saw that his right arm had been bandaged and placed in a sling. His lips curled down into a sneer and he thought,

"They hurt me! They hurt me, and they are going to pay! My father will have them before the Ministry!"

"I know what you are thinking, Draco, and believe me when I tell you that your Ministry of Magic will be unable to assist you. In fact, if you were to go before them and tell them what happened to you they would not believe you. I do not tell you this because I think you are an ignorant child incapable of telling the truth. I tell you this because you deserve the truth."

He licked his lips and asked,

"Why?"

"Why? Because I believe that you are part of something greater than you can imagine. A moment ago, I told you about those four Kings that were murdered by the individuals you saw in the throne-room. What I did not tell you was their plan to keep their power alive in the event of their deaths. You see, these Kings were immortal. They were granted this gift by the Valar who are the highest power in the world. The throne-room is located between the vale of earth and the Undying Lands, and it was in that place that the Four Dragon Kings ruled."

Lorien continued on with the story of the Great Kings and how they were both Master and Servant to the great Elemental Dragons from which all magic comes. When she came to the end about the part where each King had placed a portion of their power in their blood-lines, and if anything ever happened to them their power would live on. The lines had been lost, but they were now being rediscovered and the only way to know if a person was one of the four true Heirs to the thrones was by a small Mark somewhere on their body in the shape of the Dragon their ancestors had once communed with. The first of these Kings had been found: the King of Fire. When she had finished, Draco stared at her for a moment before croaking out,

"Am I one?"

"I do not know. The Fire King told me you might be, but I cannot know unless you tell me of a mark in the shape of a dragon you might have somewhere on your body."

He knew immediately where to look, but could he trust this woman? True, she had gotten him out of a bad situation (or so she claimed) but her word was really all he had to go on. He had no other proof. So, he just blankly stared at her as though he had no clue what she had just told him. But she pressed,

"Draco, the world of magic is dying. What you saw on the field with Harry was no accident. It is a direct result of the Dragons. The first King has been found, and when that happened they have begun to rebel even harder against their usurpers. If you are, indeed, one of the Kings then you can help save your world. If you are not, then you have lost nothing except a useless conversation. Please, just tell me the truth. Do you have such a Mark somewhere on your body?"

She seemed to be in earnest. Her face exuded genuine concern. Well, what could it hurt? That little mark on his foot was the whole reason he had gotten his name in the first place. Draco: the Dragon. Appropriate. He gestured with his good hand to his right foot and said,

"There."

She gently lifted his foot from the ground and took off his shoe and sock. The cool air hit Draco's bare skin and it made him shiver a little. He mentally uttered an oath at the sudden change in temperature, but he didn't speak. It hurt too much. Instead he studied this strange lady as she examined his foot. He hadn't really been paying attention to what she looked like before, but now that he was feeling better he couldn't help it. The first thing he noticed was her long, brown hair and how it somehow reminded him of a tree. Her hands were gentle as she examined him, and she had a pair of brown eyes that had little black flecks in them. It was those eyes that caught his attention. They were full of wisdom and care, and at once Draco knew that his assumption of distrust had been wrong. This Lady would never let harm come to him as long as he was in her care. She only examined his foot for a moment before she set it back down and said,

"You have one. I don't believe it, you actually have one."

He nodded and arrogantly sneered at her a little, but it did not go unnoticed and for the real first time in his life, Draco felt admonished and took her advice seriously.

"Don't sneer at me, Draco. I am not here to make you feel self-important. I am here to determine if you can help save Magic. Besides, such an ugly look is not becoming of a King."

He promptly wiped the sneer off his face. Why did this woman have such an effect on him? If anyone else had told him that, he would have laughed at them and sneered all the more. But the thought was erased from his mind as she reached into a pouch at her side and pulled some objects out. She laid them on the ground in front of him and said,

"These three objects were part of the Dragon Kings' power. Earth, Air, and Water are the three elements left to find. Let us see if one of these elements is yours to rule. Pick each one up. We'll know if you are a King or not."

Draco looked at the objects in front of him: a bright golden feather, an ugly, brown, dried-up seed, and a vial of nasty looking, oily liquid. This was how a King was chosen? Well, at least he didn't have to do anything strenuous. All he had to do was pick these things up; simple enough. He reached for the feather as it was the most attractive thing out of the three of them. He picked it up and stared at it, but nothing happened. He sneered again and asked,

"Is something supposed to happen?"

It was the longest sentence he had spoken since he had woken up, and pain shot through his throat like a knife. He grimaced and the Lady took the feather from him and placed it back in her pouch.

"Air is not yours. Try another one."

Draco scoffed and turned back to the objects in front of him. Only two left and both seemed pretty undesirable, but just for giggles he picked up the seed. He turned it over in his hand, but it remained the same: just an ugly, brown, dried-up seed that looked like it had no more life in it than the eyes of those so-called "kings." Lorien took the seed from him and placed it back in the little pouch at her hip.

"The Earth is not yours either. Try the last one."

Draco reached for it, but before he touched it he asked,

"What if it doesn't work?"

Her brows knit together in a mild look of worry before she replied.

"Then you are not the Heir to the Throne of Water and I must look elsewhere for him, and you have lost nothing. But if you are, then my search for the second King is over, and you become a part of something fantastic; even better than just being able to do magic."

He looked at her for a moment, and she gestured for him to pick up the vial. He looked down and thought,

"I could be a King. Besides, like she said, if I'm not then I've lost nothing. And she did save me, so I guess I could at least give it a try."

He took a deep breath and picked up the vial of nasty oily liquid. He held it in his hands for a moment, but nothing seemed to happen to it. He up from it and held his arm out to her.

"I guess I'm not it, then. Best look elsewhere."

"No, wait! Look!"

She pointed at the vial, and he looked back down at it. There in his hand, the liquid within the glass was becoming clearer. In a moment, the oiliness and dirtiness was gone from it, and it was completely purified. Lorien and Draco both stared in awe at it, and it was Draco who first found his voice,

"Did…did I do that?"

She nodded in confirmation.

"What do I do now?"

"Open it."

"What?" he looked up at her with confusion plastered on his face.

"Open the vial," she repeated, "Claim what is yours."

Now his hands were tingling with excitement. Draco pulled the stopper off the top of the vial, and the strangest, unusual, and most terrifying thing happened the moment he did. Not just a few drops of water were contained within the small vial. No, the instant the stopper was pulled from it an entire river erupted from the tiny thing! The glass vial shattered and tinkled into the grass, and the river engulfed the boy in its relentless rage. The water roared like some great beast that had finally been freed, and Draco was lost within its depths. Lorien called to him,

"It is alright, Draco! You can do this! You will not be harmed!"

He couldn't hear her. All he knew was the crushing pressure of the roaring river on top of him. He tried to scream, but he couldn't. He couldn't even make a sound, couldn't open his eyes, nor even breathe. He felt his lungs screaming for air and he had to breathe. He felt shards of ice pierce his chest as he reflexively drew in a breath. But then, something began to change. Draco found that breathing was not so difficult. In fact, it was the easiest thing he had ever done in his life. The ice in his chest became a warm current and the current flowed in and out of his mouth and nostrils as though he had done it all his life. Then the waters began to change. They didn't rage and foam anymore. Instead they calmed and decreased in size until they had diminished to the size of a small circular pool. From the pool Draco looked up and saw a circle of pretty green light above him. He thought,

"Am I still underwater? Wait, if I'm underwater how am I breathing? People can't breathe underwater! Oh God, I'm gonna die!"

In a panic he kicked his feet and rose to the surface of the water. When his head broke he felt the warmth that was in his chest drain and come up in a rush. Water flew from his mouth and vacuum in his lungs was replaced with air. He looked around and saw Lorien standing close by. He gasped as a little more water came up and he breathed out,

"Why didn't you help me? I was about to die!"

"I believe that if you take a closer look at yourself, Draco, you will see that you are in no danger of drowning."

"What are you talking about? I'm human! Humans can't breathe underwater! What were you thinking?"

"Draco, look at yourself! Look at your legs!"

Now he was scared. What had happened to his legs? He couldn't look yet, just…not yet. Instead he gingerly reached down and touched the side of his thigh. However, instead of feeling smooth skin that had always been there he felt rough bumpiness and his skin almost felt like knives when he rubbed it the wrong way. He went from feeling mildly afraid to downright terrified. He placed his hands on the sides of the pool and hauled himself onto the grass, and when he did get a good look at himself he nearly screamed again. His legs were no longer there. Instead, there was a long, graceful fish-tail sapphire blue in color, and his feet were now a powerful fluke capable of propelling him through the water faster than any pair of feet ever could have done.

"Wha…..what…happened to me? What did you do to me? My father will hear about this! When he gets his hands on you, he's gonna….."

"Draco!" she interrupted him, "Don't you get it? You're a King! You're one of the Four! You've claimed your birthright! My search for the King of Water is over!"

He just stared at her for a long moment before looking back at himself. Then he slowly asked,

"I'm…..I'm a King?"

"Yes, you are. And I believe that you have begun to return to your normal self as well."

Sure enough, the powerful fluke and the scaled tail were receding and becoming legs and feet again. It was only a few seconds before Draco was back to his human self and the moment he was, he stood up. When he did, he noticed that he was feeling loads better than he had when he had first woken up in this place. In fact, he felt as though he had never been sick at all. He looked around the glade and saw something on the ground that caught his eye. He walked over to it and saw a ring of purple fire on the ground.

"What is this?"

"That is the place where the King of Fire claimed his birthright. Flames engulfed him just as the waters engulfed you and he became Master of Fire."

"Who is this guy, anyway? Is it someone I know?"

"I believe you know him more as an acquaintance than anything. It is Ronald Weasley."

"W….Weasley? That little prat? Do you know what he did to me?"

"Yes, and part of being a King is giving mercy and forgiveness when it is due. It was he who found the mark on your foot, and it happened because Magic has begun to die; not because he was out to get you or embarrass you. You are both Kings and therefore Brothers in Arms. You fight on the same side now."

"We do?"

"You do. This is not a battle of politics or ideals, Draco. This is a battle for the survival of Magic. Your world as well as the world of those you once considered your enemies. Don't let it die."

"Well…..what can I do? I'm not exactly chummy with Weasley, and if I start and my father gets wind of it he'll be asking questions. I've got to keep up appearances."

"Well, my boy, you can try your best but one look at you and everyone will know there is something different about you. You have changed."

"Changed? How?"

"Your face no longer bears an ugly sneer and you look a bit more….fair of face, I should think would be the best way to put it. Like Ron, you now have the visage of the Elves."

"Elves? I have no desire to look like one of those low, inept creatures only fit for serving humans! And I've always thought Weasley was about as good-looking as a house-elf. I don't know what that Granger girl sees in him. 'Course, she's a Mudblood so that probably explains that."

Lorien sighed in frustration at this boy's ignorance and said,

"Not the elves that you know today, Draco. The Elves I am speaking of were the fairest and wisest of all creatures that ever existed. It was they who brought elements of beauty and art to the world. No, the Elves I knew were remarkable beings and they often communed with me. We were great friends."

"You talk about them like you knew them, but I've never seen any of these kinds of Elves. How old are they?"

"You will not find any of them here. They all went to the Undying Lands long ago."

"How long ago?"

"Before you were born. That is enough questions for tonight. But before I part ways with you, I have one final gift for you."

"A gift? What kind of gift?"

Lorien reached into her pouch and brought forth a gold chain with a small pendant on the end of it. She held it out to him and said,

"This pendant will mask your new appearance. You will look no different to your classmates. However, I must caution you. You have only just come in to your powers. Be careful about using them too soon."

Draco took the chain and placed it around his neck. When he had done so, a sudden thought popped into his head.

"Hey wait a second! If Weasley is the King of Fire, does that mean that it was him who protected Potter during the First Task today? And what did he call me the day he cursed my clothes off?"

"Very well, but these are the last questions I will answer tonight. Yes, Ron did protect his friend today by manipulating the dragon's fire so it would not burn him. A rather impressive feat for one who is still inexperienced with his powers, I must say. As to what he called you that day, I was not there. I do not know what he called you. Was it an insult?"

"Sure sounded like one, but I couldn't understand what he said."

"Don't worry; you will soon enough. It comes with the territory. Right now, he can only speak that language when he is under an extreme mood: excitement, fury, even happiness. You are the same. Soon you will be able to speak bits of the language, but it will come more naturally. Now, I have a task for you.

"A job? But I thought you said I only just came into my powers and they would take time to develop. What kind of job could I possibly handle?"

"A simple one: help me find the other two. Our side is gaining power, but we need the others to be victorious. Whether you are obvious about trying to find them out, or if you are sly about it is completely up to you. But I need this help from you no matter how you choose to do it. Oh, and should you choose to call one of your classmates a "Mudblood" again, it will be bad for you. As a King, you are to honor all beings no matter what their lineage. I would clean up my language if I were you."

"Are you threatening me? 'Cause if you are, then…"

She rounded on him and grabbed him by the shoulders. It scared him more than anything he had seen that night. She gave him such an angry look, and it was that look that sent him quaking in his skin. Her words were quick jabs and every one of them hit where they were supposed to go.

"Do not think you can intimidate me with cheap threats and thoughts of petty revenge. You are no longer part of your father's world. You gave that up when you claimed your birthright. I do not tell you the things I do because they are shallow bits of advice for you to take at your own fancy. I tell you what I do because it is what needs to happen."

She released him and Draco thought,

"She could kill me if she wanted to."

"Draco," she said a little more gently, "I am glad that the search for the King of Water is over. But like the element you now rule, you are often unforgiving. Forgiveness and Mercy are two of a King's greatest weapons. It is these, more than any number of swords, bows, and spears, which allow him to be honored and respected by his people.."

She looked upward and then back down to him.

"It is time to say goodnight, my friend. Do not take off that pendant; help me find the other two. We will meet again soon, but next time we do it will be with Fire and Water. Now go and rest. You have earned it."

"Are you some kind of counselor?"

"I am a messenger and a mentor. Good night."

The green glade and the woman began to fade. Very quickly they were gone from his vision, and Draco had the sense that he was moving very fast. It was almost like flying, but more solid. It was, without a doubt, the most comfortable way he had ever traveled by magic. Soon the sensation was gone, and he opened his eyes. What greeted them was his dorm at Hogwarts, his warm blankets that shut out the cold, and the impassive stone walls that now seemed almost like a prison. Suddenly, Draco felt tired. He closed his eyes just for a moment to rest them, and promptly fell asleep.

He awoke several hours later being rudely awoken by the sound of his alarm screaming at him. The minute he opened his eyes he found that he had a burning thought in his mind, and it was one he thought he would never have in his life,

"I've got to talk to Weasley."

The thought mulled around in his mind for a less than a moment before he propelled himself out of bed, threw on a pair of fresh robes, and rushed up to the Great Hall. He made a bee-line to the Slytherin table, and filled his plate with all his favorite breakfast foods. He tried to ignore the urgency of the singular thought rolling around in his mind, but it wouldn't leave him alone. It bloody plagued him.

"I've got to talk to Weasley. We're on the same side now. We're Brothers in Arms. I've got to talk to Weasley."

Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. He reached down into his bag and pulled out a quill, a piece of parchment, and inkwell. He scrawled a quick message down on the parchment and looked over at the Gryffindor table. How could he get this message to Weasley without alerting the other two? He certainly didn't need the great Harry Potter on his case nor that overly-smart Mudbl…wait. He was supposed to clean up his thoughts and treat people with respect. He was a King, and forgiveness and mercy were his greatest weapons. Lorien had said so. Well, even so, he didn't want the other two hounding him and possibly spying on him for information. Problem was, Weasley was almost never alone. If he wasn't with Potter and Granger, he was usually with one of his bumbling brothers. Then he thought of it.

Today during Care of Magical Creatures, he would find a way to slip the note into his bag or pocket or something. Those Blast-Ended Skrewts were becoming a handful and everyone was usually pretty distracted with them to really notice what the other humans around them were doing.

At eleven o' clock that morning, Draco put his plan into action. The Slytherins and the Gryffindors headed down to Hagrid's cabin to begin Care of Magical Creatures, and when they got there, sure enough, the Skrewts were waiting for them. Hagrid said to them,

"All righ' then; everyone gather 'round. Today we're gonna see if the Skrewts hibernate. Ye'll just be nipping 'em into these crates, and we'll see what they do. I've lined 'em with fluffy blankets and comfy pillows, so if they do hibernate we'll find out soon enough."

Draco spoke up,

"And how exactly are we supposed to just 'nip them into those crates?' They've got to be six feet long and I don't fancy getting burned today."

Hagrid produced several leashes made from rope and passed them out.

"What ye'll do is tie the leash around 'em and lead them real gentle-like into the crates. Jus' do yer best."

"And where are we supposed to tie them around: the blasting end or the sucking end? Either way one of will be going to the Hospital Wing."

"Tie 'em round the middle. Jus' be careful."

Draco tried to sneer, but found that his lips seemed to have lost the skill. Instead all he managed to do was form a kind of grimace that earned him a poke in the side from his friend, Gregory Goyle, and the question,

"You alright? You look like you got a stomach ache."

"I'm fine, you idiot! Leave me alone!"

Goyle stepped back. He was used to Draco yelling at him and calling him names, but something about him was different today. Almost as though he had gone through some kind of change overnight. But this thought was in and out of his mind as quick as a puff of wind. Such was the way of Gregory Goyle. He turned back to trying to tie his leash around the end of the Skrewt he was attempting to lasso, while Draco turned his attention to something different.

He spotted what he was looking for: Weasley's school bag. Now if only Weasley would just look away for a moment, he could drop his note in the bag and go on with this lesson. Finally, it happened. The ultimate distraction provided by one particularly bad-tempered Skrewt. Apparently, the Skrewts did not hibernate for as soon as they had been placed in the crates they began to throw the most horrid of temper-tantrums. The wood from the crates splintered as the Skrewts blew them up with their Blasters, feathers flew like snow, blankets were ripped to shreds, and one Skrewt did something the students had seen them do several times, but every time it happened they were never quite prepared for it. As soon as it had blasted itself out of its crate one brave Gryffindor tried to grab hold of the leash that was still tied around its middle, but the Skrewt "blasted off" fifteen feet away and took the poor Gryffindor with it. Hagrid and all the other students went to the aid of the unfortunate student, but Draco took the opportunity to quickly drop the note into Weasley's school bag before taking off towards the scene where the Gryffindor was now trying to avoid being "blasted off" again. It was one ride that he never wanted to take again as long as he lived.

The poor kid was now dusting himself off and the rest of the Gryffindors made sure he was alright while the Slytherins did nothing but look on and laugh. Draco felt a mix of emotions. He knew that this was supposed to be a funny situation. A Gryffindor had just eaten about ten feet of grass and dirt and he was now all messy. He remembered that he was supposed to laugh at this, but could not bring himself to do it. A new emotion was taking place and Draco couldn't place it, but he had the distinct feeling it had something to do with what had happened to him last night.

After the Skrewts had been placed back in their original metal-and-magic-reinforced cages and homework was given out, Care of Magical Creatures finally ended, and Draco took off with the Slytherins to his next class. He could only hope that Weasley would find the note and they would be able to talk alone without interruption. In the meantime, all he could do was wait.

The remainder of the day passed all too slowly for him. His classes felt entirely too long, the homework given to them seemed too difficult, and somehow the castle didn't seem as bright as it once had been. Perhaps that was just his imagination though. Dinner time came and went with all the appeal of another go-round with the Blast-Ended Skrewts, and Draco kept looking nervously toward the Gryffindor table to see if Weasley might have found the note and was discussing it with Potter and Granger. In fact, he looked over there so often that Goyle and Draco's other lackey, Crabbe, caught him. He didn't even realize that he had gone from just glancing to downright staring.

"Erm….Draco? Is there something over at that side of the room?" Goyle asked.

He didn't even acknowledge the boy; he just kept staring at Those Three.

"Draco?" Goyle asked again, but this time Crabbe offered his assistance as well by giving Draco a smart jab to the ribs.

"Ow!" Draco hissed, "what was that for?"

"You were staring at the Gryffindor table. Is something over there?" Goyle stupidly asked.

Draco glanced over at the table again, and saw them getting up. Apparently they had other things to do.

"No," Draco answered, "There's nothing over there that I don't already know about. Muggle-lovers and Mudbloods, the lot of 'em. I don't know why we don't just do away with those idiots in the first place."

Those were the words he spoke, but he felt a horrible pang of guilt as he said them. He turned back to his dinner, but found that he had no more appetite so he pushed the plate away and got up. He couldn't take this anymore. Even if he was bored and had to wait all night, he was going to the place he had designated to Weasley in his note: the empty classroom on the second floor of the castle. This was a bit of a secret place amongst the students. When one wanted to be alone to think, do homework, or be alone with a girlfriend or boyfriend this was the classroom in which to do it in. To let the others know that the room was occupied, all a student need do was change the color of the door-knob from silver to brass and no one would bother you. It was actually quite clever, and it was the trick that Draco was going to use tonight. He took his books in the room with him and quickly tapped the door-knob with his wand and the color went from shining silver to deep brass. He would not be bothered. He closed the door, opened his book, and waited. For several hours he waited. He heard the castle bell chime 10. Then 11. Then midnight. It was getting late, and Draco was getting tired. After the bell chimed the midnight hour he put down the book he had barely been paying attention to and grasped the pendant that hung around his neck.

She had said that this would disguise his new appearance, and he thought,

"I don't even know what my new appearance looks like. She said I looked like an Elf, but not one of the elves of today. I wonder what that meant. Maybe Weasley can answer some of this. If he was the first one discovered, then he's probably seen her the most. I cannot believe that I am doing this. This is so stupid! Why would he come, anyway? A cryptic note dropped accidentally into a bookbag? I wouldn't come. Of course, Weasley never was the brightest candle in the box. But if he's a King now, wouldn't he…"

Just then his thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. Draco nearly flew out of his chair and to the door. He opened it a bit too quickly, and when he saw who was there he could have just about danced. It was Ron; his note had worked! But when Ron saw who it was that had summoned him here in the dead of night, his brow furrowed in anger and he turned to go without a word.

"Wait a second, Weasley! I need to talk to you!" Draco hissed.

Ron didn't even turn around. He just kept walking.

"Weasley, stop! I said I needed to talk to you!"

Ron turned around and nearly yelled,

"You do not rule me, Malfoy! I'm not playing your sick game!"

"Weasley….Ron! Please!"

Okay, that worked. Ron wheeled around completely and utterly confused. The use of his first name and a polite word? Something was wrong with this kid. You don't just radically change overnight. Perhaps he was sick?

"Please," Draco repeated, "I need to talk to you. It's about Lorien."

"How do you know about her?"

"Can we talk in the classroom? I promise: no tricks, no spying, and no dishonesty of any kind."

"Prove it."

Prove it? Crap; how was he going to prove he wasn't just trying to be tricky or get his father in trouble? He had to think fast. Then it came to him. He didn't know if it would work, but he could try.

"Last o birth. Pagan nunegay lad," he stumbled out. That didn't sound right, but then again he wasn't extremely excited.

"What?" Weasley asked looking more confused then ever.

"Um, that wasn't right. Let me try again. Um…Last 'o bertha; pag….uh….paga….I don't know how to say it."

"Are you trying to speak a different language?"

"Can we please talk in the other room?"

Draco heard the note of desperation in his own voice and hated it. He had never tried to sound desperate for anything, but he did not want to get caught out here. King though he may be, Filch was still not a character he wanted to deal with. Weasley gave him a narrowed look, but thankfully he replied,

"Fine; but I swear if you are trying to trick me, I will break every bone in your body."

"Fair enough. Just give me a few minutes."

The look of distrust was more apparent on Weasley's face than ever, but at least he was going to talk to him. The two boys slipped into the door and when it was shut Ron snapped at Draco,

"Now what do you want, Malfoy? You got me in here, so make it quick."

"Okay, um…I guess…uh, I should start at the beginning. Um…I know about Lorien because she told me about you and what you are now."

"And what am I? A blood-traitor? A Muggle-lover? A disgrace to wizards everywhere? And how exactly did you meet Lorien?"

"I met her because you're the one who told her about what you saw on my foot! Like I said: I know what you are…You're Majesty."

Ron's eyebrows flew up in surprise and sudden understanding. No way; this was impossible. He hadn't even been sure of what he had seen that day. It was a total accident! Everything had been an acci…..hang on a moment!

"Wait, did you just call me 'You're Majesty?'"

"Yes I did. And perhaps you should call me the same, if this is all really true."

"If what is really true, Malfoy? Tell me."

"If everything that happened last night wasn't just a dream. If this pendant around my neck is really disguising some sort of way that I now look. If I wasn't suddenly able to breathe water like air and turn into a…." he trailed off and was lost in the memory of seeing his legs and feet as a tail before he regained his composure and started,

"Never mind what I turned into. The point is: if it was all real, and everything she said was true, then you and I are now fighting on the same side and I am no longer your enemy."

Ron was wheeling. Malfoy; Draco Malfoy: the son of one of the most well-known supporters of You-Know-Who was claiming to be on his side now? There had to be a catch or a trick somewhere in all of this. People don't just radically change their position on anything like this. No, something had to be up and he was going to find out what."

"Alright, let's suspend reality for a second and let's say I believe you. You told me that pendant around your neck was disguising you some way. Take it off, and let me see the real you."

"I know that you have one as well. Why don't you take yours off first?"

"I am not the one who has constantly bombarded and hammered your friends and family with threats, lies, and schemes. Reveal what you really look like. That is, if what you have told me is true."

Draco had to do it. Besides, he was curious as to what he now looked like as well. He grasped the chain hanging about his neck and pulled it off. Ron scrutinized his face, but apparently there had been no change because he scoffed and threw his hands up.

"I knew you were lying. Once a liar, always a liar."

And he turned to go.

"Wait! I'm holding it! Let me put it down! It's still touching me!"

Draco was near to the point of panicking. Why he needed Weasley to believe him so badly, he didn't know, but if he couldn't get his trust then this war was as good as lost. He put the pendant down on the table and shouted in anger,

"Look at me, Weasley! Look at me and tell me what you see!"

Without turning around Ron started,

"I see nothing except a slimy worm, Malfoy! If you honestly believe that I….."

"Ronald Bilius Weasley, turn your impetuous face around and look me in the face!"

At the sound of his full name (and the utter embarrassment that Malfoy knew his humiliating middle name) Ron literally felt fire flow through his veins. His internal temperature began to rise and something began happening to him. His skin went from pale white to a glowing reddish-brown. His hair turned redder than any Weasley had ever boasted and it seemed to have its own light. Even his eyes appeared to have turned to flaming red embers and for a moment Draco was frightened by the sudden change in appearance. Ron turned around and shouted in fury,

"Who are you that you believe you can tell me what I am to do, Foul Beast of Morgoth! I forever name you this because that is what you are! Your soul is blacker than the soot of Orodruin and ranker than the inhabitants of Angmar!"

Now Draco was just as furious. His fear left him and he shouted back,

"I am no Beast of Morgoth! I am the Dragon King of Water, and you shall respect me! I came to you in respect tonight because you are the Dragon King of Fire! We are Brothers-in-Arms! Look at my face and you shall know!"

At these words, Ron backed off a bit. His skin and hair cooled as though he had somehow been extinguished. He looked at Draco and realized that what the boy had said was true. It was still Draco Malfoy that stood before him, but he looked much changed. His hair was no longer slicked back into an overly-neat coif as it had been a moment ago; it was a bit longer and not so blindingly white. It had begun to darken a little. His face was no longer hard and unfeeling as stone, and his lips were not curled down into a sneer. It was as though they had been wiped away and replaced with expressions and feelings far more pleasant and easy to respect. But his ears were probably the most noticeable physical feature. They came up into perfect points at their tips. Yes, this was indeed Draco Malfoy that stood before him but it was not the same boy that had threatened his family for the last three years.

Ron softened completely and the fire that had been heating up his insides was completely extinguished. It was plain old Ronald Weasley that stood there now, and he was compelled to do something as well.