I'm back! I bet some of you were worried I was gone, but never fear, I am here! I took a little time off. The release of the 7th book kinda brought down some of my enthusiasm. Lucius IS a good father! Just not in this story, tee-hee.

Last chapter, if anyone might have kept track, was a memoir to all those who died in the last battle, except for Dobby, 'cause I kinda forgot about him. XX He's got a big part in the next chapter, so don't worry Dobby fans!

And now, onto the story!

X

I scratched my chin with my quill, scowling down at the words that seemed to escape meaning. It was around eight o'clock and the sunlight was gradually fading outside my window.

"Is the great code-breaker Draco Malfoy stuck?" She was seated on my great-aunt's favorite chair-she'd used her brother's wand to float it up the stairs and place it in my room-curled up with a book and smirking lightly up at me. Ever since our little understanding three days ago she's been with me, just passing the time under her mother's orders.

"Not nearly as stuck as you are with that book." The book was an ancient, decrepit old thing she'd found in a cabinet somewhere. She had no idea what the title meant; nobody could tell us. It was in French. Ugh. French. The language of snotty noses and closed throats. It was such a slimy tongue that I could never bear to learn "the language of love", even though my mother tried to teach me.

Ginny mock-scowled and returned to her page, muttering the incantation that helped her understand the strange words.

"What the hell is that book about, anyways?" I asked. I was trying to take a break from the constant stream of information I seemed to be receiving. It was beginning to give me a headache that just wouldn't go away.

"It's nonfiction, I think...I think it's about some uprising in France because the wizarding population decided to take over. It's rather gruesome." she said, squinting at the page.

A smart rap came on the door. Ginny poked her head up once more, a little irritated at the constant sidetracks from her book.

"What?" I called. I quickly set the papers down on the bed and pointed my wand at the door. I'd taken to locking it, since I didn't necessarily want Potty and the Weasel coming in whenever they felt like it. Ginny's mother bustled in, wand keeping a few papers afloat in front of her. A large parcel wrapped in brown paper was tucked under her arm.

"Package for you." she said hastily, setting it and the papers down on my desk. She wiped her sweaty forehead anxiously

"It's another from your mother. Don't worry, we didn't open it this time." Surely enough I could see my mother's scrawl on the front; its surface was unmarked. She bustled out of the room, muttering something about dinner. I slid off the bed to take the package. Ginny moved over to my bed and watched me rip the letter off over my shoulder.

Hebi-kun,

I'm doing fine, love. I hope I can see you soon! Shibou-san tells me you're getting better at puzzle solving, so I've sent you some sudoku puzzles, they're all the rage. Are you ready for the festival? We've sent you some presents, hope you like them. Do try to like them, dear, they're all we could afford.

Do well with your heart, son.

Love, Hana-san.

"Hebi? Shibou? Hana? Let me guess, I know where they are." Ginny smirked. I just chuckled.

"Mother, you're brutal." I murmured. "Brutal?" She frowned. I smirked back at her and kept the secret to myself. She had called Severus 'Honorable Grease'. I tore the paper off of the package and stared at its contents.

A small wooden box sat on top of what looked like books and fabric. Curious, I opened the box. It held a number of small bottles, each filled with a different colored liquid. A piece of parchment wrapped around them. I read it.

This is your protection. The bottles are bewitched to fill from my stores, I assure you that they will not empty. Drink them, a drop of each in a cup of water. This was Severus' writing. Then, under it, my mother had written her own piece for me.

I am sorry, my son, this is the only way they would let you go back.

I grew suspicious as I eyed the bottles once more. Just what would happen? Would I sprout spikes, warding away harm? Would a shield form around my skin?

"Any idea what this stuff does?" asked Ginny as she examined one of the bottles. I shrugged and fetched a glass of water. She took a bit from each and dropped them into the water. It turned a murky grey.

"Bottoms up." she said, a small hint of uneasiness showing under her cheerful face.

I'd had polyjuice potion before, and the feeling this potion gave me was nearly identical. My skin became hot wax. My scalp was aflame, and I suddenly felt like a piece of hot iron being pounded into shape. My skin quickly molded itself into a different form, and my hair shrunk back into the top of my head.

Ginny was staring at me, blinking furiously as her eyes roved over my new frame.

"What? Am I as bad as Crabbe or something?" I turned my head and glanced at myself. I jumped.

My perfect hair was a raven-black mess. It was slightly shorter and stuck out at odd angles, but I will always say it looks good. My eyes, thank Merlin, were the same size and color. My face was no longer angular and pale but more round and my skin was darker, more healthier-looking. And on my face...

"Merlin I'll kill him! I've got dimples!" I rubbed the corners of my mouth where tiny laugh lines had set in. I scowled and looked more. My nose was slightly upturned, a mirror of my mother's. Ginny laughed at my outburst, holding up what looked like my school robes.

She turned it around so I could see its front.

No.

No.

NO.

FUCK NO.

The patch on the chest was not the one I loved, the silver serpent on a green background.

A rearing lion took its place.

"A Gryffindor?!" I nearly screamed. Ginny fell over onto her side and laughed, hard. I grabbed the robe and threw it to the other side of the bed. So this is why my mother was apologizing. I wasn't ugly, certainly not, but I was a Gryffindor. Seething with rage, I turned back to the package to try and erase it from my mind.

Under where the robes had been were a small pile of books, the ones I would need for my last year. A small bundle of quills and ink were wrapped with a piece of parchment, along with a new wand.

"Apollo Canton." I read, scowling. My first name was now that of the Greek Sun God. How...ironic. That the dark one's name would mean light. They were probably having a laugh about it. Thanks, mum.

Below my alias were the specifications of my wand. Ash, twelve inches, mermaid scale. Must be one from Gregorovitch-Ollivander's gone, and he never used scales.

"Ginny!" Her mother called up the stairs, abruptly ending her time watching me. She glanced at me again, a smirk on her face, and scampered off to join her mother.

I, in the meantime, sat, cursing my fate. I rubbed my strange face and felt like screaming. I had now become the very thing I have detested since birth. I was helping people who fought against people like me, and now I looked like one. I might as well start dressing all in white and enchant a halo to hover above my head. Now, that would make you people laugh, wouldn't it? Or Draco Malfoy going to church like a good little boy?

Now that you mention it, I have been to church. Once.

I remember it vividly, even though it was ten years ago. My parents dressed me in finery early on a Sunday morning. I was curious, wondering just what we were doing. My father looked very annoyed at going, and my mother didn't look too happy either. Before leaving, my father turned to me and said, "Draco, you are not to listen to the old man's words. They are irrelevant and inconsequential. Remember. We are not going to worship. We are going to study those that we must eradicate."

We went for appearance's sake. It was the chance to prove that the Malfoy family were good Christians, who would never, ever do something evil knowingly. How dark we would look, forsaking the church. It would arouse suspicion. Suspicion we didn't need.

As we stepped through the heavy doors of the church I saw my father stiffen, but briefly. You see, there are no wizarding churches. Witches and wizards assimilate into the muggle culture, as they always have, for religious purposes. I have never understood why. There are so many things in their Bible that are explained by magic, as my parents told me later on. How their savior was just a wizard who liked to show off, that sort of thing.

You could always pick out the wizards. They would be huddled by themselves, dressed haphazardly in generally mismatching and horrible clothing. We knew better, and even at eight I knew better.

I saw the look in my father's eye as he surveyed the insides of the church. Years later the church burned right down to the ground during Sunday mass. The locals who tried to put it out only found the flames to grow higher. It was my father's desire. He truly and sincerely hated the occupants, the ignorant savages who prayed to their savage god. He gazed around at them all, picturing their demise. There were no survivors.

They gave us strange looks. The people knew who we were, naturally. Our house was the largest in a 50 mile radius. They thought, however, that my father was some rich hotel-chain owner. If they knew where that money really came from, they'd have burned us at the stake. Strange how muggles always try to burn magic away, as if it were some infectious disease.

Mother ushered me into a seat. I sat between her and Father, and found that all I could do was look around.

To this day I have never seen a colder place.

How many of you could actually believe that? That I, Draco Malfoy, who lives in a pit of snakes and silver, turning away from the light, could have seen a worse place than the one I inhabit?

Then obviously, you have never truly seen a church.

The place was a white marble tomb. The sounds of mindless chatter rebounded from their cold walls, giving the place a hollow, haunted feel. I peered at the vaulted ceilings, carved ornately by artisans long gone to their God. The dead gazes of saints painted on the smooth surfaces were glazed with no hope or faith left in their glassy disks. I stared blankly at the forgotten souls, wondering if their plights had been rewarded. Were they with their God, or had they merely run uphill to smell a bucket of manure?

There were children around my age dressed in white suits and dresses, swinging around small necklaces of beads with crosses on their ends. I frowned, looking at my own black outfit. What was I doing wrong?

I heard my father curse under his breath as he watched them, running and playing and smacking each other with their beads.

"We just had to come for their communion." he hissed, turning his head to see his wife's expression. Mother's lips were tight and white.

"Draco shouldn't be seeing this." he continued, glancing down at me. Then he fell silent as mass began.

I watched the old priest walk onto the altar with curiosity. He was deemed a holy man, but why did he look so normal? He wore robes, like our kind, but he was most certainly a muggle. When he spoke it was like trying to listen to Professor Binns. Up until I met the ghost, this had been the most boring experience of my life.

I could see the other children were bored, too, yet they were too excited to let it stifle their enthusiasm. He prattled on about taking in God. My father nearly laughed at one point, but thankfully he was able to restrain himself. He was speaking nonsense, as far as we were concerned.

Maybe about an hour in, the children formed two lines. They walked, solemn as seven year olds can be, towards two old ladies with brass plates.

"Body of Christ, amen." they recited, taking a small disk into their mouths and eating them. I watched, fascinated.

"Are muggles cannibals?" I whispered to my father, grinning. The corner of his lip twitched.

"No, my son, it is only a metaphor." he replied. I sat back, a little disappointed. The children walked back to their places, knowing they were done.

I returned from my flashback, feeling blank.

I know better now. I still believe that place was a tomb; it was where doubt was buried, where second-guessing had been brutally murdered. The church was a place of obedience and blind faith, not for someone as distrusting as I am. The people were balls of clay, being constantly molded and changed by what their religion wanted them to believe until they had no views of their own.

I lay on my back, images of burning seraphim and marble tombs haunting my daydreams.

XX

"Draco?" A knock came on my door. I put down the new Potions book-might as well read them while I was in this hellhole-and looked to it. Ginny opened it, enough to poke her head in.

"They want to talk to you." she said, breathless. She had obviously been commanded to fetch me quickly. I knew who They were.

The Order.

Why they wanted to talk to me was a mystery, but I slid off the bed anyways.

"What are they talking about?" I asked her casually, as if I were called down every day.

"The attack, what else?" She rolled her eyes at my lack of thought. We stepped down the stairs together. Her eyes flicked to my appearance constantly, still changed from earlier. I didn't reply.

The kitchen door was flung wide open. I could clearly see the entire household huddled around the table from the stairs. They clutched glasses of wine and firewhisky and pored over the few maps we had of Hogsmeade.

Ginny walked in at my side. The gathering stopped their chatter to stare at me with utmost curiosity.

"Blimey!" said the youngest Weasley male, goggling at my new appearance. I wrinkled my nose, wishing desperately he'd stop staring.

"He did a good job, then," Moody growled from the corner of the table, that awful eye of his whizzing up and down my body. It was like some grotesque peep-show. "Slughorn's always been well known for his appearance-changing potions."

My head turned sharply to look at Ginny. She was calm, innocent. Almost as if she hadn't told the one lie that could possibly save Severus' life from these people.

She's good, I thought with some amusement.

"What do you want, then?" I asked. My new voice was light, almost musical. I didn't sound nearly as sarcastic as I'd hoped. It irritated me.

"The attack is two weeks from today," That's right. It was August 2nd. "We want to go over the plan with everyone." Kingsley Shacklebolt pronounced the last word as to mean I was somehow included. How touching.

I took a seat nonetheless. Mr. Weasley pinched the bridge of his nose, face quite red, and set off on the schedule.

"We arrive at two. We, being Kingsley, Remus, Tonks, Alastor, Fred, George, Bill, Molly, and myself. The rest will remain here and receive information." The Golden Trio looked sullen; obviously they had been notified of this beforehand.

My reaction was somewhat similar to Ginny's.

"What?!" she screamed. She jumped to her feet and slammed her palm down on the table.

"Ginny, we absolutely cannot let you go into a battle!" Molly yelled back, eyes livid. I seethed quietly, letting Ginny argue for me.

"Why not?! I've faced him before! I know him better than any of you!" She faced her mother boldly, hair like her fiery temper.

Not let me go? I think not, we both seemed to say. I glared at the congregation; she admonished it. I was not about to let them tell me what to do. I could apparate; they couldn't keep me there. Plus, there was no one to watch us, right? So what was the problem?

These were my friends going into battle, fighting, killing and being killed. I could not watch idly while both of my sides were in danger, even if I couldn't pick which one to stand with.

"And you lost, Gin. That can't happen again." Potter spoke up quietly over his firewhisky, to the nods of the adults. She glared at him darkly and sat down, silently fuming.

"Go on." I murmured. She shot me a dirty look. Mr. Weasley looked uncomfortable.

"They will arrive an hour later..." The conversation drifted over the various aspects of time and strategy. We stumbled out three hours later, heads light from copious glasses of wine and endless discussion. Ginny stamped up the stairs, still mad after all this time, and marched into my room before I even got up the stairs. I sighed. She was going to have another meltdown on me, I could sense it in the air.

I closed the door behind me and she turned to me.

"We're going." she said quietly, voice soft with danger as she stared directly into my eyes.

"Now you're talking my language. Have you got a plan?" I smirked lightly. Neither of us would take this lying down.

"Not much. Have you?" I paused, then grinned.

"Of course."

That's how you found me. Emotions boiling over, ready to burst, thinking up any plan to get myself in the midst of the danger.

Angry; excited; the battle stirring in my blood.

XXX

Okay, I know the chapter was shorter than the previous ones, but I was just setting up for the battle, which will be next chapter! Remember, the more reviews I get, the longer the next chapter is!