Ok here is where the cast of sub-characters I mentioned finally shows up. Hope they don't annoy you too much.

XmichiyoX – Glad you like it and hopefully it'll be less confusing as more characters show up and explain things. As to my mind games, I must be slipping if you noticed them lol, but yes, I greatly enjoy them.

fifespice – Interesting theory, but no he's not a vampire, I don't think they were around when Isil was first ummm… well he wasn't really born… but anyway you get the idea. Read on you'll find out soon.

Jujubel5 – Ahhh very good, Isil is related to the dragon, you'll find out how next chapter. Read on and we'll see if your inklings are right.

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Chapter 6

Madam Rosmerta watched from the window of the Three Broomsticks as the students clambered from the train into the carriages. She sighed as she turned back to the few customers at the bar. It was going to be a difficult year she knew, now that the school had lost Dumbledore. After awhile the sounds of the students had faded away and the Hogwarts Express chugged off into the distance.

Rosmerta was chatting pleasantly with one of the older women of the village when a new and unexpected sound reached her ears. A clip clopping could be heard from the street outside. The tavern went silent as every head turned towards the door. Rosmerta frowned as she looked at the door herself. No one rides horses around here, she thought. The sound had definitely stopped right outside the tavern's door, and sure enough, the door opened to reveal a strange figure indeed. Which is saying something, thought Rosmerta as she glanced at the hag nursing a Fire Whisky.

The figure stepped up to the bar, a slight chink could be heard as he, Rosmerta finally realized, moved through the tavern. He was tall and thin with raven black hair that reminded Rosmerta of Harry Potter. When he lowered the cowl of his cloak, she saw that the resemblance ended with the color of the hair. Where Harry's hair was always wind-blown and messy, this man's hair was straight and smooth. He also had sharp eyes that glinted blue in the firelight. When the man spoke, his English, though excellent, had a strange accent that Rosmerta could not pick out.

"I'm looking for Albus Dumbledore," the man said in an even voice. His eyes flashed around the room as everyone gasped. "I believe his castle is called Hogwarts," the man went on, "Could you tell me where it is? I was under the impression he lived in this area."

Everyone in the tavern was staring at the man now. He was regarding them with an air of guarded interest, almost as if looking for threats. How can he not know where Hogwarts is? You can see it from the doorway… thought Rosmerta. "Tha'sh a good one lad," said an old wizard further down the bar, breaking the tension in the room and moving over to sit next to the stranger, "Dumbledore died at the beginnin' of the shummer… shorry to break the newsh to you… right shame it wazsh too… come have a drink to wash the shadnesh from yer heart." He put his hand on the stranger's elbow and tried to move him to the next stool over.

The stranger did not move but took the old man's hand with his own. Rosmerta thought she noticed the torchlight glint off metal under the cloak but she couldn't be sure. The stranger looked at the man kindly as he placed the man's hand back on the bar. "Directions is all I need young one," he said to the astonished man, "I have no need to grieve for those not yet departed."

The old wizard let out a chuckle, "I am not sho young asszh that, laddy, you can' be more 'an twenty, and here I am sittin' on a full eighty yearsh!" he let out another guffaw as he took another drink. The stranger merely nodded and patted the man's shoulder, as Rosmerta was apt to pat the students who came through to talk to her. There was sadness in his eyes Rosmerta thought, as the stranger listened to the man's directions, but it was not the sadness of grief, more the sadness of the acceptance of something inevitable.

The stranger smiled at the old man as he finished with his fourth repetition of the one-sentence directions. "Jusht keep headin' uphill, you can' missh it." The old man said once again. The stranger just nodded and stood up to leave. "Thank you child," he said as he moved towards the door. The man snorted again and a grin lit up the stranger's face. As he put up his cowl to step out he said, "50,000 years is a long time to live friend. I envy your short eighty." Every eye was on the stranger again as he stepped out into the night.

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The stranger moved up the high street, his horse now nowhere to be seen. The wind whipped his cloak out behind him as he walked and the clouds skittered away from the moon. The man proceeded up the hill towards the gates of Hogwarts. His grin widened in the moonlight as he approached the gates. All he saw of the proud structure and the castle beyond was a ruin, decrepit and deserted.

The man lifted his hands and placed his palms flat against the ruined gate. He opened his mouth and spoke but the words that resulted were not of the English language. In a calm and almost musical voice the man spoke to the gate, "Nan Isilomir Thalionore. Tulan ve ne quete. Edro an i turlya!"

As the last echo of his voice died away, the gate in front of him seemed to shimmer in the air. Slowly the newly rebuilt gate swung open and admitted the stranger onto the moonlit grounds of Hogwarts.

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Hagrid noticed the movement outside his cabin from the direction of the ground's gate. Now tha' ain't righ', thought Hagrid, moving over to the window. Fang growled at the door behind him. It took Hagrid a second but he picked out the figure moving away from the shadow that was the gate to the grounds as the gate itself swung closed.

Hagrid picked up his crossbow and headed out with Fang at his heels. Ain' no one who can open those gates but me and the Professor, he thought to himself, as he made straight for the figure still moving across the grounds, an I know I locked em behind the carriages earlier.

"Alrigh' there you, slow up an' lemme see yer face," he said as he approached raising his crossbow. The figure stopped and peered at Hagrid from under his hood. Hagrid saw the moonlight glint off the stranger's eyes but the man did not lower his cowl.

"No funny business now," said Hagrid, waving the crossbow threateningly while Fang growled behind him, "Lemme see yer face." The stranger did not speak to Hagrid. In fact, he seemed to have no interest in the ground's keeper at all. He knelt down and spoke to Fang instead.

"Tule si, seldohuaneva," the stranger said. Hagrid stared at the man as Fang stopped growling abruptly and crept nervously toward the stranger. When the boar-hound was a few feet away from the kneeling man, Fang looked up under the hood. He stared at the man, and then, without a sound, crouched down and put his head between his paws.

Hagrid starred at his dog as the stranger reached out and patted Fang's head. Fang wouldn' let a stranger touch 'im like tha' Hagrid thought still starring as Fang's tail began wagging furiously. The man spoke again, this time in English

"Hagrid, is it?" he looked up at the half-giant. Hagrid nodded, startled that the man knew his name. "Please go to the castle and tell Minerva McGonagall that an old friend is waiting for her with Dumbledore by the lake," the man said.

"Dumbledore's dead," Hagrid said flatly, regaining himself and remembering who had the crossbow, "An who are you askin' for the professor at this time o' nigh'?" Hagrid asked. The man nodded as if to recognize the validity of the question.

"A very old friend from a long time ago," the man said. "Tell Minerva that the badger has been called." Hagrid blinked again and, very reluctantly, turned to go up to the castle. He saw the rustle in the edge of the trees and relaxed a little. The centaurs were keeping an eye on the man.

"You may go with him, seldohuaneva," the stranger said, once again addressing Fang. The boarhound stood up and gave the stranger's hand a parting lick before following Hagrid to the castle. The man watched as Hagrid disappeared inside the castle and then turned towards the lake. He moved casually, knowing full well where he was going and who was watching him.

He reached the marble edifice that marked Dumbledore's grave. He stood there looking at the tomb for a few minutes before speaking to the night air.

"You may take that off Mr. Potter," he said, "you won't be needing it." When nothing happened, the man held up his hand and the wind carried the invisibility cloak into his open palm.

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Well there you are. Just a bit more plot to go through and then the one and only Draco shows up. Keep reading and pls keep reviewing. It makes my muse happy, and the happy muse writes more. Till next time.