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AN: Helloooo... Are you still with me? Sorry for taking so long. The reasons
could fill a whole page, but I don't want to bore you. It all resulted in me losing the thread
of this story and then I had too many ideas to fit them into my original plot (as far as there
was one ;-)), but now I hope I'm back on track. Whispers I don't know when I'll be able to
update again, though...But rest assured, I don't intend to give up on this fic. Some responses to reviews: To internet weaver : Thank you for keeping an interest in this story and thanks for
your suggestions, in particular your latest review (as it's always better to specify than just
say something's horrible). I don't totally agree with your version of the
meeting, but I can see where you're coming from. I might rewrite that and other scenes at some
point, but for now I'll leave things as they stand. To Lost-Remembrance : You really made my day there... I couldn't believe it when I
checked out my e-mail account. 8 reviews in one day. You seem really, really fond of this
story ;-). I'm flattered. But also a little scared that I'm bound to disappoint, given your
enthusiasm. Anyway, this one's for you.
And thanks to all my lovely reviewers out there! On with the story...
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Chapter 9: A New Dawn...
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Duo woke up to the sound of squeaking beds. A look to his right told him his roommates were
slowly getting up. "Time to get out?" he asked sleepily. Lately he really had gotten
somewhat too used to sleeping in… "Unless you want to miss breakfast, yes." Harry smiled at
Duo's dishevelled appearance. "Fine." Grumbling Duo sat up and discovered that the bed to his
other side had already been made meticulously, military style.
Typical, Heero probably had been up at dawn. Phh… Couldn't he just get over it? War was over.
The wartime habits created by the need to be on constant alert had gradually subsided in him
during the past eight months, why not Heero? Hm, moot point, yeah, he knew Heero's upbringing
had been different, and admittedly even now his own reflexes kicked in from time to time, but
still… He stretched lazily.
"Hurry up. We'll wait for you in the Common Room."
When Duo finally showed up in the Common Room, he realised that he wasn't by far the last to appear. Most of the colonial students seemed to suffer from a major jet lag and arrived sluggishly.
"All newbies here?" Hermione asked finally. "Alright then, follow me and try
to memorise the way, as of tomorrow you'll be on your own."
"Uhm, Heero is missing." Hilde noticed.
"He was already gone when we got up," Ron said. "So I guess he went on his own."
"Oh, he'll manage…, he'll manage…" Duo voiced his opinion glumly.
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And he was right, of course. Having the advantage of a longer stay, Heero had no difficulties
at all in locating the Great Hall. After only a few hours sleep, he had set out to explore
more of this peculiar building while everything was still quiet.
He needed a distraction
from his own thoughts. And of course the habit to familiarise himself with his surroundings,
getting to know them inside out, exploring possible hiding places and escape routes, was
deeply ingrained in him.
Heero would never admit that, despite his excellent sense of
direction, he got lost a few times while ghosting through the halls, confused by the
magically changing stairs and pictures. In the end, he decided to pass the time in the
library he had discovered. When he heard the sounds of the waking castle, he closed the book
on Animagi he had been immersed in and went to get some breakfast.
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Breakfast at Hogwarts was always a rather loud affair. The Great Hall bustled with students and staff. However, the excitement of the new, or in the older students' case the first day, had still to wear off, so everything was even more lively than usual.
It was quite a large group that had formed around Harry, Ron and Hermione. Next to the "usual suspects", Neville, Seamus, Dean and the other Weasleys, sat Hilde, Duo, Trowa and Quatre. They were framed by further new students. The twins were taking the opportunity to skilfully scare them by telling them imaginative stories of their allegedly horrible first day.
Upon entering the three ex-pilots had noticed Wufei, who seemed more than fine at the Ravenclaw table, and nodded a greeting. Although the Chinese pilot liked to go against the tide from time to time, he would always remain part of their circle of friends and he knew that. Breaking eye contact, he resumed his conversation with a fellow Ravenclaw, who was, surprisingly for those who knew him, a girl. Shortly afterwards they spotted Heero taking a seat at the far end of the Gryffindor table.
Even though it was only the first day of the school year, already the first owls were
arriving, carrying letters and small packages under the interested eyes of the Muggle-raised
students.
Neville received a rather large package from his grandmother that, to his endless
embarrassment, turned out to hold a stack of underwear. The boy blushed a deep red when he
tried to repack the contents of his parcel as discreetly as possible. Why did he have to
be so forgetful? Unfortunately, some Slytherins had spotted his dilemma and already
started teasing him. He wouldn't live that down for the rest of the school year, he was
sure.
Another owl, which obviously belonged to the school, dropped a letter into Harry's lap. His
surprised look soon vanished as he recognised Sirius' handwriting. To my knowledge you
have first period free. Come and meet me at Moony's room with Ron and Hermione. Snuffles.
"Si…" He corrected himself.
"Snuffles would like to see us" he mouthed in answer to the
curious stares given by his two closest friends, once he was sure nobody was watching.
However, from a distance, a colonial student was following their exchange. He was slightly
puzzled by the information his sharp blue eyes, well-versed in the art of lip-reading,
provided. Snuffles?? And hadn't there been some slip of the tongue?…
As their breakfast drew to an end, Quatre noticed with an inward smile that Duo seemed very fidgety. He was not affected by the Weasleys' tales, but now that he had successfully come out of bed, he obviously couldn't wait to get going.
Professor McGonagall had the prefects hand out provisional timetables and announced that a list of which "veteran" student was to tutor which new student would be put up by lunch break. Indeed, only the first-years and the newcomers from the colonies had to attend the first periods as the others were not considered in need of another introduction course to the basics of magic. The more experienced Hogwarts students would join in later. Thus, the three friends made their way to Professor Lupin's room, while the older newbies assembled in Professor Binns' classroom.
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They were surprised when they realised that their teacher actually was a ghost. If they
thought that would make lessons more interesting as he might relate first-hand experiences,
they soon found themselves disappointed. The former Gundam pilots had never in their rather
patchy school career gone through a more boring class than History of Magic.
After about
twenty minutes Duo noticed that absolutely all students but a visibly struggling Wufei and
possibly Heero had lost the fight against boredom, though he wasn't quite sure about the
latter - he had that strange expression on his face (only recognisable to those who knew him,
anyone else wouldn't note a difference) that seemed to suggest that he was far away with his
thoughts, but Duo had been deceived by this distant look often enough to know that he might
still be paying attention. How he did that, was a mystery…
For lack of something more
interesting to do (and not wanting to leave a bad impression on the very first day), Duo
soon began doodling on his parchment, trying to find the right way to handle the unfamiliar
quill without getting everything blotchy. As time drew on, he was asking himself if it had
been the right decision to come to Hogwarts, after all. He had imagined it to be a lot more
fun…
Duo might have been pleased, had he known that he hadn't misread the former Wing pilot's expression. Indeed, Heero's thoughts followed the same paths as his. Somehow all these historical events had seemed a lot more interesting when he read about them…
Heero couldn't keep his mind from wandering. Unfortunately, it went where he really didn't want it to go. Back to the question that had deprived him of a good night's rest. Why were the others ignoring him? Duo had hinted to his unexplained absence, but that couldn't be all there was to it, could it? He must have done something severely wrong to deserve such a cold shoulder. That much he knew for sure, even though he was so insecure about the concept of friendship. They had always insisted on including him into their circle, no matter how hard he had pushed them away…
Now he felt lost. There had to be a good reason, he
just couldn't think of one. But they were aware that he had learned all he knew about
friendship from them, so it had to be pretty obvious… Probably he had broken one of those
unwritten rules of friendship everyone was supposed to know and he was just too… stupid.
There was no other explanation. Why was he so incompetent when it came to everyday human
interaction? He sighed inaudibly. Once again it was all his fault they had gotten hurt,
and he hadn't even realised it. How could he repair the damage he had done? Maybe he just
had to wait out their punishment. That's what it was, wasn't it?
He had no right to push them, should they decide he was no longer worthy of their friendship.
A cold feeling invaded him. That couldn't be…? They couldn't know…? And if they did, would
they really…? With dread he felt a flashback arriving and it took all his self-control to
keep from physically trying to shake the thoughts away. A memory from long ago, the memory
of a husky, smug voice whispering in his younger self's ear, penetrated his mind…
"You don't think anyone could really like you, do you, little one? A tool for warfare? A killer?" An almost manic laughter… Eyes… Hands… A body getting too close… "Even if they could turn a blind eye to that fact…" The owner of the voice was clearly enjoying himself… "Nobody would want a used toy… mmh… Dirty… mmh… Tainted…"
Nooo!!! That. Was. Wrong. Wasn't it? Maybe he didn't deserve their friendship… Maybe he
was just too… fucked up… He cringed inwardly.
But… but he would have to prove his worth. There was little else he could do. He'd show
them that he was not dangerous. That he could uphold human relations. That he could learn
to be normal… Or at least act it… And then he would just have to wait… and hope…
Fortunately, the end of Professor Binns' lesson saved him from delving deeper into the corners of his mind he preferred to keep hidden, even from himself. Slowly he followed the others out of the classroom and to Transfiguration. Hopefully that lesson would keep his mind occupied…
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A 16-year old boy was pacing through an empty corridor of the Slytherin house. His fellow Slytherins knew him well enough to keep out of his way. To say he was angry would have been an exaggeration. He was, well,… annoyed. Yes, that was the most fitting word. A Malfoy was too cool and composed to be angered by this, this… Dammit, this wasn't supposed to happen. Damn those newcomers…
Actually, no, it was a surprise, but he had come to terms with having those colonials at school. They were overall no better or worse than the other people at Hogwarts. And he had learned to accept the Potter phenomenon long ago. There was only so much to fame… He would exchange fame for power any day. Besides, most of them had yet to succumb to the hype that surrounded his favourite enemy.
Draco would rather die than admit to anyone but himself that the quarrels with Potter and his friends were a mere game in which the roles were defined clearly. He had a reputation to uphold after all. And to do so he needed a worthy opponent (or victim) which he found in Potter and company. And Mudbloods were so easy to pick on, he grinned inwardly as he pictured an irritated Granger.
People often thought he was envious of the Gryffindor's skills, but
that was not the case. Draco was actually quite sure that Potter more often than not relied
on sheer luck, although he didn't lack the talent, admittedly. However, the Slytherin knew
that he himself was actually quite brilliant in his own right, the more analytical kind. And
he didn't go for fame, his interests lay in power alone. He was a Malfoy, that said it all.
What he did envy, was the warmth and friendship Potter received, and the respect. A Malfoy
was feared, there was respect for the mere name, but, as long as he kept in line and met the
expectations, nobody held an interest in the boy behind it. His father had made that very
clear once again, when he was at home during the summer holidays. He was used to that, but
he had begun to suspect that even the little pride Lucius Malfoy had in his son was waning.
He was too preoccupied with Death Eater business to even acknowledge his
son's existence, or so it seemed. Not that Draco cared much for his father, but still…
Oh, what was he thinking? Love? He was probably suffering from temporary mental derangement. Growing up in the Malfoy household he had learned that there were only two kinds of fish in the sea of life and they were sharks and, well, shark food. A Malfoy was clearly a shark, ruthless and feared, or he was no longer considered worthy of the name. All the closeness and mushiness of, for example, the Weasleys' was a hindrance on the road to more power. They were just little fish. He was a shark, nothing like a Weasley, not at all. A smirk flickered across Draco's features. A shark relied only on himself and to a certain extent to others of his kind.
Unfortunately, Draco had come to realise that his father had overlooked some important facts in his alliance with the Dark Lord (for a Malfoy this could only be an alliance, nothing less). The young Slytherin would be the first to admit that he was power-hungry. But unlike Lucius Malfoy he was well aware that working with (or rather, as Draco did realise, for ) Lord Voldemort did not really serve their purpose. Even if the Dark Lord could assume absolute power (which Draco secretly doubted), the Malfoys could only ever be second in command - at the most, and it was even more probable that Voldemort would finally turn against them, either regarding them as a threat or simply because they might not be needed anymore.
Oh, well… Despite these prospects there was only one side for him to take. Maybe they would find an opening at some point. In the end Malfoys always survived. And maybe he could make his father proud. Now to the problem at hand, the reason for his irritation.
Draco stopped his pacing to stare out of the window. At first he had been quite content with the sorting of new Slytherins. But that Fys guy and his girl-friend were getting on his nerves. Their holier-than-thou attitude was only rivalled by his own. They obviously were up to something. Oh, they were subtle about it, but Draco knew exactly what they were trying to do. They would fail. Nobody challenged his authority among the Slytherins. And nobody entered his game …
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TBC?
AN: Well, it didn't exactly turn out as I wanted and I didn't spend as much time
on writing it (I'm referring to the actual writing here) as you readers deserve, but I felt that
NOW it was really time to get it out. I hope it wasn't too bad. It's 2:30 now over here, so good
night... Thanks again for reading and reviewing.
