You dig down underground now
Through the soil, through the cooling clay
As the din fades above you
You're moving
You're secret
You're nowhere
It's all good

The dirty, dingy little bar sat in the middle of London. If a muggle were to look at it, they'd see a rundown old building that looks as if it hasn't been used in some thirty or forty years. If a wizard were to look at it they'd see a rundown old building that looks as if it hasn't been used in some thirty or forty years…with a glowing firewhiskey sign in the window. Few wizards would dare enter the place; most didn't even know it exists, only the seedy underbelly of wizarding society like those who venture regularly into the darkest shadows of Knockturn Alley.

Inside the bar, in the farthest, darkest corner, a pile of dirty rags had taken up residence in one of the chairs. If one were to look closely they might see a grungy looking hand reach out to grab a glass of firewhiskey before quickly disappearing. No one gave much notice as a man wearing dark robes came to sit at the same table.

"Do you have it?" the man in dark robes whispered furtively.

The pile or rags shook as the other wizard gave a haggard cough. "I do."

"I wish to see it before we discuss payment."

"Expected that." From within the pile of filth came a hand and suspended form that hand was a locket.

"May I ask how you acquired it?" the man in the dark robes questioned, reaching out a hand to gently caress the beautiful piece of jewelry. "I only ask so that I might be assured of its authenticity."

"It's the real deal alright," the wizard chuckled, "No way to open it though. Don't know why you wanted it and don't care. Everything in that house was the darkest kind of evil and that kind of evil brings nothin' but trouble if you ask me."

"No one is asking you," the man snapped angrily, "I will take it and in return you will receive payment."

"And passage to the States."

"As agreed."

"Let's drink to a deal well done then."

"Or shall we drink to your cowardice in the face of danger."

The dirty wizard laughed loudly. "I prefer to think of it as having good survival instincts." He tipped his firewhiskey back and leveled the other man with a cold glare. "Of course you'd be knowing all about that now, wouldn't you?"

dSz

Harry sat watching as Hermione and Ron strolled leisurely around the lake. No one really felt like doing much of anything after their strange encounter with Dumbledore's will. No one spoke of what they saw or what was said, each kept their secrets to themselves. It was easy to see that everyone had been affected rather profoundly by the whole ordeal. Only Dumbledore's granddaughter had come through the door looking completely unfazed which still bothered Harry to no end. And then there were the glasses she came out wearing, Dumbledore's half-moon glasses.

"How dare she?" Harry grunted angrily to himself, kicking his foot and sending dirt flying in all directions.

"You wouldn't be talking about me, would you?"

Spinning in surprise, Harry's balance left him and he fell ungracefully onto the ground. Rowena gave a small laugh, reaching out a hand to help him up. He pushed her hand away angrily and lifted himself up on his own.

"I don't need your help," Harry growled, turning away from her and sitting down on the large boulder once again. The same boulder that he and Dumbledore had sat upon after he went through the door.

"I know you don't," Rowena replied calmly, "but I do need a place to sit, do you mind?" Without waiting for an answer the witch sat down next to Harry, right in the spot that Dumbledore had occupied.

"Stop looking at me."

"Where should I look?"

"I don't know," Harry grunted, "Just don't look at me."

"Why?"

"Because you're wearing his glasses…it's unnerving." A soft sound of metal hitting against metal caused Harry to turn to look at the older girl. The glasses were gone and she looked at him directly with her twinkling blue eyes.

There is something odd about those eyes, Harry thought to himself as he continued to stare. Something that he just couldn't put his finger on. Suddenly he felt an odd sensation, as if someone were poking his mind with a stick. Without thinking he did his best to throw up an Occlumency shield, wondering if Rowena was somehow trying to break into his thoughts. The look of confusion on her face saying otherwise.

"Do I have a boogie or something?" Rowena asked, self-consciously covering her nose with one hand.

"A what?" Harry chuckled lightheartedly. Her comment seemed to have broken the uncomfortable tension between them, or at least the uncomfortable tension that Harry felt around her. He doubted whether Rowena had ever felt tension in her life.

"A boogie, booger, nose gold…I don't know, what do you people call it?"

"A boogie will do find," Harry stated with a grin, "and no, you don't have one. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare, it's just your eyes…"

"Are like his," Rowena finished.

Harry nodded and then looked out over the lake. "I can't believe you never got the chance to meet him."

"Stinks, don't it. Everyone keeps telling me what a great guy he was."

"He was," Harry replied morosely.

"Maybe to you," Rowena said, a small bit of scorn in her tone, "but he wasn't so great to me. I think he was a jerk."

Harry's head snapped around as if Voldemort himself had tapped him on the shoulder. "What in Merlin's name are you talking about? Dumbledore was a great wizard! He did so much for so many people! He defeated dark wizards and worked hard to fight against Voldemort."

Rowena nodded in understanding. "Great wizard, bad grandpa."

"I suppose you're right about that one."

"But it was different for you, wasn't it?" Rowena continued, eyes narrowing dangerously. "You two had a great relationship. It was like you were his grandson. Everyone keeps saying how hurt you must be and how close you two were. I suppose his real granddaughter wasn't good enough so instead he adopted a famous and powerful wizard instead. Who would want boring old Rowena anyway? Boring Rowena who lives in the States and probably can't even do magic. Well I didn't want him anyway. I was perfectly happy without him and I'll never forgive him for what he put my mother through and for taking my father away."

Harry watched as Rowena stomped her way up the front steps and into the castle. He didn't notice when Ron and Hermione came to stand next to him.

"What was that all about?" Hermione questioned.

"Rowena's angry with me. She thinks that Dumbledore thought of me as his grandson while he forgot all about her. She thinks it's because I'm famous and powerful."

"But she's Dumbledore's granddaughter!" Ron guffawed, "You know she's got to be powerful." With a sigh Harry removed his glasses and showed them to his two friends. Both lenses had cracks running through their middles.

"Well one thing's for sure," Harry said as Hermione fixed his glasses for what seemed to be the thousandth time, "She's definitely a witch."

dSz

Draco kicked a stack of books over as he trudged through the library. He was angry. Snape had disappeared again and left him only a note stating what books he should study. I'm sick of studying, the young wizard thought to himself, kicking over another pile of books. Draco didn't want to sit on the sidelines anymore; he wanted to be out with the other Death Eaters, going on daring raids and currying the Dark Lord's favor. Instead he failed and now he is being punished.

If only he would have killed Dumbledore, but he couldn't, that was the problem. There was something about the defeated look in the old wizard's eyes that caused him to stop. Draco knows he's not an evil wizard; he only wants pureblood society to regain its rightful place in the magical world. Why do Dumbledore and his muggle loving group have to cause such a stir?

"It should have been Potter," Draco growled while hurling a book across the room.

He could have killed Potter. Draco knows that he could have killed the golden boy, but Dumbledore…that was different. The crazy old wizard had always treated Draco like everyone else. Dumbledore always saw the good in everyone, always gave everyone a second chance and that's what got him killed.

A small place in Draco's heart sat apart from the rest. It was a place that Draco decided he would put all of the deaths which caused him pain. Thinking of Dumbledore caused him pain so he tucked Dumbledore away in that small place in his heart. It was something he had to allow himself. He is not a monster after all.

Others would go there as well, some surprised even Draco himself. Remus Lupin, the third year Defense teacher, Draco knows that eventually he will be killed. The kind old werewolf will go to that special place. The man was always fair and Draco could find nothing truly offensive about him, he had just chosen the wrong side.

Little Ginny Weasley, Draco's first crush, would go there as well. Draco always admired that girl's stubbornness and will, so much like fire, just like a her blazing hair. Other school mates would end up next to her. Longbottom and Lovegood, maybe even a few Hufflepuffs. They could all keep Cedric company in that small spot in Draco's cold, black heart. The small corner carved out, a place where even the Dark Lord wouldn't find them.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know I haven't been the best at updating but I have more time now and I think I'll be able to change that. Thanks for reading, reviews are appreciated, everyone write more fanfiction. We'll need it after the seventh book is out. ;)