When Harry came around, he was still lying on the field, and someone was leaning over him. His head hurt like it had been split in two.
"Hermi—ouch… What happened?"
"Goyle sent a Bludger your way just as the three of you collided," Hermione informed him, helping him up. "But it's all right—you caught the Snitch."
Harry looked around him. The golden ball was firmly trapped in his fist, its wings fluttering feebly as it tried to break free. Madam Pomfrey was fussing over Harper, who was moaning like a severely wounded animal, even though there wasn't a single scratch on him.
"Where's Fay?" he asked, starting to feel panicked.
"She's already been carried away—a broken arm or something… Listen, Harry, we really need to talk. I'd have never believed such a thing of you—"
"Mr Potter, are you all right? Come to the hospital wing. You appear fine, but who knows," the matron called, briefly interrupting his conversation with Hermione.
"I'm fine, I'll be there in a moment," Harry promised to Madam Pomfrey while she levitated Harper's stretcher out of sight, muttering angrily to herself about the dangers of extreme sports.
He turned back to Hermione.
"Hermione, look," he said, showing her the little golden bottle, which had miraculously survived the impact of the collision. "I didn't put it in; it's full."
"HARRY," a jubilant new voice cried out, "I can't believe we did it! We beat Slytherins! Mate, you've got to come up right now, we're celebrating. And I saved every single goal, did you see that?"
Ron was literally over the moon, so it took him a while to register Harry and Hermione's sombre faces.
"What's wrong, guys?" he asked. "Why so serious? Are you badly injured or something, Harry? Hey, what's with Felix Felicis, did you really—Harry?"
"No, Ron," Harry said hastily, making sure there wasn't anyone standing close enough to overhear their conversation. "Look, I just pretended to put it in—I didn't really do it. You see, I wanted you to think I'd done it so that you'd feel confident; but in fact, you saved those goals all by yourself. So it's all right, really, Hermione; we didn't break any rules. Now I just have to make sure Fay's all—"
Harry was fussing with the golden bottle, which was still tightly sealed with wax, when he was suddenly interrupted by an angry Ron, who obviously didn't want to hear the rest of his explanation.
"See, Hermione? I can save goals without help!" The boy's good mood had evaporated in seconds.
"Ron, I never said you couldn't play well, but it just looked like—"
"Oh, please, you've never thought much of me, have you now? As far as you're concerned, I can't do anything right. Well, I'm sick of it."
"That's not true, Ron! I've always thought you very capable…," Hermione started to explain, blinking away tears.
"Save it," Ron said brusquely and walked away, his broomstick tossed over his shoulder.
Harry and Hermione were left to stare after him.
"Hermione?" Harry asked carefully, unsure what to say to the upset girl.
He really hadn't expected Ron to react the way he had reacted.
"Don't," Hermione warned. "Go ahead and celebrate with the rest of them if you're not injured; it's what you want anyway."
"I'm sorry, Hermione," he said feebly. "I never thought—"
"I don't know what I'm supposed to have done to you, boys. All I ever did was try to be a good friend, but apparently, I'm doing a bad job of it, since you two hate me so much."
"We don't hate you, Hermione—"
"You run off with this Fairy whenever I try to talk to you, and Ron snaps and yells at me all the time. Just leave me alone, both of you!"
And before Harry could stop her, she ran away, now crying in earnest. Demelza, who must have witnessed the last part of the row, carefully approached Harry.
"Err… excuse me, Captain, I just want to inform you that everybody's already gone to celebrate and that Ginny's detention has been postponed, so if you want to join us…"
"Ginny's got detention?" Harry asked sharply. "Why?"
"She… err… flew right into the commentator's post and knocked down Zacharias Smith. Professor Snape made sure she was held responsible for the incident. Smith has been taken to the hospital wing; he's got a concussion, I think…"
"All right, thanks for telling me," Harry said absently.
"So are you coming then?" Demelza asked again uncertainly.
It was obvious that she felt awkward asking him to join the party after what she'd just seen but had thought she should do it anyway.
"Sure, sure. I just need to stop by the hospital wing… I'll be right up."
Demelza gave him a small smile and left for the dressing rooms.
Harry, meanwhile, hardly even knew what to do with himself. He didn't really want to go to the hospital wing at the moment. He knew that if he went there immediately, he wouldn't be able to talk to Fay anyway, since Madam Pomfrey was in the habit of occupying all her patients, not letting them near each other.
As his feet carried him automatically towards the castle, many people from the crowd shouted their congratulations at him, but all he felt was a great sense of let-down. He had been sure that if Ron won the match, the three of them would be friends again, but it had not gone that way at all. It was as if their friendship could not be mended. This gave him a terrible hollow feeling—he seemed to have been losing, one by one, all the people who had become close to him. First, it had been Sirius, then Fay, and now his two best friends. Frankly, Harry didn't know if he could cope with so much pressure any more.
When he finally reached Gryffindor Tower, he was greeted by renewed cheers and claps. A mob of people almost swept him off his feet in their haste to congratulate him. What was worse, Romilda Vane had somehow found a way to cling onto his arm like a crocodile onto its prey. It took him some time to shake her off—in the end, he had to promise her he'd consider taking her to Slughorn's party as his plus-one.
The real blows were yet to come, though.
Just as he reached a table covered with drinks, his gaze fell on Dean and Ginny—locked in a passionate embrace and kissing so intensely that their lives could have depended on it.
It was as though a volcano had erupted in Harry's stomach.
He was just so angry… He wanted to curse Dean into jelly, then and there.
He couldn't take it. The Quidditch match kiss had been more than enough.
Ever since he had got to really know Ginny, he had been trying to get closer to her. She was smart, beautiful, and vibrant— for Merlin's sake, she was the best flier he had ever encountered. But the more he tried to get close to her, the more she would torture him. She would respond with a quick teasing remark and that maddeningly cocky yet adorable laughter of hers, only to rush into Dean's arms a second later.
Instinctively, he made his way to the couple, fully intent on doing something thoroughly impulsive and stupid when Ron's voice brought him to his senses.
"Oi!" Ron yelled. "Knock it off, you two—have some respect towards my sister, you stinking cockroach."
"Ron!" Ginny yelled, scandalized, while Dean's eyes had grown wide at the insult.
"Hey, hey, lay off my friend, Weasel!" Seamus yelled from somewhere nearby. "And stop ruining a good party."
Harry took a deep breath, feeling immensely grateful to Ron—if it hadn't been for Ron, he would have succumbed to his emotions and would have made a complete moron of himself.
Quickly, he poured himself a random drink and emptied his glass in a single gulp.
Dean, meanwhile, seemed to have pulled himself together.
"What is your problem, Ron?!"
"Oh, shut up, Dean!" Ginny commanded. "This is between my stupid brother and me. So tell me, Ron, what is it that bothers you so much about me kissing my boyfriend, eh? That's what people do when they date: they kiss."
"I don't want you going around and snogging people all over the place; it's—"
"Right," said Ginny, tossing her long red hair out of her face and glaring at her brother. "Let's get this straight once and for all. It is none of your business how I spend my time with my boyfriend, Ron—"
"Yeah, it is!" said Ron angrily. "D'you think I want people saying my sister's a —"
"A what?" shouted Ginny, drawing her wand. "A what, exactly?"
"You heard Smith's commentary, and he's not the only one who's been implying that you're behaving like some—"
"Ron," Harry said warningly, "don't."
The common room was still full of celebrating people, so there was a lot of noise, but Harry could very well see that the scandal between the two siblings had already raised attention. Now that he could control his feelings once again, the rational part of him was telling him to act quickly before it was too late.
Unfortunately, Ron and Ginny were only getting started.
"Don't defend him, Harry," Ginny snapped. "He's just a jealous, stupid git who's never been snogged in his whole life unless you count those sweet kisses our Auntie Muriel used to give him—are those the best kisses you've ever got, Ron?"
Those who were standing nearby, including McLaggen, started to laugh at Ron's expense.
"Seriously, Weasley, nobody's ever snogged you?!" the wire-haired youth jeered obnoxiously. "Merlin, I haven't laughed like this since… never mind. GATHER AROUND, PEOPLE, THE ACTION'S OVER HERE!"
Ron was thoroughly humiliated, but he could only concentrate on Ginny.
"Shut your mouth!" he bellowed at his sister, bypassing red and turning maroon.
"I will not!" Ginny bellowed just as forcefully, which only intensified the jeering laughter of the audience. "What is it? Does the truth hurt? I've seen you with Phlegm, hoping she'll kiss you on the cheek every time you see her—it's pathetic!"
"Ginny," Dean said off to her side, "stop it, that's really not neces—"
He appeared shocked—mortified even—yet Ginny wouldn't let him get a single word into the argument.
"Don't meddle, Dean," she snapped at her stony-faced boyfriend. "And as for you, Ron: only because nobody will snog you—"
"Only because I don't do it in public—," Ron yelled but was immediately cut off by Ginny's jeering and hysterical laughter, combined with the gasps and the chuckles of the rest of Gryffindors.
"Oh, really? Do you have Auntie Muriel's picture under your pillow?"
Ron now had his wand out. "Listen—"
"Actually, Ron and I are dating!" yelled a new loud voice, making everyone turn in unison.
Harry spun around, too, and he was shocked to see an angry-looking Lavender Brown staring accusingly at Ginny. She appeared confident, but now that there were so many people staring at her, her self-assured stance seemed to be melting away.
Parvati Patil, her best friend, was instantly at her side, giving her an encouraging nod.
The girls looked at each other as if communicating silently, and then Lavender stepped forward and announced, "There is nothing interesting to see here, so stop staring. And as to you, Ginevra, stop making a clown of yourself. Ron, are you coming?"
Ron had been standing there, his mouth open, his eyes full of questions.
Harry was the first to react: he nudged Ron, urging him to act along, but making sure he didn't look like Lavender's bailout.
"Yeah... yeah, I... sure, Lavender, let's... uh... get some drinks and... uh... stop staring people," Ron stuttered. "And you—"
Ron was about to turn to a red-faced Ginny, but fortunately, Lavender interrupted him.
"Never mind that now, Ron—let's go!"
As Ron walked over towards their blonde classmate, people started to dissipate in different directions. Everybody was discussing excitedly the Weasley Siblings Snogging Battle.
As far as Harry was concerned, though, he was feeling more like an outsider at this party. Ron had gone away with Lavender, and Hermione wasn't anywhere to be seen. Harry suspected she had barricaded herself in some lonely, faraway place in the castle. Frankly, he had no idea where he should look for her. His head hurt a lot as well—the drink he had had earlier hadn't done him any good.
"Take it from me, Potter," spoke the Indian girl with the long thick hair, taking him by surprise. "Go to the hospital wing, you don't look good."
Despite the girl's dismissive look, it was good advice. Nodding in Parvati's direction, he quickly made his exit before Romilda could get anywhere near to harassing him again. It was time to visit the hospital wing after all, much sooner than he had hoped.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::
The hospital wing was very quiet, cosily dark and very cool. Too cool, even—almost cold.
The freezing temperature was the reason Fay had been forced to finally wake up.
It took some time for her eyes to adjust to the surrounding darkness.
She tried to move her fingers and was relieved to feel that she could move them just fine. In fact, she felt absolutely healthy—nothing hurt, as if the accident had never occurred. Once her sleepy mind slowly recalled the game, though, she understood that she had never found out how it had ended and whether Gryffindor had won. The only thing she clearly remembered was the fact that there had been two more people involved in the collision: Harper from Slytherin and Harry.
Curious to find out more, the girl tried to get up, but when she sat up, she had to quickly cover her mouth to suppress her gasp.
Someone was sleeping on the floor right next to her bed!
"Harry," she whispered cautiously, shaking the sleeping boy.
Harry woke up immediately.
"S-s-sorry," he muttered, embarrassed. "Must have dozed off..."
"What are you doing here?"
"Well, I came here for a check-up after the match and asked Madam Pomfrey if you were all right. She told me you had been given the Dreamless Sleep Potion... Anyway, I thought I'd wait for you to wake up, but... err, it was late...We won, by the way."
"That's good," Fay commented absently after Harry had finished his awkward monologue.
There was a moment of awkward silence. In fact, the teens didn't even dare to look each other in the eye.
When they did speak, however, they did so simultaneously.
"Listen, Fay—"
"What are you doing here?"
Harry sighed. "I wanted to make sure you were all right…"
"It's admirable that you take your Captain duties so seriously," Fay retorted frostily.
"Are you being sarcastic?" Harry asked uncertainly.
There was something in Fay's tone that he never heard before, and it bothered him.
"Yes," she admitted. "Because if you'd only wanted to know what was wrong with my arm, you'd have asked Madam Pomfrey. But you stayed—you even waited for me to wake up, so you obviously needed to talk to me. Speak up. I've no time to sit and chat here all night."
She stared at him, accusing and commanding. It was difficult to hold her gaze, but Harry had no intention of giving in.
"I'm sorry, Fay," he said honestly. "I'm really sorry about what I said to you. I wish I hadn't. I wish I could just take it back… I honestly didn't mean—"
"Then why did you say it?" Fay asked, sounding a little softer now.
"I… look, it's just….."
But he didn't really know how to explain it; it was all so complicated. Both Hermione and Dumbledore had made him feel really guilty, and all sorts of doubts had come to dominate him. What if he was using the Malfoy case as some sort of distraction? What if all he did was actually try to escape his feeling of guilt? After all, it was his fault that Sirius…
Fay noticed his hesitation, and the sharp edge to her voice returned with full force.
"You know, Harry, you shouldn't have stayed here tonight; clearly, you're not ready to talk, and maybe it's for the best—"
"No," he protested at once, "I need to explain. It's just… I don't know how to begin."
"All right," Fay conceded, heaving a sigh. "Let's start with that evening in Myrtle's bathroom. You seemed to be very upset when you returned. What upset you so much?"
"Look, when I first arrived to Hogwarts, it was… it was magical. I never thought I'd be able to be in such a place… I mean, it's so different from my aunt and uncle's…" Harry paused, realising that he was digressing.
This surely wasn't a good way to explain anything to Fay, but to his surprise, the girl encouraged him with a quiet go on.
"Ron and Hermione were my friends from the beginning. We would always stick together; you wouldn't believe what we've been through. And they've always been there for me…"
"Harry," Fay interrupted, "I am not oblivious to the fact that your best friends don't like me. If they are the reason you don't want to continue with our mission, it's all right—you don't have to. It does sting a bit, of course, but I'll just continue the mission by myself, and I promise I won't hold any grudges. I know it's tough to have no friends—"
"That's not it," Harry interrupted. "I mean, it is. It's just… they've always been there for me. And then I met my godfather. He… he offered me to move in with him, but then he had to run for it. Last year, he was murdered…"
His voice faded away. As he closed his eyes, he could clearly see Sirius falling through the Veil, and his ears were once again filled with the ghostly cackle of Bellatrix Lestrange.
"I don't know why I'm telling you this," he went on, not looking at Fay any more. "The thing is… there's now only Ron and Hermione, just like before… and I just don't know—"
He stopped talking when he felt Fay's hand on his shoulder. Unnoticed to him, she had moved much closer, and their shoulders now almost touched when she sat next to him.
"Say no more," she whispered. "I think I understand now."
"You do?" he asked.
"I think so. Ron and Hermione are very close to you—almost like family—and their opinion is really important to you, especially now. And now that I'm involved as well, they must see me as an intruder…I should have realised…Listen, Harry, if you think it's better to leave the Malfoy case to someone else, it's all right. I promise I will do everything I can, and I'll keep you informed if you want—"
"But I'm not sure this is what I want," Harry objected. "I don't think I can leave it like this… I'm confused. Everything seems to go wrong when I do it—"
"That's not true," Fay protested. "If you mean all those mistakes we made, then we made them together, but that's how we learn—"
"No, that's not it," Harry answered honestly.
"Then what?"
Harry finally looked her in the eyes and saw that she was being very earnest. Still, he hadn't known her very long and couldn't tell whether she would even understand.
She saw his hesitation.
"Is it something you can't tell me?" she asked.
"Harper and Smith are sleeping nearby," he muttered.
"True," Fay admitted. "But we can cast the Imperturbable Charm around us."
"I don't know, Fay," he said. "It's difficult to explain…"
"It's all right, you don't have to…"
But as she drew away from him, he found that he really wanted to tell somebody. Right now, there wasn't anyone else he could talk to. Without thinking twice, he cast Muffliato in the direction of Harper and Smith, so that they couldn't overhear.
"I don't know why it hurts so much," he confessed at last, once the spell was in place. "I knew him only for a year… We spent only one Christmas together, but—"
"It hurts so much because you keep thinking about everything that could have been if your godfather was still around—everything you could have had and it was taken away…"
Harry noticed that Fay's voice trembled as she spoke.
"You really understand," he realised, looking at her carefully. "Did someone you knew…"
"My dad," she answered. "He's an Auror. When I was nine, he was assigned a case, which led him to Albania. He never returned. The Auror Office wouldn't send anyone after him until it was too late. There were signs of a struggle in the little house he had been renting, but no leads as to where he could be. Eventually, it became a cold case… I used to think that I shouldn't have let him go."
Harry didn't know what to say, but he didn't have to because Fay rushed on.
"Anyway," she said, "it used to torment me so much. I kept thinking about it… and then somehow I started wondering how different my life would be if he still was around. He had promised to teach me everything related to the Auror career. Sometimes I would speak out loud, pretending that my dad was there with me… This is how the rumours started, I guess…"
"When we first met, you said you'd always wanted to be an Auror," Harry recalled, thinking back on the way her gaze had turned gentle and faraway in that compartment of Hogwarts Express.
"It's true," Fay assured him. "And in the end, this is what helped me find an anchor."
"How so?" Harry asked, perplexed.
"You see, Harry, I've always wanted to be an Auror—even before my dad went on that mission—and it was something I couldn't forget. There was a time when even my mother was worried, thinking that my passion for the Auror work was nothing but a way to disguise my pain. But I wouldn't be swayed, and as long as I knew what I wanted, nobody could make me doubt myself."
Quickly, Fay wiped at her eyes and turned to look at Harry, her eyes shining once again with intense determination.
"This is what you should ask yourself as well, Harry," she said. "If your godfather were still with you, would you want to become an Auror nonetheless? Is the Auror career the thing you really want or is there something you desire even more? What do you want? What would make you happy?"
Harry stared at her. Nobody had ever asked him such a question. It was a simple question, but when Harry really thought about it, there wasn't a single person who had ever genuinely asked him about his interests. Certainly not the Dursleys, for his relatives had always treated him much like many wizards treated their house-elves. When he started attending Hogwarts, it had been his duty to hold off Voldemort, who had been targeting him every year. He really could not recall a single occasion on which his desires and preferences would be taken into account. It was refreshing to hear such a question, and it definitely felt nice.
"But what made you so sure it was the Auror work itself that kept you focused?" Harry asked despite himself.
"Well, it's gratifying," Fay answered thoughtfully. "You know, it feels so good when I'm able to help someone—I feel happy myself. I don't know how to explain it, but when Ravenclaws took Luna's scarf, I was the one who retrieved it, and she was so happy to have it back that it was contagious… This was when I truly understood that I'd never tried to disguise my pain with my passion for the Auror work; this was what I wanted to do."
She smiled fondly at the memory; but Harry had more questions to ask her.
"Do you know who takes Luna's stuff all the time?" he asked. "Because it's really unfair…"
"It is," Fay agreed vehemently, her eyebrows furrowed. "It's all this Ravenclaw competitiveness… I hate it! It's the general attitude that is the problem. There are some really horrible girls like Marietta and Livia, who actively bully Luna; but it's the general dismissive attitude that causes most damage. Luna isn't… ah… very popular because of her eccentric world views, so people either think it's fun to pick on her, or they don't really care. Nobody really knows how tough it is for her."
"Is there anything we can do about it?" Harry inquired, remembering only too well the times when he had found himself in a similar situation.
"Do you want to do something about it?" Fay asked, looking at him.
"Of course," he said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "There has to be something to put an end to this."
Harry paused, having realised something.
"We need to investigate," he said. "I want to continue investigating Malfoy as well."
"I agree. There has to be more to it." Fay assured him. "What are we going to do about your friends and Ginny, though?"
"What about them?" Harry asked.
"Well, they're important to you, and I would feel very bad if I weakened your friendship," Fay explained. "As to Ginny—well, she obviously likes you, and you like her, and well, I wouldn't want to accidentally make her jealous…"
"Ginny likes me?" he echoed, now truly surprised. "What gives you that idea? I mean, she's with Dean."
"Harry, you've grown somewhat inattentive; just look at her behaviour around you. She flirts with you, calls for attention whenever you're around. I think they're trying to keep it up with Dean, but since the beginning of the term she's been eying you, I'm certain... "
"Really?" Harry asked, hardly daring to believe it. "Are you sure? I mean… yeah… It's true that I kind of like her. A few hours ago, I wanted to curse Dean into jelly …"
"Is that a smile I detect?" Fay asked playfully. "And, yes, I'm absolutely certain my observations are correct: Ginny Weasley likes you...I feel sorry for Dean to be honest..."
Harry grimaced. He didn't want to talk about Dean.
"You know what, Fay?" He asked instead. "This reminds me of the detective series that my cousin Dudley used to watch on the TV. I used to clean his room, so I would glimpse some episodes, too… Anyway, these are the Muggle entertainment series where a couple or a group of investigators uncovers some crime. The thing is, the detectives who investigate a case always have each other's back…"
"What are you saying, Harry? That we are like these Muggle entertainment investigators?"
"Well, sort of… I mean, we have a case and… err, we have each other's back, right?"
"That's fine with me," Fay assured him. "Just promise me one thing: if something like this happens again, tell me, all right? Don't just snap at me, but explain what happened, because you really hurt me, Harry…"
"I'm sorry," Harry said again. "I promise I won't behave this way any more."
"Good." Fay sighed. "And I promise to help you uncover this Malfoy business."
"And you know...let's to try and look into Luna's case as well," Harry continued.
"Great," Fay agreed enthusiastically, nudging him a little. "I happen to have a few ideas as to what to do about those Ravenclaws, but I sort of need my fellow investigator's help…"
The teens fell into awkward and yet at the same time comfortable kind of silence, enjoying each other's company for the first time in weeks. They'd made up and it was a good thing.
Not too far from where they sat, the Fat Friar was floating in the air, his heart alight with happiness. He couldn't but feel overjoyed at the fact that the two Gryffindors had reconciled. He was the one who had witnessed their agreement of collaboration, and it pleased him to see their progress.
During his life, he had been a part of the clergy, but he had soon learned that the religious community was far from the haven he had expected it to be. Gradually, the Muggles, who, in those times, knew magic to be real, had grown suspicious of his ability to cure maladies by poking the local Muggle peasants with a stick. His love for food hadn't helped, and he had been promptly accused of gluttony—one of the seven deadly sins—and sent to his death. It had taken him four centuries to overcome his bitterness towards the ungrateful human nature. And yet, as time would pass, the Fat Friar had understood something: kindness would always prevail.
Perhaps this was the reason he felt so compelled to follow these two Gryffindor teens: they, too, were kind at heart.
It was only lucky that the hospital wing was so cold; the teens could never have spotted him as he hovered over them, invisible to human eyes.
He simply couldn't wait to inform Headmaster Dumbledore of the good news he'd just heard.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::
Down in the dungeons, Draco Malfoy was exhausted. His muscles ached, he was dead-tired, and yet sleep wouldn't come.
He didn't want to take another Dreamless Sleep Potion, for he knew that long-term consumption was ill-advised. Instead, he used this time to think.
There was something very fishy going on, and the more he thought about it, the more it troubled him.
Already at the beginning of October, he had overheard Daphne teasing Pansy about some Gryffindor girl who would frequently stare at him. Daphne had then cockily suggested that the reason Pansy's relationship with Draco wasn't going well was perhaps due to the fact that Draco returned that Gryffindor girl's interest. He hadn't thought much of it back then.
Daphne was known for well-formulated jabs that she would throw at people for fun, he knew that. And seeing how anything concerning the worthless house of Gryffindor was beneath him, he honestly didn't care about such things.
He had far greater plans, a greater outlook on life… The Dark Lord would soon take over, and his family would gain even more influence than it already had.
He sighed and changed his position in the almost pitch-dark room. Only the silver snake ornaments were glinting faintly down here. They didn't reflect light, no—there was no light in here at night—they had been merely charmed this way. Briefly, Draco wondered whether the myth about Salazar's secret chambers was true, for these snake ornaments looked alive: they seemed to be glinting, moving and even breathing, their emerald gaze penetrating his every fibre as if silently communicating with him.
Something had happened the day he had ordered Rosmerta to put the Imperius Curse on some Gryffindor student who would take the cursed necklace to the old coot.
It had been a desperate move, true, but what else could he have done? Repairing the Vanishing Cabinet wasn't an easy task, and it was taking him longer than he had anticipated. Selwyn had been sent to Hogwarts to check on him, to intimidate him. His mother had warned him of the jealousy the rest of the Death Eaters felt towards the Malfoys. She had warned him that everybody would expect him to fail. She had foreseen their methods of psychological pressure long before he had even considered them a threat. And this was not all that bothered him.
The day he had given Rosmerta the order to act, someone had entered his dormitory. He was sure of it.
Theo had sworn someone had been impersonating Blaise Zabini, since the real Blaise hadn't been anywhere near the dormitory. Theo had also mentioned Pansy entering the dormitory that day as well, but when Draco had asked her to confirm Theo's words, she had appeared to be utterly surprised.
Draco had known Pansy long enough to be able to tell when she was or wasn't lying or merely pretending. Besides, Pansy had held an entire monologue on how she had spent hours waiting for that airhead Daphne in the Three Broomsticks while the blonde had actually been hiding in Dominic Maestro's this entire time… But if both Theo and Pansy had told him the truth, who was the person that had accompanied the fake Blaise to his dormitory on that day?
Maybe there hadn't been only one but two impostors …
Certainly, only one person at Hogwarts was interfering, obnoxious, and stupid enough to venture into this part of the castle: saint Potter.
He must have been the one impersonating Blaise.
But then, who was his accomplice? Who had impersonated Pansy? The bucktoothed Mudblood Granger?
He had really thought so… until doubt had started creeping in.
Draco's hand touched something leathery. An old tome proudly signed 'est apartenant à Nicolas Malefoy'.
The tome had been left at the exact place where he had left it, and yet he was certain someone had touched it.
In the end, he didn't know what to make of his suspicions. The impostors hadn't gathered any information on him, if that was what they had been looking for. If anything, they had only caused him to become more cautious. Now he knew that besides the jealous Death Eaters, there was someone else to look out for. He just wasn't sure who…
Or wasn't he?
His Potions partner was rather interesting.
Fay Dunbar.
Her typical Gryffindorish way of being hadn't bothered him at first, but, just to be on the safe side, he had done his research.
She was a pure-blood like him, albeit not from a family as ancient and respectful as his. Her father had been an Auror, and her mother was the owner of a profitable herb shop. From what he had gathered, her father had disappeared while on a work mission, but due to some formalities, he had never really been declared dead. Such details didn't interest him. What truly interested him was the question of where her alliances lied. The Dark Lord would be soon taking over. It was not a mere speculation. It was a fact.
Could Fay Dunbar really be so stupid as to ally herself with Potter—a loser whose days were as good as counted? Surely, she had to be more pragmatic than that… But then again, she was in Gryffindor.
As he thought of her in the heat of his room, he had to admit that she wasn't exactly bad-looking…Average, sure, but not bad-looking.
He would pay her a visit during the upcoming Christmas break, he decided. Just to make sure.
An: Christmas break up next, I think. And, as always, my fiction Christmas never takes place during Christmas...
Anyway, I hope you like this chapter, and since it opens up several other arcs, interesting things are yet to come now that our dinky Aurors worked out their differences. It was really important for me to explore how Harry might have been feeling at this point. After all, not a lot of time passed from Sirius's death and it's only understandable that there's a lot of veiled grief.