X - Draco's Final Task
Since Dementors no longer guarded it Azkaban prison's reputation suffered a huge blow.
Almost every day, a Death Eater escaped, and the entire wizarding community was well aware of it. The few who remained inside the prison did so out of fear of what awaited them outside. One of them was a man who sat on the edge of a very long table on one of the prison's Chambers, apparently waiting for a visitor to arrive.
Around him were long rows of tables that had armed wizard guards standing on each side, closely observing. The sound of a projection nearby mixed in with the continuous murmur of conversation that went on between the many pairs of prisoners and their respective visitors.
The man managed to keep his aristocratic elegance even as he wore an ugly prison uniform. His hair would have been impeccable but was now stringy and unkempt and he looked dirty. His total disgust at his surrounding remained present in his expression, but it quickly faded when a woman with very long blonde hair similar to his own entered the room. Dramatically different from all those around her, she reflected the same aristocratic vibe.
"Evening, darling," she drawled out snobbishly as she sat down. She leaned forward on the table and held his hand with both of hers, and after making a few comments in a low voice about the inefficiency of the "low class" guards of the prison, she reached inside her robes very discreetly and held her wand.
She cast, nonverbally, an invisible shield around her and her husband that protected them from magical interference. The wizards around them continued their actions, failing to notice a change.
They maintained close eye contact as they conversed about their family, like most of those around them, but their minds were both focused on each other's thoughts.
"My love, Lord Cunningham's success is evident," thought Narcissa between sentences. "His slayer is more powerful than ever, and at last you can see for yourself -"
She moved her eyes to a spot on his left. Very discreetly, Lucius turned his head and looked at the three-dimensional projection.
He couldn't stop his eyes from widening as he saw, above the heads of the guards gathered around it, the image of a dark figure with long billowing garments holding out its arm in midair, next to destroyed buildings and huge flames, floating directly below gigantic red scales. Close to them, a copy of The Daily Prophet changed to show the same image on its front page.
Lucius felt his chest swell with pride as he saw the powerful Death Eaters receiving deadly blows from the black flash.
"The Slayer is truly Great. Without a doubt, he is the Chosen One" thought Lucius as he continued to gaze at the scene with awe, his cold blue eyes shining dimly with pride, just as Narcissa's, who smiled with genuine happiness.
"Soon will come Lord Cunningham's miracle, the moment he shall regain his glory, and us - our freedom."
Lucius was unable to hide a little dark smirk as he stared, once again, at the gigantic red scales that concealed the Dark Mark in the sky.
"Yes, the end of the Half-Blood is near...the Slayer is our only hope."
"He is," agreed Narcissa. "And also, today our son will be free of his missions. Lord Cunningham has guaranteed his success." Her pretty smile radiated delight.
"As soon as our Draco succeeds, come see me," thought Lucius. "Today will be a glorious day for the Malfoy name."
Neville Longbottom's face was distorted with the effort of gathering all his magical power. He desperately needed that spell to be as effective as possible.
"EXPELLIARMUS!"
His heart jumped with excitement as soon as he saw it knock away his opponent's wand.
"Ten points for Gryffindor," declared the duel's assigned teacher, Professor Flitwick, and the surrounding Gryffindors roared excitedly. Both dueling students withdrew to their respective sides of the dueling arena to recollect magical power and wait for the next round.
"What?" asked Harry Potter as he gazed at his disappointed Slytherin Housemates. "It's Neville Longbottom. I can't go hard on him."
The group that heard his comment sniggered loudly and stared with amusement at the Gryffindor boy on the other side of the arena.
"It'll be like abusing a child," Harry added casually, loudly enough for all to hear. He got back his wand and went back to his dueling position on the center, the Slytherins behind him laughing raucously. Some of them pointed and made rude gestures.
"Harry Potter!" cried Neville, blushing with fury. He already sounded fatigued, which made Harry feel a little bit of pity. "Don't underestimate me!"
Right after they bowed to each other, Neville threw the first curse again with all his strength, his face red and sweaty. However, his opponent showed no sign of struggle. His face was fresh, his hair flawless and even his school robes were impeccable. The curse seemed to fly at him in slow motion.
"Don't pretend too much. It's also suspicious," ordered his Maker from inside his mind. Henry Cunningham observed the duel from the farthest corner of the room, his arms crossed. Acknowledging his warning, Harry decided to dodge the curse, making sure to move with normal human speed.
"Ten points for Slytherin. Eighty to Ten."
Neville, along with the Gryffindors nearby, all groaned loudly as the Slytherins jeered at them and cheered for their new, very powerful Housemate. The opponents stood again on opposite corners of the arena. Harry continued to stare in amusement at his ex-comrade, who gazed at him with burning resentment. The memory of the previous day came to mind.
"Why, you ask?" Henry Cunningham answered innocently, looking up from his book for only a second. Harry was standing on the threshold of the Slytherin Room he now shared with his two new roommates - Henry and Draco. "That's a dumb question. It'll be easier to work together this way, don't you think?"
The explanation had been predictably simple. His Maker was still reading as he continued. "It also helps now that the old man and his Order are trying to control you so much, and watch your every move."
"Yeah, thanks a lot for reminding me of that," Harry replied with bitter sarcasm.
"Now it won't be as suspicious if they see you with us all the time. Because, you know, we're in the same House."
"I get it, alright!" Harry snapped, annoyed at his Maker's condescending tone. He couldn't help, however, feeling impressed at how luxuriously and comfortably the Slytherins lived compared to the Gryffindors - two roommates only, and all the rooms twice as spacious? Leather armchairs? Chandeliers and ridiculously expensive carpets everywhere?
Deep down inside, he wasn't fully satisfied with Henry's explanations. There was something mischievous in his eyes as he laughed. Yet the alliance was solid and a change of House meant nothing to him now. But for the other Hogwarts students - those painfully mundane mortals - this was definitely not the case. As he experienced their reactions, he felt more than ever the huge gap that separated him from all of them, the inherent and crucial distinction between what he was and what they were. In their eyes, he might as well march with an army of Death Eaters, brandishing a Dark Mark, in front of them all. That is how he felt every time he walked with the other Slytherins down the corridors of the school.
"POTTER, YOU TRAITOR!"
Someone had interrupted his musings. The voice was instantly recognizable.
"Piss off, Weasley," snapped Harry disdainfully, not bothering to look at the source of the voice. The wizards behind him laughed again and proceeded with their usual taunts.
"QUIET!" ordered an irritated professor Flitwick. "Behave yourselves or lose points! Potter, Longbottom, assume your duel stances!"
Hermione couldn't remember a time when the Dueling Arena had been noisier. It sounded like a Quiddich Match was going on inside. She knew it had to do with Harry, which only increased her anxiety. She was literally the only student outside the Dueling Chamber.
She sat in a bench under a large oak tree, in a large yard that was connected to the closest part of the castle.
She was incredibly thankful she had been the first one in the Dueling Exam. This way she was able to sneak out right after her duel ended in order to satisfy the curiosity burning her inside. Her heart and her mind were both racing as she continued searching inside one of her favorite books: Hogwarts, A History.
She finally found what she was looking for. She read the excerpts that concerned her from Chapter Nine: Sorting.
The Sorting Hat's decision is based on the qualities the founders of each House looked for in a student. It is final and irreversible. This was especially the case with Salazar Slytherin, the most selective and strict founder, who chose only those he considered extraordinary in his terms, not based solely on heritage and personality but also on raw abilities.
Right under the last sentence was an image she had overlooked before but now caught all her attention. It was a painting of a grim looking Salazar Slytherin standing with his first class of students gathered around him. All of them looked just as aristocratic and menacing. Charming but sneering faces and sharp, cunning eyes all stared back, reflecting the same qualities as their leader. Looks of intense pride and arrogance characterized all the expressions. Their subtle grins made them seem like they shared a common secret.
For some reason this deeply bothered her. She felt like it appealed to the present somehow. Something was going to go horribly wrong very soon.
"I can't believe Harry's hiding something from me," she thought miserably. "I need to know what is it."
She looked around toward the side of the yard and saw that the Duel had apparently ended. Some students were leaving the Chamber from both sides and were walking across the yard toward the castle. She observed closely, waiting for a few moments.
Then she saw them; a group of laughing Slytherins walked out, including an indifferent looking Harry who was surrounded and being accosted by Hogwarts girls of different Houses. A snobbish Slytherin girl was holding on to his arm, sneering at all the others.
She felt a stab of jealousy and immediately stood to walk toward them. But then the atmosphere darkened in an instant as soon as a group of Gryffindors came in through the opposite side. Both groups of students - Gryffindors and Slytherins - exchanged hostile looks as soon as they spotted each other and they were getting closer to each other as they walked.
"Had a ball Lord Mordorgoth, the new snobbish git?" sneered Ron as soon as he approached the newest Slytherin, eyeing him with utmost revulsion. Harry, on the other hand, only chuckled contemptuously and made a dismissive hand gesture.
"Shut up, loser," snapped Draco Malfoy next to Harry. He assumed his usual behavior and stepped in front of the Slytherins to counter Ron, who did the same with his own group. "Weasels speak only when spoken to."
Ron spluttered back an insult Malfoy ignored.
"Kneel before true wizards, blood traitor," ordered the Slytherin, his voice extremely menacing. To everyone's surprise, he made Ron bow down so low, he hit the ground. He pointed his wand at the Gryffindor with incredible speed without uttering a curse, the evidence of such skill alarming everyone. Harry quickly pulled Malfoy by the arm, communicating his disapproval nonverbally.
"Come on, mate, he's just a waste of time," Harry sneered as he looked down at his former friend. "Let's go."
Ron mouthed the word mate with eyes that expressed even more indignity and disgust as he looked up from the ground. Harry took advantage of this and, without another word, brushed past him along with Malfoy, who was followed by Crabbe and Goyle, the latter bumping so hard against Ron that he fell back and hit his head against the ground as he tried to get up. The other Slytherins sniggered and followed behind.
Hermione went to help Ron but a couple of Gryffindors beat her to it. Ron, blushing furiously, left so quickly she had no time to approach him, so she went back to her previous goal.
"I need to talk to you, Harry," she demanded, standing bravely among the Slytherins as soon as she caught up to them. She looked straight into his eyes, disregarding all the unfriendly looks she was receiving.
"Alright," Harry answered simply. He shook off the hand of the Slytherin girl that was trying to flirt with him and followed Hermione, who had already walked away.
The girl, Daphne Greengrass, scoffed in response. "Why waste your time with a Mudblood?"
Some of them laughed, but stopped as soon as Harry stopped walking.
"Don't say that again," he commanded with quiet anger, not bothering to look back. Then he resumed his pace after Hermione, who pretended she didn't hear a thing.
Hermione crossed the entire yard very quickly and went behind one of the castle's closest towers. She stopped when the Dueling Chamber was on the opposite side and the wall of stone in between, out of everyone's earshot and line of sight.
"What is wrong with you?" she asked angrily as soon as she turned to him.
"What now?" replied Harry a little too coldly and crossed his arms.
She let out a defiant laugh. "Are you serious? First of all, since when, Harry, have you been pals with Malfoy? Since when, exactly, have you become like him?"
He rolled his eyes and kept his apathetic expression.
"Didn't you say you thought he was a Death Eater?"
When Harry merely shrugged, Hermione snorted with exasperation.
"Okay, that's not even the worst part..." she trailed off and took a deep breath. She needed to say so many things, she didn't know where to start. She even felt dizzy and staggered a little bit.
Then his arms wrapped around her, locking her in an embrace, and the angry outburst absorbed in a matter of seconds.
"Calm down, 'Mione."
It was beyond relieving to hear him speak so tenderly and close to her, to feel the warmth she had missed so terribly.
"Okay..." she whispered.
After a few moments, she thought she had gathered herself well enough to face him again. She held out the book she was holding on the marked page. "I want you to read this."
She handed him the book and pointed at the paragraph.
"I knew I had read it somewhere. I just had to check. What happened yesterday, Harry, it was practically a miracle. It's not supposed to happen."
Harry's expression was very hard to read.
"It's obvious there's something going on. You can't become so powerful by yourself. And then you just suddenly got re-Sorted into Slytherin?"
He gave her back the book with a look utmost of indifference.
"If you think this changes anything, you're as thick as any of them."
Caught off guard by his cold tone, she eyed him incredulously. "What?"
"It's trivial."
"No, it isn't!" she countered, the anger rising inside her again within an instant. "I know there's something you're not telling me!" she cried, tears already forming in her eyes before she could help it. "You can't expect me to ignore it especially after what happened yesterday, that spectacle!"
"Shh, are you mad?" Harry scolded, seizing her arm. "Lower your voice!"
"Who's training you?" Hermione demanded as she pulled her arm away.
"No one."
"Who's helping you?"
"I said, no one!"
"Stop lying!" She broke down crying.
"Come on, 'Mione!," he pleaded desperately, but her cries only worsened. She alternated between squeezing him and hitting him, mad and confused. "Calm down, please!" he urged, his apathy gone.
She kept it going no matter what he said to her. The truth was, he didn't know what he could say to calm her. He didn't know exactly why she was this angry. He held her by the shoulders and forced her to look at him.
"Hermione, I..."
"What?" she cried. "Why do you lie to me Harry?" Her lips trembled. "Why don't you trust me anymore?"
For a moment he only observed her red, bloated eyes and wet face. The pain in her eyes was unbearable to watch. He was desperate to say anything that would calm her, anything at all.
"I love you."
The words came out of his mouth before he realized it, but they had an immediate effect. Her cheeks instantly blushed and her overall expression of anger softened into one of shocked flattery.
He was still in shock at what had come out of his mouth when he felt her lips against his.
He returned the gesture and moved his lips along with hers, holding her tightly by the waist. She moved her hands through his silky hair as they locked in a kiss that deepened each second and became intensely heated and passionate, all the long accumulated tension finally releasing all at once. Having lost track of time or reason, she felt the wall of the castle behind her as their bodies locked together in a tight embrace. She noticed just how radically stronger he had become as hard muscles she knew hadn't existed under those robes before pressed her against the wall. Lust overwhelmed her.
Then came an annoyingly shrill voice, like a bucket of cold water thrown on the face.
"Yuck! Look, a Gryffindor and a Slytherin!"
They broke apart and saw two First Year girls quickly walking away, giggling and shooting glances back at them. The couple stared at each other's humiliated expressions.
"Why?" whispered Hermione, her face even hotter now after all the blushing. "Why do these things always happen to us?"
Harry laughed softly in response, which sounded divine to her. She missed that laugh incredibly.
"Well, it makes things more interesting, doesn't it?" he suggested with a playful smirk.
She laughed back nervously and her gaze dropped to the floor. There was an awkward pause in which she felt the momentary passionate, pleasant feeling melting away.
"If you really love me, why won't you tell me?" she whispered. She looked up at him again with the same tortured expression as before.
"I would if I could," he replied faintly, hesitantly, looking away at the distant mountains.
"Why can't you?"
"I made an Unbreakable Vow," he confessed. "I'm sorry."
"Whoever's training you is inside this school, isn't he? I bet he's disguised as a Slytherin."
She studied his expression as closely as possible but still couldn't detect the slightest indication of what he felt. He looked like the perfect marble statue of a god and nothing like the friend she thought she knew so well.
He stayed quiet for a moment, his expression unchanging.
"I can't," he concluded, his voice barely audible.
A wave of great frustration took over Hermione and she stormed away, her heart beating rapidly. She held back fresh tears and the pain increased when she walked on without hearing him call out to her.
A few minutes later, Harry finished putting on a handsome wizard robe given to him as a gift and hanged his school robes in the wardrobe. He thought he would never wear Muggle clothes again.
"A fine Mordorgoth such as yourself shouldn't have a nasty mudblood as his girl, you know."
He turned and narrowed his eyes at Daphne Greengrass, who stood on the threshold of his room wearing a tight purple witch robe with a low-cut neckline. She walked in his direction seductively.
"Didn't I tell you to never say that again?" he warned her as she approached and stood a foot away from him.
"Feisty, are we?" she taunted flirtatiously, gazing heatedly at him.
Harry moved closer to her until they were inches away and she looked at him with a dazed, lusty expression. He touched her chin, tilting her head so she would keep looking into his eyes. With his free arm he pressed her against him by the waist, embracing her tightly. Her eyes widened with surprise and she leaned forward, eyes closed and lips parted, toward his mouth, but he moved his face away from her reach. Very swiftly, he bit the side of her neck. She gasped, trapped in his embrace.
"You're a disgrace to all purebloods," he whispered against the tender flesh of her throat.
Harry felt her slap his shoulders and shake with fear, trying uselessly to free herself from him. He chuckled while he sucked more of her blood with precise speed; fast enough to keep her weak and speechless, but not so much that she would pass out. He drank until he felt he was sufficiently satisfied, then held her at arm's length and licked his bloody lips.
"Mmm, aristocratic blood," he whispered at her viciously. Daphne's eyes expressed nothing but horror. She was so weak she couldn't make a sound.
He made the puncture wounds disappear after he placed his hand over them and thought an incantation. Then he moved the same hand over her face and whispered, "Obliviate."
Immediately her eyes became blank and he allowed her to fall limply on the floor. She tried to stand but her balance was awful and she fell against the other four-poster beds on the way out of the room, giggling loudly. She zigzagged out of the room so fast she bumped into a pair of Slytherin boys on the small corridor outside.
"Merlin, Daphne! Drunk so early?" taunted one of the boys, pushing her away gently but still causing her to fall down on her backside. They laughed obnoxiously. Other Slytherins standing near their room's doorways with other Housemates - some of them drinking smuggled Butterbeers and Firewhisky - laughed along.
"Kiss my arse!" she snapped back, giggling uncontrollably. When she finally managed to stand, holding on to the nearest person, she fell flat on her face. Their laughter increased even more.
"What exactly did you do to her?" inquired an absolutely thrilled Draco Malfoy, moments later as he and Harry left the Slytherin common room.
Harry laughed darkly. "Just having a little bit of fun. We have work to do." They walked on past the Dungeons and upstairs toward the main part of the castle.
"I need access to the Restricted Section for a Defense Against the Dark Arts research assignment."
"Subject?" answered the cold-looking librarian, peering at Hermione over square spectacles.
"Vampires."
The woman raised her eyebrows. "Permission note?"
Hermione handed her the small roll of parchment, the letter from Professor Lupin she had fetched only moments before. She barely caught up to the teacher as he rushed out of his office that afternoon. She assumed he had an Order meeting, but she insisted it was urgent and begged him to do her the favor. She could still see his looks of worry when she tried to explain something similar to what was actually happening. She also had the impression that he saw right past all the modifications of the truth, but she had no time to over-analyze what she had said.
She was now standing on the center of the Restricted Section, where there was one large, round table with floating candles above it. She flicked her wand to simultaneously light the candles and then held it in front of her, pressing it with both hands. She concentrated on the questions she wanted answered and the specific subjects she wanted to read about, then said very firmly;
"Recolligo materia"
After a flash of light expanded throughout the room, books from all the tall racks flew out in her direction and landed on the table. She was surprised to see there were so many, and from so many sub-categories - Legends and Folklore, Remedies, Non-Human supernatural, Monsters, Necromancy...
For what seemed like hours she searched through the giant pile of books, for a few moments doubting she would find the answers she was seeking in less than a day. She re-read a paragraph from a book titled, A Survey of the Vampire Race
With the passing years the physical characteristics of these creatures undergo dramatic transformations, which vary with each case. Some of the most common traits are: extremely pale skin, eyes that glow and long, sharp nails. For this reason, the oldest, most powerful vampires exhibit traits that make them easy to identify.
"Hmm..."
She knew the information was useful, and marked the page with one of the many bookmarks she brought along. She placed the book on the chair beside her and did the same with all others she thought had valuable information. A while later she spotted another old looking book that, at first, didn't know why it was there. But then she changed her mind when she spotted the section about vampirism.
"Although there is no known cure for vampirism, potions exist to subdue the lust for blood, daytime slumber or exhaustion, and even to 'humanize' some of their profoundly unnatural physical traits - BINGO!" she whispered excitedly, and quickly browsed through until she got to the part where the potions were explained.
One thing was obvious - the potions to change vampiric appearances were all hundreds of times more difficult to brew than the Polyjuice Potion. Curiously, each potion was designed for a specific trait, and was supposed to give a specific result for that trait, which was illustrated in a table diagram.
Hair... Original color: Silver-White, Result: Light Brown.
Original color: Yellow-Orange , Result: Black-Dark Brown...
The list went on with varying shades of each color for the vampire's original hair color and the potion's result. The same thing applied to eye color and even shade of skin. She immediately took out her wand and pointed it at those two very valuable pages of the book.
"Effingo."
With a flash of light appeared a parchment that was an exact copy of those pages. She did the same with every other piece of information she had found up to that point, and soon had a large pile of parchments lying on top of the myriad of opened books.
After she was done with this, she proceeded to investigate her next concern.
"Whoever is training him has to have direct access to Hogwarts somehow..." she whispered as she pushed away the books about vampires and gathered the ones about Hogwarts history, Dark Lords and their wars, legends and folklore. She decided she wanted information about Slytherin, and browsed inside a large book titled, "Dark Lords throughout the ages"
The Dark Lord Slytherin.
The book explained the most popular legends of the controversial wizard, focusing, of course, on his dark post-Hogwarts life.
According to legend, Slytherin had discovered the most essential secret of necromancy, a practice forbidden in his times and strongly frowned upon by the wizarding community and later discovered by Nicolas Flamel, the maker of the Sorceror's Stone.
Her mouth fell open. Numbly, she pointed her wand at the book and reproduced a copy of the page without pausing her reading.
His gathering of power was interrupted, however, before he reached his goal of establishing a new world order, where magical folk would rule the muggles and purebloods ruled the wizards. His former colleague, the wizard Godric Griffindor, vanquished Slytherin after two decades of warfare and unrest...
On the bottom of the page, a particular image stood out immediately, just like the one in her Hogwarts book. She studied it closely.
It was a very intimidating being; highly unnatural looking yet humanoid, its skin was white as snow, its hair waist-long, very straight and silvery white, and its eyes were red as blood. It was holding a long device she assumed was a staff - a variant of a wizard wand that channeled much larger amount of power and energy - and wearing an elaborate red battle robe, the back of which billowed behind him like a cape. She read the paragraph underneath it.
The Dark Lord Slytherin's closest follower and second-in-command was the pureblood Lord Asrael Underwood, who was believed to have undergone a magical transformation similar to his master that had also permanently altered his appearance. Extremely fierce and cunning, he was also unwaveringly loyal to his Master and his cause. It is believed that Godric Gryffindor also defeated him, along with Slytherin, in the year 1055.
Something on the back of her mind, perhaps her intuition, nagged at her to hurry up and put all the pieces of information together. Time was running out.
It only took her a few moments to do so.
She suddenly felt like slapping herself when she realized she had overlooked something crucial from the start. As if in the middle of an epiphany, she snatched her copy of Hogwarts, A History and opened it on the marked page.
She stared at the image of Slytherin standing among his few selected students and gaped at it. Standing right next to Slytherin - on his right side - was a beautiful young man, possibly fifteen or sixteen years old, with flawless straight hair that fell in strands above his dark, round eyes, looking extremely charming even on such an old painting. The boy also looked awfully familiar; she couldn't understand why she hadn't noticed before. She placed the image of Lord Asriel next to it.
"Could that be...this bloke here is..." she breathed out, overwhelmed at what she had discovered.
Platinum white hair becomes light brown... Bloody red eyes become...
She checked the result on the Remedies book.
Light brown...
She gasped when the name finally came to her.
Henry Cunningham!
"Merlin's beard!" she cried, instantly alarmed and absolutely frightened.
This is his Maker, this monster! No wonder Harry gained so much power in such a short time! What are his true intentions? What does he want with Harry?
She gathered all the parchment copies as fast as she could without damaging them, her head reeling with an avalanche of thoughts and emotions.
Harry, what have you gotten yourself into?
"Excuse me!" breathed Hermione as she quickly brushed past a group of Fourth Years.
She cursed the fact that there were still so many students walking around the halls at seven o' clock, most of them on their way to the Great Hall for dinner. She rushed down another one of the many long Hogwarts corridors and made her way through. A student called out to her after she bumped into him, but she only snapped back an apology and kept going, pressing the documents against her chest protectively.
She reached the main part of the castle - the huge moving staircases - and made her way up to the Seventh Floor toward the Headmaster's office. She prayed that Dumbledore had not left the castle and that she would have a chance to speak to him before he arrived at the Great Hall. She didn't care if they all thought she was insane - she stormed up the stairs using every bit of energy and strength in her body.
Finally he came into sight.
She would have called out to him if she had sufficient air in her lungs. She had reached the Fourth Floor and Dumbledore was calmly walking down the stairs, apparently accompanying a guest. The man wore Auror garments and spoke quietly with the Headmaster while the latter answered looking over his shoulder, the staircase too crowded for them to walk side-by-side.
Surely Dumbledore suspected this from the start. I have to tell him everything!
Hermione was practically jumping two steps at a time. She almost reached the pair of wizards on the Sixth staircase, but before they were within earshot, Dumbledore violently jerked sideways and fell toward the abyss below.
Instantly paralyzed, Hermione blinked hard a couple of times, thinking she had hallucinated. But she had not.
Someone had come out running from the Sixth Floor corridor toward the part that connected the staircase to the one above it, crossing the threshold and slamming directly into the Headmaster so hard that the old man practically flew out into the huge, bottomless pit between the stairs.
A chill ran up Hermione's spine as horror took over. It had been Goyle who pushed Headmaster Dumbledore, and now the seemingly invincible wizard was flying headfirst down six floors, inexplicably unable to move. The Slytherin boy had an utterly insane expression and he immediately turned and ran down the staircases, growling like a madman, pushing everyone who stood in his way so harshly they were almost knocked down as well.
Nearby on the bottom floor stood Harry, watching along with Draco as the familiar purple robes quickly descended past each flight of stairs and the old man's helpless expression. Scattered screams came from the few who saw it and processed what just happened.
Discreetly, his lips curved into a tiny smile as he directed his thoughts into Draco's mind.
Good job. Both the Immobulus and the Imperio were impossible to detect. But you just had to overdo it like this, didn't you, bastard?
Draco gazed at Harry for a second, unable to hide his smug grin before the two quickly parted ways. The vampire left in pursuit of the crazed Goyle, preparing himself to cast one hell of a Memory Charm.