This chapter is also perhaps the darkest I've ever written, if I'm any judge. If you can't stand kidnapping or attempted rape, don't read this chapter! You have been warned.
Chapter 12: The Third ChampionSlytherin House awoke to chaos. After their crushing defeat by the Gryffindors, Malfoy and his cronies has consoled themselves with a night of binge-drinking and debauchery, drowning their discontent in a sea of whisky. The party had lasted long into the night and by the time the last Slytherin collapsed due to the alcohol, the entire House was drunk. Not just drunk, but insensible, giving Blaise plenty of time to get to work...
Pansy's bloodcurdling screams cut through Malfoy's alcohol-fogged mind, forcing the spoiled Slytherin awake. He winced as his hangover struck full-force, like an ice-pick smashing his temple. "What is it, Pansy?" he moaned, eyes half open.
"WHAT'S HAPPENED TO ME, DRACO!" Pansy screamed from within her dormitory. "I LOOK LIKE A LEPER!"
Sighing in exhaustion, Malfoy moved to retrieve his pants. Then stopped, his eyes snapping open. Then screamed, realizing where he was. Draco Malfoy, son of one of the most feared Death Eaters, heir to a massive family fortune, groomed and tutored to be one of Voldemort's lieutenants, had been pig-snared within the Slytherin Common Room. The rope was suspended from the ceiling, and Malfoy hung upside down by his ankles, his head two feet from the floor. He bellowed in rage, shouted for someone to cut him down, thrashing and trying to break free.
Furious cursing broke out from the dorms as Nott came out, drenched from head to toe in green pus. "Argh!" he shouted, trying to wipe it off. "I woke up, and I was covered in this shit! I can't get it off!"
"Nott," Malfoy's voice was deathly quiet.
"Yeah, Draco?"
"GET ME THE HELL DOWN! IF YOU DON'T GET ME DOWN WITHIN THE NEXT FIVE SECONDS, I'LL MAKE YOU WISH YOU HAD NEVER BEEN BORN!" Malfoy ranted, his face red with anger. "Get moving, you idiot!"
Parkinson stumbled out of her dormitory, looking utterly miserable. Her earlier estimation had been correct. Sores, boils and lesions covered her body, giving her the appearance of a plague victim. "Draco, help me!" she shrieked in terror, shivering uncontrollably.
Nott shied away from Parkinson, trailing pus out from behind him. "Don't come near me, woman, it might be contagious!"
Pansy turned on him with eyes blazing. "I PROBABLY GOT THIS FROM YOU, YOU PRICK!" she screamed, advancing forward menacingly.
"SHUT UP, YOU STUPID BITCH!" Nott replied, equally angry. " YOU'VE BEEN PLOWED BY HALF THE GUYS IN THIS HOUSE, THAT'S PROBABLY HOW YOU GOT IT!"
"SHUT UP, BOTH OF YOU!" Malfoy roared, gritting his teeth in frustration. Who keeps doing this? he thought to himself. A few days into the term, incidents of sabotage and pranks had struck Slytherin House like a plague of locusts. Barely a day went by without something bad happening. First, Pansy had lost her memory, forgetting everything about their plot to defeat Potter. Within the next few days, other students began to develop a kind of amnesia, all of them major participants in the plot.
Then there were other incidents. Crabbe and Goyle had their cherished (and extensive!) pornography collection destroyed. Several haughty Slytherin girls had their faces transfigured to those of pigs. Some students awoke with fingers turned to thumbs, while others were reduced to speaking gibberish for a full day. But there hadn't been an incident of this magnitude. Never had there been a pranking this extensive since the Marauders were at school.
Other students began to filter out of the dorms, many inflicted with other strange curses and aliments. One student couldn't stop slapping himself, his face red from the constant punishment. Another unfortunate soul was covered in soiled wool blankets, the oppressive stench of excrement burying his senses. A fourth-year boy screamed that the world had been turned upside down, while his girlfriend scratched her itchy arse, suffering from a terrible rash. The entire House was miserable, their morale battered and beaten by their loss against Gryffindor and these constant acts of mischief.
Finally, someone has the sense to cut Malfoy down, on his head. He sprung back up, rubbing his head with one hand and punching his rescuer with the other. "Fools, idiots!" he bellowed, shoving Housemates aside. "Crabbe, Goyle! GET OUT HERE!"
The ranks of the Slytherins shuffled nervously, then parted to reveal Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy's henchmen had been forced into a set of cheap female undergarments, their cheeks red with embarrassment. Nott snickered despite himself. "Did you two come out of the closet, or something?"
Screaming incoherently, Crabbe and Goyle launched themselves at Nott, massive fists rising and falling, smashing ribs and teeth. As they did, the pus covering Nott stuck to them, dripping and moulding all over their arms and hands, entangling the three of them in a gooey dog pile. Malfoy screamed for them to stop as other students joined in, trying to pull them apart, the pus holding them fast together. Finally, they were separated, Nott wiping pus and blood from his nose. "It was just a joke!" he pleaded. "Honestly..."
A quick Stunning Curse silenced him. Malfoy lowered his wand, glaring at the Slytherins, as if daring them to object. He turned back to Crabbe and Goyle, eyes murderous. "I told you two to watch my door!" he yelled at them, swearing a blue streak. "I told you to stand guard, to make sure that this didn't happen! WHY DIDN'T YOU?"
"We did, Draco, honest!" Goyle blabbered, listing a series of pathetic excuses, that it was dark, that they were cursed, that the intruder had used an Invisibility Cloak- above all, how it hadn't been their fault. Crabbe stood stock still, bottom lip trembling, terrified of what would happen to them if Draco told his father.
After a few moments of listening to Goyle, Malfoy waved his hand for silence. "Alright, will you two shut up!" he barked, massaging his aching head. I'll have to get Pansy for this later, he thought. After she's cured. There was only one explanation for how this could have happened. Someone had snuck in while they were drunk.
Potter.
Malfoy gritted his teeth at the prospect of his arch-rival sneaking into the dungeons, attacking them while they were asleep, perhaps even stealing his women! Paranoid thoughts ran through his mind. Who knows what Potter is capable of? He's survived the Dark Lord, infiltrating Slytherin House would be no problem...
The eyes of every student in Slytherin House focused on him, nervously awaiting his instructions. Malfoy was the undisputed ruler of Slytherin House, even the seventh-years acknowledged it. A few had resisted, some had even spoken out against him. He had made examples of them, using intimidation and threats of violence to achieve his ends. One unfortunate dissident was even visited by the Death Eaters late one night. The Dark Lord knew that Slytherin House was a prime breeding ground for potential Death Eaters, and wanted to ensure that everything went smoothly.
"I've had enough," Malfoy declared coldly, moving over to Crabbe's side. "Crabbe, tell our turncoat friends to get ready. Chang will be ours before the night is out."
The blossoms are beautiful this time of year, Daelin Stormfury reflected, lightly brushing a blossom of the cherry tree that hung over him, the soft pink petals delicate in their magnificence. Beside him, Avalon of the Spirit Walkers sat in the lotus position, mentally readying herself for the spell. "I'm almost ready, Daelin," she whispered, her soft brunette curls waving in the breeze.
"Have you ingested enough warpstone for the link?" he inquired, his blue eyes meeting her yellow ones.
Avalon nodded. "Within limits, Daelin." Closing her eerily beautiful eyes, her brow furrowed as she concentrated, focusing her substantial telepathic powers, super-charged by the solution of warpstone dust she had drunk earlier. Stormfury began to chant the activation sequence for the spell, placing a broad hand on her back.
The spell they were attempting was the Spirit Link, a powerful method of communication over long distances. Fueled by warpstone powder, an incredible powerful and rare substance that boosted human telepathic energies, Avalon became a living conduit, her mind reaching out across oceans to another Spirit Walker, also engaged in the same spell. The bridge of the Spirit Walker's minds was a telepathic link, allowing Stormfury to communicate with the recipient on the other end.
Stormfury concentrated, muttering the final stages of the spell. As he did, another presence reached his mind, awe-inspiring in its power. Hail, Magnus Frosthowler, Asgard of the Shadow Hunters! May the blessings of the Earthmother be upon you! he greeted it, addressing his superior.
Hail, Praetor Stormfury! May Gaea's blessings be upon you as well. What do you have to report? the presence asked, his thoughts calm.
The training of the Daemonslayer goes well, Asgard, Stormfury replied. The Champion of Ravenclaw has shown great talent as well.
Have their energies sparked yet? Frosthowler questioned. And what of the Champions of Hufflepuff and Slytherin, what news?
Stormfury sighed. The energies have not sparked, Asgard, and Hufflepuff and Slytherin are nowhere to be found. Regardless, Potter and Chang have shown great skill in at swordplay, and Lady Avalon has been tutoring the Daemonslayer to block the presence of the Dark Lord from his mind.
Swords alone will not defeat this foe, Praetor. Already, Seros and the Spirit Walkers have sensed...ripples, disturbances in the flow of magic. The signs point to danger on the horizon, and without their energies unbound, the Champions cannot hope to fight the Dark Lord and succeed. Avalon has done well, but more is needed. Do all you can to protect the Champions, and hasten their awakening.
Of course, Asgard, Stormfury replied. Magnus Frosthowler was the master of the Shadow Hunters, a veteran of countless battles against the Darkness, and a member of the Council of Gaea. His knowledge of the arts of Elementalism was unsurpassed, but the Shadow Hunter Asgard seemed...uneasy. Is something wrong, Asgard?Yes, Daelin, there is. The Dark Lord has been silent as of late, but I fear this is the calm before the storm. Our efforts cannot be jeopardized. Defend the Champions, Shadow Hunter, and know that Gaea watches over you! Good luck.
The link faded, then disappeared, and Stormfury leaned back, analysing what the elder Shadow Hunter told him. Avalon looked at him quizzically. "What did the Asgard Frosthowler say?" she asked, observing his confused expression.
"Defend the Champions, Avalon. And with the Earthmother as my guide, I will bring the bright flame to the Darkness, and destroy it."
The roar of the crowds enveloped Harry, standing on the pitch with the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, his Firebolt in hand. The entire school had gathered to watch the festivities, cheering from the stands as Gryffindor and Slytherin prepared to face off in this game.
Wait, didn't we play them, and beat them, already?
Beside him, Ginny grinned, her lips as red as blood. "Care for a taste of me, Harry?" she whispered seductively, letting her Quidditch robes fall to the grass beneath her. Totally nude, she stood in front of Harry, blood dripping from her hair. "That bitch doesn't deserve you," she growled, kissing him hard, her curved frame pressing against him.
Wait, this isn't right.
"AND NOW, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, HERE'S SLYTHERIN!" Dean Thomas bellowed from the teacher's booth, his voice hollow and disembodied.
The outer doors of the Slytherin locker room were blown open, and bestial howls and unearthly shrieks erupted from within, their hellish tone tearing and ripping away at Harry's soul. He felt his heart go cold with fear. "Hey, guys, what's goi-" His breath caught in his throat, seeing the Gryffindors dead before him. All along the stands, students and teachers alike crumpled, hearts, minds and souls failing. They had been dead for the past hour anyway.
Nightmarish visions of destruction and torment swam before his senses, each more horrifying than the last, London in flames, entire civilizations struck down with terrifying plagues and contagions, the Dementors feasting on the souls of cities, giants massacring civilian populations with gleeful abandon, young women tortured and violated by laughing Death Eaters, goblins and Muggles shackled and turned into slaves, twisted mutants killing at will, vampire-run factories draining the blood from children and infants at a machine-like rate, the dead rising from their graves, daemonic entities spreading chaos and mayhem, death, death, even more death...
Then there was a final image, more horrifying than all the others. Voldemort stood in a clearing with his Inner Circle, laughing and chuckling manically around a lone figure, shaking with fear. Cho, naked except for her beautiful raven-black hair, exposed for all to see. They raped and tortured her in turn, as she begged and pleaded for release, then sliced off her hair, the Ravenclaw beauty screaming in terror. Body and mind broken, they crucified her, hoisting her onto the cross and hammering her in place.
Voldemort applied the Cruciatus Curse on her and she screamed, vainly trying to free herself, writhing under its effects. The Dark Lord turned towards Harry, a smile on his lipless mouth. "Enjoying the show, Potter?" he asked calmly.
Harry screamed in rage, seeing his love in torment. "COME AND FACE ME, VOLDEMORT! SHE'S NOT PART OF THIS!"
Voldemort turned back to Cho, licking her face. "You have a very beautiful whore here, Potter. Perhaps I'll make her mine. I haven't had a woman, much less a Chink, in a very long time."
Veins bulged in Harry's temple. "I'VE BEAT YOU BEFORE, YOU SON OF A BITCH!" he howled, the energies of Gryffindor building up within. "I'M GOING TO KILL YOU, BASTARD! FIGHT ME LIKE A WARRIOR!"
At a signal from Voldemort, a red-masked Death Eater plunged a dagger into Cho's heart. Her head jerked back, then hung down, blood gushing from her mouth. "Sorry, Potter," Voldemort said, red eyes blazing with glee, "but the Ruinous Powers must be satisfied."
With a terrified scream, Harry shot up from his bed, clothes drenched in cold sweat, the sheets tangled around him. A heavy weight slid off his legs and fell onto the floor with a thump. Harry screamed his lungs out, taking in great gulps of air, looking around wildly. Just a dream, he realized, trying to calm himself down. After a moment, his breathing slowed, his heart-rate steadied and the energies of Gryffindor settled again.
"Huh? Harry?" came a small voice. Sprawled on the floor was Ginny, dressed only in a pair of white panties and a white t-shirt, blood-red hair hanging like a halo around her, a look of concern on her face. "Harry, what's wrong?"
Harry's wand was out in an instant. "What the hell were you doing in my bed?" he asked, his voice deadly.
Ginny blushed. "Just comforting you, Harry," she replied, sitting down beside him. "You looked sick last night, so I came to make sure you were alright. What happened?"
Harry grabbed Ginny by the wrist, twisting her arm behind her back and pinning her face-first into the mattress, his wand at her throat. "Did we have sex last night?" he demanded, ignoring her squeals of pain.
Ginny didn't respond, so Harry increased the pressure. "No, no, we didn't," she screeched, fear creeping into her voice. "I just wanted to help! You deserve our support!"
"Where's Cho?" Harry yelled. "WHERE!"
"Probably back in her dorm," Ginny said, tears of discomfort forming in the corners of her eyes. "Could you please let go of me?"
Harry released her, and she sat back up, rubbing her wrist to restore circulation. "What's the problem, Harry? I didn't have sex with you, I swear. Besides, I think you enjoyed us sharing a bed," she said, slowly crawling towards him, a mischievous smile on her pouting lips.
"Stay away from me," Harry whispered, pushing her away.
Ginny looked aghast at his rejection. "I'm just trying to help you, Harry! Cho's just using you; I saw it in her eyes last night. She's nothing but a weeping tramp. You need someone stronger, Harry, crying never beat Death Eaters."
"Oh, I assume you had yourself in mind?" Harry sneered in disgust. "Now, you should go back to your dorm. Ron and Dean won't be too happy if they saw us together."
Ginny laughed softly, all the while moving closer. "They're too hung-over from last night," she declared, pointing over to their sleeping forms. "Besides, you're a greater man than they are." She was very close by this point, her ample bosom pressed against him. Harry tasted honey on her breath, her lips centimetres away from his. "Say the word, Harry, and I'll leave Dean and join you. You are the leader of this House, no one denies this. You can have anything you want here, homework answers, fame, glory, power, me..." she whispered, their lips joining.
Harry felt the bile rise in his throat as she kissed him, gentle at first, but harder, more demanding as time went on. I'm betraying Cho...he thought, tasting a distinct flavour of honey. He felt Ginny become excited as she kissed him, running her hands through his messy hair. Just like Cho...No!
Ginny broke the kiss, frowning as he didn't respond. "Cho will destroy this House, Harry. Already, many people are beginning to speak out against her. You can't depend on her kind. But together, Harry, we can make the House stronger. Gryffindor and Gryffindor," she whispered excitedly. "We don't need any Ravenclaws or Hufflepuffs to win. We can beat Malfoy, You-Know-Who, anyone without them! Since when have the Ravenclaws walked out of their ivory tower to fight the Death Eaters? When has Hufflepuff House ever fought to protect our freedoms? Only we have. Please Harry, a union of our love will be unstoppable!"
For what seemed like an eternity, Harry did not respond, his eyes closed shut. Eventually, he looked at Ginny, a tear tricking down his cheek. "I am in love with a woman, Ginny, and you are not her."
Ginny paled at the comment, and Harry walked out of the dorm, his heart a tempest of emotions. Doesn't she know how much I love Cho? Doesn't she know how much she hurts me when she says things like that?
The letter from her parents lay crumpled on the floor, stained by her tears. Cho stood within the Simulation Room, dressed in a sky-blue kimono, wielding her katana with lethal force, the razor-sharp edge slicing through illusionary opponents like butter. Cho sobbed slightly, driving her sword through an enemy's face. With every slash, she saw the faces of her parents demanding and criticizing. She saw Ginny's face, laughing harshly, taunting her in her grief, chuckling at her sorrow. He's mine now, bitch! came her venomous howls.
With a scream of torment, Cho slashed downwards, scything the final illusion in half, then tossed away the sword, the metal hitting the floor with a harsh clang. She sank down on her knees, the tears flowing freely now. Why are they so intent on destroying my happiness? Harry has been good to me. Why must you deny me my peace?
She heard Harry's footsteps before she saw him. "Hello, Harry," she whispered, feeling the tears well up again. Immediately, she tried to stop them from flowing, but the pain was too great. Damn them! I cannot love that...thing!
Harry's arms circled around her, holding her tightly, his presence calming her down. "What's wrong, Cho?" Harry whispered, as if a loud word would bring the roof tumbling down on them.
Cho picked up the letter and shoved it into his hands, wiping away the last of her tears. Harry's jaw dropped as he read the note contained. "Oh my God. Cho?"
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier. I knew that they were planning this, but I didn't know when, or to whom I was to be married to," Cho said, her eyes filled with misery. "I am to be sold, Harry, sold like a whore in a brothel. My parents have arranged this marriage without my consent, without my approval, to a man I cannot, and will not, love. They're incredibly traditional, and believe that a child should follow the orders of their parents without question. They have dictated most of my life out for me, Harry, and now this..." Cho broke down, the tears rushing forth uncontrollably, her chest heaving as she sobbed.
Instinctively, Harry hugged her, feeling her body quaked with hysterics. He whispered calming words into her ear, kissing her forehead. "What kind of person is this?" he asked, holding her close.
The look of hatred in Cho's eyes was apparent as she related, "He is a toad. A festering, racist, sexist, hedonistic toad, by the name of Zhang Han San, the son of the Chinese Minister of Magic. He has often spoken of his conquests of women, and utterly hates the West. He is exactly the kind of Maoist scum my grandparents fled during the Great Leap Forward. And now he desires me as a wife."
Harry clasped her tightly, rocking her back and forth to calm her down. We're very similar, he thought, pity and rage warring in his heart. Our lives have been controlled since the day of our birth. Dumbledore has used me to fight Voldemort, while Cho's parents are forcing her into this marriage.
"I guess you hate me now," Cho sniffed.
Harry shook his head. "No, how could I hate you, Cho? I will never hate you," he reassured her, kissing her lightly on the lips. "We've been controlled for too long."
Cho smiled slightly at his declaration. "Both mine and his are pure-blood families, though not the radical types like the Malfoys. However, our parents have judged that, due to our heritage and purity of blood, we're made for each other. Zhang isn't interested in any of that. He's just wants me as a lover, someone to ravage as he pleases, and I'll probably have to share him with his concubines. Being son to the Chinese Minister of Magic has its privileges."
She took in a deep breath before continuing. "Not all Chinese families are like this, especially amongst the foreign-born ones. But Zhang, he is cruel. Once, I saw him torture a slave over spilt tea. He uses slaves, Harry, not house-elves or paid servants, but human slaves, mainly Falun Gong practitioners. He despises them even more than the West."
Harry nodded his head in understanding. He was sure that Hermione, a Muggle-born student, could help him with many of these concepts, but from what he had learned by watching the nightly news at Privet Drive, China had one of the worst human-rights records in the world, a fact that many Western corporations chose to ignore. The persecution of Falun Gong practitioners was just the tip of the iceberg.
"I cannot love him. Love is not something that can be forced upon someone, and I will not marry that git," Cho spat, her voice tense and determined. "I would rather die than share a bed with that...thing. My parents have other ideas, but I won't allow this to happen. I am my own person, and I will not be sold like a piece of meat at a market."
Harry kissed her again. "Don't worry, I won't let him hurt you."
"Thank you, Harry," she replied, her voice soft as velvet. "The marriage won't be for a while, a year or two at least, and my parents may decide that he's not right and call it off. But, either way, I'm not marrying him, because I'm in love with you, Harry, and you're ten times the man Zhang is. My parents will hate me for loving a foreigner, but I'll let them. I would gladly suffer their hate for the rest of my life, if it meant being with you..."
They kissed each other hard, their pent-up passions coming to the fore, the warmth of their bodies arousing them even more. Cho ran her hands through Harry's hair, rubbing her long legs up against him. They continued kissing, moaning in pleasure at the feel of their lips upon one another, their arms holding them close.
A terrible lust filled Harry, and he grabbed her by the hips and pushed her onto the stone wall, hands moving. Her back against the wall, he kissed her with incredible passion, one hand roaming to her breasts, the other running a trail up her smooth legs, up to her inner thigh.
Cho gasped in pleasure, feeling Harry's hands there, her back arching forward. Her hands reached behind her back, and the knot of the kimono sash came undone. She let the kimono fall the floor, Harry's eyes widening as he saw her only in a thin cream robe, her glorious attributes hidden only by translucent silk. They continued kissing, and Harry felt her hands unbuckle his belt, sending his pants down. The shock of her warm hands there shocked Harry from his possessive lust. "Umm, Cho, maybe we shouldn't..." he said, voice trailing off.
The Ravenclaw beauty stopped, realizing what she had just done. "Merlin, Harry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to rush you, sweet Merlin..."
Harry silenced her with a light kiss. "It's fine, my love, it's fine," he whispered, sneaking a glance at her curved body. It took all of his self-restraint to keep from ravaging her right then and there... "I just had a nightmare about you and Voldemort, and when I didn't see you in Gryffindor Tower, I feared the worst."
"Don't worry, Harry," Cho replied, kissing his forehead, "let's not have him stand between us." She paused for a moment. "I saw Ginny was pretty interested in you last night."
Harry blushed despite himself. "Since you told me about your family, I might as well tell you about what happened. When I woke up from the nightmare, I saw that Ginny was in bed with me."
Cho gasped in shock. "WHAT? You didn't have sex with her, did you?" she asked, obviously concerned. "Did she take advantage of you while you were drunk?"
Harry laughed. "No, we were fine. I think she kissed me last night though."
"Yep, she kissed you. I don't know what you had to drink, but it definitely loosened you up. I left only after she screamed at me to get out. Interesting girl there, Ginny."
"Don't worry, Cho, I would never even think of cheating on you. First, Ginny's with Dean. Second, if I tried anything, Ron would beat me to a pulp. Third, I'm in love with a beautiful, sexy, intelligent, kind, loving young woman from Ravenclaw," he said, his lips kissing the nape of her neck.
"So, you like Marietta, do you?" Cho asked jokily. Harry's laughter echoed throughout the corridors, his mind put at ease with his love safe and at his side.
The fading summer sun set upon Hogwarts, blood-red and glorious in its dying days. The first of the chill north winds blew through the trunks and boles of the Forbidden Forest, signalling the first onset of fall. Soon, these winds would grow in number and strength, and the castle would taste the cold bite of a harsh winter.
The beauty of the last days of warmth for the year could not reach the depths of the Slytherin dungeons. Carved deep within the underbelly of the school, the Slytherin Common Room was deserted, all of the students already within their dormitories. Except for one.
Blaise Zabini nestled herself into an expensive leather chair, dressed in a thick cotton robe, enjoying an old novel her father had given her. Blaise's startling blue eyes travelled over the pages, devouring every detail. Her father had read her many stories as a child, tales of fable and romance, dragons and beautiful maidens, fairy tales really. Even after all this time, she had not totally gotten over her father's death. The photos were burned into her memory, her father's body cut up, hanging from a noose, eyes terrified in death...A single tear rolled down her cheek. I miss you, Daddy.
The fairy-tale world her father had painted for her was totally unlike the world she came to experience when she turned eleven. Here, she found only schemes and plots and treason. Every word was guarded, every thought contained, every action obscured. Your best friend could be your worst enemy. A friendly greeting or compliment could conceal a serious insult. For a girl raised in a peaceful primary school and the luxurious home of her parents, the environment of Slytherin House seemed alien, poisonous.
But, she survived. Her mother had been in Slytherin, and taught her how to act and behave and appear amongst them. Combined with her father's lessons on cunning and manipulation, she had been able to move amongst the Slytherins at will. She learned the game they played, and became better at it than everyone else. Beauty and riches were the only languages spoken in Slytherin House, and she was fluent in both. In this sordid world of whores and Dark magic, she was a wolf. Beware my fangs, she thought with a smile.
A hand clamped over her mouth, cutting off any potential scream. Blaise's left hand reached for her wand, and stopped, her wrist seized in a powerful grip. The chair was kicked out from underneath her, her father's book knocked to the ground, and a sharp knee touched the small of her back. "Start walking," a disguised masculine voice ordered, moving her forward, all while keeping a firm grip on her.
Blaise's scream of panic was muffled by the assailant's hand. He chuckled. "Yes, I like it when my women scream. It's very arousing," he purred seductively into her ear. His voice was slurred, like he had a speech impediment, or had been drinking.
The willowy Slytherin continued to struggle, screaming in vain, her eyes wide with terror. Her assailant swore, then let go of her mouth. As Blaise's terrified cries pierced the stillness of the dungeons, she felt a sharp wooden object touch her temple. She heard the incantation, "Stupefy!" She saw a streak of red as the curse hit, then blacked out.
Cho sat in the comforting silence of the library, jotting down some notes, a quill holding her hair in place. She sighed, wishing to feel Harry's kisses again. For the remainder of the day, she and Harry had relaxed, chatting by the lakeshore, and snogging. Her mind wandered back to the events of the morning, shuddering at the memory of Harry's hands caressing regions previously forbidden, his touch bringing her to the edge of ecstasy...She had never gone that far before with anyone, and almost lost total control in that moment, consumed in a tidal wave of excitement. For what she had seen in Harry's eyes, he had felt the same way too. But for now, she was in the library, the faint torchlight illuminating the corridors darkened by night, catching up on the last items of schoolwork.
"Hello, Cho!" Hermione greeted cheerfully, taking a seat across from her.
"Hello, Hermione," Cho replied, seeing the mass of books Hermione had laid out. "What brings you here?"
"It's about Harry," the quick-witted Gryffindor declared, observing Cho with an intent gaze. "What exactly are your intentions with him?"
Cho sighed, slightly shocked by Hermione's directness. "Is Harry your girlfriend?" she probed back, with equal directness.
Hermione blushed. "No, Harry and me are nothing like that. He's like the brother I never had really, and I just don't want to see him get hurt. You're the only girl has ever looked at that way."
"Do you think that I'm planning to hurt him?" Cho asked, voice ice-cold.
"No, of course not," Hermione said quickly, eager to placate her. "Listen, when Harry told us that you were back together again, quite frankly, we were shocked, especially after what happened last year."
"Our semi-official relationship, or Sirius?" Cho asked, watching Hermione's jaw drop in amazement.
"He told you about Sirius?"
"Yes," Cho said, her demeanour calm. "We have no secrets from each other."
Hermione blushed. "That's good. Harry needs someone like you with him. Losing Sirius really hit him hard, and none of us want him to feel that kind of pain again."
Cho nodded. "Agreed. Harry's been pulled every which way by the people he thought he could trust. Both he and I have worked past our past differences and we're happy with each other. I could never hurt him like that, and I'm not going to let some Death Eater stand in the way of his happiness."
"Good to hear, Cho," Hermione said, beaming. She's an amazing person, once you get to know her. "We've had our differences, but let's work together to help Harry, okay? Cho?"
Cho wasn't listening, hearing instead the sound of soft footfalls on the library floor. A shadow moved behind a bookcase, partially hidden from the light. Ever so slowly, Cho drew her wand, whispering out of the corner of her mouth, "When I give the signal, jump 'em? Ready?"
Hermione nodded her head slightly, catching a glimpse of auburn eyes.
"NOW!" Cho screamed, raising her wand. Hermione sprang up from her seat, running behind the bookcase. "Stupefy!" Two stunners hit the target, followed by a feminine shriek, and the intruder hit the floor.
"Got her!" Hermione declared. "Oh, Ginny! You scared us half to death! Enervate!"
Several seconds later, Ginny appeared from behind the shelves, face red with anger. Hermione walked up to her sheepishly. "Sorry, Gin, didn't recognize you," she apologized, brushing some dust of her blouse.
Ginny ignored her, her auburn gaze locked on Cho, filled with utter disgust. "I see the Ravenclaw whore is here," she said, spitting out the word. "Haven't you hurt Harry enough?"
Cho's blood boiled as Ginny continued to insult her. "What, Michael wasn't performing? Or are you just planning on sleeping with every guy in this school, Chang?" she asked mockingly.
The Ravenclaw beauty stood up, trying to keep her anger in check. "What do you want, Ginny?"
"You away from Harry, you stinking harlot," Ginny growled, flexing her fingers as if preparing to strangle Cho. "I know your kind, you and your giggling Ravenclaw friends. You scheme and cheat and deceive, how like the Slytherins you are. Harry needs someone he can depend on, not some bed-hopper."
"Oh, and I assume you and Harry would make a perfect match?" Cho asked sarcastically, maintaining her cool. "Ginny, I realize I've made mistakes, but we shouldn't be fighting like this. I'm willing to work with you, for Harry's sake."
Ginny froze for a moment, then resumed her offensive. "How dare you mention Harry! You're not fit to speak his name, you Asian bitch!" she howled.
"Ginny!" Hermione's horror was apparent.
"Shut up, Hermione!" Ginny snapped, before turning back to Cho. "You may have tricked Harry with your charms, but you won't trick me. I will never forgive you for the crimes you have committed against him, and as long as I live, I am going to make sure you never get a chance to hurt him." She spat on Cho's right boot, spittle running down the black leather.
Cho took several deep breaths before continuing, and when she did, her voice was as cold as the north wind. "The only reason you're still standing right now is because you're Harry's friend. I have made my share of mistakes, Weasley, but at the very least, I didn't crawl into his bed when he was drunk and molest him!" she shouted, struggling to keep the energies of Ravenclaw in check, hearing its shriek in her soul. "Harry and I are together because we choose to, and we continue to choose to. That should be good enough for you, and if you ever try to take advantage of him again, I'll return you to your brothers in a shoebox."
"Is that a threat, Chang?" Ginny asked, face flushed with anger.
"It's a statement of fact, Weasley," came Cho's response. "Now, if we are done bandying, I have some work to do for Ancient Runes. Good evening!"
Eyes blazing with anger, Ginny stormed off, her bright red hair flowing down her back. Cho sat down again, going into a breathing exercise to calm herself. Hermione chuckled slightly. "Are you okay?"
"Yes, I'm fine," Cho replied. "That girl just makes me so angry!"
"Don't worry about her, she'll come around eventually. Soon, she'll realize that she only distances herself from Harry by hating you, so she'll stop."
Cho smiled up at Harry's friend, and now hers. "Thanks, 'Mione. So, tell me about you guys, when did you meet?"
"Well, I guess it all started with the troll..."
"Enervate!"
Slowly, Blaise opened her eyes, revived from a bad dream, into an even greater nightmare. A single light shone, blinding her, all the while leaving the rest of the room in darkness. Her wrists had been lashed in front of her with thin cord, cutting cruelly into her flesh, causing a small trickle of blood to flow. Blaise looked around her, desperate to determine her location. She had been stripped down to her lace underclothes, the dampness of the dungeons contacting her skin, causing her to shiver. The creak of bedsprings sounded beneath her as she struggled, a gag filling her mouth, muffling her screams and secured so tightly she could barely breathe. The stench of sex and fear, her fear, filled her nostrils.
"Hello, Blaise," came the voice, low and terrifying. A lone figure, dressed in black robes leaned forward, face covered with a black mask.
The assailant looked at his helpless, writhing captive with unmistakeable lust, his eyes misted with alcohol, the front of his robes stained with drink. The colour of his eyes and the pitch of his voice constantly shifted and altered at random, indicating the use of advanced camouflage charms. He tittered insanely, shaking his head, clutching a bottle in his left hand, tracing Blaise's chest with his wand. Suddenly, he let go of the bottle and slapped her viciously, a red welt forming on her cheek. He was stone drunk, but that was not an excuse for what he was doing.
"Comfortable, Blaise? Of course, you're in your knickers," he stated, his voice slurred and distorted. Blaise remained silent, determined not to show fear, to show that he had power over her. She fought to stay awake, the relative lack of air making her drowsy.
The cloaked figure chuckled, moving over to the bed. "Do you know how long I've wanted you?" he asked huskily, his hot breath on her neck. Gingerly, he removed the saliva stained gag. "You're beautiful, you know that, right?"
Blaise spat in his face, squirming away from him, her blue eyes blazing with hatred. "Release me. Now," she demanded, her voice cold and determined. She flexed her wrists in an effort to break free, but to no avail. "Release me, before I call for Professor Snape."
The cloaked figure put a hand on her exposed belly, pushing her down onto the mattress. "Maybe not," he whispered, capturing her lips in a deep kiss.
Inwardly, Blaise screamed as he forced her lips open, his tongue plundering her mouth greedily. She felt his hand roam up her body, and kicked out, trying to push him away, but the figure put down his full weight, pinning her to the sheets. Breaking the kiss, he shifted attention to her neck. "Your bed is a perfect place to do this, you stinking bitch," he growled.
"Get off me," Blaise said, shuddering as he kissed her. "Get off me!"
Unimpressed, the cloaked figure fondled her breasts, the pain causing tears to form. Blaise felt the anger build up inside her. In a moment, she would be totally naked, and her assailant would commit the most heinous act that could be performed on a woman. Her bonds remained as tight as ever. The anger built, growing stronger with every moment, pounding like a bomb ready to go off. "I said GET OFF OF ME!"
As she screamed, something snapped inside her, and the rage burst forth in a way never thought possible. A door to her soul opened a crack, and the masked man was thrown from the bed by something, slamming into a wall with incredible force. He moaned in pain once, then was still.
Blaise shot up, taking in great breaths, hyperventilating, eyes wild with confusion. She felt whatever it was settle down, coiling and twisting in her soul like some monstrous serpent, leaving behind a lingering discomfort. But for those few moments, the rush of power was incredible, every cell in her body supercharged. For the briefest of instants, she thought she was God, capable of doing or achieving anything.
Blaise tried to calm down, but the terror of her attempted rape and this power were too much to bear. She retched onto the silk sheets, her mind whirling. What's happening to me? she thought, moving to her bed-side cabinet. Someone would have heard, and would come to investigate, and she wanted to be gone when they arrived. Stretching out her fingers, she opened the top drawer, rummaging through with her hands still bound. Finally, her fingers closed around a small knife. Dexterously, she cut the cords, rubbing her wrists to restore circulation. She glanced over at the figure, knocked out cold. No time to see who it is, have to get out! her mind blared.
Fists pounding on the door shook her from her reverie. Moving quickly, she grabbed a single article from her clothes drawer and draped her in it, moving for the exit.
Slytherin House had become a death-trap, and she fled.
"So, Hermione," Cho asked, finishing the last of her work, "hoping to be Head Girl next year?"
Hermione blushed in embarrassment. "Yes, hopefully. It's always been my goal in school. I was almost sure you'd be this year, Cho! Your marks are good enough."
Cho shook her head. "No, I actually refused to become a Prefect when Professor Flitwick offered to make me one in my fifth year. Quidditch was my first love, and still is to some extent, and I didn't want to be interfered with-"
A massive form leapt from the corner of her vision, tackling her to the ground, the air knocked from her lungs. Cho caught sight of a pair of hazel eyes before the lights went out, shrouding the room in darkness. The figure straddled her, pinning her wrists to the floor. Beside her, Cho could hear Hermione was in a similar position; the bushy-haired Gryffindor struggling against another figure, screaming and squirming. She felt his breath tickle her lips. "You're mine now, bitch!" he shouted in triumph, leaning in for a kiss.
With blazing speed, Cho leaned her head forward, butting him in the face, momentarily stunning him. "You ugly bit-" he roared, his rebuttal cut off as Cho kneed him violently in the crotch, gasping in pain. A sharp right hook to the face, and the attacker released her, rolling on the floor, one hand to his nose, the other to his groin.
Springing back up, Cho drew her wand. "Hey, you!" she barked, causing Hermione's assailant to rear up, his eyes twinkling in the dark. "Reducto!" The curse slammed into his chest, throwing him five feet skidding along the floor.
"Hermione!" Cho shouted. "You okay?"
Light glowed from the end of her wand. "I'm fine," Hermione replied, slightly shaken, the light illuminating her scared expression. "What in Merlin's name happened?"
Cho moved to the figure she had incapacitated, motioning Hermione and her light over. The figure was clad in jet-black robes imitating the style of the Death Eaters, his face covered with a black mask, with only his eyes visible. Cho began to remove the straps that held his mask in place. "Any idea who this is?" she asked, hearing her assailant moan in pain.
"Stupefy!" The curse missed her head by inches. Hermione pulled her away.
"Later, Cho! We've got trouble!" she said, pointing at more cloaked figures emerging from the gloom.
"There they are! After them!"
Cho and Hermione took off in a run, breath harsh from the terror of the pursuit, the footfalls of the black-cloaked figures sounding close behind. All around them, the torches had been extinguished, the only light coming from the soft glow of Hermione's wand and the twinkle of the stars. Almost like they had planned this, whomever they are, Cho thought, a plan forming. Hermione's breathing was ragged and frightened, while Cho maintained a stoic pace, her stamina built up from the summer. Their pursuers, about twelve in total, were obviously not built for the chase, but they had numbers on their side, and were gaining.
Cho knew how this was going to end. In the pitch black of the halls, they could be running in circles. Enough running. She turned to Hermione. "Douse your light!"
"What?"
"Do it!" Cho hissed, as Hermione whispered, "Nox!", the light dimming, leaving them in darkness. "Now head to Gryffindor Tower, and get help! I'll hold them off. Go!" As Hermione fled into the night, Cho prepared herself, knowing that she would have only seconds before her pursuers were upon her. Quickly, she took off her high-heeled boots, bare feet touching the cold stone. She listened as the cloaked figures approached her with reckless abandon, unaware of her presence. She focused on the memory of her and Harry kissing in the Hospital Wing during the summer, then shielded her eyes.
When the assailants were five feet away, she raised her wand, screaming, "Expecto Patronum!" White light flared from the tip of her wand, and her Patronus burst forth in a rush of light and energy, its majestic swan form barrelling into the ranks of the black-cloaked figures, the sudden flare of light blinding her hunters.
Cho grinned despite herself, uncovering her eyes after the Patronus disappeared. "Reducto!" she whispered softly, the curse ramming into one of the figures. "Stupefy!" Another fell unconscious. "Concussionus!" Her Blasting Curse detonated within their ranks, catapulting a cloaked form backwards, pounding others into the walls. With their night-vision ruined by her Patronus and all stealth lost, Cho tore a decisive swath through their ranks, firing off a curse, then moving to attack from another angle, using the darkness to her advantage, striking like a wraith.
Unfortunately, the attackers quickly adapted. "Revealous!" one of their number shouted, sending a bright green flare towards the ceiling, the shining light revealing the scene before them. Cho, caught in the open, dodged to one side. "Stupefy!" Red beams shot towards her, hitting paintings and suits of armour. One painting came awake, demanded to know the meaning of this intrusion, then shrieked as a Burning Curse licked the canvas.
"Stupefy!" More Stunning Curses blazed towards Cho, her lithe form leaping out of their path. She felt a blazing hot pain as a curse grazed her cheek, landing painfully on her ankle, the shock sending her off balance. The black-cloaked attackers surged forward.
Gritting her teeth in pain, Cho stood back up, wand ready. "Reducto!" A foe was thrown backwards with a whimper. "Bludgeous!" The Projectile Hex rebounded off a suit of armour, smashing into an opponent's gut. She narrowly dodged a Jelly-Legs Hex, then retaliated with another Stunning Curse, the enemy beginning to fall back. Turning her head, she saw the twinkle of lights approach from the end of the hall. Enemies or friends? she wondered, as the last of the black-cloaked attackers fell back, taking their injured comrades with them. Her ankle throbbing, Cho decided to let them go, breathing a sigh of relief. Hopefully, Harry will be here soon...
A Reductor Curse slammed into her chest, accompanied by the cracking of a rib, knocking the wind out of her and throwing her backwards onto the stone floor. A lone figure appeared from out of the darkness, grabbing Cho by the hair and jerking her upright, exposing her throat. "Let this be a lesson to you, stinking Ravenclaw bitch," he snarled, placing the tip of his wand on her throat. "Don't mess with the Sons of Enigma. As much as I'd like to fuck you raw, you're too dangerous alive."
"Reducto!" The curse flew from out of nowhere, catching him in the arm, spinning him around. "Expelliarmus!" Another curse barely missed him. Cho's eyes widened in shock, seeing a lone hand floating in mid-air, wielding a wand with incredible speed. The black-cloaked figure whimpered and ran, a curse hot on his heels.
"CHO!" Suddenly, Harry was beside her, with Ron, Hermione, and a dozen Gryffindors close behind. "Thank Merlin you're alright! What happened?"
Cho pointed to the hand still hovering above the floor. "Harry, what's that?" she asked, awe and fear laced in her voice.
"An Invisibility Cloak," Hermione whispered. "But who's hiding under it?"
Drawing his wand, Harry slowly approached the apparation. "Reveal yourself!" he ordered in an authoritative voice. "If you are a friend, take off the Cloak."
Gagging sounds could be heard from beneath the Cloak of Cho's mystery saviour. Harry reached forward, his hands closing around seemingly nothing, then pulled hard.
Blaise Zabini was exposed underneath, dressed in only a black bra and panties, violently retching upon the floor, her body racked with chills, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, tears running down her face. After emptying the contents of her stomach, she turned to Harry, a dazed expression on her face. "Potter...help," she moaned, before finally collapsing.
Harry and Cho rushed over to her side, Cho applying a Heating Charm to warm her up. "Who is she?"
"She's my Potions partner," Harry said, attempting to revive her. "Damn, she's out cold. We should get her to the Hospital Wing, and you too, Cho."
"No sign of the buggers, mate," Ron reported, having explored further up the hallway. The words caught in his mouth as he saw the beautiful Slytherin half-naked on the floor. "God, Harry, what happened to her?"
"No idea," Harry replied. "Here, let's conjure some stretchers for them. Don't worry, Cho, you're in good hands."
Cho shook her head. "Don't worry, Harry, I'll be fine," she declared, taking a step forward. Immediately, she wished she hadn't, the pain lancing up her leg, her ankle clearly sprained during the melee. "On second thought, I'll take the stretcher."
"Please, Harry, try to calm down!" Hermione whispered back in Gryffindor Tower. After Cho and Blaise had been placed in the capable hands of Madam Pomfrey, the boisterous woman had shooed them out, and only Cho's kind words had kept Harry from hexing her into next week. As it was, Harry took his anger out on a water jug within the Common Room, cursing himself for not being there to defend his love. The other Gryffindors had returned to their dorms, shaken by the mysterious attack. Katie Bell and the Prefects stood guard over them, whispering nervously. Professor McGonagall had briefly entered Gryffindor Tower and tried to provide reassurance, but with little effect. The entire House had been thrown off balance by the black-cloaked figures, their confidence bruised by their cerebral viciousness. Some, in hushed and terrified tones, mentioned the Death Eaters and You-Know-Who, fear gnawing away at their souls.
Ron quietly stepped around the shattered fragments of pottery, approaching his best friend with even more bad news in the form of a crumpled piece of parchment. "I've sent the D.A. Gryffindors out on patrol, no sign of the bastards, mate. We did find this, though."
Quickly, Harry snatched the note from Ron, his blood boiling as he read its contents, written in fine handwriting:
'For too long, the House of Gryffindor has bullied and subjugated the population of this school into following its beliefs. The sons and daughters of noble pure-blood families are brainwashed and converted, their heritage and prowess stripped away. Muggle-borns defile our fair bloodlines, spawning twisted Mudbloods and abominations. The Muggle conspiracy against us has reached new heights, thanks in part to Gryffindor House. While the other Houses look on helplessly, the heretical Gryffindors corrupt the mind of students and adults alike, leading them down a dark and ill-advised path of ruin!
As virtuous defenders of Hogwarts and wizardkind, we cannot allow this! It is the duty of every pure-blood, regardless of gender, House or standing to fight this vile invasion! We will not be defeated! Our faith in our blood remains strong! The Mudblood and Muggle-lover are insidious creatures, and will not rest in their goal to pervert the natural order!
To pursue this noble goal, we hereby deliver this message to the foul Gryffindors and their sycophants: Do not try to stop us. You cannot halt the force of this whirlwind! Join us, and reap the rewards of faithful service! Block our way, and be utterly destroyed.
The legacy of Slytherin still breathes!
The Sons of Enigma'Harry cast aside the note, spitting one word: "Malfoy."
Ron nodded his head in agreement. "It sure sounds like him. Don't worry about Cho, I've sent Dean and Neville to keep an eye on her. Merlin's beard, what's he trying to pull?"
"Propaganda," Hermione answered, taking a look at the declaration. "They're trying to do two things. First, scare us. Secondly, maybe get some support. It might not be Malfoy, though; he isn't usually one for co-operation. These guys seem desperate to get help."
"The Sons of Enigma," Ron intoned. "Weird name."
Hermione chuckled despite herself. "Whenever a Dark Lord rises, Ron, their supporters always have unusual names. Grindewald had the Night Ravens. In the 8th century, Melekh had the Chosen of Tzeentch. Kel'Thuzad had the Cult of the Damned. Some guys had names I can't even pronounce."
"So," Harry asked, scratching his head, "are these guys Voldemort supporters?"
Ron flinched at the name, much to Hermione's annoyance. "Maybe. Here's a clue. What's another way of saying enigma?"
"Oh, like another word for it?" Ron said, brow furrowed in thought. "How about puzzle?"
"Problem? Code?" guessed Harry.
Hermione shook her head. Ron snapped his fingers as he found the solution. "I get it! Riddle."
"Yes, Riddle," Hermione replied. "It might be Malfoy, it might not. But Voldemort has some fans in Hogwarts, nonetheless."
It has to be Malfoy, Harry thought, remembering their confrontation in the hall after the Welcoming Feast. His anger grew, realizing that Malfoy, or whoever it was, was trying to use Cho to get to him. Enough is enough! I'm not going to let anyone hurt her, even if I have to tear apart Slytherin House with my bare hands.
Harry stood up, fire in his eyes and the energies of Gryffindor charging in his soul. "Ron, Hermione, spread the word. Tomorrow night, Dumbledore's Army is returning. Inside the Room of Requirement, as always."
"Alright!" Ron whooped.
"We'll get on it, Harry," Hermione replied, beaming with pride. "Katie can help us contact the other Houses."
"Good," Harry said, a hint of cold steel in his voice. "If these guys want a fight, then the D.A. will give them one. Right after supper tomorrow, okay?"
Ron and Hermione nodded. "Sure thing, mate," Ron said. "Now, why don't you go visit Cho, she could use the company."
Harry took Ron's words to heart, and was out the portrait hole, the note in hand. Several minutes later, he arrived at the Hospital Wing, Dean and Neville sitting by the door, a deck of Exploding Snap at their feet. Neville waved him over with a cheeky grin. "Wotcher, Harry," he said, placing down a card. "Cho's doing fine, we've been watching over the place. We haven't let an ant pass!"
"Wotcher, Neville," Harry replied, even as Neville won another hand. "Is Madam Pomfrey in there?"
Dean shook his head. "She left a couple minutes ago, something about getting Professor Snape. It had something to do with the blonde girl." He was fairly cheerful, so it was clear he didn't know about Harry and Ginny.
"Blaise?"
"Yes, that's the one," Dean stated, running a hand through his hair. "Apparently, she had ligature marks on her wrists, besides the bruises on her face."
"Ligature marks?" Neville asked curiously.
"Haven't you two watched any Muggle cop shows? Read any Sherlock Holmes?" Dean inquired. When only silence greeted him, he elaborated. "Ligature marks occur when the blood flow is cut off by a rope or piece of cord, it digs into the skin and cuts off circulation, leaving these marks."
"So she was tied up? Why?"
"Elementary, my dear Neville. She was bound, in nothing but lingerie, with bruises on her face. Someone was trying to get some, and she was an unwilling candidate."
Harry looked at Dean with horror. "You mean she was raped?"
"Possibly," replied Dean, shaking his head in disgust. "Lowest thing a guy can do, next to child abuse and slavery."
Neville spat on the ground to show his contempt. "If I was there, the son of a bitch wouldn't be breathing," he hissed. "Rape, Harry! That's the kind of things that Death Eaters do! Then there's that ambush on Cho, those filthy scum. Attacking a poor girl from behind! Of all the lousy, rotten, Slytherin things to do..."
Harry smiled despite himself. Neville had an unflinching sense of honour and morals, and would fight to the death to protect his friends. "Thanks, guys. Keep an eye out, will you?"
"Certainly, Harry," Neville said. "Come on, Thomas, that's four in a row. Pay up."
"Damn! Deck must be rigged or something..."
Silently, Harry opened the door, his movements quiet so as not to disturb sleeping patients. Within the crisp, clean Hospital Wing, only two beds were occupied, one by Cho, her ribs and ankle bound with fresh bandages and smeared with various healing serums. The other contained Blaise, dressed in a soft white gown, muttering to herself, her Invisibility Cloak draped in a metal basin. A quick glance showed that Dean's theory was correct. Ligature marks were on her wrists, and he could see where the skin had been broken, covered in Madame Pomfrey's healing serum. Harry felt sick, just looking at what had been done to the poor girl.
"Harry?" Cho sat up in bed, wincing slightly, putting a hand to her chest. Immediately, Harry was at her side, gently helping her lie back down. "What are you doing here?"
The young Gryffindor put a finger to her lips. "Don't try to move, my love. I just came to see how you were doing. How bad is the injury?"
Cho scoffed at it. "It'll be fine. Madame Pomfrey says the ankle will be healed by morning, the rib in a day more. Her potions have done most of the work, now I just need some time," she whispered softly, her raven-black hair splayed along the pillow. She turned to the sleeping form of Blaise. "She helped me out back there. He was ready to kill me, then she hexed him off his feet."
"Oh, Cho, I'll never let it happen again," Harry promised, holding her close, taking care not to squeeze her injuries. "I should have been there."
"It's alright, my love," Cho replied, giving him a soft kiss. "Don't blame yourself, you didn't know. It's alright, I won't be caught like that again."
Harry smiled slightly. "I've decided to start the D.A. up again. We think it might be Malfoy who attacked you, or his cronies at least, so I'm reforming it again. Hopefully, most of the old crowd will be there, maybe some new people too. What about Marietta?"
Cho frowned. "Mary and I aren't really talking, and she can't stand you," she sighed. "If only she'd listen to me, she'd see that you're not a bad person."
Before Harry could respond, Blaise began to stir on the next bed. The willowy Slytherin slowly sat up, a hand to her forehead. "Must have puked my guts out back-Potter? What are you doing here?"
"We brought you in, remember?" Harry asked, looking at her with concern. "What happened to you?"
Blaise gave a half-hearted chuckle. "Some guy in black robes happened to me."
Cho's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Guys in black robes," she inquired, "with black masks, and some kind of altering spell on their eyes?"
"Yes, just like that," Blaise said, giving Cho a surprised look. "How did you know?"
Faced with a hard stare, Harry demanded, "Cho and Hermione were attacked by a bunch of them tonight. Care to explain who they are?"
"I don't know, Potter," Blaise replied. "However, if they were after your girlfriend, they're probably Slytherins." She shuddered. "I'd never thought they'd actually go through it..."
Feeling the cold glares of Harry and Cho, Blaise explained. "Listen. For a while now, Malfoy's been planning to go after you two. He's got most of Slytherin House on his side, and their plan was to kidnap you," she said, pointing at Cho. "Tonight, some bastard in a black cloak stunned me, tied me up, and almost violated me. I don't know how I stopped him, really, but that's not important. If it is Malfoy, then he's going beyond just insults and Quidditch rivalries. He'll stop at nothing to bring you down, Potter. I'd watch my back if I was you."
"If you knew about this, Blaise, why didn't you tell anyone?" Harry barked angrily. "Were you planning on just letting them take Cho?"
"Please, Harry, calm down," Cho whispered, putting a hand to his shoulder. Immediately, Harry relaxed, taking a seat beside her.
Blaise ignored Harry's accusation, continuing her tale. "First of all, I didn't know when or how they were going to do it. Second, you wouldn't have believed me if I told you. Third, if I told the teachers, they wouldn't have believed me either, and Malfoy would realize that I betrayed him. Four, even if the teachers believed me, any accusation of that size would have to go through the Board of Governors, all of whom are in Lucius Malfoy's pocket. I don't want the Death Eaters to visit my door. And besides, I haven't been doing nothing. Since I heard of the plan, I've been spreading confusion all throughout the House, pranks, sabotage and the like."
Cho snapped her fingers. "It was you!" she cried, pointing an accusing finger. "You were the one who helped us against Malfoy the first night back. With your Invisibility Cloak, you could have snuck up on them easily, and as far as know, only you and Harry have Cloaks."
"Bravo, Chang," Blaise yawned. "A perfect textbook answer. Yes, I took out Malfoy and his goons, I bought the Cloak during my third year, helps me find out what I need to know. Now, why don't you two head on back to bed, and leave me the hell alone."
"One last question," Cho asked, the glimmer of a theory sparkling in her mind. "How did you break free from your attacker, without a wand?"
"Yes, I believe that is a question that we'd all like to have answered."
Harry whirled around, seeing a pair of twinkling blue eyes emerge from the doorway. "Dumbledore!" he hissed, as the wizened sage calmly entered the Hospital Wing. "You've got a lot to answe-"
The words caught in his throat, seeing Dumbledore's condition. The Headmaster looked like he had aged twenty years since Harry last him. Dumbledore walked with a shuffling gait, the normal spring in his step disappeared. All the mirth and merriment in the old man had vanished, replaced with a cold certainty. "Tell us what happened, Ms. Zabini."
Blaise, faced with Dumbledore's forcefully calm demeanour, related the tale, how the intruder had stunned her, then tried to rape her. "...and just as he was about to take off the last of my clothes, something happened. As I became angrier and angrier, this...power of some kind sparked, and the bastard was blown into the wall. I didn't get a chance to ID him, I just grabbed the Cloak and ran."
Harry gasped in shock as she described the familiar symptoms. "And then it settled down, like a beast inside you?"
"Yeah, that's right," Blaise said, staring at Harry and Cho in amazement. "Do you guys know everything about me?"
Dumbledore shook his head. "They have had similar experiences as well, Ms. Zabini. It appears that we've found the Champion of Slytherin at last."
"What?" Harry choked.
"Huh?" Blaise asked quizzically.
"Yes, Ms. Zabini, the Champion of Slytherin, living descendant of the great Slytherin himself, and if I'm any judge, very unlike him, considering your background. The Champion of Slytherin, Muggle-born, most ironic," Dumbledore declared, stroking his beard.
Harry could only gap in amazement, as Dumbledore explained the prophecy to Blaise. Blaise, the Champion of Slytherin, and a muggle-born! He hadn't thought there were any non-purebloods in Slytherin House, much less the Champion of Slytherin as one. But a nagging doubt lingered in his mind. "But Professor," he interrupted, "how can Blaise be Slytherin's descendant, when Riddle is? Is Voldemort the Champion of Slytherin as well?"
Dumbledore smiled at Harry inquistiveness. "A good point, Harry, but Tom is not the Champion of Slytherin. Blaise is. Somehow, Slytherin's bloodline has split in two, Riddle on one side, Blaise on the other. Tom commands the use of Parseltongue, while Blaise has the energies of Slytherin locked within, and it appears that some of that energy has already begun to manifest itself."
"That doesn't make any sense!" Harry shouted, throwing his hands up in frustration.
"Actually, it does," Cho whispered, her voice soothing the Champion of Gryffindor. "I learned about this in Muggle Studies, of all places. It's all about genetics, really. Assuming that Slytherin had multiple children, or that his family tree split later on, his bloodline must have split too. Certain abilities were inherit to one side or another. The split most likely happened early on, otherwise we would have seen some sign of Slytherin's energies in You-Know-Who before." She turned to Blaise, who was staring at them with undisguised disbelief. "You're not a Parseltongue, right?"
Blaise shook her head, dumbfounded. "No. The Dark Lord is my cousin?"
"Like I said, the genetic split probably happened early on. You're an extremely distant relation at best," Cho answered.
Harry smiled to himself. Nice work, Cho. "So, that just leaves Hufflepuff, I guess?"
With an angry shout, Blaise sprung up out of bed, facing her three guests with revulsion. "You're actually buying into this fairy tale, Potter?" she snarled, eyes wild and confused. "Slytherin died a thousand years ago, any magic he had must be used up by now. Besides, even if his magic passed to our generation, it wouldn't be to some Muggle-born like me, he wanted to kill them all, as I remember! Whatever this condition is, I'm sure I can get help for it. And don't you spread around the fact that I'm Muggle-born, you hear? If the other Slytherins find out that my dad was just some Muggle, I won't last too long."
"You don't believe us?" Dumbledore asked, a touch of humour in his voice.
"Damn right, old man," retorted Blaise. "Do you know what it's like, being Muggle-born and living in Slytherin House? Every move has to be guarded, in case someone should discover who I am. My mother was a Slytherin, my father was a Muggle businessman, and they taught me how to survive. Your fairy tale might impress first-years, Dumbledore, but I don't give a damn about the cock and bull you've given me. Now get out."
Harry snorted at her. "Are you really that selfish?" he demanded, seeing Blaise with her arms across her chest. "Fine then. We're fighting to protect the Wizarding world, and you're a Champion. Get used to it." With that, he stormed out, Cho's protestations falling on deaf ears, the young man consumed with frustration.
Dumbledore caught up with him several seconds later. "Harry, whatever I have done, I have done for your own benefit-"
"Don't give me that," Harry snapped. "Cho was almost killed tonight, Dumbledore, by students, not Death Eaters. I want you make sure she stays safe. You've been asleep at the wheel too many times now, and if Cho suffers because of your failures, I'm going to make you pay. Is the Ministry so important that you can't protect your students now?"
"Harry, I was working on a series of-"
A quick wave of a hand dismissed his calm protests. Harry turned to face his former mentor, anger enveloping him. "I'm sick of being your pet tiger, Dumbledore, caged and penned and tormented until it's time to loose me on your enemies. Dumbledore's Army is coming back, but with a new name. We were never your army, and if you won't stand up for the students, then I will."
As Harry walked away, Cho and Blaise settled themselves in for a well deserved rest, the willowy beautiful Slytherin a cauldron of emotions and doubt. It's not possible, is it? She thought, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. Even if I am, what can I do? Resolving to solve the situation in the morning, she closed her eyes, praying the nightmares would not come...
Inside Blaise's dormitory, the black-clad figure groaned in pain, regaining consciousness. His ever-changing eyes looked around, realizing where he was, and what he happened. Blaise was gone. Checking the time, he swore, then made his way through the Slytherin Common Room, looking over his shoulder as he went, then into the sixth-year boys dormitory. Inside, four other figures waited, dressed identically.
"How was she?" one of them asked, his voice mocking.
"Shut up, Nott," the newest arrival retorted, ripping off the mask angrily. A "Finite Incantium!" removed the camouflage charms, and grey eyes blazed hatred at the other figures. "Remove the disguises. Now."
The other figures took off their masks and cloaks, revealing them to be Slytherins. One of them spat on the ground. "Come on, Draco, how did she taste?" he asked, licking his lips. "Strawberries or mint?"
"Piss off, Crabbe," Draco Malfoy said, tossing his cloak to the ground. In front of him, Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, and Warren stood, eagerly awaiting his tale. "The bitch got the jump on me. Somehow, she knocked me out, her hands bound, without a wand." He looked at the others, his eyes daring them to laugh. "What about our allies? Have they managed to capture Chang?"
Nott shook his head. "She took them out. A dozen guys, she took out most of them, forced the others to flee. Good thing for us, she didn't ID any of them."
Screaming in rage, Malfoy threw a heavy vase against the wall, shattering it instantly. His face red, he whirled on his cronies. "Damn them! Can't those fucking Ravenclaws do anything right?" The Slytherins stayed silent, anxious to avoid his wrath. Malfoy began to massage his aching temple. Damn them! First that whore Zabini stuns me, then this operation fails! Chang will be on her guard now, we'll never get another shot. Thankfully, we can destroy all the evidence, and even if that old fool Dumbledore suspects us, our scapegoats can divert his attention.
"Has our main contact escaped?" he asked, flexing his wrists.
"Yes, Draco!" Warren replied. Warren was a timid fourth-year, but filled with an eagerness to please Malfoy, something the spoiled Slytherin could manipulate to his advantage. "Chang hit him in the stones, but he's alright, and eager to pay the Asian whore back. We can always try again, Draco!"
Malfoy's fist lashed out, catching Warren in the jaw. As the young goon crumpled, Malfoy faced the others, his breath coming out in furious gasps. "Do any of you dumbfucks have anything else to say?" There was silence. "Good. Ditch the clothes, and destroy anything that could be traced to us, just like we discussed."
Damn, Malfoy thought, tossing the robes in the fireplace, then falling back onto his bed. She looked beautiful there, the whore, he said to himself, envisioning her lithe body stretched out before him, her beautiful blue eyes filled with desire, full breasts in his hands, long legs wrapped around him, the feel of soft red lips, her voice soft and seductive as she whispered, "Take me, Draco." It was a fantasy, but a very exciting one, and Malfoy cursed himself for not claiming her when he had the chance, when the bitch was helpless, bound and gagged before him, her screams muffled into pitiful mews of despair, eyes large with fear...I'll get her next time. Next time, she won't have a chance to stun me, however she did it. The Sons of Enigma will be victorious!