No Light Without Shadows
by Draeconin
See Chapter One for disclaimer and details.
Chapter Fourteen
"You want to do what?" Draco asked incredulously.
"I want to look at the Chamber of Secrets," Harry repeated patiently.
"Once wasn't enough?" Draco looked as though he thought Harry had gone 'round the twist. He knew if he would have had to fight a bloody monster, he'd never want to go near the place again.
"I already told you there aren't any more basilisks down there," Harry said.
"Why?"
"Because they're very rare?" Harry replied, not sure which subject was being discussed now. "I expect the one was only there because of Slytherin . . . or Riddle."
"No! Why do you want to go back down there?" Draco exclaimed impatiently, clarifying his question.
"Can you think of a better place to practice our spellwork?" Harry asked.
Draco opened his mouth to name off half a dozen places that would be better suited, but his memory chose that moment to turn traitor, and he couldn't think of a single one.
"It's quiet; nobody is going to interrupt us there," Harry said, ticking off points on his fingers. "It's shielded; magic won't be detected – or so I assume, since Tom must have had a practise area – as well as working with that basilisk. And we can get away from everyone when things get too crazy for us!"
Harry seemed especially pleased by that last one.
Draco looked into his husband's eyes and sighed. "How do we get there?" he asked resignedly.
. . .
"Open," Harry hissed at the snake engraving on the correct sink in the almost-abandoned girl's toilet. As before, the sinks moved, and revealed a hole in the floor.
Peering down it, Draco said, "Over my cold, dead body."
"It's rather fun, really," Harry cheerfully said, trying to persuade him.
"Absolutely not," Draco said firmly, backing off from the opening. "Besides which, it's filthy!"
"You're not up on your cleaning spells by now?" Harry teased.
"That's what house elves are for," Draco replied, glaring at his husband. "I am not going down that hole!"
Draco backed suspiciously away from Harry when his husband approached him, but then let Harry take him in his arms and kiss him. When the blond finally relaxed, Harry picked him up off his feet, and jumped into the hole.
A furious, wailing, drawn-out "Harry . . .!" came up from its depths.
. . .
"I am never going to trust you again!" Draco fumed as he tried to put his robes back in order. It had taken him a minute to be able to pry himself from his husband and be sure his legs would hold him, but then he acted as though he'd never been frightened at all, and was just very, very perturbed.
Harry had, of course, cast 'Lumos' soon after they'd landed at the bottom. He had used his illegal wand, and the area was lit more brightly than daylight.
"Look at this!" the blond demanded of Harry. "They're ruined!" While Draco's robes had, indeed, been quite soiled by the slide and landing, the dirt wasn't anything that a good wash wouldn't fix. And Harry was a bit worse off, actually, since he'd tried to protect the blond on the way down.
"At least someone got rid of all the rat skeletons," Harry said. He would have rather the skeletons had been there. The landing had been a lot harder with nothing to cushion their exit from the steep slide the tube turned into. And the fact that he'd tried to cushion Draco's landing hadn't helped his own situation at all. He'd have to look into what sort of spell he could find to either cushion their exit, or slow them down before they got there. Come to that, how had Slytherin exited the place? Surely there were stairs?
"Rat skeletons?" Draco exclaimed. "Oh, that's just the last straw, that is," he said in exasperation, ignoring the fact that there were, in fact, no skeletons of any sort in sight.
"They've cleared the rock fall, too," Harry noted, ignoring his husband. He hadn't been looking forward to clearing the rocks himself, and was glad it wasn't now necessary. He wondered who Dumbledore had entrusted with all the work. He already knew Snape had been down there to harvest parts from the basilisk, and Dumbledore himself would have wanted a first-hand look: but who else? Probably a few select members of the Order of the Phoenix, he decided. Considering one or two of Hagrid's remarks, the half-giant had probably been among them.
"Rock fall?" Draco exclaimed loudly.
"Keep your voice down," Harry cautioned. "Whoever Dumbledore had down here probably cast stability charms on everything, but if not..."
"And you want me here why?" Draco hissed.
"To cheer me up, of course," Harry said facetiously, with a teasing smirk.
That didn't help Draco's mood at all, but he fumed silently.
A trilling hit their ears as Scathi strolled out of a shadowy corner.
"That's good to know," Harry replied. He had been a bit surprised to have Scathi turn up, but with the phoenix' penchant for shadow walking, not all that surprised.
Draco stubbornly refused to ask, or even to look interested.
"Scathi says the rock formations are perfectly stable," Harry said anyway.
"And what would a bird know of rock formations?" Draco asked scathingly.
Harry shrugged. It was a good question, but he trusted his familiar. Scathi knew things he probably shouldn't, especially since he was only a few weeks old. Harry wondered about that, but so far Scathi hadn't been forthcoming. He picked the young phoenix up and put him on his shoulder.
"Come on," Harry said, trying to take Draco's hand.
Draco snatched it away from Harry's grasp, glaring. But when his dark-haired lover moved off down the tunnel, he followed – just for the light, of course. Draco had thought to spite Harry and remain there, but his own wand – his own power – wouldn't create anywhere near the light, and would leave far too much dark area in which something could sneak up on him.
Someone had closed the heavy, snake-lock door, and it had reset itself. Harry was glad the mistake, if it had been a mistake, had been made after the other cleanup had been done. He opened it, and they continued on into the main chamber. Harry cast "Lumos" at the perimeter of the huge space, and permanent torches flared up, lighting the entire space.
"Oooo..." said a familiar, lisping voice. "It's quite interesting down here, Harry."
"Myrtle?" Harry said, surprised.
"Did you think I wouldn't notice, Harry?" she asked a bit petulantly. "You come into my bathroom, and you kiss him. Did you think I wouldn't notice?"
"I didn't think you were there, Myrtle," Harry said.
"No," Myrtle said self-pityingly. "Nobody ever sees poor Myrtle, do they?" The fact that she'd been spying, and invisible at the time, meant nothing to her.
"Harry," Draco said, attempting to break into the conversation, but was interrupted.
"I haven't been down here before," Myrtle commented, ignoring Draco's presence. "I was always too afraid of that big snake. That was the basilisk, wasn't it?" She didn't sound like she expected a reply, though.
Harry made the introductions. "Draco, this is Myrtle. She was the first one killed by the basilisk the first time the Chamber was opened."
"Myrtle, this is my husband, Draco."
"I know him," Myrtle sniffed disdainfully. "He used to tease me."
"Draco?" Harry said questioningly.
"It was back in second year, Harry," the blond said, defending himself. "But where—"
Harry nodded. He understood that people change, and that Draco – likely – had outgrown such behaviour.
"You married him?" Myrtle asked Harry, again interrupting the blond, and ignoring that anything else might be going on.
"Yes," Harry replied to her. He wasn't about to explain the situation to a ghost for whom he had so little respect.
"You might try apologising, you know," Harry told Draco gently. Respect or no, he didn't want her upset with Draco. With so much water down here, she could make things difficult.
"To a ghost?" Draco protested.
"No, we can't be having that, can we?" Myrtle whinged. "Old moaning Myrtle doesn't have feelings, does she? She's just a ghost."
"Draco!" Harry said reprovingly.
Draco frowned, then faced the ghost. "I'm terribly sorry to have caused you distress when I was younger, Miss Myrtle," he said.
Suddenly the ghost of the girl was right up in Draco's face. "I'll bet you aren't, really," she said spitefully. "You're just saying that because Harry told you to." The 'to' turned into a moaning wail, and suddenly Myrtle sped off.
Harry closed his eyes and sighed tiredly. "I hope she's not going to be hanging around us, down here," he said.
Scáthfánaí trilled.
"Yes, that was a ghost," Harry replied, "although there are others that are more pleasant to be around."
"What is with her, anyway?" Draco asked.
Harry winced. "I think she developed a bit of a crush on me, second year," he admitted.
"I don't think she's got over it," Draco said dryly.
"Well she knows you and I are together now, so hopefully she'll move on," Harry said.
"It's awfully damp down here, Harry," Draco said, abruptly changing the subject. He felt immensely silly, feeling jealous about a ghost's affections for Harry.
"Mm..." Harry murmured in agreement. "But I can't believe that it was meant to be," he added.
Looking around, Draco had to agree. The architecture and stone carvings argued that people would have spent significant time down here. And even if it was only for a few hours a day, like the Great Hall, it still should have been a comfortable place to spend time.
"Where did you fight that thing?" Draco inquired, finally getting the question asked.
"All over the flipping place," Harry replied, annoyed by the memory.
Draco paid no attention. "Then where did you kill it?" he asked.
Harry looked around. "Right about here, I think," he said thoughtfully. "I almost died right here, too. Would have, if Fawkes' tears hadn't saved me."
Draco wished he hadn't asked, as chills ran up and down his spine. He moved off a few feet in a subconscious attempt to try to leave the area where it had happened.
"Let's inspect the rest of the place," Harry suggested. "We can look into what can be done to dry it out later, when we've more time." A sudden thought struck him. "You're supposed to have water abilities," he said to Draco, "d'you think you might be able to do something here?"
"I'm not trained yet either, Harry," Draco said, but he looked intrigued with the idea. Then he shook his head regretfully, dismissing it. "But by the time either of us had enough training and control to do the job, I'm sure we could have found another way and had it long done."
"I don't have water abilities," Harry pointed out.
"Perhaps not, but you might be able to evaporate it with heat," Draco suggested.
Harry thought about it. Then, looking around at all the water, he said, "That would be a lot of heat, Draco. Maybe too much. And where would the steam go?"
Draco gave a little shrug, dismissing Harry's objection.
They wandered around, poking into all the tunnels, although they didn't explore down each one more than a couple of hundred feet, where it was possible. Some of them, like the entrance from the girl's bathroom, took off at a steep angle almost right away. And from the looks of it, it would take a long time to explore each one thoroughly. Finally they'd poked into each one to the extent they were able or had set themselves.
"Can we get out of here now, Harry?" Draco asked tiredly.
"Just one more place to look, love," Harry replied gently.
"Where?" Draco asked with asperity.
Harry walked up to the gigantic bust that everyone assumed to be Salazar Slytherin – the one from whose top he'd fought the basilisk – and hissed at it. 'Speak to me Salazar Slytherin, the greatest of the Hogwarts Four.' The mouth opened, just as it had when Tom Riddle's past self had. Tense, half expecting another basilisk to slide out of the opening, Harry slowly relaxed when nothing else happened.
"Harry?" Draco questioned, having noticed Harry's reaction.
"Bad memories. The basilisk came out of here, the last time," Harry explained.
Draco was incensed. "Oh, yes. Thank you very much! Don't warn me or anything. After all, I'm- oomph!"
Harry had shut Draco up in his favourite way – with a kiss. Slowly, Draco relaxed.
But when Harry broke the kiss, Draco warned, "And don't you think that's going to get you off the hook, either."
Harry kissed him again, longer, slower.
This time Draco sounded a little dazed as he said, "Or that one, either." But he put a hand up, preventing Harry from carrying out a third assault on his senses, then pushed away from him.
Straightening his robes, Draco visibly pulled himself together and said, "Let's get this over with, shall we?" He drew his wand, and waited for Harry to lead the way. But he stayed close as Harry crossed the threshold of the mouth-cum-door – not only for his own safety, but to give Harry backup if needed.
On the other side was a long corridor lined with unlit torches, which lack Harry promptly remedied. As the torches flared to life Harry saw, to his relief, that there wasn't anything lying in wait for them here, either. Except for about the first ten feet of corridor, this area was dry, and the floor had a thick layer of dust and decayed straw on it, except for a wide, irregular path down the middle: the trail the basilisk had created, Harry assumed. Fortunately for his peace of mind, even that trail had a thin layer of dust over it that had only been disturbed by booted feet, the imprints of which were themselves now becoming blurred, and were presumably created by Dumbledore and crew.
Harry was surprised to find a counterweight system on the other side of the door which manually opened and closed the door they had come through. It was a logical safety system though, since Parselmouths were very rare. It also answered the question of how Dumbledore and crew had been able to enter the Chamber.
About forty feet along the corridor was a short offshoot, at the end of which was an open doorway. Cautiously they approached it and peered around the corner. Except for the light from the corridor, the interior was dark. But what could be seen . . . Again there was a thick layer of dust, but there were no trails through it, not even of booted feet. They had come up to the doorway, but hadn't gone past it. Pieces of broken furniture could be seen in the faint light that reached through the doorway from the torches in the corridor. Casting Lumos on his wand again, Harry pushed it past the doorway. The same devastation could be seen throughout that room. There had been tapestries, but they had been ripped and torn. A few still tried to hold onto the wall, either by tatters, or only by one corner, but most were huddled on the floor.
"What happened here?" Draco breathed as he followed Harry inside.
"A fight?" Harry suggested.
"Or a mob," Draco agreed.
Scathi gave a low trill.
Draco looked to Harry questioningly.
Harry shook his head. "He doesn't know either, but he says there are traces of Dark magic, here."
"You didn't expect me to go down without a fight, did you?" a gruff voice asked impatiently.
Both boys whipped around to face the source of that voice, wands poised to defend themselves. Scathi had to flap his wings and scramble to keep his footing on Harry's shoulder.
"Who are you?" Draco demanded of the ghostly image floating there.
"You both wear my House colours, and you have the gall to ask me that?"
"Salazar Slytherin?" Harry asked incredulously. Well that negated the theory that the bust the door was in was Salazar Slytherin, although it also begged the question of the magical pass-phrase. There was no resemblance. Salazar had been a short, muscular, thickset man. His age when he died was indeterminate, but his moustache and thick shock of hair had been white. He had an air of pride and nobility about him, all the same.
"None other, boy. What year is it?"
After being told, the ghost said, "Only fifty years, this time. Seems longer."
"Fifty years?" Harry said. "Then you knew Tom Riddle?"
"I talked to him, yes. A peck and a half short of a bushel, that one. Wanted 'the secrets of power and immortality'. Hmph! Didn't bother to come back once I told him there were no such secrets." The ghost's gaze sharpened on the boys. "And who are you two?"
"Sorry, sir," Draco said. "I'm Draco Malfoy, and this is Harry Potter."
Salazar looked surprised. "A Malfoy and a Potter? And bonded?"
"How did you know that?" Harry asked.
"I can see it, boy," the ghost replied impatiently. "Just as I can see that you both have quite strong demon abilities; and you," he said to Harry, "have a block on your magic, preventing you from reaching your full potential."
"It was removed!" Harry protested, just before he recalled that it hadn't been fully removed.
"Then it was a botch job, because you're still blocked," Salazar replied. He frowned. "Something strange there, too. Can't make out what it is," he added.
"Do you know how it can be removed?" Harry asked. He wasn't going to waste time asking about the 'something' that Salazar had seen, since the ghost had already said he didn't know what it was.
"I might, at that," Salazar said. "But surely you don't expect me to give you something freely? I've a task for you."
"What can I do for a ghost?" Harry asked, puzzled.
"I'm confined to these rooms. Find a way to free me, and I'll help you."
"Do you know how to train demon skills?" Draco asked.
"Have they lost that out there, too?" the ghost almost roared.
Unconsciously, Draco huddled back against Harry, before remembering himself and standing straight, proudly defiant. "Yes, they have," he replied. "We have books, but..." Draco shrugged, leaving the sentence unfinished. He was sure Salazar Slytherin would understand that training oneself from a book was a poor second to learning from someone who had first-hand knowledge and experience.
"You were surprised that Draco and I were together," Harry reminded the ghost. "Why?"
"Long-time rivals, in my time," Salazar revealed. "When did that change?"
Harry gave a wry grin. "When Draco and I got together," he admitted. And even that was a bit . . . tumultuous, Harry admitted to himself. Being with Draco felt so natural now, their former relationship seemed a bit surreal when he recalled it. Not that there wasn't an edge to their interactions from time to time anyway...
Salazar let out with a great, booming laugh.
"So what happened to you, sir?" Harry asked.
Salazar gave a thunderous frown. "I'm prevented from relating my tale," he said.
"You did say you fought your attackers?" Harry prompted.
"And that's all I can say," Salazar growled.
"What colours did they wear, sir?" Draco asked, trying to ascertain the knowledge in another way.
After trying several times to answer, Salazar was finally able to say to Harry, "Your phoenix has rather rare colours, boy. The fiery ones are more common."
"Red and gold," Harry said.
Salazar was silent, but his expression said volumes.
"They killed you?" Draco asked, aghast.
Salazar remained silent, but frustration painted his face.
"He can't say, love," Harry said. "But I'd say it was likely."
"Superstitious arseholes and their views of what constitutes acceptable magic," the ghost grumbled. At that time Christianity was making inroads into the magical community, and the religion's narrow views had outlawed a lot of things that had once been commonplace. He, of course, had paid them no attention, and had continued with the old ways. Eventually he had been hunted down and killed for 'consorting with demons', rather than killing them.
Salazar would have been gratified to learn that the religion had lost sway when King James and his successors had used it to make war on 'witches' (political enemies, in truth, rather than true witches and wizards, although it made things a bit difficult for them for a couple of centuries), and was now rarely followed by magic users.
"So how did a Potter wind up in Slytherin?" Salazar asked, changing the subject.
Harry told most of the tale of the past nine months or so, with Draco chipping in tiredly from time to time.
Before Slytherin could ask another question, Harry slipped in one of his own.
"I need a place to practice some Dark spells and curses, sir. I was thinking the Chamber outside would do nicely. And now here are your apartments where we could rest – with your permission?"
"I'm all for a body learning all they can, boy, but why down here?" the ghost asked gruffly.
"The Dark Arts have rather fallen out of favour, sir," Draco said darkly. "Being found to be practising them can result in a quick trip to Azkaban for rather a prolonged stay."
Salazar scowled. "Azkaban. New prison, isn't it? Riddle said as much, but so much of what he said made so little sense, I discounted it."
"I'm afraid it's true, sir," Harry said. He realised that to Slytherin, Azkaban probably was new.
"So if it's so risky to learn, why are you willing to take the chance?" the ghost demanded.
"Riddle, sir. If you thought he was half barmy before..." Harry let the sentence go.
Completely 'round the bend now, eh?" Slytherin surmised.
"Yes, sir. And murderous with it."
"And you're volunteering?"
"Not exactly, sir," Harry said with a grimace.
"So why are they sending a boy after him?"
That necessitated yet another, and longer tale – the story of Harry's life, in fact – but before he had fairly begun, Draco began fidgeting, then transfigured a broken stool into an armchair. He pushed Harry into it, then sat on Harry's lap.
Salazar scowled at the interruption, then his expression softened. "I hadn't noticed," he said. "So you're not only bonded, but lovers, eh?"
"Yes, sir," Harry said. Draco had laid his head on Harry's shoulder and was half asleep, despite his interest in the founder of Slytherin House. Well, their love-making last night had been rather more athletic than usual.
It had been centuries, but one of Salazar's own grandsons had become handfasted to a neighbour's boy, and had fathered a daughter. Salazar had always regretted being killed before he saw her grow up. But as he watched the two, the Potter boy holding his lover safe, he noticed the Dæmentelin signet ring for the first time. He hadn't expected to find a schoolboy as a Family Head, so hadn't been looking for signs of rank.
"You are the Dæmentelin head?" he asked Harry.
Harry nodded, and showed Salazar his other two signet rings as well.
Salazar sighed. The boy his grandson had married had been of the House Dæmentelin. He wasn't interested in the other two. If they had existed in his time, they had been minor families, indeed.
As a matter of fact the Potter family hadn't developed its own insignia until after the parent family, the Dæmentelin family, was long gone. So while Salazar knew of the Potter family, he wasn't familiar with the insignia.
"You're welcome here, boy," he said in a fit of nostalgia.
Looking around, Harry decided to try to press his luck. "Would it be all right if I brought in a couple of house elves to clean and renovate?" he asked.
Salazar chuckled. "You've a nerve, you have, boy. But yes, that might be a pleasant change."
Fixing his mind on Dobby, Harry called for him. A couple of seconds later, the house elf popped in, obviously surprised by his surroundings.
"Yes, Master Harry, sir?" Dobby said.
"How are things going at home, Dobby?" Harry asked.
"We is needing yet to get the cellar and attic done, Harry Potter, sir, but the rest of your house is being done with cleaning and fixing," Dobby reported.
"Very good, Dobby," Harry said warmly, causing Dobby to grin with pleasure. "But we can let the cellar and attic go, for now. Right now, I'd like you and . . . Skiph, I think it is, to clean up these apartments. Save and repair what you can."
"This," Harry went on, indicating Salazar's ghost, "is Salazar Slytherin. These used to be his rooms when he was alive. Take his suggestions into account, but if you have any questions or you think I might disapprove, find me in my rooms, here."
"Yes sir, Harry Potter, sir," Dobby replied, looking around. If he was the least bit dismayed by the scope of the job, he didn't show it. "Dobby may go now, sir?" Dobby asked. "I is needing to get Skiph, sir."
"Certainly, Dobby. And thank you," Harry said before again turning to the ghost. He paid no attention to Dobby's popping out.
"Mister Slytherin—"
"I think we can wait for further discussion, boy," the ghost interrupted. "You need to see to him, now," he said, indicating Draco, who was having to force his eyes to stay open, now.
Harry sighed and nodded, grateful to the ghost. "Thank you, sir," he said.
"I'm fine," Draco protested, but he had to admit, if only to himself, that he'd welcome a lie-down.
"Scathi," Harry said to his phoenix, ignoring his lover's protestations, "will you please teach me how to take Draco with me, now?" He had been asking ever since Draco had first mentioned the possibility. Scáthfánaí had admitted that it could be done, but had refused to tell Harry how, just for the fun of frustrating Draco.
The phoenix, who had been been silently watching all the goings-on with intent interest, gave a soft trill, then jumped off the top of the chair where he'd perched, flapping his wings for balance, and climbed onto Draco's lap so he could look Harry in the eyes. Draco looked his irritation at being used as a perch, but in the interests of being able to accompany Harry to more places, kept his peace.
Almost a minute later, Harry nodded. "Thank you, Scathi," he said.
"You do know that 'Scathi' means 'scathing', don't you?" Salazar asked, amused.
"No, sir, I didn't," Harry replied, also amused due to the mock fights Scathi got into with Draco. "His name's Scáthfánaí, but that's a bit unwieldy for everyday use."
"'Shadow Rambler'? A fitting name, for a Night Phoenix."
"Thank you, sir. And now I'm afraid I'm going to have to douse the lights."
"Of course, boy!" the ghost replied.
"Nox!" With Harry's intent, the torches in the Chamber and the corridor were also doused. The house elves had their own magic that they'd use to light up the area when they came.
With the lights out, Harry made use of the new knowledge Scathi had vouchsafed him, and took Draco to his rooms, where he helped undress his husband and put him to bed. He had studying to do, or he'd have joined Draco in his nap.
Greg and Vince turned up at Harry's rooms about a half-hour late, breadcrumbs on their robes telling the tale. If they were being paid, Harry would have fired them.
"You're late," Harry said flatly. "When I say I want to see you, I do not mean at your convenience." He wasn't quite angry enough for his eyes to change, but it was close.
"We were hungry," Vincent complained, almost whinging.
"And it was so thoughtful of you to bring a bit of something for Draco and me, too," Harry said sarcastically.
Both large boys blushed.
"Where is Draco?" Greg asked.
"Napping," Harry snapped, putting an end to further questions.
"Not with you lot making such a racket," Draco's peevish voice said from the door to the bedroom. He had slipped on a silk dressing robe – one of Harry's.
"Sit down," Harry directed the two hulks, following his own advice. Draco came over to Harry, but instead of sitting in Harry's lap as he would have done if they were alone, he perched on the arm of the overstuffed chair Harry was in, adopting quite a regal pose.
Harry turned his head to whisper into Draco's ear. "You might have slipped on a pair of pyjama pants, you know."
"It's only Crabbe and Goyle," Draco replied negligently.
Harry regarded his husband for a second, then shrugged, turning back to the boys in question.
Over the majority of the next hour, Harry and Draco, with occasional input from one or the other of the large boys, hammered out a schedule.
"We'll see you two early tomorrow then, right?" Harry 'asked'.
"Yes, sir," Crabbe and Goyle both answered.
"Don't be late," Draco put in.
"Wouldn't think of it," Greg replied.
After seeing Draco's bodyguards out, Harry turned to find Draco . . . pouting?
What's wrong, love?" Harry asked.
"You they call 'sir': but me?" Draco complained, "Now I'm just another pupil."
Harry laughed lightly at him, giving Draco a brief hug and a kiss on his cheek. "I'm sure they still hold a high regard for you, love. Come on; get dressed, and let's see what we can scrounge out of the kitchen."
"Did I sleep through supper?" Draco asked.
Harry shrugged. "No, but I thouht that if we go to the kitchen, you can get something you'd really enjoy eating."
"You know where it is?"
"For a few years now," Harry admitted.
The house elves were delighted that Harry had again dropped in on them in the kitchen, but as supper for the rest of the school was being prepared to be served, they didn't have the time to spend with Harry that they wished they could, and merely made sure that both boys were loaded with everything they asked for, plus a bit. Although they didn't ignore Draco, it was obvious he wasn't as popular with them as Harry was.
Draco didn't really care, for once. He had platters of delicacies that he hadn't had for years, and some that he'd only heard of before and had wished to be able to taste. He couldn't wait to get back to Harry's rooms and start sampling the goodies.
Since the corridors were getting busy with students heading up to the Great Hall, Harry stretched his abilities and pulled Draco and the trays of food into a shadow walk, to avoid letting others see the largesse they'd been bestowed with. He was tired when he brought them out of it in his rooms, but feeling victorious.
Scathi, however, warned Harry that he needed to build up his mental 'muscle' slowly. If he overextended himself he might be stuck in shadow form for quite a while, until he could be rescued.
Harry was feeling too good about his accomplishment to let Scáthfánaí's warning ruin his good mood, but he filed it away in his mind for further consideration.
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