((A.N. Yes, this really is an update. Contrary to popular belief, I am not dead. :) I should be updating regularly from now on, since Part III is finally finished. If you need a recap: the Ambassadors just left Beuxbatons and set out for Hogwarts. Well, enjoy this update and look forward to one next week.))
PART III: SOMEWHERE IN BETWEEN
The decision to kiss for the first time is the most crucial in any love story. It changes the relationship of two people much more strongly
than even the final surrender; because this kiss already has within it that surrender.
- Emil Ludwig
Chapter 21; Hello to Hogwarts
The arrival at Hogwarts was not nearly as joyous as Hermione had expected. As they stepped off the train, she was reminded painfully of the harsh segregation of their school. The Slytherins and Gryffindors stood on opposite sides of the station, casting furtive glances at one another. She watched as the Slytherins greeted Draco. Pansy threw her arms around him and planted a kiss on his cheek. He smiled a small smile at her antics and set her down firmly. The other Slytherins seemed just as happy to see him. He was, after all, their unspoken leader.
The welcome from the Gryffindors was no less exuberant. Ron stood at the front of them, and when he saw them he hugged Hermione and then shook hands with Harry and clapped his shoulder in that complicated way boys had. He hugged Ginny as well. Hermione frowned. He had given her a tentative hug, almost a beseeching hug. Ron was never cautious, especially where Harry and Hermione were concerned.
Hermione felt her stomach clench with a sense of wrongness. Something was off about Ron. She would have to ask him if he was feeling alright later. She glanced across the crowded train station and saw Draco surrounded by friends. Is this how it will always be? she thought. A hundred people standing between us? Draco never even looked back.
I don't need him, he was never anything to me, Hermione began convincing herself immediately. He is my enemy, nothing more.
"What are you looking at, Hermione?" Parvati asked her suddenly.
Hermione snapped out of it and turned her gaze on Parvati. "Nothing," she said truthfully.
"I hope that git Malfoy didn't give you three too much trouble," Dean commented as Ron, Ginny, Harry, Parvati, Hermione, Seamus, Neville, and Lavender walked up to the castle.
"Not the kind of trouble you think," Hermione muttered under her breath.
"What?" asked Lavender, always on the lookout for gossip.
"Not too much trouble. The usual," Hermione replied loudly.
She did not fail to notice Harry's relative silence on this subject.
"Harry," said Dean, serious for once, "something's happened."
"What?" asked Harry, his face full of concern. "What's happened?"
"Blaise Zabini has gone missing. The Slytherins are blaming it on Gryffindor and the Order," Neville said. "Tensions have really heated up between us and Slytherin. And . . ."
"And what?"
"There have been some rumors of war . . . take over . . . whispers of the final battle. You lot have been out of the country, but Muggles and Muggle-borns in Britain are sometimes being killed on sight by Death Eaters. No place seems safe anymore but Hogwarts."
Hermione watched Ron pull his coat closer around himself and hunch his shoulders way from the wind. He kept his eyes on the ground.
"Even Hogwarts isn't completely safe," Lavender added in. "Gryffindors and Slytherins get into brawls in the halls regularly, and the teachers don't know how to prevent it."
"You guys chose the wrong time to leave," Seamus told them. "We needed you."
"We've needed you, Draco. It's been awful. Some sixth year Gryffindors attacked a third year . . . he's still in the hospital wing," Pansy said softly. "Everyone's scared to death."
Draco shook his head. "Unbelievable."
"We're sure that the Order had something to do with Blaise's disappearance," Pansy continued angrily. "The Gryffindors deny it, but they've become more vicious than ever. I want you to call a truce. We can't have any more of this."
Avery touched Pansy's arm. "Leave us for a minute, will you, Pansy?" he asked, and gave her a meaningful look. He dropped his voice. "Death Eater business."
She looked at Draco beseechingly, but he shook his head.
"I'll talk to you about it later," he said softly, and she walked away icily. She hated being left out of their conversations. Draco constantly had to remind himself that it was for her own good.
"Let's take a walk," offered Nott. Draco, Avery, and Nott started on a slow course around the lake.
"We wanted to fill you in on what's happening," Nott started. "Frankly, we suspect that our Lord is engineering the final takeover."
"Are you serious?" asked Draco. He had heard nothing about this.
"Our fathers have become increasingly confident and excited. Something is happening. We figured you would know more about it than us. You're the highest ranking Death Eater at this school."
"Keep your voice down," Draco admonished. Then, "My father was acting odd also."
The sudden talk of politics seemed surreal to Draco. He was so used to dealing with Krum and Fleur and Hermione, so used to talk about the murder and the Ambassadors.
"Then it's true," said Avery softly, awe and triumph in his voice. "This is it. The last battle. Lord Voldemort promised that all Muggles would be killed. If this really is the last battle, we're going to rule the world."
"And the Muggle-borns?" Draco asked.
"What?"
"The Muggle-borns. What is our Lord going to do with them?" He couldn't imagine why his heart was pounding so hard.
"Slaves, every one of them," Avery said proudly. "Groveling at our feet, ashamed and broken where they've always belonged. The half-bloods will become lower class citizens, and only Purebloods will rule. The age of Muggles is ending, Draco. The age of Wizards will begin."
FACT: The Druids religiously worshiped a 'snake god', which was called 'Draconita.'
Salazar Slytherin was buried under Stonehenge.
Lupin could not believe it.
One of the most famous places in the world held one of the most notorious Dark Wizards of all time. It was brilliant because everyone had overlooked Stonehenge as too obvious of a place for Slytherin's burial.
It generated more questions than it answered, however. Why had no one discovered his grave, and how did the powerful object relate to Salazar Slytherin?
As Lupin had researched the Druids, he had also come across many odd coincidences that had to do with the tale of King Arthur. He had long assumed the story to be only a legend. The first and largest coincidence was that the final battle of King Arthur had taken place on Salisbury Plain. Salisbury Plain also happened to be the place that Stonehenge rested. Was there a correlation?
There was a great deal of information about Arthur's son, Mordred, who had in the end killed his own father in the Last Battle. Mordred had also been dealt a deathly wound, and had apparently been buried very near where he had been killed. He was often called Mordred the Traitor.
Was it possible that there were two famous figures buried at Stonehenge, Mordred and Slytherin?
He decided to research Modred a bit more, because the Centaur had mentioned 'The Once and Future King' in the Prophecy. He took a seat in the Hogwarts Library, hoping that he did not look overly conspicuous. He opened a book titled Way More than You Ever Need To Know About the Legend of King Arthur. Why were books named so poorly?
Mordred the Traitor.
Born circa 490 AD. Died 537 AD. Was killed by his father on Salisbury Plain, and had an elaborate burial ceremony close to the site that he was killed.
Little is known about Mordred's earlier life, only that he was shunted from his father's Kingdom at the age of seventeen. The sword that Mordred stabbed King Arthur with is rumored to be one of the most notorious objects in the known world. Thousands have searched for this long lost relic, which is presumed to be buried along with Mordred himself.
"Professor Lupin?" came a bemused voice, shocking Lupin out of his book.
He looked up to see Ron Weasely staring at him disbelievingly. An easy grin came over Ron's face as he recognized the Professor.
"Good day, Ronald," Lupin said politely.
"What brings you here, Professor?" Ron said , obviously pleased to see his old acquaintance. "I haven't seen you in a long time!"
"I was talking to your Headmaster, actually," Lupin said diplomatically.
"Were you?" questioned Ron. "What about?"
"Well, it is a bit of a secret . . ." Lupin started, but did not wish to make the boy feel excluded. "I'm sure you'll find out soon."
Ron nodded wisely. "What are you researching there, Professor? King Arthur?"
Lupin cursed himself for leaving books out where people could see them. "Yes," he said with a smile. Ron sat down opposite of him and picked up a book.
"Oddest thing, Professor, we're studying the legend of King Arthur in school right now! The story is actually true, but no one can seem to figure out whether Arthur was a Muggle or Wizard. What do you think?"
Lupin paused. "I was actually reading the strangest account of the life of Mordred, and I can't help book notice the oddest coincidences between–"
But he cut himself off as he realized that he was not supposed to share his ideas too freely. Laughter sounded from outside of the library, and it was obvious that classes had resumed again.
"Between what?" Ron asked, obviously curious.
Lupin smiled. "Perhaps I will tell you one day when it means that I will not be keeping you from your real classes. Off with you, now, or you'll be late."
Ron's eyes flashed dangerously. He didn't look miffed, he looked downright angry. "Promise to tell me later, Professor."
He walked off without another word.
Lupin immediately opened a reference book that held Salazar Slytherin's information in it.
Salazar Slytherin, circa 496-537 AD.
He glanced incredulously at the other book.
Mordred the Traitor.
Born 495 AD, died 537 AD.
Words came back to him swiftly.
Little is known about Mordred's early years . . .
Very little has been discovered about the later years of Slytherin . . .
Some say Slytherin may have changed his name, others say . . .
Thousands have searched for this long lost relic, which is presumed to be buried with Mordred himself.
Slytherin is buried at Stonehenge.
Modred died and was buried on Salisbury Plain.
Stonehenge lies on Salisbury Plain.
A gunshot exploded in Lupin's ears. He came to the startling realization that there was one fact that even Dumbledore had overlooked.
Mordred is Slytherin! It isn't that two people were buried at Stonehenge, just one. They're the same person. And this means that . . . Slytherin is king Arthur's son. Salazar Slytherin killed King Arthur. King Arthur killed him.
And finally, the pieces came together. The long lost relic was Mordred's sword, the very one that he had slain King Arthur with. It was the most powerful and evil magical ever object created, and also the sword of legends. Voldemort was looking for it.
Lupin stood up dazedly and went to talk to Dumbledore for what seemed like the thousandth time.
Harry felt glad to be home, despite the relative state of war he had been thrust into. Hogwarts was just as grandiose as the other two schools, in its own fashion. It had a warm grandeur and an ancient aspect that characterized it with charm beyond dark Durmstrang and imposing Beauxbatons. The charm of Hogwarts lie in its spontaneity, in its oddity. He liked his own school infinitely better.
Hermione, sitting next to him, cast a discreetly worried glance toward the Slytherin table.
It was dinnertime, and Harry smiled politely at something Renae told him. The Beauxbatons group had chosen to dine with the Gryffindors, while Durmstrang felt at home near the Slytherins. He kept a careful eye on all of the Ambassadors; after all, it was helpful to know where his enemies were. One of them was a murderer.
Harry stood up suddenly. "I thought about what you said, Seamus. I'm going to make a truce with Slytherin. Or I'm going to try."
"Do you want someone to come with you?" Dean asked immediately.
"No. I can handle it," Harry said.
A smile came over Seamus's face. "That's the Harry we've needed all this time. But be careful. The Slytherins are . . ."
"I will," said Harry with a mirthless smile. He couldn't have innocent young Gryffindors getting hurt over a feud that belonged to their parents.
"My," said Fleur, and fanned her face. "Ze French Ambassadors 'earby declare zemselves neutral to all of zese inter-house rivalries. Very unmannerly, if you ask me." She raised her nose imperiously.
The majority of the Gryffindor students at the table ignored her.
Harry approached the Slytherin table with no trace of fear. Draco seemed to know of his presence, and turned around, his eyes as malicious as Harry remembered them.
"I want a word with you, Malfoy," Harry announced, crossing his arms. He radiated far more power than he realized.
Draco looked nonchalant, but some of the other Slytherins had their hands on their wands. Did they really think he would attack Malfoy in front of the teachers? Had it gotten that bad?
"Just one word?" Draco questioned sarcastically. "I knew Gryffindors weren't good at forming coherent sentences, but this is just . . ." Laughter rang out behind him.
"Cut the pitiful act and get up, Malfoy. I said I wanted to talk to you," Harry snapped fiercely. The Slytherins around him shifted defensively.
Draco's eyes turned to ice. "If I feel like it, I might talk to you after dinner. Now get out of here. You're contaminating Pureblood air."
Harry stared at Draco with intensity, but nothing had flickered on the Slytherin's cold and disdainful face. Harry shook his head, and turned to leave. Draco was the same as ever. For one moment, Harry had been convinced that he had changed.
"So?" Dean asked as Harry took a seat at the Gryffindor table.
"I'm talking to him after dinner, apparently," Harry spat.
"Same old Malfoy," he heard Hermione say softly. There was a trace of sadness in her voice. Why did Harry find himself wishing it wasn't true?
Draco appeared in the hallway after dinner, as he had said he would. Harry waited there for him, stony faced. They decided to talk outside, away from prying eyes and ears. Whispers flew through the air; Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were negotiating.
"Is anyone following you?" Harry asked abruptly, when they were out of hearing.
"No," Draco said honestly, and narrowed his eyes. "What about you?"
Harry shook his head and glanced around quickly. Why did he feel as if he were being watched?
"I hear some of your sixth years attacked a defenseless Slytherin third year," Draco said with soft malice. "Your house becomes exceedingly more pathetic."
"And yet we can never seem to surpass the pathetic Slytherins. Do you really blame the Gryffindors for Blaise's disappearance? How stupid can you get, Malfoy?"
The two young men glared, and were sharply reminded of why they hated one another. In France and Bulgaria, it had been easy to pretend that there was no Slytherin, no Gryffindor, no animosity. But at Hogwarts, they were like two generals of warring nations. They were helplessly pitted against one another on the brink of war. Friendship wasn't unlikely, it was impossible.
"I do not believe anything of the sort, Potter. As you always have, you generalize beyond all rationality."
"And you, Malfoy, make snide rhetorical comments when I am only looking for a word of truth."
"Then you will look forever. Truth is the biggest lie of all, Potter. It's honest people like you that don't understand that."
"I think you're deluded, Malfoy. You lie so much that you don't even know the meaning of truth anymore."
"Is there a difference between delusion and truth? Perception is reality, after all."
"If perception is reality, then how is it that you and I see the same Snitch as you do on the quidditch pitch?"
"The Slytherins weren'tat fault."
"Don't try to change the subject."
"I didn't."
"You did," said Harry fiercely.
"Maybe I did," replied Draco in a soft voice. "You were winning."
A ghost of a smile flitted across Harry's face, but he was quickly sobered by the fact that he had smiled at Draco. The old Draco. The one he couldn't trust.
"Look, Potter," Draco started in condescending tone, "as much as I would love to pound the pulp out of you Gryffindors, I am fortunately not as brash and single-minded as your substandard acquaintances, and though the notion of an accord has never been previously aforementioned, I am under the impression that it would benefit both my superior entourage and your uncultivated contemporaries."
Harry was silent after that. "Did I hear you propose a truce somewhere in that load of bullshit?"
"To put it in moronic Gryffindor terms, precisely."
"Then, yes," answered Harry, "your house drops their accusations about Blaise Zabini and we promise not to attack any more Slytherins. That is, of course, if you behave yourselves as well."
"It's a deal, then," Draco said. Harry stuck out his hand in a chivalrous fashion.
Draco smirked. "Like I would shake your hand," he added after a moment, before he walked away.
Harry stared after Draco, a frown fixed on his face as he stood alone by the lake. Eventually the frowned turned into a small smile, and he followed Draco inside.
"If you need anything, my room is down the hall on your left," Hermione said, keeping her eyes focused on Renae. When she looked at Fleur she felt too much like a maid or stewardess. The French Ambassadors had been given some old, unused guest rooms near the Head Boy and Girl dormitories.
"Thank you, Hermione," Renae said graciously. "Your castle is beautiful, once again."
"We're honored to have you," Hermione replied with equal eloquence. She could practically feel Fleur roll her eyes as she turned to walk away.
Hermione made her way quickly to her Head Girl dorm, relieved to be back at Hogwarts. She didn't notice a shadow slip in behind her as she muttered the password and entered her room. On her bed, luggage was strewn around messily. She hated messes, and vowed to unpack in the morning. Haphazardly, Hermione dug through her luggage to find a nightdress.
Loosening her hair from its bun, she undid the first three buttons of her blouse.
"You really should be more careful with your password," came a voice from behind the wardrobe. She gasped in surprise and groped for her wand. "This is a time of war. Just about anyone could have gotten in here to snoop around, murder you . . . watch you undress."
Draco stepped out from behind the wardrobe, a contemplative expression on his face.
"Malfoy!" she said indignantly. "Of all the gall . . .! How dare you sneak into my room!"
"I thought it was rather chivalrous," he said with a smirk, "to make myself known before you lost the shirt. Who knows, maybe Potter is rubbing off on me."
"Harry never would have done it in the first place," she retorted. "Now what in the name of Merlin are you doing here?"
"I wanted to see you," Draco said innocently, his gaze downcast. "And I can't exactly walk up to you in the Great Hall, now can I?"
"You certainly can't," she said sternly. "Malfoy, I don't think you get it. We're enemies. I can't trust you with anything. Our houses are at war and you expect me to believe that you . . . what? Wanted to see me? You're probably a spy!"
"I know we're enemies," Draco answered seriously. "I've known that for a long time. I think it's you that just realized."
The slightest bit of uncertainly slipped into her features. Her face softened.
"I thought you had gone back to normal," she said a little more quietly.
Apparently he took this as an invitation to stay, and sat casually on her bed. She stepped away from the bed and from him.
"What is normal?" he asked expansively.
"Will you stop with the philosophical questions? They make you seem so jaded."
"I am jaded. Anyone who stays in this world long enough gets jaded. I already see it beginning in your precious Potter."
Hermione frowned. "I don't believe that Harry's jaded. Not jaded like you."
"Potter sees things exactly as I do. He has experienced as many awful things as I have. I see them staring back at me when I look into his eyes," Draco said, and met her gaze. She saw nothing staring back at her. Eyes were a window to the soul, and she saw nothing in his eyes.
"Harry hasn't seen awful things. Well, some," Hermione reasoned, "but not many more than me. He tells me everything."
Draco laughed at that, an awful chuckle. "He does not tell you everything. He cares too much about his favorite girl to do that. He only tells you what he wants you to know."
The way he sneered favorite girl had some other connotation. Anyone but Draco Malfoy, and she would have suspected he was jealous.
"That's not true," she said furiously. "You don't know him."
"Neither do you," Draco responded. Usually that wouldn't have hurt her. Recently, however, Harry had become steadily more reserved. It did hurt.
"No," Hermione said vehemently, at last regaining her footing. She never lost an argument. "But I do know that there is a difference between Harry and you. It's true that you may have seen equally terrible things, but the way you see them is completely different. You, Malfoy, you watch these horrendous events explode around you, and you know what? You accept them. You accept that this is the way things are supposed to be, that humans are inherently evil, that nothing can be done. But Harry? Harry believes in redemption for the human race. He looks at bad individuals and thinks, 'You know what? This isn't how people really are. Somewhere there's something good in humans.' Redemption of the individual and redemption of the whole. He believes that things can be better. He has to," she finished.
"Redemption . . ." Draco started, but ceased quickly as a contemplative expression came into his eyes. "Hell, maybe you're right, Granger. Maybe you're actually right."
"Maybe I am," she said quietly. Maybe I'm not.
"Philosophical discussions aside," Draco intoned, "I came here to say that this whole Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry thing really isn't fun. Even though we're back at Hogwarts, I can't stop thinking about you. I don't want to end whatever weird thing it is we have going on."
There was only a short pause before Hermione replied, "Neither do I."
"Come somewhere with me," Draco pressed. "Tomorrow night. I swear you won't regret it."
The look in her eyes was all the answer he needed.
Draco shut her door and laughed. He thought he was doing good. Sickeningly agreeable personality? Check. Acting like a gentleman? Check. Letting her win the argument? Check.
Things were going well.
((A.N. Next chapter is riddled with house elves, magical forest clearings, and romance. Review?))