Harry Potter

and the

Oracle of Four Seasons

Chapter 21

The Legend of the Four Hallows

by Ri-kun

The week was nearly over, thankfully. Harry wasn't sure he could take much more of this. At the moment, his arm was killing him. The burn mark on his left cheek stung worse than a bite from one of Hagrid's old Blast-Ended Skrewts, and his leg still felt numb. Needless to say, the latest meeting of the Defense Association hadn't gone well.

Ginny was helping him along up to the hospital wing. He'd insisted on doing it himself, but after nearly falling twice when his leg abruptly decided to no longer support his weight, he finally swallowed his pride and allowed her to lead him along. It was embarassing, but Ginny was being a good sport about it. More to the point, she'd used her weight to keep him from slumping over when he nearly rolled back down the stairs. The numbness in his leg was getting much worse, and becoming more frequent. Hopefully, Madame Pomfrey could sort it out. She'd never failed before.

On top of all his other injuries, Harry had a headache. This was more due to Ron and Hermione arguing with each other the whole week than anything physical. At first, he'd hope this was nothing more than just another of their little spats. Since they'd begun dating, Harry had expected things like this to occur. As the week went on, however, he'd begun to wonder. Things had really taken a turn for the worse an hour ago while they were practicing some advanced combat spellcasting Harry had worked out when he should have been sleeping. That was another problem. With so much on his mind, he was finding less and less time to relax.

As if on cue, the Time-Turner tucked underneath his robes pressed into his chest. The cool metal served yet again to remind him of how he could change all that. Harry had made it a point to keep the device close to him at all times. Remembering his third year and what Hermione had said, it seemed like the lesser of the two evils to wear it around his neck than risk someone coming upon it by accident in his dorm. All manner of horrible things had flashed across his eyes when he'd first debated on putting it in his trunk. Wearing it only meant he was constantly aware of the power it gave him.

Harry had thought a lot about his parents this past week. His parents, and his godfather, Sirius. With the Time-Turner, it was within his ability to save them. He could travel back to the night in Godric's Hollow and stop Voldemort from murdering them both. He could turn time back to just before Sirius sailed through the black Veil. He might even be able to put a stop to Voldemort years before, so that none of this had to happen...

It was a lot to take in, and it all felt way too simple. That was the only thing that'd kept him from using it. He'd nearly given in to temptation several times throughout the day, but something always stopped him at the last second. Something about this wasn't right. For one thing, the Oracle had asked him to retrieve it for her. Harry still wondered if she was really helping him, or just using him to get something she needed. If the Time-Turner was that, then she wouldn't need him anymore. That shouldn't have bothered him, but then he thought of the vision she'd showed him in the Gazing Bowl of a young Tom Riddle. Like it or not, she had information he needed. It seemed doubtful at this point that he'd ever find anything out from someone else. For all he knew, this was just a trap the Oracle had set to test him.

When they reached the Hospital Wing, Ginny opened the door for him while helping Harry support himself. His leg had given out on him entirely now, leaving him with little other option but to lean on her. Silently, she helped him over to one of the beds. Then, after he was settled, Ginny busied herself by pulling down various bottles and wrappings. Madame Pomfrey was nowhere to be found.

"I've been helping out Madame Pomfrey a lot all year," she explained, when Harry had looked at her strangely. "It's been rought, especially since the DA has become an official club now and we're not hiding anymore."

"How come I've never seen you up here?" he wondered, as she laid out the bottles in a row, then drew her wand. "And don't you have O.W.L.s?"

"O.W.L.s aren't so bad," she replied, taking a look at his leg first. "Luna took hers over the summer so she could be moved up a year. She's been helping me out a lot. Kind of like how you use the Marauder's Manual, really? Hold still, by the way."

Harry did as she asked, feeling nervous for some reason. His leg was swollen and looked an awful shade of purple. A few minutes later, however, Ginny had the swelling reduced almost completely, and began pouring a glass of some bubbling red liquid for him to drink.

"Take this," she ordered. "It'll take the rest of the swelling down and make the leg look normal. You should probably avoid putting pressure on it for a few minutes. Now, let me have a look at your burn."

Harry obediently turned his head so she could see it. Ginny held his head in her hands very professional-like, studying it for a moment before reaching for a different bottle, this one filled with a violet-colored cream.

"It won't take much. This is supposed to be used for major burns, like the kind Charley gets when he's dealing with dragons. Just a drop should clear it up. You wouldn't want to have any other scars on your face, after all."

As Ginny dabbed the cream lightly over his cheek, she continued talking. "To answer your next question, you don't see me up here because you haven't been sent up to the Hospital Wing like you used to. Madame Pomfrey was talking about it before. She keeps going on about how you'd usually spend two weeks in here recovering from something or another. Every time the door opened, she kept expecting it to be you. I think your staying out of trouble is making her a little paranoid. She thinks since you've been steering clear of danger, the next time they bring you up here will be because you've been killed."

"Good thing she wasn't around," Harry said, jokingly. "What made you decide to help out?"

"Nothing, really," she answered, evasively. "I've given thought to becoming a Healer someday. It seems like it would be a good idea, especially for when I join the Order. I mean, I'd really rather be out there fighting alongside everyone else, but Fred and George would never allow it. I didn't mention any of this to Mum, because she's bad enough as it is."

Harry couldn't argue with that. "But I let it slip once to Fred that I was wondering about what I could be good for once I'm old enough to join. He and George both went ballistic. It was like listening to Mum talking twice as much at the same time."

Ginny laughed at that, and Harry joined her. "This seemed like the best way to still join up and keep them platicated. I don't want you to think I'm leaving the DA or anything, but Dumbledore will probably let me join the Order even if everybody protests, if I can stay out of the front lines. In case, you know, you haven't beaten Voldemort yet..."

Harry stiffened. "Are you hurt anywhere else?" she asked, carefully.

"My arm," he told her, lifting it just a little. "I don't know what happened, but one of the stray curses must have hit it."

"Sounds about right," Ginny nodded. "Can you take your shirt off?"

Harry froze, then shook his head, glad that the burn on his cheek made it impossible for her to notice he was blushing. "If I move it more than that, the pain becomes unbearable. It hurts bad enough just leaving it there."

"No problem," she said, pulling her wand out again. "This won't hurt a bit."

Ginny pressed the tip of her wand lightly against the front of his robes. Moving it upwards first, she cut the fabric open without uttering a sound. When his collor was sliced in half, she then moved back down to the top of his waste. His sleeves were next, and she was mindful, he noted, to not move his arm anymore than necessary the whole time. Before long, Harry was laying bare-chested in front of her. Ginny keep her eyes away from him as she disposed of the tattered remains of his robes.

"You'll have to order some more," she told him. "No way I can fix them..."

"Ginny."

"Maybe McGonagal can send away for some more..."

"Ginny."

"I'm just glad..."

"Ginny!"

Ginny looked at him, then. Holding his arm, Harry raised up out of the bed and climbed out of it. Ginny remained frozen where she was the whole time, her eyes fixed on Harry's naked chest. She swallowed hard as he stood in front of him, and looked away. Harry caught her chin in his hand, however, and held her gaze.

"I'm sorry," he told her.

"Harry," she mumbled, weakly. "You're arm... You're leg. You're not supposed to be on it."

"It doesn't hurt, Ginny." Harry watched as she tired desperately to avoid staring at him. He wasn't holding her too hard. It would've been a piece of cake for Ginny to pull herself away, or whip her wand out and hex him all over again.

"I should have said it a long time ago," he went on, when she didn't speak. "I never meant for it to happen. It wasn't something I ever expected, but..."

"Nothing," Ginny cut him off, flatly. "She got there first, fair and square."

"But you were hurt, and I basically ignored that. There were reasons for it, but now when I look back on it, that was still unfair of me."

"We were friends, Harry," she insisted, looking mad about something other than him. "That was more than I had for a long time. Just because..."

Ginny trailed off, then glared up at him. "What did I say about staying off your leg for a little while?" she glared, sounding remarkably like Molly Weasley just then. "Lay back down so I can take care of your arm. Madame Pomfrey will be back soon, and I doubt she'd be happy to see me taking over around here."

"You'd been helping her," Harry pointed out, stretching out on the bed again. "What's the problem?"

"I was an assistant, doing little more than passing things to her when she needed them," Ginny admitted, smirking. "When she wasn't around, though, I started reading through some of her books. When she wasn't around and people came in, I started helping out more. Madame Pomfrey still doesn't know, as far as I can tell."

Both of them laughed at that. "Can you believe all this started because Morgan offered to show Hermione how to duel properly under heavy fire?"

Harry nodded. "I know! I was over in the corner showing Neville and Luna the new charm technique when all hell broke loose. They'd been helping each other out a lot with DA spells, but needed me to point out what to do after the crossfire started. Suddenly, Ron is screaming for Morgan to keep his hands to himself. Then, the fight broke out."

"Luna and Neville have been spending a lot of time together," Ginny hinted, lifting his arm. "And Ron's been a right prat lately. I've been saying to Hermione how she should just leave if he doesn't straighten up."

"I just can't picture that, for some reason. It always seemed like those two were going to get together sooner or later."

"Maybe," Ginny admitted. "But now that they have, it all seems like it's going wrong. Maybe two people that fit together perfectly in theory don't really have anything in common with one another. If Hermione dumps Ron before our next Quidditch match, though, he's going to be a total wreck. I just hope she never lets slip how it was her spell that kept him on the team over Bloodguard."

"Would that ever be a disaster," Harry agreed, gravely.

"Speaking of which," Ginny added, as she got around to mending his arm. "Did you know that Bloodguard is still going around telling everyone that he belongs on the Gryffindor team?"

"That doesn't surprise me. Actually, I overheard him saying something along those lines one afternoon after Transfiguration. He kept comparing the way Ron played to one of the Harpies. A couple of girls laughed at it, but I really don't see any problem. It isn't as though he'll ever get to play."

"Thank goodness," she breathed, then pronounced him with a clean bill of health. "You should take it easy over the next few days. Honestly, I wouldn't object to you taking a week off altogether."

"I'll be fine," he assured her, touched by her concern.

"Seriously, Harry. You've been going through school, being Quidditch captain, Assistant Dark Arts Teacher, and leader of the DA..."

Not to mention working under the Oracle now, he thought.

"I hate to say this, but if you hadn't found the Marauder's Manual when you did, the work load would've crushed you. You're pushing yourself way too hard, and lately, it seems like you've had something on your mind. Have you been sleeping well lately?"

She would have to be this perceptive now. "I've just been thinking a lot lately," he lied, feeling bad for it. "It feels like we've all be hurtling towards something, and the only thing I can do is just sit here while the rest of the world fights."

Ginny hesitated, then placed a hand on his still-bare shoulder. "Everyone feels that way, Harry. I think that's why the whole DA has been so on edge recently. We all want to do something, but right now, the only thing we can do is wait. It's affecting all of us."

"And making some of us crazy," he added, thinking of Ron. "I still have to apologize to Professor Darkholme for the fight that broke out."

"She didn't look angry at you when we left," Ginny pointed out, running a finger absent-mindedly along his skin. "If it had been Snape, we would've never left the room in the shape we were in. He'd have done something much worse."

Harry could only agree. Being without Snape for a year had been one of the best parts of this year, even as hectic as it was. Thinking about it that way made him feel slightly guilty. A number of students were looking grim as of recently. There had been several more attacks, this time on areas that were filled with Muggles. A number of students had relatives in that area, though, and even one pure-blood Hufflepuff came out and stated that a woman that'd been found dead in her home, a victim of the Advada Kedavra curse, was an old family friend.

It was what had made him push himself so hard. All Harry had thought about in nearly a year was the prophecy, how he supposedly was the only one who could destroy Voldemort, and what he could do to survive.

"Are you okay, Harry?" Ginny asked, shaking him out of his morbid thoughts. "You looked really distracted for a minute there."

"Nothing," he said hurriedly, then abruptly changed his mind. "Everything."

"You need to relax. This year has been hard on all of us, but you're taking it way too personally."

"I have to," he insisted. "If I don't..."

"Voldemort and the prophecy," she finished, knowingly. "I've been watching you for a long time, Harry. Whenever something is bothering you, it takes a drastic course of action to shake you out of it. You always dwell on the bad things too much. It's time something good happened for a change."

"Let me know when you see it."

"That's it," she declared, putting everything away with a wave of her wand. "I want you to go get your Firebolt and meet me down on the Quidditch pitch in half an hour. Don't ask questions, just do it for me. Please."

Ginny left before he could protest. Harry followed after her, but there was no sign of her when he exited out into the corridor. She had undoubtedly known he would follow after her, and must have taken an alternate route. Harry pulled out the Marauder's Map, which he'd taken to carrying around with him at all times these days, and scanned for the dot with Ginny's name next to it. Ginny had just exited out of a side passage that led down from the hallway where Harry stood. Now, she was heading towards the library. Curious, he watched her for a moment as she approached Luna Lovegood's dot, then folded the map up.

He wanted to spy on her a little more, admittedly. It was much more enjoyable than what he'd originally planned to do, but Harry wanted to get it over with as soon as possible. He might not be dealing with Snape anymore, but that didn't mean Professor Darkholme didn't have the grounds to punish him for what happened. As Harry wandered back down towards the Dark Arts classroom, he passed a half-opened door that led into one of the empty storage closets. A flash of sunlight struck a mop of red hair inside, making Harry pause and turn around. Looking through the door, he spotted a tall, lanky prefect snogging another girl passionately, who's arms were wrapped tightly around his neck.

Ron was kissing Hermione with a feverish intensity, which seemed to more than make up for his lack of technique as far as she was concerned. The two pawed at one another through their Hogwarts robes for a moment. Hermione let out an uncharacteristic squeak as Ron reached down between her legs, but didn't push him away. Harry blushed, and started to back away, when something occured to him.

There was something wrong with the scene in front of him, and it only took a second to figure out what. Ron had been blocking much of his view, and up until that point, Harry hadn't gotten a good look at the girl hiding behind him. Light was coming in from the window above them, however, and now Harry saw what was so very wrong. The hair atop the girl's head was blonde, and nowhere near bushy enough. Moreover, she was several inches taller than Hermione, only needed to stand on her tiptoes to reach Ron's lips. Harry's throat went dry, and a boiling rage welled up from within him.

Before he could stop himself, he had his wand out. The spell was in his mind before he had time to think about it. A bright flash lit the tip of it, and the door was sent flying inward towards them like a battering ram. Bits of stone splintered as well from the force of it. Ron and the very surprised seventh year girl both whirled around in shock to find Harry staring daggers at them both from inside the door frame. He must have made quite the sight just then. Going by the look on Ron's face, he couldn't decide whether to be more alarmed at being caught by Harry, or the murderous gaze Harry was currently shooting at him.

"Harry..." Ron began.

"Silencio," Harry cried out, muting Ron's protests. "How could you, Ron? How could you do this to her?!"

Ron, of course, couldn't answer, but that didn't stop him from trying. All that came out were a lot of muffled 'umphs' and 'dffts', followed by hysterical hand-waving motions, which Harry suspected were demands for him to remove the spell. Harry didn't, however, and Ron responded to this by drawing his own wand. All he managed to do was send sparks flying out, none of which reached anywhere near where Harry stood. The seventh year took one look between the two of them, and made a mad dash for the door. Harry allowed her to pass without so much as a word. His eyes were glued to Ron at the moment.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, Harry lowered his wand. Ron's face relaxed as Harry slipped it away within his robes, and walked calmly up to him. The look that was in his old friend's eyes was unfathomable. Harry gazed into it for a moment, trying to work out what he wanted to say, trying to understand where he'd gone wrong that things would end up this way. Nothing came, though.

Ron was staring at him hesitantly now, relieved that Harry wasn't going to hex him. The look made him smile for some unfathomable reason. Turning to the side, slightly, Harry reared back and soundly punched Ron directly in the face. A loud crack filled the closet, and blood splattered across Ron's face from his nose, covering everything from his eyebrows to his chin in blood. Harry thought he hadn't put much force behind it. This was proven wrong when Ron went sailing back and crashed into the wall, banging the back of his head against a low support beam in the process. The sick thud was matched only by the sound Ron made as he crumpled in a heap onto the floor.

Harry looked down at him, his eyes widening in shock. Blood smeared the knuckles on his fist. None of them were bleeding, however.

There wasn't so much as a scratch.

*****

All in all, it was a miserable ending to an otherwise thoroughly horrid day. Harry never did get to apologize to Professor Darkholme for the fight that had broken out under his watch, or meet Ginny down by the Quidditch pitch. He'd spent the rest of the day watching over Ron, who was currently sleeping up in the Hospital Wing. Madame Pomfrey had given him a strange look when he'd carried Ron in, still unconscious from the punch. He'd simply laid Ron out on one of the beds and stepped back to allow her room to work. In the end, Madame Pomfrey was able to revive Ron and set his nose right. The blood smeared across his face had been cleaned up, and for a long time, all they did was stare at one another. Eventually, Ron lapsed into a deep sleep, but not before giving Harry a message.

"Don't tell Hermione."

Ginny and Hermione both were waiting for Harry when he finally went down for dinner in the Great Hall. Most of the other students had cleared out already, so they were alone. Neville gave him a wave, and immediately noticed the look on Harry's face. Luna came over just as Harry sat down, and Neville quickly made room for her.

"Where were you?" Ginny asked, sounding very worried. "There's a rumor going around that Ron is in the Hospital Wing and you had something to do with it."

"Yeah," he nodded, emptily. "Sorry about earlier."

"Harry, what happened?" Hermione demanded. "Matilda Berthshaw, the seventh year, is going around telling anyone who will listen that you tried to kill Ron earlier. I told her if she didn't shut up I would place a secret boy-repelling jinx on her, so she'd never snog again. Of course, there isn't such a thing as a boy-repelling jinx..."

"Yes, there is," Luna cut in. "It's pronounced 'Masculinis Repellexium'. Daddy used it once when two older boys from the neighborhood wouldn't stop flirting with me. He said I was much too young for dating."

She smiled secretly towards Neville as she said this, making him blush. "Anyway," Hermione went on, sounding very annoyed. "What happened with you and Ron?"

Harry didn't see how he could get out of telling them. There was still food left over, but his stomach had all the consistency of lead at the moment. With that, Harry pushed his plate away and began explaining. Hermione looked shocked at first, and then angry. By the time he'd finished, there were tears in her eyes.

"Excuse me," she whispered, sniffing. "I need to..."

The tears were rolling down her face before she could finish. Harry stood up to go after her, but Ginny quickly stopped him. "Let me," she said, gently. "Luna, would you mind terribly much?"

Luna merely stood up and followed after her, stopping only to pat Neville on the back playfully as she walked past. Neville smiled at her, then waited until both were well out of earshot before leaning in towards Harry.

"You punched Ron through a wall?!" he demanded, incredulously. "How did that happen?"

"Not through a wall," Harry corrected. "Just into one. Mind you, it was a few feet behind him."

"Still," Neville said, looking impressed. "When did you get to be so strong, Harry? I wouldn't mind knowing, to tell you the truth." His eyes darted back towards where Luna had left with Ginny. "Just, you know, strickly for school purposes. Pulling apart those Mugwump roots for Professor Sprout gets tiresome after a bit."

"Oh, yeah," Harry nodded, in spite of himself. "I'm sure."

Try as he might, Harry couldn't keep from laughing. "I don't know how I did it," he admitted, when they'd both calmed down. "But it's happened before, on the train when I got into the fight with Malfoy."

"Speaking of which," Neville said, moving in closer again. "Have you noticed Malfoy lately?"

Harry had actually spent a good bit of time noticing Malfoy. Or, to be more specific, the house-elves had. Dobby had reported back to him several times, all with the same news. Something was obviously going on with Draco, but whatever it was, it wasn't happening inside the castle walls. Since school had started back, however, the changes in him had become far more obvious to even the most unobservant person.

Malfoy had gone from pale to a sick, ghostly white. Dobby reported him spending a lot of time away from the Slytherin common room, wandering around aimlessly in the hours before bedtime. Not once had he been late getting back, however, nor had he been caught by any of the Aurors patrolling the grounds. This bothered Harry more than he cared to admit. The worse part about it, though, was he couldn't bring himself to approach him. Malfoy had obviously been marked as a Death Eater. The dagger he remembered seeing in Malfoy's hands when Harry had been under the Invisibility Cloak must have been bloodied up because of him trying to cut off the Dark Mark. Whatever Voldemort was having him do, or planned to use him for, was taking it's toll. These days, Draco Malfoy looked to be on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

The question that haunted Harry was, should he bother doing anything about it?

A part of him wanted to say no. Admittedly, a very large part, but something inside Harry's gut told him he couldn't do it. In the end, Malfoy was being forced into this. That much was obvious, even without an Honor Guard to track his every step. Harry knew whatever horrible things Voldemort subjected Draco to were the result of Draco's own blind following of his father's mania. Still, even Malfoy didn't deserve this.

Well, he probably didn't, anyway.

Harry left with Neville, hoping that by the time they reached the Gryffindor common room, Ginny would have helped calm Hermione down. Or, at the very least, stopped her from marching right up to the Hospital Wing to reduce Ron's more affirmable man parts to ash. Much of him was still in shock over it, while another part was still trying to rationalize Ron's actions. A third part somewhere in the mix was still trying to sort out how all of this explained the way Ron had reacted earlier during their DA session.

Harry stopped just outside the Dark Arts room, causing Neville to bump into him. He'd thought earlier of talking with Professor Darkholme, before catching Ron en flagrant with the seventh year girl. Now, it made less sense for him to take the blame for something someone else started, especially someone who'd behaved like a right prat and then ran off to snog with a girl other than Hermione. Ron, if anything, was the one who should apologize. From the looks of things, he was going to be doing a lot of that. Nevertheless, Harry felt it was his responsibility to try and smooth things over with his Dark Arts teacher. Ron might not be thrown out if he put in a good word for him, though Harry himself wasn't quite sure if he should.

Which was why he still felt confused as he turned around to head towards Professor Darkholme's office. Neville followed him, confused about what Harry was doing. Harry didn't feel like explaining, though, and broke into a jog. Neville was still able to keep up with him, and only feel a few spaces behind as Harry approached the door. Something made him stop just a few steps away from it, however. Crouching, he motioned for Neville to do the same, and moved in closer.

The door was ajar, as though it'd been closed in haste. From inside, he could hear the sound of a woman moaning lowly as if in pain. Taking a chance, he crept up to the crack in the door and peered in. Neville peeked in over Harry's head, and received a full-on glimpse of what made Harry's jaw drop to the floor.

Draco Malfoy was stretched out across Professor Darkholme's desk, naked as the day he'd been born, with the Professor unclothed and straddled atop him as if he were a very thick broomstick. Malfoy had both hands on the Professor's hips, pushing her up with them as she raised herself off his cock. Sweat covered his forehead as she lowered herself back down on him, letting out a painful groan each time. Draco let go of her hips long enough to reach up and fondle her breasts, then raised up to run his tongue along one. Professor Darkholme leaned forward to give him better access, gasping as he licked and bit first one, then the other.

Harry found, to his utter shock, that he was completely aroused by the sight. Pulling back, he glanced upwards at Neville, who seemed unable or unwilling to tear his eyes off them. If poor Harry was embarassed, Neville looked red enough to compete with some of Sprout's Glow Buds. Much to his own shame, he peeked back around as both Darkholme and Malfoy slowed their pace a little.

"Was that enough?" Malfoy demanded, still moving in and out of her.

"Mmmm," the Professor groaned, raising up enough to where Harry and Neville could see how the two of them fit together. "A little bit more, I think. You were the one who came to me asking for help, if you'd recall."

"I need to know the secret," Draco insisted through clenched teeth as he shoved himself up in her hard. Professor Darkholme gasped in response. "You know the legend of the four treasures," he went on, using very carefully, controlled strokes. "Your study was in the myths and workings of magical artifacts. If anyone can tell me where I can find them, you can."

The Professor stopped for a moment, and leaned down over Draco again to look him in the eyes. "I know all about the legend, of course," she said, smugly. "More than most people would, anyway. That drew a number of young men like yourself to me when I was first here, seeking power and glory for themselves. Helping you find them is another matter, I'm afraid. I know nothing about where the Four Hallows, as they were called in my day, might be hidden. You're on your own there."

"Tell me, then," Draco whispered, moving inside of her once more. "The first one... It's supposed to be a chalice, right?"

"Hufflepuff's chalice," she answered between moans. "Pour even a drop of something into it, and it will release the same thing a hundred fold again and again, for as long as one needs it. Hundreds of thousands were said to have... been fed by it."

"And a sword," Malfoy growled, slamming his hips up into her. "Gryffindor's sword. Dumbledore is said to have it."

"A sword made of pure silver," she nodded, ridding him a little faster. "Like liquid light, it can cut down any foe so long as the cause of the wielder is just."

"What are the other two? Tell me, quickly."

Malfoy had begun to fuck her in earnest again. "Tell me of the one belonging to Slytherin!"

All the Professor could do at first was cry out incoherantly. Harry, meanwhile, was listening intently at what they were saying. Ignoring the sounds was no easy task, and he was sure Neville would think him a total prat by the time this was over, but Harry knew this was important. It was the second time someone had mentioned Hallows to him. Professor Darkholme knew what they were, and seemed very happy to give the information over in exchange for the right price.

"Gryffindor's sword," he said to himself.

The sword he himself had used four years ago to slay the basillisk down in the Chamber of Secrets. Harry knew it had belonged to Godric Gryffindor. Dumbledore had shown the inscription to him afterwards. From what Professor Darkholme was sharing with Draco, it sounded like the other three founders had items similar to it.

Darkholme abruptly let out a cry, shaking Harry from his thoughts. Looking into her office, he saw her with her head tossed back, screaming in mad passion. Malfoy had raised himself up off the desk as far as he could go, driving his shaft into her with a vengence. The both of them held that pose for a second, as though caught in a Muggle photograph, then collapsed on top of one another in a heap.

For a moment, neither one said anything. The Professor kept busy by placing light kisses over Draco's chest, and quietly lapping up the droplets of sweat beaded over his skin. Draco was perfectly still the whole time, looking tired as if he'd just played the Quidditch match of a lifetime. A strangely distance expression had fallen over his face, as though he were a million miles away, and didn't register Darkholme's presence anymore. When he finally gazed down at her, Harry pulled back a little and listened carefully.

"Slytherin," Malfoy reminded her. "What about the Hallow belonging to Slytherin?"

"A stone," she answered at once, between kisses.

Malfoy grasped the back of her head and made her look at him. "And?" he demanded. "What of it's powers?"

"The stone is different from the others," she said flatly, looking annoyed now. "All of the Hallows much chose their wielders, but the one that belonged to Slytherin is said to be especially particular."

"Of course," Draco replied, sure of himself. "Slytherin would never trust power to someone unworthy of it."

That made Professor Darkholme smile, for some reason. "The stone will grant enhanced magical prowess and power to it's wielder. Some people say it could heal the sick and the injured, much in a similar way that Hufflepuff's chalice did. The stone's greatest power, however, was said to be the ability to guide those who carried it to their destiny. In short, it granted luck at opportune moments. This is why some people in obscure circles referred to it as the Stone of Destiny."

Draco nodded, as if satisfied for the first time. "How about Ravenclaw?" he added, almost as an afterthought. "What shape did her Hallow take?"

"A spear," Professor Darkholme said, half-heartedly. "People who carried it in battle were guaranteed victory as long as it wasn't dropped. Death awaits anyone foolish enough to drop Ravenclaw's spear. Also, the spear has some strange insight embedded into it. People who have owned it throughout the years have gained insight into themselves and other things, usually anything associated with scholarship or warfare, but sometimes a handful of other areas, too."

"And that's all of them? All four of them together form the Four Hallows of Hogwarts?"

"Yes," she yawned, lazily. "Supposedly, when the four founders first came here to build Hogwarts, their means were very limited. Though all four were incredibly powerful in terms of magic and skill, that still didn't compensate for the lack of manpower. Plus, the castle was always in danger of attack by Muggles, who feared magic in any form. To counter this, all four founders forged artifacts of immeasurable power. Two for attack, and two for defense. They also cast spells on Hogwarts so that it could be used to defend their students in the event of a full-scale invasion. The chalice could feed the students in the event of a famine. The stone would heal any injury, and provide Salazar with understanding in what ways to best protect the children. Ravenclaw was the strategist and master planner, so her weapon opened the mind to new possibilities in battle, while Gryffindor's sword was full of might and courage, just like him."

"The stories surrounding them were quite popular at one time, particularly when I first taught here. The legend comes and goes, and I understand many students have spent their years here searching for them. What makes you think you'll find even one?"

In answer, Draco flipped her off him and stood up. "Because," he said, not looking her way. "I have no other choice."

Draco Malfoy was dressed in a moment. Harry and Neville took refuge behind a statue of a feminate male wizard trying to juggle pigs, watching as Draco stormed off back towards the Slytherin common room. Harry watched for a second, then pulled his wand out.

"Accio Invisibility Cloak!"

Draco whirled around at the sound, making Harry flatten himself against the wall beside the statue. When he looked again, Malfoy was gone. "What are we going to do, Harry?" Neville asked, as Harry stepped out into the corridor.

"I'm going to follow him," he stated. "This is what Voldemort sent Draco here to do. He wants him to find those four Hallows for him, so he can take over Hogwarts, or the Ministry of Magic, or both."

"Let me come with you. I can keep up, and I promise not to get in the way."

"It'll be dangerous," he warned, tapping his foot impatiently. His Cloak hadn't arrived yet, and they needed to get out of there before Malfoy got away, or Professor Darkholme came out of her office and spotted them.

"I can..." Neville began, but Harry ran off after Malfoy. His Invisibility Cloak would just have to catch up.

"I can keep up," he insisted, when he did catch up with Harry.

"Do you remember the Department of Mysteries?" Harry asked, without breaking his stride. "This could be just like that, or even worse."

"I know," Neville nodded. "That's why I want to go. Harry, none of us are going to die on you. You taught us all how to take care of ourselves. We're as strong as we are because of you."

"How do you even know I'm that strong?"

Harry wasn't sure why he asked that, but a second later, the Cloak swooped over their heads and landed on top of Harry. Straightening it over himself, he felt Neville drag part of it over his own head, until they were both completely covered. Behind them came the sound of footsteps, and the voices of Order members. Harry had the unfortunate timing to remember that the Cloak wasn't completely invisible when it wasn't being worn by someone. Naturally, something like this would attract attention if seen flying around the castle on it's own, even in a place like Hogwarts.

"We both know you're strong," Neville told him as they took off running together. "Otherwise, you wouldn't be doing this. I wouldn't be doing it, either."

That made Harry feel proud for some reason. "Okay, Neville," he nodded. "Let's go."