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Chapter 36

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{Enochian Prophecies}

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Hermione smiled reassuringly down at a first year. "It's okay," she soothed, "it's going to be alright."

She had no evidence that it would be okay, but what could she say? Tell the first year that she had no idea what was going to happen? That this was a war and wars were not a time for definite answers. No, pshe couldn't be that cruel.

Huddled for safety in the Gryffindor common room, the majority of the remaining student population shook with fear. Most of the students had been taken from the school once the ministry building had been taken by the Dark. That being said, most parents believed that if their children were muggle-born or even half-bloods, Hogwarts would probably be the safest place for them.

Even still, there had been arrangements to send the students away to a safer place once it became clear that Voldemort was going to attack the school. They hadn't moved quickly enough though, and the Dark was at their gates before they could leave. It was the reason why they had all been herded into the Gryffindor common rooms. That, and most of the ones who stayed behind were Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. There were a few Ravenclaws too, but no Slytherin. Even the Slytherins that were not purebloods were taken from the school, their parents fearing retribution from the other students.

Looking back on it now, Hermione figured that it was probably the best thing to do. It was terrifying here now and with fear came aggression. It was hard enough keeping everyone calm as it was, she didn't think she would have been able to cope with anything more.

Moving away from the first year, Hermione made her way over to Ron and Neville. Both of them were standing near the fireplace, looking as grim and solemn as she felt. As she approached them, Ron gave a small smile, raising his arm and holding it out for her to walk under. Resting his hand on her shoulder, he looked down at Hermione worriedly.

"It'll be alright." He said softly.

Hermione glared. "Oh stop it, Ron," She admonished quietly, "That's the same thing I say to the first years."

There wasn't any real vehemence in her voice so Ron ignored the comment.

They had become a couple a few months back. Actually, it was after the basilisk attack on Hogwarts that they started to see each other in a different light. They found comfort in each other's arms. Neville had found his solace in Ginny—a surprise for everyone involved when they learned of the budding relationship between the two. She was standing to Neville's right now.

It had been Sasha Kamenev that brought them all together. Upon learning of his death, they had only found consolation with each other and had been brought even closer as a result. Of course, they later learned that he was not dead at all, but had been recruited by Voldemort.

It had driven Hermione crazy thinking and rethinking about what must have happened to their friend that he would change his beliefs and follow the Dark Lord. There must have been torture involved. Torture and threats and who knew what else. Even now Hermione shivered at the thought of what must have happened.

Sometimes she wondered about him; how he was doing, if being trapped with the Dark had changed his personality. Was he broken? Would he even be able to recognise them if they ever met again?

Hermione had no answers—something that killed her. She was all about learning things; finding answers for questions, enlightening herself when all others were in the dark, ignorant and unaware of the knowledge they could possess. That was her. It was the reason why she was a prefect, why she was known throughout the school; it was everything to her. But in the case of Sasha Kamenev, she had none of that.

"We have to believe in Dumbledore." Neville told Hermione.

Nodding, Hermione agreed with him. "I know." She whispered. "And I do have faith in him; it's just..."

"It's hard not to think about all the possibilities." Ginny supplied in understanding.

"Exactly." Hermione agreed. "It would be naive not to consider the odds."

They were quiet for a moment, watching over the younger years as they spoke in hushed whispers and worried murmurs. It was difficult for the younger years; they were less experienced, more innocent. Hermione was hurt to see them lose that innocence. One of the greatest casualties of this war. She could count at least forty lives that were ruined by it, and all of them were in that room.

Only forty students left in Hogwarts. The rest had gone home. The older students were tasked with looking after them. So far, it was an easy job. They just hoped it stayed that way; Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix were keeping Voldemort's army at bay, if there were any intruders, it meant that they had been overpowered.

It wasn't worth thinking about though.

"Can't help but wonder..." Neville muttered, "if Sasha's out there somewhere."

Ron's head jerked in Neville's direction. He frowned. "Suppose he must be, if he really is with You-Know-Who."

A sad air fell around them as they each thought back to their lost friendship. It was a loss that still lingered around them.

"Hermione." Parvati Patil said, approaching them with a worried expression on her face. "It's Terence; he's not doing so well."

Hermione groaned. Terence was a third year Ravenclaw that was, apparently, claustrophobic. Particularly so. As it was, he was in the boy's dormitories, shivering in an attempt to stay calm and not freak out.

"He needs to leave here; we can't keep him any longer—he's in a bad state." Parvati told her, angered by the situation and her own helplessness in it.

"It's too dangerous." Hermione breathed, shaking her head, bushy curls lopping about her face.

Parvati looked disbelievingly at her. "You can't be serious? He could seriously hurt himself."

"But—"

"I'm sure it'll be fine Hermione." Neville said. "We'd know by now if there was any danger in the halls."

"Yeah," Ron agreed, "it'll be just out to the corridor anyway; it's not like he's going to be taking a stroll around the grounds or anything."

Parvati nodded furiously in agreement.

"I suppose..." Hermione said slowly, biting her lip. "Okay, just be careful."

Smiling brightly, Parvati hurried away to help Terrence Fleet. She dodged and hopped around and over the students milling about the common room, disappearing up the stairs to the boy's dormitories.

She returned moments later, helping a pale, sickly looking Terence Fleet stumble through the room. He had to close his eyes and take deep, shuddering breaths to keep himself from losing it altogether. The students understood his condition and moved out of his way, despite that it was obviously creating space shortages in other areas.

Parvati and Terrence got to the entrance of the common room and opened it.

Freezing suddenly, Parvati grabbed a hold of Terrence, looking wide eyed at something that was out of their sight. Opening his eyes, Terence breathed a terrified curse. The two of them backed up and further into the common room.

Drawing their wands, Hermione, Neville, Ron, Ginny and a few others moved closer to see what was happening. Most of the students hadn't noticed anything, still preoccupied with whatever they were doing. However, just as Hermione gave a startled gasp, the screaming started.

Parvati stared in terror as she was greeted with a wand, a few feet away from her face.

Voldemort's forces had infiltrated Hogwarts.

All hope was lost.

...

{Enochian Prophecies}

...

Most of Hogwarts had been deserted.

But Sasha knew there were students there. The Slytherin dungeons had been empty, the Hufflepuff dormitories were as abandoned as the kitchens they were next to and the Ravenclaw tower had a layer of dust an inch thick.

There was only one place left to look.

Upon arrival, a terrified, but insistent portrait of the Fat Lady asked for the password. Sasha had glared at her with every intention of just incinerating the damn thing, but fate would have it that at that moment, the portrait swung open—against its will by the look of the Fat Lady's face.

In its place, was a Gryffindor, who, Sasha remembered after searching in his memory banks, was called Parvati Patil and another student who he didn't remember having seen before.

Shocked at his presence, Parvati froze.

Sasha took that opportunity to point his wand in her face.

That was convenient.

As he advanced, the pair in front of him backed up, allowing him entrance into the common room, no fuss, no problem. For the first time since he set the basilisk free, Sasha stepped into the Gryffindor common rooms. How things had changed in such a short time.

He had to admit though; it was almost nostalgic, stepping through the muttering portrait into the common room, his memory recognising the smell and warmth that he had quite enjoyed a year ago. Of course, that was where the similarities ended.

When he had been a student, the common room would have only a few Gryffindor students, sitting on the couches, playing chess or chatting by the long window on the wall. Most of the others would be in classes or outside on the grounds or in the library.

Now, though a lot of the students were Gryffindors, many were also Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. And none of them seemed to be enjoying the freedom of their youth either. This was the entire remaining student body and all of them were looking at him, terrified.

Before they could think to draw their wands, Sasha gave a long sweep of his wand arm and with a silent accio called all the wands in the room to him. Forty wands flew from pockets and hands. He gave a disinterested glance down at the floor in front of him as they stacked at his feet and clattered to a stop. None of the students would be strong enough to perform wandless magic; he had disarmed the completely.

"Sasha!"

Sasha turned his head to regard the person who had called him.

Hermione stared wide-eyed, half in hope, half in despair as she searched his person. She was standing beside his former 'friends' Neville and Ron. Ron's little sister, Jenny or something, was there too under the protection of Neville's arm. A pretty gesture, but a pointless one.

Neville was good at herbology—and very little else. He was a nice guy, but he wasn't strong. And he certainly wasn't strong enough to take on Sasha. Now, if he had an army of mandrakes catering to his whim, then maybe Sasha would look at him as something of a threat. But he did not and so, Sasha would not.

"You're alive!" Hermione continued on.

Sasha resisted the urge to frown; he found himself confused that she would be glad to see him. Knowing from personal experience, betrayal hit hard. It didn't matter how small it was—and Sasha's treachery was hardly small. So why was she not spitting at him?

He narrowed his eyes but didn't speak, still aware of the other thirty-six people in the room. Sasha looked over his shoulder to his minions; he nodded to the group of students in a silent order. Understanding Sasha's non-verbal command, the Death Eaters moved into the room, herding the students closer together and rounding them up. Two of the Death Eaters left the common room, one going to search the girl's dormitories and the other to the boy's.

"You don't have to do this, mate." Ron told him imploringly.

"Sasha!" Hermione cried desperately, trying to get some sort of reaction from him. She didn't get much, only a pair of eyes resting heavily on her like dead weight. "What did they do to you?" She whispered despairingly.

Sasha's brow twitched. "What is it," he asked in slight confusion, "that you think they did to me?"

That stopped the golden trio in their tracks. They didn't want to say what they thought... frankly they didn't really know. They assumed it was bad.

"Go on. Tell me." Sasha coaxed.

To say anything out loud, in front of the whole of Hogwarts, it seemed obscene. However, when it came down to it, Sasha was pointing a wand at them—and none too friendly either.

It was Neville who answered. "They took you from Hogwarts that time when the basilisk came," He said solemnly, "did something to you; turned you. We don't know what exactly, but... it can't have been good. That's why you're with him, isn't it?"

As Neville spoke, an amused grin rose from Sasha's lips. The Death Eater's began to snigger sadistically from their places around the room.

It dawned on Hermione before the others. "You were already working with You-Know-Who when you came here, weren't you?" She said.

"I'm surprised your parents didn't tell you." Sasha told them with a smirk. "They've known for long enough."

What was more shocking? The fact that Sasha had never been on their side? Or that fact that their parents knew and kept it from them? Both stung sharply.

Hermione looked at Sasha with horrified eyes. The implications suddenly hitting her. What was worse than his actual betrayal, for her though, was that he still looked the same. His handsome features held no blemishes, no dark marks or evidence that he was not as pure as they thought him to be. He was the same old Sasha. The one who had smiled at her when she apologised for getting too excited about a subject she was well versed in. The same one whose brow furrowed when he was concentrating or that frowned when he was thinking.

But then, had that Sasha ever been real? Was he just a persona made up with the attention of appealing to them, to befriend them? And if so, for what purpose? Hermione's confusion at the matter soured into bitterness.

"Why befriend us, then?" She asked angrily. "Was it just to infiltrate the order? Is that it?"

Quirking his head to the side, Sasha gave a lopsided grin—so reminiscent of the friend they once thought they had. "But you approached me, remember?" He asked with an amused shake of his head, "I wouldn't have gone near you if you hadn't introduced yourselves."

"Then why be our friend?"

"To draw attention away from myself. It would have caught the notice of the teachers if I sat alone all the time. Frankly, you three were convenient." He shrugged. "Didn't even know you were from the Order until you said it; I suspected it, sure. But that—well, it was all thanks to you that I got a look into your little group."

That wasn't strictly true; Sasha had known that the Weasleys and Longbottoms were anti-Voldemort—everyone did. And it followed logically that Hermione, a girl who so closely associated herself with them, and a muggle-born herself, would follow the same ideals. It didn't mean infiltration had been his goal though. Just happened to work out that way. Conveniently, Sasha might add.

He didn't say that to them, though. He certainly didn't have to put the blaim on them. He could have been quiet, ushered them away with the rest of the students. But why bother? It was better to have them stricken with guilt, immobilised by the realisation that it was their fault that they were losing. Strategically, it made sense.

And it worked too; the three of them looked distraught, pale with the realisation that it was them who brought an enemy into their home. It was their fault. No one else's.

"All clear." The Death Eater's who searched the room.

Sasha nodded. "Alright." He said. "You know what to do. Leave these for the moment." He pointed to his former friends.

"How could you do that, you bloody bastard?" Ron's sister snarled at him before anyone could move. "Make them feel guilty for something that's your fault!"

Neville had to hold her back as she thrashed in his arms in an attempt to attack Sasha. "Ginny!" He cried in horror.

An amused grin quirking his lips upwards had Sasha turn back to the Death Eater. "Leave that one too; we'll use her."

As the Death Eaters went around the room, banishing the students to Azkaban, Sasha watched the four he had chosen to leave out of the mass depulso with a little amusement.

"What are you doing?" Ron demanded, shivering in fear.

"What's necessary." Sasha replied. "They won't be hurt."

Ginny—not Jenny—Weasley bit her lip, eyes darting between Sasha and the disappearing numbers around them. Students screamed and cried but most were too frozen in fear or too slow to act. The ones that did proved to be of little trouble and they too succumbed. Once or twice, his personal captives tried to move but Sasha merely cleared his throat and raised his wand higher, quirking a brow up.

"What are you going to do with us?" Ginny asked fearfully.

With all the clambering around, it wouldn't have been unlikely for Sasha to miss her quiet words, but he didn't. He smiled. It was the kind of smile that might have been seen as reassuring, but considering the position they were in and the wand in Sasha's hand, it was less than encouraging.

"Nothing." He said.

Hermione immediately believed him, but then had to scold herself. It didn't matter what she thought; her people skills were clearly not as developed as she believed. She had thought she knew Sasha, could tell what he was feeling, when he was feeling it—and why. In her private moments, she had even fancied she could tell what he was thinking.

That hadn't been true though. She thought she knew him. She was wrong. He had deceived them masterfully. It was a hard blow to her self-perception. The realisation of the whole thing made her look at Sasha with different eyes. Suddenly, he seemed much more powerful. Almost as if a quiet magical aura radiated around him.

It really highlighted how far away he was from the rest. He wasn't like any other student in Hogwarts. He was at a whole other level. And they were at his whim.

"You can't have kept us here to do 'nothing'." Hermione pointed out, her voice warbling.

There was no reply from Sasha. He instead motioned to his Death Eaters as they finished "Wait outside." He ordered.

"But..." One tried to say.

"Just do it." Sasha commanded sharply, scowling slightly.

After a moment's hesitation, the Death Eaters gave a reluctant nod and filed out of the common room efficiently. Sasha waited until he heard the portrait door close over before he even bothered addressing the four remaining students in Hogwarts.

"I really have kept you here for nothing." He told them. "Just a few minutes should do. Sit." He said.

None of them moved initially, staring at him mistrustfully. Sighing, Sasha motioned to his wand once more. Slowly, without turning their backs to him, they shuffled over to the comfy sofas placed around the fire. Sasha flicked his wrist and muttered a "pulvis res" and a white spell engulfed the pile of discarded wands and turned them to a pile of dust that spilled over the floor.

Ignoring the indignant gasps at having their wands destroyed so callously, Sasha moved neared to his former friends, walking past them and over to the fire, murmering a spell that ignited it into a glorious blaze. Turning, he leaned up against the panel of the fireplace regarding the others easily.

"What are we doing here?" Neville asked, frustrated by his helplessness.

"Waiting." He replied simply, crossing his arms.

Ron looked around the room, "For what?"

"For your friends to get settled in Azkaban."

"Why?" Hermione asked.

Sasha shook his head and didn't reply. He wasn't going to tell them his reasons, the plans he had devised. They weren't much, in all fairness; he only wished to instill a little doubt within the ranks. Make it more difficult for the Order's children to rally the other students in some sort of sad, half-baked attempt at a revolt.

The idea behind his actions was that the other students would be suspicious of them for being separated. They had already damned theirselves into association with him by unravelling themselves from the crowd. Now, as the minutes ticked by and they spent more time with him—and less in Azkaban—the students would start to doubt them.

At least, that was the idea. He imagined it would work well enough. Logic didn't always prevail in situations such as these and it was human nature to fear what they didn't understand. The students wouldn't understand that Sasha had pulled them aside for no reason. If they asked and the golden trio said that nothing happened, wouldn't that appear suspicious?

Sasha certainly thought so.

Which was why he decided to do it. From what he could see, it was the easiest way to create disharmony in the little time he had. It would make them all easier to deal with in the long run.

"You really don't have to do this, Sasha." Neville tried again, spreading his hands out peacefully, imploringly, "The Order will protect you from You-Know-Who. You wouldn't have to hurt any more people or anything. We could be friends again and things could go back to the way they were."

Sasha found that particularly funny. He laughed good-naturedly, in the same way that he always used to do when they thought he was just another Gryffindor. It was the same kind of friendly, light-hearted laugh that was the response of a joke or funny incident. The group shuddered at the parallel between now and then.

When he had calmed himself, Sasha looked at them, humour still brightening his eyes, "You wouldn't want to be my friend," He assured them, "what you knew, the person you believed me to be; he wasn't real. Just a role. A part I played to get people to like me.I chose my personality according to what I had to achieve. I needed to be smart enough to do alright in classes, but not so clever that I was the best. I had to be friendly, but distant and quiet enough that people wouldn't pester me about my life story.

"I had to be pleasant." Sasha's features darkened slightly, along with the tone of his speech. He turned to Hermione. "I had to smile at your embarrassed blushes when I caught you looking at me." Glancing at Neville and Ron he continued, "Had to look interested when you told me about Quidditch and Veelas and pranks Sirius Black played on Snape back in the day."

He paused, giving them all a level stare, "I changed myself so that I would be appealing to you—all of you. And it was so easy. Even when you thought you were keeping me at a distance," He shook his head, "I was much closer than you should have let me be. I played you all. And you sang; each and every one of you."

Hermione's lip curled in the anger stemming from her embarrassment at Sasha's revealing of her infatuation with him last year. "What the bloody hell was so important that you had to come here then? Why did you do this? You've ruined everything! Tell me, what was so important!"

Neville and Ron flinched at Hermione's outburst, fearing for her safety from the one person in the room that had a means of defending himself. Sasha, however, was unperturbed by the flare in her temper.

"Dumbledore took something belonging to my master. I was merely taking it back."

"His wand?" Neville asked in confusion, thinking to what Dumbledore could possibly have of Voldemort's.

Sasha shook his head but didn't say anything else to correct him. He didn't look like he was going to speak again.

Hermione puzzled over what Dumbledore could have taken. She eyed Sasha critically. Maybe it hadn't been taken from Voldemort but rather, kept from him. What did Dumbledore have that Voldemort would want? Suddenly Hermione remembered a half-heard conversation she had eavesdropped a few months back after Sasha's supposed 'death'.

They had been in the Potter mansion and Dumbledore was addressing the Order. Barely audible through the thick wood of the door they were crouched beside, Neville Ron and Hermione had only managed to catch snippets of the happenings inside.

"He... The stone... Basilisk... The Philosopher's Stone... gone... Students dead... No leads..."

The Philosopher's Stone. Nicholas Flamel's greatest invention. A dear friend of Dumbledore, apparently. It granted its owner longevity. "He wanted the Philosopher's Stone, didn't he?" Hermione asked, already knowing the answer.

Sasha looked at her with a strange expression. "Yes." He said.

Hermione closed her eyes and tried to push down the bile that rose as her mind supplied her with the implications of Voldemort getting his hands on the stone.

"The Philosopher's Stone?" Ron questioned, looking between Hermione and Sasha and then over to Neville and Ginny.

Ginny enlightened him to the importance of the fact. "Then Voldemort is immortal?" She asked, her voice quivering with fear and her eyes wide as saucers.

"Immortal?" Ron sucked in a huge breath of air, voice high with terror.

Sasha nodded. "Dumbledore can't win now. It's impossible."

Once again, Sasha was lying. With Galor Palun on his side, Dumbledore had every capability to win. But once again, they didn't need to know that. Despite having lied to them time and tme again, his little 'friends' instinctively trusted him.

They hung their heads, sorrow washing over them with a powerful intensity.

"We're doomed." Ron breathed.

Softening, Sasha sighed, "No," He said, "you're not. Keep your heads down, don't do anything stupid and stay in line and in a few months everything will go back to normal."

"What about me?" Hermione growled. "What about all the muggle borns and half-bloods, what about them? He'll kill them—us—all!"

Sasha raised his eyes as he thought of a response that would neither give away too much of the current events nor would send the girl into hysterics. "This is bigger now. Bigger than just Dumbledore and his petty rebellion. Things that mattered once...have been thrown by the wayside—by both the Dark and Light. Voldemort has more to focus on than just that. Far more important things await him."

"You really are Voldemort's dog, aren't you?" Hermione muttered resentfully.

Green eyes rested on her emotionlessly. He took his time to answer. "Yes. I suppose I am." He said eventually.

There was no malice in his tone. No darkness or bitterness or even any evidence that he had picked up on Hermione's insult. In fact, he didn't seem to find it all that insulting. He had even agreed with her on his position. He gave them a tone in the same easy acceptance he had often used when they were around him. The little reminders of how things used to be stung of betrayal all over again.

"Was there anything you told us that was true?" Neville asked in a tiny voice.

Sasha thought back to everything he had lied to them about. He wondered if he had let any part of himself slip out and become known. Thinking hard, Sasha couldn't remember one single incident where he had. Well, there was one. "My name." He told them with a nod. That was the only thing he had left to be true.

Hanging his head, Neville couldn't believe how well they had all been played. "We trusted you. We mourned for you." He said, mostly to himself as the hollow feeling of regret threatened his very being. Ginny made a sorrowful sound in the back of her throat and put her hand on Neville's arm soothingly.

"Live and learn." He replied nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders easily.

They didn't demand any more answers from Sasha after that, and he didn't offer up any explanations. They sat on the sofa, staring at their feet or the floor or the fireplace. When Sasha spoke next though, they all looked up. "That should do it." He said.

Pointing his wand at them, Sasha paused momentarily, "Sorry," He said before said the incantation, "Depulso" and cast the banishing spell on them. A brief flash of light and they were gone. All but Ginny. He had other plans for her.

Ginny, for her part, sat on the sofa in shock. "Why am I still here?" She demanded, fear giving birth to agitation.

"Get up." Sasha said instead of telling her.

Both indignant and terrified, Ginny shook her head fervently, her long red hair swishing back and forth. "No." She said, scooting back into the chair and making a show of planting herself firmly in it.

Not having the time or patience to coax her out of it, Sasha moved; he was in front of her in three long strides. It didn't matter that Sasha was Shira and therefore stronger, he was a boy and a year older than the Weasley girl. She didn't have much of a hope with resisting him or the hand that grabbed her arm and hoisted her up, dragging her towards the entrance of the common room.

Struggling fruitlessly, Ginny tried grabbing the arm of a chair to stop him. With a sharp tug, eliciting a quick gasp from her, Sasha dislodged her easily. In a further attempt to delay their progress, she dug her heels into the ground and forced her full weight—which wasn't much—against him. Putting only a little more effort in his pulling, Ginny stumbled forwards, off-balance by the sudden movement.

It was then, out of desperation, Ginny lashed out physically at her captor, swinging her fist and catching him on the underside of the jaw. Taken off guard, Sasha was embarrassingly blind-sided by the surprisingly strong fist. His grip loosened enough for Ginny to wrench herself out and make a run for it.

She didn't give much thought to where she was going—not that there was anywhere for her to go. All she knew was what the animal instinct was telling her; and that was to run away as fast as she could. She barely even got time to consider her escape when the breath was knocked out of her lungs as something hard collided into her and sent her sprawling to the ground. Before she could even think to thrash about, a pair of strong hands grabbed her wrists and raised them above her head, holding them in place as effectively as if they had been tied.

Unable to stop herself, Ginny gave the defeated whimper of a creature that knew it was well and truly cornered by a predator.

Sasha licked his lips before he spoke. "We can do this two ways," He told her in a cold voice, "Either you can continue to struggle and attack me and I can cast the cruciatus curse on you—which, trust me, is fine by me—or you can come quietly and conserve your energy for the futile escape attempt you are undoubtedly going to try later. It's up to you, but either way, you're coming with me."

Ginny was quiet for a long time. Just when Sasha thought he was going to lose his patience and perform the curse anyway, she spoke. "What are you going to do to me?" She asked in a pathetic pleading tone.

"It doesn't matter." He replied, not yet letting up on the pressure on her wrists.

"Please... I want to know."

"You won't be hurt; I promise you." Sasha assured her. When she didn't reply, Sasha continued, "Will you come quietly?"

It took another moment for Ginny to react. When she did, she gave a reluctant nod. Sasha let go of her wrists and moved off of her, standing up and brushing himself down, removing any dust from his tumble.

It took Ginny longer to move. Sluggishly she pulled her hands under her and pushed her body up, raising herself to her knees and then standing straight. Keeping her head bowed, she stood in front of Sasha.

Not taking his watchful eyes from her, lest she try anything else, Sasha gently placed his hand on her shoulder and guided her to the common room entrance.

When they got outside, the Death Eaters where waiting there.

"What are you doing with that girl?" The portrait of the Fat Lady demanded haughtily. "You leave her alone!"

Sasha turned and shot her a dark look over his shoulder. He whipped his wand around and shot a curse at the picture. The curse was slow moving and the Fat Lady in the picture had just enough time to scramble into another portrait before her own burst into flames. Sasha saw her cowering behind a horse in an Arcadian painting up above them but didn't press the matter.

"Take her." He said to one of the Death Eaters, pushing Ginny forward and into the man's grasp. "Let's go."

They moved quickly through the corridors, heading down the moving stairs efficiently and silently. Satisfied that Hogwarts was completely abandoned, Sasha fully intended to just take the first exit and jump into the proper battle.

His plans, however, were not considered as he felt a considerably strong pull in his core. Slowing to a stop, Sasha listened to the voice of Nature and felt the air around him. Why was there something pulling him that way and not the way he needed to go?

Nature muttered quiet warnings and let him listen to the discord that ran through her being like an out of tune violin being plucked when a symphony played a long, soft note.

He knew whatever it was that Nature was warning him against was dangerous. It wasn't difficult to deduce that from her cautioning tone. Yet at the same time he was being pulled towards it.

"My Lord?"

The inquisitive, slightly concerned, voice had Sasha turn around. He looked at the Death Eater that spoke. The man was looking at him with cautious questioning.

"Are you alright?" He asked Sasha.

The question made him wonder how long he had been there. Certainly, he had no sense of time passed. He was sure it couldn't have been more than a minute, but still, he supposed that was odd in itself in the middle of a battle.

"There's something I have to do," he told his men, "Take the girl to Our Lord. Tell him that she's the one we'll use." He paused. "Make sure you don't forget to say that it was my order to do so; Our Lord does not generally appreciate being told what to do by his followers and if he thinks you are instructing him you may just find yourself at his mercy."

"Yes, my Lord." They muttered.

Sasha glanced back in the direction that was calling to him so strongly now, "Do not return to me once you have done that." He said, "Just fight against Dumbledore's army. I'll make my own way back."

"Yes, my Lord."

Sasha nodded. "Okay, good luck." He said.

Ginny gave a horrified cry once she realised that she was going to be sent to Voldemort and she began to struggle again. Sasha ignored his Death Eater's attempts to get her moving and turned on his heel, jogging down the way that was so blatantly calling out to him.

Nature was murmuring anxiously.

Sasha followed the pull, pretending that the portraits around him were not emitting horrified gasps and comments as he ran past. He even disregarded the one portrait that muttered "Death Eater scum" as he rounded a corner. Focusing purely on the feeling, he had no time to worry about such things.

It took him by surprise, therefore, when he took notice of his surroundings and found himself at the doors of the great hall. Behind the heavy wood, Sasha knew the source of his feeling was waiting for him. Adjusting the grip on his wand, Sasha held it in the ready.

He couldn't hear anything coming from behind the doors and had no way of glimpsing inside.

Nature was restless, twisting and turning, telling him to leave, to stop and think. It wasn't the right time, go away from here.

He knew he should listen to her… but that pull.

Taking a deep breath, Sasha straightened himself and threw open the doors.

The great hall in front of him was empty; no tables or chairs, only the podium that Dumbledore so often spoke from at the top of the room. He stepped inside and noticed, too late, a flash of movement.

The force of the blow coming from his left snapped his neck to the side and sent him sprawling, skidding across the ground. Thoroughly staggered by the hit, Sasha had to take a moment before he could get his muscles to work enough to pull himself up.

What he saw almost made him collapse again.

The figure was approaching him with lurching steps.

Galor Palun looked poised and eager for the kill.