The Coming of Change
By Greencat
A/N: This is going to be a long story. Don't ask how long because I don't know myself (I do what my muse tells me to do. ;) )
Part 1: Of Plans and Dreams
The woods were lit up by the light of the full moon; the light made the mist look like writhing insubstantial beasts. As he made his way along an almost non-existent path, Harry Potter thought to himself, "Where am I? How did I get here?"
All of a sudden a unicorn leapt out from the trees ahead of him. It stared at him for a long minute; them slowly turned and walked off into the trees ahead. It seemed almost luminescent. After a score of paces it stopped and turned its head towards Harry. "It wants me to follow it." He thought. He began walking after it, for how long he didn't know; time seemed to have become something completely unrelated to the situation.
The two entered a clearing. When they reached the middle of it the unicorn reared and dashed off into the night. Looking around for whatever had frightened it, Harry spotted a shape blacker than the night, with two glowing, blood red eyes. The scar on Harry's forehead started to burn. The shape gave out a high cruel laugh.
"Voldemort!" he shouted.
The shape stared at him; he could almost feel the evil radiating off of it.
"Yes." He replied, "It is I, but I have not come here for your pitiful life.'
"Then why have you come?" Harry asked, his voice trembling slightly.
"To bargain. Join me Harry together we can rule the world. I can give you everything your heart desires," A mirror appeared in the air between them. In it Harry could see his parents reflections. "Even them."
Harry stared at the mirror, unable to look away. His parents, he could have them back. In his heart he knew it was probably a trick, but he did want to see them alive again.
"Or," said Voldemort "If you still desire more, I can give you the love of the girl of your dreams." Now it was Cho's face reflected in the mirror. Harry started to feel sleepy, bowed down by the life he now led and the little he could do to change it. This was another affect of the mirror.
Then a snake slithered into a clearing, large and the darkest green.
"Ah, my pet." Said Voldemort "Go round up the Death Eaters. I have a feeling there will be a new initiate tonight." He glanced at Harry, a cruel smile curving his lips.
The snake looked at Voldemort, and raised it self up so that it was on eye level with him. Harry noticed something on the backside of the snake. "Feathers?" he thought sleepily to himself.
Indeed there were feathers on the snake, and as he looked the feathers started to grow into wings great, golden wings. Then, with a blood-stirring cry, the snake's skin burst apart and a large, gold bird of prey flew out. It flew straight through the mirror, shattering it. Harry could think and remember for himself again. Then, the bird turned his sights on the black shape that was Voldemort. When the bird struck him, he cried out in anguish and disintegrated into mist. The bird then came to land at Harry's feet.
Harry awoke with a start, in the room in the apartment in London where he had lived since his graduation three years ago. He stared at the wall for a moment, remembering that he was safe, he was home, and no one had seen or heard of Voldemort for years. Once he had gotten his bearing Harry tried to make sense of his dream. His scar had burned, was it burning now? No, so no imminent threat of Voldemort.
He rolled out of bed and went into the bathroom to wash the cold sweat off his face. Could this dream mean something? He thought to himself. If so, what? He went back to his room and got dressed. Pushing his hair out of his face and habitually trying to flatten it, he wondered what to do now. He looked out the window. A fluffy blanket of fog enveloped London. Not many people could see someone on a broom in that.
He went over to his wardrobe and took out his trusty Firebolt and his Invisibility cloak. With the broom covered by the cloak, he made his way out of the door and into the lift. Thankfully no one was in it with him. He pushed the button for the roof. After stepping out into the chill morning air he wrapped the cloak around himself, stepped onto the broom and was off into the skies towards Hogwarts.
By noon he was into the countryside and much warmer. He checked the compass Hermione had given him for his thirteenth birthday. He turned slightly northwards.
Slightly before suppertime he had reached the grounds. As he walked through the familiar halls, he thought back on all the memories he had here. He saw a trio of kids run down a hall off of the one he was walking on, followed shortly by a livid Filch threatening the same old threats, disembowelment, inhumane torture, the like. He grinned; they were probably the current Freds and Georges of the school.
He went up to the gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore's office, wondering what the password was now. "Cockroach Cluster? Every-Flavor Beans? Drooble's Best Blowing Gum? Come one, let me in! Sherbet Lemon, Acid Pop, Jelly Slug, Mars Bar-" The gargoyle jumped aside. "Hmmm, so Dumbledore likes Mars bars too." Harry said to himself grinning. He made his way up the revolving spiral staircase and knocked on Dumbledore's door.
The professor opened it. "Harry! Thank goodness you got my owl so quickly! Come in."
"Your owl, Professor? I must have flown by it on the way here. I came because I had another dream about Voldemort." Harry said as he made his way to the chair in front of Dumbledore's desk. "Evening, Fawkes." He said nodding his head to the phoenix, who returned a note of greeting.
"You had a dream about Voldemort? Oh, dear, it's more serious than I thought." He sat down and stared at Harry gravely. "I just received information from Professor Snape that Voldemort is readying his forces out in Albania."
Snape had gone back to his former position as spy, and had returned to Voldemort professing great sorrow that he had turned his back on his master and begging for forgiveness. Voldemort had let him back, surprisingly, without enormous amounts of torture or questions. Harry remembered thinking to himself at the time: Wow. Voldemort must really need Snape's Potions knowledge.
Dumbledore cleared his throat. "That's not all. Snape's heard word that Voldemort is about to come into possession of a powerful weapon, The Rod of Star and Storm."
"Is that a Dark Art's weapon?" asked Harry.
"No, no," replied Dumbledore, "like many other things it has potential for good or evil, depending on the bearer. Fortunately though, it must be wielded by someone young of age, so Voldemort himself cannot use it. But he will be grooming his younger Death Eaters, looking for the most loyal one. That person will use it though, with Voldemort's instruction."
"What does it do?"
"That's just it. It's been out of sight for so long it has almost become the stuff of myths. What I do know is, it controls mainly fire and water."
"Then why don't they call it 'The Rod of Fire and Water'?"
"I suspect whoever named preferred alliteration, to truthful representation. Now we come to your part in all of this, Harry. I trust you more than any other witch or wizard of your age. We cannot let Voldemort use the Rod, so-"
"So, I need to steal it back from Voldemort." Harry said with an impending feeling of doom. How he could sneak into Voldemort's secret lair, find some powerful weapon that was probably going to be under heavy supervision, and take it from Voldemort, his arch-enemy who wanted to kill him, and do it with out getting himself killed, was beyond his comprehension.
"Yes, but there will be precautions taken to ensure your safety, and you will have help."
"From whom? And what will the precautions be?" he asked, still not very reassured.
Dumbledore smiled. "From your friends, Mr. Weasly and Miss Granger. I'll explain about the precautions tomorrow once they've arrived. In the meantime, I've set up a room for you on the third floor of the West Tower. But now, let us go down to the Hall for supper.
* * *
A tall, cloaked figure sat on a throne in a darkened room. "Now, one final question remains, before I decide whether you will be the Chosen. What will you use the Rod for if I give it to you?"
"Kill Potter, and bring honor to your Mastery by ridding the world of the Mudblood and Muggle filth." Another figure, kneeling before the throne intoned.
"Excellent." The first figure's eyes gleamed red in the gloom.
Part 2: Old Times and New
Draco sat looking out the window of his cold stone room, in the castle which Voldemort was using as a gathering grounds for his followers, his "Mastery" as he liked to call it. I have no Master. Thought Draco to himself, Not even him.
The moon was pale, nearing full, and a wolf howled in the woods to the west of the castle. How did I get myself into this? No, I didn't get myself into this, father did. He hadn't wanted to carry the rod, that just pushed him closer to being one of a Mastery. It was his father that stayed up with him at night, drilling into him, the words and phrases that Voldemort would most like to hear during his examination of the younger members, words that would bring the Rod to the person who spoke them. He learned them, because he had learned from very early on not to make his father angry with him. He even managed to say them with emotion, contrived, but convincing. Now he was the Chosen, one of Voldemort's right-hand men. Now he would have to constantly face the man he addressed as "Master." I wonder if I've ever been truly happy. He thought bitterly to himself.
He turned from the window, and went over to the secret compartment he'd made in the walls. He took out a picture, a picture that he kept hidden because, if his father even found it, it would be ashes faster than blinking. It wasn't really that remarkable a picture, just a small girl, about three years old, with pale, silvery-blond hair, and blue eyes like sapphires. Jade...
No one outside of family knew that he had once had a baby sister. He remember being four year's old, sitting in the waiting room at St. Mungo's with his father, going into his mother's hospital room and seeing a little bundle of blankets in her arms that gurgled and cried. They named her Jade. He remembered when she'd come home, and he would sometimes just stand by her cradle and watch her, such a tiny thing, with such a loud voice when she cried. When she cried he could always make her laugh, a little, soft, cooing laughter. She was probably the only person he ever really loved. His mother he admired, and his father he respected, but he loved Jade. He talked with her when she got older, and crawled and babbled around her room. He'd tell her about all the fun they were going to have when they got older. He told her about magic, and how they were going to go to Hogwarts together someday.
But then, things started going wrong. His father and mother had always told him that all Malfoy's showed signs of magic by their third and a half year. Jade's came and went without even the slightest hint of magical powers. He remembered his father yelling at her, asking her if she wanted to be muggle trash, slapping her. No matter how hard Draco had put his hands over his ears, he couldn't drown out those high-pitched sobs. He would visit her, hug her, and tell her that Daddy really did love her, that was just the only way he knew to bring out magical powers. "B-but Draco, w-what if I am a m-m-muggle?" she would sniffle. "But you're not, you can't be. You'll do something tomorrow." She never did.
One day, when she was four, she started getting sick. Draco tried to get his parents to do something, but they would only say, "She's not sick. Go to your room." Three months later Draco had seen his father carrying Jade out of her room. She was limp and her skin had a slightly bluish color. "Father what's wrong with Jade?" he had asked "The girl is fine, go to your room." Had been his father's reply. But Draco wasn't an idiot. He knew they had let her die, rather than live with the shame of having a Squib for a daughter. He had snuck into her room, and taken a picture of her and hid it in his room, since his parents would probably destroy all evidence of Jade's existence. Later that day his father had called for him in his study. The first thing Draco had said was "What's wrong with Jade? What's wrong with my sister?" "You don't have a sister. You never did. The Malfoy line has never produced a Squib and never will. Do you understand me, Draco?"
He may have seemed like the perfect son to his father, the embodiment of all things a Malfoy should be. It was all an act. If Jade's short life had taught him anything it was to be grateful for his magic, and to do whatever necessary to survive. He always told himself that one day, one day he would be free of the clutches of the Malfoy name, and everything it stood for. He shook his head. Not likely now. Now I'll have to keep this charade up until I die.
* * *
Harry awoke to something large, but soft whacking him in the face. He gave a start and fell out of the bed he had gotten into last night.
A freckled face with an abundance of red hair was grinning down at him. "If Mr. Potter would like some breakfast, would he please grace us with his presence in the Great Hall," said Ron mockingly.
"Ha, ha, ha." Harry replied sarcastically "'Lo Ron. When d'you get here. What time is it?"
"Last night, after you'd fallen asleep. And it's ten."
"Ten? Geez, thanks for waking me up, albeit rudely."
"Since when have I been known for my tact? C'mon, it's sausages this morning, they're exceptionally good."
Harry got up and went into the bathroom to fix himself up. "Ish Herminee heyarh?" he mumbled through a mouthful of toothepaste.
"Yup. She got here shortly before I did." Ron frowned. "This does not sound good to me, Harry. You-know-who is powerful enough, you've nearly gotten killed by him several times, this'll just worsen the odds against you. Dumbledore shouldn't put you in this position."
Harry gave Ron an amused look. "You're never going to stop that You-know-who-ing are you? Dumbledore always has a reason for doing something. Maybe it's the old 'Do What They Least Expect' Plan."
"Which is often confused for the old 'Off The Boy-Who-Lived' Plan. Maybe I'm weird but I don't like my friends getting into situations that could get them killed."
"Ron, I was worried too. Dumbledore told me he's going to take precautions so that none of us get killed. Meanwhile, I'm starving let's get down to the Hall." Harry got up and walked out of the room Ron following behind him.
The school looked pretty much the same as it had since they'd graduated, all of their old teachers were there, except, of course, Snape, who had left for Albania a month or so ago, Dumbledore had told Harry last evening over dinner. Harry grinned, most of the students must have been pleased about that.
They walked into the Great Hall and saw Hermione sitting at the small table Dumbledore had set aside for them, reading a book. She looked up as they drew close.
"Harry!" she said, setting her book down. "Thank goodness you're finally awake.
"What are you reading?" he asked as he and Ron dropped into chairs.
"A History of Magical and Mystical Weapons. It's all 'Swords of Doom' and 'Lances of Fire', I wish this thing had a bloody index! I can't for the life of me find anything useful about the Rod." Her eyes flicked towards the staff table "But on a more humorous note, have you two noticed who's replaced Snape?"
They looked over at the table. There weren't too many teachers left there, most of the having left to prepare for their first class of the day. But there was one young, blonde-haired witch who was sitting at the table. She glanced over in their direction.
"'Arry! It is you!"
"Fleur?" Harry replied astonished.
She got up and walked over to their table. "Oui. What, you did not know about my skill in potions?" she said grinning.
Ron shook his head, the old dazed look starting to come into his eyes again.
"Ah, well. I 'ave some knowledge of it, and when zat man, er Snoop was it? Anway when 'e left Dumbledore asked me to replace 'im. It is a great 'onor."
"Where's Dumbledore?" asked Harry noticing the Headmaster was absent from the staff table."
"'E said 'e 'ad some business to take care of. Oh, and 'e told me to tell you zat 'e will meet you tonight after dinner at zee front doors to explain more of what you talked about last night." She looked at Harry sideways. "But what I want to know is; what were you talking about?"
"Sorry Fleur but we can't tell you that," said Hermione. "It's all very hush-hush and what not." She turned back to the book. "Now where is that blasted thing?" she said irritably.
* * *
The trio spent the rest of the day wandering around the castle and grounds, remembering what it had been liked to be in school there. After lunch they visited Hagrid (lunch providing a good excuse not to eat the sand muffins he offered them.) Throughout their visit he hinted mysterious at what was going to happen tonight, saying "Ye might not be happy 'bout it when ye first hear what it is, but when ye get there, ye'll like it."
Evening came and after dinner in the Great Hall they went out into the Entrance Hall and found Dumbledore and Hagrid waiting for them there.
"So, Professor," said Harry brightly, "Where are we going?"
"To the Forbidden Forrest." replied Dumbledore.
A/N2: Ooh, I did a cliffhanger! Mwhahahaha! Disclaimer part: I don't own most of the characters. That would be J. K. ::bows to the Great J. K.:: I think a few other ppl have done characters named Jade Malfoy but this one's mine. R/R or I'll unleash the Great Rod of Star and Storm on you!
By Greencat
A/N: This is going to be a long story. Don't ask how long because I don't know myself (I do what my muse tells me to do. ;) )
Part 1: Of Plans and Dreams
The woods were lit up by the light of the full moon; the light made the mist look like writhing insubstantial beasts. As he made his way along an almost non-existent path, Harry Potter thought to himself, "Where am I? How did I get here?"
All of a sudden a unicorn leapt out from the trees ahead of him. It stared at him for a long minute; them slowly turned and walked off into the trees ahead. It seemed almost luminescent. After a score of paces it stopped and turned its head towards Harry. "It wants me to follow it." He thought. He began walking after it, for how long he didn't know; time seemed to have become something completely unrelated to the situation.
The two entered a clearing. When they reached the middle of it the unicorn reared and dashed off into the night. Looking around for whatever had frightened it, Harry spotted a shape blacker than the night, with two glowing, blood red eyes. The scar on Harry's forehead started to burn. The shape gave out a high cruel laugh.
"Voldemort!" he shouted.
The shape stared at him; he could almost feel the evil radiating off of it.
"Yes." He replied, "It is I, but I have not come here for your pitiful life.'
"Then why have you come?" Harry asked, his voice trembling slightly.
"To bargain. Join me Harry together we can rule the world. I can give you everything your heart desires," A mirror appeared in the air between them. In it Harry could see his parents reflections. "Even them."
Harry stared at the mirror, unable to look away. His parents, he could have them back. In his heart he knew it was probably a trick, but he did want to see them alive again.
"Or," said Voldemort "If you still desire more, I can give you the love of the girl of your dreams." Now it was Cho's face reflected in the mirror. Harry started to feel sleepy, bowed down by the life he now led and the little he could do to change it. This was another affect of the mirror.
Then a snake slithered into a clearing, large and the darkest green.
"Ah, my pet." Said Voldemort "Go round up the Death Eaters. I have a feeling there will be a new initiate tonight." He glanced at Harry, a cruel smile curving his lips.
The snake looked at Voldemort, and raised it self up so that it was on eye level with him. Harry noticed something on the backside of the snake. "Feathers?" he thought sleepily to himself.
Indeed there were feathers on the snake, and as he looked the feathers started to grow into wings great, golden wings. Then, with a blood-stirring cry, the snake's skin burst apart and a large, gold bird of prey flew out. It flew straight through the mirror, shattering it. Harry could think and remember for himself again. Then, the bird turned his sights on the black shape that was Voldemort. When the bird struck him, he cried out in anguish and disintegrated into mist. The bird then came to land at Harry's feet.
Harry awoke with a start, in the room in the apartment in London where he had lived since his graduation three years ago. He stared at the wall for a moment, remembering that he was safe, he was home, and no one had seen or heard of Voldemort for years. Once he had gotten his bearing Harry tried to make sense of his dream. His scar had burned, was it burning now? No, so no imminent threat of Voldemort.
He rolled out of bed and went into the bathroom to wash the cold sweat off his face. Could this dream mean something? He thought to himself. If so, what? He went back to his room and got dressed. Pushing his hair out of his face and habitually trying to flatten it, he wondered what to do now. He looked out the window. A fluffy blanket of fog enveloped London. Not many people could see someone on a broom in that.
He went over to his wardrobe and took out his trusty Firebolt and his Invisibility cloak. With the broom covered by the cloak, he made his way out of the door and into the lift. Thankfully no one was in it with him. He pushed the button for the roof. After stepping out into the chill morning air he wrapped the cloak around himself, stepped onto the broom and was off into the skies towards Hogwarts.
By noon he was into the countryside and much warmer. He checked the compass Hermione had given him for his thirteenth birthday. He turned slightly northwards.
Slightly before suppertime he had reached the grounds. As he walked through the familiar halls, he thought back on all the memories he had here. He saw a trio of kids run down a hall off of the one he was walking on, followed shortly by a livid Filch threatening the same old threats, disembowelment, inhumane torture, the like. He grinned; they were probably the current Freds and Georges of the school.
He went up to the gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore's office, wondering what the password was now. "Cockroach Cluster? Every-Flavor Beans? Drooble's Best Blowing Gum? Come one, let me in! Sherbet Lemon, Acid Pop, Jelly Slug, Mars Bar-" The gargoyle jumped aside. "Hmmm, so Dumbledore likes Mars bars too." Harry said to himself grinning. He made his way up the revolving spiral staircase and knocked on Dumbledore's door.
The professor opened it. "Harry! Thank goodness you got my owl so quickly! Come in."
"Your owl, Professor? I must have flown by it on the way here. I came because I had another dream about Voldemort." Harry said as he made his way to the chair in front of Dumbledore's desk. "Evening, Fawkes." He said nodding his head to the phoenix, who returned a note of greeting.
"You had a dream about Voldemort? Oh, dear, it's more serious than I thought." He sat down and stared at Harry gravely. "I just received information from Professor Snape that Voldemort is readying his forces out in Albania."
Snape had gone back to his former position as spy, and had returned to Voldemort professing great sorrow that he had turned his back on his master and begging for forgiveness. Voldemort had let him back, surprisingly, without enormous amounts of torture or questions. Harry remembered thinking to himself at the time: Wow. Voldemort must really need Snape's Potions knowledge.
Dumbledore cleared his throat. "That's not all. Snape's heard word that Voldemort is about to come into possession of a powerful weapon, The Rod of Star and Storm."
"Is that a Dark Art's weapon?" asked Harry.
"No, no," replied Dumbledore, "like many other things it has potential for good or evil, depending on the bearer. Fortunately though, it must be wielded by someone young of age, so Voldemort himself cannot use it. But he will be grooming his younger Death Eaters, looking for the most loyal one. That person will use it though, with Voldemort's instruction."
"What does it do?"
"That's just it. It's been out of sight for so long it has almost become the stuff of myths. What I do know is, it controls mainly fire and water."
"Then why don't they call it 'The Rod of Fire and Water'?"
"I suspect whoever named preferred alliteration, to truthful representation. Now we come to your part in all of this, Harry. I trust you more than any other witch or wizard of your age. We cannot let Voldemort use the Rod, so-"
"So, I need to steal it back from Voldemort." Harry said with an impending feeling of doom. How he could sneak into Voldemort's secret lair, find some powerful weapon that was probably going to be under heavy supervision, and take it from Voldemort, his arch-enemy who wanted to kill him, and do it with out getting himself killed, was beyond his comprehension.
"Yes, but there will be precautions taken to ensure your safety, and you will have help."
"From whom? And what will the precautions be?" he asked, still not very reassured.
Dumbledore smiled. "From your friends, Mr. Weasly and Miss Granger. I'll explain about the precautions tomorrow once they've arrived. In the meantime, I've set up a room for you on the third floor of the West Tower. But now, let us go down to the Hall for supper.
* * *
A tall, cloaked figure sat on a throne in a darkened room. "Now, one final question remains, before I decide whether you will be the Chosen. What will you use the Rod for if I give it to you?"
"Kill Potter, and bring honor to your Mastery by ridding the world of the Mudblood and Muggle filth." Another figure, kneeling before the throne intoned.
"Excellent." The first figure's eyes gleamed red in the gloom.
Part 2: Old Times and New
Draco sat looking out the window of his cold stone room, in the castle which Voldemort was using as a gathering grounds for his followers, his "Mastery" as he liked to call it. I have no Master. Thought Draco to himself, Not even him.
The moon was pale, nearing full, and a wolf howled in the woods to the west of the castle. How did I get myself into this? No, I didn't get myself into this, father did. He hadn't wanted to carry the rod, that just pushed him closer to being one of a Mastery. It was his father that stayed up with him at night, drilling into him, the words and phrases that Voldemort would most like to hear during his examination of the younger members, words that would bring the Rod to the person who spoke them. He learned them, because he had learned from very early on not to make his father angry with him. He even managed to say them with emotion, contrived, but convincing. Now he was the Chosen, one of Voldemort's right-hand men. Now he would have to constantly face the man he addressed as "Master." I wonder if I've ever been truly happy. He thought bitterly to himself.
He turned from the window, and went over to the secret compartment he'd made in the walls. He took out a picture, a picture that he kept hidden because, if his father even found it, it would be ashes faster than blinking. It wasn't really that remarkable a picture, just a small girl, about three years old, with pale, silvery-blond hair, and blue eyes like sapphires. Jade...
No one outside of family knew that he had once had a baby sister. He remember being four year's old, sitting in the waiting room at St. Mungo's with his father, going into his mother's hospital room and seeing a little bundle of blankets in her arms that gurgled and cried. They named her Jade. He remembered when she'd come home, and he would sometimes just stand by her cradle and watch her, such a tiny thing, with such a loud voice when she cried. When she cried he could always make her laugh, a little, soft, cooing laughter. She was probably the only person he ever really loved. His mother he admired, and his father he respected, but he loved Jade. He talked with her when she got older, and crawled and babbled around her room. He'd tell her about all the fun they were going to have when they got older. He told her about magic, and how they were going to go to Hogwarts together someday.
But then, things started going wrong. His father and mother had always told him that all Malfoy's showed signs of magic by their third and a half year. Jade's came and went without even the slightest hint of magical powers. He remembered his father yelling at her, asking her if she wanted to be muggle trash, slapping her. No matter how hard Draco had put his hands over his ears, he couldn't drown out those high-pitched sobs. He would visit her, hug her, and tell her that Daddy really did love her, that was just the only way he knew to bring out magical powers. "B-but Draco, w-what if I am a m-m-muggle?" she would sniffle. "But you're not, you can't be. You'll do something tomorrow." She never did.
One day, when she was four, she started getting sick. Draco tried to get his parents to do something, but they would only say, "She's not sick. Go to your room." Three months later Draco had seen his father carrying Jade out of her room. She was limp and her skin had a slightly bluish color. "Father what's wrong with Jade?" he had asked "The girl is fine, go to your room." Had been his father's reply. But Draco wasn't an idiot. He knew they had let her die, rather than live with the shame of having a Squib for a daughter. He had snuck into her room, and taken a picture of her and hid it in his room, since his parents would probably destroy all evidence of Jade's existence. Later that day his father had called for him in his study. The first thing Draco had said was "What's wrong with Jade? What's wrong with my sister?" "You don't have a sister. You never did. The Malfoy line has never produced a Squib and never will. Do you understand me, Draco?"
He may have seemed like the perfect son to his father, the embodiment of all things a Malfoy should be. It was all an act. If Jade's short life had taught him anything it was to be grateful for his magic, and to do whatever necessary to survive. He always told himself that one day, one day he would be free of the clutches of the Malfoy name, and everything it stood for. He shook his head. Not likely now. Now I'll have to keep this charade up until I die.
* * *
Harry awoke to something large, but soft whacking him in the face. He gave a start and fell out of the bed he had gotten into last night.
A freckled face with an abundance of red hair was grinning down at him. "If Mr. Potter would like some breakfast, would he please grace us with his presence in the Great Hall," said Ron mockingly.
"Ha, ha, ha." Harry replied sarcastically "'Lo Ron. When d'you get here. What time is it?"
"Last night, after you'd fallen asleep. And it's ten."
"Ten? Geez, thanks for waking me up, albeit rudely."
"Since when have I been known for my tact? C'mon, it's sausages this morning, they're exceptionally good."
Harry got up and went into the bathroom to fix himself up. "Ish Herminee heyarh?" he mumbled through a mouthful of toothepaste.
"Yup. She got here shortly before I did." Ron frowned. "This does not sound good to me, Harry. You-know-who is powerful enough, you've nearly gotten killed by him several times, this'll just worsen the odds against you. Dumbledore shouldn't put you in this position."
Harry gave Ron an amused look. "You're never going to stop that You-know-who-ing are you? Dumbledore always has a reason for doing something. Maybe it's the old 'Do What They Least Expect' Plan."
"Which is often confused for the old 'Off The Boy-Who-Lived' Plan. Maybe I'm weird but I don't like my friends getting into situations that could get them killed."
"Ron, I was worried too. Dumbledore told me he's going to take precautions so that none of us get killed. Meanwhile, I'm starving let's get down to the Hall." Harry got up and walked out of the room Ron following behind him.
The school looked pretty much the same as it had since they'd graduated, all of their old teachers were there, except, of course, Snape, who had left for Albania a month or so ago, Dumbledore had told Harry last evening over dinner. Harry grinned, most of the students must have been pleased about that.
They walked into the Great Hall and saw Hermione sitting at the small table Dumbledore had set aside for them, reading a book. She looked up as they drew close.
"Harry!" she said, setting her book down. "Thank goodness you're finally awake.
"What are you reading?" he asked as he and Ron dropped into chairs.
"A History of Magical and Mystical Weapons. It's all 'Swords of Doom' and 'Lances of Fire', I wish this thing had a bloody index! I can't for the life of me find anything useful about the Rod." Her eyes flicked towards the staff table "But on a more humorous note, have you two noticed who's replaced Snape?"
They looked over at the table. There weren't too many teachers left there, most of the having left to prepare for their first class of the day. But there was one young, blonde-haired witch who was sitting at the table. She glanced over in their direction.
"'Arry! It is you!"
"Fleur?" Harry replied astonished.
She got up and walked over to their table. "Oui. What, you did not know about my skill in potions?" she said grinning.
Ron shook his head, the old dazed look starting to come into his eyes again.
"Ah, well. I 'ave some knowledge of it, and when zat man, er Snoop was it? Anway when 'e left Dumbledore asked me to replace 'im. It is a great 'onor."
"Where's Dumbledore?" asked Harry noticing the Headmaster was absent from the staff table."
"'E said 'e 'ad some business to take care of. Oh, and 'e told me to tell you zat 'e will meet you tonight after dinner at zee front doors to explain more of what you talked about last night." She looked at Harry sideways. "But what I want to know is; what were you talking about?"
"Sorry Fleur but we can't tell you that," said Hermione. "It's all very hush-hush and what not." She turned back to the book. "Now where is that blasted thing?" she said irritably.
* * *
The trio spent the rest of the day wandering around the castle and grounds, remembering what it had been liked to be in school there. After lunch they visited Hagrid (lunch providing a good excuse not to eat the sand muffins he offered them.) Throughout their visit he hinted mysterious at what was going to happen tonight, saying "Ye might not be happy 'bout it when ye first hear what it is, but when ye get there, ye'll like it."
Evening came and after dinner in the Great Hall they went out into the Entrance Hall and found Dumbledore and Hagrid waiting for them there.
"So, Professor," said Harry brightly, "Where are we going?"
"To the Forbidden Forrest." replied Dumbledore.
A/N2: Ooh, I did a cliffhanger! Mwhahahaha! Disclaimer part: I don't own most of the characters. That would be J. K. ::bows to the Great J. K.:: I think a few other ppl have done characters named Jade Malfoy but this one's mine. R/R or I'll unleash the Great Rod of Star and Storm on you!
