PHOENIX ASCENDING III-- The Twelfth Use of Dragon's Blood

PHOENIX ASCENDING III-- The Twelfth Use of Dragon's Blood

Gabriel stood frozen, staring wildly from Dumbledore to Moody and back again, knowing in an instant what they must have been discussing. "If you are bent on leaving, Alastor..." Dumbledore began, clearing his throat.

"I am," Moody finished quickly; his eyes fixed maliciously on Gabriel.

"Then there is nothing I can do to stop you," Dumbledore said heavily, pulling out a piece of parchment and scribbling hastily upon it. He handed it to Harry with a smile. "Harry, if you would please leave us, we have much to discuss. And if you would be so kind to run this over to the owlery on your way to the feast, it's for Professor Lupin."

Harry Potter nodded, taking the letter in his hand. He gave Gabriel a sympathetic smile and headed out the door, the echoing of his shoes growing ever fainter as he raced down the stairs.

"Gabriel, take a seat," said Dumbledore quietly, gesturing to a vacant ottoman. He sunk into his own chair behind the desk with a huge audible sigh. Moody said nothing, and his silence was what worried Gabriel most of all.

Swallowing hard, Gabriel shook his head. "I'm just... stopping in," he said, trying to ignore Moody's predatorial gaze. "There's a woman here who wants to get in contact with Remus Lupin."

Right on cue, the office door opened and Vix stepped in, motorcycle jacket and all. "I got sick of waiting," she remarked to no one in particular, before sinking into the chair beside Gabriel.

"And who might you be?" Dumbledore asked, without so much as blinking an eye.

"Vix Su," she answered, smiling broadly and extending her hand.

Standing up, Dumbledore took it and returned the grin, "Albus Dumbledore. This is Alastor Moody," Vix gave a double take at the scarred features and magical eye which had rolled back into his head, leaving the socket blank and white. "Our... former Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

Sensing something was amiss, Vix's smile faded. "Is this a bad time?"

Dumbledore waved his hand dismissivly, "No matter. Now what can I do for you, Miss Su?"

"I'm looking for Remus Lupin," she replied, noticing how Moody's features darkened at the mention of his name.

"Why?" Dumbledore asked, returning to his seat behind the desk.

"We met," Vix began, shooting a tentative glance at Gabriel, who was busy avoiding Moody's stare. "In Hong Kong about a year ago--"

Dumbledore's smile twitched, "So you're the famous waitress?"

"What do you know?" Vix said abruptly, jerking her head up and gazing at him warily.

"Nothing but the bare rudimentals, Miss Su," he replied reassuringly. "As you were saying?"

"I assaulted one of my customers and stole his Daily Prophet," she said coolly. "Because Remus and Sirius were discussed in the article. They're both too damn stubborn for their own good and would never ask for help whether they needed it or not so, I decided to come to them. I phoned the author of the article, Gabriel, and he took me here, saying that if anyone knew Remus's whereabouts, or Sirius's for that matter, it would be you." She said this all very fast and very matter-of-factly, leaning back in the seat when she had finished.

"I just sent an owl to Remus as Gabriel was coming in," Dumbledore replied, equally unruffled. "He will probably be here within the next day or so, but if you're willing to brave our school, I'm sure we could accommodate you until his arrival."

"Really?" Vix stood up, a wide grin spreading over her face. "Are you serious?"

"Absolutely," Dumbledore replied, and then found himself positively at a loss for words as Vix enveloped him in a huge bear hug. No one ever hugged Albus Dumbledore. Yes, they smiled and winked at him until he felt like something out of a Walt Disney picture, but no one have ever, ever hugged him. He found that he rather liked it. "Ah... yes," Dumbledore said, untangling himself as Gabriel tried to suppress his smirk and Moody his blatant disgust. "Well, I'll show you to a room, then I have to go down to the start of term feast, there's several important announcements to get out of the way." He opened the door and then turned back to Moody. "If you'd excuse me, Alastor. We'll talk later." With that, he walked out through the door, Vix only a few paces behind. Gabriel and Moody were alone in the room.

"So," Gabriel began rather awkwardly, staring around at the portraits of all of the former headmasters, half-asleep in their frames. He supposed it was rather boring being a painting, "So..."

"Don't play games with me Cox," Moody cut him off, limping forward so that it was impossible for Gabriel to avoid his stare. "Cornelius Fudge is dead."

"I know that," Gabriel said quietly, looking away as Moody bore down on top of him.

Moody gave a threatening growl, his Scottish brogue hard and dangerous. "And you know what was written onto his body, Cox? The word Lucifer mean anything to you?"

"Stop it!" Gabriel stood up, knocking his chair over in the process. He ignored it and turned to face Moody, anger filling him as he stared at the broken old man with the broken old leg, smiling like he was just about to break him.

"I'm watching you Cox," Moody replied, steeping so close to Gabriel that he could feel his breath on his cheek. "I'm watching your every move, your every thought, your every action. You can't escape me, when you so much as breathe... I know."

"Leave me alone!" Gabriel replied, slowly emphasizing each word with so much loathing it was impossible to tell which one of them exuded more hate.

"Like father, like son," Moody spat contemptuously, staring straight into Gabriel's eyes.

Gabriel was the first to look away. Wheeling around, he stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind him with a wrenching crack. Moody just stood there for a long time, staring after him, the faintest of smiles twisting its way over his ravaged face.

----

"So you got expelled?" Harry shook his head as he slid in between Ron and Hermione just as the sorting was winding down.

"Nah, just lectured, you'll never guess who showed up as I was leaving," he whispered in reply.

"You'll never guess who's not here," Ron grinned madly, motioning Harry closer. "Snape!"

"You're kidding!" Harry said, with a smile to rival Ron's own. At that second, a memory flashed across his mind, an echo of Dumbledore's voice almost half a year ago. "Severus, if you are ready, if you're prepared--" With a shiver, Harry stopped smiling. He honestly didn't want to know where Snape was.

"Hagrid's gone too," Hermione said somberly.

"Where is he?" Harry asked.

"Dunno," Ron shrugged.

Just as Zoraster, Abbot joined the Slytherin house; Professor Dumbledore walked into the hall and up towards the staff table, looking extremely worn and tired. He paused in front of his seat and turned to address the school. Within a few seconds, all chatter had ceased and every pair of eyes was focused on him. Dumbledore cleared his throat and began to speak, his voice reverberating around the hall. "Before I allow you to dig in to this most excellent feast, there are a few announcements that must be made. Mr. Filch would like me to make it perfectly clear to all students that," he checked a small piece of parchment in his hand and began to read off it. "Unless you can't tell by the name, the Forbidden Forest is forbidden to all students, and that includes Fred and George Weasley." He stuffed the parchment back into his robes, eyes twinkling. Fred and George exchanged a satisfied smirk as the hall erupted in laughter around them.

"Madame Hooch needs to see anyone interested in trying out for their house Quiddich teams. Slytherin needs two chasers, Ravenclaw, both beaters and a chaser, Gryffindor a keeper and Hufflepuff... a seeker." The hall grew quiet for a moment, the memory of that Hufflepuff seeker echoing in every mind.

Dumbledore paused a moment before continuing. "We have several new teachers this year. Acting as interim Care of Magical Creatures Teacher is Professor Weasley." Charlie stood up and at the tumultuous applause. When Fred and George began to catcall his face turned almost as red as his hair.

"I can't believe he didn't tell me!" Ron yelled, clapping along with everyone else, and shaking his head in amazement. "This is going to be a riot!"

Dumbledore's voice cut him off. "A few moments ago, Professor Moody came to me and resigned his post as Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher."

The hall filled with mutterings and whispers at this announcement, and Harry heard a seventh year up the table turn to his friend and mutter "The job is jinxed, I'm telling you." Most of the other students seemed to share his opinion, conversing among themselves with worried expressions.

Dumbledore held up his hand for silence and cleared his throat before continuing. "Because this leaves us in a rather tight position, I have sent an owl to Professor Lupin, whom some of you may remember. Until I receive his reply, I myself will be covering the lessons."

The outcry in the hall was tumultuous. Some people, Harry, Ron, and Hermione included were grinning wildly and applauding Dumbledore, while others looked worried or even terrified. A group of bewildered first and second years stared around as the older student's began to fill them in. Leaning in towards Harry, Ron smiled. "This is great, what? With Charlie and Lupin."

Harry smiled in response, "Yeah. I was there when Moody resigned--"

But Hermione cut his story short, "Look at Malfoy." The three of them turned towards the Slytherin table where Draco Malfoy sat between Crabbe and Goyle, white with livid fury. Muttering something to Goyle, Harry saw his mouth form the word werewolf. "Lupin may not even come back," Hermione said shrewdly, pulling Harry's attention away from Malfoy and his goons.

"But then Dumbledore would be our teacher and that's almost as good," Ron replied.

"As long as they don't bring Gilderoy Lockhart back from St. Mungo's, I don't care who our teacher is," Harry said, still applauding.

"Hermione wouldn't mind that," Ron grinned broadly. "Would you, Hermione?"

Hermione turned very red and looked back down at her golden plate, muttering something about not judging men by the size of their broomstick.

"Professor Snape--" Dumbledore began as the noise in the hall slowly quieted and all eyes focused on him. "Professor Snape is... unable to join us this year. So it is with great pleasure that I present our new potions master, who unfortunately cannot be here with us tonight-- Viktor Krum. Dig in!" The hall practically exploded with noise, heads turned, girls swooned, and everyone stared at each other in slack-jawed surprise, hardly noticing when the gleaming gold platters filled with food.

Ron was no exception, for he turned to Hermione a look of absolute horror on his face, "What did you do?"

She went quite purple and glared right back at him; "I didn't do anything!"

"But... but..." Ron started to stammer. "But what about Quiddich?"

"Viktor told me he wanted to do something important," Hermione snapped waspishly. "Something that would help with the war against You-Know-Who."

Ron shook his head in horror, "And teaching Potions here is important?"

"I didn't know it was Potions!" Hermione yelled, as half of the table turned to look at her. "And it's a lot more important than some dumb game anyhow."

"Quiddich is not a dumb game!" Ron said, pounding his fist on the table so hard that his goblet capsized, spilling pumpkin juice all over the immaculate white tablecloth.

"Stop acting like it's all my fault!" Hermione snapped. "It was his choice!"

"What do you see in him, anyway?" Ron yelled. "He's a stupid, slouchy, slimy--"

"Shut up!" Hermione screeched, standing up quickly. "Ronald Weasley, you're just jealous!" And without another word, she stormed out of the Great Hall, leaving her heaping plate of food untouched.

"What's her problem?" Ron said, jamming his fork a little too hard into his peppermint humbug, causing it to fly into the air and right through the head of Nearly Headless Nick, sitting with a gaggle of third years a few seats down, causing it to wobble precariously for a few seconds and then topple off. With as much dignity as possible under the circumstances, Nick placed his head back on his shoulders and adjusted his collar, to the third years delight. "Sorry," Ron called out, putting his fork down rather gently.

"Well you were being a bit of a git," Harry began.

"What?" Ron gave him an angry stare.

"Not that she wasn't," Harry amended quickly. "But just because she's... er... dating Viktor Krum, doesn't mean she's convinced him to stop playing Quiddich."

"She did," Ron insisted sulkily, dragging his fork through his mashed potatoes. "She told him to stop playing Quiddich to make me angry."

Harry tried hard to fight back the laugh. "Now you're just being stupid."

Ron shot him a dirty look before exchanging his demolished dinner with Hermione's intact one. "You'll don't think she'll be back?"

"Not 'til you apologize," Harry said meaningfully.

Ron snorted, "Fat chance of that. It's all her fault anyhow."

Harry thought otherwise, but he kept his mouth shut, not wanting to antagonize Ron any further. They spent the rest of dinner talking about the upcoming Quiddich tryouts until the feast was finally over and their golden plates wiped clean. Getting up with the rest of the Gryffindors, Ron and Harry headed over to the staff table to say hello to Charlie.

"How come you didn't tell me?" Ron yelled as Charlie gave him a wide grin.

"Hello to you too," he replied. "And it was the twins, they figured it would be hilarious if you didn't know."

"Very funny," Ron said sulkily.

"Well I'm only here 'til Hagrid is back," Charlie replied.

"Where is he?" Harry asked for the second time that night.

"Buggered if I know," Charlie replied shrugging. "Off on business for Dumbledore I'd imagine. Viktor Krum came as a real shock though, eh?"

"He should have stayed in Quiddich," Ron said, a little too passionately.

"Somewhat hard, though," Charlie replied, looking at him curiously. "Since they shut down the Bulgarian National Quiddich Team."

"What?" Harry and Ron said in unison.

Charlie shrugged, "What I've heard is just rumors really, from some of my friends back in Romania. They're a whole load of drunken villagers so don't quote me on anything, but supposedly You-Know-Who has taken over Durmstang and is using it as a sort of fort to attack the rest of Bulgaria. The country is supposed to be in total chaos and the Bulgarian Ministry cut its funding to the Quiddich team and pumped it into the war effort."

"Oh," said Ron, looking down at his feet.

They said good-bye to Charlie and headed up to the common room, opening up the Fat Lady with the help of a sixth-year prefect waiting around for stragglers who told them the new password: Felix Minor.

Looking around the common room for a second, Harry spotted a bushy haired figure curled up in a plush velvet armchair in a corner, eyes focused on an enormous book. Nudging Ron, Harry pointed towards her. When they reached Hermione's corner, she purposefully ignored them, keeping her eyes forcibly glued on Hogwarts: A History. "Haven't you already read that?" Harry asked, giving her a friendly smile. Hermione gave a non-committal grunt, never looking up.

Going crimson Ron took a deep breath, "Hermione, I'm sorry."

She closed the book with a snap, "Good."

"So you forgive me?" Ron asked with a hesitant smile.

"No," Hermione said. "But I'll speak to you now." And without another glance at the two of them, she flounced out of the common room and up the stairs to her dormitory.

Ron looked at Harry in utter bewilderment, "Girls," he muttered darkly.

----

He stood between two worlds, ripening in one like a raisin in the sun, wraughting the other with his wildest fantasies as time flew by, unhinged and unheeding. Closing his eyes, he dared imagine his personal world, dared imagine the form he had in it, felt the wings on his back, the heavy powerful tail, and the dangerous fangs that could crush a man's scull. He reached out for his world, reached out for the power that awaited him there-- and fell. He backed out of the hall, hitting a door and falling flat into the tiny room he'd been given. Every speck of paint, every inch of friendly gingham plaid swam before his eyes, writhing and reforming into an incomprehensible mess, a flowing blob of sensory images he couldn't even begin to grasp. He reached out wildly for one of the color strands, a bright red one, only to find his hand brushing empty air.

Illusions.

The deranged dreams of a dizzy mind. He put a hand down to the floor, trying to ground himself in solid reality. Through the melee, a pounding began in his temples, a steady drill of pain. As the ground grew steady under him, a tiny voice rose in treble in the back of his head.

It had been two days. His world had been without him for two days.

Slowly, unsteadily, he got to his feet, wavering this way and that, trying desperately to make the ground stay still as he winced from the pain in his head.

Two days.

He walked down the hall, planting his foot purposefully, not minding as the walls began to bend and stretch beyond any logic. Logic was seldom a bedmate of his.

BOOM!

Suddenly he dropped to the floor, cradling his aching head between his knees, trying to press out the pain. He ground his legs into his temples, harder and harder, faster and faster, forever and ever...

BOOM!

A huge roar rose up at his temples, overriding the wall of pain as his world, his beloved little world swam before him just out of reach and the reality he was trapped in grew all too close. Still that little voice sneered...

Two days.

He was blinking back tears as the headache rose. Fueled by nothing but raw desperation, he gripped the wall, groping for the dream state just beyond his grasp. He remained unheeding as his fingernails filled with plaster and tiny bits of flowered paper fell around him like a snow flurry...

Two days... Two days...

He ran to the bathroom, instinctively knowing where it was, and threw the medicine cabinet open, groped through the bottles, watching apathetically as they shattered on the floor...

It wasn't there.

He looked again, and still it eluded his probing fingers. With the desperation borne of pure pain, he slammed the cabinet shut. He stared for a single instant at the reflection mirrored back to him, the unruly brown hair, the gray eyes, tired... so tired...

It wasn't there.

Giving a roar to match the one inside his head, he swung his fist into his reflection, watching as it shattered into 1000 pieces. He looked down, first at the fractured mirror, and then at his bloody hand. Slowly, hardly daring, he lifted the hand up to his face, watching as the blood welled up to the skin and slid down his fingers, down, down, down to land in a puddle on the immaculate white tile floor.

Tentatively, he reached out with his tongue, and licked his second finger clean. Still his head pounded, beating out a cry for the one thing it needed the most: Dragon's Blood.

----

Sirius heard the crash as he was halfway through his morning coffee, still nursing the scars brought on by being wrenched out of bed at four in the morning by the mother of all atrocities, jazz music. He got off the sofa and started up the stairs, grumbling to himself about houseguests. When he reached the head of the stairwell, he froze. The hall was a mess; its carpet flung to one side while the door to the room that had been given to Romulus hung from its frame by a single hinge. Sirius took a step forward and lowered the door carefully into its original position, hoping it would remain upright for the time being. He stopped, staring at the wall behind the door, which had been torn apart by... by something, so that there were gaping holes in the plaster and the wallpaper lay in tiny shreds all over the floor. He looked down the hall, half fearing what he would see next. A single medicine bottle rolled its way out of the bathroom and hit the opposite wall with a thud. Eyes narrowing, Sirius picked his way across the floor, until he was facing the bathroom itself.

Medicine bottles were strewn on the floor, their contents splashed and splattered all over the tile. Romulus lay in the middle of this; surrounded by fragments of glass that Sirius could only assume had once been the mirror. He was watching his hand bleed, smiling as the red liquid dripped onto the white tile, soaking through into the grout. "Hello, Black," he said calmly, never once looking up.

"What the hell are you doing?" Sirius replied walking into the bathroom and slamming the door shut with a bang, causing a dozen medicine bottle to skitter across the floor and scatter their contents even further.

"Watching myself bleed," he replied, touching his wounded hand gently. "That a sin?"

Sirius knelt down so he could see Romulus more clearly. "What were you doing in the bathroom?" his tone was low and dangerous.

"Looking," came the reply, sounding almost bored.

"For what?"

"You know what I was looking for, Black," Romulus lashed out, raising his head suddenly. "You know, so don't play your stupid games with me. Get out of my life, leave me alone."

"You weren't invited into mine, and let's just say I want you out of it as soon as possible," Sirius hissed threateningly. "I'm going to make one thing clear to you, Lupin."

"What?" Romulus let out a hollow laugh, "Play nice with the other boys and no looking under the sink?"

Sirius stared at him, his voice low and his tone threatening. "I want to you leave Remus alone, I want you to stay as far away from him as possible and I want you to leave as soon as your sick existence allows you to. I know what you've done to him and I know he'll take it from you again. I won't. I don't care if you're his brother, and I wouldn't give a damn if you were my brother. If you try anything, if you do anything I will kill you, understood? I won't think twice."

Romulus just laughed, lifting up his bloodied hand and laid it ever so gently on Sirius's face. Then his own expression contorted and he dug his nails into Sirius's skin whispering a single word, "Blood."

Sirius didn't hesitate, his fist lashed out and hit Romulus square in the jaw, "Don't try me." From below, the sound of a door opening was audible, and steps on the stairwell. Bending close, Sirius looked into Romulus's eyes, "I will kill you," he whispered as the door swung open behind him.

"What's going on?" Remus stood in the door frame, his face contorted with worry.

"Romulus just broke the mirror, no big deal," Sirius said matter-of-factly, standing up and offering his hand to Lupin's brother, still kneeling on the floor. Romulus took it, giving him a venomous look as he rose to his feet.

Remus looked between the two of them, his expression darkening, but he either believed Sirius's limited explanation or simply wanted to so he didn't press any further. Reaching into the pocket of his robes, he pulled out a shred of parchment. "Moody resigned, and Dumbledore wants me to take the Defense Against the Dark Arts job at Hogwarts."

Sirius's face was expressionless, "And are you?"

Remus's eyes flickered briefly to Romulus and then back again, "I can't. But I feel as if I ought to tell him in person. I'll be gone for a few days most likely."

Sirius nodded, and then turned to where Romulus was standing, a smile spreading over his face. "Then it will just be the two of us, eh?"

Romulus made no reply, staring apathetically forward as the other two left the bathroom, leaving him alone with only the broken mirror and his own fantasies, just beyond his reach.

----

When Harry and Ron went down to breakfast the next morning, the hall was in a state of uproar. People were everywhere, munching toast while waving their schedules around blithely. Hermione waved Ron and Harry over the Gryffindor table, where she had been saving them seats, and handed them both a schedule. The tone seemed perfectly civil, and Harry was relieved that both Ron and Hermione had seemed to have forgotten about the hissy fit of the previous night. Ron took one look at the schedule and let out a long low groan. "I hate Mondays."

Feeling the impending weight of doom, Harry ventured a glance at his own schedule, and immediately saw the cause of Ron's frustration. The had Care of Magical Creatures first, which wouldn't be too bad, but it was followed up by History of Magic, where Professor Binns managed to turn even the most gruesome battles into sleep aids. Then, if only to make matters worst came Divination, a total waste at its best, and finally Potions, a class Harry had grown to hate over the last four years of his life. "Damn," he groaned.

"Harry, Ron," Hermione chastened, "Look on the bright side!"

"What bright side?" Ron said miserably, staring at his gruel in disgust.

"There's no Snape!" Hermione said brightly.

"Thanks Hermione," said Ron sarcastically. "Cheers me up a lot, that does."

"You know you like Viktor," Hermione sighed. "More than Snape at least."

Ron looked utterly miserable, "That doesn't take allot. I like Percy more than I like Snape."

Ignoring him, Harry looked up at the staff table, "Professor Lupin's not here yet, neither is Viktor."

"Maybe he died en route from Bulgaria," Ron muttered under his breath so only Harry could catch it. "Splinched himself in Poland."

Fighting back a smile, Harry kicked Ron under the table, who kicked back... hard. "Who's that?" Hermione said, unaware of the fight unfolding behind her.

"Who's who?" Harry asked, mildly distracted as Ron was trying to hit him with a spoon full of gruel. FWALP! The gruel flew through the air, hitting Hermione's S.P.E.W. notebook, which was lying wide open on the table. Ron tried to hide the evidence, thrusting the spoon towards Harry as Hermione gave him a dirty look and scraped the gruel off her book and onto the floor.

"As I was saying," she said in a disapproving tone strangely reminiscent of Percy. "Who is the woman sitting next to Dumbledore?"

Ron shrugged, rather disinterested, "I dunno."

"What?" Harry said, still discombobulated from the gruel incident.

"The woman, next to Dumbledore?" Hermione shook her head at his blank look, "Who is she?"

Harry turned to look, "I don't know." In spite of himself he couldn't help smiling. "She looks allot like Cho Chang." Ron began to cough so loudly that Harry didn't know whether to pat him on the back or smack him over the head so he decided to ignore him completely and turn to look at the newcomer. She sure as anything wasn't a teacher dressed as she was in a Muggle motorcycle jacket and T-shirt bearing the words: MURDERER'S WAY. She was Asian and seemed to be engaged in an intense conversation with Dumbledore who had abandoned his gruel completely in order to devote his full attention to the woman. "Do you think she's an auror?" he asked.

"Maybe a beautiful American transfer student," Ron said wistfully.

"Don't you wish," Harry smirked. "They all fall for me anyway."

"Boys…" Hermione said in a disapproving tone. "That's not remotely funny. And she's too old to be a student anyway."

Ron nudged her gently, "Ah Herm, you're no fun."

"Don't call me Herm," said Hermione stuffily. "It sounds like a skin disease."

Ron gave her a hurt look; "Maybe you'd prefer Her-my-oh-ninny."

"Oh honestly!" She threw up her hands in disgust. "Would you grow up a little, Ron?" Not waiting for a response, Hermione glanced at her watch. "If we don't hurry up, we'll be late for Care of Magical Creatures."

"All right then," Harry said, eager to change the subject before Ron and Hermione were at it again. "Let's—"

But he didn't have time to finish his sentence as the door to the Great Hall flew open with a resounding bang, letting in a draft of icy wind. Instantly all chatter ceased and every eye turned to look at the door as a cloaked figure walked purposefully through it and began to stride up the hall towards the staff table, pulling off his hood as he went. Hermione gave an involuntary gasp as she recognized his face. Harry, was too shocked to make any sort of response, he was stuck just staring at the figure in surprise like everyone else in the Great Hall. Except one.

The Asian woman who had been so engrossed in conversation with Dumbledore had turned a deathly white, a huge smile spreading over her face. She vaulted over the staff table, almost capsizing it and causing Professor McGonagall to turn a sickly shade of green. The woman ran down the last few feet of hall towards the cloaked figure who had stopped with apparent shock at the sight of her. Flinging her arms around his neck she whispered one word, "Remus."

----

Harry, Ron and Hermione trudged up the many winding sets of stairs to the classroom where Care of Magical Creatures was listed on their schedules. As much as he loved Charlie, Harry desperately wished he was back up in the Great Hall listening to whatever Lupin, Dumbledore, and the woman were talking about. Dumbledore had rushed the two of them up to his office as soon as she had detached her arms from around Remus's neck. Come to think of it, the woman did look a lot like Cho Chang. Harry smiled to himself, wondering suddenly how Lupin knew her; maybe he should ask Sirius.

Looking out a window, Harry saw Hagrid's cabin, and not for the first time that day, wished he was walking out there instead. Sure Hagrid might have some dangerous new beast, or even some awful assignment, but Harry felt as if he would eat a whole truckload of Hagrid's homemade rock cakes if it meant he could see him again. Mentally kicking himself, he turned away from the window; the last thing he needed to get was sentimental. Besides, if Hagrid wasn't teaching, Charlie was defiantly the next best thing.

"Look what the cat dragged in," Ron hissed to Harry as they arrived in front of Charlie's classroom. The Slytherins were already there, waiting, looking as if the summer had only made them grow more nastier and vindictive.

"Saw your baby-sitter in the hall," Malfoy sneered as Harry walked by. "Are you sure you shouldn't have checked him into the kennel?"

The Slytherins guffawed and Hermione whispered "Ignore them, Harry, ignore them," under her breath as she opened the door to the classroom. Charlie was waiting, and he quickly pulled his feet off the desk as the students filed in, the Slytherins and Gryffindors staring daggers at each other. Ron, Harry and Hermione filed into three desks near the blackboard upon which was written one word: DRAGONS.

"Oh no," Harry exchanged a look with Ron. From nursing Norbert in their first year to facing the Hungarian Horntail just last term, Harry's experience with Dragons had been far from something he wanted to relieve.

"At least it's not a skrewt," Seamus Finnigan grinned, settling himself down just behind Harry, Ron and Hermione.

"I'd take the skrewt," Harry said grimly.

"Don't let Charlie hear you," Ron whispered. "He's almost as fanatical as Hagrid."

When the last students were seated, Charlie clapped his hands together, his face breaking into a wide grin. "Fantastic!" he smiled. "Let's get on with it then, shall we? This year," he gestured widely at the board. "We'll be studying dragons. So... er... right... what's important about dragons?" Right on cue Hermione's hand shot up into the air. "Yes, Hermione?"

"Their blood has twelve uses," she volunteered blithely.

"Right," Charlie replied. "Five points to Gryffindor," he said in a tone as if he had always wanted to do that. "So can anyone tell me what the twelve uses are?"

"We did that in first year... Professor," Malfoy sneered from the row behind Harry.

"And do you remember them, Malfoy?" Charlie asked. He was answered with a sulky silence. "No don't worry," he added as Neville began to look uncomfortable. "I wouldn't have either. So we may as well start here, can anyone tell me what Dragon's blood is used for?"

Dean Thomas raise his hand, "They put it in paint sometimes... I think." Dean would know something like that, being an artist.

Charlie nodded and wrote it on the chalkboard. "Anyone else?"

Hermione of course raised her hand, but Charlie called on Salvia Hickebourger, one of the Slytherin girls. "Oven cleaner, plant fertilizer, and it can get a stain out of anything," she added sounding exactly like a commercial.

Charlie wrote these down, "That's four, anyone else? Hermione?"

She began, sounding at once like she had swallowed the textbook. "It's magnetic, wood for wands is soaked in it, its good bait for magical creatures of dark origins, it is used in developing moving photographs, is a chief ingredient in alchemy and in the Oedipii Charm and... and..." she broke off, amazed and ashamed to have forgotten something, even something as insignificant as the twelfth use of dragon blood.

"I think..." Neville ventured, disarmed by Charlie's friendly manner. "I think, I mean I might be wrong and everything but isn't it used in medicine, or something like that..."

"Yes," said Charlie, giving Neville a wide smile. "The twelfth use of dragon's blood is as a stimulant, to awaken patients that have been knocked out or sometimes are on the brink of death. But it's highly addictive; so most wizards use it sparingly. Now copy this down you lazy lugs, we don't have all day."

----

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Harry saw neither head nor hide of Lupin or the Asian woman, though he had been able to think of little else. Hermione however, had other things on her mind, for when they sat in History of Magic, listening to Professor Binns drone on to his less than enthralled audience about the societal implications of section 4A.265 of the Muggle Protection Act of 1926, she bent over to whisper to the both of Harry and Ron. "I want to check out Hagrid's cabin."

"Wha?" Ron yawned, having fallen asleep over his notes.

"I want to check out Hagrid's cabin," Hermione repeated, her voice twinged with slight disapproval. "Maybe there's something in it to see where he is."

"I'm sure he'll be back soon," Harry said, like Ron too bored to think straight.

"Nevertheless," she began, looking especially anxious and worried.

Harry looked at Ron, and Ron looked at Harry and they both heaved a great sigh. As they had learned over the last four years, when Hermione got onto an idea there was little much to do except go along with her. "All right," Harry sighed. "We'll look around at lunch."

----

Severus Snape walked into the dank Ministry of Magic offices, his shoes ringing hard on the cold marble floor. The crest nailed onto the receptionists desk proclaimed the room as "The Offices of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement", but the secretary looked rather unable to enforce any law at the moment, magical or otherwise. She was staring blankly at the wall, playing with her hair while blowing a gigantic obnoxious bubble of chewing gum. If there was one thing in the world Severus could not stand, it was gum.

He walked coldly to the desk and laid his hands upon it, saying nothing but nevertheless fixing the secretary with his trademark glare. She blinked, and realizing she was being watched turned around towards Snape with a flick of her platinum blonde hair, "Yeah?"

Snape recognized her immediately: Hilly Constantine, a Gryffindor naturally, who had graduated a few years back. He remembered her as a girl with far to much hair and not much between the ears. His face formed itself into the appropriate nasty sneer. "Miss Constantine," he hissed.

She stared at him blankly and blew another bubble of gum before replying, "Professor Snape."

"I'd like to speak with your director," he said disdainfully, as Hilly took the gum out of her mouth and stuck it onto the Y in her nameplate, where the hot pink quivering mass was quite visible to Snape.

"She's available by appointment only, Professor," she smirked. Though Snape knew it not, Hilly enjoyed telling him off immensely, it had been a dream of hers ever since her first potions class nine years before.

"This is a matter of the utmost importance," he hissed with growing annoyance. "I must see the director!"

"Ms. Ingleson is a busy woman," Hilly replied, glancing at her nails. "She will be in meetings till next Tuesday, maybe even longer considering the Minister of Magic's murder and everything else." Ms. Ingleson was actually free, but Hilly had conveniently forgotten this in lieu of her great love for her former potions master.

Snape was loosing patience. Shooting Hilly his worst sneer, he rolled up the sleeve of his robes, exposing his left arm to her. Upon that arm, etched for all eternity, was the Dark Mark. "Does this mean anything to you, Miss Constantine?" Obviously it did, because Hilly just gaped, for once at a loss for words. "Good," Snape hissed. "Now I want you to get your director for me now, and not to waste any time, or I will kill you like I killed Cornelius Fudge. Is that understood?" Hilly nodded dumbly, all color draining from her face. Her eyes never moving from Snape's arm, she reached across the desk and grabbed Lord Trupett's Magical Intercom. But before she could page Ms. Ingleson, Snape reached out and gripped her wrist, noticing that Hilly flinched at his touch. "Just for... personal reference," he said. "The going rate for murder is a life sentence in Azkaban, is it not?" Hilly nodded, speechless as she flicked on the intercom.

Snape skulked away from the desk, not really listening or caring when Hilly paged Ms. Ingleson and her hit wizards. He had done it: the unthinkable, the insane. Dumbledore had spies everywhere, tiny eyes and ears in the Ministry, in the Death Eaters, even in the past. There was only one place that had so far been impenetrable to Dumbledore's network, the island fortress of Azkaban. But no longer would the dementors be out of Albus's reach. The time was now for their fortress to fall. Snape's work had just begun.

----

The three of them ran across the lawn under the invisibility cloak, Harry's stomach grumbling all the while for the lunch he was forsaking. "Hermione," he growled, after they had passed the Whomping Willow. "I hope this is worth it to you."

"Oh it is," she whispered back. "There has to be some sort of clue in the cabin as to where Hagrid is."

Ron's voice sounded indignant from somewhere near Harry's shoulder, "Can't we just do this after lunch?"

"Shhhh!" Hermione's arm hit Harry in the face, presumably to cover Ron's mouth. Harry soon saw why, for Charlie was making his way up the path, whistling "Wands Don't Make the Man". They stood there frozen for a second while he passed close enough to touch them. "That was close," Hermione whispered when he walked past the willow and out of view.

"Terribly," Ron replied, sarcastically.

"Shut up, both of you," Harry smirked as they made their way to the cabin. The door was locked but Hermione had it open with an easy "Alhorama!"

"I feel kind of bad about this," she remarked to no one in particular. "It is Hagrid's property and all..."

"Ach!" Ron growled, pulling the invisibility cloak off of him with a snap. "It was YOUR idea, Herm."

"How many times do I have to tell you not to call me Herm," she rolled her eyes.

"Righto, Herm," he replied, dodging her punch.

"What's that?" Harry asked, motioning them both closer as they stared at the table. Lying upon it was an object the likes of which Harry had never seen. It was a long cylindrical tube, silver all over, with colors of every ilk and background darting beneath the surface, fading and melting into each other before reforming in the blink of an eye. Here a patch of green became blue, then pink, finally a color Harry had never seen before, halfway between purple and orange. It was mesmerizing, but he finally managed to tear his eyes away from it and turn them to Ron and Hermione, who were both also agape with wonder.

"I've never seen anything like it," Hermione said in outright amazement.

"What do you say we take it back up with us to the castle, just to have a look-see," Ron said. "Not that Hagrid's here to mind or anything."

"Ron," Hermione hissed angrily. "It might be dangerous!"

"Come off it, Hermione," Ron rolled his eyes, reaching out for the silvery tube. He reached out to grab it, but the instant his hand brushed against it, he disappeared.

Harry looked at Hermione, and she looked at Harry and both of their jaws dropped. "What happened?" she said weakly.

"No idea," he replied, staring at the tube, glinting maliciously back at him.

"What should we--" she began and then broke off, backing away in horror.

Harry wasn't any more thrilled than Hermione. "Well we have to go after him, eh?" She opened her mouth as if to protest, then biting her lip, nodded. She bent towards him, gripping his hand. Together, the two of them reached for the tube and Harry felt the all-too familiar jerk behind his navel before the world went black.

----

The reporters all huddled together in the large auditorium. It was clearly designed to impress, the long silky carpet and crystal chandeliers perfectly accented each other while the rich impressionist oils hanging on the walls gave such a feel of luxury that the galleons were almost palpable. Drenched from the raging thunderstorm outside and holding nothing but ragged scraps of parchment, the luxurious room served no purpose other than to make most of the reporters huddled inside feel especially small and insignificant, which of course was the intent behind holding the press conference there. All the reporters were waiting with baited breath, anxiously checking the time and glancing at the mahogany podium that stood on a raise dais a few meters from their seats. When a Ministry official entered from the side door and walked up to the podium there was an audible sigh of relief from every side. The official cleared his throat, but he didn't really have to, every eye in the room was already focused on him. "It is my great pleasure to be here with all of you tonight," the man's bottlebrush mustache twitched self-importantly as he talked, muffling his words somewhat. "And I hope that you all are as comfortable as possible."

"Get on with it!" one of the reporters yelled from the second row from the back.

The official ignored him, swishing his mustache in an annoyed fashion, "As you all know, our much beloved Minister passed away this past week, but his killer is now custody. Severus Snape, the former Potions master at Hogwarts School and Wizardry confessed to the crime. For the record, Snape is also a former Death Eater who received a pardon from Bartimus Crouch Sr. fourteen years ago." At these words an ominous whispering overtook the reporters, each one glancing at his neighbor, the words "Death Eater" on every lip. Once again the official cleared his throat, "But this is not a time to look back, this is a time for moving forwards and it is my great pleasure to announce to you all that the Ministry has now selected a new Minister of Magic, one who is ready and willing to face and defeat the challenges pending upon the wizarding community today, one who is ready to build a bridge to the twenty-first century and beyond, a man who had my personal vote because I have never seen one more qualified and more deserving!" His voice had reached a zealous pitch and the reporters were hanging on every word, "Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present to you the six hundred and sixty-sixth Minister of Magic: Lucius Malfoy!"

An instant hush fell over the room, more powerful than before, as the tall thin man with the shock of gleaming blonde hair walked out of the side door an up towards the podium, command in every inch of his body, a smile of triumph stretched over his face. Tilting his head slightly, Lucius Malfoy gripped the sides of the podium. "Questions?"

confused? don't be! I have summaries in the last two chapters, so check those out if you want. sorry to rowena for not waiting for her to beta (i'm soooorrryyy!!!) but I really wanted to get this one out before I had to start school again and life got hectic :O(. I still love you rowena! I do! everyone (if you haven't) check out her fics, vaya and unchained melody, both of them beautiful. thanks for everyone that reviewed the last one espically silimay who did twice :O). Next up, plently of viktor krum, in fact I think the whole chapter will be about viktor krum, when its not about remus and sirius and vix and dumbledore and harry and ron and snape and moody and romulus and... but you get my drift. review please, tell me what you think of romulus, vix, gabriel, or the mid-east peace process. anyway i've rambled enough, g'night and i'm out.