I OWN EVERYTHING IN THIS STORY! BWAHAHAHAHAHA! DEATH TO ALL DISCLAIMERS!
Ron was bored. Hermione was avoiding him, and Harry and Andromeda were as usual in a world of their own. At least they hadn't done that annoying looking-at-each-other thing for a while. It was nice for them, he supposed, but he would have liked to have his best friend back.
Since the night of the Yule Ball Hermione had been very distant. Neither of them knew for sure who had been sending those notes, but the only possible culprits were Fred and George. Ron had decided not to give them the satisfaction of knowing that their little trick had got to him, so he was keeping quiet. But if he hadn't gone to the Ball with Hermione, they wouldn't have kissed and they would still be as close as they had been before. Closer than usual, with Harry otherwise engaged.
He left the common room to stroll around the school. There wasn't much to do, now that Christmas and New Year were over. He almost longed for the rest of the school to return and lessons to start up – life was so boring.
Wandering down the third floor corridor where a certain three-headed dog had once dwelled, Ron heard loud sounds coming from an adjoining room. Curious but apprehensive, he approached, slowly and quietly. He peered around the door.
Draco Malfoy was standing in the centre of the room, surrounded by mess. Chairs and tables were strewn across the floor, some broken, some merely upended. As Ron watched, Malfoy brought the stool he was holding to the ground, splintering one of its legs. Ron was startled to see that the pale boy had tears in his eyes.
Realising that this probably wasn't a situation Malfoy would want to be seen in, Ron cleared his throat loudly. Malfoy looked up, startled, then rearranged his features into an insolent glare. 'What do you want, Weasley?'
'Um… you were making a lot of noise.' He was probably aware of that, thought Ron. 'Are you… OK?'
'I'm absolutely fine. Never felt better. Now stop gawping and leave me alone before I do something I most likely won't regret.'
'Oh, shut up,' said Ron, aggravated. 'I know about your father. This isn't going to help. Why don't you talk to somebody, you prat?'
Malfoy looked stunned for a moment, then produced his wand. 'Effigicia!' he shouted, and Ron felt his feet swept from under him. He landed hard on the floor. Malfoy snickered, then looked furious again. 'What is your problem? Why won't you leave?'
'You're going to be in trouble if anyone finds out you've done this,' said Ron steadily, not getting up.
'As though you care about that,' said Malfoy. 'You'd love it if I got in trouble.'
'I'm not denying it,' said Ron.
For a moment he thought Malfoy was going to smile. But then, 'Where's famous Potter and your Mudblood girlfriend, then?'
'She isn't my girlfriend,' said Ron hotly. Then he blushed. 'And she isn't a Mudblood either.' He produced his own wand and cried 'Antakkitus!' Malfoy spun rapidly around several times, then collapsed dizzily onto the fllor. It was Ron's turn to laugh.
'Get lost now,' said Malfoy. 'I don't want to talk to you.'
'I'm not going anywhere,' said Ron. 'For one thing, I'm having a really boring day and for another, it's quite funny watching you fall over.'
'Shut up!' They were quiet. Then Malfoy spoke again, 'My dad was enchanted. He didn't want to work for You-Know-Who.'
'That's what they've told you?' Ron was incredulous. 'Do you really believe that?'
'Of course I do! My mother wouldn't lie to me! At least my father had something to do with the fight. Yours is still chatting to Muggles at the bottom of the Ministry.'
'My father is working harder than ever,' shouted Ron, 'and yours was working for an evil wizard! Your dad's in Azkaban, Malfoy! Whose is better now?'
Malfoy shook. 'Get out. Go away. Don't ever say anything about my dad again.' This time, Ron did. If Malfoy didn't want to be rational then it was his problem.
An owl flew warily over the dense forest of Ralassar. It didn't want to be here, but it held an important message in its beak. It would get this job done quickly.
Landing on the windowsill of a dirty little house, the owl rapped the pane with the side of its beak. A tall, thin, robed man got up to open it, and the owl shrank away. It dropped the letter through the opening crack and flew away as though being shot at.
Voldemort picked up the letter and slit it open. Seeing the signature at the bottom, his eyes widened. There was news from Pettigrew!
My Lord,
After visiting Lucius Malfoy in Azkaban it has come to light that a spy is working in our midst. Severus Snape is working for Dumbledore, and made sure that the entrance he told you of would be heavily guarded at all times. This way into the castle will no longer be of any use. I suggest that you punish Snape severely. Lucius Malfoy will also no longer be useful to you. His mind has been deeply affected by Azkaban and within a few days he will be truly insane.
Your faithful servant,
Peter Pettigrew
Frowning, Voldemort cast a simple enchantment and, at Hogwarts, the skull and serpent on Severus Snape's forearm turned smoky black. He was being summoned.
Snape arrived at the house little over an hour later. He knocked apprehensively on the door, wondering what was required of him now. It opened, unmanned. He entered.
Voldemort was sitting, as usual, in the sparse front room – an opened letter lay next to him. 'I have received word from Pettigrew,' said Voldemort.
'Oh?'
'It seems, Severus Snape, that a spy has been working in our midst. Now who do you think it could be?'
He knew. 'I – I don't know, my lord.'
'Why, now, do you feel the need to lie to me?' Voldemort lifted his wand and said in a bored voice, 'Crucio!'
He watched as the spy writhed on the ground before him. Then it stopped. 'You may go.'
Snape's mind raced wildly. What was Voldemort doing? Surely he did not intend to keep him in his service? He couldn't be letting him go?
Questioning it no further, Snape hurried for the door. Before he reached it, he heard 'Avada Kedavra!' Of course, he heard no more. He fell lifeless to the ground.