Author's Note: Hahahahaha…bet you weren't expecting that! Heck, I wasn't expecting that! Actually…yes, yes, I was expecting that. The plot has taken an unexpected twist. Two of them, actually. Is the Headmaster actually going to die? Is Malfoy good or bad? How did Dr. Curtis die? Hmm…. You want the truth? You can't handle the truth!!! I'm sorry, in a very hyper mood. I'm including a bit of the last chapter to help the ebb and flow of things.

I think that now would be a good time to introduce latest idea. I'm turning this story into a series of four stories. The sequel will be starring Emily, and Jack will be the leading man in story #3. The fourth and final will be an epilogue to all three stories in which each character will be given five chapters about their later, post-Hogwarts life (i.e. love-life, career, etc.).

Hahaha…if you read further in this chapter, you will reach a point where the words 'parents' and 'partners' are used a lot in one paragraph. I was looking, and figured out that you could rearrange the letters in both words and add/subtract a letter and you get the other word! Also, that reminds me. I discovered that the words 'prenatal' and 'parental' are almost the same. How weird! I wonder if they're related purposefully? Hmm…the mysteries of life…

Also, there is a section in this chapter that I'm going to switch out of Landon mode, and into Ron's psyche, because I need to capture another scene when Landon isn't present. It may seem a little out of place, but it's a key to the story.

Well, anyway, this author's note is too long as it is. Please, please, please, as much as I hate begging for reviews, I'd very much like feedback on said idea. Enjoy this chapter!

Cheers!

…The man was walking back towards the hut, and so I figured it best to stay put. I took off my gloves, cloak, and a Weasley jumper, still wearing another underneath. The man walked in, still not revealing his face. I sat on one of Hagrid's large chairs, watching as the man poured himself a cup of tea. I could see from his nose down, and noticed when he visibly grimaced at the taste, wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve, and threw the cup to the ground, where it shattered. He couldn't do that; it wasn't his property- it was Hagrid's. What gave him the right to do that? Hagrid would come back after dinner to find his hut vandalized. The man was staring at me, a smile playing about his lips, as if just daring me to fix it. I stared back at where his eyes would be underneath the cloak, not intimidated. My conscience gave in, however, and I stooped down to where the shattered cup was.

"Reparo," I muttered. The cup drew back together, and I placed it on the crude wooden table. A cruel smile was playing at the man's lips. I suddenly felt as if I was in danger.

"Typical," he muttered.

"Excuse me?" I asked.

"Just like a Weasley," he said, standing up and facing away from me. "Always meddling where they don't belong." He removed his cloak, revealing a head of platinum blond hair. I still hadn't seen his face, and for all I knew, this man could kill me at any second.

"Who are you?" I asked. He spun around. My mouth dropped open as I gaped at him. He smiled cruelly at the sheer irony of it all.

"Draco Malfoy. Pleased to meet you."

*

I narrowed my eyes. "What are you doing here?" I asked him. "I bet you're the one who's killing Professor Dumbledore."

The look on his face was not one that I had been expecting. At first, he was a little angry, and indeed, it was my goal to provoke him. Then, he became rather sad. His steely gray eyes seemed to be staring off into space as he was contemplating something. When he spoke, his voice was cold and dark. "Don't speak of things that you don't know, young Weasley."

"Well, I would know if you'd tell me," I said, hopefully.

He smiled that same cruel smile again. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? Just like your Mudblood mother-"

"YOU LEAVE MY MOTHER OUT OF THIS!!!" I yelled at him, surprised that it was coming out of my own mouth. Of course, I had the Weasley temper, but I had never really demonstrated it to that extreme. I guess it just goes to show you…mess with Mama and meet your Maker. Pretty good alliteration, if I do say so myself.

He clucked his tongue in that way which parents do to children, as if to say "naughty, naughty". To add to this annoyingly condescending act, he wagged his finger in my face as well with every staccato click of his tongue. "Temper, temper, Weasley," he said to me. I understood why my parents hated him.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "What are you still doing here, Draco?" I asked him.

"That's Mr. Malfoy to you," he said, correcting me.

"Sorry…Draco."

He leaned back in the wooden chair, putting his feet up on the table and lighting a fag. He inhaled slowly, as if trying to calm his nerves. Good. Hopefully that would take his mind off of killing me. Or maybe the smoke would fill his lungs, he wouldn't be able to breathe, and then he would die. Ah…wishful thinking.

"So, you're my parents' mortal enemy, eh?" I said. Wonderful conversation starter, much like 'so, the weather…wow, that's some weather…what do you think of weather? Is it just a fad or here to stay?' Honestly, my parents want to kill you! Great way to get on someone's good side, if you ask me.

He laughed scathingly, which frightened me a bit. He took another deep inhalation from the cigarette and said,  "I guess you could say that." He threw the butt on to the floor, and removed one of his legs from the table in order to grind it into the ground with his heavily boot-clad foot.

I couldn't help myself. I just couldn't. "So, why did you save me, then?"

He shrugged. "I didn't want to. If I hadn't, then your father, in turn, would have tortured me gruesomely before getting it over with and killing me. For some reason that I don't quite understand, your parents happen to be terribly fond of you. Don't ask me why. A load of trouble is all you are. Poking your nose where you don't belong, bloody impertinent, disobeying school rules, obnoxious, arrogant-"

"Are you done yet?"

"No. Arrogant, foolish, a know-it-all, big-headed-"

"You said that twice," I told him. He removed his legs from the table, and leaned forward in his seat, looking me straight in the eye.

"Excuse me? Did I hear something? Because I think…I think…that I heard someone being very rude and interrupting me again!"

"Good call, old chap! Way to think!" I said, "Because I did interrupt you, and I really don't care if I'm very rude to you, because you're likely to kill me anyway. And, you said the same thing. You called me 'arrogant' and then you called me 'big-headed'. In essence, you reiterated yourself. In essence, you reiterated yourself. In essence you reiterated yourself. In essence, you-"

"Screw your parents!" he burst out savagely, standing up. "Screw them, partners or not, I'm killing you, I swear I am!"

I stood up as well. I had him trapped. "Partners? You're partners with my parents?"

He narrowed his eyes, seeing the trap that he'd walked into. "We work together, yes," he said, nodding his head slowly. "What are you playing at, Weasley?"

I shrugged. "Not sure. What are you playing at, Draco?"

He grabbed me by the collar and pulled my face close to his, emphasizing each syllable as he said, "Weasley, what do you know? Tell me now, or else-"

"Or else the big vein in your head will pop?" I asked smartly. He roughly threw me backwards, frustrated, and I smiled to myself. Ah…my brilliant plan was succeeding. I wondered how exactly he planned on getting out of this. I wondered how exactly I planned on getting out of this.

"Now," I said in a very condescending voice, as if talking to Emily or Jack. "If you don't answer my questions, then I will tell everyone…and I mean everyone what I know. And that may be rather detrimental to you."

He stared me down, as if weighing out the options. I bet he was wishing that he hadn't smashed that fag into the ground when he did. A good shot of nicotine would be rather helpful to him now. My hopes were that I could scare him into asking my questions with the threat of potential blackmail. Considering that I was a first year, that was both terribly ambitious and extremely naive. Not only was I merely a first year, as I have stated many times, and was barely trained in dueling (I could disarm as well as other spells that we were forbidden from practicing), but this was a full-grown, full-trained, extremely smart (he was head-boy), highly dangerous wizard/felon who could probably kill me with his thumb.

"No," he said plainly.

"Excuse me?"

"You're stepping out of line, Weasley. I never liked that about your parents. They didn't know their place, and it's obvious that they haven't taught you yours. There is no was that I'll let you have the upper hand. You'd better tell me what you know and answer my questions, or it may be rather detrimental to you."

I gulped. He meant business, considering he was waving wand in front of my be- freckled nose. I narrowed my eyes.

"Look, I don't care if you kill me," Hahaha…could I be lying more? "Because you even said that my Dad would kick your arse. So…for every question you ask me, I get to ask one of my own?"

"How about, you just answer my questions or I blast you to a bloody pulp?"

"Fair enough."

"What do you know?"

I wasn't going without a fight. "Could you be a little specific? I mean, really, that's a very broad and general topic. I wouldn't know where to start, and I might be talking for hours on end. I need a little more depth than that."

He inhaled deeply, wishing once again, I'm sure, that his cigarette was still intact. I noticed that under his breath he was muttering, "Can't kill 'im, can't kill 'im, can't kill 'im…" His hands were balled in tight fists at his side, and his knuckles were white. This was actually rather humorous to me, for some reason, but I played innocent as he continued on trying not to explode.

"What…" he began shakily, "Do you know about your parents?"

"I know a lot of things." Of course this isn't getting old! "I know that my Mum's in line to be Mistress of Magic, I know that my Dad could beat you up. I know that they're names are Ron and Hermione, and I know that they hate you."

"What. Do. You. Know. About. Your. Parents'. Work."

"Well, my dad's a doctor of animal studies. He and my Uncle Charlie have been running a study in Romania for the past six years. Before that, he was an Auror, but finally quit when he and Mum were…thirty? Yes, that's right. They're thirty-six. Let's see…well, my Mum used to be an Auror, too. Now she teaches here, and is Head of the MADD in the Ministry. You know, Magical Attack and Defense Department? She works with Sirius Black, and, like I said, she's going to take over as Magistrix when my grandfather retires."

"Weasley," he said, deftly. "You know what I'm talking about."

I gulped at his tone. "They- they- they're still working for the Ministry. With-with Uncle Harry."

"Anyone else?"

"I'm not sure. I'm not sure about Professor Delacour. I saw you two together when I was at home for my grandparents' party, so if you're working with my Mum and Dad, then I guess you're working together. But, if you were working with my parents, then you wouldn't be threatening me, would you?"

"I am working with your parents, and I am threatening you. Deal with it."

"Can't you at least answer some of my questions?" I begged. He looked at me, considering it. I glared right back at him, although without so much attitude. Yes, I will admit it; I have learned a thing or two from my sister. When you want something, don't beg too much, don't show attitude, and don't throw a tantrum when you don't get your way. If you act like it doesn't bother you, then parents will be more likely to give you what you want.

"Do I have a choice?"

"No."

"Then, no, I won't answer any of your questions."

"Is Professor Delacour working with you and my parents?" I asked him.

He sighed, and said, "Yes."

I paused again. "Are you…are you a Death Eater?"

He laughed savagely. "No. I swore that I wouldn't follow in my fathers footsteps when I witnessed him kill my mother. The Ministry didn't see what I did, though, and, according to them, it's like father, like son. No, I would never be one of those…those monsters."

"Erm…what killed Dr. Curtis?" I asked cautiously.

"Didn't you see that bloody huge spider?" he asked me, eyebrows raised.

"Well, yes, but-"

"Honestly, Weasley, ask better questions if you want to get anywhere in life."

I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you…

"What are the…well, what are all of you protecting Hogwarts from?"

"Death Eaters."

Ask a stupid question…

"Well, I bloody well knew that, but, the point is, why are you protecting Hogwarts from them?"

He smiled ruefully. "You'd like to know that, wouldn't you?"

I nodded.

"Well," he said quietly, leaning forward. I sat on the edge of my chair with anticipation. "Well…too bad." I sat back with a humph!.

"Anything else?" he asked me.

"Can I go eat dinner now?"

"Get out of here."

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it."

"Bye."

"Weasley, I'm serious. Don't. Mention. It."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

(AN: This is the Ron part)

I paced back and forth, in my wife's office- something that I wasn't accustomed to doing. I hadn't seen my son at lunch that day, but his friends had been there. Worrying came with my newfound sense of responsibility that I'd acquired with fatherhood, and I was worried beyond an extent that I had previously thought possible. Worrying tended to be Hermione's area of expertise, but I had gotten pretty damn good at it lately.

Normally, I'd be thinking, 'So what, Landon didn't come to lunch,' but not this year. Any carefree attitude that I had about sending my son to school was no longer in tact. Truth was, he would be in danger wherever he went. The trick to parenting was not letting him know about it. I think that he was too perceptive not to notice, though. He does take after my Mione, and there was no way that she'd miss as big hints as those that he had.

I knew that I hadn't been there for him as much as I should have been lately. This case (and Jack) was taking its' toll on everything, most importantly, Hermione and my love life. Hermione said that we had more important things to be worrying about than sex, but I couldn't think of anything. Sure, Hogwarts could be under siege any days now, and Dumbledore's possibly being murdered, but I'm only human! It's amazing that after all of these years, I'm still head over heels about my wife. She still can take my breath away when she walks into a room, or when she smiles at me for no reason.

I sat down at her desk, looking through the case files until my attention is drawn by a set of framed pictures that surround the edge of her desk. I see the picture of her, Harry and I on our last day of Hogwarts, arm in arm.  I see the picture of the three of us, once again, at our wedding, the picture of Landon and James, trying to tie their shoes, a picture of Emily and me- Emily, who's probably one, is sleeping on my chest, and I'm asleep with Quidditch Illustrated (featuring the Cannons on the cover) laying across my chest and her diapered bum. Hermione loves that picture, and I do too. Emily's insane red curls are everywhere, and my fingers are intertwined in them, just like I love to do with Hermione's hair (only in quite a different context). I continued to stare at the pictures on her desk, caught up in how wonderful my life is. Er…was. Before this year.

I slip off my shoes and put my feet up on her desk, leaning back in the very comfortable leather chair with a file lying open on my knees. One by one, I begin to read through the papers, theories, details and profiles. Slowly, this all begins to make less sense. I know what I have to do- I have to cross over into Mione-World. I walked over to her bookshelf, and find the newest copy of Hogwarts: A History on the shelf. Sitting down at her desk again, I began leafing through the pages until I find what it is that I'm looking for:

Although it has been said that the origin and/or originators of magic is unknown, many scholars believe that both of these can be linked back to Hogwarts. The Hogwarts Theory states that Salazar Slytherin, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw and Godric Gryffindor were the originators of magic, as no record is found before the time of the infamous four. They set up Hogwarts, then, as an institution of learning this newfound skill, selecting only students that modeled the qualities of themselves.

The student selection process has been simple: those with magic acceptable at the level of Hogwarts performance are offered a position at the school. This brings up a question, though. What gives some people the ability to do magic, and others, namely Muggles, no abilities whatsoever? What triggers one's magic, be it DNA, imagination, intelligence or wits? It is believed, in the Hogwarts Theory, that all magical folk are related to the infamous four either directly  (only in rare cases are magical people directly related to the founders of Hogwarts) or indirectly.

Direct relations are those in the direct line of descendents from Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw or Gryffindor. Indirect relations, however, are believed to be those people who are now referred to as "old wizarding families". The Hogwarts Theory believes that these are people who were commonly known to the four founders and had magic transferred to them through the infamous four. This theory still has many holes in it, but is the most widely accepted.

 Who comes up with this, really? Who spends their time sitting around and pondering this? Can't was just let things be? I'm fine with the way things are…sort of. I set the book on the desk, and pick up some of the files that I was previously looking at, trying to sort things out in relation to what I had just read. I crossed my ankles, putting my right leg on top of left and took a swig of my coffee as the door to the office opened and Hermione walked in. She was a bit surprised to see me, and I offer her a weak smile before returning to my reading. She picks up Hogwarts: A History, and instantly duplicates the page that I was looking at before depositing the book back on the shelf. She walked over to the desk and pinched my big toe.

"No feet on the furniture," she says in a would-be stern voice. I just give her a look that says, 'oh, please'. She perches lightly on the arm of the chair, and the familiar glint in her eye tells me that, once again, we're going to play the little joke that never gets old between us. I really don't know when or where it all started, but it still somewhat of nostalgia to us. She slid onto my lap, and her smile told me exactly what she was going to say next.

"Ron?" She's very funny when she tries to be promiscuous. It doesn't really work for her, because I can't get over the image of her as an eleven-year-old, lugging around books.

"Hmm?" I ask, pretending not to notice the beautiful woman who's sitting on me.

"Is there a wand in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?"

I smile sheepishly at her, before I reach down to pull said wand out of my pocket and show it to her. "There's a wand in my pocket," I said, before kissing her. She pulled back with a little smile, but turned serious again.

"Ron," she said, in a serious tone. I looked up at her. "I'm worried about Landon."

I sighed, and said, "So am I. But listen, Mione, we can't do anything else. We've told him that he can't be around after curfew anymore; we've taken away the invisibility cloak and the Marauder's Map. He knows better than to disobey rules."

"I know, I…I'm just afraid that if he goes poking around he…he won't like what he finds. I won't like what he finds. He's in over his head," she said, leaning into my chest and resting her head on my shoulder.

"I know." I tightened my grip around her waist and gently rubbed her knee with my other hand, files haphazardly fallen to the floor. "We can't protect him forever," I whispered into her hair while planting a kiss on the top of her head. I knew that it would be hard for her to hear. It was hard for me to say.

"I want to," she said after a moment of silence.

"Me too."

I closed my eyes, resting my chin against the top of her head. It's these moments that I love sharing with Hermione- moments when neither of us has to talk, and we just sit there, basking in the presence and closeness of each other.

I couldn't keep my mind off of Landon, though. I just wondered what would happen if he found out something that could harm him, and, no doubt, would. If he found out that we were working with a convicted Death Eater…well, he wouldn't be able to believe it. He wouldn't want to hear that Malfoy was innocent. Hell, I didn't want to hear that Malfoy was innocent.

But, as much as I hated to, I pushed those thoughts out of my mind. Hermione and I had warned Landon that he'd better not go snooping where he didn't belong, and that it would only lead to trouble. We knew that he was disobeying us, but now, it seemed that he'd made his own bed to lie in.

I drew in the scent of Hermione's hair. The shampoo scent of this month was lavender. I gently kissed the top of her head again, and she sighed contentedly.

"I love you," I told her.

She nestled her head into my chest, again, sighing happily. "I love you, too."

Before I knew it, we had both fallen into a much-deserved sleep.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

(AN: Ron's Part is done.)

James and Charlotte sat on the edge of their seats in the common room late that night when I ignored Draco's remark of 'don't mention it' and explained everything to my friends. Charlotte nearly screamed when I told them about Dr. Curtis. It was kind of cool to be the hero.

"What should we do?" James asked, surprising me.

"I thought that you wanted nothing to do with it?" I said to him. He shrugged.

"Dude," he said, "You find a dead guy in the woods, and I'm on your side. I think that we need the invisibility cloak back. And the map."

Charlotte nodded her agreement, and said, "But how are we going to get it? Your parents took it away."

"I'll be right back!" I said, jumping up and running to the first years' dormitory. I rummaged through my trunk until I found a little tin filled with Floo powder that I'd smuggled out of the house on my way home from Christmas holidays. James and Bronte were surprised, but impressed that I was about to disobey the rules.

"James," I said to him, "If they were in your house, where would they be?"

James thought for a moment as I contemplated the same question but in relation to my house. I decided that they would either be in my parents' bedroom or in the safe in the kitchen. 

"In my parents' room, there's a loose floorboard under their bed. My dad puts 'secret' stuff in there when he doesn't want anybody else to find it," he said. I nodded, and before either of them could stop me, I threw the Floo powder into the fire and stepped through the flames to my house.