The Nature Of A Man

Disclaimer: The usual. The characters in this story belong to J.K. Rowling and this work represents a poor fumbling attempt at a Harry Potter story. I really wasn't sure where the story was going but it's rated PG-13 just in case. Read and review. You like it or you don't, just drop me a line at jadewing@hotmail.com if you want to rant or praise longer. The end is near! Well, the end of the story anyways. So, it's getting a bit sad 'cos I'm stumped on the ending and it seems a little lame to me but I'm too lazy to change it since I've finished it. Busy this weekend as well so I hope I have the time to update. Those who check fanfiction regularly might notice that I'm updating pretty late this time – but, hey, can't help it! Tell me what you guys think about the chapter, OK? Thanks. Oh, to Myrtle-Pyrtle, um, well, I agree about how fast I went with the plot – I couldn't stand stretching it out if you must know but it does happen. Sometimes, I think that you'll know love when you know love. How else are you supposed to know? There's a fine line between love, lust, like and hate. But, thanks for the thought though. I'll try harder in the next story – if there is one.

"Don't you think Malfoy's been acting weird lately?" Ron asked, staring at the Slytherin in question across the Great Halll during breakfast a few days later.

"Has he?" Harry asked. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear, his mind fretted. He forced a smile. "What's so weird?"

"He's actually been nice to me. No insults whatsoever." Ron eyed Harry. "I know you're pretending to be friends with him but I never thought it'd work. I have to confess that you're really good at this."

"Thanks," Harry muttered.

"Are we going to see Hagrid later on then?" Hermione asked, pausing in the midst of her rewriting her notes. She laid her quill aside. "I heard that he came back quite late last night. Had a talk with Dumbledore and the other teachers." She frowned. "I think they're really worried about the Situation." The Situation. That was what they were terming the sudden loss of powers among the teachers. Only a few of them seemed to have avoided the loss. Professor Grey, for one, and Dumbledore, of course. Even Madam Pomfrey had been troubled by the Situation but since she hardly used spells, it didn't seem too hinder her much.

"Did you find out anything from Malfoy yet?" Ron hissed.

Harry shook his head. "Er, not really."

Ron shook his head, perplexed. "What are you doing with him them?" He didn't notice Harry's face suddenly burning. "Even hanging out with him can't take up so much of your time."

"Don't bug Harry so much, Ron," Hermione scolded. "He's already doing so much already what with revision for O.W.Ls and all."

"You're revising already?!" Ron exclaimed.

"Of course. Harry's been studying with me when we get the chance." Hermione gave Ron a look. The look. The married couple look they kept on exchanging between each other. "As should you, Ronald Weasley. How you think you can scrape by with just a few O.W.Ls is beyond me. Why –"

"Stop it!" Ron groaned, covering his ears with his hands. "You're beginning to sound like Mum!"

Hermione had an indignant look on his face but with a soft laugh, Harry distracted her. "Hermione, I wanted to ask you about that Animation Charm that Flitwick tried to show us –"

Much to Ron's relief. Hermione was quick to pounce on the question, instructing Harry to "hold you wand the right way! No, not like that! Yes, yes, that's right!" and how to pronounce each word properly – "you want to roll the r a bit more and stretch out the o". But talking about Flitwick only brought back questions about the Situation. What to do about it? Who was doing it? As Hermione brought up the questions, again eyes turned to Harry.

So, it was with some relief when a Gryffindor second-year appeared at the table with the message that Professor Grey wanted to see him straight away. With a heaved sigh, Harry left the table, traversing the winding corridors and the confusing stairways all the way up to Grey's offices, close to the staff room. But when he reached the landing, he heard voices, and almost instinctively (too much spy training, he thought to himself), he ducked behind the corner, peeking out slightly.

Grey, swathed in robes in the colour of his namesake, was watching another figure, clad in the black robes of a student.

"It has been done." Harry froze at that voice. He recognized it. How could he not? That voice had murmured so many words in his ear these past few days.

"So you did it then?" Grey's voice was subdued, a little tense.

"Yes" came the answer. "Not completely."

"But …" Grey paused. "What else?"

"I shall tell you later, perhaps. You have a meeting with Potter, I heard?" Draco's voice was cool.

"Yes. I had some things to talk to him about an issue."

"Not harsh words, I hope? And certainly not something about the matter we discussed?"

Grey shook his head. "Not at all."

Draco nodded. "Good. Later then." He turned and left, leaving Grey to stand in the passage, staring after him. Then the Professor turned around, and entered his office, shutting the door behind him. A few minutes later, Harry knocked sharply on the door.

"Come in."

Harry opened the door and stepped in. The post of Defence Against the Dark Arts had been occupied many times in the past few years by different teachers. All had shared the same office but with each new teacher, each office had looked somewhat different. With Gilderoy Lockhart, the room had been filled with picture of picture of the oily wizard. Remus Lupin had brought the disorganized clutter of an absent-minded teacher with him. Alastor Moody, or Bartemius Crouch Junior, had brought the relics and trophies of a retired Auror. Willem Grey had brought his own paraphernalia and knicks knacks. A dragon's claw occupied one end of Grey's table where the Professor was seated, marking parchment with a quill. Over his head, a veritable cloud of floating stones hung in the air, moving of their own volition it seemed. Various paintings were lined against the wall, depicting various creatures including dragons and unicorns and a phoenix and a rendering of a beautiful woman, garbed in leaves, with greenish hair. At Harry's stare, Grey smiled. "A dryad. One of the tree-spirits that live in forests. She was gracious enough to allow me to paint her."

"You painted all these?" Harry asked. He looked at the paintings again. They were excellent, so real that it seemed like a photo. "They're good."

"Thank you, Harry." He smiled again. "But I asked you here about another matter."

"What is it, Professor?"

His words rocked Harry. "I know about you and Draco."

"I-I-We-We –"

Grey interrupted. "I was around and I saw some things." At the look on Harry's face, he continued. "I won't tell anyone else, Harry. It's not my business nor anyone else's but I would like you to be more careful in the future. If someone else had seen the two of you kissing in the corridors … or sneaking into his dorm …"

Harry was sure his face was as red as the sun. Grey laughed. "It's quite all right. You should know that we're not really that stuffy about these type of relationships in the wizarding world. Well, not really."

"Is that all, Professor? I shall be more careful about where we kiss in the future," Harry said a little stiffly, still embarrassed.

"Yes, please do." Grey smiled again. "I'm a little curious. Did you ever find out the answer to that question you asked me a few days ago, Harry?"

"I'm not sure," Harry said uncertainly. "I don't think so."

"Did you know that it's quite a famous question, really?"

"What?"

"Yes." Grey looked at him in surprise. "You didn't know?"

Harry shook his head. "No."

"Well, many centuries ago, I think, there was a very powerful witch called Ravel Tearwitch. It was said that she asked this question of those whom she met and all who failed to give her the right answer were slain horribly." Harry shuddered. "Yes, terrible, isn't it? I can't remember what happened in the end but she vanished from memory but the memory of this question never did."

"Thanks, Professor. It was … interesting." Harry was about to leave but his eye settled on the dragon's talon he had seen earlier. "Er, could I ask what this is, sir?"

Grey strode towards the table, picking the talon up. "Almost forgot about this. It's a talon from the father of all dragons, Il-Ifuniya. He died eons ago, I believe, but he left behind several body parts. One talon, one scale, one horn and an eye. Each was extremely magical but the eye was reputed to be the greatest of all items. Now, Il-Ifuniya was a real terror. Supposedly, spells used against him were simply absorbed and it took a great warrior to slay him." Grey turned an eye on Harry. "Any other questions, Harry? I'm sure someone is waiting eagerly for you."

Harry blushed a little. "Well, I overheard you and Draco talking. What was that about?"

Grey's smiled faded and he looked at Harry seriously. "Draco was asked to perform a task by his father. That is all I can tell you."

"Thanks, Professor."

As Harry left, he had a feeling that he knew the nature of Draco's task. And now the question was, should he share the information with Ron and Hermione? Or should he confront Draco about it instead?