Disclaimer: Much as I'd like to, I don't own Draco Malfoy, or any part of the magical world that J.K. Rowling has all the copyrights to ... please don't sue me. There are some parts of this story that are quotes from the book - it can't be helped - events are the same as in the book, but Draco's opinion of these events may vary from Harry's.

Author's Notes: I needed to do some re-writing, after reading OotP. I have made some minor changes to this chapter, mostly spelling and grammar.

met19: Umm ... deary, this ain't an AU ... I've actually been concidering deleting Cat from this fic, because she's too Mary-Sueish for my liking (and she's really not that bad, it's just she could bee mistaken for a Mary-Sue, I mean you asked if she'd fall for Harry, and that's a Mary-Sue thing to do). I'll probably do that in the editing for book-6.

Sinical-Sarchasm: *proud grin* I was proud of that scene. I'm glad you liked it. By "creepy relationships" are you referring to the kiss? Because you're the first person I remember commenting on it (and this fic did get loads of reviews the first time around) ... I had expected more comments than I got, but one person noticing is good enough for me. But I did always think the Baslilisk would be beautiful ... admittedly, the movie made it look terrible, but still ... I figure the more beautiful beasts are usually the more dangerous, so the Basilisk has to be pretty spectacular, if you can see it and live to tell about it, that is. Thanks for the questions, I'll get to work on that test, now. I might have enough to finish it, now (might)!

The label on the ink bottle closely resembles the labels I used to put on my own pencil-cases and ring-binders *grins*. And no, the extra 'w' is not a miss-spelling.

Chapter 16 - The Face Of Evil

That very night, just as I was about to dose off, I heard a voice.

"Draco. I know you're still awake. Get up." I didn't recognise the voice, but it was male, soft, almost gentle-sounding. I sat up, and looked for the source of the voice. An older boy, about sixteen, stood over me - watching me. He had black hair, and an ominous turquoise stare. I had never seen him before, but I was pretty sure I could guess who he was.

"Tom?" I asked fearfully.

"That's right, Draco." he said, still staring at me. I looked away first. He had to be the second person ever to stare me down - the first being my father. My gaze fell on Theo, sleeping in the next bed. Tom must have noticed this, "They can't see or hear me. I am projecting my image to your mind alone."

"So now I'm seeing things and hearing voices." I muttered.

Tom smirked, "Indeed." he said, seemingly amused at my comment, "I came to you, to ensure the letter you send is written correctly."

"You don't trust me to do as you asked?" I inquired.

"That is not the issue. I simply changed my mind, and wish to dictate the letter. I trust you would have written to your father, either way." he said - I could feel his gaze, but was too intimidated to return it - he was scaring me.

"Why did you choose now, to visit me?" I asked.

"Miss Weasley had to be asleep, as this excursion takes a great deal out of her, and I didn't want your friends to become aware of me, by hearing you talking to yourself." Tom answered.

"I appreciate your consideration for the illusion of sanity I project." I said, smiling as I said it - it was intended as a joke.

Apparently, Tom still had a sense of humour, because he also smiled. "Get up. I want to get this letter written before the girl tries to wake up. I don't want to fade out before we've finished."

"As you command, my Lord." I said, nodding obediently. What choice did I have? I valued my life, and knew well enough that if he was capable of controlling Weaslette and projecting himself outside the diary, then he could easily kill me if he put his mind to it. I was not going to give him reason to do so. I quickly climbed out of bed, putting a dressing gown over my pyjamas, and walked across the dorm to the solitary desk. I took out the ink and parchment, and prepared to write whatever I was told to.

"Red ink." he said quietly.

I looked at the bottle I had taken out - it was green ink. I knew for a fact that I had made a point not to own red ink. "I don't have any." I answered fearfully.

"Your friend has some. In the top drawer." Tom said, pointing to the top desk-drawer.

I opened it and took out the bottle of red ink. It bore a label saying, 'Property of Theodore Nott. Keep your grubby pawws off this, or I'll take them off your wrists (I will dust for prints).' Cute label, but I opened to bottle, anyway.

"I want this letter to be from me, effectively." Tom said coldly, "Except for the fact that I can't write in this form and the girl fights back enough that her hand shakes every time I try to make her write my own words - you saw how sloppy the writing on the wall was, didn't you?"

"Yes, my Lord." I said quietly - I wasn't sure if that was what he wanted me to call him, but I thought he'd prefer too much respect to too little.

"Now, write exactly what I say." he said, looking over my shoulder. "Dear Lucius Malfoy," he dictated. Nervously, I wrote those exact words. "This letter is being written by your son, on behalf of Tom Marvolo Riddle. I need your help, again, Lucius. I am sure you can arrange this. Quickly. Dumbledore must be removed from his current position, and from the vicinity of Hogwarts, as soon as possible. Thank you." as soon as I wrote the last words, Tom tried to grab the page - his hand passed right through it, and he made an angry gesture that indicated he wanted to hit the table.

I set the quill down, and picked up the letter, "That it?" I asked.

"Yes." Tom said sharply, "Send it now."

"Now?" I asked, confused. Why so soon? What was his hurry? He'd waited fifty years, what difference did a few hours make? Unless he really didn't trust me, and wanted to make sure I actually sent it - I hoped that wasn't the reason - if that was the reason, then I was in trouble ... like I wasn't already.

"Yes, right now. Call your bloody owl and send it, before I go." Tom snarled. Looks like I'd said the wrong thing - there is a limit to every evil-bastard's temper, and I had thought it was usually supposed to be shorter than his seems to be.

I made a squeaking noise, before jumping up and practically running to the ventilation shaft - since there were no windows, the only owl-access to the dungeons was through these. I cast a charm - a sort-of owl-call I'd learned, just for Noctowl - the other owls around the school ignored it. It took four calls, before he heard me and swooped into the dormitory. "Hey, took you long enough." I said, as I stroked to bird's feathered head, and handed him an owl-treat for his troubles. "Here's a letter for Father. I want you to Apparate with it."

Noctowl glared at me, before taking the letter, and departing as fast as he could fly.

"Your bird can Apparate?" Tom asked, stunned.

"Yeah. He's been charmed so he can. It's only for urgent messages. He still has to leave school grounds, and then fly through the Manor's grounds, as well. But yeah, he can Apparate." I said nervously.

"Good. All the better." Tom said, smiling evilly. His hand hovered near the side of my face, as if he wanted to touch my cheek, as he said, "I will see you again, Draco. Meanwhile, I suggest you get some sleep."

I nodded and watched as he disappeared. I wondered if he could watch me and not be seen. That was a scary thought. I shuddered, and returned to my bed.

* * *

The next morning, Professor McGonagall took the seat in the centre of the teachers' table in the Great Hall, and when everyone had arrived for breakfast, she made the announcement that Dumbledore had been suspended by the school governors.

I blinked, stunned. That had been quick. Did Father have a Time-Turner I was unaware of? "He works fast." I muttered.

"Huh?" Theo asked.

"Tell ya later." I replied, in a whisper.

And as soon as I got an opportunity to speak to him, in private, I did tell him exactly what had happened. Stunned isn't the word. Shocked didn't quite cover his reaction, either. Horrified - that might be the right word.

* * *

I swear the old tricks are the best. I cast a spy charm over the crime-scene outside ghost-girl's bathroom - there had to be some significance in it. Theo would sometimes spend hours, after the six-o'clock-curfew, watching the stone wall.

"You like watching paint dry?" I asked, after a week of this.

"It dried ages ago - I'm watching mould grow, in the bottom corner." Theo said, easily not smiling at his joke. The situation was not funny.

"Do you have any ideas what to do if we actually see anything?" I asked.

"Ummm." was Theo's only reply.

"I mean, we can't go running to Dumbledore, this time." I continued, "I, for one, am not suicidal, therefore will not try to stop him myself. It's not like the temporary-Headmistress will believe a word from either of our mouths."

"We could try to convince Weasley-girl to confess." Theo suggested, "Before she even got that far."

"And the chances of that?" I asked.

"Slim-to-none." Theo admitted, "But we could keep it in mind, in case the opportunity arises. How about we just hope sod-all happens?"

"Snowflake in hell." I replied, giving the chances of that tactic working.

"Pessimist." Theo snapped.

"No, I'm a realist."

* * *

During one DADA class, Cat raised her hand, just as Lockhart was getting to the 'best part' of his latest role-play. "Yes, Miss Feral?" Lockhart asked, seemingly a little upset at her interruption.

"I need to go to the bathroom." she said, smirking at Lockhart's annoyance.

"Fine, go." Lockhart said.

He was just starting to resume his little play, when Cat cleared her throat, "Um, sir?" she said, in a questioning tone.

"What is it, now, Miss Feral?" Lockhart asked, exasperated.

"The new rules say we can't go out on our own. You're supposed to escort me to the bathroom." Cat said curtly.

Lockhart gave a melodramatic sigh, before nodding, "Very well, then." He and Cat then departed the classroom ... leaving a class full of Slytherins alone.

Theo looked around, with the shifty look that means trouble, "No Lockhart. Classroom to ourselves. Cornish pixies, eat your hearts out." he muttered, standing up and pulling a box of Dungbombs out of his bag.

I assisted in setting timer-charms on these Dungbombs, so that they would go off during the Weasley-twins' class, on Monday (I had made a point of finding out when their DADA classes were, so I could shift the blame easily). Cat returned with an evil grin. Lockhart was oblivious to this, and continued his depiction of how he 'dealt with' the Hartford Hag.

As we left the class, I asked Cat, "What was the evil grin for?"

"Found something." she said, continuing to grin.

"I'm listening." I said.

"Dead-Girl, who haunts that bathroom next to the writing on the wall, was killed by - and I quote - 'I pair of great big yellow eyes'." Cat said, triumphantly, "I asked her. She seemed to like being asked that, while she'll go and cry at almost anything else."

"So the monster killed Myrtle." Blaise muttered, "Big deal. Doesn't help."

"Does so." Cat snapped, "Means that bathroom is important. I checked over most of it, before Lockhart started shouting for me to hurry up. Stupid git. Bet he was just afraid to stand out in the corridors on his own. I didn't find anything, but I'd bet Dead-Girl un-flushed the book."

"Yeah, but how does that help us?" I asked, "So we know what has already happened ... what we need to know is what's going to happen and how to stop it."

"Well, that bathroom must be important. Guess the Chamber's entrance is near there." Cat said.

"And I care ... how?" I asked, "It's not like we're going to play the hero. That would be SO out of character, it's not even worth thinking about."

* * *

That Monday - probably about the same time as the Dungbombs were going off in the DADA classroom - I was in Herbology class. I wasn't really paying much attention, but I should have. I got bitten by a Venomous Tentacula, and had to go to the Hospital Wing.

Madam Pomfrey gave me an antidote potion, and left me alone. I looked around, to see the screens around the Petrified students, and grimaced. Four students and a cat. Not that I gave a damn about Creepy, Norris, or Finch-Fletchley, but the other two - Clearwater was too good for blackmailing to let go. And Hermione ... I don't know why I cared, but I wanted her back. I got up, from the bed I had been ordered to stay on, and walked silently across the room, past the screens, and sat on the edge of the bed on which Hermione lay. Petrified. I looked at her, wishing there was something useful I could do without putting myself in the line of fire, as well.

"Stupid girl." I whispered, "What part of the concept of not looking behind you didn't you get - hmm?" I looked at her open, glassy eyes, with sadness. I could see fear in those eyes. "And where did you put my piece of paper? If you're not going to use it, I want it back." I looked at both her hands, and realised she literally had a death-grip on the page, in her right hand. It was next-to-impossible to see, because it was so tightly crumpled up in her grasp.

I proceeded to try to remove the page from her hand. Careful not to tear it. It was not an easy task - the girl had obviously been determined not to drop it, if she had been petrified. But what use was it, not to be found until she wakes up and tells everyone, anyway?

"Mr Malfoy? What do you think you're playing at?" Madam Pomfrey asked, in a stern voice.

"I - I just wanted to see her." I said, nervously. I had to abandon my attempts to rescue my page. I was a little upset about that - that page was mine - I had stolen it fair and square.

* * *

For the next few weeks, sod-all continued to happen. And in the act of not happening, events gave me time to revise - something most people had seemed to neglect, in all the 'excitement'. Nothing happened, quite happily, until three days before the exams.

McGonagall stood up, at breakfast-time, and announced, "I have good news."

This was greeted by excited shouts of suggestions from all sides, including, "Dumbledore's coming back!" "You've caught Slytherin's Heir!" "We're allowed to go to the bathroom on our own, again!" and "Exams are cancelled!"

McGonagall waited for the noise to simmer down, before continuing, "Professor Sprout has informed me that the Mandrakes are ready for cutting at last. Tonight, we will be able to revive those people who have been Petrified. I need hardly remind you all that one of them may be able to tell us who, or what, attacked them. I am hopeful that this dreadful year will end with our catching the culprit."

"Amen to that." Theo muttered, next to me.

"Uh huh." I replied, distantly. I was thinking. I sincerely hoped Hermione didn't tell them who had helped her. I hoped even more that Weaslette was strong enough to last until the authorities figured out what was going on. Too many things could go wrong with the wait-for-the-victims-to-wake-up-and-tell-everyone-what-happened theory. For one, it could take too long.

Cat seated herself next to me, "Watch Weasley-girl." she whispered.

I did so. Weaslette had sat next to Potter, and was looking particularly nervous. The way she twisted her hands and her eyes were darting nervously reminded me of Quirrell. But she did have a fearfully determined look about her. She mumbled something to Potter, and I sincerely wished I could hear what she had said. Potter and Weasley were now paying great attention to her, as if expecting her to come out with some great revelation at any second.

"I talked her into going to confess. She should spill the beans at any minute." Cat whispered to me, as I watched.

Potter asked Weaslette something, and she nodded ever so slightly, took a deep breath, and ... her prefect-brother chased her away before she could tell them.

"Damn." Cat and I muttered, at the exact same moment.

* * *

End of chapter 16