The one I recognized was Professor Quirrell. I knew I'd never liked him or trusted him. No wonder he'd never taught us anything worthwhile in class.

            "You!" Harry wasn't quite as surprised as I was.

            "Me," he said, calmly, as if we were talking about the weather. "I wondered if I would meet the two of you here. Dumbledore insisted on adding another bottle when Snape made his little logic problem."

            "It was you, all along, then," I growled. "You're the one who's working for Voldemort."

            "So the little halfling figured out my Master's name," he grinned, his usually over-bright and over-cheerful eyes twisting in madness. "Have you met my partner? I believe he's related to you."
            "Hello, Angel," said the boy. "Long time no see." He had familiar white-blond hair, and had the blue eyes that I couldn't quite place.

            "Who're you?" I said between my clenched teeth.

            "No, I don't suppose that git of a father ever told you about little old me, did he?" said the boy. "My name is Matthew Timothy Indigo. I'm your brother. Two years your senior."

            "My…my brother?" I blinked rapidly and shook my head like a dog. "You can't be my brother. My parents would never birth a monster who would serve Voldemort."

            "A monster, you say?" he walked a few steps closer. "For a writer, your choice of words seems limited. Perhaps our younger brother can give you a better word."

            "David is not your brother," I snarled, my hands fisting at my sides. "And my writing has nothing to do with my speech."

            "It's too bad they didn't see eye-to-eye with me," Matthew said, stepping closer. He was now two feet from me. "When my Master comes back to his full glory they will regret it."

            "Voldemort will never come back to his full power," I said, grinning. "If not Dumbledore, then I myself will make certain of that."

            "Foolish banter, girl," said Quirrell. "You will not live to see the glorious day that our Master returns to his throne. You will both die tonight." He snapped his fingers, and long tendrils of impenetrable rope snaked from his fingers, binding Harry and I together, our backs facing each other.

            "You're both far too nosy," Quirrell said. "Sneaking around on Halloween like that. For all I knew, you'd seen me come down the third floor corridor."

            "You set the troll in?" Harry said.

            "Of course," Quirrell said. "I have a way with them. Did you see the one I took care of out there? Snape guessed my intentions and went to head me off that night. Not only did my troll fail to kill you, but that three-headed dog didn't even bite Snape's leg off properly.

            "Now lay there quietly while I try and figure out this riddle. Matt, watch them."

            "It'd be my pleasure," said Matt. "I haven't seen my little sister since she was three years old. I will love to see her scream again."

            "Three?" I blinked rapidly.

            "I came to visit, once," said Matt, grinning. "Five years old, and I already knew a great deal of the Dark Arts. Father thought I was Draco Malfoy come to call—foolish man couldn't even recognize his own son. He kicked me out the moment he found out my true identity."

            "I bet he saw right through you," I snarled, trying to fruitlessly break the magical ropes. "I bet he saw your true colors the moment he knew you weren't Draco."

            Now I knew where I'd seen that white-blond hair and those cold, ice-blue eyes. Draco's eyes, the same as my grandfather's, Uncle Lucius's, Draco's, and David's. That small fact did nothing to console me. It meant that there was no doubt about it. As much as I hated to admit it, Matt was my brother.

            Strangely enough, Dumbledore's voice echoed in my head at that moment. It was the thing he said to all of us that I recalled right then. Not, as one might think, the one he'd said to me personally.

            "Daijoubu desu," I whispered to myself. "I'll be all right."

            The ropes that bound me were suddenly loose. They weren't completely thrown off, of course. It was just loose enough for Harry and I to slip out of.

            "What happened?" Harry whispered as quietly as he could in my ear.

            "Dumbledore's spell," I whispered back. "Daijoubu desu." The ropes slackened just a fraction more. Still, Matt didn't notice.

            "Making a little plan, are we?" he asked, a wand tapping in his hand. "It won't work, you know. My master—"

            "Is not here," I said boldly. "He'll never come to power again, I know it. My friends are right now getting Dumbledore, and he'll come down here and—"

            "I think not," said Matt coolly. "And you're wrong about the Dark Lord. He's in this very room, at this very moment."

            "What?"

            "Ask…the boy…" said a disembodied voice. It hissed and quarreled with itself, as though the person behind it was deathly ill. I felt no pity for that evil, evil voice. The moment I heard it, my insides became cold as ice.

            "Potter!" Quirrell released the ropes from Harry and I both and grabbed the sleeve of Harry's robes, shoving him toward a mirror. I hadn't had time to notice it, but now that I saw it, I was mystified. It had writing on the side, in some ancient language I could not read. Harry, however, stared into the mirror, as though what he saw was something amazing.

            "What does this mirror do?" I asked out of pure curiosity. It is amazing how one acts when one has nothing to lose and everything to gain.

            "It's none of your business," Matt snarled, yanking me back by the scruff of my robes.

            "Matt," said Quirrell. "Could you go and make certain that no one is coming?"

            "Certainly," Matt released my robes and strode out. Thank goodness, I did not have to see his face again. At least, for a time.

            "What do you see?" asked Quirrell impatiently, turning back to Harry.

            "I'm holding the Quidditch Cup," said Harry. I could sense a hint of a lie under it. "Griffindor's won the House Cup."

            "He lies!" said the hissing voice again. It's high-pitched, and Harry's scar looks like it changed color for just an instant. "Grab him! Take them both! He's got the Stone!"

            "Angel, run!" shouted Harry and we both took off. Not before, however, Quirrell grabbed Harry's right shoulder and my left shoulder. Quirrell's grip remained on mine, but at the moment of contact to Harry's shoulder, Quirrell's hand began to crumble and disappear in a wind that didn't exist.

            "What's…happening…?" Quirrell stared at his hand, his left still clamped firmly on my shoulder. I tried to get away, but Quirrell was unhurt by me, so he grappled me tighter into his grip. I once again found myself, even more tightly, bound in the magical ropes.

            Quirrell made a grab for Harry and succeeded. He'd stood too long trying to get to me. It made me smile inside to know that Harry would be caught because he couldn't leave me behind.

            Harry, however, was not caught. Quirrell's skin blackened and crumbled again. Realizing his power of skin-to-skin destruction, Harry reached out and touched Quirrell's face. In an explosion of light, the raspy, hissing voice came out.

            "You may have defeated me this time, Potter!" shouted the voice. "But I will gain my full glory again!"

            "Daijoubu desu!" I said, climbing out of the ropes. "Harry! Harry!"

            "Indigo…" the voice, which wasn't quite as disembodied anymore, said. It was coming from a floating head of misty copper. I knew who that was. Even without him telling us, I knew who it was. Voldemort.

            "I shall have my revenge!" Voldemort shouted at the top of his…er…lungs. "You haven't seen the last of the wrath of Lord Voldemort. You shall see, both of you."

            "You won't!" I shouted back. "You wo—"

            He started screaming at the top of his…er…lungs, again and the bodiless head of Voldemort soared out of the room. Not without passing through both Harry and I. The last thing I saw before my world went black was the amethyst-like Sorcerer's Stone, still clutched in Harry's hand.

***

            The first thing I saw when I came to was a glint of gold and a blur of black darker than my closed eyelids. Harry? Not just Harry, though. Harry's glasses weren't gold, they were…black, I think. My head swam in pain, and I moaned as the light seeped at last into my eyes.

            "Good evening, Angel," said Professor Dumbledore, smiling.  If Harry and he were both smiling down at me, then the Stone must be safe. Maybe Dumbledore had it inside one of his many inner pockets.

            "Morning," I mumbled, rubbing my forehead. "How long I been out?"

            "Four days," Harry said promptly, still grinning.

            "Tha' long?" I sat up, shaking my head roughly. "What's been goin' on?"

            "Plenty," Harry said, rolling his eyes.

            "The Stone? What's Flamel gonna do with it?"

            "It's already been destroyed," said Dumbledore with a smile. "I heard you discovered the power of 'Daijoubu desu'."

            "Did I?" The scenes in the dungeons played back to me. "Ron okay? Hermione? Sakura? Hedwig? Neville? Voldemort?"

            "All fine, with the exception of Lord Voldemort," chuckled Dumbledore.

            "What about Matthew?" I asked grumpily, suddenly remembering the fiend who had called himself my brother. Dumbledore shook his head sadly.

            "He escaped as quickly as Voldemort. Though, I'm certain they were separated," Dumbledore said. "If Voldemort is continuously delayed in his return, as you have proved, he may never come back, Angel."

            "Can I ask you something?"

            "Perhaps."

            "I want to know the truth, now," I took a deep breath. "This wasn't all just a coincidence, I've found out. But is there any reason why I was the one you stressed Daijoubu desu and the other spell on? Why not Harry, or Hermione?"

            "Alas, I cannot tell you," said Dumbledore. "It seems you both want answers from me that I cannot give." His blue eyes twinkled in Harry's direction.

            "Sir… why was it that you asked Professor Snape to add another bottle to his line of potions?"

            "I found it quite difficult to reach the Stone myself," said Dumbledore, smiling. "I wanted an extra way."

            "Ah…one more, sir…maybe you can answer this for me…why did my father give up his entire wizarding future for two children, one of which never came to Hogwarts?"

            "That is one question that you must ask your father," said Dumbledore. "Though, I personally think that he simply did not want to be a wizard. With the name of Malfoy following him everywhere, a name detested in his own House, who would?"

            "Sir…just one more question," I said. "What House was my father in?"

            "As strange as you may think it, your father was in Hufflepuff," laughed Dumbledore. "Now, enough questions. I see Harry has already made quite a dent in the sweets provided by your friends and classmates."

            I laughed and nodded.       

***

            "PLEASE, Madam Pomfrey, fifteen minutes, please!" I roared across the hospital wing. I was completely better, but she refused to let me outta the place. Harry still had a whopping headache, but other than that, he was fine. I was making it worse, I knew, but I wanted to see Hermione and Ron.

            "Harry! Angel! We were so…Dumbledore was so…oh, it's good to see you!" Hermione flung her arms around my neck, and looked about ready to do the same to Harry. Ron held her back.

            "I know, I know," I said, grinning. "What happened after you left, 'Mione? Syaoran hasn't come into any of my dreams, nor Sakura, and you—"

            "Dumbledore told me not to," Hermione said, looking sheepish. "He said to tell Syaoran the same thing."

            "What?" I scoffed. "Why?"

            "He wanted you to have your rest," Hermione said, trying to sooth me. She wasn't doing a very good job.

            "Hmph," I crossed my arms over my chest. "I'm perfectly fine. I don't even have the headache Harry does."

            "Anyway, you have to come to the feast," Ron said. "The points are in now, and of course, Slytherin won. We were steamrolled by Ravenclaw without you two."

            "I wouldn't have been much good, even if Pomfrey had let me out," I said, pursing my lips. "I'm a terrible Seeker."

            "You've had your fifteen minutes," Madam Pomfrey said testily as she stalked back to us. "OUT!"
***

            I was asleep when Harry asked Madam Pomfrey if we could go to the feast. I knew he asked because I had told him to before falling asleep. Though I'd had plenty of sleep since entering the hospital wing, I tended to sleep in. I was beginning to think Pomfrey slipped a sleeping draught in my food.

            I was awoken the morning of the feast by a loud bellow of "VOLDEMORT!". I snapped awake, but didn't move. I was facing in the opposite direction of Harry's bed.

            "I saw him, Hagrid, and I'm saying his name," Harry said, obviously continuing his conversation with Hagrid. Cheer up, have a Chocolate Frog. Angel and I got loads."

            "Oh, that reminds me," said Hagrid. "I got yeh a present. I got Angel one, too, but since she's asleep…" A ruffle of his clothes told me he was looking for something in his coat again. I pretended to have just woken up, yawning and sitting up slowly.

            "Mornin', Harry," I said, blinking. "Oh, hello, Hagrid. What brings you here?"

            "I brought you two a present," said Hagrid, smiling. His eyes were red and puffy, and his beard wet. I took note and decided to ask Harry later. "Ah, here's one o' them…this one's fer you, Angel."

            He handed me a tiny white box, simple and held closed with Spellotape. Hagrid continued to search for the present for Harry, but I carefully un-Spellotaped the box, paying little attention to Hagrid's rather noisy search.

            Inside the box was a charm bracelet, silver chain-link with nine charms connected to it. The first one to catch my eye was a tiny silver pistol. On the bottom, engraved in what I recognized as my father's handwriting, was a strange name, written in Japanese romanji. It said Ookami.

            "It was yer dad's, strangely enough," said Hagrid, his beard twitching. "Just before he left Hogwarts, he gave it ter me. Said to give it ter 'anyone bearing the name Indigo.'"

            "These charms…were all the nicknames of my dad's friends here at Hogwarts, aren't they?" I asked, touching each one.

            A tiny dog, engraved with Padfoot. A little horse, regal and beautiful, engraved with Prongs. Moony was engraved on a miniature moon. A rat, smaller than the rest, said Wormtail. Snivellus was printed neatly on a poised snake. Ice was scripted on another, loosely twisting snake, slightly larger than Snivellus. Red was on tiny electrical plug. Finally, a three-headed dog, similar very much to Fluffy, bore the name of Cerberus.

            "Not exactly," said Hagrid. "Some o' them was jus' related ter him. Ah! There's the little bludger." He pulled a large, leatherbound book from an inner pocket and gave it to Harry. "Sent owls off ter your parents old school friends. Asked for pictures…knew you didn't have any…D'ya like it?"

            Harry seemed very much lost for words.

            When Harry and I made our way down to the feast, slightly late because Madam Pomfrey had been sort of fussy over us, we were quiet. We had spent the remainder of the day looking at all the pictures of Harry's parents and friends from those years so long ago.

            The Great Hall fell silent as Harry and I walked in. Immediately, the room became noisy once again. People stood up at the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables to see us, but I ignored them. Harry squeezed between Hermione and Ron, and I sat down on the other side of Hermione, next to Neville.

            The entirety of the Great Hall was decorated with green banners with silver snakes. There was a particularly large one behind the High Table. Dumbledore walked into the room and everyone fell silent.

            "Another year gone!" said Dumbledore with a smile. "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle yet again. What a splendid year it has been! Hopefully your heads are a little fuller than they were. Don't worry, you've the whole summer to empty them again…

            "I believe the House Cup needs awarding, then," Slytherins cheered. "In fourth place, Griffindor House with 283 points. In third, Hufflepuff with 410 points. In third, Raveclaw with 460 points. And Slytherin with 492."

            The Slytherins cheered sickeningly louder than ever before. My dear, sweet cousin stomped the floor and banged his gold goblet against the table. It made my stomach turn.

            "However, recent events must be taken account of," said Dumbledore. Suddenly, things were very, very silent. "There are points to be awarded still yet. The first…goes to Mr. Ronald Weasley, for the best-played chess game that Hogwarts has ever seen. Fifty points."

            Ron's ears went dark grape, and the rest of his face was dark radish red. Percy could be heard shouting about Ron being his brother, and the Griffindors roared in rejoicing approval.

            "Another fifty points to Ms. Hermione Granger, for the use of cool logic in the face of fire…"

            Hermione buried her face in her arms. I was certain she was crying under all that hair, but I couldn't quite tell.

            "To Mr. Harry Potter and Ms. Angel Indigo—" the room fell deathly silent. "For outstanding courage and nobility, I award them each fifty points."

            To those who could add (I had to get Hermione's help—I'm terrible at math), they were screaming out the score, to which the rest of the Griffindor table was screaming, too. If only he'd given a point more to each of us…

            "There is one last thing," Dumbledore continued when the cheering died down. "A young man informed me of circumstances that I had no control over. He gave me vital information, which led to the preservation of four of our students. I award Neville Longbottom…ten points."

            There was a gigantic explosion of atomic proportions in the Hogwarts Great Hall. No Griffindor, Hufflepuff, or Ravenclaw (for they had wanted someone other than the Slytherins to win) was not cheering at the top of their lungs, albeit several were holding their ears at the noise. When the explosion finally died down to human hearing levels, several of the teachers were smiling, but none so wide as Professor McGonagall.

            "In that case, I do think this is cause for a change in decoration," said Dumbledore, who clapped loudly. Red and gold and lions replaced green and silver and serpents. Draco looked close to tears. Hermione was crying. I don't think one person at that table wasn't cheering. Neville was smothered in hugs from all angles, and his smaller frame was devoured for at least half an hour.

            At last, the feast began. With a hearty grin, cheerful laugh, and a full stomach, I laid down to sleep in my familiar bed. And told Syaoran and Sakura all of the exciting details, Hermione, Ron, and Harry inserting comments all along the way.

***

            The next morning, a day before we would head home, we received our exam results. I was relieved to see that I had tied with Hermione for the top grade in every class, with the exception of Potions and History of Magic. I had topped her in Potions and she'd topped me by two points in History of Magic.

            As crazy as it sounds, even Goyle has passed. Neville's Herbology class ranked with Hermione's and mine, which made up for his extremely low score in Potions. Everyone in History of Magic had passed quite by the skin of their toes.

            The single, last day went by so fast, I was sure someone had magically bewitched time to speed up.

            "You know," said Hermione. "We never did get around to making our cards in Eastern Magic, Angel."

            "You're right!" I said, blinking. "I wonder why Kinomoto didn't teach us it."

            "We only had him half the time we did before," said Hermione. "Maybe he'll teach us next year."
            "Hope so," I said. We broke apart and began to pack our trunks neatly together. I still had several of the candy presents people had given me during my stay in the hospital wing.

            "You want any of this, 'Mione?"

            "You just don't want to carry it," Hermione laughed.

            "Nope, got that right," I grinned. "Still, don't you want your parents to try some Chocolate Frogs and Every Flavor Beans?"

            "Sure, Angel," Hermione said. I gave her half of my candy, which she packed neatly away. She bewitched her trunk to be lighter, then showed me how to do the same thing.

            "It'll get heavier when I put another thing in it, right?" I asked.

            "It'll get heavier again in about a week," said Hermione regretfully. "And we can't do magic, so we can't redo it. When we come back."

            "I know," I rolled my eyes. "I can't believe they won't let us practice at all."

            "Just because we can't practice—"

            "—Doesn't mean we can't read up," I finished, grinning. At last, all of my robes and hat, and books, and wand, and broom, was all packed away. I placed a pair of jeans and a T-shirt on top of the rest, so I could change sooner. Sakura was away on yet another transatlantic flight, and would return to the Weasleys soon.

            The train ride home was even shorter than ever, and we hardly had time to talk. Draco dropped in and told me that he would see us next year, very angrily indeed. I bought no snacks from the little cart, but Harry bought so many, I thought he was saving up for a nuclear explosion, not a summer at home.

            Soon, I saw why. We had just gone through the bewitched wall at Platform 9 ¾, carrying our trunks and greeting Molly and Ginny, who was very excited to see Harry. A large man with a short neck and a beet red face met Harry there.

            "Ready, are you?" he asked so stiffly, I thought maybe he had a bug up his nose. "Come on, we haven't got all day." Then he stalked off.

            "Man, Harry, that guy's bad, bad news," I shook my head. "Feel right sorry for you, mate."

            "It's okay," Harry suddenly grinned. "They don't know I can't do magic. I'm going to have loads of fun with Dudley."

            "Jus' be careful, now, ya hear?" I lapsed into my Southern accent. "No real magic, 'kay? The Ministry monitors all underage witches and wizards. Have a good summer, okay, Harry? Maybe Ron and I will convince Molly to let you come stay with us."

            "Okay…see you guys later, then," Harry smiled and ran to catch up with his aunt, uncle, and cousin.

            "What's up with the corrupt cousins gig?" I asked the air in general. "It's a conspiracy, man, I tell ya. A conspiracy."

***