Breaking The Stone
Written By: Nox (goddess_nox@hotmail.com)
A/N: Over fifty reviews!! I am eternally grateful to each and every reviewer!! Thank you, thank you, thank you : ) In this chapter the Mysterious Entity is revealed. Who is it? Read to find out! And feel free to review some more... : ) Next chap should be up soon (it's almost the end!).
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Ron was sleeping, but restless. His wand sat on the small bedside table, set to wake him at 11:30. Half an hour early because the redhead figured if he was going to take on a powerful dark wizard in a Duel he should be there on time.
Right.
At first he thought the touch was a dream. A nice caress up and down his arm. Almost tickling, but nice. And Ron's tired mind attempted to put a face to that touch. Hermione was first. But all that bushy hair and pushy attitude somehow didn't appeal.
Then came pale skin, light eyes, white-blond hair, and the dream-taste of butterscotch overwhelmed him.
Draco.
/You're dreaming sexy things about Malfoy,/ supplied his weary brain, and the thought was so normal and...welcoming? that it took Ron quite a while before he actually opened his eyes in "surprise."
/I've gotta' stop this. It's getting out of hand./ He was all ready to internally lecture himself. All ready, that is, before he realized the touch was real.
It was Draco Malfoy, looming over him and grinning a sort of goofy half-grin that Ron was not at all accustomed to seeing when it came to this particular face.
"Draco, what are you doing here? Is it time for the Duel?" But the redhead's wand lay still, and the blonde shook his head. "Then what are you doing here?"
What _was_ he doing here? And how could he possibly have gotten inside? Had he wormed the password out of someone? But who? And what was the point?
"I've found out who's been trying to kill you," said the teen wizard. His voice sounded different. As if he was just getting used to it. Maybe Ron was imagining it. Maybe he was just tired.
Weasley snorted. "Yeah, I was there remember? It's Harvey."
Draco looked almost amused at this. "No, it's not him after all. I've found out who it is, but we have to go now if we're going to catch him." He tugged at the sleeve of Ron's pajamas. "Let's go."
"Not Harvey? But that doesn't make any sense. What about the Duel and-"
He was cut off, and now Malfoy simply looked annoyed. "Come on, Weasel. You do want to catch who's been trying to kill you, right?"
There were two things wrong with what Draco had said, and Ron noticed. One, Draco hadn't called Ron "weasel" in quite a few days, at least not with so much venom behind the word. Even though it wasn't impossible for the blonde to simply slip back into name-calling mode, it was a bit odd. And then there was the fact that he said "kill you," because even though Ron _had_ been the one to get hit in the chest with a spell, both of them had been knocked off of their brooms. And both of them had been together for all of the attacks. They'd assumed their stalker had been trying to kill them both, not just Ron.
Plus, there was the fact that he'd managed to get inside Gryffindor Tower, and was now telling Ron to follow him, because it wasn't their prime suspect after all who was trying to kill him. For a moment the teen turned these thoughts over in his head, trying to figure out what could possibly be happening. And then all at once he remembered the Polyjuice potion he, Harry and Hermione had used in second year. He remembered last year and Crouch disguised as Moody....
As Draco leaned over him, still tugging at his flannel sleeve, Ron thought he detected the very faint scent of cabbage on the blonde's breath. Cabbage. The smell of Polyjuice potion. Shit.
This was him. The Stalker. Ron was face to face with the person who'd been trying to kill him all through Winter Break. Face to face, and he still had absolutely no idea who it was.
Panic overtook him. His breathing became immediately shallow and his muscles tensed under the pseudo-Draco's touch. What should he do? Attack, flee, play along?
/Think, Ron. Think./
Ron's eyes moved to the wand at his bedside table. Could he reach for it, aim, and fire before the platinum blonde could draw his own weapon? No, probably not.
"Well?" The imposter's voice was not quite steady. He stood quickly, eyes gleaming in the soft light that came in through the windows. "Hurry up."
"Er...," began Ron, before realizing there was no other choice. If this fake Draco was trying to play it cool, he'd have to let Ron have his wand anyway. Ron would just have to wait for the right opportunity to blast him. Assuming, of course, that there would be a right opportunity.
"Let me get dressed," he said, and stood also, still feeling sleepy and unsteady. He edged around the four-poster to his trunk before pulling it open with a grunt and pulling out the first pair of day clothes he spotted: A pair of worn jeans and a loose t-shirt that had once belonged to Fred.
The supposed Draco turned around. Ron stared at his back for a moment. The blonde wasn't dressed in the Slytherin uniform or robes. This wasn't the weirdest thing to see, as almost all through break the real Malfoy had substituted his usual school attire for muggle clothing.
_This_ Malfoy was doing a good impression of the genuine muggle-dressed one. He wore a white, collared shirt (not tucked in) and a pair of dark khakis. There was just one problem. One little difference that doubly assured the redhead that he was dealing with an imposter.
The clothes looked brand new. Never worn. Like they'd just been bought for the occasion. Which they probably had.
It was besides the point that the imposter looked decidedly uncomfortable in these clothes. Although, that fact did only serve to boost Ron's assurance.
"We don't have all night, Weasel. The killer's going to get away." The stalker shot a dark look back at the redhead before turning away again. "Now hurry."
"Right," answered Ron, finally beginning to change. Less than a minute later he was throwing his pajamas back into the trunk, silently hoping he'd be around to wear them again. "Ready."
He snatched his wand from the bedside table and followed the Draco lookalike, who had already reached the door.
*******
"Where are we going? Where's the killer at?"
Ron asked this, trying both to break the ominous quiet and to get answers. They were heading down the marble staircase now. Their footsteps sounded loud and intruding.
The imposter was quiet for a moment; thinking. Perhaps weighing the pros and cons of telling Ron anything. "The forest," he finally said, calm as could be.
"The _Forbidden_ Forest?" Weasley tried very hard to act brave, tried to cover up his anxiety. He could remember Harry getting attacked in first year, the gigantic, deadly spiders in second year, and getting pulled into the Whomping Willow entrance by a black dog that had looked a bit too much like a Grim during third year...
And then he remembered that this wasn't Draco at all, and that he had no reason to put up a front. In fact, it might even look suspicious, being so sedate about it. "Are you sure? You better be damn sure that the killer's in there. I'm not going into that hell-on-earth for nothing."
Fake Malfoy gave a little chuckle as they walked outside and began descending the stone steps. "Not for nothing," he said, and Ron caught the malevolence of it. "Don't worry."
It was very cold. Snow was drifting down from the dark sky, landing softly on the already-glittering ground. This reminded Ron of something. He looked up at the near full moon, his hand gripping at his wand so tightly he thought it might snap in two.
/It'll be Christmas Eve at midnight./ Well, this surely wasn't going to turn out being the best holiday ever. But he'd at least like to be _alive_ for it. Which meant he had to do something. He had to blast the intruder before they could get to the forest. Otherwise, it might be too late.
It might already be too late.
He slowed his walking, trying not to make it obvious. Surprisingly, fake Draco seemed not to take notice, and strode on, ending up a good few feet ahead of Ron. They were getting closer to the edge of the forest.
/Why is he being so careless?/ But what did that matter, really? This was the perfect time to strike! The best opportunity he could hope for. The redhead's mouth had gone dry, his feet walked on as if of their own volition. Ron's chest throbbed. It was still bruised. He remembered the pain of the spell this imposter had shot at him.... Fear filled him.
Fake Draco stepped into the forest. Ron followed.
He kept his wand at hand, arguing with himself. Trying to beat the powerful feeling of fear that had come over him. If he didn't do something, the stalker would kill him anyway! He couldn't allow himself to go down not fighting. He had to _try_.
/Try./ His wand hand lifted. He had the words of a curse on his lips.
And then the imposter stopped walking. "Well," he said, turning to Ron. "Are you ready?"
*******
Harvey Williams had been attending Hogwarts for less than a year, and had already gained a great dislike for Professor Severus Snape. The darkly dressed, greasy-haired man was leading the way through the corridors of the castle as the three students trailed behind.
Ginny's red hair bobbed as she walked. Her hand was enveloped in Harvey's own, and her eyes were darting into every dark corner they passed, perhaps hoping for a glimpse of her older brother. Draco was walking ahead of the pair, looking annoyed.
"Professor? Aren't we going to Headmaster Dumbledore's office?" The blonde said this, looking as if he was trying to hold back a particularly nasty comment. When Snape had spotted the two Gryffindor's and Draco the man had automatically assumed Malfoy was being bullied. Until, of course, Draco had vouched for the two arguing fourth years, saying that Ron _was_, in fact, missing. Then all three students had demanded to talk to the Headmaster, and had refused to divulge anymore information.
Harvey could tell Professor Snape wasn't the happiest man in the world at the moment. After all, he'd found three students lurking around after curfew and obviously wouldn't be able to do much about it, seeing as how it _was_ Winter Break (meaning school was not officially in session). Then, of course, there was the fact that Ron was missing. Ron missing meant bigger fish to fry right now. It meant no punishing students until disaster was successfully averted, if any punishment went on at all.
"Sir?"
"I don't think the Headmaster would appreciate a group of students barging in on him while sleeping, Mr. Malfoy. You'll wait in my office, and I'll get him." Draco's expression was such that Harvey thought the blonde would protest. But the boy didn't. Instead, he held his tongue and sped his pace so that he was walking right beside Snape.
Williams didn't believe the jerk of a Slytherin Head of House for a second. The man wasn't thinking about Dumbledore's welfare, Harvey was sure of that. It was intimidation Snape was thinking about. Waiting around in his office, within the dungeons, watching mysterious bits of animals and goo floating about in jars was much more uncomfortable than marching promptly to Dumbledore.
/We don't have time for this./
Ron was missing. A _student_ was missing. Couldn't Snape understand that? Didn't he care?
They reached the dimly lit office, the Professor barked a command to stay, then turned and left, closing the door behind him.
/Of course he doesn't care. He's a Slytherin. But Ron.../
A wave of guilt came over Harvey. So Draco and the redhead had thought he was some kind of killer? Some servant of the Dark Lord? The fourth year shuddered and squeezed Ginny's hand a little tighter.
He didn't blame the two teens. He'd acted horribly. Slamming Ron up against the wall like that, yelling obscenities, threatening him.... Harvey supposed it was his old "bad boy" self that had surfaced. He'd been so mad, so absolutely annoyed with the fact that his girlfriend had talked of nothing but her extremely vexing brother all Winter Break. But that was no real excuse, and Harvey realized, for the first time, just _why_ they'd wanted to kick him out of his old school.
He understood now. And thinking back to the way he'd treated Ron, felt incredibly guilty.
"I'm sorry," he said, and the two other occupants of the room turned to look at him.
*******
They had reached a clearing. The light of the moon broke through gaps in the trees and shone strongly on the two teenagers. Fake Draco's hair looked silvery. The pale boy himself looked ethereal.
"Well," said the imposter, turning to Ron. "Are you ready?"
"Ready?" Ron hesitated. What if he was wrong? He had no real proof this person was under the influence of Polyjuice potion. This could be the real Draco. The blonde _could_ have found the killer. Maybe this wasn't some Death Eater in disguise. Maybe Draco just liked cabbage.
But this hesitation was a mistake, because in the instant that Ron was thinking these things the imposter lifted his wand (a wand that definitely didn't look like Draco's), uttered a spell, and the redhead's own wand went flying out of his hands, and out of reach.
"Ready to die, I mean," said the blonde who, in fact, wasn't blonde anymore. For he had started to change. Ron gasped, not believing what he saw.
In front of him stood John, the innocent little first year with whom he'd played chess with the night he'd gotten hit with the spell. The little first year who had sat with him during breakfasts, and who squeaked in fear when Draco was around.
The boy, even wearing clothes that didn't quite fit him anymore, and standing a good few inches smaller than Ron, didn't look so innocent anymore.
"John?"
"That's right," said the eleven-year-old, pointing his wand at Ron's heart. "John. John Macnair."
Written By: Nox (goddess_nox@hotmail.com)
A/N: Over fifty reviews!! I am eternally grateful to each and every reviewer!! Thank you, thank you, thank you : ) In this chapter the Mysterious Entity is revealed. Who is it? Read to find out! And feel free to review some more... : ) Next chap should be up soon (it's almost the end!).
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Ron was sleeping, but restless. His wand sat on the small bedside table, set to wake him at 11:30. Half an hour early because the redhead figured if he was going to take on a powerful dark wizard in a Duel he should be there on time.
Right.
At first he thought the touch was a dream. A nice caress up and down his arm. Almost tickling, but nice. And Ron's tired mind attempted to put a face to that touch. Hermione was first. But all that bushy hair and pushy attitude somehow didn't appeal.
Then came pale skin, light eyes, white-blond hair, and the dream-taste of butterscotch overwhelmed him.
Draco.
/You're dreaming sexy things about Malfoy,/ supplied his weary brain, and the thought was so normal and...welcoming? that it took Ron quite a while before he actually opened his eyes in "surprise."
/I've gotta' stop this. It's getting out of hand./ He was all ready to internally lecture himself. All ready, that is, before he realized the touch was real.
It was Draco Malfoy, looming over him and grinning a sort of goofy half-grin that Ron was not at all accustomed to seeing when it came to this particular face.
"Draco, what are you doing here? Is it time for the Duel?" But the redhead's wand lay still, and the blonde shook his head. "Then what are you doing here?"
What _was_ he doing here? And how could he possibly have gotten inside? Had he wormed the password out of someone? But who? And what was the point?
"I've found out who's been trying to kill you," said the teen wizard. His voice sounded different. As if he was just getting used to it. Maybe Ron was imagining it. Maybe he was just tired.
Weasley snorted. "Yeah, I was there remember? It's Harvey."
Draco looked almost amused at this. "No, it's not him after all. I've found out who it is, but we have to go now if we're going to catch him." He tugged at the sleeve of Ron's pajamas. "Let's go."
"Not Harvey? But that doesn't make any sense. What about the Duel and-"
He was cut off, and now Malfoy simply looked annoyed. "Come on, Weasel. You do want to catch who's been trying to kill you, right?"
There were two things wrong with what Draco had said, and Ron noticed. One, Draco hadn't called Ron "weasel" in quite a few days, at least not with so much venom behind the word. Even though it wasn't impossible for the blonde to simply slip back into name-calling mode, it was a bit odd. And then there was the fact that he said "kill you," because even though Ron _had_ been the one to get hit in the chest with a spell, both of them had been knocked off of their brooms. And both of them had been together for all of the attacks. They'd assumed their stalker had been trying to kill them both, not just Ron.
Plus, there was the fact that he'd managed to get inside Gryffindor Tower, and was now telling Ron to follow him, because it wasn't their prime suspect after all who was trying to kill him. For a moment the teen turned these thoughts over in his head, trying to figure out what could possibly be happening. And then all at once he remembered the Polyjuice potion he, Harry and Hermione had used in second year. He remembered last year and Crouch disguised as Moody....
As Draco leaned over him, still tugging at his flannel sleeve, Ron thought he detected the very faint scent of cabbage on the blonde's breath. Cabbage. The smell of Polyjuice potion. Shit.
This was him. The Stalker. Ron was face to face with the person who'd been trying to kill him all through Winter Break. Face to face, and he still had absolutely no idea who it was.
Panic overtook him. His breathing became immediately shallow and his muscles tensed under the pseudo-Draco's touch. What should he do? Attack, flee, play along?
/Think, Ron. Think./
Ron's eyes moved to the wand at his bedside table. Could he reach for it, aim, and fire before the platinum blonde could draw his own weapon? No, probably not.
"Well?" The imposter's voice was not quite steady. He stood quickly, eyes gleaming in the soft light that came in through the windows. "Hurry up."
"Er...," began Ron, before realizing there was no other choice. If this fake Draco was trying to play it cool, he'd have to let Ron have his wand anyway. Ron would just have to wait for the right opportunity to blast him. Assuming, of course, that there would be a right opportunity.
"Let me get dressed," he said, and stood also, still feeling sleepy and unsteady. He edged around the four-poster to his trunk before pulling it open with a grunt and pulling out the first pair of day clothes he spotted: A pair of worn jeans and a loose t-shirt that had once belonged to Fred.
The supposed Draco turned around. Ron stared at his back for a moment. The blonde wasn't dressed in the Slytherin uniform or robes. This wasn't the weirdest thing to see, as almost all through break the real Malfoy had substituted his usual school attire for muggle clothing.
_This_ Malfoy was doing a good impression of the genuine muggle-dressed one. He wore a white, collared shirt (not tucked in) and a pair of dark khakis. There was just one problem. One little difference that doubly assured the redhead that he was dealing with an imposter.
The clothes looked brand new. Never worn. Like they'd just been bought for the occasion. Which they probably had.
It was besides the point that the imposter looked decidedly uncomfortable in these clothes. Although, that fact did only serve to boost Ron's assurance.
"We don't have all night, Weasel. The killer's going to get away." The stalker shot a dark look back at the redhead before turning away again. "Now hurry."
"Right," answered Ron, finally beginning to change. Less than a minute later he was throwing his pajamas back into the trunk, silently hoping he'd be around to wear them again. "Ready."
He snatched his wand from the bedside table and followed the Draco lookalike, who had already reached the door.
*******
"Where are we going? Where's the killer at?"
Ron asked this, trying both to break the ominous quiet and to get answers. They were heading down the marble staircase now. Their footsteps sounded loud and intruding.
The imposter was quiet for a moment; thinking. Perhaps weighing the pros and cons of telling Ron anything. "The forest," he finally said, calm as could be.
"The _Forbidden_ Forest?" Weasley tried very hard to act brave, tried to cover up his anxiety. He could remember Harry getting attacked in first year, the gigantic, deadly spiders in second year, and getting pulled into the Whomping Willow entrance by a black dog that had looked a bit too much like a Grim during third year...
And then he remembered that this wasn't Draco at all, and that he had no reason to put up a front. In fact, it might even look suspicious, being so sedate about it. "Are you sure? You better be damn sure that the killer's in there. I'm not going into that hell-on-earth for nothing."
Fake Malfoy gave a little chuckle as they walked outside and began descending the stone steps. "Not for nothing," he said, and Ron caught the malevolence of it. "Don't worry."
It was very cold. Snow was drifting down from the dark sky, landing softly on the already-glittering ground. This reminded Ron of something. He looked up at the near full moon, his hand gripping at his wand so tightly he thought it might snap in two.
/It'll be Christmas Eve at midnight./ Well, this surely wasn't going to turn out being the best holiday ever. But he'd at least like to be _alive_ for it. Which meant he had to do something. He had to blast the intruder before they could get to the forest. Otherwise, it might be too late.
It might already be too late.
He slowed his walking, trying not to make it obvious. Surprisingly, fake Draco seemed not to take notice, and strode on, ending up a good few feet ahead of Ron. They were getting closer to the edge of the forest.
/Why is he being so careless?/ But what did that matter, really? This was the perfect time to strike! The best opportunity he could hope for. The redhead's mouth had gone dry, his feet walked on as if of their own volition. Ron's chest throbbed. It was still bruised. He remembered the pain of the spell this imposter had shot at him.... Fear filled him.
Fake Draco stepped into the forest. Ron followed.
He kept his wand at hand, arguing with himself. Trying to beat the powerful feeling of fear that had come over him. If he didn't do something, the stalker would kill him anyway! He couldn't allow himself to go down not fighting. He had to _try_.
/Try./ His wand hand lifted. He had the words of a curse on his lips.
And then the imposter stopped walking. "Well," he said, turning to Ron. "Are you ready?"
*******
Harvey Williams had been attending Hogwarts for less than a year, and had already gained a great dislike for Professor Severus Snape. The darkly dressed, greasy-haired man was leading the way through the corridors of the castle as the three students trailed behind.
Ginny's red hair bobbed as she walked. Her hand was enveloped in Harvey's own, and her eyes were darting into every dark corner they passed, perhaps hoping for a glimpse of her older brother. Draco was walking ahead of the pair, looking annoyed.
"Professor? Aren't we going to Headmaster Dumbledore's office?" The blonde said this, looking as if he was trying to hold back a particularly nasty comment. When Snape had spotted the two Gryffindor's and Draco the man had automatically assumed Malfoy was being bullied. Until, of course, Draco had vouched for the two arguing fourth years, saying that Ron _was_, in fact, missing. Then all three students had demanded to talk to the Headmaster, and had refused to divulge anymore information.
Harvey could tell Professor Snape wasn't the happiest man in the world at the moment. After all, he'd found three students lurking around after curfew and obviously wouldn't be able to do much about it, seeing as how it _was_ Winter Break (meaning school was not officially in session). Then, of course, there was the fact that Ron was missing. Ron missing meant bigger fish to fry right now. It meant no punishing students until disaster was successfully averted, if any punishment went on at all.
"Sir?"
"I don't think the Headmaster would appreciate a group of students barging in on him while sleeping, Mr. Malfoy. You'll wait in my office, and I'll get him." Draco's expression was such that Harvey thought the blonde would protest. But the boy didn't. Instead, he held his tongue and sped his pace so that he was walking right beside Snape.
Williams didn't believe the jerk of a Slytherin Head of House for a second. The man wasn't thinking about Dumbledore's welfare, Harvey was sure of that. It was intimidation Snape was thinking about. Waiting around in his office, within the dungeons, watching mysterious bits of animals and goo floating about in jars was much more uncomfortable than marching promptly to Dumbledore.
/We don't have time for this./
Ron was missing. A _student_ was missing. Couldn't Snape understand that? Didn't he care?
They reached the dimly lit office, the Professor barked a command to stay, then turned and left, closing the door behind him.
/Of course he doesn't care. He's a Slytherin. But Ron.../
A wave of guilt came over Harvey. So Draco and the redhead had thought he was some kind of killer? Some servant of the Dark Lord? The fourth year shuddered and squeezed Ginny's hand a little tighter.
He didn't blame the two teens. He'd acted horribly. Slamming Ron up against the wall like that, yelling obscenities, threatening him.... Harvey supposed it was his old "bad boy" self that had surfaced. He'd been so mad, so absolutely annoyed with the fact that his girlfriend had talked of nothing but her extremely vexing brother all Winter Break. But that was no real excuse, and Harvey realized, for the first time, just _why_ they'd wanted to kick him out of his old school.
He understood now. And thinking back to the way he'd treated Ron, felt incredibly guilty.
"I'm sorry," he said, and the two other occupants of the room turned to look at him.
*******
They had reached a clearing. The light of the moon broke through gaps in the trees and shone strongly on the two teenagers. Fake Draco's hair looked silvery. The pale boy himself looked ethereal.
"Well," said the imposter, turning to Ron. "Are you ready?"
"Ready?" Ron hesitated. What if he was wrong? He had no real proof this person was under the influence of Polyjuice potion. This could be the real Draco. The blonde _could_ have found the killer. Maybe this wasn't some Death Eater in disguise. Maybe Draco just liked cabbage.
But this hesitation was a mistake, because in the instant that Ron was thinking these things the imposter lifted his wand (a wand that definitely didn't look like Draco's), uttered a spell, and the redhead's own wand went flying out of his hands, and out of reach.
"Ready to die, I mean," said the blonde who, in fact, wasn't blonde anymore. For he had started to change. Ron gasped, not believing what he saw.
In front of him stood John, the innocent little first year with whom he'd played chess with the night he'd gotten hit with the spell. The little first year who had sat with him during breakfasts, and who squeaked in fear when Draco was around.
The boy, even wearing clothes that didn't quite fit him anymore, and standing a good few inches smaller than Ron, didn't look so innocent anymore.
"John?"
"That's right," said the eleven-year-old, pointing his wand at Ron's heart. "John. John Macnair."