A/N: That sound you're not hearing? That is the sound of the ocean liners that are not sailing through the plot holes in this fic. ^____^ And dude, if you buy that, I have some lovely oceanfront property in Montana that I could sell you…

That being said, I'm still new at this whole plot business. Usually, my fics are a hell of a lot more character driven. I don't particularly like that this chapter is so…explanatory, but oh well. You win some, you lose some. I'm doing a lot of experimenting with this poor fic. Sometimes it'll work, and other times I'm sure it will rival my cat's litterbox.

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Chapter Four

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"You stunned him," Harry murmured, feeling a bit stunned himself as both he and Remus jogged over to where the big dog had dropped like a stone.

"Did you have a better idea?"

"Um, no, this works," he returned, a little embarrassed at not having thought of it himself. Letting out a whoosh of breath, Harry got down on his knees and pulled up the stunned dog's eyelid gently to reveal the dilated blue eyes. The mutt's tongue was hanging out too, and he panted softly with each breath he took. That in itself was reassuring. From the way the dog had moved, Harry could tell that he had been harboring some pain.

"Well, whoever he is, he's done his homework." Remus ruffled the fur around the dog's head before pulling out a wand.

"Definitely got our attention," Harry added in agreement. "He can't be more than sixteen. We're going to have to put him in the accelerated classes and then probably give him some extra tutoring on top of that to keep his ass out of trouble."

"That horse of yours definitely gets a good work out when it comes to pushing the cart." Harry scowled as Remus managed a small smirk in his direction. So what if he was a little bit too far ahead in his thinking? The way Lupin talked, a bloke would have thought he did this all the time. "Let's try to figure out who he is first and why he feels the need to impersonate Sirius."

"All right," he grumbled, pulling his own wand out of his back pocket. "On the count of three?" He raised an eyebrow as he looked over at Remus. Remus shrugged carelessly. "One-Two-Three!" There was a flash of blue-white light that erupted from both wands and the dog on the floor quickly changed shape back into the pale, dark-haired boy Harry had left in the infirmary an hour ago.

"He does look an awful lot like Sirius." Remus looked mildly concerned, which had Harry worried. Remus did not get concerned easily. In fact, Remus was like the rock of Gibraltar. Unshakeable and unmovable. If it was enough to cause Remus worry… "Are you sure the injury is legitimate?"

"Fairly," Harry answered as he pulled back some of the bloodied bandages as gently as possible. "Pomfrey was convinced, at least, and you know how hard it is to fool that woman."

"Potter, what have you done now?" Harry glanced up to see Malfoy standing in front of them, customary scowl in place and arms folded over his chest.

"Here's your chance, Malfoy, take a look at the burn," he returned instead of rising to the bait. The skin didn't look too infected, but like he'd told Remus earlier, the burn itself reeked of dark magic. Old magic. Maybe that in itself would explain how their mystery guest came equipped with so many of Sirius's features and traits. Although, if that did indeed turn out to be the case, Harry knew he was going to have his hands full trying to coax the teenager in question into believing that there were less drastic ways to solve one's problems then resorting to ancient rituals and bodily harm.

And all right, so most teenagers were a pain in the ass no matter who they were. This kid could be anywhere on the spectrum from Neville's shy bumblings to Malfoy's spoiled brat, bad attitude. But hey, if someone as selfish and self centered as Malfoy could be redeemed, then Harry thought that pretty much anyone could change if given the chance. And so Malfoy wasn't exactly everyone's best friend now that he was an adult, but at least he wasn't a mass murderer or a dead Death Eater.

Bottom line was, if Dumbledore could redeem Snape and Snape could redeem Malfoy, then as far as Harry was concerned, there was hope for this kid and any other kid out there.

"He's not going to thank either of you for this," Remus interjected mildly as Malfoy bent down and gently peeled away the rest of the bandages that Harry hadn't removed.

"He's a kid. I don't particularly give a damn what he wants, and I don't want his thanks," Malfoy growled.

The burn itself was pretty impressive, Harry had to admit as he saw it for the first time in the absence of blood and the kid's feeble attempts to cover it. Complicated runes like that hadn't been used in centuries because it was so easy to miss a curly-cue there or a series of dots here and botch the entire ritual. Harry appreciated it from a purely academic point of view. It took a powerful wizard to pull off that kind of magic.

"Is this some kind of demented pureblood thing?" So, maybe it wasn't the best way to phrase a question, Harry shrugged as Remus shot him an irritated glance. He couldn't help it if occasionally he still had to push some of Malfoy's easier to reach buttons. Malfoy was sensitive as hell about his own burn scar, and this certainly wasn't going to be any picnic if Harry showed even the slightest bit of sympathy. After all, the bloke didn't exactly make his life easier, either. Mutual respect demanded that one not pity the other, which also meant that when offered an opportunity to demonstrate that bad history and bad memories did not illicit sympathy, they took it. For the most part, they knew where the boundaries were. Although, as Malfoy shot him the 'die, Potter, die' look, Harry wondered if maybe he hadn't gone a bit too far.

"Yes, and no."

"Thank you for your stunning clarity."

"Potter, shut the fuck up."

"Now children, enough squabbling. Can we concentrate on the matter at hand, maybe?" Remus calmly interjected, moving in between them. "Do you recognize the mark, Draco?"

"Yes," Malfoy muttered sullenly, and Harry resisted the urge to gloat. Now they were getting somewhere. The sooner they could put this to rest, the sooner Harry could put the whole experience behind him. Contrary to popular belief, Harry was not in the habit of adopting stray children like puppies. He couldn't help it if they found him. The wizarding world both praised and scorned him in turn for his work with children, from the Death Eater orphans to the hoodlums of the lost generation that had taken to indiscriminately terrorizing parts of Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley.

It always amazed Harry how people thought that if they ignored the problem, it would just magically vanish. There wasn't a wizard on the planet that was capable of making the number of children rendered parentless by the killing sprees and then the war itself simply disappear. And maybe it was just as Harry had told Remus. Maybe it was that he saw a part of himself in each and every one of those kids. Or maybe it was just that he had the foresight to understand that the situation at hand was the breeding ground for wizards of Voldemort's caliber.

Still, there were some aspects of his own parentless childhood that he wasn't ready to face yet. Sirius was one of them.

"Well, what is it, you ponce?" He finally demanded after it became apparent that Malfoy's lapse into silence wasn't going to be interrupted by an explanation.

"Harry," Remus murmured, putting a hand on his shoulder to caution him. Blowing out a heavy sigh, Harry turned to get comfortable on the floor. Obviously, this was going to take a while. "You don't have to tell us everything, Draco. We just need an idea of what kind of ritual it was so that we can have some idea of what we're dealing with."

Malfoy, for his part, looked torn over having to confess. "It's an old pureblood tradition, passed down from generation to generation," he finally said with a heavy sigh.

"So I was right," Harry butted in, to which Malfoy responded with a creative, unrepeatable suggestion as to what Harry could do with certain parts of his anatomy.

"Harry, you're not helping," Remus added with a withering glare. Sure, on some level, Harry understood that he shouldn't be nettling Malfoy when the bloke was in the midst of admitting a painful personal experience. But then again, Malfoy had contributed some thrilling commentary to Harry's own personal confessions on certain occasions as well. This was, in some respects, payback for the time Malfoy had sneered at every description Harry had ever given to their mutual charges of what it was like living in a cupboard and being rendered invisible to things like affection and love.

"Shove off, Lupin, he's got a point." Proving yet again, Harry thought, that the only side Malfoy ever seemed to be on was his own. "It is a demented ritual. If you will recall your history—although we all know how hard that is considering what a deadly bore Binns is—most pureblood families try to produce an heir and a spare."

"Muggles were like that, too," Harry added flippantly, "in the stone ages."

"The oldest is the spare in these families, although it's not always common knowledge," Malfoy continued, shooting Harry a disgusted glance. "The younger is the heir. Most of the tradition died out a century ago when the number of pureblood wizards started to dwindle so drastically. But some of the more," Malfoy's face contorted slightly, "old fashioned pureblood families kept the ritual."

"What is the ritual?" Could Malfoy possibly fish around the topic any more than he already was? Harry rested his chin on his propped up arm and raised an eyebrow at Malfoy's glare.

"It's a separation sacrifice. They take the oldest son, who generally has a greater innate magical ability as well as an inflated ego due to their supposed position as heir, and they separate the magic from his soul. Depending on the person, the boy may or may not survive the separation. If they do live, which is rare, they become muggles for the rest of their shortened lifespan. Once the family manages the separation, they channel the bodiless magic into various pre-designated vessels of the family's choosing. Generally, most of it goes to the heir," Malfoy said coldly.

"But you were an only chil-"

"She was three months pregnant," Malfoy cut Remus off before he could finish the sentence and Harry took a moment to gape. "Not to mention that Father had suffered through Azkaban and she wanted a bit of a pepper up." Malfoy sneered, and Harry felt his stomach roll slightly. Actually, this explained a couple of the kids he'd come in contact with over the years.

"So, if all the pureblood families knew how to do this, why didn't Voldemort just get all of them to sacrifice their kids to him?" He couldn't help it, the question begged to be asked, Harry decided.

"Because, you dunce, the vessels have to be blood relations," Malfoy shot back, glaring at both him and Remus coldly again. "As it was, my mother needed the magic from the rituals just to get pregnant. It only works within family bonds."

"Do you recognize him?" Remus asked then, gesturing to the teen that was still out cold on the floor.

"No," Malfoy replied in short order. "We might as well just wake him up and ask him. I'm curious myself as to how he managed to escape if he was tied down."

"How did you-" Harry bit off the question abruptly at Malfoy's expression. Okay, so maybe he'd poked the caged bear enough for one day. "Never mind."

Malfoy turned his attention back to the boy, pulled out his wand and looked to Remus and Harry. Both nodded their agreement. "Enervate!"

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