Recap: Draco took a deep breath. "What would you say, Potter, if I told you I had a secret that was as big, if not bigger, than yours?" Harry gave him a contemplative look. "I'd say, get talking."
Chapter Eleven
"All right, but you have to swear not to tell anyone, not even Weasel and the Mud-" Harry cut him off angrily.
"Don't call them that! If you want to have a conversation with me, at least call my friends by their surnames." Draco sighed exasperatedly, looking at the glaring boy-who-lived.
"Alright. You have to swear not to tell Granger and Weasley or anyone else. I don't want the whole of Gryffindor house to know. Clear?"
Harry nodded.
"Swear it, Potter." Harry sighed and placed a hand over his heart.
"I swear, Malfoy, on my honor as a Gryffindor, that I will to no one repeat that which you are about to tell me. Satisfied?"
Draco nodded.
"Then please, get on with your tale."
Draco took one last breath, the last before the plunge.
"Where to begin, where to begin. I guess it really starts with my name...
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In the Malfoy family it has long been believed that pureblood wizards are superior to all other creatures and Malfoys, superior to all other purebloods. This belief of superiority is caused, indirectly, by their appearance. The Malfoy family has always, at least as long as anyone can tell, been light skinned with very fair hair and a rather delicate build. As with many things in the wizarding world, there's more to that than meets the eye.
Here's another hint to the family secret. One of the few families the Malfoy's ever had much respect for was the Black family. Yes the Blacks were wealthy, pureblood, and deeply immersed in the dark arts, but so were many other families. There is another reason the Malfoys respected the Blacks. You see, the Blacks, in addition to producing a fair amount of Metamorphmagi, have always had great aptitude at the magics needed to become Animagi. In essence, the Blacks were very good at changing their appearances, something that the Malfoys knew only too much about.
J. R. R. Tolkien once wrote, "White... serves as a beginning. White cloth can be dyed. The white page can be overwritten..." It is very easy to change the color white. Also, it is much easier to mold something over, if that thing is smaller and light. Last, when you are involved in something that you believe is worthy of admiration, don't you also respect those working around you?
With only these three things, guessing the secret is rather difficult. But those who need to know have always been told. As Draco Malfoy's great- grandfather once said, "If you satisfy the curiosity before it has a chance to become curiosity, there are no bothersome hints being dropped, no irritating sideways glances, no constant prodding, and things are generally a great deal less confusing. Of course, when the curiosity in question is your mate's, it also saves time for more enjoyable activities." As it turns out, Draco had only heard the first part of that quote, so he could look Harry strait in the eye without blushing as he explained.
"All of the Malfoys, as far back as we have records of, have been party to one, specific trait. We are all shape-shifters."
Harry just stared, so Draco continued.
"At the age of sixteen, we gain the potential to shift. The actual ability, however, doesn't come until we are forced into our first shape." Harry raised a questioning eyebrow.
"Oh, do let me guess, not being native to the wizarding world, you've never heard of shape-shifters. You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?" Harry nodded the affirmative.
"Basics first then. After the age requirement is reached, there needs to be a violent... emotional upheaval. The emotions trigger the first shape. A shape-shifter has multiple shapes, unlike an Animagus, but the first time in a particular shape occurs similar to a werewolf's transformation. I assume you know about that after our dearly departed Defense teacher?" Harry glared but growled out a "yes". Draco decided that, being as Harry was a vampire, it was in his own self interest to refrain, as much as possible, from insulting the boy's friends.
"Well... it's like that. We have no choice about where or when the first times occur. The moon does not govern the transformations, but they do occur monthly until we have visited every shape. After the first time, we can change into that form at will. I currently have two forms. The reason I needed my own rooms is because we can be quite dangerous when we're learning to control a new shape."
Draco waited for Harry to say something, but the boy took his sweet time about it.
"Well, Malfoy, that was unexpected."
The silence fell again and it grew almost to the point of being unbearable before Potter broke it.
"I guess what this means is that we will have to, horrible as it will undoubtedly be, work together to some extent. I mean, we both are a danger to each other even without the normal... difficulties." Draco looked at him curiously.
"What are you proposing?"
Potter looked thoughtful for a moment.
"An armistice." He finally stated.
Draco considered this for a moment before extending his hand. Potter grasped it with his own and shook.
"Agreed."
It was the weirdest thing, but Draco could have sworn he felt a small shock when they made contact. Oh well, all wizardly problems could wait for the morning. In the meanwhile, as Dumbledore had said, they had classes tomorrow.
With a final curt nod, Draco and Potter headed to their respective bedrooms and fell into bed, barely managing to strip their sweat-and-blood-soaked pajamas, let alone put on clean ones. It's a good thing (or bad, depending on how you view it) that neither of them sleepwalks.
In the hearth, the fire burned on, forgotten.
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The following morning, Ron and Hermione were waiting, worriedly, outside the Great Hall doors for Harry. By the time he reached the base of the stairs they were on him.
"Where were you?"
"Yeah mate, how come you never came back?"
"We were worried!!"
"We went to the headmaster."
"But he said you were fine."
"Bloody great prat."
"Ronald Weasley!! You take that back!!"
"But Hermione! That's all he would tell us!!"
"He told us to ask Harry."
"But he wouldn't tell us where Harry was!"
"He said we didn't need to know until the morning."
"What kind of answer is that!?! I mean, he could have at least let us owl Harry or something."
Harry cut in before Hermione could retort.
"Guys! Guys. I'm fine, I'll explain it all to you later but now can we please go eat?" Harry didn't need nor want to eat of course, but he really didn't want to stand at the bottom of the stairs all morning either. With a little more grumbling, they headed through the doors and to their usual seats, Harry separating the other two.
Partway through breakfast, which Harry was mostly just pushing around on his plate to make it look eaten, the mail arrived. Shortly afterwards, McGonagall passed out their class schedules. Harry groaned.
"Potions first thing. This is going to be a great day."
Hermione glared at him.
"You know, it's not anyone's fault but your own. If you weren't so set on being an Auroar, you wouldn't be with me in that class at all." Harry looked at her, puzzled.
"But you're not trying to be an Auroar, are you? Why are you taking potions?"
Hermione muttered something Harry couldn't hear. Ron, it seemed however, could. He burst out laughing. Harry glared at his friends.
"Come on, what's so funny? What's Hermione trying?"
Ron managed to subdue his laughter but the moment he tried to speak, it erupted again. Hermione glared at Ron with a peculiar mixture of anger and embarrassment before answering Harry's question.
"Well, if you must know, I'm considering being..." she trailed off again. Harry gave her a hard look.
"Oh alright! I want to be a medi-witch! Happy now!?!"
Poor Ron was now laughing so hard he wasn't making a sound but there were tears pouring down his face and he was practically sobbing for breath.
"Oh honestly!" Hermione said and she started to get up, fully intending to storm out of the great hall, but Harry's arm stopped her.
"What's a medi-witch? And why does Ron find it so funny?"
Hermione looked incredulous.
"You don't know? It's not a very common profession nowadays, I'll admit, but it's mentioned in just about every book that talks about the war with Vol-" Hermione gulped "Voldemort."
Harry glared.
"Hermione! You know I haven't read any of that sort of thing!"
Hermione looked surprised.
"You haven't? Ooooh, Harry, you should. You really should. I mean, what with him being back and another war about to start, it would be smart."
Harry felt a little guilty at that. He still hadn't told Ron and Hermione about the prophecy.
"Okay, Hermione, I'll read about it eventually, but in the mean time, please tell me?" Harry looked at her with puppy dog eyes.
Hermione really wanted to force him to actually read, but no one can fight the puppy dog eyes of the boy who lived.
"Alright. I give up. You know what a Healer is right?" Harry nodded. "Well a medi-witch is basically a Healer. They have most of the same training except that they specialize more in trauma. In a war, Medi-witches and wizards do everything from heading out onto the battle field and bringing the wounded to safety, to setting up a Mobile Any-patient Spell-damage Hospital, or M.A.S.H. Once the victims are stabilized, they are sent to St. Mungoes or whatever place is closest. They save hundreds of lives in every battle." Harry still didn't get what was so funny about that, so he asked.
"Hermione, what about that is funny or embarrassing? It's saving lives. I don't get it. What is there to laugh about?"
Hermione sighed.
"The uniforms. See, the reason it says 'Any-patient' is because, in the field of battle, we don't discriminate. If the war is between, British wizards and, say, French wizards, British Medi-witches will try to save French wizards too. The same goes for any other group of wizards. Once on the field, we have no nationality. Because the opposing side of wizards knows we will help theirs fighters too, they won't curse us. However, in the middle of a battle, there's not likely to be time to ask if your enemy is going to curse you or bandage your broken leg. You have to be able to tell, automatically, if they mean you harm. Due to this, we have uniforms." Hermione grimaced.
"This is the embarrassing part. They are white with vertical hot-pink stripes and horizontal neon-purple stripes. It's definitely not the most dignified outfit ever. The whole point though, is that we could never be mistaken for anyone else. Every wizard or witch around the world, before going into battle, is told what a medi-witch or wizard looks like. There is an actual international law that states we are not to be harmed. There have only been three times in recorded history, that a medi-witch or wizard was deliberately attacked. All three times, the person who cast the spell was literally torn apart by his or her friends and enemies alike."
Harry looked admiringly at Hermione, then turned to Ron.
"I really don't see what is so funny. After all, if you're dying on a battlefield, surrounded by the sounds of people screaming their death screams, I doubt you'd laugh even if Gilderoy Lockhart dressed as a moose in a pink tutu came up to help you." That shut Ron up.
Harry turned to Hermione.
"I respect your choice."
Hermione stared at him as if she was looking at a particularly interesting puzzle.
"You've changed, Harry."
Harry gave a sad smile. If there was one thing he needed to learn this year, it was Occlumancy. He really didn't want to see the images of death and destruction Voldemort loved so much.
"Yes, I suppose I have."
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After breakfast, when the tables had been cleared, all of the sixth year students were to be found with their schedules and career information spread out on the tables. Dumbledore and the heads of houses (McGonagall, Snape, Sprout and Flitwick) were still up at the head table with papers out.
Harry, much to his embarrassment, had missed the large box at the top of his schedule that stated, quite clearly, that there was to be an hour long planning period before their classes started, to make sure they were taking the proper classes to pursue their career path.
Harry was in a state of bewilderment the first time he looked at his schedule. He didn't know that some of the classes on it were even taught at Hogwarts. His schedule for that week (it was Thursday) went as follows.
Thursday:
8:00 Planning
9:00 Potions
10:45 Transfiguration
12:30 lunch
1:30 Wand-less magic
3:15 Charms
5:00 Defense Against the Dark Arts
9:00 Occlumancy
Friday:
8:00 History of Magical Creatures
10:00 Herbology
12:00 lunch
1:00 Care of Magical Creatures
3:00 Potions
5:00 Transfiguration
11:00 Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts
Ron looked over at Harry's schedule and did a double take. He tugged Hermione's sleeve. She turned to him, angrily.
"What is it Ron! I'm trying to organize my schedule here, and it's easiest without you hanging off my sleeve."
Ron ignored this in favor of pointing out Harry's odd classes. Hermione simply shrugged.
"Well, he's a little different from most of the students here. There are things he needs to learn that aren't part of the regular curriculum." She said before turning back to her schedule.
Harry couldn't see anything wrong (other than the odd classes) with his schedule so he and Ron went over the redhead's. Ron's was like this.
First Thursday:
8:00 Planning
9:00 Divination
10:45 Transfiguration
12:30 lunch
1:30 free
3:15 Charms
5:00 Defense Against the Dark Arts
First Friday:
8:00 History of Magic
10:00 Herbology
12:00 lunch
1:00 Care of Magical Creatures
3:00 Divination
5:00 Transfiguration
11:00 Astronomy
Apparently, Ron passed fewer classes last year than he had time for this year. The subject of passing classes introduced the subject of OWLs. Harry realized, with a start, that he hadn't seen his result. After he told Hermione this, she scoffed.
"Well really, how absent minded can you get. Your results were on a separate sheet of paper in the envelope with your letter. Accio."
A few moments later, the envelope with Harry's Hogwarts letter came soaring into Hermione's hand. Upon opening it, she beamed at Harry.
Once he saw the piece of paper, he grinned too. He had gotten an O or E in everything except History of Magic (a), Divination (p) and Astronomy (p).
:::::::::::::
Just before nine, Harry and Hermione found themselves in a flat out run to get to Potions. After their schedules had been taken care of, the three Gryffindors had decided to spend the last half-hour walking around the lake.
It hadn't been very pleasant, however. After about ten minutes of walking in an uncomfortable silence, an argument had broken out. See, Hermione had somehow convinced Ron to take another class during his one free period, and now he wasn't pleased to say the least. As the one class was Muggle Studies, Harry could see why.
The argument had lasted until they all realized that they had seven minutes to get to their next class. Within five seconds they had all yelled their own version of "Shit!" and they were off. With thee minutes to spare, they reached the entrance hall. Splitting up, Ron headed for North tower and the Divination class he was certainly going to be late for while Harry and Hermione aimed for the dungeons where a loss of at least fifty points was promised if the couldn't make it.
With about ten seconds to spare, Harry and Hermione staggered through the door into the lair of the Potions Master. Both of them were flushed, breathing in sharp painful gasps, and clutching stitches.
"Potter, Granger, how nice of you to join us." Came the voice of said Potions Master. "However, as you two are three minutes late for your first class of the year, I think thirty points is a reasonable amount to loose."
At any other time, Harry would have said something or at least glared at Snape for his unfairness. Now though, he and Hermione simply fought to not faint or be sick. You see, the caretaker had been cleaning the floor in the corridor near a set of stairs that lead downward, and when two members of "the golden trio" came barreling down the staircase above, they found themselves unable to stop, an ended up skidding two stair cases lower than originally planned. If you asked, both would agree that they had never run farther or faster in their entire lives.
Due, in part, to their timely arrival, Potions was a disaster. By the end of it, Gryffindor had lost sixty points and there were only three Gryffindors in the class. Hermione, Harry and... Neville.
Next however, was Transfiguration. Once again, every thing he learned the previous year had leaked out over the summer. This time it was understandable. Becoming a vampire would take precedence over tap dancing bananas any day.
After lunch, the golden Trio split up for the only classes that were entirely separate. Hermione headed for Arithmancy, Ron for Muggle studies (much to his displeasure) and Harry to Wand-less magic. To his immense surprise, his schedule directed him to the headmaster's office. As he stood in front of the stone gargoyle and argued for it to let him pass, he wondered what was waiting behind that door.
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A/N: I'm so sorry I left you with a cliffhanger for so long. I needed my copy of the fifth book to deal with the career stuff, and I'd lent it to a friend. I'm so sorry. Then, when I finally got this written, wouldn't let me click "browse" to get it from the computer to the net.
What is the plural form of "magus"? I've been saying "magi" but I don't know. My apologies if I've spelled the plural forms of "animagus" and "metamorphmagus" incorrectly.
I'm warning you for later chapters, I believe that Sirius truly did die, he's not (or shouldn't) come back in later books. I cry at books and movies, so I cried over Sirius and accepted it. In my opinion, he's with James and Lily now. I've believed this ever since I saw a livejournal icon. It was a black starred sky with one star brighter that the rest, looking like it was the blinding white light at the end of the tunnel. To the side, in white writing was:
Mr. Prongs
Would like to welcome
Mr. Padfoot
Home.
Basically, I'm not resurrecting Sirius, just thought you'd like to know that.
Once again, I'm sorry. I'll try to have the next chapter up soon.
SorryPlease&ThanYou
-Leif