Slytherin's Angel - You could always tell your mom you're reading up on
an Anti-establishment plan for gobal nuclear destruction wherein those
who survived would proclaim themselves gods and repopulate the planet.
*grins* Who's disagreeing, indeed? Insanity is fun.

Black Rose - The Weapons rock, don't they? I've got the Weapon Name for
Draco and Virginia, and about three different ones for Sirius, so I'm
just wondering which one to pick for him ^___^ (Not to mention for
Riddle. Hmmm...)

Fire-Mage - The only records we've got of the party are the snapshots
SpongeBob-Girl took before she hid her camera and got piss drunk on us.
GameFreaks rule!

And because I'm strange like that, don't expect this chapter to have
gotten to the problem of Wolfos yet. I'm working on that... slowly...
but Harry's almost out of the wards, and that's what really matters,
ain't it?

Harry Potter is property of JK Rowling, and whoever she got to publish
the books.

---

Blackened Sunrise
Chapter Thirty-Two: Revelations
The Itch

---

It was a bit of a surprise to trudge into the room early the next
morning, with all the intentions of catching a bit more shut-eye before
going back to work on the wakening-Draco-problem, only to find said
partial veela and their resident Living Weapon playing around with the
Power.

The trio stood in the portrait hole, blinking owlishly at the sight of
the two sixteen year olds tossing a ball of plasma between them like it
was a baseball. Of course, seeing as only Hermione was muggle-born, the
other two didn't really think of it as a baseball. Baseball was a
muggle sport, after all.

In any case, their shock at the sight was short lived, when Harry
turned his attention away from the other teenager and towards his
students, "Would you get in here already?"

"Huh?" Virginia muttered intelligently, before realizing that they were
_Still_ standing in the portrait hole, leaving it open and allowing
anyone who was passing by to be capable of seeing into the room.
Flushing, she grabbed Hermione and Sirius' arms, and dragged them into
the room. Their stumbling as they came through brought both of them
back to reality, and the pair managed to make the rest of the short
journey to the chairs by themselves.

Hermione stared at the white-blonde for a moment, "When did you...?"

"Potter brought me out about four hours ago."

"What?!" she bolted to her feet, "Harry! You said you couldn't read
kanji!"

"And I still can't," he grinned widely, "I never said Weapon couldn't.
We up for actually attending classes today?"

"Do we have to?" whined Ginny, who'd much rather crash int he room and
never wake up. Harry rolled his eyes.

"We've been missing for long enough. Besides, it's not like classes
will actually matter for us in the end. The Balance will insure that
all will get the positions that they deserve."

"And Harry's going to make you Queen of the World, any ways," Sirius
and Hermione muttered in eerie unison.

"Oh, right," the redhead grinned widely, and Draco made a note to
himself that she needed her head shaved again. It was nearly two inches
long now, and shaggily covered her scalp. Yes, it definitely needed to
be shaved; the Bald One wasn't allow to have hair, after all.

An amusing image came to his mind, of Ginny, head shaved, wearing a
crown and sitting on a throne in muggle clothing. Now that would be a
sight to behold!

"But still... do we have to?"

This time it was Hermione who answered her. Granger's answer should be
obvious.

---

It was a bit of a quandary; four students, previously deemed missing,
all of a sudden showing up for class. Where had they been? Each of them
had separate answers to the question, as well; and from what Albus had
learned, they kept the answer the same every time they were asked the
question-- even when they were in the same room!

Granger always responded that she had become so involved in studying
something that she hadn't even noticed the passage of time.

Weasley only ever said that she'd been "around".

Malfoy's response was that he'd been "somewhere dark".

And Potter? He would smirk and simply tell them that he was dealing
with a problem of the utmost importance-- and no, they didn't need to
know what that problem was, only that it had been solved.

Then there was Wolfos' strange attitude; the hardest to figure out, if
only because Dumbledore had known Wolfos for the majority of the
younger wizard's life, and knew him so well that there were a good
dozen reasons the could be behind his reactions. At times, when he
looked upon Harry, he seemed inordinately proud, like a father looking
upon his son. At others, he would glare with the utmost hatred and
loathing in his eyes, a stunning contrast from his prior stares. And
still other times, he would watch with a calculating eye that had never
failed to irritate Albus-- whether he showed it or not.

The strange pattern of attitudes was not the only thing on Albus' mind.
Riddle was on the move, and he was going to do something-- so he
decided it was time to call a meeting of the Order of the Phoenix.

---

They were gathered around the ceremonial table that had been used for
generations as their meeting place. Figg, McGonagall, Snape, Moody,
Fletcher, Lupin and a few others had been all that could gather on such
short notice. Soon enough Albus entered, followed by the large black
Grim that was undoubtably Sirius Black.

The Weapon-In-Training grinned roguishly as he shifted back into his
human form, settling in the seat he'd held since the days he had joined
the Order alongside Prongs, Moony, and Lily, and wondered briefly if he
was being treacherous just by being her. That moment of thought passed
swiftly, as Black reminded himself that he was here for Harry, and
Harry was all that had mattered to him since the day his parents had
been killed.

Sirius would do anything for his godson-- including infiltrate the most
secret organization in the Wizarding World.

So he listened to the members gripe and go on for a good twenty
minutes, before decided to take things into his own paws-- er, hands.
He kicked his boots up onto the table and spoke what had been bothering
him for months now, "What's up with the wards?"

McGonagal, Severus, and Albus suddenly went stiff, but Sirius had
already guessed they'd been the ones to use Merlin's Runes on binding
his godson's Power. McGonagal tried to edge her way out of the
questioning, "What wards would those be, Sirius?"

His eyes flashed, only briefly, with the Power that used his body as a
conduit, "I mean... why'd you bind up Harry's magic?"

"What?" the other members of the Order leaned forwards, and Lupin
frowned, "Why didn't I hear anything about this?"

"Now, now," Albus calmed, raising his hands for silence, "We were
worried that Harry might start delving into the Dark Arts, due to
his... absence."

"So you wrapped him up in a bunch of wards?" Sirius was careful not to
let on that he knew exactly what wards were used, and that he knew the
counter. Not only that, but he kept the knowledge that there was more
than just a Dark Arts suppression charm on those wards.

"It seemed the most prudent thing to do," Dumbledore nodded with a
small smile that made everyone want to believe what he said was for the
best. Unfortunately for the subtle magic Albus unconsciously imposed on
the others, Sirius was capable of fighting the suggestion off. The
Power let him feel the ripples in the magic-- not nearly as strong as
he could feel when another Weapon was using the Power, and more of an
echo of the actual ripples-- which allowed him to know to keep a shield
up.

The underdeveloped, uncontrolled version of the Imperius Curse slid off
his Power-wrought shields, but he kept the same neutral expression on
his face as he nodded slowly, "So... it's not harming Harry at all?"

"No, of course not," soothed the older man, "He may have lost a small
part of his magical abilities, but in the end, it is for the best."

A small 'part'?! Sirius seethed mentally, You all but destroyed his
connection to the Power! If you had one iota of an idea as to how the
Power affects us, you would have done no such thing!

But, yet again, he pretended to be under the sway of Albus' magic, and
moved onto the next topic, "Could Voldemort--" he had to restrain a
grin at the faint-but-still-there winces of his comrades, "-- have his
powers blocked with these wards?"

And Severus jumped in with a snide, "If we could, don't you think we'd
have already done so?"

Which sufficiently distracted Sirius as he and Snape got into a
glaring-sniping-insulting match of immaturity right then and there. The
rest of the Order ignored them. They'd gotten quite used to how those
two enjoyed butting heads by this point.

---

A gleeful laugh filled the halls early the next morning as three tired
teenagers and a large black dog trudged back into Hogwarts. Clothing
was tattered and torn, beneath the immaculate robes that they'd thrown
on before entering, faces smeared with blood and dirt, while their hair
was mussed and tangled. All of them were quite glad to have started
their training once again.

Muscles were sore from a month of disuse-- one never realized how much
damage even a month of inaction could do to once's muscles. It had been
a painful, but enjoyable experience. They could barely wait for the
next morning as the trio tucked various weapons into their scabbards,
sheaths, and holsters. It had been a good practice.

They had sweat up a storm even while working outside in the chill and
snow of December, and stunk to high heaven. Ginny cracked a joke about
how they'd wake everyone up with their stench if they attempted to use
the showers in their dorms. The joke led to Draco asserting that he
_did_ know the directions to the faculty showers, and it was highly
likely that no one was in them at this time of the day.

As a result, they had commandeered the faculty showers, and scrubbed
off all the muck and grime and stench. Draco mused, while on his way
back to the Slytherin dorms all by himself, that had this been before
his training had begun, before he'd first channeled, he'd have been far
to embarrassed to do what he just had. Shower in the same room as
Virginia-- at the same time.

And yet again, he found himself wondering if he was sane at any
subconscious level. Any sane teenage boy would have been hard just at
the thought of showering with a girl. Him? He'd showered with her-- and
Potter, of course-- and still treated Ginny like 'one of the guys'. No
hormones, no fantasies, no dirty thoughts. Just... showering, like she
was a sister or something.

Granted, she was a Weasley... but she was still female. There had been
no reaction. He would have assumed he was homosexual at that, but then
he had to realize that he'd had no reaction to Potter either. Or any
male for that matter. He just... didn't seem to think about sexual
matters unless he was forcing himself to muse upon it.

Ah well, he thought, entering the Slytherin common rooms, what does it
matter? With Father hanging over my head, I wouldn't have married, or
dated for that matter, anyone with whom I gave a damn about. It's all
about continuing the line, wasn't it?

A bit to late, he realized that the rest of the Slytherin sixth and
seventh years had crowded around him once he'd entered. The flimsy
little blonde his father wanted him to go out with-- Parkinson-- sidled
up next to him, "So... did it happen?"

"Did what happen?" he really disliked not being in the know, and it was
rather obvious from his annoyed tone. He doubted he could ever be like
Weapon-- monotonous, unemotional... the guy just didn't seem alive.
Which brought him to wonder if Weapon's true form was a robot-- cyborg
or something. He'd been brushing up on his knowledge of Muggles thanks
to being a Weapon.

It never hurt to know everything and anything about one's opponent, and
he was damned sure that he'd have to deal with muggles at some point or
another.

There was an exasperated snort from some seventh year. He couldn't
recall the guy's name off the top of his head; and if he didn't know
the name, what did this person matter? The seven year snapped out, "Did
you get initiated?!"

"Initiated into what?" was Draco's equally terse response.

"The Deatheaters!" hissed another seventh year, her eyes darting around
frantically. Draco gave off a bark of laughter, that surprised all of
them.

"Why would I do something as bloody _idiotic_ as that?" at their
incredulous faces, he had to laugh again. He knew damn well everyone
had expected him to become a deatheater-- it had been his plan, after
all, right up until he'd been offered to be trained as a Living Weapon,
"All Deatheaters will be wiped out when the Balance is brought about,"
he continued, grinning nastily at their faces, "All of Voldemort's
followers will be destroyed."

"What?!" seethed Parkinson, "You can't be serious nothing can beat
our--"

"You didn't let me finish," Draco purred, "All of Riddle's people will
die. All of Dumbledore's people will die. A new world will be born in
their wake," and here, he laughed loudly, manically, and with no little
insanity, "And I will be there, standing in the ruins, a god amongst
men!"

He continued laughing as he returned to his dorm to change out of the
tattered and ruined clothing he wore beneath his robes, leaving stunned
Slytherin's behind him. It would be a good twenty minutes before any of
them broke out of their shock, and Draco would be long gone.

They didn't know if they should just consider him stark raving bonkers,
or take his words to heart. The wrong choice could always get them
killed. The right could just quite make them strong enough to survive
whatever was coming.

It was all a matter of choice, in the end.

---

End Chapter

Draco seems a bit more off his rocker, I hope. Well, he did proclaim
himself a "god among men"...