3

Suspicion and Progression

Harry Potter couldn't face breakfast. So he sat, melancholy, on the window seat of his gryffindor dormitory, which overlooked the winding path down to Hagrid's hut and further afield-the ominous edge of the forbidden forest, which laced Hogwarts grounds' border. By now, the rest of his quidditch team, of whom all looked to for leadership must have got wind of his weekly detention commitment. In Hogwarts, gossip could spread like wildfire (some swear even the walls have ears and having spent the last 6 years in awe of the castle's mysteries Harry didn't doubt the idea...)

Many of the team members he had recruited were much younger and more impressionable than Harry. He felt a stab of guilt in the knowledge that he was setting an extremely poor example. It had been two day since Mcgonogal had confiscated his broom and issued him with what seemed like an eternity of his Friday evenings in Filch's service, doing detention. To make matter worse he remembered sourly, was that Malfoy, Harry's rival had been punished with the same sentence until they could withstand each other's company without so much as a snide comment or a strategically placed hex, they had to return each week.

Without his broom, Harry felt like a bird without wings. Quidditch was his escape, his salvation...and now he couldn't even take his anger out on Malfoy either. Harry was surprised that Hermione had spared him the lecture about his team captaincy roles. He was partly grateful for the lack of ear-bashing received from her, but knew, with his extensive knowledge of Hermione's attitudes, that she expected he deserved what he got from Mcgonagal and decided to leave it at that.

Harry had casually draped himself about the Gothic architecture of the stone framed window and was watching lazily out towards the forbidden forest imagining vividly the alarming sight of thestrals, that he might see grace the sky since the deaths he had witnessed recently .

He sat there quite still and un-interrupted, glad of the peace and quiet. Harry really was glad that he had avoided the great hall that morning, as he imagined Draco cockily telling the breakfasting Slytherins of how Harry had just lapped up his bullshit about 'being the better man' and wanting g to settle the score. Fool. Harry thought angrily to himself. He shouldn't have heard out what Malfoy had to say, it was obviously just a trap to embarrass Harry...highlight his weaknesses... Malfoy's father was a rotten stinking death eater for Merlin's sake! He continued in his thoughts. Malfoy doesn't deserve an outlet for his family's bigoted pure-blood opinions.

Harry watched a few figures moving about the grounds below, busy putting their weekends to good use, sending letters from the owlry, taking trips into Hogsmead...meandering into the dark canopies of the forbidden forest's trees...

"Hold on!" Harry exclaimed loudly to himself as he squinted to witness two tiny dot disappear into the foliage. It couldn't possibly have been Hagrid, thought Harry reasonably; he would have been notably taller. Harry narrowed his eyes in suspicion and squinted a little more, trying in vain to get a better view of the figures' retreating backs.

Harry tried very hard to fight the urge to put on his invisibility cloak, but the pair would be long-gone into the deep forest by the time he arrived at the scene. In a bolt of inspiration, he remembered that his Marauder's Map detailed the grounds (impostor-Moody had employed its use to find his dilapidated father back in 4th year) and so Harry resolved to study the map until the two came out of the forest. He wouldn't get in deeper trouble than he already was by staying put and carefully watching the map's edge wheres sneaking into the forest on a whim was reckless, and would probably merit him an even more dreadful punishment.

Harry opened his trunk and started throwing things out of it liberally until he reached the very bottom, where the Marauders Map lay amongst a few pairs of socks and a pair of knitted briefs that Dobby the house-elf had given Harry (they had a garish love-heart pattern and Harry dare not wear them). .

Harry took his wand out of his pocket and whispered eagerly to the map "I solemnly swear that I am up to no-good."

Draco had greeted Professor Morrigan five minutes ago outside the owlry, which was unusually devoid of students, but full of their sleeping owls, heads under wings. He was right to assume that she would reprimand his lateness. She did so with a flicker of a smirk to suggest she approved of this slight rebellion. Draco suspected that she enjoyed his new assertiveness and independence, which was a recent development more to the point-since Lucius had been imprisoned. Draco couldn't be independent before with such an overbearing father breathing down his neck, but now he made his own decisions. These lessons were a last reminder of his father's interference, but this was one interference Draco was happy to accept. Professor Morrigan had a lot to teach him.

Morrigan did however make sure that Draco understood that the Dark Lord would not tolerate such un-punctual and disrespectful behavior from his Death Eaters. She took out her wand at the owlry and grabbed Draco's hand and they stood facing each other.

"Late again? Roll up your sleeve Draco." she commanded, her rich voicelightly accented.

He silently obeyed, interlocking eyes with the professor, hers shining dark, so unlike his, black with a bronze iridescence. He was smirking slightly as she drew her wand across his fore-arm, snaking around his pale wrist-this was familiar. The result was a neat stream of blood, which collected into thick gleaming droplets at each end of the incision, like garnet gems adorning his soft skin. His eyes did not betray the immense pain he felt from this sensation. He didn't want to give her the satisfaction. Still holding her gaze he just let out a short, crystal clear laugh. He was a man now, not the child she used to dote on. For a moment, Draco thought that she would be angry that her punishment had not aroused pain and fear in him like it used to when she used it to discipline him as a little boy but she smiled malevolently, her sanguine pout curving into a crescent.

She replaced her wand inside her robes and with both hands, took Draco's arm by the wrist and elbow, lifting it up and bowing her head to lick gently at the wound, winding her tongue among the heavy droplets of wet glistening blood. She closed her eyes in delight as she tasted the pure wizarding blood. Each stroke of her tongue healed the split skin, so that it meshed together again, almost flawless except for the silvery scar which remained, practically invisible. Draco was aroused by her strange custom, and reminded himself that she was as old as his own dear mother, and that she probably only thought of him as a particularly nutritious snack.

He withdrew his arm at the thought that his pure blood was probably making her stronger, quickening her skills. He wasn't adverse to her gain, but he was a man of business, and she would have to share her power to receive his.

"Lets' go." He said.

The two set off in the general direction of Hagrid's hut, trying to look inconspicuous which was difficult considering it was a Saturday and that teacher and pupil are rarely seen together at weekends.

Professor Morrigan's waist length wavy black hair was whipping out behind her, tangling itself as it was a considerably gusty autumn day. She pulled up the hood of her robes around her head, tucking her long hair into the neck or the garment. The Professor didn't want it to be obvious that Draco was parading into the forest with her at his side, nor was it advisable for Hagrid to witness their entry to the forest.

As the pair strode across the large expanse of grass that bridged the gap between the castle and the woodland, they watched Hagrid plod behind his hut with his arms full of straw and a sack on his back-no doubt full of grain for his pet monsters. It was therefore reasonably safe to assume that he was busy feeding his mutants and wouldn't notice their entrance into the leafy embrace of the trees...

As they were approaching the edge of the forest, they stopped and stood facing out the way they came, scanning the grounds for curious eyes. Everyone looked too busy, there were a few figures scattered here and there, none within detailed range, obviously nobody cared what two dark attired people were doing beside the border of the trees. So, casting one last gaze around the grounds, the two turned on their heels and sank into the forest's infinite darkness.

Once inside, Professor Morrigan took Draco's hand and led him confidently, picking her way through the undergrowth which shifted and whispered ominously as they brushed by quickly. Draco thought the foliage looked suspiciously like it was the flesh-eating variety. Entering the forest was like crossing a very definite time zone, where the outside grounds had a warm golden appearance, light with touches or crimson and ochre from the expending leaves, the forest differed substantially. Merely three meters inside the forest's edge, and the forest became something like eternal night. It was dark and rotten, and further in, Draco could see a heavy mist, which swirled amongst the branches like living death, haunting the earth, which was slimy with decay. As far as the eye could see, (which wasn't much further than two meters given the fog) Draco could see a maze of giant dilapidated tree roots jutting out at odd angles from the earth's surreal surface. They were heavily obstructing their path.

The sunlight didn't reach inside here, Draco acknowledged that this was probably why everything was rotting, because nothing had a chance to grow, it's progress was stunted, much of the organic matter just seemed to give up and die...resigning itself to being food for the next hopeful leaf to take a chance at life. The only thriving botanical matter that Draco had noticed was thriving was the Devil's Snare. It had twisted around every tree, pulling all forest life to its mercy with it's long vines and creeping tentacles. That makes sense... He thought remembering what Professor Sprout had once told the class a long time ago; Devil's Snare likes the dark and damp...but it can't abide sunlight or fire. As he thought this, a long tendril of greenish plant flesh tried to snake its way over to him, but he was walking to quickly for it to reach. He resolved to use his free hand to hold his wand, an immediately withdrew it from his pocket.

Professor Morrigan still held fast at Draco's hand, which had become slightly sweaty, to Draco's repulsion. They continued to wade through the fog, barely seeing the trees around them, until they had practically collided with one. They didn't speak, Draco was never one to make conversation for conversation's sake and Professor Morrigan was obviously of the same opinion. He liked this. Small talk just irritated him, pointless and shallow.

After what Draco supposed had been 15 minutes, the fog cleared ever so slightly with each meter, so that eventually a rough clearing was visible. It was still canopied, but a single shaft of silver light descended to the left of three tree stumps, which looked like they had been juxtaposed that way, for a gathering of people. Of course, they had grown that way, and perhaps been severed for that particular use as they were conveniently positioned. The light appeared to dance upon the earthy floor which, in that area was scarce of rotten leaves. Draco looked up to see that the swaying canopy, ruled by the day's strong breeze was causing the light to dance. It made his eyes sting, that light. Especially after having been in the darker folds of the forest.

"Here Draco." Professor Morrigan said stopping sharply at the first stump.

Draco, entranced with the light had been in strict momentum of walking, and was not ready for this abrupt halt. He fell straight into Morrigan's back, rebounding off her body. He jerkily reached out for the nearest stump, stooping to grab it letting out a small rasping breath as he did so. He straightened himself up smartly and flushed at little embarrassed to see the amused look on her face. Malfoys don't trip! He chided himself angrily.

"I need to use you again Draco." Said his instructor.

And with that, she took his arm again, making another large incision above the other one. This time, she did not raise it to her lips, but let the wound weep a bit before squeezing it to provoke blood-loss.

"Sit down." She urged, gesturing to a tree stump.

She sat down too, and strangely, started repeating what she did to Draco on her own arm, aggravating the cut unflinchingly. Then she just sat there...as though anticipating something.

Draco looked enquiringly at her, but she just stared at the beam of light, ignoring his glance.

"Wait." She advised him, not looking up but watching the blood trickle in streams down her arm and into the lap of her long black dress with mild interest.

Draco's arm was aching around the cut, but stinging inside it, and he wondered how long he would have to endure this. Professor Morrigan was watching the space beside Draco in a somewhat alarming manner. He found this highly disconcerting. Here eyes settled just behind him, looking over his shoulder, or at least just above it.

"Here they are." She said, waving a hand casually at Draco's torso.

Draco looked wildly around. Was this a joke? He couldn't see anything there... Was this a trap? Or maybe he just couldn't see what was there. Spirits? He thought, hazarding a guess. Suddenly, he felt a wet, sharp sensation on his cut, and was shocked to see his blood being lapped up by an invisible tongue. This wasn't like Professor Morrigan's tongue, this tongue was more powerful. His initial thought as he wrenched his arm away, was that it was lord Voldemort in spirit form. Once he had seen him, in this forest, drinking from a unicorn like this. Did he need pure wizarding blood to get even stronger? No... The Dark Lord now had a physical form of his own, he could drink the blood of any one of his Death Eaters without running the risk of doing it under Dumbledore's nose;- How could he think so rationally it a time like this? There was something trying to eat him! He looked at his tutor as he stumbled away from the stump, only to see her sat quite still and calm, with a serene expression on her face. Her blood was wiped in streaks, thinning on her arm, as though someone had an invisible paintbrush and were blotting her arm with it.

"Can't you see them Draco?" She inquired.

"What?" He shouted angrily at her, for being so calm.

"Oh dear," She mouthed shaking her head. "You really are less experienced than I'd thought. Yes, the Dark Lord told me to expect this..."

Draco flushed, still incensed and embarrassed too, " What's going on!" he snapped angrily.

"Thestrals. Our test subjects. There is nothing more substantial, and reasonably safe to work with in the forest than thestrals. Apart from unicorns of course, but they are to fast and killing them would curse us. We don't want that now, do we. The Dark Lord can get away with it, but not us. We had to lure the thestrals here with our blood, the smell draws them in. Surely your Care of Magical Creatures gave you a basic grounding in Thestrals..." She looked a little smug at this last comment.

"No! That stupid oaf taught us nothing worth knowing, apart from a valuable lesson in staying as far away as possible from magical creatures!" He exploded. Draco was flustered, how was he supposed to know where theses things were, and what they looked like? He admitted defeat, and covered his arm feebly. What had started out as a good excursion from the castle, turned out to be more of an embarrassment to him. Surely Professor Morrigan didn't consider him grown-up and brave now.

The professor got up, brushing away the invisible mouth from her arm coolly. Which resulted in a horse-like snort issued from an invisible horse-like nose.

"Is that what they are?" Draco cried, exasperated. "Horses?" He folded his arms, covering the cut up carefully with his sleeve.

"Not exactly..." She replied. "I thought you might have been able to see them Draco. People who have witnessed death see them, with you father's responsibilities I assumed;-"

"-Well you assumed wrong. Father didn't involve us when he carried out any of the Dark Lord's requests...-Mother and I, that is. He interjected.

Professor Morrigan sighed, looking at what Draco might have perceived to be thin air-but was actually a 'Thestral'.

"They have the form of a horse..." she began, "But have actually been cross-bred throughout the centuries, their origins, I believe to be the ancient Equus Fuga and some sort of fabled reptile." She put her hand out, like a blind person, and stroked the flank of a Thestral. "They are winged beasts..." She added.

Draco could recall being told about these creatures in 5th year, but back then, he didn't care. He was blissfully oblivious to real death. The sort that actually affected people. His perception of death was that of someone who had never suffered the consequences of it. He still was oblivious to death really, his parents had never discussed with him. Lucius' tasks appointed by the Dark Lord, were an underlying normality in Draco's house, and so were never made an issue. Draco fleetingly wondered how many parents, spouses, uncles, cousins, siblings and children that his father had deprived of their loved ones. For this though, he had no sympathy. It was just weakness. Relying on others for happiness. Building yourself upon a support network that could easily be massacred.

Professor Morrigan extended her hand to Draco once more and encouraged him to come nearer to her. His mistrust, at this point was a quite blatant, but nevertheless, he approached in a dubious fashion. When he got close enough she took his palm, which was slightly damp with perspiration because of his nasty experience with the invisible tongue. Gripping his wrist now, she guided his hand, which lay flat to the rib-cage of this great beast which stood beside him. At once he withdrew his hand, repulsed. It's skin was a hairless, leathery texture, and above where his hand was placed, there was a joint, which fastened on an expansive wing, which Draco's hand brushed briefly.

"What are you doing? I don't want to touch that thing." Draco said sharply to his Professor.

"Very well..." She replied icily, releasing his hand. "We shall return when you are better qualified to pursue these excersises. ..I wanted to make a start on the three unforgivable curses today, and we were to perform them on the thestrals, but as you are incapable of seeing your victims, I think we should wait."

"You think I'm weak, don't you?" Draco accused heatedly."You still think I'm that sheltered child that you used to know. Here's some news for you I'm not!"

"Well, we'll see about that Draco." She smirked, provoking his rage.

"I'm Not!" Draco shouted, startling some of the thestrals around him into flight. Draco heard the enormous slapping sound of several Threstral's wings beat the air, to launch themselves up. Professor Morrigan watched the thestrals propelling themselves from the ground, almost in a vortex type fashion, and escaping through the gap in the tree's canopy.

"Come back to the castle with me," Professor Morrigan said calmly. "To progress with these lessons, you must meet me tomorrow. It is essential for your continuation in my tutelage. We shall meet at 9.00am at the statue of the one eyed-witch. Come Draco"

And they set off back to the castle, Draco feeling confused and angry.

Harry was keeping two very watchful eyes on the map he held in his hands and the grounds outside the window where he had been perched for the last hour. His eyes were darting backwards and forwards, alternating between the map and the window's view. As he scanned the edge of the forest, a disturbance caught his eye on the forest's canopy. A group of thestrals were streaming out of the forest, flying upwards, above the trees. Harry had seen them do this once, in his fifth year, when he was in the owlry. The sight had disturbed him then and definitely disturbed him now. He was willing to bet that it had everything to do with the two mysterious characters entering the forest earlier. This was an un-founded theory, but Harry had a strong inkling about it.

Pondering the flight of the thestrals, and what it could possibly have to do with the figures he saw enter the forest, he continued to check his map and scan the edge of the forest. Then he saw two figures emerge from the trees. Excitedly, he consulted his map and saw two dots; One labeled 'Emiliya Morrigan' and the other 'Draco Malfoy'.