(A/N: It all happens within Chapter Twenty-Eight. Enjoy!)
Draco Malfoy lay on his bed, wide awake although it was past midnight. He didn't dare go to sleep. Not after the night before.
You did something to it, didn't you? he challenged mentally. You made it come out that way.
A weary sigh. For the fifteenth time, no, I did not. I gave you a wide-open scenario. You set the parameters, and it played out. It's not my fault that it happened the way it did.
Bull, Draco shot back. That's not the way it would really go.
Are you sure?
Draco groaned. Their previous fourteen conversations had been much the same as this, with minor variations only.
Unwillingly, Draco recalled his dream once more. It had started out as everything he wanted – the Dark Mark on his arm, the Dark Lord pleased with him, and free rein to take one of Potter's friends captive and do what he wanted. He'd chosen Granger, not only because she was a Mudblood and Potter's best friend other than Weasley, but as a slap at Black.
But it had backfired. He had cast the Cruciatus on her, but with the sound of her happy voice as she greeted Black fresh in his ears, he had been unable to listen to her scream for more than a few seconds. He had tried other, less magical, methods, the sort that would get Weasley madder at him than Potter, but recalling what Black had called her had put an end to that. Not that he had any real experience, anyway...
When his father had come to see how he was doing, he had been extremely disappointed, and said so in as many words. Then he had shown Draco how it should be done.
Her screaming hadn't been so bad, in some ways. It was what she'd done after it was over. She had cried, not begging for mercy or trying to bargain but simply weeping, with a quiet emptiness that haunted Draco. She had kept that up until his father left the room.
Then she had hurled herself onto him, scratching, kicking, biting, trying to get his wand away from him. In his panic, the only thing he'd been able to think of was that if she was dead, she couldn't hurt him. He'd thrown her off him and shouted "Avada Kedavra!", pointing his wand at her chest.
He wasn't sure who'd been more surprised, him or her, when a green light shot from his wand, accompanied by a rushing sound, and she fell to the floor, still staring at him.
He didn't want to think of what had happened after that, but he couldn't help it. The Dark Lord had not been pleased with this. The point of holding a hostage, he'd told Draco very softly, was that the hostage was to be kept alive. No one tried to rescue or ransom the dead. As well, the trail Draco had been at such pains to leave for Potter to follow alone was now being followed by Dumbledore himself, and all his minions with him. The hideout would have to be abandoned.
"So now I must only make one decision," said the Dark Lord, toying with Draco's wand. "Do I take you with me, and hope that with much correction you may learn your lesson? Or should I leave you here for the Mudblood-lovers to find you?" He had smiled cruelly. "The latter, I think. I have no time for fools and weaklings. Goodbye, Draco."
He had snapped Draco's wand in half, tossed it to him, and left, locking the door behind him. Locking Draco in with a dead body, with a person he had killed himself, whose friends were on their way, and would find him there, helpless, at their mercy.
He'd still been trying to get enough breath to scream when he'd woken up.
I'll tell you the honest truth, said Black tiredly. The same truth I've been trying to tell you all day. I wouldn't give my worst enemy a dream that nasty.
I thought I was your worst enemy.
You may be. But it doesn't have to be that way. Look, I've been thinking. There might be a way for us to get into separate bodies. That way, you don't have to have me in your head all the time. I could go and do what I've got to do, and you could stay here and do your own thing. Are you up for it?
Have his body back? Get the Mudblood-lover out of his head? Hell, yes! What do I have to do?
Right now, just go to sleep. You can't do anything tired. I'll tell you about it in the morning.
Fine. See you in the morning.
Draco sighed blissfully. He would never again take silence in his head for granted.
Sleep came to him now, and thankfully, brought no repeats of the horrific dream. Instead, he dreamed of running through a huge forest, down holes and through an underground maze, and never once realized that he was running on four legs and not two...
In the morning, after breakfast, Dumbledore made his way back to the corridor which housed the kitchens and the Hufflepuff common room. "Verity," he said to a portrait of a woman in yellow, which swung open.
"Good morning, Headmaster," said Aletha Freeman, sitting at the kitchen table within.
"Good morning," echoed Meghan, looking up from her book for a moment. Her mother caught her eye and made a series of motions with her hands, and Meghan nodded and got up, taking her book into one of the bedrooms and closing the door.
"Unusual," said Dumbledore, seating himself.
"What is?"
"How old is Meghan?"
"She was thirteen last month."
"Most thirteen-year-old girls would argue more about being sent from the room. And most thirteen-year-old girls do not understand hand signals."
"Meghan is an unusual child in many ways. But I don't think you're here to talk about her."
"No. Last night, Madam Freeman, you mentioned something about Lord Voldemort, and the war against him. I am not sure I understood you properly."
"I know that an organization exists which is devoted to fighting against Voldemort. This organization is independent of the Ministry, and may therefore act when Ministry bureaucracy prohibits official action. I know that you have strong ties to this organization – possibly you founded it. I would like to join you."
"I see. In the normal way of things, I would have no qualms about welcoming you in. However, if I understand correctly, you and your daughter have nothing in the way of tangible goods, not even wands. Forgive me for what may be a rude question, but have you any special skills that might give me a reason to bring you into our ranks?"
Madam Freeman smiled knowingly. "You want to be sure I'm not just trying to get a free lunch."
"Inelegant, but accurate."
"I'm a trained Healer, fully qualified and licensed. Obviously, I need a wand to perform most of the spells, but I can diagnose and treat most common injuries and illnesses, and some that aren't so common. And I can brew, identify, and use potions, and not just antidotes."
Dumbledore nodded. "Go on."
"Meghan is my apprentice. Not formally, but she's been training, under me and others, since she was nine years old. And she has one skill I don't." Madam Freeman rose and went to the door her daughter had left by, opening it and saying a few quiet words. Meghan came out into the main room and followed her mother back to the table.
Madam Freeman picked up a knife lying on the table and showed it to Dumbledore, then, to his surprise, slid the blade along her own arm. The cut was long but shallow, and nowhere near a major vessel, but it bled freely, and would be painful. Dumbledore frowned. Why was she doing this?
Meghan placed one small, brown hand on her mother's slightly darker arm and closed her eyes. Dumbledore hid his surprise as the cut healed almost instantly, as if the child had used a wanded healing spell, though no wand was in evidence.
"Forgive me for not telling you about that in advance," said Madam Freeman as Meghan opened her eyes and took a seat at the table, "but I doubt you would have believed it."
"You may well be right," said Dumbledore mildly. He was about to ask if she knew the extent of Meghan's power, but realized that she was testing him, in a way, by allowing the girl to remain. He turned and addressed her directly. "Do you know how much you can safely do with this power, Meghan?"
"I've saved people's lives," said Meghan, her silvery eyes fixed on Dumbledore's face, "but it makes me very tired afterwards. The first time, I was in bed for a couple of months. But that was because Har... because the person I healed was very close to dying, and I was younger, and it was my first time using my power. I've been training it to use only as much as I need for a long time, and I only use it when I really have to. I know a lot of the usual ways to heal, with a wand and potions and things."
"I'm sure you are a credit to your family." Dumbledore smiled. "And to your teachers. Will you excuse us for a short time?"
"Yes, sir." Meghan returned to the bedroom where she had been.
"An unusual child, as you said." Dumbledore watched the closing door, then turned to Madam Freeman. "Unusual not least in her eyes. How did a child with such a skin color come to have grey eyes?"
"They come from her father's side of the family," said Madam Freeman with a thin smile.
"And she stopped herself from saying a name. The name of a person she once kept from dying. If I completed that name, how would I do so?"
"Do you suspect us of something, Headmaster?"
"I suspect you of being puzzling," said Dumbledore lightly. "Hogwarts grounds are highly protected, now more than ever. Yet you and your daughter arrived here seemingly without any trouble. You have literally nothing material with you, the marks of a recent transfiguration on you, and your daughter's eyes resemble those of a wizard of my acquaintance remarkably. Yet he could not be her father, unless she is older or younger than she seems."
"And you also want to know what connection we might have with Harry Potter."
"Yes."
Madam Freeman's smile broadened, and Dumbledore suddenly noticed a distinctly mischievous look in her eyes. "Would you like the plausible story, or the true one?"
Dumbledore laughed, for once taken aback. "Both, if you would be so kind. I am not sure I have ever had that choice given to me quite so bluntly before."
The mischievous look brightened slightly. "My people specialize in surprises, sir."
"At least they left my bloody wand in my robes," grumbled Sirius as he got dressed behind a screen. "Even if I can't bloody use it."
Remus sat on the end of the bed, half-listening to Sirius. Madam Bones had made Sirius' temporary removal from the position of Head Auror official, and the Healers had cleared him to leave, so it was better for everyone if they just got home quickly. It would hurt Sirius to stay here any longer than he had to.
Something caught Remus' eye. At the corner of the bed, there was a little gap between two parts of the frame, the sort of thing you could get your robes caught on if you weren't careful, and tear out a bit of cloth. But there wasn't cloth in the gap now...
Remus pulled out a tuft of black fur and stared at it, bewildered. What was that doing here?
If Sirius had been injured physically, Remus would have known in an instant where this had come from – Sirius hated to be stuck in bed, and would have been up and about, transforming into Padfoot without a second thought. But his injury was magical, specifically, that he didn't have any. So how could he have transformed?
"You ready, Moony?" Sirius emerged from behind the screen, dressed in his robes from the day before. "I want to get a few things from my office, or Dawlish's office now, I guess, and transfer over the Apparition chamber before we go."
"I'm ready," said Remus, shoving the fur into his pocket. "Come on, let's go find Harry."
Sirius' robes, he noticed as his friend pulled photographs and notes off the walls, were a little more wrinkled than he would have expected from one day's worth of wear. And was that a grass stain on his rear end?
Something is not right here.
He was still mulling it over as they took a Portkey back to Order Headquarters.
"All right, it's morning. Now what?" Draco asked his reflection.
Will you let me do some talking?
Talking to who?
Trust me?
Draco wavered for a moment, then (with the recollection of Black pushing him aside by force still fresh in his mind) gave in. All right.
A little mental twist, and he was riding sidecar in his own mind, able to see and hear and feel but in control of nothing. It was a bizarre feeling, but at the same time, rather relaxing. He didn't have to do anything, just experience.
"Dobby!" called Black, sitting down on his bed and taking off his shoes.
The house-elf appeared with a loud crack. "Yes, sir?"
"Dobby, I know you have orders about me. Are you allowed to tell me what they are?"
"Yes, sir. Dobby is not to bring Master Draco anything he can hurt himself with, sir, or that he could use to help him get out of the rooms here, sir. Dobby put up the wards and the Safety Charms himself, sir," the house-elf added with a small look of pride.
"And you did a very good job of it, too," said Black, smiling at the house-elf. "Listen, Dobby, who gave you these orders? Was it my mother, or my father?"
"It was Mistress Narcissa who gave the orders about Master Draco harming himself, sir, but Master Lucius who gave the orders about not allowing Master Draco to leave his rooms."
"I see." Black pulled off one of his socks and scratched his foot. "So just remind me. You have to follow my parents' orders before you follow mine, right?"
"Yes, sir."
Black swung the sock in his hand back and forth idly. "What if you didn't have to take orders at all, Dobby?"
Dobby went very still. "Dobby does not understand, sir," he muttered, his huge green eyes fixed on the sock Black was swinging.
"Oh, I think you do. Let me tell you a secret, Dobby. I'm not really mad. I wouldn't hurt myself, or anybody else, if I left these rooms. So letting me out wouldn't be a bad thing. But it would be against your orders." Black swung the sock a little faster. "What if you didn't have to obey those orders any more?"
"House-elves must always obey their masters' orders," said Dobby, still mesmerized by the sock. "Master Draco knows that."
"Yes, house-elves always have to obey orders from the family they work for. But what about a house-elf who doesn't work for any family? What about a house-elf who gets clothes? Who does he have to take orders from?"
"Only bad house-elves get clothes," said Dobby stiffly. "Dobby is a good house-elf."
Black sighed. "All right, I didn't want to do it this way, but I guess I have to. Dobby, this is an order. Answer my questions truthfully. Now, do you want me to give you this? Do you want to be free?"
You're nuts.
I'm not nuts. I'm pragmatic. He can help us, but only if he doesn't have to follow your dad and mum's orders.
And you think he's going to help after you set him loose? He'll leave, and then we'll just be in trouble!
Just watch.
"Yes!" squeaked Dobby, looking petrified. "Yes, Dobby wants the sock!"
"Good. Don't be scared, I'm not about to punish you for it. Now, tell me this. If I gave you this sock, you'd be free. You wouldn't have to follow my orders. But maybe, to pay me back for freeing you, would you be willing to do a few little things for me?"
Dobby rocked back and forth on his feet, still staring at the sock. "May... may Dobby ask a question, sir?" he asked timidly.
"Go ahead."
"What sorts of little things would Master Draco be wanting Dobby to do?"
"Take down the wards around the room, and bring me my wand. Oh, and one other thing, possibly. Nothing harmful. I'm not asking you to set the house on fire or anything like that. And besides, you can't get in trouble for it if you're free. You can go where you like, do what you want." Black dangled the sock near Dobby's pointed nose. "Do we have a deal?"
Dobby's eyes were crossed with looking at the sock. Draco would have laughed, if he'd had the use of his face. Black was impassive.
Finally, Dobby tore his eyes away from the sock to look at Black. "Deal, sir," he said, nodding tremulously.
"Excellent. Here you are." Black extended the sock to Dobby, and Dobby took it from his hand. "Can you get me my wand right away? You'd better leave that here, if someone saw you with it they might ask some awkward questions. You're free now, no matter what."
"Yes, sir... yes..." Dobby set the sock reverently on the table, staring at it, and tripped over a chair as he backed away. Black did chuckle a little this time, but only a little, as Dobby got back up, righted the chair with a snap of his fingers, and vanished.
I am going to be in so much trouble, said Draco morosely.
Why? You didn't do it.
You really think my father's going to believe that another version of me, from another world, freed our house-elf?
You never know. He might.
Why are you so different from me, anyway? What changed?
It's a little thing called the Pack. You may have heard me talking about it.
Only in passing. What is it?
It's my family. Two mothers, two fathers, two sons, two daughters.
How symmetrical.
Black either didn't hear the sarcasm in his voice or didn't care. Yes, isn't it?
And I assume none of those mothers and fathers are the same people I call by those names.
You assume correctly.
Draco was about to go on when Dobby returned, holding his wand. "Here it is, sir," he said, handing it over. "And the wards around Master Draco's room are taken down now, so that Master Draco can come and go as he likes."
"Thanks, Dobby, that's great," said Black, grinning at him. "Would you mind hanging around for a little while? There's one more thing I might need, but I don't know what it is yet."
"Dobby will stay as long as Master Draco needs him," said the house-elf, his eyes shining. "Dobby will be forever grateful to Master Draco for this."
"I'm sure I'll appreciate that," said Black. "Will you excuse me a minute?"
Dobby took the hint and vanished.
All right, Malfoy, I need you to do your part of this, said Black, closing his eyes. It's the first step to getting us separated. Just don't ask me why yet, all right?
Fine. What is it?
A really simple spell. Revelaro Animalis. It's a scry, you cast it on something reflective, like a mirror. But it has to be you casting it, not me. I already know what it is for me. So come on out, it's your turn.
Draco reclaimed his body with a little shiver. This sharing business was getting to him. He'd be grateful when Black was out of his head.
"Revelaro Animalis," he said, pointing his wand at the mirror over the dresser.
It filled with fog, which lifted slightly to show animals running by. He watched them, until one stopped and turned towards him. He stared at it, bringing his face closer and closer to the mirror.
Is that...
Is that what?
I don't know, lied Draco. The spell was broken, the mirror showed only his own face. I didn't see it clearly.
Yeah, you did. I can tell.
You can?
You can't lie when you're talking mind-to-mind. It shows up. What did you see? It's important.
Black didn't know about his humiliation at the hands of Mad-Eye Moody, Draco recalled. It was a white ferret. But it had grey eyes. I thought albinos always had pink.
I'm sure you saw what you should have, said Black, with amusement in his tone. Now brace yourself. You may not like this, but it'll only last a minute.
Abruptly, there was nothing.
No sight. No sound. No feeling. Nothing.
It was the most terrifying thing Draco had ever experienced, including the dream he'd had last night. He would have given anything to be having that dream again – at least there he'd been able to see, to hear, to feel...
He gasped for air. His heart was going like a jarvey that had just seen a fat gnome. His eyes and ears were working as well as they ever had. What the hell was that?
Sorry, said Black, actually sounding contrite. I had to tell Dobby something kind of secret, so I Occluded against you. I won't do it again.
You'd damn well better not! Remember whose body this is! You're just a visitor – I could kick you out any time I wanted!
I'll remember that, said Black in a tone that hovered annoyingly between sincere and sarcastic. While we're waiting, I'm going to pack.
Pack what?
A bag. Clothes. If we're leaving, we'd better take necessities with us.
Draco watched as Black coolly ransacked his room, pulling out a Muggle-style backpack Draco hadn't even remembered was still in his closet and starting to roll up robes and stuff them in. How do you even know what to take?
It was one of the games we played when we were little. We'd pretend we had to go on a trip all of a sudden, and we could only take what we really needed.
So enlighten me. What do we really need?
Three sets of clothes – wear, wash, and whoops.
Huh?
The clothes you're wearing, and two sets packed – one to put on tomorrow, and one for emergencies. Then bathroom basics, toothbrush and such, and one book or toy. Black chuckled. We were pretty little when we started learning this.
How little is pretty little?
Well, I was four. But it was just a fun game to us. We didn't know until we were a little older that it was actually training. Because there was a very real possibility that we might someday have to run for it.
Run for it? What kind of people did you grow up with?
"Dobby has it here, sir!" Dobby appeared next to the table, holding a cloth bag with something alive inside, judging by the way it was twisting and squeaking. "Dobby has made the bag so that Master Draco cannot be bitten through it, and so that it will Vanish any mess inside it!"
"Dobby, that's great. Better than great – fantastic. You've more than paid me back. Go on, get out of here, and good luck to you. Don't take any wooden Galleons."
Dobby gave a high-pitched, squeaky laugh, set the bag on the table, collected his sock, and vanished with a loud bang.
So what's in the bag? Draco asked, looking at it distrustfully. Something you need for the spell?
Yeah. Pretty much. You sure you want to do this?
Am I sure I want to get you out of my head and get on with my life? Yes, I think I'm pretty sure about that.
So you're willing to go through with the spell to give us separate bodies.
I think I just said that.
No, you said something else. I'll ask you again. Are you willing to let me perform the spell that will put your mind and soul into a separate body from the one inhabited by my mind and soul?
Yes. I am.
Excellent.
Something about Black's cheerfulness suddenly made Draco suspicious. What are you about to –
But it was already too late.
Sirius slumped in an armchair in one of the ground floor rooms at Number Twelve.
So. What do I do now?
He wasn't desperate enough, or stupid enough, to try anything as final as suicide. There was always the possibility his magic would come back, after all. And Harry and Remus wouldn't take it well if he tried anything that dumb.
But vague possibilities for the future didn't help him much right now.
I just need something to do. Something to keep me from sitting here like a log while the war goes on around me. Something to keep my mind occupied...
"Are you Sirius Black?"
Sirius nearly jumped through the roof. It was a woman's voice, silvery and musical, and he had heard it before, though never when he was awake.
He turned around, and there she was, exactly as she'd looked in his dream. Hair so dark it was impossible to tell if it was black or brown, cut neither too short nor too long, forming a natural helmet shape around her head. Brown skin, soft and smooth, with far more laugh lines than worry wrinkles in a face neither young nor old. Brown eyes, which could be wickedly teasing or gently tender, were currently alert and faintly puzzled, and Sirius realized he hadn't answered her question.
"Yes," he said after taking a deep breath to calm himself down. "Yes, that's me. I'm Sirius Black."
"Good. Aletha Freeman." She held out her hand, and Sirius took it. Her palm was warm, her fingers' grasp strong. "I'm a new member of the Order. You may see a smaller version of me running around. That's my daughter Meghan. She's thirteen. I understand you have some other children living here as well."
"Er, yes," said Sirius, pulling his mind away from the interesting things that hand, and its mate, had done in one of his dreams. "Yes, my godson Harry lives here, and his friend Hermione, and Arthur and Molly Weasley's children, they mostly have boys, except their youngest, Ginny, she's a girl..." He realized he was babbling and stopped. "Are you married?" he asked instead, and then could have kicked himself. Way to be subtle, Padfoot. Nice one.
She nodded. "Yes, I am. But my husband won't be joining me here. We're... separated, I suppose you could say."
"I'm sorry to hear that, Madam Freeman."
"Aletha. Please. No one's called me Madam Freeman in years."
And thereby hangs a tale, said a wicked-sounding voice in the back of Sirius' mind. And wouldn't you just love to know what it is?
Shut up. "Call me Sirius, then. Everyone does anyway."
"Gladly. And what I was sent to tell you is that lunch is ready."
"Excellent. Lead me to it."
When they were safely in the kitchen and Sirius talking with Remus and some of the other members of the Order, Aletha could allow herself a sigh.
I wish I hadn't had to do that. But he's not my Sirius. It would be wrong of me to play with him when my heart is given elsewhere.
She smiled to herself, recalling the night just past.
She had awakened to an unusual sound near her front hooves, looked down, and barely managed to keep herself from screaming. Meghan had been lying there, no longer a doe but her own human daughter. The sound Aletha had heard was her robes rustling as she turned over in her sleep.
Then she'd looked up and seen the second unbelievable thing. Sirius, standing there in front of her, with a wand in his hand and his heart in his eyes. He hadn't said anything, just pointed the wand at her, and she'd felt the familiar twisting of her body into her human shape, something she had thought she would never feel again.
No words had been needed when they were both human again. None ever were, for those first moments with the one you loved, Aletha mused. Just their lips, and their hands, making certain that it really was the beloved one and not a cruel dream.
Then he'd picked up Meghan and led them out of Buckbeak's paddock, so that they could talk without fear of waking the temperamental hippogriff. Meghan, when she awoke, had been overjoyed to see her father again, and to be in her human shape, but like a good cub, she could tell that time was short, so she had kept her expressions of joy to a minimum, hugging and kissing both parents several times before settling down next to Sirius.
They had told each other their stories. Aletha's was the simpler – Danger had flung her and Meghan into the bodies of the animals, stopping only for an instant to beg their permission, which the animals had granted quickly, understanding that it was a matter of life and death. A day or two later, Danger had contacted them through dreams and told them when and where she had seen them being in a prophecy dream. They had left Hogwarts grounds, and Aletha had Apparated herself and Meghan to London, where they had done their part to save Sirius from the giants. Since then, they had been either in the Forest or with Hagrid.
Sirius told a grimmer tale, one of being nearly destroyed by another mind, a mind which bore him no malice, which didn't even know he was there. The process would have gone on longer, except that the Sirius of this world had been cursed by a backfiring wand, and his magic drained out of him.
"But we weren't merged enough yet for it to take my magic too," said Sirius. "And with that big a difference between us – him with no magic, me with it – we just kind of naturally separated. He's still unconscious from the shock, so I have free use of the body for the moment. I sorted through what I knew and figured out what must have happened to me, and to us, and where you were. I waited until everyone was asleep, then headed out – and here we are."
The three of them had spent a moment simply breathing together, being once more husband and wife and child, father and mother and daughter. Then Meghan had asked the question on all their minds.
"Now what?"
They had come up with a plan, as simple as it could be without missing anything, and subject to revision when they got in touch with the rest of the Pack. Sirius had kissed them both goodbye and left.
And now here was this other Sirius, polite, but looking at her strangely, as if he didn't quite know what to make of her...
Someone was shaking her arm. She turned. "Yes, what is it?" she said brusquely to Meghan.
"I need to tell you something," said Meghan, with an air of repeating herself. Her hands moved. Secret. Important.
Aletha leaned down to hear what her daughter had to say.
When she heard it, she forgot all her irritation. "Are you sure?" she asked quietly.
Meghan nodded eagerly. "Positive. She called me eagle's daughter, and swore it by my yellow-handled dagger."
"That sounds pretty sure." Aletha smiled to herself, and began to whistle a song from a musical. The words of the song mentioned the time that the singer would meet her love.
Tonight, tonight...
A teenaged wizard eating his lunch in the Leaky Cauldron also whistled this song. He was a handsome young man, with brown hair cut just long enough to show off its waves and bright blue eyes with a sparkle of mischief in them.
The backpack occupying the other chair at his table moved. Will you cut out that bloody whistling?
Why?
It's giving me a headache.
I'm so sorry. I'll stop right away.
This isn't fair, you know.
I didn't force you to come. You could have stayed.
Like this? They would have killed me!
Why? You weren't hurting anything.
Animals don't belong inside the house.
So they would have killed you? Not just caught you and thrown you out?
Killing's easier.
The boy rolled his eyes. Once again, you make me utterly grateful to my mother.
Why your mother?
I suppose you could say she threw me into the lifeboat as the ship was sinking.
I don't understand.
I know you don't. Now, since you've had your lunch, why don't you take a nap or something?
I didn't like lunch, and I don't want to take a nap. I don't want to do anything inside this smelly little bag. I can't breathe in here. And you lied to me.
I didn't lie. I said I was going to put us into separate bodies, and I did that. I never said anything about which one of us I was going to put in a new body. Now quit whining and go to sleep.
Make me.
Fine. The boy reached into the pocket of his robes for his wand, then pointed it at his backpack. Whistling winds and water deep, make this whiny ferret sleep.
Ha. I bet that's not... even... a real...
Draco Black chuckled. "Sweet dreams," he said quietly, pocketing the wand again.
Now let me see, where was I? Oh, yes. Gringotts, a Muggle clothing shop, an animal shelter, and then I'm off to the Zoo...
This was turning out to be quite a lot of fun.
(A/N: So, does this answer your questions, at least some of them? And do you enjoy Draco Malfoy's temporary fate? And will you please, please, please review? Just mention one line you liked, or one idea, and I will be so happy! And happy authors write more story!)