Disclaimer: The characters belong to J. K. Rowling as well as any back plot history. Kool-aid points to anyone who knows what I quoted from Shawshank Redemption. Also, for future reference, I am greatly influenced by Tamora Pierce. Sorry, J. K., but she's my all-time fav.

1Chapter One: The Old Mansion

The old house was falling into disrepair. There were shingles missing. A few of the shutters were barely hanging on while others had lost this losing battle. What little of the paint that remained on the house was faded and peeling off. Even some of the windows had cracks or holes missing from them. A few even had panes of glass that were completely gone. And with the lightening crashing behind the crumbling chimney, a look of the least welcoming house in Great Britain painted a most terrifying picture.

The people of this town were not surprised at seeing one dark figure making his lonely way towards the old Crolis mansion. Those who had children old enough to walk made sure their children were all accounted for and not roaming the streets on such a bleak night. Luckily for the town villagers that night, none of their children were out.

The lone dark figure was tall, cloaked and driven as if all hell were after him. It was little wonder that the figure ran up the stairs to the old derelict building and opened the front door. Only someone associated with hell would enter that cursed mansion. Upon opening the front door, a rather large snake laid upon the dusty hallway floor as if it expected him to be there. She looked expectantly at the hooded figure before turning and slithering further into the house.

The dark stranger hesitated before continuing after the snake and found her stopped in front of a closed door. The only hint that the room was expecting him from the dark and dusty corridor was the flickering of light seeping through the crack under the door. The man stared at the door until the snake made an hissing sound that seemed to egg him onward. He quickly opened the door and stepped inside before he could change his mind.

Upon opening the door to the room, the man found only one dark green leather arm chair placed in front of a large fire, its back to the door. He hurried until he was between the fire and the chair and then knelt in homage to whomever it was in that chair. From the chair the harsh command "Speak!" was heard.

"My Lord, I have some urgent news," was all the snake gleamed before it turned away from the door and headed towards the kitchen in search of a rat to gorge on. The snake only returned when her master hissed the word "Nagini." After leaving slithering lines throughout the halls, the snake found herself in the room the man had entered not long before her. She eyed a spider hungrily before she noticed the dead body of a man on the rug before her master.

"I have a treat for you, Nagini," he hissed at her. "Be a good girl and eat your supper before it gets cold."

)CaT(

Surprisingly, in the daylight, the old Crolis place looked frighteningly worse than it did when lightning played behind it. The inside of the house was not nearly as dusty, but signs that it needed repairing were evident. Floorboards were cracked and even missing in places. All the doors squeaked and some did not even close properly. All in all, it was a place of filth and destruction. It was not very surprising that a cloaked figure exited the house on this day, hood thrown back.

The forest green robe was made of a rather light material for this hot June day. Luckily for the wearer, there was a small wind to cool him off. The sun seemed to radiate off his almost silvery blonde hair and perfectly pointed features. He could have been likened to a rodent, his features were so sharp. Yet it was apparent no one would ever tell him this to his face; he had the unmistakable air of someone who was born and raised in wealth. He held himself up high, wearing an air of dignity and pride as a cloak, and a face perfectly smoothed from worry, care, or any other emotion someone without money experienced.

The young man had reached the end of the walkway before his perfectly balanced face was screwed up in thought. He remained this way until he reached the other end of the village, where the villagers could almost swear they heard him whisper that he'd need help. But everyone could bet their bottom dollar, as that was all they had, that the boy had shouted "Blaise!" No one in the village could really explain either of the phrases, but they'd tell anyone who'd listen, which was not a lot, that the young man had come from the Crolis mansion and had struck himself a deal with the devil named Satan.

The villagers would also swear that once the young man had reached a certain point outside the vicinity of their downtown, which held nothing more than their grocery store and a gas station, he just up and vanished like a fart in the wind.

)CaT(

Draco Malfoy sat at his desk eyeing an old, decrepit book that from the looks of it dated back to the Roman's rule. Blaise Zabini had sent it over earlier that day. He had owled Blaise the day before saying it was urgent and that he needed his help. Blaise had sent him a ruddy book saying that it was the answer to all of his problems. Draco could not see how this book could be the answer to all of his problems, so he sat there and eyed it with distaste. At least Blaise had also written that he would come over and explain things. A knock at the door to Draco's study disturbed his reverie on why books on meaningless crap were stupid.

Much to Draco's delight, a tall, black boy with slanted eyes walked into the room. He had the grace of a cat and a walk to go with it. Draco stood up, a look of gladness upon his face, and shook hands with the young man.

"It's good to see you, Blaise. And mind you, you came not a minute too soon. I think my eyes were about to bore a hole in that book you sent."

Blaise's face lit up at that statement and he was about to respond when another, tinny knock was heard at the door.

"Ruddy house elves," Draco muttered before opening up the door to see a small house elf, with knees knocking, standing there. "Well, what do you want? Doesn't it seem like I'm busy here?"

The house elf stammered, "I-it's P-p-professor S-s-snape, sir, he is wanting y-you. He is waiting i-in the study, sir."

Draco sighed, clearly annoyed, "Tell him I'll be down in a few minutes." He hated going to his father's study. He could not understand why Prof. Snape would want to meet him there, but he knew it would be anything but a pleasant run-in with his old potion's professor.

"You should be kinder to them, you know," Blaise said off-handedly as he played with a paper weight on the desk.

Draco just shook his head. That just didn't merit a response. It was something Granger would say. Draco wrinkled his nose at that thought. At least he wouldn't have to deal with her for much longer…

Draco steeled himself and left the room to talk to his ex-potion professor. The plan would have to wait. He knew that he was in for a lecture, and he'd bet it would be a long one.

)CaT(

In the study Severus Snape, a greasy haired, sallow-looking man, chose an expensive looking chair and sat down. He eyed the other expensive looking chairs, and couch, before smirking. Sure, the Malfoys had money, but they were quickly falling out of favor with the Dark Lord. Lucius Malfoy had been blundering up ever since the Dark Lord had gone to Godric Hollow all those years ago. It didn't help that Draco seemed just as incompetent.

The door to the study opened at that time and in stepped the person of Snape's thoughts. He had managed to smooth over Draco's mistake to the Dark Lord by saying that the task he wanted was completed; Dumbledore was dead and it was due, in part, to Draco's planing. The Dark Lord had barely accepted that. If it had come from any other man, Snape was sure the Dark Lord would have not only destroyed the whole Malfoy family, but also the family of the man or woman who had dared to defend Draco. Snape merely smirked as Draco entered the room and sat in the chair across from Snape.

"I expect you know why I came, Draco," Snape began. "I know all about your mission. I want to offer you my assistance. Your mother had requested that I come here today to do so. So, what is the brilliant plan this time? I hope it is nothing like the last one; it didn't go over nearly so well as you had hoped, I see. Well, boy, are you going to say something?"

"I can handle this on my own, Severus. I don't need your help. If all you came here today to do was nag me, I would be much better without it. And you may know of my assignment, but I am not going to reveal my plans to you." Draco stood up. "It was nice to see you, Severus, but you can manage your own way out."

"Do not play with me, boy! Your mother is worried about you and I made a promise to assist and protect you as best I can. You maybe willing to let her down, but I am not. Perhaps you need time to realize that there are some of us you can trust. And before you say it," Draco had his mouth open to interrupt, "I am not here to steal your glory. You'll need all you can get to keep you alive. You're barely hanging by the skin of your teeth."

"Really, this is enough. I am not going to tell you my plans and I do not need you to continuously lecture me on how you saved my arse. I get enough of that from my mother. If you have anything else to say?" Draco waited half a second. "Good, then I'll be going now. Again, it was nice to see you, Severus, but really, you shouldn't have wasted your time." Draco started walking towards the door.

Snape reached out his arm and stopped Draco. "If you ever need any help, you can always come to me. Remember that, Draco." And with a popping sound, Snape had disappeared.

)CaT(

Draco went back up to his room after his ex-professor had left. He didn't feel very comfortable calling him Severus, but it was better than calling him just Snape. And he very well couldn't call him Professor Snape anymore. He had already been scolded for trying once. No, he called him Severus, felt uncomfortable and got on with the conversation. Maybe one day he would get used to it.

Draco was just counting himself lucky that he had been able to skirt out of yet another one of Snape's monotonous, long-winded lectures. At least that was less time spent on boring, useless banter, which meant more time figuring out what Blaise had in mind, reasoned Draco. He opened the door and sat in a chair.

"Sooo, Blaise, what did you have in mind?" Draco asked as he took his original chair behind the desk. Blaise, it seemed, had opted to lounge on a rather plush couch near the bookshelf. Draco picked up the book Blaise had sent earlier and studied the cover. He had no idea why anyone would want to read about Atlantis, after all, rivaling wizard families had sunk the island into non-existence ages ago…

Expecting to find the history of Atlantis within the pages of the book, Draco tentatively opened the cover. After all, history was never his favorite subject at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. How could it be with a monotonous drone of a ghost for a teacher? Draco was personally shocked that no one had died from boredom in that class so far. However, Blaise seemed to eat history books up in one sitting. Draco could never understand it, but…it saved his grades more than once.

Draco tentatively opened the cover of the rustic book. If the book had gotten up and sung him the ditty that the dwarf had crowed to Harry Potter that fateful Valentine's Day in his second year (he still got tears of joy from that), Draco would not have been more surprised. Instead of a singing book, however, Draco had lying in front of him a…a journal. He blinked in surprise. Then he looked up at Blaise.

"You should actually read it, mate," Blaise hadn't even looked at him. He was too preoccupied playing catch with the paperweight. "Just read it. It won't actually take too long. I won't discuss my plans to get you out of hot water until you do, anyways."

Draco's curiosity had gotten the better of him. "By the way, Blaise, why haven't you join up with the Dark Lord? I mean, you're helping me now, and that's furthering the goal of the Dark Lord, right?"

"Well, when you look at it that way…I still wouldn't join. Sorry to disappoint, my friend, but it's just not for me. I'm not saying power to muggles or any of that bullshit. But, I like not belonging to someone. And I'm not doing this to help the Dark Lord, Draco. As much as this would further his goals, I'm only thinking of you. I mean, you're the only one who understands me…well, understands me and accepts me for it. So no, I think I'll pass on being your evil sidekick obeying our Dark Lord's every command. He probably wouldn't accept someone like me anyways. Most people don't and he's less forgiving."

"Alright, you win. I'll read this bloody book before you go all sappy on me. Mind you, it's not from lack of trying," Draco shook his finger at him. Blaise laughed at the picture Draco Malfoy made wagging his finger like some angry housewife.

Draco turned to the first page of the journal and began reading. Blaise had been right; it was an easy read. It was also remarkably interesting as well, albeit a bit disbelieving. The author, or journal writer or whatever you wanted to call him, had lived on Atlantis all his life; he had been a home schooled wizard, like many of the magic users in those days. He further confirmed the warring families, the Karrahdrahs and the Barharroths, had led to the downfall of the island. But that's where the similarities of what Draco had learned and what he was currently reading ended. After that, the story changed dramatically. According to Tiber Morfessa, the author or penman or journalist…whatever, the warring factions had not completely removed the island from existence. In fact, in theory, the island should still be there…although it would be impossible to find, which wasn't exactly helpful.

As it turned out, the families had gotten into such a heated agument when the author was around the age of 17, that they began an all-out magic battle. Between all of the curses and potions and spells muttered by the different families (wands were also non-existant) the island did not disappear into the water, but rather created a vortex situation. No one who entered the island could leave. However, somehow the author had left the island; it mentioned something about a "gateway of special powers wrapped in purple". Tiber claimed his father had used the remainder of his considerable magic to make the portal to Tiber's mother's land. So there was one way out of Atlantis for those who knew how to find it.

It all hit Draco like a bag of bricks…hard. He now knew what Blaise's brilliant plan was. He looked up at Blaise and casually, for appearance sake, asked, "so what happened to those two idiotic families? Tiber never mentioned what became of them…"

Draco had asked the right question. Blaise's eyes lit up and he exclaimed, "that's the best part, mate. It seems that they had drained all their magic in that one battle-war that they…well, they degenerated. They're worse for wear, so to speak. They've turned to primalistic muggle behavior. It took me ages to find the second book Tiber Morfessa wrote and he's even our ancestor!"

If Draco had been drinking anything, he would have choked or spitted it out, but, fortunately for him, he wasn't. "You've got to be joking me. Maybe this guy is for real…"

"Of course he is," Blaise dismissively waved his hand. "But that's beside the point. My plan is to create portkeys and get all of them there. Then we'll follow and attack them unawares…or at least remove their wand. You know how I'm not all for the blood and…ehk."

"I guess. I'm supposed to get rid of them…not kill them…"

"And with how you handle killing…maybe it would be better if we just made it so they can't return. They should be able to hold their own against the cannibalistic natives, but if not, no one will know, right?"

Draco could only agree with what Blaise's idea was. It was apparent that Draco just couldn't kill someone after his last mission. He shook his head. It wouldn't do anyone any good to reminisce about the awful bloody past. "Well," he sighed, "let's get to work. It's a dungheap we have to sort through and we might as well start as soon as possible."

Draco and Blaise worked well into the night. They would go to bed (Draco had extended the visit to an invitation to stay at the Manor until the project was finished) and wake up early the next morning just to start the cycle again. And that's how it worked until the summer months were drawing to a close. Once they had finished, Draco took half the objects to a local owlery and mailed them to their intended victims. Blaise took the remainder and placed them where he knew the ones they were intended for would find them. They only had one remaining portkey, and they would wait until a designated time to mail that one to its specific victim. It would be the portkey of all portkeys…and it would cause a chain reaction that would set off the other portkeys. That is why it took them so long to set up; no one had ever done such a thing before.

Then, on September 1st, Draco sent one of the small family owls to give the remaining portkey to the last victim. They both waited, knots in their stomach, until after suppertime. They packed two bags full of food and an assortment of essentials, ranging from cloaks to toothpaste, and threw them on their backs. Then they each pulled out their wands and, after a glance at the other, muttered the apparition charm that would take them safely over water and through vortexes, to the land of no return.