Of Wizards and Duelists …
XO'MagickMoon'OX
A/N: More of J. K.'s dialogue during the scene with the Quidditch match from the OotP. Is not my dialogue … all belongs to J. K. Rowling! Okay, now that that's out of the way … thanks again to all of my reviewers! Enjoy!
---
---
Everyone was silent as understanding began to settle into their minds. Hermione gave off a self-satisfied air, though no one was surprised that she had figured out all of the answers first. Her theory certainly made utter sense. The reason Atemu and Bakura could be seen was because the veil separating the Shadow Realm and the physical plane was thin, and fazing through it was so easy that it could be done unintentionally, as had been Atemu and Bakura's case.
But Hermione wasn't done. "Not only that," she continued, after allowing a moment for everything to sink in, "but tonight is a full moon. Now, according to lunar magick, the full moon is the most powerful out of the lunar cycle. That's why, earlier today, your images were hazy or kept fazing back and forth between the realms. But, as the moon began to rise, you completely shifted over to this realm, and we were able to see and hear you totally, as we can now."
Bakura shook his head and growled, "You're too damn smart. How is it possible for a mere human to have a reserve of knowledge such as you do?"
The question, of course, was rhetorical, so silence followed Bakura's inquiry.
Then, Harry mused, "So, you two really have been here all along? Sitting in the back of classes, floating around the halls?" Atemu and Bakura nodded.
"And, now that you know about us," Atemu said, "you should also know that … yesterday … that was me who attacked Draco, not Yuugi. I was … angry, and I lost control. I opened a portal to the Shadow Realm, and had Yuugi not stopped me, I might have very well tossed Draco in it."
"Well, this certainly clears up a lot of confusion," Harry said. "And this is what you've been hiding the whole time?"
"Well," Hermione chimed in softly, "there was one other question you've still left unanswered. The one about Malik, and what 'terrible things' he'd done."
All eyes turned to the blonde Egyptian standing silently by the hearth, half of his body lit by the firelight and the other half by the white moonlight shining through a nearby window. Without looking up, he stepped away from the wall, only to turn on his heel and face the fire, arms still crossed over his chest. He stared into the hypnotic flames, as if he could lose himself in the fire, lose himself and escape from the question, escape from the memories he had tried so hard to forget, but kept resurfacing, crawling on the edges of his mind.
Then the slight sounds of struggling broke out behind him and ended with an indignant growl that was no doubt from Bakura. Still Malik didn't turn around, but moments later he felt someone wrap their arms around his waist and rest their head on his shoulder. Malik sighed and melted into the embrace that could be none other than Ryou's. No words were needed as Ryou's arms moved from the blonde's waist to take his hand and lead him away from the hearth; his actions seemed to say it all: "Don't worry. I'm here; I'll protect you from the memories, from the pain…"
Ryou took Malik over to the one now-empty chair and sat the blonde down in it before climbing onto his lap and sitting in a way that was similar to the way that Bakura had been sitting on Ryou, only less rudely and more lovingly, nestling his head in the crook of Malik's neck. Malik smiled contently and wrapped his arms around the white-haired boy. Bakura was still sitting, astonished, on the floor where Ryou had forcibly dumped him, but now he sprang to his feet, causing Ryou to wince. Bakura opened his mouth to say … or rather, shout … something when Atemu rushed to his side and pulled him away. Atemu sat back down on Yuugi's armrest and latched onto Bakura's arm so that he couldn't get at Ryou or Malik. But that didn't stop the tomb robber from mumbling every curse he could think of and wishing the wrath of every god that came to mind upon Malik and Ryou. Hermione, Ron, and Harry just sort of gaped at the two boys sharing the chair for a moment before the initial shock wore off. Yuugi and Atemu weren't surprised in the least at Ryou and Malik's affectionate behavior, and Bakura was just fuming, however held captive by the Pharaoh.
"Well, I suppose it's necessary that I explain a little about my childhood before I go into detail about my … past misdeeds," Malik began softly.
Everyone was waiting with bated breath as the blonde gathered his thoughts. Even Yuugi and Ryou were anxious, as they had never really heard the story of Malik's childhood. The only parts they knew were the ones that they had heard from Isis and the ones that they been present for, which left many questions unanswered.
Malik said, "I come from a family of tomb keepers. In Egypt, we keep watch over the nameless pharaoh's tomb, waiting for the day when he would return. That pharaoh was, of course, Atemu. Being a tomb keeper means living a life of solitude and darkness, stuck underground studying the ancient writings and scrolls and devoting yourself to the pharaoh. For a child, it was a torturous lifestyle. … Even more torturous was the rite that I had to go through, all for the sake of the Pharaoh. The rite …" Malik's breath caught in his throat as pain seared up his back at the memory. "The rite was the inscribing of the 'pharaoh's secret' on my back. Carving the hieroglyphics and pictures into my flesh …" He winced involuntarily.
"'Carving'?" Hermione asked, her face paling a bit. "You mean they …"
Malik nodded. "My father carved the complete tattoo into my back, the pictures of the three Egyptian God cards and the ancient text explaining the 'pharaoh's secret'. It was … so painful. I can't even begin to explain how excruciating it was. And I was only a child! I felt the resentment and hatred for my destiny, for the Pharaoh, begin to build then, my destiny of being a tomb keeper, my destiny of guarding the Pharaoh's tomb. I didn't want that destiny; I wanted to choose my own path. I wanted it more than anything.
"I remember one day I asked my older sister, Isis, to take me into the city above ground. Rather, sneak me there, as Father would never allow such a thing. Seeing the pleading on my face, she agreed, and, asking our friend, Rishid, to cover for us, we snuck up to the city above our chambers below ground. Can you imagine that the sunlight was nearly blinding? I had been underground for practically every minute of my young life, and was unaccustomed to such light. But I soon adjusted and was amazed at the sights and sounds and smells of the world above. The TV fascinated me, and the second I lay eyes on a picture of a motorcycle, I wanted one. It was amazing. Isis was uncomfortable with staying out too long, though, and we soon returned to our home. The sight we were met with was … frightening, to say the least …"
Malik trailed off, his eyes misting with reminiscence. The fire popped in the background in a display of sparks, as if annoyed by the blonde's sudden silence. Ryou looked up at him, his warm brown eyes tinted with worry. "Malik?" he whispered.
The blonde gave a startled jump and looked around at his audience. He blinked, his eyes coming back into focus, before continuing. "My father was trying to kill Rishid," he said bluntly. "Originally, Rishid was supposed to be adopted by my parents to become the heir to the Ishtar family, but then I was born … the rightful heir. Rishid became my closest friend, loyal and caring, just like an older brother. He would've given his life for me if he had to. He even tattooed himself so that I wouldn't have to go through the ritual marking alone. Seeing Father trying to kill him, all because he allowed Isis and me to sneak out … I remember my vision turning red, and my head throbbing, ears ringing … before I blacked out. The next thing I knew, I was staring down at my father's lifeless body sitting against the wall, blood … his blood … smeared down the yellow brick and pooling around him. I started to cry, wondering who killed my father and vowing revenge. Rishid and Isis were behind me, too horrified to speak, when Shadi appeared, claiming that my father's death was the will of the Pharaoh –"
"Hold on," Ron cut in. "Who's Shadi?"
Malik looked up, startled by the interruption. "Oh … Shadi is the guardian of the Millennium Items, and he possesses the Millennium Key and the Millennium Scale. He crosses our paths every now and then … and he's loyal to the Pharaoh, like the rest of us.
"Well," Malik continued, "from that day on after Shadi told us that my father's death was the Pharaoh's will, I vowed revenge on the Pharaoh. I vowed to find him … and kill him. I blamed the Pharaoh for everything. I blamed him for my damned destiny, I blamed him for taking away the life I wanted, my liberty to choose my own path. I blamed him for all my pain, and now I blamed him for the death of my father, even when my father's murder wasn't really his fault …" Again Malik trailed off. He was quiet for a moment.
"Who's fault was it?" Harry prodded.
Malik met Harry's gaze squarely. "Mine."
An awkward silence filled the room. Malik closed his eyes and sank further into the cushiony chair, as if it could swallow him up and erase his memories.
"Malik."
Malik felt a soft hand caress his face, and he looked down to see Ryou watching him. He hugged the boy tighter and suddenly felt the will to continue his story resurface. He said, "I killed my father. You see, like Ryou and Yuugi, I had a yami, a dark alter-ego, except mine was no ancient spirit. It was an entity entirely derived from the darkness in my heart, my pain, my hatred, my contempt, my anger, my fear … Upon seeing my dearest friend so close to death at the hand of my father, my yami took control … and killed my father. He would've killed Rishid, too, if I had not been able to take control again. I blacked out while he was controlling my body, and awoke with no memory of the terrible deed my yami had committed, or the one he was about to commit. I wasn't even aware that I had a yami until years later. Isis saw him that day, she saw my yami, and she realized that Rishid was the only one who could suppress the darkness within me. With Rishid around, I could keep my yami in control.
"I took the Millennium Rod and, with Rishid at my side, set out to take my revenge on the Pharaoh. I needed to acquire the three Egyptian God cards in order to do so. Isis took the Millennium Necklace and through it watched what the future for me would bring. She went to Seto Kaiba – a very wealthy, powerful, and intelligent guy … who goes to school with Yuugi and Ryou – and suggested that he start a dueling tournament. She gave him the God card, Obelisk the Tormentor. The reason she asked him to start the tournament was because she knew that, in the end, it would draw the three God cards together, along with myself and the Pharaoh, and she knew that the Pharaoh was the only one who could stop me and exorcise the darkness within me, returning me to the good person I really was. By the time we got to the finals, I had the Winged Dragon of Ra, and Yuugi had Slifer the Sky Dragon, and Kaiba still possessed Obelisk. In the duels that followed, many innocent people were put in danger because of me … a woman, Mai Kujaku, Yuugi's best friend, Katsuya Jounouchi, Rishid, Ryou, Yuugi, and even myself. You see, under my command, Rishid pretended to be me and dueled using the Winged Dragon of Ra. He lost control of it and entered into a coma, and with Rishid out of the way, my yami took total control of my body. I thought that all was lost; my yami was going to win … all of the people unconscious were going to die, my soul would be banished to the Shadow Realm, and my yami was going to use his Shadow Magick to take over the world, once the Pharaoh was out of the way for good. I went to Rishid in his unconscious state, as a spirit, and begged forgiveness for everything I'd done, all the pain I'd caused him, and seeing my capitulation, he was pulled from his coma and arrived on the scene where our yamis were engaged in a Shadow Game, and Yuugi and I were nearly lost to the Shadow Realm. With Rishid there, I was able to overcome my yami and turn the tables, banishing my yami to the Shadow Realm after withdrawing from the duel I was in with the Pharaoh, ending all of the chaos."
"… So you're really the hero, Malik," Hermione said.
Malik shook his head. "No, I wasn't. Everything I've told you … it doesn't even begin to cover everything I'd done. I turned men into puppets, I pitted best friends against each other, I nearly killed a half a dozen innocent people, including my closest friend. I was a monster."
There came an exasperated sigh from Yuugi's chair. "No!" the small boy declared. "It wasn't your fault! Your yami poisoned your mind."
"And who created my yami, Yuugi? Who created that monster?" Malik cried. "Me! It was all my fault and nothing I can ever do will repent for the wrongs I did."
At that moment, Fred, George, Lee, Ginny, and Neville burst into the common room, ending the conversation and indefinitely destroying any chance for Yuugi to argue. The group just remained seated, each staring off into some sort of oblivion, left to their own thoughts. After Malik's longwinded explanation, everyone was left with a lot on their minds.
---
The group stayed in the common room until late that night, finishing their homework, long after everyone else had gone to bed. Their friends had wondered where Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ryou, Yuugi, and Malik had been, why they'd missed the feast, and the group had dismissed the inquiries with simple excuses. No one bothered to press the matter.
Hermione sat on a chair by the hearth knitting her elf clothes while Harry and Ron worked on their homework. Hermione, Yuugi, Ryou, and Malik had finished a half-hour ago. Yuugi was sitting in one of the cushiony chairs in the middle of the common room, talking with Atemu, and Bakura sat sulking in the corner somewhere while Malik and Ryou were positioned on the couch. Despite the fact that it was late and Malik should have been back in his dorm, the blonde was determined to stay with Ryou for a little while longer and then sneak back to the Ravenclaw tower. Though Hermione was strongly against this and knew that she and Ron should have forced him to leave, being prefects and all, nothing she could say would separate him from the white-haired boy. All was quiet and still save for the scratching of quills on parchment, the hissing of the dying fire, and Yuugi and Atemu's murmured conversation. It was almost eleven o'clock, and in about another hour, the veil would strengthen again, closing Atemu and Bakura off from everyone but their hosts.
Then, Hermione spoke. "So, are you two …?" She pointed between Malik and Ryou snuggling on the couch. In response, Malik leaned down and captured the other boy's lips with his own, initiating a chaste kiss. Hermione grinned and nodded before returning to her knitting. "I see."
Ron frowned. "Eh …" he groaned.
"Oh don't tell me you're a homophobe, Ron," Hermione said. She turned to Harry, who was also looking a bit disturbed.
"Just going to take time getting used to is all," Harry dismissed, quickly returning to his work. Ron nodded in fervent agreement.
Everyone politely ignored the couple on the couch as a flame of passion ignited between them, Malik pushing Ryou onto his back and laying on top of him, slipping his tongue inside the white-haired boy's mouth. Their breathing became blunt and desperate, Ryou raking his fingers through Malik's pale, silky hair, Malik sliding his hand under Ryou's shirt to caress the soft stomach beneath. A pleasured moan crawled up the back of Ryou's throat, but was muffled by Malik's mouth.
Suddenly, Atemu's clear voice broke through their spell of fevered passion, and startled everyone else from their thoughts. "Where's Bakura?"
Malik sat up, allowing the boy beneath him to do the same. Ryou ran a hand through his mussed hair as he scanned the common room worriedly. Ron and Harry looked up, as did Hermione and Yuugi, but the thief was nowhere to be found. Ryou fumbled with the Ring underneath his robes, but sensed no presence within it, and couldn't reach his yami through their mind-link, as Bakura had closed it.
Ryou shook his head and shrugged, though an inexplicable sense of dread and guilt had besieged his heart. The sensations were chased away, however, as Malik slipped an arm around the brown-eyed boy's waist and pulled him close.
Atemu sighed and stood from where he and Yuugi had been sitting. "I'll go find him."
"I'll come with you," Yuugi offered, standing as well.
"No," Atemu said. "It's too late for students to be out, and I need to talk to Bakura alone."
With that, Atemu slipped out of the common room, leaving a very disconcerted Yuugi behind.
---
"Bakura?" Atemu called as he started down a corridor. He had been searching for nearly thirty minutes and hadn't even a clue as to where the thief was. He had searched all of their haunts, the courtyard, the archway, the Great Hall, and all the hallways in between. Where would the heartbroken thief retreat to? Where would he go to find peace?
As Atemu turned a corner, a thought struck him. The Potions room.
The Pharaoh hurried down into the dank dungeons of the school, following the starkly lit hallways until he arrived at the Gryffindors' least favorite classroom, fazing through the heavy iron doors. Sure enough, there sat Bakura, behind Snape's desk, fiddling with an empty vile and seemingly lost in thought. Atemu stood at the door, waiting for Bakura to acknowledge him, but when the thief just sat there, staring blankly at the glass vile in his phantom hands, Atemu took a step towards him, then another, and another until he was standing before the desk.
"Bakura?" he murmured.
"I can't stand this." Bakura didn't turn away from the vile, didn't focus his introspective gaze.
"What?"
"This … unrequited love thing. Why does it hurt so much?" Bakura looked to Atemu then, his eyes pleading with the Pharaoh to answer all his questions, to explain everything that he didn't understand.
But Atemu couldn't, because he didn't have all the answers, he himself didn't understand. "I don't know," he answered softly.
"Damn you." Bakura turned angrily back to the vile, as if it trying to shatter it with his glare.
"Bakura …"
The glass broke, the melodic grating followed by the soft clattering of shards falling to the desk, like rain on a windowpane. The fist that had been holding the vile clenched and unclenched, as if Bakura expected his hand to hurt, expected it to bleed. But neither were possible, not for a spirit. If it weren't for his ability to compact his particles to the point of near-solidity, he wouldn't have even been able to shatter the vile. Hoping for his hand to bleed was expecting too much.
"Things were so much simpler … in Egypt," he murmured. "Pain was pain, blood was blood, life and death were inevitable, and falling in love could be avoided."
"It could?" This was news to the Pharaoh.
"For me it could. I associated with people like myself, people who were cruel and sardonic, people with painful pasts and hardened hearts, and anyone I came even remotely close to I immediately distanced myself from. Feelings were shoved aside, and the adrenaline and adventure that came with the life of a thief took their place, and physical pain was always substituted for emotional pain. Blood … the smell of it, the taste of it, the sight of it was enough to erase all emotion from my mind and give complete control to animal instinct, and love could easily be avoided when my own humanity was ignored. Peace was found in the night, under the light of the moon and guardianship of the stars … I didn't need people to make me happy, I didn't need love. But then …" Bakura's eyes misted with memory. "Then I became trapped in the Ring, and when Ryou got a hold of it, every truth that I had lived by, every philosophy ground into my mind, everything I knew and was accustomed to … was gone. I tried to keep it up, tried to rekindle my old way of life, but it just wasn't the same … not with Ryou around. And now, thanks to you, I know exactly why nothing could ever be the same: I'd fallen in love, and there wasn't anything I could do to stop it. I'd been bitten by the adder, and now all I can do is wait for its venom to kill me."
"Love … is poison?"
"Yes, love is poison."
" … "
They sat there in silence for a little while longer before, finally, they returned to the dorms.
As soon as the spirits had left the dungeon, two figures emerged from a room in the back, one clad in his usual black, ebony eyes gleaming in the dim light, the other dressed in sweeping azure robes, his long wiry beard tied in a bow.
The blue-clad wizard spoke in his whispering voice. "So, do you think you can help them, Severus?"
The other man stepped brusquely up to his desk and observed the shattered vile. "I think so."
---
The next day the Gryffindors and Slytherins filed out onto the grounds for Care of Magickal Creatures class. The wind was so icy that one could've sworn it was the middle of December and not the first of November. Students had their scarves pulled up over their mouths and their caps down to their brows so that only their eyes and cherry-tipped noses were visible. They even pocketed their gloved hands in search of extra warmth or rubbed them together fervently. Beneath their school robes they wore many layers of turtleneck shirts and sweaters.
"This is absolutely insane," Hermione mumbled, her voice muffled by her scarf. "It's too bloody cold to be having class outside."
"I doubt they'll start having classes inside, though," Harry said, "until December, or when it starts snowing, whichever comes first."
"Why's that?" Ryou wondered.
"Oh, they just don't want all of the creatures loose inside, and I doubt the professor is too keen to pull the beasts any further out of their natural habitats, either," Hermione answered. "So they keep having classes outside for as long as possible. The only time we've had class inside this year was after that terrible storm a few weeks back."
Hermione then looked to Ron and Harry with some sort of inquiry in her eyes, as if a silent conversation were going on between them. Yuugi opened his mouth to ask what was going on when he was interrupted.
"Well if it isn't Scarhead and You-Know-Who Junior," a familiar drawl sounded from behind them, its tone startlingly clear.
The group turned to see Draco and his gang, Draco with his scarf pulled up to his chin. That was why his voice had been so clear, because he didn't have his mouth covered like the rest of the class. Actually, he was dressed a bit coolly in comparison to everyone else; practically his entire face was exposed, his scarf only wrapped around his neck and his head covered by a black wool cap. His hands were gloveless, albeit buried deep in his pockets, his bare wrists the only evidence of his lack of gloves. Pale skin paler than usual, save for the wind-bitten, rosy cheeks and nose, he didn't look all that cold.
Ron pulled his scarf down to his chin to speak. "Aren't you freezing, Malfoy?" the redhead wondered mockingly. "Although, I doubt that; perfect setting for a coldhearted git like you. Bet you're used to the cold, aren't you? I'll bet you don't receive any warmth even within your own family, the lot of bloody Death Eaters that they are. How much love could there be to go around amongst murderers?"
Draco simply smirked, although the blow to his family had stung a bit. He retorted, "Who needs love when you've got money? Not that you'd know anything about money, Weasel."
"Love is more valuable than any sum of money, Malfoy," Hermione snapped angrily, pulling her scarf down to be heard clearly.
"Oh I'll bet," Draco drawled. "I'm sure you and your Muggle family have plenty of love to go around, enough to compensate for the lack of magickal ability, right? Filthy mudblood."
Hermione scowled, pulling her scarf back up over her mouth.
"Just ignore him," Harry said, coming up from behind his friends. "He's not worth the breath it takes to insult him."
"Oh that hurt, Potter," Draco sneered. Unbeknownst to everyone around, Draco wasn't kidding.
Unbeknownst, that is, to everyone except two highly sensitive spirits standing just beyond the ring of students. They traded knowing sidelong glances and continued watching the scene that seemed to slowly be drawing to a close. Professor Grubbly-Plank walked up behind her table set up at the front of the group and called the class to order.
As the students began working, Hermione, Ron, and Harry managed to get Ryou and Yuugi away from the rest of the class, and, under the guise of hardworking children, they began to quietly talk to the two about something they'd, thus far, kept secret.
"'Dumbledore's Army'?" Ryou asked after Hermione had finished explaining about the secret Defense Against the Dark Arts group the trio had been holding weekly.
"Yes, yes, please keep it down," Hermione pleaded, quickly scanning the rest of the class to see if anyone had heard. Luckily, no one seemed to have.
"Why weren't we told about it before?" Yuugi wondered.
"Honestly?" Ron said. "We didn't know if we could trust you. You didn't seem to be able trust us with your secrets, and until last night, we felt we couldn't trust you with ours."
Yuugi nodded understandingly.
"It's very important," Hermione whispered, "that you tell nobody and keep it a total secret. Don't let it slip, don't let anyone follow you to the meetings, and don't act suspicious. If we're caught, everyone in the group will be expelled permanently from Hogwarts," she looked horrified at the thought, "and we'll all lose our only chance at ever preparing ourselves for the return of V-Voldemort." Ron shuddered at the name, and Hermione rolled her eyes at him.
"You two have to fill Malik in as well," Harry said. He then handed them each a coin and explained how it was enchanted to inform people of the date of the next meeting. The boys pocketed their coins.
"When you come to the meeting, you also have to sign a sheet of paper that we all put our names on. It's posted in our room where we meet," Hermione said.
"Where's that?" Yuugi wanted to know.
"It's called the Room of Requirement," Harry said, and briefly told them about the properties of the mysterious room. "It's brilliant," he concluded. "On your first meeting, you'll come with us, just to make sure you all don't get lost. After that, you should be able to find your ways to the room without a problem."
Ryou and Yuugi nodded.
"Great." Hermione beamed. "Then it's settled."
---
In the following weeks, Yuugi, Ryou, and Malik attended the D.A. meetings with the others. As they had signed their names on the list at their first meeting, a warm sense of accomplishment had overcome them. They were standing up to Umbridge and the Ministry; they were taking things into their own hands and learning to defend themselves from the dangers the Ministry assured everyone were nothing more than myth. It was an empowering sensation, one that the trio welcomed whole-heartedly. Even the risk of being caught and expelled paled in comparison to the enormity of their satisfaction. They were also content with having Harry as a teacher, for, from what they'd been told, he had more experience in Defense Against the Dark Arts than anyone amongst them, and they felt that their proper education was fit to bloom in his hands.
Harry though, while happy that Ryou, Yuugi, and Malik had decided to join them and that they seemed to be picking up his teachings quickly, was annoyed at the others' reactions to Malik's arrival. It was namely his female students that were getting on his nerves; they were always gawking and giggling and blushing and trying to flirt with the Egyptian blonde, and, quite frankly, it was irritating and distracting. Harry would have liked to have said that it annoyed him because the girls were shying away from their defensive studies and that they could end up in trouble because they hadn't been paying attention. He would have liked to have said that it annoyed him solely because of his concern for his peers' well-beings. But, upon facing the truth of the matter, Harry found that it really annoyed him so greatly because Cho was one of the gawking, giggling, blushing, flirting girls. And it wasn't him that she was gawking at, giggling and blushing because of, or flirting with, but Malik. And that was what really annoyed him about the whole matter.
But Harry hadn't time to worry too much about it, as the Gryffindor vs. Slytherin match was coming up soon, and he spent almost every free thought that he had on the game. The D.A. meetings were put on hold the few weeks before the game, as Angelina had the Gryffindors practicing night and day. One wouldn't be surprised if the frenzied team captain ran plays in her sleep. Ron was starting to worry Harry, though. Harry's redheaded friend was jumpy and spastic, every nerve on edge, always worrying and always frantically practicing, although the practice did him no good; he was too nervous about making a fool of himself and letting his team down to focus on his game. If he didn't calm down by the day of the match, the Gryffindor team was sure to be at a great disadvantage with an incompetent Keeper.
Finally, the day of the game dawned in a brilliant display of bright, gray skies and icy wind that bit at the face and violently tousled the hair of anyone who dared to oppose it. Harry awoke to find Ron already awake, staring blankly into the space in front of him. It didn't seem like he'd gotten much sleep.
Harry placed his glasses on his nose and asked, "You all right?"
Ron was eerily silent and, Harry noticed, deathly pale.
Harry suppressed his rising concern and muttered, "You just need some breakfast."
The two boys met Hermione, Ryou, and Yuugi down in the common room, and together they headed down to the Great Hall. Unnervingly, every Slytherin they passed had a silver badge pinned to their robes and kept giving Ron encouraging smiles … or smirks, rather, in which case, they really weren't encouraging at all. Ron slumped down into his seat at the Gryffindor table and silently began eating his breakfast.
"What's wrong with him?" Ryou whispered to Hermione.
"He's just nervous," Harry, who'd overheard, responded.
Ryou nodded and returned to his food, all the while looking thoroughly unconvinced.
"Well that's a good sign," Hermione said with a warm smile, "I never feel you perform as well in exams if you're not a bit nervous."
"Hello," a vague, dreamy greeting sounded behind them. Everyone looked up to see Luna Lovegood standing there with a … was it a hat? … perched atop her blonde head. Malik came up around her and rolled his eyes at her scary, to say the least, display of loyalty for the Gryffindor team, for that was obviously what it was, as the hat seemed to be a life-size lion's head. "I'm supporting Gryffindor," Luna said, though the statement was a bit unnecessary. "Look what it does …"
Luna carefully reached up with her wand and tapped the hat. It's jaw opened wide, revealing frighteningly large fangs, and an uncannily realistic roar was released. Everyone with in earshot jumped, and Malik had the misfortune of standing right beside the eccentric girl.
He immediately pressed his hands over his ears and shouted, "OH FOR THE LOVE OF RA, WILL YOU STOP DOING THAT?" His voice echoed behind the roar that was fading from the air, rising above all other din, and for a moment all eyes were on him. He felt heat rise in his cheeks as everyone quickly returned to their meals.
Luna was speaking again. "It's good, isn't it?" she chirped. "I wanted to have it chewing up a serpent to represent Slytherin, you know, but there wasn't time. Anyway … good luck, Ronald!"
She stepped around Malik, the lion head teetering precariously on her head, and returned to the Ravenclaw table. Malik shook his head and massaged his temples, as if he had a headache, which was very possible, considering he'd just had his eardrums blown out by Luna's hat. Then he sat down next to Ryou, who smiled affectionately at the blonde.
That was when Katie, Alicia, and Angelina appeared behind Harry and Ron.
"When you're ready," Angelina told them, "we're going to go straight down to the pitch, check out conditions and change."
"We'll be there in a bit. Ron's just got to have some breakfast," Harry replied.
Ron, however, did not seem able to eat anything other than the few bites he'd had. Therefore, Harry stood, pulling his unstable friend to his feet.
Before they left, Hermione took Harry aside and whispered, "Don't let Ron see what's on those Slytherins' badges."
Harry gave her a questioning look, but she just shook her head and turned to Ron, who was coming up behind them.
"Good luck, Ron," Hermione said before leaning up and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. "And you, Harry –"
Color seemed to return to Ron's pale face as they went to exit the Great Hall. His fingers ghosted over the spot on his cheek where Hermione had kissed him, and a thoughtful smile graced his lips. Thankfully, he didn't notice much around them as they passed the Slytherin table, but Harry had a chance to glimpse the suspicious crown-shaped badges pinned to the breast of every Slytherin. Carved neatly into the platinum metal was the phrase "WEASLEY IS OUR KING". Harry's heart gave a start, and his stomach churned nervously. They crossed the entrance hall and stepped out into the bitter day, Ron still blissfully unaware of the fool he was being made of.
---
Madam Hooch trekked to the center of the field, positioning herself between the scarlet-clad and the emerald-clad players, wind tossing her robes about. "Captains shake hands," she instructed. Angelina and Montague – the Slytherin team captain – shook hands, Montague gripping Angelina's fingers painfully, but the Gryffindor captain stubbornly suppressed any sign of pain. "Mount your brooms …"
Madam Hooch then placed her whistle between her lips and blew, initiating the game as the balls flew from their confinements into the swirling gray sky.
Harry caught Draco's gaze for a fleeting second before his surroundings melted into each other as he shot through the air, trained senses automatically beginning the search for the Snitch. His usually keen mind was hindered, though, by his worry for his best friend. Numerous times he stole a glance at the goalposts to check on Ron, and this seriously cut into his Seeking duty, as every second counted when searching for the miniscule golden ball. He knew this, and Draco knew this, which was why Draco, for once, forced his mind off of the raven-haired boy to focus on the game. But as Harry was often in his line of vision, this became increasingly difficult.
"Damn him," Draco swore under his breath.
"Draco! Watch out!"
Draco turned just in time to see a Bludger coming straight at his head. He swerved to the left not a moment too soon, the large, heavy ball just missing his ear. He took a deep breath to steady his racing heart and turned to glare at the Gryffindor Beater that had shot at him: Fred … or George … he couldn't tell which, not that it mattered.
That was when he felt someone's gaze on him and turned to see Harry hovering some ways across the field from Draco, but nonetheless staring at him. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. He couldn't see Harry's expression from his standpoint, but he was sure the git was smirking or laughing at him for almost getting hit by a Bludger.
Little did the blonde know, Harry would have loved to be smirking or laughing, anything taunting or mocking, but he found himself relieved, relieved that Draco hadn't been hit. What the hell? What's wrong with me? Harry wondered angrily. He was pulled out of his thoughts by the two silver orbs boring into his own. Even from across the distance of the field, he knew he'd been caught watching Draco by the Slytherin himself. He felt himself blush, why he wasn't sure, and knew that, to anyone, it wasn't evident because his wind-bitten complexion was red already. At that moment, though, all thoughts of Draco were swept from his mind by the little fleck of gold that flew behind the Slytherin Seeker. Thinking quickly, Harry shot upwards, to throw his opponent off. Sure enough, Draco believed Harry to have found the Snitch above them somewhere and took off after him. Then Harry made a hairpin turn and flew downwards, the Snitch in his sights. He zoomed by Draco, and heard the blonde curse under his breath as he realized that he'd been duped. Now Harry had a good two-second lead. Nevertheless, he followed the Gryffindor again, this time knowing for sure that Harry had his eyes on the Snitch.
The wind rushing by Harry's ears was not enough to drown out the din of the crowd or of Lee Jordan's commentary. Curiously, the cheering and booing of the audience had an almost melodic sound to it, and that was when he realized that some of the spectators were singing. What they were singing, he couldn't decipher, but he knew that there was a mocking air about the jingle. Then, Harry felt Draco catching up to him, and returned all of his focus on the Snitch, blocking out the sounds around him … or how his fingers seemed frozen to his broom. His sweat, too, was frozen to his face, glistening in crystalline streaks down his face. It was so damn cold.
The Snitch was so close he could practically hear the beating of its fervent, silver wings. He removed his fingers from his broom handle and reached for the Snitch …
"GRYFFINDOR SCORE!" Lee shouted excitedly. "It's forty-ten, forty-ten to Slytherin and Pucey has the Quaffle .."
Harry's fingertips graced the golden surface of the Snitch …
"– Pucey throws to Warrington, Warrington to Montague, Montague back to Pucey – Johnson intervenes, Johnson takes the Quaffle, Johnson to Bell, this looks good – I mean bad – Bell's hit by a Bludger from Goyle of Slytherin and it's Pucey in possession again …"
"WEASLEY WAS BORN IN A BIN,
HE ALWAYS LETS THE QUAFFLE IN,
WEASLEY WILL MAKE SURE WE WIN –"
Harry almost had the Snitch … and froze. "WHAT?" he roared, instinctively rearing up. That was the jingle the crowd was singing? How dare they … "OW!" His heart jumped as Harry lurched forward, toppling over his broom. He quickly grasped the broom handle with his right hand, precariously hanging thirty feet above the ground. Draco had collided with Harry after the Gryffindor Seeker had stopped abruptly, and was now falling through the air, clutching his broom to his chest. Thinking quickly, he swung his leg over the shaft of his broom and took control again. The crowd gasped as he sharply pulled up five feet from the frozen turf of the Quidditch field.
He sat there for a brief moment, collecting his breath. Harry was back on his broom and circling the pitch. The Snitch was gone. Draco pushed back up through the air, continuing his search for the fleeting golden ball.
"WEASLEY CANNOT SAVE A THING,
HE CANNOT BLOCK A SINGLE RING,
THAT'S WHY SLYTHERINS ALL SING
WEASLEY IS OUR KING."
Oh, the Slytherins would pay for this, Harry decided. Any confidence Ron had once possessed was now definitely shattered, no doubt about it. If Harry didn't find the Snitch ...
"WEASLEY WAS BORN IN A BIN,
HE ALWAYS LETS THE QUAFFLE IN,
WEASLEY WILL MAKE SURE WE WIN,
WEASLEY IS OUR KING."
Harry stole another glance at Ron, who wasn't faring too well, it seemed. The score was still forty-ten, but it looked like it was soon to be fifty-ten, as the Quaffle was again nearing the Gryffindor goalposts in the hands of the Slytherin Chaser.
Focus, Harry, focus on the Snitch, Harry urged himself. Minutes passed, and he circled the pitch another few times, weaving through the other players, dodging the Bludgers, trying to keep his mind off of his frozen limbs, his exhaustion, Ron, and Draco –
What? Why am I thinking about Malfoy? Bloody git … Harry thought.
That was when Draco flew by him, and Harry heard him singing loudly, "WEASLEY WAS BORN IN A BIN …"
It took all of Harry's self-control not to knock Draco off of his broom and pummel him into the ground. No doubt it was he who wrote the song –
A flash of gold swerved behind the Slytherin goalposts. Harry was on it in a second, zooming by the other players. The Snitch shot from the goalposts towards the center of the field. It flew right by Harry's ear, but his reflexes were too slow to catch it. However, he was quick enough that he flew after it, right on its tail as he had been before, his fingertips almost brushing the golden surface. Draco caught on quickly and flew towards Harry. They met in the center as the Snitch shifted gears and shot downwards, plummeting forty feet through the air as the two Seekers flew after it, their hands outstretched. Five feet from the ground, the Snitch swerved and soared horizontally over the field. Harry and Draco followed suit, neck-and-neck, naught but a half a foot of space between them.
WHAM!
A Bludger collided with the small of Harry's back and sent him flying forward off of his broom. The blow, though intended to throw him off course, actually gave him the extra lurch he needed to wrap his fist around the Snitch just as he crashed to the frozen turf. He winced in pain, winded and numb. Gasping for breath, he tightened his grip around the tiny golden ball struggling in his grasp. He barely heard Madam Hooch's whistle through the ringing in his ears and the calls and jeers and shouts from the stands.
Angelina hurried towards him, jumping off her broom. "Are you all right?" she cried.
"'Course I am," Harry growled, taking Angelina's offered hand and allowing her to help him to his feet. He was partially aware of Madam Hooch flying overhead towards a Slytherin player, no doubt the one who had shot the Bludger at him.
"It was that thug, Crabbe," Angelina said icily. "He whacked that Bludger at you the moment he saw you'd got the Snitch – but we won, Harry, we won!"
There came an indignant grunt from behind them, and Harry turned to see Draco standing there where he had landed. He looked furious, despite the haughty sneer plastered on his face.
"Saved Weasley's neck, haven't you?" he snapped at Harry. "I've never seen a worse Keeper … but then he was born in a bin … Did you like my lyrics, Potter?"
Harry ignored him, turning his back on the blonde to meet the rest of the team that had come up to congratulate him. Ron was absent, though, as he had dismounted over at the goalposts and was slowly walking back towards the changing rooms, wanting nothing more than to escape from his friends and the humiliation burning in his face. He kept replaying the game over and over in his mind, the missed shots, the boos and the cheers, the Slytherin rhyme … it had all been a disaster.
He wasn't the only one in a foul mood. Draco was fuming. Not only had he lost the game, but he'd lost it to Harry, who was blatantly ignoring him. Why was it that the boy always seemed to be a step ahead of him, always holding an advantage over him? He was much more liked by, not only the students, but the teachers as well, no doubt. He was obviously more skilled in Quidditch, though not by much, of course. Yet, the one thing that Harry had, the one thing that put him at the utmost advantage over the blonde, was Draco's heart. He hated Harry … yes, he hated him with a passion … all because …
He loved him.
He loved him, and he would never have his love returned. He loved him, and Harry didn't even realize it. He loved him, and he received nothing but sheer loathing in return. Draco was fuming. This wasn't over yet.
"We wanted to write another couple of verses!" Draco yelled at Harry's back as his Gryffindor teammates, Katie and Alicia, pulled him into a warm hug. "But we couldn't find rhymes for fat and ugly – we wanted to sing about his mother, see –"
"Talk about sour grapes," Angelina said, staring disgustedly Draco.
"– we couldn't fit in useless loser either – for his father, you know –" the blonde continued. How dare Harry ignore him? He was not getting away with this. He caused Draco enough pain without ignoring him. Draco knew the fastest way to get to Harry was by insulting his friends, and Draco was good at that.
Fred and George were in the middle of congratulating Harry when they caught on to whom Draco was insulting. They bristled angrily, turning twin glares at the blonde.
"Leave it," Angelina said promptly, gripping Fred's arm. "Leave it, Fred, let him yell, he's just sore he lost, the jumped-up little –"
"– but you like the Weasleys, don't you, Potter?" Draco jeered. "Spend holidays there and everything, don't you? Can't see how you stand the stink, but I suppose when you've been dragged up by Muggles even the Weasleys' hovel smells okay –"
Harry latched on to George to keep him from charging at Draco, and Angelina, Alicia, and Katie were having to work together to hold Fred back. Draco was laughing wickedly, and Harry looked around frantically for Madam Hooch, who was preoccupied with chastising Crabbe. They couldn't hold the twins back for long.
Despite Draco's mocking laughter, the Weasley twins were beginning to worry him. He took a wary step back as he continued, "Or perhaps you can remember what your mother's house stank like, Potter, and Weasley's pigsty reminds you of it –"
That was it. Harry was white with fury, and everything that followed the attack on his mother was a blur. He was vaguely aware of jumping at Draco, George at his side. Neither cared about the fact that the teachers and practically the entire school were watching them. Every bit of his focus was on Draco, and wanting to cause him as much pain as was humanly possible. This was exactly what Draco wanted, however, for Harry to be focused on him and only him, although this didn't make the impact of Harry's fist on his stomach any less painful. A million stars burst in Draco's vision, the cries of "Harry! HARRY! GEORGE! NO!" melting into the background with various other indecipherable shouts.
Draco was knocked onto his back by the blow. Harry and George were on him in an instant, George spouting every curse in his knowledge, Draco yelping with each hit, struggling to fight them off. Pain exploded all over his body, and amidst the ringing in his ears he could hear Madam Hooch's whistle blowing and everyone shouting in either encouragement or horror.
Finally, everything froze as Madam Hooch bellowed, "IMPEDIMENTA!" The weights of both Harry and George were removed from Draco as the boys were thrown backwards by the force of the spell. "What do you think you're doing?" Madam Hooch shouted as the two Gryffindors got to their feet.
Draco was still lying in a heap on the ground, his nose bleeding, one hand wrapped around his abused midriff, whimpering pathetically. George's lip was swollen, Fred was still struggling against his captors, Crabbe was laughing his head off somewhere in the background, Madam Hooch was hurriedly making her way towards the boys, and everything had gone eerily silent in the audience.
"I've never seen behavior like it – back up to the castle, both of you, and straight to your Head of House's office! Go! Now!" Madam Hooch ordered, her pale eyes ablaze. Harry and George turned angrily on their heels and started towards the castle, George muttering under his breath all the way.
Draco forced himself off of the ground, wiping at his nose and misty eyes. He was a Malfoy, and Malfoys didn't cry in the face of physical pain. They whimpered and whined like cowards, but they never shed a tear. Draco's world was spinning painfully, the starbursts just beginning to fade from his vision. He watched as Harry retreated into the school and shook his head exasperatedly. Only then was he aware of someone's eyes on him, and he looked around. His gaze met the warm, hazel eyes of none other than Hermione Granger. She had come down to the pitch to congratulate Harry and Ron when the brawl had broken out, and, little did he know it, she had been watching the blonde carefully the whole time.
Draco sneered at Hermione before hobbling off to the Slytherin changing rooms.
---
---
Sooooo? Okay, question, does anyone mind that the chapters are getting kind of long? Do you want them shorter, or do you not mind that they're a bit lengthy? Well, anyway, any suggestions or compliments, please tell me! Oh, and I apologize if I got something wrong when writing out Malik's past. I missed a bunch of episodes from the Battle City season, and so I had to look his history up on the Internet, cross-referencing a few different sites and using what info I remembered. If there's anything I didn't get right, please tell me! Although it'll be too late to change anything, I still want to have all of my facts straight. All right ... this is still TBC ... I'll try to update as soon as possible! Thanks for all of your support!
---
---