Draco walked along the main hallway of the academy on autopilot paying no attention to anyone else. At first he had been surprised at the sheer size of the place. The door from the training room that had been barred when he first arrived opened onto this main hallway that seemed to be the only artery, connecting all the rooms and chambers of the academy. It was endless, it seemed to continue on forever, carving it's twisting and turning path through the rock. He had spent many a night when he had first arrived exploring but he could only scratch the surface, some of the doors and corridors were barred, he could not enter them, there was more to this place than he could see. The hallway was always busy at this time. People milling about, some were members, he could tell by the cloaks they all seemed to wear, others he assumed were initiates like him. He half heartedly wondered if they were having as hard a time as he was. By the look of them, they weren't. Draco recognised some of them, he had seen them wandering around the halls before, but he knew none of their names. Not that he felt like asking them, even if he was curious, he was too tired to care. In fact he was completely exhausted. He always was at the end of the day. Come to think of it, he was pretty much exhausted all the time but he was even more so at the end of the day. Exhausted and sore. But he had to admit it, battling the eye was getting easier, he was getting more and more used to the pain. It was by no means easy, just easier. Over the past weeks he had gone from buckling after a few seconds to being able to withstand its torturous attack for a full five minutes before passing out. Etean claimed he was making steady progress and indeed, he could now with a great effort focus his mind and for a few seconds he could see 'the other world' as he had taken to calling it.
It certainly seemed like a different world in many respects. There were things he could see there that were impossible to describe or compare with anything from this world. There were things that seemed normal and ordinary here but were completely different there. According to Etean, that was as they really were, what they looked like normally was just a shadow of their true nature. Exactly why that was Draco could not begin to imagine and asking Etean about it only served to confuse him more. In the end, he had decided it didn't matter. He was still learning, he would figure it out eventually. It would take time that's all. Time! That was another problem.
Draco had really lost all track of time. He had no definite means by which to keep it. Day and night had no meaning here, there was no sun underground and his watch had stopped working the first time he had battled the eye. He was reduced to counting the days as the interval between when he woke up and went to sleep, some were longer, some seemed shorter, he marked them on the wall of the tiny room he had been given to sleep in but he doubted if he was anywhere near accurate when, by his reckoning, it was July sixteenth – his mother's birthday. Missing it didn't really bother him, she had always bought herself something nice and given it to herself from him, and he supposed not actually seeing him on her birthday would cause her little grief. It was just one more thing to mark the passage of time. If he was home now, he would probably be spending what little free time he had by the pool, his nights would be spent attending those horrible parties. He would probably be counting the days till he went back to school. He had always preferred his time in school to his time at home. It wasn't that he liked it there; he was never what you could call an academically minded wizard. But Hogwarts was different than home. When he was there he was important, there he was his own boss. Sure there were the rules to follow but it was freedom nonetheless. It was certainly nothing like this. Here, there were no classes to attend, no essays to write, no assignments to complete. Well except for one, endure the pain.
The pain was still with him as he walked, these days it stayed with him even when he was nowhere near that blasted eye. It stayed with him as he ate, it was with him when he practiced the endless meditations and rituals Etean had taught him to 'strengthen his mind and increase his conscious awareness of the world around him'. God, Etean's voice had started to remind him of his father's the way it echoed in his mind when he least expected it and that annoyed him. Even after all this time he still didn't trust Etean, not completely. He had lost the all out hatred he had initially felt after that first night. He no longer wished to strangle Etean whenever he saw him. Oh there were times when he wanted to, just not all the time. Etean had been true to his word, everything he had done to Draco in the name of making him stronger was true, it was working. In his heart Draco felt as if he were getting stronger, even if he was exhausted by the process.
He reached his tiny room and opened the door. He didn't bother with lighting the candles. He just went in, stripped off his shirt and landed with a thud on his tiny bed. Exhausted as he was, he did not sleep, he couldn't. The pain was too much. His hand ran across the scorch marks on his chest and the pain doubled, it was getting worse. He reached for his wand, he was going to light a candle and see how bad the burn on his chest was but he didn't get the chance. A light, a candle flared in the shadows and someone walked towards him. He tried to sit up, to say something to the newcomer but he found that he hadn't the energy to move. The light got closer and he could see that his visitor was a girl but he couldn't see her face. She moved closer, right up to the edge of his bed. She carried a small silver bowl which she set on the. Then she placed the candle on the shelf over his head. She sat and looked down at him. He knew her face, he knew her name but it couldn't be her, she couldn't be here.
"Granger? What…" was all he managed before she shushed him.
"Don't start asking silly questions, I'm here to help you."
"Silly questions? I mean it Granger what…"
"Don't call me that," she interrupted him, "…I'm here because you need me to be here Draco." The sound of her saying his name mesmerised him. It had never sounded like that before. He had never thought his name could sound so…perfect. He hadn't ever really thought much about it before, it was just his name. It had never meant anything more than that. Now it was something he would treasure, she had made it special, just by saying it.
"How did you get here?"
"Does it matter?" She leaned down, her head passed out of his sight. He heard the sound of water as she dampened a cloth in the bowl. She brought it up and started to bathe his chest where the eye had burned him. At first he winced in pain as she touched his inflamed skin, but the cool water started to feel good, the pain started to fade as she gently washed his chest. "Is that better Draco?" Again she had said his name, again the sound of it lifted him. He couldn't even feel the pain anymore.
"Yes, it's wonderful." He said dreamily, the relief of not feeling the pain was profound, he found himself starting to feel drowsy. As she continued to tend his wound, a look of deep concern came to her face.
"You can't keep this up Draco, you're too weak."
"I'll be fine. I'm just tired that's all. It's not exactly easy to sleep when you're in agony you know."
"I know. I'm here aren't I? I know you're tired, that's not what I meant. Etean is testing you and you can't pass his test, not this way." Now Draco sat up, Hermione stood and backed away from him. He looked at her, she couldn't know about Etean, about what he was doing here. She just couldn't be here.
"What are you Granger? Are you just a figment of my imagination or is this just another one of Etean's mind games?" Hermione, real or not, looked really hurt.
"I said don't call me Granger, Malfoy. It sounds nasty when you do, like an insult." Just as the sound of her calling him Draco had filled him with joy, her calling him Malfoy hurt him almost as much as the eye did. The pain in his chest came back, as bad as it had been before. He groaned in pain and fell back onto the bed. Hermione just stood there watching him. He closed his eyes and groaned again, he didn't care if she was real or not, she could take the pain away and right now, that's all that mattered.
"I'm sorry, I won't do it again…Hermione." The name nearly stuck in his throat, it occurred to him that he had never actually said it before. To him she had always been Granger, or Mudblood. It felt really strange to say her first name. She came back and soothed his pain again. It was a long time before either spoke.
"I am strong enough you know," he said quietly, he was half asleep, "to pass the tests. At least I think I could be. All I need is a decent nights rest."
"Well maybe without this to keep you awake, you might finally get one Malfoy."
"Maybe…" he opened his eyes and looked up at her, "will you stay with me?"
"Where else would I go Malfoy?"
"Thank you, but…can I ask you a favour?"
"You mean other than this?" She laughed as she continued to soothe his wound, it was now visibly smaller, less inflamed.
"Yes, just a small thing."
"Go on then, ask."
"Will you…can you…call me Draco?" She smiled down at him.
"Alright…Goodnight, Draco." With the sound of her saying his name ringing in his ears, Draco slept. The first real sleep he had had in weeks.
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Percy Weasley hunched his shoulders as he marched down between the rows of shelves to his tiny desk. He could hardly see it beneath the mound of parchment that lay piled on top of it. He sat down and sighed loudly. This was hardly what he had hoped for in terms of a career move. A few months ago he had been on the up and up, he had a good job, he had prospects, he had ambition. Now it was all gone, all that he had left was ambition. He had lost the rest, his position, his prospects everything. He didn't even have a girlfriend anymore, Penelope had left him. But that was before the recent catastrophe, she and him had fallen out over the return of…of You Know Who months before that. He had taken the ministries side – of course all this talk of…His return was pure nonsense, it had to be. Penelope had chosen to believe what she had read in that silly Quibbler magazine. They had argued, they had shouted, and then she had left.
So now it appeared she was right…He…You Know Who…was back. Percy hadn't believed it at first but it was true. The whole ministry had been concerned with nothing else for the last two months. Everything and everyone had changed, it was as if a tornado had hit. People in every department were ordered to drop what they were doing and change over to new projects designed to prepare for the coming fight. His father had even been promoted and transferred to head up the new muggle monitoring force designed to alert the ministry if You Know Who struck at the muggles. Delores Umbridge, a woman he had grown to admire and respect had left in disgrace – a leave of absence, but she wouldn't be back. His job gone, he had been re-assigned, he had wound up here, buried deep in the bowels of the Ministry building, Chief Caretaker of the Unknown and Possibly Harmful Artefacts division.
Percy had always been one for titles, they made him feel important, Prefect, Head Boy etc. He had always coveted titles. But even he couldn't bring himself to feel important about his new one. Chief Caretaker indeed, he was nothing more than a trumped up librarian. A few months ago, this department had consisted of a few tattered ledgers and a locked storage closet. Its staff had consisted of Albert Blackthorn, a hundred and five year old wizard with a drinking problem who, it seems, had been merely running out the clock doing little or nothing, waiting for retirement. He had let his responsibilities and duties slide for so long that he no longer remembered what they were.
That kind of attitude to the job had been OK before, but not now. Now, with the general mayhem and panic brought on by You Know Who, the inventory and workload of the department had multiplied a hundred fold. Albert was gone, he had asked for and been granted early retirement, desperate to get out of the line of fire, and Percy had been drafted in to replace him. The sudden boost in workload hadn't been matched by an increase in staff, it had however prompted the re-location of the department and his 'promotion' to Chief Caretaker – the job hadn't even had a title before. He forced himself to think of it as a promotion. But he wasn't happy, this work just didn't seem to be as important as what the aurors were doing, chasing Death Eaters in the field or researching new defence spells. He had requested a transfer several times but he had been refused each time. The problem was no one knew where You Know Who was or what his plans were now that he had been exposed. Suddenly everything and everyone was suspect. If a witch or wizard came across something that seemed out of the ordinary – a fairly common occurrence in the wizarding world, it invariably wound up here, on his desk, and like it or not he had to deal with them.
Most were harmless, the result of an ill advised practical joke or a bungled enchantment. He had been disgusted to find the garish double W mark that his brothers, Fred and George used to label all of their merchandise on more that a few that had arrived labelled as 'DANGEROUS – POSSIBLY LETHAL'. He was half convinced that someone in the mailing office was playing a long and not very funny joke on him. Still a couple of the so called artefacts were genuine, some were truly bizarre! Figuring them out was enough to keep him sane at least. The ones he found out to be dangerous he destroyed or rendered safe. The ones he couldn't figure out he had to index and catalogue correctly. That was another headache. Who ever had created the original index hadn't been thinking in terms of this scale of operations or this volume of new artefacts. To make matters worse the venerable Albert, when he had bothered to update the index hadn't been too keen on being neat. Percy had spent countless hours struggling to sort it out before he had given up and started again. The task had seemed endless, what with the constant stream of new artefacts but he had done it. Now the collection was properly organised and indexed. He could find anything in the three dozen shelves at will. He smiled; at least he could do this stupid job well.
He reached over to the pile of new mail that sat beside his desk and took up an envelope. He opened it and – carefully, emptied the contents out. A small silver snuff box dropped out onto his desk. He picked up his wand and waved it over and around the box, reciting spell after spell to gauge its reaction. Nothing, it didn't move, not a flicker. Satisfied it wouldn't explode in his face he donned a set of dragon hide gloves and picked it up. He fumbled with the catch trying to open it. It was a difficult thing to do with the gloves on. He finally got it open and a cloud of dust shot out of it and encircled his head. His nose started to itch violently as he breathed in the dust.
"A…A….ACHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO" he sneezed violently, knocking a pile of parchment on his desk over. "A…ACHOOOOOOOOOO" Again and again, more violently each time he sneezed for ten full minutes, books, envelopes everything within five feet of him went flying. Eventually he tipped himself over and lay sprawling on the floor unable to stop the continuous sneezing. Finally he got himself under control. He stood up, his eyes streaming with tears. He took a moment to compose himself, fixed his robes and picked up the box again. Holding his breath just to be on the safe side, he looked inside. It was empty except for a tiny slip of parchment. He unrolled it:
"Bless you Bro...F G"
"I am going to kill those two." He shouted flinging the box into the dark recesses of the room. Why did his twin brothers take is as their personal obligation to make his life miserable. It wasn't his fault that he wasn't on good terms with his parents. It was…it had been a difference of opinion that's all. He sighed, some difference of opinion, he had been acting like a prick and he knew it, now his entire family hated him. He could see the disappointment in he father's eyes whenever they met in the halls. He had even stopped trying to talk to him in the last few weeks.
He picked his chair up and surveyed the damage. It was considerable. Parchment and books had been flung all over the place. He swore, promising himself that he would have a rather stern word with his meddlesome siblings, if they ever spoke to him again that is, and set to work cleaning up the mess. He picked up all the pieces of parchment and placed them in a pile onto his desk. Then he collected and re-stacked his meticulously written index volumes in the correct order. He sat down and was about to start sorting all the parchment out when he noticed that he had missed a single, folded piece of parchment on the floor beneath his feet. He bent down and picked it up, it was clearly a letter. He unfolded it and read:
'Dear Sir,
I am writing to enlist your assistance in a matter of great personal importance. I am currently seeking to locate a certain artefact that is of great historical value to my family. The artefact in question – see the enclosed sketch – is of Babylonian origin. It is a stone tablet which bears a rather poetic blessing the translation of which has sadly been lost forever. It was a gift to one of my ancestors from the Emperor Charon himself almost eleven hundred years ago as a thank you for services rendered and intended to impart good fortunes on my entire family. It remained a treasured possession of my family for centuries, right up to the time when my grandfather moved the family home to Scotland at the turn of the century when, sadly, it was lost to us.
I have spent the last few years searching for this priceless piece of my family's history but to no avail. I am writing to you in the hope that you or someone in your department has discovered it. If so, I would greatly appreciate it if you could arrange for its return. I am in a position to offer a substantial contribution to the Ministry in exchange for this irreplaceable token of my heritage.
I await your response. Thank you in advance.
Yours
Esmerelda Gilfoyle'
Percy had never seen the letter before, it had been delivered to his predecessor over a year ago. He had apparently read it and discarded it. A small note scribbled across the top read:
'Crazy old bat, I have more important things to do with my time'
"More important things to do? Like what?" Percy asked the empty air. Had the laziness of the man known no bounds? That poor woman was clearly desperate to find this thing, this tablet and he hadn't even bothered looking for it? It was unbelievable that anyone could be that incompetent and get away with it. Still, that was then and this was now. If he was anything, he was definitely not incompetent. He turned to the second page of the letter and looked at the sketch. He knew how to find the thing if it was here. He reached out to select the appropriate volume from his index. His hand hovered over the row of books. "Now, let me see…Would I have labelled it under tablet, or…maybe Babylonian." With little more than a moment's hesitation he picked up one of the them and started to flick through it to the appropriate page…"Ah, here we are, yes this must be it, we've had it for decades…huh, there's no record of it belonging to Charon…interesting."
He stood up and headed down to one of the shelves, after a few moments rummaging through the pile of boxes he found it. He took it back to the desk and examined it. He compared it to the sketch. Yes, that's the one alright. God it wouldn't have been that tough for old Albert to dig up, even if he was a lazy old fool. He set it down on the desk again and dug out a clean piece of parchment. He took up his quill, loaded it with ink to compose his response.
'Dear Mdme Gilfoyle,
I am please to inform you that I have located the item you were inquiring about in your letter to the department. I feel I must apologise for the tardy nature of the response but I have only recently transferred to the department. My predecessor…'
He paused, Albert had been an incompetent drunk but it wouldn't be right to openly criticise a fellow Ministry employee, the Ministry should appear to be a unified team, especially in the current environment of mistrust…
'… was an extremely busy man, the truth is he let his workload pile up beyond his ability to cope with it. I am sure you can understand.
As for your question concerning the return of the item, I am sorry to inform you that it is beyond my authority to release any of the items in the Department's possession without the explicit consent of my supervisors. In order to secure the stated permission, you must complete and supply us with the appropriate documentation for our approval. I enclose the required documents for you to complete (see enclosed). Please note that you must secure the correct signatures on all of the enclosed forms before your claim can be completed.
I hope that you are able to complete the enclosed documents, feel free to contact me if you have any difficulties.
Yours
Percy Weasley
Chief Caretaker
Dept of Unknown and Possible Harmful Artefacts.'
Percy scanned the letter again, yes that should just about cover it. He made a note on a separate piece of parchment to remind him of the various forms he would need to include before he sent it, then he updated his index with the necessary details about the tablet before returning it to its place on the shelf. He picked up his cloak and extinguished the candles in the room before heading home. Yes, it was a stupid job, but at least he could do it well.