"Blah" Talking
'Blah' Thinking
"Blah" Parseltongue/Notes/Different languages
Blah Dreams/Flashbacks/Anything and Everything else
Author's Note: For those of you that are familiar with the history of the Welsh Language, you will notice that something that is said in here can't possibly be correct given the time period Welsh was invented. I am well aware of this fact and I am claiming Artistic License. If that annoys you, I am sorry. I'm also taking artistic license with the character Merlin and one of the two men he is based off of.
Arthur was in a state of shock. His wife was sobbing brokenly into a handkerchief next to him, her despair rolling off in almost tangible waves. The few Order members around them were grim.
"Molly, perhaps it would benefit you to go back to headquarters? We can deal with things here without you." Kingsley spoke softly, his hands gently touching Molly's shoulders. She shook her head, a broken sob issuing from her throat. She took a deep breath, standing straight and attempting to physically hold herself together by sheer force of will.
"You'll need me to help with the… the c-cleanup." Kingsley squeezed her shoulder once more before walking off towards the ruined fountain. The scene was familiar to him, something he had seen during the First War.
Heads – woman, men, children, even animals – were impaled on sticks which protruded out of the circular base; they had no hair and no eyes. Hands and feet were displayed in a grotesque field of flowers around it. The torsos, arms and legs still attached bar the hands and feet, were piled together like rocks piled over a grave. The fountain, which was cracked and had pieces strewn about, appeared as though it was bleeding.
The rest of the village wasn't much better; where buildings once stood, there now only remained ash and dust. Hair and eyes were scattered about haphazardly, if one did not watch where one stepped, fragile parts could easily be crushed. And above them, high in the sky as if mocking them, the Dark Mark lay.
"Molly, we'll need your help now. Can you manage?" Albus sounded so tired, so ancient. A few of the younger members gave him concerned glances, praying he wasn't getting too old for this. Molly's tears dried and she nodded, once, and got her wand out.
Molly was needed to remove the Dark Mark from the sky. The mark was like fabric, just waiting to be unraveled. Thread by thread was pulled out from it, until there was nothing left of the abomination; it took at least an hour and it was an exhausting job. While Molly worked on removing the Dark Mark, everyone else gathered the bodies and cleansed them by fire – if they were buried the Dark Magic still in the corpses would contaminate the ground, leaving the earth barren save for the stench of rotting plant life.
Just as they set about cleaning up the remains, Daily Prophet reporters descended upon them like vultures to a battleground.
Eleanor tried to pretend she was asleep. She desperately hoped she was a good actress or that they just didn't notice her. No one ever noticed her before Harry, and right now she hoped against hope that they weren't as sharp-witted as he was.
"The Dark Lord does not care about what was supposed to happen, he cares about what did happen! You utter idiot! Have you any idea how this is going to look? He'll kill you, you pathetic child! He'll kill you! You said you'd be able to lure Potter into a false sense of security and you haven't even talked to him! What are you going to tell him?" The boy sounded harsh. Eleanor could hear the other girl he was talking to crying.
'Why can't they leave? Leave, please leave!' Eleanor didn't know how much longer she could hold her shaking inside. She was terrified, but she couldn't start shaking, they'd discover she was there!
"Please, you have to help me. If I don't meet him this weekend, he'll kill my little sister! She's only eight! Please, you have to help me, Warren." She pleaded with the boy, Warren.
"I can't help you, Marietta. You said you could do it, so you should have done it." Warren walked away, right by the couch Eleanor was.
She had to tell Harry, she had to; he'd know what to do. As Marietta walked past her, Eleanor held her breath. She had to tell Harry.
Draco stared into the fire as if in a trance. He was in Severus' office, waiting for a chance to talk to his father. With Yule so close, Lucius had come to see Severus and both men retreated into Severus' room about an hour ago.
Held in his hands were the dolls Harry had made for the two currently absent men.
There was a small girl crying against Aife's chest; the older girl holding her close with a pained expression – it was obvious Aife thought of this child as hers. The little ten year old clutched at her, hoping that she could hold Aife there, that she wouldn't have to go to Hogwarts and leave her for a year.
"Diamond, Diamond, calm down. Here, I'll give you this, so you can have a bit of me while you wait to see me again." The little girl looked up and Aife presented a small rag doll.
Draco remembered that his Other had always been good at making the dolls ever since – ever since… something. Someone taught his Other how to make them, once, a long time ago. He couldn't remember who or even what gender his Other had been then.
'How long have we been together? How long have we been living and dying? Harry remembers things – was it always like that?' Draco didn't know if he could bear having Harry remembering everything, even things he didn't want to remember. Did he remember them dying, just as vividly as Draco did? Did he ache when he thought of people long gone? Had Harry always remembered him, even when he and Draco fought? Did he ache all those times Draco had said he hated him, or even implied it? Did it still hurt to see Albus sometimes, because the man looked so much like…so much like… Who?
It was a name on the tip of his tongue, on the tip of his memory. This had been happening a lot lately; Draco remembered his last life, but it was obvious that there were even more behind it. He watched the flames dance together and thought of nothing in hopes that he'd remember things on his own.
He remembered the first time he met Tom Riddle. The boy was just like every other first year – nervous and apprehensive. He remembered seeing Diamond next to him, and the threads that tied the two of them together. Aife was alternately happy and distressed, the bond those two shared was not a bond to be trifled with; it was one of the most dangerous bonds of love out there. And it had led to horrible things occurring in the past… Wars and entire civilizations vanishing overnight. Of course, that was only the really extreme cases, and who knew if it really had to do with the bond or if it was just the circumstances. Still, it was too much of a coincidence to actually be one.
He remembered that Tom had been a typical orphaned child – he had his bouts of loneliness, moments of unhappiness and cruelty. But, he had been intelligent, clever, and not without a heart. His heart may have been guarded with barbed wire and cut glass, but he still had one. The child and young man he remembered had very little in common with the Lord Voldemort he had become.
Their only similarity seemed to be their power and intellect. The love and compassion Tom had shown a select few was gone. The utter disgust at massacres and people drunk on power had vanished, and in its place there was bloodlust and a thirst for power. What had happened to the child he remembered? What had happened to the young man who had been so frightened that Aife would not let him date the woman of his dreams? What had happened to the man that was close to hyperventilation on his wedding day? Draco smiled as he remembered that day.
As a to-be-brother-in-law, Aiden looked on in amusement as Tom paced in his room. The poor man was practically hyperventilating, he was so nervous.
"What if I mess up? What if she says no? What if someone objects? Oh God, what if she doesn't show up and Aife is the one who appears to hand me a letter? What if Aife kills me for marrying her little sister? What if -?" Aiden started laughing. Still chuckling, he placed his hands on Tom's shoulders.
"You'll be fine. Aife wouldn't have given you permission to marry Diamond if she didn't want you two to marry. I know that you and Aife sometimes have your days, more of them now after that business with Myrtle, but she wouldn't have granted you permission if she didn't want you two to marry." Tom stared at him, clearly still terrified, but nodded.
And later, as Aiden watched Tom's eyes sparkle the second they landed on Diamond, he remembered just why he liked this kid so much.
Draco frowned. It was hard to believe that things had changed so drastically. He could only imagine how hard it was for Harry. After all, not only was Voldemort the same person he once saw as a younger brother, but he was also Salazar Slytherin's heir. Draco knew that must cut at Harry, because Salazar was… Salazar was... What? He was what?
"This is getting fucking annoying." The fire sparked as if in agreement. He wanted someone to talk to – someone who wasn't Harry because whenever he was around Harry, everything seemed to be contradictory and confusing. Someone who wasn't his father, because as much as Lucius was a great father, they weren't really all that close any more – it just came with growing up – and he couldn't talk to his Godfather about this for the same reasons. With a start, Draco realized who he wanted to talk to: Narcissa.
God, how he missed his mother. He could talk to her about anything and it seemed that she had a patented answer. She always knew what to say and how to say it – but she was dead, and there wasn't anything he could do about that. He sighed, standing to place the dolls Harry had made for his father and godfather back where he found them. He'd talk to his father tomorrow; it was getting late and he was getting tired.
Draco stood in an open courtyard, surrounded by grand and elegant buildings. In front of him was a building with two floors and what looked like a smaller structure on the roof, all with grand, open archways. Great pillars rose up in front of the building, seeming to separate the open courtyard from a street without the use of an actual wall.
Next to the structure was a temple, just as decorated as the building next to it. And, as he stepped closer to look at these magnificent buildings, a familiar symbol caught his eye: the Malfoy crest etched into the side of one of the pillars he was standing in front of. His mind went through a quick whirlwind of deduction. He knew just about every architectural project his family had ever been involved in; it was something he had been taught from a young age. The Malfoy family didn't work on many architectural projects; typically the family was more political then masonry in nature. But, every now and then, a Malfoy would be born with an architectural flair. They had helped with bits and pieces of Hogwarts, a few of their own Manors, small public buildings here and there, and more than a few of the Roman forums and ancient temples.
With that in mind, Draco stared back at the building with its huge arches. He took a few steps back, looking at it, trying to see if he could recognize the structure. After a few seconds, it clicked. This was the Basilica Aemilia in its full glory. The muggles saw this, and all of the Roman Forum, as naught but a ruin. But, it still stood, it was still used today by Wizards; it simply appeared older - more weathered down. The paint on the stones had washed mostly away, and the figurines in the Roman Forum had lost their luster and magnificence.
But, as he took in his surroundings, this forum did not look old and weathered. It looked new; empty and barren, but new. The engravings on the floor and stairs still stood out, none of the Latin seemed warped or garbled as it did now.
"Is anything wrong?" The voice came so suddenly that Draco jumped and whirled around, hand going for his wand before he realized that he recognized the voice. His eyes landed on Harry, and the other boy looked at him in bewilderment.
"We're in the Roman Forum."
"Yes, we are in its' shadow. We're dreaming."
"Dreaming? But… you're not in Limbo."
"I don't have to be. I told you, I was there because I had to be; you were there because you wanted to be."
"So, what? I want to be here? I see you everyday… why would I want to see you here too?" Harry looked somewhat hurt by the words and Draco quickly replayed them in his head. 'That wasn't what I meant…'
"I know that wasn't what you meant… it just sounded… not so nice."
Draco reached out, touching Harry's face gently – it almost felt like a physical wound in his chest, the thought that he had hurt Harry.
"I do want to see you… just not in a dream." Draco swayed forward, as if to kiss the other boy in front of him, but thought better of it and retreated back.
"Why are we in the Roman Forum? Why does it look like this?"
"It looks the way it looks."
"No, it looks the way it looked once, long ago. I've been to this place, here and now, in this lifetime, and it doesn't look this nice anymore."
"Age does that to things."
Draco looked at Harry carefully, trying to piece together what Harry was trying to tell him. He looked back to the ground, the engravings that showed perfectly, the look of the new paint. How could Harry possibly know enough about this place to construct an exact replica…?
"The idea is right there, Draco…I know you're thinking of it, in the back of your mind…"
"You were here. When this was built…" Draco looked around. Sometimes, he would give speeches from that podium, he remembered doing so…He closed his eyes as an almost painful longing for this place overcame him.
"And so was I. This is where it started, isn't it?" He closed his eyes. Snippets of events came to him: children playing in these streets, betting in the Circus Maximus. Colors, and sounds flew by, and a strange buzz dominated his hearing. He could feel the start of a migraine coming and it felt as if something was slipping…
Draco woke with a start. He was in his bedroom, down in the dungeons. Habitually, he checked his wards to see if they were sound; they were. His head throbbed, and as he become more aware of his surroundings, he had the sense to try and figure out what time it was.
One o'clock. In the morning.
He groaned as he flopped back onto his bed. Now he was never going to get back to sleep!
A prickling sensation caused him to sit up, wand drawn and mind alert. He was no longer alone, but his wards were undamaged.
"It's just me. I wanted to see if you had a horrible headache." Harry came out from the shadows of some corner. Draco stretched his magic across to him, trying to see Harry's signature to ensure it was really him.
It was, and gods did his head hurt.
Harry came and sat next to him, his hands easing Draco back onto his bed, fingers massaging his temples.
"Why can't I remember like you can? It's all fragmented…" Draco's head pounded, it felt as if it would split right down the middle. Harry hushed him, not answering his questions.
"You're doing really well in the DA. Everyone is really, even little Eleanor. Well, she's the same age as Ginny and Luna, but she seems so small, you know? And, I think it's funny that Ginny was so worried that her parents would react to her and Luna badly; did she show you the letter she got from her mum? I wonder what Mrs. Weasley thinks of Ron and Hermione… not that there is a Ron and Hermione just yet, but it'll happen soon. And -" Draco yanked Harry down into a kiss to silence his ramblings.
The effect was instantaneous. Harry just seemed to melt and all the nervousness that was gathering up fled. Strangely, or perhaps not, Draco's migraine seemed to lessen as the moments went by. Harry's fingers traveled down his face, over his neck and curled in his nightshirt. This kiss was the type Draco dreamt about, the ones he remembered from pervious lifetimes –passionate, with emotions and thoughts bundled in it, and hot.
Draco ran his hands down Harry's back; the smaller boy was still too skinny. Harry shifted so that he was straddling Draco's hips and the movement caused delicious friction.
From this close, Draco realized that Harry smelt like peaches and rain. Harry gently pushed away from him, hovering above the other boy.
"What?" Draco carded his fingers through Harry's hair.
"I can't be caught here by your roommates, for both our sakes." Harry laid his head down on Draco's chest, looking up at him. "I think I should go back to the Tower…"
Draco was pretty sure that most teenage boys in this position would be slightly insulted by the fact that their lover didn't seem to want to make out with them… especially when said lover had actually had sex with at least one other person before. However, since Draco was not most teenage boys, he supposed that accounted for the reason he wasn't that insulted. Besides, he was almost positive that the Order had left out a very vital aspect of Harry's abuse.
"I know very well that things will go badly if the wrong people find us in bed together. However, you don't have to insult my intelligence by saying that's the reason you don't want to continue this." Draco kissed Harry's forehead gently.
"Draco… it's not that I don't want to…"
"I know. At least, I think I know. I've never pushed you before; I'm certainly not going to push you now."
When Draco woke up the next morning, Harry was gone and in his place was a purple hyacinth.
"Alright, everyone's here, so we'll start. As per usual, we will start with a lecture of sorts, head right into a question and answer session and then into actual training. No one's going to be missed for at least a few hours, no? If that answer is yes, you'd best leave now and I will find you later to yell at you." Fortunately for all involved, no one left the room. Harry smiled.
"We'll be talking about the Dark Arts and Magicks of Heaven. Obviously I'm not going to actually teach you how to perform them, but I will teach you how to recognize the effects of both in objects and humans. I'll also teach you how to fight against some of the more… not so pretty aspects of them. So, as I've already told you, the Dark Arts are defined as Magicks that exploit, harm, influence, or disrupt balance between the planes. I don't have to explain what exploiting, harming or influencing is, but I do need to explain what exactly it means to disrupt balance between the planes. Trying to bring back the dead by using the Dark Arts is considered as disrupting the balance. Trying to bind a god or goddess to this plane, or trying to cause an apocalypse is disrupting the balance. Use of the Dark Arts, as I've said, taints the blood. It turns you into something less then human and leaves you susceptible to things you would have been able to fight as a human.
"Now, the Magicks of Heaven are defined as Magicks that steal from all to give to one. Basically, it's when a person uses magic to steal magic from another source. Use of the Magicks of Heaven crystallizes the blood and you turn into a living stone, with your soul trapped inside. Now, overuse of the Dark Arts has happened before, many times before in fact, so that's why we know exactly what happens when one overuses it. However, the Magicks of Heaven have never been overused. Typically, people steer clear of them because they're simply too dangerous. But, the only case that was close was that of Merlin; our Merlin, not the muggles' Merlin. So, questions?" Inevitability, Hermione's hand was the first one up.
"What do you mean, 'Our Merlin'? There're two?" Everyone in the room gave her a very strange look. Even Harry himself was remiss – he figured Hermione had already known that – but of course that was a stupid thing to assume. After all, she was muggleborn; she didn't even know about the wizarding world until she turned eleven.
"Ah, this is a really good example of how flawed our current community is…" Draco muttered. He sighed before turning to address Hermione.
"Yes, the two Merlins are actually two different people. The muggle Merlin is the one associated with King Arthur, Lancelot, Guinevere, the Round Table, and all that stuff. That is actually the Wizard's Merlin's grandson. Our Merlin is someone from Ancient Rome, his name actually wasn't Merlin – everyone just called him that because his mother was a Welsh Barbarian and that's what she would call him. It was, at first, a way to tease him about his "unclean" blood no doubt, but it stuck and he went down in our history as Merlin. When King Arthur's Merlin came onto the scene, he was addressed as Merlin only after he died and was written about. When he was alive, he was addressed by his actual name, which was Ambrosius Aurelianus Dumbledore – our Headmaster's great-great-great-granduncle. Understand?"
Harry could see the gears still turning in Hermione's head, but she nodded and thanked Draco for explaining.
"Okay, what about all that 'use the Dark Arts and you will lose your mind!' business? Is that just Ministry/parental propaganda or is it actually true?" Dean asked, he sounded curious with a touch of sarcasm.
"The Dark Arts make you less then human and thus you become more susceptible to things, like madness. Some people who dabble too deep do wind up mad – a combination of their lost humanity and the things they did to other people. Of course, not everyone ends up mad, just the majority. Does that answer your question?"
"Yeah, thanks, Harry."
"Anymore questions?"
"Yeah, why are they called Magicks of Heaven when clearly they're just as dark as the Dark Arts?" Neville sounded confident, it made Harry smile.
"Because they're not dark. The Dark Arts feel like Dark Magic whereas the Magicks of Heaven feel like Light Magic. You'll be able to feel the difference yourself once we get to Training. Good question." No one else seemed to have any questions, so Harry decided to move on.
He grabbed his bag from where it lay against a wall and went about setting things up. He conjured four tables, each one getting its own set of four flimsy, see-through, conjured up walls and a door. Onto each table was placed an item pulled from his bag.
"Okay, as you can see, I've made four little rooms and placed an object in each of them. Now, two of those objects were used in a Dark Arts ritual, and still have the feel of that magic inside them. If you use an object in a Dark Arts ritual, the taint of that magic will stay in it until it is cleansed by fire. The same is true of human bodies – the magic taints and then corrupts anything around it. That's why you can't bury bodies that were killed by the Dark Arts – you'll corrupt everything in the vicinity. Now, on the flip side, objects that have lingering air of the Magicks of Heaven in them feel barren. There's nothing left to them. Humans that had the Magicks of Heaven cast upon them feel much the same way – the presence that should be there isn't and, if you know how to look properly, they look distorted as well.
"Each of you will go into each of the rooms – alone – while the rest of us practice dueling in timed intervals. The order in which each of you will go into the rooms is as follows, please remember it yourself: Ginny first, then Ron, Luna, Eleanor, Hermione, Draco, Fred, Neville, George, Seamus, then Dean. And, for your peace of mind, the objects cannot harm you – but please do not touch them anyway."
"Where in the world did you get those things? It's probably illegal to even have them here!" Dean was riled and rightly so. Harry looked off to a shadowed corner, something like sadness and shame creeping into his expression, before it was wiped clean.
"Sometimes, a question in better then the answer. Alright, Ginny go on, the rest of you pair up and try to disarm the other - I want an emphasis on speed - real fights aren't going to be slow- and use everything you can think of. Go!"
"Albus, that book of Merlin's is very interesting, historically and academically, but this book that was recovered from the Malfoy ruins… It's like reading a horror story, only to realize it's real. Accounts of massacres, various Dark Arts rituals, and even a few Magicks of Heaven rituals – it's truly disturbing to read. On the other hand, both books discuss various persons of fame today as if they were just the person next door, which, of course, they were then. Then there are some people I've never even heard of, but were forces to be reckoned with. Like the Advisor of Merlin, Lady Saliar, who was also a General of the Roman Legion." Remus lay both of the texts down on the table.
"It gets worse, I'm afraid. The book from the Malfoy ruins was the accounts of a military leader that worked directly under Merlin during the Roman Empire. It says that a lot of the various rituals were done for or in Merlin's name. At least two massacres were because Merlin needed bodies for some ritual or another. The rituals using Magicks of Heaven were all completed by Merlin as well. Near the end, even the writer can see that something is wrong with Merlin – his movements are stiff and he hardly moves anymore." Remus sat down, done with his report.
"Times were different then, we can never know for sure exactly what happened. Was there anything else of interest, or was it all just damning evidence of my great-great-great-great granduncle?" Albus massaged his temple. Remus could only half comprehend what it must feel like to have what was essentially his family's dirty laundry blowing in the wind in front of the whole Order of the Phoenix.
"Well, the origins of Vampirism and Lycanthropy are discussed. Not in the General's book, but in Merlin's journal. Apparently, his mad genius brother was experimenting with animals, one of his potions exploded and a vampire bat and a wolf were doused in it. The explosion also caused a hole, and they escaped. The interesting thing about this is when the wolf bit a human it took almost a week for the effect to happen. He became a bloodthirsty beast, but it was permanent; he never regained human form. And, the one who was bit by the bat didn't start to show signs of Vampirism until week later as well – that's when the aversion to sunlight kicked in and he stopped needing human food."
"Well, that clearly stops the medical debate: Lycanthropy is not a curse, it's a disease – it's obviously mutated since then." Lucius Malfoy said in a bland tone.
"I find it interesting that both came from the results of a botched potions experiment. What in the world was being worked on that when upset it changes molecular structure?" Severus Snape sounded half curious and half awed.
"Was there anything else?" Albus asked.
"Just one thing: apparently, some families have something called a Guide. It's like a guardian and a babysitter, I think? But they seem to also be very powerful; I was just thinking it might be a bad thing to run into, since a lot of Death Eaters are Purebloods. But, I'm not really sure if that's relevant at all…" Remus trailed off. Lucius Malfoy sighed irritably.
"Albus I'm sure you are aware of what Lupin is alluding to, being a pureblood yourself."
"Yes, I am, Lucius. Remus, that isn't important. The Guides have all been put to sleep, much like the De Grindelwalds." Remus shuddered at the mention of the De Grindelwalds. He may not have been alive for the war with Grindelwald, but he had read books and talked to people who were.
The De Grindelwalds were the favorites of Grindelwald: soldiers that could eradicate cities in a night. They were powerful and dangerous; they were that generation's Death Eaters. They served Grindelwald with a zealot's passion, and they were loyal to a madding degree - there was no betrayal amongst them, not even the thought of it. Rumor had it that they had given up their will and hearts to Grindelwald and in exchange they were granted limited immortality – they could live for up to a thousand years before they died. Remus wasn't sure if he believed that particular rumor or not.
"So, Lucius, the books that you 'borrowed' from the Ministry storeroom… I do hope you intend to return them." Albus looked at Lucius Malfoy as a parent would look at a child who was caught drawing on the walls. Malfoy bristled, but kept his tone civil as he responded that he would, eventually, return them.
And the meeting went on from there.
Ginny walked through the corridors with Luna drifting beside her, their hands clasped. Luna was reading the letter from Ginny's mother, smiling and blushing just a little. Ginny herself was in shock – her mother didn't care that she liked girls. She thought there'd be more disappointment, more denial, just more drama on her mother's end. She was happy that her mother accepted her, it was just shocking.
"There are a lot of Crawlshoes around here lately." Luna commented as she handed Ginny's letter back. Ginny blinked at her girlfriend, confused. "Crawlshoes are stray emotions; feelings like vanity, arrogance, and lust. Normally, there aren't a lot of them just floating about in Hogwarts. It's odd." Ginny nodded, not sure what to make of the comment.
A suit of armor clattered to the ground a few steps behind them, causing them both to jump.
"Dammit, Peeves! Will you –?!" Ginny cut herself off as she noticed that the cause of the disturbance was not Peeves, but Crookshanks. The fat cat had a mouse in its mouth and was looking at the fallen suit of armor as if to say "this is your fault, you know."
As the armor picked itself up and Ginny and Luna continued towards the Ravenclaw common room, it occurred to Ginny that she hadn't seen Peeves at all this term, and it was almost the Christmas holiday break.
'Well, maybe he decided to stop being so annoying. Or maybe he's just been busy with the new first years or something.' Ginny nodded to herself, and didn't give it another thought.
Harry wrapped one leg around Draco's waist as they kissed. Harry could hear Draco's heart beating rather franticly in the back of his mind, could feel every angle of Draco's body pressed against his, and Harry loved it.
'Maybe we shouldn't be doing this right here…' He thought to himself, even as his hips grinded against Draco's and he swallowed his lover's groans. Harry was drunk off of Draco, not wanting to stop himself. A half delirious giggle slipped past his lips.
The shadows from the little nook they were in were perfect – Harry twisted and pulled at them until they created a curtain of darkness, hiding the pair from prying human eyes. Draco's mouth forged a trail down Harry's jaw to his neck as Harry's fingers wound through Draco's hair.
The sound of a door banging made them both jump. Draco swore and pulled his wand out, not bothering to remove himself from Harry's grasp.
"I swear to the heavens, Peeves, I will find a way to hurt you!" Draco growled.
A chuckle, one so familiar that Harry paled, sounded from just beyond the shadows. Harry released the hold he had on the shadows and they faded back to their own corners. Sirius was leaning against the wall, smirking at the now visible pair.
"Sirius!" Harry squeaked out. He wasn't blushing, and boy did he thank his lucky stars for that, but he was still very embarrassed. Harry realized that his leg was still around Draco's waist and quickly dropped it to the ground.
"Yes, me. Draco, is it? Lovely to meet you, must do this again sometime – like when you're not taking advantage of my godson. Speaking of my godson – soon to be actual son – I was wondering if I could borrow him? Oh, I can? Lovely." Sirius had by then walked up to them, so he grabbed Harry by the shoulder and led him away.
Harry lay staring at nothing as he tried to go to sleep. Something was bothering him. He turned on his side, trying to force himself to sleep. There was nothing wrong – nothing he knew of – but still, something was bothering him.
'Maybe I'm still mortified that Sirius caught me in such a position…?' He closed his eyes.
He opened his eyes to an abandoned train station. It looked old – all wood and there were cracks in the ceiling where sunlight shone in. It was very small, with only two sets of train tracks on opposing sides of the platform he was on. It was empty, barring the crooked figure seated upon a bench not too far from where Harry was standing.
Upon closer inspection of the figure, Harry found that it was a male with a woman's smile. The crooked posture came from a shadow that appeared to be eating the man's back. Harry cleared his throat to speak.
"It's eating you alive."
"I'm not alive."
"Still, isn't that uncomfortable?" Harry tilted his head, taking a few steps towards the man.
"No."
The shadow screeched, jerking away suddenly and flew away. The man stood straighter and Harry got a good look at him. He had dark hair, dark blue eyes, and his face seemed to glow. He looked so familiar to Harry, yet he knew he had never seen the man before.
"Which train are you waiting for?" The question tumbled out of Harry's mouth.
"The same one you're waiting for."
"I'm not waiting for a train."
"Exactly." The man smiled at Harry and the whole area seemed to chill. Harry realized that, even though he could see the man's face, he had no idea what skin color he was – or even if he had skin to begin with. He wanted to step back, but when he moved his feet, he went forward instead.
"What are you doing here?"
"I'm here to help you look for what you've lost."
"Lost? I haven't lost anything." The smile faded from the man's face.
"You haven't even realized that you lost it. Oh, children today are so careless. Here, lucky for you I found it." He grabbed Harry's wrist, pulled him forward and pressed something into his hand.
It was a Prefect's badge.
Harry jolted awake. His left hand stung, and upon inspection of it he realized why. The Prefect's badge from his dream seemed to be almost melded into his palm, the edges sunk so deep in his skin that he knew it would hurt when he removed it.
Arthur sighed as he lay down next to his wife. He had been working with his sons and a few members of the Order on the rewarding of the Burrow, now that the reconstruction was finished. It was a tiring business.
Molly was reading the bloodline book Malfoy had given her – the Weasley Bloodline. 'She'll be done soon, I'll probably be half asleep by the time she's finished.'
"Goodnight, Molly." She nodded, no doubt not fully listening to what he said. He was almost asleep when Molly started to shake him awake.
"Arthur, Arthur, how old is your family line?" He yawned as he sat up to look at her. It was an odd question, one that he really had to think about.
"I don't know. You're the one with the book, you tell me." Molly frowned, biting her lip. It reminded him of when she was younger, when they were still in Hogwarts; she used to bite her lip like that whenever she studied.
"Well, according to this, the Weasley's start with Septimus Weasley who married Cedrella Black in 1931." She handed the book to him. Baffled, Arthur took the book from her, flipping to the back of it.
Bloodline books updated themselves magically; whenever a member of the family is born, that member gets placed before their predecessors, closer to the front. Hence, the first member of every bloodline was in the back as opposed to in the front.
'But, that's not possible… we can't be that young… We have a sleeping Guide after all.'
"I don't know, Molly. Maybe we changed our name or something. It's late; let's think about it another time." Arthur put the book on the night stand near his side of the bed.
The room was utterly destroyed.
"Where is it? Where is it?" Voldemort stood in the thick of the mess, frantically looking for something.
"It's not here, why isn't it here?! It should be here!" He picked up a desk, throwing it against the wall so hard it broke apart as if it were glass. He rummaged amongst the mess of furniture and paperwork that littered the floor.
"It's not here… Where did you hide it?" He collapsed on the floor, seemingly talking to nothing.
"It's not important, Marvalo. You have other things to do." The voice of his Master, ringing soft and gentle wrapped around Voldemort, as if arms were encircling him.
"It's important. It's the most important thing in the world. Where did you hide it?" Voldemort stood, looking about the room in desperation. He saw what looked like a glimmer near the remains of what was once a bed. It now resembled bits of fluff and fabric tossed carelessly into a blender. Voldemort nearly vaulted over to it, scrabbling to see if the glimmer was what he was looking for.
It was a silver locket in the shape of a heart with decorations of birds and three imbedded rubies. This was what he was looking for. Reverently, he opened the worn locket with a look of obsessed awe. Inside was a picture of a young woman with ink black hair and a ruby red smile. Her blue eyes sparkled with life and love. He loved her eyes, the deep levels of sapphire that enflamed his senses. He closed it, holding it close.
His Diamond, his lovely, lovely Diamond. Taken from him early on, but far from forgotten.
"Marvalo, you will need your family's Guide if we are to even hope to accomplish half of what needs to be done to get what you want; which means that I need one of my people inside Hogwarts. Stage an attack on the village near it, on a day when some of the students will be there. I can easily kill and resurrect one to send back inside the school."
Voldemort nodded, placing the locket into a pocket for safe keeping.
"I hunger for blood, for pain, for tears. Let me take control once more, let me feed on someone, Marvalo. I hunger."
"Yes, Master. There are some prisoners in this house."
Hermione stood in front of the gargoyle leading to the Headmaster's office. It stared at her just as steadily as she did towards it. She had run out of sweet names and it still didn't open.
'Perhaps Professor Dumbledore finally realized that it was easy to guess the password if you knew his quirks?' She thought to herself.
She wasn't even sure what she was doing here. It was the night before Christmas holiday break, and here she was at midnight standing in front of the Headmaster's gargoyle. But, Harry was right, and Hermione thought it wise to try and get the Headmaster more aware of the problem, if he wasn't aware of it already.
The problem was Peeves. No one had seen him this term, and what was more was that no one really thought it was odd. Harry had asked around – no one had seen the poltergeist and that was cause to worry, apparently. Harry wasn't sure what to make of it, so he was in the Library trying to see if something there would help. And here Hermione was, going to the Headmaster for help.
'Maybe I am a child, but I think it's good that I can admit when I need help. I think it's good that I can still trust authority figures, even when I've been shown that so many of them aren't worth trusting. I trust them until they show me that they can't be trusted. If that's childish, then so be it.'
A melodic trill caused her to turn quickly, wand at the ready. Fawkes was sitting on a window sill, looking at her in curiosity. Hermione put her arm down, still holding her wand but no longer on the defensive.
"Good evening, Fawkes." Hermione said, feeling a bit silly. But Harry had said that phoenix's were very intelligent and deserved to be treated with respect, and Hermione found no reason to find fault with that reasoning. The phoenix trilled a song in response.
"I don't suppose you could get the Headmaster could you? I have something I want to talk to him about. I think it's important." The phoenix stared at her for a while longer, and then trilled again. It was a beautiful sound.
Hermione felt more than heard the gargoyle moving behind her and the stairway appeared. She smiled at the phoenix in thanks and held very still when he flew over to perch on her shoulder.
She went up the stairs, and the door to the office opened to admit her. Once inside the office, Fawkes flew from her shoulder to his perch. She looked around the office, realizing that it looked somewhat ominous in the moonlight. She could feel the Headmaster's magical signature, a warm fluttery sensation not unlike a grandfather's hug. Still, it wasn't just his magic she could feel, but someone else's as well. Someone she wasn't familiar with. Before she could try and get a feel for it, a voice startled her out of her thoughts.
"Was there something I could help you with, Miss Granger?" She turned towards the headmaster's voice. He was seated behind his desk, holding a cup of steaming liquid. He was wearing purple flannel pajamas with little moving shooting stars. On his head was a floppy pointed hat, not unlike what Hermione had seen wizards wear in cartoons she watched as a child. She smiled a bit, amused by the Headmaster's quirky nature.
"Yes, it's about Peeves, sir." He waved her to a seat – a huge orange monstrosity that was very squishy and comfortable – and asked if she wanted some hot cocoa.
"Oh, if it's not too much trouble, hot cocoa would be very nice." As a tea cup set floated over and set itself to preparing her a cup of hot cocoa, the headmaster started to speak.
"Well, if this is about how as a Prefect you'd very much like Peeves removed, I'm sorry to say that you stayed up for nothing." Hermione blew on her hot cocoa.
"No, that isn't what this is about. Rather, I'm a little worried. It's just come to my attention that no one has seen Peeves around at all this term. To my understanding, such a thing has never occurred before, so…" Hermione trailed off, uncertain as to how to explain why this made her uneasy. She took a sip of her hot cocoa.
"Ah, yes. That is rather odd, isn't it?" He sounded casual, but Hermione could see that the twinkle had left his eyes, showing that he was actually disturbed by this news. "Well, are you quite sure that no one has seen him? Not to sound offensive, but you seem to only take company with Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley. Just because you three haven't seen him -"
Hermione cut him off, an odd sort of pride in herself bubbling up.
"It's not just us three. None of the Slytherins, Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, or Gryffindors have seen him at all. Harry, Draco, and Ginny checked. Professors Flitwick, McGonagall, and Sprout haven't seen him; and even Professor Lupin and Harry's godfather haven't seen him." The headmaster sighed, and Hermione thought he looked older.
"I'm afraid that I don't know what that means, Miss Granger. I assure you I will look in to it, but it might be nothing."
"Of course, Headmaster." She sipped her hot cocoa, wondering if the reason Harry wanted to keep this to himself wasn't because he didn't trust the headmaster, but rather that he didn't want to overburden him.
Author's Notes: Alright, there we go, chapter 13. I'm sorry it took so long for me update. However, and most of you don't want to hear this, but since I'm going back to school my update pace is going to be even slower, I'm afraid. Especially as it's my first year of college. I'm sorry!