The Lightsaber
By: Tellemicus Sundance
#11: Unforgivable!

Gryffindor Tower, Hogwarts
November 2, 1995

It had been a clash of good versus evil, right versus wrong. And, like all such fights, it was fought between two testosterone-driven dunderheads who both thought they were right, the other was wrong, and no amount of persuasion could change their respective mind sets. But as it were, the fight was something somewhat impressive, even if it was becoming rather routine lately. And it frustrated Hermione to no end that she could do nothing more than just to shake her head in annoyance as she watched it occur on the Quidditch pitch from through the windows of the Gryffindor Tower.

Squinting her eyes slightly, she could just make out the familiar redhead as he fought a desperate battle against his opponent. Surprisingly, it wasn't Draco Malfoy he had been engaged in combat with. It was Vincent Crabbe. And, as was rapidly becoming clear, the Slytherin Pureblood had held a distinct and obvious advantage over Ron in sheer magical power. But to his credit, Ron was a good deal faster, agiler, and much more creative in his application of his magic, able to slip out of or through Crabbe's attacks with only glancing blows.

'Why are you guys fighting again?!' she couldn't help but scream hysterically in her mind. 'At the rate you're going, someone's going to figure out what's happened to you two! And then they'll come for you just like they did Harry! And then…And then I'll be all alone again…' Her seeming calm demeanor was a drastic and quite frankly incredibly misleading mask to all who saw it. Inside, she was tossing and turning, screaming and crying, begging and trembling in absolute, mind-numbing terror. And it all stemmed from the simple fact that not just one, but now both of her only real friends in this magical world or her life were now essentially enemies of the nation and wanted terrorists. Their crimes? Simple ignorance and a desire to protect her as they struggled to escape.

It had come as a complete surprise to her that fateful night more than a week ago. Ron had been willing to take the potion that transformed Wizards into Sorcerers. It was even more surprising because of how incredibly vocal he had been against Harry for doing the same thing. Then again, maybe seeing how Harry had taken the potion and not been corrupted by the unimaginable power had given Ron a flicker of hope and faith in it? Maybe he understood the stark differences in strength and ability that Crabbe and Malfoy gained over them far better than she had originally given him credit for? Or maybe he had simply acted in desperation to try and even the odds against them? Whatever the case, what was done was done and she knew there was no going back for any of the three of them.

On that unfortunate night that Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle had followed them into Harry's lab, Ron had seen an opening and acted on it. After Crabbe and Malfoy had taken the Awakening potion and were still under the thrall of the massive influx of power, Ron (who had been barely conscious at the time) had managed to climb to his feet and knock Goyle aside while he was distracted watching his friends. Acting fast, he'd snatched Goyle's wand and released Hermione from Malfoy's binding spell. She had quickly snatched the Awakening potion vials and the two of them had made a fast retreat, but it hadn't been fast enough.

Crabbe recovered and promptly attacked, sending both of them flying down the hallway with a hugely-overpowered telekinetic shove. It was only pure luck that they had even survived the impact with the wall at the far end of the hallway. Though Hermione would later swear that she'd felt numerous ribs crack and her spine come frighteningly close to breaking. As Crabbe used his newfound Sorcery to torture them, Ron had managed to grab one of the vials and drank it before Crabbe could do anything to stop him in time. Once he came down from his Sorcery-induced high, he and Crabbe promptly engaged in the first of many fights to come while Hermione fled back to the Gryffindor Tower as quickly as her adrenaline and terror-fueled injured body could allow her. She didn't know how that fight had turned out, but she could assume that Ron had quickly been forced to retreat when or if Malfoy decided to help Crabbe against him.

Ever since that horrible night, the two Slytherins had been waging a subtle war against her and Ron. But because of her missing wand, Ron's Sorcery, and the Slytherin duo's extreme power, she was forced to cower behind Ron each and every time they were within eyesight. It was a truly terrible experience that forced her relive memories of her early childhood that she'd worked extremely hard to keep buried under mountains of unnecessary knowledge. Though, thankfully for her sanity, Ron was able to keep them from harming her physically. Of course, he was powerless to help her on the most dangerous and turbulent battlefield of all, her mind. Thus, while Ron began exerting his rapidly-growing power and skill in Sorcery to protect the rest of the school from Crabbe's growing reckless abandonment of self-control and increasingly-erratic behavior, Hermione waged a private war within the confines of her own mind.

Blinking, Hermione shook her head to clear it of the unnecessary thoughts and terrifying memories. Returning her attention to her project at hand, she carefully used her borrowed wand to inscribe the final set of runes into the metal. Once done, she set the wand aside and carefully picked up a small vial of a glowing potion. Tipping it ever-so-slightly, she poured its contents into the small containment area, filling it up completely and making sure that not even a single bubble of air remained inside as she carefully sealed the opening with magic. Twisting the containment gently back into position, she waited until she felt a distinctive clicking vibrate through it, signifying that it was now firmly locked into place.

That done, she waved the wand over the assembly and the pieces of heavily-Charmed and Rune-engraved metal slipped gracefully into place. After every single piece was fully in place, she cast a mild Incendio upon it. The fires warmed up the metal and rubber, making them malleable. After several moments of this, she ceased the flames and gently levitated the thing into the air where it hovered peacefully. Then she cast a Charm that she had only recently learned, a small piece of magic that Harry had personally created for this exact purpose. A transmutation charm, modeled heavily off of the concept of alchemy. The Charm caused the many different pieces of the random 'ingredients' to get merged to one another on a molecular-level, turning the many into one, utterly unbreakable.

Smiling slightly at her success, Hermione set the wand aside and grasped the hilt as it dropped lightly from the air. It was an admittedly large handle, best meant for a two-handed grip. But it had hand grips on the upper and lower portions, making handling it with one hand easily interchangeable. The activation button was located on the upper third of the hilt, well out of the way of the hand. Unlike her first one, she didn't try to add any fancy new features in this one, besides the safety feature with the hand grip. She didn't think it was necessary to experiment anymore. Besides, she doubted he'd much care for those unnecessary bits.

The opening of the portrait entrance drew her attention as she quickly hid her creation down in the folds of her robe. A familiar mop of red hair caused her to relax and tense up at the same time.

"Why were you fighting him this time?" she asked, her voice sounding cold and detached, once again effortlessly masking her again rising panic and fear. "You do know what'll happen if someone sees you doing stuff so…unnatural."

"I didn't have a choice, Hermione," Ron said, looking both resigned to the lecture he doubtlessly expected to receive and somewhat relieved to be back where things were 'safe'. "He was trying to get some Fourth Year Ravenclaws to… Yeah, I had to stop him! I could've felt their fear from a whole league away, even without…you-know-what."

Looking at his earnest expression, Hermione sighed slightly. "I guess that's a good enough reason, but why on the Quidditch pitch? That was not only reckless, but brainless!"

"It's not like I had a choice!" Ron repeated, somewhat annoyed now. "Bastard threw me out of the window and was already trying to curse me when I got back up… He's really starting to fall off the deep end, I tell you! He might just start trying to kill people next at this rate!"

Despite her best effort, Hermione trembled at that admittance from Ron. She had very little doubt that she was high on the list of people that the erratic Slytherin wanted to kill. As she was returning her attention to Ron, she found herself suddenly wrapped up in a comforting, if admittedly awkward, embrace from the Weasley boy. For several long moments, she failed to truly comprehend what he was doing and why. But when she did, Hermione's face brightened significantly in embarrassment and heartfelt gratitude from his feeble attempt at trying to reassure her.

Of all the terrible and terrifying things that Sorcery had brought into her life as of late, one of the few good things was that Ron was infinitely more empathic than he had ever been before.

"Thank you, Ron," she said after she'd managed to calm herself down. Pushing him off of her slightly, she looked into his eyes momentarily. Even though she'd been seeing something similar in Harry's eyes for several weeks earlier, it still surprised her to see a faint glow of magic within those irises of his now. While slightly eerie, the subtle glow made them quite captivating to stare into. Something that numerous girls had quickly started also noticing recently as well, much to her great and somewhat irrational annoyance. "I've got something for you."

"Hm?" he hummed in question, stepping back and taking a seat across from her and her little workstation.

"I made this using what few spare parts I had left over," she said, reaching into her robes under the table. "I figure that since Malfoy took my first one and…the likelihood of him trying to use it… You'd make better use of this one than I ever could, especially with the you-know-what helping you."

By this point, Ron's eyes were wide with excitement and realization. Setting the hilt upon the tabletop, she slid it over to him. "All it needs is a crystal—your crystal—to work."

Nodding despite himself, Ron reached absentminded into one of his pockets. "So this is why you made me brew that potion, isn't it?"

"Yes," she acknowledged, nodding her head.

Taking out his crystal, Ron carefully picked up the hilt and narrowed his eyes in concentration, no doubt examining the thing with whatever strange Sorcery senses he now possessed. Apparently finding whatever he was looking for, he nodded before reaching up and gently nudging open a small compartment in the center of the hilt under the rubber grip. Levitating his crystal with a grace that was utterly astonishing, he slid the gem into position between the clamps before closing the compartment hatch. Grasping the hilt tightly, he gently pressed the ignitor and a brilliant blue-white blade of magic and plasma shot to life out of the emitter.

A proud smile crossed Hermione's face as she watched Ron's face change to that of utter awe and…affection? Then, quick as a flash, he switched off the blade and lowered the hilt into his lap. Not a moment later, the portrait swung open again to allow a group of Second Year students inside.

"This is incredible, Hermione," Ron said, heartfelt sincerity plainly obvious in his voice. "It's—It's brilliant!"

"Just remember to only use it if Malfoy attacks first," she pointed out.

"I don't think he's going to be much of a problem," Ron muttered darkly, a strange look of grateful contempt on his face.

Slytherin Common Room
Same time…

The fire burned bright and hot, its temperature never wavering and its fuel never diminishing. Fire was a necessity for the students of Slytherin, especially in the depths of winter. Many of the older students would claim to have adapted to the oftentimes frigid temperatures of the dungeon, claiming to have mastered their magic to such high levels that they had become immune to such minor inconveniences. Trying to set an example for the younger years to aspire to reach, to maintain the image of absolute control of themselves and their environment. But, just the same, that didn't hide the fact that each and every room in the Slytherin dorms had a fireplace that burned with eternal flames cast by their House's founder.

For one young, secret Sorcerer, the fire had become a symbol of hypocrisy. He knew that the older years had not adapted. He knew they lied through their teeth to the younger years when they claimed to have transcended the need for body warmth. He knew that none of them could truthfully state that they were no less affected by the cold now than they were when they had first arrived at the school as First Years themselves. And he knew this because he could sense it.

That was something Draco was still struggling to adapt to. This strange new extrasensory power he had gained when he'd followed Crabbe's lead and drank a vial of that potion. The power he had felt had been beyond mere words, and still was. But where he had quickly learned how to utilize that power in an active manner, the more passive abilities he'd gained were much more difficult. He could throw boulders and statues several times his own weight and size with almost careless ease, but he couldn't stop the influx of information that was constantly flowing into him, telling him where magic was and what kind was being used. He could even vaguely sense the emotions of his fellow Hogwarts students as he passed them by. But thankfully that wasn't a particularly strong talent of his, only getting the basic gist of what they were feeling.

And how did this power to relate to how he now saw fire? Because, unlike the hypocritical Sixth and Seventh Year Slytherins, Draco found that he had truly transcended the need for fire. With a mere thought or desire, he could easily use his newfound control and power to warm his body and never be affected by the cold again. And, much to Draco's great delight, he found that that wasn't the only limit to his control over his own bodily functions. He was never physically exhausted or even breathless anymore. He could run around the entirety of the Black Lake six times and not even feel winded. He could jump clean over the highest towers of Hogwarts (if he so desired) and land on the other side with all the grace of a bird and the weightlessness of a feather.

But as much as he truly marveled at his mind-numbing increase in power, that wasn't what had captured his attention this late evening. He was staring in silent awe and slight bewilderment at what rested peacefully in his palm. Prior to sending his father that letter that contained copies of everything he'd found about Potter's little weapon, Draco had brewed himself his own crystal to replace the tainted one that Granger had using. What he had been hoping for was a brilliant green crystal to reflect his proud allegiance to the House of Slytherin, but that isn't what he had gotten. Instead, somehow, the crystal potion had created for him a purple gem. Despite his initial displeasure at not getting the crystal color he desired, Draco found that his anger and annoyance hadn't lasted long. As he stared into the glowing depths of the magic gem that he'd created, that reflected everything about him, Draco found that he actually appreciated the color far more than what he' desired to have.

Smiling proudly, Draco silently used his Sorcery to discreetly levitate his crystal into the air. Joining it seconds later were the two halves of the partially dismantled lightsaber, which floated gracefully up alongside opposite sides of the crystal. Slowly, with deliberation and grace, the crystal slid into its focusing chamber, before the upper half lowered itself down and screwed itself firmly into place. Lifting his hands up, Draco gently took the weapon from the air and pressed the activation button, igniting a proud purple blade. Grinning widely at the incredible sense of rightness that came from having his crystal now being the heart of the weapon, Draco quickly switched it off before the strange noise drew any of his more suspicious Housemates down to investigate.

As he was placing the weapon back into his schoolbag to hide it, the entrance to the common room suddenly swung open. Draco didn't even need to look up to know who it was. The overpowering sense of darkness and hate more than sufficiently announced just who had stormed into the Slytherin Dorms. Looking up as his fellow Sorcerer stamped in, Draco frowned at what he saw. Crabbe was covered in dirt, his school uniform was scruffy and slightly torn up in random places, and there was a noticeable golden gleam of peer hatred and anger in his eyes.

Draco had always known that he wasn't the strongest or most powerful Wizard of his generation. That undisputed honor had always belonged to Potter. Thus Draco had had to learn to improvise, becoming skilled in lies, deception, and tricks. Granted, they didn't always work, but the fact remained that he had learned how to use his relatively average power to create maximum chaos with as little effort as needed. He had become a rapier fencer to the common broadsword brutes that many of the Pureblood Wizards were. It was a very humbling and unpleasant experience to have to endure, but he did nonetheless.

And on the opposite side of the spectrum was his friend Vincent Crabbe. Crabbe had more power than he knew what to do with, able to utilize high-level raw magic with little to no effort. But if he had a single gaping weakness, it was that for as incredibly powerful as he was, he was also equally dim-witted. He had trouble remembering incantations, the precise wand-movements, and the subtle variations of stance needed to draw out the power of any given spell. His single proven tactic in any given situation is to just blast away at whatever was needed with nothing but overwhelming brute force power and hope that the resulting debris was somewhat in the basic outcome of what he wanted to have happen. Thus, the teenager had all the subtlety of a troll in Diagon Alley.

"Where have you been?" Draco asked, despite already knowing the answer. His question drew Crabbe to an immediate halt as he turned to face where he could now sense Draco was seated. Compared to Draco, Crabbe's skills of sensory were absolutely atrocious. "Another fight with Weasley? You know what'll happen if you keep getting into those here at Hogwarts."

"Shut up, Draco!" Crabbe snapped angrily, the golden glow of his eyes brightening considerably as Draco both saw and sensed his anger deepen. "The little traitor was asking for it!"

"I don't care if he was or not," Draco responded, standing up and turning to face Crabbe fully as he leveled his own glare at the boy. "If you keep flaunting it, the Ministry will come for our heads just like they did Potter. Do you really want that to happen?"

"Why should I care?!" Crabbe demanded. "Let them come! I'll crush them just like those filthy Hufflepuffs two days ago! This school—no, this world—is only for the strong! And I'm the strongest!"

"We both know that you're not," Draco said lowly, his eyes narrowing. He could both see and sense that several of the Slytherin students were growing interested in the rising volume of their argument, peeking out from behind their doors to watch and listen in. "The Dark Lord is the strongest ever, remember that. Your powers are getting stronger, but you're also starting to lose control of them. You're letting them control you."

Crabbe just snorted derisively, mockingly. "Those are the words of a weakling jealous of another's power."

"I may be weaker than you," Draco admitted, shifting his hand subtly towards his schoolbag in preparation. "But one doesn't need to be the mightiest to be the victor. Your overconfidence in your power and lack of self-discipline will be your downfall if you don't learn to control it now."

Crabbe's dark eyes were now a fully glowing golden amber with traces of red ringing the iris as he glared angrily down at his longtime friend and leader. Even without his Sorcery-enhanced senses warning him of Crabbe's mounting power and rage, Draco could've easily anticipated what came next. Rather than reply verbally, in a burst of speed, Crabbe snapped his wand out and cast a silent curse towards the blonde Slytherin. But where Crabbe specialized in overwhelming power and strength (both magically and physically), Draco had always been more flexible and agile. Thus, he was easily able to spin around the incoming curse, which caused the cushioned chair it hit behind him to burst into blue flames. Within a split second of the dodge, Draco had already lunged up to Crabbe while summoning his lightsaber hilt from his bag. He pressed the emitter up into Crabbe's neck, conveniently hidden from sight from their audience, freezing the teenager in surprise as he finally began to react to Draco's speed and realized just what situation he was in.

"Like I said," Draco said lowly. "I don't need to be stronger to be the victor. If you try something like that again, there will be consequences. We need to lie low, not off starting wars with the entire world to sate our power lust." If Crabbe's eyes were glowing before, they were positively shining with hatred now. Stepping back and lowering the lightsaber hilt but still keeping it firmly in hand, Draco said, "Leave. Come back when you've calmed down."

As much as it must've chafed his pride, Crabbe quickly snapped around and marched out of the Slytherin Dorm without another word. Draco kept his eye on him until the doorway snapped shut. Turning back, he looked pointedly over at the quietly murmuring audience. "Keep an eye on him. He's really starting to lose himself these days." This statement drew numerous hesitant nods of agreement before most of the Slytherins slunk back into their own rooms.

As he waved his wand to extinguish and repair the damaged chair, Draco sensed Goyle's approach. Looking up, he gave his friend a strained smile. "Consider yourself lucky that you didn't take that potion, Gregory."

Goyle eyed Draco cautiously for a few moments before nodding hesitantly. Turning towards the common room door, he said, "I'm gonna talk to him. See you later, Draco."

Draco just nodded as he returned to his previous, now-undamaged seat. As he shot his friend a passing glance, Draco couldn't help feeling a sudden wave of uneasiness wash over him. And the sensation only grew stronger as he watched his friend's back disappear beyond the doorway. After a long moment, he just shook his head and pulled out his Charms homework. He'd procrastinated long enough.

Though he didn't know it at the time, he'd never see his last friend again.

Forbidden Forest

Bane walked forward into a sacred clearing. The proud leader of the centaur clan walked with his head held high and back straight. It is in this clearing that the eldest of the centaurs live. Former leaders of the clan spend the rest of their days in peace, observing the stars in this sacred place. He rarely comes to this place unless a problem weighs deeply on his mind.

"We have not seen you in several years. How have you been, Bane?" asks a rich, deep voice. Bane bows deeply in respect as an old centaur in his twilight years slowly walks forward from across the clearing. Two other elders, one male and one female, emerge out of the trees to stand beside the first elder.

"I have been well," answers Bane. He rises back up and gains a hard look. "Why have you called me?"

A serious expression appears on the female centaur's face. Her eyes hold no warmth. "The stars do not shine brightly for the centaurs. A darkness will soon befall the lands and our people will suffer by extension."

Bane's eyes narrow. "Our people are strong. We will overcome any darkness."

"Strong words from a strong leader," speaks the other elder.

Elder Caesar nods in agreement. "Yes, but for the past two centuries, our people have been dwindling. It is a problem that I was not able to solve during my time as leader." Bane remains calm, but does not refute the claim. "I fear that this darkness may be too much for our people to bear."

"What would you have me do?" Bane grits out, frustrated that these past rulers were still trying to control their people, even after they'd official relinquished such duties.

"Calm down," says the female elder. "We are merely telling you what the stars show us. Bane, we chose you to lead our people for a reason."

"The decision will fall upon you," continues the other elder male. "Whatever you choose to do, we will stand behind you."

"But remember: a leader must do what is best for all, not his pride," says Elder Caesar wisely.

The elders bow respectfully before leaving the clearing. Bane stands alone. He looks up at the stars above with a forlorn look.

Forbidden Forest, elsewhere
Evening

Crabbe was seething. Things were finally starting to go his way after so many years scraping along the bottom of the barrel to gain what was rightfully his! But those two weaklings and cowards were constantly getting in his way, trying to stop him from progressing or restricting him to their expectations. Why should he bother with hiding his power? He had gained that which he'd always wanted! Why not flaunt it and rub it their faces? Show all those uppity Gryffindors, know-it-all Ravenclaws, and the incompetent Hufflepuffs just who was on top now? And if they didn't like it, then he'd just show them why you never annoy an adder! After all, snakes have venom, and those that don't are useless.

But what really had his temper boiling was the absolute nerve that Draco had! Draco had the nerve to order him to not flaunt his power! Who the hell was he to talk?! The Malfoy heir was constantly flaunting of his family's wealth, status, and political power! This thought just made Crabbe even angrier at Draco for still, even after all this power comes falling into his hands, still treating him like the dumb grunt he has been for their whole lives!

Summoning the magic of the world to him, he focused it before him. The magic didn't seem to respond to him and his commands very well. It was like it was trying to resist him constantly, even in his more passive powers like the extrasensory detection. Thus, he was constantly fighting with it, forcing it to obey him, pulling and yanking and breaking it to submit to his will. And this continuous battle was something that infuriated him to no end. He knew for a fact that neither Draco nor that idiot Gryffindor Weasley had these problems. But in a strange way, this struggle only seemed to increase his own power and strength.

Channeling his power, the magic was warped by his anger and rage as it traveled through him, gaining form and potency. Thrusting his hand forward with a cry of hate, one of his newly-discovered and greatly favored powers burst to life from his fingertips. Bolts of lightning sprung from him, arcing and dancing through the air. They struck at everything within their considerable range, zapping, charring, and burning the dead and decaying foliage without mercy.

Letting up on his power, he brought his hands together, level at his chest. Focusing as much magic as he could into the gap between his hands, he forced it into a compressed ball of blinding red light of pure destruction. Once he'd pumped as much power as he could focus into the ball of destruction, he turned and thrust his hands forward, unleashing the unnamed magic. In a blazing red void of blinding light, the destruction ball blasted outwards from his palms into beam. The air around him was thrown back from the beam, the force of the unleashed power actually sending him sliding along the ground about a meter's length before he'd recovered from his surprise and managed to brace himself.

After the beam attack was finished and its power tapered off, even his fury was momentarily stalled by surprise at what he saw. Everything for about a hundred meters directly in front of him, where he'd pointed the attack towards, had been all but incinerated. A tunnel-like passage that had been blasted through the foliage and trees, leaving almost a gently rounded dirt path down the center were the bottom portion of the beam had only left a grazing trail.

'Whoa,' he couldn't thinking. 'Incredibly dangerous…but bloody awesome!'

Soft clapping noise to the side instantly had Crabbe spinning to face the person who had snuck up on him, his arms raised in preparation for another attack. A tall, cloaked man stood off to the side, his arms raised slightly as he gently clapped in appreciation at what he'd no doubt just seen. The cloaked figure's clothes were frayed and threadbare with numerous holes and slashes. Despite his cavernous hood that hid his face in shadow, Crabbe could see high boots with his pants stuffed inside them, a dark leather belt holding them up, and loose dark shirt. The man wore a set of chainmail under his shirt and a large broadsword that was strapped to the man's waist, partially hidden under his frayed cloak.

"Who are you?!" Crabbe snapped, ready for anything.

"My name is of no importance," the man said in a deep, hoarse voice with a strange accent. "But what I have to offer you is of great importance."

"And what's that?"

"A choice," the man said. "The choice to serve or the choice to die."

"What's that mean?" Crabbe demanded, summoning power to him in preparation for a fight. "Are you one of those Ministry pigs or the Dark Lord's weaklings?!"

"I represent neither," the man answered, either unconcerned with the furious glare on Crabbe's face or not understanding just how dangerous Crabbe truly was.

"Too bad," Crabbe growled, a sinister sneer crossing his face. "...for you!" Cradling his hands again, he rapidly created and launched his newest magic attack the stranger. The entire process took barely a moment's time and the man had no way of reacting in time to block it or defend himself. Crabbe's grin widened greatly as his attack reached the man.

Impossibly, the man merely reached out and caught the beam energy in his gloved hand. The entire clearing was suddenly blasted with the backlash of power that the attack gave off as it was unexpectedly stopped dead. Crabbe could only gawk in disbelief as the man raised his arm above his head and sent the magic attack skywards where it exploded harmlessly a few moments later.

"That was a mistake," the man growled, thrusting his free hand forward towards Crabbe. Crabbe could nothing but stare in shock as lightning sprang from his fingertips and flew at him at incredible speeds. The lightning attack was absolutely excruciating, sending jolts of electricity through his limbs and body, burning and fraying his muscles and skin. Screams of agony erupted throughout the clearing. It took Crabbe only a moment to realize they were his own. It was terrible!

After only a few moments of the torment, though it felt more like hours, the man released his lightning attack and allowed Crabbe to cradle himself, trying to recover from the agony. When he was able to start feeling slightly better, enough to actually open his eyes and feel strong to pull himself back up to his feet from his position on the ground, he found the cloaked man looming over him, wand drawn and aimed at him threateningly. Crabbe froze at the sight, absolutely terrified.

After a long moment of consideration, the man finally stepped back as he said, "Though, I suppose I should explain myself better this time."

"...'This time?'..." Crabbe repeated suspiciously as he finally regained his footing. Did the man have this conversation with someone else recently?

"The choice I am offering you is to serve my Master and to help us achieve our Grand Plan," the man said. "In exchange for your loyalty, fealty, and cooperation, you will be trained in the Art of Sorcery and so much more. You will be given access to powers beyond your imagination, wealth and status like no Wizard has ever had before, and a purpose to fight for. For what is power without a purpose?"

Crabbe's mind was spinning like a top as his imagination tried to comprehend the many promises and revelations that the man had just offered him. The man somehow knew he was a Sorcerer, but instead of trying to flee for the Ministry he instead gave him an ultimatum. If he accepted this man's offer, he would get an actual instructor to teach him in the Sorcerous Arts. He'd have entire mountains of gold that he could spend on anything he could possibly desire. These things alone would've probably guaranteed the cooperation and fealty of just about any man.

"And what, mister, would I have to give in return?" Crabbe asked, stepping cautiously off to the side like a predator stalking its prey, examining his potential enemy.

"Everything…" the man said, somehow staring the teenager in the eye despite not making actual eye contact. "Once you swear fealty, you dedicate your whole life to the Grand Plan. You will serve, learn, fight, kill, ruin, and anything else the Master desires. You will abandon your current life utterly, take up a new identity, and only be released from your pledge of allegiance at the point of your death."

"And if I refuse to join?"

"Then I'll kill you now." There was no hesitation in his voice. There was no fear. There was only the calmness of certainty that he'd achieve his goal, and the serenity of years' worth of experience in his demeanor. Crabbe found that he honestly believed the man's claim that he could kill him with such apparent ease. "My master will not suffer even an unknowing rival that could accidentally or purposely jeopardize the Grand Plan."

"What is this 'Grand Plan' you keep speaking of?" Crabbe asked. "And just who do you work for that you want me to join?"

At this, Crabbe could see the man's lower face twitch slightly into a slight grin. "Who I work for is a highly confidential secret. I will only tell you the specifics if you agree…But I suppose I can say this. I work for the Consortium… Have you ever heard of it?"

"What Pureblood hasn't?" Crabbe snapped back irritably. Did this man take him for an idiot too?! Of course he'd heard of the Consortium. "It's a Wizarding extortionist crime syndicate that rips off the Muggles with false promises of reaching heaven. Sometimes you guys performed miracles to keep them believing in the hoax."

The man let out a low laugh. "Indeed. That is what the Consortium originally was. But it has grown and evolved greatly since those old glory days two thousand years ago. Now we're more interested in ruling the world…with Sorcerers on top, Wizards underneath, and the filth at the bottom, where they belong."

Crabbe was openly grinning now. The more he heard, the more he was entranced by the idea. Perhaps this Consortium and their Grand Plan could be exactly what he needed in order to reach the ultimate power and to truly control the world, shaping it to however he saw fit. Yes, it was a very tempting offer…

"Fine then," Crabbe found himself saying, his choice having long since been made. Kneeling down slightly, he continued, "I'll pledge myself to your master, to this Consor—"

"Oh, get up, you're embarrassing yourself," the man said, waving his hand dismissively at the dramatic pledge that Crabbe was trying to give. "You've given me your answer. Save your vow for my master."

Nodding, Crabbe regained his footing and looked up at the man expectantly.

"There is one final piece of business that needs to be addressed before I can send you to my master," the man said. Though the exact movement was hidden under his cloak, Crabbe was familiar enough with that set of movement that he wasn't surprised to see him suddenly raising up a wand.

Slashing it off to the side, Crabbe blinked in surprise when he heard a yell of surprise suddenly cry out from the direction of the man's spell. Turning to face the yell, Crabbe spotted his friend Goyle come tumbling into the clearing that he and the man were standing in. Goyle landed roughly and slipped on the rotting leaves under his feet, sending him crashing to the ground in a graceless heap.

"Cr-Cr-Crabbe?!" Goyle stammered out, looking up at his friend and the stranger as he fumbled to regain his footing. "Wh-Wh-What's going on? Who's this?!"

"What are you doing here?!" Crabbe demanded, his long-forgotten anger returning quickly. "Did Draco send you to look after me?! Does he not trust me anymore?!"

"Draco doesn't have anything to do with this!" Goyle quickly said, though Crabbe didn't believe him. "I was worried about you! You're acting so weird lately! What's wrong? And who is this person?!"

Slytherin Common Room
Same time…

With a jolt, Draco suddenly shot to his feet. His eyes flew open wide in surprise and fear. His head was up and looking off towards the wall, as though he were looking through it and staring off into the distance. Without a word, he turned and ran for the doorway. Once out of the common room, he channeled as much of his power as he could into his body as he took off into a dead sprint.

He was sprinting so fast that all any of the passing students could've seen of him would've been a vague black, green, and blonde blur shooting past them and kicking up a momentarily powerful gust of wind as it shot through the hallways.

Something bad was about to happen. He needed to stop it. He needed to get there—right—now!

Forbidden Forest

"Crabbe," the man said, gaining both teenagers' attentions. "Remember what I said about dedicating yourself wholly to the plan?" At his nod of acknowledgement, the man gestured subtly to Goyle. "Now's your chance to prove yourself."

"Wh-What are you talking about?" Goyle asked, very confused and quite understandably scared. "What plan? What's going on here?!"

"B-But why?" Crabbe asked, surprised and suddenly feeling somewhat unwilling. He knew what the man meant when he said to prove himself. But why Goyle? "He's my friend."

"And he's a weakness…for your enemies to exploit," the man said ruthlessly, colder than even the dead of winter in the arctic. "Not only is this necessary for your entry and acceptance, but it is also a rite of passage. You will perform it. Whether now or later, it will be done."

"Crabbe, you're really starting to scare me," Goyle uttered in growing fear as he watched the subtle changes of emotion warring on the boy's face. "Come on, let's just go back to the castle. We can forget this ever happened. Things can finally go back to normal."

That was the wrong thing to say at the wrong time. For the idea of things returning to normal, of going back to being the worst Wizard of their school year, struggling to get through his classes, taking orders by the self-righteous Malfoy scion, being mocked and belittled by his fellow Housemates, being made and played for a fool by the rest of the school. All of that shot through Crabbe's head at just the mere thought of 'returning to normal'. He was not normal. He hated being normal. He wanted power and prestige! To be feared and respected like the greatest Wizards in history! To become the singular greatest ever! He wanted to rule Britain, Europe, the world!

His rage mounting, eyes shining golden and red, Crabbe turned towards his longtime friend. Goyle seemed to understand that he'd said something wrong as he gazed into those amber eyes that he'd grown to be very weary of as of late. But before he could say anything further, he felt an invisible force sudden grasp ahold of his throat and neck as Crabbe reached out towards him. Hands flying to his neck in a feeble and futile attempt to loosen the grip that was squeezing his windpipe shut, Goyle struggled helplessly as he felt himself being bodily lifted off the ground. His feet dangling several inches above the ground, he stared pleadingly into the enraged face of his friend, begging him to be released.

For several long moments, Crabbe hesitated as he held Goyle like that. In fact, his anger actually seemed to start abating as his grip started to slacken. This small but noticeable lessening of pressure allowed the red-faced Slytherin to draw in a desperate gasp of air. "P-P-P-Please…Crabbe." Goyle gasped out. "Do-Do-Don't…do…this…plea—se."

"You…big…weakling!" Crabbe finally snarled out hatefully. With a sudden and final clench of his fist, he decisively and coldly crushed Goyle's throat while snapping his neck. Staring up at his now-deceased friend for a long moment, Crabbe finally released his grip on the corpse. The body collapsed limply to the ground, never to move or live again.

Gryffindor Tower
Same time…

Jumping to his feet, a certain redhead spun on his heel, staring off into the distance. Something bad—terrible—had just happened. He could feel it. An alarming aura of growing darkness was descending upon and spreading throughout the magic of the nearby world.

And there was death.

He didn't know how, but he'd felt it. He'd felt it when someone…someone he knew, but wasn't sure who…had just died. It was like an electric shockwave, powerful at its epicenter but fading as it spread out, had been released through the magic at the exact second it occurred. It sent a jolt of pain straight into his heart and soul.

Someone had just died…and he knew about where it'd happened.

Eyes narrowing, he hesitated only long enough to grab his new weapon before opening the window and leaping out. He had a murderer to find and justice to see done.

Forbidden Forest

If asked later, Draco would never remember just how he'd managed to get there. He would wonder how he'd not fallen over. He would remember the mind, body, and spiritual agony he'd felt as one of his few friends was killed. And he would never—could never—forget the awful scene that met his eyes as he approached. From the distance, he had seen Crabbe holding Goyle up in the air, clearly using his power to choke and hold him up. Then there came the earth-shattering moment of watching his Goyle's head get snapped to the side at an unnatural angle, both knowing and feeling what had transpired before him.

To Draco, it was a strange sensation that he felt himself fall into. The scene ahead of him seemed forever frozen in time. No matter how frantically he pushed himself to reach it and stop what had happened, it never seemed to grow any closer. His body was also frozen, unresponsive, as stiff and unmovable as a muggle statute. And yet the environment, the bushes and trees raced by him so fast they appeared to be little more than blackened blurs. And it was in this singular moment that he understood, he truly understood, that he didn't just lose Goyle but both of his childhood and closest of friends.

"Well done," a cloaked figure standing a few paces away from and behind Crabbe said. Though his voice was cold and uncaring, there was a hint of approval in his tone. Crabbe turned to the man as he stepped away from the corpse, his eyes now blazing with bright yellow irises of pure hatred. "You have taken the first step into a larger world."

"Goyle," Draco couldn't help uttering, staring down the unmoving body.

The very faint whisper caught both Crabbe and the stranger's attentions, causing them to spin to face him. But Draco ignored them as he finally regained control of himself, sprinting up to his downed friend in a burst of speed that seemed to cause him to fade in and out of existence as he shot from the edge of the clearing to the center of it, kneeling down and cradling his friend's body.

"He's swift," the stranger observed quietly, mostly to himself, as he stared at the blonde Slytherin who was no doubt the second of the newest Sorcerers who'd Awakened. If his luck held strong, then the third one was probably on his way as well.

"Goyle, hey, come on, get up," Draco said, trying to rouse his friend from his 'slumber'. Perhaps it was childish, but he didn't care. He didn't want his friend…dead. No, he couldn't be dead! He couldn't—wouldn't—accept it! "This is no place to sleep, even you should know that."

A harsh laugh interrupted his pleading. It was the cloaked stranger who was speaking. "Give it up, boy. He's long gone. You know that already. Just accept it."

"Shut up," Draco growled, not lifting his gaze from Goyle. Reaching down, he tried to lift Goyle's head back into its proper placement. But as soon as he released his hold of it, it swung back to the side at yet another unnatural angle.

"This is a waste of your time, playing with a corpse," the stranger barked out. "Just drop it and leave it be. At least he'll be able to feed some lucky starving critter in these woods before he completely decomposes."

"Shut up!" Draco snapped, forcing himself to not look up. With his head turned down and his blonde hair hiding his face, all that the man and Crabbe could see of the tears falling down his face were those that were dripping off his cheeks and jawline.

"Don't get mad at me, boy," the stranger snapped back. "That boy's fate was sealed the moment he entered these woods and intruded on a conversation that was not his to hear. Although, at least he provided young Crabbe here the means of completing his first test of allegiance. That is a great honor. Consider this a warning for you shall have to undergo a similar one when you join the Consortium."

His gaze snapping up to the man at long last, pain and rage burned powerfully in his eyes. Dropping the corpse unceremoniously to the ground as he shot to his feet and charged the man, Draco cried out, "I'LL NEVER JOIN YOU OR YOUR CONSORTIUM!" With a loud battle cry of pure rage, Draco lunged for the man, not even trying to grab his lightsaber or wand. He wanted to hurt this man! He wanted to rip him apart—limb from limb—with his own two hands! And with his rage-enhanced Sorcery bolstering his body's strength to superhuman levels, he knew he could do it too!

Impossibly, the man was able to catch Draco's punching hand with seeming ease. The shock of seeing this caused Draco to freeze in surprise for a critical few seconds. More than enough time for the man to jab his wand directly into Draco's abdomen and launch a powerful Blasting curse. The curse knocked the wind from Draco's chest as he sent him flying through the air with such speed and power that he was actually crashed into and blown through several trees. If not for his Sorcery's enhancement of his body's strength and durability, Draco's spine would've been smashed to tiny fragments with the first impact.

Four excruciating impacts later, he finally lost enough momentum to crash into an especially large tree, leaving a noticeable imprint in it of his body in the bark. He slid limply down to the ground below, having lost all his fighting spirit. He understood the truth now. That man was a Sorcerer as well, and a far more experienced one than he. He was going to kill Draco now, for refusing that offer to join the Consortium. Draco didn't even bother trying to stand and fight anymore. He was doomed and no one was going to come and save him, so what was the point of prolonging the inevitable? He just sat there, waiting as the man silently approached him while drawing out a massive broadsword.

But that didn't change Draco's mind in the least. Any organization or person who forced him to kill someone important just to prove his loyalty to them was not ever going to get Draco Malfoy's allegiance or support in any way. Family, heritage, and respecting powerful magical bloodlines, these were the core values Draco was raised to believe in and support. And the only ones left close enough to be a weakness to Draco were his own parents now. And his beliefs in his parents' teachings of the importance of family was too deeply ingrained into his character for any type of temptation to sway him away from. For what good was power without friends and family to share and relish it with?

"Get away from him!" a loud, familiar voice cried out from the side. Draco looked up in surprise as a familiar redhead launched a telekinetic blast that sent the swordsman Sorcerer tumbling head over heels, having been also caught by surprise. Ron Weasley landed just in front of Draco before sending another blast of power, this one aimed at Crabbe who was already drawing his wand to attack the redhead himself. Due to his speed and what was left of the surprise factor, he just barely landed his attack before Crabbe could launch his spell. The telekinetic blast sent Crabbe flying across the clearing and slamming into a tree, knocked unconscious on impact.

"Brave of you, boy," the stranger said, climbing his feet as though completely unaffected by the surprise attack. "But also very foolish."

Weasley glared at the man as he stood protectively in front of Draco. "There has been enough darkness and death for one day here. Leave us alone!"

"You meddle in affairs for which you do not understand," the man observed.

"Only when I can sense the evil of a person," Weasley countered. "You forced Crabbe to kill Goyle, didn't you? And now you're trying to kill Malfoy. That's all I need to know to stop you!"

"So, you're one of the 'Light Wizards' then?" the man asked with an obvious sneer. "What a remarkable coincidence to find not one, but two such Sorcerers in so short a time." That statement drew even Draco's attention as he finally pushed himself to his feet.

"You found Harry?" Weasley couldn't help asking.

"That's right," the man said, a sinister grin forming on his face. "Let me show you what I did to him." Quick as a flash, the man's wand came out and he jabbed it towards the boys, sending a green spell flying at them. As Draco fumbled to dodge the surprisingly fast-moving Avada Kedavra, Weasley stood his ground, grabbing something from his pocket. A snap-hiss later and the Killing Curse was deflected harmlessly to the side, setting the tree it hit on fire momentarily.

Despite himself, Draco found himself smiling in relief. "I think I may actually have to thank Granger this time," he muttered quietly as he saw Weasley holding his own blue-bladed lightsaber. He had suspected that the Gryffindor know-it-all had had spare parts to build another weapon, but he had been content with his own and had felt no need to go raid their dorms in search of something that might not be there.

"What is that?" the stranger demanded, obviously very surprised.

"Something you'll never have!" Weasley snapped.

Seeing his chance thanks to the man's distraction, Draco finally made his move. Drawing his own power to him, he waved his arms about while keeping the man firmly looked within his line of sight. Sending out the magic that he was creating and changing, he unleashed one of his own Sorcery attacks against the man. All throughout the clearing, a sudden crashing noise was heard as a terrible roar echoed through the surrounding forest. As Weasley and the man flinched and sought the source, one of the trees suddenly was knocked over and torn to pieces. In its place a large black dragon with an intimidating array of horns ad spikes along its body emerged, hissing and growling as drool dropped from its jaws. It glanced between the small group before making its choice and lunging for the larger prey. Though the dragon was quick, the man was quicker and was able to dodge. But that didn't dissuade the dragon, persistently following after its fleeing meal.

"Come on, Weasley!" Draco hissed, grabbing Ron's arm and yanking him with him as he turned to run.

Thankfully, the Weasley boy didn't need to be told twice and followed after the Malfoy with no argument. Sprinting as fast as they could move back towards Hogwarts, they mostly kept their silence. It wasn't until they'd exited the forest and were resting against the stone keep of the castle near the base of the North Tower. They had both felt immensely better when they slipped back onto the school grounds. It must've been the protective wards of the school.

"I didn't know there were dragons in the Forest," Weasley finally said, voicing what had been plaguing his mind since it had happened.

"There aren't," Draco countered. "That was just an illusion."

"An illusion? Seriously?!" The disbelief in Weasley's voice was easily excusable in Draco's mind. The illusion had been frighteningly authentic looking.

"You can thank Potter for helping me to remember the Horntail's features and details," Draco said dismissively. Finally turning and facing the Weasley, Draco eyed the boy closely for a long moment, earning an equally evil-eyed glare from the redhead. Sighing, he nodded his head as he said, "Thank you for your help."

Ron blinked in open surprise at Draco. "…Whatever…But can you tell me what that was all about? What happened out there? Who was that guy? Why was he trying to kill you? Why did he make Crabbe kill Goyle? I thought they were best friends!"

"Stop rambling Weasley! I just watched my...I was just thrown through multiple trees! I'm tired! We can talk about this later." Draco snaps out before turning and making to leave. He hardly gets two steps when he feels a hand grab his arm tightly.

"Then this is the perfect time to keep you from slithering away..." Ron states coolly. Even after saving the prat's life he still acted like a grade A bastard!

Draco let out a small sigh. If he hadn't been so mentally,physically, and emotionally exhausted he would have been able to come up with a snappy comeback. Insulting their poverty level was always worth a laugh. Broke Purebloods, what a ridiculous concept! But after the fight... After seeing one of the few people he considered friends murdered in front of him, he just couldn't muster the strength for a second confrontation.

"I promise, Weasley, we can discuss this...but later. Not now." Draco responded without turning around. He was already resigning himself to accepting the demand from the redhead, but he wasn't about to face him as well.

Ron held Draco's arm for several heartbeats after the blond's statement before relenting.

"Fine, tomorrow then." Ron spat, releasing the hold on the Slytherin's arm.

"Tomorrow then." Draco repeated before walking off towards the castle.

(Author's Note) MASSIVE shout-out to my good friend and beta-reader Fiori75 for inspiring the latter half of this chapter! And a big thanks to my newest beta He-Who-Shall-Live for helping me refine and clean-up the chapter.

And if anyone's wondering, I'm modeling Ron's lightsaber after Kyle Katarn's third one.

To stall any immediate questions, here's an approximate chart for just how powerful the Sorcerers are in regards to each other

(1=weakest, 10=strongest)
Crabbe: 7
Draco:3
Ron: 4

Harry: 10
The Hunter: ?