A/N: Hello, again! This chapter, we're about to up the ante a little bit. Or a lot.

Disclaimer: if I'm JKR, then what the hell am I doing on Fanfiction?

Chapter Four

Unchained Intervention

The next day, in double Charms, most of the students seemed more inattentive than usual. Merope could not stop herself from yawning, even though the class was not the least bit dull. Shaela Malfoy kept shooting glances at her from across the room, which Merope ignored. She was preoccupied with a trio of Gryffindors in the back, separate from the others, which consisted of Dan, MJ, and James, who appeared deep in conversation. MJ and James bore distinct signs of having been up late, and Merope even caught Dan stifling the occasional yawn.

And then, to Merope's surprise, MJ pointed discreetly at her. Did MJ know she had been out again the night before? Was it them who had come upon her in the corridor—the ones she had threatened to stab?

.:Who else could it have been?:.

Merope, still getting used to Eporem's sudden bursts of speech, jumped a little.

I dunno. I couldn't see them, or hear them, or anything.

.:It appears that they suspect you:.

Thanks, Sherlock.

.:Well, you're the one who decided threatening to kill them would be a good idea:.

What the hell was I supposed to do? It was pitch black—it could have been anybody. Besides, I wasn't really going to do it. And you certainly were not helping.

.:Who said I was here to help?:.

You are the worst subconscious ever.

The bell rang, drowning out Eporem's response. Merope gathered her books and headed out onto the grounds for break. It was a nice day, and Merope thought she might catch a few minutes' sleep in the shade before History of Magic. However, it was not so.

"It's Merope, right?" said James Potter. He, Dan, and MJ had come upon Merope.

"Yeah," Merope replied, wondering what on earth they were going to say to her.

"Where were you last night?" MJ demanded, almost brutally.

.:What a lovely little ray of sunshine:.

"Sleeping," said Merope simply.

"If you were sleeping, then why are you so tired now?" MJ pressed, moving closer to Merope, who backed up and found herself pinned to the castle walls.

"You look pretty tired yourself," replied Merope, who was trying not to guess how well MJ could potentially beat her up.

However, at that MJ backed off.

"Fair enough," she said, straightening up. Over MJ's shoulder, Merope could see James and Dan, who were in conversation—they did not seem to care about MJ's intervention.

"It was you last night, wasn't it?" said MJ in a low voice. She didn't look like she was going to hurt Merope, which Merope took as a good sign. Perhaps she was just curious.

.:Don't you dare say a word, Fallon. You'll get yourself screwed over, mark my words:.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Merope obliged.

"I'll give it to you—it was me and James in the corridor," said MJ, speaking softer still. "And I'm not gonna tell anyone if you admit you were there too."

"I don't care," replied Merope, trying to sound nonchalant. "I've already got a detention—what's one more?"

"So it was you."

.:Smart move:.

"No," Merope said flatly.

"You're a little bit infuriating, you know that?" said MJ, frustrated.

"Right back at you."

MJ looked at Merope, sizing her up.

"I know your voice," MJ said, so softly that Merope had to lean in to hear her, "and I'm sure it was you. I don't give a damn what you were doing. I just wanted to know—how'd you get round without being caught?"

"I dunno," said Merope, slightly louder than MJ, but not much. "Got lucky, I guess."

"Nobody gets lucky in this place," MJ told her, "what with that git Filch and his bloody cat. You haven't got…I dunno…an invisibility cloak or anything, do you?"

"No."

The bell rang, saving Merope from MJ's questioning. She picked up her bag and headed in to class, not quite knowing what to make of the conversation.

That Wednesday Merope had her first ever History of Magic lesson. It appeared that word had spread fast of the dullness of that class, and therefore the room was half empty. Only one of the Slytherin boys, Collin Yu, bothered to show up, though there were several Gryffindors. Merope recognized the tall girl, Andrie, as well as two other girls and boys that she knew by sight but not by name. Dan Weasly and James Potter were missing, and Merope was surprised to see MJ Weasly twisting her wand between her fingers in the corner of the class. .

Merope sat down by MJ, who looked up but did not glare. Merope took that as a good sign.

MJ scrawled something on a strip of parchment and passed it to Merope. Merope looked at MJ and mouthed, "Me?" at her. MJ nodded. Tentatively, Merope opened the note.

You're friends with Terry, right? said MJ.

Yeah. Why?

He says I'm supposed to be nice to you, MJ continued.

Are you going to be? Merope scribbled.

You aren't half bad, Fallon, wrote MJ.

Is that a yes or a no?

Thinking it's a yes, MJ scribbled after a slight pause. She hesitated again and took the note back. When she replaced it on Merope's desk, there was more writing on it.

Want to help me pull a prank?

Who on? asked Merope.

That Malfoy girl. I hate that kid.

Me too. I have to share a freaking dormitory with her, replied Merope.

Oh, I forgot you were a Slytherin. This is going to be easier than I thought, said MJ.

What're we gonna do?

I'm still figuring out the kinks, but as soon as I can get James on board we'll be all set. When'll Malfoy be out of the dormitory? asked MJ.

I dunno. I—oh, I know! She takes remedial Transfiguration. So…that's Monday, Wednesday, and Friday from seven to eight.

Perfect.

On Sunday Merope decided to head down to the library first thing. She had been so busy with school—and attempting to control Eporem—that she hadn't had any time to try and find information on her parentage.

.:You have homework. You shouldn't be messing around with stupid things like this:.

Merope decided to ignore her, and after asking for directions about eight times, she found herself at the library. However, it was much larger and much less navigable than Merope had expected. Ceiling to floor was plastered with shelves full of books. Thousands and thousands of books.

Merope sighed and ran her fingers along the spines, looking for any book that could have anything to do with genealogy.

"What're you looking for?"

Merope jumped, but it was only Terry.

"Oh, hi," said Merope. "Just a book."

"Way to be specific."

.:NOSY:.

Shut up, I'm trying to have a conversation.

.:Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall, ninety-nine bottles of beer. Take one down, pass it around, ninety-eight—:.

Merope shook her head and tried to tune Eporem out. She wasn't sure if she wanted to tell Terry exactly what she was looking for or not.

"Genealogy," said Merope, trying to keep the topic as broad as possible.

"Try over there," said Terry, pointing to a shelf across the room. Merope checked the shelf, and sure enough, Terry was right. She wondered vaguely how he knew that—had he already been all the way through the library?

"What're you looking for? Want me to help you?"

Merope hesitated.

"I'm okay," she said, deciding she didn't want to tell Terry exactly how little she new about her family.

"Right," said Terry. "See you, then."

Merope watched Terry walk out of the library, and then turned back to the books. She pulled off the first one she could see, and flipped through the pages, looking for a "Fallon."

.:This is a waste of time:.

You're a waste of time.

Merope checked the index and found her last name. She flipped to the corresponding page and found, to her shock, an entire family tree. It was, quite literally, every Fallon that had ever existed. The tree went on for pages and pages…Merope had no idea she had that many relatives. Towards the end, she saw Nella's name, connected to the names of Merope's aunt and uncle. But then she realized that Nella's was the last name on the tree. How could that be? Merope was younger than Nella, by more than ten years…

The book must be wrong, Merope decided. Or out of date…she was fourteen years younger than Nella, after all. But all of Merope's potential parents already had children, and those children were far to young to have children of their own—none of them were even married.

.:Maybe you were raised by wolves:.

I wasn't raised by wolves.

.:Well, you obviously weren't raised by people:.

I was raised by people, Eporem. Just…not these people.

Merope trudged back to the Slytherin dungeons. She slumped down into a chair in the common room and put her head in her hands, trying to think it through.

.:So what're you gonna do?:.

You seem to have all the answers. Why don't you just tell me?

.:N-n-n-n-no. That's not how it works. You've gotta try and figure it out on your own:.

You don't know, do you?

.:Pretty much:.

I don't know what to do.

.:I'll bet your parents abandoned you in a dumpster:.

I'm sure they did.

.:You were probably a mistake, you know:.

I know.

.:Maybe you're in the witness protection program:.

How could I be in the witness protection program when I've never witnessed anything?

.:You were probably Obliviated:.

I'm not in the witness protection program. I would know it if I was.

.:Maybe your parents are dead:.

Merope paused, and with a jolt she realized that it was not only totally possible, but almost probable.

Maybe.

Merope was silent for a while. Though it was only nine, Merope ascended the stairs to the dormitory and fell into bed, dragging the hangings around herself.

3:00 A.M.

The dormitory door shut. Merope woke up and sat bolt-upright in her bed. Peeking through her hangings, she saw that Shaela Malfoy's bed was empty.

.:Why the hell are you awake?:.

The door. It woke me up. Shaela Malfoy's gone.

.:Ah, so it appears that you are not the only one who prefers nighttime excursions. Are you gonna follow her?:.

I was planning on it.

.:Well, you're just full of stupid ideas, aren't you?:.

Merope slid out of bed, careful not to wake Mallory. That wasn't difficult; Mallory was a very deep sleeper. She took the stairs as quietly as she could—and then she heard voices.

"—we've got to do this at this hour." Merope recognized that as Shaela Malfoy's voice.

"Shaela, it's risky even now," said another voice, this one unfamiliar to Merope. It was deeper—a man's voice, she was sure—and Merope knew this man must be related to Shaela, for the voice was cool, and drawling, like a half-drunk person. "We cannot risk somebody overhearing."

"Just tell us already," said yet another voice. Like the other, this voice was similar, but not the same. Merope guessed that it was the voice of a girl.

"I have come to warn you," said the first voice. Merope flattened herself against the wall, straining to hear, thankful that Eporem had the sense to keep quiet.

"Warn us of what?" asked a new, worried voice. This one was softer than the others, but still contained a little of that Malfoy accent.

There was a very long pause. The air was very still. Merope was trying not to breathe, lest she miss something.

"I believe that the Dark Lord may be among us again."

An even longer pause followed this one.

"Father…you can't be serious," said the worried-sounding girl.

"I have never been more serious about anything in my entire life," said Mr. Malfoy, "and if you have any sense at all, then I strongly suggest that you think long and hard before disrespecting Him."

"Father, Mercy has a point," said the other girl, the one who was neither Shaela nor Mercy. "Harry Potter destroyed Him. It's impossible."

"The Dark Lord has done many impossible things, Lucinda," replied Mr. Malfoy darkly.

"Are…are you positive?" asked Shaela shakily. "How do you know?"

"Do not question your father, Shaela!" said Mr. Malfoy sharply. "He is back and that is all you need to know."

"What are we going to do?" asked Mercy, sounding terrified.

"You are going to do nothing," said Mr. Malfoy. "Keep your eyes and ears open. Tell no one."

"If we can't do anything, then why bother to tell us?" demanded Shaela angrily.

"Because you need to know!" Mr. Malfoy hissed. "Our family is in grave danger."

"Why our family?" asked Lucinda quickly.

"Everyone is in grave danger," Mr. Malfoy corrected himself. Merope was intrigued; she sensed that Mr. Malfoy had slipped up and said something he hadn't meant to say.

"Father, you're scaring me," said Mercy quietly. "Why does He want us?"

"Now is not the time or the place," said Mr. Malfoy quickly.

"Then what is the time and place?" demanded Shaela sharply.

"There is no time or place," snapped Mr. Malfoy. "You are to young, you wouldn't understand. It isn't of your concern."

"If it concerns our family it concerns me," Shaela snarled.

"Don't you take that tone with me."

"I'll take whatever tone I like!"

"Stop it, stop it!" Mercy whispered. "Someone'll hear us!"

There was a pause as Shaela and Mr. Malfoy composed themselves.

"I have not told your mother, and I don't intend to at the moment," said Mr. Malfoy stiffly.

"Why doesn't—"

"I have my reasons, Lucinda."

"Do you think He will try and attack Hogwarts?" asked Mercy worriedly.

"I don't know," said Mr. Malfoy. "He did last time. Lupin is not as powerful as Dumbledore."

"So it's a matter of time," said Shaela. Mr. Malfoy did not reply.

"Surely we must tell someone," Mercy said.

"No! Tell no one," Mr. Malfoy barked. "You must obey me. I know what I'm doing."

None of the girls said a word.

"Do you understand me?" hissed Mr. Malfoy.

"Yes, sir," they mumbled.

"Good. Now get on back to bed before you're caught," he ordered. Merope jumped, and hurled herself up the stairs and into her bed as fast as she could. She drew the hangings around herself and sat up against her headboard, breathing hard.

A/N: Suck on that.