"There are only two forces that unite men—fear and interest." –Napoleon Bonaparte

Chapter 16

No as in can't, or wont…I can hear it. Even from here I can hear it…I should know them. Why don't I remember…I'll kill you! I'll kill you…

I shifted in my sleep, a horrible feeling of dread and fear gnawing at my insides. An image of a dying Sarlow flashed in my mind's eye and I sat up in bed with a gasp.

My breathing was unsteady and my heart racing, as I clenched the bed sheets. I stared at the unfamiliar stark white walls of the hospital room as I shook off the nightmare. I wasn't at Hogwarts.

Tortured screams echoed through my memory and I felt a small part of me die. I had wanted to watch them all die. I'd needed it, craved it.

Leaning forward, I buried my face in my trembling hands. I forced myself to take calming breaths. The beating of my heart quieted, and I drew my hands down until they rested beneath my chin. I felt hot and sweaty, my clothes sticking to my skin. It was dark in the hospital wing. The only source of light was the moon that shone through the window on the wall behind me.

"Merrow."

Prince's rumbling purr made me start. "Damn it Prince, don't do that." I said, reaching out to pick him up from a vacated chair that was resting beside my bed. I grunted as picked him up.

"What are you eating?" He was about the size of a small dog now. I shook my head, thinking of how small he'd been when I'd first found him in that shop.

Well, smallish.

"You know, they usually don't let animals into hospitals. Thanks for beating the odds and keeping me company though. " Rubbing his head under my chin, Prince folded his wings tightly against his body. I sighed, my arms carefully encircling him. I ran gentle fingers over his downy feathers, taking comfort in his affection. Eyes half closed, he leaned into me.

My face relaxed into a soft smile. I sat like that, curled up with Prince, for some time. After a while, my mind regained some of its former stubborn confidence and began to calmly assess the last few days.

To state the obvious, the Death Eater had definitely screwed around with my magic. I concentrated on that night, recalling what he'd said: the markings summon the magic, but they also guard it. I must free you of them…

Frowning, I lifted my cheek from Prince's silky fur and stared at my left leg.

"Markings." I murmured. Carefully setting Prince aside, I untangled my legs from the hospital sheets.

"What?" My tattoo—the twisted rope of strange runes coiled around my calf—was gone. Unable to believe what I was seeing, I ran my hands over my leg, searching for the familiar cold spot that identified the tattoo's trail up my calf.

It was gone. Staring at my bare leg, I frowned. How was that possible? It had been there when I took my after-jog shower. Maybe…maybe what had happened in the hallway was a delayed reaction. Whatever the Death Eater had done to my leg hadn't taken affect until Pomfrey had aggravated me.

My eyes stared off into space as I remembered the pull of the magic. But where had the magic been summoned from? How had a Death Eater known so much about me?

Sweetbloods. So then it is true. They must have been servants of the Dark Lord. I wonder how Mother…

Twisting the ring around my fingers, I sighed. I hadn't taken it off since I'd signed my mother's Will; since I'd become a Sweetblood. My thoughts turned to the books and to what other dark artifacts might be awaiting me when I finally visited my ancestral home.

The Death Eater aside, Allman had also mentioned the Dark Lord's interest in me. Perhaps he would know. But then again, the boy wasn't really that bright—tall, dark, and intensely sexy though he was.

I frowned as I thought of yet another person who might be able to answer my questions. "Professor Snape."

My eyes narrowed as I recalled his blunt refusal to alert Dumbledore and the successful attempts to break my concentration by both magical and physical means. My spine tingled in memory of a confident, lingering caress. Closing my eyes, I relaxed my jaw and tested my Occulemency barrier. That, along with my tattoo, was also gone.

"Crap." My shoulders slumped in defeat. What the hell had happened to me? Nudging Prince out of the way, I swung my legs out of bed. I winced. They were still a tad sore from all the exercise I was getting in the mornings and the floor was cold.

What time is it?

Scratching my head, I looked around for my clothes. I needed to get out of here. Not back to Hogwarts, maybe, but out of here nonetheless. I wasn't in any kind of a hurry, but I hated hospitals. "Funny since I seem to be spending most of my time in them." I muttered. "Aha."

Picking up the pile of folded laundry that had been placed on top of my boots at the end of the bed, I stiffened. They were the clothes I'd been wearing when…

I changed in silence, the memories draining me of energy. Was my Head of House a traitor? Should I be more cautious in respect to the Dark Lord's obvious interest in me? Did I have reason to fear myself? The thought of losing control again made my hands tremble as I tied my buckled by boots.

Yes. To all questions.

Standing up, I waved an inpatient hand at the bed. As the magic unfolded into the bed-making spell, I became very still. My magic felt—different—and my left leg had gone cold. I stopped breathing and my heart sped up.

"Merrow. Merrrrroooowwww." I felt Prince rub up against me, pulling me out of my momentary petrifaction.

Standing in the silvery light of an imaginary moon, I rubbed my fingers against my palms. "I wonder…" Licking my lips, I tentatively snapped my fingers. A black spark sprang up from each of my thumbs.

"Aw, shit." Swallowing hard, I spun around on my heel and crossed the room. "Prince, we're leaving." I grasped the door handle and yanked. It didn't budge. I tried pushing it, but that didn't work either.

"Sonofva…" Growling, I reached out a hand and felt the door. The slippery sheen coating the door made my hands tingle and I snorted in disgust. The doctors had smartened up and placed a Bulwark Charm on the door. A type of fortification spell, it kept stubborn patients abed.

Having seen it before, I knew the counter curse. Instead of using my hands, my altered magic gave me the willies, I drew my—"What? Where's my wand? Those bastards. They took my wand." Stunned, I stood in front of the door for a moment.

During all my years at school and at whatever wizarding hospital I happened to be close to, none of them had ever taken my wand from me.

A bitter laugh escaped me. "Like I need a wand to kill somebody." The grim fog of a memory had me reliving that scene in the hall way and I turned my face away from the door, my eyes closed.

I remember hunting down Longbottom and enjoying his fear. I had felt everyone's emotions. Heard their pulses. Smelt their fear…

The memory was so intense, so vivid. I clenched my fists and breathed deeply through my nose, straining. Yes, there they were—the foreign feelings. The people on the other side of the door weren't happy with me.

When that thought registered, I stiffened. Opening my eyes, I turned my head back to stare directly at the door. "Damn."

I stared at the door a moment longer, a muscle in my cheek twitching. There were no less than five Aurors and a pompous ass that I'm sure worked for the English Ministry, if the barrage of emotions I was sensing were accurate.

Prince began to growl as he felt my agitation. Backing away from the door, I paced. My heart was beating excitedly in my chest. What did this mean?

I could still sense the hostile and resentful emotions of my invisible guards as they milled around outside of my door. My room was silent and I couldn't hear anything going on outside in the hall, no doubt the work of a silencing ward.

Were they waiting out there to arrest me? Undoubtedly. If I'd been a bystander in that hallway, that's what I would do. I'd report my ass to the Aurors and lock me up in Azkaban.

All right Astrid, time to put on your big girl panties and deal with it. I told myself. There was nothing I could do about the guards and therefore nothing I could do about the lock on my door.

Hell, I was lucky I hadn't been immediately dragged off school grounds and sent to Azkaban. But no, instead they'd sent me to a hospital. I had a strong feeling that Dumbledore was responsible for this. Maybe he was trying to cover the hallway incident up and blame it on the Death Eater attack I'd suffered from. Tell the Ministry that I'd been cursed and that the magic originated from the Dark Lord.

But the monster is still inside. The traitorous thought made my stomach churn. Even more curious was the fact that I seemed to have retained the abilities I'd gained when the magic overwhelmed me.

I snapped my fingers again, lightly. The burning black sparks that resulted made me tense. They faded quickly enough, their cold presence making my skin prickle. I could also feel the foreign knot of tangled emotions somewhere in my mind. I probed it warily, unwilling to delve into that particular sea of chaotic upheaval.

Shying away from that mental awareness—I did in fact prefer solitude after all and disliked this intrusion of knowing that I wasn't actually alone—I turned away from the door.

Slowly crossing my room, I sat down on my bed. I couldn't stay here. But I can't blast the door open and face the Aurors, or apparate out of here.

That was the problem with hospitals, too many precautionary spells and not enough exits. Unless it was an emergency, the only place you could apparate to and from within a hospital was the main entrance.

"Portkey!" I barked suddenly, smiling triumphantly. How could I have been so stupid? "Prince, come." Standing up, I gathered Prince into my arms and made sure he would be secure. "Fold your wings in tightly, it might be rough. Home sw—"

The doorknob rattled and then swung open. My startled eyes met Dumbledore's midspeech.

"Good morning Miss Sweetblood."

"Headmaster." I said after a moment's pause.

I don't want to leave and find out he can stop me. Or track me down by looking up this portkey. Ministry probably has it registered. Damn. No, I'll keep it for later…just in case.

Having made up my mind, I set Prince down on the floor and resituated myself on the bed. Dumbledore sat himself in the empty chair I'd first found Prince on when I woke up.

"Feeling better, I hope?" He asked.

"Yes."

"Ah. Good then." He didn't press me for more, content to wait.

"Where am I?"

"St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. It has been quite some time since you collapsed in the hallway."

"Like how much time? What's today's date?"

"It's Saturday. But do not fear, I was able to persuade one of the Aurors to cover your first year class yesterday and sent a note to Madam Rosemerta." Dumbledore informed me steadily, smiling slightly.

"Oh. Thanks." I said. "So…what am I doing here? I couldn't help but notice that my wand has been confiscated. Any thoughts?"

Amusement flickered momentarily in Dumbledore's eyes before he sighed. "Very few. Astrid, I need you to recount yesterday's events. As you might have guessed, the Ministry has already taken down several statements from witnesses, several of which are willing to testify in support of your imprisonment in Azkaban."

I rocked backwards slowly on my bed, the impact of a possible life sentence almost physical. I felt my face go blank as my guts clenched up and promptly disappeared. I stayed that way for a few moments, slightly stunned and mute. He didn't press me for any information, content to wait.

I inhaled deeply and then let it out, reaching up to scratch my neck. "Alright then." I said nodding. I took a few more minutes to gather my thoughts, noticing that the moon's light had intensified when Dumbledore entered the room. It was like he'd turned on the lights, but in a more subtle way.

Focus, Astrid. I said, forcing myself to stare into Dumbledore's eyes.

"For starter's, I didn't tell you what that Death Eater said to me the other night when I was attacked." My eyes drifted up to look out the enchanted window. "He kept saying how his master knew it would hurt. That Voldermort had wondered why I'd failed to show the other sings. He said something about how the markings summon the magic, but they also guard it. He mentioned freeing me from them. I checked this morning. The tattoo's gone."

"May I?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes sparkling with interest.

"Yeah." I drew my leg closer to me and unbuckled my boot. "There's no outward sign of it." I said, pulling up my pant leg.

He leaned forward, staring at my left leg. I was glad I'd shaved and that the scars left behind from numerous bites and scratches from smaller animals were faint. I hated it when people felt compelled to comment. I frowned, remembering the stares the other girls had given me while I showered after Emry's class. Another reason I never wore shorts and favored long-sleeved shirts. My body looked like a battlefield.

Which is useful in its own way.

Eventually, Dumbledore's forehead relaxed and I saw him nod. "It has not disappeared entirely."

"In a manner of speaking." I said, returning to the matter at hand. "The tat is gone, but its…essence, isn't." I said. "I don't know what it did to my magic, or what kind of magic the tattoo was supposed to summon, but I have a feeling that the Dark Lord does. And that—Headmaster—makes me very uncomfortable." I turned to look at him and saw that his eyes were out of focus, his mind obviously somewhere else.

"Of course." He said politely, leaning back in his chair.

Prince lifted a paw and sunk his claws into my leg. He wanted attention. "Ow! Spoiled brat." I hissed, plucking him off my leg and off the floor. I settled him on my lap, caressing his feathers after flicking him on the ear.

"Sarlow asked me to inform you that he is quiet well." Dumbledore said after a moment, smiling kindly.

I carefully assumed a detached expression. "I'm glad to hear it." I said slowly. I stroked Prince's downy feathers for a few seconds in silence.

So. Back to the story.

Brushing back my hair, I exhaled deeply. "Yesterday was Pomfrey's fault. She was being her usual self and got me all riled up. She started it." I kept my eyes on Prince's glorious wings. "The same feelings I'd had when I was jumped overwhelmed me. I felt cold, I became angry, my leg hurt—"

"Are you sure they were identical to those you experienced that night?" He asked quietly. He was speaking of when the Death Eater attacked me.

I paused, considering his question. "No." I shook my head. "The anger and the cold were more intense but the pain in my leg was much fainter. It was more like a sympathy twinge."

"Ah."

"Yeah. Well, anyway, I realized what was happening and told Pomfrey to beat it. Like any other nurse, she told me to shut up and sit down." I smiled wryly. "Much good it did her. I tried to stun myself but the spell ricocheted off my chest and hit her instead."

"Madam Pomfrey did mention that you cast a very potent Stunning Spell."

I snorted. "I did try to knock myself out without using my wand first. But," I frowned, "it didn't work. Headmaster, my wandless magic didn't work the last time I tried to use it in a stressful situation either."

"The hippogriff incident?" He nodded to himself. "I am begging to suspect that it won't be an issue for you now."

"Why—oh." Right. The strange markings my tattoo had consisted of must have been screwing around with my magic. That's why I'd had to replace my wand the night after my leg cramped up at Number 12.

So for the past five years…But at least the markings won't be interfering with my magic anymore. At least, not anymore that it already has.

"I was twelve when I let myself get talked into getting that thing." I said, shaking my head. "If I'd only known. Huh. Well it was a stupid mistake—like the fangs—but then again that Death Eater did say Voldemort had been wondering why I wasn't showing the other signs so perhaps it wasn't such a screw up."

Dumbledore didn't say anything. He just sat there and twirled his thumbs, waiting for me.

I ran a hand over my mouth, my brain connecting the dots. "Okay, so then maybe the questions I should be asking," I said slowly, "are one: how long has the Dark Lord been monitoring me for, and two: what do the signs mean? What was he looking for?" In the scheme of things, nothing else really mattered.

"For what he is always seeking, Miss Sweetblood, an advantage." Dumbledore said tiredly, sighing.

I shrugged. "I suppose. I just want to know what all the signs I'm supposed to be showing are and what they're supposed to mean." I said absently, picking at my lip. "Signs mean something, something about me. So something about me is an advantage to the Dark Lord and therefore not to you." I paused, closing my eyes as I thought.

Thus, I am a tool, but what kind of tool? I'm cold, I'm grossly sadistic, I hear pulse rates, and smell fear; I forget my identity and shoot icy black fire out of my hands. I am easily enraged and distracted. "But what am I?"

"A weapon." Dumbledore said gravely.

Yeah I know. But am I an AK 47 or a standard Glock? And more importantly, how in the hell did I become an advantage—a weapon? Was the magic that was summoned already in me, already corrupted and waiting to be released? Or did the tattoo curse me and do the corrupting?

Wait, if I was to believe that the tattoo did this then I'd also have to believe that the tweaker hag who slapped on that tat did it on purpose so that she could create "an advantage" for a serial killer in a another country. Yeah, right.

"No." I thought aloud. "Not possible." I was twelve when I got my tattoo and I had done it on an impulse after having a row with my dad. That hag and the friends who were with me, had not been in league with—a then dead—Voldemort. Potter hadn't seen the Dark Lord return to power until later and his followers weren't following him until that day.

Then I was already corrupted to begin with.

"Holy shit." I said, looking up at Dumbledore. "Am I—Then I'm not—I'm not human. That's why the spell rebounded onto Pomfrey. That's why…"

Why everyone seemed to instinctively hate me and animals try to kill me. Why I never fit in. With my thoughts unguarded, Dumbledore seemed to be able to sense what I was realizing.

"I am sorry, Astrid. Now you know why it is absolutely imperative that you recount yesterday's events to me. I assume you have never given the Healers permission to examine your blood before this?"

"Yes, many times." I whispered, feeling curiously hollow and light headed.

"Ah, well if they had examined it, they were undoubtedly looking for something other than the possibility that you might be only partially human. When you were admitted to St. Mungo's that was one of the first things the Ministry had the Healer's look for. They wanted to know what made you…different from normal wizards and witches." Dumbldore tapped his fingers together. "Fortunately or unfortunately, the Healers are unable to discern what that difference is, however, only that a difference does indeed exist."

My emotions were all tangled up and making it hard to breath. I wanted to cry. I could feel my eyes burning and the level of snot in my nose increased. Hysterical laughter bubbled up in my throat, but I swallowed it down, shuddering in silent sobs of horror and rage. I was a monster.

It was me, not Voldemort's influence. I almost killed Sarlow, not Voldemort.

How had this happened? Why hadn't Dad told me? Was everything in my life a lie? Who was I? What was I? I wanted to scream these things at someone.

But I won't, I can't. Not where he and the others can hear.

Turning away from Dumbledore, I lay down on the bed and settled for curling up into a ball and not making any noise at all. My emotions were intense and raw. I cried silently, tears flooding my face and pillow.

I didn't speak for what seemed like hours. When I was able to think coherently, pinkish light was coming from the enchanted window. I felt drained and muddled. My voice, though I had not used it, was scratchy and weak. Slowly sitting up, I turned a dead face towards the Head Master.

"Ask." I said in a flat voice. He'd let me have my time, quietly allowing me to grieve and shoulder my suffering.

"Please continue, Astrid." Dumbledore asked gently. "I need you to tell me what happened in the hallway." I nodded but could not meet his eyes. Instead, I turned my attention to the window.

"In the beginning, the magic wanted me to kill everyone. To enjoy their pain. I could feel everyone's emotions. Hear their pulses. Smell their fear…" I trailed off, remembering.

"I lost control. I forgot everything but what the magic wanted. It erased who I was." My voice cracked and I closed my eyes. "I couldn't even remember where I was, only that I wanted to kill everyone there, everyone around me. It was like I was…" I fought for the words to explain it, to make him and the people listening understand.

"A vampire." Dumbledore said softly, looking at me over his half-moon glasses.

My heart hammered and I shifted on the bed, staring up at him. Maybe…no. I wasn't a vampire. The sun had been up and their lifeblood had not attracted me so much as their painful deaths. Vampires fed on a person's life-force, not their pain.

"Yes. But worse, much worse." I said, shaking my head. The Headmaster sighed deeply.

"And therein lies our problem."

I ran a hand through my hair. "It was like I said at first, being unaware of my other self. The magic or essence of my other self had felt…impulsive. Not irrational so much as fickle." I took a moment to remember.

"And I could call the magic. It wanted to—to swallow, or absorb the fear. Kind of like…a dementor does, only they suck happy feelings out of you, don't they?" I had never seen or been near one so I wasn't sure.

"It did feel similar to that, yes."

"But…?" I said, sensing that there was something more.

"In the corridor, when your magic touched people, it drudged up memories of pain and fear but did not absorb them. It only used them to manufacture pain and terror, which was what it was truly after."

"Oh." That sounded right. After I had let Sarlow's pain wash over me, I'd been able to call on the magic. "So when I struck Sarlow…"

"The magic seized him and made him relive his worst memories—like a dementor. But it also attacked his imagination and discovered what he feared most, using that against him similar to what a bogart would do, if you will."

I rolled that around for a moment. My magic drew strength from imagined, remembered, and physical pain. A dementor absorbs happy memories and leaves behind only nightmares. I created nightmares and left behind pain.

I'm such a…monster I felt sick and nauseous.

"What I'm curious to know, Miss Sweetblood," Dumbledore said as I processed the information he'd just given me, "is how you managed to Heal Mr. Sarlow."

"Huh? Oh that."

"Yes, that."

"Well, I suppose that's when I broke through. To my other self I mean." I frowned. My mouth worked, trying to form the words my brain was scrambling for. I needed to explain this to myself more than I did to my hidden audience.

"It was like I'd been cut in half." I laughed bitterly. "Being a half-breed I suppose one could say that the good half of me—the human half—had been stripped away and shoved into a corner somewhere in my mind, leaving what was left of me to do as it pleased." My voice was hard and bitter.

"What was left of course is the problem isn't it? Because we don't know what that other half is." My lips thinned. I didn't want to be here anymore, to sit here like some exotic animal the Healers can examine. Clenching my hands, I continued. "All I know is that the half that remained was ruthless—monstrous. And it wanted to obey the magic. It wanted to follow its desires. It wanted to watch the people in that hallway to die and die horribly." My voice wavered slightly and I cleared my throat. "When my freewill resurfaced I was able to reclaim control over myself once again." I shivered at the surreal memory of that moment, the flesh on my arms prickling.

"But how did you heal Mr. Sarlow?"

"Well…my monster-half just grabbed a hold of the magic and made it do what my human- half wanted it to. With both halves working together, I guess I was able to shove my magic into Sarlow with my intent."

I sound like an absolute lunatic. What am I, Dr. Jackle and Mr. Hyde or whatever? I sound like an unstable Half-breed trying to resist the impulse to slaughter everyone because of my human heritage.

"The intent to Heal. If I hadn't, he almost…he would have died if I hadn't."

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, he would have indeed." Without looking at me, he sighed. The lines on his aging face deepened. "Miss Sweetblood, would you agree that a person suffering an acute personality disorder would endanger those in her surroundings?"

A sharp intake of breath made me swallow my spit. I hacked uncontrollably for a moment, holding up a hand to stave off any help.

"Sorry," I gasped, my eyes watering. "—hack—went down the wrong tube."

When I regained my ability to speak, I addressed his question.

"Yes," I said cautiously, "if that person was unaware of her condition and unwilling to seek counsel of some sort. But, I don't naturally have two distinct personalities that reside within me. That was the Dark Lord's fault. On a daily basis, I am normally—well, normal. Whatever that means for a half-breed." I paused for a moment, the words had sounded odd coming from my mouth. Half-breed…I shook myself.

"What I'm trying to say is that I have never before experienced this kind of instability. The Death Eater's interference with my magic is what managed to divide my personality into unstable halves. Perhaps the tattoo was a plug. I mean I got it when I was twelve, right before I hit puberty. By removing the plug, Voldemort might have instigated a rapid growth spurt that was so sudden it caused me to experience some dangerous side-effects that wouldn't have occurred otherwise." My words came out fast in a rapid-fire as my brain worked furiously. My palms began to sweat as I thought of who was listening in on our conversation.

It was as if I were presenting my case before an invisible jury.

"I can't be blamed for what the Dark Lord did to me, for being another of his victims. As far as I'm concerned, what I did in that hallway was the result of a Death Eater attack. And I shouldn't be blamed for not registering myself as a half-breed because I didn't even know I was one." I finished, hoping I was telling the truth, willing myself to be convincing.

Dumbledore considered me over the rim of his half-moon spectacles. Approval and a flicker of surprise entered his eyes. They seemed to say, "well-done".

"I agree. You were suffering from a magic-induced malady that forced you to divide yourself into two distinct halves. Of course, this is why you were brought to St. Mungos and not Azkaban. Before the hallway incident, you were simply an ordinary Hogwart's student with perhaps a rather unusual heritage." The Headmaster said airily, getting to his feet. "Could have happened to any of my students. You should not be punished for circumstances beyond your control."

Only those I should be able to. I thought grimly, closing my eyes as my nightmares from last night rose up to plague me.

There wasn't a doubt in my mind that the Ministry would have locked me up in Azkaban if the Head Master hadn't been here. At least, I hoped "would have locked me up" was an apt description of what was about to transpire.

"I must impress upon you the importance of remaining discrete from here on out, Miss Sweetblood, while I confer with some others on this matter. And I'm afraid that I must ask you to rest here a while longer. When I return, I hope we will walk out this door rather than by the portkey on your finger. Good morning, Miss Sweetblood."

My jaw dropped slightly before I could snap it shut.

"Headmaster." I nodded back to Dumbledore. Once he left, I felt the urge to blast open the door and sock everyone standing behind it square on the nose. Left alone with only my thoughts to occupy me, I scowled.

I did not want to do anymore thinking. I had exerted my brain enough for one day, thank you very much. Besides, my eyes and head were still sore from my emotional breakdown earlier. Blowing out my cheeks, I flopped over on the bed. A yawn escaped me and I tried to clamp down on it.

No, no sleeping. At least, not without taking a Dreamless Sleep Potion.

Forcing myself into a sitting position, I opened my eyes wide. Physically and mentally fatigued though I was, I couldn't face what was waiting for me in my dreams. I just couldn't. My eyes drooped and I pinched my arm. Nope. Absolutely no—yawn—sleepinnggg…

"Miss Sweetblood?"

Blinking rapidly, I sat up. Professor Dumbledore's face gradually came into focus. "Yeah?" I grunted. When had I fallen asleep? "Mmmahh. What time is it?"

Wait a minute. Rubbing my eyes, I took a good hard look at my surroundings. I was on a small cot in the hospital wing. The curtains had been pulled back and I could see Madam Pomfrey heading towards me.

"How did I get here? Why didn't you wake me up, you said you wanted to walk out the door. Did the Ministry reject my explanation? How long have I been asleep?" I shot off the questions angrily. I didn't like this waking up in different places shit. It made me nervous and defensive.

"It is Saturday. The Healers said you should not be disturbed, no matter how important the news. Respecting their wishes, I brought you back here and waited until Madam Pomfrey felt you were well enough to be woken up." Dumbledore explained, his eyes twinkling.

"Oh. Huh. I'd thought someone other than you might have needed to question me before I left the hospital. I mean, I was being threatened with Azkaban."

"Yes, well that had nothing to do with me. In fact, I barely had to say anything at all. It seems the Sweetblood name still commands a certain amount of respect from a few wizard families. Families who just happen to have connections to the Minster of Magic."

Before I could question him about that last statement, Pomfrey shoved a steaming goblet into my hands.

"Here, take this before you eat breakfast."

Breakfast? I must have slept all night. Did she bring me coffee? I haven't had coffee in ages.

"I know Madam Pompfrey wants to make sure you make a full recovery, so I will leave you in her very capable hands. I am glad to see you are doing better, Astrid." Watching Dumbledore leave, I sighed. For every one question I had, his answer only conjured up three more questions.

"What, this isn't coffee." I said, turning back to Pomfrey as I examined the goopy red liquid in my goblet. I brought it close to my nose and inhaled the steam. "Ugh! Holy hell, are you trying to kill me?"

It was definitely not coffee. Utterly disgusted and disappointed, I held it out for her to take, but Pomfrey merely clucked her tongue. "Not a chance. But I'll tell you what, drink that and you can leave."

"Fine." I snapped, steeling myself. Pinching my nose, I gulped the contents. Muscling my way past my gag reflex, I swallowed the potion and immediately dropped the goblet on the floor and dry heaved.

"I can only hope that will keep you from visiting me for the rest of the year. Oh and you got a letter in the mail yesterday while you were sleeping." Pomfrey said with a satisfied smile, pulling out a very official looking envelope. "And don't forget your wand. Now off with you."

Grimacing from the potion, I snatched my wand and the letter from her. "Finally." I growled, getting to my feet. Even though she'd returned my wand to me, I didn't feel any sort of remorse about having knocked her out with the Stunning Spell; that potion had pretty much evened the playing field.

Damn that was nasty.

Immensely relieved, I made my out into the hallway, which was deserted. Standing on my own two feet, I realized that Pomfrey had given me a horribly doctored energy replenishing drink probably packed with who knew how many vitamins.

"Hag probably spent hours coming up with the aftertaste. Bleh." I wiped my face on the corner of my robe.

A thought suddenly occurred to me and I halted mid-step in the hallway. Where was Prince?

Did they take him? No. He's probably hunting outside somewhere. Probably half-starved since no one likes to go near him let alone feed him.

Satisfied with that, I continued on down the hall. For a moment there I had felt almost panicked. Running a hand through my hair, I grimaced. I needed to take a shower. I hadn't had one in two days. Disgusted with myself, I took the stairs down to the entrance hall. When I reached the marble staircase I hesitated. Should I even bother going to my room?

No.

"I'll use the locker room showers." I decided.

Besides, it was Saturday. I only had one class today and no work, which meant I would have lots of time to brood over the dark thoughts hovering ever closer at the back of my mind.

"Wait a minute, I have that duel with Ron today and…maybe an interview?" I said hopefully, examining the letter in my hand.

It was addressed to a Ms. Astrid Vanderhorn-Sweetblood. The handwriting was very feminine and official looking. Running my fingers across the rich creamy paper, I took a deep breath. I really needed this job.

Walking slowly down the stairs and across the entrance hall, I carefully tore open the letter and scanned its contents. My eyes caught on some of the finer details and I went over the letter again, disbelieving.

She's already done a background check on me. Well. That was rather presumptuous of her. I haven't even been interviewed yet. I wonder if the Ministry has released the information about me being a half-breed yet…probably not since they haven't been able to identify that other half.

"Duties will entail," I began mockingly, "various household tasks including but not limited to, the welfare of my son." I raised an eyebrow, frowning. "Sounds like she's asking me to baby-sit. Huh. I guess I'll just have to show up on Saturday like she asks." I said, pocketing the letter.

He must be a real brat if she's offering so much. But I really don't care, five Galleons is five Galleons. Hmm…but why would she need a background check for a baby-sitter? Eh, rich people. Probably wants him to have the best of care or some shit. Funny that I would pass if that's the case.

I smirked, shaking my head. I could see the headline now. Bitchy American half-breed eats child.

Strolling across the entrance hall and towards the Dark Arts corridor, I wondered how I was going to make it through the year. I could hardly believe this was only my first week at Hogwarts. It felt like I'd been here for months.

Sighing, I continued on and opened the girls' locker room door. Or at least I tried to.

"Why…ugh. Fine. I'll just use the boys' locker room."

Why would someone lock the door? I'm too tired to fool around with any curses or counter hexes right now. I just want a damn shower.

Yanking on the boys' locker room door with unnecessary force—I'd figured it'd be locked too—I nearly dislocated my arm.

"Argh! What the hell is wrong with this place? Hey, is anybody in here?" I asked, leaning inside the doorway. When there was no response I fished out my wand. "Expiscor masculine."

A small blue light darted out of my and disappeared into the depths of the locker room. If it found any boys it would send up blue sparks. A minor spell, it was easily tricked and subdued, but it came highly recommended for first-time moms according to some magazine I'd read while at Number 12.

Nothing. I was satisfied because I seriously doubted any boy in a school locker room would bother denying his gender. Boys are such sensitive, insecure things. Snatching up a pair of sweats and a shirt, I played it safe anyway and stepped into a curtained shower before stripping.

"Merlin that feels good." I sighed contentedly sometime later, simply enjoying the feel of a hot shower.

Ducking my head under the water one last time, I resigned myself to the cold of the locker room. I turned off the water and reached for my towel.

As I did so, I immediately became aware of footsteps. My shoulder's tensed and my heart rate sped up a bit in alarm as I listened to rustling clothes and the sound of a curtain sliding back before the shower was turned on.

Shit. How…ah. Probably came in while my head was under the showerhead.

Taking a calming breath, I shook my head. It wasn't a big deal, I'd just have to leave before whoever was in the stall next to me was done.

No need to freak out.

Puzzled at my restlessness, I wrung out my hair. What was wrong with me? Normally I wouldn't bat an eyelash at being caught someplace I wasn't supposed to be. Grabbing the clothes I'd taken with me in the stall, I yanked them on. Stepping out of the shower, I wadded my dirty clothes into a bundle before throwing them into a nearby hamper. As I did so, I remembered that I hadn't had my lap around the castle yet. That would warm me up for the duel and help take my mind off this entire past week.

I hope.

Leaving the locker rooms, I trudged through the courtyard and down the hill. I did a few stretches, freezing my ass off while I did so. Steam rose up from my wet hair and I took a few minutes to dry it with my wand. Finally, when I was unable to put it off any longer, I began a slow jog around the castle.

"Excuse me. Excuse me. Excuse me." I practically yelled. A large crowed had gathered together in the Dark Arts corridor, preventing me from accessing Emrys room.

Tilting my head up to peer over the crowed, I glimpsed the problem. Some idiot couldn't get the door open. Disgusted, I began pushing my way through the crowed, occasionally zapping the more persistent on-lookers.

"Bloody door!" I heard Ron swear as I broke through the last group of bystanders.

My eyes raked over him condescendingly. Idiot couldn't even get the door open. "Allow me."

The noise level in the hall dropped as Ron faced me, a belligerent look on his face. I saw Hermione tug on Ron's arm when he didn't move. Muttering something under his breath, he stepped back to join Harry and other Griffindors.

"Oh yeah, like she can get it open." The ruddy-faced boy from the other day—the one who had flipped me off—sneered.

My wand appeared in my hand and he flinched. Several Ravenclaws and Slytherins snickered.

This was so stupid, I thought, tapping my wand against the knots in the door. I whispered the password I had worked out the last time I'd had Emry's class, unwilling to share the hard won information. The door swung open and I heard cheers and exclamations of disbelief behind me.

Entering the room, I crossed over to the raised, elongated strip in the center of the gym. Once I mounted the dueling platform, I found myself crossing my arms and staring off into space as I waited for Ron. Should I be here after what happened in the hallway with Sarlow? I was a half-breed now. Perhaps I should lay a little low for a while until I knew…what I was capable of.

Cautiously, I drifted towards that strange wad of emotions lurking in my mind. Excitement and the roar of a hundred heartbeats made me jerk and I hastily drew away. Blinking, I came to and stared around me in surprise. What might have been half of the student body had managed to crowd into the room as Ron joined me at the center of the dueling platform.

Sighing deeply, I relaxed my muscles as much as I could and prepared to duel. It was hard though, the lurking fear of loosing control plagued my mind and made me uneasy.

"Terms?" I asked him, making sure my voice cut out over the crowed. The noise in the room dropped and I gazed out over the assembled crowd, noting the presence of Professors Snape, Emry, and McGonagall.

My eyes locked on Professor Snape and frowned. As if it were completely natural, I automatically plucked his thread out of the jumbled mass and wrapped a mental hand around it. I felt compelled to crush it.

"First blood!" Ron said dramatically, eliciting approving cheers. Jerked out of my reverie, I stared over at my cousin.

Is he my cousin?

"Don't be an idiot." I snapped, instinctively knowing that would be a very, very bad idea. I felt my gut tighten as memories from the hallway skirted through my mind. "There are too many people here to take the chance of your spell hitting them."

Ron went rigid, his face almost apocalyptic with anger. "First three hits." He finally spat.

"Spell limitations?"

"No."

"Very well. Professor Emrys, will you take up the count?" The wiry Auror nodded from where he stood and I turned my back on Ron.

"One…two…three!"

On three I spun around and my eyebrows shot up in surprise as a jet of blue light darted towards me. Like the day before with the crash dummies, I sidestepped the hex. Ron was better than I had given him credit for. He wasn't fast by any means, but still, his delivery wasn't too shabby.

His stance, however, was terrible. He had his entire body facing me head on, providing me with an easy target. And the spells he was casting were…inelegant. His wrist movement wasn't sloppy, but it was too loose. He needed to tighten it up. Also, the spells he chose were spoken aloud, alerting me to their execution so I could step clear of the spell even before he finished casting it. I hadn't had that advantage with the stuffed dummy.

I watched Ron grow more and more agitated as I carelessly evaded his spells. I chuckled. "What's the matter Weasley, can't hit me?"

He swore and threw an Engorgement Charm at me. Snickering, I ducked and began to walk towards him. Confused, he began to fire off more spells. One particularly potent curse did manage to singe an end of my robe as I dipped, dropped, and darted. My playful mood dimmed. This was one of my favorite robes.

Frowning, I thought about my first day at Hogwarts when he had insulted me before the entire school. An inaudible growl grew in my chest and I felt a cold tendril reach up from the depths of my essence. As my body temperature dropped I felt panicked sweat break out on my forehead.

No more games, I must end this and end it quickly before…

Not bothering to take the time to complete that thought, I raised my wand and shot off three consecutive curses, my wrist a blur of precise movements. Lavender, pink, and yellow, the spells erupted from the tip of my wand so rapidly it was as if they had left it at the same time.

The first curse struck Ron's knee, the second his stomach, and the third his chest. "This was a mistake and a waste of my time. Grow up Ron, and next time, don't square off. Stand at an angle so you're not such an easy target." My voice was tight and acidic, more from the concentration required to control myself than my disgust with Ron.

Without another word I left the platform. As I left the crowd was silent. I could hear a few cheers from where my house stood, but most of the student body just watched me with wide eyes. With a self-deprecating smirk on my face, I left the room. I knew they were all thinking about the other day in the hallway. Perhaps the ones who hadn't witnessed it first hand had thought it a sham, or too incredulous to believe. The ones that had been there…I met the gaze of Neville Longbottom. He had stayed near the back of the room near the door. I felt the hunger rise up in recognition and swallowed convulsively.

Smart boy. I'd have stood by an exit too if I were you.

By the look on his face, I could tell he was trying not to flee from the room in panic. The predatory urge to main and feed on his pain must have shown in my eyes for just a moment because he retreated a step. Pressing a hand to my stomach, I blanched and knew he could read the horror and fear in my eyes.

I'm sorry, Neville. If only you knew how sorry I was…

Seeing the wary confusion in his face, I lowered my eyes and ducked through the door. I had to calm down.

(A/N):

Alright! I've managed to crank out another chapter. Yay for me. I think it's been like nearly a year since I've submitted an update. Wow. That's really sad. I don't know if I'll ever be able to finish this thing at the rate I'm going despite the fact that I already have an outline written (I wrote the ending too). I have a serious motivation problem. It's pathetic.

Anyway, I hope this was entertaining for anyone actually reading this story.

Cheers, the author