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//This is Parseltongue.//

Paraselenic

Pestiferous // evil and corrupting

Hermione's eyes slowly tracked from the dead body of Sybill Trelawney, brown eyes wide and tear filled, looking at Harry with an air of confusion. "Did you know?"

For a moment Harry's heart stopped. "Know what, Hermione?"

The witch took a shuddering breath, using the heels of her hands to banish the welling tears. "The prophecy. Did you know?"

Harry regarded her with a wary air, having forgotten that he hadn't told his friends. "Yes," he said. "Dumbledore told me at the end of term."

Hermione closed her eyes with a pained sob and Ron's angry face suddenly turned to him, slightly green around the gills at the sight of the corpse but fury overriding his disgust. "You knew?! Why didn't you tell us, mate? Why wouldn't you tell us something that important?!"

Harry looked away, unable to hide his agitation. "It doesn't concern you."

"We're your friends, Harry!" Hermione burst, standing from her seat and drawing the attention of most of the hall. "How could you not tell us about this? How could you leave us in the dark?!"

Harry stood as well, eyes narrowed and his voice cold. "Did it say, 'The three friends with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approach'? No! It didn't! It says the one. This will be my fight, my war, and you will not get in my way! Either I kill him or he kills me, no one else can do anything!" Gasps rang off the walls of the Great Hall as those who hadn't understood the prophecy or who were in shock finally understood.

His words were laced with honest annoyance, but he was going to make the best of the situation. He had to confirm for the students of Hogwarts that Harry Potter was the one expected to kill Voldemort. When his defection was realized, they would have to know that he was the one prophesized to kill him and realize how lost the Light was.

Hermione grabbed Ron's arm as the redhead made to leap over the table, fists clenched and ready to strike out at his best friend. Hermione glanced around at their audience and spoke lowly. "We'll be talking about this tomorrow, Harry."

Harry raised an eyebrow but nodded, ignoring the fearful whispers that filled the hall as someone finally took charge and sent them to their dorms.

The castle had a mournful air the next day, students less boisterous than usual. Breakfast was somber, and Harry had to stifle the urge to laugh. Trelawney had been a mockery, one of the least favorite teachers to students and staff members alike, yet now they all acted as if they had lost their closest friend. It was rather funny in a morbid way, and Harry snorted under his breath.

Apparently, the noise had not been quiet enough, as Hermione's face whipped around to him with narrowed eyes. Harry looked away from his friend, ignoring the suspicion written plainly on her face. He thought she might have said something if the morning post had not arrived in that moment, copies of the Daily Prophet being dropped in several places. Hermione tore at her own to see the front page, rapidly paling. Harry pried it from her stiff fingers and made a show of looking angry, concerned, and morally outraged as he scanned the article.

Halloween Horror!

By Trish Pettingale

Halloween was full of more ghouls and terror last night than ever before. In a bold and frightening move, You-Know-Who managed a double strike against the world, successfully breaking into Azkaban once again and as well as infiltrating Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

The first alarms were sounded by Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, informing the Ministry that somehow an agent of Voldemort had not only gotten into the school but had killed Divination Professor Sybill Trelawney. "It was revoltin'!" a source from the crew sent to retrieve the body told his reporter. "She was pinned up in the Great Hall, insides fallin' out o' her where all the wee kiddies could see! And there were words, words written in blood! Sounded wonky, sayin' who would defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named or some such nonsense!"

This reporter was understandably shocked to learn this, but was so far unable to learn the words that were written. Was there a prophecy made foretelling the fall of You-Know-Who? If so, why have none of us heard about this until now? And what would You-Know-Who gain from revealing said prophecy? The biggest question to this reporter, however, is: how did You-Know-Who manage to get into Hogwarts? Isn't it lauded as one of the most secure locations in Wizarding Britain? How did they get past Albus Dumbledore?

(For more on reactions to such a terrible offense happening so close to the children of our world, see page four.)

Less than an hour after Sybill Trelawney's murder, alarms pierced the night within the Ministry, signaling a break in the wards of the most secure place of all -- Azkaban. Once again He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has broken in and this time the Dementors have gone with him. Due to the chaos that has come of this, we are not even aware of how many of his followers he was able to liberate, though we assume that the captures of Bellatrix, Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, Warden McNair, and Thomas Nott earlier this week have now been voided. It is unclear if You-Know-Who freed others as well, however.

Seventeen Aurors were killed in the battle that ensued as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named made to leave with his followers, including the highly decorated Alastor Moody, Second-in-command Gawain Robards, and Senior Auror Kingsley Shacklebot, all three reportedly killed by You-Know-Who himself. Only two Death Eaters are confirmed dead, neither of their identities known at this time.

Is this a sign that You-Know-Who's reign is going to be once again like it was twenty years ago? Are any of us safe if both Hogwarts and Azkaban were infiltrated? Are our children safe? These questions and more plague this reporter, but I think I speak for everyone when I say that we must find the answers.

Harry crumpled the paper in a fit of annoyance, both real and put-on, scowling down at his plate. He needed to be upset about the deaths caused to the eyes of the Great Hall, but inside he was a mess of calculations. Seventeen aurors! Mad-Eye, even! His respect for Voldemort rose a few notches. He had always known the man powerful, but it was different imagining him beating Moody than it was knowing he had managed to outsmart him as a teen. He didn't know about Robards, but Kingsley was a good duelist and though Moody was getting on in age, he was one of the best out there. That Voldemort had managed to take all three of them out on his own while under fire from at least a couple dozen other Aurors, if the death count was any hint, was impressive.

He wondered who from their side was killed, though. Two wasn't that bad, but depending on who the two were it could complicate things. Certain people being unveiled as Death Eaters would cause a chain of other identities revealed, and that could cause them a plethora of problems. And personally he was hoping it was not either Pettigrew or Lucius, as he held personal stock in both of them. Pettigrew's death was his, and Pretty was far too fun to die. And they needed Lucius in the Ministry, of course, but at the moment Harry only cared that his toy was unharmed.

An owl swooped to him as he contemplated, and he pulled off the letter with confusion. No one really ever wrote him, and he was confused as to why someone was now. He sucked in a breath when he recognized the handwriting, willing himself to not draw attention to himself. Thankfully, Hermione was stuck in thought-mode, going over the slightly wrinkled Daily Prophet article again.

He turned his eyes down to the letter he held, unfolding it slowly and breathing out in relief as he read the first line:

Potter-

Stop hyperventilating, brat, this letter is spelled against anyone reading it who isn't a Parselmouth. Handy spell, isn't it? I found it in one of Slytherin's descendants' books. Since Parseltongue doesn't have a written language (why would snakes need to write?), this was wizards' substitution. To anyone else this will leave the impression of a letter from one of your ever-adoring fans.

As I'm sure you've managed to perceive by this point, last night was a success. We only lost Marcus Flint and Alecto Carrow, and neither important enough to be missed or connected enough for there to be much reverberation. There are some concerns I have, but I will save them for another time.

I am obviously not writing for your entertainment. I will be going out of the country for the month of November, seeking a spellsmith in Norway. In the meantime we will obviously not be holding our weekly meetings, though I will be calling a meeting once I return. I'm sure you can mange without my wonderful presence for that long, can't you Potter?

-Dark Lord Voldemort

Harry snorted and pulled out his Holly wand, pointing it at the letter and letting it crumble to ash and fade to nothing. Hermione's eyes hadn't even turned from the paper, and she hadn't even been aware he'd had a letter. It was all for the better; he didn't want to test if that spell of Voldemort's worked.

Dumbledore stood then, announcing that to mourn those who had bravely died the night before, classes would be cancelled for the day. Hermione and Ron stood to leave, the brunette tucking the paper into her bag for further thought, Harry trailing along behind them as they made their way to the Room of Requirement to talk. They had been making an effort all morning to treat him normally, as if the night before had never happened, but he could see the tension in their 'casual' movements. Now, however, he listened to their debate from where they walked side-by-side in front of him, less amused by the minute.

"I'm telling you, I think it was him! We've never had an attack this bad in Hogwarts, and all of the Defense professors have been bad in one way or another. He's probably this Mylläkkä guy!"

"Honestly, Ronald, you're being silly now. Do you really think the Headmaster would let a Dark Lord teach here?"

"What about the fake Moody? Dumbledore didn't know then! And what about Quirrell? The guy had Voldemort on the back of his head! There's something real fishy about Pierce, and I think Dumbledore's losing it in his old age. A person can only totally miss the obvious so many times, you know."

Harry couldn't help his own silent agreement with Ron, though he was slightly stunned at his friend's opinions on Dumbledore. Though anything Dark still sent Ron into fits, the boy obviously had gained some perspective through the years.

"That's Professor Dumbledore, Ron. And besides, Professor Pierce couldn't possibly be this new Dark Lord."

"How do you figure, Hermione?" Ron said with an agitated glare, obviously annoyed at the lofty tone of her voice. Harry was hard-pressed not to nod in agreement, though or different reasons. He was honestly curious about why she was so adamant of his innocence.

"Because he's obviously a vampire."

Harry tripped over his feet in shock, turning wide eyes on the brunette. "Wait, what?!"

Ron was bleached white, mouth agape, choking noises occasionally escaping his throat.

Hermione sighed, pushing her unruly curls over her shoulder and planting her hands on her hips. "Really, you two! You pay so little attention that I wonder how you've both survived this long! He has an aversion to sunlight, his grace and speed are obviously preternatural, his speech patterns are often bordering on archaic, he never eats when he's in the Great Hall, his pupils are slitted… how much more proof do you need?"

Harry's mind raced to take in this new development. Dante had planned to reveal his Vampirism in the aftermath of Halloween in order to distance himself from the possibility of having committed the crimes; as a full vampire who was forced onto Blood Replacers for as long as Dante had been (a medical scan would be able to confirm this) would be nearly unable to resist biting a dying human in the presence of that much blood. A full vampire had more control than Harry did in his strange hybrid form, but even with that control, two months of the potions would test their limits. It would only present itself in the case of a lot of blood, but that was just the kind of situation they were now faced with.

However, it appeared that Hermione had known for quite some time that their professor was not human and was utterly fine with it. He hadn't honestly thought she would have a problem, being muggleborn and without the pureblood prejudices that children on the Light side and many of the ones on the Dark had grown up with. He well remembered her easy acceptance of Remus' Lycanthropy until she had thought he had betrayed them. It was Ron's ghost-white face and seeming inability to move that worried him. He would now see just how badly his oldest friend would react.

Harry shrugged and looked away from them both. "Whatever, it isn't a big deal. If he didn't kill her we just have to figure out who did, right?"

Ron choked. "Just like that? Just like that you're fine that there is a vampire teaching in our school? We'll all be killed! A vampire!! Don't you two know anything? Vampires only ever come around humans to kill them; they don't take jobs just for the fun of it! They're creatures who feed off pain and blood, they want to kill off all us wizards! We're doomed…"

Ron's words hurt, honestly, but they weren't terrible. He'd honestly expected a lot worse. Then again… he didn't know his 'best mate' was a vampire, either. If he did, Harry thought the words would be much worse despite the time they spent together.

Harry watched as Hermione puffed up under the redhead's prejudice, and Harry easily recognized her righteous S.P.E.W. fury building. "Ronald Bilius Weasley! He has been teaching us for two months now and no one has ended up dead until just last night! You're being a thoughtless bigot! I thought you had actually grown up a bit in the last year, but obviously you have not. Do you remember third year? Until you met Professor Lupin you thought all werewolves were vicious animals. Do you forget how wrong you were then?!"

Harry sighed and began trying to walk away, glad for Hermione's words but not in the mood to listen to her in lecture mode. However, Ron saw him edging away from them and blue eyes narrowed. "You too, mate? You believe this crap she's spouting?" Ron's voice raised several octaves as he mocked Hermione's shrill tones, "'Honestly Ronald, Vampires are just like puppies! They like rainbows and hugs and bearbees(1) and would never hurt anyone!'"

Hermione's face turned brilliant red in her fury and Harry narrowed his eyes. "You're being an idiot Ron. Shut up while you're ahead."

The redhead, as usual, seemed disinclined to listen to sound advice. "So you are buying this rubbish! Blimey, Harry, I knew being raised muggle made you a bit less quick on these things, but I thought you at least had sense! You're both nutters if you think we're all going to be fine with a vampire running around the school! Dumbledore is totally off his rocker!"

Harry didn't think he could listen any more. It was no less than he expected, but it surely didn't mean he had to like listening to the words coming out of his friend's mouth. He turned and stalked away, irritation boiling under his skin like a virus. He was not angry, but he was agitated beyond belief. This was just too much to deal with this early in the morning. He scowled and made to walked on, both Ron and Hermione's voices growing fainter as he turned the corner, eager to get away.

Of course, as seemed to be the norm, things couldn't be that easy.

"Well, well, Potter. Alone without your pets, I see?"

Draco was shocked when in less than a moment after he had spoken, Harry had grabbed him by the collar and thrown him against the hallway wall, lip curled up in a snarl. "I am not in the mood for you right now, Malfoy. Get a life."

Draco paled as green eyes pierced him, and he stopped breathing as he felt his long-time rival's aura wash over him. It was nothing like it had ever been, and he was rather eruditely familiar with Harry's reactions when angry. Whereas in years past it had been like flame, licking and burning, now it was as cold as ice, still brushing over his senses like roaring flames but freezing. And it felt terrible, even to his own Dark magic, twisted and nearly sickening. He could still feel the other boy's flame-like magic, but it was buried underneath the second entity that had been confusing him all these months. This second aura of power is what was choking him now, silver eyes wide in fear.

"Have you forgotten already, Malfoy? Don't you remember what I told you at the beginning of the year? You're an idiot. You're a child and you have no idea of anything, and you really need to learn to think before you speak. Your refusal to believe that someone could be more powerful than you is going to be your death."

Draco struggled, his father's words ringing in his ears. His father had specifically told him to stay away from Potter a few days prior, and now Draco was wondering just what his father knew that he did not. It couldn't be this murderous look in Potter's eye, as his father had not seen Potter since the end of the year prior. But now he wished he had heeded his father's mandate. Now he couldn't even tell his father about this meeting without revealing that he hadn't listened. "Let go of me, Potter, you daft moron!"

"Next time think before you speak." Harry's voice was a hiss as he pressed into Draco, lips brushing against the blond's ear. "Do you know what I could do to you?" His voice was a purr and sent shudders through Draco with its malice. "I could make you suffer, Malfoy, make you scream. I could kill you with my bare hands without another soul hearing your last words. I could strip the skin from your body, leaving you alive all the while. I could drain every drop of blood from you with ease, leaving you a withered husk on the ground in some forgotten hallway, not to be found for years."

Draco stopped breathing, throat constricting with fear. He couldn't show the extent of his fear, he couldn't let Potter see that he was scared out of his mind. Draco forced down the urge to cower away and clenched his fists, concentrating on the pain of his nails digging into his skin.

Harry pulled away now, his voice back to a normal level. "Watch who you insult, Malfoy, because I do not have as many scruples as you think I do."

Harry grabbed the blond by the throat and threw him away, a loud crack signaling Malfoy's meeting with the wall as Harry walked away into the darkness.

Draco cursed violently as he stood, body shaking like never before. Who was that? Surely it couldn't be Potter; the words sounded more like the Dark Lord than the Golden Boy. Perhaps… wait, perhaps that was it? Was Potter possessed? That would explain the second aura, the malicious air around him, his father's warning to stay away. The hairs on the back of Draco's neck stood on end; the Light was so screwed.

And down the hall, unnoticed by either Draco or Harry, two sets of eyes had witnessed it all.

(1) Kyou Kara Maou reference. Bearbees are cute. XD Just Google them. Nogisu!

Revised: 3/19/09