Chapter Thirty-Five: Umbridge

"Hogsmead weekend!"

There was a flurry of activity in the Slytherin common room. Harry watched it all from his secured seat on the couch, the black mood that had been hovering over him since breakfast surrounding him like a cloud.

The news had come with Sirius' usual Friday morning letter. Their tone was stiffer than usual of late, but Harry had expected them to be. But this…

"Bloody hypocrite," he muttered, sinking back into his seat, arms folded across his chest and his lower lip in serious danger of sticking out.

The younger years were in clumps here and there around the common room. All of them had on their heaviest cloaks and the brightly patterned green-and-white House scarves. There was an excited thrum to the room that even Harry could feel – much to his continuing displeasure.

"Now that's a face," a voice near his ear caused Harry to squeak and jump.

Blaise grinned down at Harry's furious glare.

"I heard Black rescinded your permission to go," the taller boy leaned against the high back of the couch, hands dangling down against the cushions.

"…Yeah," Harry turned away with a sigh.

"He must be really pissed."

Harry snorted, feeling his hands clench tight for a moment. "Sure he is," his jaw ached.

"So you're just going to accept it?"

Harry frowned, tilted a glance up at Blaise. "What do you mean?"

A hand ruffled his hear. "You're the former Gryffindor, Harry. Figure it out." Blaise straightened, his eyes on a figure that had just emerged from the boy's side of the dorm. "Neville? Ready to go?"

"Oh? Yes, I mean yes." Neville patted at his pockets with a distant expression on his face. "I know I put that letter somewhere…"

"Did you lose it? Again?"

"Blaise."

"I'm just teasing, see? Here it is, you gave it to me for safe keeping."

"Oh, thank Merlin. I didn't want to write all that again."

Harry watched the exchange, some of his ire leaking away at the warmth the boys always seemed to put off when they were together. "Your final application essay, Neville?" He asked.

Neville beamed a smile at him. "Yes, can you believe it? I'll be approved for summer and holiday break work when I turn this in. It'll all go towards my internship, so all I'll have to finish is about six months. Then they can hire me as a full time employee."

"That's amazing, Neville. Really."

"Gran's over the moon about it," Neville rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, sharing a smile with Blaise. "She's not so crazy about me finding my own place to live."

"You're moving out this year?"

"Oh, no, not yet." Neville fiddled with the buttons of his cloak. "Gran's put her foot down, saying I'm to live at home until after I graduate. I – I don't mind, really. I'd hate to live alone." A shy glace at Blaise had Neville's face starting to turn red.

"My mothers are already scouting houses," Blaise told Harry with a wink and elaborate sigh.

"Well, do tell them to get one with a good nursery," Harry managed to say with a straight face.

"Draco told you, didn't he? I'll kill him."

"Who's killing me, now?"

"You told Harry about my uncle!" Blaise stabbed a finger at the blond who had decided to appear at that particular moment. "You said you wouldn't!"

Draco studied them all with a slow blink. "I haven't had enough caffeine for this."

Neville caught Blaise's arm. "Let's head out," he tugged the other boy away.

Harry stared up at Draco. "That was a truly disturbing story."

"It's more disturbing that it's true."

"…Yeah."

"And that it was seriously considered in the wizengamot for a while."

"Oh, hell."

"Thankfully people came to their senses and vetoed the measure. Still, it pops up from time to time as a viable option for repopulating the wizarding world."

Harry curled an arm over his belly. "Not. In. A. Million. Years."

"I won't argue with that."

"Argue what?" Ginny asked.

Both of them turned at the sound of her voice. "Male pregnancy," Harry answered.

Ginny made a face, paused and then seemed to consider it. "Well, it would be amusing to see you go through it all."

"Ginny!"

The laughter faded from her eyes. "I – I was just…do you want me to get you anything from Hogsmead, Harry?"

Harry drew in a breath, then stopped. "No, because I'm going."

"Harry!"

"Ginny," he gave her a look. "I'm getting tired of Harry-do-this-not-that letters. Half the time he wants me to act like I used to, then he comes out with edicts and crap that tell me the exact opposite." He shook his head. "I'm tired of doing it his way. I'm going."

Ginny chewed on her lower lip. "But – but he really does mean it for the best."

"I know, Gin, but he needs to make up his mind one way or the other. It's not fair to me – or you – for him to keep jumping back and forth."

"But!"

"Don't worry, Ginny. Honest. There's nothing you can do that'll make him mad. Sirius and I need to work this out on our own."

"…If you're sure."

"Positive, Ginny."

"I…I was going with Pansy and Millicent," Ginny's hands were buried deep in her pockets. "Do – do you want me to come with you?"

It was nice, Harry reflected, that Ginny had seemed to come around to his side. "No, you go on with them. You'll have more fun, I bet."

"O-Okay…" She hesitated for another moment. "It'll work out, Harry. I know it will."

"Of course," he managed a smile for her. She turned as Pansy and Millicent appeared, both laughing over some magazine held between them. They waved the younger girl over and soon all of them were cackling over some strange piece of arcane female humor.

"Ready to go, then? Draco asked with a smile.

"Let me get my cloak."

"And scarf."

"And scarf."

"And cap."

"Draco."

"Cap, Harry."

"Fine, fine, cap too."

qpqp

Snow, new and old, crunched under their feet as they made their way through the streets of Hogsmead. They had lunch in another tucked-away café Harry had had no idea about.

"Where do you find these places?" He asked Draco as they looked at the large platters of sandwiches and chips that were set in front of them.

"Old Slytherin tradition," Draco ate his sandwich with a fork and knife. Harry rolled his eyes at the show of fussiness and used his hands. It was true, though, the café they sat in held mostly locals and a few other Slytherins.

"You get a hand out with approved lunch choices or something?" Harry mopped at his chin with his napkin.

"Nonsense, Harry, nothing so plebian. An older student usually shows the third years around on their first trip."

"Gotcha."

"They're also shown the exit routes," Draco frowned at his food, moving a small piece of ham to the edge of his plate.

"Exit routes?"

Pale eyes glanced at him, then away. "Slytherin has not been a popular House for a long time. Sometime in the eighteen hundreds, a mob of muggleborn Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs attacked a group of Slytherins and Ravenclaws. Not many people remember this, but it's one of the things that's passed down in the House."

"A mob of students attacked other students?"

"It wasn't…uncommon for more lethal fights to break out between the Houses back then." Draco gave a graceful shrug. "Things have changed."

"And this connects to these escape routes…?"

"Well, almost ten Slytherin students were killed in the fighting. Most all of them were first years – that's about when they restricted second year and down from coming to the village. Anyhow, the children didn't know how to get out of the alley they'd been boxed into and none of them could do much advanced magic," Draco's expression turned grim for a moment. "It was…not a fair fight."

"Were the Gryffindors punished?"

"Yes and no. Most were sent back to their homes, expelled. The Hufflepuffs claimed their innocence, saying they were just following the crowd. It's one of the reasons why Hufflepuff has a shaded reputation with Slytherin."

"That's not…fair."

Draco gave him a lopsided smile. "That's the history of the House, Harry. You get pretty bitter about it, especially during first year when all the stories are told."

"So that's why you were so…" Harry waved a hand.

"Pushy about House pride?" Draco arched an eyebrow.

"Yeah."

"Exactly."

Harry pushed his chips around on his plate. "We don't – didn't pass stories down like that in Gryffindor."

"…Perhaps it's for the better," Draco shrugged. "I don't think so, but in a way, if you're ignorant about the things that have been done to your House, then the less you can be upset by it. Of course, not knowing it means you're doomed to repeat the same mistakes over and over again."

Harry made a face at his food. "That's bloody depressing."

"Isn't it?" Draco pushed away his plate. "Come on, let's get something sweet and play a prank on Gryffindors."

"Draco!"

"What?"

Harry laughed and shook his head. "Never mind. Come on."

qpqp

Their Hogsmead weekend was almost perfect. Except for the part where Harry was caught inside the joke shop by a Ravenclaw prefect who saw fit to march Harry back to the castle herself.

Then they were met by Umbridge instead of their Head of House.

The prefect left Harry with the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Draco was at his side, having refused the prefect's orders to leave. Both of them were to be assigned detentions, the prefect had warned. Draco's response was anything but civil.

"My, my," Umbridge folded her hands at her waist. Harry rubbed at his nose; to him, the woman always smelled like baby powder and some strange, stuffy flower perfume. It made his sinuses go wild anytime she drew near.

"I am greatly disappointed, Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy," she pursed her mouth, the heavy make up unable to hide the thick wrinkles that formed. "I would have thought Slytherin House was more responsible than this."

Harry shared a look with Draco and stayed quiet.

"I'm afraid this calls for drastic measures, especially for you, Mr. Potter." He thought he saw a brief, vicious smile cross her face. "Yes, yes," she continued. "We all know about the things you have…taken, don't we? We can't have a person like that running around unmonitored."

Harry felt his nails cut into the flesh of his palms. "I'm not a danger to anyone."

"Oh, but you are, Mr. Potter," she tsked. "You and your Housemates have brought such…creatures into the world, confusing young minds everywhere, yes." Her hands tightened. "We shall have to do something about that, yes."

"We haven't done anything wrong!" Harry protested. "And the gods aren't creatures or monsters like you make out!"

"Such lies, Mr. Potter, do not become you."

"He's not lying," Draco spoke up, taking a step between the professor and Harry.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy. This shall not look pleasant on your school record."

"What won't?"

"Threatening a teacher."

The blond rocked back on his heels. "You wouldn't. You can't."

"What I can and cannot do is none of your business, Mr. Malfoy. Rest assured, though, that I can and I will make your life miserable if I so choose."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "You overstep your bounds."

Her wand was in her hand and pointed at Draco before Harry could move. A curse Harry had never heard before snapped out between them.

"What are you doing!" Harry shouted at the woman, catching Draco as he crumpled to the ground.

"Keeping my word," the smile was back. It caused shivers to run down Harry's spine. "Now, you are going to listen to what I say, Mr. Potter and you will agree to everything."

"And if I refuse?"

"I've bound Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter," the glitter grew in the woman's eyes. "Would you care to see what else I can do to the boy now that I have my spell on him?"

Harry's breath caught in his throat. "Fine," he croaked out. "What do you want?"

This time her smile showed teeth.

qpqp

As expected, the Howler that came for Harry on Sunday morning entertained most of the Great Hall. Sirius' shouts were mortifying. Ginny hid behind her hands as Sirius berated Harry for his stupidity. The letter's final explosion sent ashes in all directions.

There was a deep well of silence after the Howler had disappeared. "Well then," Harry said, breaking it. "That's one way to start the day."

The ensuing rush of whispers, he was sure, were mostly aimed at him.

Draco rubbed at his temple. "That guardian of yours, Harry…"

"I know."

"Are you going to write back?" Ginny asked, peeking out from behind her hands.

"Not yet," Harry picked at the sooty remains of his meal. "I'll let him calm down a bit first."

"I can't believe you were caught," Ginny heaved a sigh.

"Yeah," Harry shook his head.

"Whom do you have detention with?"

"Umbridge."

"You do?" Draco rubbed at his head again. "Why can't I remember?"

"You fell down, remember?" Harry couldn't look at him. It had been hard enough coming up with a lie that had suited Madam Pomfrey. "Madam Pomfrey doesn't want you eating too many sweets ever again."

"I've never had such a problem before," Draco made a sharp gesture. "I wish that bloody headache potion would start to work."

It was all Harry could do to choke down his tea. He didn't have to look at the Head Table to know that Umbridge was smirking in their general direction.

"When's your detention, Harry?" Neville leaned around Blaise to look at him.

"I've a detention every Sunday night until the holiday break," Harry flexed his right hand. The faint sting of Umbridge's little 'demonstration' was a constant reminder every time he gripped a cup.

Sunday afternoon was spent finishing the homework Harry had refused to do on Friday. Draco and Blaise were pulled away by Pansy and some of the older years to talk about politics. More inquiries had been sent out about their missing second year student, a girl, Harry had learned, that was named Martha. He was more than happy to skip the talk; he needed time alone to settle his mind.

Umbridge's…deal was something that weighed on him. He wanted to tell Draco, tell Snape…but the woman's threat stopped him every time. He hadn't thought the woman was good at magic, not with the attitude she put off in class, but he'd learned better. She was very good at magic – especially the darker aspect of it.

He was not blind to the irony of the situation.

What he needed was a way to research the woman's spell that would not set off the others. He needed to find a way to break whatever binding she had on the blond before he could risk telling Draco about all of it. And to do that he needed help. A bookish kind of help.

Harry knew what he had to do.

qpqp

He found Hermione in a far corner of the library. Books on pure blood etiquette were piled up around her.

"Hermione?"

Her head jerked up from the table. Wide eyes stared at him. "H-Harry?"

He settled his book bag against his hip. "Hi," he curled up one side of his mouth, but it didn't feel much like a smile. It had taken a lot of wiggling and arguing to get his Housemates to let Harry come down to the library with people other than those most close to him. The hurt that had flashed in Draco's eyes had twisted at his gut. He'd have to make it up to the other boy later.

"…What's wrong, Harry?" Hermione shoved a handful of hair from her face.

He took a deep, nervous breath. "I need help," the words wanted to stick in his throat.

The guarded expression did not fade from her face. "Help that Draco and the others can't give?"

He took a chance. "Help that Draco can't know about."

Something moved in her eyes. "I see," she closed the book in front of her. "Tell me what's happened."

He sank into the chair across from her and told her everything.

qpqpqpqp

Pansy and Millicent had escorted Harry to his detention. Draco was nowhere to be found. Harry's gut twisted at the thought.

Umbridge was behind her desk, grading papers when he stepped into the room. "On time, how punctual," she cooed. He wanted to snipe back at her, but kept his peace.

Her smile grew by a few degrees. "The charming Mr. Malfoy is not with you, I see."

"I'm here for my detention," Harry lifted his chin. "Let's get it over with."

"Sit, then," an imperious finger gestured at the desk in the first row. Harry sank onto the hard bench, noticing the sheaf of paper, the pen and the empty well in front of him.

"Your assignment is to write I must not tell lies one hundred times, Mr. Potter." She touched her fingers to her lips. "You'll stay here until you finish them all."

"Yes, ma'am." He gritted his teeth against anything else he might have wanted to say. The first few lines were oddly easy. It stung, but Harry had injured himself more by cooking dinner for the Dursleys.

It wasn't until the twenties that the agony started.

Each pass of the pen dug the wounds open deeper. Blood made the pen slippery in his grip. His left hand was clamped around the edge of the desk, so tight his knuckles were blanched white.

He was shaking, covered in sweat by the time he finished the last line. The ink well had a thin film of blood along the bottom. Umbridge had stopped grading ages ago, choosing to watch him with bright eyes instead.

"All done, Mr. Potter?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Bring it up, then."

His legs felt stiff as he marched up to her desk. The world also wanted to wobble around him. He had a vague notion that the blood loss was probably bad for him, but he couldn't remember why at the moment.

She gave the sheets a perfunctory glance. "Remember, Mr. Potter," her smile had not dimmed a watt. "Every Sunday until Christmas holiday," she tilted her head to one side. "It would be unfortunate if you missed any assignments. Poor Mr. Malfoy's head might not be up to snuff if that happened."

Harry clenched his jaw. "I'll be here," he forced out.

"Oh, yes, you will be."

"May I go?"

"Of course, Mr. Potter. Of course."

It took a lot of will power not to storm from the room. Harry even closed the door behind him with a gentle touch. He was afraid he'd rip it off its hinges otherwise.

The halls were empty as he made his way down to the dorms. His Housemates would be furious for him walking back alone, but he'd handle that when they decided to start shouting.

He cradled his hand all the way back to the dorms. No one noticed the bleeding wounds at all.

qpqpqpqp

Draco's silent treatment continued on into the next day. What bothered Harry more was the frequent rub at his temples that Draco couldn't hide throughout the day.

"What's wrong?" Harry had managed to corner Draco outside their last class of the day.

"Nothing," Draco's iciness had softened. "I'm fine."

"You've got a headache?"

"Just stress," Draco waved it off. "We're getting responses back from America."

"Ah," Harry had time to say before the bell rang. They scrambled into their class and into their seats. Draco's chill towards him seemed to settle back onto the blond as Harry dodged his invitation to join the other sixth years in the common room. Harry had a girl to meet in the library – not that he was going to tell Draco that.

He was feeling particularly glum when he slunk into Hermione's chosen study corner.

"Any luck?" He asked her.

"None," her answer deflated the hope that had tried to build in his chest.

"Any idea at all what she did to him?"

That earned him a look. "It's a binding, Harry. That part is rather straight forward."

"Then what's the problem?"

"Which binding she used." The girl tugged out a thick tome. "This book is all binding spells, Harry. It has two other books on how to break them. I have yet to find the spell she used in it."

"Isn't there an index?"

She rolled her eyes. "I should be so lucky. They're not even alphabetized."

"Oh, Merlin," Harry laid his head on the desk.

"It's going to take a while."

"I don't have a while."

"You're sure something will happen if you tell him?"

"She said if I told another Slytherin then the binding would react," he rubbed at his face.

"Is he having any side affects?"

"He's been having headaches, but I don't know if they are from the curse or not."

"Bugger all."

He gaped at her. "Hermione!"

She shot him a cross look. "What?" She grabbed another book.

"That's not like you!"

"What's not – oh," she huffed a sigh. "Forget it, Harry."

"But…"

Too serious eyes pinned him in place. "Things change, Harry. People change. I'm not the same person I was last year. I'm not the same person I was at the beginning of summer. You should know how that works by now."

He studied her face. "I know," he said. "But I can worry about it too."

"There's nothing to worry about," she dropped his gaze. "I'll keep looking. You should go before they start looking for you."

"But…"

"Go on. I'll get in touch with you if I find something."

There was nothing left to say. He slunk away, feeling worse than he had for some time, settling back into the solitary table that had been his refuge the year before. His hand throbbed as he started on his homework.

Please, he closed his eyes for a moment. Let her find something soon.

qpqpqpqp

Hermione did not find anything. December came to Hogwarts with a violent storm that echoed the shouting match Harry and Draco had in the common room. All had fled before their wrath. Draco had conned onto the fact that Harry was hiding something. He wanted to know what.

Harry knew he couldn't say a damn thing and felt like a heel about all of it.

Things seemed to settle down after the first week of silences that were punctuated by shouting matches. It resolved one night, quite by accident.

It was the oddest fight Harry had ever been a part of.

"It's my bloody socks!" Draco threw his hands into the air. They were in Harry's room, the rest of their House having long gotten tired of their snapping at each other.

"So keep them in your bloody room!" Harry didn't want to fight. He really didn't. But if he didn't do something to distract Draco, the boy would start asking Harry questions he could not answer. Again.

"I sleep half the time in here, so I should keep some in here as well!"

"Then don't sleep here!" The words were out of Harry's mouth before he could stop them. The hurt that flashed across Draco's face hit him in the gut. Harry spun away, folding his arms around his middle, facing the fire.

There was a long moment of silence from behind him.

"What's really going on, Harry?"

"Nothing," he said and knew it came out too fast. "There's nothing wrong, all right? I didn't mean that, you know I didn't."

"You meant something," the tone made Harry wince.

"Just…please, can we drop it?"

"No."

"Draco…" Hands settled on his shoulders, making him jump.

"Harry," Draco slid hesitant arms around him. "Why aren't you talking to me?"

"What do you mean? I talk to you every bloody day."

"You're not writing down your dreams anymore," Draco continued. "You eat with your left hand now. You won't go see Pythia. You barely spend time with any of us any more. What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Liar."

"That'll get you places, Draco, calling me a liar and I –," arms squeezed him so tight he squeaked.

"Something happened, didn't it?"

Harry pressed his lips together and shook his head.

Draco hooked his chin over Harry's shoulder. He started up a gentle sway that leeched some of the tension out of Harry's body. "Harry…if something happened, something bad, but you can't tell me because something even worse will happen, stop swaying."

It was a lifeline. A thread Harry knew would snap and shatter if he denied it one more time. He considered it. Draco was already at his wit's end. Harry didn't need a gift of foresight to know his relations with people were starting to fray. Professor Snape was even starting to get testy with him again.

He was so tired of being alone.

He stopped swaying.

Draco let out a harsh breath and a curse. "You can't say anything?"

All Harry could do was bow his head.

"You can't even infer it?"

He tried to move out of Draco's hold.

Draco reeled him back in. "All right, all right. I'm sorry," he turned Harry around and held him close. "The things you get yourself into, Harry…" He sighed again. "What can I do?"

"Nothing," Harry mumbled into the blond's shoulder.

"You're sure?"

"Absolutely."

"Because the something worse has something to do with me, right?"

"R-," Harry snapped his jaws shut and jerked away. "Nothing is wrong," he glared at the other boy.

Instead of snapping back, Draco took him by the shoulders. "Why won't you tell Severus?"

"Because there's nothing wrong."

Draco studied his face. "A curse then, with parameters."

"It's nothing."

"You can't get help from the only people who have shown you succor," Draco's hands tightened on Harry's shoulders. "Are you being injured?"

Harry felt sick. "It's nothing, really. I don't know what you're on about."

"Bloody hell."

Harry sank down onto his chair, feeling cold. Draco knelt in front of him, taking his hands.

"I'm sorry," the blond said after a moment.

"What? No – Draco, no, please – I – it's all right. It's just…" Harry's face felt hot and he hated his life at the moment. "It's nothing. Really."

Draco let out a sharp breath. "Right. I'm still sorry."

"No –"

"I'm sorry for not catching on faster," Draco shook their clasped hands. Harry couldn't hide the flinch. He yanked his right hand out from the hold and held it to his chest.

Draco stared at him. "That's where you're hurt?"

Harry flailed for something to say. "It's…"

"Nothing, right." Draco pursed his lips, eyes staying on Harry's hand. He raised his gaze, expression softening as he studied Harry's face. "It'll be all right, Harry."

"You don't know that." Harry shook his head. When Draco winced, one hand coming up to rub at his temple, it was all Harry could do to stay in place. "You see!" He wanted to smack the blond on the shoulder. "It was nothing!"

Draco went very, very still. His hand dropped away as he stood. He reached down to touch Harry on the cheek. "It will be all right, Harry."

"Draco…"

"Stay here for now, all right?" A thumb swept across Harry's cheek. "Just stay in the dorms."

"…I can't." Harry felt a rush of…something slam through his stomach. "It's Sunday. I have detention."

"I'll get Severus to excuse you."

"You can't!" Harry shot to his feet.

"Harry…" Pale eyes were still narrowed. "All right, okay." He curled his hands around Harry's face. "Breathe, Harry. Calm down, breathe."

With a rush, Harry realized that the faint feeling was coming from his own panicked breathing. He curled his hands around Draco's wrists, wanting nothing more than to stay there, hiding, in the dorms.

Then his right hand gave a pulse of agony and all his hopes shattered.

"You've got detention in a few hours," Draco guided Harry to the bed. "Nap for now. We'll get you when you have to go."

"But – I can't be late. I can't be late, Draco, I –"

"I know. You won't be late," Draco got him settled under the covers. "We'll even come get you after, all right?"

"No!"

"Shh, Harry. It'll be fine. Sleep, all right? You look tired."

"But…"

"Sleep, Harry. Please."

He was tired, but he couldn't – he just couldn't risk being late. Umbridge had made that more than clear. But the warmth of the bed pulled at his bones; he hadn't been sleeping well; Sirius' letters were still a painful thorn in his side; and everything he'd thought was going well had been cracking in his grasp for weeks.

He fell asleep with a whimper of denial.

qpqp

The common room went dead silent at Draco's entrance. Pansy's expression was pained. Some of the younger years started edging for the door. They'd all learned not to be around Draco after another one of his fights with Harry.

That – that – that idiot. He didn't feel how his magic boiled around him, sending papers and small objects flying.

"Draco?" Blaise stood up in alarm.

"We," he stopped near the hearth. The fire roared, startling Neville who was closest to it. "We have a problem," he forced out between stiff lips.

Alarm faded to determination on their faces. For the first time in weeks Draco had something he could attack, a problem he knew he could solve.

He wanted it solved immediately.

Gathering them all with a look, he rubbed mental hands together with a yowl of rage. It was time to go to work.

qpqpqpqp

Gwyn ap Nudd felt the exhaustion in his body as thought it were a foreign thing, something that had nothing to do with him or his mission.

The Hunt was not going well.

How many leagues of the Dark he had traveled he was not sure. Dead things, forgotten things, nightmares, all rose up to challenge him as he forced his own Path through the clinging mists.

There was no sign of the Morrigan.

Sometimes he thought he might be close. Sometimes the hope that dared to stutter to life rose up like a candle – only to be blown out by the arrival of another bizarre monster and the trail gone cold.

Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. But he did not know what.

He forged on into the Dark, knowing no other way to turn. He had to find the Morrigan. That was his only goal.

qpqp

Else where, in the same Dark, the Morrigan screamed, trapped in a net of sticky tendrils that were the Dark but not the Dark. In her rage, she thrashed, slicing deep wounds into her flesh.

The Morrigan, goddess of battle, was trapped.

End Chapter Thirty-Five