(¯`·._.· PART TWO ·._.·´¯)

"One of mankind's greatest abilities is the power to lie. Whether it's for good or bad, profit or survival, we bend the truth. It's a skill we pick up early and hone over time; pulling the wool over the eyes of our parents, our teachers, our boss...even ourselves. We tell ourselves we'll lose weight, quit smoking, that at the end of the day, we're really a good person. What happens when we call our own bluff? When we can't convince ourselves that deep down, we really aren't the stuff of nightmares?"

Being Human (USA version)

Chapter Thirty-One

The corridors were thankfully deserted as Chase made his way to the Headmaster's office. The sound of his feet against the stone was the only sound he heard aside from the distant phoenix song as Fawkes cried his lament.

He knew exactly why Professor McGonagall, the current Headmistress, wanted to see him. His head of house and his two best friends had fled the school, the former accused of murder by Harry Potter himself. Chase didn't know what to think. He knew that Taryn wouldn't have left without telling him something unless she'd had a good reason.

He was unsurprised when his fireplace had crackled to life with Professor McGonagall's summons. He'd dodged the questions from his housemates and made haste toward the Headmaster's office. He didn't know how much help he could offer her, but she could – hopefully – provide some information about what had happened regarding his friends.

In silence he ascended the moving spiral staircase and paused in front of the closed door. He knocked quietly, waiting for permission before entering the circular office. He did not know what he had expected: that the room would be draped in black, perhaps, or even that Dumbledore's body might be lying there. He'd never been inside the office before, but it looked exactly like he'd been told. Silver instruments whirring and puffing on their spindle legged tables, Gryffindor's fabled sword in its glass case gleaming in the moonlight, the Sorting Hat on a shelf behind the desk, the phoenix perch stood empty, he was still crying his lament over the grounds.

A portrait had joined the ranks of the dead headmasters and headmistresses of Hogwarts: Dumbledore was slumbering in a golden frame over the desk, his half-moon spectacles perched upon his crooked nose, looking peaceful and untroubled.

Professor McGonagall sat behind the desk, her face taut and lined. "Please, have a seat Mr. Morgenstern," she said motioning at the squishy looking chair in front of the desk.

"You wanted to see me, Professor?" Chase asked quietly, settling into the chair.

"What do you know about the events that occurred tonight?"

"I've only heard what has been said around the Slytherin common room, which probably isn't very accurate. Not many of us have been outside. As you can imagine, many of us are afraid to leave our rooms. It isn't the best time to be a Slytherin," Chase said.

McGonagall frowned. "Well, let me inform you of the facts. Headmaster Dumbledore was killed by Professor Snape tonight. He, along with your friends, have fled the school. Madame Hooch is also dead, a victim of a modified Imperius. Two other Slytherin students, Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson, are also missing. I'm trying to make sense of what happened tonight. I need you to tell me if you have any idea of where Mr. Malfoy and Miss Davis could have gone."

"I don't know," said Chase.

Professor McGonagall glared at him. "I have a witness that tells me that you were locked away with them in their room for several hours tonight. You are known to be a close friend. That leads me to believe that you could have some idea of their whereabouts."

"I told you that I don't know," Chase insisted, wondering in the back of his mind about the identity of McGonagall's nark. "It's true, I did spend time with them tonight, but it isn't different from countless other nights that I spent with them. As you say, we are friends. Have you questioned Millicent Bulstrode or Daphne Greengrass about Pansy's whereabouts?"

"Miss Parkinson isn't an accused accessory to murder! Mr. Malfoy and Miss Davis are. If you are lying to me, I assure you that you will be charged for Obstruction of Justice for withholding information and–"

But Chase couldn't respond to this, a sharp voice spoke from high on the wall: A sallow-faced wizard with a short black fringe had just walked back into his empty canvas. "Minerva, the Minister will be here within seconds, he has just Disapparated from the Ministry."

"Thank you, Everard," said Professor McGonagall before turning back to Chase. "As I was saying–"

"You can stop right there," said Chase. "I might be a minor, but I know my rights. You aren't an Auror, therefore I don't have to answer any of your questions."

McGonagall looked like she'd eaten something sour.

0o0

Chase rose early to pack the next day; the Hogwarts Express would be leaving an hour after the funeral.

He was placing his last shirt into his trunk when his fireplace crackled to life. Ollie's worry drawn face appeared in the flames.

"Are you okay?"

Chase sighed. "I'm fine. Physically at least. Emotionally, I feel like shit."

"I'd have called earlier but they were screening fire calls and would only let family through," Ollie said, strain clear in his voice. "Will you let me come get you?"

"I'm going to go to the funeral," Chase said carefully, awaiting the blast that was soon to follow.

He wasn't disappointed.

"Are you bloody mad?!" Ollie's voice came out in a yell. "I read the Prophet today, and I know that your friend and her boyfriend were involved somehow. You can't stay there. People are going to–"

"Stop," Chase said firmly. "I don't need you to come and get me. I can protect myself just like I always have. People can say whatever they want about me; they will anyway. I just...feel like I should stay for the funeral."

"Why? Were you there...I mean, that night?"

"I was in my room," Chase said. "I didn't know anything happened until later. I can't really tell you anything more than that, at least not while I'm here. I don't trust the connection, and it wouldn't surprise me if someone were listening to us right now."

"Fine," Ollie sighed. "Just take care of yourself. I'll be at the station when you arrive, but promise me. Promise me that you'll tell me what's going on when you get here.

"I promise."

0o0

The corridor just beyond the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room was quiet and empty. All lessons had been suspended, and all examinations postponed. Several students had been hurried away from Hogwarts by their parents – many Slytherin students were gone before breakfast on the morning following Dumbledore's death.

He was nearly to the Great Hall when he almost ran into Harry Potter himself.

"Excuse me," he said, intending to edge around the taller boy.

"Wait," said Harry. "I've been meaning to speak with you. I heard something...something that was said that night..." the boy paused, drawing in a deep breath, "and I think that you might be the only one who knows the truth."

"I told McGonagall that I don't have any idea where Taryn and Draco are–" Chase began.

"I know that Taryn is actually Hermione," Harry said bluntly.

Chase looked around, assuring himself that no one else had heard Harry's pronouncement, before grabbing the other boys arm and pulling him into a deserted classroom nearby. He set several privacy spells around the room, before turning back to face Harry. "What makes you think that Taryn is Hermione? Do you know how crazy that sounds?" Chase evaded.

"I was hidden at the time, so they didn't know that I was there. I heard Dumbledore say it and neither Malfoy nor Taryn denied it. You know something and I need you to tell me that I'm not just losing my mind," Harry said, his eyes beginning to water.

Chase sighed. "Look, I know...I can imagine that you are going through a lot right now, but you aren't exactly known to be fond of Draco, or really anyone that is Slytherin. Why should I help you?"

"Hermione was one of my best friends. I lost her and my godfather all in the same night," Harry said, his voice low and tortured, "Something is going on. Dumbledore wouldn't have called that girl Hermione's name without a reason. If she is Hermione then I need to know. The Hermione I know would never have sided with Malfoy. Ever. He's got to have something on her. Maybe he's hurting her..."

"Stop! Draco would never do anything to hurt Taryn. He loves her like...I know for a fact that he did everything in his power to keep her from harm. You don't know anything," Chase said fiercely.

"Then tell me," Harry stressed. "All I know right now is my friend is somehow alive and alined with a group of Death Eaters. They could be doing anything to her right now, and there isn't a fucking thing I can do to stop it!"

"Okay," Chase said wearily, "I'll tell you what I know, but you don't get to tell anyone else."

"Ron and Ginny–"

"You don't tell anyone else unless it's life and death. Swear it, or I won't tell you shit," said Chase.

Harry ran a hand through his unruly hair. "I don't like Malfoy, I never have, but I don't blame him for Dumbledore's death. Really I pity him more than anything, but I also need to understand what's been going on. I'll swear to anything. Just tell me. Please."

0o0

The mood in the Great Hall was subdued. Everybody was wearing their dress robes and no one seemed very hungry. Professor McGonagall had left the thronelike chair in the middle of the staff table empty. Snape's place had been unceremoniously filled by Rufus Scrimgeour.

He made his way Slytherin table, intent on eating a quick and hopefully quiet breakfast. The conversation with Harry had been intense, fraught with a gamut of emotion, and by the time they were finished talking Chase was emotionally exhausted. He also felt like his belly button was hitting his backbone, and he'd rushed to the Great Hall hoping to at least be able to grab a breakfast roll or something. He pretended to ignore Crabbe and Goyle, who were muttering together and occasionally sending him quick looks. Those he could handle. They weren't the suspicious or downright hateful looks he had been receiving from members of the three other houses. Draco, Taryn, and Snape were absent, so it seemed that many of the students had made the decision to place the blame upon him, and with his refusal to speak about it he was making it much easier.

Chase's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a utensil chiming against the side of a glass. Professor McGonagall had risen to her feet and the mournful hum in the Hall died away at once.

"It is nearly time," she said. "Please follow your Heads of House out into the grounds. Gryffindors, after me."

They filed out from behind their benches in near silence, Slughorn at the head of the Slytherin column, wearing magnificent long emerald-green robes embroidered with silver. He had never seen Professor Sprout, Head of the Hufflepuffs, looking so clean; there was not a single patch on her hat, and when they reached the Entrance Hall, they found Madam Pince standing beside Filch, she in a thick black veil that fell to her knees, he in an ancient black suit and tie reek-ing of mothbails.

They were heading, as Chase saw when he stepped out on to the stone steps from the front doors, towards the lake. The warmth of the sun caressed his face as they followed Professor McGonagall in silence to the place where hundreds of chairs had been set out in rows. An aisle ran down the center of them: there was a marble table standing at the front, all chairs facing it. It was the most beautiful summer's day.

An extraordinary assortment of people had already settled into half of the chairs: shabby and smart, old and young. Many Chase didn't recognize, but there were a few that he did: Kingsley Shacklebolt, Mad-Eye Moody, Remus Lupin, sitting next to a young woman with extremely vivid pink hair with whom he seemed to be holding hands, Fred and George Weasley, who were wearing jackets of black dragonskin, followed by who he assumed were their parents and one of their siblings supported by that pretty Veela girl. Then there was Madame Maxime, who took up two-and-a-half chairs on her own, Tom, the landlord of the Leaky, the hairy bass player from the wizarding group the Weird Sisters, Ernie Prang, driver of the Knight Bus, Madam Malkin, of the robe shop in Diagon Alley, and some people whom Chase merely knew by sight, such as the barman of the Hog's Head and the witch who pushed the trolley on the Hogwarts Express. The castle ghosts were there too, barely visible in the bright sunlight, discernible only when they moved, shimmering insubstantially in the gleaming air.

Chase saw Harry, Ron, and Ginny file into seats at the end of a row beside the lake as he made his way to his own seat near the back. He could hear the chatterings of multiple languages as people whispered to each other; it sounded like a breeze in the grass, but the birdsong was louder by far. The crowd continued to swell moving fill all of the seats.

Cornelius Fudge walked past him heading toward the front rows, his expression miserable, twirling a green bowler hat in his hands. Rita Skeeter had a notebook clutched in her hand, a quill poised and ready to begin writing. Dolores Umbridge, with an unconvincing expression of grief upon her toad-like face, had a black velvet bow set atop her iron-colored curls. At the sight of the centaur Firenze, who was standing like a sentinel near the water's edge, she gave a start and scurried hastily into a seat a good distance away.

The staff were seated at last, Scrimgeour looking grave and dignified in the front row with Professor McGonagall. He wondered whether Scrimgeour or any of these important people were really sorry that Dumbledore was dead, and what they really thought about the events that had occurred.

A flash of light in the corner of his eye caught his attention and he turned his head, looking around for the source of it. He was not the only one: many heads were turning, searching, a little alarmed.

"Over there," someone said in a hushed voice.

And he saw them in the clear green sunlit water, inches below the surface, a chorus of merpeople singing in a strange language he didn't understand, their pallid faces rippling, their purplish hair flowing all around them. The music made the hair on Chase's neck stand up and yet it was not unpleasant. It spoke very clearly of loss and of despair. As he looked down into the wild faces of the singers he had the feeling that they, at least, were sorry for Dumbledore's passing.

The crowd's attention was turned away from the merpeople. Hagrid was walking slowly up the aisle between the chairs. He was crying quite silently, his face gleaming with tears, and in his arms, wrapped in purple velvet spangled with golden stars, was what Chase knew had to be Dumbledore's body.

He found his gaze turning away from the half-giant carrying Dumbldore's body to settle on Harry. The other boy's face was crumpled with grief, his friend Ron's face white and shocked. Tears were falling thick and fast down Ginny Weasley's face.

Chase couldn't clearly what was happening at the front. Hagrid seemed to have placed the body carefully upon the table. Now he retreated down the aisle, blowing his nose with loud trumpeting noises that drew scandalized looks from some. Hagrid's eyes looked so swollen it was a wonder he could see where he was going, as he passed back down the aisle. Chase glanced behind him, jumping a little when he saw where Hagrid was heading and realized what was guiding him, for there, dressed in a jacket and trousers each the size of a small marquee, was a true giant, his great ugly boulder-like head bowed, docile, almost human. Hagrid sat down next to the him and the other giant patted Hagrid hard on the head, so that his chair legs sank into the ground. Chase had a wonderful momentary urge to laugh. But then the music stopped and he turned to face the front again.

A little tufty-haired man in plain black robes had got to his feet and stood now in front of Dumbledore's body. Chase could barely hear what he was saying. Odd words floated back to him over the hundreds of heads. "Nobility of spirit...intellectual contribution…greatness of heart..." it did not mean very much. It had little to do with the Dumbledore that Draco and Taryn had told him about. He wondered what words the man would use if he knew how Dumbledore had manipulated Draco, using the other boy's concern for his mother and fiancee to get him right where he wanted him.

He stared out over the lake, towards the Forest, as the little man in black droned on ... there was movement among the trees. The centaurs had come to pay their respects, too. They didn't move into the open but Chase saw them standing quite still, half-hidden in shadow, watching the wizards, their bows hanging at their sides.

The little man in black had finally stopped speaking at last and resumed his seat. Chase waited for somebody else to get to their feet; he expected speeches, probably from the Minister, but nobody moved.

Then several people screamed. Bright, white flames had erupted around Dumbledore's body and the table upon which it lay: higher and higher they rose, obscuring the body. White smoke spiraled into the air and made strange shapes: Chase thought, for one heart-stopping moment, that he saw a phoenix fly joyfully into the blue, but next second the fire had vanished. In its place was a white marble tomb, encasing Dumbledore's body and the table on which he had rested.

There were a few more cries of shock as a shower of arrows soared through the air, but they fell far short of the crowd. It was, Chase thought, the centaurs' tribute: he saw them turn tail and disappear back into the cool trees. Likewise the merpeople sank slowly back into the green water and were lost from view.

0o0

Brussels

The little restaurant was crowded; all three booths, the three tiny tables, and the six stools the lined the stainless steel counter were occupied. The sweet scent of fresh waffles wafted through the room, accompanied by the popping noise of frying bacon.

Ava, Draco, and Taryn sat at a booth nearest to the doorway, and also in a prime position in front of a large glass window. Taryn watched as natives and tourists alike strolled down the crowded streets and envied them. She wished that all she had to worry about was finding the right street, or getting to work on time.

A slender young woman, her brown hair a mass of curls threaded with colorful ribbons, approached the booth. A name-tag pinned to her chest said Dionne. She pulled a tiny order-pad out of the deep pocket of her waist apron, and clicked the end of her mechanical pencil. "Bonjour, que puis-je faire pour vous?" she asked tiredly.

Both girls immediately turned to Draco and waited for him to translate. "She wants to know what you want."

"I want and cinnamon roll and coffee," Ava said.

"I want waffles with strawberries and apple juice," said Taryn.

"Une brioche à la cannelle avec du café, des gaufres avec des fraises et jus de pomme et bacon, oeufs, pommes de terre sautées," Draco said with the ease of someone who had spoken French from birth. He offered the girl a polite smile as she scribbled down their order.

The girls smile in return was bright, and her cheeks grew rosy. "Voulez-vous boire quelque chose avec ça?" Taryn's eyes narrowed as she listened to the girl's unmistakable flirty tone.

"Jus de pomme, s'il vous plaît."

Taryn scowled at the girl, before sliding her hand next to her to lace with Draco's. The sun, as if coming to her aid, chose that moment to shine through the window and hit her ring at just the perfect angle. She had to literally push back a smirk when the girl's eyes landed on the ring, and her expression turned sour.

"Je reviens tout de suite avec cette," the girl snapped, turning on her heel and stomping toward the counter. She viciously tore off the order page and slapped it on the counter. "Claude! Vous avez un ordre," she snarled.

Ava burst out laughing. "Wow, you've really staked your claim, huh? I hope she doesn't spit in our food."

"She had better not spit in our food. Ugh, girls like her piss me off. Yes, my fiance is sexy, but I'm sitting right here! It's not like I'm invisible or something." She turned to look at Draco. "What did she say to you anyway?"

"She asked me what I wanted to drink," Draco said with a laugh. "Don't worry about it. You know I'm not looking at her."

"I don't want to be the bearer of bad news," Ava said, "but you should kind of get used to the way that women treat Draco. Being the descendents of...Him...can come with a lot of perks. And then there's the stuff you just have to learn to deal with. Members of our family sometimes have a strange kind of allure. People just like to be around us. Obviously Draco has it. His 'Allure' is probably a bit stronger right now because because he's so near to turning."

"I wouldn't call almost dying and getting a death date a perk," Draco said.

"It won't be like that forever," Ava said. "If...when...He acknowledges you you'll have more power than probably anyone else on the planet, aside from Kieve."

"Maybe, you could actually tell me more about what 'powers' I might be inheriting," Draco said. He pushed back a sigh when he saw Ava's face close. "I know, I know, not until Kieve gets here."

"I wish I could tell you more, but, honestly Gramps is the one you need to talk to about these things. I know the rudimentary stuff, but I doubt anything that I learned as a child would apply to you. My blood is diluted. I'm just an ordinary witch. I wouldn't have even been able to Apparate us here without help from the Xanthous stone. But you, when you reach your full power, I doubt that you'll need a wand or a stone to help you do anything."

"Why couldn't we just go to Kieve's house? Why meet here in a Muggle cafe?" Taryn asked, changing the subject.

Ava grimaced. "Gramps lays wards on all of his homes, and there's no way I can remove them. I'd probably kill myself trying. Since I used the last of the juice in the Xanthous stone to get us in the country, and since Uncle Drakey isn't ready to attempt big works we have to wait. I mean, if I had a choice we wouldn't have driven most of the way here."

"You're not allowed to call me Uncle Drakey," Draco said with a shudder.

Dionne returned with their drinks, a slightly embarrassed look on her face. "Rien d'autre?"

"No," Taryn said in a mollified tone.

Soon Dionne returned with three plates of steaming hot, fragrant food, settling them in front of the correct person.

Taryn poured syrup over her waffles, cut into them, and moaned when the taste of the delicious sweet bread hit her tongue.

"Close your mouth before a bug flies in it," Ava said, giggling at the rapt expression Draco wore as he watched his fiancee enjoy her food. "I told you that the food was good here," she said to Taryn, deciding to be polite and to ignore the surprising blush that rose in Draco's cheeks.

Draco applied himself to his food, making short work of the eggs, bacon, and potatoes; taking a break from his own plate to accept the bite of strawberry and waffle that Taryn gave him.

He heard a car pulling into the parking lot. Judging by the magical snap, like a rubber band against his wrist, and the fact that he could see them through the windshield of their car, he knew his brother had arrived.

They slid out from the booth, leaving more than enough money to take care of the bill plus a generous tip, and quietly walked out of the restaurant.

"Grammy! Gramps!" Ava said, running forward to hug first Shui then Kieve. Taryn thought it was going to be sometime before she would get used to the girl, who looked older than her grandparents, calling them such.

"Glad to see that you both in one piece," Kieve said, eying Draco and Taryn.

The pretty Asian girl turned to Draco and Taryn. "It's nice to finally meet you. I didn't think that I would be meeting a sibling – a human one that is – of my husband's again, if ever. I'm Shui," she said with a smile.

"It's nice to meet you too," Taryn said.