A/N: I'm sorry for the long wait between updates! I've been working full time this summer, preparing to move to Singapore, and trying to write some original fiction into the bargain. But I haven't forgotten about this story, and I've got a decent-sized chapter for you here.

A little bit more of the plot emerges, with Umbridge making her appearance and Orochimaru's plans beginning to take shape. It's looking grim for our boys and girls, with enemies closing in on all sides, but at least they're back at Hogwarts and ready to fight the good fight. Please read and review!

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto or Harry Potter

Chapter 23: Back to School

No matter what dangers might be stirring in the outside world, nothing was enough to dampen Harry's joy at being back at Hogwarts. The Great Hall was packed with students ready to begin another year, and once the Sorting was over they could get down to the serious business of eating their way through the start-of-term feast. Hogwarts was just as Harry remembered it, right down to the ceiling enchanted to look like a starry night sky.

But somehow, it felt different from the last two years. That might have been a result of the looks Harry and his friends were getting from the other students, and the whispers that cut off whenever the third-year Gryffindors came too close. It was a reminder that no one besides Harry, Ron, Hermione – and now Draco, Harry reminded himself – knew what had actually occurred at the end of last year. Lucius' attack was still very much a mystery, and Hogwarts students loved a good mystery.

Hermione was the first to look up at the staff table, after which she elbowed Ron and Harry insistently. "There she is," she said, pointing discreetly at an unfamiliar witch wearing a truly horrible pink cardigan over her robes. "That must be Professor Umbridge."

"Are you sure?" Harry asked, puzzled. With her mousy brown curls and cardigan, Umbridge hardly looked like what Harry had expected from the Ministry's enforcer at Hogwarts. "She looks more like somebody's aunt than Fudge's attack dog."

"Wait and see, mate," Ron advised. "Appearances can be deceiving."

Hermione grinned at him mischievously. "When did you grow so wise, Ronald?"

He scowled back, red tinting his cheeks. "Oh, stow it, will you?"

The crowd of first year students milled around in front of the staff table in a loose line. Professor McGonagall stood in front of them like a particularly stern sheepdog, clipboard in hand. The Sorting Hat sat on its stool in plain view of all four House tables, ready to fulfill its purpose for another year. Slowly the chatter in the Hall quieted, as McGonagall's insistent glare made it clear that they were about to proceed. The Sorting Hat quivered, and then the tear near its brim widened into a mouth.

"Well, well, well," the Hat began, sounding inordinately pleased about something. "Another year begins. As it happens, I've been getting a bit bored with the usual pattern for the Sorting Song. You all know the traditional organization of the Houses, after all. This year, I've prepared something special. It's a Hogwarts legend, as old as the castle itself. Listen carefully, for no story is so lost to the past that we can't apply it to the present."

The hat shook itself, like a dog coming in from the rain, then burst into song:

In times long past there was a man

Whose name was Corny Mudge

He lusted after wealth and power

And held a vicious grudge.

The Headmaster of Hogwarts School

Refused to bow his head

But Corny Mudge said, "You must bow,

Or else you'll end up dead!"

He hatched a plan, a cunning plot

To bring dear Hogwarts down

So in the end, he'd win it all

He'd wear the jeweled crown.

And so he sent his minion

A cunning, warty Toad

With an army of dark creatures

To pave his treacherous road.

The Toad pretended friendship

And offered sweet reward;

But for those who stood against her

There was only fire and sword.

In the end, a school divided was

The goal of Mudge and Toad;

A place where brother turned on brother

And betrayal was the code.

But Hogwarts wasn't broken

Her students stood up tall

They refused to be defeated

They would rather die than fall.

So each House did its damnedest

To do what they did best;

All had different skills to offer,

Yet stood proudly with the rest.

Wise Ravenclaw, with minds so bright

Saw through Toad's silken lies

Brave Gryffindor took up the fight

With mighty battle cries!

Hufflepuff worked night and day

Protecting all their friends

And Slytherin made sure that Toad

Would never rise again.

Mudge and Toad were forced to flee

At last the day was won

But the tragic fact is they'll be back

The battle's just begun.

So if you go to Hogwarts in

The year when Toad returns

Remember well what I have sung,

The lessons you must learn.

The strength to battle evil comes

When each fulfills his role.

Hogwarts stands triumphant when

Four Houses form a whole."

The hat came to an abrupt stop, and there was a moment of confused silence before applause rang through the Great Hall. Hermione slapped Harry on the shoulder, laughing so hard her curly hair was bouncing uncontrollably. "Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!"

Ron scratched his head, bemused. "I don't get it. Don't you reckon we would have heard if a giant toad had attacked Hogwarts? I mean, if nothing else, Fred and George would have tried to scare me with the story when I was younger."

"Oh Ron, don't you ever pay attention?" she said, though she smiled to take the sting out of her rebuke. "Corny Mudge? The Hat is talking about Cornelius Fudge, of course! And the Toad and the army of Dark creatures? Who else could that be but Umbridge and the Dementors? The Hat isn't singing about something that happened at Hogwarts years ago – it's singing about what's going to happen this year! It wants us to band together, so that the Ministry doesn't weaken us when it tries to discredit Dumbledore."

"Well, why didn't it bloody well say so?" Ron asked, exasperated. Hermione huffed.

"It's an allegory, Ronald. Honestly, it's like Wizarding children don't even read!"

"You know," Harry broke in, anxious to head off what looked like the start of a proper row, "I reckon the Hat's got a point. Umbridge does look a bit like a toad, yeah?"

He nodded at Umbridge as the applause died down, and Ron and Hermione had to agree. With her pouchy eyes and pale, fleshy face, Umbridge did resemble a toad. But what was really interesting was the expression on her face as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor stared at the Sorting Hat. There was an avid light in those amphibious eyes, a hunger for retribution that sent a chill down Harry's spine.

"Merlin's beard," Ron whispered under his breath. "Still think she looks like a nice old auntie, Harry?"

Harry shook his head. "My aunt Marge, maybe. Only she's looking at the Sorting Hat more like my aunt's bulldog Ripper."

Dumbledore stood up and instantly gained the school's attention. The Headmaster regarded the hat with a vaguely puzzled air. "That is certainly something I have never heard before," he announced, drawing a round of chuckles from those students who hadn't seen Umbridge's expression. "Now that we have heard the musical version of that most excellent Hogwarts legend, let us begin the Sorting. Minerva, if you would?"

Thankfully, the Sorting proceeded quickly and without further disturbance, and in short order the four House Tables had absorbed the stream of first years. Harry cheered and clapped politely for the Gryffindor students, but to be honest he'd already forgotten their names by the time they all sat down. McGonagall took away the hat and the stool, while Dumbledore stood up to officially welcome everyone to the start-of-term feast.

"There are speeches to be made," Dumbledore announced, eyes twinkling brightly, "but not, I think, just yet. Welcome first years, and to the rest of you, welcome back! Eat, drink, and be merry!"

The food appeared all at once, so much of it that the tables groaned in protest. Harry, Ron, and Hermione began heaping their plates high, content to forget about Umbridge for at least a little while. Harry would accord her the respect due a powerful opponent, but he'd be damned before he let her ruin the start-of-term feast.

Harry and Ron put away enough food for three adults, and Hermione was no slouch, either. Fending off the Dementors on the train had been a draining experience – Hermione and Ron had protected Harry by maintaining the Shield charms for over three minutes. All the while the robed fiends had prowled, looking for a weakness and feeding on their emotions. Roast beef slathered in mustard might not erase the memory of that desperate struggle, but it sure made Ron feel better. All three of them drew disgusted looks from Lavender, who didn't think much of their gluttony.

It felt good to see Neville, Dean, and Seamus again after the long summer. Dean and Seamus kept shooting Harry odd looks, but he tried not to get too irritated. Harry had a feeling that with Dementors running around, the events of last year would quickly be replaced by new events. He just hoped they didn't involve any Dark wizards, mayhem, or painful and violent death. But then, why should he expect things to be any different?

"It's going to be strange without Professor Sarutobi," Neville said sadly. "I've never had a teacher like him before. He even helped me get over my fear of Snape!"

"Don't let Snape hear you say that, mate," Ron grinned, nudging him with one elbow. "He'll make it his personal mission to get you properly terrified again."

Neville nodded agreement, but the confidence in his eyes remained undimmed. Harry remembered how far Neville had come last year, and found himself looking forward to this year's study sessions. If Umbridge acted as Sarutobi had predicted, Harry had a feeling that the study sessions would take on a slightly more… active role.

"I saw one of those Dementor things on the train," said Seamus, looking a little white. "Never felt anything like that before… I don't fancy having them around this year."

"Dumbledore will keep them off the ground, right?" Parvati asked, her food momentarily forgotten as she remembered the Dementors.

"He'll do his best," said Harry. "But they only answer to the Ministry, and it doesn't pay to be careless. As long as Dementors are at Hogwarts, we should know how to protect ourselves from them, yeah?"

His fellow Gryffindors nodded as one. If there was one thing Sarutobi had drilled into them during Defense classes last year, it was the necessity of being prepared. Hermione took up the thread that Harry had started.

"I've been reading about Dementors," she said carefully, not looking at anyone in particular. "They feed on emotion. Our worst memories are like this banquet to them. If the Ministry didn't keep them under control, they would probably be responsible for dozens of deaths every year. That's even without their special power, called the Dementor's Kiss… it sucks your soul out of your body."

Lavender squealed in fright, as if Hermione were telling a ghost story.

"It would only take one Dementor going rogue," Hermione went on, "and the whole school would be chaos! I don't know about you, but I'm not going to end up a soulless husk."

She patted her wand with a grim expression. Seamus, Dean, Lavender and Parvati were watching Hermione with something close to awe, something that would never have happened before the battle with Lucius in the entrance hall. Hermione noticed their stares, and ruined the effect by blushing bright red.

"Thanks for the warning," Dean said, his face scrunched up in thought. "If you know any anti-Dementor spells, would you teach them to us? Maybe during our weekly study session?"

Ron exchanged a broad wink with Harry. This was a good start, if their friends brought up the idea of training during study sessions themselves. It would make preparing them a lot easier if they thought it was their own idea. This was all part of what Sarutobi had advised them to do – he said that their apprenticeship with him was over, and that they needed to begin taking on leadership roles in Hogwarts. Harry was a little worried about that; with everyone looking at them like nutters, he wondered exactly how he was supposed to lead anyone. But Sarutobi had asked them to do it, and they wouldn't let him down.

Soon enough the students were stuffed, and the remainder of the delicious feast disappeared from the tables. Dumbledore stood up once again and walked to the lectern, looking out at them over the head of the carved wooden owl.

"There are a few things I must address before I send you off to bed," he began. "First, in light of the escape from Azkaban of the notorious Sirius Black, Hogwarts will be playing host to the Dementors, guards of the wizard prison. They are here to protect us, but I must warn you not to trifle with them. Dementors have no patience for tricks or pranks of any kind, and they are extremely dangerous creatures. Leave them to their jobs, and they will leave you to your studies. Next, it is my pleasure to introduce to you Dolores Umbridge, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

He gestured to Umbridge and gave a little bow. She simpered horribly, and Harry wondered how she managed to make such an action seem so menacing. Dumbledore turned back to the students and opened his mouth, then shut it again. The reason became clear a second later, when Umbridge coughed a second time, loud enough to reach the House tables. It seemed the new Defense teacher wanted to make a speech.

Dumbledore was taken aback for a second, but he recovered quickly. He sat back down and watched Umbridge attentively, looking as if nothing would please him more than to listen to her speak.

"Ahem," the plump witch began, beaming around at all of them. "I am honored to serve as your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, and I'm sure that we'll all soon be very good friends."

"Fat chance," Ron murmured to Harry. He grinned tightly but kept his eyes on Umbridge, watching her like a mouse watched a snake.

"The Ministry takes education very seriously," said Umbridge, "and nothing is more important to the Minister than the safety of the next generation. The Dementors will keep us safe from the rapacious murderer Sirius Black-" Harry mouthed a bad word – "while I will make sure that your education meets Ministry standards…"

She went on like this for quite some time, and in spite of his resolve to know his enemy, Harry found it impossible to pay attention. The good food currently digesting in his stomach combined with Umbridge's flowery-sounding official words to make his eyelids droop of their own accord. He fought to stay awake, but he didn't worry that he would miss anything. Hermione sat straight as a tent pole, listening attentively with a grimace stretched across her face. She wasn't missing a word, and Harry trusted that she would see through Umbridge's catch everything important in this long-winded welcome speech.

"Damn, that woman can talk," Ron whispered to Harry, shaking his head in amazement. "If she's going to teach like this, Defense class will be as boring as History of Magic!"

"Maybe," said Harry, "but I don't think you want to fall asleep in her class. You might not wake up."

Apparently Umbridge had reached the end of her speech, because she looked around expectantly. Dumbledore started clapping appreciatively, and a smattering of students followed his example. He stood one last time, and bowed his head to Umbridge.

"I'm sure we will all take your kind words to heart," he said. "Now, from those yawns I see some of you trying valiantly to hide, I believe it's time to send you to your dormitories. Prefects, if you would lead the first years out? Welcome back, everyone, and let us hope for a safe, productive year full of friendship and learning. Be off with you!"

As the third-year Gryffindors made their way lazily out of the Great Hall, Harry caught a glimpse of Draco heading purposefully toward the dungeons, in front of a group of Slytherins. Harry hoped that Draco had paid attention during Umbridge's speech, because he wouldn't be able to talk to Hermione and get the condensed version.

But Harry had trained with Draco all summer, and he knew that when it came to poisoned words, cloaked intentions, and secrecy, Draco was every bit as smart as Hermione. He would be fine, even if his role required that he avoid Harry and the other Gryffindors like the plague. Harry just hoped that the Minister would come to his senses soon, so they could all start spending time with Draco openly. Harry had a feeling that the new Draco was someone he could stand to be friends with – and if first year Harry could have heard that, he would have punched his current self in the nose.

There was no telling, Harry reflected sadly, how tragedy could change a person. But if he, Ron, and Hermione had anything to say about it, Draco's life would not be a tragedy any more.

oOoOo

Draco took a detour on the way to the Slytherin dungeons. When Pansy asked where he was going, he saw no reason to lie.

"Professor Snape asked to see me."

"He probably wants to talk to you about… your parents," said Pansy, faltering a little as if unsure whether she should mention the Malfoys.

Draco didn't say anything. Let her believe what she wanted. If her misapprehension provided cover for his mission, why correct her?

Once inside Snape's office, he took a seat in a green upholstered armchair and waited for the Potions teacher to arrive.

Snape stormed into the office, looking like he wanted to commit murder. "I've just had the singular privilege," he said through gritted teeth, "of listening to that Umbridge woman explain all of the reasons why we should be allies. Apparently, as one of your father's former subordinates, my loyalty should transfer immediately to the Minister and his aides."

Draco blinked twice, processing. "She doesn't waste any time. What did you say?"

"What I was told," Snape spat, moving to sit down at his desk. "I said that my loyalties have always been with the Malfoy family, and that while I have worked for Dumbledore, it was not always of my own accord. If all went well, Umbridge will believe that she can count on me as a source of information in the event of a Ministry takeover."

"It wouldn't come to that, would it?" Draco asked, shocked. Snape shook his head slowly, but it wasn't a denial.

"I don't know. But I know of Dolores Umbridge by reputation, and she could not be more opposed to Dumbledore's philosophy if she tried. She stands for wizarding purity, and Dumbledore's protection of merpeople, centaurs, and other part-humans goes against her beliefs. Umbridge has an axe to grind – she won't back down simply because Dumbledore is the greatest wizard of our age. Better if we're prepared for any and all eventualities."

Draco was silent for a moment, contemplating the terrible image of a Hogwarts at war. It seemed ludicrous that with not one, but two Dark Lords at large, the greatest threat to the school was coming from the government that was supposed to protect it.

"But enough of that," Snape said, closing the subject with asperity. "Do you know why you're here?"

"Professor Sarutobi told me to report to you," Draco replied instantly. "I'm to maintain my status in Slytherin house and act friendly with Umbridge if she approaches me. I assume that any information I gather will reach Dumbledore through you."

Though no expression crossed Snape's face, Draco thought he looked pleased. "That's correct. I am also responsible for overseeing the next phase of your training. Young Potter-" Snape sneered while saying the name, but Draco thought the sneer was a little less venomous than in previous years – "and his friends have made other arrangements to continue learning, but you have another path ahead of you. Living a double life requires a set of skills that may elude mere Gryffindors, shackled as they are to notions of straightforward courage and honor."

The Head of Slytherin shared a smirk with his student. They were in perfect agreement about the merits of Gryffindor values.

"Did your father ever tell you anything about me?" Snape asked, suddenly grave.

"He told me you once worked together," Draco mused, "but nothing else. I assume that means you were …" he hesitated, not sure it was safe to continue.

Snape quirked one eyebrow. "A Death Eater? Yes, that is correct. Your father and I served Lord Voldemort. But what he does not know is that I left Voldemort's service. I… suppose you might say I had a change of heart." Here Snape surprised Draco by laughing bitterly. "I suppose most of my students would be shocked to hear me claim that I have a heart. Nevertheless, I was deeply ashamed of my choices, and I threw myself on Dumbledore's mercy. He showed me forgiveness that I had no right to expect, and from then on I became a double agent working for the Headmaster. He holds my loyalty and my honor, such as it is."

It was strange and somewhat surreal to see his teacher like this. Snape, the scourge of Potions class, was baring his soul, and it made Draco extremely uncomfortable. "Sir, why are you telling me this?"

"Because I want you to understand who I am. I teach Potions at Hogwarts, of course, and that is perhaps the only part of me you are familiar with. But I am also a spy, an expert in the Dark Arts… and a murderer. I have lied to the Dark Lord's face, and survived. So while I may not be able to defeat the likes of Sarutobi or Orochimaru in open combat, make no mistake… I have much to teach you. Are you prepared?"

"Yes, Professor."

Snape stood up abruptly, his robes swishing against his chair. "Know that this is not a road for the faint of heart. Men like us are not permitted the luxury of free will. In the course of your duty you may be called upon to alienate your friends, go against your morals, even turn your back on the ones you love. You will sacrifice everything for a desperate cause, and loneliness will be your only reward. Are you still determined?"

Draco stood up as well, eyes fixed on his Head of House, a man he had never really known. Slowly, deliberately, he nodded. "I am already alone. Everyone who ever loved me is dead. This is the only path open to me now."

A lifetime of pain flashed in Snape's eyes, then disappeared. "It is the same for me. That is our curse, but I will teach you to make it your strength, as well. You are dismissed for now, Mr. Malfoy. We don't want your classmates wondering what we have been talking about for so long."

Draco turned to leave, but Snape called him back. "One last thing. This is for you."

Snape pulled a small vial from within his robes and tossed it to Draco. He caught it instinctively, then looked at it in confusion. Inside the crystal container was a liquid that shone molten gold.

"That is your first assignment," Snape said. "By this Friday, I expect you to tell me what is in that vial. You may use any means at your disposal except administering the potion to yourself or others. If you succeed, that potion is yours. Dismissed."

Draco left the office promptly, already wondering how to begin his research. This assignment might not seem as exciting as his summer combat lessons with Sarutobi and Sirius Black, but Draco trusted Snape. There were more ways to fight than with a wand.

He placed the vial in the inner breast pocket of his robes, and continued through the dungeons to the Slytherin Common Room. He had a lot of work to do.

oOoOo

Viktor Krum was not a happy wizard. Not only was he magically bound to serve an immortal body-snatcher, but he had to put up with his master's sick sense of humor, too. Sending Viktor and Borislav to the Vampire Council by themselves was probably Orochimaru's idea of a joke, but Viktor didn't see anything funny about it. While wizards and vampires officially upheld the peace treaty signed generations ago, there were still incidents every year with rogue vampires or black market suppliers looking to make a fortune by selling vampire blood and powdered vampire fangs.

Moreover, what with the recent spate of violently anti-subhuman legislation coming out of the British Ministry of Magic, tensions were high all over Europe between wizards and part-humans. Showing up unannounced to the Council was just asking to be drained dry and buried deep under Ukrainian soil. But Viktor didn't have any choice – "obey Orochimaru's orders quickly and without fail" was written into the oaths that bound him tighter than any chains, so when his master sent him to parley with vampires, he went.

Viktor was only glad that Poliakoff was with him. The bullheaded Bulgarian wasn't about to show fear in front of anyone, especially not creatures that were afraid of garlic. Boris loved garlic, and held vampires in contempt on general principle.

Up ahead, Viktor saw his best friend emerge from the back door of a seedy inn known as The Crossroads. It was tucked away in a quiet corner of the Ukrainian Wizarding village of Slatu Arad, and it had a reputation as the place to go for information, introductions, and items of a dubious nature.

Boris had gone ahead to inquire about the Vampire Council, while Viktor went shopping in Slatu Arad's open-air market for various substances that might come in handy in vampire territory.

"Did you get the location of the Council?" Viktor asked. Boris lowered the cowl of his cloak and grinned.

"Better. For a little of Orochimaru's gold, I got us a free ride to the bloodsuckers' doorstep." Boris fished an embroidered handkerchief from within his robes and unwrapped it carefully, being careful never to touch the object covered by the cloth. It was a small garnet ring, which glittered balefully in the light.

"Is that a Portkey?"

"Got it in one. Apparently a vampire hunter came through here a while back in need of some cash, so he sold some of his equipment."

Viktor nodded slowly. Bounty hunters sometimes worked for the Vampire Council, catching rogue vampires and bringing them back to face justice – or rather, to face a slow and lingering death, because that was the only end that a vampire could expect if he broke the Treaty and fed on wizard blood. It was technically illegal, but the Vampire Council paid good money for the right to dispose of rebels in their own way.

"How do you know this guy was telling the truth?" Viktor asked. Slatu Arad was a hotbed of criminal activity, and a Portkey guaranteed to bring them to the Vampire Council was just as likely to send them into magically reinforced cages run by black-market slavers. Krum had heard that such crimes were almost nonexistent in Western European countries like Britain or France, but here, the Ministry didn't have the influence or the manpower to stamp out illegal practices like that.

"Do you take me for a fool?" Boris snapped. "I had him perform a truth-speaking spell before I would even look at his merchandise. Honestly, Viktor, if I bought so much as a dozen eggs without making sure the merchant was honest, my grandmother would roll over in her grave."

"No offense meant," Viktor said hastily. "I have nothing but faith in your bargaining skills. I bet you even got a discount on the Portkey."

Boris grinned, appeased. "Damn right I did. Did you get the garlic?"

For answer, Viktor handed Boris a necklace made of garlic bulbs connected with fishing twine. He had another for himself, and a jar filled with garlic powder that they poured over their robes.

"Anything else?" Viktor asked, but he already knew the answer.

"Time to go," Boris said, with the peculiar, almost drunken tone that he adopted when there was a fight brewing. It meant he was focused, ready to unleash deadly force. Good.

The two Durmstrang students held their wands steady, and with their off hands reached out and touched the garnet ring. Viktor grunted as the spell took effect, an invisible hook jerking out his insides and carrying the rest of him after.

His eyes opened – he didn't remember closing them – and he found himself in a small clearing in a forest. Moonlight streamed through gaps in the foliage, providing just enough light to show that Viktor and Boris were not alone. A mass of hooded figures stood before them in a loose circle, and at the sound of the wizards' sudden arrival, they turned as one.

In the near-darkness, the vampires' glowing red eyes were quite striking. Surprised muttering arose, growing louder and more hostile, while Viktor looked around. He thought he saw flashes of movement in the trees, which he guessed were sentries.

"I think we've stumbled on a full meeting of the Council," Viktor whispered. "I don't know if that's good or bad for us."

A sibilant voice answered him. "Most assuredly bad, young wizard. We don't like to be interrupted, especially by wizards cloaked in garlic and wielding wands."

A chorus of snarls rose from the circle, and Viktor shifted his grip on his wand. One of the hooded figures came forward, and at his approach the other vampires fell silent.

"Why do you come here?" the vampire asked, a quiet threat lying dormant underneath his words. "I see you are no more than cubs. Do you seek to test yourselves by hunting my kind, as others have done before you? If so, you must be foolish indeed. You cannot hope to take on all of us and live."

"We are envoys," Viktor announced firmly, lowering his wand to his side. He tried to project confidence – vampires, like most predators, respected strength and pounced on apparent weakness. "We bring a message to the Council of Vampires."

"A message, is it?" mused the vampire spokesman. "You seem young for government employees. Where do you hail from? The Ministry of Magic in Britain? Perhaps you are creatures of the woman Umbridge, with new Guidelines for the Treatment of Non-Wizard Part-Humans… what is it this time? Are we to be tagged and monitored, as the Muggles do with endangered species?"

"No government owns our allegiance," Krum said, speaking not just to the leader, but to all the assembled vampires. "We come as messengers from Lord Orochimaru. He wishes to form an alliance with the Vampire Council."

Krum's eyes had adjusted to the darkness well enough to see the vampire leader raise one eyebrow. "I make it a point to be familiar with all influential wizards in Europe - it pays to know your enemy, even if my kind and yours are not officially enemies any longer. Yet I have never heard this name. Why, then, should I care about his offer of alliance?"

Boris caught Viktor's eye and winced. He knew what was coming. "You should care," said Victor, "because if you refuse to meet with Lord Orochimaru and discuss his terms, he will exterminate every single one of you."

The clearing exploded with the cries of dozens of enraged vampires. The chorus of screeches, hisses, and guttural growling triggered a visceral fear in Viktor, who fought to control his instinctive reaction, which was to run like a rabbit in the opposite direction. Steady, there, he told himself. Show them no weakness.

The leader raised one hand, and as silence was reestablished, it was clear that it was his will and his will alone that kept the other vampires from attacking right then and there.

"That's quite a stick," he observed coldly, in a voice sharp enough to cut steel. "Is there a carrot to entice us, or do you come here with nothing but threats?"

"Lord Orochimaru has much to offer his friends," Viktor responded, cursing the necessity of these negotiations. Orochimaru had briefed him before he left on what to say to the vampires, so Viktor couldn't deviate from the script without breaking his oath. If he refused to parley with the vampires and died for it, then Orochimaru would torture and kill the young ones, and then he would simply recruit the vampires himself. So despite the enormity of the horror he was committing, Viktor gritted his teeth and continued.

"First, he will free you from the constraints of the Minsk Convention of 1727. Furthermore, as long as you follow his orders, Lord Orochimaru will provide you with a limited supply of wizard blood."

The silence in the clearing became, if possible, even more complete. Whatever inducements the vampires had been expecting, that certainly wasn't one of them. While vampires preferred human blood to almost any other kind, it was wizard blood that they craved most. As magical creatures themselves, vampires were able to absorb magic from the blood of wizards and witches, and to a limited extent from magical creatures like unicorns or dragons. A vampire who fed regularly on blood from magical humans became faster and stronger than its fellows, and rumor had it that they even gained varying degrees of magical resistance.

But wizards had held the upper hand in the fight against vampires for centuries, due to their greater numbers and the ability to use wands. Vampires' very existence relied on magic, but it all operated internally – they couldn't use magic to shape the physical world, the way wizards and witches did every day with their wands. So organizations like the Vampire Council had developed, to keep rogue vampires in check and ensure that the vampire population didn't invite its own destruction by feeding on wizards or witches.

At last, the lead vampire broke the silence. "It was a mistake for you to come here. You talk openly of rebellion, and I cannot risk the Wizarding governments suspecting my kind of conspiracy. We will present your heads to the Minister of Magic with our apologies. Brethren, take them!"

Krum launched into action, raising his wand to chest level as he shouted, "Boris, now!" His friend was already moving, flicking his wand out in a sweeping arc.

"Lumos Maximus!" Boris shouted, and white light flared from his wand until it lit the clearing like a sun, obliterating everything for a crucial moment in a sea of light. Cries of pain rose from dozens of mouths, and all around the two boys, vampires fell to their knees and clutched vainly at their eyes. Because of their aversion to sunlight, most vampires had excellent night vision and avoided daylight like the plague. Wandlight might not burn them to a crisp, but with Boris pouring all of his energy into the spell, it certainly burned their retinas like a high-powered flash grenade. Krum and Boris had planned their attack strategy beforehand, so they knew to keep their eyes shut.

Remembering how effectively Orochimaru had bound the Durmstrang students several weeks ago, Krum decided to use the same spell. "Incarcerous," he spat, and thick ropes bound the vampire leader in place.

Ignoring the unearthly howls all around him, Viktor advanced on his captive. The vampire kept his eyes shut and his mouth closed, though he had to be experiencing agony every bit as intense as his fallen brothers and sisters.

Boris kept step with Viktor, guarding his back and trying to watch every enemy at once. "Guess vampires don't know you're not supposed to kill the messengers."

"We don't want any trouble," Viktor said, raising his wand even though the vampire couldn't see it. "But we have been authorized to defend ourselves if necessary. Now, will you listen to the rest of our proposal, or must we take this further?"

"You have forgotten two things," the leader whispered, pain stretching his voice like a runner band at its breaking point. "First, your wands can only cast one spell at a time."

Krum, who was maintaining the rope spell, looked at Boris, who was still pumping light through his wand in pulsing waves. "Oh?" he asked. "And what's the second thing?"

"Your light spell only hurts those of my brethren who still have eyes to see. Kill them!"

At his shout, a cloaked figure that neither Viktor nor Boris had noticed jumped from an overhanging branch, reaching with claw-like hands. He moved slower than Orochimaru, but far faster than any human could have. With the sudden insight of a man facing death, Viktor knew that this vampire bodyguard must have preyed on wizards in the past, otherwise he couldn't possibly have moved so fast. The scar tissue covering both eye sockets suggested that he relied solely on smell and sound, so Boris' spell hadn't affected him. And now he was coming to rip out their throats.

But Viktor had one more trick up his sleeve – and it was literally up his sleeve, because it was his arm. With speed enhanced by desperation, Viktor raised his left arm, palm up, and began to manipulate the strange energy called chakra that Orochimaru had unlocked within him.

Once the energy spread down his arm, it reached the wand that Orochimaru had grafted to his fibula by means of a horrifically painful surgery, and jump-started a surge of magic. Viktor wrestled with the strange, hybrid blend of magic and chakra, forcing it into a whirling chaotic mass of magical energy that surged underneath his skin, demanding to be released. He obeyed, shooting a deadly beam of charged light from his palm toward the attacking vampire.

It didn't so much hit the blind bodyguard as erase him, obliterating his legs and most of his torso in a brilliant burst. Viktor hastily suppressed a sigh of relief. He hadn't been sure that Orochimaru's experimental surgery would work, since it had only been three days ago that he had agreed to the procedure and he hadn't had many chances to test it.

The twisted madman had surgically inserted a wand into Viktor's left arm, with the tip resting just below his palm. Orochimaru had also artificially widened something called his "chakra coils," allowing Viktor to build up chakra and cast spells with the hidden wand. Now Viktor was a living weapon, capable of casting multiple spells at once, using chakra to eliminate the need for complicated wand movements or incantations. Viktor wasn't exactly sure how it worked, but the fact that it did work was fairly clear, judging from the few remaining pieces of the blind vampire.

If he'd been given a choice, Viktor would rather have died than be some kind of magical guinea pig. However, Orochimaru had promised that if he didn't undergo the so-called "Magical Augmentation process," then the would-be Dark Lord would use one of the First Formers as his test subject. To keep them safe and intact for as long as possible, Viktor had agreed to be treated like a human lab rat. It was, he supposed, a silver lining that the hidden wand actually worked as it was supposed to.

"Cerce's Blood and Merlin's Bones!" Boris exclaimed. "So that's what Orochimaru did to you!"

The vampire leader opened his eyes slowly, blinking rapidly against the harsh glow of Boris' wand. He watched Viktor with wary respect. "What are you?" He said it matter-of-factly, without awe or resentment, just natural curiosity.

Viktor grimaced, and he didn't even try to hide the self-loathing in his voice. "I am what Lord Orochimaru has made me." A monster. "You have twenty-four hours to consider our offer. Once that time is up, a new representative will arrive to transport you and your fellows to a meeting place of Lord Orochimaru's choosing. There you will agree upon the terms of the alliance. If you refuse to appear, or if you attempt to alert the rest of the Wizarding World, you will be stamped out and eradicated like vermin. Is that understood?"

"I understand you perfectly well, wizard," the vampire said quietly. "Will you release me now?"

Viktor dropped his hand to his side, and the ropes dissolved into smoke. Boris finally allowed his light spell to dissipate, and darkness again reigned in the clearing. Viktor grimaced again, but he had been given his closing remarks by Orochimaru himself, and had orders to deliver them word for word.

"Do not despair," he said, pitching his voice to carry. "By becoming allies with Lord Orochimaru, you are liberating yourselves. No more shall you subsist on forest creatures and blood-flavored lollipops. You will feast upon the blood of Lord Orochimaru's enemies, and earn the chance to rise high in his favor. If you impress him with your loyalty and initiative, there are no limits to the rewards he will bestow." Viktor raised his wand, watching how most vampires cringed away when he swept it forward. "Not even magic is out of reach for the vampires who impress our Lord. Remember my words, and heed them well."

Viktor saw the speculative light flare up in the vampire leader's bloodred eyes, and he was deathly afraid for the future. Boris held the ring Portkey at arm's length; they each touched it with one finger, the Portkey activated, and they disappeared.

oOoOo

Charlie Weasley was no coward. It was no accident that he had been drawn to dragons – they were some of the most dangerous creatures known to wizardkind, and Charlie loved the thrill he got matching wills with beasts that could roast the meat right off an unwary wizard's bones.

Nor was Charlie a stranger to pain. Burns, scrapes, and even bite wounds were common occurrences working on a dragon preserve, and Charlie had once prided himself on his ability to withstand injuries that would hospitalize most witches and wizards. During his stay in the Durmstrang dungeons, however, Charlie discovered that he was a novice of pain. The Cruciatus Curse gave him a new appreciation for agony. Words failed him when it came to describing what it felt like, and even his thoughts shrank from contemplating that soul-consuming pain.

But all of that suffering, the accumulated horror of so many days of torture that he had lost count, was as a candle to a bonfire when compared to what Charlie felt when Orochimaru led Bill Weasley into his cell.

A raw, primal scream ripped from Charlie's throat, and he strained to get at Orochimaru, heedless of the unforgiving chains cutting into his wrists. He didn't even feel the hot blood dripping from his hands.

A nimbus of magical energy began to emanate around Charlie, manifesting without his direction in answer to his despair. His chains, the floor beneath his feet, even the walls began to vibrate, trembling as if the dungeon was one giant tuning fork. With a thundering crash, a chunk of rock from the ceiling directly above Orochimaru broke off and fell faster than gravity could account for, forced by Charlie's surge of magic to target his captor.

Orochimaru moved faster than a striking viper, pushing Bill forward and then lashing upward with one foot. The vast rock simply broke in half, falling away to either side. Rock dust gravel rained down for a moment more, and suddenly Charlie felt like a wrung-out rag. He slumped to his knees.

"Well, that was unexpected," Orochimaru drawled, brushing a bit of dust off his wizard's robes. "It seems adult wizards are also capable of accidental magic, if given the proper incentive. That is… interesting."

Charlie didn't have it in him to respond. He looked first to Bill, who was smiling at him sadly. "Nice try," said the oldest Weasley boy. "You almost squashed the little cockroach."

"Now, now," said Orochimaru fondly, gently pushing Bill forward to stand next to Charlie. "Is that any way to talk about your prospective employer? This is something of an interview, after all – you should try to make a good impression."

"Go to hell, worm," Charlie spat, drawing strength from Bill's comforting presence at his side, though he knew the comfort was merely an illusion. "We'd rather die than serve you."

Orochimaru looked both of them up and down, like a man examining horses he intends to buy. "You place a surprising amount of trust in your brother's resolve. How do you know he would be as stubborn as you?"

Bill laughed quietly, despite the fact that there was nothing much to laugh about. "Where do you think he learned it from?"

"You can't imagine how nice it is to find wizards with backbone in this soft world," Orochimaru mused, licking his lips with a tongue that was too red. "But do try to apply some logic to your situation. If I could get to both of you so easily, who's to say I couldn't do the same to your lovely parents? Your brothers? Or even – dare I say it – little Ginny?"

"How do you know her name?" Bill asked, shocked beyond his ability to stay calm.

"Just one of the many facts I pulled from your brother's mind. I also know how the location of the Burrow, and two secret passages into Hogwarts. Do you really think that if I set my mind to it, I can't reach any member of your family that I want?"

"They are under Dumbledore's protection," said Charlie, but he couldn't even convince himself. No matter how extraordinary Dumbledore might be, he was still only human. Orochimaru was more like a demon from a nightmare made flesh.

Orochimaru's eyes glinted – he knew Charlie didn't believe what he was saying.

"Will you swear an oath?" Bill asked suddenly. "A magically binding oath that you won't harm our family if we cooperate?"

Having gained the upper hand, Orochimaru was all oily grace and understanding. "Of course. An oath for an oath – what a civilized agreement. Shall I begin?" He raised his wand questioningly.

"Bill!" Charlie cried. "What are you playing at?"

"Do we have any choice?!" Bill shouted. "We're already dead; there's nothing we can do to change that. It's our responsibility to protect our family as best we can. There's going to be a war whether we help or not. At least this way, Mum and Dad and the rest of them will be safe."

"Are you sure about this?"

Bill caught his gaze, and then Charlie saw the glint in his older brother's eyes. Bill might sound defeated, but he wasn't broken. And if Charlie had learned anything growing up at the Burrow, it was that Bill always had a plan. Fred and George might think that they were the best pranksters the world had ever known, but Bill could have run rings around them if he had ever had a mind to.

Very well. He would trust his brother… of course, it wasn't like he had many other options.

Charlie sighed deeply. He looked at Orochimaru with weary resignation. "Do it."

Orochimaru flourished his wand. "I, Orochimaru of the Sannin, swear on my magic that I will not harm Molly, Arthur, Percy, Fred, George, Ron, or Ginny, so long as Bill and Charlie Weasley honor their oaths to me." The spell wrapped his wand arm in bands of light that flared and then disappeared. Charlie was sure that Orochimaru had named all of their family members on purpose, as a reminder of his hold over them, and hated him all the more for it.

"That should suffice," Orochimaru practically purred. "Now it's your turn."

Charlie and Bill obediently repeated the words of the Threefold Vow, grimacing as they felt the magic take hold, like an internal parasite that one could sense even as it fed.

Orochimaru waved his wand one last time, and the chains holding Charlie captive disappeared. Their new master put his wand away and rubbed his hands with sick anticipation. "Charlie, we'll have to get you installed in the Nursery. That's what the smaller boys have taken to calling the room where our dragon eggs are incubating – aren't they precious? For now, consider yourself Durmstrang's new Care of Magical Creatures Professor. As for you, Bill, I think we're going to have some very illuminating discussions about ward construction and removal. As a Gringotts Curse-Breaker, I'm sure I will learn a lot from you. I believe there's also going to be an elective this year on Advanced Curses – you'll be teaching that one. Oh, this is going to be such fun!"

As Orochimaru led the two Weasley brothers away from the dungeon, their thoughts were running in two very different directions. Charlie was contemplating bleakly the prospect of Orochimaru owning a whole flight of dragons, and using them to rain down terror on the Wizarding World.

Bill, however, was preoccupied with something else entirely. A part of his mind was running on autopilot, making sure that his Occlumency barriers were still intact. From what he'd experienced when Orochimaru had first captured him, Bill knew that Orochimaru was far from an expert in mind-reading. He knew the theory, but the invader from another world did not have the lifetime of magical experience necessary to be aware when a trained wizard was blocking access to certain parts of his mind.

Bill, like many members of the Order of the Phoenix, had been practicing his Occlumency ever since Dumbledore first sent out word over a year ago that the Wizarding World faced a new threat. Bill might be forced to serve at Orochimaru's whim, but that did not mean he was helpless. And this Threefold Vow, or whatever it was called, was not the perfect safeguard that Orochimaru probably believed it to be.

As a Curse-Breaker with years of experience and no small amount of talent, Bill knew one thing with complete certainty: no matter what it might be called, no spell was truly unbreakable. That was as true for the Unbreakable Vow as anything else.

Bill focused inward, trying to isolate the feeling of wrongness within himself that was the magical trace of the Vow he had sworn. Gently, ever so gently, he tried to pulse the magic in his body. The foul taint within him seemed to shift a bit – that was the only way he could describe it – before settling back again. There had only been the slightest change, but it was something, and Bill had bought himself some time to experiment further.

Bill controlled the grin that threatened to spread across his face. As his little brother Ron would say, he might own less pieces, but this game was far away from checkmate. The day was coming when Orochimaru would regret making enemies of the Weasleys.