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Chapter 9 Crazy

Dumbledore looked over all the paperwork Amos had provided for him with a heavy frown. In an idealistic world none of this would be necessary. None of these children would have to face the horrors that were to come. They would all live happy, content lives, never knowing the suffering of war. But an ideal world this was not.

"They're children," Dumbledore murmured.

"Most of them are out of Hogwarts," Amos pointed out.

Dumbledore glanced at the dossiers for each candidate. Every single one of them had been a student at Hogwarts. They may not all have been the intellectual elites of their classes, they may not all have been the gifted students who used their wands like a brush and their magic like paint to create intricate masterpieces of magic, but there was no doubt the listed youths in front of him were the strongest and most capable of their generation. At least, those whose loyalties could be verified.

"If we could spare them-"

"That is the headmaster in you talking," Amos interrupted. "You're the Minister of Magic in a country freshly entered into a civil war. It's time for you to stop looking at this as a professor and start looking at this like a leader."

Dumbledore sighed heavily. Amos was right, even if his words were crude. He needed to look at this as a leader of the Ministry.

"This will be expensive," Dumbledore stated. "I will have to talk with our Head of Coin to look over our budget and see where we can cut cost."

"There should be a folder titled 'Budget.' That breaks down all the expenses required."

Dumbledore shifted the dossiers out of the way and saw the folder mentioned. It was a little thicker than he would have liked. Picking it up, he opened it and raised his eyebrows at what he saw.

"Quite expensive indeed."

Amos allowed the Minister another moment to browse the list. It was pretty much hook, line and sinker. He would have his fighting force. There was still another issue he needed to press but that could wait a few more minutes.

"There is a storage warehouse in the Northern Ireland countryside; out of the way, nondescript. It's used to house files from old Auror cases, mostly dating back to the 18th and 19th centuries. I'd like to get some contractors in there first to get it all sorted before getting one of our construction teams to put up the wards."

Dumbledore nodded his head absentmindedly as he continued to browse the list of expenses. A lot of it was standard stuff; salary for the instructors, cost of building materials, contractor expenses, potion materials, etc.

"I'm going to need you to talk to the Department of Mysteries. We'll require time turners."

"Time turners?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes raising to meet Amos'.

"They're young and inexperienced. They'll need all the time they can get."

"Surely you know that it has been proven time turner use doesn't speed up the maturation of the magical core like it does the physical body itself."

"I know that," Amos stated, trying to hide his offense at being assumed ignorant.

Time turners were some of the most complex pieces of magic ever created by man. The ability to travel in time had come about by accident and was monitored heavily. The Department of Mysteries, along with every other foreign Ministries obscure magics department, had been studying the affects of time travel heavily. It was shown that all that extra time aged ones body appropriately. Someone who spent an accumulative time of one year in the past would find their body a year older than their chronological age dictated. However, no matter how many extra days, weeks or months one spent traveling to the past to relive certain days or moments, their magical core would remain unchanged. It would seem that magic made it impossible for anything besides the twenty-fifth year anniversary of ones birth from activating a person's magical maturation, no matter how old their body itself might be.

"I admit that despite my months as Minister, I am still clueless when it comes to the going ons of the Department of Mysteries. The things they study down there remain a mystery even to me. In fact, I believe not even the Unspeakables themselves know of everything that goes on down there."

"Do they have the amount of time turns we would need?" Amos asked.

"Yes, I believe so. When I had gone down there with a request for one several years ago, I saw a room containing several dozen of the devices. Getting the Unspeakables to depart with so many of them though, that will be the hardest part of this entire thing."

"We just have to hope they see the logic in it."

Dumbledore let out a small chuckle. "That we do. Very well Amos, you have the Ministry's approval for your project."

"Thank you Albus … . It's just that, there is one more thing."

"Oh?" Dumbledore asked, a curious look on his face.

Amos reached into his robe and pulled out another set of folders, this much smaller then the original stack he had handed to the Minister. This was the moment of truth. He handed the folders over and waited with bated breath.

Dumbledore read the first few folders with a serene expression, something that was common for the man. Rarely did the man give anything away. It wasn't until he got to the last folder that's Dumbledore's eyebrows raised in complete surprise.

"Oh."

When the plan had hatched in his mind, at first he had thought about doing it under the radar. It would have taken longer than he would have wanted but it wouldn't have announced it to the world. The last thing he needed were people having reason to be on guard so quickly. The problem of course being that patience was never his strong suit. No, Voldemort wouldn't bide his time. Not this time. This time, he would do things the way he should have done them the first time around.

Currently he found himself on the edge of property for a large manor of ancient Russian design. The wards that protected the property, while powerful in their own right, were no match for him. There was no complexity to them and he found himself not impressed with them at all. Years of peace had made the Bulgarians complacent. Fifty years truly wasn't that long ago, yet still people acted as if it was a life time ago, and it played to his advantage.

The Head of the Peacekeepers was the most powerful man in Bulgaria according to the reports. He was magically strong, had a position of power and was an advocate of improving muggle-born rights. Many of the pureblood lords Voldemort had met over the past few days who had pledged themselves to him had asked of but one thing; to kill this man.

He had agreed, not that he wasn't going to be doing it anyway. In order for his rule to be established all forms of possible resistance needed to be eliminated immediately. He needed the forces of the Bulgarian government to come under his control and bolster his numbers. Members of the Council of Nobles who supported muggle-born reforms were set to be assassinated tonight, along with any high ranking government official who felt the same way.

He would then walk into the main government building tomorrow, with over seventy followers and several dozen corpses in tow. They would surrender to him because any who resisted would be killed on the spot. There would probably be some who, despite their pureblood superiority leanings, would be resistant to his rule. Many of them were probably content with their positions of power and didn't want to see themselves knocked down the totem pole.

The key here was to, while assuming power and using fear to control the masses, try to keep things as status quo as long as possible for the more influential members of the society. If these arrogant lords thought the only thing that changed was the head of the government, all the better. They didn't need to know the changes he would be making. Not until he had secured his power base at least, making any efforts to rise against him laughable at best and a minor nuisance at worst.

He needed a firm stronghold before he could move forward with his master plan and Bulgaria would be that stronghold. The first step would be killing Bulgaria's Head of the Peacekeepers.

Harry stood on the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch early Saturday morning. Representatives from the Nimbus Broom company, which included it's owner and two assistants, stood around him. Off to the side were two of the Rangers of Avalon, for protection purposes. A new, fancy looking broom was sitting on a stand directly in front of him. Two covered objects sat to either side of the broom, and if he was a betting man, Harry would assume them to be other brooms. He had just listened to them express interest in his Quidditch exploits throughout his Hogwarts career for a good five minutes before the broom in front of him was unveiled.

"It's called Nimbus: Lightning," Rodney Whitehorn said, indicating the broom that stood in front of Harry.

Harry looked at the broom. He could see the similarities with his old Nimbus 2000 and the Slytherin's Nimbus 2001. It was made of mahogany and sleek; the bristles a golden color. On each side of the handle, right near the end, where one would place their hands for steering, was a golden lightning bolt carved into the wood. It looked as fancy as Harry's Firebolt, which had been destroyed by the dragon a few weeks ago.

"Better handling and faster turning than the Firebolt. Has the same top-end speed with similar acceleration," Whitehorn explained.

With his arms crossed behind his back, Harry walked around the brook to give it a thorough look over as Whitehorn went into detail on all of the features. Nimbus had really undone themselves. With the Quidditch World Cup qualifying matches right around the corner, the Nimbus: Lightning would start competing with the Firebolt for sponsorships from the national teams.

"I was here during the Tri-Wizard Tournament during the first task. Your skills on a broom against that dragon were a sight to behold. We, of course, heard what happened during the attack on the Hogwarts Express, the incident with your broom. They aren't cheap, especially a Firebolt, and we at Nimbus think we might be able to help you out. Become a sponsor for our new broom, and we'll give you three Nimbus: Lightnings for free."

Harry turned toward Whitehorn, his eyebrow raised. "Three brooms?"

Whitehorn nodded his head and one of his assistants walked toward one of the covered objects and pulled off the sheet. Harry found himself staring at another Nimbus: Lightning, except this one was made of ebony and it's twigs were an emerald green. Right after the lightning bolts was 'Potter" written in a cursive way neater than Harry's own; both the bolts and the name colored emerald green.

"Depending your approval, we would like to run a Nimbus: Lighting – Harry Potter Limited Edition series. The broom has the same capabilities, it's just a different color scheme with your name. You of course, would get your own specially designed brooms."

The third and final cover was pulled away and Harry found himself staring at not one but three brooms. They were similar to the black and green Lightning in it's color scheme but the head of the shaft of the broom was carved to resemble the head of a dragon. If Harry had to guess, he'd go Welsh Green, it being the dragon of his family crest.

He had to admit, he was thoroughly impressed with the broom. If everything he was told was true, this would be one hell of a broom. Having three of them would definitely come in handy.

"Can I try it?" Harry asked.

"Of course!" Whitehorn said.

One of the assistants moved forward and took the regular Lightning of it's stand and presented it to Harry. Nodding his head in thanks, Harry took the broom and swung his leg over it. Without a second thought he kicked off and rocketed into the sky.

It was fifteen minutes of twisting and turning, of rising as high in the air as possible and then plummeting to the earth. It's acceleration was a hair under that of the Firebolt but the handling was a vast improvement.

He landed with his hair sticking up in every direction and a big smile on his face.

"Mr. Whitehorn, you have yourself a deal," Harry stated.

Whitehorn clapped his hands several times in exhilaration. "Excellent Mr. Potter! I have the contracts written up for you to sign. One for the advertising deal for the Nimbus: Lightning and one for the Harry Potter Special Edition series. Of course, you will receive more than just the brooms in compensation."

Harry took the stack of parchment that was handed to him and glanced over the first page. It was a lot of jargon he didn't understand. Terms he hadn't even heard of jumped out at him. There was no way he was signing this without having it looked over by someone who knew what they were doing.

"I just need my people to look over this," Harry said, looking up. He had no idea who his people were, but he was going to need to find someone soon. "If you could just give me a few days?"

"Of course, Mr. Potter! Take your time. The unveiling for the broom won't be until the start of December. Plenty of time for you to look it over."

Harry nodded his head in thanks. "I'll get back to you shortly with it all."

One of the assistants went around collecting the two brooms that wouldn't be left with Harry, as well as their stands. The other pulled three wooden objects out of their pockets and expanded them. Harry saw that they were ebony broom cases, his name etched in green on each one. Carefully, his three personal brooms were loaded into each case and secured.

"One of the provisions of being the sponsor is you attend the unveiling ceremony on December 1st, along with our other sponsors."

Harry tilted his head. "Who are your other sponsors if you don't mind me asking?"

"The Puddlemere United Quidditch team signed a contract of sponsorship. We also have Josephine Marat, lead chaser of the Quiborne Quafflepunchers and member of the French National team, and Maximus Brankovitch III, seeker for the Fitchburg Finches and the American National Team. He's the first non-European player the Nimbus company will be sponsoring and we're excited to expand into new markets."

'You-Know-Who Declares Himself Active Leader of Bulgarian Government!'

Early yesterday morning, as the morning shift started and Bulgarian government workers began filling into the building, they were greeted with a terrifying sight. Hovering in the air for all to see were the dead bodies of several dozen lords and ladies from the Council of Nobles, as well as notable muggle-born advocates in their government; none more notable than Head of Peacekeepers, Valko Ivanov.

Standing below them was He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named with reports of seventy Death Eaters with him. The exact words said from the Dark Lord varies from those present but the message delivered remains the same.

The leaders they once worked for were gone. The government they once knew was no more. There was a new person in charge; a new way of doing things. And that way was You-Know-Who's way.

There were some protestors but they were quickly dealt with. Soon numerous bodies littered the floor to go with those still hovering in the air. Everyone else knew to keep their mouths shut. The majority of the Peacekeepers, Bulgaria's version of Hit-Wizards, stood by doing nothing. Many of them are sons and daughters of the Council of Nobles members, a government body known for it's pro-pureblood, anti-muggleborn views.

A country already lacking in a large muggle-born and half-blood population, saw most of those still remaining flee the country as the early morning news broke. The government, now under the control of You-Know-Who, worked hard to close down its borders before too many could flee.

Neighboring countries who have taken in the influx of refugees have all indicated an increase in security at high-traffic locations, as well as their own Ministry buildings. Government bodies have all been called into session, debating on how to deal with this sudden change in the Balkan state. Everyone is antsy, fearing what the powerful Dark Lord will be able to do far from British shores and away from the power check of Albus Dumbledore, who had taken the position of Minister of Magic for the United Kingdom to better combat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named more effectively.

"You-Know-Who might be in Bulgaria but most of his Inner Circle are still here," Rufus Scrimgeour, Head of the Aurors, said. "Don't think this means you should breath easy right now. Our citizens need to remain vigilant as we deal with this still very real threat."

No word from the International Confederation of Wizards on the situation. While numerous Dark Lords have arisen over the years, it hasn't been since Grindelwald was terrorizing Europe that the ICW took action. At that time they initiated a coalition of law enforcement officials from numerous nations in order to build a large enough fighting force to handle the thousands of followers of Grindelwald. Time will tell if they choose to do the same against You-Know-Who.'

Harry put down the Daily Prophet and sighed. Voldemort had only left the United Kingdom a little over two weeks ago. It only took him that long to take over the Bulgarian government? Did they put up a fight? Was there anyone even there to put up a fight? From what Hermione had said, the majority of the population was purebloods, and, based on the conversations he had with Viktor Krum, bigoted ones at that.

On the other hand, the United Kingdom was a nation where no one blood purity was considered a clear majority. The purebloods had the biggest percentage at just over forty-five percent. The muggle-borns made up roughly thirty percent and those considered half-bloods were twenty-five percent. Maybe that was why Voldemort found it so hard to come to power in the United Kingdom.

"Harry."

Harry looked up to see Jessica MacGregor standing in front of him. She was one of the two Gryffindor girls in his year he rarely talked to. She was a half-blood who tried to be a pureblood. Her father, the youngest son of the Head of the MacGregor clan, had married a half-blood witch whose family was quite wealthy in the muggle world, as well as part of the muggle aristocracy.

"Hello Jessica," Harry greeted.

Jessica held out a letter, which Harry curiously accepted. His name was written on the front and the back was sealed with the MacGregor crest pressed into wax.

"On behalf of my grandfather, Lawrence MacGregor, head of the Noble MacGregor clan, please accept this proposal with our most sincere gratitude."

Harry stared at her blankly for a moment before realizing he probably had to respond. This seemed like some kind of pureblood thing that was way over his head.

"Uh, as the head of the Ancient and Noble Potter family I –"

"He will review your proposal with his utmost care and respond respectfully," Neville interjected, leaning across the table and pushing the hand Harry held the letter in down toward the table.

Harry blinked. "Yes, what Neville said."

Jessica looked disappointed before nodding her head and moving off. Harry stared at the envelope for a moment before looking up at Neville.

"What in the name of Merlin just happened?"

"Her grandfather is extending to you a marriage proposal, most likely for Jessica herself," Neville explained.

If Harry had been drinking something, he would have spit it out in shock. He looked at Nevile with wide eyes as he immediately let go of the envelope, letting it fall onto his empty breakfast plate.

"It's just a proposal Harry," Neville admonished, picking the envelope up and holding it out to Harry.

"Bloody hell Neville. I didn't realize purebloods did arrange marriages."

Neville shrugged his shoulders. "It happens more than you think. Look at Malfoy and Parkinson, and you already know about Heidi Macavoy."

Harry took the invitation back and flipped it over in his hand. Using his finger, he broke the seal and opened the envelope. Pulling out the piece of parchment inside, he saw that Neville was indeed correct. It was a proposal for an arranged marriage between Harry and Jessica MacGregor.

He looked at his friends and realized they were all looking at him. Neville looked sympathetic, while Ron appeared to find the situation amusing. Hermione looked pissed off and Harry felt like he might know why.

"If you think about it, the proposal is rather insulting on Lawrence MacGregor's part. You're the last heir of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter and he's offering you his third son's second daughter, when he has three other granddaughters, including one from his first born son, within six years of your age. He probably believes you know so little about pureblood politics, most likely information he got from Jessica, that you wouldn't view this as the slap in the face it is."

"How do I respond?" Harry asked.

"Are you accepting it?" Ron asked from the other side.

Harry lent forward, his face horrified. "Merlin's no!" he whispered.

Despite his rejection of the proposal, he didn't want to offend Jessica or anything.

"I just want to point this out Harry but eventually, it might make sense for you to say yes to one of these proposals," Ron pointed out.

"What?"

"Ron!" Hermione yelped.

"Just listen. The MacGregor clan is loyal to House Longbottom and is a light leaning family but imagine it wasn't the MacGregor clan extending you one of their females for marriage. Imagine it was a neutral family, whose loyalty isn't yet decided. They wouldn't arrange a marriage with you only to support Voldemort and put their daughter at risk," Ron explained.

"It makes sense," Neville agreed.

"It does," Harry conceded. "But it isn't anything I'd ever take into consideration. When I marry, it will be because of love and only because of love."

Ron held up his hands in surrender. "Just making a point."

"You'll have to let the family down the right way," Neville stated. "I suggest asking Daphne or Terry, they'd know better than I."

He froze in his step, his hand reaching for the pendant he wore around his neck. It was warm and something tugged him in the direction of the dungeons. Daphne was in trouble. The others would all be in class right now. The sixth years in Defense, the seventh years in Charms and the fifth years mixed between Transfiguration and Care of Magical Creatures.

Since he wasn't required in Defense any longer, he had been on his way to the kitchens for a snack to hold him over until lunch started in an hour. However, it appeared something had come up. For whatever reason, Daphne needed his help.

He turned on his heel and ran back the way he had come, toward a suit of armor he knew contained a shortcut to the dungeons behind it. As he pushed on the wall behind the statue, which easily gave way under the pressure, he took his wand out of its holster. The three torches that lined the wall came to life as the entrance closed behind him, dimly lighting the stone staircase he found himself in.

He took the steps two at a time, moving as quickly as possible while still maintaining his footing. He came out behind a painting of a former head of Slytherin, in the middle of a rarely used corridor. The warmth intensified and Harry took off in the direction he needed to go. It took a few turns, as Harry found himself going deeper and deeper into the dungeons. He was approaching a part of the school he had never been in, and was barely findable on the Marauder's Map.

He came upon a dead end corridor with a door leading to a large, open room. It was too big to be a classroom and was in the opposite side of the dungeons from the cells used to house prisoners back when Hogwarts was a castle owned by a muggle lord. It's former purpose was unknown, and Harry vaguely wondered if any of the professors even knew the room existed.

There, tied up in the corner farthest from the door was Daphne, her mouth gagged. Harry flicked his wand, casting a few detection charms. However, he found the room was empty of any invisible people and was only occupied by he and Daphne.

Harry moved toward her, waving his wand as he attempted to see if there were any wards or enchantments cast around Daphne he would find himself weary to activate. Yet, he found none what so ever. He noticed a cut above her left eyes that was bleeding. Her robe was torn and the top few buttons of her blouse were missing. He knelt down in front of her, removing the gag from her mouth.

He was already twirling around when Daphne, now able to speak, shouted, "Behind you!"

The shield sprung into existence and easily deflected the dark blue curse off to the side. Harry stayed in his crouch, his wand clenched tightly in his right hand.

"Good reflexes Potty," Draco Malfoy cackled, the tip of his wand glowing a sickly yellow color.

Malfoy jabbed his wand forward, the pent up magical energy flying forward at an incredible rate. Harry used a burst of magic to parry the curse mid-air, an attack of his own flying toward Malfoy in retaliation. Harry's spell was blocked with a wall of defensive magic that was quickly dispersed.

"Everyone's golden boy but we both know that isn't true, right Potty? I mean, you put a professor in the hospital wing. But of course, the great Harry Potter can do no wrong so all you got was a slap on the wrist; little golden boy that you are."

Harry was disturbed by the wild look in Malfoy's eyes. Something had happened over the summer. He wasn't sure what but something had changed the annoying Malfoy he knew into the deranged Malfoy that stood before him. And it wasn't just sanity that had changed either. The two spells he had defended against were stronger; way stronger than they should have been given Malfoy's magical strength at the end of last year and the slight increase standard magical growth dictates the pureblood would have gone through in the few months since they last saw each other.

"Fuck Malfoy, you performed a ritual didn't you?" Harry demanded, his wand raised high.

"Oh Potty, how did you guess?" Malfoy asked, a large smile on his face.

His studies into Ancient Runes had led Harry to several books on the various rituals that littered the magical world. Each culture had their own sets of rituals, with each one requiring different ingredients and each one leaving the user with different results. The abrupt lost of sanity and the substantial increase in power made Harry believe that Malfoy had undergone a powerful ritual. A ritual that was probably based in blood magic of some sort; and not a minor cut across the palm blood sacrifice either.

"Too bad for you Malfoy, I'm still more powerful," Harry stated, launching a piercing hex.

His spell was blocked easily, but he had expected that and followed up with several more immediately after. Malfoy conjured a thin layer of swirling red energy that absorbed all of Harry's spells. Sweeping his wand to the side, Harry banished Malfoy's defensive magic.

Harry kept his wand pointing at his opponent and reach back with his free hand. He tapped Daphne's arm with a finger and the bonds that had tied her up fell away. She scrambled to her feet, as Harry quickly stood in case Malfoy decided to cast another spell. So far, all he was doing was staring at Harry with a creepy grin on his face.

"He's insane," Daphne muttered.

"I know," Harry replied softly. "Stay out of the way. I'll try to move him away from the door so you can get out of here."

"You know Potty, I was skeptical you would come!" Malfoy said. "I knew I needed one of your friends and Greengrass was conveniently located in my very own common room. I thought to myself, how is Potty going to know poor old Greengrass needs him to save her? I was thinking of ways to make you aware of what I had done and where we were, without you alerting any teachers. But it turns out, I didn't even need to do anything! You did all the work for me!"

Malfoy burst out into laughter again. The laughter lasted for a few seconds before quickly dying away as Harry found himself defending from a barrage of curses. He found himself unable to do much physical dodging of the spells being shot at him. Daphne was behind him and would be put in the path of any spell he avoided. Her being without a wand meant she wouldn't be able to defend herself.

Harry created a wall of defensive energy that crackled every time it intercepted a spell. A dozen or so curses slammed into it, but with a bit of concentration, the shield held under each spell.

"Avada Kedavra."

The green jet of light passed right through the wall of magic as if it wasn't even there. Harry found himself diving out of the way, shouting a warning to Daphne to do the same. Coming up in a roll, Harry poured more magic into his defensive wall, causing it to overload and explode outward in energy shards. Malfoy was forced to shield himself, as Harry looked behind him to make sure Daphne was still alive.

He found her still behind him, low in a crouch in case she needed to dodge anymore Killing Curses. Her eyes were wide and panicked but she seemed relatively fine, minus the cut on her forehead. The quick glance assured him that he need not worry about Daphne, and he turned back toward Malfoy, who was dispelling the shield he had raised.

"Fancy trick that Potty," Malfoy called.

Harry responded with an explosion hex aimed at Malfoy's feet. The Slytherin protected himself from the flames of the explosions and the bits of the floor that had been thrown about. Harry took the time to launch the most powerful bludgeoner he could.

Malfoy wasn't prepared for the attack and found his shield collapsing under Harry's spell. The beam of light caught Malfoy in his side and sent him spinning one-hundred and eight degrees before he collapsed to the ground. Harry thought he might be able to end it but found his follow up spells blocked with another magical shield.

Malfoy got back to his feet and clumsily dodged another of Hary's spells. Malfoy raised his wand to attack but stopped mid-incantation, his face twisting to one of anger.

"You bought help?" Malfoy demanded, outraged. "The great Harry Potter couldn't handle this on his own? Do I scare you Potty?"

Harry realized there must have been proximity wards set up that he hadn't sensed on his way in. It appeared the others who were wearing their pendants felt the pull and had left the classes they were in to investigate.

"Give it up Malfoy," Harry ordered. "You couldn't hope to take me on your own and soon you'll be outnumbered."

Malfoy scowled and started to take deliberate steps in the direction away from the door. Harry kept his wand trained on the teen, wondering what he was up to. He had expected an attempt to escape out the open door. Instead, Malfoy was moving deeper into the room.

"This is far from over Potty," Malfoy snarled out.

Suddenly, a portion of the wall Malfoy stood behind opened up. Harry reacted immediately, launching a series of spells to stop the teen from escaping. Malfoy slipped into the opening, laughing hysterically as the opening closed and Harry's spells slammed into a solid stone wall.

"Son of a bitch!"

Harry ran toward the wall, prodding it with his wand in hopes of making it open for him. He hadn't heard Malfoy say anything, and he didn't have the Marauder's Map on him to give him the answer to the passage. Nothing he did would even reveal the damn passage.

Three figures entered the room and Harry spun on the spot, raising his wand toward the door. Ginny, Romilda and Colin all stood there with their wands raised and baffled looks on their faces.

"Er, where's the danger?" Colin asked, looking around in confusion.

Daphne snorted to herself as she gingerly prodded at the wound on her forehead. Harry moved quickly toward the doorway the three fifth years stood in front of. He looked down the corridor and saw nothing. He had no idea where that passageway let out but he knew Malfoy had chosen the room for a reason.

"Malfoy, you little shit." Harry growled. "Romilda, make sure Daphne is ok. Ginny and Colin on me. We have to catch the ferret before he gets off school grounds."

"No sign of Draco Malfoy on the grounds Headmistress."

Harry scowled at the Ranger's words. The Rangers of Avalon had spread out across the grounds while the professors and prefects had searched the halls. Harry, who had run to his dormitory to get the Marauder's Map, knew this to be true but hearing it confirmed made it all worse.

"No doubt Mr. Malfoy has already fled into the protection of the Dark Lord," McGonagall stated, dismissing the Ranger.

The man nodded his head before turning and walking of the office, and closing the door behind him. Harry felt like punching something as hard as he could but refrained himself. He doubted McGonagall would appreciate it.

"I knew there was something off about him. He wasn't his usual prick self, he was bloody creepy."

"Mr. Potter, your assessment and language are not necessary," the Headmistress admonished.

Harry bit his tongue. McGonagall was a lot stricter than Dumbledore was. While he would be able to get away with such things with nothing but a gentle chiding from the former Headmaster, he would have no such luck with McGonagall.

"The Hit-Wizards will be alerted," McGonagall continued, "but one mentally unstable school boy might not be as high on their list as you may like right now."

Harry stared at the Headmistress for a few moments. She was writing out something on a piece of parchment at her desk. Harry had no doubt it was a letter to Dumbledore explaining the situation in full. He stood from his seat and walked toward the door. He paused with his hand on the knob and turned back toward his former head of house.

"He may not be a problem now professor, but that ritual he undertook is going to adversely effect his magic. When he hits his magical maturation, he might not be on the level of Dumbledore but he'll be on the level of Sirius or Kingsley and he sacrificed his sanity to get that power. Last thing we need is another powerful psychotic Black family member fighting for Voldemort."

With that, Harry spun, pulled open the door and exited the office. When the stairs opened up into the corridor, he found Daphne standing there waiting for him. She sat with her back against the wall and her knees pulled to her chest. Her arms were wrapped around her legs and her head lay in the crook of her left arm.

Harry moved and sat down next to her. He didn't make a move to comfort her like he would most of his other female friends in this situation. Daphne was different. She was a pureblood heiress and a Slytherin, and because of that she wasn't as overtly emotional as most females seemed to be.

"He almost … he almost raped me," Daphne whispered.

Harry's hands clenched into fist as he wished he would be able to pound them into Malfoy's face.

"I never felt so weak, so vulnerable in my life. If you hadn't of come as quickly as you did, or if I didn't have my pendant on me … . " Daphne said it all between shaky breaths before trailing off.

She didn't have to finish her statement for Harry to know what she meant. He wouldn't put it past Malfoy, pre-ritual or post-ritual to force himself on a girl. He reached out with his arms and gently tugged Daphne in his direction. She collapsed into him immediately, burying her face in his shoulder. Harry felt her tears as they fell upon the bare skin of his neck and soaked the collar of his shirt.

Gesturing with his finger, he erected a flimsy silencing ward and notice-me-not charm around them. They weren't enough to hold off anyone with skill but they would be enough to grant Daphne the privacy she needed.