Hello there! Have nothing to say but the fact that I changed the story's summary. Why? Well, to be honest, I never really came to like it, and I think the new one not only is much better but also fits the story way more.

Chapter 40 - The proud heir

The pleas of mercy from that soldier still echoed in Elend's mind, loud and clear.

It had been far too long since he last tortured an enemy because of the information he might or might not have. However, those had been other times, far tougher and cruder, in which whoever stood in his way had been a seasoned murderer. Back then, his acts had been justified. Not by everyone, let it all be said, but it had turned out to be consolation enough to achieve mental peace within himself.

"Was there any result?" Nathan Miller asked with a bored voice.

The former mercenary was no stranger to such methods, but just like it had happened to Elend Shawn, he'd become unused to them. Because of that, he'd decided to wait just outside the cell, where he could hear the shouts of agony yet avoid eye contact. Still, he understood the need. That was all that mattered to Elend, who was not in the mood to be judged by one of his subordinates.

"No," Elend just said.

His eyes took time to get used to the far brighter light outside the cell, where only a ball of energy he created had granted him enough light to distinguish a body among that sea of darkness. To lock a man in a dark place with no stimuli had been one of the many tactics he'd learnt in the War; this one by the hands of Bartemius Crouch himself, no less. Darkness and solitude made men way more prone to lose their minds, and such was the point in which Mental Arts became infallible.

"I think he truly knows nothing about Jordan and his whereabouts."

Nathan just closed his eyes, tired. "All for nothing, it seems," he grunted. "What are we gonna do, Elend? We've fought a war for almost two years now, yet we stand even more lost than we did before it started. Countless amounts of blood have been spilled; many good men have been buried. All in search of a better future. However, here we are, with no clue about the Horcrux's whereabouts. And much worse, with no clue of Jordan's intentions. With Isaac the First we knew what to expect, but-"

"Small details, those are," Elend cut in, coldly. "It doesn't matter who we go against. No man should ever put his hands on a Horcrux, much less on Herpo the Foul's. Yes, our enemy is a different one, but the war we have fought remains the same. I swore no Dark Lord would take a breath on this planet as long as I am here to prevent that. My children will not live another war. That is all I care about, and I will do whatever it takes to achieve my goal."

Nathan just shook his head in response. He looked disappointed. "And I agree with you, Elend. Otherwise, I wouldn't have sent my men to their graves. However, you better not forget what happened fifteen years ago. In the War, you didn't lose your humanity, like many men did; men far more experienced than you, wiser and better. Don't become one of the evils you swore to destroy."

That being said, the large man stepped out of the dungeons and went upstairs, towards the main floor of the manor. On the contrary, Elend stood there, almost rooted to the cold floor of grey stone, pondering about those crude yet wise words. Yes, he understood them, but, oh, how difficult it was to act nobbly when your enemies were not bound to such limitations!

"Honour to the end, honour before all." Those words, the motto of his House, were mused in a very faint voice, yet they had no trouble to fill the silence of the dungeons, where no piece of furniture was there to extinguish the echo. In the end, Elend just sighed and decided to also go upstairs. He needed a bit of fresh air to cool his mind.

It was a long way up, for the dungeons needed to be as isolated from the manor as possible. That fact, along with his slow stride, gave Elend plenty of time to think about everything; the past, the present and the future.

Captain Jordan had stolen the Horcrux out of nowhere. He'd fooled both sides, betraying both Elend and the Order of Merlin in the span of a year. And from what little Elend knew, his side was not the only one who had met failure after failure in the search of that mercenary. To him, the past and present were water clear. However, how would this story continue?

That day, after being defeated by the hands of Aura Lessard atop of that large canyon, Isaac had confessed that no person would be able to interact with the Horcrux. None but he himself, thanks to some secret ally he had. If those words were true, then Jordan was also in a dead end. That thought shed a bit of light over the matter.

The stairs came to an end and Elend entered the Combat Hall, a large room with different kinds of pits to use in different training sessions. There was one of sand, mostly used to practise the movement and agility; at the far end a little obstacle race could be found; to his left there were a dozen mannequins, used to practise the accuracy of the spells; and right in the middle stood the duelling platform, delimited by the official measures.

The view brought memories of past times to Elend; better times in which he had been able to train with his son once a week. I cannot lose myself in the past. I must move forward until all my enemies are gone. With that thought in his mind, Elend resumed his stride. He had many reports to read.

However, he suddenly came to a halt and blinked.

The Combat Hall had lost all trace of colour.

The temperature dropped just as the sensation of being watched from everywhere appeared. No noise could be heard, not even that of his footsteps, and a dense darkness seemed to engulf all around him.

Elend did not hesitate to pull out his wand and to summon his sword. Legatum, wielded by his right hand, covered his body, while his wand stood ready at hand to curse at first sight of movement.

Was he being attacked in his own manor? No, that made no sense. The wards would have been activated, if so. Besides, if there was someone mighty enough to sort them with such ease, he would already be dead.

"I told you we would come for your soul, Elend Shawn."

The voice reverberated around him, crude and emotionless. It had been months since he last heard it, but Elend had known that it was only a matter of time for them to find him. They always did.

"Show yourself, Lethifold. I do not fear you."

A horrible laugh was all he got in response, akin to the sound of glass being scratched. Then, in front of him, the darkness condensed and started to morph into a solid figure. With a body made of void itself and eyes like glowing gems of a white shade, the Lethifold appeared right in his manor. "Fool, I am no Lethifold."

Legatum rose, being pointed at the creature. For one reason or another, Elend trusted his sword more than his magic to deal with this aberration. "I know you are, just one of a different form. This is the form you took back in your world, the World of Shadows, but it is the same nonetheless."

"Ah, you cannot imagine how much I have missed hearing human's nonsense," the Lethifold mused. "You know nothing, yet you talk in absolutes. No, I am no Lethifold. They are my sons and daughters, while I am far worse, a being out of your comprehension. Forgotten by most, feared by those who did not, you are fortunate that I am bound by many oaths, Elend Shawn. Otherwise, I would kill you right here, right now."

Elend felt it; that fear he once swore to get rid of, the one which gripped the hearts of brave men and stripped them of all sources of courage.

"I would gladly show you, a prey I have finally deemed as worthy, my true form. However, the world is not ready for my return yet." The creature seemed to rejoice in those words. Elend took another step away from it. "No, it is too soon for that. Because of it, I needed to invade your mind, to remind you of the price you must pay. Elend Shawn, you used the essence of my children to enter our world and benefit from its anomaly. You signed a blood contract back then, and someday I will be there to reap your soul."

His words, along with that empty, dark world, seemed to fade little by little. "The Corruption cannot be escaped, Elend Shawn. I cannot be escaped."

The world went back to normal, but that overwhelming fear remained the same.

"The hell are you doing?"

The voice came from very close to him, and Elend did not think twice. Like a whip, Legatum lunged at the Monster as the tip of his wand was set ablaze. However, he stopped dead in his tracks when his eyes caught sight of a red flash. At the other end of the greatsword, Shana stared at him in shock.

The witch used that moment of hesitation to jump back, her wand now pointed at Elend. "Have you gone mad?" she shrieked. Face pale and with a rushed breath, Shana had a wild look on her eyes. "You almost killed me! I couldn't even react in time, you bloody lunatic!"

And not without a reason, for Elend had truly been about to kill her.

"I'm sorry." Legatum banished under a cloud of mist, even if that felt like a bad decision. Elend could still feel those eyes on his back, that faint presence around him. "I... I have not slept well these past weeks. I was stressed after the interrogation, and I wandered around lost deep in thought. You almost gave me a heart attack."

Shana just sent him a weird look, but she stored her wand back into her long, yellowish robes. "Nightmares?" she asked in a softer voice. "You certainly look pale and weak, and trust me when I say it isn't' a matter of one day. No, you've been like this for the past months. I took notice of it a while ago, but I just didn't ask. I've had my fair share of experiences with nightmares to know enough; as they say, been there, done that."

Elend just nodded in response.

Yes, the nightmares have been there since he drank the Nightwalker Potion. It had been something he had expected and prepared himself for. Even so, they had grown into dreams far more terrible than those he had first imagined. How could they feel so real? In fact, there had been times in which he hadn't been able to tell apart reality from the oneiric world. That sensation was horrible, but worse was that of feeling observed every minute of the day.

"Do you have any information on Jordan's whereabouts?" he asked, instead. "Anything will be welcomed, no matter how little it is."

"I have nothing," Shana sighed. She had accepted his decision to change the topic, but her eyes were still fixed on him with a worried look. "I've been quite useless since Lawrence ended our little game of information. Ah, to think I once considered myself as the Master with the best net of informants. Indeed, the mighty do fall."

She grimaced. "All I know is that Jordan has disappeared and no one has been able to track him down. A few weeks ago, I met with one of his former soldiers, a very capable witch named Ashley, and she confessed they were as lost as we are. I'd love to talk to Levitt, but that man has refused all my approaches. He's part of the Hunter's Union now, and that makes him out of our reach. Unless we want to risk it and start a dispute with lord Kovanen, of course."

"You try that," Elend said, deep lost in thought, "while I try to approach Raven. There's a lot of bad blood between us, but he's also run out of allies, or so I hope. That should make the prospect of a truce a bit more possible."

"Isn't that a bit dangerous?"

"I should be safe as long as the reunion was to be held at the Area of Mysteries. That place is sacred to me, but even more so for Raven. The purpose of his life dwells there. Besides, he still needs us, just as much as we need him."

"I don't like that man. He's strange."

"He might be one of the most brilliant minds I've ever come across with," Elend admitted, reluctantly. "And his ambition knows no limit. That makes him a possible ally. Of course, we must not trust him, for he will get rid of us as soon as we are not of use. He's mine to watch and control."

"Okay," Shana gave up. "I will do the same with Levitt then. But what about our other allies?"

"My brother will be ready as soon as we need him—he's been busy lately with his duties as Royal Knight, but he will be there. Now, about Ludwig, I'm afraid I have no news of him. Her ward, Stine, has yet to answer any of my letters. Hell, she sent Jiru away when I sent him to Sweden. However, I know Ludwig as if he was my brother. Might the need arise, he will also be there."

Shana looked doubtful. "Last time I saw him, he had one foot in the grave. But I suppose that if someone can somehow recover from those wounds, that's Stormspear." She nodded her head, and the fire within her green eyes returned once again—it had been like that since the Battle for the Ring. "Then I will deal with Levitt. That mercenary might be a tough rock to crush, but he knows nothing about the perseverance of a woman. I'll find him, and I'll extract every answer from him."

With that, she just left the Battle Hall, her hair a fiery curtain flattering due her quick stride.

However, Elend stood there, a storm of thoughts laying siege to his mind. Though this time it had nothing to do with the Order of Merlin, and neither with the Horcrux. Could he bait that Monster? If he wanted to stop Isaac the First, he couldn't allow to not be at his best—he'd already lost at his best, so nothing below that was even a possibility. For that to happen, he needed to clear his mind from any shadow.

He snapped his finger, and Jiru, his most trusted elf, appeared a second later.

"What do you need from me, Master?" he asked without bowing. To any other lord, that would've been an insult, yet not for Elend. It had cost him years of effort, but he'd managed to teach Jiru there was no better form of respect than a well done work. That was all Elend needed of his elf. "Sweden again, is it?"

"How efficient are the manor's anti-creature wards?" the wizard asked.

That surprised Jiru. "The wards? Impassable, I'd say. Why? Has there been any problem I'm not aware of? Any small breaches?"

"No," Elend replied, a smile forming on his face, "it was just a matter of curiosity. Say, Jiru, could you take down the wards which barren Dementors and the likes from getting close to the manor?"

Jiru opened his eyes in surprise. "What? Why would you… Oh, pardon me, my lord. I shouldn't question you—it's disrespectful. It will be done as you say."

"You did well to question the nature of my order, Jiru. Every powerful man needs his ideas to be confronted, especially those of such calibre. I have not lost my sanity yet. No, I'm just playing a very dangerous game."

Something sparkled in the elf's eyes. "Do you want me to tell your son to not visit the manor until further notice?"

"That is a great idea," Elend sighed. "In fact, fetch Shadow and delegate the task to him. Alex will take it a bit better if the news comes from him." At least, so Elend hoped. "Send a word to Shana, also. Tell her to take as much time as she needs to carry out her mission. She'll have as much gold from my vaults as she needs."

Jiru nodded again and Apparated away in silence.

Elend just summoned Legatum—his sword appeared under a cloud of mist, and he took delight in the safety it gave him. He observed its sharp edge, the silver shade of the Alazthi Steel with which it had been forged centuries ago. This would be his best weapon against the Monster, he just knew it.

Let them come, Elend thought as he gripped the handler with force, for those creatures shall learn to never threaten a descendant of the old Alazthi blood. I will honour my ancestors by sending that creature straight to hell.

Draco Malfoy made his way towards the Forbidden Forest, a place he hated and feared in equal measure; a place in which he'd almost died during his first year. He walked that path, through the castle's outdoors, in solitude, as per usual. From time to time, he still found it absurd the fact he had ended up alone.

Mostly, because of the horrible decisions he once took, like the many fights with Ronald Weasley he'd provoked, which had caused him way more trouble than rewards. There also were the decisions his once so-called friends had taken, of course. Daphne and Blaise had not hesitated to leave him in the dust and run towards Weasley's shadow, but that was something he'd always known could occur. However, Pansy's betrayal had never figured as a plausible option to him; after all, she needed him way more than Draco would ever need her.

I guess I pushed it too far, the boy thought, sourly. Definitely, he shouldn't have shouted at her like he did.

The many voices around him pulled Draco out of his thoughts.

At the front of the Slytherin group, Weasley and Davis led the walk; the half-blood girl talked and talked as the redhead listened. Theirs was the only pure friendship of their promotion. A remark which made his eyes wander to another figure, that of Blaise Zabini. The black boy walked behind them, yet his eyes refused to look at his former friends. Whatever had happened between those three was a mystery to Draco, one of no importance, but it brought him a bit of consolation. He was not the only one who had lost his friendships because of some horrible decisions.

Could this be my chance? Draco was quick to push that foolish idea out of his mind. No, the differences he'd created with his old friends were far too grave to solve. Besides, he'd come to enjoy his solitude. It allowed him to enjoy life with less drama, less problems to lose his mind about. To get the best grades had become his one and only obsession. That would make his parents proud for the moment.

Draco felt some eyes glaring daggers into his back; he did not need to turn around in order to know to whom they belonged. There wasn't a single person in this world whose resentment could be compared to Pansy's. Well, if she wanted to be like that, that was on her. Some day in the future, her behaviour will close her many doors, and Draco would be there to enjoy her fall.

Suddenly, as soon as they stepped into the Forbidden Forest, more voices could be heard.

"Are you scared?" Dean Thomas, a mudblood, asked his friend, Seamus Finnegan. "Hagrid did warn us that this class would have nothing to do with the first one. I don't have a good feeling about this."

The lions met the snakes, and they both acted as if the other did not exist. All but a few exceptions, of course. As soon as the two lines of students came together, Potter, Granger and Longbottom made their way towards Weasley and Davis, and their smiles and laughs were quick to set all their eyes on them.

In Draco's eyes, their friendship was wrong, plainly and simply wrong. Gryffindor and Slytherin were supposed to hate each other, everyone knew it. Yet those fools refused to accept that truth. Moreover, they seemed to laugh at it! Traitors, that's all they were.

It became darker as they got deeper into the Forest, as if the vegetation wanted to steal the sunlight from them, covering it with those thick branches and leaves of theirs. But in no time at all they reached the large clearing where the class of Magical Creatures would be held. At the end of that ring of trees stood Hagrid, the giant gatekeeper. He looked nervous, and that set all the alarms in Draco's head. A half-giant like him just could not be trusted, much less to impart such a dangerous class.

Even so, all the students walked towards him.

Some of them, all fools, looked excited and happy to be there, but even among the lions most sent wary eyes to the new Professor. The first class, merely an introduction to the subject, had been a rather boring one. However, the half-giant had mentioned names of beasts many considered to be very dangerous. In theory, he had a surprise in store for them today.

The students did not bother to take a seat and just pulled the books out of their bags. Draco grimaced as his book tried to bite off his finger, but the blond boy was quick to caress its side—was there a lamer way to tame a book?

"Oh, please, pull your books back," the gatekeeper started, gesticulating in a wild way. "We won't need them for today. In fact, all you'll need is a bit of respect and the urge to make new friends!"

The students complied, yet their eyes expressed very well the doubts they felt. By Draco's side, Theodore let out a loud snort. "Nice one. Honestly, it might be even lamer than having to tickle a bloody book for it to be opened." That boy had lost all sense of regard towards others.

The gatekeeper looked a bit taken aback, but he quickly regained his composure; or rather, he tried. Next, he just clapped, loudly.

Draco and the rest were left puzzled, but it soon came to an end. Some faint noises could be heard from the dense thicket at the end of the clearing, and then the bushes started to quiver. Many, led by Lavender Brown, took a few steps back, gasping and letting curses get out their mouths. Draco did the same, of course, but he did not whimper like a baby.

He was glad to have done it.

Trotting towards them were a dozen Hippogriffs, creatures with the bodies and tails of a horse, with wings and heads of an eagle, and with brilliant, flaming eyes. Their talons and bucks, grey and dull like steel, looked to be deadly, just as the glares they sent to the students. The colour of their feathers were of different shades; most had them of a raven black, others a mix between brown and cream, and just a few of gold and white. Those looked majestic enough to tame them, Draco reckoned.

Suddenly, one of them, the smallest beast, feigned a charge. Shouts echoed around the clearing, and Draco took his wand out just in case. No beast would ever put a finger on the heir of the Great House of Malfoy.

"Easy!" the gatekeeper exclaimed. Whether it was directed to the students or the creatures wasn't clear enough. Even so, the Hippogriff walked back to its group. Little by little, the students also went back to their position. "Beautiful, aren't they?"

Draco refrained from answering. True enough, some of those beasts could be considered beautiful, but they were as dangerous as they came. "This is madness," Parkinson whispered not far from his position. "Surely, this half-wit won't expect us to touch them..."

The gatekeeper looked at the students with a bright gleam in his eyes. "So, if any of you want to come a bit closer, you are free to do it."

No one moved at first.

Then, of course, Potter walked forward, in search of his so desired limelight. Weasley and the rest of his group didn't take long to follow. Although Longbottom looked unsure and about to faint, all the others looked at ease.

"Well, it doesn't hurt to give it a try," Theo said as he also stepped forward.

Much to his shock, Draco ended up taking one step forward. Then came the next, and the one after that, and the blond found himself in the same line as Theo and the Gryffindors. I am better than them, and so, I need to behave as such. A Malfoy would never fear a Hippogriff. Wizards were above every other being, and those of pure lineage like him were meant to stand atop of the chain.

The gatekeeper beamed at them. "Very good! Now, the first thing you gotta know about Hippogriffs is they are very proud. They are easily offended if they don't feel respected. That's when they become aggressive, and it's the last thing you folks wanna do."

"What do you mean by that?" the mudblood, Granger, asked.

"Well, you always wait for the Hippogriff to make the first move."

To show his point, the gatekeeper stood in front of the winged beast. Then he made a very exaggerated bow. For a few seconds no one uttered a word, their breaths held and eyes attentive of every movement. Finally, the Hippogriff also bowed, though much fainter.

"If he bows back, then you are free to get closer," the large man said. "If he doesn't bow... Well, then you better get away from him." He advanced towards the creature and patted its head. From his large, old coat, Hagrid pulled out some piece of meat, which the Hippogriff devoured in the blink of an eye. "Come on, then. Who's ready to go first?"

His question only found silence as answer.

In response, the Hippogriffs started to flex their powerful wings and to scratch the ground with their talons. It seemed they didn't like the lack of attention.

"I'll do it," Weasley said as he stepped forward. "I swear I'm gonna curse this creature into oblivion if he tries anything funny," he added in a lower voice.

There was an intake of air from behind; both Brown and Patil had started to whisper some nonsense about tea leaves. Yet Weasley ignored them all and walked until he was a few steps away from the winged creature. Then he bowed in front of the largest Hippogriff, one with fur so dark it resembled the night.

The seconds went by and no one moved.

"Easy now, Ron," the gatekeeper said. "Keep your eye contact and don't blink. Yes, just like that."

Finally, the large beast also bowed.

"Dear Merlin," Weasley grunted, "I thought I was gone." With an unsure stride, the redhead got closer to the Hippogriff, then patted it just like Hagrid had done before him. The creature seemed to ooze mirth.

The class broke into applause, all except Draco, Crabbe and Goyle. He has guts. I'll give it to him. Could Draco have done that without backing away? No, that question did not make sense. Weasley had done it, thus Draco also needed to overcome that challenge. As simple as that.

Without giving it a second thought, he stepped forward. "I'm next."

Draco felt all the eyes on his back, and even Hagrid, who had almost begged for volunteers a few seconds ago, sent him a surprised look. "Oh, ehm, yes. Of course, of course. You know what to do, right?"

Draco didn't bother to answer and just walked to the one Hippogriff which had caught his eye. A creature of medium size and large wings. The one with golden and white feathers. I'm a Malfoy, this is below me. And yet, when he stared into those yellowish eyes, all he felt was fear.

Sweat started to fall down his face, yet he didn't break eye contact. Slowly, he flexed his neck and bowed, just like he would do with any pureblood lord of importance. Seconds, which felt like an eternity, passed. And finally, the Hippogriff bowed back, its beak almost touching the ground.

Though faintly, the class also clapped for him.

With a trembling hand, Draco petted the Hippogriff. Its fur felt warm and soft. It was a way more pleasant experience than he'd first thought.

"That was awesome, Draco," the gatekeeper almost beamed at him. "You had me on the edge! To think you would choose Goldwing! She's the proudest of the pack!"

The Hippogriff seemed to purr at those words, and she leant closer to Draco. Well, this ain't so bad, to be fair. The winged creature did not look so dangerous anymore. It was majestic and imposing, but not dangerous.

One by one, all the students tried their luck.

Lavender Brown went for the smallest Hippogriff, and it accepted her after a full minute of wait; she'd looked about to faint. Bulstrode came next, and, surprisingly, the male she had chosen bowed back in no time at all. Pansy and Granger also tried their luck, and although they were accepted, the two girls didn't show much enthusiasm around the winged creatures.

Although it all had gone rather smoothly, complications did appear, of course. Crabbe and Goyle weren't respectful enough, and when the latter insulted a Hippogriff, a grey one named Buckbeak, it charged at him with claws upfront.

However, Hagrid was quick to move, and he tied some thick cord around the creature's neck. "Easy, Buckbeak!" he exclaimed. The Hippogriff tried to fight his way off the leash, but Hagrid, in an act of braveness and foolishness, almost headbutted him, their heads separated by a mere inch. "Easy, I said!"

Buckbeak was about to attack, Draco could tell, but he refrained just at the last moment. Both, half-giant and Hippogriff, seemed to share a glare competition. Finally, Buckbeak surrendered and bowed his head to the gatekeeper.

Around them, all over the clearing, the students had backed away from that encounter. Most of the Hippogriffs had just stood rooted to their spots, watchful of Buckbeak and Hagrid. However, just at that moment, Draco realised that Goldwing had positioned herself just in front of him, her wing open in a shield-like position. Weasley's and Potter's partners had done the same.

"Oh, you are a tough bastard, my friend! A really tough one!" Hagrid patted the creature's back with force. "I thought you were not going to give up!" Then he turned to look at Goyle, and his smile died. "I told you to be respectful, Gregory! It was all you needed to do, but you still ignored me. That will cost you five points from Slytherin."

Draco just rolled his eyes to that; of course, they would all pay the price for that fool's stupidity. Well, it wasn't a big loss. For another year, they led the race for the House Cup. Briefly, for Ravenclaw followed them closely, but a lead nonetheless. Besides, this year they were going to win the Quidditch Cup. Draco had spent countless hours this summer getting better at the game. He would not lose to Potter again under no circumstance.

Both Crabbe and Goyle were sent to the far end of the clearing, and the class resumed. Only one student had yet to approach a Hippogriff, and his name was Theodore Nott. The boy stood away from the group, hands held behind his back and with a nonchalant look on his face.

"Aren't you gonna try, Theodore?" the gatekeeper asked.

"I won't bow to no beast," Theo just said. "I'm not stupid, as those two are, so I won't disrespect it. I appreciate my limbs very much."

"That will be very bad for your grades."

"Do as you please. I don't really care."

Hagrid looked puzzled, and it was totally understandable—Theodore Nott was a force to be reckoned with, and poor of those who thought they could control it. Instead, he turned around and looked at the rest of the students, who all were in company of a Hippogriff. "Well, ehm. This went better than expected, not gonna lie. So how about we make it even better? Most of them seem to have taken a liking to you. I reckon they might let you ride them."

Of course, the whispers did not take long to appear.

Even Potter, who seemed to have a natural affinity towards flying, seemed unsure of it. This could be my chance. That thought came out of nowhere, but the blond boy quickly embraced it. If he was to do something not even Potter dared, that would prove that Draco was above him and everyone else.

He sent a quick look at Goldwing, and her golden eyes stared back at him. Draco liked what he saw in them. "I'm all for it," he announced.

Once again, all the eyes were set on him, and he embraced the attention. Potter and his friends looked surprised beyond measure, and that alone made him feel giddy. In fact, Weasley sent him a suspicious glance, and Draco just smirked back at him. Yes, look at me. Watch me excel over you and everyone else.

Hagrid made his way over them. "Climb up there," he started, "just behind the wing joint. That's the safest spot to mount them. Oh, and be careful to not pull any feathers. They hate that; especially one as proud as Goldwing."

Draco did as told, gulping down a knot in his throat; one thing was to say it and a very different one was to do it. Still, surprisingly, Goldwing bent down a little to make the climb easier for him.

"Very well done!" the gatekeeper exclaimed once Draco was done mounting the Hippogriff. "Now here comes the good part. Hold tight and don't panic." That being said, he just slapped Goldwing's hindquarters.

Without a prior warning, its large and majestic wings flapped open and they soared upwards, out of the Forbidden Forest. A streak of wind welcomed them to the clear sky, and the trees soon became part of that endless sea of green which reached to infinity and beyond.

Up and down, each flap of the wings shook Draco atop of Goldwing. The boy tried to not pull tightly from her feathers, as he had been told, yet failed quite miserably at it; this had nothing to do with flying atop of his Nimbus! Nothing at all!

Goldwing let out a loud roar into the skies. It was the one and only warning Draco was given before the backflip she made. Dear Merlin! I'm gonna die here! A few more risky manoeuvres followed the first, and little by little, Draco found himself smiling. He had finally grown used to the rocking, and his hands had found the perfect feathers to handle. Well, to be fair, this ain't so bad.

A grey flash flew past them.

With a proud roar, Buckbeak, mounted by Potter, rose higher and higher into the sky. That bloody bastard! He won't ever allow me to win! Draco grunted, and Goldwing also growled. Her wings flapped faster and faster, and they went in pursuit of Buckbeak.

He was larger and stronger, but Goldwing was faster. In no time at all, the four of them flew just below those small clouds which painted the blue sky. From up there, Hogwarts looked like a small castle, one the size of a regular manor.

"This is madness!" Potter exclaimed. He looked to be struggling atop of the creature, his hands and face pale enough to make a ghost believe he was one of their own.

Draco was about to answer his rival, but someone else beat him to it.

Out of nowhere came Tracey Davis, and hers was the most crazed smile he'd ever seen. "Yahoo!" the girl shouted at the top of her lungs. "I can't believe I've missed this for so many years!" The Hippogriff she rode was one of chestnut fur and white feathers; the smallest of the pack. "Come on, Brownie, let's show these two boys who's in charge here!"

The two of them rocketed forward, towards the castle.

In less than a second, both Goldwing and Buckbeak went after them, their wings flapping furiously in an effort to cut the advantage those two held over them. Soon enough, the Forbidden Forest was left at their backs. The one thought which reigned in Draco's mind was that of winning that improvised race; there was no other possible outcome.

"Come on, Goldwing, let's get them!"

The three pairs reached the Gryffindor Tower at the same time, yet Brownie, thanks to her smaller size, was the first one to circle it. Davis sent their pursuers an arrogant smirk. I won't be beaten once again by a bloody half-blood! Goldwing speeded up, her wings almost a golden flash as she tried to catch up with them.

And just like that, at the same time, Goldwing and Brownie stormed into the clearing.

The students had little time to get out of the way; some, like Dean Thomas and Blaise, had to jump away. The landing was rough, and Draco almost ended up being thrown into the depths of the Forest, but Goldwing managed to rise over her hindquarters just in time; a mass of feathers was a much better surface to hit than a tree, indeed.

Behind them, Buckbeak landed with way less trouble. Although Potter seemed satisfied to be alive, the Hippogriff looked squabble beyond understanding.

"That was…" the gatekeeper roared. "That was…! I don't have words to describe how crazy that was! Utterly crazy and irresponsible!" His face looked pale and sweaty, and not even that absurdly large and untamed beard could hide it.

With a lot of effort, Draco managed to mount down. His legs wobbled with each step. "If so, it is your fault and yours alone," he grunted back. "We just did what you told us to, Professor. What did you think was gonna happen? That we, simple students of third year, would control the Hippogriffs? Please, don't make me laugh."

The gatekeeper failed to find the words.

"Shut up, Malfoy!" Potter shouted from the other end of the clearing. He'd also dismounted from Buckbeak, and the grey Hippogriff was nowhere to be seen. His right hand was hidden under the robes, and it set all the alarms in Draco's head.

If Potter wanted a fight, then he would humiliate him in front of the entire class, as he should have done last year in the duelling club.

The rest of the students took a step back and watched the exchange with interest. It might have been quite a while since they last clashed, but their fights were a common occurrence. On the contrary, most of the Hippogriffs ventured back into the Forest, and those who stayed had started to lick their paws, totally uninterested. All but Goldwing and Brownie, who remained close to their riders.

"Enough, Harry!" Hagrid made himself heard. "He's right. Partly, at least. Though I will take five points from Slytherin due to the lack of respect you showed, Draco."He took a moment to breathe. "I owe you three an apology. I shouldn't have told you to mount them and fly. It was reckless and irresponsible. I just thought… Well, I thought that I could try something else since the class was being a total success. You three really seemed to have formed a link with the Hippogriffs."

Draco sent a sideways look towards Goldwing, who glanced back at him with glee in her golden eyes. Clearly, she'd shared his desire to win, and she'd given her best to beat Brownie and Buckbeak. Moreover, although he had many awful things to say about the sorry excuse of a Professor the gatekeeper was, he'd enjoyed this class like very few.

It doesn't change the fact this oaf shouldn't be in charge of the students, Draco thought. I gotta admit Hippogriffs were far cooler than I thought. But I could have ended up dead. Definitely, he would never mention this class to his mother; she would lose her mind.

Hagrid cleared his throat. "Well, this is all for today. It was a good class. If any of you want to say goodbye to the Hippogriffs, now is the moment. I don't know if you'll see them again."

Most of the students made their way out of the Forest. Draco followed them, but stopped dead in his tracks as he felt some eyes in his back. Really? He turned around and found Goldwing right behind him. "Okay," he sighed, "I admit you are cool enough. And fast—too damn fast. The fastest Hippogriff of the pack."

Goldwing seemed to purr in delight as Draco scratched the back of his neck, where the golden mass of feathers ended and began the white fur. Only one other student had stayed behind: Tracey Davis, who was also patting her Hippogriff with a happy smile on her round face.

She might be a half-blood, Draco thought, still patting Goldwing, but she knows how to fly. In the end, only she, Potter and Draco had been brave enough to venture into the skies. Draco had always considered himself an excellent flyer, and it was no secret that Potter was a bloody natural. However, where the hell had Davis come from? Unlike the two boys, she'd shown no fear atop of her beast.

It doesn't matter. Draco just shook his head and sent one last look towards Goldwing. "I must go now. It was a pleasure. You are very cool."

The Hippogriff just made a faint courtesy before walking into the depths of the Forbidden Forest.

Then Draco started his way back to the castle, alone but not for much time. "Dare I ask what the hell was that?" Theo said as the blond boy catched up with him, who had been waiting near the end of the clearing. "I didn't know you were so eager to take part in this stupid subject."

"I'm not," Draco replied, "but I wasn't gonna let Potter win so easily. I can take Weasley being the first and getting all the applause, but not Potter. He's already defeated me far too many times."

All those Quidditch games still hurt. Even so, he just refused to move on from them—no, he would use them as fuel to focus on this year's games. The Cup was his.

"There you are, finally," Theo smirked. "It's been a long time since I last saw you, Draco Malfoy. Where has your pride been all this time? I swear I was about to curse you into oblivion one of these days. I don't care about your stupid rivalry with Potter and Weasley, but it was just pathetic to see how low you had fallen."

Draco bit his tongue—for much he hated to hear those words, Theo had nailed it.

"Unlike me, you haven't changed a bit, eh?" he said, instead. "All that crap about not bowing to a beast was so you it almost made me laugh. Did you see the way that barbarian gatekeeper looked at you? He looked so lost it almost made me feel pity."

"I mean, what did he expect? I'm a proud wizard, that I know."

"I would have done it too, you know? Had I been in another situation, of course."

"I get it," Theo said with a shrug. "We do what we must, remember? My father also taught me that. My family does not belong to the Ancient Council, but we are proud of our lineage. Besides, it was fun to see it all from the corner. You have guts, Draco. Those beasts are dangerous and unpredictable. It takes a lot of courage to even get close to them, much more to mount them."

"It was…" Draco had trouble finding the words, "an experience, I guess. At first I thought I was gonna die, but then I understood that Goldwing and I weren't so different. At that given moment, of course. I wanted to win, she wanted to win, so we both understood each other well enough. That's all."

"You sound fond of that beast," Theo raised a brow. "Don't take this as an insult, but if that beast was to be a human, she would have been your sister. Merlin, I didn't think beasts could be so proud and arrogant. She walked as if she owned the place, showing those golden wings of hers to everyone. There was no better ride than her—the proudest wizard and the proudest Hippogriff. What a fit!"

"Well, she surprised me, to be fair. I expected a mindless beast, yet I found an unexpected ally. Did you see how pissed off Potter was? He jumped in defence of that oaf, but he looked more annoyed than usual. I guess defeat tastes just as bad for us all."

"I saw it," Theo said as they exited the Forest. In front of them stood the imposing castle, crowned by a small pack of clouds. The outdoors looked deserted since it was a school day, and so they enjoyed the way back without the need to talk in silence. "It was a fun day, that's for sure. Now, I hope this ain't just a one day wonder. I want you back, Draco. That would make days way more interesting, and Merlin knows I need a bit of sauce here before that hellish witch of Umbridge starts making her moves."

No, this wasn't just a one day wonder. His time of lowering his head had finally come to an end. He would start by winning the first game of the Quidditch season, showing that half-wit of Flint that he could be trusted. Then he would achieve better grades than the mudblood, and finally, he would prove to the entire school that Draco Malfoy was not to be messed with.

That he was the proud heir of a Great House.

Never ever would have Jessie imagined she would ascend through the Auror's ranks so fast, like an arrow crossing a windless field. Truth to be told, she had achieved almost perfect grades during her formation, and important people had vouched in her favour since she first stepped into the corps. However, this still felt surreal, like a dream, one in which Jessie did not know whether she wanted to wake up or not.

"Well, it seems that woman will finally be on time," the Minister sighed, quite relieved, from the other end of the office.

The room was cool, although the man's forehead, where his hair had started to thin and recede, was covered by a faint layer of sweat. Cornelius looked a few decades older than he was, product of all the stress he'd suffered in those few months, when he first realised he'd dug his own grave.

And Jessie, much to her horror, found herself thinking he deserved every bit of his suffering.

That day, the atmosphere in the Ministry was tense, enough to make everyone walk with their backs straight and heads held high; as it had been for the past few months. The elections would be held in just a few months, in March, and Cornelius' campaign had everyone walking on a very thin rope.

It was well known that his ambition knew no limits, as his actions had proven again and again, but never had they been so drastic and reckless.

It had all changed with the Chamber of Secrets and the Heir of Slytherin.

At first, as the news had been leaked, the citizens had been worried, but just a few had fallen prey to fear. Why would they? Back then, the only victims had been muggle-borns, and their parents were not in touch with the Wizarding World to express their anguish. However, that illusion of peace was bound to end sooner than later.

The attacks did not stop, and more people put their eyes onto the Minister; many kinds of eyes, let it all be said. Lucius Malfoy came into the scene, and his venomous words flowed into Fudge's scared mind. He then deployed three Aurors into Hogwarts, a group in which Jessie had taken part. By itself, that measure had been a nice idea. After all, who else but them, Aurors, was supposed to watch over the citizens' safety? However, there was more to it than that. For the first time since the War, the Ministry had meddled into Hogwarts' business.

Everyone had been aware of that.

Jessie and her group brought a large period of peace, but their role was reduced to that of a spectator as soon as the tragedies came back. And then, amidst that madness, Fudge took another step and dived into it, making promises of results he could not fulfil. That day, as his speech echoed around the Great Hall, an innocent man had been framed for horrors he did not commit and had been sent to Azkaban, his story spread by Rita Skeeter herself.

Needless to say was the fact it had all backfired, for the Heir of Slytherin had turned out to be something else, a strange force yet to be comprehended. Hagrid, the kind gatekeeper, had been freed from Azkaban, just like his story. Of course, The Prophet had tried to deviate attention from it, but it had been useless. Such an atrocity couldn't be eclipsed.

"Eyes up, Sweeney," Gareth Marshal mused, suddenly. The man stood by her side, in front of that door of black wood. His eyes, cold and blue like ice itself, brought her back to reality. "You are an Auror. Act like one."

Yes, she'd been tasked to guard the Minister's office during his reunion with Alycia Lessard, Ilvermorny's Headmistress, and that was all that mattered for the moment. Her eyes could not glare daggers into that purple and golden carpet anymore, no matter how much she detested the Minister. After all, it had been long ago when she understood that many of those who were supposed to watch over the people's wellbeing didn't care the slightest about it. If she wanted to help others, this was a necessary evil she needed to withstand.

"Sorry," Jessie whispered back, a bit flustered, "it won't happen again."

The reason for this meeting was a mystery to her, and so was to her superior. Fudge had always been a mistrustful man, and it only had gotten worse since Lucius Malfoy started to act as his unofficial advisor. However, the pureblood lord was nowhere to be seen, and that was weird. He'd become the shadow of the Minister for the past months.

Suddenly, a knock was heard behind them, and the two Auros stepped aside. "Come in," Fudge said from his chair. He'd straightened his back and cleaned the sweat from his forehead. His eyes looked sharper, though he still looked a bit hunted.

The famous Alycia Lessard strode into the office with a confident stride.

She was a tall woman, her hair—styled in a tight bun atop of her head—with more grey strands than blonde's, and a face in which the first wrinkles had started to appear. She held herself like royalty, proud and confident.

The robes she wore were of fine manufacture; a dark-yellowish dress-robe of long sleeves and large skirt, which parted around the knees' height, showing some brown trousers under it. Her accessories, a leather belt with golden ornaments and some jewellery, chains and silver pieces which ornamented her hairstyle, added more punch to her presence.

Her attire looks rather elegant and comfy at the same time, Jessie thought, surprised, but it ain't my thing—could I move well enough in those clothes? I'd rather wear my trousers and Auror robes. Furthermore, that wasn't her style. Even if she tried, she just wouldn't look as royal as this woman did.

"Minister," she made a faint bow, "it is truly a pleasure to see you again. It has been a long while, right? Six years, if I am not mistaken."

"Indeed, Alycia," Fudge replied with a relieved smile. He really needed to work on controlling his emotions. "Even so, you look as good as always. It seems you are immune to the passing of time. I wish I could say the same. Oh, where are my modals, by the way. Take a seat, please, so we can begin the discussion."

The witch just smiled and took her seat, giving the Aurors her back.

"Do you fancy any kind of beverage?" the Minister asked. Jessie knew that he'd prepared countless beverages beforehand so he could summon them with a simple spell.

"Tea will do it. With a bit of honey, if possible."

Fudge conjured some cups over the table. From her spot, Jessie couldn't see what he had chosen, but she hoped for it to not have an ounce of alcohol. Merlin knew this man had taken quite a liking to it in the past months.

"Let's get straight to the point," Alycia Lessard said, smile still in place. "You are a busy man, I'm a busy woman; there is no need to beat around the bush. I come to you with the same proposition I presented to the leaders of France and other European countries. They all gave me their seal of approval, just as the Headmistress of Beauxbatons and the Headmaster of Durmstrang did later on."

That caught Jessie's attention.

"May I ask why did you consider us the last?" Fudge asked.

"Because I thought the other institutions would give far more trouble," the witch said. "I knew for a fact that you would welcome my idea with open arms, and from those past times in which I considered Albus Dumbledore a friend, I also knew that he would, at least, give my proposal a chance."

"Last time the Triwizard Tournament was celebrated, it didn't end well."

Jessie managed to refrain a gasp of surprise just in time. The Triwizard Tournament was a tale no short from being a myth. An event celebrated by the three largest European Schools, to encourage the ties between students of different nations and cultures. A good idea on paper, if it wasn't for the many lives it took due to the nature of the challenges.

"Of course, there will be changes," Lessard nodded. "Our main priority will be to ensure the safety of the students. We could start by reducing the difficulty of the tasks, and also by giving us, Professors, a much bigger role on the sidelines. In us will reside the power to take the champions out of the trials if we think of their lives to be in danger. Also, we will prevent them from even entering a trial if we deem them as not prepared, for whatever reason that might be."

"That's…" Fudge started, "interesting, to say the least. I can read in your face that this was just the beginning of your idea. Go ahead and elaborate, please."

"Lady Olympe Maxime also proposed for the champions to be of age, and I agree with her. Even so, I'd allow those who are yet to turn seventeen before the sorting to participate, keeping in mind that they would become of age between January and May of the following year. In regards to the task and the points, so far all have agreed to maintain the number of main trials, meaning three."

"Main trials, you say, as if there were others of different nature?"

"Yes," Lessard smiled, "that is exactly what I meant. I want to create something bigger than the Triwizard Tournament, Cornelius. A festival to promote not only the ties between Schools, but also to encourage the students to give the best they can offer; to reach their best version. There will be trials of lesser importance, and thus lesser reward for the final results. Competitions like chess, Quidditch, duelling and even culture contests in which any student would be able to participate and help their school, no matter their age or grade."

The witch got a portfolio out of her robes. "Here, take this and read it as many times as you need. This is the official program I have designed. It also contains the ideas and suggestions from those other people who already agreed with my original idea. Any of those you might want to add, write them here and we'll be able to read them."

Fudge was about to grab it, but Lessard moved her hand away just in time. "Forgive me, Minister, for I do not mean any disrespect. This here is of the utmost importance and secrecy, so I will need verbal confirmation about your participation in the project. Unless you agree to bind your word through a Vow, I cannot take the next step. The other authorities are also bound by this same Vow, and that also includes me myself." She eyed the Aurors at her back with the corner of her eyes. "Of course, all those who are in this room must also bind their words through a Vow; just for the sake of secrecy, of course."

Jessie was left speechless. Does this woman really think she can strong-arm our Minister just like that? She's in for a wild ride then…

"Of course," Fudge accepted with no hesitation. "I understand the need, Alycia. This is a very important step towards the unity of the Wizarding World—of some areas of it, at least. My Aurors and I will bind our words through an Unbreakable Vow. This country, my country, will be part of the progress. We've been left aside for enough time. It is time to rejoin the world once again and to shape anew those alliances the Dark Lord broke."

Later on, they would all bind their word through an Unbreakable Vow.

For Jessie, it was a very strange experience. As she'd sworn to not share the secrets she knew with any person not binded by the Vow, a wave of cold dread had accompanied each one of her words. She'd felt weak during and after the ritual, and it had ended with her sitting down on a couch back in the Aurors' headquarters, face pale and sweaty.

There was a steaming cup of coffee with milk in her hands. "I cannot believe this just happened," she mused.

"It was strange," Gareth agreed. The senior Auror had withstanded the Vow way better than her. He'd felt no need to sit down, and although his face had lost a bit of colour, his features were as cold as always. "What's more, I think he kind of expected this to happen. He was eager for it to happen. Otherwise, Lucius Malfoy would have been there to advise him."

"Really?"

"You saw the way he didn't hesitate when the Vow was brought up? His reaction didn't fit with his character at all. He knew many details about this program beforehand, and that confused me even more."

"If so, why did he request us two out of all the Aurors in the corps?" Jessie asked, confused. "He could've picked someone like Dawlish, who's far easier to control, or someone like Henry, who would ask no questions and just did as ordered."

"Well, ever since my failure, when I allowed Pettigrew to escape, the Minister has kept an eye on me," Gareth replied. "Whereas you are the most promising rookie we've had in many years. Maybe Fudge wants to prepare you for the future, in which you'll act as his personal guard. Honestly, I don't know. I've never been the best detective out there. I was more of a man who had no problem breaking in wand ablaze. Death Eaters feared me, not politicians."

A shiver went down Jessie's spine—it always happened whenever the Pettigrew fiasco was mentioned. She'd been part of it, unwillingly. The key to it, what's more. That man by the name of Ashram had kept her under the Imperius for months, and she'd become nothing but his tool.

Jessie barely had a memory from those months; just blurred images with no sound at all. She didn't want to think about it—about what that man could have done to her. Some day, he would be caught, and she would be there to confront him. Then and only then she would get all the answers.

"This is just wrong," she said, instead. "All the Minister thinks about is the elections. Any tool that might become of use to win them, then it also becomes a matter of importance. Meanwhile, more and more laws are passed with no other motive than to benefit the pureblood elite of this country; they are subtle yet efficient. Meanwhile, the criminality in Knockturn Alley gets worse with each day. Meanwhile, we do nothing and look the other way as our country falls deeper and deeper into a venomous pit."

"We don't do nothing," Gareth said, forcefully. "Even so, our duty is to obey and protect. You carve that into your mind, Sweeney; to obey and protect." He took a moment to breathe, and his next words came out way softer. "Believe me when I say that Rufus and Amelia are doing their best to make a change for the better. But there's only two of them, not nearly enough to challenge the corrupted Wizengamot. Nowadays, those who support the Aurors can be counted with the fingers of one hand. Things should be done properly, don't you think? If we don't do it, who else is gonna?"

He was right. Partly. If we are the only ones who play by the rules, we are bound to always lose. Something needs to change. She quickly pushed away those stupid thoughts. The hell am I saying? If we lower ourselves to their level, then we ain't any better. We can't just threaten those corrupted politicians to make them serve the citizens, as they should.

Suddenly, Gareth smiled at her. "I know that expression very well, Jessie. I've seen it on my face many times, after all. You've just realised how fucked up this world is, eh? Welcome to the resistance. We are few, a little bunch of fools. Yet we try our best every day. It shouldn't be a thing to laugh at, but it's the way I cope with it. Our one hope dwells in the next elections. Amelia Bones must win them, or else this country is lost."

"So that's all? We wait and see how the country crumbles?"

"No, we wait and do as much as we can to minimise the damage. That's all we've been doing since the War ended."

Then I better start praying, Jessie thought with a grimace, because I'm gonna have loads of work to do. May God save us if Cornelius wins the elections.