P*T*E*N Page is up and running, slightly ahead of FFN and AO3. This pace will change to significantly ahead of FFN/AO3 once we reach the next hiatus point (at the end of the Durmstrang Arc). Visit P*T*E*N / 521dream if interested. Posted stories include A Flaw in Fate and Sacred Sight (A King's Path Rewrite/Remaster).

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The next chapter will be published . . . yeah I ain't gon lie I dunno when. Enjoy!

Harry Potter: Sacred Sight

The Goblet of Fire

VI. Obsession's Folly

"I don't understand," a high voice whispered from somewhere to his right, "Why are we hiding? What's the point?"

"We're not hiding, Walburga -"

"We're all locked up in the Slytherin common room," Walburga interrupted. Tom watched as she rose to her feet. Though a rather short girl, she towered over the sea of seated Slytherin students, "Even Slughorn's with us!"

She pointed across the room. Tom watched as a nervous Horace Slughorn paced back and forth before the common room's entrance.

"For the last time, we aren't hiding," the boy repeated once more. Tom turned to him, watching as irritation sparked within the eyes of one Abraxas Malfoy, "We're on lockdown."

"What's the difference?"

Abraxas sighed.

"Just shut up and sit down, I beg of you. This'll all be over soon enough."

"No," Walburga huffed. Tom's jaw clenched, annoyance now consuming him too, "No, you explain what's going on right now -"

Woosh.

The air churned, swiftly pulling Walburga Black down to the common room floor. Her eyes widened with surprise as she found herself sitting criss-crossed amongst her peers.

"Don't bother asking," Tom muttered, spotting the inquisitive look she wore, "I silenced you, too."

The girl mouthed slowly. Sure enough, not a sound was heard.

"It's your own fault, Burga," Abraxas yawned, "I did try to warn you . . ."

The younger girl glared at him, turning away. The surrounding students, all Tom's age, glanced between him and Abraxas.

"What is happening, anyway?" one of them, Nott, whispered, "They didn't say."

"Lockdown, as I said."

"I know, but why?"

"Vinda Rosier," Tom whispered. Countless eyes turned to him, "She was spotted in Hogsmeade."

Abraxas blinked in surprise.

"How do you know?"

"The snakes," Tom whispered, "They tell me things."

An oppressive silence blanketed the group, the reminder of his unique talents rolling over them like a storm over ruins. Nott was the first to break it.

"Vinda Rosier," he repeated thoughtfully, "What's Grindelwald's lieutenant doing in Hogsmeade?"

"Reconnaissance on Dumbledore, if the rumors are true," a soft voice suggested. Tom looked up, glancing at the girl who had spoken. Her beautiful violet eyes glimmered in the dimly lit room.

Almost as pretty as mine . . .

"You look like her, I've heard," said Tom thoughtfully. His eyes combed carefully over the girl's delicate features, "Same eyes."

Cassiopeia sniffled.

"I'm not surprised," she said, "We are distant family, after all."

Tom nodded.

"The Blacks do seem interconnected with everyone," he conceded thoughtfully.

"Most purebloods are interconnected with each other," Cassiopeia corrected, her nose held high, "Not that you'd know."

The others fell silent, the few who knew Tom best glancing warily at his expression. To their surprise, the boy smiled.

"I suppose I wouldn't, would I?" Tom smiled, "No matter. I'm a fast learner."

Cassiopeia's eyebrows rose.

"Is that so?"

Tom nodded.

"You could ask Slughorn, if you'd like," he suggested, "After all, it's not you he calls his champion brewer, is it?"

Cassiopeia snorted.

"I'll pass," she said, "He looks like he'd die from fright if someone asked him to so much as use the lavatory."

Reserved snickers permeated the group. Tom leaned back, relaxing in his armchair. He was one of the few who had managed to snag a seat - not that there had been much competition.

"While on the topic of death," a brown-haired boy, Avery, began, "Who -"

"No morbid questions, Avery," Abraxas interrupted, "Certainly not right now. One of the first years might have a conniption."

Avery glanced around, his eyes falling on the group of first years that watched them speak, wide eyed. He laughed.

"They're only three years younger than us, what's the big deal?" he asked, "Besides, you didn't let me finish."

"Is it vulgar?"

"Only one way to find out," Avery grinned. He continued when Abraxas said nothing, "As I was saying - if you could speak to one person, alive or dead, who would it be?"

A number of students rolled their eyes. Tom gripped the arm of his chair more tightly, his jaw clenched.

We played the same sorts of games over the summer. When we were locked in the orphanage basement because the Germans flew overhead.

Violet eyes trailed over his tense form. Cassieopeia gently wrapped her palm over Tom's, careful not to let anyone else see. Tom stared at her curiously.

Fascinating.

"That's the best you could come up with?" Mulciber muttered, staring at Avery, unimpressed.

"What? It's an interesting question."

"Sure it is," Dorea deadpanned, "You got an answer?"

Avery nodded.

"Merlin," he grinned, "Most famous Slytherin there ever was."

He glanced expectantly at Dorea, who rolled her eyes.

"I'll take Morgana. Happy?"

"No, I'm not. You've got explain why -"

"Because she's like Merlin, but she's a witch."

Avery sighed.

"Fine, fine. Mulcy?"

"Loxias," Mulciber yawned.

"The crazy donny?"

Mucliber nodded.

"The one who used to go around killing people, yeah."

"Why?"

"Want to know why he did it, I suppose," Mulciber decided, "Besides, they say he used to own the Elder Wand. That's interesting enough."

Avery nodded appreciatively. To his right, Dorea rolled her eyes.

"The Elder Wand is a myth," she said sternly, "But go on, waste your choice on a raving lunatic like Loxias."

"What about you, Tom?" Avery asked curiously, "Got anyone in mind?"

Tom thought for a moment, a hollow feeling ringing in his chest.

What's the point? If they died, they don't know anything worth knowing. Not to me.

"Slytherin, I suppose."

"Because?"

"Because he's like me," Tom continued carefully, "It'd be nice to meet someone who can do what I do. I might learn a thing or two."

Avery nodded slowly, understanding dawning on him.

"Improve the snake skills, fair," he nodded, "Braxas?"

"Abraxas," the boy corrected, "And I don't know."

"Well, just choose someone!"

"Like who -"

But before either could speak, the remainder of the common room fell silent. Tom and the others all turned to the front of the room, where a glowing silver armadillo stood.

"The area has been cleared," the armadillo boomed in Headmaster Dippet's loud, aged voice, "You may return to your normal activities. The area has been cleared. You may return to your normal activities . . ."

Tom, Cassieopia, and the others all faded to black as Harry's dream slowly came to an end.

(-{- S S -}-)

Quiet conversations permeated the open air of the Hogwarts Library. Harry slowly stalked from aisle to aisle, mindful not to attract attention. His robes pressed tight against his skin, the concealed drawing he'd just finished folded neatly in his pocket.

There.

His target sat amongst a number of others, all gathered around a long mahogany table. Platinum blonde locks curved around the side of the boy's skull, his eyes red with tire. He seemed rather uninterested in the work his peers fawned over.

"Tempus."

Ghostly numbers appeared as Harry flicked his wand. He stared at them impatiently.

The library doesn't close for another hour.

Harry grit his teeth, glancing back over at the table. His gaze flicked across the guarded expressions of the several students.

There are upsides to impatience, I suppose . . .

Harry stepped forward, purposefully making his way toward the Slytherin's table. Guarded expressions jumped across each of their faces. Had they been more alert, they might have noticed the flicker of panic that marred Draco's.

Idiot.

A pair of heavy eyelids stared at him, unimpressed.

"Can we help you, Potter?"

Harry looked at her, taking in her pale skin, long blonde hair and icy blue eyes.

Pretty. Mine are prettier, though.

"Not you," he said softly, borrowing Riddle's beatific smile. Daphne Greengrass frowned, "I'm here to speak with your friend."

He turned his gaze to Malfoy, who inhaled sharply. The others blinked in surprise.

"What - what do you want from me?" Draco half-spat, seeming rather on edge.

"A favor," said Harry carefully, "I need help with an essay Professor Binns assigned."

The Slytherins all stared at him.

"You - what?" Draco didn't bother to hide his surprise, "Why in Merlin's name would I help you with that?"

"I'm asking you because I imagine you've got an easy way of finding the answer," Harry admitted, "And besides, I'm not like Ron, or Dean, or even Seamus. There isn't nearly as much animosity between us."

"Well, the answer's no," said Pansy Parkinson rather quickly, "So you can stop bothering us now -"

"Wait," Daphne frowned. She turned back to Harry, "What were you going to ask?"

"I'm doing my History of Magic essay on the history of magical violence on muggles," he explained, noting the way many of their lips curled with distaste, "I chose one case in particular - some guy named Morfin Gaunt."

"One of the last children of the Gaunt lineage," Daphne noted, "He was sent to Azkaban decades ago. Any old news clipping in the library could've told you that."

"I'm well aware," Harry said politely, "I researched Gaunt's case quite a bit earlier -"

"Then what do you need from us?" Nott barked loudly. Draco nodded along, waiting desperately for an answer.

"Binns wants an update on the events in our conclusion," Harry glanced around almost lazily, "I was hoping you could check whether or not Morfin's kicked the bucket."

Draco stared at him.

"It's Binns. Just make it up."

Harry fought the urge to grit his teeth.

"I was going to, but Granger said she'd rat me out."

Daphne laughed. Harry turned to her, watching as her amusement quickly faded away. He quickly returned his attention to Malfoy.

"Anyway, I was hoping you'd know. I only just thought of asking - I remember hearing you go on and on about how your father used to tour Azkaban with the Minister."

Draco stood up sharply.

"Fine," he said quickly, "But I want something in return."

Harry rolled his eyes as Pansy nodded approvingly from the boy's right.

"That being?"

"Something you can help me with," Malfoy said, stepping forward, "We can talk about it over there -"

"What, don't want your friends to hear?"

Draco glared at him.

"Unlike you, I value privacy."

Harry shrugged.

"Suit yourself."

He waved smoothly at the other Slytherins as Draco dragged him away, earning a heavy huff from Pansy. Daphne stared curiously after him as he left. The open air was replaced by a vast, heavy bookshelf.

"You don't actually think I'm going to return the favor, do you -"

But Malfoy wasn't listening. The boy was staring at him, hands on his head and his eyes wide with alarm.

"What in the fuck are you doing?"

"Quiet," Harry warned, waving his wand. A thin silencing ward coated the air around them, "You don't want your friends to hear you."

"You - you're talking to me in front of them," Draco moaned, "Have you - what if they find out?"

"About what?"

Draco glanced from left to right.

"About the chamber!"

"How the fuck could they?" Harry asked, unimpressed, "If they do, it means one of us broke our promise and died because of it."

Harry held his hands up before his spectacles, studying them carefully.

"I'm not dead. Are you?"

Draco slapped his hands away.

"Just don't bother me when I'm around them, alright? Merlin knows those girls will hound me about it when I go back."

Harry blinked.

"Just the girls?"

"Nott won't care, and Crabbe and Goyle are too stupid to give a shit," Draco said quickly, "Zabini might, though . . . he's alway been fruity and all."

"Paying attention doesn't make you gay, retard," Harry sighed, "Not that I care. Just figure out what I asked of you."

Malfoy blinked.

"The Gaunt shit? Why?"

"Because I told you to," said Harry, thin-lipped, "The essay's due on the seventeenth, so you'd better hurry -"

"Essay my ass -"

"Send the owl to your father tonight."

"Fine," Draco grit his teeth, "Will you stop talking to me in front of my friends?"

"No," Harry decided, grinning, "It was useful."

"Riddle would agree, I bet," Draco hissed, "You'll have to forgive me. I'm not quite as adept at using people as either of you -"

"Consider it a lesson, then," Harry yawned, "I made myself more approachable. Showed them I'm someone they can reach out to in a time of need."

Malfoy snorted.

"You'll have to do better than that," he grinned, "You've got no chance of convincing Nott or Pansy to associate with someone like you -"

"What about Greengrass?"

Malfoy faltered.

"That's a dangerous game to play, Potter," Malfoy warned. He sounded uncharacteristically serious, "Her parents aren't the easy-going sort."

Harry waved him off.

"I don't care. You'd better have told me whether Morfin's still kicking by this time on Friday."

"Will you tell me why?"

Harry shrugged.

Not like he can tell anyone.

"If you're quick with it."

Draco sighed heavily, holding his hand out. Harry stared at him.

"To the best History of Magic essay Professor Binns will ever read."

Harry couldn't help but laugh, shaking Malfoy's hand.

"To the best essay indeed."

(-{- S S -}-)

"There."

Harry sat back, admiring his work. His eyes combed over the rough drawing of Azkaban prison, which spanned many sheets of parchment.

Bark!

"What?" Harry looked up, watching as Hedwig soared through the vast opening that connected Slytherin's study to the Chamber of Secrets. The bird landed along the edge of his table, "Are you hungry?"

Hedwig shook her head, staring inquisitively at the sheets of parchment. Harry leaned closer.

"I traced the blueprint earlier in the library," he explained, "But that's not the important part - look."

He lowered his finger, indicating the many paths he'd outlined with scarlet ink.

"See these?" he said softly, tapping the red ink, "This is how you reach the prisoners. There's only one way in and out, from the looks of it."

Clever, unfortunately.

"I suppose I could try tearing a hole through one of the walls," he mumbled, "But they've no doubt got alarm wards all over the place -"

Bark!

"What?"

Hedwig hobbled forward, clutching the sheets of parchment in her talons. She swooped off before Harry could snatch them back.

"Hedwig," Harry's voice was both quiet and testy, "Give it back."

Bark!

"That wasn't a request."

The bird fluttered through the air, wacking him atop the head with the rolled up sheets of parchment. Harry glared at her.

"I don't just want to, I have to. It's important."

Hedwig landed gently on the table before him, loosening her grip on Harry's drawing. She tilted her head sideways.

"There's a man in Azkaban, Morfin," Harry said slowly, "I'm not sure if he's alive, but I'll know soon enough. He knows where the Resurrection Stone is."

Hedwig blinked at him.

"Special magical artifact, like my cloak. Really powerful. It - it can raise the dead."

The bird fell silent. Harry rose to his feet, pacing back and forth through Slytherin's study.

"Just imagine how useful that'd be. The ultimate bartering tool. If Tom had it, he'd probably have won the war. Who would say no to a man who could bring back loved ones long gone?"

Bark.

Harry paused. He glanced at Hedwig, who was holding her left talon out, pointing at something behind him. Harry turned, his eyes falling on the family photo album Hagrid had gifted him years ago.

"Yeah," he breathed slowly, looking away, "Yeah. Maybe it could bring them back, too."

He stepped silently across the room, tucking the opened album into one of many drawers.

Best not to dwell on it. In case it isn't real.

A thin-lipped frown sprawled across his pale features. Harry turned, his eyes falling upon the blurry outline of his Invisibility Cloak.

But what if . . .

"I'm going for it," Harry's voice was laced with determination, "I - I can't - I want it. I need it."

He pulled out his chair, allowing his body to fall neatly into its confines. Harry pulled the prison blueprints toward him with a gentle curve of his fingers.

"They've got dementors, no doubt," Harry muttered thoughtfully, "They're easy enough to take out -"

Bark.

"What?" Harry asked irritably, looking up. Hedwig stared at him.

"Dementors?"

The bird nodded swiftly. Harry frowned.

"What about them?"

Hedwig hobbled across the table, pausing just before where his wand lay. Harry watched as she gently soared into the air.

"Er - Patronuses?" Harry guessed. He relaxed upon hearing Hedwig's trill of agreement, "What's so important about patronuses . . ."

Oh.

"They'll know it's me," Harry surmised, "Bones already knows what my Patrnous looks like. Same with most of the Aurors."

He sighed heavily, kicking up his chair in frustration.

"Kind of fucked up with saving Sirius. I probably should've been more subtle -"

Bark!

"Subtle?" he squinted, shaking his head, "Wait, no, Sirius. Sirius!"

Harry scrambled to his feet, rushing toward the stationary box that sat off to the side.

"He'll know practically everything about Azkaban's security!" Harry realised, laughing aloud, "Hell, he probably knows how to get past it too."

And he'll have no problem telling me everything I want to know.

He turned over a blank roll of parchment, flattening it on the table and beginning to write:

'Dear Padfoot,

Meet me tomorrow at Hogsmeade. I've got a few important questions for you.

Sincerely,

You-know-who (not the Dark Lord)'

Satisfied, Harry held it out for Hedwig.

"You'd better be fast," said Harry seriously, tucking the rolled up parchment neatly into her talons, "I don't know where he is, but he has to get it before noon tomorrow. There won't be another Hogsmeade visit for a while."

Hedwig hovered gently. Harry watched her avian eyes linger on the Azkaban blueprints he had laid out.

"I love you."

Bark.

He watched as his beloved companion flew through the chamber and impossibly out of sight, the ghost of her loving trill lingering in the depths of his mind.