Harry Potter and the Heart of the Hero

by Jeograph

Dumbledore is gone, or is he? Harry feels the weight of the world rests on his shoulders. His brooding nature and desire to face his fate alone may be his greatest weakness. It is his capacity for emotion that makes him strong, his relationships his greatest strength. Who is he really? Can Harry become the wizard he needs to be to face the Dark Lord?

34. Winged Serpent

Chapter Thirty-Three

Winged Serpent

Draco woke slowly, he felt confused and disoriented. The anxiety of his dream vision slowly waned as the cave and the familiar faces of the men came into his view. He couldn't move at first, an aftereffect, the men explained of the potion he had been given.

Once he had recovered enough to sit up, the Shaman approached and asked if he might share in Draco's induced experience. Draco agreed. The Shaman reached out and holding Draco's chin raised his head until they made eye contact. The feeling of the allowed Legilimency was warm and calming, Draco could feel the Shaman's presence and willingly reviewed the experiences of the past few days. He flashed on the hunting, the fact that he had not used an appropriate amount of curare on his arrowhead seemed to cause the Shaman some curiosity. In a flash the feast passed before him and the experience of beginning the trials, the Shaman seemed to be impressed with Draco's performance and this caused Draco to feel a tickle of pride. There was a period of disorientation after drinking the potion that Draco did not directly recall. Scattered memories of the men dancing and the fire flaming high, bursts of unexplained color and impossible movements, as though he had taken flight through a summer sky full of soundless fireworks. And then it faded to black and the experience of seeing The Dark Lord, and his father, as reflections in the mirror passed as if sped up in time. The Shaman seemed to find humor at first in the vision of his daughter greeting Draco at the lagoon where they had first met. It felt to Draco as though there was a secret the Shaman, and the whole community for that matter knew about Titchi, which he hadn't quite figured out.

As the vision turned to the dragon attack, the Shaman seemed concerned, but also pleased. Draco felt his presence receding. When the Legilimency was done Draco's expression of fear told the Shaman that Draco suspected his vision to be real.

"Do not fear, Dracho," the Shaman said. "Spirit Visions are induced so, though it is possible, they seldom represent a prophecy of something yet to happen." Draco's fears immediately began to subside.

"I am pleased that you not only face deeply seated fears in your vision but also express tremendous concern for the Spirit People. You are ready for the third trial." The Shaman turned and quickly disappeared into the shadows of the cave.

Draco realized, looking at the ceiling of the cave where there had earlier been places daylight had shone through, that the sun was set and it was sometime in the evening. He couldn't guess how much time the second trial had lasted.

The men of his sponsoring quorum seemed excited for him. They quickly offered him food and drink and told him he should take the opportunity to rest and relax, as his third trial, the Spirit Quest would begin the next morning. He spoke with the men for a while, sharing stories of their Spirit Quests, and soon enough Draco found himself drifting comfortably to sleep.

---

"Are you sure you want to do this Harry?" Ginny asked.

"I absolutely do not want to do it, Ginny," Harry said grimly. "But we have come to an impasse on our hunt, and something must be done."

"I agree, Harry," Hermione interjected. "Something must be done, but this. This scares me!"

They were all in Slytherin's Library, it was a quarter of midnight, and they were gathered in the portrait alcove. Hermione turned to the Dumbledore Card which was on a bookshelf facing the alcove. "And you condone this plan, Professor?"

"I believe it is worth attempting, yes," Dumbledore responded. "I believe Harry is quite capable and the exercise will, I hope, bring us answers to several questions, beyond just information concerning the Horcruxes."

"No progress without risk," Godric Gryffindor's portrait declared. "You will do spectacularly my boy."

"I have been working with Harry on meditation and Occlumency for months, he certainly possesses the prerequisite knowledge and raw ability to do as the founders suggest," Dumbledore concluded.

"It is quite logical," Rowena Ravenclaw's portrait said. "If, as you have told us, there is some direct connection between Harry and this Voldemort person, as evidenced by Harry's scar, his ability to speak Parseltongue, and previous incidence of Voldemort reaching his mind, then it stands to reason that any such connection would operate in both directions. We are proposing that you use such a connection to gain information."

"Astral projection will allow Harry to see magical flows and points of concentration, which are not readily identifiable on this plane," Helga Hufflepuff's portrait said. "We need to identify and understand the nature of the connection between him and Voldemort so that we can deal with it appropriately."

"There is no learning, without doing," the Gryffindor portrait declared.

"Patience, Godric," the Hufflepuff portrait said reprovingly.

"Okay," Harry said, "Enough talk, let's give this a try."

As instructed by the Founders, Harry sat cross-legged on the table opposite Ginny, who was to act as his physical anchor. They were each holding the handle of their wand in their right hand with the wand pointing upward and each holding the other's right hand in their left. There was a candle alight between them. They sat within a circle of heather and protection herbs inside a chalk-drawn circle inscribed with protection rune symbols and points of the compass. At North lay a square cut diamond, at South an emerald, East a Ruby, and West a Sapphire. The rest of the table was filled with candles and bunches of herbs.

Hermione edged closer to Ron, who put his arm around her, neither of them enjoying their present sense of helplessness.

"Okay, Ginny," Rowena instructed from her frame. "Close your eyes and focus on Harry. I want you to concentrate only on Harry and maintain the physical and ethereal connection between you. Keep your eyes closed and focus on his presence. Focus on holding his presence near to you."

"Yes, Professor," Ginny said. Her grip on Harry's hand tightened slightly.

"Now Harry," said Dumbledore, "start with your meditation exercise. Find the protected place you have created inside yourself, the white sphere. Find yourself inside it, safe and protected with all your thoughts and memories. Focus only on that space. Tell me when you are there." There was a long pause during which there was silence and both Ron and Hermione had to remind themselves to breathe.

"Okay, Professor," Harry said in a quiet calm voice.

"Wonderful, Harry," Godric praised. "I have never seen a student achieve this state so readily."

"Harry," Dumbledore continued. "Now, slowly contract the sphere leaving your thoughts and memories protected inside. Imagine your consciousness outside the sphere.

"I don't see how this can work, Harry doesn't know Legilimency," Hermione whispered to Ron.

"Well, the Founders and Dumbledore believe that because of whatever their connection is, Harry doesn't need to use it," Ron whispered back. "They think he may be able to slip right in, hopefully undetected. We just need to believe in Harry."

"I do," Hermione whispered apprehensively, "I do."

Ron took her hand and held it tight. "Me too, I will always believe in Harry."

"Can you tell us what you see, Harry?" Helga asked tentatively.

"I see, an open expanse, as though I am floating in white nothingness, next to the small white sphere, that contains my mind," Harry said.

"Good. Very good," Helga encouraged.

"Albus, you did not say he was this advanced," Godric said quietly. "This is extremely advanced, even for a seventh-year."

"Now Harry," Rowena began. "This next part is the tricky bit if you've never attempted it before. I want you to imagine the whole white space is your plain of consciousness. Only you exist there, and it is still contained within your physical self. I want you to picture yourself outside of your own body. Imagine the room, how it is configured, its shapes and colors, and where you are physically within it. Then once you have that image, place yourself in that picture, but apart from it, looking at yourself."

There was quiet for about a minute. Hermione felt that the whole room must hear her heart pounding in her chest. Ron rubbed her hand gently and that helped, but she was still frightened by what she couldn't control and was struggling to understand.

"Oh. I've got it," Harry said suddenly, his voice sounding like he was quite pleased with himself. "I see you all. Portraits in your frames, Card on the shelf, and Ron and Hermione. Hermione, it's okay; I am fine. You can calm down."

Hermione looked closely at Harry, sitting on the table. His eyes were shut. "But Harry, your eyes are closed, don't you mean you imagine me?"

"Not at all, I can see you quite clearly. Ron has moved closer to you since I began, and you are holding hands now," Harry said. They reflexively released each other's hands. "Don't worry that you don't understand it. I don't understand it either."

"Excellent, Harry," Dumbledore said. "You are doing spectacularly. But now we will need you to take a look at yourself."

"Everything is a whirl with magic, Professor," Harry said excitedly. "It is in the walls and all through the books, the portraits, everywhere."

"Yes, of course," Godric said. "But is it in you, Harry? Look at your body, Harry."

"Oh," Harry exclaimed. "I'm glowing. So's Ginny."

"What about your scar, Harry?" Dumbledore said. "Focus on your scar."

"Oh," Harry sounded surprised. "It looks… it looks fresh. Jagged and festering. And dark, it's as if there are wisps of dark vapor coming from it. I didn't realize I was carrying such evil."

"Tom left something of himself behind those many years ago," Slytherin said. "It is the only explanation. There is far more to this scar than a curse."

"Harry," Ravenclaw said. "Focus on these dark emanations, do they form a vortex? Can you make them swirl?"

Fear had left Harry. Now he was far more curious. He had borne this scar for most of his life and never understood its significance. This was something of the Dark Lord himself. A missing piece. He forgot himself for a moment and attempted to reach for his forehead. His body in front of him remained still, but in his displaced state he realized that here upon his separated astral essence, no scar existed.

He could hear the others around him, but their presence and significance seemed to be fading. Ravenclaw was telling him to swirl the darkness from the scar. How? He had no physical form, no arms to reach out with. He looked with renewed concentration at the jagged mark on his forehead before him. It seemed to be growing, opening and more darkness was coming from it. It was coming toward him, and yes, it was swirling. He tried to speak but he could no longer make his physical mouth work. He could feel the darkness pulling at him, drawing him toward it, wanting to encompass him. This was the point of the exercise. To seek this connection.

Harry ceased resisting, and the darkness enveloped him. Pulling him down into its gaping maw.

---

Draco woke slowly. He was quite comfortable and except for the brightness of the day would have loved to sleep a little longer. He realized suddenly that he was in a hammock. He did not recall falling to sleep in a hammock.

The bright sun, the density of the foliage, and the gentle swaying, all told him that he was outside, and somehow, high up in the canopy of the trees. A glance over the edge of the hammock confirmed his conclusion. He was at least thirty meters up. He chuckled a bit. There was a time when he would have considered this predicament an example of the basest of pranks and considered it a personal affront. The irony, of course, was that this had surely been done to assure his safety, at least until he could wake up and be in control of his actions.

He climbed out of the hammock and went higher in the branches so that he could gain his bearings from above the canopy. From the position of the distant mountains, he put himself far South and West of the encampment. As he scanned the treetops, he made note of a stand of Kapok trees towering over the jungle to the North, and an area due East where the treetops appeared white as though covered in spider silk. As he was not keen on walking into the nest of any large magical spiders, he decided that he would head toward the tall Kapok trees.

It took him less than ten minutes to untie the hammock and climb down out of the tree. He wasn't sure if he was meant to bring the hammock with him, as it was not usually amongst the equipment boys were given for the Spirit Quests, but it was a resource all the same and constructed from a sturdy cord that could easily be repurposed, so he wasn't about to leave it behind. He was able to harvest a ripe Pacay pod and plenty of açaí berries which he enjoyed as a sweet breakfast.

He scanned the forest floor for game trails and soon found a clear path moving North so he began walking. The jungle was full of life all around him, there were birds of every description high above in the trees and he passed beneath several troops of various monkeys whose calls let him know that he was trespassing in their territory. At ground level, he saw lots of movement and several times felt that animals had gotten off the path until he passed. Draco wished he'd had his bow and arrows as many potential hunts had presented themselves and then moved away. He found a sturdy, straight sapling tree and carved a wooden spear, as he went. He followed the trail for several hours attempting to identify the types of animal tracks he saw until he could hear flowing water.

Marking the place where he left the path, he moved toward the sound using his knife to mark the trees so that he would be able to return to the path later. He found the edge of a stream, burbling its way along the jungle floor, creating deep pools among heavy split stones and gnarled tree roots. This was not a lagoon, that would be likely to contain anything like an Iara, but if Draco were lucky, it may have a few pools that would contain fish.

He followed the water flow for a while until it opened to a wider shaded area. He approached cautiously and once he was confident that the area was safe, he observed the water looking for fish in the shallows. He identified a shaded rock shelf that some of the larger fish were using as cover. Using the hammock as a net he spread it across the bottom of the shallow and once in place he used his spear to disrupt the water by the shelf driving several fish out over the net. It was easy enough then to pull the net in and capture more fish than he would possibly be able to eat. He quickly sorted the fish and returned most of them to the water, keeping a couple of good-sized Pacu for eating.

Keeping tradition, he called out to the forest, thanking the river and the spirits of the place for allowing him to harvest the fish for food. In this magical part of the forest, he did not want to anger any Curupiras or passing Caipora. On a nice flat rock, he quickly gutted and cleaned his fish, returning any scraps to the river, and wrapped the meat in nice leaf bundles. He found a flat dry area where he could build a fire. It took him nearly an hour to gather materials build a fire and cook the fish. As he waited, he harvested plant fibers to weave a simple shoulder bag to carry provisions.

After his meal, he carefully returned the area as near as possible to the way he found it, and made his way back as he had come. He found his marked trees and was able to find the path he had been on. Back on the path he continued to make his way North. Late in the day, he began to see that he was entering the area where he had seen the Kapok trees. The roots of the trees were cause for the path to meander, wending through the large tree trunks.

It had rained during the afternoon, but Draco had simply kept walking unhindered. Once the rain stopped he rested for a bit as the humidity burned away. He located a Coccoloba tree and cut down several giant leaves to use as rain protection during the night. As the sun started to set and the forest began growing darker Draco chose a tree to climb and set his hammock high off the ground. He built a small fire at ground level and ate what remained of his fish.

Gathering some green branches, he constructed an oblong frame to which he secured the Coccoloba leaves. Peeling the green bark from the branches provided good strong lashings which he used to secure the structure close over his hammock so that he would be protected from the dawn rain.

As the last rays of sun disappeared in the West, Draco pried open a cocoa pod that he had gathered from a nearby tree and enjoyed the tangy sweet pulpy membrane around the beans as a sweet treat.

He lay, as the sky darkened so that he could keep an ear to the ground. Just as he was drifting off to sleep he thought he heard movement below. When he looked, he could not detect anything. A few minutes later he heard the shrill call of a bird. It sounded searching and insistent, as though waiting for a response. He suspected that he had been located by an El Tunche, so he staunchly resisted the urge to imitate the call as a response. This went on for at least a full hour, but eventually, the calling stopped. As he drifted away to sleep again, he thought he detected some movement on the ground far below him, but as it seemed to be staying on the ground he finally succumbed to sleep.

---

Harry felt as though he was falling through darkness, or perhaps, more as though he were being pulled. The sensations were odd and confusing; he felt no physical interaction, but the emotion was rampant and he sensed anger and rage, huge doubt of self, locked in a battle with notions of superiority and idealized thoughts of perfection.

He emerged suddenly into an open space that he could describe only as a traditional description of hell. Atop an island of bones and skulls, upon a throne of slithering snakes, sat Tom Riddle. All around him, as far as could be seen, were the writhing, dying creatures of the Magical world. Wizards and witches, goblins, giants, centaurs, trolls, werewolves, and all manner of creatures, mired in brackish tar and engulfed in cold magical flame, becoming Inferi. Above them sat the young vibrant, handsome figure of Tom Riddle, laughing as though he had just understood the meaning of some long-remembered joke that was meant for him alone.

The pleading, terrified, and painful calls of the creatures became an assault of sound, one deafening scream that seemed to be causing Tom Riddle immense pleasure.

Harry shut out all perception of sound and drifted around the figure of Tom Riddle. This Tom, appearing as the boy Harry had met in the Chamber of Secrets many years before, displayed none of the ravages of the life of Lord Voldemort, but still encompassed the essence of the man.

Fortunately, Voldemort did not seem to be at all aware of Harry's presence. Harry wondered if, as the Founders had hoped, the late hour had found the Mad Wizard sleeping and what Harry was seeing was the deranged dream of a megalomaniac. Emotions of omnipotence and grandeur were painted on the boy's face.

As Harry watched, the boy's handsome face seemed to melt away, replaced slowly by the pale snake-like visage that Harry found far more familiar, though this horrid face still appeared to be encompassed in pleasure, as if the horror around him was instead a scene and act of worship with Lord Voldemort as its sole focus.

Harry was not sure exactly how to proceed, but he knew he needed to get deeper into his enemy's mind. He concentrated on Voldemort's eyes and almost immediately found himself following the same compulsive pull that had dragged him so far. This time through the glassy red/yellow eyes of the only entity he truly felt hatred for.

He found himself in a large room of an unfamiliar home. Voldemort was there in an elaborate dining room before a long oak table, backlit by a roaring fire in a broad fireplace. This was a different Voldemort than he had seen before, not the handsome sixteen-year-old Tom Riddle and not the recreated snake-like face and lean skeletal body of the present-day Voldemort, but most like the younger Voldemort that appeared in Dumbledore's memory, with additional years weighing heavily upon his pale, scared and lined face. This was a man whose quest for immortality had left him looking far older than he was.

Across the table were four men. Harry recognized only one of the four. The first two were tall, broad-shouldered, leanly muscled men with light blue eyes and dusty blonde hair. They appeared to be identical, except that one seemed slightly taller and had a jagged scar along his left cheek. The next was slight and wiry with dark eyes, dark lank hair, and a pronounced pointed nose. The last man was Lucius Malfoy, whose forced posture was straight and attempting to appear dignified, though he was younger and more obviously filled with impulsive anger he had not yet learned to disguise. Each of the men was dressed in black Death Eater robes, without the accompanying masks.

On the table lay a few of the very objects Harry was interested in, the Dagger of Gryffindor, the Cup of Hufflepuff, and Tom Riddle's Diary. The whole experience felt very much like being in a Pensieve memory, but it was also less cohesive, with a disjointed perception of time. What might be unimportant details seemed to be sped up.

The four men were standing at attention. Voldemort was saying something, but Harry could not quite make out all the words. Voldemort referred to the men as, what sounded like "Knights of Walpurgis," and Harry could make out only singular words. "Loyalty, devotion, dedication, honor, reward," seemed to be among the words Harry could clearly understand, words, Harry would never have used about these men. Voldemort repeatedly gestured to the items on the table and seemed to be giving elaborate instructions, but Harry could not make out the details.

Finally, Voldemort spoke names that Harry strained to hear clearly. Two names which he thought were Taren and Toben and the surname Wilkes. The man with the scar stepped forward and picked up Gryffindor's Dagger. He, along with the other similar man both bowed low and then quickly turned away and disappeared into shadow. The next name sounded like Benjamin Burn. This slight man stepped forward and picked up the Cup of Hufflepuff, bowed, and disappeared just as quickly.

Harry was elated, these were clues as to the whereabouts of two of Voldemort's Horcruxes that they had so far been unable to locate. He was not concerned with the Diary, as he already knew its disposition, so he did not even try to listen to the exchange between Voldemort and the younger Lucius Malfoy, instead, he focused on the Dark Lord's eyes and once again found himself pulled in and through and landing now in a room he did recognize. It was the Defense classroom at Hogwarts, and coming into the room was the very same Voldemort that had come to see Dumbledore to ask for the Defense Professor Post.

It was exactly as though a continuation of Dumbledore's memory. Voldemort entered the room and quickly proceeded to the stone wall just to the right of the Professor's office door. Harry moved close to see him pull a loose stone from the wall revealing a small space behind it. Voldemort carefully pulled something from his pocket that was covered in a loose leather wrapping. With a flick of his wand, the leather opened revealing the jeweled Peacock Brooch of Rowena Ravenclaw, which levitated into the small space. He replaced the stone tapping it several times with his wand. All evidence that the stone was in any way loose from the mortar disappeared completely. The whole placement took less than a minute and Voldemort moved quickly to the center of the raised wooden dais, where he performed the lengthy and elaborate curse upon the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professorship.

And that was it, solid clues to what Voldemort had done with each of the Horcruxes Harry had yet to find. And it had been easy. All the knowledge he sought just came to him as if Voldemort's mind contained no barriers as if his being there was simply natural.

Harry, emboldened by his success approached the figure of Voldemort and was again pulled into his eyes, moving steadily deeper into the man's mind. Snippets of memory began to appear, rushing past Harry's consciousness and disappearing. There were flashes of the orphanage, incidents of being bullied, and exacting terrible revenge. Capturing and torturing small animals until he happened upon a snake and learned he could understand and communicate with the creature. Lonely moments spent holding a small photograph of his mother, an unattractive image that must have been taken from an orphanage file. He saw what looked like the cave by the sea, but there were two other children there, children who were frightened of the dark place, and Harry could tell this was causing Tom great joy. There were memories of Hogwarts, flashing images of his arrival and his placement by the Sorting Hat. Obsessive research about his family, and the ease with which his coursework came. Hearing his first tales of the Chamber and deciding he needed to find it.

It was as if the whole of Voldemort's life was playing before him and Harry could only open his eyes wide to try to capture as much detail as possible. Harry did not recognize most of the people or the incidents, but occasionally things would make sense. Professors and classrooms. Being summoned to Headmaster Dippet's Office where Harry saw a more scarcely appointed office that was never-the-less familiar to him. Harry was amazed to learn that Tom Riddle had not been able to return to the Orphanage after his second year due to the Muggle World War II. He had stayed with an elderly couple named Galbraith in Hogsmeade. He experienced memories of exploration in Diagon and Nocturne Alleys. Harry wondered briefly why Dumbledore had never mentioned any of this.

Harry witnessed trips to the Ministry to learn about the Gaunt family, and the deceptions used to uncover information and recover a parcel that contained a legal pouch. He saw the Gaunt's home outside little Hangelton and witnessed the murder of the Riddles. There was the purchase of Tom Riddle's Diary and the acquisition of Marvolo Gaunt's ring, the discovery of the Chamber, and Slytherin's Library.

The memories increased in intensity and frequency and seemed to be jumbled, not coming in chronological order. He witnessed the hatching of a basilisk, saw a young Hagrid and Aragog, the Slytherin portrait, a scheme to kill Mrs. Galbraith, the framing of Morfin, the return to the orphanage, becoming a prefect, the discovery of Horcruxes, searching for appropriate objects, creating the first, from his ancestral ring.

Harry felt a sense of loss at the deaths, the Riddles, the Gaunts, the Galbraiths, and others he didn't recognize. The memories began to lose sense as they bombarded him, coming faster than he could process them. He saw the Horcrux items, Grindelwald and Dumbledore, the gang of school followers, the Grey Lady - Ghost of Ravenclaw House, Hepzibah Smith, Borgin and Burkes shop, and multiple places he couldn't recognize. Sound began to build once more, becoming a cacophony of bits of spells, quotes from books in languages he did not understand, flashes of spellwork, faces of strangers and their voices, some talking, most screaming.

Harry was suddenly gripped by fear. He saw numerous people being hit with a spell by Voldemort, a violet-colored spell that looked like rushing thunderclouds and striking lightning. The first time it appeared it was cast upon the man with the scar, Taren Wilkes, and next upon his twin brother, but Harry did not recognize any of the many others until suddenly it was Draco and his mother, under the spell, followed, lastly, by a small group in what looked like a shattered and burning tavern from some old television movie, the like of which Dudley had often been allowed to watch.

Harry became disoriented, lost, trapped, and suddenly he was in his room in the small cottage in Godric's Hollow. No, more than that, he was an infant in his cot, and his mother was there, she was crying and saying something, and then again, all sound disappeared and everything appeared to be in slow motion.

His mother was standing, back toward his cot, shielding him from the angry, ugly man who had entered after her. The man had his wand raised, Harry could only partially see because his mother was there in the way. A great burst of green light appeared and for a moment Harry thought his mother's back flashed a brilliant gold. She collapsed and then Harry could fully see the man. Voldemort, with his hideous grin of triumph, came walking slowly toward him, wand hand raised and pointed directly at Harry. Harry felt calm, whimpering slightly from confusion rather than fear. The tip of the man's wand glowed green again, the light spreading and approaching, but still slowed by his perception of each detail. The light was coming directly at Harry, but still, he felt no fear. As the light reached the confines of Harry's cot there was a burst of golden light that spread out above Harry like the arc of a sphere. It was present for only a moment. Long enough to reflect the light sending it repressively, back at the grinning man.

When the light struck Voldemort he contorted in pain and surprise. And then was rendered stiff and unmoving as the color of life rapidly faded from him. His whole body began to break to pieces, shattering, falling away like shards of glass from a large vase struck by a small projectile. As Voldemort's body ceased to be, there was a sudden explosive force that moved outward in all directions.

Harry recalled now, his memory of his infant mind trying to understand these events, seeing the tiniest point of blackness coming at him, propelled by this explosion. He suddenly felt it strike. Then, there was nothing but pain, so much pain that there was no remaining conscious. There was black.

---

Draco woke to the sound of rain pelting his cover of Coccoloba leaves. It was a steady hard downpour typical of early morning in the jungle, and he was very happy he had thought to create some protection. He tried to allow himself to drift back to sleep, but the rain was just too loud for that. As he lay there he realized suddenly that his lower legs and feet felt unusually warm. He raised his head to look and saw that his calves and feet appeared to be covered in grey-golden fluffy fur. He couldn't think of an actual magical creature that could account for this, so he tested his legs to see if he could move them, and sure enough, he could. The fur seemed to break apart into smaller clumps and Draco thought it looked like a large, huddled troop of Pygmy Marmoset. Coming so close to a human was uncharacteristic behavior for these diminutive, little monkeys.

At once Draco's thought was confirmed as the individual marmosets woke and immediately began screaming at him in their shrill throaty voices. Some leaped away from his legs to the main hanger ropes of the hammock and even up into the structure of his rain canopy. One monkey stood on its back legs and made a higher-pitched screech, at which the others fell still and silent.

Draco thought this very curious. The monkey in question appeared to be a young albino female with pure white fur, characteristically red eyes, and a beautiful pink face. She seemed to have no fear whatsoever and she boldly climbed along Draco's leg and up onto his chest right up to his chin. There, she made a soft questioning chitter and touched his goatee. He realized that his hair was nearly as white as this monkey's fur, but certainly, that could not be a reason for the whole troop to climb into his hammock. The monkey seemed to be examining Draco closely gently nudging his chin so he would turn his head from side to side, as it was chirping at him expressively. The rest of the troop seemed quite curious and were slowly coming closer, beginning to make quiet chirps and questioning chitters.

"Nice to meet you too," Draco said, chuckling a bit under his breath. The tiny creature bobbed up and down on its hind legs in response to Draco's voice. "What brings you here?" he asked, expecting no response. The monkey, however, bobbed and chittered more. Though Draco could discern no actual language he did have thoughts come forward in his mind that he felt were coming from the tiny creature. If he had to translate them into words, it would be, white head, magic human, good, warm, no wet, safety, and nice. This caught Draco a bit by surprise. "You are something special, aren't you?" he asked. The monkey cocked its head as if the question was confusing. There was more to this little monkey than the albinism that set it apart from its troop.

Draco pushed himself back in the hammock so that he could adopt a more upright position. The tiny female didn't jump away as he moved but instead ventured to the top of his head and started engaging in grooming behavior. He could feel the monkey's small hands searching through his hair. The rest of the troop were coming closer, but none were making contact. He counted twelve in all. There was a breeding pair with two very tiny newborns clinging to them tightly, Draco could not image these two babies being any older than a week or two old. There were two other mature females, two immature females, and three males all immature. Draco thought the albino female was somewhere in the middle of the others, figuring she was very nearly breeding age. He recalled one of the boys explaining that marmoset troops are generally a single family from a dominant breeding pair. The Spirit People didn't typically hunt marmosets, especially the pygmy type, but it was important to know that if you needed for some reason to take one, it should not be from the breeding pair. He recalled the same boy saying that a marmoset was a very good choice for a familiar animal and that if one were to freely approach a human, it was because it was very likely feeling the pull of a Familiar Bond.

Draco had never really given much thought to having a familiar, he had spoken to Titchi about Kut'chem, her Scarlet Macaw, and to Chunt'ea about his Squirrel Monkey, Pémpé. He never imagined he might find one himself, but the thought impressions he had received from the young female marmoset, were just as Chunt'ea described communicating with Pémpé.

Thinking about all of that, Draco reached his hand up next to the side of his head, palm open. The little monkey quickly jumped into his hand and he carefully brought her around in front of himself. Draco estimated she was about fourteen centimeters head to foot with her tail adding at least another eighteen centimeters of overall length. She weighed almost nothing in Draco's hand, maybe one hundred and twenty grams. He thought her quite pretty, but it also occurred to him that her white color, in contrast to her siblings, was probably a danger to the troop. As he had the thought she began to bob and chitter again, and he got a distinct impression that she was agreeing, along with a fleeting image of an identical monkey disappearing into the distance in the talons of a hawk.

"Do you want to stay with me now, be my Familiar?" he asked earnestly. He couldn't think of anything else but to ask. The little white monkey bobbed its head chittering excitedly. The impression of agreement grew even stronger in Draco's mind. "Okay," he said. "I suppose then, you will be needing a name, so I will have something to call you?"

The pretty little monkey scratched at its head as if to say it had no idea.

"How about I call you, Jatśzuiã? Or just Zuiã, for short?" Draco asked. "In English that translates roughly to pretty one, or pretty girl. Or shortened to just pretty."

She jumped to Draco's shoulder and moved right against his neck wrapping her long tail around the back to his opposite shoulder.

"Okay, I guess Zuiã, it is," he said.

At that, the rest of the marmoset troop seemed to stop and clap their hands together as though they were applauding. Then, as it had stopped raining and the clouds were now clearing, the troop all seemed to line up to say an orderly goodbye to Zuiã, with hugs and sweet chitters. This filled Draco with the sad impression of saying goodbye to family. But as the troop quickly made their way along the Hammock ropes and disappeared down into the lower canopy which would typically be their habitat, Draco began to feel an adventurous excitement from Zuiã, along with another impression that he would find to be almost constant; hunger or the ever-present desire to look for food.

It took him just a few minutes to untie his hammock and descend to ground level. Draco located and dug a couple of yams with his spear and then built a fire so he could put them to roast. While the yams cooked, he spent the time collecting fruit to add to his breakfast. Zuiã seemed to be very pleased with these activities and often jumped from his shoulder to capture insects he displaced as he picked fruit, but he noticed she never ventured very far and if he stepped away as she was off his shoulder, she seemed to get distressed.

Once the yams were fully cooked Draco sat to enjoy his breakfast. Zuiã wanted to sample everything and was pleased to enjoy fruits that were usually difficult for her to acquire. Draco got a sense of accomplishment from Zuiã's feelings of contentment with her breakfast. She had found the gathering session quite productive as Draco displaced more insects much more easily than her entire troop, so she satiated her hunger more thoroughly than usual.

Draco contemplated this new development and wondered about his new responsibility to Zuiã. He needed to give her protection. As a lone marmoset, especially one with the white color of her albinism, she could come under more potential danger. He thought that if he had a wand there were protection spells and wards, he could place upon her that would protect her from natural predators and allow her a bit more freedom of movement and security.

As he was having these thoughts Zuiã leaped from his knee to his shoulder and touched his cheek. He immediately had the picture of a wand in his mind. It was a rather plain, straight wand that seemed to be lost in the undergrowth of the jungle, but a wand, nonetheless. "Is this your memory Zuiã?" Draco asked. "Are you trying to tell me you know where this wand is?"

Zuiã patted his cheek affirmatively. "Can you show me?" Draco asked.

The little monkey climbed up on top of Draco's head so that she could lean forward and touch her forehead to his. Draco was not sure what to do so he tried to clear his mind. It hardly seemed necessary as Zuiã's thoughts and emotions seemed to transfer very easily between them. He got an impression of a place, not terribly far away, it seemed that Zuiã's troop changed where it lived about every two months, moving from one area to another, but their range was quite small so each move was as best Draco could figure no more than about two kilometers distance. This memory however was over a year and a half old, so it was hard to judge how far away the place was located. The memory itself was quite fascinating. Zuiã was still very young at the time and just at the age when she no longer clung to a parent and was entering the often-dangerous curious age of adolescence.

The troop had recently settled in a new tree, venturing Southward from a place her father had regarded as a place of great danger. One day Zuiã saw what looked like a violet-colored bolt of lightning hit the ground in the distance, and heard the accompanying clap of thunder. It caused a scattering of the jungle animals, but it did not recur, so things quickly went back to normal.

Some minutes later there was a disturbance at ground level and Zuiã watched from her high perch, what looked like an oddly clothed human running along the ground waving a little stick that looked like the thing Draco had thought about earlier. The person was pursued quite directly by a great spotted Jaguar, and even though flashes of color came from the fleeing human's stick, it was not enough to save the human from the great cat.

The human's stick had come from their hand and landed near the bow of a large tree, where it remained, presumably still today.

Draco thought about the memories Zuiã had shown him and made sure she could tell he was pleased. But there were conclusions to be drawn here that Zuiã could never perceive. First, was that the man he had seen in the memory was a Death Eater named Warrenton. Draco had met him several times during the summer between his fourth and fifth years at Hogwarts. He had simply disappeared and was never spoken about again. Secondly, that meant that the spot where anyone Voldemort had banished, arrived, was here, and relatively close if everyone banished went to the same place. Thirdly, these banished people were very likely ill-prepared to face the jungle itself, which explained why none had ever returned. And lastly, therefore, return from Voldemort's banishment was entirely possible, if one could survive the jungle.

While this was on some level an exhilarating conclusion, Draco, had to admit that he had abandoned the idea of ever returning to England and resolved that the rest of his life would be lived as a member of the Spirit People. He wasn't sure what to think or how to feel about it, so he turned his thoughts to the simple knowledge that out there somewhere relatively close was a perfectly serviceable wand, and he had been wishing he had a wand for some time now. He decided that the best course of action would be to find it.

---

Hermione could barely contain herself. Once Harry had gone completely silent her anxiety had increased considerably. Everyone both feared and anticipated what might happen next. It was a very risky task the Founders had set before him and Harry, being Harry, had accepted the challenge as though there was no choice. There had been a tense silence now for several minutes.

She watched Harry and Ginny for any movement and could only detect the steady rise and fall of their synchronized breathing. She knew that they had become somehow connected and she suspected there was a bonding to come between them, but she had never noticed their breathing before. She wondered if it was an effect of this present exercise or if it was deeper. She told herself she would observe them later in other contexts.

Harry's face had begun to look strained and uncomfortable. "Something is happening," Ron said. "Look at Harry's scar!"

The flesh over Harry's infamous scar had begun to darken and bulge, quickly growing as though a massive blister was forming, looking bruised as the skin stretched. Before either Ron or Hermione could do or say any more Harry's eyes snapped open, but his pupils had turned upward into his head, so his eyes showed white. He threw his head back violently pulling his grip from Ginny's and falling backward on the table. He landed flat on the herbs and candles, his head just beyond the edge of the table and outside the circle of protection. As his head flopped lifelessly the bulge beneath his scar burst open. There was a horrid wrenching scream like some wounded animal was crying out in anger and fear, but it came from the scar and not Harry himself. A thick black goo oozed from the scar as it tore open further rending a gash across Harry's face from along his nose to his lips and up beyond his hairline. The goop hit the floor with a heavy thud accompanied by splashes of Harry's blood. The goo seemed to slither, elongating like a snake toward the northwest corner.

Hermione screamed. Ron pulled his wand and Ginny scrambled to try to reach Harry's hands and pull him back upward. She managed to grab his hands and with a massive tug, she pulled him back up into a sitting position, from which he immediately slumped forward, his face and hair covered in gushing blood.

The gathering mass of black goop was forming itself into a serpent, though it was sprouting some appendages that looked a bit like wings. Ron hit it with "Reducto," the flash of the spell striking the mass, but it seemed to absorb it without the usually concussive blast and continued to grow exponentially. Hermione, having somewhat recovered herself, drew her wand and began leveling every offensive spell she knew at it, without any meaningful effect.

The tar-like goop had formed into a snake-like creature, the wing-like growths becoming long thin arms tipped with sharp talons. It was already as tall as the table and increasing in size with every moment. Its eyes opened luminous red. The thing slashed at the air angrily, as it frantically took in what was happening around it.

"Ginny, the protection spell, quickly!" Helga's Portrait called loudly.

Ginny was covered in blood frantically trying to hold Harry's forehead closed against the freely flowing blood, but she heard the portrait and looked up momentarily to see the creature take a broad swipe at Harry's back. Reflexively she pulled Harry closer and if a talon made contact it was so clean a cut that she couldn't tell. She grabbed her wand and called out the spell the Founders had taught her "Perpetuum Praesidium." At once bright golden light burst from her wand leaping to the four gems which seemed to amplify the light and instantly formed a golden orb around her and Harry. She pulled Harry close and kept reciting the enchantment.

The creature fell upon the orb angrily frantically slamming the points of its talons upon it as though it desperately needed to reach Harry, ignoring everything and everyone else.

Ron stopped casting spells next to Hermione and turned away running back beyond the shelves. He was looking frantically for a weapon. He thought he had left one of the Basilisk fangs on the front tables, but as he scanned the tables, he didn't see it. He swore loudly, grabbed the nearest large knife, and racking his brain for a different spell he turned back to return to his friends. As he turned there was a bright flash at the green leather chair and the Sword of Gryffindor appeared there. "Now that's more like it!" he said. He grabbed the sword and ran around the other side of the shelves.

Hermione had given up trying spells and was wishing for a miracle. The Founder's Portraits were each yelling and calling at the creature trying to get its attention, but the creature wanted to reach Harry, it had managed to hack away at every exposed bit of the table that was outside the orb of protection, but it couldn't penetrate the golden light. It had even managed to sprout several more taloned appendages to no avail.

Ron came running around the edge of the shelves, now on the side of the room where the creature was attacking from. Hermione could see that Ron's arms were raised over his head and he had some sort of weapon he meant to bring down upon the thing. She screamed his name at the realization that Ron meant to physically attack what Hermione could only describe as a demon. At the last moment, the creature turned toward Ron's approach swinging wildly at its attacker, but the Sword of Gryffindor came down upon its head cleaving the snaky head cleanly in half between the eyes. Instantly the whole of the creature burst into black smoke and quickly disappeared into nothing. Ron was left panting, still swinging the sword through the dissipating wisps of blackness.

The Portraits of the Founders cheered and applauded.

Ginny, seeing the creature disappear, stopped chanting her spell and screamed for "Dobby!"

The little elf appeared almost immediately and taking in the view before him took on a look of horror. "The Hogwarts, hospital wing, NOW!" Ginny commanded. Harry, Ginny, and a fair amount of the heather, herbs, and candles as well, all disappeared at the snap of Dobby's fingers.

The room was suddenly silent.

---

While clearing up after cooking his breakfast, Draco discovered some very human-looking footprints around his campsite. He wondered if he hadn't been visited by a Curupira during the night. It may have purposely left the footprints hoping that Draco would follow them thinking they might lead him to safety. Of course, following a Curupira's footprints would be foolish as they would lead him in exactly the wrong direction. The fact that it was only footprints was good, Draco thought, as it meant he had done nothing to offend the creature, or the jungle, other than simply being out of place. Still, he was happy to be going in a different direction and away from a place where something or someone was aware of his presence.

With Zuiã as his guide, he moved along much faster, wasting no time deciding about which paths to take. She would have been happier to move off the ground and travel in the trees, but Draco impressed upon her that he was not equipped to travel that way. She became very content remaining on his shoulder and helping him to perceive the jungle through her much more highly attuned senses. Draco had gotten as good as most of the other boys at listening to the jungle and smelling for scents on the air, but experiencing these sensations through Zuiã, was on a whole other level.

They had not stopped for a meal during the day but Draco had gathered fruits, root vegetables, and mushrooms they encountered along the way. Zuiã, being an opportunistic feeder, had eaten insects and fruit at each of these stops, and seemed genuinely confused that Draco was waiting to eat later.

It had taken the better part of the day to reach the area of the jungle from Zuiã's memory. The jungle itself had grown denser and darker as they proceeded, and Draco was feeling less and less at ease. He had noticed that the jungle had grown quieter, which in his limited experience could mean the den of an alpha-level predator.

He initially felt that if they could find the wand, they should move on immediately, but there was another thought. The thought that if they could locate where the banished appeared, there might be much more to find, which would be in line with the purpose of his Spirit Quest. As he struggled with this train of thought Zuiã scampered down from his shoulder and bounded toward a nearby tree. She began searching through the vegetation at the base of the tree. Draco could tell she was very excited. As he approached, he saw movement near the ground coming around the bow of the tree behind her. His noticing alerted Zuiã and she quickly leaped away as a large snake reared its head back to strike at her. Acting just as quickly Draco drew his steel knife and threw it at the snake, catching it in the neck just behind its head and pinning it to the tree bow with a heavy thud. The snake writhed against the knife for a couple of minutes before falling still. Zuiã was exhilarated by the encounter, so pleased with Draco's warning that had saved her life. Draco too was exhilarated, feeling Zuiã's intense reaction and, seeing the snake's markings, realizing that it was a Bushmaster, perhaps the most poisonous snake in the jungle.

He paused to recognize his actions and thank the jungle for its sacrifice, in the tradition of the Spirit People. The snake would make a wonderful meal. He went forward to retrieve the snake and Zuiã again jumped from his shoulder to inspect the growth around the base of the tree.

The snake was quite large as Draco pulled it away from the tree. He estimated nearly two meters and it was far heavier than he would care to carry.

Moments later Zuiã chittered loudly and pulled up the wand from the grasp of the undergrowth. She very proudly presented the valued object to Draco.

Draco took the wand from Zuiã. It looked a little dinged and dented from hard use by its previous owner and weathered from its long stay out in the elements, but it still seemed straight and was a nice weight in his hand.

He brushed off a bit of earth from where it had laid on the ground for so long and gave the wand a quick flick with his wrist. Yellow sparks flew from the wand tip very responsively, and he felt pleased that the wand would work well for him. He found himself mentally reviewing his repertoire of spells. He had always, despite his reputation of resting on his family influence, earned quite good marks at Hogwarts. It also helped that each summer he'd had tutoring sessions, arranged by his father that taught him spells mostly discouraged within the Hogwarts curriculum.

Emboldened by a working wand, Draco decided to remain in place for the night. The sun was getting low in the sky, casting long shadows through the darkening jungle. He utilized a gardening spell to clear vegetation from a circle of ground about three meters in diameter and then set up several different wards and protection spells. Then he gathered wood to build a fire and finished cleaning the snake. He hung the snake from a low limb and skinned it neatly, keeping the hide as a "souvenir" of the manhood trials. He transfigured a bunch of firewood into a wooden bucket and filled it with clear water, which delighted Zuiã, who immediately took several large drinks. He magically orchestrated the construction of a shelter against any night and early morning rain and hung his hammock within it. Once his campsite was settled to his satisfaction, he transfigured a stone into a cast iron skillet and began cooking several pieces of the snake. He conjured some butter and spices to cook in and added pieces of manioc and mushroom from his collected provisions. He conjured a cloth sack to keep the remaining trimmed pieces of snake meat and cast a food preservation spell on it.

Zuiã meanwhile feasted on bits of fruit from the provisions bag and a large collection of insects she had captured during the campsite construction.

As Draco drifted to sleep that night with Zuiã tucked close at his neck, he found himself wondering if he should just head back to the boy's camp in the morning. He had been out for two days and two nights, and though he had done nothing as exciting as encounter an Iara, he had found a Familiar, killed a deadly snake, and found himself a wand. That would be enough to ensure his passing of the trials and secure his place amongst the people. After all, who was he to believe he might be destined for anything more?

---

Once Ginny, Dobby, and Harry had disappeared, Ron and Hermione were left in silence.

The Sword of Gryffindor disappeared from Ron's grasp, presumably returning to its place in the Headmistress' office.

Hermione cast a Reparo charm on the remains of the table and it quickly reformed into its previous solid state. She then cast Tergeo, cleaning away Harry's blood, the candles, herbs, and heather that was saturated.

"Shall we head to the hospital wing?" the Dumbledore card asked.

Ron looked up, he hadn't yet moved and still seemed a bit taken aback, "Yes, Professor," he said. "Definitely."

Ron gathered the card and base while Hermione assured the Portraits that they would return with news as quickly as possible and they slipped away through the lattice doorway into Hermione's dorm room. They burst through the door into the common room and headed off at a run through the portrait hole and off toward the hospital wing.

As they turned the corner to the hospital wing corridor, Headmistress McGonagall was there waiting for them.

"How is he?" Ron asked before coming to a stop.

"We got here as quickly as we could," Hermione added.

"Mr. Potter is physically fine. He is unconscious, however, in what a Muggle doc…" She caught herself and rephrased. "In what a non-magical doctor would call a coma." She looked at them quite sternly. "I do not suppose the two of you would care to explain why Mr. Potter should appear at this hour in the hospital wing with his face torn open and bleeding horribly?"

Hermione looked like she was about to try to dodge the Headmistress to get to Harry. Ron shoved his hand down into his pocket and pulled out the pewter base, and a now bent, Albus Dumbledore Chocolate Frog Card, and thrust them into the Headmistress' hands. Then both he and Hermione dashed around her and into the ward entrance.

McGonagall righted the base in her palm and dropped in the card.

"Oh dear," Albus Dumbledore said, noting the folded corner. "Mr. Weasley was in an understandable hurry."

"Indeed," came Minerva's curt response.

"I suppose some explanation is in order?" Albus asked.

"It would be appreciated," Minerva responded.

The hospital ward was neat and orderly. Harry was fully tucked into a bed toward the end of the office side row, in fresh hospital pajamas, and appeared to be sleeping. Ginny was seated on the edge of the bed next to him, all traces of blood had been removed, and she was holding her knees rocking back and forth.

"What happened?" Hermione asked as she came to Harry's bedside.

"He's in a coma!" Ginny choked through tears. Ron crossed to his sister sat on the bed next to her and hugged her close.

"He looks okay," Hermione said, "But it looked like his whole face was torn open?"

"Madam Pomfrey, fixed him," Ginny choked out. "She said it was quite easy to repair torn flesh, that the damage didn't even appear to be caused by magic, and that he will not even have a scar. But both she and Professor McGonagall would like to know what happened because ― look at Harry's forehead."

Hermione reached out and gently swept Harry's dark hair back off his forehead. "Where is it? What happened to his scar?" Hermione gasped.

"That thing, it must have been an actual part of Voldemort, and it's been attached to Harry all this time," Ron said in disbelief.

"You killed it, Ron," Hermione said. "With a weapon that would be required to kill a Horcrux."

"Was it a sliver of Voldemort's soul all this time?" Ginny sniffled.

"Well, I think we can assume that this was not something Voldemort did on purpose," Hermione said. "And thank goodness we learned this now and killed the damn thing."

"Now we just need Harry to wake up, so we can find out what, if anything, it took with it," Ron said a bit more callously than he intended. Ginny sobbed into Ron's shoulder.

Madam Pomfrey emerged from the office and approached them. She was quite earnest. "What can you tell me about what happened tonight to cause this," she gestured to Harry in his bed.

Ron spoke up. "You are a member of the Order, so you understand that there is only so much we can tell you but, I will say that Harry attempted to spy on Voldemort tonight through their mysterious connection. During that attempt, his scar burst open and something emerged."

Madam Pomfrey gasped despite herself. "Some sort of creature?"

"Well, it did take on a monstrous form, but the Sword of Gryffindor appeared to Ron, and with it, he was able to kill whatever it was and stop it from returning to Harry." Hermione blurted out.

"Extraordinary," Madam Pomfrey said. "I have never seen or heard of a curse so powerful that it could lay dormant for so long and still manifest in physical form. It is a wonder more damage wasn't done."

Just then the ward doors opened and Headmistress McGonagall stepped in. "Yes, it is a wonder," she said. "Now, however, it is over, it is very late and you must all get to your dormitory and your beds," her tone was quite final, "Mr. Potter is quite safe here under Madam Pomfrey's care. However, Dumbledore has made an unusual request. He has asked that Madam Pomfrey extract Harry's memory of tonight's event."

"Oh, no, Minerva," Madam Pomfrey, spoke up. "Harry is unable to give consent for such a procedure, and he has no next of kin. And even if he did have, such a procedure is overly invasive of personal privacy when one is in an unconscious state."

"I understand, Poppy, and I have already raised these concerns. However, Albus assures me that, Ginny Weasley is quite capable of giving consent on Harry's behalf, and once extracted the memory is to be given into her charge."

Ginny looked up at the two women in surprise. Madam Pomfrey stepped toward her. "Please stand for a moment, my dear." Ginny did as she was asked. Madam Pomfrey raised her wand and moved it in a counterclockwise circle over the top of Ginny's head. A thin halo of golden light emanated from the Hospital Matron's wand and fell like glitter down over Ginny's head. She stepped aside examining the side of her wand closely. She then moved over to Harry and performed the same incantation. "Hmm," was all she said when she examined Harry's apparent results. She turned back to the Headmistress. "Very well, if Miss Weasley wishes it, I'll do the extraction in the morning, until then, I suggest everyone go to their sleep."

"Very good," said Headmistress McGonagall. "That is quite enough for one evening. Off to bed with you all." She motioned Ron, Hermione, and Ginny toward the door.

Ron and Hermione, looking a bit confused, but very tired, started toward the door. Ginny, however, didn't move. Her voice came very resolutely. "Thank you, but I will not be leaving Harry's side tonight. And nothing you can say will make me."

The two older women looked at one another, then the Headmistress turned to leave. "Come you two," she said to Ron and Hermione, who followed her out of the ward.

"Well," Madam Pomfrey said. "You should at least change into pajamas if you plan on sleeping here." She pointed her wand at a supply cabinet near the entrance to her office and a set of pajamas floated out, crossing the room to Ginny, who had expected them to fight her on wanting to stay. Poppy turned toward her office speaking as she went. "Well, goodnight, Miss Weasley, I suggest you get some sleep. I told Dobby that Harry's elves could come to visit at seven. I would not expect them to be a second late."

"Good night," Ginny managed to squeak, still a bit flabbergasted. She changed quickly, laying her clothes out on the bed next to Harry's then slipped in next to Harry and nuzzled in close. "You had better wake up, Harry," she said. She rested her head where she could hear his steady heartbeat, and surprisingly she fell almost immediately to sleep.

---

Draco woke to the last vestiges of the morning rains. His shelter had worked very nicely and he woke both dry and warm, which was always preferred, but not guaranteed in the jungle. He didn't feel like he was in a particular hurry, so he took his time and rekindled the fire to cook some more of the snake for breakfast. Zuiã contentedly rooted out some of the remaining fruit from the provisions bag and after getting Draco to break it open, enjoyed a breakfast of maracuja and a couple of stray acai berries.

By the time he'd completed his breakfast, the sun was bright and most of the morning rain had given way to bright blue skies above. Draco enjoyed the jungle in the early morning sun, it was still cool enough for hard activity, but things had dried and the daytime animals were usually calling out the morning status. But in this part of the jungle things seemed far more quiet than normal and the heavy foliage and thick layers of the canopy above made it feel shadowed and mysterious.

As he magically dismantled his shelter and cleaned up the last of his campsite a thought occurred to him about artifacts potentially left behind by others who had been banished. He wondered if he could simply use the Summoning Spell to discover lost or abandoned objects.

Accio was a basic summoning spell. He had been taught that it worked according to a sort of hierarchy. It was best used to summon objects that were both magical, by nature or enchantment and the recognized possession of the spell caster. It could also be used to summon objects of a non-magical nature, as long as they were the possessions of the caster, and lastly, it could be used to summon magical items with no designated owner. Its basic advantage over other summoning spells was the fact that it did not require line-of-sight between object and spell caster.

Draco stepped to the edge of his defined camping circle and raising his wand shouted, "Accio Lost Wands," waving his arm in a quick broad circle. He tried to listen to the jungle, but he heard nothing unusual. He waited a minute standing there but nothing seemed to happen. Then, just as he turned and bent to pick up his provisions bag, he heard what sounded like something tossed into the trees and hitting branches as it fell to the ground, but it didn't sound like it was moving toward the ground. Rather, it sounded like it was approaching. He quickly cast a bubble of Arresto Momentum in the approximate place he had designated with the summoning spell.

A wand hit it a moment later and suddenly stopped mid-air. Draco reached into the bubble to retrieve it. It was a twisted branch-like thing with a thick oblong handle. He wondered if it was a Gregorovitch, as it did not conform to Ollivander's styling, but he had to admit that he did not know any way of detecting a wand's maker, and those were the only two he knew of by name.

A few moments later two more wands shot from the jungle and stuck in the bubble. He reached to retrieve them. Both were straight and more conforming to the typical styling of an Ollivander. Before he could remove them both, three more appeared.

As he pulled the last wand from the bubble he heard a screeching roar in the distance, it was difficult to judge how far through the thick jungle, but it was closer than he was comfortable with. It sounded familiar somehow, but mostly it was frightening. The screeching repeated, sounding angry. And after another minute Draco heard heavy flapping wings approaching, and he knew immediately that it was the dragon from his Spirit Dream. Moments later another four wands stuck themselves in the bubble followed almost immediately by something large passing overhead. He could not get a good look at it through the leaves, but judging from its direction it was headed toward the northeast, away from where he first heard it.

As no more wands seemed to be arriving, he hastily pulled the last from the bubble and bundled them together putting them in his provisions bag which he had magically modified with a featherweight charm so that even with the snake meat included the bag was light and easy to carry.

He was feeling a bit of panic as he finished taking down his wards and protections and he realized that much of this was coming from Zuiã who was rightly frightened by the notion of such a large predator. Draco held her in his hand and soothed her a bit, helping her to calm down, then he cast some protections and wards on her, which bolstered her courage considerably, though she was still a bit frightened when she realized that Draco wanted to go in the direction toward where the large creature had come from.

It hadn't been his initial plan, but once he'd been able to calm Zuiã, he realized that he was feeling some sort of draw to find the dragon's lair. He felt somehow that it was important for him to get there before the dragon returned.

With Zuiã on his shoulder adding her perceptions of the jungle to his own, Draco took off at a run in the direction from which he had heard the first screeching roar, vaulting over fallen trees and navigating the jungle with the agility added by the link with his Familiar.

He had run for perhaps five-hundred meters when the jungle opened up and seemed almost orderly, the massive trees seemed to be, for the most part, in rows and the ground was sloping gently downward. He could hear water ahead of him. He came quickly to the edge of a narrow river and as he approached the bank, he could see that directly across from him were the overgrown ruins of an ancient settlement surrounding what looked like a stepped stone pyramid. There seemed to be a large entrance at its base and dark smoke was billowing from it.

To his right, some ten meters were the remnants of an ancient stone road and a vine-laden bridge over the river. He quickly made his way across the bridge and with an eye to the skies he approached the large opening. Cautiously he moved into the structure. The stone floor was angled slightly downward descending steadily toward the center of the pyramid. He was soon out of range of the light and illuminated his wand with Lumos to see his way. He stepped on something that snapped like a dried twig, only to discover the floor was littered with bones. Not just any bones, these appeared to be the bones of large animals including cattle, possibly llamas, and even what looked to Draco like a bear skull. This suggested that the dragon's typical hunting range was west nearer the mountains, but among these bones were also several human skulls.

Draco proceeded deeper with redoubled caution. He had no desire to encounter a dragon, yet he was feeling a compulsion pulling him deeper. Zuiã was registering her displeasure in small, quiet, frightened sounded screeches. Draco could not explain it, but something was compelling him forward. He could see firelight coming from a chamber ahead. He emerged into a large room where the walls were covered with soot and scorch marks. There was a nest of sorts here built upon piles of wood, vegetation, and bones. It looked to Draco as though the dragon had very recently breathed fire at several points within the chamber leaving multiple fires still burning in piles of refuse and excess nest materials.

Looking around more carefully there seemed to be two openings in each of the other three walls. It was difficult to notice them at first because of the blackness of the walls. Draco moved counter-clockwise around the central nest structure shining his wand light into the passages. The first two seemed to be narrow passages that descended deeper into the pyramid structure, he could not make out great detail. The next two passages opposite the entrance seemed to be an adjoined room and this was the dragon's hoard as it was filled with piles of gold and silver, artifacts, idols, statues, armor, weapons, and piles of coins that seemed to be mostly Spanish doubloons. There was no organization, everything seemed to have been swept into the space, most likely by the dragon's tail. From the look of it, Draco thought that this had probably been a dragon's home for several generations. The thought occurred to him that this was a treasure far exceeding his family's fortune, but he dismissed the thought as quickly as it came, as the new life he envisioned for himself involved no need for riches.

He started to turn toward the remaining passages, but a glint of some metal caught his eye. He shone his wand light in the direction of the reflection and there he saw a dagger atop a random collection of coins and artifacts. He stepped closer thinking this looked somehow familiar. It was a silver hilt set with rubies and a blade of perhaps thirty-five centimeters in a metal and leather-wrapped sheath. He found himself reaching for the thing, but Zuiã screeched caution into his ear and he pulled back. He drew his wand and cast Revelio on the dagger to no apparent effect. He performed a curse-checking spell, which also revealed no result, and yet he could feel a compulsion to grab the thing, as though it somehow wanted him to take it with him. Such a compulsion was almost always the effect of a curse, and yet he could not detect anything.

He levitated it and brought it close. He was sure he had seen this or something of very similar design, but he could not quite work it out. He gave up and grabbed the dagger floating in front of him, bracing for some curse effect, but nothing happened. He drew it from its sheath revealing a name inscribed on the blade. Godric Gryffindor was etched along the fuller in vertical letters.

Draco's mind was suddenly filled with more questions than he could formulate. He sheathed the blade and strapped the sheath to his waist next to the sheath of his steel knife. The dagger must have come here with someone banished by Voldemort. But why a dagger of Gryffindor's? And, if this dagger were the mate to the famous Sword of Gryffindor, which is why it'd seemed so familiar, why was it in the possession of someone Voldemort would have banished? The possibilities were too many to spin in his mind. It would have to remain a question unanswered. At least it explained the compulsion, Draco thought. This was a magical artifact and he, being a former Hogwarts student, knew at least where it came from. The compulsion was a magical object wanting to be returned to where it belonged. He'd heard of such things, he thought.

Zuiã was anxious to get out of this place. She seemed satisfied that the dagger was the answer to why Draco needed to come here, but now that he had it, they needed to leave before the dragon returned. She tugged at his hair and chittered anxiously.

Draco continued counterclockwise around the nest, but he was no longer concerned about the remaining passages. The stone floor here was still warm from dragon fire. He paused only to shine his wand light down the first passage, before moving to the next. When he shined his light down the last passage, he saw what looked like a body on the ground, mostly around the corner, it startled him which caused Zuiã to screech in fright.

"Who's there?" Draco called.

"Dracho, is that you?" came the pleading response. "Please help me."

Draco recognized the voice of Kúmmeté, his fellow candidate. He rushed into the passage and turned the corner finding the boy lying chest to the ground. Kúmmeté, had been burned quite badly over nearly half his body. It appeared that he had also been slashed across his back, but the deep gashes had been cauterized by fire and so he was not bleeding terribly. Draco had never been the best with healing charms but he attempted to use Vulnera Sanentur on Kúmmeté's back to some effect. He also cast a pain-numbing charm to give him some relief.

"How did you come here, Dracho?" Kúmmeté asked. "And where did you find a magic stick?"

"It is a long story to tell," Draco said. "Let's get out of here first and get you better help. Can you stand?" Draco used the Bandaging Charm to wrap the burns on Kúmmeté's left leg, back, and much of his left arm. Then, supporting him from his right side, got him to his feet and started out of the pyramid.

As they moved, he asked Kúmmeté to tell how he had come to this place, to keep him talking and distracted.

"This is Tenochćotitũlla, the original city of the Spirit People. We were driven from it many generations ago by the great winged serpent god called Chiquett-ká-Tahãken. She stole a great magical stone that protected the city from our enemies. When I realized that I was near the ruins, I decided to come to see them and try to find the stone." Kúmmeté explained as they slowly walked out of the pyramid, Draco supporting him all the way. "It would be the greatest honor to take back our history."

"You went into a winged serpent's lair without even a wand?" Draco asked, very impressed. If there was a word for dragon in the Spirit People's language, he didn't yet know it.

"I hoped I would find a magic stick in there. It is known that people, like you, have mysteriously shown up here, most with "wands" as you say, like the one you have now. Most of those people ended up in the belly of Chiquett-ká-Tahãken. Others were consumed by the jungle itself. You are the first to ever come to us and survive, Dracho. You were found during a Spirit Quest. Other boys have come to this place and found magic sticks; it is considered extremely dangerous."

"How did you survive?" Draco asked.

When I entered the temple, I could hear Chiquett-ká-Tahãken sleeping. I was very quiet and I hoped that would be enough. In the near darkness, I could see the stone gently glowing somewhere beneath Chiquett-ká-Tahãken's nest, but there was no way to reach it without moving the nest. Chiquett-ká-Tahãken woke and breathed fire which I was able to dodge at first. I tried to escape down the passageway when the fire caught me as I turned the corner. I thought I would die, but there were some sudden loud noises like something banging against the walls, and that distracted Chiquett-ká-Tahãken. Whatever made the noise must have left the temple because Chiquett-ká-Tahãken followed screeching angrily. I was certain I would die. I do not know how long it was, but when I saw your light and heard your voice, I knew I was saved."

"We'll be safe once we reach the cover of the jungle," Draco said. As they reached the mouth of the passageway and emerged into the bright sunlight, he scanned the sky but could see no sign of anything flying.

"No, Dracho, the jungle will not give us safety," Kúmmeté said. "When Chiquett-ká-Tahãken returns she will get our scent from her nesting chamber and she will hunt us, even now I may have brought her vengeance upon the village. The winged serpent god goes to the mountains to hunt, but when others have come to her nest, she has visited the village in retribution."

"That is what I saw in my Spirit dream," Draco gasped. "Chiquett-ká-Tahãken, attacking the village!" The thought of his vision being true, and further, the thought of being hunted by a dragon caused Draco to experience the first genuine fear he had felt in months. He swallowed hard and resolved that there was nothing to be done, but to face whatever fate was coming.

He walked Kúmmeté to a large stone and helped him sit. "What do you know about fighting winged serpents, Kúmmeté?"

"Only that, legend says Chiquett-ká-Tahãken can be killed by the magic of the temple stone she stole. None have ever recovered the stone, and none have ever defeated her." Kúmmeté responded slowly. "I am sorry, Dracho, I have killed us both by bringing the wrath of a god down upon us."

"Nonsense!" Draco said reactively. "I will not accept that Chiquett-ká-Tahãken is a dragon, not a god, and I have seen dragons defeated firsthand, they are just magical creatures, and it requires magic to defeat them."

"You are much braver than I, Dracho," Kúmmeté said, "but I am afraid our time is nearly done." He pointed to the sky behind Draco.

Draco turned and there in the distance was something, in flight, approaching. "You cannot fight in your condition," Draco said helping him up. "You must hide." There was a gap where a large stone slab had fallen against another. "Crawl in here, I will face the dragon." He practically pushed Kúmmeté into the space and shoved his provisions bag and hammock in after him. He pulled Zuiã off his shoulder and set her down on the ground in front of the triangular gap. "You too. Zuiã, you stay here with Kúmmeté, and if I am defeated, escape to the jungle." She protested loudly, but she did as she was told, backing fearfully into the opening.

Draco turned and bolted away from their hiding space toward the open area, which must have once been a market outside the temple. He took a deep breath and forced his hands to quit shaking. He raised his wand hand and mentally prepared his first spell.

This dragon was smaller in the body than any he had seen before but head to tail he suspected it was longer. Both the neck and tail were longer and more flexible than other species. He suddenly wished he had paid more attention in Hagrid's Care of Magical Creatures class.

This dragon glinted several colors as it seemed to slither its way through the sky the sun shining off its metallic copper scales. Based on what he did remember this had to be a Peruvian Vipertooth, which meant a few things. It would be a nostril fire-breather like the Chinese Fireball, so its fire would be in quick bursts, not in long streams like the Hungarian Horntail or the Norwegian Ridgeback, and its preferred killing method would be its venomous bite. Like the Vipers, it borrowed its name from. One thing Draco did remember was that the Vipertooth was the only dragon species that preferred eating humans.

As it grew nearer Draco was horrified to realize that it was still clutching two villagers in its talons.

He set his stance and held his ground as the dragon came ever closer. It swept down at him releasing its victim's bodies like projectiles, just as it sent a series of staccato fireballs at Draco.

Watching carefully Draco cast an ice shield, a thick spherical wall of ice manifesting, upon which the dragon's fireballs burst one after the other. The splashing dragon fire melted the shield almost as fast as Draco could maintain it and he was surrounded by a bright blast of flame, steam, and water, but he was unharmed. He had barely registered the sickening sound of the villager's corpses slamming into the ground near him and rolling like cast-away ragdolls into impediments of stone ruin.

The dragon arced upwards, turning sharply to make another pass, coiling its body in complex aerodynamics. Draco cast Bombarda Maxima as the dragon reached its apex but the resulting explosions seemed to have little to no effect on the creature, as it swept toward him. He used another ice shield to withstand a second assault of fireballs but was knocked off his feet as the dragon landed hard, causing the ground to shake. He managed to get back to his feet and dodge behind stone ruins as the dragon whipped its tail around crushing more of the stones out of place.

Draco staggered from behind large stones with a bleeding gash across his forehead where the shattered stone had struck him. He fell to his knees and clutching around in a panic found a small bit of dried wood. He wiped the blood from his face with his wand forearm and turned to see the dragon baring down on him ready to strike with a deadly venomous bite. He flung up the small piece of wood and screamed "Engorgio" as the wood moved toward the approaching fangs. The bit of wood suddenly became a large log as the dragon's jaws clamped down upon it. The weight caused the thrust of the dragon's head to fall short and Draco felt the impact of the log breaking ribs on his left side as it hurled him away. He struggled to breathe as the dragon shook its head wildly, trying to dislodge its fangs from the heavy log.

Draco struggled to think, knowing that at any moment the dragon would fling the log from its jaws and bring its deadly fangs down upon him. The pain in his head and side was enormously distracting, but Voldemort himself had taught him, by force, to endure pain. He needed to think; a dragon could only be felled by a magic weapon, that much he knew, but where was he to get such a weapon? Then it struck him like a bolt. He had the Dagger of Gryffindor strapped to his hip. How could I have been so stupid, he thought. He dropped his wand and drew the dagger, forcing himself to his feet. He turned to see the dragon once again baring down upon him, and he knew he was too late.

A huge block of stone from the ruins impacted the side of the dragon's head right in front of him, so close he could feel the air it pushed. A second block followed causing the dragon to recoil, drawing itself back and rearing up on its hind legs, beating its wings to regain stability.

Draco looked to his side and there was Kúmmeté, he had found the extra wands and crawled from his hiding place to help. He was casting large bits of stone ruin at the dragon one after the other.

Draco found his balance and tested the weight of the dagger in his hand. He fixed his eye on the dragon's exposed chest beneath its wings and with all his might threw the dagger.

The thump of impact as the dagger blade penetrated the dragon's thinner under-scales and buried itself to the hilt was nothing compared to the sudden roar of the stricken dragon. Reflexively, un-aimed, huge fireballs shot from its up-raised nostrils in loud explosive bursts. The strength seemed to leave its lower body as its back feet collapsed under its weight. The neck and head fell to the ground with a heavy thud and a gurgling death rattle.

Draco didn't move. Kúmmeté was suddenly at his side. "You did it Dracho, you defeated Chiquett-ká-Tahãken, I did not believe it possible," the boy was saying excitedly.

Draco bent down to pick up his wand. He stepped closer to the now seemingly lifeless head of the dragon and pushed the side of its head with his foot. The only reaction was the head falling back in its place.

Kúmmeté moved carefully toward the dragon's exposed chest and pointed at the hilt of the dagger jutting from the scales, "Where did you get this weapon Dracho?"

Draco moved to the Dragon's chest and took hold of the hilt of the dagger. "It was in Chiquett-ká-Tahãken's lair, but it is a weapon from my home." Kúmmeté's eyes grew wide with wonder.

Draco pulled the dagger downward with all his force. Surprisingly, it sliced cleanly through the dragon's scales with relative ease. Clearly, it was a more powerful magical weapon than he had thought. He pulled it free and noticed that the blood remaining on the blade seemed to be absorbed into the weapon itself. He sheathed it at his side.

They both took a moment to thank the jungle for their victory and its generosity, in the tradition of the people.

Zuiã appeared around the head of the slain beast, she chittered loudly, announcing her presence. She was dragging the featherweight charmed provisions bag along with her. Draco collected her and the bag.

"Can we go back now?" Draco asked wearily.

"Yes," Kúmmeté responded. "It is a long walk, and we are both wounded, but we might make it in two days."

Draco chuckled, "Kúmmeté, have you ever heard of Apparition?"

The younger boy smiled his ignorance.

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Chapter Thirty- Four

Breaking and Entering