Chapter 6

Harry found Draco heading down to the dungeons. He smirked and snuck over to the blond.

Draco hadn't spoken to Harry since Wood had challenged Flint to a game. He had stared at him a lot, though, as if trying to figure out why Harry had changed. He hadn't sneered or glared, either, just looked thoughtful.

Quickly, Harry gently shoved Draco into a nearby classroom and shut the door, casting a few anti-eavesdropping spells that Tom had taught him. Then he turned to face Draco, who had his wand out.

"Hello, Draco," Harry said calmly.

"Potter," Draco responded cautiously. "What do you want?"

"A favor."

Draco's expression became shrewd. "And what makes you think I'm going to give you a favor, Potter?"

Harry smiled maliciously, and Draco looked startled. "Because I'm going to give you a favor in return. What do you think of me helping you give Slytherin the House Cup this year?"

"And how are you going to do that, Potter?" Draco demanded, eyes glittering. He put his wand away, so Harry knew he was hooked.

"The Demon twins are going to help, a lot," Harry replied. Draco looked stunned. "I have a few other allies that will help with this, but I'm not going going to tell you until the end of the year. Now, about my favor... I need you to send a letter to Gringotts for me, as well as a few other things."

"Why can't you do it?" Draco asked.

"Because I can't risk Dumbledore reading it," Harry said flatly. "He reads my mail before I send it off, so I can't write anything that will make him suspicious."

"Why would this letter make him suspicious?"

"I'm going to ask the goblins for a blood test, so I can see if I'm descended from either Gryffindor or Slytherin," Harry responded. "Fred, George, and I want to be resorted-" Draco's jaw dropped "-and I'd rather not have to get permission from Dumbledore or McGonagall, because they won't give it."

Draco was silent for a moment, still looking stunned. Then he shook himself and asked, "What are the other things I have to do for you?"

"Bring me the answer when Granger and Ronald Weasley aren't around," Harry answered, "and, if they agree to send me a blood test, give me that secretly as well."

"Why do you want to be resorted?" Draco frowned.

"Because Gryffindor is too loud and incredibly rude," Harry said dryly, "and, as it is, I don't feel it's my true House." He didn't tell Draco that he knew it wasn't his true House.

"I'll do it," Draco said finally. "I assume you want to send the letter now?"

"Yes, I want to get out of Gryffindor as soon as possible," Harry sneered. He pulled the letter out of his robes and handed it to Draco. "I've asked the goblins to send the response, and, hopefully, the blood test papers, to you. You will probably get a reply tomorrow. I'll be in this classroom after lunch."

Draco nodded, glancing over the letter. "Where'd you learn the proper goblin greetings?" he asked with surprise.

"That, Draco, is my business," Harry said coolly. "I'll see you tomorrow."

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"Ah, here's the scalawag!" Lockhart said cheerfully, beaming down at Harry. "Come in, Harry, come in-"

"Professor," Harry said softly, not entering, "I didn't give you permission to call me by my first name. If you would kindly call me Mr. Potter, I would appreciate it."

Lockhart frowned slightly at the hint of acid in Harry's tone, but then he hitched a smile back onto his face. "Ah, but Harry, as one celebrity to another-"

"If you continue to call me Harry, then it gives me the right to ignore you, Professor," Harry interrupted coldly, and Lockhart paled slightly.

"Y-yes, all right, Mr. Potter," Lockhart said nervously. He shook himself. "Well, let's begin your detention, shall we?"

Harry rolled his eyes and entered the office. After sneering inwardly at the multiple beaming portraits of the hated Defense professor, he sat down regally in the chair across from Lockhart's.

The annoying man had regained his smile and was saying, "You can address the envelopes! This first one's to Gladys Gudgeon, bless her -- huge fan of mine-"

Harry stopped himself from glaring at the professor as he carefully wrote down the woman's address. Did the man have to mention that he was famous in every sentence? He couldn't tell if Lockhart was trying to kiss up to him or if he was trying to assert himself over him -- either one would make the idiot even more important.

Several hours passed in excruciating boredom. Harry was forced to listen to Lockhart babble on about his fans and tell him useless, annoying sayings like "Fame's a fickle friend, Harry" (like he didn't know that already) and "Celebrity is as a celebrity does, remember that." At some point, he tuned out the man's irritating chatter and focused on the envelopes.

And then he heard something that wasn't Lockhart -- a cold, chilling voice filled with venom.

Come... come to me.... Let me rip you.... Let me tear you.... Let me kill you....

Harry stared down at the letter addressed to Veronica Smethley, not really seeing the words. What on earth had that voice belonged to? Clearly, it wasn't human -- the voice had a slightly hissy sound to it, and Harry was sure he'd never heard another human speak like that.

He glanced up at Lockhart, who now chatting about a werewolf he'd turned back into a human. He hadn't reacted to the voice, which meant that only Harry could hear it. That was very, very bad.

"Professor," Harry said quietly, and Lockhart jumped. "What time is it?" He wanted to get back to Tom and ask him about the voice.

Lockhart looked at the clock and blinked. "It's nearly midnight! I suppose I should escort you back to your common room, then, so you don't get in trouble for being out past curfew, Ha -- Mr. Potter."

"I appreciate it, Professor," Harry said sweetly, and for some reason, Lockhart blanched.

He smirked inwardly as the two walked up to Gryffindor tower. His smugness was replaced by curiosity and wariness; whatever the voice belonged to was dangerous. He needed to talk to Tom.