35-36

Chapter 35: No Way Out

The remembrall was red. Hot, bloody, scarlet, Hellfire RED. And the worst part was, Albus wasn't even that concerned. Hadn't he already suspected that someone had tampered with his memories?

Albus sighed. He was so old now that he probably had forgotten a million things and then forgotten that he had forgot in the first place. He was more concerned about Neville: No normal boy woke up as if they had just seen Voldemort in the flesh! The boy had practically been dripping with sweat! But who had gotten close enough to the great Albus Dumbledore to obliviate him? That was one question. The other was Why?

Suddenly, there was a knock on his door, breaking his train of thought. Albus frowned. Now who on earth could that be? He opened his palm towards the entrance and the door burst open, revealing one pleasant-looking Severus Snape, which was to say, the man was frowning as usual.

"Ah, Severus! To what do I owe the pleasure? Lemondrop?" Albus offered with a forced smiled.

"I'm not in the mood for your blasted sweets today, Albus," Snape snapped at him. "Not when the time is so near."

Not having had put a lot of effort in his appearance anyway, Albus let his face fall. "Have you been summoned?" he whispered worriedly.

"Not yet," Severus said, unconsciously flexing his left arm where that sadistic bastard had branded him long ago. "But the mark is becoming darker each day." He fixed the headmaster with a steady stare. "And Bellatrix Lestrange was wandering the Forbidden Forest last week."

Now this really caught the headmaster's attention. "I...see." was all he could manage.

"You see?" Severus repeated, raising his eyebrows. "What do you see? Bellatrix has all but waltzed into Hogwarts, plotted with Barty Crouch Jr. and Draco Malfoy, and killed every one of us!"

"But she couldn't have," Albus disagreed with certainty. "The wards-"

"The wards! Like the wards that kept Harry Potter safe?" Severus hissed accusingly, his eyes sharp as daggers. There was a momentary pause where Severus rebuilt his collected mask.

Albus bowed his head in defeat, "I will ask Minerva to organize a party to strengthen the wards. But we really can't intrude on the Forbidden Forest. That territory belongs to the wildlife."

Snape folded him arms. He knew that of course, but it was still frustrating.

"Severus?" Snape looked at him sourly. "I'll be journeying to the cave in two weeks' time. Kingsley will be taking care of the castle in my stead."

"So when the Dark Lord decides to resurrect himself, you'll probably be away from the castle?" Severus jeered. "Well, that's just bloody perfect!"

"Kingsley is more than capable of handling situations like these," Albus reassured him. "It just requires a little trust."

"Oh, it's not him I don't trust," Snape muttered under his breath. He looked away from the headmaster, at the bird that was now preening its feathers. "I have potions to attend to," he said shortly. And left.

.oOo.

It was always the same dream. Except that it was different somehow. He was no longer the snake, Nagini, whom Voldemort called his pet. He was now just Hasan. Hasan who was freely walking among the rows of prophecies. Voldemort had not made an appearance in a while. Which was strange, thought Hasan, since wasn't Voldemort the only reason why he would ever go down to the Department of Mysteries?

"So how did you sleep?" Luna asked him with a brilliantly bright smile on her face.

Hasan scooped some eggs onto his plate as he thought of a way to hide the truth. No need to worry her over a little nothing.

"Hasan?" Luna prodded when he had been silent for a while.

"Oh, sorry. I was just thinking."

"Of what?" Luna asked, all happy again.

"Nothing."

"Huh." Luna frowned at him. "Don't lie to me Hasan. Remember we're friends, right? You can tell me anything."

Hasan sighed, glancing around the table. He silently erected a privacy ward which he knew Luna could sense since she seemed to grow even more interested- if that was even possible.

"I- I've been dreaming of the Department of Mysteries," Hasan confessed, "and I don't know why."

Luna pursed her lips in thought. "Well, there is a prophecy there about you…"

"I know, but...it's not my prophecy, I think. The thing is, I don't and can't remember whose it was. But I remember what it said."

"Go on."

"Well..." Hasan paused. Goddamn it! The words had escaped him like smoke. "I thought I did," he blushed. "But it was about unicorns and blood and- and something? I don't know. It just seems-Hey, hey, Luna?"

But as he glanced over at her he noticed that her silvery eyes had glazed over. Recognition flashed through him: the Inspiration had taken hold of her once again.

"The one who knows reaches a crossroads..." Luna muttered under her breath. Hasan leaned in closer. Yes! Yes! That was it!

But then she stopped. And the words stopped. And Hasan's heart sank.

"Ahh! So what were we talking about?" Luna wondered dreamily.

"I-you-" Hasan stared at her. "That was the prophecy!"

She looked at him dubiously. "No it wasn't, silly. I'm not a seer."

Hasan frowned. But he had heard her, hadn't he? And...if she hadn't made this prophecy...then maybe it was already in existence? And it couldn't be fake if it appeared in both his dreams and now, right? Then that meant- his eyes widened- that his dream was partially true. This prophecy could be found in the Department of Mysteries!

He turned to Luna, about to spill his thoughts of a possible plan, when the bell rang to signal the end of breakfast. Lunch then. Okay. He could wait that long.

.oOo.

"Mr. Malfoy, if you could please hang back a moment," Moody barked loudly. When the classroom had emptied, Draco warily approached the false professor.

"What is it?" Draco asked him, bag slung over his shoulder to indicate he wanted to leave as soon as possible.

"It's time," Moody said cryptically.

"Time...time for what?" Draco squinted at him, unable to make out what he meant.

Moody smirked, in a way which told of a thousand things at once, none of them good.

"For you to report your findings, Mr. Malfoy. The staff has been notified earlier this morning that the headmaster will be making, shall we say, a small excursion in one week. This will be the perfect opportunity for us to sneak out as well."

Draco paled. He had known this was coming, but...he swallowed. This was just insane!

"But-but what if it's a rouse? What if he knows someone's going to try something?"

Moody broke out into a crazed smile, "I've a spy of sorts to keep me informed of the headmaster's location. You're not getting out of this that easily, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco swallowed.

"One week," Moody repeated. "Now get out!"

.oOo.

Draco left the defense room shaking, mind in an absolute frenzy. What the fucking hell was he supposed to tell the Dark Lord? That Hasan was taking Luna Lovegood to the dance? That he had been dating her for a while without getting that far psychically? Wow. Voldemort would be so impressed! Maybe he'd even let Draco die without any additional cruciatus curses!

Bitterly, Draco trudged into the Great Hall and sat down for lunch besides Daphne and Tracey. A tuna fish sandwich magically appeared on his plate, which he picked up delicately and ate. Hasan and his girlfriend, Luna, sat across from him, their mouths moving just barely in a conversation. Wow, maybe if he just eavesdropped on their lover's lunch chatter Voldemort would really spare him!

He took a sip of pumpkin juice. What were they even talking about anyway? Draco frowned into his plate as he tried and failed to hear what they were saying. And yet their mouths kept moving…His eyes widened in realization. They had cast a privacy charm! Perhaps this conversation was a little bit more interesting than he had previously thought. Summoning his inner magic, Draco flicked his wand beneath the table at the couple, thinking of dissipating the wards. He felt his magic buckle under the pressure, but he doubled his advances. It was not so much his magic this time that told him he had succeeded as much as it was Hasan and Luna suddenly glaring at him.

Oh dear.

"Uh-m," Draco mumbled, mind suddenly useless.

Luna suddenly elbowed Hasan beneath the table, which Draco completely missed.

"So how are you doing these days, Draco?" Hasan asked him in a suspiciously pleasant tone of voice.

"As well as can be expected with all this snow," Draco said tonelessly. What were they up to?

"Are you perhaps interested in adding a little excitement to your life?" Luna enquired, silver eyes as big as a doe's.

Wait, what? Draco blinked a few times before he thought he understood what was going on.

"Aren't you-? Aren't you-?" mad at me, he wanted to say.

"Planning something incredibly secret?" Luna supplied. "Well, yes, maybe. But you can keep a secret, right, Draco?"

Draco gave a stiff nod, eyes seeking out Hasan's, but the jade-eyed boy refused to look at him. Why were they extending him this invitation if Hasan clearly didn't want him here? But then Hasan turned his eyes towards him and nodded very minutely as if giving his acceptance of the situation.

"Draco, you can't tell Professor Dumbledore or Professor Snape. No one can know about this, okay?" Hasan said.

Again, Draco nodded dumbly. "I promise, I won't!"

Luna cracked a smile. "Good. Well then I suppose we can let him in on the whole thing, right Hasan?"

"I suppose so," Hasan said apathetically. Draco couldn't discern anything from his voice. Was he happy at this turn of events? Or was he seething? Angry that Draco had invaded his privacy...again.

"Well...Hasan had this great idea to go to the Department of Mysteries to look for a prophecy!" Luna began.

The Department of- Draco's eyes bugged out of his head. "But Amelia Bones and Moody weres-!"

"That was months ago!" Luna waved him off, as if one death and a slightly dangerous attack were of little consequence. "Besides, they offer visitors' hours, don't they? It can't be that unsafe. Millions of people work at the Ministry everyday!"

"Well, I guess," Draco said, unconvinced.

"Draco, you're either all in or you're all out," Hasan said, meeting Draco's eyes directly.

For some illogical reason, Hasan was placing all his faith in their broken friendship on this one moment. Please say yes, Hasan thought, even as doubt clouded the other's eyes.

"I'm in," Draco decided quickly. "Now when do you propose on doing this?" he asked.

Hasan nearly sighed out in relief.

"Who knows?" Luna shrugged. "We only thought of it today. We need to plan."

"I thought there were no dangers," Draco accused.

"I thought you were all in," Hasan countered pointedly.

"Fine, fine..." Draco glanced nonchalantly at the staff table, feeling a shiver run through him as Moody stared down at them all, not even trying to look as if he wasn't. "But you'll let me know when you're going, right?" he asked, returning his gaze to the two of them.

Neither appeared to have seen him glance at Moody- "Yeah, we will." –So then, why did Hasan's voice sound as sharp as a razor's edge?

.oOo.

One Week Later.

Barty Crouch Jr. abruptly let go of his arm, sending Draco spiraling towards the throne room. The Malfoy heir resisted the urge to clutch his injured arm like a schoolgirl, instead he chose to steady himself with dignity before making his first grand entrance.

"For your sake, I hope you've scavenged something useful since the last time we've talked."

Draco barred his teeth, but the man had already turned around. Barty was no longer polyjuiced as the most-likely dead auror, but bore his proper countenance. One which was ugly, scarred, and full of vicious glee. Damned bastard probably wants me to fail, Draco muttered to himself. It would certainly work to his advantage- the Malfoys were the most loyal family and Draco was next to take the mantle. Getting rid of the boy ensured Barty the opportunity to take his place.

Well, Draco had no intention of dying today if he could help it! He was positive that his information would be more than enough to satisfy the Dark Lord. Even Snape, as close to Hasan as he was, didn't know Hasan like Draco did. Only Draco had access to this information, he was sure of it.

He took a deep breath, and pushed the door open.

There was a figure upon the throne, one that was between man and creature. The figure was shrouded in shadow, but two red eyes blazed forth from the darkness like two rubies or some other fantastical stone. Draco immediately felt self-conscious in his silly school robes. Here he was, a mere child, prepared to serve the greatest wizard of all time! Hastily, he fell to his knees and waited.

The Dark Lord smiled in amusement. Here Draco was, but a few years younger than Lucius was when he first came to him. And in fact, Draco was but two years younger than he was when he first decided to split his soul.

"Draco Malfoy, what a pleasure," Voldemort purred, considering the small form before him. "You have news for me, I expect?"

"Yes, my lord!" Draco said quickly, mouth to the floor. His limbs were fast becoming cramped and he worried he wouldn't be able to get up without stumbling first.

"Arise, my loyal servant." Voldemort smiled, eyes gleaming in the darkness. "Tell me what you have learned."

Without hesitation, Draco hurried to straighten himself, trying not to smooth down his robes or fidget too much, before replying, "I have been observing Hasan Castell very closely these past months, my lord. I can't say he has a very striking personality. If anything, he's awkward- terribly awkward. I don't quite know how he has managed to make friends except that he's intelligent."

"And what of these friends?" Voldemort asked softly. "Are they useful to him in any way? What does he need them for?"

Draco licked his lips. He couldn't very well say companionship, could he? That would be worth at least one cruciatus.

"Well, my lord, he has befriended a mudblood, no doubt for her uncanny intelligence as she is unworthy in her birth. He has also made alliances with other pureblooded families within Slytherin. I suspect he is building up his own supporters." He wasn't sure if Hasan was consciously building an army or not, but the more Draco thought about it, the more he began thinking it might be true. He had said it at first to impress the Dark Lord, but really, hadn't Draco thought it odd himself when in their first year Hasan had assembled the best and brightest of all the houses?

The Dark Lord hummed in a very pleasant manner. So Harry Potter was preparing, was he? It certainly promised of a better cat-and-mouse game when the opponent wasn't a complete idiot. His mind began to churn. It would be a game of subtle manipulation. Of pushes and pulls, rooks and knights and castles. The question was, which pawn to use first? What was the best first move? What could he destroy while leaving the rest intact, broken, but alive. Barely breathing. That's how he liked his victims in the past.

Harry Potter, while fascinating, would prove to be no different. He would beg for death like the rest of them. He just needed to know all the pawns...

"Barty Crouch Jr. has been informing me of your performance, the reason for which you have no doubt deduced by now."

Draco swallowed. "My lord?"

"He wants to steal your position, Draco," Voldemort explained with the patience of a mother ducking teaching its ducklings to swim for the first time. His red eyes gleamed. "He wants your power. He lusts for your spot besides me among my inner circle. And he wishes I will kill you when I have learned you have nothing more to offer than any poor mudblood would after witnessing Hasan Castell chatting in the corridors!" Voldemort snarled, revealing ghastly white teeth. "But I don't believe that is all you have to tell me, is it, Draco?" he continued in a soothing hum. "I can feel it thrumming in your brain, just beneath your skull and fragile scalp. You're about ready to burst, aren't you?"

"He's planning a trip to the Department of Mysteries!" Draco blurted, before stepping back at once, terrified he had spoken out of turn.

Voldemort's face melted into a blank mask. Draco couldn't tell if he was pleased with the news or infuriated that Hasan was planning such a feat. "Is he?" Voldemort asked dangerously. But inside he was excited. Now this was news! Had his visions affected the boy after all? Could he send him more? Could he, with time, develop this weapon against the boy? Attack the mind to kill the body?

"Yes, with his girlfriend, Luna Lovegood- um, she's an odd witch who everyone thinks is a bit crazy and-"

It was impossible to think with all of Draco's inane rambling!

"CRUCIO!" the Dark Lord shouted.

Suddenly Draco was on his knees gasping as pain wracked through his body. His bloody eyeballs were on fire! Ribs, broken and re-broken, kneecaps sliced and fused together. The Dark Lord lifted the curse lazily with a sigh. Usually the screams of his victims calmed him, but he found the Malfoy heir only served to make an unbearable racket. And besides, he already had a plan, didn't he? No need to totally break the Malfoy boy when the fun was just beginning…

.oOo.

Draco's eyes snapped open with a jolt as realization hit him. The Dark Lord had just crucio'd him...for rambling! Draco gaped in shock as if he had just been slapped in the face. How could that man just do that to him? Draco hadn't even done anything, let alone anything wrong! But he couldn't get angry. That was the Dark Lord for Salazar's sake!

"When are they going?" Voldemort inquired politely as if nothing had just happened.

"I d-do not know, my lord," Draco answered meekly, scared to endure another dose of pain and his inexperienced limbs showed it, trembling violently.

The Dark Lord looked displeased at this but did not move to curse him again. Draco took this as a good sign.

"He plans to do this without Dumbledore's knowledge," Draco added hurriedly, trying to redeem himself. "And I'm to go with him."

At this, the Dark Lord physically appeared to regard Draco favorably once more. "This is...an interesting development." He thought a moment before adding, "You will inform me immediately when he plans to leave."

"Of course, my lord."

Voldemort looked distant for a moment, a frown gracing his malformed face. "You have done well, my servant. Far better than I had expected, but then again, you are a Malfoy." The Dark Lord went to raise his wand, Draco shrank back automatically, and- hang on- was that man actually amused at his reaction? Before his mind could prepare himself for more torture, the door through which he had entered opened again to reveal Barty Crouch Jr. and Severus Snape!

"Barty, it appears your concerns were unprecedented. The boy has far more potential than I could have imagined," Lord Voldemort informed him casually, causing Barty to stiffen. Severus watched this exchange, wondering what exactly Draco had done to make the Dark Lord happy and not liking the possibilities. Apart from the general jumpiness of the boy, he appeared to be unharmed. Well, that was all Severus could hope for, wasn't it? At least Draco was safe...for now.

As Draco exited the throne room with Barty Crouch Jr., Severus studied his godson's face, wondering if Draco had chosen a side after all. Something like disappointment soured the Potion Master's mouth, but he had little time to worry about the state of his godson. He had a Dark Lord to face.

.oOo.

"I have brought you your Rudimentary Potion, my lord." Snape said, bowing at the waist.

The Dark Lord silently summoned the potion to himself, setting it aside to take later. "I tire of this body." Voldemort began, licking his thin lips. "I look weak! Lord Voldemort is not weak! I cannot take Rudimentary forever!"

"My lord!" Severus cautioned, preparing himself for the cruciatus. "I am in the process of preparing the Caedescorpus Potion!"

Snape held his breath, when suddenly something slammed into his brain. Voldemort usually prided himself on subtly sifting through people's minds, picking what he wanted from people's brains with no one the wiser, but all pretenses were dropped when they were alone.

Severus knew Voldemort liked to legilimize him. Voldemort knew Severus knew occlumency. So why bother hiding it?

Severus brought memories of brewing over a cauldron to mind, carefully concealing the rest of his thoughts behind a smooth wall. Voldemort doubled his efforts.

"You say you have started your brewing," the Dark Lord remarked casually as he continued his assault, "And yet, you haven't even considered whose blood you need to use."

"My lord, you have a specific...donor in mind?" Severus questioned carefully. He knew the potion required the blood of a servant, and he was rather looking forward to pricking Bellatrix, the insane bitch. To think that anyone else's blood would be literally transformed into the Dark Lord's new body was slightly nauseating. To consider the Dark Lord might possibly want his blood made him sick to his stomach.

"I want the blood of Draco Malfoy," the half-creature half-man replied with a sinister smile. "And I expect the potion to be finished within the month."

Snape paled. He had been lying when he said he had already started brewing, and the Dark Lord knew perfectly well it took at least three months to brew a proper Caedescorpus Potion. And besides that, how was he going to get the blood of Draco Malfoy without royally confusing the boy at the end when all was revealed to him? Could he really let Draco contribute to the Dark Lord's return in that way? Could he take someone else's blood? Would Voldemort even realize the difference?

"As you wish, my Lord," Severus replied without a hint of emotion. He was beginning to worry about the implication of the timeline. Though it took an indeterminable amount of time for the potion to work after being ingested, due to the specific amount of damage needed to be undone for each person, the Dark Lord would be back without a doubt, with a fully functioning humanoid body and most likely within two months.

"You are dismissed," Voldemort said harshly, watching as Snape went to leave as calmly as he had entered. "Oh- and Severus? When I do regain my former body, I will not be summoning you. I need you to be stationed at Hogwarts. However, you must make an excuse for Barty Crouch Jr. I have no hope that he will be able to retain his position at Hogwarts for more than a year." Voldemort's eyes gleamed maliciously. "That is all."

Severus dipped his head that he understood before exiting. When the doors whispered shut behind the Potions Master, Voldemort fairly ripped the stopper off the flask and downed the Rudimentary Potion with a violent shudder.

.oOo.

Dumbledore had told Severus roughly two weeks ago that he was going alone to the horcrux, but this was not entirely true. After having poked around the cave prior to his planned excursion, he had figured out that at least two people needed to go in order for someone to come out alive. Unfortunately, the boat he had discovered would only carry one wizard, which left Albus in sort of a dilemma. That was, until one of the new house elves, Winky, had popped into his office.

"Oh! Headmaster Dumbledore! Winky was not realizing you had not gone to bed yet! Winky will return later-!"

Dumbledore, who was startled out of his reverie, was suddenly struck by a most glorious idea.

"Wait a minute, if you please, Winky," Dumbledore called out before the house-elf popped away.

"Yes, Headmaster Dumbledore?"

"I was planning on taking a trip outside of Hogwarts in about a week and I was wondering if you had no previous engagements, if you would accompany me or perhaps ask the other house elves if they were willing?"

Winky's batlike ears rose up in excitement as her eyeballs nearly popped out of her skull.

"You is asking poor Winky to accompany the great Albus Dumbledore?" Winky questioned in awe. "Winky agrees! Winky will gladly accompany Headmaster Dumbledore wherever he wishes to go!"

It could not have gone smoother if Dumbledore had planned it from the very beginning. Winky had agreed and now Dumbledore had his companion.

But that was a week ago.

"Albus!" Kingsley (who was polyjuiced as Albus) called as the headmaster stumbled into the office. Kingsley lunged forward to lead Albus to the nearest chair, his warm hands meeting Albus' clammy ones. The headmaster was drenched in sweat, face ghostly pale, and hands trembling. Behind him, Winky ventured inside the room. "What happened? Merlin, Albus! You can't take risks-!"

"My dear boy!" Albus said weakly, voice cracked. "This war cannot be won without risks. We are beyond what we consider to be proper warfare."

Kingsley swallowed, heart sinking lower and lower. Where had the headmaster been? What had he seen? Why was he like this?

"Water?" Albus asked weakly. "Winky?"

Kingsley glanced around the office but failed to spot the house-elf. "I'll get you water," he said quickly. "Dobby?"

Another house-elf popped into the room within the second. He looked between the two headmasters but schooled his surprise. "You is wanting something?"

"Water," Kingsley said urgently. "We need water."

Dobby nodded very seriously and disappeared with a pop. Kingsley was mildly impressed that Dobby understood the gravity of the situation.

"I don't suppose you'll tell me where you went or why?" Kingsley asked without much faith in his queries being answered. He had tried getting answers out of him before, but if the headmaster was anything at all, it would certainly be secretive. Kingsley sighed. "Ah, thank you Dobby. Here, Albus."

He handed Albus the glass of water, but ended up having to place the glass within his hands as Albus was unable to truly grasp anything at the moment. In all his auror training, Kingsley had never encountered something that could have this effect unless it was highly illegal and extremely dark. He respected the headmaster, clearly, but as a man he was worried. Albus wasn't exactly young anymore.

Albus drained the glass of its contents, appearing to have regained more color from it. "Thank you, Kingsley," Albus said with a wan smile. He swallowed and thought a moment. He felt he owed at least a clue to Kingsley, but not enough information to place him in danger. At last, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a rather peculiar locket.

In the time it took for Kingsley to study it, the polyjuice had worn off. "What is it?" Kingsley asked, "I take it that this is what you went looking for?"

Albus nodded solemnly. "This is the locket of Salazar Slytherin. I cannot tell you much more than that."

"I respect you, Albus, so I won't press you. But I hope that this was worth it."

Albus smiled grimly. "I appreciate your help, as a friend, but if I could trouble you for one more thing. I need you to get Neville Longbottom for me."

.oOo.

Neville Longbottom was roused from sleep at exactly midnight by a man he vaguely recognized as Kingsley Shacklebolt. He nearly had a heart attack, but recovered swiftly enough. Madame Pomfrey had released him from the Hospital Wing just a few days ago, for precautionary observation. Yet, Albus still insisted that Neville would not be accompanying him on his journey to the horcrux. The journey which had taken place today-er, yesterday- Neville knew.

"Is Professor Dumbledore alright?" Neville asked, worry lacing his words. He couldn't imagine anything good following the destruction of Voldemort's soul.

"He's recovering," Kingsley said as they sped off through the corridors.

Neville swallowed uneasily. Recovering? What had happened? What had Neville not been allowed to witness?

The two sprinted up the staircase to the headmaster's office, after muttering a quick "flubbernubber" to the gargoyles, hoping that Albus would still be alright when they got there.

"Ah! Neville!" Albus called from his chair when the two burst into the office. "Thank you, Kingsley."

Neville took in the headmaster's appearances and felt faint. The man always looked ancient, but now he looked close to death. Perhaps he had narrowly escaped it tonight...

"A-albus, are you-?"

"I'm fine, Neville." Albus smiled pitifully. "It was actually a rather successful night all things considered." Then he turned to Kingsley. "Thank you so much for your help, Kingsley, but I am going to have to ask you to leave."

"You don't need to explain anything to me, Albus," Kingsley said. His sharp eyes flickered from Albus to Neville to the locket in Albus' grasp. "I wish you luck." The auror exited out the floo and it was only when the flames died down that Dumbledore began to speak.

"I have the horcux, Neville," Albus said, letting the large locket dangle from his fingers. "I want you to be the one to destroy it."

His piercing blue eyes locked with Neville's. "M-me?" Neville's eyebrows rose. "Why me?" Neville asked in surprise. "You're probably- I mean- you are more able."

"But it should be you," Albus said, "You deserve this. Boy-Who-Lived or not," he whispered, "you are a true Gryffindor."

The headmaster held out his hand and the Sorting hat shot from the shelf and into his palm. Neville tilted his head. The Sorting hat? What good would that do? But then Dumbledore reached inside the hat and suddenly something materialized in his hand. Albus turned to him. "I present to you, Neville Longbottom, the Sword of Godric Gryffindor."

Neville gaped. His jaw went slack as the legendary sword was handed to him by the greatest wizard of all time.

"This is one of the only ways to destroy a horcrux," Albus explained as Neville grasped the hilt. It was heavier than Neville imagined it would be, but fit perfectly inside his palm.

Albus set the locket on the table and motioned for Neville to approach.

"I will count to three," Albus told him, "On three, I want you to plunge the sword through the horcrux. Do not worry about the table, I have charms to protect it," he added with a smile.

Neville nodded, mouth suddenly dry. It was so surreal. Boy-Who-Lived or not, Albus had said he was a true Gryffindor and he was capable of winning this war. With newfound conviction, he lifted the sword.

"One..." Albus cleared his throat. "Two...Three!"

With an instinctual roar, Neville thrust the point of the sword straight through the heart of the locket. The goblin-forged blade collided with the table, causing a bang to resound around the room. Was it really that easy? Somehow it seemed less spectacular than he had thought. Glancing back at the table, all that was left of the object was two broken halves...and was that a piece of paper?

Neville glanced at the headmaster. "Did I do it right?" he asked uncertainly.

The headmaster paused solemnly.

"The question is, did I do it right?" Albus said with a frown. Neville reached for the paper but Albus stopped him. "If it's cursed, I have fewer years to live than you." was his only explanation as he reached for the paper, like a cruel fortune in a fortune cookie. He read the paper once. Twice. Then he squeezed his eyes shut and tears began to leak out. Neville was at a loss as to what to do.

Was everything for naught? Albus thought dejectedly to himself. But no! It actually meant the opposite. It was a sign of resistance against the Dark Lord. That it was possible. That it had been done before. That there was hope.

He silently passed the note to Neville.

"To the Dark Lord,

I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match you will be mortal once more.

-R.A.B"

Neville lifted his eyes, but the weight of the world fell on his shoulders. Albus put a reassuring hand on his arm.

"We will defeat him."

.oOo.

Winky had left the headmaster's office as soon as she had found the opportunity. She knew Master Crouch, the son, would be back any minute from his meeting with the Dark Lord, and she wanted to see him immediately to tell him of what she had learned. Winky, being a house-elf, sensed her master's magical presence as soon as he set foot on Hogwarts' grounds. With a snap of her long fingers, no sooner had Barty entered his office than Winky had materialized in front of him.

Barty took a step back in surprise, then snarled at being caught by surprise. He was already in a pretty awful mood from his meeting with the Dark Lord- Voldemort tended to have that effect on people. How dare that-that stupid Malfoy brat show him up in front of his Lord and Master? Oh yes, Draco was competent all right, Barty had to concede, but was he really more impressive than Barty? After all that he had suffered! Azkaban! Dementors! Familial betrayal! Waiting hand and foot all day on their weakened Lord! Suffering the effects of Polyjuice! (Just to name a few.) Draco Malfoy for all his heritage and riches could not even begin to comprehend all he had done! The thought that the little cretin could easily take his place, swoop in and make a fool out of him made his blood boil.

"M-master Crouch?" Winky asked, licking her dry lips. She saw the shadow pass from his face and breathed a sigh of relief.

He turned sharply towards her. "You have discovered something of importance?" he demanded.

"Oh yes! Yes! Winky has found something of utmost importance to Master Crouch! Winky has been finding out what Headmaster Dumbledore has been up to and Winky has discovered he has found a locket!"

Barty's hand came over his face. "A-a locket?" he asked, voice curiously calm.

"YES!" Winky squealed happily. But in the very next second, all she knew was black as Barty punched her squarely in the face and stormed out of the office. Stupid, useless house-elf, he fumed. He was so exasperated with the way the day had turned out. It was time to put Draco in his place. Once and for all.

Upon storming down to the dungeons, Barty- (disguised as Moody)- received quite a few curious stares. Everyone knew Professor Moody to be quite erratic and violent in class but never had they seen him storming about in the corridors. They didn't question it though, figuring that Snape and Moody were old chums being the most hated teachers in the school-their well-known roles as ex-Death Eater and celebrated Auror completely ignored.

Although Barty and Draco had come back to Hogwarts together, they entered at different locations and ten minutes apart as to not arouse suspicion. So though Barty had no concrete evidence that Draco was in the Potions Master's domain, Barty could guess. And besides, he was curious too about what his glorious Lord could have said to the bastard that was Severus Snape.

He didn't even need to knock twice when the door opened slightly, letting him inside. He surveyed the room quickly, noticing the way Draco's shoulders were shaking slightly even as he tried to hold them back and proud. Snape was handing him some sort of potion, one for the after-effects of the cruciatus, but Barty didn't know that.

"You wished to see us?" Severus asked in a rather bored tone, not even deigning to look up from his patient and into Barty's face.

Barty nodded once harshly. "I came to see how Mr. Malfoy was handling his first experience as the Dark Lord's servant." In his robe sleeve he fingered his wand, pointing it slightly in Draco's direction. Just a word. Just two little words. A bit of torture. A risk of death...

"Fine as ever," Draco answered just as impudently as always. But Snape, who had known him for years and was also staring directly in his face, could see the slight tremors in his hands and knew that he was anything but fine.

"Did you actually have a purpose in coming here other than to see Draco crumble?" Severus asked cuttingly, inviting the man to escort himself out.

Barty barred his teeth. "I suppose you think you're hot stuff, don't you Snape? Being able to brew all those potions when it was I- is I who must administer them to our Lord!"

Snape smiled grimly, "I think my looks are mediocre at best but I'm flattered at the compliment." He could feel Draco tensing in front of him but knew the best way to help him was to remove Barty from their vicinity as soon as possible.

Barty raised his wand, still aimed for Malfoy's wildly beating heart, when with an undignified yelp, his wand flew out of his stinging hand and arched in the air towards Snape.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Severus said, fixing him with a piercing black glare for the first time since he had entered the room. "The Dark Lord," he began in a loud, lecturing tone, "intends to reward Draco for his loyalty...in participating in his Resurrection."

"He what-?" Draco and Barty exclaimed at the same moment, each wearing similar masks of horror, though for very different reasons.

Snape hated doing this to Draco right now, but it was more than satisfying to take Barty down a peg or two. "Yes," Snape continued in that condescending tone of his. "Our Lord has specifically requested that it is Draco's blood I use in the Caedescorpus Potion and if something were to happen to Draco now, well…" Snape let his words trail off as his eyes blazed anew. "You understand, I'm sure." He smirked at the stunned expression on Barty's face. He looked thoroughly chastised, cowed, and envious, but not exactly remorseful. He did have enough brain power to get the gist though: kill Draco and you're a dead man too.

Barty swallowed, struggling to get his anger under control. He envied the way Severus could threaten him without batting an eyelash and the way Draco managed to find a Malfoy-worthy smirk and slap it on his damn little face in time to witness his utter humiliation.

"Yes, that does seem to speak volumes, doesn't it, Mr. Crouch?" Draco said sweetly. And though Barty Crouch hung his tail between his legs and ran with a scowl after Snape had tossed him back his wand, Snape could see the cracks in Draco's veneer. They were hidden behind a blank face, a wary face, a tired face. Snape just hoped it wouldn't crack until the precise moment when the truth would come pouring out to heal the wounds. It wouldn't do for him to get killed should he crack before then.

Severus knew these were high hopes.

Chapter 36: The Return of Emerald

Altair Castell sat in his little house in France, sipping a warm cup of tea in his dining room. The post had just flown in and Altair was eager to see if his son had sent any interesting news. It really was so lonely out here...

Altair sorted through the mail and froze as he uncovered the Malfoy family crest on a heavy cream-coloured envelope. Lucius...Altair swallowed as he opened the letter.

"A. Castell,

Does the word horcrux mean anything to you?

Lucius Malfoy"

Oh dear...Altair set his tea down and sank into the high-backed wooden chair. He could just imagine the type of exasperated betrayal in the man's voice, the tone which made him want to curl up and hide because he had done something wrong. Because he had. He had effectively blackmailed his ex-lover with stolen memories into doing his dirty work for him. But it was for a good cause, Altair tried to tell himself. It was for Hasan, for Harry.

And gleaming unprotected on his shelves, now that his son was safe at Hogwarts, were the fruits of their combined labor: the Ring of Gaunt, Slytherin's Locket, Ravenclaw's Diadem, and Hufflepuff's Cup. It worried him to know that his own son had had the tiara in his bag for a while and it was also a concern that he had but four horcruxes out of seven and, of course, it was a concern that Lucius had finally caught on. Had just...figured it all out like a puzzle.

Altair Castell was not sure if he should feel elated or very very depressed. In fact, his body trembled as his hands shook. His normally elegant cursive was reduced to mediocre scrawl.

"Lucius,

We need to talk.

Altair"

.oOo.

"Give me your arm." Snape commanded, conjuring a vial with his wand.

Draco snapped out of his cool veneer to look at him with utter surprise. "It's really true then?" he sputtered. He was unsure if he felt honored or nauseated as Snape quirked an eyebrow at him.

Soundlessly, Draco offered his arm, trying not to wince as Snape clinically pressed a thin surgeon's knife to his vein, causing a bead of blood to form there.

"Isn't there a spell or something?" Draco asked weakly as the wound started to sting.

Severus' lips quirked up in amusement. "What? Can't handle a little pain, Draco?"

The boy opened his mouth to protest but promptly shut it. He didn't appreciate being ridiculed by his godfather. He had to know being sliced open wasn't a pleasant experience.

"Oh, do stop being so melodramatic," Severus sighed as he regarded Draco's paling face. "I'm not really trying to cause you pain. Although there are more...humane methods of drawing blood, this ritual, as you could have guessed (had you put any effort into it), is not a humane one. It calls for a sacrifice and sacrifices are not pleasant, regardless of willingness."

Draco licked his lips. "He's really coming back then?" he asked hoarsely.

Snape gave him an inscrutable stare. "What made you think otherwise?" he questioned.

Draco shrugged.

"Is it perhaps that the Dark Lord isn't all you have imagined?"

Draco remained silent.

Snape inwardly sighed. The boy was clearly feeling uncomfortable about this new prospect and would probably melt under all of the new developments. Draco was helping a madman resurrect himself for Salazar's sake. This was not an act done lightly.

"How long until this potion is ready?" Draco enquired tonelessly.

"Three months." Snape answered, sealing up the vial and cleaning the wound.

"How long until he comes back?" Draco asked.

"One."

"But-!"

Snape raised his eyebrow. "You are free to go, Mr. Malfoy."

With a slight trembling in his limbs, Draco walked out of the office with as much dignity as he could muster. There was no sign that his godfather had taken blood at all, except for the slight tingling in his forearm. He could easily pretend that he had not just given his life force to the Dark Lord, but he had and the implications were unknown. One thing was for certain, his place in the Dark Lord's inner circle was secure. His parents would be so proud and what was more, he had triumphed over Barty Crouch Jr...

.oOo.

Hasan woke up with a start, sweat drenched his hair, causing it to cling around his pale face. He had dreamed of the Department of Mysteries again, except this time he was led down an alternative hallway leading to a room with a fluttering Veil in the center of it. His dream-self had stepped right up to wispy fabric, before he began to hear voices, and more than voices, Hasan began to see the misty forms of people. Before he knew it, he was staring across the veil at Lily Potter, her beautiful auburn hair in elegant waves, James Potter, his characteristically messy hair and glasses making Hasan jump back, and then everyone behind them. All the ancestors of Harry Potter. All of them...

And the strength in his legs dissipated and his legs crumbled to useless sticks beneath him, and he fell to the ground in tears. Hasan prided himself on his separation from Harry Potter. He prided himself on his ability to escape. His ambiguity. He loved his freedom.

So then, why was this veil bringing back all of those emotions? Lily's face smiled down on him, lovely and radiant, but gentle and soft like the moon. His longing doubled. It finally struck him that he had never seen his mother. That he could not remember much of what she looked like, except for the glimpses he caught when the dementors came near. How pathetic was that?

No one knew who he was, but if they had, would they shower him with relics of his parents? Even articles and books which were written about Harry Potter: The Boy-Who-Lived had limited pictures of his parents, and then they were always the same ones. The same nice familial pose. But there was nothing to indicate what life could have been like. No wedding photos, no family albums, no...his tears came in torrents down his face.

Was this what he was supposed to see in the Mirror of Erised? Why was this a desire only secondary to his need to hide? There was something wrong with him, wasn't there? There was something wrong...He raised his tear-streaked face to meet his mother's once more. She held out her hand. One glistening hand and Hasan reached...

In the split second before his hand met hers, her emerald green eyes flashed scarlet, and the apparition suddenly lunged out of the veil with fangs bared and dripping in blood. Hasan had just enough time to roll back as his 'mother' was sucked back into the veil by some unknown force. A cold, high-pitched laughter resonated throughout the room.

"Oh, poor little Harry Potter..." and the Dark Lord's cackling continued as he was torn from his dreamscape.

Now awake, Hasan used his Protean ring to call out to Luna as he walked shakily to the Great Hall. If they were going to go down to the Department of Mysteries, they had better do some research first. How many rooms were down there? Were all of them like that? Was there even such a room? As he walked, he thought he felt the Veil caress him...

Luna caught up to him just outside the Great Hall like he had asked her to.

"What is it, Hasan?" Luna queried, concern shining in her silver eyes. "Did you hear the banshee this morning too?"

Hasan gave her a small smile, but it was empty with worry. "I want to research the Department of Mysteries," he whispered, "You don't mind, do you?"

She shook her head. "That's a very insightful idea," she agreed. "But I doubt the headmaster would just leave those books lying around in the library. Even their presence in the Restricted Section is doubtful."

Hasan leaned in closer, "I'm talking about the Chamber of Secrets, Luna."

Her eyes seemed to sparkle at that. "No basilisk this time, I hope."

Hasan grinned, "Absolutely not. Although I did pick up this snake..."

.oOo.

Daphne frowned as Hasan had yet to show up at breakfast. Tracey was doing a Transfiguration project with Pansy and Draco looked a bit volatile this morning. Sighing, she made her way over to the Gryffindor table, where Theo was eating with Hermione.

"Daphne!" Theo smiled, "What brings you to the sunny side of town?"

"Nothing much," Daphne smiled, "I guess I just missed you and Hermione."

With a quick polite smile, Daphne began to fill her plate. She noticed that Ron, Ginny, and Lavender were no longer at the table- as they were serving detention with Filch every weekend morning until the end of the school year. Dumbledore had not been particularly happy to know the truth behind Neville's injuries.

"Where's Neville?" Daphne asked presently, trying to keep the disappointment from her voice as she noticed his absence.

"Hmm, I think I remember Dumbledore calling him up to his office...but that was a while ago." Hermione frowned, sneaking a glance at the head table. "He should be back by now."

Daphne got a sinking feeling in her gut. Something was off here, maybe not dangerous, but something was definitely wrong. She knew the headmaster was trying to train Neville to take up the Boy-Who-Lived mantle and she knew that Neville was suffering under the responsibility. But why would he need Neville now, during breakfast?

Daphne turned the corner to the headmaster's office, when Neville came barreling down the hall towards her.

"Neville?" Daphne asked softly, "Is everything-?" But as Neville ran past her, she imagined she saw tears shining in his eyes. Her heart melted and she was going to run after him when she heard the voices of McGonagall and Augusta Longbottom emerging from the office. Acting purely on her Slytherin instincts, she pressed herself to the wall and waited in silence.

"They were doing so well!" Augusta cried softly, the sound muffled by perhaps the cloth on McGonagall's shoulder.

"It's not your fault," the professor soothed. "We had no idea that there would be a relapse, even a possibility of one. No one could have-"

"But I could have taken Neville to see them more often!" Augusta confided. "I take him once every holiday, but I always feel as if it tears him up inside. His mother always tries to give him things, scraps of things, trifling nothings! And he would always try to pocket them and- Merlin! I would never let him! I told him to throw all those scraps of trash out! I thought it would be unhealthy for him to be reminded too often. I made him toss out all those wrappers! I made him!" Augusta sobbed. "I made him…"

Minerva pursed her lips. "We may never know how it feels to be Mr. Longbottom, but I know he loves you and won't hold that against you."

Great sobs racked the grandmother's body as she leaned on Minerva, her old friend.

"It will be alright, Augusta. I'm so sorry. For him and for you."

Daphne had heard enough. She crept away from the hall and then went sprinting down the hall. She caught a glimpse of his retreating figure near the back door. He swung it open and tore outside. Daphne followed Neville as he ran through the snow flurries to the greenhouse. The cold bit her as she ran, but nothing would not deter her from her task.

"Neville!" she cried after him. "Neville!"

He reached the greenhouse door and turned around, stunned that there was indeed a person behind him. He didn't want to be pursued, not really. He just needed to be alone for a bit. His hand rattled the copper doorknob and it opened. He backed inside. Daphne stood frozen in the cold, unsure of what to do now.

"Come on, it's cold," Neville's voice came softly, sneezing at the end of it.

Daphne gratefully stepped into the sauna-like warmth before turning to the boy. Her eyes scanned him for injuries first. She took in his running nose- which could have been from the cold- his red puffy eyes- which were certainly not- and his shaking limbs- which could have been from many things.

"Neville..." Daphne began, her voice shaking. What was she thinking? She was not intimate enough with Neville to broach the subject of his parents' decline. She was not even sure she knew the exact situation correctly. "So you've heard then?" Neville asked. "Was it announced in the Prophet? Boy-Who-Lived's Parents to Die?"

"Oh Neville..." Daphne's voice broke off, her heart reaching out to him. She wasn't stupid. She knew the stories: Bellatrix had tortured Neville's parents into insanity, but they had been fine up until now, right? Like vegetables...But she could see now that it had been absolutely not fine. Just because they hadn't been in the public eye for quite some time didn't mean they weren't in Neville's eyes. It never occurred to her that during those years Neville had suffered seeing them, how they were unable to remember him. "I'm so sorry," Daphne murmured brokenly, regretting her lack of insight. Ashamed she had been ignorant...

"Yeah, me too," Neville said, clearing his throat. "I never expected them to recover, you know, but I never expected them to get worse either...You know why they declined? Because I didn't visit enough! Because they can't remember me!"

"Neville, you know that's not true!" Daphne said with conviction, although she was unsure of it herself.

"It is, the doctors said so. They lost their will to live and now..." he took a deep steadying breath. "It's because they can't remember anyone who loves them. They don't recognize me. They barely even acknowledge Gran. If I had been there. If they had remembered me, they wouldn't want to leave me! Would they? They wouldn't want to leave me..."

"But that's not your fault, Neville. It's Bellatrix's, the Dark Lord's," Daphne tried helplessly.

"Yeah, and I'm their failure of a son who can't figure out how to defeat Him!" Neville sniffed, frowning bitterly. "If I weren't such a weakling I could get revenge. But I am. Even with all of Dumbledore's help I can't even defend myself from my peers."

He's thinking of that day in Hogsmeade, Daphne realized with a jolt. He's not rational. He's mixing his emotions.

"I should just go," Neville sniffed again. "My parents don't think I exist. The world thinks they know who I am, but they don't. Not really," he had come close to revealing Dumbledore's stratagem there, "I can't defend myself. Gran only loves me for heroic deeds that I didn't even do! I should just go."

Daphne looked at her clenched hands. "I'll go with you." Daphne said firmly.

"Oh, I don't think you want to do that." Neville said with façade of self-control. Daphne stared at him confusedly.

"Well why not?...You're not-" Daphne gaped at him as realization dawned. "You can't possibly think-"

"I'm sorry I can't be stronger for everyone." Neville said, new tears springing into his eyes. "Maybe I'll even be able to greet my parents..."

Daphne wasn't sure what made her do it, but a resounding slap echoed throughout the greenhouse, accompanied by their rather harsh breathing.

"How dare you just give up like that!" she shrieked. "You have no idea how many people are relying on you!"

"Yeah, as the Boy-Who-"

"Shut up, Neville! Just shut up!" Daphne shrieked, backing him up into the table, causing the edge to cut into the back of his legs. "To your friends, you idiot! We'd all miss you! Tracey, Draco, Hasan, Me! Not to mention all your little Gryffindor friends!"

"They don't understand, once they learn the truth-"

"Didn't I just tell you to SHUT UP?" Daphne screamed. "This isn't about living because of obligation. This is about not letting V-voldemort win. He wins if you kill yourself, Neville. You owe it to yourself to survive." She took a deep breath and began more gently, "The world might not know who you are, but I do." Daphne said. "You're not the Boy-Who-Lived."

"What-?" he sputtered, honestly taken aback. "What do you-?"

"You're not," she said again, more confidently this time. "And your Gran will love you all the same. She has to."

They were nose to nose, Daphne's eyes boring into his. Neville cleared his throat and turned his face away. "And do you?" he asked.

Daphne peered at him, understanding that Neville was fishing for compliments but was also emotionally unstable. His breath was coming out all ragged and his face was beginning to take on a flushed hue.

Daphne swallowed. She was unsure of her feelings also, but knew that whatever she was feeling was unadulterated. She bent down and placed a chaste kiss on his lips. She pulled away just as abruptly, feeling the atmosphere in the room heat up.

His face was still glued to hers, eyes wide and so shamefully innocent. He seemed to ask why not more. He wanted more. He wanted someone to hold him.

"I don't like tears with my kisses," she explained sharply. "Come on, let's get you back to the castle. I'm sure your Gran is worried sick."

Her brain was no longer calculating. It was a flurry of emotion. Had she unknowingly committed to something she could not keep? She could not be Neville's raison d'etre. He had to survive on his own two feet, but glancing back at him, she was sure she had done the right thing. He had been betrayed and used so many times he needed a large shove of something genuine for once. But that was too genuine. Her first kiss, used as nothing more than a manipulator's tool. But for a cause, she thought to herself. For Neville's life.

And Neville's head, of course, was empty as he trailed behind the apparent love of his life. Except perhaps for the soft mantra: She slapped me. She kissed me.

.oOo.

Hasan led Luna down to the Chamber of Secrets once again. Melusine was there to greet them with a great flick of her tail, indicating her joy at their arrival.

:Melusine, this is Luna Lovegood.:

:Your lover?: Melusine asked amused.

Hasan flushed and pointedly ignored her. "Luna, Salazar's study is this way."

:Touchy subject?: Melusine teased.

:Shut up. Are there any books on the Department of Mysteries down here?:

:Silly boy, don't you know that Salazar is older than your Ministry of Magic?:

Hasan paused. He hadn't thought of that.

"What is it?" Luna asked, clearly comfortable having Hasan talk to a giant snake beside them.

"I just remembered that the Department of Mysteries is quite recent compared to, er, Salazar." Hasan flushed, embarrassed at the oversight.

"But isn't the Department dedicated to researching ancient things? The bell jar of time for instance isn't exactly a modern artifact."

Hasan nodded appreciatively.

:Your mate is intelligent.: Melusine remarked, :Yes, there might be some interesting tomes to look at after all.:

Hasan gave both a broad smile. "Thanks you guys."

"So what did you want to look for, Hasan?" Luna queried. "The Department is really large. I've heard that Unspeakables are only allowed in their own section and aren't allowed to speak to other Unspeakables about their section."

"That seems a bit suspicious, don't you agree?" Hasan asked.

Luna nodded. "That's why father did an article on them in The Quibbler. Did you know that the Veil-" Hasan started-"is a portal to the Land of the Dead? Yes, I was intrigued too. We went there when I was little with a visitors' pass, but the actual Death Chamber was sealed off from public view. Unfortunate really. I would have liked to hear my mother's voice again."

Hasan shivered very violently as he took in what she was saying. "The Veil leads to death?" he whispered. "What happens when you go through it? You die, don't you?"

"I would imagine so." Luna said thoughtfully, peering at him. "Are you quite well, Hasan? Do you still want to research this topic?"

"Yes, of course." Hasan said. "I- I'm fine. I just had a nightmare."

Luna frowned and continued on ahead. "We better get started then."

Halfway through research, Hasan developed a pounding headache. There was little to nothing on the Veil in any of the books, which surprised him as Slytherin was always associated with murderers. Why wouldn't their leader be fascinated with death?

"Hasan, are you sure you're alright?" Luna asked worriedly. "You look awfully pale."

Hasan passed a hand over his tired face. "Sorry, just a lot of information." Useless information, but information nonetheless.

"What was your nightmare about?" Luna asked, effectively catching him off guard.

"My nightmare?" Hasan repeated tonelessly.

Luna nodded. "I can put two and two together, you know."

Hasan sighed in defeat. "Alright, you got me. I dreamed about the Department of Mysteries again."

"Again?" Luna exclaimed. She knew he had dreamed about them before, but now she wondered why. Hasan had never been there that she knew of.

"Yeah. Usually I'm in the Hall of Prophecy, but last night I dreamed about the Death Chamber...I saw my parents for the first time, Luna. It was- I was in awe."

"You said it was a nightmare." Luna remarked perceptively.

"Because the Dark Lord tried to drag me into the Veil." Hasan shivered. "And before he came, I actually wanted to step through myself."

Luna sighed. "There's nothing wrong with wanting to be with you loved ones, Hasan. It's natural. But they wouldn't want you to join them. Not yet."

"Yeah, I know all that." Hasan sighed. "But now you know why I look so terrible," he smiled.

"Not as bad as Voldemort," Luna returned.

.oOo.

Albus Dumbledore sat in thought with his fingertips steepled. Augusta, Minerva, and Neville had just exited his office in tears and Albus felt terrible. Nothing could crumble a kid like the death of his parents. What was worse was that Dumbledore with all his knowledge could not heal them. The minds of Frank and Alice Longbottom were lost to insanity, unsalvageable. And his hero might now be too.

He let Minerva escort Mrs. Longbottom off the grounds because they had known each other since childhood. Albus was still amazed how the two women were able to pick each other up. Albus had no one.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. He glanced at Fawkes over his half-moon spectacles, but frowned as he observed the greying feathers. While greying was a natural process of age, Fawkes did not simply grey in his supposed prime. Albus had Severus, Hagrid, and Poppy look the bird over, but even Hagrid was at a loss for unusual methods of healing. They all looked at him concernedly, as if he were finally losing his marbles, and asked if he had changed Fawkes diet at all. Well, not that he was aware of, but he had summoned a house-elf and Dobby had said everything was fine and normal.

The only thing that could possibly affect this immortal beast was magic, but Fawkes was not a part of any spell he could think of and so Albus was forced to concede that perhaps this was just a phase and he would return to his normal coloring in time.

With a sigh, Albus turned his attention to the rolled up Daily Prophet on his desk. It had lain ignored in light of Augusta's frantic news, and now it seemed that he should get down to reading it. He smoothed over the front and read the headline: Time Turner Taken: Ministry Accident or Terrorist Group? Albus frowned. He did intend to call Voldemort's attention to the Hall of Prophecy, but this did not sound like the work of Voldemort. Call it wishful thinking, but Albus was sure Voldemort had enough knowledge of the old ways to know tinkering with time was likely to throw the world into oblivion. Albus glanced at the author. Rita Skeeter, of course. It was probably a Ministry accident then. They were known to happen, and as the world was at relative peace, Rita had to fabricate a story out of nothing.

Albus could only pity her.

Then, out of nowhere, Fawkes began to sing. He did so when he was particularly happy about something, or right before he burst into flames, but he did no such thing. He simply sang. It was a tune which Albus had never heard before but which sounded vaguely familiar. It wasn't particularly happy, but neither was it sad. It sounded...anxious. As if he were waiting for something grand to happen very soon. And still, Fawkes did not burst into flames, and his plumage greyed a little more...

.oOo.

Lucius Malfoy was not particularly fond of venturing into unknown territory on the fragile word of a potential enemy, but Lucius had already risked enough. An invitation for tea was hardly something to worry about.

He knocked.

The door opened slightly, revealing one brilliantly blue eye. Thick brown hair fell down the broad shoulders, bordering a weary face.

"Won't you come in, Lucius?" Altair asked, his heavy brown eyebrows quirking in amusement.

Lucius walked stiffly into the Castell Estate, unsure of what to do. He could not keep his eyes off the man named Altair. It was impossible. The man walked with grace, yet bumped constantly into tables and chairs. He also spoke in a smooth, commanding voice, but ended with a question mark at the end of each phrase. In short, the master puppeteer was just as uncomfortable as he.

"Allow me to formally introduce myself." Altair began as he set the tea tray down. "My name is Altair Dean Castell. I live in France. My son is Hasan. And you are?"

"Lucius Abraxas Malfoy." Lucius said stiffly. "I don't know anything else anymore."

"Care to elaborate?" Altair asked, carefully meeting the man's eyes.

"My memories have been stolen. What more is there to elaborate?" Lucius replied silkily.

Lucius was unable to comprehend the man in front of him, but then, there was no apparent need to. He had this overwhelming feeling of being safe here, which was curious if not important.

"You know about horcruxes?" Altair asked finally, tearing his eyes away from Lucius' steel grey ones.

"I believe that's what I wrote to you."

"How?" Altair asked simply.

"Why should I tell you anything?" Malfoy sneered. "You haven't exactly been transparent with me."

Altair seemed to deflate, but then he looked at his nails. "Well, I assumed you had something you wanted to talk about. Otherwise you would never have ventured into unknown territory on a daft man's word, especially one who could be a potential enemy."

Lucius was gobsmacked. "Did you just legilimize me?" he demanded, trying to keep the rage from his voice. Come on, Lucius, where's that Malfoy dignity?

"No, it was written plainly on your face. You get a wrinkle by your right eye when you feel uncomfortable." Altair smiled lightly.

Lucius appeared affronted. How dare this man know more about him than he did! "You're right. I do want to talk...Dumbledore gave me a curious note from Regulus Black which was inside a locket I clearly recognized, no thanks to you. But it lacked any of the Dark Power I would have sensed immediately. It was, in short, a fake."

Altair hummed. "Regulus, you say? He was Sirius' brother. Maybe that's what he meant when he said he needed Kreacher to accompany him. Yes, I see it now."

"See what?" Lucius growled. "I fail to see any logic in any of your mutterings."

"Ah, forgive me. Albus found the locket in a cave, correct?"

"Yes, how did you-"

"Regulus talked about travelling to the cave with his house elf, Kreacher. This was the day before he died. He went to replace the horcrux with a fake."

"How do you know this?" Lucius asked, eyes guarded. His rage was quickly yielding to amazement as this man brought all the puzzle pieces together.

"I hear things." Altair said simply, leaning back. "Now, that you've answered my questions, I'll answer one of yours."

And suddenly Lucius went from cool and collected to a whirlwind of accusations, each one threatening to spill from his lips. All formulated into one simple word.

"Why?"

Altair gave him a grim smile before summoning something from the other room. At first, Lucius was not sure what it was for it came so fast. But then Altair held it out to him.

"This is yours, I believe."

And he held in his hands the Malfoy dagger. Lucius was stunned into silence once more. This anomaly just kept spreading before him in infinite mysteries. This man had his dagger? How? Why? Who had given it to him? But that was answered easily by the way Altair looked at him with tenderness in his eyes and the way Lucius' heart raced without memory or meaning.

"Take it," Altair said. "I've hung onto this long enough. It belongs to you." As does my heart.

Lucius reached forward, their fingers brushed each other's, and then Lucius was shaking. All over from head to toe. Magic poured from his core and into the object and from the object into his core. The magic began to pulsate wildly around the estate, expanding from the dagger and from Lucius himself.

"What's wrong?" Altair asked, immediately at his side. The dagger was empty, devoid of all memories to Altair's knowledge. They were in Hasan now, so what was affecting Lucius so deeply? Maybe there was something else still in the dagger. A reminiscence of emotion, a stroke of tenderness. A curled lock, a soft kiss...

Lucius shut his eyes against the torrent of emotion that suddenly flowed into him. It was his own love, he realized, and he had once given it to this man. The thought was...enough to cause his self to shatter.

"I need to leave," Lucius choked out, his voice cracking. He knew he needed this. He had to go. He wanted to run. "I...think I understand," he said. "I will endeavor to help you and your son, even if I don't yet understand everything. I believe your intentions are good."

Altair nodded sadly. He did not want to see his love go, but the euphoria in knowing that Lucius finally knew what he felt for him was more than enough. The feeling that someone else shared this knowledge, that it didn't exist in an alternate reality of his memories. Altair's own magic flared suddenly, causing the room to shake.

"Thank you, Lucius. I hope I will be able to see you once more."

"I- I do too. Maybe when the war is over."

"Maybe…"

Altair smiled sadly, his eyes glistening for some unknown reason. He escorted Lucius to the door and locked it softly behind him. When he heard the crack of Lucius's apparation, Altair sunk to the floor.

"I love you." he whispered. But there was no response. And all his love had left with that man in the dagger. It was the least he could do. Lucius couldn't remember but he could feel, and now Altair couldn't feel but he could remember...but Altair could feel. The giant gap in his body, the missing hole in his mind. He slept on the floor that night, hair wet with tears, like the night he downed that potion so long ago...

.oOo.

It was during dinner when Severus first noticed that Moody had disappeared. He had been keeping a close watch on him all day after waking up to see his own dark mark inflamed. And then of course, Severus had delivered the resurrection potion a month ago, but when Voldemort did not immediately use it, Snape was helpless to wait in constant anxiety. The Dark Lord had not the courtesy to give his servants a fair warning. But now, Snape had gained his first clue. Moody had been summoned. He caught Dumbledore's eye over a plate of mashed potatoes and forced the thoughts of the Dark Lord's resurrection to the forefront of his mind before hurling them out.

Albus blinked and started a bit from the impact, but then he paled drastically and nodded his comprehension. The Dark Lord was to return.

Tonight.

The mark began to tingle on Severus' arm as he stood up. He had taken all the potions he could for the Dark Mark, but there was little that could be done to staunch the constant flow of pain. The pain began to mount. He began to descend from the head table, trying to keep his face collected the whole time. His eyes flickered to Hasan who was now staring at him with his wide jade eyes, his brown hair falling down his shoulders like a curtain. He too was feeling vulnerable.

And then many things happened at once.

Fawkes flew into the room, a shrill warning emitted from his beak, feathers bursting into flame one by one. Albus jumped to his feet, knowing that Fawkes had sensed what was to come. And then Severus Snape, in front of the entire school, released a blood curdling scream and fell to his knees. Everyone was stunned into silence, watching their terrifying Potions Professor, the man who could cut anyone down, writhe in agony in the very center of the school. There was no visible tormentor and this was what worried everyone most. No one can fight an unseen enemy. But he was not screaming alone. At first, everyone wondered where the second voice had come from, but then someone must have spotted him. The boy.

Draco watched in horror as first his godfather crumbled, and then his best friend, Hasan Castell, flung his head back, and exposed his face to the world. Draco, who was sitting nearer to him than anyone else, identified some sort of obscure shape on his forehead from which the blood began to leak, and began to hyperventilate. What was happening? He knew his godfather bore the Dark Mark, but why was Hasan screaming too? His entire face inflamed, and his voice. Oh, Salazar, his voice! Raw with no intention of letting up. Was this somehow his doing? He had helped the Dark Lord return to his corporeal body after all. Draco felt the bile rise.

Albus was frozen in place as he cradled his baby Fawkes- not a grey chick, but a brilliantly flaming one- watching as suddenly, Snape rose to his feet, his apparent torture over and sprinted over to the other.

The blood continued to seep from Hasan's forehead, flowing outward, seeming to coat his whole entire face and soak into his hair. The emotions, the memories! Hasan could feel Voldemort's delight. His utter glee at getting his body back. The pain of being ripped in two! He was slipping. Hasan Castell, for the first time, was slipping. His grip, his footing, his magic, his power...

Draco watched as the blood saturated Hasan's hair, not realizing at first as Hasan's head began to shift. His hair receded back into his scalp and turned an inky, black, unruly as it stuck up in certain places. Then Snape was by his side, and he was digging his fingernails into Hasan's arm. And Hasan was still screaming, the pain literally eating at his very core. All magic used to sustain his appearance snapped and withered as it went to combat this unknown force instead.

The world began to panic.

"What's happening?"

"His hair!"

"His face! It's changing!"

And then the screaming stopped. It took Hasan a minute to figure out that it was himself who had finally shut his mouth. Hasan shrank back into the supportive arms, his head disoriented. He turned to find Severus staring back at him with nothing but concern in those onyx depths. And then Hasan stood shakily and faced the headmaster of the school, his emerald green eyes blazing like the fire that had just consumed Fawkes. The staff blinked in wonder, their jaws hanging open. All eyes were on him.

There was distant ringing in his ears, and then someone screamed it, the secret which Hasan had guarded with his life. Everyone was staring, at his hair, at his brilliant emerald eyes, at the scar that marked him for life.

Because there revealed was the bloodied face of Harry Potter.