Heart's Desire

Harry and Ron got back to the Gryffindor common room late- at around nine o'clock. They'd first gone down to see Professor Dumbledore about the Mirror, and caught him prowling the hallways on the fourth floor.

"The Mirror again, eh?" he'd said, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "Did you find out what Draco saw in that Mirror?"

Harry shook his head. "And frankly," he said, "I don't want to know. Hermione might though, she found him first."

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. "Would you two move the Mirror to another room?" he asked finally. "I'd like to see if I can find Miss Granger. Mr. Malfoy's mental state is of great importance right now."

"Really?" Ron said. "That's a losing battle, he's already gone off the deep end."

Dumbledore gave Ron a slightly reproving look before sending the two off.

After moving the Mirror to a room on the fourth floor, they returned to the common room, and passed Dumbledore, who was leaving the Tower. The headmaster looked preoccupied, however, and Harry and Ron thought it best not to bother him.

"Chimaera," Harry said to the protrait, which swung aside. As soon as they'd entered, the Gryffindors in the common room surged forward and pulled Harry and Ron into the center of the room.

"Well, would you look at that!" roared a fifth year Harry didn't even know. "The Boy Who Lived is an Heir! So that's why You-Know-Who tried to do you in... Great thing he didn't succeed though!"

Harry nodded nervously. Of course that was why Voldemort had tried to kill him! Harry and his father, as the last living descendants of Gryffindor, had been a threat. But why hadn't he simply killed Malfoy, who had been much closer at hand?

His thoughts were interrupted by another fifth year, who threw an arm around the boy who'd addressed Harry. "I'm Rich, and this is Jake," he said amiably. "We're Fred and George's proteges. Last year was their last year at Hogwarts, and they were getting a little worried about who was going to carry on after them. So they passed all their information on down to us, the most worthy troublemakers they could find, and we've got a lot to show for their training."

Grinning, they indicated a table of food which they had probably nicked from the kitchens.

Harry and Ron were swept towards it against their will. No matter how they tried to decline the sweets they were offered, the others didn't seem to listen.

"Look," Ron finally said loudly. "Do any of you know where Hermione is?"

"Granger? The prefect? Yeah, last I saw of her she was in her room," a fourth year offered.

Harry and Ron shoved their way over to the girls' side of the Tower as politely as they could- nearly bulldozing the Creevey brothers in the process- and quickly found the solace of the stairs. Ignoring the Girls' Only signs, they wandered through the halls, glancing at the signs on the doors, until they found the sixth-years' room.

Hermione was inside alone, sprawled tiredly on her bed. As soon as Harry and Ron entered, however, she sat up.

"Harry! Ron!" she said shrilly. "You're not supposed to be in here!"

"Yeah, whatever," Harry said, sitting next to her on the bed. "Did Dumbledore come to see you?"

"Yeah," said Hermione. "He asked me about Dra- Malfoy."

Ron squinted at her. "Are you getting familiar with him?" he asked incredulously. "Next thing we know, you'll be snogging him on some desk," he said scornfully.

Hermione blushed- bright green. "Ron!" she shrieked.

Harry gave Ron a light shove. "Hey, quit that. What'd Dumbledore say about it?" he asked curiously.

Hermione shrugged. "Not much... he didn't really look surprised about Malfoy seeing love in the Mirror."

Harry and Ron choked simultaneously. "Whaaaaaat?"

Hermione blushed- this time, bright red. "Bad phrasing! Sorry! I mean, I don't really know exactly what Malfoy saw in the mirror, but he told me he wanted to be anything but lonely. So I guess he saw people that loved him in the Mirror."

Harry snorted. "Lonely? Why'd Malfoy be lonely?"

Ron smirked. "Why indeed, with the charming and engaging Crabbe and Goyle as friends?"

Harry laughed. Hermione scowled.

"This isn't funny," she said, an edge of distress in her voice. "You've got to help me, I'm starting to actually feel sorry for Malfoy."

Harry stopped laughing abruptly. "But... how?" he said slowly. "How can you feel sorry for Malfoy after all he did?"

Hermione shrugged cryptically. "But look," she suddenly said, "you're not supposed to be in here. Besides, it's past ten. You've got to get to sleep. Out, both of you, or it'll be points from Gryffindor. Parvati and Lavender will be in any moment, and if they see you in here, they'll throw a fit."

"Fine," Ron said huffily as he and Harry were shoved out.

* * * * *

Dumbledore watched the dark shape approaching the Owlery, and glanced at McGonagall briefly.

"That will be the answer from Charlie Weasley," he said shortly.

"I hope he's still in England," McGonagall said worriedly. "I wouldn't like to send those children all the way to another country without proper supervision."

Dumbledore chuckled as he raised his arm and let the owl land on it. "Neither would I, Minerva," he said as he unwrapped the letter and skimmed it. "But it seems we won't have to worry about that."

Dumbledore read the letter aloud for Professor McGonagall's benefit.

"Professor Dumbledore:

You don't say! My little brother's an Heir? Now that's sweet news, if a little worrying. Mother'll throw a fit. As for the four kids, sure, I can take them. We're working north of London here, trying to capture a short-tempered Hebridean Black that got loose and is rampaging. Send them out- we'll wait for them here. I'd send an escort to meet them, but we're short of personnel here and I don't think the Muggles in London would appreciate a dragon attack, especially one as quick, short-tempered, and vicious as this one. However, if they're going to come, they'll probably have to work for their stuff- the only dragon in our vicinity is the Hebridean, and we could use a little help, even though most of the MacFusty clan has turned up. The kids won't be able to get their stuff until we capture the Hebridean and pen it, which will take a pretty long time- this one's got massive reserves of energy. We'll try to pen it before they get here, but we can't make any guarantees, we're rather understaffed at the moment. I suggest they avoid flying when they get within five miles of London- the Muggles are out in full force. Get them some Muggle disguises, and tell them to tell any Muggles they come across that they're hikers from London. Hikers, it seems, are Muggles that go out into the wilderness and take walks to admire nature. One of the only sensible things Muggles do, it seems. Anyway, we're ready to take them at any time, so send them out.

-Charlie Weasley"

Professor McGonagall breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness. For a moment I was afraid they'd have to go to Romania or some other far-off place."

Dumbledore smiled. "Then it seems that our four Heirs can embark tomorrow, then. We had better go prepare... please send owls to the Malfoys, Grangers, Dursleys, and Weasleys..."

McGonagall snorted. "Honestly, the owl to the Dursleys shouldn't seem necessary. Those Muggles couldn't care less about Harry."

Dumbledore let the owl return to its perch, and replaced the letter in its envelope. "Well, Minerva, they're entitled to know where he is."

McGonagall laughed derisively, before changing the subject. "I suppose I should find another prefect for the Gryffindors, and ask Snape to do the same for the Slytherins," she said, "as Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy are leaving us..."

Dumbledore nodded.

* * * * *

The next morning, Dumbledore, after breakfast, asked Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Draco to remain, and to report to the teacher's table.

Harry felt a thrill of adrenaline settle into his chest, which pooled in his stomach as a cold, twisting mass of apprehension. Were they starting out now?

"I received Charlie Weasley's response last night," Dumbledore began, as he and Professor McGonagall began to walk them to Dumbledore's office. "He is currently stationed north of London, and is working to capture a Hebridean Black that is rampaging. You can get the dragonish ingredients for the potion there. Sugar Quill!"

The four looked up abruptly at this incongruous end to Dumbledore's instructions, but realized after a moment that it was the password to Dumbledore's office.

As they ascended the stairs, the headmaster continued to speak blithely. "We have the locations of the various ingredients plotted out for you on a map, and your route is clearly marked upon it. Also supplies, and broomsticks, and other such essentials. We are also giving you the ingredients for the potion that we already have- the powdered unicorn horn. We would like you to get started on the potion as soon as all the ingredients are gathered- time is of the essence. We would like Draco to gain control of his curse as quickly as possible. I have a suspicion that Lord Voldemort will not wait with his attacks. We have also provided a cauldron, reduced in size and weight.

"We also include a book about the Four Heirs," the headmaster continued as he opened the door and let the sixth-years enter. "You will need to study this book to discover the full range of your abilities."

Ron's eyebrow twitched upwards nervously at the prospect of having to actually study out of a text. Hermione looked relieved.

Professor McGonagall took over from there. "Miss Granger, we will temporarily pass your prefect duties to another girl during your absence," she said crisply. Hermione nodded resignedly. "And, Mr. Malfoy, your prefect duties have been passed on as well. As there seem to be no major mandatory tests you must take this year, that is settled. Whether or not you are exempt from the end-of-year exams depends on how long you are away."

Let's make sure it's a really long time then, thought three people simultaneously. The remaining person hoped fervently it would be a very short time.

Dumbledore sealed all the things needed into four separate, sturdy bags, which he handed to each of the four.

"You can return to your dormitories to get your broomsticks, and also other personal belongings if you so desire. I recommend you bring money- it may be useful. If you don't have a broomstick with you, you'll have to use the school's Cleansweep Sevens."

Ron and Hermione's faces fell. Dumbledore smiled.

"When you're done with all that, come to the Quidditch field," he said. "We'll be waiting for you there."

* * * * *

"I can't believe this," Ron said glumly as he, Harry, and Hermione departed Gryffindor Tower. "Somehow I keep thinking this is all for Malfoy's benefit."

"So do I, but you've got to admit, without Malfoy, we won't be able to fulfill this prophecy thing," Harry said.

"Oh stop it, you two," Hermione said irritably. "Can't you give him a chance?"

"No," retorted the boys flatly. "Think of all the things he did, Hermione!" Harry added vehemently.

"Have you ever thought of why he does them? Or what he feels?" Hermione retorted sharply.

"Yeah. First, he does things because he's a vicious, nasty git, and second, he has no feelings," was Ron's sharp rejoinder.

Hermione snorted as she adjusted the straps of her side bag.

Dumbledore, McGonagall, O'Sullivan, and Draco were already there. Harry noticed that they were each carrying a sword- the swords that had been pulled from the Sorting Hat.

As the three Gryffindors came to a halt in front of the teachers and were handed their blades, Dumbledore gave Hermione the book.

She looked at the title before she put it away into her bag. It read simply, "The Heirs of the Founders".

"These swords," O'Sullivan began conversationally, "seem very unique. In fact, that book says that these are Divine Blades."

Harry stared dubiously at the Sword of Gryffindor. The rubies glinted with a cold fire in the watery sunlight. "Divine Blades?"

"Yes," O'Sullivan continued. "They're quite difficult to make, because, not only are the blades made of steel, they're reinforced with adamantine, which is a very precious material. Adamantine has the ability to retard magic. There are also numerous charms worked into these swords. So the Divine Blades have the ability to absorb and reflect magic, at the wielder's will."

"So basically, if somebody shoots a curse at you, you should hold this sword in front of you and pray?" Hermione queried.

"Well.... you'd have to tell the sword what you wanted to do with the magic. If you wanted to reflect the magic, you'd have to tell the sword mentally first, and then hold the blade at the specific angle. If you wanted to absorb it.... make sure you've got the blade squarely in the beam of magic, or you're going to get hit. So praying might be a good idea. You'll need some practice to be able to do all this quickly, and it won't always be completely successful. Sometimes even adamantine's powers waver."

The four looked nonplussed. "Oh," Hermione said faintly.

Dumbledore smiled as he produced four strange-looking thin objects with numerous straps. "Hagrid sent these," he said. "Handmade sword sheaths. They go on your back, and cover the blade, so you don't fall on each other's swords."

The four puzzled for a few minutes over how to put on the sheaths- as they were a typical Hagrid creation, they had a tendency to be confusing. McGonagall distributed the other last-minute essentials into their packs, and handed over two Cleansweep Sevens- Malfoy had brought a Firebolt that his father had gotten him in fifth-year, and Harry still had his Firebolt from third-year. Ron had figured that a school Cleansweep Seven was better than his old Shooting Star, so had conveniently forgotten to bring his broomstick. Hermione didn't have a broomstick with her at all, as she didn't care for them much. But as they were the fastest way for her to travel, she would put up with them.

As the four mounted their brooms and kicked off, Dumbledore called, "Remember, try not to get seen by Muggles- Charlie says they're out in full force around London, trying to find the source of the disturbances."

* * * * *

A half-hour later, Dumbledore was back in his office, engrossed in a piece of parchment that had a map of England on it.

Professor McGonagall was with him, watching interestedly. "If I may ask, Albus, what are you doing?"

"Tracking our dear students, Minerva," Dumbledore said, tracing lines on the parchment with his wand. "Look closer."

McGonagall looked- and gasped. There were little dots moving across the parchment. More specifically, they were dots that were leaving a blob marked 'Hogwarts' and travelling slowly towards another blob marked 'London'.

"Things should never be left to chance," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "so we shall track their progress, and make sure they are not killed or otherwise maimed, which would be rather unfortunate."

* * * * *

Hermione brushed her fluttering hair out of her face and sighed. She'd always thought that flying was grossly overrated, but, she grudgingly admitted to herself, it was nice at times- namely when she didn't get airsick.

But it was boring. None of the others seemed quite up to talking at the moment, and there was nothing to see from up here except the brilliant sun and skies above and the feathery clouds below. She'd already stared at them for quite a while, and had inevitably grown tired of their cloying beauty.

She found herself staring blankly at Draco, who was flying about ten feet off to her left. She couldn't help admiring his straight flying posture... the fluttering, perfectly tailored robes that now clung closely to his chest and stomach... the brilliant, fine, sun-kissed, windswept silver-blonde hair that slid across his face like slithering serpentine sunrays, glinting with a metallic silver sheen... the deep grey eyes that were now fixed on some far-distant point, lost in thought...

Hermione gave herself a half-hearted mental slap of embarassment, and instead, turned her attention to Harry. He also had a perfect flying posture, and he wasn't half bad-looking, but somehow... the hair was not the same, the eyes were not the same... not only in color, texture, and appearance, but in something more fundamental, something raw and deep and unfathomable...

Hermione struggled in her mind, trying to think of how exactly Draco and Harry were different, but the answer evaded her.... until....

There was the noise of rending cloth, followed by...

"Holy sh-!" came Draco's startled voice.

Hermione, Ron, and Harry abruptly braked, and looked back. Hermione stifled a bad word. She'd almost fathomed the unfathomable... but then Draco had swore, and...

Draco was spinning out of control, trying hard not to lose too much altitude and dip below the clouds. But it wasn't the fact that Draco had almost fallen off his broom that made them stare. It was the pair of rather large, black, shimmering, dragonish wings that had appeared on his back. They must have caught the wind, and thrown Draco off course.

Draco quickly regained control of his broom, and remained still, hovering in air and twisting around on his broom to look at his back. As Harry, Ron, and Hermione flew closer to see what was going on, they noticed that there was a horrified look on his face.

"What's the matter?" Harry said shortly, getting quickly to the point, while glancing at the stricken look on Draco's pale face.

"These were very, very expensive robes!" Draco lamented, pawing at the large rips on the back of the robes and completely disregarding the wings.

The other three almost fell off their brooms.

"Your robes are the least of our worries, Malfoy," Ron said, an undertone of derisive laughter in his voice. "Can you still ride a broomstick with those wings?"

"No," Draco snapped irritably, folding the appendages in question experimentally. "They'll still catch the wind even if I fold them. And, there's also the fact that I don't quite know how to fly with them yet, seeing as this is the first time I've ever spontaneously grown dragon wings."

"I suppose we'll just have to drop you then, and hope there's something hard to break your fall," Harry said cheerfully.

Draco glared.

"You're always holding us up, Malfoy," Ron said in a voice of long-suffering. "Now we won't be able to get to London tonight."

Draco groaned as he stretched out a wing. "Fine, I'll try to fly with the bloody wings," he grumbled. "But I'm holding onto my broomstick, because I have no control over these things, and they could disappear at any moment."

They watched mutely as he fluttered awkwardly into the air beside his broom, clinging to the handle as if it were a lifeline- which, in this case, it was.

"You look like an overgrown blonde pigeon, Malfoy," Ron commented, watching the listless flutter of Draco's wings.

"When was the last time you saw a pigeon with dragon wings, Weasley?"

Ron ignored Draco- with some difficulty. Hermione noticed his ears turning red.

"You know, in stories, they always have people dropping down into the forest unharmed, but have you ever considered the amazing number of sharp, sturdy branches that point upwards?" Draco commented eventually as he fought to stay in the air.

"No, only morbid people like you think about things like that," Ron said.

"Thanks ever so much, Weasley, but if you want to have a verbal battle with me, you're going to lose."

"Care to meet some of those sharp branches up close and personal, Malfoy?"

"No, not really. I could introduce you to the flat of my sword blade though."

The conversation was spiraling downward into violence far too quickly for Hermione's liking, so she intervened.

"Shut up and fly, you two." Hermione accentuated her words by turning her broomstick meaningfully and flying ahead. Harry and Ron followed.

"Um...."

Ron looked back. "Now what, Malfoy?"

"How do you get these things to fly forwards!" Draco growled irritably as he went several feet in the wrong direction- upwards.

Harry smirked. "You look utterly ridiculous, you know that? Quick, everyone, insult him, and maybe he'll learn to fly forwards just to get at us."

Draco leaned forwards and propelled himself a few feet ahead. "Say that again, Potter."

"See, it worked. Shut up and keep flying, Malfoy. Now that you've learned how..."

"Damn you, Potter."

* * * * *

They continued thus through the entire day. There were only two disturbances- once was when a Muggle plane was spotted on the horizon, and they all had to duck into the clouds to avoid being seen. The second disturbance was when Draco lost his wings. Abruptly.

"Shiiiiiiiiiiiiit!!!!!!!" was how Draco announced this occurrence.

"Again, Malfoy?" Ron said, looking back at Draco, who was clinging to his broom, sans wings and looking extremely irritable.

"It was good that that happened, actually," Draco said with a hint of his old drawl in his voice as he pulled himself onto his broomstick. "They were getting sore."

"What, your wings or your bollocks?"

"Harry, remember, he hasn't got any, he's a gay git."

"Oh yeah. Thanks for reminding me, Ron. I feel the need to go hurl now."

"Shut up, you two," Hermione snapped, as she watched Draco go red with fury. "You'll set him off, and your brooms will catch on fire or something."

Draco smirked. "Good idea."

Harry and Ron paled. "Don't go giving him ideas like that, Hermione!"

* * * * *

They only stopped flying when the sun was perched precariously on the horizon. Descending into the woods below, they scouted out a good spot to stay the night- a small clearing surrounded by trees. As Hermione immediately went to the fringes of the clearing to put up Barrier Charms around the perimeter of the area, Harry and Ron went to sit on the ground near the middle of the clearing. Harry pulled out the map.

"Oh, no, I don't believe it. We're still ten miles from London," Harry groaned.

Ron shrugged noncommittally as he cleared a small space of anything flammable, collected firewood, and piled it on the bare ground.

"Oh well, we'll manage," Ron said wisely, sounding incredibly like his mother in that moment. "Incendio!" As the fire roared into life, Ron sat back.

Draco tossed his pack, rapier, and Firebolt down, and sprawled on the ground. "Yeah, it's just five more miles of flying in the morning, then five miles of prancing along in Muggle clothing pretending to be kihers," he said scornfully.

"Hikers," Harry corrected.

"Yeah, whatever," Draco said, sounding proud of his ignorance of Muggle affairs.

Hermione returned after a short while, and opened her pack. After a moment of rummaging, she spoke up.

"Oh look," she said, pulling out a small container. "Dinner."

Ron, Harry, and Draco gave the container a dubious look.

Reading instructions written on the side of the container, Hermione tapped it twice with her wand, and plates of food appeared on the ground.

Hermione looked surprised. "Well. I didn't particularly expect that method."

* * * * *

After the four had finished and cleaned up, the group split rather unevenly- Harry, Ron, and Hermione went to one corner, and Draco to the other. As the three Gryffindors chatted idly, Draco found himself staring at the Sword of Slytherin.

It was a beautiful thing. The blade was whisper-sharp, silvery, and tapered steadily from three-quarters of an inch wide at the hilt- the widest part of the blade- to a fine, minute point. Yet, as he realized when he picked it up, it was quite rigid and inflexible. The balance of the three-foot long blade was finer than any sword he'd ever held before- and having received fencing lessons from his father when he was young, he'd held many swords. The blade was light, easily wielded, and the hilt, wrapped in black dragon-skin leather, was a perfect non-slip surface. The pommel was a single round emerald encircled by a silver serpent, and the silver crossbar was slim, pointed at both ends, and set with more glittering emeralds.

On an impulse, Draco rose with the sword, and wandered off into the forest, unknowingly passing beyond the Barrier Charm. He wanted to try this sword out.

Harry looked up as he heard Draco's departure, and frowned. "Where's wingboy going?"

Hermione shrugged. "He took his sword though..." she said.

Ron's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Think we should follow? Just to see that he doesn't sneak off?"

Harry nodded. "Out of sword range though," he added. "We've already seen evidence of Malfoy's apparent mental instability."

The two rose and stealthily tracked Draco's progress. Hermione followed, more slowly, burdened with thoughts.

Malfoy isn't being as obnoxious as usual. Maybe he's been doing some thinking too....

However, even though Hermione brought up the rear, she was first to spot Draco. She had glanced sideways, into a tangle of brush to her right- she could have sworn she'd heard a noise akin to the silent swoosh of a bird's wing. The familiar flash of platinum blonde hair through the branches of the bush confirmed her suspicion, and she beckoned to Harry and Ron, who were poking around a few feet ahead. While she waited for them to arrive, she pushed aside the brush to get a better look.

Her jaw dropped.

"Harry, Ron," she whispered. "You've got to see this."

The two came over to watch, and Harry whistled softly. "Shadowboxing's boxing with an imaginary opponent- so... this has got to be shadowfencing."

Ron nodded mutely.

Draco was indeed 'shadowfencing', and he was unknowingly putting on quite a show for the three Gryffindors, hidden in the brush.

The Sword of Slytherin flickered in Draco's hand almost as if it were merely an extension of Draco's arm... like light glancing off a lake, like moonlight flitting through the treetops. Hermione watched mesmerized, her hands gripping the branches of the bush, as he flicked it through a series of impossibly tiny, yet insidiously effective looking movements. She watched as he slashed at the throat of his imaginary opponent, the blade seeming to rip the very molecules of the air apart with a tiny fwip- and then, suddenly, he stopped, panting lightly, with an unreadable expression in his eyes, which were flicking around the bushes. Then suddenly, he walked off somewhere, and she lost him in the trees.

"Where'd he go?" Hermione whispered.

Ron shrugged. "Hopefully, he's gone off somewhere to impale himself on that sword."

"Were you looking for me? I'm touched," said a familiar voice, right behind them.

Hermione leaped a foot into the air, and came down on Harry's lap. Harry gave a muted yelp as her weight descended upon him.

"M-Malfoy!" Hermione squeaked. "Don't... do that!"

Draco smirked. "How long were you watching?"

"Not long.... but we were only watching..." Hermione said hesitantly as she slipped off of Harry's lap, in that tone that meant she was doing some quick thinking.

"Actually, that's not right," Ron said. "We weren't just watching, we were also hoping you'd fall on your own blade."

"Who's morbid now, Weasley?"

"Shut up!"

"But we'd thought maybe you'd gone off somewhere or done something else..." Hermione continued, her eyes narrowed, ignoring Ron and Draco's little verbal fencing session.

Draco's handsome brow furrowed. "I haven't been doing anything except practicing," he said in an innocent tone.

"Exactly... what were you practicing , Malfoy?"

"Fencing, Potter! Haven't you been listening?"

Harry smiled innocently. "I merely thought that your words might have had a double meaning..."

The four headed back to the campsite, Harry, Ron, and Draco arguing loudly.

* * * * *

An uneventful hour later found three of the four Heirs asleep on the ground beneath conjured blankets. The fourth, Hermione, was still up, reading through the book The Heirs of the Founders.

The Heirs of the Founders, said to greatly resemble the Founder they are the Heir of, are in essence, warriors- fighters molded by the Four Founders to be a powerful combined force, instrumental in the defeat of evil and darkness. Armed with the steel/adamantine Divine Blades, who have the ability to reflect and absorb magic, they are said to also possess a wide range of magical skills.

Hermione raised an eyebrow, and read on.

The Heirs are said to be more powerful magically than normal wizards, both in defense and offense. They have the capability to cast magic without wands, but this is a draining process for them, and it seems they would prefer to use wands. They are also natural Animagi, and speak a single Other-Human tongue each. Gryffindor's Heir speaks Leantongue, and shifts to lion form. Ravenclaw's Heir speaks Accipitongue, and shifts to golden eagle. Hufflepuff's Heir speaks Lupentongue, and shifts to wolven form. Slytherin's Heir speaks Parseltongue, and shifts to serpent form.

"The stuff about Gryffindor and Slytherin's Heir was incorrect in this text, due to those other circumstances..." Hermione murmured as she turned the page.

Each Heir also has an element that they have a great affinity with. Gryffindor's Heir is of the fire element, Ravenclaw is of the wind element, Hufflepuff of the earth element, and Slytherin of the water element. Their element affects their power in a small way- the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw Heirs would be stronger in a desert environment, which is windy and hot, but the Hufflepuff and Slytherin Heirs would suffer slightly in the absence of earth and water- the earth element being defined in this case as soil, rocks, and plants. In an arctic environment, the Slytherin and Ravenclaw Heirs would again flourish in the cold waters, ice, and wind, while the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff Heirs suffer slightly. However, in a forest, standing upon the earth among the plants and trees, the Hufflepuff Heir would have the chief advantage, while the other Heirs remain at average Heir strength until another force comes into play- a river, pond, or lake for Slytherin, a fire for Gryffindor, or high winds for Ravenclaw. They also have the ability to summon and manipulate their element to a degree, and are said to strengthen when in direct contact with their element.

Ooooooh... Hermione thought. Spiffy. Let's hope it's windy wherever the Dark Lord's hiding out.

The Heirs are also said to have strong mental connections. The extent of these connections is not known, though it is known that they can communicate telepathically with a small amount of effort, whether in animal or human form.

However, all this information is drawn from the ancient texts of the Founders, as the Four Heirs have yet to be found.

Well, we've been found already, Hermione thought tiredly as she closed the book and settled back in her blankets. Gazing up at the stars, she slowly drifted off to sleep, the wind whispering its secrets in her ears.

* * * * *

An owl swooped on silent wings through the window of Dumbledore's office, carrying a letter with the seal of the Ministry of Magic on it. Dropping the letter on the headmaster's desk, it turned about and flew back out into the night.

Dumbledore opened the letter slowly, and read it. His face paled for a moment, before relaxing slightly into an "I knew it" expression.

The letter was terse and to the point.

Albus-

The dementors have left their posts at Azkaban. They must have been aided by You-Know-Who's magic in escaping the island. We've no idea where they went. Perhaps to You-Know-Who.

- Cornelius Fudge

Dumbledore sighed, rubbing his temples with his long fingers. He'd managed to get through to Fudge last year, managed to make him realize Voldemort was indeed back... but Fudge seemed to have stalled with fear, afraid to make any decision, for fear it would be a wrong decision. It was as if the Ministry was being led by a blinded man.

Picking up his quill, Dumbledore began to write.

Cornelius-

I would advise you to station heavily armed guards all through Azkaban. Also, you should probably order anti-escape charms placed liberally over the entire island, and some of the surrounding sea. We can't have any prisoners escaping from there- they are mostly Voldemort supporters.

- Albus Dumbledore

Dumbledore got up silently, and went to send the letter.

On the desk, a cluster of dots on the unattended map, labeled 'dementors', was moving towards four other dots, which were ten miles north of London.

* * * * *

Harry woke, ten minutes after midnight, with a horrible wrenching sensation in his stomach.

No.... it can't be...

Seizing his wand, he climbed silently to his feet, though he felt as if he were about to be violently sick. He noticed the others getting up, and hissed to them in terror,

"..... it feels like there's dementors coming...."

The three went horribly pale.

What are we going to do, Harry?

Harry jumped. The voice had been Hermione's- but it had been in his mind. "Did you say something, Hermione?" he whispered.

Yeah, she thought, and from Ron and Malfoy's reactions, they heard her too. We can communicate telepathically. It takes effort though.

Spif...y, Ron thought- though his mindvoice seemed a bit choppy, like a badly tuned radio. Perhaps it was lack of practice, or maybe insufficient energy to mindspeak efficiently. But wh....t are we going... do about those dem.... tors?

I d...n't know, Harry thought shakily, his mindvoice just as choppy as Ron's. I could do... Patronus, but I don't know where they-

Harry's thought was abruptly cut off by a rising screaming in the back of his mind that was terribly familiar, and the cold, sinking into his body...

Or was it familiar? He heard two voices in his head- one terrified female, one angry male. The female was, of course, his mother, but the male voice didn't sound familiar though... it wasn't Voldemort... nor was it his father...

Harry fell to his knees as the voice of his mother faded into the background, and the other voices erupted into shrill cries in his head- vaguely, he thought he could make out Malfoy, his face milk-white with terror, writhing slightly on the ground... Ron and Hermione were fixed immobile where they were, on all fours... and now Harry could hear the voices in his head.

"How dare you, you insolent brat! Consorting with Mudbloods!"

"F-f-father, he wasn't a b-b-bad person, I didn't th-th-think..."

"That is obvious! You never think, Draco!"

With a start, Harry realized he was experiencing Malfoy's memories.

The sound of a body being slammed forcibly against a wall...

A hiss of, "I'm going to teach you a lesson you won't forget."

The voice of a child, pleading in abject terror, "F-f-father, p-p-please..."

"Crucio!"

Both Malfoys, one six years old, one sixteen, screamed.

The sudden roar of flames surged through Harry's ears.

Harry forced his eyes open. The memory was over. He saw a ring of fire blazing with demonic vigor around Malfoy, and standing around the ring were dementors, five of them, listening emotionlessly to his anguished screaming. The only thing keeping them from getting any closer to Draco were the flames.

Harry forced his wand arm up- it seemed made of lead- and focused as hard as he could on the happiest memory he could conjure up, while fighting the horror in his mind-

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" he cried.

A dazzling silver stag burst from the end of his wand, and Harry, gasping in relief, sank back to the ground. Silent, drifting, it galloped towards the dementors. The dementors turned as the stag, alight with ethereal, bright-white fire, advanced upon them. They retreated before the Patronus, which drove them relentlessly ahead until they were completely out of sight.

Harry stumbled towards Ron and Hermione, shaking. "Are you two alright?"

Hermione and Ron both had strange looks on their faces. All three of the Gryffindors looked at Draco, still out on the ground, shaking and pale.

"Did you... see?" Ron said eventually.

"Yeah.... what was that?" Harry asked.

Hermione seemed to come out of a deep reverie. "One of Malfoy's worst memories... the book said that the Heirs have deep mental connections... but I didn't think they were this extensive."

After a very pregnant pause, Draco opened his eyes slowly. "Nice memories, Potter," he said, his voice shaking.

Mentally, Harry's jaw dropped, but outwardly, he masked his surprise fairly well. "You've got some pleasant memories too, Malfoy."

Draco glanced suddenly up at them, a sharp, suspicious look in his eyes. "What? What did you see?"

"We didn't see anything. We heard you as a child being subjected to the Cruciatus Curse by your father," Hermione offered. "We also heard Harry's parents being... well..."

Harry sat down hard on a rock. Draco pulled himself up by the same rock.

Hermione was more than a little flustered. "I wish we had some chocolate here," she said, rooting through her pack. After a moment, she pulled out another container, and looked inside.

"Well, isn't that convenient," she murmured as she extracted a few bars and distributed it. "Dumbledore must have suspected... as he always does..."

Draco licked his listlessly, barely feeling the warmth spreading through him. "Anyone fancy going back to sleep?"

Nobody wanted to, so they sat up in silence for a while, slowly recovering.

"How did those dementors get through your Barrier Charms, Hermione?" Ron said after a moment.

"The Barrier Charms... I suppose the dementors were too powerful magically for the barrier..." Hermione replied, sounding mortified at the failure of her magic.

There was another awkward silence.

"You know, Malfoy, you are extremely screwed up," Hermione commented. "I don't know what to make of you."

"That's nice, Granger," Malfoy replied acidly.

"No, I mean, the book said that you, as Heir of Slytherin, are a water element. You operate best, and are strongest, in watery, cold environments," Hermione said, twisting her hands in her lap and clearly rambling now, wanting to forget the dementors. "Yet you... have fire."

Malfoy looked blankly at his hands. "I don't know," he finally said. "Maybe I just control fire, and all the other water things still apply. I do a lot of swimming. I like water," he said numbly- also clearly rambling. "Maybe you can have more than one element. Maybe I'm just weird."

"Personally, I think it's the latter," Ron said, though, after the dementor incident, he didn't seem as enthusiatic in his Malfoy-bashing as he usually was.

"Personally, I think..." Harry began hollowly, "that maybe I should teach you all the Patronus spell."

* * * * *

Two hours and scores of failed Patronuses later, a chorus of 'expecto patronum's' could still be heard from the clearing as the four tiredly attempted to coax Patronuses from their wands.

"Harry, look!" Hermione bounced excitedly as a brilliant silver eagle erupted from the end of her wand in a flurry of shimmering wings and silver feathers. It fluttered in the air, looking about with a slightly disgruntled air, and vanished.

"They do that if there aren't any dementors around," Harry explained, noting the crestfallen expression on Hermione's face.

However, Ron, who wasn't quite as clever as Hermione, was in difficulties. A thin silver wisp hovered in front of him, and Ron, swearing vigorously, let it disappear.

"Concentrate harder, Ron," Hermione said helpfully.

"I am concentrating hard already!" Ron said furiously.

"Think of a happier memory," Harry offered.

Ron did so, his clear brow furrowing in thought. Pointing his wand, he said firmly, "Expecto Patronum!"

A silvery wolf bounded effortlessly from the end of his wand, and landed without a sound on the ground. It glanced around, and leapt off into the darkness, vanishing just as Hermione's eagle had.

Ron sat down abruptly on a tree root. "That was tiring," he commented.

Harry glanced over at Draco, and, to his surprise, saw him sitting quite still on a rock. Harry sighed and walked over.

"What's wrong now, Malfoy?"

"I can't do it." Draco's voice sounded oddly muffled.

Now Ron and Hermione came over. "Why the hell not?" Ron said impatiently. "Just think of a happy memory."

Draco looked up at Ron, with an oddly closed expression. "Happy memory?" he repeated vaguely, with a look on his face as if he were searching for something hovering in the air above him. "Oh..."

Finally, after a moment, Draco looked back at the three waiting Gryffindors with the wide-eyed expression of a deer caught in headlights. "I don't have one."

For a moment, Ron, Hermione, and Harry were silent, not quite knowing how to respond to that. Then Ron erupted. "Of course you've got to have one!" he said loudly. "You just can't think of it right now!"

Draco smiled blankly at the ground. "I'd love to believe that, Weasley."

The four fell silent- they could tell from Draco's expression that he was doing some reflecting back on his past, opening doors that hadn't been opened in years and deactivating defenses that had been set up against outsiders.

Draco sifted through the piles of not-so-suitable memories he had easy access to, until he reached the deepest memories of his past- the ones held locked away behind numerous defense mechanisms and mental barriers, well protected in case Lucius somehow found out about them and exorcised them relentlessly.

Finally Draco looked up again. "I have one," he said quietly.

Ron looked impatient. "Then do the Patronus already."

Draco closed his eyes. "Expecto Patronum," he whispered.

Nothing happened.

Draco looked chagrined. "Dunno if that memory is strong enough," he muttered, "but it's really all I have to use."

Harry was curious. "What is it?"

Draco gave him a withering look. "I'm not about to tell you."

Ron opened his mouth as if to speak, but Draco cut him off. "Lemme think a moment," the Slytherin said crossly, his eyebrows knitting up.

"Expecto Patronum," Draco said again after a pensive moment.

Frm the end of Draco's wand spurted a ribbon of silver... it enlarged, and formed itself into the shape of a great, serpentine.... thing. It had the head and wings of a dragon, and only two limbs, which were a pair of clawed arms set opposite the wings on the dragon's body. The rest of its body was that of a snake. In fact, it looked like nothing so much as a winged, two-armed snake with a dragon's head and wings. It hovered in air for a moment, then turned abruptly about and was gone.

"Guess it worked," Ron said.

"What was your Patronus, anyway?" Harry asked. "I've never seen any creature like that before."

"It's a wyvern," Draco clarified. "I'm not surprised that that is what my Patronus looks like- the wyvern is the Malfoy family emblem. A perfectly balanced blend of the dragon and the serpent."

Harry then got briskly to his feet, and stretched. "Now that we've whiled away two hours figuring this out, shall we start out again?"

He turned to glance at Hermione, but his eyes fell instead on a great golden eagle which was watching him dispassionately.

Harry gasped and leapt backwards. The eagle, startled, took flight, and, after circling a moment in the sky, came down again cautiously, landed, flickered, and became Hermione again.

"Sorry, eagle instincts took over," she said. "Anyway, I just thought I would figure out the Animagus thing while Malfoy was dreaming up fantasies. I don't like broomstick travel."

Harry blinked. "What is this, Heir training session?"

Hermione sniffed. "I'd rather figure out my strengths now than later, because later seems to include a battle with a very large, very ferocious Hebridean. We should all try this stuff out now, when we have time. I hate leaving things to chance."

Ron winced at the reminder of the Hebridean. "Good point."

* * * * *

Dumbledore looked up as McGonagall entered his office.

"Do the students understand?" was his terse question.

"They do," McGonagall said crisply. "I dare say the Gryffindors were rather put out when they were told they'd have to lay off of Draco Malfoy, both now, and after he gets back to school. Then I told them that if they keep up their taunts about him, they'll drive him to Darkness, and then You-Know-Who will win. Sobered them up a bit. The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws adopted a 'whatever' attitude, but I believe they've all agreed."

"That's good... I had hoped that when I told them who the Heirs were, they would then realize that Malfoy is the weak, indecisive link in this foursome, and perhaps leave him alone. Then he wouldn't have so much of a reason to join the Dark Lord in his campaign against Muggle-borns and those who associate with Muggles, and the indecision already in his mind would swing in our favor. I believe that Draco Malfoy is a boy who rarely does things without good reason. If we give him no reason to detest us, his argument for joining the Dark Lord will be weakened."

"But we still have the boy's father to reckon with," McGonagall said quietly. "You know what Lucius Malfoy is."

Dumbledore gave a sly smile- a strange sight to behold on the headmaster's countenance. "I am hoping that Malfoy will discover something on this trip- something he values so much he will stand up to his father to protect it. I dare say that Harry, Ron, and Hermione will also do their best to keep Mr. Malfoy 'Light'."

* * * * *

"All right, Malfoy, you can go."

Hermione made this pronouncement only after she, Harry, and Ron had drawn their wands. The first time you shifted into animal form, Hermione had explained, it not only gave you the body of an animal, it gave you the mind and instincts of an animal.

And no one wanted a (most likely) poisonous snake running- or, more precisely, slithering- rampant.

Especially one whose instincts were coupled with Malfoy-ish instincts.

Draco complied, shifting to serpent form.

His first thought was, Ouch.

His tail had slammed into a tree trunk. Twisting about to glance at himself, Draco blinked. Then, realizing he didn't quite have much in the way of eyelids, he tried to shrug, but there were no shoulders either.

Then the snake instincts kicked in.

And the first thing they demanded, was food.

The snake's eyes focused upon the three figures standing not too far away- serpent's eyes weren't that good, normally, but this snake's eyesight was excellent, even if it couldn't see color. It slithered forward swiftly, raising the first third of its body from the ground, spreading its hood, and baring phenomenal fangs with a hiss.

They haven't run... good. No expenditure of poison needed... the snake thought- or rather, felt. Snakes didn't really seem to think in the human way, but rather, felt emotions which could be interpreted roughly into simple human thoughts.

Harry and Ron raised their wands as one. "Harry, say something to him," Ron said quietly. "I didn't expect him to turn out that big," he added as he glimpsed the rest of the serpent, coiling into a rough semicircle. The cobra was large, even for its species- all of twenty feet long, though it was only about three inches wide at its widest point. It was the kind of snake that, at first glance, you'd think was relatively small and nonlethal- about ten or so feet- but then you saw the rest of the body... and then the hood...

"What do you expect me to say to a mad cobra?" Harry said, his eyes on Ron so it wouldn't come out as Parseltongue.

"I don't know. Aren't snakes supposed to obey Parseltongues?"

"I don't know if a snake with the mind of a Malfoy would obey me," Harry said shortly. "If I tried commanding him, he'd probably get annoyed and bite my head off. Hermione, I think you should."

Nervously eyeing the twenty feet of slim serpent that was menacing them at the moment, Hermione focused her mind on Draco's.

Malfoy, snap out of it, she thought tentatively. But it was like talking to a tree- a very supple, poisonous tree. There was no response.

Malfoy! she snapped again, and this time she thought she registered something.

....wha? The voice was Draco's, and he sounded extremely confused.

The snake's instincts are controlling you, Hermione said succinctly.

"Hermione!" Harry said urgently as the serpent's flickering tongue lanced at his face.

Holy crap... Draco thought, sounding panicked. Somebody stop this snake! I don't wanna eat Potter, I'll have indigestion for a month!

YOU stop the damn snake! Hermione shrieked mentally. In response to this unflattering- and rather surprising- outburst from Hermione, Draco shrank back in astonishment, the hood snapping closed, abruptly in control of the body he and the snake inhabited.

Harry went limp with relief, and sat down hard on the ground. Ron and Hermione followed suit.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked Hermione, who was shivering slightly.

"Yeah... just... I don't.... like.... snakes," Hermione said shakily.

"What on earth did you say to him, Hermione?" Ron asked presently.

Hermione glanced at him in surprise. "What, you didn't hear?"

Ron shook his head. "Nope. You must have done some sort of private conversation with him."

Hermione ran her shaking fingers nervously through her hair. "Just told him to stop the snake.... but I didn't know we could do that... have private conversations and all..."

"Well, apparently. You just had a private conversation," came a wry voice.

The three Gryffindors glanced in the direction of the voice, and saw a rather disheveled Draco gazing into a small magical mirror that hung in midair before him. As they watched in blank astonishment, he pulled a comb from the pocket of his robes and began to carefully rearrange his hair into its familiar, expertly layered position.

"Malfoy?" Hermione began calmly.

Draco glanced over, lowering his comb to his side. "Hmm?"

"Put the comb down and get over here! We have work to do!" she snapped. This technique worked before, she thought grimly. Maybe it'll work again.

Draco jumped. "Okay, okay..." he said irritably as the mirror disappeared with a snap. "Jeez... what's wrong with you?" he added acrimoniously as he stowed away his comb.

Hermione glared. "Aside from the fact that we were almost all eaten by a snake, we're all fine," she said succinctly. However, this wasn't entirely true- Ron and Harry looked as if Hermione's outburst had given them both aneurysms.

Draco looked peeved. "Well, if you had wanted to prevent that, you should have fed me more," he pointed out, smirking. "Snakes sleep when they get enough food. They hunt when they're starved and mistreated," he added, putting on a pathetic, sad puppy face which he thought would reproach Hermione for 'starving and mistreating' him.

Hermione shot him a look of pure poison, and he shut up and backed into the shadows.

"You next, Ron," Hermione said imperiously, and Ron didn't dare argue.

Getting up, he stepped into the moonlight, and, turning to face his companions, he shifted before they could get to their feet.

A great black wolf appeared, and Hermione felt Draco give a nervous twitch beside her.

The three froze as the wolf focused Ron's deep blue eyes upon them.

What are those? thought the wolf curiously. They smell human, but they don't walk on two legs.

The wolf crept closer, intrigued, and Hermione hissed to the others, "Don't move..."

The wolf halted, confused.

....what???

Snap out of it. You're giving in to the wolf's instincts.

The wolf blinked, and retreated a few steps before shifting back.

Draco pouted as Ron checked himself to make sure he was all human again. "How come Weasley's change was so quick?"

Ron glanced up. "The wolf's instincts were actually kind of easy to control. Very cooperative pack instincts. Now, that either means that the snake has a strong will, or that you are a weak-willed little pansy, Malfoy."

"I think I'll take the former," Draco said dryly as he, Hermione, and Harry stood. "Potter, get out there."

Harry looked ready to retort, but as Hermione turned to look in his direction, he fled into the clearing.

Hermione raised her wand. "Get ready," she said tensely to Draco and Ron.

Harry paused a moment, then shifted.

The lion circled once, slowly, its green eyes fixed on the three. Then, like a golden bolt of chain lightning, it leapt.

"Praesidius!" cried three voices.

The lion smashed into three Barrier Charms that had been hastily erected by Hermione, Ron, and Draco; the first Charm (Hermione's) fell away beneath the assault.

There was no longer any nonsense about just one person speaking to the changed one; all three flung mindyells at the Harry/lion.

Harry, stop!

Oh, Harry, come on, the lion's controlling you!

Potter, you stupid prat! What the hell do you think you're doing, you git!

The lion skidded to an abrupt halt when Draco added his comment.

Same to you, you bloody fangboy! Harry mindyelled right back at him.

Draco looked pleased with himself, despite the fact that he had just antagonized one of his greatest enemies while aforementioned enemy was in the form of a very large lion. "A good insult always does the trick," he smirked.

Harry would have leapt over the Barrier Charms to close his jaws around Draco's neck, but, remembering that they needed to keep Malfoy alive for now, he refrained, and instead resumed his natural form.

All four sat down a moment to recover their breath, and, as Ron glanced to the east, he saw a glimmer of light on the horizon.

"Oh look, the sun's rising already. I don't feel tired at all though," he declared.

"None of us do," Draco commented dryly, glancing at at the anything-but-tired faces around him. "But why not? We've fought off dementors, done Patronuses, gotten accustomed to our animal forms... we should be exhausted."

"We've more endurance than the normal wizard, Malfoy," Hermione said, flipping through the Heirs of the Founders book, which she had idly picked up. "If we kept it up much longer, though, we'd have been tired out."

"Shall we get flying then?" Harry said briskly, breaking the silence that had descended.

No one argued.

* * * * *

and that's chapter four. aaaaaah... made a symbolic thingie without even knowing it; Harry sat down hard on a rock. Draco pulled himself up by the same rock. the rock is hermione- harry will be developing slowly, moving downwards into darker, less naive lines of thought throughout this fanfic, with hermione as the catalyst for his downward movement- her actions will unintentionally force him to dig deep and explore his feelings. and also because of hermione, draco will move upwards into less morbid and more light-influenced regions. as harry moves from pure white to gray, draco moves from pure black to gray, and the two meet in the middle at an equilibrium. or at least, hopefully this will happen. review please.

-celeste