Harry Potter and the Summer of Secrets

Chapter 8: The Department of Mysteries

He shifted slightly, ignoring the constant pain in his broken arm, and looked down from his post at the mouth of the cave. Beneath the chandelier of torches, the barren stone that was the ground lay bloody and broken; remnants of the hard fought battle the previous evening.

He sighed deeply as he remembered three of his comrades getting dragged off by spiders. He shivered slightly as he watched the shadows beginning to glide over the ground below.

'At least one of them managed to escape,' he thought optimistically. He looked back at the pale man lying further along the shaft. He smiled faintly, recalling that he had thought himself crazy when the man had first returned an hour before.

He had been on watch, as he was now, when he heard a strange whimpering sound. Upon further assessment, he found that the sound had been coming from a large black dog bleeding on the rocks below. He remembered his confusion as he climbed down to help the mutt; how had a dog managed to end up in here?

He had carried the injured animal all the way up to the cave before realising that it had turned into a man. How pleased he had been that the man had escaped; he had only been ensnared in this wasteland for a year and had more reason to escape than the rest of them.

Four. That's all that remained of the original twenty-five sent in to do research. He recalled their happiness at being chosen for the mission nearly a decade before, for they would be the first to explore and research an ancient relic.

They had learned all they needed to know two days after they entered the Veil. They had been attacked by a ravenous horde of Acromantulas, and almost half of their group had been killed. The very next day, they had lost two more men to Lethifolds, but managed to find the caves, which had been their camp since.

He glanced back out into the black abyss surrounding the dais, lost in thought. They had been trapped behind a raggedy veil for ten long years, constantly struggling for their lives; he wanted it to end.

He sat up straight, looking intently at a section of darkness that was on the opposite side of the Veil. It fluttered slightly and a stream of bright light fell upon the bloodstained ground; the opening then began to ripple invitingly, as though caught in a warm summer's breeze.

He jumped up as quickly as his aged and exhausted legs would allow and ran into the cave to rouse the others.

He walked carefully down the shaft, shaking his four companions as he passed by them. They protested and tried to go back to sleep, so he cleared his throat impatiently.

"Ready for one last assault?" he asked loudly.

He looked around at his exhausted and discouraged friends; only one of them had even acknowledged that he had spoken.

"I'm ready to die," the pale man admitted, still bleeding from an injury the night before.

"There will be no more talk of dying, my young friend. Today we escape..."

"That's what you said yesterday and the day before that. In fact, you've said that every day since I got here. How is today different?" the injured man asked as he stood uncertainly, wincing in pain.

"The flap, the way out, it is opening," the older man replied, leading him to the mouth of the cave. He pointed to a faint, flickering light in the black void that surrounded the caves.

Already, the dark shadows that were their enemies gathered around it, not only to try to escape, which they rarely could, but also to prevent them from leaving as well.

"As I said," the pale man repeated, "I am ready to die. We are vastly outnumbered, and I confess, I hardly have any strength left to fight."

The old man laughed quietly. "You have more strength than the rest of us combined, if you would only find it. You are an Animagus; you are also the only one left who can still produce any kind of a Patronus; and somewhere deep inside you lie the key to our escape.

"My life hasn't always been this perfect," he shot back sarcastically. "Every happy memory I have is marred by grief."

"Then you must let go of the grief. If the memory is of someone who is dead, accept it; if the person betrayed you, forgive them..."

"It's not that easy, Will, my happiest memory is of the person who betrayed me in one of the worst possible ways."

"A woman," he replied knowingly. "Can you not think only of the good times and not the bad?"

"I can try," he replied, his tired face set as he drew his wand.

As Will went to gather the others, he stood watching the shadows slither across the stone floor. He cast his mind back to a day some twenty years earlier; he was sitting alone by the lake at Hogwarts. At the sound of rustling leaves, he nearly glanced behind him, as he had the day of the memory; a ginger-coloured cat slinked out of the forest and wound itself around him before sitting beside him. When he looked next to him, a young woman sat where the cat had seconds before.

"Ready?" Will asked, cutting into his thoughts.

He nodded and they began the short walk towards the gathering Lethifolds. Shivers shot up his spine as he heard the scuttling sound of many legs on the rough stone floor.

He looked around fearfully to see Acromantulas gathering around them, cutting off their only route to retreat. Clearly, it would end today. As the first shroud rose in front of him, he waved his wand.

"Incendio!"

Flames erupted, and the thing retreated only to be replaced by another. He repeated the spell to the same effect and glanced quickly around. The Acromantulas had joined the fray, dragging off three of his companions; now only he and Will remained. He pressed onward, fighting furiously and ignoring his friend's anguished cries, a sound he had never quite got used to. He transformed into a dog and circled swiftly behind the confused creatures.

"Sirius, do it now!"

He turned around to find the old man struggling to break free of a Lethifold's ironclad grip. He quickly regained his human form and closed his eyes, concentrating on that day by the lake.

The face a beautiful woman with long red hair and blue eyes swam into his mind. She smiled sweetly at him, and her eyes filled with love as she whispered, "Of course I'll marry you..."

"Expecto Patronum!" he bellowed.

An enormous silver eagle flew from the tip of his wand and circled the chamber, swooping down on the Lethifolds. He looked back towards his friend, who was being dragged away by the creature. He started toward him, but Will stopped him.

"No, Sirius, now is your chance. Run!" the old man cried as the Patronus began to fade. The deadly shrouds gathered quickly as they advanced back toward the struggling man.

He glanced at the opening, and then back at Will, who shouted, "If you come for me, neither of us will make it, you know that. Now go!"

He turned back to a dog and ran toward the exit as fast as he could. He stopped at the gap and glanced back once more. The shroud that had been dragging Will had now engulfed him, as the others glided towards him.

He turned and jumped through the opening, crashing into the tile floor of a brightly lit room. The force of the crash caused him to return once again to his human form.

He stood uncertainly and raised his wand. He squinted as he looked blindly around the room, trying to see where he was. A shadowy man walked into his sight, a look of total amazement on his face.

"Are you all right?"

Sirius laughed loudly as his eyes adjusted to the light and he found himself back in the Department of Mysteries. "I'd say I'm just fine now."

****

After letting Ron and Hermione out of the secret passage, he returned to the hidden library, where he now sat, looking through Slytherin's Dark Arts collection. Only one book was missing out of the seven.

They had such titles as Charms for the Most Ferocious Beast, Curses for the Cursed, Alchemy at Its Worst, and his personal favourite, Quit Messing about and Kill Her Already!. The last book was the only one to mention Rowena; her name was on every page.

A sudden look of realisation came about his face. "That's it," he said, "I've got it."

He left the room quickly and found Ron and Hermione in the kitchen; he could swear that Weasley was still shaking from the attack earlier that morning in the passage. He started to ask if they still wanted to help, but he heard a loud pop and simultaneously felt a sudden, familiar pain in his left arm.

He turned to find Iris standing behind him with Draco and Harry; the look on her face told him that the Dark Lord was calling her as well. They Apparated quickly and found themselves in a very dark room; they looked cautiously around for the Dark Lord. They saw him at the end of the room, sitting at a desk.

He was writing notes in the margin of a thick book, but looked up as they approached. "Finally, I have a mission for you both. You are to kill the Blood-traitor and the Mudblood that Potter always runs around with. You may have a little fun with Potter, but make sure that he lives."

"Why, my Lord?" Snape asked quietly.

The Dark Lord looked furious as he rose from the chair, drawing his wand. "You dare question my orders..."

"Father," Iris interrupted, "please, let me do it myself. I hate them."

She had walked over and was standing in front of him. He looked down at her and smiled in an almost approving way.

"Very well then, leave us, Severus," he commanded before returning to sit at the desk. He looked at her intently before motioning to the chair across from him.

She sat down and looked at him expectantly. He continued to gaze at her relentlessly; she tore her eyes from his as she felt his attempt to look into her mind.

He sighed impatiently. "The ritual will take place in two weeks time. I have found Hufflepuff's line and presently await the heir's arrival. I have also located the full Gryffindor lineage -my Death Eaters will retrieve it for me- and after I find the heir, it will begin."

Iris did not say a word, but persisted to look back at him expectantly. He continued slowly, choosing his words carefully.

"Your part in this ritual is the most important, you must enter into it willingly, as must Slytherin's heir. The others are merely a sacrifice, so it matters not what they want."

"Who is Slytherin's most direct descendant?" she asked finally.

"As you know, it was your darling Draco, through his mother, of course. The honour has now fallen upon two of equal stature. The choice will be yours."

"I've already made my choice," she answered bitterly. "I chose Draco."

"No," he replied maliciously, "I chose him for you. Why do you think you have always been so drawn to him? I bound the two of you together, and now that he is dead, it should begin to fade away. Soon you will come to realise that you don't really love him, I just wanted you to think you did."

Iris did not reply, but stood and headed for the door. The Dark Lord maliciously called after her, "I want their heads on pikes in one week."

She slammed the door and strode down the hallway furiously. She shoved her way past a small group of Death Eaters coming towards her, knocking them to the ground.

She hurried through the front door and Apparated as soon as she was past the wards. She walked into the kitchen to find herself in the middle of an argument.

Ron and Harry were shouting fiercely at one another while Hermione tried to stop them. Draco and Snape sat at the table, both looking amused and unconcerned.

"You could have at least asked us!" Ron was shouting.

"After all the complaining I have had to listen to, I thought the answer was clear!" Harry shot back.

"Well, there you go thinking again!"

Harry looked at Ron furiously and quietly said, "Why don't you just leave? You can't help us anymore." He turned and left the room, silently slipping out into the yard.

"Let him go, Weasley," Snape said as he pulled the sword from Iris' bag and began to examine it closely.

After only a few moments, he dropped it onto the table. "This sword is not a Horcrux, though it, like the others, cannot be destroyed."

"Now what?" Hermione asked, looking defeated.

"It's time to begin research," Iris answered, as she pulled out the book on Horcruxes. "The only problem is that this book is written in Parseltongue."

"Is that the missing piece?" Snape asked anxiously. "As I sat reading the others, I figured something out."

"What?"

"I believe I know how to end the curse on your family," he answered quietly. "Do you want to know?"

She considered him thoughtfully, aware of the curious stares from Draco, Ron, and Hermione. "You can tell me when Voldemort is dead."

Iris picked up her bag and headed for the door Harry had disappeared through. "I'm off to the village for supplies, I'll definitely be back by dark."

Draco stood and stretched importantly before grabbing his cloak from the back of the chair. Iris watched him intently, an odd, sad sort of look in her eyes.

"I need you to stay here," she said quietly as she averted her eyes from his. She pulled the door open and stepped out into the sunlight.

As she walked across the field, she saw Harry a little way in front of her. She stopped when she came to him, and sat down beside him.

"It seems we were wrong about the sword; it is not a Horcrux, though Voldemort wanted it to be."

Harry shook his head. "Of course, now we're back where we started."

"Not really," Iris cut in persuasively. "Two have been destroyed, and two are in our possession; we only have two left to find."

Harry said nothing, but sat staring across the grounds, deep in thought.

"Would you like to visit the local village?" Iris asked loudly. "I was just on my way there, and I think you'd like it; it's called Raven's Nest.

He nodded and followed her silently across the field to the wall of trees. As she lit her wand and walked purposefully into the dark forest, Harry hesitated, remembering Snape's cryptic warning.

"I thought that you said not to go into the forest," he called after her.

"And I thought that to be in Gryffindor, you had to be brave," she called back through the thick trees.

He pulled out his wand and plunged through the trees. He had only walked a little way into the forest, when he found himself on a wide path. He saw Iris further along the trail; she was sitting on a tall and jagged rock, waiting for him.

"It's about time," she said, jumping down. Harry looked around awestruck as they walked down the trail.

A thick wall of tall trees surrounded them on both sides punctuated every so often with large slabs of limestone. The dense canopy of leaves nearly blocked out the sun; what little light shone through cast eerie shadows on the dark path below.

Harry had just heard the sound of something big moving around in the woods just beyond the thick trees that lined the path, when Iris stopped abruptly and screamed. Harry whirled around to see what was wrong; it looked as though she had fallen through a hole. He hurried over to help her out.

"No," she said, stopping him. "Get a stick or something, it's a sinkhole; who knows how big it is. I'll try to get to my wand."

He looked quickly around, but the only sticks he could see were on the thick branches high overhead. He started cautiously towards her and made it all the way over to her without falling in.

Only her head and one arm were above the ground; Harry grabbed her hand and started to drag her out. She began to scream as she tried to pull her hand from Harry's grasp. He gave one final hard tug just as Iris screamed.

She flew up out of the ground and crashed into Harry; they fell in tangled heap on the overgrown trail. She jumped off of him quickly, examining her hand. She hastily wiped off her wand and lit it quickly.

Her hand was red and blistered, as though it had been burned. She waved her wand to clean the dirt from her robes and pulled some gauze from her bag. She winced slightly as she wrapped her hand thickly with the gauze. Harry watched her curiously until she looked up and smiled at him.

"What just happened to your hand?" he asked suspiciously. "It reminds me of what happened to Quirrell when he touched me while he was being possessed by Voldemort."

"I can assure you, Harry, that Voldemort is not possessing me," she snapped back. She took off down the lane, and Harry followed slowly, deep in thought.

"It's because of my mother's blood protections, right?" he asked when he remembered that she was his daughter.

She smiled. "You're catching on now. My father never leaves his hilltop headquarters."

"Where is that?" Harry asked interested.

"A place from his past that few people know about; even those who enter it regularly," she said, smiling as though she had just given him the answer.

His face was blank, his mind reeling, as he looked at the wall of trees surrounding them. "Can you tell me where he is?"

"No," she answered loftily, "but you can guess."

****

The village of Raven's Nest turned out to merely be a single row of shops in a large field, surrounded by the same thick woods that encircled the house.

Iris moved closer to him as she raised her hood and whispered, "All the houses around here are concealed in the forest."

"Why?" Harry asked as he looked around from the hooded figures hurrying along the trail to the small shops that lined the beaten paths.

"Fear mostly," she replied, still whispering softly.

She led him into an apothecary, where an excited young girl with short red hair asked for her order as soon as they entered. Iris smiled at the girl kindly and recited a list of herbs that Harry had never even heard of. The girl took off quickly as Iris headed toward the back of the room, followed slowly by Harry.

"Iris!" a happy voice boomed from behind a large counter at the back of the room. "What can I get for you?"

"Oh hullo, Airmid. Ailis took my order at the door," Iris replied as she smiled warmly at the large and rather old woman behind the counter. She had silvery black hair so long that it trailed the floor as she walked round the counter and looked at Harry intently.

"I like him," the woman boomed suddenly, causing both Harry and Iris to jump suddenly. "He seems much friendlier than the boy you've usually got with you."

She gave Harry an approving look as Iris' face flushed. "This is my friend Harry Potter, Draco is back at the Manor."

"Did you say Harry Potter?" the old woman asked as she conjured three chairs right in the middle of the empty and overstocked shop.

Iris nodded. "Why?"

"I once knew a young man named James Potter; he used to come in to town with your mother and her boyfriend," she laughed heartily. "I remember, one summer, they came in nearly every day and hid my cash box when I wasn't looking. I finally had enough of it and decided to put a Locator Charm on it. Well, I guess they thought that I had grown too used to the prank, so James shoved the box under his robes and took off out the door with it."

She paused for a breath as the little girl ran back up to Iris and handed her a bag packed full of herbs. However, before the girl could speak, the woman plunged on with her story, as though she were afraid she'd forget it.

"Now, before I continue, let me tell you that I'm a bit hard of hearing, so I opted to use a charm involving several well-placed Filibuster fireworks. I'll be damned if I didn't see James running down the street, sparks flying everywhere from the cash box still under his robes, seconds after I activated the charm. He nearly went up in flames that day, but his friends saved him. I didn't see them much after that..."

She trailed off, looking again at Harry. Iris broke the silence delicately. "Harry is James' son."

"As if she doesn't know that," Harry started angrily, but Iris cut him off quickly.

"Harry, you don't understand this village-"

"You can't tell me that she doesn't know what Voldemort did-"

"Who's Voldemort?" Ailis interjected, looking baffled.

Harry looked at the confused villagers strangely. He did not know how they could have kept from at least hearing about Voldemort. The older woman betrayed her knowledge as she shot Iris a guilty look; Iris remained expressionless, but motioned to the little girl.

"Why don't you and I go see if Owain is out in the square?" she said kindly as she steered the young girl out of the store.

"Harry, this village has been rather shut out for hundreds of years now. The only time anyone leaves, is when they go to work or school," the woman said as soon as Iris had led the little girl outside. "We have, in the past two decades, managed to keep nearly everyone who was born here within our borders. It is the only way to ensure our safety; the less people who know about our town, the safer we are."

"You really don't know who Voldemort is?" Harry asked skeptically.

The woman shook her head. "I've heard his name mentioned here and there, but that doesn't mean I know who he is, nor do I want to."

The conversation was abruptly ended when Airmid promptly led him to the door and across the field to an old fountain. The crumbling limestone looked like it had once been an elaborate carving of some sort of bird as all he could see was a clawed foot and a beak.

"Blimey, Harry, I didn't expect to see you here," a familiar voice cut through his thoughts.

Harry turned away from the fountain and was surprised to see Seamus Finnigan smiling back at him. He was standing off to one side of the fountain, next to him stood a tall, dark-haired boy talking animatedly to an amused Iris.

Harry walked toward them just as Iris dissolved in giggles. He noticed the look on Seamus' face when he glanced over at her; he did not look happy.

"Hey, Seamus, are you having a good summer?" he asked awkwardly.

"It's all right," he shrugged. "Did you hear about Zacharias Smith?"

"What about him?" Harry asked absentmindedly, as he watched Iris and the stranger suspiciously.

"He and his father were murdered by Death Eaters," Seamus answered as Harry watched the dark-haired boy grab Iris' necklace.

"What?" Harry asked; he wasn't quite sure he had heard him right, as he wasn't paying attention.

"That's what I said," Seamus replied, "but it was in this morning's Prophet."

Harry motioned to Seamus as he noticed the heated argument now taking place between Iris and the stranger. They walked over to them and caught the tail end of the whispered quarrel.

"It's cursed, Iris, you mustn't continue to wear it!" the boy was growling. Iris pulled the ring from his hand; her eyes flashed with anger as she glared at him.

"It is not cursed, Owain-" she started, but he cut her off quickly.

"It is cursed; you just don't want to lose your darling Draco," he spat angrily as his eyes bored into hers.

"And you'd just love it if I did, wouldn't you?" she retorted as she spun on her heel and took off across the field. Harry said a hurried goodbye to Seamus and followed Iris quickly.

"Who was that?" he asked when he finally caught up to her.

"That," she replied bitterly, "was Owain Emerson, he's a seventh-year Durmstrang. His family owns most of the land around here and have been trying to collect my family's chunk for generations. He's usually nicer than he was today, though Draco absolutely hates him."

They quickly bought food and other supplies before heading back, as it was beginning to get dark. Once on the trail, Iris began to talk again.

"I need to tell you something," she started quietly. "I should have told you this a long time ago - Voldemort is planning something. He keeps blithering on about some ritual for which he needs the heirs of the Hogwarts founders."

"What kind of ritual?" Harry asked curiously.

"I'm not sure," Iris replied as she dodged the sinkhole that had ensnared her before. "Something about Slytherin and the eradication of all the Muggle-borns."

As Harry looked at her mistrustfully, she stared down at the ground guiltily. "Does he have all the heirs?"

"Well," Iris began slowly, "there's me, he said he also has Slytherin's, and he was waiting for Hufflepuff's. He has yet to find Gryffindor's, but it is only a matter of time. Incidentally, the ritual is to take place at midnight on your birthday, an hour after he plans to kill you."

They blinked in the bright sunlight as they walked out of the woods and started across the fields toward the house. They found Ron and Hermione still sitting at the kitchen table; Draco came in moments later.

"What's the village-" Ron started, but Draco cut him off.

"What happened to your hand?" he asked Iris as he shot an accusatory glance at Harry.

"Nothing, I burned it on a candle, it's stupid really," she answered quickly.

He looked at her skeptically as Harry grabbed Gryffindor's sword and quickly left the room. Iris opened a cabinet and pulled out a container of burn ointment. Draco looked intently at the burn as she smeared the ointment over it. He looked up at her and shook his head.

"You're lying to me, aren't you?"

When she didn't answer, he turned and left quickly to interrogate Harry about what had happened to her. He found him in an unused library, searching the shelves furiously and muttering to himself.

"You know," he drawled arrogantly, "talking to yourself is an early sign of serious mental illness."

Harry spun around, his hair and eyes wild, and glared when he saw him leaning in the doorway, smirking.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" he asked, irritated.

Draco strode into the room and sat down in one of the chairs looking thoughtful. "Actually, now that you mention it, I'd like a lot of things. A good stiff drink, a lap dance from Iris, a pet dragon-"

"I thought you didn't like dragons," Harry cut him off looking irritated.

He looked taken aback. "What on earth gave you that idea?"

"First year you told McGonagall about Hagrid's dragon."

"That was just to annoy you," Draco replied as his smirk increased. "What are you looking for?"

Harry shook his head and turned back to the bookshelf. He heard Draco sigh behind him.

"Come on, Potter, I spent all last summer helping Iris rearrange all the libraries in the house; I could help you."

Harry stopped searching the shelves and looked back over at Draco; he thought he saw a hint of concern in his cold, grey eyes.

"I want to destroy Voldemort without using the Killing Curse," he answered blandly.

Draco considered him as though he were sizing him up for a fight. "When all the Horcruxes are destroyed, he will once again be mortal, and mortal men can bleed."

Harry sat down in the other chair and began to stare at the fire in stony silence; neither said a word for over an hour. Harry sat, turning the sword over in his hands, as he looked down at it absentmindedly. Draco, however, sat still and silent, staring into the fire as though he were oblivious to Harry's presence.

"Do you even know how to use that blade?" he asked suddenly, not bothering to shift his gaze from the flames.

"I killed Slytherin's basilisk with it four years ago," Harry shot back.

"I heard you just got lucky..." Draco began to retort, but stopped suddenly as his face flushed.

Harry looked at him strangely. "What was that, Malfoy? How did you hear about it?"

"Your moronic housemates spread the stories around to try to make themselves look cooler. They do the same to me in Slytherin; Pansy is the worst. She's always inventing stories about me taking her to a different country every summer; as if I'd waste my gold on her when I could take Iris instead. Crabbe and Goyle are also bad about it, but I overlook it, due to the fact that they are probably too dumb to know any different."

Harry nearly laughed, but quickly suppressed it, and instead glared at him.

Draco glared back. "So, are you an adequate swordsman?"

Harry shrugged nervously; he was beginning to regret his boast. Draco stood up and pulled a sword down from the wall. It was rather diminutive in contrast to Harry's; the hilt was so small that he could not fit his hand in the knuckle guard.

"Engorgio," he said hastily, enlarging the sword to better suit him. He then raised the sapphire encrusted blade in his left hand and pointed it at Harry.

"How about a game then?" Draco asked slyly. "Draw blood, ask a question, and in return for not killing each other, we promise to answer the question, no matter what it is."

Harry looked at him and shook his head. He looked hesitant as he replied, "I don't have to prove anything to you."

Draco's eyes flashed. "Actually, you do," he spat icily. "If I am going to put my life on the line for the Chosen Dunderhead, I'd at least like to know that you are not going to run blindly into the Dark Lord's clutches and get us all killed."

Harry stood and raised the sword, his face flushed. He looked angrier than Draco had ever seen him before.

He smirked. "Struck a nerve there, didn't I, Potter? Well, come on then."

Harry considered him a moment before moving into a clumsy stance. He lunged forward half-heartedly, raising the sword above his head; he brought it down quickly.

Draco lifted his sword and lazily parried the attack, pushing Harry back. A look of determination shadowed his face as he flicked his wrist and slashed Harry's right arm.

****

She watched him leave dolefully, feeling only slightly guilty about keeping something from him; if what Voldemort had said was true, she wasn't sure if she could really trust him anymore. She feared that if he were to see what the Dark Lord offered him, he would hang them all and take the offer, especially if the bond between them really had been broken. A tear slid down her cheek, which she hastily wiped away; she took a deep breath and turned back to Ron and Hermione.

"You should know, Harry must kill Voldemort by his next birthday."

"What?" Ron demanded; he was looking as though he were waiting for her say she was joking.

"You heard me," she replied coolly, "either Voldemort or Harry must be dead by his seventeenth birthday."

"All right," Hermione reasoned, "we have two weeks then, that should be plenty of time."

"Actually, it's more like one," Iris interjected. "It seems that the two of you are on the top of his list, he has ordered your deaths. He has given the Death Eaters one week, time is running out."

"Why does he want to kill us so badly?" Hermione asked feebly.

"Haven't you ever heard? Voldemort doesn't just kill you; he kills your entire family as well. You are Harry's family," Iris answered blandly.

"This is what Harry has always been worried about," Hermione sniffed. "That's why he broke it off with Ginny."

"Ginny is already in danger, and I think she knows it."

"What are you talking about?" Ron demanded, his face livid.

"Where do you think will be the first place they will look for you? Also, the Dark Lord never forgets. I believe that, even in his weakened form, he was able to see flashes of what was going on with Ginny and Tom. He somehow remembers her face, her mind; he wants her dead as much as Harry."

Ron jumped to his feet; his face was bright red with rage as he asked, "Why didn't you tell us about this sooner?"

"I have just recently come across some information; there is a raid planned for tonight, on your parent's house. Ginny will be taken straight to the Dark Lord, do you have any idea what he'll do to her?"

Ron looked ill and shook his head slightly. As Iris looked at him, he thought he saw a shadow of a smirk cross her face. She stood as well and began to encircle him.

"First he will torture her, not only with the Cruciatus, but knives, and perhaps fire. He will use her to lure Harry to him, but not before he throws her to his followers, and the rapes will begin; they will beat her, choke her, and bind her. Then they will hopefully kill her; otherwise, her torture will continue every day until they do. Now, I have had to listen to you whine and complain all week; things would be a lot easier if you'd just ignore Draco since the two of you can't seem to be civil to one another. Furthermore, do you actually expect me to divulge my every suspicion to you when you haven't even apologised for cursing me?"

She laughed hollowly before she continued, "To tell you the truth, I don't know how Harry and Hermione can even stand you!"

Iris began to grab her books and stuff them into her bag as Ron sank into the chair; he was looking quite pale.

"You're right," he said quietly.

"What?" Iris asked, shocked.

"You're right," Ron repeated, "I'm being a selfish, jealous git."

"Of course you are," she said bitterly. "You are in Gryffindor."

She grabbed the rest of her things and strode swiftly from the room, leaving Ron and Hermione to stare after her miserably.

****

He pulled back his sleeve and examined the gash carefully, it was quite shallow and the bleeding had already stopped.

"Looks like I get to ask a question," Draco drawled as he lowered his blade. He appeared to be deep in thought, trying to decide what to ask; a sudden smirk came to his face.

"Okay, Potter, what really happened to Iris' hand?"

He looked taken aback, but answered truthfully, "She fell into a sinkhole, and when I tried to pull her out, her hand got burned. It's a bit complicated, Voldemort was unable to touch me until he used my blood to regenerate; I guess it's because he is her father..."

Draco looked at him skeptically and lunged forward, cutting the wound deeper. When Harry glared at him, he merely shrugged.

"I wasted that question, it wasn't something I really didn't already know," he said unconcerned. "My next question; what did you see in the mirror?"

Harry looked down at the floor and sighed. "I saw myself holding up Voldemort's lifeless head in my hand."

He thrust his sword forward and grazed Draco's hand. A few drops of blood trickled slowly down his palm.

"My turn," Harry said smugly, "same question."

He smiled. "I had expected to see the Dark Lord dead" - he lunged forward - "but I saw myself holding the bloody Quidditch Cup of all things." Harry raised his sword to parry the attack, but instead put his hand directly in the path of the blade.

"You are inexperienced-"

"Just ask your question, Draco," Harry cut in calmly as he wiped the blood from his hand.

"What did you just call me, Potter?"

"Malfoy," he answered quickly. "Now ask your question."

"That is my question, and don't lie."

"I called you Draco, all right? I'm sorry, forget it."

He glared at Harry. "Don't ever do it again," he spat as he lunged forward, brandishing his weapon at Harry, who parried the first attack and then the second.

Draco took a step back, then advanced relentlessly on his opponent. He swept Harry's blade aside and lunged forward, thrusting his sword into his leg.

Draco smirked once more. "I'm winning. Now, I want to know what you hear when the Dementors come near you."

Harry's face went pale. When he spoke, his voice was uneven and bitter, but calm. "I hear Voldemort murdering my mum."

He raised Gryffindor's blade once more and looked intently at Draco. He brought his sword around, but his opponent parried, so Harry tried again; finally, he landed an attack, slashing Draco's forearm.

"What do you hear when the Dementors come near you?" Harry repeated back maliciously.

Draco didn't answer at first, but lowered his head. "Fine," he said finally. "When I was younger, my father sometimes used the Cruciatus on me and my mother when he lost his temper; he nearly killed me once. That's why he buys me whatever I want, though the only time I can even remember it is when I'm near a Dementor."

Iris walked in when he admitted this and looked embarrassed. "I'm sorry," she said as she looked warily at their swords, "did I interrupt something?"

"Just a rousing game of First Blood," Draco said. "You can play if you'd like."

"I think I'll just watch," she said as she pulled a book down from one of the shelves.

"Suit yourself," Draco replied as he turned back around quickly to try to catch Harry off guard.