Home is where the heart is

Home is Where the Heart Is
Chapter Eleven - Prefects and other things

Just as the sun rose above the horizon, Harry was up and dressed already. Not bothering to wake Ron, who was fast asleep and snoring, he quietly snuck downstairs with a quill and some parchment in hand. Because it was so early, the common room was quite deserted, so Harry slipped out of the portrait hole and into the silent corridors.

He was rather relieved that he didn't meet anyone, as it would have led to questions about why he was up so early. When he reached the owlery, Harry sat down on a bench, and gazed around at the hundreds of perches in the enormous tower. It was very busy, as many owls were returning from their nightly hunt, and were preparing for a long snooze for the rest of the day. The constant rustling of feathers and the occasional quiet hoot made Harry feel peaceful.

Hedwig suddenly appeared from the rafters above, and fluttered down to land beside him. She affectionately nipped his fingers lightly, and watched him as he dipped his quill into some ink. Harry paused, his point hovering above the parchment. Now that he was here, what should he write?

Last night his head had been full of so many thoughts that he could have written a thousand letters - but this morning, his mind was just.....blank. Harry screwed up his face in thought, and sat there for a while, pondering, before putting quill to paper.

Dear Snuffles,

Yes, I know that it's only been three days since I last saw you, but you said to write if anything important happened, so here I am. But before I tell you, I have to ask a question. Were you part of the Order of Phoenix? It's kind of a random thought. Dumbledore told me all about it last night, and since my dad was a member, I wondered if you were, too.

The thing is, Dumbledore has asked me to join. Yeah - I know what you're thinking - no way. But I have a feeling that Dumbledore really needs me. Sorry about dropping a bombshell like this, but I thought you and Remus deserved to know.

Love, Harry

P.S. Ron and Hermione have been made elite prefects - Hermione's over the moon about it.

There. That should do it, Harry thought resolutely. Now all I have to do is wait for an answer.....

Sighing, Harry gently blew on the ink to help it dry, before rolling the letter up tightly and fastening it to Hedwig's leg.

"Go on, girl. Sirius'll be happy to see you again," murmured Harry. Hedwig nipped him again on the shoulder, and then took off. Harry watched her soar up into the rafters, until she disappeared from sight.

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When Harry entered the Great Hall, neither Ron nor Hermione had arrived yet, so he sat down at the table and helped himself to some scrambled eggs. It was still early, but students were slowly trickling in, rubbing sleep out of their eyes and mumbling to their friends as they sat at their respective tables. Harry was on his second helping of eggs when he spotted Hermione and Ron hurrying over, looking wide-awake compared to the rest of the student body.

"Morning," Harry said through a mouth full of egg.

"Hi!" Hermione was positively beaming and quivering with excitement on the spot, glowing. Ron had a slightly stunned expression of disbelief on his face, like he was completely baffled by something, but then broke into a wide grin.

"Scary, isn't she? Been like that ever since we went into the meeting with Dumbledore,"

"Meeting? This early?" Harry asked, as the other two slipped into their places.

"Yes - it was only brief - ten minutes at the most," Hermione informed him happily. "He called us over as we were heading down to breakfast. It wasn't a proper meeting, really - we have one of those tonight. Dumbledore basically ran over our responsibilities, duties, powers, and things like that....." Smiling contentedly, Hermione settled down to eating her own breakfast.

"Yeah. Guess what? We can take a hundred points off anyone we like!" Ron said excitedly. "I've got dibbs on Malfoy first........" Harry laughed at the gleeful expression on Ron's face. Hermione looked over at him, disapproving.

"Oh Ron, you know that we can't do that lightly....we're allowed to deduct or award a hundred points at the most," she explained to Harry. "We're also expected to aid the teachers and patrol the corridors on certain nights."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Aid teachers? I have a feeling you've got your work cut out for you, then," he commented dryly. As he said this, Fred and George Weasley, and Lee Jordan walked by, probably laughing over a good prank. Ron suddenly winced.

"Oh, no! What'll Fred and George say? Imagine if I had to take points off them....." He looked quite mortified at the very idea.

"They don't know yet, do they?" Harry asked him.

Ron grimaced. "No. But they'll know soon enough. I wonder what Mum'll say........"

Cringing in embarrassment at the thought of Mrs Weasley's reaction, Ron focused his attention on the plate in front of him, not speaking much. Just as the trio were finishing breakfast, and preparing to go to their first class of the day, none other than Draco Malfoy swaggered over, Crabbe and Goyle slouching behind him.

"Heard about you being picked as a prefect, Weasel.......did your chubby mother keel over in shock?" he jeered, stopping behind Hermione and looking down on them with a malicious glint in his eyes. Ron's ears went pink, but he glared up at Malfoy.

"Oh, yeah? How much did your Daddy pay to get Dumbledore to pick you, Malfoy?" he shot back. Malfoy scowled, before his eyes fell on Harry, who was reaching for his wand.

"Well, well. Even the Mudblood got picked over you, Potter! Looks like Dumbledore's little 'Golden Boy' isn't so special after all, eh?"

"Shove it, Malfoy. You've had your gloat, now bugger off." Harry pushed his chair backwards and stood up - he was now slightly taller than Malfoy, so he used this to his advantage. Clutching his wand inside his robes, ready for any surprise attacks, he narrowed his eyes and locked them with his archenemy. Oh, what he wouldn't give to curse the smug bastard into next year......

"Unlike you, I don't need a shiny badge to reassure me that I have real friends."

Harry and Malfoy glared at each other for a moment, before Harry suddenly saw a flash of emotion in Malfoy's usually steel-grey, emotionless eyes. He almost looked.......hurt.

Good, One part of his conscious sneered. The other part felt slightly guilty.

That was low, it reprimanded. Even though it's Malfoy, that was still really low.

I don't care, Harry told his conscious. Malfoy wouldn't bat an eyelid if I was murdered right where I stood by Voldemort. He'd be happy, for God's sake. Hasn't he tormented us - me - ever since we arrived at Hogwarts? He deserves whatever he gets.

Meanwhile, the flash in Malfoy's eyes was gone in a second, and was replaced by one of his trademark smirks. He arrogantly drew himself up and stared straight back at Harry maliciously.

"I'd watch it, Potter. If you aren't careful, you might go to bed one night and not wake up the next morning." With that, Malfoy stalked away, followed faithfully by his two 'bodyguards'.

"One day I'm going to get him." Ron growled, an expression of intense hatred on his face, as he watched Malfoy walk away, clenching his own fists.

"As long as you don't get yourself expelled in the process," Hermione warned him, glancing over her shoulder at the retreating Slytherins. Ron and Harry still fuming, the three left the table and collected their books, before heading off to lessons.

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Draco Malfoy was not a happy-go-lucky teenage boy. For one, he spent most of his spare time plotting ways to get the 'famous' Harry Potter expelled. For another, he was a Slytherin.

God, I hate him, Draco thought bitterly, as he made his way to Charms. Damn that Potter. Always perfect, 'Golden Boy', getting away with everything.....

Draco was extremely bad-tempered. Potter had made him look like a fool again. Saying that the friends he had were only friends with him because they were afraid of him or wanted his money. Ha! Of course he had good friends. He was Draco Malfoy, son of a Galleonaire. And a pureblood Slytherin. Who wouldn't want to be friends with him?

People who aren't interested in money or power, Draco's irritating equivalent of a conscious admitted. Namely, trustworthy people.

Shut up, you twit, Draco inwardly told the little voice.

But the worst part was, Potter could be right. Perhaps his father had pulled strings to make him a prefect? Draco frowned, and stopped suddenly in the middle of the corridor. He wasn't thrilled that thought of Weasel being chosen purely on 'talent', (but Draco suspected it was favouritism) and him paying to get where he was. So? You never cared before.

Draco sighed, and began to walk again. His father. He had been proud of the fact that Lucius Malfoy was a Death Eater - but after the summer holidays, Draco had begun to reconsider his career opinions. Spending your summer holidays in the company of strange and evil people was enough to change his opinion of joining the 'cause' completely.

At first, Draco had been rather pleased, but after he met many other Death Eaters, and listened to the gruesome stories that they found amusement in, the novelty was wearing off. The thought of meeting Voldemort truly terrified him. And yet, what choice did he have?

"Life's a bitch," Draco muttered under his breath, as he entered the Charms classroom.

"Oh Draaaccccoooo!" Pansy Parkinson called, battering her eyelashes at him. "There's an empty seat over here!" He inwardly groaned, before plastering a fake smile on his face, and slumped into the seat beside the pug-nosed girl.

Draco loathed Pansy - he hated the way she hung off him all the time, boasting to everyone that she was his girlfriend, acting like a sickening, simpering freak. Her family was also deep into the Dark Arts, and Lucius Malfoy approved of Pansy, so Draco couldn't shake her off easily. Ignoring Pansy, he tried to pay attention to the tiny Charms professor, who had begun the lesson.

"Oh, Draco, I think its wonderful that you were chosen for an elite prefect! You're so smart and so much better than everyone else. I mean, an elite prefect! It's so amazing! You so deserve it!" Pansy gushed.

Draco grunted in reply. Obviously Blaise had already told the whole Slytherin house about his new status. Pansy was still blabbing on, so Draco automatically zeroed out and scribbled notes that Flitwick was writing on the board.

Geez, doesn't she shut up at all? he thought in disgust. Pansy was the queen of airheads, and he couldn't stand being around her anymore then he had to. In fourth year he had even had the hots for her, but after the experience at the Yule Ball, Draco was turned off her for life.

The lesson continued in this fashion, and Draco almost leapt out of his seat when the bell finally rang. Not waiting for Crabbe and Goyle, he sped off to his next lesson, which was thankfully Arithmancy - Pansy didn't take the same other elective he did.

It was when he hurtled around a corner that Draco remembered, with a sickening jolt, the one thing that he had been trying to forget about for a long time. That on Friday night, it was his initiation into the Death Eaters. He would meet Voldemort. The Dark Lord. And be marked by him.

As he ran, Draco wondered how life had suddenly become so bad.

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In a shadowed room, with a large fireplace with a roaring fire, two figures were present.

One was standing, his un-naturally tall, spindly body outlined by the flickering light. The other was on bended knee, looking at the ground and avoiding his master's eyes, which glowed an evil, blood red in the darkness. It was very unnerving, to look up and see two orbs of red that seemed to float in the air. Much safer to look at the ground.

"You are a faithful servant, Lucius. More faithful than many in my service." The man known as Lord Voldemort hissed, in a very snake-like way, as he cradled a small serpent in his arms, gazing down on his servant through slitted eyes.

Lucius shifted nervously, before replying. "Thank you, my Lord. Everything is going according to plan. Your men are assembled and ready to strike whenever you say the word."

"Aah....good....good.....and the giants?"

"Many have taken Dumbledore's side, but there are still a few who are willing to help us."

"Of course. Those who do not join me will die."

There was a brief silence, before Voldemort spoke again. "Go. You will await my orders until I contact you. Keep an eye on the new members of the group.......do not fail me, Lucius." There was an unspoken warning in his words.

Lucius Malfoy swallowed - he knew the penalty of displeasing his master. "Yes, my Lord."

He left, and Nagini slithered out of the shadows. He smells afraid, Nagini hissed, wrapping herself around Voldemort's long legs.

"Only a fool wouldn't be afraid of me," Voldemort replied in the same tongue. "As the world will begin to remember shortly......"

Indeed, he had plans for taking over.....plans for cleaning the world of muggle scum......plans for defeating the great Albus Dumbledore........and plans for the boy. Harry Potter. An evil Dark Lord always had schemes to carry out - but intense planning was essential.

Lord Voldemort had learnt from his mistake fourteen years ago. He was not about to repeat history. And this time, he would not fall because of a mere child.

Just then, there was a tiny knock from the door. "Enter..." Voldemort commanded. Wormtail hesitantly opened the door, and scrambling, he knelt before the Dark Lord.

"Wormtail. What do you want?"

"M-my Lord. I have returned from Azkaban, and the dementors are eager to join you," Wormtail squeaked. He was still recovering from the fact that he had been surrounded by dementors for the last four days, and was pale and shaking. Then again, he was always shaking.

"Of course.......the dementors are our most powerful allies. They will be pleased with the rewards in store for them." Voldemort's mouth twisted into a cruel smile.

Wormtail remained silent, his silver hand glinting in the light from the fire. Voldemort had little patience with bumbling, stuttering fools, and he didn't want to do anything that would make his master angry. He had already experienced such.

"You will travel with me, Wormtail. I may require your worthless yet dutiful help."

"Y-yes, My Lord." Wormtail looked ready to faint in horror at the thought of spending most of his waking hours in the presence of the foul creature before him. Swallowing, he began to stand up, but Voldemort's cold voice stopped him sharply.

"I did not give you permission to leave. Crucio!"

The room echoed with Wormtail's screams of pain. Voldemort smiled.

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A short time later, Wormtail staggered out of the chamber, breathing heavily and clutching his side as if he had a stitch from running. But the pain and sharp aching he felt wasn't caused from running. As he passed some Death Eaters in the underground passage, he felt their eyes following him. They still did not trust him, he knew. Making them all the more foolish. Wormtail would never - and could never - betray his master. He was a hunted man away from these walls.

Right now, Peter was beyond caring. All he could think about was finding somewhere soft to lie down and snatch some sleep. His own small chambers. Peter knew the huge labyrinth underneath the ground like the back of his hand......he had spent whatever time he could away from Voldemort and his followers, more content to investigate this strange, dark world.

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The underground fortress, practically a city, was left over from the times of the ancient people. The same people that had founded Atlantis, the builders of that great civilisation, had not just stayed secluded. Leaving the majority of women and children, a select few had left their beautiful paradise of the legends, and had travelled far and wide to many countries in the world, leaving their mark upon many places. Egypt, as it is known to the modern world, was largely influenced by the culture of the Atlantean people.

In Britain, they had searched for a place to settle, to create a world under the ground, so that during winter, and terrible weather, they had a place to go, a refuge. They found a perfect location, a good place to burrow deep into the earth and establish a camp. Then some small chambers. Then a small town. Eventually, a city. And as time passed on, the city had become more and more impressive, more elaborate, until it became a wonder to look upon.

But according to the records, now thought of as nothing but myth, the gods had become angry at the vanity and arrogance of the Atlantean people who had spread to the four corners of the earth, and called upon the fury of Mother Nature. The sea grew restless, and engulfed the world and people of the island of Atlantis. Earthquakes shook the earth. Volcanoes erupted, covering towns and cities. Great storms lashed at the coasts, washing away entire villages. And the great underground wonder of An Domhain, for that is what it is called, was thrown into turmoil. The very ground rejected the terrified Atlantean's, and they fled from the city, never to return. Many died, and only a tiny number survived. They disappeared, never to be seen or heard of again.

And An Domhain remained uninhabited, the entrance hidden by the ever-changing earth. No one, save a few Atlantean scholars who survived, wrote of this place before the great day of reckoning, and their scrolls found, scattered across the countryside, by the Vikings and such who came to Britain many centuries later. It is said that the Atlantean people possessed technology and magics far beyond the capabilities of those today, allowing for the un-naturally long preservation of the scrolls.

Modern witches and wizards dismissed the legend of An Domhain as indeed; nothing more than a legend. But Tom Riddle, soon to become the Dark Lord Voldemort, took a special interest in these 'scrolls of myth', and eventually, with much research, discovered An Domhain. After his return, Voldemort had reopened the naturally sealed underground, and from there founded his base. For he knew that no one would ever find the fortress, for it was nothing more than a legend, a tale spun by grandparents on rainy nights.

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