Lost in the Nothingness..

Chapter 4: The Truth?

The pure and simple truth is rarely pure and never simple.

- Oscar Wilde

Harry smiled a little as he looked around platform 9 and ¾. Hermione had just hurried away to bid her parents a final farewell, an uncharacteristically mysterius glimmer in her eyes as she did so. Ron was talking animatedly to Fred and George about their latest product, one that seemed to be called... Harry strained his ears to listen... "Dozing Dailies. Imbue yourself with an attentive look while you take a quick rest! Look and feel exactly like those things Muggles call contact lenses...had to do loads of research on that, we did. Even blink regularly...you see the glamour we put on 'em? Problem is they last hardly more than half an hour, but we're trying to find some way to improve it further...count this as a sort of prototype. Not perfect, so not marketable, but you might still find 'em useful. "

Fred winked as George surreptitiously slipped a package into Ron's robes. Harry had to stifle a chuckle as he observed the exchange. Mrs Weasley had grudgingly allowed the twins to continue with what was so obviously their passion, probably in light of recent circumstances. She was a short distance away, speaking quietly to Ginny while Mr Weasley looked just a bit distracted - thinking about work, no doubt. With concern, Harry noticed that Mrs Weasley's frown lines were more pronounced, and her face was pale and drawn though she tried to smile. He knew she was worried, since Hogwarts now did not seem the haven it had once so obviously been. Besides, there had been no word from Percy.

Hermione had returned and was now motioning for Ron and Harry to board the Hogwarts Express, but Harry only waved vaguely back. He had seen someone familiar weaving through the crowd, coming towards him... It was Lupin, and there was someone else with him.

Ron, puzzled, had walked to his side. "Whatsa matter, Harry?" He followed Harry's gaze. "Oh, Professor! What brings you here? Hi!" He smiled at the boy who, Harry realised, looked vaguely familiar but had the most vividly violet eyes he had ever seen. He echoed Ron's greeting, albeit with a slightly more restrained wave. The boy just smiled shyly.

The four of them walked towards Hermione as Remus began to talk. "Hello, Harry, and Ron. This is Devyn...Devyn, Harry, Ron."

The boy, dressed in dark blue jeans and a simple bright orange T-shirt, smiled again and extended a hand as he spoke, "A pleasure to meet you... I'm Devyn To'rialle. We've met before, but I don't think you'd remember me. " He grinned, and Harry was reminded of a younger boy, with a face that he only half-remembered, and the same voice, though a few pitches higher at that time, soft but clear and rich with tonal quality. However, looking at Devyn now, Harry couldn't imagine why he shouldn't have remembered. Those eyes, and features that were striking, (Harry clamped firmly down on the betraying thought that immediately muttered, "Not as striking as...") hazel hair touched with tints of gold and an infectious grin...not a bad-looking young man, not at all.

So he shook Devyn's hand and grinned back, absently noticing the curious bracelet Devyn wore. "Harry Potter. Was it in first year?"

Before Devyn could answer, Ron was already appropriating his hand, "Blimey! Remus was shopping for you, wasn't he? Oh...he said you were coming back, so, welcome!" Ron finally stopped pumping the other boy's hand and whispered sotto voce, "And, well, just checking, eh, since Mr Lupin here has refused to budge. Which House?" He winked.

Devyn hesitated for a moment. He looked at Remus, who nodded slightly, then replied, "I'm in Gryffindor."

Ron immediately looked triumphant. "Ha! I win!"

Harry and Devyn exchanged identical perplexed looks, while Remus only seemed amused. Ron looked around. "Hermione! I told you he was going to be in Gryffindor. I had a feeling, see..."

The four stopped as they reached the side of a carriage. Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh, fine. I just said there was a three in four probability he wasn't, I wasn't disputing you...Professor. And hello. I'm Hermione Granger. You're a friend of Professor Lupin's?" She smiled as Devyn shook her hand and introduced himself again.

A bell rang, reminding the passengers that it was time to board. As Ron and Hermione turned to enter the Prefects' carriage, Harry and Devyn rushed for another one, and it was then that Harry realised Remus was dressed in travel robes and carrying a slightly battered briefcase. His eyes widened, and he called over his shoulder, "Remus, are you coming with us...?"

The answer was obvious when the three of them finally boarded the Express. Remus raked a hand through his hair, looking lightly embarrassed, "Well, you know, the Headmaster can be fairly persuasive at times."

Harry tried to look reproving. "Well, you should have told us or something, we've already got the entire syllabus planned..." He grinned at Remus's expression. "Kidding, Professor! You're the best DADA teacher we've ever had! Everyone will be really glad to have you back - good riddance to Umbridge and her lot, I say...I wonder, will Firenze stay? Now that...you know."

Remus frowned for a moment, then shook his head. "I don't know, Harry. Perhaps Hogwarts will end up having two Divination teachers for the time being...and I somehow doubt they'll agree on any predictions. Knowing Trelawney, she'll probably try to convince Firenze that her fortune, rather than some unclear prophecy, is the 'secret the stars yield'." He chuckled wryly.

"And fail miserably," Harry added.

Remus smiled, then continued, "Well, then. You've gotten your OWL results, haven't you, Harry? Decided what you're taking for the NEWTs yet?"

Harry sighed. "I got 'Acceptable' for History of Magic, Divination and Potions. Which I didn't really not expect, but Professor McGonagall said last year that I need NEWT potions to be an Auror..." He shrugged. "Afraid I'm going to see more of S...er, Professor Snape than I want to this year. How 'bout you, Devyn? Can I ask?"

Devyn chuckled as he replied, "I expect I'll need some time to recall everything, but I think I'll scrape through. Do you have trouble with Potions? Perhaps I could help...the key is practice and respect."

Harry blinked slowly at that. "Practice I can understand, but...respect?"

Devyn nodded. "Why, for the potion you're making, of course. A temperamental mistress, the potion is."

Harry's expression was uncomprehending. Devyn even sounded fond, saying that. Ugh. He muttered, "Must explain why Snape is in such a...temperamental mood ninety-nine per cent of the time...."

Remus smiled, amused, and excused himself for a while, presumably to get something to eat. He'd let the two of them get to know each other - no point in an old man sitting in on their conversation - and maybe go find an empty seat and read, alone...

:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:

Memories, overlaid by a sheen of gold...

The gold of ripening wheatfields, the gold of summer sunshine, the gold of his hair...

So pure, so true, the simple joy of running, running through the fields with childish abandon. He'd catch you, and the both of you would tumble to the ground, tired, laughing. When the sun slipped behind a cloud the two of you would just lie there, hands under your heads, pointing out nonsensical shapes drawn by streaks of cloud, like a great giant stretching strings of white cotton in the skies, he'd say. Like a master weaver, coaxing lines of pure ivory into wondrous forms, you'd reply. Boyish laughter would ring through the fields, a laughter of hope, joy, and most of all, freedom.

And you recall the time you met him....

The signs had predicted a summer's day much like this one; he had been crying, and running blindly. You hadn't been doing much, just the usual morning wander through the woods. It had been easy to gently catch him - he was slight, even though later on he would always be indignant and say you were "too tall for someone our age anyway". He had looked up, and you had been drawn by the haplessness and fear in his eyes. He must have seen something in yours, because he had looked back down and relaxed, still crying. Either that, or he must have really needed someone to listen, a shoulder to cry on; "For someone just to be there..." he'd said when he'd calmed down. You'd accepted it like strangers ran to you all the time, even though the truth was you knew practically nobody aside from your own parents.

His name was Darius, and he told you about his family and what they had done, what he had seen them doing. He asked you, since you were silent, whether you cared, and whether he should leave. You looked up and replied, "No. Stay. Stay." For even in your youth you knew there was something about him, something important...

He smiled, then, and the sun seemed to peek out just to see the sight. Pre-dawn light had painted a pale grey wash across the land, but you only realise now that it was a mere prelude to the sunrise that was to come. He held out a hand to you, and for just a moment you seemed to see a halo of gold around his head, as the early sun's rays played upon his hair. "Will you be my friend, Remus?"

He woke to a ringing, and knew that they had reached Hogwarts. He had fallen asleep...but his dreams had been...there had been something, but in the manner dreams were he couldn't really remember.

He shrugged and stepped out of the carriage, leaving the thread of gold encased in a loving cocoon of amber....

:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:

Devyn stopped beside the entrance of the Great Hall for a moment, taking in all he saw: throngs of students dividing as they entered and settling down at one of the four long tables, chattering among themselves about various holiday exploits; ghosts gliding around, greeting the students like old friends (one of them, who he seemed to remember was the resident poltergeist, was sitting sullenly atop one of the wall lamps and muttering something about how terrible it was for them to forbid him from wrecking havoc...); teachers entering in ones and twos through a separate side door. Devyn smiled as he noticed Remus, looking slightly shabby and a little discomfited, taking a seat. Mr. Dumbledore, no, Headmaster Dumbledore had said in confidence to him that he was certain Remus would be a great teacher. And for some reason, he was inordinately glad in the knowledge that Remus would also be here, at Hogwarts.

He was rather surprised to realise that he remembered most of the teachers sitting there, with the exception of a handsome woman with an intense gaze and watchful stance, as if she was expecting an attack even as she sat at the dining table and spoke with the man beside her. Come to think of it, that man was sitting in much the same way, though his posture held less confidence. He was Professor Snape, of course--the teacher who had introduced him to the beauty of potions and their creation. He was a really good Potions teacher, compared to the oafs who had been his teachers up 'til his OWLs. All, except for one, who strangely seemed to have much the same deft touch and sharp mind as Professor Snape. The Professor wasn't very likely to have remembered him, in any case. The awe he had had for the Potions master and the slight cloaking spell that had been placed on him would have rendered him rather unnoticeable in class.

"Devyn?"

He turned at the sound of someone calling his name amidst the buzz of sound in the Great Hall, to see Harry walking quickly towards him. "Harry! I was just looking around, it's been a while...." He suited words to action as he peered up, at the velvety night sky. The candles that were suspended there gave him the surreal feeling of being in open air, though a more logical part of his mind knew that the ceiling had been enchanted, right down to the quiet winking of the stars in the reflected light of the sun.

"Hello...I've been looking for you. Remus asked me to, er, help you get settled if you looked lost. You do know where the Gryffindor table is...?"

"That's nice of him. I do admit it's all a little--well, overwhelming."

Harry smiled and continued talking as he led Devyn through the crowd. "Hermione and Ron will be joining us shortly, I think...just had some prefect business to take care of." He turned to wink reassuringly at Devyn, who grinned in reply.

They found seats right at the end of the Gryffindor table, and Harry had just finished introducing Dean Thomas and Neville Longbottom to Devyn when Ron stomped over and flopped onto the seat next to Harry, looking disgusted and muttering something about, "...work with my worst nightmare...to hell with unity...that git..."

Hermione followed, her expression serene, and slipped into the seat opposite Ron and next to Devyn, giving a nod and smile for the latter. She took one look at Ron, who was now shaking his head and looking indignant and furious at the same time, then sighed. "He's been made the head of this year's overall organising committee," she said, in response to Harry's raised eyebrow, "...though I think he's more upset by the fact that he has to work with Draco Malfoy than anything else - speaking of which, do you know that Draco doesn't seem to have arrived with the Hogwarts Express?"

Ron looked up at that, and made a rude noise. "Ha. Maybe his mom couldn't change him back...." He was referring, of course, to the time they had changed Draco Malfoy to a slug right at the end of the last school term. Now it was Hermione's turn to look quizzically at Ron. "Fine, that's not very bloody likely. Who'd you get, Hermione?"

"Pansy Parkinson."

Ron made a face, then tapped a finger against the table contemplatively. He shrugged. "Better than Malfoy, I suppose. Cow, or git? Cow, or git? Cow, or...hey!" He was looking from one hand to the other as if mock-weighing the possibilities when Harry poked him playfully in the ribs. Hermione sighed, and Devyn chuckled at the comfortable camaraderie the three shared.

Everyone turned with him when the doors of the Entrance Hall opened and a severe-looking woman led a row of children in. Devyn seemed to remember her as...Professor McGonagall? Yes, the teacher for Tranfiguration. She laid a stool with a rather battered, worn hat - it was probably once pointed but now seemed to be half-folded in on itself - gently down.

Devyn eyed the hat carefully. His conscious mind could barely remember what the Sorting Hat had sung in his first and only year at Hogwarts, since he'd been about as terrified as the children now lined up, waiting for their turn. Yet, even then he had registered a slight stirring as the hat had sung. Now that he had had some measure of bardic training, would he be able to put a finger on whatever it was? He stilled his musings and focused on the hat, gently effecting a mental twist as he did, then he was carried away by the surge of the song...

"You must think that an existence

In a hat is dull,

And wonder what it was I did

To justify exile,

But it's rather more interesting

Than you will ever know,

To be a simple omniscient

Observer to the world.

Time passes for me in centuries

And not just in days,

My vault of memories is vast

And not measured in haste.

A thought ago I recalled

The Founders, oh four they were,

A thought later, I sense

Impending thunders, doth they stir.

As always, I have the charge

Of a task that's most crucial,

To divide, to separate

And to reveal potential.

As I hesitate, and berate,

To now present this pill;

As I know this is one that

I was first made to fulfil.

Rowena: to her I send intellectuals most skilléd

And whom, as they with spar of words and quills are thus gifted,

Veer always towards knowledge via seeming apathy,

Edged as they are with swords of wit and mental acuity.

Nirvana for them would be realising skills most latent,

Chosen for being true pragmatic Masters of reason.

Law and judgement, an inherent spiritual stillness

Are above all, what they are wont to value and harness.

Wardens stern and unyielding of knowledge they might seem;

Sooth, therein lies the reason they are of such great esteem (A/N esteem (Archaic): worth)

[pause]

Godric, however, his character is just as such:

Reckless, courageous, and somewhat quick to jump and to judge.

Youthful enthusiasm, passion which can never fade;

Favouring ties of friendship which are most steadfastly made.

Find a Gryffindor and you find honour,

Ingrained in the mindset of ne'er cutting a corner.

Never underestimate the Gryffindorian mind;

Desert them, and inventive destruction you're sure to find.

Opinionated regarding human frailty; (and, the)

Red, red, fire of friendship and utmost loyalty.

Salazar practically force-fed me the Instruction,

"Let only the worthy in, or you'll lose my benediction."

Yes, how I shivered, how affected by awe I was,

To face the ambition within, the all-powerful force.

Herein lies what Slytherin means to each of his Chosen,

Each donning an emotionless façade of detachment.

Reaching and striving in the employment of Deception --

Illusions drawn to portray the most ideal conception.

Ne'er have such brilliant minds, keen of perception been

So ripe to subversion, yet still their true natures unseen.

[pause]

Helga, kind soul, would readily accept all on her list.

Ulterior motives are never a part of what she is.

Firmly believing in the goodness of human nature (and)

Facets never once expressed in petty caricature.

Level-headed, calm of spirit her Chosen always are

Eager to work very hard, in order to travel far.

Potential may be hidden, but it's indeed a rare find:

Understanding the complex workings of the human mind.

Faithful, honest, and constant friends or listeners are they,

For this is, and will always be, the Hufflepuff way.

Unlikely partnerships in future

Are bound to happen,

But even in times to come

Our spirits won't dampen.

While Hogwarts and every one of

The Houses of the Four

Must shove aside differences

To form one united core.

For four minds would be sure to share

More ideas than one.

The combined courage of four would

Be much aid in the hunt.

Four intentions have greater

Potential serving as one.

The hearts of four joined in earnest

Would be a blinding sun.

So step up, do not fear me,

I am just a talking hat

You've already made the Choice

In your mind, I'd like to bet.

Even if this existence is

Less glorious than you think,

My duty is not one from which

I can or I will shrink."

Devyn shook his head slightly, the melody line still reverberating in his mind. That was long - not just long, but really long. Had it been that long in first year? He wasn't sure...but it was a curious piece of magic. Definitely bardic magic. A mild compulsion, perhaps, to listen and note? Weaved along the lines, a harmonic counterpoint to the song that whispered, "Listen...just listen, and think about this..." Very interesting - that way, a casual listener would only hear the deceptively simple melody put to words the Hat sung, and miss that most crucial undercurrent. A strong baritone, seemingly trained and lacking the rawness of tone an amateur unknowingly affected, yet at parts there seemed to be some accompaniment...light, and not easily noticed, but still present. And the overall feeling of regret, a deep regret and sadness, masked by cheer and a feigned light-heartedness, as if -

He looked up, and realised that everyone was clapping, and Ron was saying, "...and it's even longer than last year - do you think it could have started off with just one-liners and worked its way up through the years?" Hermione only shrugged.

Just then, Dumbledore stood up, and a respectful silence fell. He beamed. "Welcome! Much as I have some oddments to address, they can wait 'til later. For now - let us feast!"

Dumbledore raised his fork in a little salute, and Devyn nearly jumped out of his seat as food appeared on the table in front of him. He had almost forgotten about the house elves of Hogwarts, and the fabulous food they could cook up. The food Daniyel had made (Steelfrost jokingly referred to them as "cauldron mix-ups") could battle with the standards here, yet the taste was distinctly different. A deceptively simple roasted chicken seemed exotic, for some reason.

Dumbledore was standing up again, and another hush descended upon the Great Hall, punctuated by isolated clatters of metal against metal. "As usual, the Forest is off limits to all students, more so now than ever. You might have noticed a few new additions to our staff. Firenze, centaur of the Forest, who taught some of you last term, will be attending to the Divination students in joint cooperation with Professor Trelawney." He spoke, inclining his head slightly to the parties as he mentioned their names, "Professor Lupin - some of you may remember him from about three years back - has been persuaded to take up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor." He smiled at Remus, who managed a sheepish grin.

"In addition, three new non-examinable classes have been brought back into review. They include medical wizardry, which will be taught by Madam Pomfrey; mental wizardry, led by Professor Snape; and basic Weaponry and hand-to-hand, which Instructor Andromeda Tonks has graciously agreed to oversee."

Devyn paid close attention, as most of the people around him were doing now. So that woman was called Andromeda Tonks...how interesting.

"However, due to the high level of commitment required and advanced nature of these courses, only sixth and seventh years will be allowed to participate." An audible groan rose from the students seated at the tables. Dumbledore only smiled slightly and continued, "Parchments have been put up at the Entrance Hall, and anyone who is interested can sign up to participate. I do advise, though, that you join one, at most two, of the three courses, for you will have a busy year ahead of you. Feel free to approach any of the instructors to clear whatever queries you may have. The parchments will be taken down by the end of the week. That is all."

Professor Snape was now saying something quietly to the Headmaster, and the two had gotten up and were walking out. In the middle of the Feast? Strange. Beside him, Hermione was gazing in the same direction, and she seemed to make up her mind about something as she excused herself.

Harry watched Hermione's rapidly retreating back, then shrugged and turned back to his heaped plate. Within moments of picking up his fork, he realized that someone was standing beside him, at one end of the long table. He lowered his head and pretended not to notice, but when he looked down he had no choice but to see a long-fingered hand, drumming slowly on the spot just beside his plate. The fingers were long and slender, unadorned except for a simple silver band on the ring finger. The hand stilled, and Harry braced himself.

"Potter."

Harry was unsurprised to find that Draco Malfoy's voice sounded exactly as he remembered; low, smooth, and dangerous. He scowled at the thought and ground out, before finally raising his head, "What do you want, Malfoy?" He could feel Ron tensing beside him.

Malfoy raised an eloquent eyebrow at the aggressive tone in Harry's voice. "I just wondered whether I could...request your presence for a moment. About...your godfather."

Harry was a little taken aback at this, and the expression on Malfoy's face. How did he know about Sirius...and why did he look pained, even regretful? Come to think of it, Draco did look rather different. His silvery-blond hair was no longer slicked back with gel; it now fell a little messily around his head and looked a lot more natural. Even the quicksilver eyes were different, filled with a vast sadness and somehow knowledge. Harry forced himself to look away from those mesmerising orbs; Death Eater camp must have done Draco Malfoy more good than harm.

Ron started to speak, "Harry..."

But Harry placed a hand on his friend's shoulder and said, "It's all right, Ron." He turned to Malfoy, the expression in his eyes hard again. "Lead the way, Malfoy."

Draco mock bowed, and as Harry walked out of the Great Hall with him, maintaining a safe distance between them, he had to admit he felt woefully inadequate. Malfoy was dressed, not in formal Hogwarts dress robes, but for travel, in a set of stark black robes that somehow shimmered, and which fit Malfoy perfectly. Harry thought it looked more like a cloak than a robe.

Harry tensed himself again for Malfoy to make some scathing remark about Sirius or something, but was surprised to find that none came. The shock escalated when the first words out of Malfoy's mouth as they walked in the hall were, "I'm sorry."

Harry stopped in his tracks, incredulous. "Pardon, don't think I quite caught that..." Was Draco Malfoy apologising? To him?

Malfoy continued walking ahead for a few steps, then he, too, stopped and looked back, a little annoyed. "Yes, Potter, I'm sorry."

Harry stared stupidly at Malfoy, and said the first thing that came to mind, "What for?"

Malfoy only smiled a little bitterly. "For all the things I was made to do." Then he turned and continued to walk down the hallway. Harry hurriedly followed, and the two walked in silence until Draco turned into a room.

It looked like an office; a fire was roaring at one end of the room, and there was a large study table and high shelves at the other end. Yet Harry had never seen it before. Hermione sat on one of the couches before the fire; she looked up as Harry arrived and smiled at him before she stood and exited the room.

Harry made as if to call her, but Dumbledore had stood up and was beginning to speak, "Ah, Harry and Draco, please, have a seat." He waved them over to another two plush chairs. Harry was seated next to a pale woman he recognised as Narcissa Malfoy, even though she too looked very different. The last time he had seen her, at the Quidditch World Cup, she had looked vague, in a snobbish high-class way. Now, her air was that of one more focused, more intense. He perched on the edge of the chair as he watched Malfoy take off his cloak and hang it on a stand, subsequently falling wearily into another chair.

Dumbledore sat, now, and his expression was serious as he addressed Harry. "Harry, as Draco might have said, I need to speak to you about Sirius. Narcissa received his will just earlier today..."

"But Sirius isn't dead! Why won't anyone believe--"

Dumbledore shook his head sadly as he interrupted Harry, "Whether he is or isn't, he is still gone, Harry. Someone has to take care of his property...and his guardianship of you."

Narcissa Malfoy spoke up, her voice soft and a little hesitant, "Sirius is the last Black, and an ancient binding curse within the bloodline forces him to allow only another member on the tapestry - I trust you've seen the tapestry at Grimmauld Place? - to inherit, unless he married. Which he didn't."

"But...but...Sirius has been burned off the tapestry, right?"

Narcissa sighed, "The blood of the family still ran through his veins, and since no sacred bonds of marriage or otherwise had been formed, he had to let one of his relatives "inherit", of a sort."

Harry did not even want to think about the possibility that Narcissa Malfoy would become his guardian. "Aren't there other people? Like B...no..." He wracked his brain for a memory of the Black tapestry. "Andromeda? Didn't Sirius mention her?" Yes, the mother of Tonks - at least she'd be, well, better than a Malfoy.

"My sister, Andromeda? She's been burned off the tapestry, and only those still on it are allowed to inherit Sirius's property. Ingenious, really, the way our ancestors arranged it. But Sirius did manage to add a few clauses in the will. His property will revert to you when you come of age, since he was your godparent, but until then Remus Lupin and I will have joint custody of you. Sirius was very smart...he made sure I could only do so if Lucius were not around; that is to say, dead, captured, or escaped. In that case, Lupin would be the sole heir." Narcissa's expression became contemplative as she spoke, "A loophole...but he can't have known about Lucius--"

Dumbledore suddenly stood, "My apologies, Harry, I think I forgot to introduce the two of you...Narcissa, Harry Potter, as you know. And Harry, Narcissa Black-Malfoy, unofficial member of the Order." He shook his head just slightly at Narcissa.

But Harry didn't notice, for his jaw had dropped open in disbelief. There could be no question of exactly which Order Dumbledore was talking about. "But - she - Lucius Malfoy - Sirius -"

Narcissa's expression was serious, and Harry was oddly reminded of Draco Malfoy when she spoke. "I'm sorry. It was a kind of Imperius Lucius..."

Draco, with a glance at Harry, interrupted Narcissa, "You don't have to say anything to him, Mother."

But she continued with a slight shake of her head, "...I overestimated my abilities to cope with the bond. I am lucky Lucius is not trained in Legilimency."

Harry narrowed his eyes, speaking slowly, "So...you came to tell me this?" To tell me Narcissa Malfoy, wife of certified Death Eater, Lucius Malfoy, is going to be my guardian? Because Sirius isn't dead, you know, so there's really no point to all of this -

"Narcissa and Draco just arrived, and they wanted to tell you immediately. But there's one other thing that Miss Granger was speaking to me about." Dumbledore held out something to Harry, and as he received it he realised it was a Prefect's badge: the cool metal gleamed in the firelight, and he stared at the embossed capital 'P' on it, awed.

"Miss Granger asked whether she could turn in her Prefect's badge, her reason for it being that she wanted to opt to take a few more than the usual NEWT subjects. And...I feel that this should have been yours a year ago. I should have trusted your sense of responsibility - you are like your father, Harry, and yet you are unlike James." Dumbledore smiled ruefully and continued while Harry was still staring mutely at the badge, "She also mentioned that Mr Weasley was very unsatisfied with his working partner for the coming year. I had actually hoped that that might promote a bit of House unity, but it seems..."

He caught Harry's attention with this. Harry looked a little warily towards Malfoy, but the latter's expression was closed. "Yes, er, he had - he did object to it."

"I have given it some thought, and decided nothing will be done if the Prefects don't get along. So, things have been tweaked a little - I hope Mr Weasley will be more comfortable working with Miss Parkinson."

Harry was, for some reason, not at all reassured by the odd gleam in Dumbledore's eyes. He again glanced at Malfoy. "But what about..."

"And of course, since you will be taking over Miss Granger's prefectorial responsibilities, and her partner was Miss Parkinson, would you not say it would be reasonable for - say, you to work with Draco, here?"

Harry's head snapped up when he heard Dumbledore's words. Oh no...this was terrible - he opened his mouth to object, but under Dumbledore's irrepressible grin could only hear himself manage a faint, "Perfectly fine..."

:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:

Harry sat down heavily back at his seat in the Great Hall. Hermione was engaged in deep conversation with Devyn and did not even glance up as he entered. Ron, though, noticed Harry's dazed expression. Around a mouthful of food, he asked, "S'matter, Harry?"

"I've been made a Prefect -"

Hermione turned, seemingly just realising Harry had returned. "Harry! Congratulations! I've to warn you, though, it isn't any fun...the students really tire you out." She grinned.

"And Narcissa Malfoy - never mind. Ron, I swear you get me into the worst pickles."

Indignantly, "Hey! I though that was you..."

Hermione glanced from Harry to Ron; the former looked exasperated, while the latter was confused. "Oh dear. Did Headmaster Dumbledore..." She trailed off.

"In this case, it does have something to do with you. Congratulations on getting Dumbledore to switch positions a little, since you now have Pansy Parkinson to contend with." Harry sighed.

Ron seemed relieved, "Well, anything is better than Malfoy, I suppose...so who gets the bloody git now?"

"If you're referring to Draco Malfoy, I'm supposed to be working with him."

Ron looked first aghast, then sympathetic. "Boy, sorry 'bout that...but at least he won't make snide remarks about your background." His expression darkened.

Harry shrugged, and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. Beside her, Devyn was quietly asking, "What was that all about?"

Hermione only grinned and shook her head.

:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:

The four took their time over the feast, savouring each morsel until fully sated. Most people were now quietly talking amongst themselves, and a few had already wandered into the common rooms.

"Hey, Devyn, Harry, 'Mione, are you signing up for any of those 'special courses' Dumbledore mentioned?"

"I'm not sure; I'll have to take a look at those parchments tomorrow morning...Wonder what they're all about," said Harry.

Just then, Dumbledore, who Harry realised had returned when he had been distracted, stood again and dismissed everyone with a jolly, "Off to bed! Sweet dreams!"

"Maybe tomorrow, though." Ron yawned, and Harry nodded as he motioned for Hermione and Devyn to catch up.

As he stepped through the portrait hole, Harry had a fleeting thought that not just one, but two Malfoys had apologised to him today. It was an event he had never foreseen would occur. But what had been the true reason for their apologies? Had it just been coincidental?

Harry had never been one to be overly suspicious, but this time he really felt that there was something both the Malfoys he'd met today were not telling him...