The Snake's Clan

Chapter 1: come back

Tuesday, September 1^st

For the seventh, and last, time in his life Harry found himself weaving through the crowds at King's Cross station towards the magical barrier between platforms nine and ten. He was reminiscing about the past year, which had been particularly unpleasant, despite Dumbledore's best efforts to raise moral. Voldemort's latest campaign of terror had left the entire school on edge, and Harry was hoping this year, the atmosphere would be a little less tense. Dodging through the throng of muggles, Harry ran through the barrier between platforms. He couldn't help smiling when he saw the Hogwarts express and the familiar, dusty sign displaying "platform 9 & 3/4s".

Abandoning his maudlin thoughts for the moment, Harry pulled himself up the stairs into the nearest compartment and levitated his trunk in after him using a spell he had learned during one of his many sleepless nights at Privet drive. It reminded him of the spell Sirius used on Snape, that fateful night Harry had found out who had really betrayed his parents.

At length, Harry found an empty compartment, and settled down. Alone, at least until Hermione and Ron arrived, he fell into thought. His fifth year had been eerily calm. Voldemort seemed to have disappeared completely. The Death Eaters, too, tried to draw as little attention to themselves as possible; attacks on Muggles, like that of the Quidditch World Cup were few and far between.

Even the Dursleys had almost stopped persecuting Harry. In his sixth year, everything changed. The new Minister of Magical Games and Sports, Henry Strawe (Ludo Bagman had been sacked due to his gambling debts) had been assassinated.

The murderers were, without a doubt, the Death-Eaters, under the orders of Lord Voldemort. The Minister's bleeding corpse had been found near the Twitching Broomstick in Appleby, the Dark Mark floating in the sky. The news of Voldemort's rebirth spread like wildfire, sparking the biggest exodus out of the country since Voldemort's first reign of terror.

Even Cornelius Fudge had finally realized that Voldemort was behind the flurry of attacks on ministers, Muggles and aurors, and publicly begged Dumbledore to replace him as Minister nearly every day. Harry snorted at the irony of this, it had been Fudge who had insisted that Voldemort had not returned in Harry's fourth year.

Dumbledore, however had refused to leave Hogwarts. The Headmaster knew that the school could not survive without his influence, the tension between Gryffindor and Slytherin escalated daily, often erupting into duels between Draco and himself.

Harry's reverie was suddenly disrupted; several ones were arguing in the corridor outside the compartment. Curious, Harry got up and opened the door. He found Ron, held back by desperate-looking Hermione who looked about ready to change her mind and let him loose, trying to hex Crabbe and Goyle.

"Stop!" yelled Harry.

Startled, Hermione released Ron, who stumbled forwards, and almost plowed into Crabbe and Goyle, who, shaken by Harry's sudden appearance, had jumped about a foot in the air. Harry calmly helped his two best friends up. Crabbe and Goyle had recovered as well, and Malfoy's bodyguards were about to continue the fight where it had left off when Harry noticed that Malfoy was missing.

'Where is he?' Harry wondered.

He was distracted by Crabbe drawling, "So... Gryffindor's golden boy".

Harry was flabbergasted, when had Crabbe drawled? Or come up with alliterated insults?

Ron started to defend Harry when another compartment door opened behind the Slytherins. Unfortunately, the newcomer was blocked by Crabbe and Goyle's not inconsiderable bulks.

"What's all this uproar about?" inquired a dark voice.

"Huh...We're jus' showin' these littl'."

Goyle was barely halfway through his explanation when the voice cut smoothly through his sentence.

"Goyle. Shut up. Now," snapped the voice. Harry recognized it as Draco's. Before he had a chance to say anything the door between Draco's compartment and the corridor slammed shut.

Malfoy's voice was filled with irritation so intense it made the goons shiver like Neville would in a potion's lesson.

"W...we better go..." stammered Crabbe and Goyle in unison, shuffling away quickly.

Later, Harry, Ron and Hermione were joined by Dean, Seamus and then Justin Finch-Fletchley. Ron had taken advantage of an attentive audience to narrate the tale of their little corridor brawl.

When Justin immediately took out a piece of parchment and an acid-green Quick-Quotes Quill, the others were quite perplexed.

"What are you doing?" inquired Harry nervously. He had always mistrusted enchanted quills since his fourth year with Rita Skeeter's horrible articles.

"Just taking notes for an article in the school paper I started," replied Justin airily.

"A paper? You want to publish a news-paper?" Ron interrupted derisively.

"Yeah, I've asked Professor Sprout, my Head of house, and Dumbledore. They both agreed, thought it was a wonderful idea!" Justin added this bit to annoy Ron, who was looking quite skeptical.

"Don't you think it will be an insane amount of work, too much for you to handle?" added Hermione. "It's our NEWTs this year and..."

"The others all said they'd pitch in. Dean even volunteered to be assistant editor. Anyway, I can always count on you three to help in a tight situation, tell me when something big happens!" Justin exclaimed brightly, pointedly ignoring the others' doubtful expressions.

"No problem, we'll tell you all the dirt on the Slytherins, whom Malfoy is sleeping with and such," said Ron with a mischievous smile, which Harry found more than slightly suspicious.

Ron then continued his much embellished story, and by the end Justin, budding journalist that he was, was bursting with questions.

"But are you sure it was Malfoy?" insisted Justin. "He's usually the one who encourages Crabbe and Goyle to hex you!"

Harry broke into the conversation, "Yeah... I've been thinking about this incident ever since it happened, and its very weird. I suggest we keep an eye on Malfoy. Maybe he's planning something especially nasty for us - you know his ...affiliations."

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

The rest of the trip to Hogwarts passed by without a single disturbance. Through the window, Harry watched fields and mountains whiz by. A faint smile was imprinted on his lips as he thought of what was awaiting him this year. In his last letter, Sirius had hinted that a few changes had taken place at Hogwarts. Of course, he had refused to divulge what they were.

Finally they arrived at the castle. Harry sighed; he was at last back where his heart belonged: Hogwarts. The Great Hall was its usual grand self; fully decorated for the feast, the candles floating in mid-air above the tables. The Headmaster was gazing at Harry, smiling with the usual benevolent twinkle in his eyes, surrounded by the other professors.

Harry swiftly picked out tiny Professor Flitwick, who was amiably chatting with Professor Sprout, the grimy Herbology teacher. At her side was Professor Snape. Never in all his years as a student had Harry hated a teacher as much as he hated Severus Snape. Even after he found out the sallow-faced, greasy-haired, hook-nosed potions master was a spy for Dumbledore, working among the Death Eaters, Harry still hadn't been able to feel any sympathy for the man.

Harry sat at the Gryffindor table, and watched the first years being sorted into their respective houses. He cheered each new Gryffindor, and bet on the sorting hat's choices. Finally, when all students were in their seat, food appeared on each table.

As the feast was drawing to a close, Professor Dumbledore got up and made the usual announcements.

"Ah, another year at Hogwarts!" he said, smiling around at them all, " I ask for your attention for only a few short minutes. I would like to remind you that the forest is forbidden to all students, whatever year they are," he was now looking fixedly at Harry, Ron and Hermione, who had disobeyed this rule time and time again, "Mr. Filch asked me to tell you that the corridors are to be free of magic, and students caught dueling in the hallway will be severely punished."

Harry knew Ron was blushing: the last year he had been given a record number of detentions, because of his unceasing fights with Malfoy.

"As you may have noticed, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher hasn't arrived yet. He will be here tomorrow. One more thing, I have the pleasure to name Hermione Granger and Ernie Macmillan as the new Head Girl and Boy. Now, I wish you all a good night. First years please follow the prefects to your dormitories. They will give you the password to your common rooms. Could the members of the Quidditch teams of each house please remain in the great hall, their team captains will be named."

Only a few students remained, waiting for Professor McGonagall to announce the team captains. Harry looked at the Slytherins, searching for his arch-enemy. Draco however, was no-where to be found.

"So!" Professor McGonagall began. "Down to business. The captains are Hannah Abbot for Hufflepuff, Terry Boot for Ravenclaw, Harry Potter for Gryffindor, and Blaise Zabini for Slytherin."

The Slytherins frowned, utterly perplexed.

"Me? But it should be Malfoy!" Blaise exclaimed, outraged.

"Malfoy... where is he?" remarked Goyle.

The whispering among the students was growing louder, the rumors wilder...

"Your attention please!", Professor McGonagall shouted over the noise. "Mr. Malfoy requested to leave his house Quidditch team this year."

"Wha...What? But why?" Harry demanded loudly.

McGonagall turned to Harry. "I have no say in this, Mr. Potter. Maybe, if you ask him, he'll explain. Now, its getting late, please go back to your dormitories if you have no more questions. Tomorrow morning, your Quidditch practice times will be handed out along with your academic timetables. Good night."

She left, her robes billowing behind her.

When Harry had gotten back to his dorm, his roommates were bursting with questions. Ron, Dean, Seamus and Neville forced Harry to repeat the entire meeting in full detail. They were quite pleased with the outcome. The previous year, only the Slytherin team had stood in the way of a Gryffindor victory. Over the past several years, Malfoy had matured, and his rivalry with Harry had forced him to become more serious about Quidditch. He had honed his skills, and his strategies became more cunning and inventive every year.

Harry couldn't help wondering about Malfoy. For the past two years, he had played only to defeat him and was no longer able to imagine a match without Draco to beat or impress. All of a sudden, Quidditch had lost its appeal

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Chapter 2: Obsession

Wednesday, September 2^nd

The next morning, Harry and Ron found themselves running in the long corridor, heading for the great hall, hoping to catch the tail end of breakfast. They had forgotten to perform a waking spell the night before, and so had remained asleep; whereas their roommates had gotten up thinking they were already gone.

They entered the hall to find the Gryffindor table in uproar. Even Ginny, usually calmer than most, was screaming at the top of her voice and staring, disgusted at the Slytherins - as was every other student in the vicinity. At the other end of the hall, Harry saw the Slytherins, for their part, were seething with rage and glaring vituperatively at the Gryffindors as if they were to blame for the current disturbance.

The loud gathering was far too fast turning into a resentful and hostile skirmish between the two houses. But then the headmaster appeared, and there was a sudden hush.

By then, the two latecomers had reached their table. Still out of breath, Harry asked Hermione what was the matter. By way of an answer, she held out a piece of paper, their new timetables. Harry stared at it, flabbergasted. They had no less than three hours of class a day with the Slytherins.

Harry was so shocked that he didn't hear the Headmaster speaking. By the time he jerked out of his reverie Dumbledore was already finishing his sentence, "... and no modification will be made to your schedules. Moreover, I've the pleasure to introduce to you your new teachers: you already know Professor Remus Lupin, who will teach you Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Thunderous applause rang through the Great Hall except, predictably, from the Slytherin table. Harry and the other Gryffindors, quite forgetting their timetables, were whooping and cheering with great vigor, and stopped only when Dumbledore set off several fire-crackers with his wand.

"To teach spell and magic control," Dumbledore carried on, "Professor Docius Lanx."

The students politely clapped and Hermione immediately began telling the others how she had read one of his theses during the summer. Dumbledore went on, "As teacher of Curses and Maledictions: Professor Atus Cast."

Some Slytherins clapped, but noticing Malfoy didn't move, stopped. The blond boy studied the teacher for a moment, his face remaining expressionless; then calmly turned his gaze towards the Gryffindor table and watched Harry. If he was surprised to find Harry eyeing him back, he didn't show it. They observed one another in silence for several seemingly eternal seconds; and then Draco suddenly applauded.

- - - - - - - - -

Harry heard Professor Dumbledore introduce the teacher of curses and maledictions, an option he would already have chosen in his sixth year if there had been an available teacher to take the post, but since the return of Voldemort, most suitable candidates had joined the Dark Lord's ranks, or were dead. The teacher seemed neither friendly, nor detestable, simply a teacher; but Harry , like many others was in two minds about weather to cheer for him or not.

However, a few Slytherins were welcoming the teacher, but soon realized that one of their number didn't join in their applause and stopped abruptly. Harry puzzled, looked across to the Slytherin table: in the midst of them was Draco Malfoy. He was sitting, unconcerned, with his arms folded. Harry was conscious of Draco's intent gaze fixed on the new teacher's, as if trying to read his mind, his soul. As though aware of his rival's scrutiny, the Slytherin slowly turned his head toward him. Harry could feel his hair standing on end. Draco's unflinching stare made him shiver with ... fear?

'No way! I can't be frightened by this... this... *seductive* blond looking at me as if I was his prey...'

The thought made him smile, then flush and finally blanch. 'No, no! where did that come from? He's not seductive, he's just a moron... just a...' Harry sighed, his eyes travelling over Draco's face, 'Malfoy. He's a prat. A Slytherin. The sexiest person I ever laid eyes on.'

The electric shiver down his spine didn't go away, it became a tantalizing tingle which spread down to the tips of his fingers, making them ache to reach out and touch Draco's fine silvery blonde hair, to map out with his fingers Draco's sharp chiseled features and his narrow, aristocratic lips... Harry quickly closed his eyes, and took the time to put his thoughts back into order. When he had rid his mind of the image of Draco in silk boxers, he re-opened them. But Draco was still looking at him, yet with a slight smile which lit his eyes with amusement and a trace of something else. Harry unconsciously grinned at the dragon. Still pinning Harry down with his gaze, Draco smirked then clapped. Dazed by the tingling in his spine and the warm feeling in the pit of his stomach, Harry too began to applaud.

- - - - - - - - - -

Dumbledore had patiently waited for them to make up their mind. He then continued, yet this time with a slightly more exultant tone.

"And finally, as Mrs. Hooch left us last year, flying will be taught by a recently graduated young man you all know: Professor Victor Krum."

There were shouts of joy from the boys, and a few faints among the girls. With much amusement, Harry watched Ron go from pink to red, then from red to white, with a short stop at purple.

The headmaster calmly finished his speech: "Please, make your way to your first lessons and present my apologies to your teachers for keeping you - quick, you're late!"

Laughing and chattering the students emptied the hall.

Harry's year were especially speedy- they had double Potions next and didn't want to give Snape an excuse to take more points off them. When Harry and Ron finally arrived, panting, at the dungeons Hermione was already there waiting for them. As Head Girl, she had access to many of the school's secret passages. Obtusely, she refused to share their passwords and locations with her two best friends, because walking all the way would 'teach them punctuality.'

Draco, Harry noticed, was already there too, nose buried in a book.

"Did you see?" Ron asked, sliding into his seat and looking warily about for Snape.

Harry sat down beside him and replied, "See what?"

"Malfoy. He acted like the little chief of the Shit-there-in house," Ron said excitedly.

"That's not news," Hermione answered slightly impatiently.

"Maybe, but last year at least a few of them contradicted him, now they all bow to his merest whim! They act like they're scared shitless of him - he's a Death Eater for sure."

Harry sighed, remembering the way he'd looked at him. "Possibly...."

Snape finally appeared, black cape swooshing out behind him. He liked his first appearance of the year to be somewhat intimidating. The Gryffindors found it more bat-like than impressive though.

"This year, you'll be working in groups of two, one Slytherin, one Gryffindor. Well, what are you waiting for?"

With groans from both sides, the students stood up, each eyeing the other house with disgust, but this was apparently not fast enough for Snape. He began to choose the pairings himself, "Finnigan, there! Longbottom, at the far end of the class with... Goyle! Granger with Parkinson, over there! Weasley with Zabini, right there! Potter!", he smiled unpleasantly, "over here!"

He gestured toward the table in the corner, situated in front of his desk, and where another student was already sitting. Harry reluctantly picked up his bag and changed seats, cursing Snape under his breath.

"Malfoy," he said, by way of greeting, planking his bag down on the desk and rummaging through it for his potions book.

The blond put his book down on the potion table and stared at him.

"What are you doing here, Potter?" he asked calmly.

"Snape."

"Hmm... So, we're to be...colleagues". Without a trace of emotion he picked up his book, and continued, "We're going to do a forium potion."

"A what?" Harry answered, puzzled by Draco's mild stance - he had been expecting insults, jibes and the kind of humiliating put downs the blonde was famous for.

"A Forium potion; it can create doors where applied on walls. Read this; it's all explained."

"Why?" Harry demanded, still in shock.

"Why what, Potter?". This time his voice had a more dangerous, impatient edge.

"Why are you doing this? You could leave me in my ignorance and see Snape take points from Gryffindor." Harry was becoming impatient with Draco's evasiveness. He wanted to know what his enemy was up to.

"I've no time for arguing this year."

This answer only made Harry even more suspicious. He hid his dissatisfaction though, uncomfortably aware of sounding like Hermione at her most annoying.

"Oh... The NEWTs," Harry replied, with a forced understanding.

"Yeah, partly...," Draco said somewhat hesitantly, a sad tone in his voice.

Harry studied him for a while, then turned his attention towards the chapter in his book the Slytherin boy had indicated.

--------------

Though horrendously long, the three hours went well, despite Snape's constant sniping at Harry. At the end of class, he spent break with Ron and Hermione. After that, Hermione had to run to her spell creation class, whereas Harry and Ron had double PS (personal studies). They decided to kick back and play a bit of Quidditch.

"So, how was it?" asked Ron when they finally flopped back onto the pitch, exhausted.

"What?" Harry replied, unsure of what his friend meant.

"Potions with the ferret boy," Ron joked, remembering with pleasure that particular incident.

"Ah... I survived, but I don't think our pairing will last long in future," Harry said.

"Why?" Ron inquired.

"Snape. He came near us several times, it seemed he wanted to talk to Malfoy, but then he remembered I was there and went away," Harry explained, perplexed by his teacher's behavior.

"Maybe he's got something for him," Ron suggested, with evident delight. They burst into peals of laughter at the preposterous idea.

Calming down, Harry looked at his watch and groaned, "Dammit! We're late!"

"What? Leg it! Hermione's going to kill me!" Ron groaned, dreading her reaction.

"What do you have?" Harry asked, picking up his bag.

"Arithmancy. Hermione convinced me to try it this year," Ron answered, obviously still skeptical about this choice.

"Curses and maledictions," Harry said.

"Then good luck, mate!" Ron added enthusiastically.

- - - - - - - - - -

"... traditional civilizations. His survival points to the strength of his digging in the ancient magical thought. Many rituals are classified as captivation: by the look or by the blood, by carved symbols, conjuration or spirits' invocation... Yes?"

The teacher impatiently interrupted his speech, and was looking at the latecomer.

Harry quickly entered the classroom, and muttered an apologetic: "I'm sorry, Professor."

"And you're?" he inquired.

"Harry Potter, sir," he answered

"Five points from Gryffindor for being late. Here's a place. Sit down there and pay attention."

The teacher continued his lecture without even lifting an eyebrow at the famous name, "bewitchments, evil spells and even the Imperius belong to one of the royal roads of the primary paganism: the medicine by transfer or transfer magic."

Harry sighed and slid into the empty seat on the first row.

"You again, Potter? If you go on this way, people might think you want to sit next to me," commented his new neighbor without even looking up, or pausing in his note-taking.

"Sod off, Malfoy," Harry replied, sounding irritated but inwardly relieved that his archenemy had reverted back to his normal, insufferable attitude.

Draco just smiled, clearly amused.

- - - - - - -

"What're you doin' mate?" Ron came over to Harry and sat next to him,

"Reading..."

"You're starting to sound like Hermione!", he put his hand on his friend's forehead. "But your temperature seems normal, though."

"Ron..." Harry rolled his eyes.

"I was just a bit worried that's all. Since the beginning of school you've been, well....distant. Did you pick a fight with Malfoy or something like that? 'Cause we can go and beat him up, if you want." Ron smiled encouragingly, "or we could go do that anyway if you like..."

"No, it's...," Harry sighed heavily and put his head in his hands, "I have this odd sensation, as if my mind is drifting off, and I can't concentrate on anything but him and I try to detach my thoughts from him but I can't and I want to react but I can't and I..."

Ron stopped him mid-sentence. Since Cedric's death, Harry had fallen into an emotional crisis. He talked and talked, and if nobody stopped him swiftly, his ramblings degenerated into hysterical shouting. His mental state had improved over the past two years, but Harry still got all mixed up at times. So Ron clasped Harry tightly to him in a hug, encircling him with his long arms, comforting him with soothing words, softly spoken.

"Are you better?" he finally asked.

"Yes... I think, thanks Ron. I just needed to say something, it's a strange feeling and I can't help reacting in this way. You can let me go now, I promise I won't be all hysterical again... Ron?"

The boy was looking at him, concern in his eyes.

"What?"

"Harry, you're my best friend. So, if you want to talk to me about who's bothering you, I'm here, OK?"

Harry nodded. "The moment I understand what is going on, I'll tell you."

Ron hugged him reassuringly, and added "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you... if we lost you, Hermione cares about you so much."

"Ron?"

"Yes?"

"There are no better friends than you two, really. But for now, I just need some time and space to think by myself...are you up for wizard chess?" Harry said to change the subject.

"Anytime, mate, anytime."

- - - - - - - - - -

Harry heard the grandfather clock in the common room strike two o'clock in the morning and turned over once more in his bed.

'Harry felt as if he could see himself lying there in his bed, watching the curious sensations that crept insidiously into his blood and throbbed through his heart. They picked his mind apart with secret, silver eyes burning him from the inside out as if sluggish lava flowed through his veins. The smell of the ambrosial cologne surrounded them, his arm reached out to touch Harry's fevered cheeks, his lips and-'

Harry sighed profoundly, 'Merlin balls! what has happen to me? This morning, I couldn't help but keep my eyes upon his, totally smitten by his gaze... hypnotized... spellbound!'

This last word woke Harry from his reverie. Silently as a cat he swung his legs over the side of the bed and padded over to his trunk. Rummaging through his belongings, he finally felt his books buried under Quidditch robes and old socks. "Charms... transfiguration... ah! 'Dark magic: first year theory', that's it!"

Harry tiptoed out of his dormitory and crept down the staircase to the empty common room. Whispering, 'Lumos', Harry perched on an armchair near the dying fire, and opened his textbook.

'Fascination is usually considered as the primary form of bewitching, and is the ancestor of the Imperius curse. Empirical evidence suggests that both spells affect the human organism in a similar fashion and with equivalent intensity. Malfoy in his room. In Antiquity, the power to fascinate was attributed to gorgons and snakes. Unlike the Imperius curse, it does not require the use of a wand. Fascination is a charm operated by the eye - the fascinating Eye hypnotizes its victim - it is sometimes referred to the eye's charm. The result of the spell is that the charmed one does not see reality as it is anymore. Malfoy laying on his bed. He is thrown into a world of happiness and pleasure; his only desire is to stay in it, however high the price should be. When the enchantment reaches the zenith of its capacity, the performer of the spell's orders are finally perceived as the only possible realization of the victim's unfulfilled desires, giving the cursed one the impression the orders are his own. So Malfoy bewitched me. The git! But why did he choose to... to bind me to him when he could have... I don't know... tortured me, or have me commit suicide... Malfoy's bare chest...Aah! Why do I care?!? He must have used a very dark spell on me and he's going to pay! Malfoy in boxers... But for now I need to get rid of this fucking spell! ... rather in briefs, silk briefs.'