The Valley of the Shadow of Death

"You have to be trained. I had a friend at Hogwarts - a Hufflepuff girl - who became a Medium during fifth year, and she tried to hide it too. And then she found out, almost too late, what happens when Mediums don't get trained. They go insane, Draco. Untrained Mediums always go insane."

Draco stared at Lily for a moment, then quickly looked around again to make sure nobody could hear him. "What? Why - what? But I'm fine. That's not going to happen."

"Draco... two things. One, you're not fine. It's only been - what, a little over a week?" Draco nodded. She continued, "And you already look about ready to collapse from nervous exhaustion. And two... things aren't going to stay like this. If you don't get trained, things will get worse."

Draco's mouth dropped open. "Worse?"

Lily nodded. "Worse."

"How can things possibly get worse?" Draco asked, rather faintly, already dreading the answer. He was already surrounded by ghosts he had to try to avoid without appearing to see them, he was sick, he was tired, and he couldn't pay attention to anything going on around him anymore because he was so preoccupied with hiding this newfound "talent." Not to mention, he'd always wondered what would happen to a person who passed all the way through a ghost, and now he knew, and he had no idea how to avoid it happening again without revealing his secret...

How could things possibly get worse?

"I'm not sure about the details," Lily said. "I only know what Emily - that's the Hufflepuff friend - I only know what I know from her. She'd managed to keep it hidden for eight months, although it was obvious long before that, that something was terribly wrong. And then, one day in Charms, she just started babbling to nobody. Dumbledore guessed then that she might be a Medium, and he had her tested. And then she had to be sequestered for two months of intensive training to undo the damage the delay caused. Apparently, there's not just one split - there's the initial split into what Emily called 'the ghostly planes,' and then Mediums just keep splitting into more and more planes, including some that didn't previously exist, and I guess some of them are physically really different from the mortal plane. And eventually they lose the ability to discern the difference between the mortal plane and all the others. That's one of the main reasons for training, apparently. I guess there's some regimen of potions that's supposed to halt the splitting. Plus, Emily mentioned that training made a huge difference in how well she could cope with everything."

Draco had listened to this explanation with an open mouth and a growing sense of horror. This can't be happening...

Come on, Draco. Think. "Eight months?" he asked. If this girl had made it eight months without letting anybody know, maybe he'd be able to find something in that time...

"Yes, but Draco - "

"And... she's all right now?"

"Well... sort of. No, not exactly. She did make a full recovery..."

"Well, that was nice and vague."

Lily sighed. "Yes, Draco, she made a full recovery. No, she's not all right. She's dead. Voldemort killed her shortly after we graduated. He kind of hates Mediums. That's the main reason they're so scarce now - I think there used to be around 100 in Britain, but now there are probably about five, including yourself. Voldemort killed all Seers, Mediums, and Telepaths he knew about, after he came into power. I think he just doesn't like the concept of anybody having direct access to knowledge that he himself doesn't have. He didn't even try to recruit them first, he just killed them..." she trailed off briefly, looking both worried and sad.

A choked sound escaped Draco's throat. Since this whole disaster started, he'd been worried that if Voldemort found out, Draco would end up being used as nothing more than a tool. But if he didn't like Mediums in their own right - if he felt about them the same way he felt about Muggles and Mudbloods...

He wouldn't hurt a Malfoy, said a hopeful part of his mind. Immediately, another part of his mind retorted, Of course he would, idiot! He's VOLDEMORT!

I'm going to die. If anybody ever finds out about this, I'm going to die.

There went the possibility of telling anyone. There were no fellow students he could trust. No adults, either. All the adults he knew were either teachers, or friends of his father, or virtual strangers. He couldn't tell any of his father's friends, for obvious reasons. He of course couldn't tell a virtual stranger. And he couldn't tell a teacher. A teacher would tell Snape, who would tell Draco's father, or just go straight to Voldemort. Or the teacher might tell Dumbledore... and Dumbledore would tell Snape. Dumbledore was ridiculously trusting that way. Not to mention, he had the feeling Dumbledore would be required by law to notify his parents about something like this.

Either way, his father would end up knowing. And his father would tell Voldemort. If he didn't decide to kill Draco himself, first. If Draco didn't ask his father to kill him first.

Which he might just do, if anybody found out. Draco was almost sure that his father, unlike Voldemort, would give him a quick, clean, dignified, and above all, painless death...

In the second during which all of these thoughts had raced through Draco's mind, Lily had continued, "and that's another reason you really need to tell Dumbledore."

Draco stared at her, mutely shaking his head, unable to follow her reasoning. How exactly was this a reason for him to tell Dumbledore? "No," he said, after he'd found his voice. "I can't tell anyone."

Lily stared at him, dumbfounded. "Draco, have you been listening? You need protection! And you need training! I did mention the part about going insane, right? I didn't leave that out, did I?"

What am I going to do?

Calm down, Draco. Think. Ok. He couldn't tell anyone - he'd already established that. If nobody found out, then he wouldn't need to worry about Voldemort. Unless Voldemort routinely tested for these things during initiation... Draco felt another wave of panic.

Calm down. He probably doesn't test like that. And if he does, you can always find out in advance. Without raising suspicion. Somehow. And then you can get out of being initiated. Somehow... He heard yet another choked sound come from his throat. CALM DOWN!

Calm down. Better. There's nothing you can do about this right now, Draco. Worry about the other thing. Right. The little 'insanity' thing. Well, he couldn't tell anybody. So he couldn't arrange to be trained. At least, not officially...

"What does the training involve, anyway?" he asked. Casually, he hoped.

"I don't know, exactly," Lily said after a moment. "Some potions, I think - "

Good. If he could figure out what potions were needed, he could make them himself. If he could get hold of the ingredients. And if the potions weren't too advanced for him. And if they didn't require too large a cauldron, so he could make it outside of the Potions classroom, and not arouse Snape's suspicions...

" - but I'm really not sure," Lily continued. "I just know Emily's training was conducted by a CGP, and I think the CGP gave all the orders."

Not so good... CGP stood for 'Certified General Psychic.' General Psychic Studies was a field about which Draco knew next to nothing. He couldn't very well hire a CGP himself - even if he could find one he could trust, there was still the problem of CGP's services being notoriously expensive.

One of Draco's biggest secrets, that he always worked very hard to conceal from everybody around him, was the fact that he didn't actually have any money. The Malfoy family was worth approximately 1,200,000 Galleons, and that figure was increasing almost daily, but Draco, at present time, had precisely two Galleons, four Sickles, and a Knut. His father allowed him ten Galleons a month, plus another twenty prior to Hogsmeade weekends - just enough to treat himself and a couple other people to an expensive meal and keep up appearances, but not enough to actually buy anything significant. If Draco wanted anything, he asked his father, and his father would get it for him. Or not. It was one of the main reasons Draco stayed in line. Which was probably why his father did it.

But there was no way he could write to his father asking for training from a CGP. He shuddered to even think about it. And Draco couldn't afford it himself, so that wasn't a possibility. Even if he could find one he could trust.

Still, it gave him someplace to start. If it was part of a CGP's job, then Draco might be able to find something useful about Medium training in the library in the Psychic Studies section.

Still a little dazed, Draco continued toward the library. Lily followed, until Draco said, "I need to think, Lily. By myself. Could you..."

"Of course," Lily said, still looking concerned and doubtful. "But, Draco, please do think about what I said. You can tell Dumbledore. You should tell Dumbledore. As soon as possible, you need to - "

"- tell Dumbledore. Yes, I heard you. Goodbye, Lily," Draco snapped, feeling close to a breaking point. He really needed to be alone.

Lily gave him a long look, then floated down the corridor in the opposite direction without a word. Draco continued to the library.

Few people were in the library - Draco suspected just about everybody was either off celebrating or mourning the match. Granger of course was there, in her usual place at a table towards the side of the library near the windows. Her nose was immersed in a huge volume, and she didn't notice Draco's entrance. Which was just fine with him.

It took him a few moments to even locate the Psychic Studies section of the library, since he'd never gone over there before. Once there, he searched for anything specifically concerning Mediums, only finding an old, ridiculously thick, and very dusty book called, I See You: Memoirs of a Professional Medium. As good a place to start as any. Better to read it here - he didn't want anybody noticing a book like this on his checkout list.

He took out the book and sprawled on the floor to read. It started out promising, but two hours later, he was more than a little frustrated with the lack of any useful facts. Apparently, this Medium had to take "some potions" that "were disgusting," but either didn't know, or didn't see fit to mention, just what the potions were! And training apparently consisted of meeting a CGP, and doing a bunch of things under the CGP's guidance, without having any idea how it was done. Most of the book seemed to be about how being a Medium could be frustrating. "Frustrating" was the word the author used. Draco really didn't need to be told that. He felt he was doing quite a good job of figuring that out on his own.

Strangely angry at the book in front of him, and fighting against some fresh waves of panic as he realized he really wasn't finding answers, he dropped his head on the book for a minute, clenching his fists and hissing in frustration. He was just about to give up on this book and try to find another, when a very annoying female voice made him look up.

"You know, Malfoy, there are these great inventions. They're called desks. You go, you sit at them, and they're comfortable and out of everybody's way..."

Granger. Great. Just the person he wanted to see. Here. While he was sitting in the Psychic Studies section of the library reading a book on Mediums. Best to get rid of her as quickly as possible. He hid the book cover as surreptitiously as possible, and drawled, "I prefer it here. But thank you for the tip, Granger; I'll keep it in mind on the very odd chance that I ever want your advice." He sneered.

She ignored the jibe. (It really was no fun to taunt Granger without Potter and Weasley around. She never rose to the occasion, except that one time in third year.) Instead, she continued, "What are you doing over here, anyway? This is the Psychic Studies section."

Has the Mudblood never heard of the concept of minding your own business? Do they not teach that in Muggle households? Draco's mind raced for a suitable retort for a moment, before it found one. He smirked at Granger, saying, "Why, Granger, I'm figuring out a way to get into your mind and learn your deepest, darkest secrets, of course. Imagine what could be lurking in that head of yours. I just had to figure it out. But then I remembered - you're not worth it."

Her eyes narrowed, and Draco continued, pointedly, "what do you want, Granger?"

Her nostrils flared for a moment, but she was apparently determined not to take the bait, for all she said was, "I want to get past. You're in the way."

Draco drew his legs up, resting the book cover against his knees so she couldn't see what he was reading, and pointedly returned to reading. After a pause, Granger walked past him to some shelf on the other side. A couple minutes later, she stalked back to her table, lugging a large book.

After she'd left, he felt it was safe to return the book, which he'd now deemed completely useless, to the shelf. He was about to resume searching the shelves for something else that might be useful, when he heard Granger's voice, just barely loud enough for him to hear.

"That was weird."

"What was weird?" Weasley. One glance through the shelves told Draco that Potter and Weasley had, sometime in the last two hours, decided to join Granger in the library. No Lily, though. Apparently she'd decided to visit someone else right now.

"Well, Malfoy was in the stacks over there studying - "

Weasley snorted. "Yep, that's weird." Draco scowled, torn between pretending not to hear them and returning to more pressing matters, or going over and arguing with them. He finally decided it would be safer to ignore them - Granger would forget it sooner that way.

Granger sounded annoyed at the interruption. "That's not what I meant, Ron. That's actually not so unusual - he's in here more than you are, after all - but he's in the Psychic Studies section! I'm pretty sure Malfoy doesn't take any Psychic Studies classes, unless you count Divination." She snorted about something. "And... he looked... really anxious about something. I think maybe something's wrong with him."

Weasley opened his big mouth again. "Of course something's wrong with him, Hermione."

"No, I mean something really wrong! He looked like he was going to pass out at the match today - "

Weasley snorted. "He was probably just hit with a sudden bout of conscience for trying to kill Harry, and the shock almost knocked him out." Draco bit the inside of his cheek until it hurt, trying to resist the strong temptation to go over there and hex Weasley into oblivion. "Hermione, what's with you?" Weasley continued, and Draco was forced to agree, in a way. Why couldn't she just mind her own business? As if he didn't have enough to worry about!

That thought immediately brought back to mind all the other things Draco had to worry about, and he was fighting back another wave of panic when he heard Granger's voice again, bringing him back to the here and now.

"It's just... he just really looked like he was in trouble, Ron. And then, I asked him what he was doing in the Psychic Studies section, and he didn't answer - well, not really - and then he asked me what I wanted. I told him I wanted him to get out of the way, and he did - "

Potter spoke up for the first time. "You asked Malfoy to move, and he moved?"

There was a silence, much to Draco's disgust. Merlin above, it's not that unusual! Sometimes, I do actually have better things to do than argue with the Mudblood!

Finally, Granger spoke up again. "Well... yes... but the point is, I really think he's in trouble. Maybe we should tell someone."

WHAT??? NO!!!!

"Hermione... maybe. But this is Malfoy you're talking about. He's probably worried about some Death Eater fix that he got himself into, and we should be more worried about whoever he's hurting. And... even if it's not... that... you really think he'd want our help? Besides, I think whatever it is, it can wait. Unlike this..." Through the shelves, Draco saw Potter indicating the homework he had in front of him. He felt a stab of annoyance at being rated less important than Potter's homework, while at the same time, he was grateful that they seemed to be dropping the subject. Hopefully, Granger wouldn't resurrect it.

She sniffed. "We would be able to talk about Malfoy, if you two had done this last Tuesday when it was assigned..."

Their talk immediately degenerated into banter about Granger's bossy and know-it-all nature, and Draco breathed a sigh of mixed relief and annoyance. Then he realized that Granger was at least right about one thing - he was in trouble - and he'd better get back to work.

He looked at the CGP training volumes next. There were twenty-nine of them. He found a table of contents at the beginning of the first, and discovered there that Volume XVII was entirely devoted to Medium training. Draco breathed a sigh of relief - finally, something was going right. Now all he needed to do was figure out what potions were needed, and maybe figure out how to avoid ghosts without appearing to avoid them.

With some difficulty, Draco located and took out Volume XVII, which was very large and heavy. He took out quill and parchment for any notes he might need to take, and opened the book to the first page.

Draco stopped, and read the last three paragraphs a second time. And a third, but they still didn't make any more sense than they'd made on the first reading. At first glance, the book had appeared to be in English, but apparently, it was not. And to think that he'd actually allowed himself the hope that he might get some answers... He bit the inside of his lower lip again to keep from screaming. It wouldn't do to scream in the library. Particularly not while sitting in the Psychic Studies section, five feet away from Potter and gang, holding a book on Mediums.

He frantically paged through the volume on his lap, looking for something - anything - that made sense. No luck - the entire book was written in the same language - whatever it was - as the first few paragraphs. He couldn't understand a thing in this book.

He shoved the book back onto its place on the shelf, then slammed his own forehead into the shelf for good measure, twice. The shelf rocked slightly, before regaining its balance, and Madame Pince came over, looking angry.

"Mr. Malfoy," she scolded in a low voice, "what are you doing?"

Draco sighed and muttered the requisite apology, and said it was an accident. Which was true - he hadn't intended to nearly knock the shelf over - but Madame Pince didn't seem convinced. As always, she seemed convinced that he was trying to sabotage her library, and it took some convincing to make her go away, which she finally did after taking ten points from Slytherin.

After she returned to the reference desk, Draco sighed and buried his head in his hands. This was a conspiracy. That's what it was. The fates were conspiring against him. And the entire population of Hogwarts was in on the joke. He was suddenly very, very tired.

Maybe I should just tell Father, said a voice in his head, unbidden, and he snorted. The insanity must be beginning already. At this rate, he was going to be a raving lunatic by the end of the semester. If Voldemort didn't kill him first.

Nothing useful here. Might as well leave. Draco stood and walked out the library. Potter glanced up from his work as Draco passed, and scowled at him. Draco habitually smirked back, grateful for these ingrained habits that were the only thing preventing him from looking the way he felt. He avoided Granger's eyes - she was looking at him far too closely for his liking. Potter's frown deepened, and he disdainfully returned to his work. Draco continued on his way.

Once outside the library, he stopped dead in his tracks for a moment, not sure where to go. He wanted to go to bed. He was exhausted. But bed wasn't exactly the safest place for him right now - not after the match. Avery had probably arranged an ambush by now.

But he was going to have to return to the dorms eventually anyway. He couldn't very well stay out all night - a Malfoy does not run away from a challenge. Thus decided, he headed back down to the dungeons, trying to stay alert to any possible hexes and ignore all ghosts at the same time.

Once back at the dorms, he noted with some surprise that they seemed to be empty. He checked his bed thoroughly for hexes, and found none. Meaning they were probably planning to wait until he was asleep. Which was precisely why he knew so many wards.

He set up three separate alarm systems within a foot of his bed, five physical wards, and three wards to block curses. Once that was done, he collapsed on his bed, still fully-clothed, asleep almost before his head hit the pillow.