Trust Me

Chapter One--I am my Father's son

Harry lay on his back, replaying the turbulent memories of the past year. Around him was a hazy fog as it was still early in the morning. The mist settled on him like the flutter of butterfly wings, daintily swishing past his face.

He couldn't sleep--he hadn't been able to for the last few weeks. The silence of the summer holidays brought on more images in his mind than he'd rather have; the fear and anger in his reactions to those images stifling him sleep day after day. Now as he rested on the moist, dewy grass of the Dursley lawn, Harry wished fervently all the pictures in head would go away, and simply leave him alone.

He rolled over and groaned, envisaging once again that surprised look on Cedric's face when life had suddenly been swept away from him. Nothing to prepare himself with, or loved one nearby to say to him the last words he'd ever hear. Had his parents felt the same? Holding their son Harry before they simply crumbled on the ground and died?

Summer was in full swing and was normal as the Durselys could obtain while Harry stayed with them. His school supplies were spread untidily in his room; Hedwig's cage in one corner while his wand, broomstick, Invisibility Cloak, parchment, quills, and textbooks lay in piles on the floor. A finished essay for Professor Binns lay on his desk--"Goblin Rebellions involving Wizards: How was this negative/positive to the rebellion? Discuss."--but he had a long way to go before he finished all his summer homework. There were many other essays to complete from McGonagall, Snape, Sprout, Trelawney, and all his other teachers. Only his History of Magic essay could be plagiarized directly from the textbook (with Binns taking off points for plagiarizing, but Harry didn't really care). All other essays had to be carefully thought-out, and that was the one thing Harry didn't have anymore--a clear, empty head to read and analyze textbook information. His mind was swimming--or drowning, rather--in vivid pictures of Cedric, his own parents' death, and Voldemort, alive and well, with his circle of Death Eaters by his side once more. He had barely enough room for the regulation of his breathing-- so how could he be expected to finish all these useless essays?

A sharp talon dug into his shoulder, shaking him out of his weary thoughts.

"Hedwig," Harry said, rubbing his eyes. She hopped onto the ground, looking very disdainful that she had to stand on wet grass instead of a dry bed with food and water, but she stuck out her foot, nevertheless, with a letter from Hermione that made Harry's mouth go dry.

Harry,

Snuffles has been spotted.

This is really bad and here's the news clipping. The ministry says he gets the Dementer's Kiss immediately when he's caught. The Ministry also says it's only logical Snuffles would be at this place. Well, I'm writing a quick letter since it's bedtime, but could you see if you could Owl him or something? DO NOT do anything stupid or risky! Maybe this is some weird ploy or something. Stay at home! I'm really worried that they'll Kiss him before he slips in another word edgewise, but that is NO GOOD REASON put yourself in danger too! You know how bad it could get if you're found "conspiring" with "enemy"!

Love from,

Hermione

She had included news clipping, about a day old, of what Harry thought was the worst thing that could happen at the moment.

Sirius Black Spotted Near Godric's Hollow

Murderer found in place of his last victims.

Sirius Black, the infamous escapee from Azkaban, is still being chased by the Ministry of Magic; (Writes correspondent Helvie Sylia) but he has been spotted near Godric's Hollow, where Lily and James Potter and their son Harry Potter last lived.

A Fidelius Charm had been cast to protect the Potters at the time they were being hunted by You-Know-Who, and Black had been their Secret Keeper. As You-Know-Who's top spy, Black quickly revealed the location of the Potters to You-Know-Who. As a result they were killed a short week later, leaving their young son Harry orphaned (for more information about Harry Potter and the downfall of You-Know-Who, please read Faces of the Past and Present, pg 581). Now it only seems ironic that this cold-blooded murderer has been sighted at the place where his "best friends" were killed due to his own involvement. More interestingly is the fact that just when the Potters' home has been reconstructed to mimic its former self to the last detail as a tribute to all Potters is the time Black decides to show up again.

Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge says that "There is nothing to worry about; the Ministry will be catching him in no time. We have put a Protective Charm around the whole Godric's Hollow area and he cannot get out."

Now citizens of the Magical World and Muggles (who also been notified) will wait in suspense if this dangerous, blood-thirsty convict will be caught."

There was another picture of the dirty, unshaven Sirius in a big box above the article.

Harry swallowed. How could Sirius be so stupid? Godric's Hollow was his parent's home. How could he do something like this? If he got killed, got hurt, or got his soul sucked out, Harry would lose his last remaining link to his parents--His godfather.

No, Harry thought fiercely, I have to get him out. He felt his blood boil with fear that Sirius could be caught, and anger that the reporter could say such nasty things about such a loving man who'd been framed, though Harry had to admit it wasn't as awful an article as some of the ones he had come across in his fourth year, written by Rita Skeeter.

He stood so fast he hit Hedwig's wing by accident; she squawked angrily, but Harry ignored her and proceeded into the Dursleys' house, up the stairs, and into his bedroom, mentally ignoring Hermione's message to not do anything stupid. He retrieved his broomstick, wand (tucked carefully in his trousers), and Invisibility Cloak.

"Fly to Sirius. I'll follow you, ok?" he asked her, waving a piece of paper that said 'Sirius' on it in front of Hedwig.

As an answer, she nipped him on the finger (rather hard, but still affectionate) and waited for him. Harry brushed off some dew from his clothes and flung the Invisibility Cloak around himself. He grabbed his Firebolt and opened the window. Mounting his broomstick, he mentioned for Hedwig to start flying, kicked off from the windowsill, and began to follow her.

* * *

Draco Malfoy was annoyed. He didn't even know why he was annoyed. He just simply was.

"Nina!" he yelled, aggravated. Nina, as his chambermaid, should cheer up their masters; it was in their job description (in big, highlighted, bold letters too).

"Yeah?" was the surly reply, as a black-haired Asian girl entered, a braided band of her hair circling her head. "What is it?" she asked irritably, smoothing down her knee-length maid uniform. "It's five in the morning! Why aren't you asleep Young Mr. Malfoy? This will ruin your damn health and your beautiful face if you're not careful!"

He frowned at her. "I want a chocolate frog," he said, pouting like a spoiled child. "And I want you to sit here and tell me about..." he thought furiously. "Harry Potter!"

She glared at him in distaste, but sat down in the chair next to his bed. She pulled out her wand saying, "Accio chocolate frog!" and before long a frog came zooming towards them, landing neatly in Draco's lap.

"I thought you hated Harry Potter," she said evenly, watching him pull out the card. "What the hell do you want to know?"

"I'm sick and tired of people oozing over him," Draco said arrogantly, seeing the card was Agrippa (he threw it over on his desk next to his bed). "Before long he'll get his own damn Frog card."

"I think he already has one," muttered Nina. "But if you want to know, I'll tell you this--You-know-who did Avada Kedavra on his parents. He turned to Harry to do the same spell. That spell rebounded for no particular reason that I know of. End of story."

Draco sighed. "Then clean this room," he ordered. "Useless maid."

"Oh, I'm useless!" Nina snapped at him, tugging at a bucket-of-water charm hanging around her neck. Dust and dirt seemed to suddenly fly from their hiding places and head straight towards her, landing about four inches from her face. With her wand, she banished them neatly into the gold wastebasket in the left corner of the room.

"Take it easy," Draco glared at her; "You should feel exceptional. No chambermaid of mine has lasted more than a day. At least smile for once. You are supposed to serve me and make me happy, not make me mad!"

She ignored him.

"You've got a really good salary," he continued. "Four hundred galleons a month! Who wouldn't die for something like that?"

"I want my family more than your goddamn money," Nina said, scowling.

"Who cares about family? You can do anything with this money! Father says to care is showing weakness! Nina, you're supposed to be happy and jovial, not moody and surly and god knows what other ugly moods you can tick off. Family, family, family--they're plain useless."

"Well Mr. Malfoy," Nina spat at him. "I don't care what your Father says, and I wish I wasn't the 'exceptional one' you praise so highly. I wish I was never born." With that, she stormed out the room and slammed the door.

"Talk about a needy recipient for a Friendliness Potion," Draco muttered, climbing out of bed. "At least that door-slamming sounds slightly elegant, or else Father would never have allowed it..." his annoyance-at-the-world had passed. Now he was just plain bored. Standing up, Draco wandered around his room, wondering what he should do. His schoolbooks were in the library, alongside his other possessions.

Only his trunk and wardrobe was in his room, sitting next to the green-edged fireplace, which matched nicely with the silver walls. His room's carpet was a fluffy mass of green, his bed dark maple (with a dark maple desk to match right next to it), and the windowpanes also green to match the fireplace. A huge oval mirror hung from the ceiling next to his wardrobe and a few maple chairs sat next to his bed.

Tired of wandering, Draco signed and was about to climb back into bed when someone Apparated into his room.

* * *

Harry had been flying for quite a while now, and was growing weary of holding his body in a manner so that the Invisibility Cloak covered both him and his broomstick. Suddenly, Hedwig swooped down and landed on an unfamiliar house. Harry followed her and landed on the sidewalk. He dismounted his broom, looked up at the house that Hedwig was now perched atop, and let out a gasp of awe.

In front of the house and in the middle of clean-cut grass stood a shiny oval silver sign. Engraved neatly on the sign, in a chocolaty-brownish color, was:

"The Potters--

Lily, James, and (coming soon) Harry"

Harry choked back a sob. He had never ever seen his old house before. It had been destroyed after his parents' death and he had never bothered trying to summon a vision of what it would look like. Besides, none of the pictures in his scrapbook were taken in front of the house--they were all at Hogwarts, at Hogsmeade, or just under a pretty tree. He wished he could remember the days and nights he spent here with his parents.

The Potters' house was a role model for neatness. It had two stories, with a gable on the left. It was a creamy, chocolate/vanilla color, the roof was made of blue tiles, the French doors red, and two large circular windows were built on either side of the doors. Peach-colored curtains hung grandly from inside the windows, and trail of mosaic stepping stones, edged with tiger lilies, marked the path to the house. Two gently swaying willows were on the East and West of the house.

It's even symmetrical, Harry thought wryly; only the gable isn't copied on the other side.

The gable was covered in green leafy ivy that crawled from the bottom and lushly protected the top. Two white chairs sat around a glass table in the middle of the gable, surrounded by another trail of tiger lilies.

"Reconstructed hmmm?" Harry murmured, enthralled; he was pleased he could now see the foundation where his family roots had come front, but why did Fudge have to build it back up just now? Shouldn't he be worrying about Voldemort's rise to power?

Oh yeah, he remembered, Fudge thinks I'm hallucinating, attention-needy, and a liar. Of course he'll take precautions! Then he remembered his purpose of coming here, which was not to goggle at his former home. He strode towards the house, Hedwig following him, and opened the door.

* * *

"Draco," said a cold dry voice. "Our youngest Malfoy yet."

Draco stared at the Dark Lord, almost paralyzed with fear. He swallowed.

"Y-yes, My Lord." Upon remembering his manners, he quickly sank to his knees and crawled over to Voldemort and kissed the hem of his robes.

"I hope you will live up to the standards of a Malfoy," Voldemort said, reaching down and touching Draco's cheek with a thin, white finger; "The younger generation has so many interestingly cunning ways to try and escape their destinies...you must set a good example Draco. You are faithful to me, yes?"

"Y-yes My Lord. What heeds My Lord to pay me such an honorable visit so early?" Draco asked as he started to regain the slickness of speech he had temporarily lost when Voldemort had caught him off guard.

Voldemort's slit-like red eyes widened slightly. "The usual unctuous manner also," he mused. "Well, Draco, I have been planning."

When did Voldie become so amiable? Draco thought nervously. He fingered his platinum-blond hair before straightening up again. "Planning My Lord? I am sure it is a great plan."

"Yes, my heir is involved."

A hand patted Draco on the shoulder. He shuddered as he felt lines of fire begin working themselves down his shoulders. Voldie are warmth do NOT go together. I thought he was supposed to be cold, like ice. Father always did call him "Ice Touch" when we were in front of other people.

"You have a heir My Lord? But surely you will never leave us..."

Voldemort laughed--a cruel, high and mirthless laugh. "Oh, no, young Malfoy, you misunderstand me. Of course I am immortal--Potter has never defeated has he? I have even survived the Killing Curse. My heir is simply helping the cause. Family members are always willing to sacrifice themselves to make a loved one--which is me--much, much stronger. I'm sure my relative will not differ from the rest in anticipation of meeting their long-lost family relations." Draco nodded dumbly; scared if he spoke too much he might say something disgraceful and be punished in return.

"Well I am so glad My Lord has found someone to work alongside with so well." Draco said; trying to sound miffed, but actually exceedingly glad.

"Well, young Malfoy, would you care to help me today?"

Is this the reason he came? I'm supposed to do something? Like get the Mark? Father will kill me for not telling him! Who's his heir anyways? Can Voldie even make someone pregnant?

"Of course My Lord." said Draco.

* * *

Harry was shocked into silence. Sirius Black was curled up in a ball and sobbing; it was heartbreaking for Harry to see his godfather so vulnerable and little. Sitting on the sofa next to him (and facing away from Harry) was a girl of about fifteen.

Who is that? Harry wondered. Well, at least she's not trying to hex Sirius. Maybe she knows about this confusing story.

Suddenly, the girl said, "Sirius, would you like something to drink? I know this place is full of old memories and thoughts that haunt you like crazy, but this is not the time to start having a fit. We need to leave soon."

She snapped her fingers and a steaming mug of what smelled like coffee hung in front of her. She handed this to Sirius.

Harry rubbed his eyes roughly. Am I starting to hallucinate? Oh boy, would Fudge be proud; Trelawney would be too, he thought darkly.

Sirius sipped at the coffee slowly and wiped away his tears. He then turned around to face the girl, and saw Harry standing in the doorway.

Sirius dropped the mug. Coffee spilled all over the pale white carpet.

Guess not. Imaginary things don't spill on carpets, Harry reassured himself thankfully.

"Harry!"

"Sirius!"

They hugged each other tightly (forgetting all about manly manners) before Harry broke the embrace and closed to door.

"Sirius! I can't believe you're just in this house and doing nothing! The Ministry's put a goddamn Ward all over this place! How could you do this? You are putting yourself in danger and you know I can't lose another family member!"

Sirius smiled, his eyes still red from crying. "Harry, before you lecture--which is starting to sound so classically like McGonagall--look at this place! This is your home Harry!"

Harry now focused on the room. It was a frosty teal color, with a bronze lion chandelier hanging in the center of the room. The room was lined with squishy and comfy vanilla-colored sofas on the right next to a glass table with a cracked-glass vase that held ever-fresh lilies. There was an oriental rug in the center, an oak television cabinet with a large TV, and on both sides of the room were corridors to other rooms.

"Wow," he breathed softly, wishing more than ever he could still remember the times he actually lived in this house. "It's--it's amazing..."

Sirius snorted. "Poor James. He wanted it to be painted blue I remember, but Lily actually designed the house when James was on an out-of town trip. When he came back she just stood there, beaming at her masterpiece. He told me later that he took one look at his house and ran away."

Harry sat down on the sofa, glancing at the dark-haired girl. "Well Sirius, who's this? Don't tell me your aren't an available bachelor anymore. Most ladies would find you absolutely terrifying but strangely exciting!"

The girl pouted at him, but her dark, moist brown eyes twinkling. "For your information, Mr. Potter, I am your newly-found godsister--older too, I believe, so don't you dare tease me!"

Harry gawped at her.

"What?" she asked, "Do I look funny to you?" she twirled her hair, faking a worried look. "Sirius, you never told me there were standards on what Harry Potter's godsister can look like!"

When Harry regained his voice, he stared accusingly at Sirius. "Godsister? You never told me I had any godsister!"

His godsister had straight, shiny black hair that was lushly curled at the ends, bouncing against her shoulder blades. Her face was triangular/heart shaped, with rosy cheeks, a straight nose, and a rather small mouth. On her ears dangled spiral gold earrings, each with a heart-cut ruby constantly spinning up and down on the spirals. Her figure was slightly curvy in the "spoon" figure; she wore a tight black tee under her navy robes and an ankle-length black skirt. She looked indeed very high and stately. Harry privately thought she looked quite similar to Cho (he blushed very slightly thinking of this).

"Harry," Sirius said; "May I cut into your gawping to tell you it is my daughter you have been staring at this whole time?"

"Er," said Harry, blushing even more. "What's your name? You seem to know mine already."

"Miyara," she replied, smiling.

"Sirius," Harry said sternly. You have a daughter."

Sirius stared at him blankly. "Yeah, I do," he replied. "Haven't you noticed by now?"

"That's not my point," said Harry. "Who's her mother?"

Now Sirius became a huge flush of scarlet.

"Tell me, Sirius," Harry continued. "Do I now have a godmother too? What's her name? What house was she in? And maybe she's like the fairy godmother in Cinderella!" he grinned teasingly.

"What?" Miyara asked, puzzled. "Cinder-who?"

"Never mind," Harry said quickly. "C'mon Sirius! I should know about my own godsister you know..."

His godfather glanced around uneasily. "Well Harry since you arrived here to tell us we had to leave, why don't we leave now?" he suggested.

Harry rolled his eyes, but got up. Miyara snapped her fingers.

"Cookies, anyone?" she asked.

Harry stared at the plate of sugar cookies hanging in midair in front of him and touched one to make sure there were actually real. "How'd you do that?" Harry asked. "I mean, just snap and--"

"I'll explain later," she said; "Sirius, c'mon, be Snuffles now."

Sirius turned into a big black dog (after munching down a cookie) and whined for Harry to open the door.

"You have to tell me this story," Harry whispered evilly to Sirius; "You better--later. You can't get out of this." before heading for the door and opening it.

"How far does the Ward go?" he asked Miyara, who was closing the door quietly.

"I dunno, I think it's only in the immediate area. I told Sirius this was a bad idea, but he simply had to stay at the new house for a while, so here we are."

Harry was just about to reply when Sirius began growling very softly. He glanced around, thinking it was because someone had seen them, when he bumped into an invisible barrier.

"Oh no," breathed Miyara. "The Ward wasn't just meant for a human Sirius...we're all trapped at Godric's Hollow too."

Chapter Two--Links

"Good. Now, to the courtyard."

Draco paled. "B-but, he stuttered; "Father never allows me to go in there! He'll have a fit if he hears I've been there!"

"Do you need a signed permission slip?" Voldemort sneered. "Young Malfoy, you've always been the one to break rules, haven't you?"

Submissively Draco bowed his head. "Oh course, My Lord. Should I, uh, change clothing?"

"There is no immediate need," Voldemort said calmly. "Unless you want to be impressing ladies while you are helping me. No--I do not want that kind of attention which you like to draw to yourself."

"Of course." Draco said smoothly.

Of course I impress ladies, he thought smugly. I'm beautiful. That's one thing Potter will never beat me at. Wait--no, that's one of the FEW things he'll never beat me at.

He followed his Master down the corridor lit with dim oil lamps. He had never been allowed into the courtyard because that was where Lucius held his Death Eater meetings. He'd seen it once, when he had snuck in at the age of seven, and was punished with the Cruciatus Curse afterwards. He had never ventured back.

The courtyard, as an ordinary person would say, was "terrifying" and "horrible". Lucius, however, thought it was "beautiful" and "pleasing". That was really a matter of opinion, Draco had decided, but it wasn't very important, as no one but Death Eaters were allowed in there.

It held some shrubbery--if poison ivy in clumps could be called shrubbery--which was planted on the sides of the courtyard, and even some flowers (they looked surprisingly like tulips, but smelled awfully like rotten meat), but the main item that Lucius had built for his beloved courtyard was the larger-than-life remodeling of the Dark Mark.

The serpent that protruded from the skull's mouth was used as stairs, steep and formidable, leading to the eye sockets of the skull, which rose sixty feet into the air. Below, filling the skull's face was hot oozing lava. Draco wasn't sure if it was an illusion or real, but he had an uneasy feeling it was real, and never dared to touch it. At the top of the stairs, there was a long, wide breach separating the stairs from the sockets, with lava rushing from underneath.

"My Lord," Draco said respectfully. "Shall we proceed?"

Voldemort didn't reply, but started towards the stairs.

The stairs were long and tiring. Draco was on the verge of collapsing when Voldemort skidded in a halt, his black robes swishing forward.

"Pasio de flurio." he whispered quietly, and a shimmering bridge appeared in front of him. He crossed it in one step.

Draco rubbed his eyes. Am I starting to hallucinate? He wondered in alarm.

"Draco! Cross!" Voldemort hissed at him loudly.

He bowed and tentatively stepped on the shimmering bridge. Draco felt as if someone had pushed him from behind, and then suddenly he collapsed in front of his Master in a crumpled heap on the other side of the bridge.

"Should I take this as a good sign?" Voldemort asked, his red eyes staring Draco down.

"I am sorry My Lord," he said. "What do I do now?"

Voldemort smiled, his thin, colorless lips curving nastily. "You will see," he said, and pulled out a small mirror, nestled in olive glass. "I think you will enjoy it."

* * *

"No," Harry breathed. "No..." he glanced at Miyara. She had gone a deadly ashen color, the rosy tinge leaving her face.

"Oh my goodness," she said. "What will we do?"

Sirius barked. "I'm going to put the Cloak on him," Harry said, draping the Invisibility Cloak over Sirius as his godfather transfigured back into a man. "Ok, now what do we do?"

"We could all fly away," Sirius suggested from underneath the cloak. "I could transfigure a rock into a broomstick."

"No," Miyara said. "They've Warded the whole area. You can get in, but not out." Miyara crossed her arms and pursed her lips thoughtfully. Harry looked around Godric's Hollow. No neighbors were out. He highly doubted anyone wanted to live here anymore. First Voldemort came to kill his parents, now escaped prisoner Sirius Black has came to kill them all since he was a 'blood-thirsty' murderer (according to the news, anyway).

What a nice reputation this area has, he thought dryly. I'm sure people are spiffing excited to just come here and try to get killed.

"If anyone sees me, I could always cut their throat," Sirius said dejectedly. "And put a memory charm on them..."

"Couldn't you just skip the 'cutting their throat' part?" Harry asked plaintively. "And besides, they can't see you--you're invisible!"

"That's it!" Miyara suddenly exclaimed.

Both Sirius and Harry turned around and stared at her. "Cut people's throats?" they asked in unison. "That'll help us get out?"

"No, silly," she said, looking faintly amused again. "We could cut a hole in the ward."

"Some shitty Ward it'll have to be to cut a hole in it." Sirius replied.

Miyara smiled at them. "Sure, it's protected against cutting charms and spells," she said, winking. "But Sirius, you remember what I am."

There was a silence, but then he said, "Try it Miyara."

"Try what?" Harry asked, completely bewildered.

"You'll see," she said happily. She closed her eyes, looking very peaceful.

What the hell is she doing? Harry thought. We're trying to get out of a Ward and she's doing yoga? He was about to tell her this when--Miyara wasn't there anymore.

He staggered in shock. "What the--?" he whispered. "Sirius? Where's Miyara?"

"She's a butterfly." Sirius whispered back.

Just as Harry was turning around to tell Sirius he had just gone officially crazy, a zebra-striped butterfly landed on his nose. Harry could see its dark brown eyes.

"Miyara?" he whispered. The butterfly spread its wings, and flew to the ward. There, Miyara began a vicious cycle of left-right wing fluttering. There was a hopeful silence with only the fluttering of wings evident.

After a few minutes, Miyara turned back into a girl and sat on the ground, panting tiredly.

"Slow the closing of the ward down." she croaked. Her arms were red as if someone had continually slapped them.

"Impedimenta!" Harry said, pointing his wand somewhere near where Miyara had been and knowing he was breaking the Degree of Underage Sorcery. He breathed in nervously and stepped towards the ward.

* * *

"What's that?" Draco inquired curiously. Then he blanched. "Oh, My Lord, I am sorry--I have forgotten my manners."

"Indeed," Voldemort answered. He held up the mirror. "Oh, you will know in time."

It looked like a normal mirror, the glass a translucent olive color. It was about the length of a child's hand; oval, and very strange to be seen held in the hands of the deadliest Dark Wizard ever.

"Yes, My Lord," Draco said. "What do I do?"

"This," he tipped the mirror towards Draco. "Is a practice for your aiming skills." Voldemort said simply. He continued, "I will cross to the other platform. You will aim at it with your wand once. You are expected to make this mirror crack halfway. Halfway exactly."

"B-but," Draco objected. "If I don't hit it..."

"Then there will be hell to pay." Voldemort hissed at him, his snake-like nose opening wider.

Draco gulped. "Yes, my Lord. What spell do you want me to use?"

"Cracking Charm," his Master replied. "Cracia. It's very simple. Say it slowly, and point your wand accurately."

"Why don't you do this?" Draco asked. "My Lord, this is such a gamble--" Instantly Draco knew he had gone to far.

"You dare defy me?" Voldemort whispered at him dangerously. Suddenly, he slapped Draco with such force across the face that Draco almost fell over.

Fuck him, Draco thought angrily, a huge red welt bubbling up on his right cheek. He's the great Wizard. I'm the one who's going into my fifth year in some goody-goody school with that crackpot old fool Dumbledore as Headmaster. Like I'd know such a good Dark Arts charm and can point it so "accurately" and crack it exactly halfway across the mirror? What is that measured in, millimeters?

"I am very sorry," he said quietly. "Of course, I will do so immediately."

Voldermort smiled again, pleased. He crossed to the other socket of the skull and held the mirror straight in front of his face, closer to Draco.

What if I hit his face? Will it crack? Not that it makes much difference. He's as ugly as it gets anyways. Even the Weasel looks better than him. Draco took a deep breath and raised his wand, pointing directly at the mirror.

"Cracia."

* * *

Harry passed through, and he sighed with relief. He mentioned for Sirius and Miyara to follow suit. They walked through, and Harry muttered, "Finite Incantem."

Miyara looked smug. "I told you," she said to Sirius. "Told you sometimes having a daughter who's Animagus animal is a razor-winged butterfly has its benefits."

"Is that what you were?" Harry asked. "Razor-winged, huh? Shouldn't you have a sunny sweet predisposition if you're going to be a butterfly? All they do is flutter around in gardens all day."

"I am extremely insulted," Miyara announced. "Ok now, Knight Bus...O Snuffles?" she raised her wand (her arm still feverishly red) and waved it around.

With a BANG! The Knight Bus appeared, looking as friendly and purple as Harry remembered. Stan Shunpike opened the door and smiled jovially at seeing Harry.

"Oi Neville! How 'ya doin'?"

"Good," Harry replied, dodging Miyara's suspicious looks. "I've got an owl, a dog, a broomstick and a--friend. How much will that be?"

Stan nudged Ernie, the driver, in the ribs and whispered loudly, "Oi! Neville's gotten 'imself a girlfriend."

Ernie peered curiously over Stan's shoulder at a flushed Harry, an embarrassed Miyara, and a very annoyed and growling Sirius. "'Wenty-five sickles," he said. "Er...one galleon and eight sickles." Harry paid quickly and sat down on a bed.

"Where to Neville?" asked Stan

Harry looked at Miyara. "Hogsmeade," she said. Then, turning to Harry she asked: "Neville? What are you doing, pretending to be Neville?"

Wringing his hands helplessly, Harry said, "It isn't my fault, Fudge told them himself that I was Harry Potter, but they never listen!"

Sirius jumped onto the bed and snuggled in the covers. "Right," Miyara said; "And why did you tell them in the first place that you were Neville? What were you doing? Hiding from The Ministry?"

"Er..." said Harry. "Something close to that."

Miyara stared at him.

"I blew up my aunt," confessed Harry guiltily. "Now that really wasn't my fault..."

* * *

The spell was agonizingly slow. Draco watched in nervous fascination as a jet of silvery-gold light hit the mirror at the very top, formed into a glowing ball, and seared (or cracked, rather) as it worked its way down to the center.

Don't go any further, stop right there, Draco prayed silently. As if his spell had heard him, the little ball stood still at the center before it faded away.

Draco let out a sigh of relief.

* * *

"So that's how you got to know Snuffles?" Miyara asked, smiling. "To think you would've killed my father if Remus didn't come. The nerve!"

Harry spread out his hands helplessly. "Everyone, even Professor McGonagall, told me Snuffles was a horrible, evil ex-murderer who escaped from Azkaban just to come and finish off the last Potter." he was just about to add that Sirius's "Grim" animagus form didn't exactly help matters when Miyara let out a strangled cry and clutched at her chest.

She slid off the bed and sank to her knees, grinding her teeth at the pain that was accumulating at alarming speed.

"Miyara? What's the matter?" Harry asked anxiously; Sirius began barking and whining in a frenzied manner. Harry was scared he just might transform back into human form.

"It's--it hurts!" Miyara said through gritted teeth. "Inner pain--it feels like an illusion...I don't know why. It's like someone's stomping and twisting my soul into bits. It's--" she suddenly stopped and bit her lip.

"Is it any better?" Harry questioned, debating whether he should ask Stan for medicine or a potion.

"It stopped," Miyara replied, looking genuinely perplexed. "It was so sudden--it just stopped. Ka-boom, it's gone."

Was it just an illusion? Wondered Harry. But...how...Miyara was just talking to me. Then down on the ground on pain. No one could've put a spell on her like that.

"Do you feel any different?" he asked instead. "Weaker? Lightheaded?

"You sound like my mum," Miyara said, somewhat snappishly. (Oh, so it made her worse tempered, thought Harry sadly) "Oh," she softened. "Sorry. I don't know why I just snapped at you. I feel--well, I guess, more at peace. Calmer and more wistful to watch everything as it passes by...something like that."

Sounds like she's under Imperius, thought Harry. But be reasonable. That's utterly impossible.

"Well," Harry said. "That's good, I guess."

Miyara smiled wanly at him. "I think I should get some sleep," she said; "Deliberately going into a ward, then fiercely cutting through the ward on the way back out, and finally having weird illusions...I think I've had enough adventures for a day."

"Probably," Harry agreed, settling into his bed, with Sirius at his side. "I don't know what's with that illusion thingy of yours, but we'll take it that it's over for now, ok?"

"Yeah. G'night."

"Wait," Harry suddenly said, frowning. "I came for you guys very very early in the morning." He peaked outside the window of the Knight Bus, and saw the full light of day. "It appears that we've just begun to sleep in the morning; therefore, you should say 'G'morning' and not 'G'night'."

But all he got for an answer was Miyara's quiet breathing in the bed nearby.

I've got quite some things to learn about Miyara, he thought; like the fact that she lies down and falls asleep instantly, for one. That is simply unheard of. But then, maybe it's just been a very very long day. And with that Harry drifted off to sleep too.

* * *