Crown of Thorns

Chapter V: They Fall Apart

There is no end, but addition: The trailing

Consequence of further days and hours,

While emotions takes to itself the emotionless

Years of living among the breakage

Of what was believed in as the most reliable--

And therefore the fittest for renunciation.

-'The Dry Salvages' by T.S. Eliot

________________________________________________________________________

The rocks were bleak and grey. The wind was cold and chilling. There was no moon. Only the night.

And he who came clothed in the night.

"You again?" He looked at her with utter disdain, looking down his pale, thin nose.

"Hmm?" In her dreams she was more vulnerable than she ever was. She curled up against the black rock and wished she was awake. "Is this going to be another of those dreams?"

"No," said Lord Morpheus curtly. "Come with me... there is something to see that you must."

"I don't want to," she retorted, curling up tighter. "You're always such a haughty bastard, you know? The times I've met you. You're only in my head, anyway, and still you insist on being so stupid."

His mirror-black eyes bored into her.

"Stupid," she muttered, and huddled against the rock. The chill went through her robes and into her skin and seemed to seep through her bones.

"Follow me."

Before she knew it, she had gotten up and was walking behind him. His robes swirled... they were the night. They were black and blue and shimmered with stars.

"I want to wake up," she said, hearing the whining tone in her voice but not caring. She never liked dreams. It was bad enough having one reality--why have another inside your head?

"You can wake up later," said Morpheus, sounding irritable.

She scrambled up the cold rocks--no, not cold. Completely devoid of heat.

"hI!" said voice of riotous color.

Morpheus' face was suddenly consumed by the kind of panicked expression grown-up, responsible older brothers gets when drugged-out younger sisters visit. He loves her, but can't help thinking, why me?

Delirium beamed at Hesper. "hE's jUSt gRouChy, bUt thAt'S okAy beCause, uM, hE's nIcE. kInd oF." She wore ragged clothes and torn fishnet. Her hair was streaked with rainbow colors. Her skin was deathly pale.

"I saw you," said Hesper in a dead serious voice. "In the chapel."

Delirium shrugged, and a few coruscating rainbow moths with the visages of famous composers flew off her shoulders. "yOu weRe, um. iN mY reALm."

"You mean... I was delirious?"

Delirium nodded. Bloodroses dripped from the hair of a princess blue.

"I don't understand," said Hesper, looking around at the bleak landscape. "I'm in dream...and...it's all... there's this girl in fishnet who's the embodiment of Delirium... and this spooky bastard who's supposed to be Dream...what next? Death? In Grim Reaper regalia, scythe and all?"

"uM..." said Delirium brightly. "if yOu'Re eXpeCting tHat, yOu'Re gOing to BE ex-treEM-uLLy DiSapPoiNted."

"What? So he does exist?"

"Our sister is female," interrupted Morpheus, looking more than discomforted by the fact that Hesper knew absolutely nothing about them. "Do your loremasters teach of the Endless anymore? Are you not a witch?"

"I'm a witch," shrugged Hesper. "An American witch, yes, but I think that still counts nowadays."

"i usEd to kNow aN aMerICan WitCh," said Delirium with a far off smile. "sHe goT buRned uP. At. uM. saLEm."

"Then she wasn't a witch," said Hesper a little irritably. "Witches don't burn."

"What are witches taught now anyway?" asked Morpheus. "That they are invincible? You are sadly ignorant of lore."

"Lore..." Hesper laughed. "We learned about various gods and goddesses, all of which all my teachers claimed didn't exist. We learned about the demons of Hell, or at least the Dukes and upward, all the way to Lucifer, Azazel, and Beelzebub. We learned about the angels of Heaven, from the archangels to the seraphim. According to my teachers, although the Devil apparently exists, God does not." Hesper smiled ironically. "We learned about Merlin, Morgan, Morgause, Nimue, and other great wizards and witches. All dead now. And we learned of those seduced by evil. Of Grindelwald and Voldemort. We learned of the Death Eaters, who supposedly were all stamped out. My teachers never taught me anything they really believed in."

"Bathed in uncertainty," said a voice behind her. "Being a witch is no more consoling than being a Muggle, is it?"

Hesper turned around--to face her.

She was so pretty.

So pretty.

"I'm Death," said the girl in black. The big silver ankh would have been gaudy, but it looked...right on her. Beautifully pale skin. Sparkling eyes, lined with kohl in Egyptian style. Feathery black hair.

Hesper just burst out laughing and crying at the same time. "There's no end to this, is there?"

Death took a look at her. "Dream, maybe this is too much."

Morpheus mumbled something sulkily.

"Dream, she needs something."

He mumbled something else.

"Hesper, what do you want?" she asked patiently.

She gasped for air. "I need a drink. I really do. But something that'll make this all be... less real. And something that tastes good at the same time."

"How's a Southern Comfort sound?"

"How old is she anyway?" grumbled Morpheus.

"I'm eighteen," snarled Hesper.

"Eighteen what?"

"Years! What else?"

"Heartbeats," said the Dream King. "That's what actually counts."

"I kNew a pErsoN wHo dRanK a sOuthErn cOmfOrt and theN drAnk aNother. ThEn hE drAnk onE, tWo, ThRee mOre. THen thEy sTayEd iN mY pLaCe foR a LoOoOnG tiMe."

"Great," said Hesper.

"bUt thEy toOk oTher tHinGs wIth iT toO. pILLs and StuFF."

"Don't worry, I won't," Hesper said reassuringly. A pause. "Not that I don't want to visit."

A glass appeared in her hands. She was vaguely aware that it was not real--only dreamstuff--but she downed it in record time anyway.

And everything clicked into focus, like the sun behind dark glass.

She noticed there was a Door forming beside them, on the flat rock.

"Feeling better?" asked Death concernedly.

"Yeah," said Hesper. "I think I am." The Door was built of something like silver and panels of old ivory. "Okay, for one thing--What are you, and why are you all here?"

Death grinned. It was utterly charming. "We're anthropomorphic personifications. We are actually Death, Dream, and Delirium. In human shape, if you will."

"So... Death, Dream, and Delirium are taking the night off right now?"

"No. It's happening all around still."

"I don't understand," said Hesper bluntly.

"Have you heard the theory that if something goes fast enough, it can be in two different places at the same time?"

"Yeah," she said. "It didn't sound too probable though."

"It's actually sort of like that. But not really."

"And... why are you are here?" Hesper repeated.

The Lord of Dream answered this time. "To see something."

She didn't like that answer.

"I want to wake up," she groaned, and strained to open her eyes, and was rewarded with a flash of a darkened room of familiar shadows before dream overtook her brutally. "What's wrong with you?" shouted Hesper. "I don't like it. You don't like it. Why can't we just part ways and let our lives be considerably enriched?"

"There is duty," said Morpheus, dark eyes unreadable. "And you must see this."

He placed his hand on the knob of the Door, and it melted into night.

Or rather, another night. A night of immortals, or at least gods... no one escapes Death. And in the end, not even her brothers and sisters.

Morpheus waved his hand and opened the night into a dream of immense proportions... something that could barely be described as the Aborigine Dreamtime... an inchoate vastness of perfect enigma...

And he strode into it. They followed him.

"What am I... going to see?" asked Hesper falteringly.

Death patted her on the shoulder. It was very reassuring. "It'll be fine. And maybe, just maybe, you won't even remember it."

"tHat's alWAys goOd," said Delirium. "nOt remembEring. MAkes It aLL beTTeR."

"In a way," said Hesper thoughtfully, "All we are is memory."

"Maybe," said Death.

They walked through the night, and at the center of the dream was a mere.

"uM. mirRor MiRrOr oN tHe waLL, wHo'S tHe fAireSt oF tHeM aLL?"

Death grinned. "Love that story. And the movie too. You've seen the movie?"

"It's on the ground," Hesper pointed out.

"sO?" asked Delirium, as if that was irrelevant.

Morpheus stood before the pool of silvery liquid, gently touching it with his pale fingers. It rippled, and gleamed with promises. "I crafted it of the same stuff of the Gates of Horn. It shows you truth. What was, what is, and what will be."

Death's hand gripped her shoulder, giving her strength.

"I don't want to see," she whispered.

"No one does," said Morpheus.

The mere rippled.

She did not see things as if it were a TV or as if she was one of those Muggle movie theaters. It was not like a Pensieve either.

It glowed and burned and the water began to smoke and she knew it. She did not see it, hear it, smell it, taste it, or feel it. She knew it, which was all the senses, plus another of burning conviction.

And she could feel all that she knew and wished she did not. She felt destiny screaming at her and grabbing her and pulling her into the water. She saw the future in the mere, and the future seemed inevitable.

"I don't want to I don't want to I don't want to--" she screamed. Death's hand increased its pressure, and she calmed. "I don't want to..." she whispered.

"You don't have to," said Death.

"But it showed me--"

"Do you want to follow after your father?"

Hesper was silent. Then, "No."

"You father is only 23 chromosomes, you know."

She stared at the mere. "All my nightmares..." she whispered.

"They aren't your nightmares, I have told you," said Morpheus grimly. "It is what you have awakened."

"Oh come on, Dream," said Death with a sigh. "Don't scare the poor child. She didn't awake them, she awoke unto them."

Morpheus replied, but she didn't hear. Death and Dream bickered while she stared into the future. "I never wanted to do any of it," said Hesper to the water. "I thought I had to. But maybe I don't. And now you're making me."

"iT doEsn'T reALLy maTteR," said Delirium. "DeCisioNs dOn'T eVer mAtteR. UM. mAybe sOmeTimeS. AnD wHen thEy do, grAb theM bY ThE um. thRoat."

Fear, anguish, turmoil, and uncertainty roiled in the water. "I never wanted to hurt anyone," said Hesper.

"Why do you think we're here?" asked Death, momentarily pausing in her argument with Dream. "Not many people are so important."

"I'm not important," whispered Hesper. The mere grew wider and wider into a lake that threatened to engulf her.

"If you allow us, we will show you the way," said Morpheus.

She paused for a moment, staring at the beautiful face of Death, the thin and serious one of Dream, and the perplexed one of Delirium. She hesitated on the edge of the water, and remembered.

She remembered Grandmère and when she had disappeared. She had thought that maybe then she could be herself. But then her Magid powers manifested, and she knew that she could never again pretend to be normal. She knew that she didn't even have the limited choice of the other Death Eater children, whose parents had denounced Voldemort.

Legacies of darkness are not easily refused.

And Death held out her hand. "We can show you," she said. She was so beautiful.

But Hesper threw out her arms and flung herself into the silver darkness of the mere, and drowned.

Th dream fell apart, and even Death forsook her.

Or rather, she had forsaken Death.

She gasped, and freezing air hit her lungs. Hesper coughed and sputtered as the blue light of dawn peeked through the blinds. Her hair was tangled and damp, and her fists curled and uncurled as the darkness seemed to squirm before her.

She stumbled toward the shower, an automatic reflex. Underneath the soothing onslaught of hot water, the darkness faded. The black fear became diminutive, greyer and greyer until it was gone.

"Gone..." she breathed. And then she couldn't quite remember what was gone. But it was, and it was a good thing.

The light was now yellow-white, and Ginny was sitting up in her bed, with the hollow look of one who has crammed too much for her exams. "Hullo," she said in a disgruntled voice. "It's sodding cold."

"Mm-hm," said Hesper graciously, brushing her hair.

It was funny how things could change. It doesn't take much to make enemies friends.

The bathroom door shut behind Ginny. "Hey!" said a muffled voice. "You left the floor flooded!"

"I did not!" she shouted back.

"It's COLD!" A squeal of protesting linoleum and a heavy thump. And then a soft, "Fuck."

"What did you do now?" Hesper called after her.

"I sodding SLIPPED!"

"Be more careful then!"

"You left a flood in here!"

"So? Sue me!"

"FINE!"

Silence. Hesper finished dressing, and began to charm her nails dark red.

"What does 'sue' mean?" said a voice from the bathroom.

"Uh... to go before a court with a case... saying that the person did you wrong, and you ought to get money for it."

A thoughtful pause. "You mean like blackmail?"

"Yeah, except it's legal."

The sound of water hitting the tub. "OW!" screamed Ginny. "IT'S FREEZING!"

The water was turned off, and Ginny slammed open the bathroom door, clutching a towel to herself. "YOU USED UP THE HOT WATER?"

"You can't use up the hot water!" insisted Hesper. "The heating spells aren't rationed!"

"Explain THIS then!" She dragged Hesper in and turned on the tap, holding her roommate's hand underneath the water.

"OW!" she screamed.

"AND THAT WAS THE HOT WATER!"

Hesper examined her hand woefully. "Hypothermia?"

"Hey, I was the one in the bloody shower!"

The screams of girls down the hall echoed as they also attempted to take showers. Ginny looked pointedly at her.

"It wasn't me," said Hesper defensively. "It was less than twenty minutes!"

"Then what? We're living in an iceberg? It snowed in October?"

Hesper sneezed. "Come to think of it, that's more likely."

Ginny also sneezed. "Where are the heating spells?"

"Apparently, in hell."

A wistful expression passed over the redhead's face as she thought of fire. Lots and lots of fire.

There was a knock on the door.

Hesper went over to answer it, while Ginny slammed the bathroom door.

It was the nervous senior with the clipboard. Or rather, the resident advisor.

"Um," said the resident advisor. "The heating spells are sabotaged. There was a little energy left, but someone used it up ten minutes ago."

There was a muffled "HAH!" from the bathroom.

Hesper ignored it. "Sabotaged?"

The senior shifted uneasily, clutching her clipboard for protection. "Um. That's what we think. A student prank, or something."

"When?"

"This morning."

Hesper's eyes bored into her. "How many people do you know wake up early to play a prank that means they'll slowly freeze to death?"

The senior with greasy blond hair trembled nervously. "Um."

"Oh, forget it. Thank you for telling us." She slammed the door on her.

The bathroom door opened, with a triumphant Ginny behind it. "HAH! HAH! HAH!"

"Didn't you hear?" asked Hesper crossly. "Sabotaged."

"You did take all the heat! Ha!"

Hesper mumbled something, then grabbed her jacket and backpack.

"Where are you going?" called an exultant Ginny after her.

"To the refectory."

"Beware the sausages," said Ginny sweetly.

"Bye," said Hesper sulkily as she closed the door behind her. A few steps later, she heard the latch snap into place, that small sound echoing in the empty, carpeted hall. She was alone.

A sudden panic gripped her heart. Don't be foolish, she snapped to herself.

But as she went down the stairs, Hesper could not help but feel that something was waiting for her... but she could not remember what.

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

"I don't mean to complain," said Araselle Pulsifer. "But I just want to know what help this will be to us?"

"Absolutely none," grunted Blaise Zabini as she wrestled with the spells.

Carl Rozier glanced sternly at her. "Orders are orders. They know what they're doing."

"They?" asked Blaise sourly as she reconstructed the heating spells for Zelazny Hall--only reversed. "Lord Orion or Eoduin? Do they both rule? There's no room for two."

Araselle shifted nervously. Blaise was high up in the structure--for some reason Eoduin had taken a liking to her--but the red-haired girl didn't seem very... dedicated. She always questioned authority, was against traditional tactics, and was very sarcastic when they did assignments like this one.

"Stupid terrorism," she'd say. "There's no point in it except to keep them and us on our toes."

"Araselle, help me with this bit," said Blaise. The heating spells were complex magic that had to respond to the temperature inside, the temperature outside, and the preference of the people in each room. They were enormous, monstrous, tangled things that seemed to work only through the grace of some god or goddess. Each building had their own set of heating spells, which meant that this was a hard assignment to carry out--they had to disable each building before getting caught.

The cooling spells hadn't been installed yet--and by the time that they were, it would be well into winter. This wasn't surprising or disappointing. It was the way that all schools worked.

They had gotten three buildings done so far: Lindskold, a girls' dormitory; Ambrosius, an administrative building; and Pratchett, where many of the teachers slept.

Zelazny was a boys' dormitory. And worse, this was where Harry Potter slept.

His legend had blown up and been distorted until everyone was afraid of him. Everyone in the Bloodstorm, that is. As well as the other Death Eater splinter groups.

There had been a few attempts to kill him in the past, but none had succeeded.

"Um," said Araselle. "Did you..."

"No," said Blaise shortly. "I didn't hit him. You can't kill Harry Potter with just an arrow."

"Seems kind of like a useless assignment," remarked Carl Rozier. "They ought to know that Potter isn't just anyone."

"No," said Blaise with an almost insane smile. "Not just anyone. A someone who killed him."

"They aren't people to panic," said Araselle. "I mean, Lord Orion and Lady Eoduin. But why...?"

The question of the attempted assassination hung in the air.

Blaise shot an amused glance toward Carl. "Because. They know what they're doing."

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

In London, at the Ministry building, the heating spells were just fine. They also happened to be a lot more tangled and confusing than the ones at DCU. They were also working well. Working too well.

Cassandra Gibson, Minister of Magic, had constructed a bubble around her office to keep out the heat. But she wasn't very good at this sort of magic.

Henry Cromwell, head of the Department of Mysteries, mopped his forehead. "We put Gabrielle Durham-Sullivan on the Blair case. She was working on another one--the attempted murder of Harry Potter--but I think DCU can take care of it."

Cassandra sighed. "Who was behind that one?"

"We don't know," admitted Cromwell. "But he's made a lot of enemies."

"Durham-Sullivan's the best we've got, right?"

"Absolutely. Excepting Moody, of course, but he's too emotionally involved."

"And also, he'll most probably use an Unforgivable Curse on the murderer. And then there will be paperwork."

Cromwell nodded, not really hearing the joke, and held out a thick file. "We... want to bring something to your attention."

She opened the file and let out an exasperated sigh. "What is your obsession with her?"

Cromwell looked nervous. Gibson had a feeling that several Department Heads had gotten together and drawn straws to see who would pester her about this damned Malfoy woman. She was just a woman. A dangerous woman, nevertheless, but in their minds, she was more dangerous than many Death Eater groups put together.

"Catherine Lilith St. Clair Malfoy," began Cromwell, speaking faster than he normally did. "Born March 14, 1934 in the south of France, near the border with Spain. Perpignan, most probably. Married Hector Typhon Malfoy in 1960. One child, a daughter, Blanche Carmine Malfoy, born June 6, 1961. In 1996, she disappeared, supposedly to the People's Republic of China."

"Look," said Cassandra irritably. "She had nothing to do with the Blair murder!"

"Actually..."

"What?" said Gibson sharply.

"If it's an unknown curse, it's connected to her," said Henry Cromwell. "In America, she published sixteen books on new curses under the name of Adam Lecouret. Over thirty articles in Pioneer Occult under the name of Alexandre d'Argent. You have no idea--she's confounded us over and over again. The American government let us keep an eye on her, especially since all the Malfoys have had connections to the Dark Lord. We never found anything until 1996--a few black magic grimoires in the house during a secret raid.

"We never detected any security spells going off. Most probably, she invented them. She was gone the next day, and no one knew where. She left a child under her guardianship, who was quite uncooperative, although it's most likely that the child knew nothing."

Cassandra was not impressed. "There are many people in the world that work with new spells, Cromwell. You're just paranoid."

"Yes, but Catherine Malfoy was an absolute genius when it came to developing spells. She didn't just modify existing ones, she made entirely new ones that bore only a tiny speck of resemblance to any existing one. She was greater than her husband, and we've always thought that she poisoned him. There's never been enough evidence, though."

The Minister of Magic sighed and leaned back in the chair. Cromwell wiped his face again, though the heating spells seemed to be going back to normal.

"So..." said Cassandra presently. "You're saying that this missing woman is our only clue to the death of Alexander Blair?"

Cromwell looked uncomfortable. "Well... right now... yes."

Cassandra sighed again. "This is not good."

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

The refectory, for some strange reason, always smelt of fried onions, even though they never made any. Unless they were those soggy greyish things that no one could ever bear to find what exactly they were.

The coffee was decent, however, as were the hash browns. But all meats should be avoided, including eggs. Breads must be checked for mold. Soups were probably hiding something you didn't want to think about. Vegetables always came from tins, therefore sterile. But that didn't mean they were good.

The refectory was the main reason why the town had such good business.

Hesper scrutinized the toast. Today it wasn't as limp as yesterday, but was that a green tint? She decided that it was just her imagination, and heaped her plate with toast and hash browns.

She avoided butter, since it was a dairy product, and instead took one of the little square packets of jam. Untrue statements flashed across the plastic. 'Janison Jam: The Best in the United Kingdom!" or "Delicious, Fruity, Bursting With the Flavour of Strawberry!"

Actually, it was more like raspberry and grape blended together with a good dose of chemically synthesized blueberry, but it was passable.

"Poisoning yourself?" asked a familiar voice.

She didn't look up. "Hello, Charlie," she said quietly.

He set his mug of coffee down beside her. "You're up early."

She shrugged as he sat down. "Bad dream."

"Did your building's heating spells short out too?"

"Oh. You too?" Hesper became absorbed opening the packet of grape jelly. It was extremely difficult, possibly a built-in mechanism to protect customers.

Charlie groaned. "There was an icicle on the tap. A bloody icicle."

"Really."

Silence. Was there anything left to say?

"Look--" he began.

"Nothing happened," Hesper interrupted, and bit savagely into toast and grape jelly. She gagged, but managed not to spew the mouthful that tasted distressingly like cardboard and prune juice.

"I just wanted to apologize," he said quietly.

"Mm." She inspected a package of orange marmalade. Nah... better not risk it.

"You--you said something about shattering. About it being impossible."

She took a sip of coffee, set down her cup, and looked straight into his eyes. Her own were cold and impassionate. "This is what that means, Charlie. Nothing happened. Nothing will ever happen. We were never dating. We were never an item. I was delirious, and besides, you're a teacher--"

"Teacher? What, suddenly I'm ancient?"

"No, but--"

"Then what the hell happened?"

He gazed at her expectantly, his heart palpitating as he saw that she was completely expressionless. The silence was yet another infection to a festering wound wrought by others that had come before and had done nothing for him.

Finally, Hesper spoke. "Nothing."

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

"What's up with the sudden meeting?" muttered Zach Pikley.

Araselle Pulsifer shrugged. "I dunno. I was called back while on assignment."

Zach sneered. "What? Selling chocolates?"

She hit him lightly on the shoulder. "Shut up, Zach. It was for DCU."

"Feeling jealous, Pikley?"

Zach whirled around. Blaise smiled coldly at him. "I'd suggest you mind your own business." She glided past him, and Zach glowered after the red-haired girl.

"Bitch. Thinks she's all-powerful, just because--Araselle?" The girl was gone.

The members of the Bloodstorm stirred in the Grand Chamber. It was a huge room, made of stone and mortar. The ceiling was slightly curved, but not arched enough to be a dome. There were several pillars supporting the roof. Opposite of the entrance, which was barred anyway, were stone steps leading to a throne in the shadows.

The only way to get in and out nowadays was to use Portkeys, which were set up around the Chamber. The Chamber was in one of the old castles that had served as the Dark Lord's strongholds. It was said that he had sat in the throne himself. The Aurors had locked, bolted, and warded the doors to the Grand Chamber, but they couldn't do anything to what was inside.

It was too steeped in blood and enchantment.

It was too strong to take apart.

And now, somehow, the Bloodstorm had found a way too it.

Some of the members were examining the odd hooks and manacles with horrified fascination. A few talking with others, in low, hushed tones that echoed in the room. Others stood around, looking uncertain. But most simply drifted...

Blaise Zabini was remembering the dream she had had.

It was about her dad.

She wished she could remember it, but it eluded her, so close and yet always out of her grasp. For a moment, she thought she remembered the smell of ozone and stiflingly velvet darkness. Then someone interrupted her thoughts.

"Blaise, is it?" asked a voice amiably. Blaise squinted in the dim light, and saw Eoduin.

"Yes," she said curtly. She noticed a bracelet on the woman's pale wrist--warm, glowing copper carved with strange sigils. It contrasted with Eoduin's coloring, and Blaise wondered why she was wearing it.

"And how are you this morning?"

"Fine," Blaise replied blandly.

"No need to be so expressionless my dear." She patted the taller girl on the cheek. "None at all."

Eoduin brushed passed a mystified Blaise Zabini to greet Lord Orion. "Good morning, Carys," she said cheerfully. "I trust you are well?"

"I am," rasped the leader of the Bloodstorm. "You bring good news, I hope?"

"Of course," said Eoduin, her eyes glinting with a fey light. "I've found her."

A sudden silence in the Grand Chamber. The kind of sucking silence you get when many ears strain to listen.

"Who is she?" asked a voice from the back. It was Blaise, leaning against a pillar. A rustling as everyone turned to look at her.

Eoduin's eyes were deep, black, endless. The silver fire trapping you, encircling you, seeing through you...

She told her.

A smirk flickered on her face for a moment, then slipped away. "Her? I go to school with her. I would have never thought..."

"Many things are hidden," said Eoduin. "And many things will be brought to light. Blaise Zabini, I appoint you with the task of bringing the Chosen to us."

A light, rumbling murmur of surprise. Jealousy, astonishment, and uncertainty harmonized and reverberated in the chamber of stone. Blaise only acknowledged her with a nod of her head.

"Is this wise," said Lord Orion out of the corner of mouth. Strangely, his words did not echo, and no one else heard except for Eoduin.

She merely smiled. "I know what I'm doing."

"Do the gods speak to you?" he asked dryly.

"There are no gods," she said shortly.

"You know we must make our move soon. There are others who would fain have her on their side."

"There are many of them, and only one of us, Carys. The rest are nothing."

"We could form an alliance with the Devourers--"

"They are nothing, Carys. Look at them..." She tilted her head toward the Bloodstorm, going back to drifting and standing around aimlessly. "Do you see them? You chose carefully. You saw. There is anger inside. Loyalty. Duty. We cannot take in weakness. The Chosen will only tip the balance permanently. The Ministry will fall in shambles. Harry Potter will be done away with."

Lord Orion's tone was derisive. "Harry Potter is only a fool. A lucky fool."

"I think you underestimate him, Carys," said Eoduin lightly. "He destroyed the Dark Lord. Twice."

"The Dark Lord was a fool to fall to him."

"And you underestimate him as well. That has always been your weakness."

"And yours is your heedless manipulation of people."

"I never manipulate," said Eoduin with a smile. "I just make sure people see that I know what's best for them."

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

"Wake up, love," chided her alarm clock.

Hermione groaned and sat up. She leaned against the wall, tired and weary. She had talked with Auror-Investigator Durham-Sullivan all night, trying to ascertain who exactly was trying to kill Harry. Harry had blown the whole affair off with maddening flippancy.

Who? How? Why?

The questions echoed in her head as she ran the water for her bath. Her roommate, Phoebe, was out. Presumably sleeping off the effects of Ogden's Firewhisky with some guy.

Hermione didn't envy Phoebe her wild lifestyle. But yet at times...

Phoebe was never lonely. Phoebe always had friends.

Hermione Granger slipped into the hot water and relaxed. She thought about her boring dentist parents. She wondered what might have happened if she had spent more time with them.

She wondered if she would still feel so guilty.

The last months of the Silent War... she had not told them what was happening in the wizarding world. She had avoided telling them that not all was well. That she was not at Hogwarts. That the worst nightmare of the wizarding world was very much alive, and that she was at the center of it all. That she might die.

Funny. She was alive. And her parents were dead.

She had always had her friends. Always. She never felt alone when she was without her parents. She had never really missed them.

And yet now... she was losing everyone.

About half an hour later, Hermione got out and dressed slowly. "Why so blue?" asked the mirror.

"It's nothing," said Hermione automatically, then she glared at her reflection. "Dammit, why do I make excuses to a mirror?"
" 's not me who'd look more alive lying on a platter with an apple stuck in her mouth," said the mirror.

"Arrrgh," said Hermione, and got out of the mirror's view. She glanced at the books on her desk. Today she had Metaphysical Anatomy, Advanced Sigils, Advanced Alchemy, and Magitechnology.

And an exam in Potions.

"Arrgh..." she repeated.

There was a knock on the door.

Just as Hermione slowly got up to answer it, it burst open and Harry rushed in. Before she knew it, she was tossed over his shoulder and out the door.

Hermione squealed. "What do you think you're--oof--doing!" she shouted in his ear as he sprinted down the hall.

"I'm kidnapping you!" he shouted back gleefully.

Doors opened and heads peeked out--a few girls cheered them on.

"I've got classes!"

"That's why you need to be kidnapped!"

"My grades--"

"Why, Hermione? You've forgotten?"

"I don't have a clue what's going on!" It came out jolted, as Harry ran down the stairs. He finally got out of the building and set her down.

"Happy birthday," he grinned.

"It's not until next month," Hermione pointed out. "And besides, you'll get killed!"

"I'm safe," said Harry, his eyes soft. "And it's not next month, more like next week."

"Harry!"

"Come on," he said. "You don't want to spend time with your boyfriend?"

"Oh!" she threw herself on him. He didn't stagger back, a rather commendable feat. "I've missed you so," she said into his shirt.

"Let's go then."

"But we have to come back in time for my Potions exam."

He looked down at his shirt, horrified. "Hermione!"

She grinned up at him. "Just kidding."

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

"The first wizards appeared in Mesopotamia and Egypt around 3000 B.C. Some scholars believe that they were at Çatal Hüyük in 6000 B.C., but there is no evidence. Esotericans, also known as 'gifted Muggles,' were the prominent magic users until this time. These were the seers, the empaths, athe unusually lucky.

"At first, the Esotericans were accepted as part of wizarding society. But as the magical population grew, differences soon became clear. Esotericans rarely ever had more than one--Mr. Lewis, what are you doing? No, no, don't explain, see me after class--talent. Either they saw things in water, or they could summon demons with the proper tools, or they felt what others did.

"Esotericans had--and still have--very little power compared to witches and wizards."

Ginny Weasley suppressed a yawn. History of Magic--but Professor Bardwell only made it worse. What idiot had scheduled this class for the morning?

"Of course, when we finally made the break away from the Muggle world, the Esotericans knew about us. However, most intermarried into--Miss Berkley, would you like to explain what you find so funny? Fine then, see me after class--wizarding families, or died out. There are very few Esotericans left today, though I must say that those who are left are much closer to being witches and wizards than they were thousands of years ago. AESAE, or the Allied Esoterica Societies of the Americas and Europe, are closely associated with us. The Ministry has helped them out many times, despite the fact that in the past they have often been quite close to revealing all to the Muggle world."

Ginny struggled to keep her eyes open. For some reason her lashes seemed to be coated with lead.

"... the first Magids appeared in--Mr. Malfoy, why are you late?"

She looked up with a start, and there he was with silver hair tousled by October winds, and a light flush to his pale cheeks. He was wearing only ordinary black robes but the cut and weave made it obvious that they were extremely expensive and suited him tremendously well.

He met her eyes with a smirk. She glared back.

"I'm sorry, Professor," he said, not looking away from her and sounding far from apologetic. "I had to run an errand."

"Take a seat, Mr. Malfoy, and copy the notes you've missed from someone else. The next time you are late, there will be Consequences."

Everyone winced, but Draco only flashed a smile at him, and sat next to Ginny.

"I don't see you running an errand," she said sarcastically. "Isn't that what everyone else exists for?" She proffered her notes.

He batted his lashes as he took them from her. "You're just a bit mistaken, Weasley. That's what everything else exists for."

She rolled her eyes.

The lecture droned on. She was dimly aware of Bardwell saying something caustic about pureblooded families, and Draco grinning lightheartedly right back at him. For some reason, the lecture looped back and forth in strange and unaccountable tangents that ended in Bardwell talking about the recent Silent War.

Her eyes flew open.

Next to her, Draco's smile had disappeared, and his fists were clenched so that the knuckles were white.

"Hermione Granger undid the Dissolute spells in time, although several hundred Muggles did die. However, if it had not been for her, many more would not be here..."

Draco's voice was low and soft. Only she could hear him. "You remember, don't you?"

"No," she replied. "You never told me."

"... after Lucius Malfoy's death, things were considerably more complicated for the Death Eaters. Ronald Weasley was able to warn Sirius Black of the impending danger of the Moloch Operation. The holocaust at Hogwarts never happened, thank Merlin, due to the efforts of volunteers like Remus Lupin and others."

She remembered that. She remembered thirteen minutes of perfect fear even as Lupin and his team countered the team that was originally going to be led by Lucius Malfoy. Except that Draco had killed him.

She had not been there when it happened. And she had only found out when Dumbledore told her. They had been so silent afterwards...

Thirteen minutes of perfect fear... as the Death Eaters set up their spells, a more complex version of Incendium. A sacrifice to Moloch... let the children come into the fire...

Thirteen minutes for her. How long had Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Draco gone through it all? How much were they keeping her from?

"I'm sorry," said Draco.

"For what?"

"That you had to go through anything at all."

Something snapped inside. "Don't you dare say anything like that!" she hissed, glaring through narrowed eyes. "I can't be protected forever. I'm only one year younger than you and still you act like I'm a child! You just keep lying and lying and lying about everything--can't you see it all fall apart?"

"What? What exactly?" His eyes hid all.

"It!" She threw her hands up in the air. "Everything! Friendships, connections, every bloody thing we went through before is now falling apart just because you couldn't let little Ginny go through anything! You won't talk to me. No one talks to me!" The tears welled up before she could stop them.

"What were you expecting, Weasley? That we push you forward? We don't worship Moloch, Ginny." His eyes were harder than adamantine.

"I'm not a child," she choked.

"And that's why you're not crying?"

Ginny rose to her feet. "SHUT UP!" she shouted--and heard it echo through out the lecture hall. She slowly sat back down again, feeling her face flood with shame.

"Bravo, Weasley." He was not smiling.

She had no reply.

All eyes were fixed on her. And she realized that the professor hadn't said a word since she had started to raise her voice.

"Would you like to share... some more?" Professor Bardwell asked dryly.

"No sir," she said, barely keeping the tremor out of her voice.

"Good. Now--" He checked his watch with surprise, and murmured half to himself, "Why, it's time already?"

There was a mass exodus across the rows of seats in the lecture hall, like a fed up congregation leaving without even a final boring benediction ("Homework: write a paper on the relationship between Muggles and wizards in the Old Kingdom of Egypt.").

As she waited for the flood to diminish, Draco touched her on the shoulder.

"What?" It came out more sharply than she intended.

"I'm sorry."

A stunned silence.

"What?"

"I'm not going to say it twice, Weasley." His carefree manner was back. "You don't get that from a Malfoy."

A whir of emotions prevented her from speaking.

Things had changed. Things would change. Things were changing.

Questions buzzed around her head. Why do you pick fights with Seamus? Why do you care so much about my well being? And of course, Why don't you tell me what happened?

"Oh yes, and by the way, how's that roommate of yours?"

"Another rant about why she's such a demon?" Ginny stepped into the stream of people. Draco followed.

"You're defending her now?"

"She's not evil, Draco. She... she reminds me of you."

"Insults too?"

"Only an insult to her, Draco."

He grinned, but it faded quickly off his face. "What's happened since..."

"Since she beat you up?" She felt mean and petty, but yet it still gave her a slight thrill of satisfaction to watch Draco's eyes cloud.

They stepped out of the lecture hall and into the sunlight.

"I--" he began.

"Never mind. She--she got Eldrich's Symptom. You know, MSTD. Magical Shock Through Dehydration."

"I see," said Draco, face inscrutable. "Did she say anything... unusual?"

"You're not a bloody Auror, Draco. Get off my back."

"Weasley--what did she say?"

The belligerent expression on Ginny's face vanished, and she shrugged. "Something about her grandmother. Marzipan. Things breaking apart. Something about being burned and killed. Something like that." She did not say anything about Charlie.

"Ah."

Resentment welled up inside. "Why don't you just sod off, Draco?"

"What, leave you in the clutches of a certain Gryffindor heading this way?"

She whirled around--and saw Seamus in his Quidditch robes, talking animatedly with some of his other teammates.

"Why not? He is my boyfriend, after all."

"A very caring one, too. He's getting better at Quidditch, by the way. Must be all that practice."

Ginny searched his face, but could not tell if he was being sarcastic. Besides, how would he know that Seamus had cancelled their last seven--no, eight--dates in favor of Quidditch practice?

Without another word, she strode away from both the passing group of Quidditch players and Draco Malfoy.

And neither called after her.

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

It is well known that whoever is in charge of class schedules at an educational institution sets it up so that history classes are always in the morning, and if not, right after lunch. Whether this is sadism or simply general stupidity, no one knows.

But what is known is that although Hesper did not have History of Magic in mornings, it was worse. She had Professor Ussery.

"And after the futht withardth thowed up awound 3000 B.C., Muggles continued to think that withardth were gods or other thingth. Ithn't that ridiculous?"

She was trying to stay awake, but that ridiculous lisp of hers wasn't helping. It showed up in places it shouldn't, and sometimes escaped her esses entirely.

It was campus rumor that Ussery, just a mediocre witch that no one had really noticed, had gotten tenure after several years. Then a cauldron fell on her head. The University had tried its utmost to get rid of her with tempting vacation offers, but her reduced state of mind meant that she thought that teaching was actually fun. In the end they just gave up and ignored her once more.

"The futht Magid wath bown awound 1490 B.C., abowt the thame time Thutmothe III took power."

Stifling a yawn, Hesper idly sketched a winged woman in the margins of her notes, which were so far composed of:

'Firtht First Wizards (and witches!) 3000 B.C.

First Magidth Magid 1490 B.C., during reign of Thutmose III'

She then proceeded to adorn the edges of her parchment with emerald ink blots.

"The vewy futht Magid recorded wath Ankmet of Egypt. He wath bown to Count Sheftu and Countess Mara, two strong supporters of Thutmothe III and vewy vewy impotant in the o'erthwow of Hapshetut. No, I'm sorry, Hatshepthut. We don't weelly know if both Sheftu and Mara were withardth, but people think that Mara came from a well-bown witharding family."

'Ankhmet of Egypt, parents Count Sheftu and Countess Mara (members in rebellion against Hapshetut Hatshetup Hat the pharaoh. Mara probably a witch, Sheftu unknown. Ankhmet may have been Muggleborn.'

The lecture droned on. Her head drooped forward, and her pen's tip hit the parchment and there was a slowly growing splotch of green ink on her notes, which so far read:

'Hatshepsut first woman pharaoh. Taxed people too hard. Ankhmet established ancient line of wizards, still exitht exists. Salazar Slytherin a descendant of Ankhmet, also probably Helga Hufflepuff, though blood not as strong. African and Persian lines of descendents still in existence.'

And don't forget the particularly detailed margins.

"Oh my, is our time over alweady? Well, no homewowk for tonight. I'll see you all tomowwow!"

Hesper woke up with a start, and quickly gathered up her things. By now, her notes were pretty much one page of sloppy handwriting and an inkblot that covered up almost half of it. She was out the door before Professor Ussery could hope she had a gweat afternoon.

She made her way through the corridor, wondering if it was too late to change this class. "Ow!" Hesper crashed into a tall, dark-haired young man with round glasses that framed brilliant green eyes. She staggered against a wall--he found himself on the floor.

His glasses clattered to the ground--and she bent to pick them up without a thought when she realized--this man was very familiar.

As he adjusted his glasses, her eyes were drawn to the lightning bolt scar on his forehead. "Ah," she murmured to herself.

Harry Potter narrowed his eyes--and she saw a flash of recognition. A stab of fear jolted her heart, but she remained calm. "Pleased to meet you, Harry Potter," she said politely.

He shook her hand. "You're..."

She forced a smile. "Hesper Malfoy."

"Ah. Draco's cousin?" His expression cleared. "I thought I recognized you from somewhere."

"Just a distant cousin. I'm sure you've got things to do. Nice to meet you." She brushed past him, willing herself not to run. He had recognized her. It was all she could do to hope that he would be stupid enough to simply put that nagging feeling she knew he must surely have to the Malfoy resemblance.

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

Prometheus Valerian sat in his favorite armchair by the fireplace.

There was no fire, despite the fact that the days were getting colder and colder.

"It's always the same, isn't it?" he said to himself. "I got too caught up in it all... and now even our libraries will be burned down. Knowledge written down must also be committed to the heart. But they will come, and we will be slaughtered, and knowledge will be lost. They will be heedless, they will hate, and this college will fall also." Despite this prediction, he seemed perfectly calm, resigned to fate. He had lived too long not to know that life was a jumbled mess of cycles. "I only wanted one last sanctuary for us scholars," Valerian said wistfully. "But nothing lasts."

He thought about Le Fay University in Paris. He thought about finding Grindelwald flipping the pages of a book in the library.

The Dark Lord--that Dark Lord, another had come after him, but one who at least had some regard for books--had looked up. He had laughed. "Scholar? This should pain you then--"

Incendio.

The smoke rose up to the sky. And he had cried out to God, or the gods, or whatever they invoked those days... if only the library would be spared. All that knowledge... only ashes, now. The scholars who studied the books... now rotting in the ground. The labor of many lost in one moment.

"Prometheus?"

Valerian was jolted out of his reverie as Dumbledore's head appeared in the fireplace.

"My apologies... there's been some disputes among Slytherin and Gryffindor housemates..."

"Same old thing, eh?" said Valerian absently. "I remember when we went there together..."

Dumbledore smiled briefly. "Yes. I remember too." He changed the subject. "I heard about the attempted assassination. You've checked your wards?"

Valerian nodded. "Nothing wrong with them. And they didn't break the wards then repair them again either. No sign of recent repair... The wards didn't even register anyone where the assassin was supposed to be... And no one moved around during that period except for Harry Potter. According to the wards, anyway. It's almost as if..." He hesitated.

"What?"

"As if... there was a bubble in the Net."

"A bubble?" His voice was calm and steady.

"Yes. But you know that magic touches everything--"

"Almost everything," said Dumbledore shortly. "I'll speak to you later, Prometheus."

And he was gone.

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

Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap

The sound was driving Ginny up the wall.

Number 1: her homework was really, really retarded. She had to combine a charm and a glamour to make her hair appear blue when someone called her name within twenty feet of her. Number 2: she was still very pissed at Draco. Number 3: Seamus hadn't called. For two days.

Jerk.

Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap

Her roomie placidly typed away at her computer at lightning speed. Unlike the new Thaumaticon 2000, which was now being released to people with government-obtained licenses, Hesper had modified a Muggle computer to type runes, sigils, and other symbols that represented the elements of a spell. The Thaumaticon, on the other hand, only had a database of spells. On a Thaumaticon, you couldn't design new spells. And that was the way the government liked it.

For such a complex society, the wizarding world had been rather slow when it came to computers. The Thaumaticon series had only started coming out three years ago.

"Can you stop typing so loud?" Ginny asked, then realized just how whiny that sounded. The completely horrid day was getting to her.

Hesper turned down the volume on her CD player. "What?"

"Er--what are you listening to?" Ginny improvised rather lamely.

"Oh, some veela-blooded band. I have to make a Disorientation Spellsong based on the siren call of the veela."

"A band, like--"

"Yeah, a band." Hesper passed her the CD case. The band members all had silver hair and bewitching smiles, waving and baring their beautifully deadly teeth on the cover of their first album, Sanguinity.

"Oh."

Her roommate sighed and turned off her CD player. "The music may be 'captivating' to some, but I think it's just plain awful."

"Immune to veela charm?" Ginny stopped herself just in time from saying something sarcastic about veela blood.

"Pretty much," Hesper agreed. "I have to say that their bass guitar isn't that bad, but I never want to have to listen to them again."

"Why did you buy the CD then?"

"It was a Christmas present." Hesper returned to her typing.

Ginny thought about Charlie and Hesper. She thought about digging out pieces of broken glass or whatever it was from her roommate's palm. Hesper had taken the dish of shards and put it away--where, Ginny did not know. They didn't talk about the broken glass again.

She thought about Hesper going to whatever passed for Hogwarts in America. She wondered if Hesper ever had any friends. She wondered what had happened to them, what had happened to her life that had made her so bitter and angry.

Ginny then turned her hair various shades of red and purple, but failed to get anything remotely blue. Exasperated with her attempts she asked, "How do you type so fast?"

"Practice," she answered. "American wizards and witches tend to not stick to the old traditions. Partially because they really have no history, partially because they're all caught up in going farther into the future than anyone else. Without traditions, there's quite a bit of freedom. Though," she said a slight smile, "I have to say that I met too many Americans willing to make stupid mistakes. Or worse, repeat them."

"Do you know any American Muggles?" Ginny wrestled with a particularly difficult part of the spell, (the one that determined the amount of red in her hair, especially troublesome because Ginny's hair was naturally red).

"I wasn't even a year old when my mother died," said Hesper quietly. "The American Ministry seized me, and by some accident, I ended up as the adopted child of two Muggles. For five years I was their daughter, Eva Malloy."

"Merlin, I'm sorry," whispered Ginny, thinking about being someone she wasn't for the first five years of her life.

"My grandmother came to get me when I was five," said Hesper with a shrug. "It was alright. I--I always knew I didn't belong to them. They were forced to let me go, and I lived with Grandmère until I was fourteen... when she had flee."

"What were they like?" She immediately regretted saying that, watching Hesper pause for a moment and her long, thin hands tremble a little.

But she answered anyway, her voice calm and steady. "They were very religious," she said, "and kind. But they were the most mundane, boring people I've even known. And I always knew that I didn't belong with them. Not because I knew I was adopted, or because I looked different from them. I... I think I missed magic."

"I can't imagine living without magic," said Ginny. "Magic is just... a part of me."

"It's a part of all of us," said Hesper. "That's what makes us different from Esotericans. They hide their magic--I mean, they live among Muggles easily. We don't. We're almost another species. I felt... almost like a changeling."

"Like Harry Potter," said Ginny.

"No," murmured Hesper almost venomously. "It's nothing like Harry Potter. Nothing at all."

A stunned silence. "I'm sorry," said Ginny finally, a delayed reaction.

"It's all right," said Hesper. "Just remember--nothing. Nothing at all."

They spent the rest of the night in silence. Ginny finally managed a cerulean blue. She triumphantly jotted down her spell, even as a soft voice seemed to echo in her head. Nothing...

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

Hesper dropped off the sleep first, having finished her Disorientation Song based on some tracks by Glass Fang. Ginny remembered the Daily Prophet reporting a great deal of mental confusion among teenagers when Bite Me came out in February, but she had never made the connection.

She tried to make her hair a perfect midnight blue, knowing that it would probably get her extra credit. She failed, and so instead she watched Hesper have nightmares.

Hesper's hands curled and uncurled, her legs tangled in the sheets as if she was running from something. Definitely not pleasant dreams.

Ginny contemplated whether or not to wake her up. They were a lot more friendly than they were at the beginning of the year, but Hesper was by no means a 'grateful smile' kind of person.

Then she remembered Draco's dreams, and the happenings of that strange and fateful summer.

Screaming. Phantom blood. Draco staring down at his soaked shirt, uncomprehending.

She shook Hesper.

Her grey eyes flew open, and Ginny's stomach sense of the Dark Arts lurched. The world began to spin, and the nightmares around the edges of the universe began to crowd in. She gasped and let go of Hesper.

The last thing she saw before sinking to the floor was Hesper's frightened face as she called for help.

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

Draco was dreaming.

In his dream there was a frightened girl screaming at him. He didn't know her, but she seemed very familiar with him. She also seemed very angry and scared. Draco tried to listen, but other sounds were crowding in at him.

He was fairly sure he didn't know her. She had dark hair and grey eyes, a bit like Hesper, only her eyes were soft grey-blue, not a hard metallic silver. Her features were also most decidedly un-Malfoy.

"LISTEN TO ME, YOU LITTLE PRICK!" she was shouting at him. "YOU CAN'T BLOODY--"

But then someone was shaking him awake.

"Malfoy! Wake up!"

Draco's eyes opened. He glared daggers at Seamus, more than ready to kill his roommate.

Far more worried about something else, Seamus ran a hand through his sandy hair. "Ginny's hurt, I thought I should te--"

Draco cursed. Seamus had had already changed into clothes found in the dark, clashing unbelievably.

"Where?"

"Infirm--"

Draco Disapparated at lightning speed, still in boxers and only boxers. Seamus followed, grudgingly admiring Draco's speed and having (but not for the first time) a disturbing idea of just why Draco was so concerned.

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

The infirmary was already filled with people that he recognized the second he Apparated into the room. There was Harry, Hermione, and Ron. And Charlie.

And Ginny's roommate. Hesper.

The mediwizards also, rushing about trying to revive the unconscious girl. "You stupid, stupid girl," whispered Draco.

Seamus appeared beside him, just a heartbeat later. "Merlin! What happened?"

"She just fainted," said Hesper softly. "She shook me awake, then fainted."

"Liar." Draco turned toward his cousin with an accusing stare. "Always poisoning, always vampirizing. Lying, murdering Death Eater spawn."

Her eyes narrowed. "That's not fair, you traitorous son of a bitch." She flew at him, almost like an angry veela. There were a few heartbeats of shock as they all watched them trying to claw each others' eyes out. Then Harry and Ron moved automatically, tearing the two away from each other.

Hesper squirmed, trying to pull away from Ron Weasley. "Let me go," she snarled. Draco, on the other hand, stood there without restraint, with only Harry's hand on his shoulder as a warning.

Hermione was stunned. "Draco! You don't go around accusing people--"

"Shut up, Hermione," he snapped. "You don't know anything."

Hesper hissed at him, her black hair crackling with something very much like lightning.

"You're a Magid?" asked Harry, surprised. "You too?"

"What, you didn't tell them, Draco?" said Hesper tauntingly. "Some turncoat you are."

Ron tightened his grip. "Look, I agree with you about Draco, but you might just want to--"

"You've been Stripped, Weasley," said Hesper, her words as caustic as acid. "I feel it. You've been Stripped, and you'll never be whole again."

Ron turned pale, but did not loosen his hold. "Shut up."

"What's the matter, Draco?" she jeered. "Soul-searching?"

But Draco was curiously silent. As was Harry.

"Merlin," sighed Ron. "They're at it again."

"At what?" asked Seamus. Hesper continued to fight against Ron's grip.

"Their spooky ESP thing."

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

Draco, what have you not been telling me? Draco!

He glared at Harry. Nothing. Nothing you should know.

Harry looked annoyed. What the hell's the matter, you git? You just sodding attacked some girl just because--

Not 'some girl.' My cousin.

That's even worse.

Draco sounded weary. You don't understand.

Then tell me.

He hesitated. I can't.

Then why--

Stop asking questions. I can't answer them. Any of them.

Harry persisted anyway. Why did you tell her off, Draco? Why did you call her a liar? And why does she keep calling you a traitor--oh. He had finally made the connection between her family and her sentiments.

Does it take you that long, Harry?

She still hasn't done anything wrong. She looked upset.

Malfoys are great actors, you should know that.

Draco, you're being a bigot.

His voice resounded icily in Harry's mind. I have my own reasons. I'm sorry I can't tell you any of them.

Why n--

Harry. Shut up. He broke off the connection.

Git, Harry belatedly told him.

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

Draco raised his wand hand calmly at Hesper. "I hope you rot in hell."

Her silver eyes widened, and Ron remembered the incident they called the Dragonsfire, and just as Draco's lips shaped the first syllable of the curse, someone said, "Mr. Malfoy, please put your hand down or you will suffer the consequences."

Everyone turned around to face Valerian, expression unreadable. "I hope you know, Mr. Malfoy, that the Killing Curse will send you to Azkaban."

"It's bloody worth it," he snarled, "when it comes to--"

"You should also know," Valerian cut in, "that the DCU wards prevent the killing of people. The curse would only rebound onto you."

Draco glared at him, but did not reply.

"You would have bloody killed me," Hesper said in a low, stunned voice. "You would have bloody killed me--"

"Yeah, Malfoy," said Ron, glowering from behind Hesper. "What if you missed, eh?" He released his hold on her. "Come on, I don't mind if you kill him."

Hermione gave him a sharp look, but her old friend was too mad.

"Miss Weasley is fine," continued Valerian, unperturbed. "She ought to be awake in about half an hour, no harm done.

"No harm!" Draco roared. "You bloody brought her here, and still you insist on 'no harm'?"

Ron nudged Hesper meaningfully. "Even less harm done if you kick his arse."

"I believe you are overreacting, Mr. Malfoy, she is no demon--"

"I'll say," snapped Hesper. "You fucking murderer--"

"And Miss Malfoy," interrupted the dean blandly, "you will hold your tongue."

She closed her mouth, but the fury on her face was just as eloquent.

"Mr. Malfoy, I suggest you calm yourself. You will not alarm Miss Weasley when she revives."

The young man with silver hair opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it, snapping it shut with a look that said, "This is wrong."

Perhaps it was.

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

They sat in the Grand Chamber, the two leaders of the Bloodstorm each absorbed in their own thoughts.

A sudden light in the dark, gone just as quickly as it had appeared.

Eoduin blew a cloud of bluish cigarette smoke. "Want one?"

"It is poison," rasped Lord Orion.

"Everything is poison." But she slipped the packet of French cigarettes back into her cloak anyway.

"Not to you."

"Sure, sure," she waved the comment away.

Their words echoed in the huge chamber.

"You have changed," said Orion.

"Of course I have. Time happens."

"You are no longer Druid."

"Oh, I am, Carys, I still am. I am only more Egyptian."

"You forsook your people."

"They forsook me. And anyway, the old clans are dead. You are the last of the Ebon Moon Clan. In a way, Carys, you yourself have forsaken the old ways. You try to replace the Dark Lord with yourself."

"He was blind," hissed the hooded man.

"You are in no position to say so," Eoduin chided gently. "And I do not think you would say so to your Bloodstorm."

"Your Bloodstorm also, Eoduin," he said, but there was a trace of bitterness in his words. "And I think that they should learn from the master's mistake."

"His mistake was only overconfidence, Carys, and you have too much of that as well."

"His mistake was putting too much value on the Potter boy."

"I've told you over and over again. Harry Potter destroyed the Dark Lord. Twice. You gravely underestimate him."

"I will never be defeated by a child," said Lord Orion.

"No," said Eoduin almost absently. "You will not."

"How did you discover the Chosen, Eoduin?"

"I have my ways, Carys."

A pause.

"You knew," said Lord Orion almost unbelievingly. "You knew before us all, before I contacted you, before the Dark Lord's last fall--you knew."

She blew more smoke into the air. "I have my ways."

Another pause. "I cannot trust you."

"And neither can I trust you. You betrayed the Dark Lord. You did not help him when Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy came along. You did not help him when Hermione Granger unraveled his spells. You did not help him when Ronald Weasley traveled to Sirius Black to warn him of the disasters coming. You did not help him when Lucius Malfoy lay dead. You did not help him--you betrayed him, Carys."

A sharp intake of breath. "You did not aid him either, Eoduin."

"Oh, I did. And I hope you also remember, Carys, that I was never a Death Eater. I never swore an oath to him. You withdrew from the Elder Death Eaters because you broke your oath, Carys. You anticipated retribution for your disloyalty. You bided your time as your comrades, one by one, were given the Dementor's Kiss. You waited, and gathered those with the same guilt driving them, that they did not help him. Your clan was never too loyal except to each other, Carys. I can never trust you."

Silence. Then, "You will pay for your words, Eoduin."

"Oh, not yet, Carys. This is no time for petty revenge. We await the Chosen, and although she does not know it at this time, she awaits us."

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

Hesper left the infirmary, opting instead to sit outside in the hall. An exile once more. A bringer of death and doom. No matter what she did, she would hurt everyone else around her. No matter what, the pain would stay with her, and she would never numb to it like she had supposed she would.

Would she be sent back to the United States? She thought about this. There had once been a time when she had dreaded leaving America, but now... she didn't know. There was nothing left for her there. Not anymore. Everyone was dead or changed or had left her. Hesper couldn't go back. She dug her nails into her palms. No. Never again.

She did not notice when Charlie sat down next to her. "Are you alright?" he asked, concerned for her.

"Not exactly," she said. Her voice was a little hoarse, and her face was hidden by her hair. She hated herself for crying, but sometimes her eyes would not obey her. "As well as I could be in these circumstances."

"Odd circumstances," said Charlie, putting his hands together to make an A.

Hesper pushed her hair away, revealing the tear-streaked face underneath. Her eyes were red. "Do you hate me?"

He thought for a moment. "No," he said finally. "No, I don't."

"Do you believe I did... that... to Ginny?"

Charlie shook his head. "I've seen a great many things... Someone disguised as me infiltrated my family and tried to kill Ron, Ginny, and Hermione. He bloody looked like me. Too many things have happened over years for me to trust anything blindly. And yet... I don't think you did it. I just don't... believe it..."

"I'm sorry," she said eyes unfocused. "It's not wise... to commit yourself. You say you can no longer trust blindly... and yet you still believe me. I didn't do it, Charlie. Not on purpose anyway... I don't know..."

"What?" Charlie tilted his head, a jolt of fear running through him.

"The Dark Arts," she murmured. "They are strong in my family. Don't you know?"

"About the Malfoys, yes," said Charlie briefly. "Lucius Malfoy was a prominent Death Eater. Always active. And Draco grew up in the Dark Arts also."

"It's not all," said Hesper. "But you will all learn before long."

Charlie waited, but she spoke no more, a silent oracle witnessing evil things to come.

The sun rose, tinting the sky with marvelous colors. And still Ginny did not awake.

________________________________________________________________________

Author's Notes: Well, there's my cliffhanger. The next chapter isn't going to help, as it too will leave off at a cliffhanger. The chapter after that too, maybe. Now you see why the subcategory is 'Drama.'

Morpheus aka Dream, Delirium, and Death are from Neil Gaiman's The Sandman as well the Dreaming. "...and let our lives be considerably enriched?" is a line from The Sandman concerning Desire and his/her stuffy older brother.

Lucifer, Azazel, and Beelzebub. The Triumvirate of Hell from The Sandman. Technically, Lucifer, Azazel, and Beelzebub are the same person. But technically, the forces of Hell won't really figure in this fic. Or will they?

'Gates of Horn' also from The Sandman. "Your father is only 23 chromosomes," is actually a Death line from The Books of Magic: Bindings. I actually dislike that particular volume of The Books of Magic, but it's a good line.

Adam Lecouret, one of Catherine Malfoy's nom de plumes, was actually a magician in the Affaires des Poisons. He was also called Le Sage.

DCU's refectory is based on my school cafeteria, except I've never had breakfast there. And also, Korean food smells a lot worse if accompanied by the odors of the greasiest of American tradition.

Professor Ussery is based on Mrs. Ussery.

Mara and Sheftu, the parents of Ankhmet, are from Mara, Daughter of the Nile by Eloise McGraw. Wonderful book.

'A bubble in the Net...' teeheeheehee... I hope all you Star Wars fans know exactly what this means. And you thought I had stopped incorporating Star Wars... Muahahaha... it's only beginning.

Glass Fang is dedicated to Kittie, Nine Inch Nails, and Fleur Delacour.

This chapter is for Dorothy aka Merytaten-Ra, whose birthday coincided with the 48 hour wait for Saddam to scoot his arse out of Iraq. Yes, what a wonderful birthday present for a devoted Bush hater.

Much thanks also to everyone who reviewed: dark__luna (whose Looking Through Glass I beta), gibson girl (who did an enviously talented sketch of Hesper), Ali.M (who did a lovely watercolor of Harry), and of course Merytaten-Ra (whose pic of Hesper I have yet to see because she doesn't have a scanner).

People who review will end up as minor characters in the Awaited Chapters. *snicker* Very awaited.

I know it's unbelievably corny. Do you have a better idea?