Harry Potter and the Wizards of Narhassa

Chapter 15: House Elves and Halloween

"I promise you!" shrieked the Fat Lady as she swung open. "If I find out who is sneaking out after curfew, I am never going to let them in again!"

Harry and Ron exchanged mischievous grins as they crept out together with practiced coordination beneath the shelter of Harry's Invisibility Cloak. It had been so long since Ron had remembered Harry and him sneaking out after hours. In more than just one way, it felt completely liberating. He had his friend back and, once again, it was time to catch themselves some bad guys.

The trip down to the kitchen was easy through the barren, dim halls. Not a creature seemed to be stirring as the two best friends made their way down a third flight of stairs and before long, found themselves staring at the huge picture of a fruit basket again.

"Shall I do the honors?" asked Ron, beating his eyes kindly.

Harry raised a brow. "Go ahead and tickle the fruit, Ron."

Ron reached out from under the cloak, his hand appearing in the dimly lit hallway for a moment. He stroked the painting of the green pair several times, and finally, it began laughing and squirming within the portrait. A moment later, it opened up with a slight creek, permitting the two boys to enter. Harry removed the Invisibility Cloak and folded it under his arms as Ron took a few steps into the kitchen.

It was as Ron remembered it last year, with dozens of House Elves working up a storm, even this late at night. Desserts were being prepared and chilled for tomorrow as lemonade brew in a cauldron, stirred merrily by a sappy looking elf. A long but low table ran down the middle of the kitchen where dough was being kneaded and spun into circular shapes.

And, almost immediately, came the shout. "Harry Potter and his Wheezy!"

Ron sighed and shook his head as Dobby flipped his spinning dough into the air, and completely neglected it. As he rushed over to greet them, it landed upon the elf that was next to him, covering him from head to toe like a dress.

"Dobby!" he roared angrily, from beneath the dome of enveloping dough. "You is so careless! Him useless!" To their surprise, his voice was not nearly as squeaky or high-pitched as Dobby's... sounding even a bit gruff.

Dobby completely ignored his companion as he rushed over and leapt up nearly to Harry's shoulders, hugging him childishly. The awkward lunge nearly made Harry fall over, but Ron was quick to put a stabilizing hand to his friend's shoulder to keep him from loosing his balance.

If there was an award for most awkwardly dressed being on the face of the planet, Dobby would be a surefire gold metal champion. Of all the times Ron had seen him, this time, he had outdone himself. Today, he was wearing what could only be a black, Muggle jumpsuit that ran down to his waistline, coupled with a bright red bathing suit, with a single black and white stripped sock running up to his thigh on his right leg and a sandal upon his left, without any socks. One sleeve of the jumpsuit was missing; in place of it was about fifty golden bracelets that ran up his arm like a piece of armor.

At once, Dobby let Harry go and fell back to the ground. "Oh, Harry Potter is looking so ill! Is Harry Potter ok?"

"I am alright, Dobby," said Harry, in a soft, mellow voice. "I just haven't been sleeping well or eating at all for the past few days."

Dobby, as if someone had just told him an army of dragons was descending down upon Hogwarts, suddenly hopped onto the long table and cupped his hands around his mouth.

"Emergency!"

At once, every house elf, including the one Dobby splattered with doe, dropped what they were doing and began racing to and fro. Ron was shoved aside by an onslaught of two-foot tall elves, who became as fast as speed demons, racing around the kitchen. Four elves shoved Harry off his feet, while three more pushed a chair underneath him, just in time to catch him. Now, sitting down, Harry gawked as six other house elves roughly slammed a small TV dinner table in front of him. By now, Ron could barely even see the individual elves as they became a short blur of motion, slapping down plate after plate of food onto Harry's table.

And suddenly, Ron felt his own feet fly out from under him... and just before he would have slammed headfirst into the ground, he fell into a chair, just like Harry had done. A second table was slammed down in front of him, and cuisine after cuisine was stacked high upon Ron's table like a leaning tower of plates. To his astonishment, a house elf lifted up Ron's robe, leapt up to his chest and crawled out of the top of his robe, with a napkin trailing him and catching in his collar... likely the desired effect. A fork and a knife were roughly jammed in between his fingers.

And... just as suddenly as it all began, the motion in the room ceased as the elves ceased moving. They had surrounded Harry and Ron and were beaming with a subtle pride that only a house elf could find from doing a job well done.

"Still alive over there, Ron?" came Harry's voice from behind Ron's towering plates. His view of his friend had been blocked by the mass of fine china.

"I think so," returned Ron as he stood up to take the plate on top of his stack into his hands. Within his hands was a succulent looking stake, with mashed potatoes and carrots. Despite already eating dinner, he found himself motivated to have a second helping of the wonderfully cooked meat.

Ron cleared off the plates of food, placing them in a pile on the floor beside him to afford a better look of Harry. His friend apparently was as famished as he looked, for in the time it took Ron to finish one plate, Harry's was working on his third.

"So Harry Potter," said Dobby, hopping up onto his small table and leaning back against the mass of plates. "Dobby is so happy to see you! What brings you to Dobby tonight? Is this all Dobby needs to do for you?"

"Thanks, for the food and everything," said Harry, in between mouthfuls of corn beef and cabbage. "But, I was wondering if we could talk privately, Dobby."

"Ooo, Harry Potter wants Dobby to keep his secrets!" squealed Dobby energetically as he danced on the table, nearly kicking Harry's tower of plates over. "Yes yes... Dobby will keep Harry Potter's secrets!"

"Well," began Ron, rolling his eyes to the ceiling and pinching his fingers together. "Not quite... actually, Dobby, we wanted to know if you could find out the secrets of others."

Dobby looked from Ron to Harry, with a sort of confused look. Finally, he looked back to the rest of the house elves. "Ok, the emergency over now! Dobby needs to talk to Harry Potter, back to work now!"

The rest of the house elves complied and went back to tossing their doe in the air. Dobby smiled brightly and leapt off Harry's TV dinner table. The elf energetically snagged Harry's wrist and yanked him out of the chair. "Come on, Harry Potter... don't forget your Wheezy!"

Ron sighed and stood up, following after the pair. "Dobby, my name is Ron Weasley."

"Won Wheezy?" asked Dobby, with wide-eyed amazement.

"R-O-N...W-E-A-S-L-E-Y," he said, sounding out each letter clearly.

"Won Wheezy?" repeated Dobby a second time.

"Close enough," said Ron, in defeat, while Dobby shook energetically.

They found themselves on the other side of the kitchen, where another lone house elf was singing to herself and sweeping the floor, beneath two very large shelves containing slabs of thawing meat. She seemed rather happy, and was dressed in a simple, pink flower dress.

"Winky!" said Dobby waving. "We is having to talk later. Harry Potter wants me to keep his secrets!"

Winky looked from Harry to Ron to Dobby and set her broom against the wall. Without a word, she skipped next to Dobby, pecked him on the cheek, and sauntered away.

While Harry smiled at the sight, Ron frowned deeply. This is just ducky, thought the red-haired boy. Even the house elf is getting more than me...

"Winky seems unusually happy," commented Harry.

Dobby nodded his head stupidly. "Oh yes, Harry Potter. Told you she needed to adapt to Hogwarts life. When her bad former master got The Kiss, Dumbledore became her new master, for keeps. Dumbledore cheered her up and told her his secrets!" Dobby paused for a moment, and then began bouncing once again. "Harry Potter tell Dobby his secrets now and make Dobby cheery!"

"Well," began Harry, digging his toe into the floor of the kitchen. "Not really a secret, per se... just a small request."

Dobby's ears perked to the point where they were almost perpendicular to his wide head. "Oooohh..." he blurted reverently. "Ask, Harry Potter, ask!"

"Err..." began Harry. "Can you, maybe, find a reason or two to clean House Narhassa, and keep your ears open for a date they might be tossing around."

"Ooh!" said Dobby. "Know a lot about date tossing around in House Narhassa, Dobby does. Dobby has to clean up after their parties, but Dobby, while invisible, went into a bedroom and saw..."

"I think he means date, as in time..." corrected Ron, biting his lips savagely to hold back a laugh at Harry's look of violated innocence.

Dobby's ears fell slightly, but nonetheless, he continued bouncing. "Ooh... Dobby understand now. For Harry Potter, Dobby will do this. He will go into the room invisible and keep both ears open for date of time."

Even given the success of this little mission, Ron could not help but feel deeply frustrated. Even the house elf would ignore Ron and not even mention him, or if he did, it would be in reference to Harry "not forgetting his Wheezy". Bugger can't even get my name right... thought Ron, sighing instinctively.

"Thanks, Dobby," said Harry. "I'll be sure to get you a nice sneaker for Christmas if you do!"

Dobby's eyes watered at the prospect and his ears drooped in reverence. "Harry Potter is Dobby's best friend!"

With that, he rushed forward and grabbed Harry's left leg, hugging it affectionately.

"Yes... of course..." said Harry, subtly trying to free his leg from Dobby's embrace. "And you are pretty ok as well, Dobby."

Dobby finally released Harry. "Oh, better go back to your rooms now! Curfew get you in trouble!"

Harry nodded. "Will do, Dobby." Harry started for the painting, exiting the kitchen. "Take care of yourself."

"Don't forget your Wheezy!" said Dobby energetically, as he rushed back to the main table and began flipping the dough energetically.

Ron, desiring nothing more than to grab a pot and duel Dobby to the end in a bashing competition, swallowed his frustration and followed after Harry as they both left the kitchen.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Ron had realized the moment he left that kitchen that it was time to play the waiting game. Yet, this was a game that was more of a challenge to him than Quidditch was.

Snow had come early to Hogwarts this year, as the harsh weather remained consistent. In fact, it was no little dust-over, but instead, a full raging blizzard half way through October that buried the school in two feet of snow. As a result, their Care for Magical Creatures class had to be taught indoors, which was a real let down for Hagrid, who constantly fought to bring unimaginably ugly creatures within the school.

Despite the harsh weather, Quidditch continued in full force. After seeing Sean on a broom, Harry was positive that he was a natural. He was placed on the team as a Chaser, in addition to Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas, who finally decided that Quidditch, while nowhere as good as soccer, was worth playing. Dean took the role of Keeper that Ron had wanted so bad. Ron had a hunch he could have been a much better Keeper than Dean, however, his own pride prevented him from trying out. He would not be on the same team as Sean, for every moment he saw him, it was difficult for him to breath.

And his feelings for Hermione had only deepened. It was so unexplainable how these emotions had come about. He knew all too well that he had a crush on her last year. He was alerted to his painful fact when she dated Viktor Krum. Yet, it was different now, for reasons he had not understood at first. After thinking his own feelings through, however, Ron had come to the decision that he could never put himself on the same level that Krum was. Krum was rich, older and amazing at Quidditch; the best man had clearly won. With Sean, however, Ron felt completely superior. He was stronger, probably smarter and much taller. Nonetheless, Hermione's decision had been made, and Sean was the one who hugged her, smiled at her, touched her, and kissed her.

The prospect, even after a month, sat like an anvil within his stomach, weighing him down nearly every minute.

Nonetheless, the Quidditch team was getting along fine without him, taking a victory from Ravenclaw, 350-240... one of the longest games Ron and Hermione had ever sat through. Ron loved every minute, sitting next to the girl of his dreams.

And so, Ron was feeling energetic to see Hermione today, Halloween morning, up in the library. Harry and him were maneuvering through the well-decorated passageways of Hogwarts.

Hogwarts had truly outdone itself this year. Each chandelier and torch burned with a cold, black flame as, at every turn, jack-o-lanterns carved with such intricate details adorned the pedestals and leered at them with animated features, as fire burned within their opening and closing mouths.

"This place never ceases to amaze me," said Harry good-naturedly, as a jack-o-lantern cackled sinisterly as he walked by. "I wonder what Hermione said was so important, that we needed to miss Divination to come and meet her for."

Ron shrugged. He was hardly heartbroken at the prospect of missing such a class. "Does it really matter? Don't look a gift house in the mouth."

Harry and Ron climbed up a staircase with filled with illusionary spider webs that, despite their artificiality, made the red haired boy cringe involuntarily. After what seemed like ages, they rounded the final bend and entered the library.

It was as they had remembered it from previous years, with many round wooden tables in a general study area overlooking the grand shelves cluttered with dusty tomes. The smell of the library was always strange to Ron, a mixture of must and the sweet odor of cleanser.

And leaning against one of the shelves, was Draco Malfoy.

"It is about time," snapped Malfoy, with his eyes narrowed. "How much longer were you expecting to take?"

Ron and Harry exchanged confused looks. "What are you doing up here, Malfoy?" demanded Harry.

Malfoy glowered coldly at both of them. "Are you trying to be funny, Potter? I got a message yesterday telling me to meet you up here exactly ten minutes ago."

"You think I'd waste precious parchment and seconds off the life of my owl to send you a personal message?" asked Harry, his voice dripping with disdain.

The pallid boy's retort was cut short by the sight of Hermione, strolling into view from the depths of the library. "Oh there you are," she said, in a rushed voice. "I am also sorry for the short notice, but I need you three to look at something. Oh yeah, and I'm also sorry about pretending to be Harry, Malfoy, but I know you would not have come otherwise."

Malfoy narrowed his eyes coldly, and a chuckle escaped his lips. "Oh right... this is rich." With a proud flick of his robe, he was marching out the door. "You've wasted enough of my time, Mudblood."

However, Malfoy's forward progress was halted violently as Ron grabbed Draco's shoulders firmly, and slammed him against a shelf of books, causing quite a loud rattle. It was blind luck that the librarian was deep in the library, returning books and out of earshot.

"What part of 'She needs you to look at something' do you not understand, Malfoy?" hissed Ron.

Malfoy seemed completely unrattled as he fixed Ron with stormy gray eyes that visually thundered with maliciousness.

"You have three seconds to let go of me, Weasley, and the first two don't count."

Harry remained quite passive, as if not sure what to make of the whole scene, while Hermione sighed and put a hand on Ron's shoulder.

"Let him go," she said softly. "I will make it worth his while to stay."

Malfoy's look of fierce, smug pride practically begged Ron to punch him, however, the tall red-haired boy loosened his grip upon Draco's robes. Shrugging off Ron like a flea, Malfoy took a step toward Hermione.

"And what could you possibly offer me?" snapped Draco. "I'd rather get physical with a porcupine, I'll have you know."

Once again, it took a temperance Ron did not even know he had to restrain himself from lunging at Malfoy.

Hermione looked at Draco with a cool expression. "Information about Seth Redetyor, of course. What I have to show you will be rather educational, if you'd allow me the time."

Draco crossed his arms dourly. "And you are getting what in return, exactly?"

"Harry told me you still know more about House Narhassa, and the Order from eight-hundred years ago," continued Hermione. "After seeing what I've found, you will owe us the rest of your information."

Malfoy clicked his tongue appraisingly. "Oh, so the Mudblood is a business woman under a weak exterior?"

It was only Hermione's pleading look to Harry and Ron that stopped BOTH of them from moving on Malfoy. Even Harry seemed ready to string him to the ceiling with rope.

"Very well," finished Malfoy, striding over to Hermione. "Show me what you will... I will decide if it is worth my information."

"Great," said Hermione. "Come on, I just dug up the tome."

Hermione led the three boys to a nearby table, or at least it must have been one... it was hard to tell with the sheer number of books that covered the top of it. She pulled out a chair and sat down, sorting through the books.

"Hermione, do you ever sleep?" asked Harry, with concern while Draco just shook his head with a combination of bewilderment and obvious repulsion.

Ron, however, smiled and sat next to Hermione.

"Sean was in here helping me last night," she said. "Sorry, Harry, but we borrowed your Invisibility Cloak. I hope you don't mind. You were asleep and he didn't want to wake you up to ask."

She had to bring him up, didn't she? Thought Ron with a sigh as bit his lip.

"It's fine, Hermione," said Harry, waving the comment aside. "What did you find?"

Harry and Ron both sat down across from Hermione, leaving Malfoy standing and looking especially bored.

Hermione looked to Malfoy, "First, as a good faith token... tell us more about Narhassa."

Ron and Harry both turned to face Malfoy while he glared coldly at Hermione.

"I don't have any good faith to give," snapped Draco. "Get on with this."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "You really are such a twerp."

"Go swim in a crocodile pool," came the reply.

Ron, for the fourth time today, was so close to pounding Malfoy senseless that it hurt to restrain himself.

"Very well," says Hermione. She looked to Harry and Ron. "Remember when I told you that the Sorolith had two functions?" She opened a book in front of her entitled Antiquities of Old.

"Yeah," said Ron offhandedly. "To steal people's souls, either a little at a time or all at once... and ... uh..."

"Make a simulacrum," explained Hermione. She then looked to Draco. "I trust you know what a simulacrum is."

Draco looked a bit miffed. "Pretend I don't, and explain."

"A simulacrum is a magical duplication of oneself that magically bonds with your body. Any damage ones body takes is delivered instead to the simulacrum." Hermione looked at Draco. "It is essentially a durable whipping boy that looks identical to the creator."

"You said it wasn't that interesting before," Harry reminded her.

"Yes, quite right," continued Hermione. "Until I read the passage in this book. Listen: A simulacrum can be cloned directly from the adult specimen. Such a spell is also called the Doppelganger Charm. With the subtle use of dark arts, however, one can bestow simulacrum properties upon a fetus not developed enough to resist the magical effects. The said fetus will feel all pain in place of his master, as well as some more interesting side effects, including empathic bonds and telepathic bonds. Due to the extreme nature of the simulacrum properties, there is an additional side effect. Should the creator loose his body, energy will be subtly drained from the simulacrum in order to keep the creator alive."

Hermione paused and looked up to Draco's hard face. "Do you understand?"

"I understand," muttered Malfoy dryly, shaking his head with anger. "Well, as informative as this has been, I think I'm going to save the rest of my bloody morning and have some breakfast."

Even Ron too was a bit lost. He did not understand exactly what Hermione was getting at.

"For one time in your miserable life, Malfoy... try thinking for a change," snapped Harry as Malfoy rose. "Doesn't Seth Redetyor look a whole lot like Voldemort when he was sixteen?"

Malfoy paused for a moment, his eyes not leaving the table in front of him. "Yes," said Malfoy coolly, his voice showing a bit less scorn. "So, let me get this straight... you are proposing that Voldemort, sixteen years ago, made a simulacrum of himself out of some baby?"

"Not just some baby," continued Hermione. "A baby he knew would be kept safe. Voldemort took every precaution to insure that he would have life after death."

Ron's mind began churning over quickly. "Albus Dumbledore's great grandson!"

Harry shook his head. "But, he was adopted..." said Harry. "How would Voldemort know that the child he turned into his simulacrum fall into the hands of Dumbledore's family?"

"I have a hypothesis," said Hermione calmly.

"Oh goodie," murmured Draco, rolling his eyes as he put his elbow onto the table and rested his forehead into the palm of his hand.

"Do tell," said Ron, looking to Hermione, his eyes widened with curiosity.

Hermione stared at Ron as if she had never seen him before. Ron blinked in curiosity, withdrawing his head from his hands in a combination of surprise and confusion. Her eyes were glazed over with what could only be enlightenment. There was a strange sensation within Ron's hand and feet, prickling at him subtly.

"Hermione?" asked Ron, a slight quiver in his voice. "Are.... Are you ok?"

Hermione blinked her eyes and shook her head. "Yeah, fine... sorry. I didn't sleep last night. Where was I?"

"Your hypothesis," said Harry while Draco slapped his hand to his knee with his free hand with impatience.

"Do I have time to get breakfast before you spill it?" he muttered indignantly.

"Sorry," repeated Hermione. "Dumbledore has never mentioned anything about extended family. Not a word in five years. Why?" she asked rhetorically. "Because he is ashamed of them maybe. What if they became Dark Wizards?"

"Oh," said Malfoy, his eyes brightening with mischief. "Is that what they are? Gee, you've just got it all figured out! And my father is Linda the Good Witch of the North."

"Can I finish?" snapped Hermione.

Draco rolled his eyes again. "No, why don't you just waste more of my time instead," he snapped back.

"Oh yeah, because we all know you have such important matters to attend to," retorted Ron crisply. "Evil to brew, people to insult, Quidditch to stink at... all in a hard days work, huh?"

Draco glared at Ron. "Oh, buy yourself a clue... oh wait, you can't afford one of those."

"As mature as this is," butt in Harry as Ron's ears flamed up with red anger, "Hermione, please finish."

Hermione, looking positively ruffled, continued nonetheless. "If the descendants of Dumbledore became Dark Wizards, they would have much to gain by adopting Voldemort's simulacrum and raising it as their own."

"Hermione," said Harry, his voice sincere. "It's not as far fetched as you think... Malfoy, what exactly do you want to know about Redetyor, anyway? What are your goals?"

Malfoy looked to Harry with amusement. "I told you, Potter. They don't concern you."

"I bet he's Voldemort's eyes and ears in Hogwarts," muttered Ron. "Bet after this he's going to rush to the Owlery and tell his dear old dad everything."

Draco looked over to Ron, with a mirthless smirk. "Yep, that's my evil plan. Did you grind both your brain cells together for that one?"

"Look," snapped Harry, trying to keep some semblance of order around the table. "Can we -"

"Fine," said Draco, calmly lifting his head off his palm and raising his hands in defense. "What you've told me is worth a few more bed time stories."

Malfoy looked to the faces of each of the Gryffindors, to make sure he had their attention.

"Now then," he said. "What I told Harry so far is that upon Ben Nevis, all of the Wizards of Narhassa lost their souls. Now, what I didn't tell you was that Salazar Slytherin himself was the one who awoke Narhassa that night. Narhassa was what took the souls of those who had stored fragments of their souls in the Sorolith."

"So Narhassa is a man?" asked Harry thoughtfully.

Draco shook his head. "Originally, it is believed that Narhassa was an angel or some other goodly otherworldly being who was banished from to the mortal world for an unspeakably evil act. On the mortal world, such beings take the form of intangible force. Yet, by making seedy deals with mortals in exchange for soul power, Narhassa was capable of taking solid form for days at a time, or longer, so long as it killed and drained the life force of many victims."

"So," said Hermione. "It is a sentient being, but no person."

Draco looked to Hermione, and nodded. "More or less. Narhassa plays to the strength of the master, Granger. When Slytherin took Narhassa, it took the form of a sword... a weapon of golden fire, according to the stories I've heard."

Ron's eyes twinkled a bit as he listened to Draco's story. There was something about knights and swords that Ron always loved. It was one of his inner fantasies to fight Draco Malfoy in a duel to the death with a sword. While Ron had never learned how to fight with one, he felt his natural height, reach and fast reflexes would have made him a great fencer.

Harry scratched his head thoughtfully. "So, this is where the Sorolith comes into play."

Draco nodded shortly. "The Sorolith gave Narhassa a taste of the soul energy, but it was not happy with just a sample," continued Draco, his voice taking on a darker quality, "it wanted the whole thing. Slytherin, while power hungry, was no murderer and he tried to fight Narhassa. But, in the end, Narhassa won. Salazar Slytherin became a slave to Narhassa and all semblance of the noble man was gone."

"Slytherin was noble?" asked Hermione. "From the stories I heard concerning the Chamber of Secrets, he was never a noble man. He wanted to kill Mudbloods and Muggles!"

Draco stood up slyly and folded his hands behind his back. "Muggles like your parents, Granger, pollute the world with every commute to their jobs. Factories, airplanes and automobiles destroy this planet a little bit each day; far worse than any Dark Arts can."

Ron shuttered involuntarily as Malfoy's words crept down his spin like the hairy, sticky legs of a spider.

"Slytherin was not a murderer, he was a perfectionist. Think of how our world would be if Narhassa had not corrupted Slytherin, and he achieved his goal of killing all the Muggles in the world... no pollution, no hiding, and all our lives would be so much better."

Hermione looked long and hard at Draco. "Would you kill me to bring about this little fantasy of yours?"

There was a tense moment as Harry and Ron looked between Draco and Hermione. Draco narrowed his eyes coldly at Hermione, his own expression a mask of angst and anger.

"No," replied Malfoy at last. "I suppose I wouldn't... though, I'd shed no tears if it came to pass. I do believe you'd be dry-eyed at my funeral as well, should the event transpire."

Ron opened his mouth to say: "Damn straight we would. We wouldn't even be there."

However, what came out was something not even he expected.

"No one deserves to die just because of who they are," he said, looking from Hermione to Draco and turning both their heads in his direction. "It is their actions that should save them or condemn them. Even you don't deserve to die just because you are a stupid git, Malfoy"

Malfoy's cheeks tinged red with a slight shiver of anger. "If you were in a room with me tied down and alone..."

Ron smirked slightly at seeing Malfoy so flustered. "Sorry Malfoy, while I'm into the dominatrix thing, my ship just doesn't float that way."

"... and you could kill me free of consequences, you would do it," ended Malfoy, not even acknowledging Ron's comment.

"I'm sorry that you think that, Malfoy," said Ron evenly. "I hate you, and always will, but you don't deserve death. Not yet."

Malfoy looked at Ron for a moment with an unreadable expression. At first, Ron wasn't sure if he was flattered or angered, but finally Malfoy smirked again, his cool condescending look returning.

"Thanks Weasley... and if I had a choice between you dying and some random person in China, I just might choose the random person."

"Simply heartwarming," muttered Hermione, rubbing her eyes with fatigue. "Anyway, back on topic, Malfoy."

Ron looked to Harry while Malfoy began spilling a tale of woe about Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin. Harry had remained deathly silent all throughout the conversation discussing defenseless killing, which brought Ron back nearly a month ago to Harry's bed, when the boy had been sobbing and looking to him for support. Malfoy's story faded out of Ron's mind, while he watched Harry with nervous concern. Harry had, once again, taken up that glassy sort of expression that had chilled Ron so coldly for a few days after his attempted Avada Kedavra curse.

"... and so, when Godric was beaten by the powers of Narhassa during his duel with Salazar," Malfoy said, "he was not killed outright. In his dying breaths, he infused his sword with the power of his own soul. Only one of his sons, with a heart of pure gold, would ever be able to use all of the blades power."

"Harry," said Hermione. "Didn't you use Godric's sword in the Chamber of Secrets?" she asked.

"Yeah," replied Harry distantly, breaking out of his glazed-over look. "But, I am not the Heir of Gryffindor... I am the Heir of Slytherin. The hat wanted me in Slytherin, you guys know that."

"You still drew out the sword, Harry," Ron pointed out.

Draco waved Ron's comment away. "Anyone with good intention can wield the sword of Godric, but only one of his heirs can call upon the hidden soul within Godric's blade."

"Stories of valor and bravery?" asked Harry skeptically eyeing Malfoy. "Something tells me your father didn't tell you about this."

Malfoy looked at Harry bluntly. "Right... I do have a mother too, you know. She told me about brave knights, Sesame Street and good will towards men while dad told me about Narhassa, Voldemort and the Dark Arts. Made me into the well balanced, beautiful person I am today."

"So, basically... you are saying that only the Heir of Gryffindor has a chance of fighting off Seth Redetyor, should he manage to secure the powers of Narhassa?" asked Ron, leaning forward.

Malfoy nodded. "Nothing gets past you, huh?"

"But..." trailed off Ron. "Who is the heir of Gryffindor?"

Malfoy smirked slightly, drawing a confused look from the other three.

"What's so funny?" asked Hermione testily.

"This may come as a shock to you... but Godric Gryffindor was very handsome: blonde hair, gray eyes and a killer smile.

Draco beamed brightly.

At first Ron, did not flinch... however, upon looking over Malfoy's pale blonde hair and dim gray eyes, he finally got what he was insinuating.