Harry Potter and the Wizards of Narhassa

Chapter 18: The Calm Before the Storm

"Because that girl was not a Narhassa Wizard... she was a real one; she was never a Muggle."

"Jessica is a real witch?" exclaimed Ron, his eyes bulging wide.

Sean calmly removed the Sorting Hat from his head and looked at Ron squarely.

"I told Harry," said Sean with a sigh. "But, I think he is quite smitten with her."

Ron wrinkled his brow, staring at Sean stupidly. "Your overwhelming grasp of the obvious astounds me."

Hermione nodded, ignoring Ron, while Dumbledore remained respectfully silent. "We will have to tell him together," decreed the girl.

The smaller red-haired boy looked at Dumbledore, his green eyes glittering with concern. He was caught up in a very strong moral dilemma. Should he tell Dumbledore about Harry's dream?

No, Sean decided at last. It is not my place to tell anyone about Harry's dreams.

Ron and Hermione did not seem to be in any rush to tell Dumbledore about Harry's dream either, though he was not sure as to the extent their knowledge expounded upon the subject

"Headmaster," began Ron, with a shy tone. "In a little more than two weeks, Seth Redetyor is going to do something that will steal nearly one hundred souls, resurrect someone straight from Hell and kill either myself or Harry. Forgive me for being a bit squeamish, but this sort of thing makes me a trite bit nervous."

Dumbledore sighed and sat back in his chair. "There are many ideas that the faculty and I will throw around before time runs out. However, I can promise you that everything will be done to insure your safety, as well as the safety of the rest of the student body. Hopefully, I will be able to talk some sense into the Narhassa wizards during the class I teach, but I suspect a greater power motivates them to seek out the legacy of Salazar Slytherin... the powers of the fallen angel of Narhassa himself."

Hermione nodded slowly, her lip bit with concern. "So, there is nothing to do but wait?"

Dumbledore, for the first time, seemed to possess a tired quality about his face, as if this sort of talk served to drain his vitality.

"I have no plan to expel the children of Narhassa," answered Dumbledore wearily, "especially now that they are known by much of the Wizarding World. I suspect Voldemort has his eyes on the power of Narhassa, as Salazar did. If the Sorolith falls back into his hands, I fear he will be quick to use it to claim the powers of Narhassa, now that Redetyor has paved the way for him with his own research and devotion to the mythical fallen angel."

Dumbledore sighed.

"It was a shame that the Sorolith fell out of Death Eater hands in the first place, for had it remained, he would have never learned of Narhassa... it was Redetyor's driving ambition that turned Voldemort onto the legendary power."

Sean shifted nervously in his seat, feeling as though he was betraying the kindly old man by not disclosing the information he had. Sean tensed up as the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. He turned coyly to his left to meet Ron's stony gaze, which had fallen upon him. It was amazing to Sean that Ron's eyes had such weight. Sean visibly shuttered, for he knew Ron was seeing through him like glass.

"Professor..." began Sean, with a trembling lip. "I... know Seth Redetyor's exact plan."

Ron and Hermione both turned their heads to Sean, while Dumbledore's expression did not change.

"Yes, I know you do, Mr. Camaradi," he said softly.

Sean cocked his head in confusion. "Harry told you?"

Dumbledore sat back, a twinkle returning to his eyes. "The way Voldemort made his presence in Hogwarts that night was through two very powerful Clairvoyance/Clairaudience Divination Charms. While very cunning magic, it is also very detectable. I knew at once where and what Voldemort was snooping at, and used a little charm myself to watch as well."

"So you know about the open rebellion of the younger Narhassians?" asked Sean.

Dumbledore nodded firmly. "Yes, I do, Mr. Camaradi... it will not happen."

Sean fell silent, while Dumbledore continued.

"Seth Redetyor has planned this attack for well over a half a year and has a very cunning understanding of the link between him and Voldemort through years of study. I assure you, while he was bedridden, he sifted through every tome he could get his hands on."

Dumbledore paused for a moment and stroked Fawkes' featherless head.

"It is probably how he came to an understanding of what Narhassa was, and how it could help him free himself of the bond between him and Voldemort. I put my galleons on the fact that Redetyor allowed Voldemort and Harry to know where he was meeting his fellow wizards that night."

Dumbledore now had the undivided attention of the three Gryffindors. The old Headmaster looked to Ron.

"It makes sense," added Hermione, her eyes twinkling with understanding. "After all, Seth is who Voldemort was, and is who Tom Marvolo Riddle was. Seth has his cunning, his ruthlessness and his ability to rally others to support him."

Ron smiled too, as everything began to pan out in front of him clearly. "And, Seth has a huge advantage!" exclaimed Ron. "Voldemort sees him as some dumb clone and underestimates him!"

"Right you are," nodded Dumbledore, a small smile forming at the corners of his mouth.

Ron's smile fell, however, as a sour thought crossed his mind. "When we brought Seth before you, though... why did you ignore us then?"

Dumbledore chuckled, a mischievous glow illuminating his face kindly.

"I believed every word of what you told me, and hit the books for the entire weekend, looking up the strengths and weakness of simulacrums. The reason I played possum was because I did not want you and Harry involved..." The old man trailed off and scratched his long white beard. "Apparently, that was where I underestimated you."

Sean and Hermione chuckled as well, however, Ron's face seemed to intensify.

"With all due respect, Headmaster," began Ron, his tone quite serious. "I would preferred to be leveled with when Harry's life is in danger... not "possumed" off."

The fair Headmaster's face fell, but no angry words were forthcoming. "Your friendship with Harry Potter has forced you and Hermione to grow up faster than I would have cared to see. You have each been in mortal danger every year you have been a student here, and for this, I can only apologize."

Ron's severe expression fell as he swallowed a lump in his throat. It was clear to Sean that Ron believed that he overstepped his boundary there.

"Can you please just tell us what to be prepared for?" asked Hermione, with a discouraged sigh.

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "I will no longer possum you off, then."

The Headmaster sighed and stood up from his desk, setting Fawkes upon the ground as he made his way over to Sean's side. The small looking boy gazed upon Dumbledore, taking a nervous gulp of air. Ron and Hermione watched with mixed feelings.

"I firmly believe that Narhassa has their eyes upon Sean, and will try to steal his soul using the Sorolith. I am not using the dream as an example, but rather, their reaction to you in my class. Not withstanding what we saw in the dream, they see you as a loose end... and, I suspect, will try to slay you."

Sean felt as though a horde of spiders were crawling around on his back as he trembled with a sudden wave of fear.

"As a result," continued Dumbledore. "Sean, I am very sorry, but I must send you home to America. It is not safe for you in Hogwarts anymore."

"What!" exclaimed Sean, his mouth dropping agape. He felt as though the entire world was crushing down upon him. "To hell with that crap! No way I'm leaving!"

Dumbledore raised his hands into the air. "I can protect you, Sean, but... not even I am willing to chance someone's soul, in case of failure. Despite what Wizard Weekly says, I am only human."

"Chance it!" snapped Sean, standing up from his chair. Despite the action, he still had to look up to see Dumbledore in the eyes as a result of his diminutive height. "I'm not abandoning my friends!"

"Sean," said Hermione, standing up as well. "I agree with the Headmaster... I care for you too much to see such a risk put on you."

Ron remained silent, content to be the only person not standing. It was clear he had his own thoughts about Sean leaving.

Sean felt as though he had been slapped in the face. He stared at Hermione with wide, green eyes. "I'm not leaving you in such danger. I'm staying!"

Dumbledore sighed deeply, scratching his snowy white beard. "Absolutely not," said the old man. "Your soul is not to be chanced for anything. The denial of an afterlife; the absolute and indefinite end is not something to face. The brave give their lives; the foolish give their souls."

"It doesn't matter!" retorted Sean, his eyes glazing over with worry. "I'm staying! I know the risks!"

And, for the first time Ron had ever seen, Dumbledore's face slumped with ultimate defeat. Sean's face was contorted with defiance and his stance, while undermined by his height, was of rigid tension. Dumbledore turned around, as if unable to face Sean. The words rolled off Dumbledore's tongue like tar, as if he fought a tremendous battle of nerves to get them out.

"Then, Sean, you are expelled... You have three hours to say goodbye to everyone. Hagrid will then escort you to Hogsmeade Station, where the Hogwarts Express will take you to King's Cross. From there, you will be given enough Muggle money to buy a plane ticket home."

Dumbledore sat down behind his desk, his head in his hands.

"That is all. I know you do not approve, but this is for your own good," he said sorrowfully. "Ron and Hermione, I will keep you contacted. Please help Mr. Camaradi gather his things."

Sean glared at Dumbledore, his face alight with anger.

"Thanks... thanks for nothing!" he stammered, as he turned about, rushing out of the office and slamming the door behind him.

Ron and Hermione looked to Dumbledore. They, then, looked to each other without a spoken word.

"You two better leave," said Dumbledore, in a meek voice.

Ron nodded slowly.

"Yes, Headmaster," replied Hermione, and both Gryffindors turned to go.

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

Voldemort cackled as he ran his spidery, bony fingers along the scales of his serpent, Nagini, stirring the serpent slightly.

"Master," said a voice that Harry recognized immediately as the mature, drawling voice of Lucius Malfoy. "The dementors are ready and await your command."

The room they were within was extremely dark, in respects to both light and furnishings. Voldemort was perched cunningly upon a silvery velvet chair, the sort Harry might expect to find in the Gryffindor Common room. Upon the bony man's lap rested the head of a twenty-foot serpent, which wound around Voldemort's chair in a protective coil. The walls of the hall seemed to be covered with black bound books and shelves littered with what appeared to be potions and bones. Upon the floor of the room were three interlacing serpents that wound at two points, forming a green letter "M". The ceiling was lost in the gloom of the extremely large hall. The only light that feebly attempted to pierce the gloom was from two twin braziers, flaming with green fire near the walls of the room.

This must be a hall in Malfoy Manor, thought Harry, piecing together Lucius Malfoy's presence and the M upon the ground.

"You have done well, Lucius," rasped Voldemort, tickling the top of Nagini's head. "It was not easy, I trust."

The blonde-haired man was dressed in a black robe of a Death Eater, with his cowl off his head and flowing down his back. He stood before the sitting Voldemort, his arms folded simply.

"No, My Lord," he said. "It cost a significant bribe to bring them over from Iraq... Sadam Hussein was not very keen on letting go of some of his most prized assets."

Voldemort cackled, his bloody red eyes glowing and swirling hypnotically. "How did you get them into England?"

Lucius' gray eyes narrowed and a smirk crossed his face. "That was the easy part. The Head of the Department of International Magic Cooperation owed me a favor. I assure you, he was quick to provide fake documentation for the dementors and give my men permits and transports."

"Very good," cooed Voldemort. "And this head is trustworthy?"

Lucius crossed his arms. "I hand picked him myself, Master. With my support, he was quick to take office after the late Mr. Crouch. He knew the price I would charge for such a promotion, and he repaid it quite handsomely."

Voldemort hummed in consideration. "Seems like this one has the makings of a Death Eater We could use him in the future."

Lucius shrugged sluggishly. "Perhaps, Master... though, I had to distort the truth a bit by telling him that they were new additions to Azkaban. I trust he will need to wade further into the seedy underground of the Ministry before he takes the vows." Lucius narrowed his eyes a bit. "He is of... questionable family origin, my lord."

"Back on topic," said Voldemort, waving the digression away. "Wormtail will be returning shortly from his little trip to Ben Nevis. Seth is a willful boy, but ever so pathetic. I know his entire plan... and we will be waiting for him on the peak; waiting for him to guide us right into the Temple of Narhassa."

"Then," stated Lucius sharply, "we will retrieve the Sorolith that that idiot Spencer stole from me and kill his daughter for the inconvenience."

Voldemort laughed wickedly as Nagini lifted its head and flicked its tongue at Lucius.

"That and more, Lucius... that and more. Now, tell me about your son. Has he secured the sw..."

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

The scene suddenly swam out of focus as Harry felt someone touching his body. A groan escaped from his lips as Voldemort's voice faded into his memory and a new, sweet voice replaced it.

"Harry, wake up..."

Harry's eyes fluttered open, at first completely out of focus. Above him, he made out an indistinguishable blob of colors that served as a possible mosaic for a human face. Blinking slowly, he realized that he was without his glasses.

"Where am I?" asked Harry meekly, reaching out and groping at his left side for what he hoped were his glasses.

The blur of color above him must have retrieved them, for the next moment, Jessica replaced that blur as she slipped his very own black rims over his eyes.

"Thanks," he said, smiling at her.

Jessica leaned forward and pecked his lips softly.

"Are you ok?" she asked, her face still so close to his that he felt her warm breath upon his nose.

Harry shrugged under the weight of a thin hospital robe. "I think so, considering I became a human porcupine during my fortune telling session, in which I was promised death, a rebirth from hell and eternal damnation all in one sitting."

Jessica winced visibly, but smiled nonetheless. "Seems like you had a rough Divination class."

Harry weakly touched her face with his hand affectionately. "When does something go my way?"

Jessica giggled, and planted the tip of her finger on Harry's nose playfully. "Aw, you want to be spoiled?"

Harry smirked, as the tone of her voice washed over him. "Yes, momma."

With a quick kiss to his forehead, Jessica stood back up. "When you get better, I'll let you have your way, for once."

"Is that a promise?" asked Harry.

Jessica's face gleamed with sweet mischief as she took her leave. "Get better, ok?"

Harry sighed woefully and slipped back down into his pillows, a bright smile upon his face.

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

"Sean, please wait," begged Hermione as the smaller red haired boy kicked open the fifth year boy's dorm, in a rage. Behind the two, Ron followed slowly, apparently not having the words.

Sean stormed into the room, nearly shoving over Seamus Finnigan, who was busy polishing his Nimbus 2000. Before the Irish boy could speak, however, Sean looked back to Hermione.

"You didn't even try to get the old man to reconsider," snapped Sean, his eyes betraying a feeling of complete pain as he grabbed his suitcase from under his bed and slammed it onto the mattress.

Hermione put her hand to her hips. "And what was I supposed to say?" she scoffed. "No, Headmaster, I don't care if Sean looses his soul. In fact, lets let him stay in the Gryffindor Common Room as bait!"

Ron simply shook his head while Sean ripped out the top drawer from his dresser and began throwing his clothing into the suitcase on his bed.

"You just don't trust me and that's it," muttered Sean coyly as the second dresser drawer was ripped from its place and the contents emptied. "He is a Muggle, so, he's gotta be a spy for Redetyor."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "That is completely wrong!"

Seamus arched his brow and looked to Ron, who rolled his eyes on cue. There was something gnawing deeply at Ron, and despite his attempts to ignore it, he could not. Could it be that he... empathized with Sean? He, too, knew what it was like to be unable to help his friends, despite his best effort.

He stole Hermione from you... he stole your broom from you... he stole your place on the Gryffindor Quidditch Team... think evil thoughts, think evil thoughts.

Despite Ron's best efforts, in light of the circumstances, he could not bring himself to do anything but feel sorry for Sean.

"Sean," said the other red-haired boy. "We trust you."

The final drawer was pulled out, but it was clear that Sean's fury was not played out. He slammed the suitcase shut and rounded on Ron.

"You have a funny way of showing it, Weasley. You're the damn problem, Sean... Maybe you are evil just like the Narhassa wizards, Sean... Maybe I'm a jealous dickhead, Sean!"

Every Weasley instinct within his body told Ron that this was the part where he was supposed to punch the smaller boy's lights out, kick him while he was on the ground and repay him for all the heartache his presence had cost him. Yet, something within his soul kept his fists at his side, loosened and far from Sean's face.

"You are right, Sean," said Ron, the words flying out of his mouth unexpectedly. "I was wrong."

"Yeah, blow me, Weasl..." However, before Sean could finish his sentence, he blinked with sheer stupefaction.

"Huh?" asked every person in the room, including Seamus, who wore a traumatized expression upon his face.

Ron sighed and looked down at his shoes. "I was wrong."

"That's it," said Seamus, standing up before Sean could answer. "Reality has just been turned upside down... I need Prozac!"

With that, Seamus left the room, his right arm beginning a twitch.

Sean ignored Seamus, staring at Ron. "I didn't think you were capable of ever admitting you were wrong."

Hermione's eyes turned to the door as Seamus shut it behind him. "You are not the only one."

Ron frowned and took his eyes of his shoes, looking down at the shorter boy. "That makes three of us, I think."

He looked to Hermione, who nodded slowly, her brows still arched. "You are damn right it does."

"And, for what its worth, Sean," continued Ron. "I'm sorry... again."

Ron was amazed how easily the words flowed off his tongue now that he was harboring no more secrets. There was nothing left for him to defend. Hermione had told Parvati about their little exchange in the common room, and thus, everyone in the school was likely to find out within the next few days.

And, for once, he no longer harbored much resentment for Sean... though Ron hated to speculate that might be because he was leaving.

Sean swallowed a lump in his throat and zipped up his suitcase. "It's a bit late for that, Ron," said Sean coldly, yet without malice... just defeat. "Look, do me a favor, ok?"

Ron nodded slowly. "Alright. What?"

Sean withdrew Fred and George's old broom from beneath his bed. "Take my spot as Chaser," he said evenly as he tossed the broom to Ron, who caught it with a stunned expression. "You want to be on that team more than anything."

Ron looked down at the old Cleansweep with a surprised expression. While it wasn't even close to a top of the line broom, it was now his and it was sufficient to play with. A joy crept into his soul that he couldn't keep down.

"Thanks, Sean," said Ron sadly.

Sean pulled his suitcase off of his bed. "I'm going to visit Harry before shipping out," he said, his anger hidden from his voice. "I owe him a good-bye at least for being my friend from the beginning."

Hermione nodded weakly, her eyes were wrung with moisture.

To Ron's own surprise, he extended his hand to Sean.

Sean grasped it hesitantly in a firm shake.

"Have a good life," said Ron stonily, though his blue eyes seemed to show as much compassion as he ever showed.

"I'll owl you all the time," said Hermione weakly.

Sean looked back over his shoulder as he walked toward the door. "No..." he said softly. "Let this be our good-bye."

Upon seeing Hermione's hurt look, Sean sighed. "I love you, and always will... but I need to get on with my life."

"What are you saying?" asked Hermione, seeming very shocked and surprised.

Sean shrugged weakly. "I'm a Muggle who lives in California, and you are a Wizard who lives in England. It will be simply too hard to keep our relationship going." Sean frowned with one side of his mouth, lowering his green eyes in sorrow. "I cannot be your friend if I cannot have you, hold you and kiss you... It will be torture for me to read your messages. Please, don't write any."

Hermione swallowed hard, the crease in her neck rippling with emotion. "I can respect that."

"So," said Sean, burying his feelings deep down. "I guess this is good-bye."

Unable to bare such a cold good-bye, Hermione rushed over to Sean and embraced him tightly. Sean desperately hugged Hermione as well, knowing that this was likely the last time he would ever see her.

Ron shyly looked away as Sean pressed his mouth against Hermione's for one last kiss. As much as Ron realized he was a jealous pillock, he still could not help being one as his face burned scarlet.

And, as soon as it happened, it was over, with Sean breaking away and walking out the door without another word. As the door closed behind him, Hermione looked over to Ron, who looked back at her with a worn and weary expression.

Ron moved over to her slowly and hugged her gently. She put her arms around him and broke down crying upon his shoulder.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Before finding Harry, however, Sean knew there was something that he had to do. He made his way down to the Great Hall hoping for a lucky break; it was about time for something to go his way.

And indeed, luck was upon his side. Looking over at the Narhassa table, Sean saw the tall form of Alex, eating lunch with two other American Narhassa wizards. With a nervous swallow, Sean approached the Narhassa table, drawing many suspicious eyes.

"Well, look who's here..." said Alex nastily, staring up at Sean with hatred as he closed the rest of the distance and stood on the opposite side of the table. "You got a lot of guts coming over here, Sean, after selling us out to your friend Potter."

"It's over, Alex," said Sean boldly, staring at his cousin and formerly best friend. "I'm going home."

Alex snorted, drawing laughs from the other two Muggles. Yet, upon seeing the serious look on Alex's face, his arrogant expression faltered.

"Going home?" asked Alex.

"I... I want you to come home with me," said Sean shortly and straightforwardly. "Forget whatever you are going to do, and just walk away from it."

Alex looked to the two other Narhassa wizards for a moment, who both shrugged. He looked back to Sean and stood up to his full, impressive height. He briskly made his way around the table, beckoning Sean to follow him.

Sean followed him out of the Great Hall and down an obscure corridor of the main hallway of Hogwarts. After two minutes of passing by drab looking stone walls, they descended a flight of stairs, leading down to the dungeons.

"It's not too late, Alex," said Sean dryly. "Just, forget about this Narhassa crap... we are family."

Alex glared at Sean as he finally stopped in the middle of a dark passageway, lit only by low burning torches. The smell of dank moisture was in the air as a frigid draft blew over the two boys like the chill of death. Sean could hear the sounds of water dropping all around him.

"So, you are running away?" asked Alex snidely, his voice echoing off the walls of the dungeon.

Sean stared at Alex. "I've been expelled."

Alex blinked, his cold glare being replaced by confusion. "What?" demanded Alex.

Sean lowered his head, and told Alex about his meeting with Dumbledore. Alex listened pensively, a sympathetic look upon his face. For the first time in months, Alex looked like his first cousin and best friend, not his enemy.

"Sean, listen to me," said Alex, for the first time Sean could remember, sounding sincere. "It isn't too late for you, either. Come with me; we will speak to Redetyor... just tell him what the Gryffindors are planning, and he will accept you back. We can arrange it so you can hide away in a dorm room in Narhassa until the day we act."

Sean looked up to Alex, his green eyes searching for hope within Alex's pointed countenance. Despite his relatively passive stare, his dark brows seemed irrevocably narrowed, as if evil had a hold on him and refused to let him go.

"Remember, when we were nine... and we were caught dropping a cherry bomb into the school toilets?" asked Sean, digging his toe into the moist, stony floor.

Alex blinked for a moment, taken a bit off guard. "How could I forget? The principle had you in the office... but you played mute with him; granted it wasn't very hard for you to do that since you were mute, after all."

Sean smiled a bit. "They found another one in my locker and suspended me for two weeks. I didn't tell them you were with me; I don't betray people... period."

A tense silence lapsed between the two as Alex surveyed Sean with his deep, hazel eyes.

"Sean, they are not worth it. Do you see them staying by your side to the end?"

Sean looked to Alex. "No, but nor do I see you. The Narhassa classes proved that sure enough."

"I've got responsibilities, Sean," snapped Alex passionately. "Something huge is about to happen to the world, and I get to be a part of it. Do you have any idea how that feels?"

Sean nodded slowly, his thoughts drifting back to Hermione. "I used to be a part of something huge, but I've learned good things don't last. What you are feeling now won't last. For God sakes, Alex... to dick with Narhassa and to Dick with this place. Let's go home. Screw this wizard crap; let's surf, swim... screw Quidditch, let's play soccer and baseball again."

"I won't do that, Sean," said Alex confrontationally. "I happen to like this 'wizard crap' as you call it. I like having power over people's lives in my hands." Alex then straightened up proudly. "And, besides... I like Quidditch I'm a pretty damn good Seeker... well, when I'm not cheating, anyway."

Sean stamped his foot. "Damn it, Alex. That isn't you talking."

Alex turned around. "Yes it is, Sean. I am the same guy you knew from infancy. I want you with me, Sean. When we take Ben Nevis and Redetyor opens the way to the Narhassa's Lair, I want you to be at my side to drink deeply from Narhassa's glory."

Sean could feel his resolve beginning to weaken. He could not deny the temptation he found in Alex's words. While all moral upbringing taught him to turn his back on his former best friend, he could not bring himself to do it.

"Do you realize what is going to happen, Alex?" asked Sean, desperately recalling the facts he had heard from Harry, Ron and Hermione. "You've already touched the Sorolith... your soul will be drained; your lifeforce will go into Seth, to make him strong enough to defeat Voldemort."

Alex chuckled, and shook his head. "No, Sean. Redetyor is not going to take our souls... well, not mine anyway. I never touched the Sorolith."

Sean fell silent as Alex curled his lips slyly.

"Redetyor has told a select few of us what has happened recently," said Alex. "Upon attaining the Sorolith from the traitorous Death Eater Garret Spencer, he went back up to Ben Nevis and used it to reopen Narhassa's Lair. You see, from the peak down descends a winding, spiraling staircase leading to the deep underbelly of the mountain. Within there resides Narhassa, trapped within a barrier possessing two locks... sleeping soundly for eight-hundred years."

Sean listened to Alex, his stomach turning over within his chest. Alex's lips spread into a smile.

"Spencer opened one of the locks with the last of the Sorolith's stored power, which removed the spell of perpetual slumber from Narhassa. This awakened the fallen angel. When this happened, all those whose families dated back to the days of Slytherin's cult felt their dormant power ignite."

Sean stared at Alex dumbly.

"We weren't given our powers, Sean," said Alex. "They were just brought from dormancy by the will of the newly awoken Narhassa."

"Go on," said Sean slowly, desiring to hear more of this story.

Alex nodded. "The second lock can only be opened by an Heir to the person who placed the lock in the first place."

"Gryffindor?" asked Sean.

Alex shook his head. "Slytherin."

"Slytherin?" asked Sean, his eyes wide. "But, he was the one who awoke Narhassa in the first place?"

Alex nodded.

"Slytherin, after killing his best friend Godric in a duel to the death, was mortally wounded by Gryffindor's sword. The wound was a mere cut, however, it was bleeding the power of Narhassa from him slowly and gradually. With the icy realization of death, Slytherin was freed of his insanity."

Sean continued to listen, conflicting emotions making it difficult for him to breath.

"Narhassa had attached itself to Slytherin like a parasite and had become inseparable. As a result, Slytherin realized he was slowly dying. With all the strength he could muster, thanks to his returned sanity, he performed Magia Ultimo, the greatest spell a wizard can perform."

Sean nodded slowly, as Alex continued.

"It literally translates into Last Magic... for that is the last spell the casting wizard will ever cast. All of his magical power is channeled into the following spell. The amazingly powerful Slytherin sacrificed all of his power and put it into a Stunning Charm. When the being Narhassa was hit, it fell into a slumber that it could very well never awaken from."

"What happened to Slytherin then?" asked Sean, his body tense in anticipation, though in his mind, he could not help but feel very suspicious of Alex.

"Slytherin was found a week later at the peak of Ben Nevis, having struggled out of Narhassa's lair and closed it behind him. The Sorolith was neglected by those who discovered him, and remained hidden at the peak of Ben Nevis for the better part of eight hundred years."

Sean looked at his cousin, his conflicting emotions finally unable to stand to hear anymore.

"Why are you telling me this, Alex?"

Alex looked at Sean, true concern on his face. With the cousinly affection Sean had once known, Alex rested his hand on his shoulder.

"Because Sean, I want it to be you and me again. I don't want to see you hunted as a traitor... let's awaken Narhassa together, with Redetyor's help."

Sean glared at Alex. "Slytherin died because he foolishly let Narhassa into our world. What makes you so sure that you aren't going to share his fate?"

Alex stared at Sean stupidly, as if the answer were obvious.

"Slytherin foolishly attempted to battle Narhassa in a competition of wills by himself. He was caught up in depression and shame, even long years after the original founders of Hogwarts, and lost to the grinding force of Narhassa. We, the House of Narhassa, have been brought together; we have been rallied by Redetyor. All of us will battle Narhassa together; our will and might combined will dominate Narhassa and allow us to extract its power."

It seemed like sound reasoning to Sean, who sighed and cocked his head, looking at Alex with a tired, beaten expression.

"Join us, Sean," coaxed Alex. "Your will is stronger than mine; perhaps even stronger than Redetyor's. With you at our side, the victory would be that much more insured."

Alex held out his hand to Sean, his eyes alight with enthusiasm.

"We need you, Sean..." said Alex, with sincerity. "Please, join us."

Sean stared at the hand, keenly remembering Dumbledore sending him away... for the crime of wanting to help. He remembered all the cruel looks, words and phrases slung at him by Ron and how he, only after Sean proved to be leaving the picture, made up with him. Now, to Sean, it seemed as though Ron had only done this to resolve himself of his own guilt.

Likely, he was already snogging Hermione.

And, he thought of Hermione, who had not even spoken one word on his behalf to keep him close; it seemed as if she wanted to push him away.

For a moment, shaking Alex's hand did not seem like such a bad idea.

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

Harry watched the door to the hospital wing expectantly...

Several hours had passed since he had seen Jessica, and the sun within the hospital window was descending over the lake in front of the school, turning the water to the color of blood. The short, winter days had shriveled to the mere shadows of summer light as cold wind gusted against the windowpane.

And still, Harry watched and waited...

His eyelids began to feel heavy as the stress of the day began to take its fatiguing toll. With a face as heavy as brick, Harry felt his eyes beginning to close... how he wished to be engulfed by peaceful sleep.

However, sleep was not to be had in the near future, for the sounds of footsteps outside the hospital wing were rising in crescendo, as someone was approaching.

With a blink of his eyes, Harry dispelled his fatigue. The door opened wide with a click and a violent shove, revealing three students, dressed in plain Hogwarts robes. They moved quickly to Harry's side, with long, impressive strides.

One was Seth Redetyor, who opened his mouth to speak.

"You have no idea how warm it made me feel inside to receive your invitation, Potter," said the gray-eyed boy in a low, ominous tone. "I heard about your... unfortunate mishap."

Harry propped himself up on his elbows, allowing him to sit straight up in bed.

"We need to talk, Redetyor," said Harry, "without your cronies."

Redetyor's lip curled with amusement. "Malakai, Dustin... meet me outside," he said frankly.

The two Narhassa students nodded slowly, and left the room obediently, shutting the door behind them.

Seth smirked and folded his arms behind his back, looking down upon Harry. "You know, my friend, you are coming dangerously close to interfering... it would be a shame to turn your soul into a dementor's breakfast... mmm?"

"You are better than that, aren't you?" retorted Harry, staring at Redetyor with knowing, intense green eyes.

"Ha!" snapped Redetyor bitterly, looking down at Harry. "Calling my bluff then, so to speak?"

Harry slowly shook his head gravely. "No. I called you up here to tell you that awakening Narhassa will result in massive failure, and you will die in the process should you try."

Seth snickered, sitting slyly at the foot of Harry's bed. "Well, sucks to be me, huh?"

The bedridden boy remained silent.

"Very well," said Seth, waving his hand disdainfully. "Thrill me with your aptitude on this subject."

Harry stared coldly at Seth. "Voldemort knows your plan."

Seth's face immediately intensified, and his lip began quivering. "He... he does?"

"Did I stutter?" retorted Harry.

Seth put a hand to his mouth, his eyes bulging widely. "Oh, jumping Jimmy Cricket... whatever am I going to do? The big bad wolf knows my little old plan?"

"I'm picking up your sarcasm," replied Harry shortly.

"That's cheery, because I'm drowning you in it," snapped Seth, his hand dropping from his mouth and his feigned nervous expression washing itself off his face like a passing wave. "Voldemort is of no concern to me, or my followers."

"Spoken like a true Muggle," sneered Harry, his expression still quite fierce. "Do you realize that, even now, Voldemort is planning his attack upon you at Ben Nevis... on December 1^st."

Seth's eyes widened again, and looked side to side frantically. "Well, gee whiz. Isn't he just the little boy scout?"

Harry could not help but feel hopelessly disarmed in this conversation. He expected his words to hold much more weight with Redetyor than he was showing. It was his modest hope that he could talk some sense into the revenge crazy boy.

"Fine," said Harry, despairingly. "Say you are right and you kill off Voldemort with ease. What is going to stop you from losing yourself to Narhassa, as Slytherin did?"

Seth raised a brow. "It's called a brain... Slytherin should have tried using it."

"And," snapped Harry, "you are just going to sacrifice your followers to Narhassa, as he did?"

Voldemort's simulacrum stared down at Harry for a long moment. "Mmm... you have done your homework, haven't you, Potter?" he asked with an impressive tone.

Harry's countenance remained stony.

"Yes," said Seth, with a drawn out and fake sounding sigh. "Some will have to go... they've freely volunteered; well, maybe not freely. Gradual suggestion has implanted itself into a few of the descendants of Narhassa... maybe a hundred or so."

"Gradual suggestion?" scowled Harry deeply. "You mean the Imperius Curse..."

Seth laughed deeply, scratching his left arm with his right as he adjusted himself at the foot of Harry's bed.

"What an ugly, ugly thing to call it," cooed Redetyor. "The people I chose were the scum of the Earth, Potter. Their souls don't deserve to move on."

Harry looked deeply at Seth. "How can you pass judgment like that upon your fellow students? Nearly all of them are younger than you, and have only begun to understand who they are!"

"Oh, dear me Potter," said Seth, with a clash of ennui. "I had hoped you had more faith in me than that. Didn't your friend tell you about the dreams? I did not teach just the kids in Hogwarts, but every descendent of Narhassa... tens of thousands, all in one place. Hell, where did you think I was going the night Malfoy decided to stick his pasty little neck into my affairs? I had to visit a few scumbags outside of Hogwarts."

Harry listened for a moment, as any retort was taken forcefully from his mind.

"Oh, worry not, Potter... if you knew the ones I am choosing to sacrifice, you would think I was doing the world a favor."

Yet, Harry was not convinced and his face showed it.

"What about at the Quidditch game... what were you doing there, conducting research on forgetfulness?"

Seth snorted. "Hardly, Potter. Do you even know the three primary functions of a Sorolith?"

"Yes," said Harry crisply. "Simulacrums and Soul Stealing: Completely and Partially."

"Oh, bravo," said Seth, clapping. "I was afraid I'd have to explain that to you as well... I have to admit, the game is much more fun when you are playing it too. You and me... damn, we are so much alike."

"Sod off," muttered Harry. "This is no game and you are nothing like me."

"Anyway," said Seth, smiling evilly. "I took a small portion of the souls of my strongest followers... they will join me in the clash of will that we must undergo before we are able to harness the powers of Narhassa. I made sure to do it several weeks beforehand, so they will be able to make a complete recovery before the big night."

Harry sank into his pillow despairingly. "Well, how noble of you. How much risk art thou drawing upon thyself, oh fair paladin?"

"None," said Redetyor with a laugh. "The plan is fool-proof... and not you, nor Dumbledore, nor Voldemort will be able to stop me." Seth smiled mirthlessly at Harry. "You might as well start calling me Lord Seth, or maybe I will change it to something with more of flair... Lord Soth... Lord Sephiroth... Lord Seipher... any ideas?"

Harry snorted and rubbed his eyes wearily. "Lord Sephiroth... that's a great one. Sounds like the name of some black-caped wannabe dunce driven insane by powers he foolishly tried to harness." Harry opened his eyes again. "That should fit you perfectly."

Seth smirked slightly. "You know Harry, if you weren't trying to be the fly in my ointment... and my would-be assassin... we'd probably have gotten on just fine. We ARE so much alike."

"You are a monster, Redetyor," said Harry coldly. "I don't know whether you deserve to die or be leashed and thrown into a freak show."

Seth pretended he didn't hear him. "We both are quite willful, we both go above and beyond our expectations... we both are Heirs of Slytherin and we both owe that to Voldemort; you through a failed spell, and I through a successful one."

Harry looked away. "But, unlike you, I am not proud to be an Heir of Slytherin."

"Come now, Harry," said Seth, standing up from Harry's bed. "No need to become taciturn. We both want Voldemort dead... I would ally with you to that end, but two Heirs of Slytherin on the same side would get messy." Seth calmly inspected his fingernails. "And, not to mention, I don't really need your help."

"Answer me one thing," said Harry distantly. "Where did you hide the Sorolith at the Quidditch game?"

Seth laughed mirthlessly as he turned to go.

"Let's just say... some of my followers have unquestionable loyalty to me which supersedes some of their own... more intimate relationships. Hmm?"

Before Harry could ask another question, however, Seth beat him to the punch. "Oh yeah, Harry. I would insist that you not interfere lest you wind up in Azkaban, but...oh heck... I don't have the heart to throw you to the dementors, as I'm sure you figured out. I wish you best of luck in trying to stop me."

Harry stared at Redetyor. "I'll remind you of those words December 1^st, when I've foiled your plan."

"Fair enough," said Seth snidely, staring at Harry as he opened the door to the Hospital wing. "When I see you on Ben Nevis, no holds will be barred, Potter."

With that, Seth closed the door behind him with a resounding click, leaving Harry alone once again, listening to the sounds of footfalls fading away.

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

"No, Crabbe," said Draco Malfoy as he sat down next to his trollish, stupid friend. Draco watched Crabbe fumble around again, and a second time, Draco sighed.

"No, moron."

Crabbe looked down at his jumbled shoelaces and grunted.

The Slytherin Common Room had only become that much colder as winter kicked into full gear. A heavy draft was coming from the dungeon walls, though Draco was used to the chill by now.

"Look, how hard is it, you moronic goon?" snapped Malfoy, pointing down at his own shoe. He undid his shoelace and pointed empathetically. He began to tie them. "Tuck, duck, run the rabbit around the tree, and into the hole!"

Crabbe scratched his head and mumbled disdainfully, causing Draco's left eye to twitch.

"What are you talking about?" snapped Malfoy. "Of course they aren't going to have a class on how to do this... you'd fail it anyway!"

Crabbe grunted and hit his lap angrily. Draco sighed.

"Look, Crabbe, I'm going to go over there now," said Draco, pointing down the corridor, leading out of the Slytherin Room. Draco looked around the room and quickly spied Pansy Parkinson, sitting at a table with Millicent Bulstrode and Blaise Zabini. "Pansy will help you though. She confessed to me that she wanted you."

Draco quickly ducked out of the Common Room as Crabbe smiled dumbly and rushed across the room. Malfoy smirked to himself as he heard a feminine scream, just before he closed the door to his room.

Within the Slytherin fifth year boys' dorm room, a boy named Cameron Trent looked up at Draco from his bed. The Slytherin dorm room was furnished with dark green carpeting over a stony, hard floor. From above, four lanterns dangled on silver chains, lighting up the room sufficiently. The barren, cavernous walls were covered by similar green wallpaper. Upon the top of the wall, on the angle where it met the ceiling, a moving snake pattern coiled around the parameter of the room.

Draco's roommate was calmly reading a hardcover book entitled: "The Icewind Dale Trilogy." To Draco's surprise, the figures on the cover were stationary, and not moving.

Unable to hide his curiosity, Malfoy looked over at Cameron, with a weary expression on his face. "The hell is that about?" asked Draco.

Cameron looked up at Draco again, with an interested expression. He was a mousy-haired kid slightly taller and broader than Draco, with brown eyes and light freckles on top of his nose.

"Muggle Fantasy," he said energetically. "I still can't figure out most of it though... some sort of black house elf named Drizzt teams up with this... huge Muggle named Wulfgar... and they fight this crazy wizard."

Draco shook his head at the absurdity of such a thing. "Bloody unrealistic books... how could a house elf and a Muggle possibly beat a wizard?"

"I guess that is why they call it fantasy," suggested Cameron, returning to his book. "I mean, this wizard is as stupid as sin. Look here... he has Drizzt right where he wants him... and what does he do? No Avada Kedavra... no Cruciatus Curse... he trash talks the house elf, tries to use this fancy crystal thingamajig on him, and then falls arse first off a mountain! Blimey, he didn't even pull out his bloody wand!"

As much as Draco found Cameron annoying right now, he could not help but take a small amount of liking to the guy. He was normally quite quiet, filling journal after journal with poetry, stories and tales. Often, he would ask Draco to read them, but Draco would always find an excuse... it was what he was best at.

And when Cameron wasn't writing, he always had his head buried in a book, though it was usually a Wizarding book. It had always boggled Draco's mind as to why this boy was sorted into Slytherin and not Ravenclaw.

"Must be a Mudblood," said Draco offhandedly. "Reminds me of something Hermione Granger would do if she turned evil."

Cameron chuckled at that idea, and put his head back into the book.

Draco's brief talk with Cameron was a welcome reprieve from what he deemed he must do next. With a sigh, however, he was brought back to reality as he sat down at his desk and stared at the barren, green wall in front of him.

Hesitantly, he removed his wand from his robes and pointed it at his second desk drawer.

"Alohomora!"

Draco tapped each corner of the drawer once with his wand and the middle twice. After completing the unlocking sequence, the drawer shot out. Wasting no time, Draco took from it two pieces of parchment... one was written upon, the other was blank. As he had done for the fiftieth time, Draco unrolled the wrinkled parchment with writing upon it and began to read.

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

M

Potenza prima che passione

Son,

It is time for you to do your duty for the Dark Lord.

I have informed you of the Dark Lord's desire to defeat two enemies with one, swift stroke. Harry Potter has been causing trouble ever since he was a fetus, and Redetyor has become too ambitious. If Harry Potter is to be any threat to our Lord, he must use the sword of Godric Gryffindor, for once the power of Narhassa becomes His... that will be the only weapon that can stop him.

What I demand of you is to ascertain this sword, using any means necessary. First, earn the trust of the Potter boy by disclosing information you swore to keep secret under the Malfoy Code 6: "A Malfoy does not tell the secrets of his or her family." I hereby grant you permission to use the Malfoy Amendment 043-B: "Code 6 can be rendered obsolete if said secrets earns the trust of an asset in the short term, in the name of Dark Lord (Insert Name Here)". From there, discern the sword's location... and when you attain it, use the Permission Slip I have attached to leave school immediately.

Do not fail, or else.

Lucius P. Malfoy,

Your Father

Potenza prima che passione

M

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

Draco sighed and lowered the parchment. He calmly withdrew an inkbottle and his quill and began to write nervously upon the blank sheet.

Father,

I screwed up... they no longer trust me. I failed and I'm...

With a grunt, Draco crinkled up the parchment and threw it away angrily. He put his elbows upon the desk and buried his face into his hands. Why did he have to follow Weasley into Dumbledore's office today? Why did he have to get so insistent that he was the Heir of Gryffindor? Couldn't he have just waited for Weasley to draw it, stunned him, taken it... and ran?

Well, not likely, since Dumbledore was there, admitted Draco to himself.

Draco slammed his fists on top of his desk, shoved the letter from his father into the open drawer and kicked it shut, drawing a strange look from Cameron.

They aren't going to beat a Malfoy at this, said Draco. It looks like I'll have to resort to lying, treachery and deceit.

Draco paused for a moment.

Oh bugger, I forgot... those didn't work.

The pale-faced boy narrowed his eyes. He had always thought that doing his duty to his family was often a messy and disheartening business. Yet, while he could feel a tiny shred of conscience within him, telling him that what he was doing was not right, he was a Malfoy. It was his duty as a Malfoy to kill the angel on his right shoulder, and replace it with a second devil. It was his swore oath to use his might to uphold the strong, and punish the weak.

"Potenza prima che passione," said Draco calmly, repeating one of the Malfoy family mottos. "Power before passion."

Time to up the ante, Potter, decided Malfoy, pushing a bang of silvery gray hair out of his conflicted eyes.