Light's End

Chapter 9: Dissolution

1:30 AM

Ron knew it was a sin to wait this long to proceed, but his own human emotions kept him from continuing. Dean, however, seemed to have no proclivities about taking up refuge within a classroom and barring the door with as many wards as the two boys could cast. The door was currently rigged to explode, a dozen chairs were triggered to drop on intruders, and a blast of ice and thunder were set on the inside. It might kill six raptors trying to enter, and given the work benches they crouched behind, they had enough cover to, perhaps, hold their ground for awhile.

Yet, Ron hoped it didn't come to that. While they might be able to hold their ground against ten... there wouldn't be ten. If Blaise was correct, there would be two-hundred.

Ron cursed, wishing against all wishes that he had asked Harry for his Invisibility Cloak - though, he wasn't even sure if it would do any good. Raptors seemed to have a keen sense of smell; Maylee had sensed exactly where he was.

They had desired to hide under the mutual understanding that Maylee had indeed sensed them, and when he discovered Peeves's ruse for what it was, he'd comb the entire school looking for them. Ron had first considered trying to find the Room of Requirement, but he knew that he was nowhere near it. What he really required was for it to be where it wasn't... and that was too tall an order for the magical location.

Once and awhile, Ron thought he heard soft footfalls lurking outside the door and once, he thought he saw a face peek into the room through the window. They were indeed searching for them, and to venture outside of the room would be to insure their own induction into the ranks of the undead. Luckily, however, none tried the door... or they'd be blown up, and once more, Ron and Dean would be on the run.

"Ron?" Dean asked. He clutched his wand in a loose grip, his back was resting against their work bench.

"Yeah?" asked Ron, his voice barely above a whisper.

Dean wiped some sweat from his forehead. "I'm beginning to think this was a bad idea."

Ron shook his head. "No, Dean - it's a very good one. If we can't get through to the Ravenclaws or Hufflepuffs... they might die tonight." He took a deep breath. "As long as Maylee is looking for us, he isn't killing them."

"I'm so scared," Dean said, his voice shaking. He rested his forehead into the palm of his hand and choked on a sob.

Ron frowned bitterly and put his arm around his friend and classmate. "I'm not," he lied. "We're going to get through this... all right?" Ron picked up his wand in his other hand. "I've been doing some thinking - you ever summon a Patronus?"

Dean nodded. "Over the summer, I was practicing - I finally got the hang of it."

"Same here," said Ron. "You ever read stories about vampires and how holy crosses keep them at bay?"

"Mythology. Crosses have no power."

Ron shook his head, "Not true... but they only have power in the hands of someone who believes they do with all their hearts."

"You're talking about positive energy," Dean said, wiping his forehead with a tremulous hand.

Ron nodded, "Exactly - if I'm not mistaken, maybe... just maybe... a Patronus might drive a raptor back, like a cross would, if we believe in it strongly enough."

"Where'd you get that idea?" asked Dean.

"Hermione," said Ron. "When Seamus and her were attacked after Charms - she produced a Patronus and it left Seamus alone."

"It sounds good in theory," Dean agreed, "But... in practice? I don't know if I could summon one with two-hundred vampires bearing down on us."

Ron sighed. "That makes two of us."

"Well," said Dean. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that..."

Ron nodded and rose. "All right - let's disarm our wards... I'm leaving, and you leave five minutes later."

"What?" asked Dean, his face turning gray in the gloom.

"I'm going to the Ravenclaws - you gotta get to the Hufflepuffs."

Dean shook radically. "I can't do this alone, Ron... I just can't."

"You have to," said Ron. He knelt down and grabbed Dean's arm. "It doesn't matter if we are together or not... remember. No one can hold their own against twenty raptors... at least if I get turned, I know you might still have a chance to get to Hufflepuff."

"... they always split up in the horror movies," Dean murmured. "They never live."

Despite the situation, Ron chuckled - it wasn't that he found it funny; his own emotions were just playing tricks on him. "Not this one... you hear me? Stay light on your feet - the Hufflepuffs are on the second floor, not more than a five minute walk away."

Ron approached the door and began reciting the counter curses for all the traps they had put up. He crouched nearby, waiting and listening. After five minutes of silence, Ron forced himself to grip the door. A wave of nausea hit him, and he felt sick to his stomach. He steeled himself and opened the door with a soft click.

"Five minutes," he mouthed to Dean - Dean, who was looking over the workbench, nodded and gave Ron a weak thumbs up.

Without further adieu, Ron swept out of the room, pulling his footfalls as best as he could.

* * * * * *

1:55 AM

Nearly ten minutes had past before Dean Thomas gathered enough courage to make a move. Wand clutched in a death grip, he rose upon shaky legs. He prowled up to the door, spent another good minute to make sure no one was coming, and stepped out carefully. He resisted the urge to run back under the desk and hide. He could hide here until daybreak... he really could. No one had checked in here yet and they'd just assume he'd gotten away.

But, no - if the Hufflepuffs all died because he was too chicken to man up, he would never forgive himself. While terrified to the pants-pissing point, Dean Thomas was no coward.

That thought drove him to leave the sanctuary. The sound of commotion filled the air and Dean's footfalls were masked. He moved down the corridor, heading toward the Great Hall. Just before he arrived, there would be a staircase leading up - a few turns after that, he would get to the Hufflepuff Common Room, and that would be that.

Come on, Dean - time to man up.

That's what his father used to say. Dean had been a boy who hadn't been able to sleep without a teddy bear until he was seven, and had slept with a night light until his first night at Hogwarts. When he learned that there was no electricity at Hogwarts, that was his primary concern - what would he do without a night-light?

It was fortunate that Seamus had had the same problem - they were both up late, unable to sleep for their first few weeks of their First Year. While Harry, Ron and Neville were, more often than not, deep sleepers, the two of them would head down to the common room, sit by the fireplace, and talk. When they were both too tired to keep their eyes open, they would retire to the same bed and sleep on opposite sides. Dean found that he could brave the dark as long as he knew there was someone with him.

Dean wished with all his heart that Seamus was with him now.

He hugged the wall as he moved, barely able to see more than five feet in any direction. The moon cast a few beacons of light through the high windows, but that didn't spread far in the gloom. Just then, his feet tripped upon something that shouldn't have been there. He went down to a knee and nearly bit through his lip to keep from crying out. He dropped his wand. On his hands and knees, he fumbled around for it... and instead, found a sneaker. He gasped, and found the other right next to it. Holding them up to a shaft of moonlight, he saw that they were Ron's sneakers.

"Oh... god..." whimpered Dean. He barely kept his bladder from spilling.

He found his wand shortly after and steeled himself once more. Had Ron been caught by a patrol soundlessly, and had he lost his sneakers in the struggle? Maybe - but there was nothing he could do about it. He would tell the Hufflepuffs - they'd send someone to Ravenclaw to warn them. He had to focus on keeping himself alive, however, or the Gryffindors might wake up and find the entire school against them.

Dean resumed a slow prowl down the corridor, nearing the Great Hall. The commotion grew louder - it sounded as though hundreds of people were in the Great Hall, having a merry old time. Dean swallowed and began to move faster, rushing for the stairs that would lead him up to the second floor. He was no more than thirty feet from the Great Hall.

Just then, he heard a loud booming voice that sounded like... no way... it couldn't be. The Sorting Hat?

"Xorsai!"

Dean licked his lip hesitantly, and prowled closer to the Great Hall. What the heck were they doing in there?

Just as he neared the Great Hall door, another voice called out - it wasn't the Sorting Hat.

"ALARM!"

Dean gasped and, before he could even react, the doors to the Great Hall thundered open, revealing a group of ten Slytherins who were in mid-charge. Seeing Dean in wide open view, they jumped with surprise and hissed. Without realizing he was doing it, his wand came up and he screamed.

"Incendio!"

A jet of flame rushed from the tip of his wand, engulfing three of the largest raptors. The others were able to leap to the side with lightning reflexes avoiding most of the blast. Several other vampires hissed countercurses, putting their fellow students out.

No longer afraid, a cool, collected frown posed itself on his face. Time to man up, Dean. He would make it a running battle to the Hufflepuff Common Room. He sprinted away from the Great Hall and slammed his shoulder into the door leading to the stairwell. He rushed up to the first landing, halfway up and knelt down - this afforded him a good view of the doorway below.

Within two seconds, five raptors burst through, wands raised. One of them was Theodore Nott.

"Congelo!"

Magic hissed in the air, and a cone-shaped spray fired from his wand, bathing all those below him in a hail of ice crystals and freezing mist. Two pointed their wands at Dean and Theodore barked out, "Stupefy!" before freezing solid. Dean fell prone on reflex, and the spell slammed the wall right where his chest had been. He rushed to his feet and sprinted up the rest of the stairs.

Four corridors to go... come on, stay tough. You are doing it...

He threw himself out the door and took off down the hallway about thirty feet. He leapt behind a pillar, wand tip to his brow, and cast a quick spell.

"Supplanto!"

In his fighter's calm, he had uncanny timing. Just a split second before four raptors burst through the door, a hail of marbles shot from his wand, rolling down the corridor. As they ran out, they all planted a foot upon the carpet of marbles. Two went careening into the opposite wall, one fell back down the stairs, and other took a face-plant to the ground, snapping his wand with his body weight.

Dean rushed down the corridor, knowing that he wasn't doing any real damage - at this point, he'd settle for them not running after him out of fear of pain. But did these creatures even feel pain? Those ones that had been on fire hadn't really screamed, or even started running in a panic. They had just continued charging him and had their colleagues summon some water to put them out. Those who had been frozen would eventually thaw out.

What he was doing looked good, but aside from the one who had snapped his wand, there had been no real damage done.

He couldn't let that worry him now, though.

Three corridors down. His mind raced; he dropped a bunch more marbles over his shoulder. Ten rounded the corner, sprinting after him with all their superhuman speed. This time, his trick wasn't as effective. All but two of them leapt into the air, levitating over his trap with their innate magic. They lost neither speed nor distance and continued racing after him.

He spun once more, and fired another spell in mid-run. He lost a bit of speed, but he knew he couldn't outrun the raptors. Doing so was very difficult for a novice, but anyone in the D.A. had learned how to cast under pressure.

"Dextera!"

Dean was happy to see his spell take form. A giant disembodied hand appeared before the horde of raptors and stretched its fingers out, sufficiently blocking any way around or above it. Those in front slammed into it, those behind began working counter curses.

Not wasting time, Dean sprinted down the corridor and rounded another corner. Two more to go. He was tempted to throw another hand spell, but to do that would be a waste of time. Once they learned the proper counter curse, it would take as much time to dispel as it took to cast. That was why a good wizard didn't necessarily have the most powerful spells, but the biggest variety.

He had made it halfway down this corridor when suddenly, twenty raptors appeared around the bend ahead of him, effectively trapping him. Dean skidded to a halt, looked from right to left, and knew it was over. His battle calm was replaced with hopeless despair. He spun around and noticed that those raptors behind him had caught up - flanked on each side by a horde, Dean prepared himself for his final stand.

Maybe a Patronus will keep them at bay.

Dean nodded frantically at the idea and focused on the memory that had worked for him once before - his first kiss. It only came to him in a brief flash, but he had kissed Mandy Brocklehurst at the Yule Ball in his fourth year. He had wanted to do it for so long, but during one of the slower songs, he had just suddenly gone for it. He had manned up.

And now, he was doing it again.

"Expecto Patronum!"

A Patronus took form before him, at first a silver cloud... then, as it formed, a white, glowing grizzly bear appeared in front of him. Upon seeing the beacon of positive energy, the horde hissed and clawed at the air in front of them, as if trying to ward off an invisible attacker. None approached. A few launched some spells at Dean; since they were unable to look at him, their accuracy was pitiful. Those that came relatively close, the bear jumped in front of, deflecting them with ease.

All right - this is positive... this is going well... I have a chance.

"Stop attacking," came an order from behind those who had cut him off. All the raptors stopped casting and snarled. Dean stuck close to his Patronus - marching toward the voice. As he walked, the vampires fell back, giving him space. Those behind him kept the distance constant.

All but one vampire continued backing off - he had started in back of the mass, but now was nearing the front as his followers drew away. Soon, Draco Malfoy stood alone, opposing Dean. The grizzly bear growled at Draco, but the confident Malfoy took a step forward. The palm of his hand protected his eyes.

"Thomas... give it up. Your transition will be quick and painless."

"Get stuffed, Malfoy..." scowled Dean. He willed his Patronus to run at Malfoy.

Hissing, Draco fell back an equal amount of distance. Dean kept at the heels of his beast.

The vampire tried lowering his hands to make eye contact with Dean, but each time, he looked away from Malfoy's eyes. Obviously trying to hypnotize him; that wasn't going to work.

"Your Patronus is strong, Dean," said Draco, drawing further back, "And you are doing well to avoid facing me - why not look into my eyes? Are you afraid you aren't strong enough to resist me?"

Dean kept his eyes lowered. He urged his Patronus to run at Draco again. He knew it was a death wish to look at Malfoy - if he did that, he'd wind up dismissing his on Patronus and allowing them all to feast on him.

Malfoy drew back a few more steps, and they rounded the final bend. He could see the Hufflepuff portrait - his salvation - just sixty little steps away.

"If your Patronus is this strong... why are you afraid to look me in the eyes?"

Dean swallowed a lump in his throat - it was a trick; such an obvious trick. Yet, it was rattling him and making him nervous.

"Shut up, Malfoy - let me go!" cried Dean. "I'll ram this Patronus down your throat..."

Malfoy chuckled, and held up his hand. At once, all the raptors stopped moving back. "I don't fear the Patronus of a coward."

Sweat began to drip from Dean's brow. He glanced up, and saw his bear beginning to fog in its clarity.

"Oh, Dean, you are starting to stink..." He began to sniff the air delicately. "You're scared... your Patronus will fail if you are afraid. Better... man up... huh?"

Dean's bear began to loose its form - its light began to dim, clouds began to steam away from it.

"No!" said Dean. "I'm not afraid of you!"

"If so - dismiss your Patronus..." said Draco. "Prove to me - prove to us all - that Dean Thomas doesn't need to hide from me behind cheap spells he doesn't understand."

Dean's wand shook... and his Patronus shrunk in size. It howled and yelped, as Dean's positive force began to ebb. The corridor began to darken once more.

Malfoy leered, his fangs glinting in the fading light. He began to advance calmly and slowly. Dean sweat thick drops onto the front of his robes and saw his Patronus dissolving fast.

No... no no no...

"Expecto Patronum!" "Expecto Patronum!" "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

Each time, a silver spark and a wisp shot from his wand, but it was to no avail. Too rattled, too scared, he could not produce enough happiness to drive Draco away.

Draco approached the dying Patronus and passed his hand through it with a wave. The bear yowled and tried to bite him, but it passed harmlessly through him. Then, it disappeared.

Dean made to cast another spell, but Draco sprang the rest of the way and plucked Dean's wand from his fingers before he finished.

"Good try, Thomas - had you actually the courage to look me in the eyes, or dismiss your Patronus, you might have had a shot at escaping tonight."

Just then, eight powerful arms grabbed him from behind and forced him to the ground. The last thing Dean heard was his own screams as he was driven to the ground under the force of six different maws.

Dean Thomas was never afraid of the dark again.

* * * * * *

1:48 AM

Never as agile as George or Fred, the six foot Ron wasn't great at creeping about. As far as he could tell in the gloom, the corridor was clear. The Ravenclaws were located past the Great Hall, on the southern tower of the school. It was a long ways away - much further than Dean had to go. Part of Ron questioned his choice; him and Dean both could have gone to Hufflepuff to warn them. After, they both could have gone to Ravenclaw.

No - Ron knew at once. If they had done that, the second he entered the Hufflepuff Common Room, no force in hell would get him to leave safety once more. As selfish as it was, he only had the strength for one trip into the mouth of death. He knew a Hufflepuff would have to fill his shoes - maybe Zacharias Smith - and he knew a Hufflepuff wouldn't do as good of a job as he would. If he was this scared, he could only imagine what a duffer would be like.

Ron pressed himself flat against the corridor wall as he drew to the end, and chanced a quick peek into the next hallway. He nearly hissed with fear as he noticed the back of two raptors in the moonlight, heading in the opposite direction. Luckily, they hadn't caught his scent. He jerked his head out of sight.

Judging by their backs, they were both third year students. They were speaking, but Ron couldn't make out their whispers. Ron glanced once more and saw that they had rounded a corner and vanished. Ron heaved a deep sigh. Once more, he was in the Department of Mysteries, his fear under control. It was not his first time under fire, and he acted like it.

"Here goes nothing," he murmured to himself.

He rounded the corridor and made after the Raptors - their destinations lie in the same direction. Maylee only detected me within about twenty feet, he thought to himself. And only after stopping for several seconds. If I can stay that far away from any raptor, I'll be okay. He hoped his logic was sound.

Not daring to spend very long in a corridor where two raptors had been on patrol, he glanced into the next one. The two raptors were in sight - they had stopped about thirty feet away and were conversing with two more, slightly older ones. He didn't recognize any of them, but knew they were younger Slytherins. One spoke in a louder voice than the rest.

"Malfoy says to forget about them," said one, his hissing tone driving a shiver down Ron's spine. "We have to go to the Great Hall now - Master is already angry enough as it is because of the delay."

There was a brief murmur of consensus, then all four of them turned cloak and strolled down the corridor.

Ron took a deep breath and took one extra precaution he hoped he wouldn't regret. He removed his sneakers and tucked them into a dark corner. He knew he had to pass the Great Hall... and judging by the sound of it, that was where they'd all be. With just socks over his large feet, he would be that much quieter.

Now shoeless, Ron followed after the vampires, not a sound echoing out from beneath the soles of his feet. They were none of the wiser and soon, they entered out into the main hall where the purple chains and age line had sufficiently quarantined the school from the outside world.

From there, they met up with a large group of twenty led by Vincent Crabbe - their emerald broaches glittered in the moonlight, and all twenty-four entered the Great Hall, closing the door behind them with a loud slam that nearly made Ron jump to the ceiling. Voices echoed from the Great Hall once more - it was the dull sound that Ron and Dean had both heard before. It sounded as though they might all be gathered inside.

Not wasting his chance, Ron began to rush by the Great Hall doors, paranoid someone might open them just as he was passing. He was pleasantly relieved to find no one opened the door. Yet, he froze for another reason all together. He had heard about the last voice he expected to hear. It was certainly in a duller tone than ever before, but it was unmistakably the voice of the Sorting Hat. Every part of him told him to get the hell out of here save one sliver of curiosity in his brain. This curiosity spawned a line of reasoning that, up until now, Ron hadn't considered.

Notifying the Ravenclaws is merely going to prolong the inevitable... unless we learn something about why they are doing this and how they can be stopped.

This line of reason forced Ron to take a huge gamble with his life. He had to assume all the vampires were inside and none were running late. He was too exposed in this hall; any vampire coming from any direction would see him. He drew up close to the door of the Great Hall and knelt down, putting his eye to the keyhole.

He was given a view of the vampires - all of them. They were all standing before the teacher's table. From his distance, Ron couldn't make out any of the teachers. Draco, however, he saw clearer than any. He was holding up the Sorting Hat - beneath it was the same chair Ron had sat many years before. The Sorting Hat was already in mid-song; Ron missed maybe the first two lines.

"... I called for unity, I called for strength,"

"I pleaded for years at extended length,"

"But Slytherin, too proud, ignored my call,"

"And thus were the first ones to fall,"

"So now, for the second time this year,"

"I sing a song on stage,"
"But this time I sing with fear,"

"To start the dawning of new age,"

"Four new houses of the night,"
"Named for old raptor clans,"

"Ruled majestically with fear and fright,"

"And scheming wicked plans,"

"House Arnsetta, house of might,"

"Who believe that strength is the only right,"

"House Go'dar, house of the charm,"

"Bewitching victims with word or song,"
"House Eonda, house of the wise,"

"Who plan out many life's demise,"

"House Xorsai, house of all sin,"

"Summoning demons to do their whim."

"If born with eyes, I'd shed my tears,"

"For Hogwarts has ended after all these years."

In a mockery of the Sorting Celebration, the former-Slytherin vampires applauded loudly - Ron shivered as the air came alive with hisses and woots. Not wasting any time, Ron fumbled through his robe pockets and withdrew an old receipt for a few pounds of candy at Honeydukes. He felt around for an ink and quill, but unfortunately, didn't have such on him. All he had was a sugar quill wrapper in his jeans pocket. It would have to do. He placed the wrapper upon the ground and waved his wand.

"Faraverto," he whispered.

The wrapper shifted into a quill before his very eyes - Transfiguration did have a purpose after all. The quill had enough ink for a few brief words.

Houses Arnsedder - might. Godar - charm. Ownda - Evil Ravenclaw. Soresigh - Demons. Starting School for Raptors.

Ron hoped he was spelling them right - truth be told, he was always horrible at it. He didn't know if this information would prove helpful... maybe a night with the braincases would help him solve this. Once the Sorting Ceremony began, Ron felt no need to see who got sorted where. He would be able to move with much more confidence, knowing now that the corridors were free as long as this ceremony was going on.

He stood up and proceeded to move to the Ravenclaw dorms when he came face to face with potentially the last face he'd ever see. Ron's voice caught in his throat - good thing, too; his cry of surprise would have gotten him killed much faster.

Goyle held up his hands and spoke.

"I'm not going to tell them," Goyle whispered. "Get out of here. Fast. Cappy's on the way and he's hungry."

Ron wanted to ask some questions, but before he knew it, Goyle had grabbed his arm and shoved him in the direction he was planning on going. Ron didn't question him - he ran for his life. He ran all the way to the Ravenclaw's Tower and didn't stop until he nearly collapsed in front of a mural marking the entrance. It was a drawing of an oak tree, its huge branches holding up a bounty of green leaves and supporting life of all kinds.

The tree suddenly grew a mouth and two eyes - it focused on Ron. "Password?"

"... I don't have one. Let me in!"

"No password - no entry," the tree said stubbornly. Its mouth began to vanish.

"No," pleaded Ron, his voice dropping to a whisper. "This is really important... really fucking important."

The tree's mouth returned. "What a dirty mouth you have - if I had the power, I would dock Gryffindor ten points."

"Look, the school's in danger," pleaded Ron. "The Ravenclaws are too - you gotta let me in!" Ron looked from side to side. "If you don't, we'll all die!"

"Maybe you are telling the truth, maybe you aren't," said the tree. "Go back to your Common Room."

"No, damn it all, listen to me!" Ron pleaded. "If I don't get in, I'm..."

There was a sudden scratching sound behind him a ways - it seemed as though someone were climbing up the stairs. He inhaled deeply and caught a whiff of coffee.

"No password. No entry."

Ron shot his eyes around the corridor. Like most of the corridors in Hogwarts, this one was rather bare. In fact, the only object he noticed was a wicker chair that had been placed outside the Ravenclaw Common Room - likely by Luna Lovegood, in hopes of making her own stays outside, after forgetting the password, enjoyable.

It would have to do - he began to thank Professor McGonagall for all those 'useless transfiguration lessons' he had to attend. He spun his wand into his hand once more, closed his eyes, and focused hard. The scratching began to draw closer - it was nearing the top of the stairs.

"Chalybamenti!" he whispered. The chair transfigured itself from a four legged seat to a very sharp sword. He entertained no notion of fighting with it, but it just might be enough to get him into the Ravenclaw common room.

He picked up the sword in his right hand and jabbed it into the tree. The tree yelped and closed it eyes as the point came to a rest right next to it.

"Let me in, or I'm cutting my way in!"

"ALARM!" it cried - it suddenly uprooted itself and leaped off the mural, moving through another tapestry next to it, and bounding down the corridor very quickly. The loud cry triggered Hogwart's defenses. The scratching faded away, but he heard the loud clamber of stone hitting metal - the golems that protected the school were on the loose and would be closing on him fast. They would grab him and bring him to the Headmaster for questioning. Only problem was Hogwarts had a new Headmaster... one that would execute him quickly.

Not to mention, even if they failed to catch him, the racket would attract a bunch of raptors before long.

Ron cursed - if he cut open the mural, sure, he might get through... but with a wide open portal, a vampire could easily charm his way in. Or worse, Goyle could just walk inside and invite all his friends in. No, that was no answer. Damn it... what could he do?

Seeing no harm in it now, Ron threw himself at the mural's frame, trying to shove it aside. The stubborn painting refused to budge. He slapped at it with his fists, crying loudly. "It's Ron Weasley from Gryffidnor - let me in!"

No one replied. Had the Ravenclaws been smart enough to ward their own portrait with a sound-block as well?

"No..." cried Ron. He turned his head from side to side and noticed two golems closing on him fast. They took up nearly the entire corridor and were as big as giants. Their large stone legs were slow moving, but easily covered ten feet each stride. They would be on him before long. He had a choice - he could rush down the stairs and hope the raptors weren't coming quite yet... or he could head up the stairs and try to find the Room of Requirement. There, he'd find a place to hide for the night.

That is, unless the upstairs golems caught him.

At this point, Ron gave himself a one and ten chance of surviving and decided he'd rather take his chances with the Raptors downstairs than the magic-proof golems up here.

Just before he began the mad dash that would have gotten him killed, the mural slide aside. He saw about fifteen shaking wands pointing at him, with Padma Patil before them all. She reached out, grabbed Ron by the arm, and yanked him inside.

"False Alarm!" cried Padma. She held Erin Slovise's Head Girl badge in her hand - she must have taken it when they cut her down. At once, the golems stood down, turned around, and began to clomp back up the other way. Ron's view of the outside was cut off when the mural slide back into place.

Ron looked at about thirty concerned Ravenclaws, all with their wands pointed at him. The blood rushed from his head.

"... The Slytherin's are dead. Harry wanted to let you know - make sure you can't hear anything on the outside, and don't let anyone into your Common Room."

That's an ironic message. Irony can be silly sometimes. He gave a quick laugh and then fainted.

* * * * * *

2:00 AM

After what felt like forever and a day, Harry and Blaise were expelled from Draco's journal with an added pa-tooi sound. Harry smacked into his bed while Blaise rolled off to the side, spinning head over heels. He hadn't had such a ride since the last journal he had been yanked into.

For a good five minutes, Harry and Blaise sat staring at each other stupidly - while they had no cause for panic at this point, Blaise seemed on the verge of it. Nevertheless, as intimidating as the event had been, they had taken a very large step in the right direction.

Harry crawled over to her and put his hand on her shoulder. Despite his own fears, his eyes gleamed with hope for the first time since the insurrection of the raptors.

"Tomorrow, we are going to find out all we can about this Jacob Raynos, and forget Draco Fucking Malfoy ever existed."

Blaise nodded her consent.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

50 minutes earlier

Blaise had never felt such a disturbing rush in the pit of her chest. It matched the time her parents had taken her to Disneyworld to ride on the largest rollercoaster in the world. It had flipped her, spun her and loop-de-looped her all day long, making it one of the most disturbing two minutes of her life. Nonetheless, when her feet hit solid ground, she missed the feeling.

Harry had landed on his feet, a meter to her right. He pushed the long bangs of his black hair out of his attractive green eyes eyes, removed his glasses, and unfogged them. He was clearly more nervous than he was letting on as well. Go figure, he fought a dragon with fluid and automatic grace, but something about entering the mind of Draco Malfoy put him at such unease.

They were standing in a corridor of Hogwarts. It was dark, but they found they could see fine. The rest of the world was in a grey-scale, not acknowledging brightness and darkness, just hue. It was like having night-vision goggles of some sort. Two voices were speaking in low tones and Blaise felt the urge to dive away. Harry grabbed her arm before she could make her move.

"Don't worry," he said. "They won't be able to see us - I've done this before."

At that time, two familiar faces rounded the corner at the end of the corridor and approached them. Blaise blinked with disbelief as Percy Weasley and Penelope Clearwater moved down the stretch of empty hallway, holding hands and speaking in low tones.

"... Black tried to kill Harry Potter?" Penelope was asking.

Percy shrugged, "Who's to know the mind of a madman... but, don't be afraid. I will protect you, my darling."

Penelope's eyes lit up. "Oh, that's so brave of you, my love. I feel so much better knowing you are nearby."

Had the situation been any different, she might have burst out laughing. Blaise arched her brow. That tart's a poster child for woman's oppression.

The two passed by Harry and Blaise and descended the stairs behind them. Blaise was about to ask Harry where to when suddenly, a young boy scurried out from beneath a tapestry of green and silver design. While Blaise was ready to see a thirteen year old Draco, nothing quite prepared her for the shock it would be. Harry seemed to recover quickly, moving toward the boy.

Draco gave a few confused looks around, and then raced in the direction Percy and Penelope had come from.

"C'mon," said Harry, taking after Draco. Blaise followed as well. Draco had not hit his growth spurt until he was fifteen, something he complained about ad nausea to Blaise. Thus, both students were able to keep up with the boy who had yet to clear five feet. This grey-scale dream world was strange... in one respect, it was too surreal to alarm her. Yet, certain realities continued to hold true. Wind raced across her face as she ran. Gravity held her in place on the floor. What if there was an explosion of fire... or she fell down the stairs? Would she be burnt or would she break her leg?

Blaise sighed away her inhibitions. This wasn't the way she usually thought, and she wasn't going to entertain these notions for a minute longer.

Draco descended down to the first floor and flattened himself against the side of a portrait when two other prefects - Markus Flint, the former captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team and Cedric Diggory - walked across Draco's path.

"Let me know if you need to go wee, Diggory - we can stop so you don't do it in your robe."

Cedric snorted. "Stick it where the sun don't shine, troll."

Both boys fell silent and rounded a corner.

Seeing Cedric again brought a slight pang of regret to her. He had always been a very good looking guy, and just about every girl had entertained a fancy for him at one point or another. She had imagined getting stuck in a closet with him and the sticky fumbling that would result, yet she knew she was neither the most attractive girl in the grade nor close enough to his age. Yet now, he looked so young in her eyes - maybe that was because they were the same age at this point.

Draco pushed away from the bookcase, wiping his brow. "That was too close," he said in a soft, young voice. Draco always had that habit of talking to himself; often Blaise would overhear him when he was getting changed in the bathroom or when he walked alone to a class. She started after Draco and realized she was alone.

Harry had frozen stiff, as if he had slapped eyes with a basilisk and winked. His face was impassive, but he was sweating and breathing deeply. At first, Blaise thought he might be having a panic attack.

"Harry?" she asked. "What's wrong?"

His eyes had tailed Cedric with his eyes until the boy was out of sight. He had even started walking after him. Blaise suddenly caught on, having been privy to all of Draco's diatribes about how the Daily Prophet should paint Potter as a murderer for what happened to Diggory. She grabbed his arm. "C'mon, we have to follow Draco - now's not the time to feel guilty. Tell me about it later."

Harry licked his lips and followed Blaise with noticeable effort.

Draco was making for a part of the school where very few ever had to go. No classes were conducted in the eastern most part of the first floor and the area was always dank and stuffy. This was the area of the school used primarily for storage - Filch also had his office somewhere down here. He slept during the days and enjoyed doing it as far away from any student as possible.

The corridor was slanting downward, gradually leading to the dungeon. Then, Draco suddenly hooked a left and walked down a corridor terminating in a supply closet and a solid, brick wall. Draco glanced from side to side, confirming no prefect was nearby, and closed his eyes.

"By Merlin, what am I doing," he murmured aloud. Eyes still closed, and stepped into the brick wall and vanished right through it.

Harry and Blaise exchanged confused glances and moved to follow. They, too, went through the illusion with ease.

The corridor continued and Draco withdrew his wand. 'Lumos,' he murmured, as a gray light blossomed from the tip. The location must have been very dark for Draco, but Harry and Blaise could see fine - hindsight is always twenty/twenty, I suppose, thought Blaise.

They arrived in an open room completely barren save four candlesticks positioned in such a way to form the corners of a square. In the center of square was an archaic engraving that sported color - a black widow spider with a bright red rune on its abdomen. The spider was circled by a silvery light. Draco took a moment to gather his thoughts and withdrew a scroll from the sleeve of his robe.

Blaise leaned over Draco's shoulder, reading the scroll as the boy unfolded it. To her surprise, the words were written in a language she had no familiarity with.

Draco withdrew his wand and jabbed the parchment once. While he seemed to know what he was doing, he was clearly terrified. His wand shook and the parchment rattled. It was as if he were being given mental instructions. The words began to shift and take form on the parchment as something more recognizable.

Draco strode into the circle, onto the spider. He pushed back his blond hair and, with a tremulous voice, began to read.

"Restless spirit, sleep no longer; obey no more the order of Old,"

"Death to life, life to birth, spirit back from the demon sold,"

"Pure of blood is the one who calls, and answer you must..."

"Rise again - rise again from ashes and dust."

One of the candles ignited in a burst of blue flame.

"Ambitious spirit, vassal of the night - rise once more."

"Speak to me, confide in me, the secrets of ancient lore."

"See me fit to learn, and see me fit to lend,"

"The very essence of myself - my life to remove your ultimate end."

A second candle ignited.

Blaise and Harry watched, transfixed by the sight. Harry didn't seem as surprised to see Draco performing a demonic ritual, but Blaise, who had known Draco most of his life, couldn't believe what she was seeing. There was no way Draco could have stooped to this level of depravity. This wasn't Draco casting this spell... it simply couldn't be. Sure, Draco had a bit of a malicious side, but not even in the prime of his angst would he see this as a good idea.

He must have the Imperius Curse placed on him, she deduced. Or, perhaps, he was manipulated into believing this was a good idea somehow. Whatever it was, Draco wasn't acting of his own volition. He couldn't be!

"Blood, ashes, spirit and skin - bind,"

"Ambition, cunning and drive - return,"

The third candle erupted.

"Power, hunger and pride - remain,"
"Avarice, envy and wrath - rise,"

Draco wiped the sweat from his face and practically ejaculated the final line, as if he had been tortured upon a rack and his resolve finally gave in.

"Reign once more, o' son of Cain!"

The fourth and final candle exploded. The flicking blue flames on each wick rose like blue lances. A spark jumped from one of the candlesticks, striking another. Then again, then again... soon, the air was alive with blue lightning. Draco, surrounded by a cage of electricity, could not flee, though his panicked expression showed how much he wished to.

Then, the air before him began to rip and tear, like someone from another plane of existence was slicing a hole into this reality. A bright red light, the color of brimstone, began to fill the room - a glaring contrast to the grey scale that Blaise had grown used to. Draco held up his hands to his face and nearly staggered back to the wall of electricity on the other end of the spider emblem, as if afraid flames would engulf him. The portal took the shape of a sarcophagus and from its depths strode a man. He seemed distant at first, but grew in size as he neared the opening. A few seconds later, he strode out.

He was a raven-haired man, his hair was slicked back to his skull and looked as hard as stone. His face was sheet white and his robes were billowing green and black. Upon his shoulders was a blood red mantle with a long satin cloak billowing out behind him. His brows with thin and potent, slanting over strange solid eyes the orange color of fire.

The electricity ceased. The portal remained, and the candles diminished to somber, blue tongues.

The man didn't speak - he merely lifted one hand. He wore thick, black gloves worn away around his fingers. Draco looked into the man's flickering orange eyes - his face stiffened, and he walked toward the man, compelled to by the superior will.

"I knew you could do it, Master Malfoy," said the man, his calm tone rolling over Blaise and filling her with an unjustified sexual burn. She fought against this feeling, but couldn't help but gasp. "Now, to make this ritual complete..."

The man drew a dagger from his belt, and Blaise shrieked. Yet, the man didn't use it upon Draco... instead, he slit his own wrist - a suicide cut that splattered the young boy with his blood. The man grit his teeth and closed his eyes. He held his wrist before Draco's mouth.

"Drink," ordered the man.

Draco, not in control of his own body, did as he was bid. He grabbed the man's hand and put his lips to the cut. The second he made contact, Draco broke free of the mental domination - a whine of panic escaped him and he tried to pull away. The man slapped his other hand into the back of Draco's head, forcing him to continue drinking.

"I confide in you the essence of my blood and my name - Jacob Fornin Raynos. Three years and three days after tonight, when Hogwarts is at its weakest, I will return to harvest my blood. When suffered the burden of my appetite three times, you will not die, but be born again; the Head Boy of a new order. The first raptor in six-hundred years, you will spawn a progeny of faithful followers and together, we will begin once more."

Draco cried out, attempting to pull free with all his might. Tears ran down his cheeks - first time Blaise had ever seen him cry. She wanted to go over and help him and even made a move to do it, but Harry stopped her. He knew as well as she did that it was a pointless gesture.

At last, Raynos released Draco. The boy fell to the ground, his face covered with blood. He was spitting up wads of blood, sobbing with terror. Raynos gripped his wrist and began to stagger away.

"Three years and three days, Master Malfoy - until then, live. And live well."

Raynos stepped back through the portal - it sealed behind him.

For the longest time, Draco sobbed into his hands. "Why... why..." cried Draco, over and over again, affirming Blaise's suspicions that Draco hadn't been acting of his own accord.

Harry sighed, and ran his hand through his head. "Damn it, Malfoy - I knew you were a sick little bastard... but why indeed..."

Blaise was about to answer when suddenly, a voice behind them beat her to the punch. "Why, Potter?" asked a scathing, condescending voice. Harry and Blaise both spun around to see Draco standing behind them - a Draco her age dressed in colorful Hogwarts robes.

The young Draco vanished and both were silenced by surprise.

"You couldn't tell?" continued Draco. "It was rape... plain and simple. He tricked me into coming down here. I was young and stupid and when I realized what I had done, it was too late. He dominated me, made me suck his blood and used me as a vessel for three years and three days to reattach himself to our world." Draco scowled, and looked away. "When he was strong enough to rise again and when Hogwarts was at its weakest, I knew he would feed upon me until I was dead."

"Malfoy!" exclaimed Harry, only now catching up. "Wait a minute... how the hell...? How can you be talking to us in the present? This is suppose to be just a memory... or something..."

Blaise nodded, unable to find her own tongue.

"Just because you cracked the mystery behind Tom Riddle's journal doesn't make you an expert."

"How did you know about that?"

Draco snorted, "My father told me last year, when he thought I was old enough to handle the truth."

"So - wait," Blaise said - she was even further back than Harry was. "This is really you, and not some message left for us or something?"

Draco's gaze softened when he looked on Blaise and gave her a soft nod - but no further words.

"Hang on," began Harry. "This makes no sense whatsoever - you were KILLED. How could you be alive and well within your own past?"

Draco shook his head. "You don't understand anything about this, Potter - I'm not alive in my own past. I'm alive in this journal." He gestured toward the area surrounding himself.

Harry shook his head and even Blaise was confounded.

"But Tom Riddle wasn't alive in his diary... he was just a figment of his own past..." Harry began.

Draco shook his head, "Do you honestly think that, when the Dark Lord wrote his journal, he had the faintest idea that he would die?" Draco shook his head. "Of course not - he was our age, too powerful and too arrogant. After the mental ravaging I took this night, I knew I had no chance to fight off Raynos. Therefore, I looked for ways to cheat death. I wrote in my journal to keep me sane, but never intended on this to become a vessel for my entity... until my father told me about Riddle's journal, that is. I knew I could use my journal for the same thing, and last year, when Umbridge took over the school, I asked her for free access to the Restricted Section to research duties vital to my post. She agreed, and I learned how to make this journal into what it is now."

Draco continued. "You see, since I knew I was going to die, I infused a very large part of myself into this journal in the last few days before I was killed. I was very weak and sluggish up until the final feeding - not just from loosing my essence to Raynos, but from placing much of myself in these pages. I made this diary much more than a figment of myself - but rather most of myself. When I died, the soul I had bound into this book drew the rest of me inside along with it."

Harry cocked his head, "Are you kidding me? This sounds too far-fetched to be true."

"That was the easy part," rebuked Draco. "It's not so hard to prepare a phylactery if you know the first thing about Dark Arts. The hard part is using it to come back to life without going mad."

"What do you mean?" asked Harry.

"I had to hope that someone would pick up my journal and read it during this crisis - that's why I left it on my desk." Draco frowned and looked at his shoes. "Had neither Goyle nor Blaise picked it up when they did, it may have been too late. I may have been stuck in these pages with nowhere to go and no one to talk to for all eternity."

"Man!" exclaimed Harry, "Why would you risk such a thing?"

Draco fixed Harry with an angry glare. "Because..." He trailed off, his frowned wryly. "... I fear death more than insanity."

Blaise reached out on instinct and found that she could indeed touch Draco. His face was soft and warm, as she always remembered it to be. Despite being trapped in his own journal, he managed to keep himself so calm and collected. What a trying experience this must have been for him. Even Harry seemed to be looking at him with something less than hatred.

"How do we bring you back to life?" she asked, dropping her hand.

"There are two ways," said Draco. "One..."

"... is absolutely out of the damn question," interjected Harry. "I saw how Riddle tried to do it. I wouldn't even sacrifice Zacharias Smith to bring you back to life."

"Don't be so quick to say that," Draco said, a scowl upon his face.

"What's the second way?" asked Blaise.

Draco sighed, "It's even more of a long-shot than anything - you would have to incapacitate me... the raptor that has stolen my body, mind you... and transfer my essence back into the raptor's body. There, I will do a battle of will with the demon, and either win or loose. Either way, you won't know I've succeeded until you release my body. If I suddenly attack you, I've failed. If I don't, I've succeeded."

"Then, we will do that," Harry said. "It's a real long shot - you're right. Can any of the others be saved in a similar way?"

Draco shook his head, "Unless they've prepared phylactery... no. Only those skilled in the Dark Arts could do it."

Blaise knew that much of Draco's summer holiday was spent learning Dark Arts. After his father had been imprisoned, he had sworn revenge against Harry to such a great degree that he had forced his mother to sign him off as an apprentice to a dark wizard somewhere in Knockturn Alley. Now, she suspected that revenge on Harry wasn't his only motivation.

"It's what's kept the Dark Lord alive," added Harry. "Isn't it? He has a phylactery somewhere in Albania... he told me that's where he went after he nearly died that night. He lurked in a forest until Quirrell found him."

Draco shrugged. "I don't know." He then looked long and hard at Harry. "You're going to help me come back to life?"

"Yes."

Draco blinked. He seemed surprised. "Why, just out of curiosity?"

Harry looked long and hard at Draco. "Because..." Then his voice hardened. "Because I know you Malfoy - you aren't telling me something. I refused to help you, you'd bribe me with that knowledge. You aren't GOING to tell it until you get brought back to life, are you?"

Draco recoiled, and then narrowed his eyes. He even managed a slight smile. "You are brighter than I thought, Potter."

"Draco?" asked Blaise, her voice leaping an octave. "Draco, without all the information you know about Raynos... how are we going to bring you back to life? I've seen these raptors in action. You - um, I mean the raptor who took your body - nearly dominated me and had me helpless before you - if you hadn't let me go, I'd have been killed. If we can't protect ourselves against that, how can we hope to incapacitate a raptor?"

"Simple," said Draco. "Don't choose that way - find someone who isn't all that important and sacrifice him or her to me. Let me feed off them, come back to life, and then, I'll tell all."

Blaise drained, her face stretching with disbelief.

Harry just narrowed his eyes, anger building within his chest. "You really are your father's son, you miserable snake."

Draco smirked, "Think of it this way, Potter - ask everyone in Gryffindor if someone would be willing to sacrifice themselves to learn how to save the rest of you. You'll likely get ten volunteers at least, I bet. Then just pick the one you like the least."

Harry shook his head. "You are a sick fucking bastard, you know that? You can just rot in here for all eternity!"

"If you don't want to do that, you can just try your luck against my Raptor self," Draco suggested with a shrug. "Doesn't make much difference to me - just know this. I am bound to Raynos as intimately as you are bound to Voldemort. I am the only one who stands a chance at beating him. Without me, everyone will die."

"You're an unimaginable bastard."

It was not Harry that spoke those words, but Blaise, without even realizing it. Draco looked at Blaise and a pang of regret seemed to pass over him. For a moment, he seemed to regret what he was doing, but that moment past.

"I'm a realist - I don't believe Potter has a shot in hell at isolating and beating Draco-raptor. I'm sure he might have a shot at outright destroying it, but not incapacitating it." Draco shrugged. "The only way I see myself coming back to life is if someone is either willingly or unwillingly drained of their life essence... and frankly, better someone else than me."

"Fuck you, Malfoy," Blaise said. "I can't believe I thought you were my friend."

Malfoy shrugged again. "I hope you reconsider before it's too late."

With that, Draco waved his hand, and both Harry and Blaise felt the world falling away from them.