The Inner Darkness

Chapter 4: Unyielding Stone and Uprising Chaos

Some say that an army on the march rattles even the bravest of hearts. The sheer sight of numbers of angry, sour faces has been enough to bring fear to even the most orderly of minds. Yet, if there was one man who could stand against the entire world and not blink an eye, it was Headmaster Dumbledore.

Harry had to admit, the kindly old man looked shocked when a knock sounded upon his door and after bidding entrance, the entire Gryffindor fifth year class and Sora marched in and began speaking at once, forming an indecipherable jumble of sound. Fawkes, the magnificent phoenix, tucked his head protectively under his wings as the sound echoed off the bookshelves and walls of Dumbledore's office.

The old wizard scratched his beard and sat back, with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes, as the nine teenagers vented and yelled, getting no closer to conveying their meaning than they had a moment ago. After a full minute of taking it all in stride, the old man held up his hand, at once silencing the entire congregation.

"One at a time, please," he spoke, in his soft, non-confrontational voice. "Harry, why don't you explain what is going on?"

Harry strode forward, his green eyes burning with determination. "Snape just took one-hundred and seventy..."

"Professor Snape," corrected Dumbledore, looking at Harry wearily. With the bat of a single brow, Harry got another message. Dumbledore expected better from him.

"Professor Snape," clarified Harry with a blush of his cheeks. "He just took one hundred and seventy points from us, gave us all three detentions and failed us on our midterms!"

The Headmaster sank back into his red cushioned chair and gave his beard a considering scratch. An amused, knowing smile crossed his face.

"Did you trigger the beginning of the Apocalypse itself, Mr. Potter? If so, I would have been displeased as well. Perhaps I might have even given you four detentions."

As if waving a magic wand and casting a spell, the tension in the room melted away like a snow cone in the tropics. The angry faces calmed and a simple sense of relaxation fell over the students. Harry could not help but be calmed by the Headmaster's quirky sense of humor.

"Does everyone have the same grievance about Professor Snape's punishment then?" prompted the Headmaster.

All of them nodded.

"Then I need only hear it once," commented Dumbledore with his soft tone. "I am certain Harry will convey the thoughts of the rest of you as vigorously as nine screaming banshees."

His masterful words struck everyone like a fencer, disarming them of their metaphorical blades. A slight chuckle escaped from Seamus' mouth, and the rest of the Gryffindors seemed relieved. Everyone save Harry, turned to go.

"Oh, Sora," asked Dumbledore kindly, "Please stay as well."

Within a moment, the Headmaster's office cleared out with everyone save Harry and Sora.

"Now then," began Dumbledore, leaning forward. "Please tell me what has happened, Harry."

And so, Harry recanted the short history of their potions lesson, mentioning Snape's late arrival, his waspish attacks on Sora, and Harry's point losses for defending him. He was disconcerted to mention Sora's insult upon Snape, but he knew that if he didn't, Dumbledore would see through him like paper. There were a lot of things that Harry was good at but lying was not one of them.

The Headmaster remained calm, though a frown visibly painted itself upon his face. Once Harry finished, the Headmaster folded his hands and rested them upon his desk.

"It seems that you feel Professor Snape has been rather harsh with his point deductions. What, however, do you think is a fair punishment for what has happened?"

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but his voice caught in his throat. Sora blinked disbelievingly. "What? - Er, well, we didn't do anything wrong. Snape is just..."

"Professor Snape," corrected the Headmaster, a small hint of firmness in his tone.

Harry flushed red, frustration creeping back into his system. "Professor Snape was just trying to find a reason to fail us and insure Slytherin wins the House Cup! It's not fair!"

Dumbledore shook his head. "Professor Snape desires the House Cup just as badly as the students in his house. It is a badge of pride to lead the most proven students in this school. However, Professor Snape punishes accordingly and fairly, and what you have done warrants no less than the penalty assigned, I fear."

"What!" gasped both Harry and Sora at the same time, though Harry with much more disbelief. "But, with all do respect, Headmaster, Snape - er... I mean Professor Snape singled out Sora as a Muggle, and insulted him for it!"

The Headmaster looked pensive. "What did he say, exactly?"

Sora jumped in. "Well, he said, that Muggles have no place in his class, then he said that he hopes that I enjoy my stay at Hogwarts, after he took one-hundred and seventy points away."

"Not before you called him a snake, I trust?" inquired the Headmaster incredulously.

Sora shifted uncomfortably, "No, sir. Not the last part, anyway."

Professor Dumbledore frowned, disappointment clearly etched upon his face. "Here are the rules you have broken, from the way I see it, in order of the transgression: You brought a non-sorted student into a Hogwarts classroom. When he was asked to leave, you disrupted the class by refusing to obey. When a Hogwarts Professor took points away, your charge came to your defense by insulting him. Then, in actions if not by words, Harry, you allowed your fellow students to become mutinous and finally, you and your entourage left class without being dismissed."

Harry was completely speechless, unable to put up further defense while Professor Dumbledore sealed his fate with meaningful, soft words. It hurt Harry to see that look of sorrow upon Dumbledore's face. That, by far, was more discouraging than any detention Snape might give. The Headmaster had expected more from him, and he had failed him.

"I understand Professor Snape is not a very popular teacher among Gryffindors, and that was the catalyst for this rebellion, rather than your opposition of him. Therefore, I shall not revoke your Prefect status, as Professor Snape will no doubt request. However, one more act such as this will force me to take measures."

Harry looked at his shoes, as anger, frustration and shame filled his chest.

"The points Gryffindor has lost and the three detentions shall serve as a reminder that, no matter what authority you have as a Prefect, the Professors at Hogwarts are to be treated with the utmost respect."

"But, Headmaster," pleaded Sora, taking a step forward. "Harry didn't do anything... it was me, I insulted him. I guess I'm just not used to hiding my thoughts."

Dumbledore nodded respectfully to Sora. "That you did. However, as Prefect, Harry should have been the first to scold you, instead of support you. A prefect at Hogwarts is held to high expectations and is not a position to be accepted without responsibility."

"What should I have done, Professor?" sighed Harry with defeat. "I still think Sora is in danger, and it is my duty to protect all the students who call Gryffindor their home... even from Hogwarts Professors, if they are threatening their safety. That is one responsibility I have as well."

Harry earned a bit of ground back with Dumbledore. The old man looked at him thoughtfully. "You have a point, Harry. Professor Snape asked you to take Sora out of the room, and you should have done that, and come straight to me. We would have sorted out this business without delay."

As quickly as Harry felt himself pushing out of the corner, he was slammed back into it without a logical retort.

"You're right," groaned Harry, lowering his head.

Dumbledore nodded, his look of disappointment slowly fading and the twinkle in his eyes returning. "Because I feel that Professor Snape has modestly erred in his responsibilities as well, by not respecting the duties allowable by your station, I will speak to him about allowing your class to make up their exams. I will also clarify the nature of Sora's stay with us. He shall be allowed to attend class with you without further harrying. That, I fear, is all I can do for you."

Still feeling a heavy weight in the pit of his stomach, Harry nodded weakly.

"Is that all?" asked Professor Dumbledore sternly.

"Yes, sir," replied Harry mournfully. Harry thought there was something else he had wanted to say to him, but in light of the circumstances, he could not remember.

"Then, good day Harry," said Dumbledore, bidding farewell.

Without another word, Harry turned to go, followed by a very depressed looking Sora.

* * * * * *

"Harry, I'm so sorry," reproached Sora mournfully as he followed Harry down the flight of stairs, leading from the Headmaster's office. "I didn't think."

Harry glanced back to Sora, with a narrowed brow. He did not wish to talk about this right now, not after what just happened. It wasn't that he blamed Sora; he didn't, but the boy just did not understand how strict Hogwarts was. Perhaps where he came from, a certain level of informality was allowed. Oh who was he kidding? Thought Harry grimly. What was Sora trying to do, insulting Snape right to his face like that? It was irrational. Harry had argued with Snape many times before, especially when he felt he was in the right, but he only once let it get out of hand during his third year. Even then, he had not insulted Snape to any great degree. He had just defended himself vigorously. Sora's insult was way out of line.

"I am sorry too," replied Harry, looking forward again and not slowing his pace. "All of our hard work... gone in the blink of an eye."

Sora sighed. "It is alright to be mad with me. I screwed up."

"Just stop, alright?" muttered Harry stubbornly, looking back to Sora firmly. "To answer your question, yes, I'm mad at you, only because there is no one else to be mad at."

"Hey," retorted Sora, recovering a bit of guile. "I told you I'd just leave... you're the one who wanted me to stay. Why are you so pissed at me?"

Harry continued walking, shaking his head. First, the kid tells him it is ok to be mad at him, then he is asking why. Could he get any more contradictory?

"I was doing my job, and things were going fine until you insulted him."

"Going fine?" retorted Sora. "How'd you figure? He yelled at me, you yelled at him, he insulted me, I insulted him... in what way was that under your masterful control?"

Harry balled up his fists in agitation and turned around, stomping his foot emphatically. He jabbed his finger into Sora's chest. "I said stop. What part of that did you not understand? Don't make me take more points from..."

Sora arched a curious brow at Harry, his face turning fuchsia with anger. Harry blinked and looked down at his finger. A swell of humiliation filled his cheeks like a balloon. Good god, I am turning into Percy, he realized, as he removed himself from his own mind and looked at the picture from a third person perspective. Harry Potter was standing an inch or two away from a boy, his finger was prodding into his chest and worst of all, he was talking about removing points from his own house.

"Sorry," replied Harry, lifting his finger from Sora's chest and turning around. "Look, just forget it, alright? Snape's a git and it was not your fault."

Sora nodded, the red blush to his cheeks fading. "It's alright... I'm still sorry, and it's ok to be mad, but, when you rubbed my face in it, it sounded like an insult."

Harry suppressed a second wind of frustration by biting his lip. Like Percy or not, this boy was just asking for it. He always had to get the last word, and would continue his subtle jabs until Harry fell silent or changed the subject. Deciding on a wiser recourse, he remained silent and just continued walking. In a way, Sora reminded him of Ron. Prideful and willful to the grave, it did not matter whom he had to silence in order to have his way.

They arrived back to the Gryffindor Common Room and were greeted by a mob of students, crowded anxiously around the door. More than just the fifth year class was present, for among the faces, Harry noticed representatives from just about every year, anxiously awaiting the bad news he was about to tell them.

"Well?" demanded both Weasley twins at the same.

"What's the verdict?" asked Ron, sounding afraid to ask.

Harry lowered his head and repeated to them to bad news. "The point loss remains, putting us into dead last by over eighty points."

The entire common room broke out into shouts of outrage. Most of the anger was directed at Sora, who took a defensive step back.

"It's that Muggle's fault!" barked a sixth year.

Harry held up his hands, with look of slight panic. "I have assumed full responsibility..."

"But it wasn't YOUR fault, Harry," protested Colin Creevey, who also glared at Sora. "Only he could have lost us that many points. Snape would have only taken fifty from you!"

Sora retreated another step, while Harry's jaw fell agape at Colin. Never had he heard the curly-haired, goofy boy point such a finger at someone else.

Only Ron, Seamus and Hermione seemed to be frowning sympathetically at Harry, as even the loyalty of the fifth year class seemed to be falling apart with the rest of their members.

"Yeah," voiced Dean aggressively, "I don't know why I stood up for that bushy haired git anyway! Now, I've got three detentions as well!"

"Belt up, Dean," retorted Seamus, "Snape was just looking for a way to knock us down so we'd never get back up. Can't anyone else be seein' that?"

Lee Jordan looked at Sora angrily, "Well, maybe some of the Slytherin's gave him a bribe to insult Snape and cost us the House Cup. I wouldn't put it passed them to try and get him to sabotage us from the inside."

"Yeah!" squeaked a soft voice, turning Harry's head with surprise to see young Matty Harrison, the first year who had fowled up a potion that had put his entire class in the Hospital Wing, during Sora's arrival. "I heard it all! Prefect Malfoy offered him a place in Slytherin dungeon to rest up... he probably would have accepted if Dumbledore didn't forbid it!"

"Wait a minute," barked Ron, moving over to Matty. "Hush up, kid. That's not the way it went... right, Harry?"

Harry winced defensively. "Well, at the time he didn't even know what Slytherin was..."

That answer was not good enough for anyone. Sora's eyes widened as the mob closed in again.

"Now look guys," protested Harry, putting himself between his classmates and Sora. "What exactly do you plan to do to him?"

Dean slammed his fist into his palm. "Oh, I was just thinking about giving Slytherin back their little spy in near-mint condition."

"What are you guys talking about!" yelled Sora vehemently. "I am not a spy for anyone!"

"That has yet to be proven," noted Colin darkly, as him and a dozen Gryffindor students closed in. "Come on, Harry... kick him out!"

"I will not," replied Harry, crossing his arms firmly. "I expected more support from you, Colin."

Colin's angry expression fell and his bantering ceased; he kicked at the ground bashfully, obvious shame upon his face. Wasting no time, Dean shoved him aside and stepped forward. "Kick him out... or we will do it for you."

Spurred by Dean's thoughtless words, Hermione and Seamus rushed out from the crowd and joined Harry by his side. Ron, however, whirled on Dean and pushed his shoulder fiercely. "Back off!" ordered Ron. "Harry's the Prefect and he said Sora is not going anywhere! Get off it!"

Ron's words had little effect, however. Dean seemed to be rather uncompromising on the point. He leaned back into Ron, yelling in his face. "I earned twenty points in Charms yesterday for completing that complex illusion Flitwick had given for us to work on!" He pointed an accusing finger at Sora. "That damn Muggle stole those points from me, probably because the Slytherin's convinced him to. I refuse to stay with him in the Gryffindor tower! Who is with me?"

A surprising amount of Gryffindors voiced affirmation - well more than enough to concern Harry. Ron opened his mouth to speak, but the words were stolen from his lips.

"Stop it, all of you!" Hermione protested loudly, trying to bring some semblance of order to her housemates. "Look at yourselves!" she continued firmly, her voice cracking like a whip, commanding everyone's attention. "You call yourselves Gryffindors? You are acting like Slytherins! Snape is the git, not Sora. He just tried to defend himself... it was just a loophole in the rules that Snape exploited to take as many points from us as possible!"

Ron and Dean remained locked in a very threatening staring competition from less than a foot apart. Hermione put a hand on Ron's shoulder. The redheaded boy backed away from Dean, disarmed by Hermione.

Hermione never ceased to amaze Harry. When she wanted to, she could command the attention of a room, just like Dumbledore could. She was always precise and very heartfelt when she used this little gift of hers, able to change the reactions of many people in one sincere speech. He could not help but feel totally compelled and strengthened by her words.

Dean also withdrew, taking a few calming breathes. The tension eventually unwounded, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Ron also looked relieved; the worst was over.

And then, taking them all by surprise, Dean exploded into motion and rushed passed a flatfooted Ron. Harry reacted fast, but was not fast enough to cover Sora. Dean grabbed two handfuls of Sora's robes and slammed him firmly into the wall. Sora did not react with anything more than a fierce glower; the wind was not even knocked out of him.

"If you cost Gryffindor anymore points by your celebrity stay with us, boy, I'll make you sorry," he hissed ominously, pinning Sora against the wall as he spoke.

"Dean!" called out Ron, who grabbed Dean's shoulder in a firm grip. "Let him..."

Sora suddenly grabbed Dean's wrists and pulled himself free with an impressive surge of strength. The boy then stepped behind Dean with his left foot and shoved him. Dean, more used to spell casting than fighting, went down in a heap.

Ron, Harry and Seamus were on top of Sora immediately. Ron and Harry took hold of his arms, while Seamus put a firm hand into his chest. However, Sora seemed content not to continue his attack.

"Don't threaten me again," hissed Sora, with power in his voice and passion in his expression, as his eyes narrowed to mere slits. Dean pulled his wand from his robes, training it upon the boy. Before he could make good on any hexes, however, Hermione bent down and snatched it from his hand.

"Dean, you're acting like a child!" she chided angrily. "Stop it!"

Dean hushed up and listened to more of Hermione's scolding while the rest of the Gryffindor class lost attention for a second time. Most cast Sora fleeting, distasteful glances as they parted.

"Can we let you go?" asked Harry, holding Sora's lean, scrawny arm.

Sora looked at Harry coldly, swallowing a breath of air as he spoke. "You didn't have to grab me in the first place; I was done."

Harry and Ron let Sora's arms fall to his side. Seamus stood down, lowering his restraining hand. Without a word, Sora turned about, and rushed toward the portrait hole, leaving hastily. The Boy Who Lived rolled his eyes to the ceiling and let off a frustrated sigh. "It never ends..."

Ron gave Harry a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Hey mate, you did alright. There is nothing more hostile than Gryffindors, after loosing a house cup to Slytherins. You handled it good."

With a sigh, Harry turned to follow Sora. "I'll be right back, Ron... and thanks for sticking up for me..." Harry then looked to Seamus and Hermione. "You too, guys."

Hermione smiled thinly while Seamus nodded and gave Harry a mock salute. "Just keep him out of trouble... I be havin' no love for the git, but after saving this school a few times, I reckon I owe you my support."

Harry cracked a slight smirk and rushed off after Sora.

* * * * * *

The quest for Sora ended quickly and abruptly. Sora was furiously trying to pull himself free of a trick step. Harry learned this was futile from his experience last year. Harry calmly descended the steps, his hands in the pockets of his robes.

"Need some help?" asked Harry lightly, as Sora grit his teeth, trying in vain to free his body. He was up to his neck and held fast, however.

Sora looked back to Harry with a cold frown. Through his narrowed eyes, Harry could see his hot passion. "I can handle myself."

Harry leaned against the railing, a step above Sora, while the boy continued his vain quest to pull himself free. To his credit, he had freed his arms, which was more than most could boast. He grunted and groaned as he clawed furiously at the railing. Finding the effort futile, he tried to pull himself up on the stair above. He had spirit; Harry had to give that to him. To have come so far by himself, still intact, suggested a very powerful force of character.

"I'm sure you can," commented Harry aloofly. "But sometimes everyone needs help."

Sora gasped with defeat and stopped struggling, realizing the futility of escape. Harry calmly extended his hand to him. Sora stared at it suspiciously, like a contract offered to him by a demon. He slowly grasped it, and allowed Harry to pull him free of the step.

"I would like to be alone... " stated Sora plainly, once he was free.

"You have an entire room to yourself in the tower," riposted Harry dryly.

Sora stared at Harry, regarding him with open hostility. "... as far away from your fellow Gryffindors as possible."

"Then, I must come with you," replied Harry with the same, lofty voice that Percy might have used, stating school policy. "I'm not to let you out of sight."

Sora narrowed his ocean-blue eyes. "According to your own authority..."

"Yes," came the answer, deadpan.

"Well," announced Sora as he pulled Seamus' old robe about him tightly, "Find a new policy or start calling yourself a kidnapper. You aren't in charge of me! I am going to go wherever I please!"

Harry raised a hand, attempting to silence him. "Right you are... but I'm following you."

As if Harry had challenged him someway, Sora turned and began racing down the stairs. Harry followed closely, moving with similar speed. Both boys reached the bottom of the steps, and Sora turned on the dime to his left. After shooting three hostile glances behind him, he stopped, whirling about dramatically. "Why are you doing this!" yelled Sora with frustration. "Don't you have anything better to do?"

"Plenty of things. In fact, just about anything is better than this," Harry answered coolly.

Sora took a step toward Harry. He did not come off threateningly, however, and Harry did not retreat. "Then go do something else! I can handle myself!"

"I can't do that," came the obvious reply, as Harry fought to keep his resolve.

"Get lost!" cried Sora, his angry expression beginning to slip, as depression became clear in his voice. "You don't care about me; all you want is to look like a responsible prefect, or whatever it is that you are!"

Harry crossed his arms, now his own anger getting the better of him. "I don't think you know me well enough to determine what I do and do not care about," he replied darkly.

"Take a clue!" ranted Sora, continuing his banter now backing away from Harry. "I don't want you here... I want to be alone!"

"To do what, exactly?" countered Harry, stepping forward and maintaining a constant distance between them. "To reminiscence on good times? To remember old friends? To think about when you were not in your present situation... your past maybe?"

Sora opened his mouth and raised his finger, but all that came out was silence.

"Of course not," Harry said, answering his own question. "You don't remember your past. You don't remember good times. You hardly even remember your old friends. This present situation is all you have, running from it isn't going to help!"

Sora cast his glance downward, allowing his long lashes to conceal his eyes. "I wasn't running."

Harry shot Sora a skeptic look.

"Oh, like you'd know about hard times anyway," riposted Sora, fighting his way out of the corner he worked himself into. "All you do is command people all day long and learn magic tricks. You don't know the first thing about what I'm going through!"

Harry arched one of his brows. "I don't know about hard times? Is that some kind of joke? Someone has tried to kill me every single year I've lived at Hogwarts! I caused the death of a classmate last year... don't you tell me about hard times!"

Sora swallowed, his resolve falling apart as he choked on his words. "Have you ever been pulled from one world and thrown smack into another!"

The irony of this conversation was so thick, Harry realized, that he was choking upon it, for he opened his mouth to speak, but could not formulate the words for a moment. At last, he chuckled, much to Sora's outrage.

"What's so funny!" he demanded, in a failing voice. "Am I a joke to you?"

Harry waved his hand at Sora dismissively. "Far from it."

"Huh?" inquired Sora artfully, his shoulders sagging.

Harry rested his hand upon marble banister at the bottom of the stairs. "I was raised by Muggles until I was e..."

"I don't even know what a Muggle is," muttered the bushy haired boy disdainfully.

Harry's face tinged with pink for a moment. "Sorry. A Muggle is a person who cannot use magic. It's not really an insult, unless you mean it to be."

"Whatever."

A frown crossed Harry's face. "Anyway, I was raised by them when I was eleven... I even still live with them during the summers, but I did not know the Wizarding World existed until... well, until Hagrid came and told me."

Sora looked rather unimpressed. "At least you had someone tap you on your shoulder and tell you. I got thrown through the Inner Darkness, lost my memory, and I am greeted by a bunch of kids that want to hang me!"

"Stop overreacting," stated Harry with a mild tone. "No one wants to... hang you. They are just upset, that's all."

Sora rolled his azure-blue eyes. "Oh yeah, sure. I got that impression when the lynch mob tried to send me back to the Slytherins in..." Sora lowered his chin, took a few deep breathes for show and pounded his fist into his palm, doing an impersonation of Dean. "Neahr-Mint Condishun."

His attempt at a British accent was rather laughable, but Harry did not find it all that funny.

"Look, I am sorry about that, ok?" replied Harry tersely. "Everyone has been a little tense lately, that's all. I do not think its because of you but... well, Snape's been on the edge, first exploding on first years, and then crippling Gryffindor, much more so than usual. Malfoy, well, he's been acting strange, Colin has been more confrontational..."

Harry continued, knowing that what he was saying could all be coincidence... but what if it was not?

"Ron's been itching for a fight, starting with Malfoy, and then trying for Dean... Ron hates fighting; he only fights when he needs too. And Dean, well, he's always been a bad joker, but, I've never seen him try to hurt anyone before..."

Harry trailed off for a moment, in consideration, as these suspect instances began to pile up in his head.

"That's not normal for them?" asked Sora, his head cocked.

Again, Harry froze, his head shaking from side to side slowly as icy realization began to seek in. "No... in fact, it's very abnormal. Usually, people at Hogwarts are very level-headed."

Sora managed a half-hearted chuckle. "Could have fooled me."

His own actions began to filter through his head. Never before had he placed blame on someone, nor had he been so aloof in his life. He had rebuked Ron for talking about rule breaking, he had threatened to report Malfoy for abusing his powers, he had shouldered the entire burden upon himself to challenge Professor Snape in class over something trivial, when the 'logical him' would have withdrawn. Finally, he had blamed Sora right to his face, told him he was mad with him, and nearly taken more points from Gryffindor, from himself, to keep him in line.

Harry shook his head slowly with denial. He surveyed the laces on his shoes as he put together a flowing train of thought. "Sora... I need to ask you a question, and I need you to think really hard about the answer."

Sora took a step toward Harry, his eyes prompting him to continue. "I'll do what I can..."

"Do you know what a Keyblade is?" asked Harry, with an imploring edge, thinking back to his talk with Seamus and Ron.

The word seemed to hang over Sora like a burdensome loadstone; he bit his bottom lip and began to search his head for the answer. Well, searching was a strange way to put it... he seemed closer to wrestling the answer from the back of his mind.

"Keyblade... Keyblade..." he repeated over and over again, trying to snatch a rogue snitch within his mind. His eyes traced themselves from his the top of his sockets down to his left hand, which gradually lifted, as if guided by its own accord. Harry watched with confusion as Sora moved his left hand over his heart.

"I know what a Keyblade is..." pronounced Sora disjointedly, rubbing the area directly above his heart. "How do you know...?"

Harry frowned thinly. "Because, it was used once to purge the Inner Darkness from this world, long ago."

"And what does this have to do with everyone being snappish?" asked Sora, who was still most puzzled.

"Think about it," declared Harry energetically. "A portal opens to the Inner Darkness out of the blue, you pop out, and within a twenty-four hour period, people have become so much - darker."

Sora shrugged helplessly. "I guess you might be right."

"I think so," replied Harry sincerely. "Now, look... you have got to tell me about the Keyblade. If that's it, then we can stop this before it gets worse."

"I don't know where it is," murmured Sora with a frown. "But, I know I should know where it is... but, my memory..."

Harry's face fell visibly, but nonetheless, he offered the other boy his hand. "Then, we'll find a way to return your memory to you. All you have to do is have faith in us. Deal?"

Sora, at last, raised half his face into a hopeful smile and shook Harry's hand. "Deal." After releasing Harry's grip, he took a step back. "Now, please... let me go outside, alone. I promise, I won't run."

Harry sighed, but at last nodded. "Fine. Don't be too long, students are not allowed outside after nightfall."

Sora nodded. "I'll be back for dinner," he said reassuringly. With that, the bright-eyed boy turned heel and continued out to the Main Hall.

* * * * * *

"If that's it, then we can stop this before it gets worse."

Draco smirked with amusement. He was pretending to listen to Millicent Bulstrode, who was sitting across from him in the Great Hall, eating as she spoke. She was talking to him about their recent Potions exam, or something. He had tuned her out in favor of the conversation between Potter and Sora. He rubbed the palm of his hand with his thumb, while considering their words, again eased by the dull pain in his hand.

"Now, please... let me go outside alone. I promise, I won't run."

At that, Draco leapt up, startling the skirt off Millicent. "Blaise!" exclaimed Draco, calling over the heads of his fellow Slytherins. Three seats down, the black-haired boy looked up from a conversation with two sixth years irritably. Upon seeing Draco, however, the boy's face broke into a leer. He bid his friends good-bye, and rose from his chair.

It was time to act.

The two Slytherins walked out of the Great Hall with great haste, pushing aside two younger Hufflepuff students to the ground.

"Alright, what is the name I'm going on?" asked Blaise, his brilliant green eyes gleaming like a serpent.

"Riku," said Draco softly. "That's Sora's best friend. Leave the details to me."

Blaise nodded, cracking his neck with a loud pop as he walked, as if preparing himself for a boxing match. "I need more to make it convincing."

"We don't have much to go on," snapped Draco firmly. "Make up some story involving a girl named Kairi... make it convincing. I overheard the git telling Potter about his dream. He is quite sensitive on the topic of Kairi."

"Ah," cooed Blaise. "Improvisation. This'll be fun."

Draco smirked evilly, "All we need to do is get the location of the Keyblade from him."

"You got a personality for this Riku, or should I just act like myself?" asked Blaise as they neared the entrance to Hogwarts, hesitating at the great, wooden doors.

"I've given it some thought since this morning," began Draco with a sly drawl. "By what Sora says, this Riku sees him with far less respect. Treat him as inferior, blow off any revealing questions, and whatever you do, don't let him touch you."

Blaise raised a thin, black brow with amusement. "So, in another words, act like myself?"

"Exactly," simpered Draco, with a snide, collected leer. "With luck, thoughts of his dear friend will bring the location of the Keyblade back to him. Once we have that, we have no further use for him."

"Great," said Blaise, taking a few deep breathes and closing his eyes. "What does this Keyblade do, anyway?"

Draco smirked and gave Blaise a pat on the back. "A collector's item that my father desires... nothing more. He'll reward you handsomely for your help."

That answer seemed to quell Blaise's suspicions, and he fell silent as they left the Main Hall.