The Inner Darkness

Chapter 5: Villains of a Sort

"I was a fool," stated Harry, swatting his fork aside and burying his face in his hands. He left his plate unattended; he was mourning his own pride during suppertime in the Great Hall. Sora had been missing for over an hour now. After Harry made a quick look around outside for him, he concluded that Sora had indeed lied and run off.

Seamus, Ron and Hermione looked at Harry sympathetically, neglecting their dinners.

"You had no idea he would take off like that," said Ron, putting his arm on Harry's shoulder. "Don't sweat it. Odds are he'll return once he realizes there is nothing around Hogwarts and Hogsmeade other than highlands for nearly a hundred miles."

Seamus, who was sitting across from Harry, nodded. "Right mate, don't be beatin' yourself up over it. Even if he gets to Hogsmeade, he ain't going anywhere fast without a single galleon to his name."

"Well, he had a responsibility," proclaimed Hermione loftily. "Though, I wouldn't worry about it, Harry. Sora made his choice, and he was rather disagreeable anyway. I did not like him from the start. I don't even know why, but something about him is just... so off."

Harry shook his head, ignoring a small twinge of pain within his right hand. He had felt it periodically, but it just didn't concern him right now. "That's no justification, Hermione. I didn't think he was so bad... he was just - oh, I don't even know. Headstrong might be the word. I really thought I had gotten through to him though."

Ron shrugged and spooned a bit of soup into his mouth. "People can be deceiving, Harry. Take, well, Slytherins for example."

Seamus chuckled upon hearing Ron. "I'll toast to that." He proudly hoisted up a cup of pumpkin juice.

"Anyway," concluded Harry, lifting up his chin and banishing the expression of depression from his face. "No sense worrying about him now. He'll return if he wishes. Now, we have to worry about detention with Snape."

Hermione sighed deeply. "I certainly hope he has something constructive to do with us. It would be such a waste of time to have us simply sit in our chairs for three hours."

"It's better than many alternatives," winced Ron. Harry had to agree with him; after thinking of all the unpleasant things that Snape could possibly do to them, sitting there was hardly an intimidating thought.

And so, the rest of the dinner passed by uneventfully. The boys finished their meals and talked about Quidditch; the conversation always seemed to shift in that direction. Hermione listened politely, though that was the extent of her involvement in the rough wizard's game. At seven, they rose and were joined by the other Gryffindor fifth years. The large group left the Great Hall and descended down into the dungeons, finding the Potions Room ajar and ready for them.

Harry, being the prefect and undoubtedly the bravest, pushed opened the wooden door. It let out a familiar, protesting grind as it swung open. Willing himself to be strong, Harry stepped through the doorway and into the room.

From the front of the dark and dank classroom, Professor Snape stood perched over a small apparatus, watching four potions cooking over a burner. His palms were driven firmly into the table and he rocked back and forth, shifting his weight from his hands to his feet. Apparently, he was excited about something; what that was, Harry did not want to know.

"Mr. Potter and company," greeted Snape with an icy tone, not looking up from his potions. "Sit down. All of you."

Harry and his companions complied quickly, sitting down at the desks in the back of the room. The further they could sit from Snape, the better. What followed next was a tedious and nerve wracking silence. Harry glanced to Ron, who was sitting next to him on his left. All Ron could do was shrug and remain silent. No Gryffindor would be speaking up first; fear of more hours squandered in future detentions kept them silent.

Eventually, Harry's mind wandered from the room and found other things to concern itself with. He was not really upset about Sora anymore, but what did concern him was their conversation at the foot of the tower. If the Inner Darkness was somehow seeping into this world corrupting everyone, things were bound to get worse before they got better. The only clue Harry had concerning this strange phenomena was Sora, but now he was gone. He had checked his room, he had checked outside, he had even looked for trails in the snow by the fringe of the Forbidden Forest, just in case Sora was as careless as he was headstrong. There were not many footprints in the snow outside, but he had found a few. Three had stopped by the lake and had returned to school, but other than that, there was no sign of a single track that would suggest someone ran off.

"The Headmaster has informed me," snapped Snape's slithering voice, bringing Harry's mind back into the room, "that it is his desire that you all be given a second chance to take your Potions exam."

Harry heard Hermione let out a sigh of relief. Snape was still standing in front of his room, looming over his potions.

"However, that shall wait until tomorrow evening's detention." His lips parted cruelly. "I have something special planned for today's three hour period."

Snape removed one of the potions from the fiery apparatus and set it upon a cooling stand. After a few seconds, the bubbles subsided within the orange liquid.

"Think he's going to turn us into frogs?" asked Seamus, leaning close to Harry and whispering.

Harry shrugged and whispered back. "At least..."

"Mr... Sora..." stated Professor Snape sharply, looking to the Gryffindors. "Come here."

Harry, Ron and Seamus exchanged nervous glances. Predictably, Sora did not reply; he could not hear him from wherever he was.

Snape combed each face within the room for a moment before finally asking. "Where is that boy, prefect?"

Fate just would not let up on Harry - he sighed, sounding little older than the first year he used to be. "I don't know, sir."

"Was it not your responsibility to never let him out of your sight?" asked Snape, his voice laced with cruelty.

Forcing back anger from his tone, Harry sighed. "Yes, it was, sir."

"I see," muttered Snape, balling his gnarled fingers into a fist of anger. "So, you are selective when it comes to your duties? They only seem to matter when you can use them to antagonize me."

Harry bit his lip with agitation. "Sora asked me to leave him alone for a few minutes, sir, and he ran off." Unable to hide his own displeasure, as well as put down the rebellion in his chest, he continued. "But, don't worry. You still have the rest of us to torment."

In a very surprise move, Snape drew his wand and flicked it at the orange potion that was cooling. With a snap, it surged from its position, as if hit by a heavy swat and shattered into the wall, making each Gryffindor wince. The contents of the liquid quickly evaporated upon touching air.

"Reparo," commanded Snape evenly; the bottle reformed itself, now empty of what he had been brewing. Without further explanation, Snape turned his attention to the other three potions. It became clear to Harry that the potion Snape had just brewed was specifically meant for Sora to drink. Apparently, others also shared his observation.

"Think that was poison?" asked Ron.

Harry shook his head. No, he knew Snape better than that. Snape was never malicious even if he was malignant. In fact, Snape had his rare few moments when he wasn't such a git. Despite the fact that he knew Snape was angry at the entire Gryffindor class, he had a sneaking suspicion that maybe, just maybe, that potion was going to do more help than harm.

"Professor," Harry ventured after considering the wisdom of his course. "What was that potion to do?"

The rest of the Gryffindors instinctively gasped, amazed that Harry would be so brazen as to ask. However, Snape rolled his eyes over to Harry and did not appear to be suspicious of Harry - well, not anymore than usual.

"It was a possible cure for his little Memory problem that I brewed," he stated thickly. "Not by choice, I assure you. Our good Headmaster deemed the information stored in his brain might prove helpful; in what way, I cannot imagine."

"Then, Professor, why did you get rid of it?" asked Hermione. "He might come back."

Professor Snape had such an intimidating way of crossing his arms, Harry noted. Instead of locking them together peacefully upon his chest, he shrugged deeply and grabbed the opposite bicep with each hand, as if squeezing the life out of his own arms.

"It must be imbibed moments after its creation," muttered the Potions Master dourly. "I shall not make another for him."

"What are the other three for?" questioned a timid looking Neville, pointing at the other three vials.

Professor Snape tightened his lips together in an amused smirk. "Funny you should mention them, Mr. Longbottom." He indicated the potions with his hand. One of them was a vibrantly glowing shade of gray, like a thin storm cloud backlit by the sun, while two were thick and black, like crude oil. "This is an experiment that you shall all partake in as part of your detention. While you are wasting my time tonight, you shall learn something - whether you like it or not."

Hermione seemed relatively relieved at the prospect, though Neville looked green with fear.

"Mr. Thomas," proclaimed Snape, looking to Dean, who was sitting next to Parvati and Lavender. "Come up to the front of the classroom."

Dean cast a look of fear to the three Gryffindor girls and rose hesitantly. With a slow crawl, as if he was approaching some kind of dragon, Dean stalked to the front of the classroom and stood before the Potions Master.

"Not every potion in this world need be imbibed," explained Professor Snape. "We have not dealt with contact potions for the most part, as most of them are highly illegal. Their effects can be very subtle and unwillingly deployed upon hapless targets."

All of the Gryffindors, especially Dean, swallowed nervously. Harry, however, recovered from his shock quickly. Snape would never do something illegal to a student and even if he did, he wouldn't tell them about it.

"Now, mind you," he continued, eying Dean with a mirthless leer, "many legal hexes, charms and curses can be deployed very subtly upon unwilling targets... however, very scant few of them are permanent, which is why the Ministry has not bothered outlawing most of the like."

Dean shuddered, but maintained his position directly opposite of Snape.

Professor Snape withdrew the jet-black potion from the flaming apparatus, holding it with one hand. At first, Harry wondered how he was able to do this, for the glass should have been extremely hot.

"Many touch induced potions are quite harmful, and their effects can last for days, months, years, lifetimes... and even forever, should the wrong effect be applied to the wrong piece of arcana."

He flipped off the cork to the potion and presented it to Dean.

"Take this."

Dean glared with a look full of distrust and reservation, first to the bottle and then to the Potions Master. In a shaking hand, he took the bottle from Professor Snape. Snape's amused look neither intensified, nor did it loose its mirthless, arrogant quality. Dean tilted his head back and prepared himself to drink.

"Do not drink that, Mr. Thomas," commented Snape lazily. "Put your finger in it."

If Snape had been trying to intimidate the rest of them, he succeeded admirably. Even Harry could feel a slight chill in the pit of his stomach; Ron gasped and Seamus' eyes widened with disbelief.

And Harry could tell that Dean, even though his back was to him, looked completely fearful.

"Professor... but..." stammered Dean, his voice sounding pathetically meek.

The Potions Master's eyes silenced Dean on the spot, shooting daggers of contempt. Swallowing nervously, Dean placed his finger within the black liquid. At once, the potion drained, sinking into his finger with a slurping sound, like a child draining the last of a tonic through a straw. Dean gasped as the empty bottle fell from his hand, right into Snape's waiting palm.

Dean promptly dropped to his knees, causing Harry to leap out of his seat in shock. There was no way that Snape was doing this! It was impossible! Snape would never go as far as to harm a student. It was idiotic, inhuman even!

But the proof was there before him. Dean's face twisted into panic, and to Harry's astonishment, wisps of green smoke began to orbit around him, as if rising from his skin and circling his body.

"How do you feel, Mr. Thomas?" asked Snape, his voice filled with determination.

Dean glared up at the Potion's Master, and from his slouched position on the ground, Harry could see Dean's face. It was masked with hatred and his eyes seemed to be glowing. His normal color was either brown or hazel, Harry could not remember. Now, they took on a shade of sunset orange, as if his eyes had erupted in a blaze.

"I'm... going to kill you for that...!" he hissed, his voice sounding quite unlike his own. Harry felt the air around him grow cold. Dean struggled to rise, his voice echoing in thee distinct patterns and tones, like two others were repeating his words a moment after speaking them. "I'm going to KILL you!"

Snape looked rather unimpressed. If Harry didn't know better, he would have deduced Snape had expected this. "Of course you will, Mr. Thomas."

Harry had not noticed it, but the Potion's Master had taken the glowing gray bottle into his hand just as Dean started to move around the table. There was no questioning his intent; to Harry's horror, Dean grabbed an empty potion flask, shattered it against the edge of the table, and approached Snape with the broken end.

Just as Dean approached, Snape jerked his hand toward him, emptying the contents of his gray potion and splattering Dean in the face. He grabbed his eyes, yelping with confusion. As his hands pulled away from his face, however, Harry saw that the liquid was gone. Dean was completely dry. His eyes had returned to normal, and he looked positively transfixed.

"My... what..." he stammered, looking from the shattered bottle in his hand to Snape's face, his own face pulled into terror. "It... I..."

"Sit down, Mr. Thomas," stated Snape, with a mundane, bored tone.

Dean placed the broken bottle upon the table, and stopped it when it started to roll off with a quaking hand. With a terrified nod and a dazed stagger, he returned to his seat.

"What you have all just saw," began Snape, "is a replicated sample of what your friend Sora was covered with when he was shot forth from the Inner Darkness." Snape fixed his eyes upon Harry specifically. "Such a small sample was enough to turn Mr. Thomas into a murderer. Just think about what it could have done to your dear Mr. Sora... Prefect."

Harry was stunned beyond all possible words. Not even thoughts could form themselves coherently into his head.

"I do not care what the Headmaster has said to you, Potter. If that boy returns, he is not to step a single foot into my classroom. He is a danger to myself, and my students."

At that, Harry swallowed a lump in his throat, but could force no reply from his throat, after seeing that unfathomable demonstration.

"Think that over for the next two and a half-hours."

Without another word, Snape left the room, leaving the fifth year Gryffindors positively spooked. For a long moment, no one said a single word. At long last, however, Dean was the first one who spoke up.

"You... you all saw what he did to me, right?"

No words were needed to reply to him. It was impossible for any of them to have missed what happened.

"That... that was the Imperius Curse! I could not control my actions..." protested Dean, "I... I could tell Dumbledore... we can get him thrown into Azkaban for that!"

It was Hermione who spoke up. "I'm afraid not, Dean. I have a hypothesis."

"Huh?" asked Ron. Judging by the fallen expression upon his face, he liked Dean's idea.

Hermione lifted her chin and spoke sagely. "My guess, based on the reading I did on the Inner Darkness awhile back, is that it has a strong connection with those who interact with it, especially if they are weak-hearted."

Upon receiving blank looks from her classmates, she continued speaking, turning to regard Dean aloofly. "Not to offend you Dean, but you might be weak-hearted." She then looked back to Harry, upon seeing the confused look in the dark skinned boy's face. "The Inner Darkness is concentrated with unfathomable power. Those with darker hearts are almost allergic to it... we all saw the reaction it had with Dean... he started smoking green."

Dean raised his upper lip dist. "First you call me weak, and now you are calling me evil? If you want to talk about me like this, can you at least have the decency to do it behind my back?"

Even Harry had to admit, Hermione was really leveling with him, as much as she was explaining what they saw in a way that made sense.

"When you took in the darkness, Dean, your heart was consumed for a short moment," Hermione said, looking back to him sternly. "My hunch is that if someone more..." she winced again, likely in realization of how much she was putting Dean down inadvertently, "... strong-hearted came in contact with it, nothing would have happened."

Harry could not help but notice Hermione look at him when she said the latter part of her sentence. He smiled a bit; his cheeks warmed up with the pressing of blood.

"Well," muttered Dean darkly, staring at Hermione with a hurt expression. He then looked back to the apparatus, with one single black potion remaining. "If you are so sure that I'm the weak-hearted, evil fool... and that was my problem, why don't you go and touch that one?" He looked back at her. "I mean, since you are so benevolent and strong-hearted and all..."

It was a fair challenge, from Dean's perspective, Harry noted as he looked to Hermione. He was certain that if Hermione's theory proved correct, that nothing would happen. She did not have a bad bone in her body and was not afraid to do chancy things that could result in death. Through thick and thin, ever since first year, she had stood by him relentlessly, through accusations of assaulting classmates, to having a murderer stalking him, to his own connection with the most vile wizard in known history... Surely Hermione would not be susceptible to the corrupting powers of darkness.

"No," she said, at last, her confidence falling a bit with a slight shutter.

"That's what I thought," snapped Dean, turning about in his chair and crossing his arms disdainfully. "Don't mock me unless you are prepared to put your galleons where your mouth is."

A prickle of annoyance stung his cheeks. He should not be speaking down to her like that, especially after what had just happened. Dean, free of an Imperius Curse, had just tried to murder Snape. Granted, perhaps a corrupting influence was involved, but nothing was forcing his hand. Harry was inclined to believe that Hermione was correct.

"I only said it was a hypothesis," replied Hermione, with a kind, withdrawing tone, "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

Dean did not look back. "Sure sounded like you were trying to insult."

It was Ron that spoke then, in place of Hermione. "Oh, like you are one to talk, Dean. 'Hey Ron, I'd ask you if I could borrow some money for the Hogsmeade trip, but it wouldn't get me very far.'

Seamus then was quick to contribute. "Or, how can we be forgettin' 'Finnigan's just angry about the Irish Curse.'

"Yes," muttered Harry darkly, "and I love being called Orphan... really is swell of you to remind me that my parents are dead, in case I forgot."

Harry could not see the expression upon Dean's face, but his shoulders slumped and he slid very low in his chair. Harry could not help but feel good. He, and probably Ron and Seamus, had been itching for so long to tell Dean exactly what they thought of his little quips right to his face. Hermione's little analysis of him gave them all a perfect opportunity.

"But," he began softly, seeing the room turn so sharply against him, "I was only just kidding with those. By Merlin, can't you guys take a joke?"

"When the only person laughing at them is you, they cease to be jokes and become insults," stated Hermione factually.

Dean did not speak any more and remained slumped, draping his arm over his desk and picking at a small niche on the surface with his fingernail.

"That is why I think you are weak-hearted," she said at last. "We will not be getting an apology from you, I trust. It takes a strong heart to sincerely apologize for ones mistakes."

Now, Harry was getting to the point where he wished she would just drop it now. But, that was Hermione for you, she saw everything through right to the bitter end.

"Bloody hell," snapped Dean, looking back once more. "I'm sorry. Is that what you want to hear?"

Hermione simply frowned and shook her head. It was clear what she was thinking, Dean just did not had it in him to make a sincere apology.

With that, Dean turned back around and resumed picking idly at the desktop. In a minute or two, the situation seemed to unwind itself; Ron, Harry and Seamus both contented themselves to stare off into space and loose their focus.

This was going to be a long string of detentions.

* * * * * *

The stars were indeed beautiful: gems sparkling in the vast sea of darkness, unbothered by the bleak opacity surrounding them. He had no short supply of respect for stars, always battling the darkness... darkness that threatened to snub the life out of them should they stop being so bright. Nowhere else did the night sky seem so livid than upon a rocky ledge, right out behind the Burrow. He knew that his time to enjoy such a view would be coming to an end tomorrow; he would be returning to Hogwarts a day later to accept his role as prefect in addition to fulfilling the necessary ceremonies.

And one of his duties was not to cry as a prefect, Harry reminded himself as the tears ran down his cheeks freely. He had made the decision to loose all his frustration and pain in one surge of emotion at the end of the summer. Could most other people choose when and where to cry, as if writing out a schedule to plan their time, wondered Harry; he looked up to the blurry sky, distorted by the water in his eyes.

Never in his life had he shed so much as a tear for himself or his own well being, and tonight was not the exception. Tonight, he was crying for others, well, one other. One other that he had killed. It was his fault he was dead, and now, his life had to move on. How selfish it sounded, yet how unavoidable. This was not like him snubbing Ron by accident, or dropping a book on Hermione's toe... there would be no chance to make this up. He could not give anything back to him, he would forever be cursed to bare the burden of a death. What was the price of causing a death? What restitutions could possibly be made?

Tonight, the tears were for Cedric Diggory. After having been unable to sleep for months, neither at the Dursley's for the first two months of summer, nor at the Weasley's for the third month, he had decided it must stop. Planning this time to do nothing but think of Cedric, the shame in his chest, and the fact that tomorrow, he would be returning to his life like nothing had happened, the tears had come at last.

He had removed his glasses; the fog had clouded his vision into perfect obscurity. All around him, the crickets chirped their song, blissfully unaware of Harry's inner struggle. He had turned fifteen a month ago, and for the first time he could remember, he was crying like a little child.

In his shameful reverie, he had not noticed a firm pressure upon his shoulder for what seemed to be the longest time. When it suddenly kicked in that he was not alone, it was too late. Hermione sat down next to him, her arm compassionately draped around his shoulders. She had arrived at the Burrow a week ago, spending the last week of her vacation with her best friends.

"You weren't in your room; I thought you might be out here," whispered Hermione, her voice calm and soothing, yet never loosing its trace of scholarly perfection, as if she had learned this fact from hours of studying at the library.

Had it been Ron, or any other person in the world, he would have sniffed deeply and furiously tried to dry his eyes. To show such a beaten expression to Ron might very well break them both, Harry knew. Ron was not nearly as emotionally fortified as Hermione; he was thankful for her strength now. For that reason, his hand remained on his lap; the tears continued to streak down his cheek. He did not look to her, but continued looking at the stars.

"I just..." began Harry.

"Shhh..." coaxed Hermione softly, "It's alright. You don't need to explain your feelings to me, Harry. I know you well enough by now."

Harry did indeed silence himself, taking in a sighing breath.

"You came out here, tonight, to say good-bye to him," stated Hermione knowingly,

Harry nodded, not saying a word.

And then, Harry caught a glimmer of moonlight reflecting off a small spot on Hermione's face as well, just beneath her knowing eyes. She, too, was crying, though he suspected her tears were not just for Cedric; they had never even exchanged a word.

"We'll say good-bye together, Harry," she said, also not needing to justify herself or dry her eyes. "Is that alright with you?"

Her soft voice did not stem the flow of tears, but they made him feel better all the same. He sniffed slightly and nodded again. "Of course."

She pulled lightly on his neck, and Harry did not resist; she brought his head to her bosom in the kind of hug that only two best friends could ever share, one of her arms wrapped lovingly around his back, and the other just across his chest. Harry threw his arms around her, hugging her just as close, feeling her heart beating against his temple. He never felt more comfortable and loved in his life.

Within moments, he was enjoying his first restful slumber all summer.

"Harry...? Harry!"

* * * * * *

"Harry," whispered a voice softly, finally waking him. Habitually, he reached over to his dresser and took hold of his glasses, sliding them in his face before opening his eyes. While it was still very dark, there was no missing the face of the person who stood over him; Sora's hand was on his shoulder and he was shaking him.

"Sora?" muttered Harry, suddenly becoming more alert. "Sora!" he then exclaimed, louder. "What are you doing in here?"

"Shh!" he hissed, putting his finger to his own lips. "Your dorm mates are asleep."

"Where the hell have you been?" demanded Harry. "You promised me that you wouldn't run away!"

Sora put his arms up in his own defense as he backed off from the bed. Harry sat upright, the last of his most recent dream fading to the back of his mind.

"Can you hear me out at least?" asked Sora incredulously.

Harry groaned and looked to Sora. "Well, speak already."

Sora shook his head. "Look, not here, ok? Can we go up to my room?"

The nerve of this boy, Harry thought, his frustration mounting. Sora wakes him up at two in the morning and tells him to go up to his room to talk to him. Harry was dangerously approaching the point where he would have recommended allowing him to stay with the Slytherins, like Malfoy had proposed.

"You are just about on my last nerve, Sora," warned Harry, with anger driven by grogginess and Sora's apparent lie to him. "First, you get me to trust you, then you lie to me, and now... oh bloody hell, just talk!"

While his face was obscured by the shadows in the room, Harry could tell that he was frowning, perhaps even scowling. "Would it be of interest to you if I told you Draco Malfoy was trying to destroy the world?"

Harry groaned and fell back into his pillow. He closed his eyes, channeling all his mental energies to the task of making Sora go away. "Good night."

"He's trying to master the Inner Darkness, Harry; he is trying to get a Keyblade!"

Keyblade...

Harry's eyes opened wide; he sat back up, his mouth agape with astonishment. "Malfoy... is trying to unlock this world to the Inner Darkness?"

Sora nodded emphatically. "Yes. Now, will you talk to me in my room?"

Harry threw off his sheets and rose upon shaky legs. He reached for a pair of trousers and pulled them on. Suspicion manifested shortly after Professor Snape's demonstration filled Harry's head; he remembered exactly what Snape was talking about. When Sora had been shot out from the blackness, he was covered from head to toe in that black crude. Who was to say his heart was strong enough to not have undergone corruption, similar to Dean?

"Fine," stated Harry, who nonetheless, could not hide his interest. "I'll hear you out."

With that, Harry allowed Sora to lead him out of the dark dormitory. Before they left, Harry cast a few glances toward the beds of his fellow Gryffindors, making sure that no one had awoken. All of the curtains were closed and he still could hear most of them snoring quite soundly. Deciding that they were not overheard, Harry closed the door softly behind him.

Sora led Harry up the stairs, to the very top of the tower. Harry seldom frequented the highest most level of the Gryffindor Tower, as there was rarely any reason to. A single corridor looped around the pinnacle, with ten single rooms, each locked and given their own separate password. Guests were very rare, but when they stayed in Gryffindor, they were given near exclusive rights to their own room. The only other people who could enter their rooms were prefects and Professors... and the Weasley twins, of course, who could find their way into anything. In fact, Harry had a close eye on them, for it was more than just hearsay that the mischievous pranksters would sell a way into one of those rooms to couples from any house that did not wish to chance discovery in the Astronomy Tower.

Harry secretly hoped that no one saw him and Sora entering one alone. The rumors that would fly around wouldn't be pleasant.

"Highwind," stated Sora, holding his hand against the door to one of the rooms. With a click, the door fell ajar. He pushed the door aside and entered with a sense of urgency. The room was nothing special, though it was quaint enough with a window sporting a nice view of the moonlit lake and the rings of snowy ground around it. The furnishings were simple: a four-poster bed, a dresser and a writing desk.

Harry sat down upon the bed while Sora grabbed the chair from his desk, spun it around, and perched upon it backwards, his arms propped upon the back. Again, Harry could not help but be reminded of Ron, for that was the way he always liked to sit in chairs. Indeed, the habits these boys shared were astounding. They were both headstrong, they both had to get the last word in and they both kept themselves extremely well-guarded.

"Start from the top," said Harry with a loud yawn. "What happened when you ran away?"

Sora smacked his palm upon the back of his chair. "I never ran away Harry. Listen to me... this is what really happened."

* * * * *

Sora could not feel the undeniable chill of winter as he pulled his red and gold scarf close to his neck, trapping the heat rising out of his collar. Winter's bite nipped his nose and his ears rosy within moments, feasting upon the warmth of his exposed head. He paid it no mind as his oversized sneakers pressed down upon the slick, frosty snow; their icy crunch muted out any other sounds of the day. He tucked his hands into the folds of his robes; he was not used to such cold. Based upon his one memory, the one single page of an entire encyclopedia of his life, he lived on a warm, tropical island with his best friends Kairi and Riku.

No thoughts of his parents or his family could be drawn to the surface, or of feats he'd accomplished, if any. How did he go from that younger boy, sitting on the cliff with Kairi, to one who'd traveled from his world, using some dark dimensional travel called The Inner Darkness? Was it an accident? Did he and Riku try to leave their island, as Kairi foresaw? If so, was Riku trapped in this world too?

Sora bent down to the ground and traced four of his fingers through the icy snow, feeling its cold sting upon his bare hands. What is this stuff? he asked himself, as he lifted a small pinch of it and watched it turn to water before his very eyes.

He continued walking; his lip began to shake as the cold temperature of a Scotland winter began to work to his bones. The evening sky was overcast above him, gray and turning black quickly. All the while, so many questions churned through his head as he stopped by the side of a pale, lifeless lake that stretched across a vast area. It was unfrozen by this winter and small waves lapped up against the muddy shore.

Closing his eyes and lifting his chin, he allowed the chilly wind to blow off the water and strike him in the face. While much colder than the world he'd known, the act itself brought more back to him. He would often do this on his home, staring out into the teal green sea, searching for an answer that could not be found. Riku was right; they were all caged birds on their little island, and wanted to escape. So, they had all agreed... Sora, Riku and Kairi to build a raft. As always, Riku made it a competition to see who got to be captain. It would be a race, from the carved star and back...

"If I win... then I get to be captain..." his own voice drifted into his head. "And if you win..."

"Then, I get to share a palpoo fruit with Kairi..."

It was Riku's voice that spoke; he remembered it from his first vision. That even, practiced and never enforcing tone he used to alienate himself from everyone. It flowed like a poet's voice, never changing and flat, but always conveying meaning with every word.

"Huh?" Sora heard himself exclaim.

"So, how about it, Sora? The winner gets to share a palpoo fruit with Kairi."

Sora opened his eyes, seeing the gray lake at Hogwarts once again. He could not see Riku's face... it was just not clear in his mind. His voice, however, rang true and firm within his head.

"If two people share a palpoo fruit... their destinies become intertwined forever," drifted Riku's voice into his head, once again.

Sora wanted to stay out here alone... the visions seemed to drift back into his head so much quicker when no one else was around. Yet, at the same time, he could not help but feel completely isolated at the same time. Harry had only meant well, but Sora needed to push away from him... he did not want to be contained. In a way, he was no different from Riku. He was a bird that loved to fly; he did not like anyone or anything caging him and restricting his movement.

"Thinking about home, Sora?"

Sora nearly fell into the lake as he whipped around. He lost his footing on the slick snow and fell to the ground as he spun, planting his palms into the icy ground. He knew who it was, but he refused to believe it.

Draco Malfoy stood behind him, his arms crossed and a smile painted brightly upon his face. His own pale blonde hair was concealed beneath a green wool cap, and a green and silver scarf was pulled tightly about his thin neck. It was not Draco, however, that drew his attention.

It was Riku, standing next to Draco, a full head taller with lean, well worked muscles that had dueled with him many times, and a Hogwarts robe, much like his... only with a Slytherin insignia upon his chest.

"Riku?" asked Sora who rubbed his eyes twice, trying to clear a possible mirage from his eyes.

"Who were you expecting?" asked Riku, with an even voice as he strode forward to Sora. "Well, you look weak as usual. Stop swooning over me and get up, will you?" On cue, Draco strode forward and offered his hand to Sora.

Sora, with a light head, reached out and took Draco's hand, pulling himself up from the snowy ground. "How...?"

"He appeared just a few hours ago in the Slytherin Common Room," shrugged Draco, his tone indifferent and calm. "When he told me he was Riku, I asked him if he remembered you."

Sora rushed forward, grabbing Riku's arm, prodding his fingers into his flesh. He had to see if it was really him... he had to make sure he wasn't a vision of the past. A small shimmer of magic rippled as Sora touched his arm, making him blink with confusion.

"Hey, what's the big idea?" demanded Riku, pulling away very quickly. Had Sora been looking the other way, he would have seen Draco scowl with a surge of panic. "It's me already. What, you don't remember leaving with me?"

"We left together?" asked Sora, in a daze. "What's wrong with your arm?"

"Of course!" snapped Riku, his voice getting excited, to Sora's disbelief. Never before had he heard Riku show such emotion... at least, he didn't think so anyway. He ignored the latter part of Sora's comment. "Kairi vanished into the Inner Darkness a few days ago, and so we went after her... how could you forget?"

"I... don't know..." replied Sora, forgetting about that small detail as shame filled his chest. "I... didn't mean to forget."

Draco put his hand upon Riku's shoulder, touching his robe, not his skin. "Now, calm yourself. Sora is suffering from amnesia. Apparently, you escaped with your memory intact... but, your friend remembers nothing."

Riku looked to Sora. "Well, you won't get your memory back by freezing your arse off out here. Come on back to the Slytherin Common Room."

"But... I promised Harry that..." Sora thought for a moment. What is an 'arse?'

Riku put his hands to his hips. "Replacing me and Kairi with new friends already, Sora?"

"Well... no... but..." Sora's voice caught in his throat. For some reason, this seemed to strike a very familiar cord with him, one that brought him to shame.

"Then... come on," snapped Riku, as he moved behind Sora and gave him a light push in the back to get him moving.

* * * * * *

Harry was indeed quite taken aback by this. "So wait, let me get this straight," he said with an inquisitive tone. "You went out to the lake, reflected on your single memory... and then Draco approached with your best friend Riku at his side?"

Sora nodded. "That's right."

"And you believed him?" snorted Harry, his head shaking slowly.

At this, Sora's face set itself into an angry frown. "Why shouldn't I have believed him?"

"It was a bloody illusion," muttered Harry with disdain.

"Tell me something I don't know!" retorted Sora. "I found out that fact later in the Slytherin Common Room."

Harry groaned audibly. "Then why'd you follow him?"

Sora leaned forward aggressively, tilting his chair onto two legs. "How was I supposed to know? I don't know how magic works in this place."

"Any first year knows that an illusion can be disrupted by touch," sighed Harry, rubbing his eyes wearily beneath his glasses. "You disrupted that illusion by touching 'Riku' on the arm.

"Thank you for pointing that out to me, in case I missed that in hindsight," sneered Sora, his pride leaping to the tip of his tongue.

Harry sighed and waved his hand, dismissing the comment. "Sorry. I suppose I just expect more from you than you can probably deliver." Harry decided to take that one step further. "We've been learning this year how to create complex illusions in Charms... and Malfoy's one of the best at it, next to Dean. I guess he's even learned how to make illusions of people too."

Sora continued frowning darkly, but did not reply to that orally.

"What happened when you made it into the Common Room?" pressed Harry, changing the subject from Sora's negligence.

* * * * * *

In stark contrast to the Gryffindor Common Room, the Slytherin Common Room wreaked with the very nature of evil and repulsed Sora. Sparkling slime clung thickly to the rusty metal chains that supported lanterns above his head. It was warm, thankfully, as a high fire burned within the fireplace of the forlorn room. Most students had returned from classes, but many were not present, leaving the Common Room rather unpopulated.

Draco and Riku both took two seats by the fireplace, beckoning Sora to join them. He found himself a seat upon a worn, emerald green easy chair and sunk deeply into its embrace.

"Sora, what happened to the Keyblade?" asked Riku, propping his elbows upon his knees and cradling his chin with his hands. "I need you to remember... Kairi's life depends on it."

Sora looked at Riku, a shimmer of distrust present within his orbs. "Why don't you remember? I thought you said we left together."

Something seemed too staged for this to be real, contemplated Sora, as he glared at Draco, and then shifted his focus to Riku. Why, if Riku had appeared within the Slytherin Common Room, didn't Draco go right to the Headmaster? And, what was with that magical shimmer when he touched Riku's arm - it was almost as if his skin was artificial... perhaps even an illusion.

"We were separated," snapped Riku impatiently after a moment of consideration, again showing emotion he did not think Riku would ever show, "you and your Keyblade vanished."

"Come on, Sora, think," coaxed Draco, with almost a pleading tone.

Sora focused deeply, trying to piece together some of the most recent events in his mind. It was as if he were swimming through a dark, deep cave in an underwater valley. Up, down, left or right - it just made no difference. Everywhere he turned was blackness. Keyblade... yes, it was a word he knew. It was a word close to his heart. But why? Or how, for that matter? Harry had mentioned that a Keyblade may be able to save this world from the Inner Darkness.

A blade; it was a blade with the strength to seal worlds. Visions shot into his head, blasting out of his unconscious like rockets, heading into orbit around his eyes. He felt as if he was falling backward, though he knew he was not moving anywhere. The world swam with darkness, the sight of Malfoy and Riku vanishing like a passing cloud in a windswept sky. Replacing it was the sight of a single boy, a year or two older than him, with blonde hair and sparkling, light-blue eyes.

* * * * * *

They strolled through a barren, dark city alley, talking quietly. They had just disembarked Sora's magical ship, with the capability of gliding through the Inner Darkness as if it were ordinary space as well as emerging from it, landing upon worlds so varied that they dazzled his mind.

"I hope my friends also made it out alive..." sighed the second boy, his face was pulled into a frown. He was a short boy, without much physical strength. He had a mat of well-trimmed blonde hair and glistening light blue eyes that seemed always on the verge of crying. He was dressed simply enough, in a collared shirt and jeans.

Sora nodded slowly. He calmly hoisted his blade to his shoulder - his keyblade. Over three feet long, yet light as a feather, it consisted of a long, sharpened shaft and two wicked niches that formed the rough shape of a key, yet was capable of dealing a heavy blow in battle.

"Don't be so upset," Sora said soothingly. They came out upon a rather crowded street, filled with people dressed in all colors and styles. It was a true collection of people from all over the universe. "Keep your chin up, man. Traverse Town is filled with people who have lost their world too and have been strong enough to survive the Inner Darkness. I've had to come back here for many reasons. Maybe some of your friends made it here."

The boy remained saddened, gripping a golden amulet around his neck. "I don't think so. All of my friends would have died to protect Fantasia."

The streets of Traverse Town were loaded with pubs, exchanging coins from all cultures for spirits, allowing those saddened by the loss of their worlds to drink away their despair. Sora led the staggered and depressed by to one of the tables. He had just met this mysterious boy a few hours ago, in a strange world called Fantasia. As fate had it, however, Sora had been too late to seal the world with his Keyblade, and the Inner Darkness had won that fight. On his way back to his ship, fate seemed to lead them together, and Sora had offered to help him. Sora suspected that this had something to do with that magical emblem that the boy wore around his neck, his hand never seeming to leave it for very long.

"Well, look on the bright side," continued Sora, trying desperately to perk up the other, moody boy. He pointed to the other boy's necklace. "I can travel to other worlds on board my ship. If they aren't here and somehow survived, I'll find them for you." Sora folded his hands upon the table. "Besides, I also know what world is the next target."

The boy gazed at Sora sullenly. "You do?"

"Of course," said Sora. He was about to continue when a waiter came over to take their orders. Sora withdrew a few blue and yellow coins and placed them upon the table. "Give us the best stuff you've got."

The waiter nodded. "Of course, sirs." Without another word, he hustled away to fetch the order.

"How do you know what the next world to be consumed is?" repeated the boy, prompting him to continue.

Sora withdrew his money pouch again and scattered about seven coins onto the table. He placed the largest coin in the center and spread the other six around.

"The Heartless, also known as the driving force behind the Inner Darkness, have consumed these six worlds, one of which was Fantasia. Their locations within the Inner Darkness are surrounding this larger one."

With a subtle flick of his fingers, he sent the six coins flying across the table, leaving the large coin lying alone on the table. The coins hit into the other boy's arm, but he did not react. He simply fixed his eyes on Sora.

"They have been trying to isolate this world from surrounding light, so they can focus solely upon it," he pointed to the largest coin. "And now, they are preparing to invade."

The blonde-haired boy blinked twice, his expression still rather bitter. "Well, what world is that?"

Sora looked up from the coin. "It's called Earth, I think. I don't know much more about."

The boy's eyes widened with disbelief. "Earth? My home..."

This rocked Sora back with equal shock. "Whoa... you come from Earth? What were you doing in Fantasia?"

"Well, um..." He trailed off for a moment, "Fantasia... is a world I've been absorbed into several times, by reading a magical book called 'The Neverending Story'."

Sora shrugged, neither finding this all that suspicious nor unbelievable. "About a year ago, I would have thought that strange. I've been pulled into a magical book myself, just a few months ago. That seems to be common enough outside of my world." At that, Sora chuckled, and continued. "I don't know what you can do, but I could use all the help I can get." Sora frowned, but did not break eye contact. "I'm a bit short on friends lately."

For the first time Sora had seen, the boy smirked, though he managed to still appear depressed. It was clear to Sora that this boy was a stranger to most of the simple joys in life. "It is the least I can do. I must be cautious with Auryn's power, but I am not afraid to do what I must. Auryn gives the means, but takes away the purpose."

"Understood." At that, Sora reached across the table, his hand outstretched. "Call me Sora."

"Bastian Bux," replied the other boy, shaking Sora's hand. "It's a pleasure."

* * * * * *

Harry's head was swimming from the pure absurdity of it all. At the same time, however, he was mildly intrigued by the insanity of this story. It was so far fetched that he believed him; it would just be too daunting of a task to create something this utterly imaginative.

"Alright, so you tried to come to Earth using some sort of ship that protects from the Inner Darkness," summarized Harry, giving Sora a long look. "You brought this boy with you named... uh..."

"Bastian," supplied Sora.

"Right, and you both came to Earth to work together and achieve what exactly...?"

Sora held up his hand. "Let me first tell you what happened with Malfoy and his little friend; it may interest to you."

* * * * * *

Blaise and Draco both continued to stare at Sora with disbelief, long after he finished speaking, conveying his tale about a mysterious boy, a powerful amulet and a world called Traverse Town. Sora gazed into the fireplace, the memories beginning to slowly seep back into his head.

"Well," said Draco thickly, his expression snide and disbelieving. "So, let me get this straight... you came to our little world in order to save it."

Sora nodded, as if this wasn't supposed to be an earful for anyone. "Our job was simple," Sora explained. "We knew that the world was still locked and that darkness or the Heartless could not step foot in it for very long. Our task was to make certain that the world was devoid of Keyblades, destroying all but mine if need be... and we wanted to learn why the Heartless were yearning for this world so badly."

Draco and Blaise both exchanged confused glances. Finally, Blaise stared back at Sora. "Alright, Sora, where is this... Bastian kid... and where is your keyblade?"

Sora stood up from his chair, looking long and hard at Blaise. "I don't know. But, I know now that you aren't Riku..."

The color visibly drained from Draco's face as he stood up as well. "Hey, where do you think you are going?"

Blaise also rose, still looking like Riku, but not fooling anyone anymore. "What... what are you talking about, Sora?"

Sora waved his hand disgustedly at Blaise. "Riku never left with me... Bastian did. I've not seen Riku in a long time. You are a liar, whoever you are."

Blaise seemed on the verge of defending himself, when Draco raised his hand, silencing his partner in crime. He took a slow, deliberate step toward Sora. While still in the middle of the Common Room, the few students there did not notice the little scuffle by the fireplace. Most were too intent upon a game of Exploding Snap that had begun between four seventh years, who were exceedingly gifted at the game.

"Tell us where the Keyblade is," said Draco, in a flat, hard tone.

Sora glanced down from Draco's cold, gray eyes, to his right hand. In a very slick and subtle move, he had drawn his wand and was leveling it at Sora. Sora showed no fear, however, looking back at Draco with a fierce expression. "I don't know... and even if I did, I wouldn't tell you."

Two powerful pairs of arms grabbed Sora, wrapping around him in circulation-severing braces. Draco smirked evilly as two huge boys held him in place, chortling trollishly and holding him immobile.

Riku slowly began to fade away, the illusion of his best friend being replaced by that of a greened eyed boy, with a single brow and neat black hair.

"You know where it is..." sneered Draco harshly as he leaned into Sora. Some of the other occupants of the common room had taken notice now, and were watching the exchange with a mixture of confusion and delight, though the Exploding Snap game still held the majority of attention. "Tell me..."

"No!" barked Sora, fighting against the iron clad grips of Crabbe and Goyle. "Harry was right, you are a dirtbag!" He looked to Blaise then, his illusion having faded at the lack of Draco's maintained concentration. "And, I don't know how you found out about Riku, but that was low, even for a... a... Slytherin!"

Blaise scowled visibly and flicked back his black hair. "Why thank you," he replied snidely.

Anger was only the beginning of Draco's visible emotions, as his cheeks flared with an incarnadine glare. "I could put you in the hospital wing for a month, boy, and gain twenty house points for 'stopping a vengeful Muggle intruder, full of bad intentions.' Don't push me."

"Let me go!" yelled Sora, now commanding most of the room's attention as he fought a futile struggle against Crabbe and Goyle, trying to wrest free of their grip.

Draco seemed blissfully unaware - or simply did not care - about the attention garnered by Sora's yell. "You think anyone here is going to help you? You are in the lion's den... and I am the lion, Muggle. Now, tell us where the Keyblade is, or I'll prove to you just how deep Slytherin loyalty runs."

A plan quickly formed within Sora's head, a move borne out of desperation. At this point, however, that was simply all he had left. He sighed in defeat and made a visual and physical show of slumping and relaxing his muscles. To his relief, he felt the holds upon his arms also loosen a small degree, as Crabbe and Goyle seemed to have bought his indication of surrender.

"Fine," muttered Sora somberly, as he looked to Crabbe. "Can I use my right arm, please?"

Crabbe blinked and looked questioningly to Draco, who nodded. The dumb lug released his arm, but did not back away. This allowed Sora to reach into his pocket. As he slipped his hand into his robe pocket, he pretended to clench something small and hard. He calmly withdrew his balled fist from his pocket.

"Here it is," sighed Sora, and made a show of turning his fist over. Instinctively, Draco leaned forward to catch the first glimpse of what was in Sora's hand as he began to unfold his fingers.

As fast as he could muster, Sora slammed his opening fist into Goyle's nose. Realizing that being outnumbered four to one called for some desperate, less than honorable measures, he swung back his foot and promptly shot it forward. Draco's eyes widened, but he was simply too flatfooted to get out of the way. The toe of Sora's sneaker drove sharply and painfully into the one place Malfoy would have chosen to protect, had he the choice.

Both Slytherins, taken completely by surprise, compromised their threatening positions. Draco's wand clattered from his hand, as a high-pitched whine emitted from his mouth. He toppled over to the ground, his hands cradling the location of the injury. Goyle had released Sora's arm to grasp his nose. Crabbe, a little slow on the uptake, now realized what had happened. He struggled to tackle Sora, throwing his body weight at him, however the lumbering goon was just too slow for the wiry boy. Sora leapt over one of the green recliners by the fireplace, toppling it over as he pushed off, in a mad dash for the exit. The wall slid aside for him as he rushed out, resetting itself just in time to protect him from a stream of hexes that had been thrown at him by his captors, slamming into the solid stone harmlessly behind him.

* * * * * *

"I wasn't really afraid, but... I just didn't know where else to go," continued Sora. "I ran. I guessed you and your friends were in the Great Hall, getting ready for detentions. I came back here and have hid here until now. I guess I just needed to be alone."

Harry listened appreciatively for a moment, so as not to appear insensitive; in the end, he could not help but break down his empathy. "You kicked Malfoy... in the...?" blurted out Harry.

Sora shifted uneasily in his chair. "Um... yeah."

At that, Harry could not longer contain himself. A laugh shot out of his mouth, quaking his body. Sora, at first, was taken aback by this sudden display of emotion, but finally smirked, then smiled... and finally joined Harry in his laughter.

"I didn't want to," chuckled Sora, somewhat awkwardly, "but I had to do it to escape, you know."

"Well," said Harry, with a decisive chortle. "You've definitely made yourself an enemy. When Malfoy is able to move again, he'll come after you."

Sora shrugged indifferently. "It seems like everyone is his enemy; he treats his own friends like pawns. I can't imagine how he even has friends."

"The world works in strange ways," agreed Harry. "Some people do not deserve what they have, yet they have it anyway. And some don't have much, but deserve more."

"Harry," stated Sora, leaning forward again, rocking on his chair. "I've got something I need to tell you."

"By all means, let's hear it."

Sora frowned and adjusted the collar of his robe awkwardly. "So many memories have returned to my head in the past few hours... I guess I owe Malfoy and friends... they really made me think about my identity and have given me some clues as to who I really am."

Harry nodded. "Believable enough. I'd guess that déjà vu could be a rather effective tactic to revive someone's memory. If there is one thing Zabini is good at, it is acting."

"I know where the Keyblade is," proclaimed Sora with a bold, firm tone.

This was music to Harry's ears. With piercing green eyes, he stared at Sora, searching his face for an answer his lips were just about to say.

"Where?" he asked breathlessly.

Sora allowed his eyes to drop from Harry's, to the Gryffindor patch upon the robes he had borrowed from Seamus. He rubbed his chest softly with a careful hand. "Bastian has it." Sora trailed off for a moment, piecing together the details. "Our ship... was destroyed by the agents of the Inner Darkness... the Heartless. They had blown a hole in the side of our ship, and the darkness sunk through."

Sora looked as though he were reliving a rather stressful memory. "I had to continue flying the ship, but I used my free hand to extended the Keyblade to Bastian, so that he could hold on and not get consumed. See, a Keyblade provides limited protection from the corrupting powers of darkness..." Sora looked down and side, "but I overestimated my own strength, and the key was ripped from my hands; I was the one that was immersed in darkness."

Harry nodded, taking the story in small chucks.

"I suppose it was only blind luck that the portal opened when it did, or I might have never found the light again."

After studying Sora carefully for a moment, Harry stood up and yawned. "Well, if you made it out of the Inner Darkness, I am certain your friend Bastian did too. First thing tomorrow, we will find out where he is... if you made it to Earth, odds are he did too."

Sora nodded, a frown visible upon his face. He was either saddened by something, or angry. Harry did not choose to speculate on which.

"Look, thanks for talking," he stated at last. "I know it must be a whole lot to swallow, but you've got to believe me."

"I've seen a lot of strange things in my life. Granted, this is outrageous and borderline insane, but quite believable, all things considered," chuckled Harry, tapping his foot upon the ground habitually as he rose slowly, "Get some sleep, Sora. You are safe in Gryffindor Tower. No Slytherin can enter."

Without another word, Sora stood up from his chair and began to get changed for bed. "Good night."

With that, Harry rose and left the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

* * * * * *

Crabbe and Goyle slammed Blaise up against the wall of their dormitory, holding no bars against the boy. They held no bars because Draco ordered it. He glared derisively at his partner in crime, like he was beholding scum.

"Let me go, Malfoy," sneered the Slytherin. "It isn't my fault your half-baked plan cocked itself up."

Draco glowered at Blaise and stepped forward. He could not help but wince, for even hours later, the pain in his groin was still throbbing. "You let him touch you... that was what killed us."

Blaise blinked with disbelief. "Oh, I didn't see you exactly helping! Your scowling didn't do much to help remedy the situation!" He also narrowed his eyes. "And by the way, that 'collector's item' your father wanted apparently can destroy the world... was that a little piece of the puzzle you forgot to mention?"

Crabbe and Goyle tightened their hold on him, as Draco turned around, shaking his head. "I expected more from you, Blaise." Before the other boy could reply, Draco continued speaking. "Tomorrow is the last day of the term. When you go back home for Christmas holiday, you will keep your mouth shut. If I so much as find out you've told your damn diary about the Keyblade, my father will have you erased. Got that?"

Blaise struggled against Crabbe and Goyle's hold. Apparently, Blaise knew the resolve of Draco's father, for he his knees began to knock. "Draco, I swear on my life I won't tell anyone!"

"Good," said Draco darkly, as he stalked toward the curtain, separating the Slytherin dorm from the rest of the dungeon. "I'll take your word on that, Blaise. You are not as stupid as you look."

He stopped before the exit and spoke shortly. "Let him go."

Crabbe and Goyle, as one, released Blaise's arms. The boy sighed with relief and rubbed his biceps tenderly. Draco neglected the three of them as he pushed the curtain aside and left the dormitory.

His mind worked like a well-oiled machine, cranking out a new plan in place of his foiled plan A. As much as he wanted to hammer Blaise, he had to admit, the session with Sora was not a complete waste. It had done exactly what he had intend it to do: it had brought Sora's memory back. Draco smirked as he flexed his stiff, right hand. It did not matter whether Sora spilt his guts to Harry or himself... he still knew either way.

He had heard Harry and Sora's entire conversation.

So, this Bastian Bux has the Keyblade, considered Draco, scratching his chin. Perhaps, when I find him, he'll be easier to deceive than Sora.

Before Quidditch practice tomorrow, he would make his move to track Bux to his home, wherever it was.