May Day Eve

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Chapter Nine: Bottom Dwellers

Ginny

The derailed man backed up from Ginny as if he had seen some sort of vile creature himself. His dirty, white beard grew past his chin, and his moustache covered up what would have been his mouth. His dark eyes peeked through layers of fringe, and his pale, wrinkled face hid behind his equally pale and wrinkled hands. He wore a tattered green robe that has obviously never seen laundering since Dumbledore’s last appointment with a razor. Ginny’s first instinct was to run for the door, wherever it was and get as far away from the strange being before her. But something stopped her. He was dirty, old and decrepit, and there was nothing remotely dangerous about him. If anything, she felt the need to help the cowering man in front of her. She cursed her almost obsessive-compulsive nature to give help to anyone who showed the slightest hint of needing it. The same feeling that she felt earlier when Draco asked her for assistance, was tugging in her heart once more. She wouldn’t be satisfied if she didn’t at least query.

“Are you all right, sir?” she asked meekly, taking a tentative step forward. The old man backed up against the wall, his fingers clawing at the grimy and greying bricks.

“You’re not Aurora,” he said, his voice squeaking with apparent fear. “Did she send you to kill me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. But rest assured that I’m not here to harm you,” Ginny said patiently.

“You were sent to set her free then?” he continued to question her. His tone gradually increased with indignance, but he kept a safe distance from her.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t know who Aurora is, I just… wait, where am I?” Ginny was suddenly struck by the fact that she was in a strange place that she was certain she’s never been in.

After the realization, she quickly recollected the events that happened mere minutes before. She was reciting the spell she had heard from Lavender, as she shook Malfoy’s potion. Then, suddenly the mirror’s reflection was distorted, and it was as if liquid water came flowing from the glass. She wanted to run and scream, unable to decide which should come first, but all of a sudden, she felt herself being sucked into a vacuum. She tried to shout, but she couldn’t feel nor hear her voice come out of her throat. Her ears throbbed in pain, and the darkness blinded her. And then Ginny saw her. It was only a quick flash like lightning, but Ginny could recall every single detail of her. Long black hair, almost translucent blue eyes, the chiselled nose, arrogant chin, swan-like neck that gracefully connected to her decidedly feminine shoulders and that triumphant, aristocratic smile. Immediately after that, she felt as if a thousand of the sharpest needles coursed through every square inch of her body. The pores of her skin ached, and they felt as if blood was piercingly running through them. Unable to bear the pain any longer, Ginny blacked out, and after that, she was no longer aware of herself.

Ginny’s eyes wandered around the room, hoping against hope that she would recognize something. The room was enclosed in mucky, grey bricks. The length and width probably spanned a mere five yards. The flooring was of cold, red cement. There wasn’t a door or a window opening in sight. To her left was the single bunk where she was lying on earlier. There were no coverings or pillows on it, just an old mattress with rusted springs. She remembered how their pointed edges pushed against her back. Opposite the end of the bed was a tiny cupboard. Its wooden doors were infested with termites, although the angel carvings at the top of it could still be distinguished. An oak table stood against the wall of the other corner. Beside it was a single rutty, wooden chair, which’s arms were being gripped tightly by the old man’s shaking hands. Then there was a mirror, not unlike the one she saw earlier, standing alone in one corner. It, alone, was not affected by the senescence that victimized the rest of the room. The reflection shone clearly, and the familiar, yet somehow unrecognisable carvings on the frames shimmered with fresh polish. She felt herself entranced by the article, and she could not take her gaze away from it.

Then an all too familiar something happened. Ginny could see an infinitesimal ripple forming in the centre of the glass mirror. Larger ripples began appearing around it in succession and soon the mirror itself looked like a part of a larger lake. White light shot from the middle of the mirror, and its berth widened until she could no longer see from the brightness. She was wrapped in a blinding light for a moment and then she found herself standing in the same room she was in moments ago. The old man remained where he was, and everything seemed to be back into its normal self, except for the new occupant of this very strange room. He was crouching on his fours and was pushing his palm against his forehead, muttering soft curses in between howls of pain. Ginny’s eyes adjusted themselves back to the dim candlelight of the room. They squinted as she moved closer to the person on the floor.

“Draco!”

Aurora

Aurora waited as her twin sister Luz recited the spell that would open the door to the manor they’ve inherited from their deceased father. She held her breath as she watched the doors made of unbreakable glass swing open. Her home was exactly as she remembered it. Immediately after the entrance was the regal marble staircase with wrought iron railings. At the very centre of the landing was an angel carved out of ivory, exactly where it had been the last time she saw it. She and her mother had always shared a fascination for angels. The gigantic crystal chandelier above her made the marble-flooring underneath her feet glisten even more. She felt very out of place in her own home, remembering her shabby, black robes. It wasn’t as if she had a choice; she had been cooped up in that prison for almost half a century and had no chance to do anything about her appearance.

“That bloke is a psychopath, I can’t believe he did this to you. You were so beautiful,” her sister said in that commanding, dominant voice. Luz was examining her sister from head to toe with very scrutinizing eyes. She had one hand on her hip, and the other held onto the iron railing. She was standing on the second step of the stairs; balancing her weight on one leg and her other was extended exaggeratedly outwards. She had taken off her cloak when they entered the manor and hung it on one of the silver-plated coat hangers. She was wearing a black wrap-around dress shirt that came down to mid-calf. Her thin-strapped sandals showed off the beautiful feet that Aurora had always envied. Luz’s youthful looks could not deny the maturity and age that emanated from her eyes and stature. A part of Aurora always felt like a lost little girl next to her.

“He wanted to kill me, you know,” Aurora managed to say. She tried to hide the frailty in her voice. She had aged, but somehow, Luz hadn’t. She still looked like the same sixteen-year old girl she last saw on a May day eve, fifty years ago. That was strange, even for wizards.

“What? The bastard didn’t know how?” Luz asked with a condescending laugh.

Aurora smirked unsympathetically and answered, “He said he couldn’t bear to, that he still loved me after everything. So he just tortured me and made sure that magic was out of my hands.”

“Hmm, kinky,” Luz retorted with a shrug, her eyes showing the slightest hint of amusement. “Do not worry though, my darling sister. We’ll get your powers and your beauty back in no time. That bloke outsmarted me for the last fifty years, but now he’s just an old, decrepit and pathetic has-been, not even worthy of being called a Dark Wizard. The man should’ve known not to fall in love and with you, of all people.”

“How can we do that? Diotavelli said the spell he put on me was irreversible,” she queried, walking closer to where her sister stood.

Luz tutted at her sister loudly, she walked down the steps and towards Aurora and fearlessly took the burned hands in hers. “Magic can only be overpowered by another magic of greater magnitude.”

“And you’ve found a magic of greater magnitude? It took you this long? I thought Diotavelli wasn’t all that smart?”

“Oh give me a break. First, I had to figure out what the hell this mirror was all about. The underground Wizarding world can be very uncooperative. I didn’t know that bastard knew so much, about you and me. I have to hand it to him; his sleuthing skills are sharper than shonen knives. Who knew? He probably got much practice from stealing knickers and panty hoses from women’s locker rooms. And I had to move very slowly dear sister; otherwise I would’ve aroused suspicion from that idiot Fudge. And if it’s anything we don’t want, it’s an idiot on your tracks.”

“What exactly did you have to do to obtain magic of greater magnitude?” Aurora asked, her curiosity heightening.

“Let me show you,” she answered excitedly. She turned around, her back facing Aurora.

“Korine! Get down here!” she hollered towards the direction of the stairs. The sound of quick, tapping heels was immediately heard. A petite woman with long, shiny black hair and dark brown eyes appeared on the top landing. She was wearing a black chambermaid’s uniform and black loafers. Aurora noticed though that her bust was practically bursting out of the top, and the length of her skirt was only good enough to cover her knickers.

“Korine, what are you wearing?!” Luz stormed, obviously mortified at her maid’s outfit.

“My uniform, Madame,” she answered casually with a strong French accent.

“Didn’t they get the right size?” Luz asked incredulously. Her shoes tapped the floor impatiently.

“No madam, I had zis custom made. It iz a perfect fit, don’t you think?” she said, twirling around for effect.

“It would be if you were a house elf. You will get rid of that uniform and get one that would cover your arse and more.” Luz said this with much finality that all Korine could do was nod and mutter apologetically in French. “Now, I asked you down here not to check on your uniform. Where is Elisa?”

“She iz upstairs taking her bath, madam,” Korine answered promptly.

“Well, when she’s finished, take her to the sitting room. I want her to meet someone.” Luz faced Aurora once more and gave her a knowing smile.

Aurora remained where she was standing and waited with much anticipation as to what Luz had in store for her. She was definitely interested in this Elisa character. Who was she, and what is her role in Luz’s plan to restore her powers? Her questions would soon be answered.

Peeves

Peeves watched as the set of teenagers squabbled like eleven-year olds in front of him. There was Ron Weasley threatening Parvati Patil to give him the spell with his wand. Harry Potter and Hermione Granger held him back and tried to talk him out of it. Justin Finch-Fletchley and Lavender Brown were trying helplessly to protect Parvati from Ron’s continued attempts to lunge at her. The only one who wasn’t participating in this play of insanity was Draco Malfoy. He was leaning against a mirror in one corner of the room. He was observing the events with eagle eyes, although Peeves couldn’t tell what he was thinking. His face remained expressionless even when the Justin boy accidentally knocked Parvati’s jaw with his fist while trying to protect her.

“Hermione, don’t try to stop me. It’s the only way I can save Ginny,” Ron cried desperately. He tried to shake off Hermione’s tight grip on his arm, but she held on with much determination.

“There are other ways to go about this, Ron!” Hermione said, trying to talk some sense into him.

“How? We have no time! Ginny’s probably hurting at this very minute, I saw the state of that woman. I don’t want Ginny going through that, even for a minute,” Ron said fiercely. He didn’t hold back any force when he pushed Hermione away from him. She grimaced as she fell on her backside with a hard thud. Harry came to her side to check how she was.

“Are you all right, there, Hermione?” he asked, as he helped her up. Then Hermione’s eyes rounded as Harry did something he had never done before. She froze as Harry absent-mindedly felt her bottom (“Probably checking for bruises,” Peeves told himself).

“Harry!” Hermione exclaimed, staring open-mouthed at Harry.

Harry just looked at her innocently, furrowed his eyebrows and mouthed a silent “what.” He shrugged his shoulders as he made her turn around so he could cover the rest of her backside. Hermione simply buried her face in her hands and let Harry carry on.

“Moving on,” Peeves thought.

Ron lunged forward at Parvati and grabbed her by the shoulders. His wand laid forgotten on the floor.

“Tell me the spell, Parvati!” he shouted at her. The whites of his eyes were flaming red, and Peeves was certain the vein on his temples would pop out.

“Parvati, don’t!” Hermione screamed. She could barely stand from her fall and was being supported by Harry.

But Parvati didn’t hear her. She was shaking in fear. Peeves couldn’t blame her; he had never seen the young Weasley look so angry and determined.

“Alright, alright. It’s ‘Mirror, mirror, show to me, him whose woman I will be,’” Parvati shrieked in one breath. The moment she had spoken the words, the room was wrapped in blinding light. For a moment that seemed like it stretched to forever, no one saw anything nor knew anything that was happening around them. Then the light vanished as if it wasn’t there before. It took Peeves a few seconds to adjust to the normal lighting once more.

Everyone was in the same place they were in before the light appeared, although Harry’s hand has left Hermione’s bottom. The light has stunned them as well, and no one was able to do anything. Everything was back to normal, except for one thing.

Justin was the first to notice. “Where’s Draco?”

Hermione immediately found the answer when she caught sight of the tiny ripple at the very centre of the mirror that quickly disappeared after she spotted it. “I believe he’s inside the mirror.”

“If he’s inside, then Ginny should’ve been set free by now. She should be here,” Justin said.

“I bet that Malfoy just took off. I always knew he was a coward,” Ron stated confidently.

“Hermione, what is it?” Harry asked. He touched his palm on her elbows and gently prodded her.

“Shh, I’m thinking,” she answered without looking at him. She was staring at the mirror as if she was in a deep trance. Everyone remained quiet as Hermione continued examining the mirror from where she was standing. She would raise her hand and trace some invisible form with her finger in the air from time to time and mutter words unfamiliar to Peeves. A quarter of an hour passed, and Hermione surprised everyone when she suddenly made a loud boom with a clap of her hands and squealed, “I’ve got it!” without much care as to who heard.

“What is it?” Harry was first to ask.

Hermione moved closer to the mirror and pointed at the carvings on the frames of the mirror. “See these, these are ancient runes symbols written like the way you see them in front of a mirror. If you translate them, it means ‘Be careful young man, should someone play a trick on you. If you fall into the trap, no woman will call you a hero, only a fool.’”

“And how does that help us?” Ron asked edgily.

“Don’t you see? It’s Diotavelli’s idea of a joke. The mirror won’t necessarily devour the one who recites the spell. It could be anyone who’s in close proximity of the mirror. And if that someone happens to be a man, the whole trading system won’t work. In this case, Malfoy was nearest the mirror. Now we also know that he really is a man.”

“So what do we do now?” Harry asked the question that no one wanted to raise.

“That part, I haven’t figured out yet,” Hermione said helplessly.

Aurora

“I have a lot of questions for you, Luz,” Aurora said meekly as they waited for Korine and Elisa’s arrival. She was sitting rather uncomfortably on the two-seater sofa with a beige schintz spread opposite the fireplace. Aurora feared she would smudge the fabric with blood or pus, and she was certain Luz would have her head for that. Luz moved away from the fire and settled herself on the sofa to the left of the one Aurora was sitting on.

“Go on,” Luz said, who wasn’t paying much attention and was busy inspecting the amount of dust that gathered on the coffee table.

“How did you manage to get that girl to sacrifice herself for me? Good old dose of Imperius,” she said. Luz was still poring over the microscopic quantity of dust.

“I didn’t. She was a comfortable incident. I was planning on getting inside the mirror myself to get you out. I’ve managed to discover how you can get out from in there. Apparently Diotavelli used his fingerprints as key to the gateway. There’s a keyhole of sorts on the third runic symbol on the left frame. I was planning on killing him and then slashing off his hand and use it to open the gateway.” Luz talked about killing and slashing people the way she used to talk about her hangnail.

“Poor girl,” Aurora remarked, “Has the mirror been in the potions dungeon the whole time?”

Luz snorted ungracefully at her question. “Of course not. Dumbledore had it moved to one of the lower bodegas at Hogwarts. There was only minor protection around it. He really didn’t know about you and me, and our history.”

“He still doesn’t?” Aurora asked, surprised.

“I know, you’d think it’d have crossed his mind after all these years. Everyone was concentrating on that old wanker Voldemort. Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort. It’s all about him. He’s damn overrated if you ask me. He does make for a good diversion, though. Anyway, I put the squib caretaker under Imperius and made him place the mirror inside the Potions dungeon. I placed an undisturbed sleeping charm around Hogwarts; I wanted to make sure there wouldn’t be any interruption. At the risk of sounding like an old hag, I have to say that if it weren’t for those meddling kids, all would’ve gone as planned, and no one would ever know. We’d be in and out of there, and no one would know the better.” She finished with a loud, annoyed stomp of her foot.

“Yes, about those children. They’ve seen us. If Dumbledore gets word of what happened, and I’m certain he will, he’s going to be very suspicious,” Aurora voiced her concern.

“I’ve already thought about that. You know I still have that squib under Imperius; it’s so easy to control squibs from this distance, we’d just get him to do the dirty deed for us.” Luz gave her a wicked smile. She sat back up and leaned comfortably on the cushions.

“Dirty deed?” Aurora asked. She wasn’t sure where her sister was going at.

“Kill the little buggers. They’d probably blame it on Voldemort, like they do every other disaster that happens in Hogwarts.”

Draco

Draco felt as if the blood coursing the veins on his head was thumping madly to get out. It all happened very quickly, and he barely even had time to react. For a very long time, he felt as if he was in a stationary motion. He wasn’t moving but he was travelling. It was a very odd feeling that he couldn’t explain, and he doubted that he ever could.

He cursed the bright light and was certain that if it had lasted for a second more, it would have permanently blinded him. After what seemed like forever, but in actuality probably lasted around five seconds, his knees touched the cold floor with a jerk, and he had to use his palms to prevent his face from hitting the cement. His head was still aching, a result of the unexpected journey, he deduced.

When the light had died down, he heard a female voice call his name. Whoever she was, she sounded like she was a mile away from him. Moments later, he felt a hand come down on his shoulder. He was being shook vigorously. The hands now came up to his face and forced open the lids of his eyes.

“Draco,” the voice screamed to his face. It didn’t do much though.

He tried to focus his sight on the figure before him. All he could see was a bright shade of red. That was enough for him to realize that it was her; it was Ginny. As soon as it hit him, all his senses were suddenly re-awakened. Slowly but steadily, his hands came up to cup her face.

“Weasley, it’s you,” he said, “you called me Draco.” He managed to give her a trademark smirk, despite the insistent pain at the back of his neck. He figured it didn’t look too unfortunate as her cheeks showed a tinge of pink.

“Well, I thought the situation called for it,” she said, attempting to sound casual. She removed his hands from her face and cautiously rose to her feet. She bent down and helped lift him up by the shoulders.

“The pain in my head is killing me, I can’t think straight,” he cried. He hung his arm limply around Ginny’s shoulders. He tried to get his knees to work normally, as he didn’t think she could carry all his weight, and they’d probably fall down together.

“It will pass after a while,” she told him, placing a hand on his chest to support him. “At least it did in my case.”

“Where the hell are we, Weasley?” Draco said, trying to adjust his eyes to the dim candlelight.

“A dark room with no doors. Percy would threaten to put me in a place like this whenever I used to tromp on his collection of Celestina Warbeck records,” Ginny said.

“Your brother listens to Celestina Warbeck?” Draco asked, his brows furrowing as he tried to conceal the amusement in his face.

Draco thought that he must have really been out of it for he just now noticed the old, spindly man who has flattened himself on the wall. “Hey, who’s the old man?” he asked Ginny casually.

Ginny’s head shot straight up and looked at the direction he was staring at. She must’ve completely forgotten of his existence upon Draco’s sudden appearance.

“I actually don’t know, he doesn’t seem too dangerous though,” she said.

“He looks very feeble, I don’t think he’s capable of doing anything harmful,” Draco agreed.

“Yes, and at his dishevelled state, he’s much too weak to do any magic,” Ginny added, nodding at Draco.

The old man looked from Draco to Ginny incredulously. “Can you two not see me? I’m right here!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did we offend you?” Ginny asked sympathetically.

His face scrunched up in anger when she uttered those words. With much effort, scraped himself off the wall and walked closer to where they stood. He looked at them with menacing eyes. “Offend me? That’s the last thing you should worry about, little lady. If you think you can just come in here and kill me without a fight, you’re wrong. My magic may have deteriorated through the years, but I still have just enough in me to put you down. Aurora will never get the better of Darcy Diotavelli!”

The old man’s last words flicked a switch in Draco’s half drowsy head. Every action he committed after that was like a reflex. With one swift movement, he pushed Ginny behind him and pulled out his wand from his pocket robes. He pointed his wand straight at Diotavelli and cried “Stupefy!” A flash of blue light came out of Draco’s wand.

But Diotavelli immediately ducked down and avoided the curse. He lifted the hem of his robes and pulled out his wand from a holster tied around his calf. He aimed it at Draco and cried “Expelliarmus!” at almost the same time Draco shouted “Impedimenta!” After muttering the disarming spell, Draco’s wand flew out of his hands. He watched as it landed around five feet from him to his left.

Diotavelli was not unharmed from Draco’s curse. He was moving in excruciatingly slow motion. From his movement, Draco guessed that he was positioning himself to throw another spell at him.

“Ginny, quick, draw your wand,” Draco shouted to her as he moved to retrieve his wand. He didn’t need to tell her twice, her wand was already out and readily pointed at Diotavelli.

“Expelliarmus!” she called out.

Diotavelli’s tried to evade the spell, but the Impedimenta charm was still cast upon him; it was too late to move.

“Accio Wand!” Ginny uttered the moment the old man’s wand hit the floor. It flew to her, and she caught it deftly with her free hand.

She kept her wand pointed at Diotavelli as the old man recovered. Draco came up to her side and took Diotavelli’s wand from her and tucked it inside the waistband of his trousers.

“I guess I lost more magic throughout the years. Kill me if you want, my life serves no more purpose,” Diotavelli said, resigning himself.

“I told you, I mean no harm. I have no intentions of killing you. I only did what I did because you attacked my friend. I know he attacked you first, but I’m sure he had his reasons,” Ginny told him patiently.

Draco was dumbstruck when he heard Ginny refer to him as her friend. He could barely believe his ear when she professed how she was sure he had reasons for aggressing Diotavelli. How could she have easily trusted that he was not up to no good? And without even wanting an explanation. Even his fellow Slytherins wouldn’t have trusted him as much.

“Aurora did not send you to kill me?” Diotavelli asked, eyeing Ginny with suspicion.

“I don’t even know who this Aurora character is!” she answered exasperatedly.

“Are you talking about Aurora Belpo?” Draco interjected. Ginny looked quizzically up at him.

“I’m right! She did send you to kill me!” Diotavelli yelled frantically.

Ginny rolled her eyes, and all the patience she exhibited earlier was no more. “Once and for all, no one was sent to kill anyone! And can one of you please tell me who Aurora is!”

“I wouldn’t blame her if she did send someone to kill you! You trapped her inside this prison, and I can only imagine what kind of torture you did to her you evil bastard!” Draco bellowed, completely ignoring Ginny.

“So you are admitting that you’ve been sent here to kill me!” he answered as he lifted his pimple-infested nose up in the air.

“Didn’t you hear me earlier? No one is going to kill anyone!” Ginny screamed at the top of her lungs in attempt to get their attention.

“I don’t need anyone to send me. I can kill you on my own accord you sadist son of a bitch!” Draco threatened him, raising his wand at eye level, completely ignoring Ginny for the second time.

“Not if I kill you first!”

“You don’t have a wand!”

“I can kill you with my bare hands!”

“Are you saying that I can’t?”

“Let me see you try!”

And with that Draco abandoned his wand and lunged at Diotavelli headfirst. He was an old man, but he was still quick with his fists. He managed to land a decent jab to Draco’s ribs much to the latter’s chagrin. Draco’s rejoinder was a fist to the man’s jaw. The old man staggered backwards from the blow. He quickly picked himself up and resumed his fighting stance. Neither of them noticed Ginny conjuring two threads of red rope from air and had it tied around their hands and ankles in a flash.

“Weasley! What do you think you’re doing?!” Draco yelled as he squirmed against the ropes.

“What am I supposed to do? Let you fight it out, like men,” Ginny enunciated the last word with a tone of sarcasm. “You’re forgetting one thing, Malfoy. You’re sixteen, and he’s eighty!”

“Isn’t that a bit ageist of you?” Draco said with a slight snicker.

“Who told you I was looking out for him?” she rebutted.

“I was giving him a head start, wench,” he sneered.

“Are you going to kill me now?” Diotavelli piped up.

“You, get it through your thick skull, no one is here to kill anyone,” Ginny told him.

“Why don’t we just kill him and end his misery,” Draco suggested.

“You,” she said, her index finger pointed at Draco, “not helping.”

“Well, what do you want me to do?” he asked her.

“Stay put until I get to the bottom of this. First, who is this Aurora character?” Ginny asked no one in particular.

“An innocent woman that this sick pervert over here kidnapped and kept for the last fifty years. And from what I’ve seen, he wasn’t very hesitant to torture her,” Draco answered.

“Innocent? Aurora? Innocent my arse, that woman has more evil in her than the devil himself,” Diotavelli spitted out. Draco noticed how his eyes would get a look of disgust and abomination at the mention of Aurora. But it would soon soften, and the look would be replaced with that of pain and regret, as if it was she who tormented him through the years, and not the other way around.

“It doesn’t mean she deserved what you did to her,” Draco returned.

“What I did to her? What I did to her?! I saved her for as long as I could, I gave her everything! I gave her my life, my love. And what does she do? She betrays and sends you wretched pre-schoolers here to assassinate me!” he roared, the veins on his neck popping out as the blood rushed to his face. It was anger unbeknownst to either of them, that neither Draco nor Ginny expected.

There was a pregnant silence that filled the air after Diotavelli’s sudden outburst. Draco mentally pounded himself for being so assuming, for being so righteous, for thinking that he knew everything there was to know about the man standing before him. All he knew about him was written in a textbook that Granger supplied. And he of all people should know about how those books are. They would tell you all about the gory details, the ones that the whole world already knew, never the ones that really matter, at least for people who thought it should.

Draco knew deep in his heart, that when all this is over, when the good side wins out like it always does, his father would be portrayed in every single history book as a monster. They would call him evil, a murderer, and an ugly troll. But none would ever say that he used to bring his son to Egypt to go mummy-hunting or that he would let his son sleep between him and his wife back in the days when he was still afraid of lightning (which he isn’t now, he insists). No, that part will be forgotten, they will only be memories kept in the deep recesses of his heart.

Draco was speechless; he simply did not know what to say. Fortunately, Ginny did. “For what it’s worth, I’m really not here to kill you. I don’t know about him though,” she finished, cocking her head towards Draco. He shot her an ominous look, then turned to Diotavelli, and shook his head indicating that he wasn’t there to kill him either.

Diotavelli sniffed arrogantly. “It doesn’t matter, you’ll be stuck here with me,” he said, then added, “for all eternity,” for effect.

Ginny’s head shot up, and her eyes darted frantically from Draco to Diotavelli. She searched the old man’s face for some sign that he was bluffing. When she couldn’t find any, she turned to Draco and asked without words if there was truth to what was just said. He just gave her a blank look that didn’t betray the dread churning in his stomach.

“That can’t be true, please sir, tell me that’s not true,” Ginny pleaded, tears welling up in her eyes.

“Life isn’t as bad as it seems. I’ve stocked up food for the next hundred years. I reckon you won’t live as long,” he said nonchalantly.

“Draco,” she said, running up to him. It only occurred to him now that he was still tied up.

“I’m afraid he’s telling the truth,” he said, trying to sound as calm as possible, “so it might be a good idea to get these ropes off.”

Ginny did as she was asked as she cried silently. After she undid his and Diotavelli’s ties, she looked up at him once more. “Can’t we apparate out?” she asked, her eyes showing hope and desperation.

“Can you apparate?” Draco asked her.

Ginny’s lips quickly formed into a pout, and she cried, “No,” before sobbing freely and burying her head in his chest.

Draco was taken aback by her impulsiveness. He patted her hair awkwardly. “Come now, it’ll be all right,” he said in what he thought was a soothing voice.

Ginny broke away from him. “How can it be all right?! I still want to see my parents, I want to see my brothers, I want to see my friends, and I want to marry Harry someday!” She was talking rapidly, and Draco could barely catch onto every word.

“You still have that thing for Potter? Christ, Weasley, that was--,”

“Malfoy, this really isn’t the time,” Ginny cut him off as she blew her nose at the hem of her robe. She started crying again. Draco tried consoling her by patting her shoulder lightly. He looked over to where Diotavelli was standing. The old man was observing them with a curious stare.

“They said you were a genius,” Draco said, interrupting Diotavelli’s thoughts. Ginny stopped weeping momentarily and turned to Diotavelli too. “There’s a way out, isn’t there?” Draco continued.

“What makes you so certain?” he answered with a gruff.

“The mirror,” he said, cocking his head sideways, “it still looks new. For magical artefacts to remain pristine, you have to constantly use them. Otherwise they will get old, and no amount of polishing can bring them back to their old form. You must have regularly used that to get in and out of here. Probably to go for food, I reckon.”

Ginny gasped at Draco’s display of expertise.

Diotavelli smirked. “That’s only true for an object of the dark arts. Not many wizards know that, not even grown up wizards.”

“I am my father’s son.”

“What did you say your name was?”

“I’m a Malfoy.”

“I see.” Then Diotavelli began cackling madly, and soon Draco joined him.

“Okay,” Ginny muttered to herself as she slowly backed away from the grotesque cackling men in front of her.

Harry

It was on a rare occasion like this that Harry would see Hermione absolutely helpless. She bit her lower lip, whimpered to herself softly, and then she turned to him and asked, “What now?”

The remaining six of them were standing in front of the mirror in a half circle, all subconsciously wishing for a ball of answers to drop from the air and end their misery.

“The first thing that we need to do is remain calm,” he answered.

“I am calm, and it’s not helping,” she retorted.

“Well, if you let me finish I will get to the second thing, and we may see results,” Harry told her through gritted teeth. Hermione just nodded and let him continue. “I don’t think any of us should try and follow them in there. I think that if Aurora managed to stay alive for the last fifty years in there, they can survive for a couple more hours until we find a solution. The first thing we need to do--,”

“Actually, the second thing, the first thing was the remaining calm bit,” Justin corrected him. A sickeningly sweet smile was plastered on his face.

Harry took a deep breath, sighed, and let the air sound off his nose. “Thank you very much for that reminder Justin,” he said simply.

“You’re very welcome,” Justin answered without malice.

Harry nodded curtly and continued. “What we need now is to find out what happened to the professors and to Filch. It is quite strange that after the ruckus we’ve made, we still haven’t been caught. Ron, you told us about this other woman who came down with a hippogriff and carried Aurora off with her. I get the feeling that she had something to do with this. I don’t think that the weird occurrences around the castle and her appearance could be mere a coincidence.”

Ron nodded his head. “But why would she do that?”

“Not the main focus at this moment, what we need to know is what she did. I’m guessing that it’s something that would prevent the professors from knowing her movements about the castle,” Hermione interjected.

“Perhaps she slipped them a sleeping potion,” Justin offered.

“No, that would mean she had to have been at Hogwarts even before tonight and that she had contact with the professors,” Hermione contradicted.

“Maybe she bribed the house elves to put the potion in their drinks,” Ron mused.

“Ron!” Hermione exclaimed, staring at him in disbelief.

“I don’t think it can be a potion. The sleeping potion would last for days, and they would certainly be suspicious if they find themselves waking up on the weekend,” Harry said.

“It has to be something that goes quickly and would not leave lasting effects that people would notice. Like a charm,” Hermione added.

Lavender cleared her throat and spoke up, “If she did, it didn’t take effect on any of us.”

“That’s true, otherwise none of us would be in this situation,” Parvati chimed in.

“And it seems the rest of Hogwarts is unaware of what’s going on, but here we are, unperturbed by whatever charm it was,” Ron thought aloud.

“Why?” Justin asked.

“Because we’re all awake,” Hermione said.

“A charm for undisturbed sleeping, that’s what she cast,” Harry finished the thought for her.

“And none of us were affected because we didn’t go to sleep?” Parvati asked.

“Makes perfect sense,” Hermione voiced out.

Harry gave her something else to think about, though. “Except for one minor glitch, Filch doesn’t sleep. How come we can’t find him?”

“I think it’s because he’s in league with whoever caused all these troubles,” Ron said, his mouth half open and eyes not leaving the reflection on the mirror.

Harry followed Ron’s line of sight and his jaw practically dropped to the floor at the scene that greeted him. Standing by the doorway was Mrs. Norris, stiffly sitting beside Filch who was holding a muggle pistol, and he was pointing it straight at Ron’s head.

Ginny

“Are you two finished cackling yet?” Ginny asked the two men in front of her. Seeing that they weren’t planning on stopping anytime soon, she stomped off to the bunk and plopped down on it with an obvious clunk. She crossed her arms over her chest, and her knees were shut tightly together and her feet firmly planted on the floor.

She shifted a little to her left when she felt the rusty spring of the mattress poking at her bum. She just sat there and watched them. She never knew anyone could laugh for such a long time without ever getting tired. Her sitting position was very uncomfortable and soon she felt her calves numbing, and pins and needles prickling her feet. She relaxed her stance a little. She lifted her knees up and put her feet up on the mattress. She slid across the bed and leaned her back against the wall.

Ginny looked at Draco curiously. “Why is he here?” she thought. She didn’t think to ask that question earlier, all she thought about was how glad she was to see a familiar face. “Is that all there is to it?” she wondered. A small voice inside her head gave her a very crisp no as answer. She tried to block the trail of thoughts that started to form in her brain. But it was no use, the moment she asked the question, it was as if she unlocked the gates of a dam, and there was no way to stop the water from flooding out.

She only knew Draco from afar, and Ron always spoke ill of him. She only knew him from what Ron said. According to Ron, he was vile, abominable, horrible, annoying, and a complete waste of energy. That’s always how she saw him, a cardboard cut out of evil. He was just a one-dimensional character that merely existed to add conflict to his brother and his friends’ lives.

He had never done anything to her directly. True, there was that time in her first year when he embarrassed her about the Valentine she sent Harry. But worse things have happened to her, and none of those things had anything to do with Draco. She hypothesized that Slytherins assigned a class bully for each year, so she wasn’t under Draco’s jurisdiction.

If he was so evil, then how come she didn’t feel threatened around him? She didn’t trust him entirely, but she didn’t doubt him either. It was a strange, strange feeling to know that she need not put up her guard around a man that had always been described to her as the epitome of malevolence.

She remembered how he shoved her protectively behind him. It was a rash movement, but his hands were gentle. Maybe it was because his hands never had to do a day’s chores in all his life, or maybe it was just because he touched her gently. He touched her gently… The words kept echoing in her head. She could remember the ghost of his hands on her shoulder, caressing, comforting, soft and perfect.

She shuddered at her own thoughts. Her mother would kill her if she knew that she was… wait, was she? Is this what this was? Ginny shook her head vigorously as if this act would rid the ideas clouding her mind. The last thing she needed was to fall again for someone she could never have. “NO, NO, NO!” she fiercely shouted at the top of her lungs, banging her fists against her thighs. She wrapped her arms around her knees, buried her head against them and sobbed hysterically.

“Um, Weasley, are you alright?” Draco asked, ceasing his mad cackling episode. He edged towards the bunk and peered cautiously at Ginny’s hidden face.

“Of course I’m not okay. I’m crying my eyes out you daft prick!” she screamed at him.

She could tell the discomfort in his face. He’d probably never seen anyone cry for reasons other than persecution and mockery.

He patted her head as if she was a French poodle. He turned away to look at Diotavelli, and he gave him a nod of approval. “We’ll be able to get out of here, it’ll be alright,” Draco said as he patted her hair away.

She slapped his hand away. “Good.” It was all there was to say. She scrambled out of the bunk, pushing Draco slightly along the way and stood in front of the mirror.

“This is the gate, right?” she asked Diotavelli without looking at him.

“Yes,” he answered, “you should thank your friend. If it weren’t for him, I would have never let you go.”

“I thank you,” Ginny said meekly.

“Not me, him,” Diotavelli said, pointing at Draco.

“It’s alright, she doesn’t have to feel indebted to me,” Draco said with his casual arrogance.

Ginny took a sidelong glance at Draco, but her eyes immediately recoiled the moment she realized his intense stare.

“I thank you from the bottom of my heart, but I really want to go home now,” Ginny said trying to keep her voice level.

She saw as Draco’s reflection nodded at Diotavelli’s reflection, and the latter nodded back.

“I just ask one thing from you,” Diotavelli’s reflection addressed the two of them.

“Yes,” they both answered almost simultaneously.

“That you keep all of this a secret, I want to live the remainder of my life in peace,” he said.

“We will,” Draco answered for the both of them.

Diotavelli walked up beside Ginny and inserted his left hand between the third patterned carvings from the top on the left frame of the mirror.

“Don’t worry, it won’t hurt this time,” he said in a reassuring voice, after seeing the hesitant look on her face.

The familiar rippling motion began, and Ginny already knew what was to follow. She glanced at Draco’s already distorted reflection. Despite the fact that she wasn’t looking at him, or more probably because of it, she mouthed a soft thank you. And with that she stepped into the open gates back to Hogwarts.