Secrets in the Dark

Entry 1 - Aug. 25

I'm writing this journal not as a normal journal. It's... sort of... a story to the world. Do you know what I mean? I've never told anyone the stuff I intend to put in this journal and only a few select people will be permitted to read it.

First off, I guess I should introduce myself. My name is Draco Lucius Malfoy. I live with my mother and father. Neither of them really loves me. My father, Lucius Malfoy, certainly doesn't love me. If he did, he wouldn't be able to do the things to me that he does. My mother, Narcissa Malfoy, only pretends to love me. If she really loved me, she wouldn't be able to just sit around and watch as my father beats me. It's a weekend thing when I'm at home. Sometimes, it's more frequently than just on the weekends. You could call it the one and only father-son activity we have (this statement is meant to be very sarcastic). Other than the beatings, when I'm at home, my father doesn't even really acknowledge my existence unless he has something to say that he knows will make me either really angry or really hurt. I've come to believe that he wants me to get angry so he has an "excuse" to "punish" me.

I've learned to tone out the pain when the beatings come. I try to think about something else but, most of the time, I just kind of "sit in my mind" and "look at myself through my eyes". It's like... I'm seeing myself get beaten and not really feeling it. It's like I'm someone else watching the whole thing happen. Maybe you know what I mean and maybe you don't. I don't really care. You can think what you want about me these days and I won't even act like I hear you anymore.

The whole "I-don't-care-say-what-you-want" thing started last year - my fifth year - at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the school I currently attend. I sort of acted like I cared but I really didn't. My school's not like muggle (non-magic) schools at all. First of all, you only have to attend for seven years before you graduate. Second, it's a magic school (which you probably guessed by the title of it). And I'm a wizard. This is something I'm not supposed to tell muggles because they tend to do one of two things: 1) shun you or 2) ask you for magical solutions to all their problems.

School term begins on September 1^st. It's only a week away, which is good. I wanna get outta this house as soon as possible. Another beating or two before I leave for the school train is inevitable to escape. Wait - I hear my father's footsteps now. I have to go. If he catches me writing in this the beating is sure to be worse. He thinks of it as a sign of weakness. "A Malfoy is not supposed to show his feelings to the world. He is supposed to keep them inside and keep the world guessing," or something like that. My father says that. I don't believe in it in the least, but I have to pretend that I do... for my sake.

Until later....

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Entry 1 - Aug. 25

I'm writing this journal not as a normal journal. It's... sort of... a story to the world. Do you know what I mean? I've never told anyone the stuff I intend to put in this journal and only a few select people will be permitted to read it.

First off, I guess I should introduce myself. My name is Harry Potter. I live with my aunt, uncle, and cousin. The reason is that my parents were killed by Lord Voldemort. Formerly known as Tom Riddle in his school days, he is now the most feared dark lord of all time. He killed my parents on Halloween night when I was one-year-old and my aunt, uncle, and cousin were the only relatives I had left. Or so I thought. In my third year of school, I found out I had a godfather, Sirius Black. He was thought to have murdered 13 people with one curse and he was in Azkaban (the wizard prison) for a while. But he escaped in my third year and, toward the end of the year, my friends and I found out that he was innocent and it was really Peter Pettigrew - or Wormtail - who committed the crime. But the people in charge of who goes to Azkaban and who doesn't didn't believe our story. So, Sirius's name couldn't be cleared. Long story short, he hid out for awhile.

Last year, my fifth year, he was killed by one of Voldemort's followers called 'death eaters'. It really tore me up inside because, ever since I found out I had a godfather and learned of his innocence, I finally had someone I could call a father figure. I no longer have a father and I haven't for almost fifteen years and I finally had someone that regarded me as someone they could treat as a child. And, you know what? It felt good. For twelve long years, I had been treated like an outsider in the house of my relatives. They treated me (and still do, as a matter of fact) like a piece of scum that's stuck to their shoe.

I think Sirius regarded me as a friend and a brother as well as a child. During my fifth year, before he died, he began to treat me like a younger James - my father. They, along with Remus Lupin - one of my former Defense Against the Dark Arts (DADA) teachers - and Peter Pettigrew - the one that betrayed my parents with the Fidelius Charm (if you don't know what that is, I don't care because I don't have the time to tell you) when they were on the run from Voldemort, were best friends when they were at school and even when they graduated. I think Peter was the last one they expected to betray my parents (despite what Sirius said once. He said, when everything about the whole situation finally came out, that he wondered why he hadn't seen Peter was the traitor in the first place because he always relied on everyone else for everything and only hung out with the "big people on campus" so to speak. So when Voldemort started rising, he joined up with the "bigger man on campus". But I don't really think anyone knew, save Lord Voldemort, himself, and the rest of Voldemort's supporters.

I think all three of them hate me at heart. My aunt, uncle, and cousin, I mean. My cousin, whose the same age as me, has bullied me since he was old enough to sit up (basically ever since I "came into the family". My uncle has beat me since I was five or six and has berated me about being "abnormal" ever since I was eleven and first found out that I am a wizard. Yes. I'm a wizard. He knew all along but chose not to tell me. My sixth year starts in one week and I can't wait to see all my friends again and be back where I truly belong.

Hedwig, my pet owl and one of my best friends, is starting to get sick, I think. I'm not aloud to let her out of her cage, not even to let her fly, and she doesn't get as much food as I would like her to get. Neither do I, if it comes to that. But she sleeps all the time and she's getting thin.

Going back to school without another beating or two is inescapable. I know my friends are going to wonder what happened and they're going to ask. I'll tell them, but only if they ask. I'm not going to bring up the subject myself but I'm sure it won't take long for them to raise it.

I hear my uncle's footsteps coming up the stairs. He's come to give me a beating. No doubt it'll be for something Dudley did and I got blamed for. I have to go before he catches me. I'm not supposed to be doing anything but sitting on my bed, silent.

Until later....

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Aug. 25

Dear Diary,

Sorry I haven't written for a while. I've just had a lot on my mind. Harry hasn't written in a while. It worries me a little because the only time he doesn't write is when he's in some kind of trouble at his home. I might write Ron. Maybe he can do another save with his dad's car. Oh, yeah. That blue Ford Anglia thingy escaped into the forest when Harry and Ron flew it to school in our second year. I forgot about that. I guess Harry won't be getting rescued anytime soon. Not by us anyway.

Maybe he's just really busy lately. Yeah. That's it. He's just busy.

I gotta go. I'll write in here later.

Hermione

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It was the summer after Ginny's fourth year at school, Ron's fifth.

Ginny Weasley was sitting by the window in her room and looking out across the field that ended in a forest. The forest and field were thick with lush, green grass and bushy, green trees. She was thinking about stuff.

She opened the window about halfway and sat on her knees on the floor. While she stared outside with her hands on her knees, she absentmindedly fell asleep, slipping quietly to the floor. The dream was scary and strange. First, it started out as her in the Chamber of Secrets with Tom Riddle and all the stuff that had to do with the diary. That was the scary part even thought she had that dream a lot. The second part was the strange part. She saw a black, dark green, and silver room. The only things in it were a large black chest that stood tall with two silver handles, a black trunk that was sitting on the floor by the chest with the lid shut, and a regular-sized bed on which lay a boy with bloody black robes. The dream proceeded as if she was walking towards the boy. Closer and closer she came until she was right beside the bed with the boy on it. He lay sprawled on the bed and his robes weren't the only things that were bloody. His face and neck were bloody too, as were his arms. His hair, usually silver-blonde (how she knew that she didn't know) was disheveled and matted with blood. Both of his arms and one of his legs lay at odd angles. They were broken.

She gasped in her dream. By the looks of this boy, he shouldn't have even been alive. But he was breathing. The breathing was slow, hard, and raspy, but it was there.

She gasped again. She knew who this boy was.

It was Draco Malfoy.

The dream proceeded. Malfoy's room shifted and changed to become a completely different one. Clothes lay all over the place in little piles. There was a mahogany wood cupboard with little knobs, dull silver in color, with one of the doors slightly open. On a desk, a very malnourished and dirty bird was in a cage. It was an owl. The owl looked sad and it's wings were limp, as if it hadn't been out to fly in a very long time. The only other piece of furniture was a bare bed. Well, almost bare. There was a boy on it, a boy with jet-black hair. He looked like he was sleeping. His eyes were closed, at least. He was lying on his stomach and all he had on was a pair of jeans. His arms weren't out to his sides. They were stretched out away from his body and one of his legs, the right one, lay at an odd angle. It was evident that it was broken. The dream Ginny was in had her walk closer to this boy. She stopped when she was right by the bed. She looked at the boy's back and gasped at what she saw. The boy's back was covered in whip marks that still bled. A tear fell down the boy's face and mingled with the blood that covered half of his face. His hair was matted in places with blood. After one tear fell down the boy's cheek, one more fell and then no more. A slow, hard, raspy breath could be heard from him.

This boy was Harry Potter.

Ginny cried silently for both boys. The dream was over and she was whisked out of her slumber and back into her room in here house at The Burrow. She woke up. Tears were falling gently down here cheeks and her face was wet now. Somehow, she had a feeling that the parts of the dream about Draco and Harry were real. Somehow, she had to get those two rescued.

She heard a knock on her bedroom door.

"Ginn?" came the voice of her brother, Ron. "Ginn?"

He opened her door and came in. He saw her on the floor and then he heard her cry.

"Ginny? What's wrong?" He sat down beside her and put a hand on her shoulder. "What's wrong?" he asked again.

"My dream," she said through tears and sobs. "It was real. It wasn't just a dream-dream. It was real."

"What was it about, Ginny? Tell me."

She was silent for a few moments. "Never mind."

"No, what?" he asked, concern in his voice.

"I said never mind," she said harshly to him. She shrugged his hand off her, got up, and went to clean her face off. Then she went down to dinner.

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Ron watched, surprised, as she got up and left the room. 'What has gotten into her?' he thought. He got up off the floor and went downstairs, hoping to catch her on the way down. But she was already downstairs and sitting at the table.

Ron sat down at the table and snuck a peak at Ginny. She was sitting with her head down and dragging her fork through the spaghetti on her plate. She wasn't eating.

"Hi, Ron," his mom said. "Have some spaghetti." She loaded two big spoonfuls onto his plate.

Ron looked down and began to eat his food. Him and Ginny were the only two not talking. Bill, the eldest Weasley child, was home for the summer and was in yet another discussion with Mrs. Weasley about his appearance. Bill looked much as he had two years ago only, this time, a new earring was included into his attire - a gold hoop in his right ear. He still had the fang earring in his other ear, which had just managed to pop up into the conversation.

"Mom," Bill said, taking a bite of his food, "I've told you before. No one cares how I dress as long as I bring home plenty of treasure." Bill worked for the wizard bank, Gringotts.

Now, she eyed his hair, which was still long and pulled into a ponytail.

"If you'd just let me... trim it... a little...."

"No, mum," Bill said firmly.

Charlie, the second eldest Weasley child, was also home for the summer. The only one of the Weasley children who hadn't come home for the summer was the third eldest, Percy, and no one had really expected him to. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had just hoped he would. But they had hoped to no avail.

Charlie was sitting by Mr. Weasley. He wore a sleeveless shirt so his latest burn from a dragon was showing. It was a large one on his left arm below his shoulder. Charlie worked with dragons in Romania.

Charlie and Mr. Weasley were discussing the burn in between bites of their food.

"That burn looks pretty nasty, son." Mr. Weasley slurped up some spaghetti.

"Dad, I'm fine," Charlie said.

"I'm just saying, you should try to be more careful."

"Well, it's virtually impossible to be careful around a dragon who's breathing fire at you and who's trying to burn you to a crisp." Mr. Weasley looked a little worried. "But I'll try."

Mr. Weasley gave a small smile. "This is going to sound corny, but ever since I heard You-Know-Who was back, I've been so worried about you guys."

"That doesn't sound corny, dad," said Charlie. He leaned in close to Mr. Weasley's ear but Ron, who was sitting right by them, could still hear. "I worry about them, too." They gave each other a small smile and went back to their food.

Fred and George, the twins, were sitting by each other and discussing new ideas for their joke shop that they'd started when they'd quit school in their seventh year. They stocked things in their shop that Filch, the caretaker at Hogwarts (Ron and Ginny's school), had never even heard of... yet. They had closed the shop for the second half of the summer so they could spend time with their family.

"May I be excused?" Ginny asked and got up before anyone could give her an answer.

"Me too," said Ron. The two of them got up and headed upstairs.

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That night, Ron followed me upstairs after dinner. We went into my room, sat on my bed, and looked out the window. It was raining hard.

I like the rain. I like the way it hits my face and runs down in little rivers. I like the pitter-patter sound it makes when it splashes against the windows. I love how I can be outside and within minutes (sometimes seconds), I'm soaked to the bone. Rain, for some reason is calming to me. Sometimes, I'll lie awake on my back in bed at night and listen to it come down. I've always wondered how clouds can hold so much water when, all clouds really are, is fog.

We sat there silently together for a few minutes before he asked me to tell him about my dream. I told him all about it. I don't want to put it all here because it's not a memory I want to remember. It was about Harry and Draco and it hadn't been, let's just say, pretty. He didn't seem overly interested in Draco's condition (which is to be expected, considering they've been rivals ever since they met on their first train ride to Hogwarts) but when I came to Harry, he got a funny look on his face. I didn't tell him about the first part of my dream - about Tom Riddle - because I knew he would just worry about me. He'd worried about me enough in my first year when the whole Chamber of Secrets thing was going on; he didn't need to know that I was still having dreams about it. That would just make his worries begin all over again. So, I will keep it to myself.

We sat there for a few minutes more in silence before either of us decided to speak again. He told me that it was just a dream and I shouldn't worry myself over it. Then he told me good night and went up to bed.

After he left, I sat up for a little while. That's what I'm doing now. He left about an hour ago. Well, I'm gonna go to bed now.

Ginny woke up. She looked at the clock on the wall. It was 3:30 in the morning. She groaned and rolled over. For forty-five minutes she tried to get back to sleep, but sleep just wouldn't come. She got up out of bed, deciding she would get some fresh air. She still had on the clothes she'd worn the day before so she just pulled her hair into a ponytail, slipped on some socks and shoes that were lying on the floor, and quietly made her way out of her room, shutting the door behind her. She headed quietly down the stairs and went to the back door. Her cloak was on a hook by the door and she put it on before silently opening the door and stepping out on the back porch. There was a roof over the porch and a porch swing. She shut the door and sat down on the swing and pulled her cloak closer around her. It was chilly and still raining.

She sat there for maybe an hour, just listening to the rain. She sighed, pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapped her arms around her legs, and put her chin on her knees. She thought back to her dream. It had really scared her, seeing Harry and Draco like that, even if it was just a dream.

The back door creaked open slowly. Ginny looked over. It was Ron.

"Mind if I sit down?"

She shrugged. "Go ahead."

He came over and sat down beside her. He was dressed in regular clothes also and was wearing his shoes and cloak too. It was no longer raining hard, just drizzling, but it was still pretty chilly.

"So, what're you doing out here at 5:30 in the morning?" Ron asked her. "The sun doesn't even rise till six."

"I just came out here to think."

"About what?"

"Oh, I dunno. Just stuff, I guess."

"How long've you been out here?"

"About and hour, I guess."

"Really?"

"Yeah," she said. "I woke up at about 3:30 and couldn't get back to sleep so I decided to just come out for some air for a while."

They sat there in silence for a few minutes until Ginny said, "I think about him all the time, you know."

"About who?" he asked, curiosity invading the usual calmness of his voice.

She looked out across the field and at the woods that were behind the house. "Harry."

"Oh." There was a small hint of sadness in his voice, as if he knew she had no chance.

"I think about... how things could be if he would just notice me and think of me as someone more than just your little sister."

"I thought you gave up on him."

"I did." They were silent for a moment. "Just because I've given up on him doesn't mean my feelings for him are gone."

They were silent for a moment. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" She looked at him, a little confused.

"Because you can't be happy."

"I'll be okay. If he never notices me, I'll just have to get over it and move on with my life. Besides, that's what I've been doing these past years anyway."

"So... what was that whole thing with Michael Corner in your forth year? And I thought you were going out with Dean."

"I was trying to forget about him. But I can't. I broke up with Dean about a week ago."

The sun had risen now. The back door opened. It was Mrs. Weasley.

"Hey, you two. What're you doing out here so early?"

They turned their heads to look at her.

"Just talking," Ron said.

"Well, do you wanna come in for some breakfast?"

They both said, "Sure," got up, and went inside, leaving their shoes on the mat inside the door and hanging their cloaks up.

They sat down at the table. Their mom had made eggs, bacon, and toast. Both were quiet while they loaded their plates with food and began to eat.

Pretty soon, Mrs. Weasley left the kitchen (but first prodding the dishes in the sink from the night before with her wand. They began to wash themselves and stack themselves on the counter) and went to go wake up her other children and her husband.

The day came when it was time for Ron and Ginny to get back on the train for Ginny's fifth year and Ron's sixth year at school. They used muggle transportation - cab's - to get to King's Cross Station because they still hadn't acquired a car, not having the money to pay for one. It was a warm day and the Weasleys were the cab drivers' first pick-up so the cab drivers weren't too bothered by two owls (Ginny'd gotten a medium-sized tawny-colored one that summer).

It took them about an hour to get to the train station and they arrived at 10:15. They wanted to have plenty of time to get to the platform so Bill went to get two trolleys while the others got Ron and Ginny's trunks and owls from the cab they'd been in. Mr. Weasley paid each cab driver (he'd had enough experience with handling muggle money by now that he didn't need any help giving the drivers the right amount).

After the cab drivers had been paid, they drove off. Ron and Ginny began to push their trolleys into the station and everyone went with them to see them off. They set out for Platform 9 ¾ and reached it at about 8:30, plenty of time for them to all get through the platform and for Ron and Ginny to put their owls and trunks in one of the compartments on the train.

They did all that in a time period of ten minutes. Bill, Charlie, Fred, George, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley hung around and talked to Ron and Ginny until it was time to go.

All of a sudden, someone began walking through the groups and crowds, yelling that it was time for everyone to board. Ron and Ginny hugged everyone and took the sandwiches Mrs. Weasley gave them. They told everyone good-bye and got on the train just as the conductor was walking along the train and closing the compartment doors.

Ron and Ginny hung out the window and waved good-bye to everyone. The whistle blew and the train begun to move. They were on their way.

They were sitting in the compartment for about fifteen minutes when the compartment door slid open and Hermione Granger came in.

"Hi, you two," she said.

"Hi," they said.

"So, how was your summer?" she asked them.

"Mine was good," Ron said.

"Mine was okay," Ginny said. "Hey, Ron?"

"Yeah, Ginny?"

"Could you leave for a little bit? I kinda need to talk to Hermione. Alone."

"Oh," Ron said. "Okay. I'll just go look and see if I can find Harry." He left the compartment.

Hermione sat down by her. "So, what's up?"

"It's just... I don't know what to do. I can't get Harry off my mind. I mean, I think about him all the time and I wish... I wish he would think of me as something more than just Ron's little sister. And that's all he thinks of me as. Ron's little sister. Because I like him. I mean I really like him. And I don't think he likes me like that. I don't even think he likes me for a friend. I feel like I'm just going to be 'Ron's little sister' to him for the rest of my life."

The both of them sat in silence for a minute. "I don't know what to tell you." She paused for a second. "What do you want me to do?"

"Well," Ginny said, "you're one of his best friends. Maybe you can try to make him see that I'm not the little girl that used to "stalk him", shall we say, at school anymore. I'm not the little girl that needed saving from the Chamber of Secrets. And I'm more than just Ron's little sister. I'm grown up now. Maybe you can help him see that. I dunno. I just really need him to understand that. Then, maybe, he'll think of me as something more. A potential girlfriend, maybe."

"Well, I'll do what I can, but I don't know how much that'll be."

"Thank you," Ginny said. She gave Hermione a quick hug. "You know, I think Ron really likes you."

Hermione's face lit up a little. "Really? How can you tell?"

"Well, you should've seen his face when you came in here. I haven't seen him look so happy since... well... I don't think I've ever seen him look so happy." Hermione had a look on her face of pure happiness. "You like him, don't you?" Ginny asked.

"Yeah."

"Really like him?"

"Yeah. I like him as much as you like Harry." She sighed. "I don't know how to tell him though."

"Well, you should just come right out and say it. I mean, not in front of everyone or anything. Just between the two of you so neither of you get embarrassed or anything."

"You should take your own advice. Harry thinks you've given up on him."

"He also only thinks of me as Ron's little sister, as I said. He doesn't think of me as someone he could date."

"How do you know? Have you ever asked him to go out with you?"

"I'm too shy to ask him that."

"Let's make a deal with each other," Hermione said.

"What kind of deal?" Ginny asked with interest.

"By the end of the month, we have to tell the guys (in my place Ron, in your case Harry) how we feel about them. No matter what, it has to be by the end of the month."

"Um... okay," Ginny said. She was a little nervous about the whole thing: telling Harry how she felt about him and hearing his answer? What if he said he didn't think of her like that? What would it be like, hearing something like that? She guessed she would just find out when she asked. Besides, a deal was a deal and she wasn't one to break her promises. "I guess I can try to tell him. But, you've got to admit, it's not going to be easy."

"No one ever said that this was going to be easy. But, if we don't snatch those guys up, someone else will," Hermione said.

"Yeah," Ginny said. "I know what you mean."

The compartment door suddenly slid open and Ron came in with a very confused look on his face.

"What's wrong, Ron?" asked Ginny.

"Well," he said, "I've looked in every compartment all through the train and Harry isn't in any of them. I don't think he got on the train. And, not that anybody would care or anything - especially not me - but Malfoy wasn't in any of the compartments, either. Crabbe and Goyle were in one of them, but Malfoy wasn't there with them. Hey!" he said, his face lighting up. "What if he didn't even come this year? He said himself a couple years ago that his father was thinking of sending him to Durmstrang so maybe that's where he went this year!"

"Ron," Hermione said, "as much as everyone would love that, it's highly unlikely since he only has two years left at Hogwarts. As for neither him nor Harry being on the train... as for that, I have no idea."

"Hey," he said, "it was an interesting prospect, at least."

They all laughed a little and Ron sat down beside Hermione. Ginny gave her a quick smile and nodded her head at her. "I'm gonna go see if I can go find Colin," she said. "I haven't talked to him all summer and I think I'll just go catch up with him." She left the compartment, but not before giving Hermione another nod and sliding the compartment door shut.

"What was that all about?" Ron asked once she'd left.

"I have no idea," Hermione said. A sly smile was slowly creeping on her face, however.

A man appeared on the corner of Privet Drive, appeared so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the ground.

Nothing like this man had been seen on Privet Drive for many years. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore.

Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that he had just arrived on a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome. He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something.

He found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air, and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop. He clicked it again - the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Put-Outer, until the only lights left on the whole street was the occasional porch light.

A man joined Dumbledore on the street corner. He had greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin and was wearing long, black robes that billowed out behind him when he walked. His name was Severus Snape.

About ten minutes after that, a man and a woman came. The man was wearing an extremely shabby set of wizard's robes that had been darned in more than a few places. He looked a bit ill and exhausted. Though quite young, his light brown hair was flecked with gray. His name was Remus Lupin. The woman was also young. She had a pale heart-shaped face, dark twinkling eyes, and short spiky hair that was a violent shade of violet. But she screwed up her eyes in a strained expression as though she were struggling to remember something and a second later it had turned shoulder-length and the blackest of black. She was wearing dark blue jeans, a blood red, long-sleeved shirt, short black boots, and a long black cloak that reached to her ankles. Her name was Nymphadora Tonks, but if you ever called her by her first name, you'd be dead. She was called Tonks by everyone.

The group of four waited around on the street corner for about five minutes. Up walked the fifth and final member of their group. This man was the strangest of the lot. His face looked as though it had been carved out of weathered wood by someone who had only the vaguest idea of what human faces are supposed to look like, and was none too skilled with a chisel. Every inch of skin seemed to be scarred. The mouth looked like a diagonal gash, and a large chunk of the nose was missing. But it was the man's eyes that made him frightening. One of them was small, dark, and beady. The other was large, round as a coin, and a vivid, electric blue. The blue eye was moving ceaselessly, without blinking, and was rolling up, down, and from side to side, quite independently of the normal eye - and then it rolled right over, pointing into the back of the man's head, so all that could be seen was whiteness. This man's name was Alastor Moody, though he had gained the nickname of Mad-Eye for obvious reasons.

None of the group was smiling. Dumbledore looked down at his watch. This watch was different from most watches; instead of numbers on it, there were planets that moved around the perimeter of it. "Well," Dumbledore said, "it is time. Let us go."

The five of them (Dumbledore, Snape, Lupin, Tonks, and Moody) set off up the street. They stopped when they got to number four. The porch light was on at this house, but the rest of the house was silent and dark and it was evident that there was probably no one awake in the house.

All five of them got their wands out. They'd come to get Harry Potter because school had started a week ago and he hadn't shown up. Dumbledore opened the gate into the yard and led the way up to the front door. Only Dumbledore truly knew how the Dursleys would react if they knew that four fully-grown wizards and a fully-grown witch were getting ready to enter their house in the dead of night but the others could easily guess. The five were hoping to get in and out without being noticed by anyone so they didn't even bother knocking the door or ringing the bell. Dumbledore just put his wand tip to the lock in the door and whispered something. The front door swung silently open, allowing them entrance. They entered cautiously and shut the door, making no sound in the process. The whole house was completely silent. It was three o'clock in the morning. They would've been there sooner but Dumbledore and Snape had taken a lot of time to persuade the rest of them not to blast the Dursleys into oblivion no matter what state Harry was in. And this took a lot of persuasion.

They checked downstairs first but, upon finding no one, they decided to check upstairs. The first two rooms only contained Harry's cousin and his aunt and uncle, all of whom were fast asleep. There were only three other doors on the top floor. One was the door to a bathroom, one to a closet, and the last to Harry's bedroom.

The first thing they noticed in the room was Harry's owl, Hedwig. She was in a cage on a desk and looked malnourished and sick. A lamp lay broken on the floor.

They found Harry lying on his stomach in bed. He didn't have a shirt on and they could see whip marks on his back. One of his legs was lying at an odd angle; they could tell it was broken. One arm was clearly broken, and the wrist of his other arm lay at an odd angle, telling them that it was broken as well. Half of his face was cut up and there was blood oozing from the top of his head.

Dumbledore walked over to him. He put his hand on Harry's shoulder to shake him a little to see if he would wake up, but at the first touch, he began to shake convulsively.

There was a look of fury on Dumbledore's face the like of which hadn't been seen since Harry's fourth year after the Triwizard Tournament at Hogwarts. Snape sighed heavily, looked down, then looked back up again. A tear slid down Tonk's cheek. Lupin had a shocked look on his face and Moody began to make for the door, his face expressionless. Dumbledore stepped in front of him.

"No, Alastor. With all due respect, I cannot let you pass through that door with what you intend to do."

"I promised those Dursley's that if there was even a hint that Potter was being mistreated, they would have to answer to us. Now, look at him."

"I know," said Dumbledore. "But, right now, we need to get Harry and Hedwig out of here. They both need immediate medical attention and I can think of only one person I trust enough to take care of one of my students.

"Remus, you'll carry Hedwig in her cage. Tonks, please pack Harry's bag quickly and one of you can float it," he said at Moody and Snape. "I'll get Harry on a stretcher. After we get these two to Madam Pomfrey, we'll go pick up the other student who failed to show up for school."

"What's going on here?" said a scratchy voice from the bedroom door. Tonks muttered something under her breath and various things around the room began to zoom into a trunk that sat open in a corner of the room. The man was sort of short and fat and he was wearing a dark gray bathrobe.

"Dursley," snarled Moody with a look of pure hatred on his face. "I think you had just better get out of here before you give me even more of a cause to hex you into oblivion."

Vernon Dursley then noticed, for the first time, the wands in all five hands and realized exactly what he was up against. "Fine," he said. "Do whatever you want. I'm not about to get killed (which I am sure any of you would undoubtedly do) and, frankly, I don't care what you do to the little brat. It's not as if I care what happens to him anyway."

Snape walked swiftly over to Mr. Dursley and put his wand to his throat. "That," he said menacingly, "is obvious."

"Severus," Dumbledore said warningly.

Severus glanced over at Dumbledore, then gave Mr. Dursley (who was so scared now he couldn't move) a glare. "Move," he said. "Go back to your bedroom and keep away from here for the rest of the night."

"Y-y-yes," Mr. Dursley stuttered out. "F-fine." He left the room then, leaving the five of them alone in the room with Harry and Hedwig.

"Let's get them out of here," Dumbledore said.

Dumbledore conjured up a stretcher and, with Snape's help, laid Harry on it on his stomach. Tonks had now finished packing Harry's trunk. She gave the room one last look-over, saw something she'd missed, put it in, and shut and locked to trunk.

"Remus," Dumbledore said, "get Hedwig. Severus or Alastor (I don't care which), one of you get Harry's trunk. I'll get Harry."

Half an hour later, they had everything ready and had left the Dursley house by Disapparition (as long as everyone kept a hold on what they were holding: Lupin - Hedwig, Snape - the trunk, and Dumbledore - the stretcher with Harry on it, then not only would Dumbledore, Lupin, Tonks, Snape, and Moody Disapparate, but so would Harry on the stretcher, his trunk, and his owl). They Disapparated and Apparated into Hogsmeade - as it was impossible to Apparate into the Hogwarts grounds - and then walked the rest of the way to Hogwarts, floating Harry and his trunk. They traveled across the Hogwarts grounds and stopped in front of a wooden cabin. After having a hurried discussion (with much more persuasion going on) with the Hogwarts gamekeeper, Rubeus Hagrid (called Hagrid), they dropped Hedwig off so Hagrid could take care of Hedwig.

They traveled across the rest of the grounds then went through the silent hallways of Hogwarts School and to the Hospital Wing. After another hurried discussion, this time with the nurse - Madam Pomfrey - Harry was, soon enough, off the stretcher and lying on his stomach on one of the beds.

"Poppy," Dumbledore said, looking at Madam Pomfrey - the school nurse -, "I'm sorry to say we cannot stay. We have to go immediately and go pick up the other student who did not manage to show up here."

"Why immediately?" she asked him anxiously.

"Because," he said. "I do not know what sort of state he is in and I want to make sure we get him here before the students wake up. It will avoid some questions that are not already floating around this school."

"Well, I guess I'll maybe see you in a little while then."

"You can count on it, Poppy," Dumbledore said. "Lucius Malfoy can get pretty brutal when he's mad."

They left then (Madam Pomfrey in a slight state of shock upon realizing who it was exactly that they were going to get) going by Floopowder and reached the Malfoy mansion within minutes. Thankfully, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy were not at home so the five of them went upstairs and, in a minute or two, found Draco Malfoy's room. The room was bare except for a bed, a wardrobe, and a trunk.

The five of them walked over to the bed. On it lay Draco Malfoy. He was unconscious and there was dried blood matted into the blonde hair on his head. Both of his arms and one of his legs lay at odd angles; they could tell they were broken. There were cuts on his face and neck and there was dried blood on his wrists. But he was alive, though his breathing was heavy and rasping.

"Let us go," said Dumbledore. "Tonks, could you pack up his trunk? You always seem to be the fastest at it. I have to do something quickly. It will not take long."

While Tonks began with the task that had been assigned to her, Dumbledore left the room and headed down the stairs and into the kitchen. It was elaborate and spotless. Dumbledore quickly took out a piece of parchment, a quill, and some ink and wrote a very short letter. It said:

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy,

This letter is to inform you that your son, Mr. Draco Malfoy, has been taken into protective custody after the hurt inflicted on him. You will no longer be the guardians of said child and your parental rights are soon to be terminated. There is a very good chance you will never see your son again.

Also, one last note. Do not attempt to regain custody of said child as action of this could get you thrown into the prison of Azkaban or obtain you an even worse sentence. If you ever get within fifty feet (the length of a muggle football field) to said child, you will be drug in front of the court at the Ministry of Magic where your fate will there be decided.

Watch your back and heed

the words of this letter.

After Dumbledore finished writing the letter, he blew the ink dry, folded it in thirds, and left it on the kitchen table. He put the ink and quill (after getting the ink off of it) back into an inside pocket of his cloak and headed back upstairs to rejoin the others.

When he got up the stairs and back into the bedroom, Lupin, Tonks, Snape, and Moody were waiting and talking amongst themselves, though they stopped abruptly when Dumbledore reentered. The trunk was packed and Draco was on a stretcher. One of his arms was hanging off the edge of it, so Dumbledore put it back on there. "Let us go," he said. "We'll Apparate to right outside of the Hogwarts school grounds and then walk the rest of the way to the school as we did before."

"It's at times like these," Tonks said, "that you wish that you could Apparate inside the Hogwarts grounds."

"I know what you mean," Lupin said. "I really don't feel like walking all the way up to the school. I'm hoping no one's up and out of their beds; only awkward questions would come from that."

"Let's go," said Snape. "The sooner we get out of here, the better. We do not want to be here when Lucius Malfoy comes home."

About half an hour later, the five of them were back in the Hospital Wing, this time with Draco Malfoy. His eagle owl had been found in a cage in the wardrobe. It was also dirty and very malnourished and was with Hedwig in Hagrid's hut. Draco and Harry's trunks were in Madam Pomfrey's office and the both of them were still unconscious and were in beds beside each other. The curtains surrounding both their beds were pulled all the way around so they were free from the wandering and curious eyes of anyone who happened to be looking in the windowpane of the hospital room door.

"How long do you expect them to be in here, Poppy?" Dumbledore asked the nurse with concern in his voice.

"A few weeks, actually. They're pretty messed up. I will have a better evaluation of their conditions after I do a thorough examination."

"Thank you, Poppy. We'll leave you to that then. Please notify me when you have that done."

"Yes, Headmaster, I will."

Dumbledore turned to the other four. "I will notify the four of you and Minerva when I find out more news. Until then, go on home. Or to your office in your case, Severus."

The five of them left then, shutting the door quietly behind them. As soon as they were gone, Madam Pomfrey walked over to stand between the two boy's beds. She didn't even know where to start. She looked back and forth between both the boys before going swiftly to her office and, upon returning, held an armful of potions and creams with which to treat the boys' injuries. She set them down on the bedside table and got to work.

An hour or so later, the two were as cured as they could be at the current moment. The blood on Draco's wrists was gone. Madam Pomfrey had put a cream on the cuts (which were deep and obviously forcefully given) that had set there for about ten minutes before she bandaged his wrists. The cuts were too deep and would have to heal for at least a week or more before she took her wand to the actual cuts. There were cuts on his face and neck that she had gotten rid of fairly easily. There would be no lasting marks from those. The broken bones she had fixed easily enough and there would be no lasting injuries from those. There had been a bump on his head that had, most likely, been the final cause for his unconsciousness. She had gotten rid of the blood, but the bump would remain for a few days to a week.

She checked once more that everything was taken care of before pulling a white starch cover over Draco up to his chin.

Although he was unconscious, a dream swirled around in his head. It was his very last memory before being knocked into darkness.

His father's footsteps could be heard on the way to Draco's room. He quickly shut his journal and put it and the pen he'd been using down the side of his bed and out of sight. They thudded softly onto the floor.

Aside from the thudding footsteps, all Draco could hear was the fast beating of his heart. He scooted back until his back was up against the bedpost. He sat in the corner of his bed... and waited....

He didn't have long to wait. Just a few seconds later, the door burst open and a thoroughly enraged Lucius Malfoy strode into the room. The first thing he did was reach out a hand, grab Draco by the wrist, and drag him off the bed. He slapped him across the face. Draco's face whipped back and his cheek began to turn red. "You worthless little SHIT!!" he said. Draco looked down. "Look at me when I'm talking to you!" he shouted. Reaching out a hand, he grasped Draco's chin tightly and turned his head so they were looking in each other's eyes. "I don't know why I even bother with you," he said in a low, menacing tone. "You're never going to be as good as a true Malfoy." He paused for a moment. "You're O.W.L.s came in today and they were absolutely pathetic." Another pause. "All I ask of you is for you to make good grades in school -"

"Oh, is that all you ask of me?" Draco blurted out before he could stop himself. "I thought it was much more than that. Sorry, I must've missed the memo."

Lucius Malfoy looked angrier than Draco had seen him, and he could easily understand why. He had never, ever even thought of talking like that to his father. "You are going to pay very dearly for that, Draco. You mark my words." A backhand to his face soon had Draco sprawled on the floor. This was followed by a swift kick to the ribs by one of the boots he was wearing.

Lucius looked down at him. "You are about to become familiar with a muggle object of which I have become very fond of. It's very useful in dealing with... unpleasant people you wish to teach a, shall we say, lesson." Having said these words, he reached into an inside pocket of the jet-black robes he was wearing and pulled out a folded up pocketknife. Draco knew these well. Some of the boys in his house used them on their arms sometimes for various reasons. The blade had to be sharp at all times so it would be ready to use whenever they needed it. Draco had never joined in the activity himself.

The handle of the knife was black with a silver serpent on the side. With his thumb, Lucius flicked the blade out of the handle. It was shiny and obviously very sharp. He came toward Draco, Draco edging away from him until he bumped into the bed. He had nowhere to go. "Since this is the first time I've ever used this... technique on you, I'll go... easy on you." He reached forward and grasped Draco's left arm. He lifted up the short sleeve of Draco's black t-shirt and, starting at the shoulder, he put the blade of the knife against the exposed flesh of the knife and pressed down hard. Immediately, blood began to ooze from the fresh wound. Draco gasped as the red liquid slid silently down his arm. His father, someone he had somehow come to fear, drug the blade of the knife all the way down his arm to just above his wrist, expertly missing all veins. Blood oozed from the wound and Draco's breathing became fast. He had never seen so much of his blood at one time before.

Lucius let go of his left arm and waited a few seconds, letting the full pain set in, before reaching down and grasping Draco's right arm. He struggled. "If you put up a fuss, Draco, it will only make it worse for you. I suggest you be still. Otherwise, it might make the bleeding... worse." He smiled then, a cold and evil smile Draco had never seen before. He didn't want to make his father any angrier than he obviously was (even though he seemed to be enjoying himself fully). He stopped struggling. The blade was dragged down his right arm in the same fashion, expertly missing all veins. If Draco was dead, what fun would hurting him be? You can't physically hurt someone who's dead. Blood - his own blood - soon covered his t-shirt, jeans, socks, and tennis shoes. There was also a good bit on the floor.

All he could do was sit and stare at his arms with his mouth slightly open at what his father had done to him. But Lucius Malfoy wasn't done. "It hurts, doesn't it, son." He wiped the blade of the pocketknife off on the mattress before shutting it and stashing it back in the inside pocket of his robes.

"No," Draco said in a low voice. "And don't call me son. I am no son of yours. A slave maybe." He looked up at Lucius. "But no son."

The next part of his "punishment" began. Lucius began to hit him and slap him across his face and neck. He was wearing a ring on every finger. These rings were family heirlooms and each had at least one sharp point somewhere on it. With every hit or slap, a cut formed on his face or neck, depending upon where the blow landed. Even as the blood ran in rivers down his face, Draco took these silently. He would not give his father the satisfaction of knowing how much his injuries hurt.

"Get up on the damn bed, asshole." Draco scrambled to obey. Lucius took out his wand. Only then did Draco notice that his mother, Narcissa, was standing at the bedroom door.

"Hurry up, dear." She was talking to Lucius. "Your supper's getting cold. I made your favorite." And she left. Lucius had never even acknowledged her presence. And she had never acknowledged Draco's.

"Where were we?" he said menacingly. "Oh, yes." He smiled again. He flicked his wand. A loud snap was heard. A cry came from Draco's mouth. His left arm had been broken. Lucius swiftly did the same to his other arm and his left leg. Tears were now streaming down his face. He was in so much pain he could hardly stand it. He was screaming uncontrollably. "Shut up! Shut up, you worthless shithole!!" Lucius yelled. He leaned forward, grabbed Draco's hair, and banged Draco's head against the rock-hard wall until blood oozed from a large bump and he passed out into unconsciousness.

After taking one more look at Draco, Madam Pomfrey shook her head and turned to the other sixteen-year-old boy that had been brought for her care.

Harry Potter looked very worse for wear. His back was very torn up. Whatever had been used to whip him had done its job very effectively. She waved her wand over his back and the blood vanished. She spread a thick cream over the many cuts on it. The cream would have to stay for twenty to twenty-five minutes before she could bandage them. She got rid of the cuts on his face in an instant. There would be no lasting marks from them. She fixed his broken bones easily enough. There was still blood oozing from his head, but slower than before. She got the bump to stop bleeding and cleared away the blood that had formed in his hair. The bump would remain for a few days to a week.

There was no telling when either boy would wake up. She finished healing Harry in about thirty minutes. She cleared most of the cream from his back, leaving only a thin layer to keep the wounds from bleeding any more. She levitated him then, and put bandages all the way around his torso. They reached over both his shoulders, under his arms, and covered his back, chest, and stomach down to his waist. She levitated him back down onto the bed, leaving him on his back, and pulled a starch white cover just up to his waist.

Although he was unconscious, a dream swirled around in his head. It was his very last memory before being knocked into darkness.

His uncle's footsteps could be heard on the way to Harry's room. He quickly shut his journal and put it and the pen he'd been using down the side of his bed and out of sight. They thudded softly onto the floor.

Aside from the thudding footsteps, all Harry could hear was the fast beating of his heart. He scooted back until his back was up against the bedpost. He sat in the corner of his bed... and waited....

He didn't have long to wait. Just a few seconds later, the door burst open and a thoroughly enraged Vernon Dursley strode into the room.