The Oracles of Prodigy

Chapter Six ~

Tainted White

"You three look something horrid," Ginny laughed as Harry, Ron and Hermione came trudging towards her in the Great Hall. It was now lunchtime at Hogwarts, thankfully, and the trio had just barely made it through the morning.

They had all rushed through their showers, for they had desperately needed them, and then burst through their first class at the exact time the bell finished ringing.

Also to their good luck, their first class was not Potions but Transfiguration. Though they still got a scolding for being late it was much, much better than gaining a detention from Snape.

"We are something horrid, Gin," Hermione replied, falling down next to her. Harry and Ron took their places across from them. "This morning was a nightmare."

"I bet," the red-haired girl answered, smiling as she took a swig of her pumpkin juice.

"Speaking of nightmare," Harry started, turning to Ron, "what happened with yours?"

"Nightmare?" Ginny questioned, snapping to attention and gazing at her older brother. "You had a nightmare, Ron? About what?" But Ron waved his hand as if brushing the thought aside.

"Never mind you Gin, it's gone now. Besides Harry, 'Mione's had it and she's just dandy," Ron pointed out, filling his bowl with steaming hot stew. The winter season was coming fast now and the chill weather meant a good serving of warmth was in need.

"Yes," Hermione agreed, taking a drink from her goblet as well. "But just last night you were panicking about going to bed. You forced Harry and I to stay with you all night, not to mention making us late for today!" Hermione accused, giving him a look of sincerity.

"Is that why you all were lying on each other in the common room?" Ginny asked, looking to them all.

"Yeah," Harry answered. "Your brother over here was a wreck last night. He came screaming to my bedside in the middle of the night. Woke up our whole dorm room."

"Thank you, Harry, for revealing all of that," Ron said sarcastically.

"Are you okay, Ron?" Ginny asked, her concern genuine. Ron looked annoyed.

"Yes mother, I'm fine," he answered, rolling his eyes dramatically. Ginny shook her head at him as Harry and Hermione laughed.

"Well, I better be off then," Ginny said, picking up her bag and standing up from the table. "Hermione, would you mind helping me with my homework tonight? Honestly, Potions has got to be the hardest subject ever!" Hermione beamed at her and nodded an agreement.

"Sure Gin, I'll be in the common room at seven."

"Thanks for it," Ginny replied. She waved a good-bye to Harry and added to Ron, "and Ron, if anything else happens to you I want you to tell me as well! We were all dead worried the last time and I don't want it to happen again." Ron only grumbled into his stew, but Ginny took this as his answer and left with a nod.

"Thanks a lot you two," Ron scowled, his accusation directed to Harry and Hermione. "I didn't want my sister knowing all that. I'm supposed to look out for her, not the other way around."

"Well, I agree with her too," Hermione stated. "You should have told her more about the dream. She is your family Ron." Ron shook his head.

"No way. That would just be me looking for trouble."

"How so?" Harry asked offhandedly, sipping his stew as well. Ron put his own spoon down.

"This past summer me and Ginny have been getting closer as siblings. Mum's idea. Because I'm the closest one to her age she wants us to be tighter than two peas in a pod; and we have been. We would go out and play Quidditch together, go shopping for Mum together, even have her teach us how to dance in our living room every Friday night! I mean, don't get me wrong here, it was fun.

"I love my sister, you know that; but the first time I had a-a....vision, Ginny was really worried. I don't want her to get like that again, that's all. She's my only sister and a younger one at that. I need to take care of her, not the other way around," Ron repeated. He shrugged at his friends, trying to look like it was nothing. But Harry and Hermione knew better.

For Ron, feelings had not always been his strong point. He never hesitated in showing them: fear, comfort, loyalty, caring, love; but to speak them out loud was a tad more difficult. Harry had to hand it to him though, the guy was getting better and better at expressing them than he was. Harry had this sense of keeping his thoughts to himself, unless they absolutely, positively needed to be known.

"Because that's what you're supposed to do, you bloke," Harry replied, nudging Ron a little. Ron, in turn, grinned at him.

"I know," he acknowledged.

There was silence between the friends after this, but a silence that was comfortable nevertheless. The three of them ate their lunch quietly, savoring each taste and every now and then glancing up at the windows to the chill breeze blowing gently outside.

"Care of Magical Creatures is next lesson," Hermione said, gazing contentedly out the window.

"With Slytherin," Ron finished, glancing at their table. Draco was sitting there, looking much more normal than he had for the last three months.

"We'll manage," Harry assured, trying to sound optimistic as usual. Ron and Hermione felt a pregnant pause after this, but in Hermione's case it was for a much different reason.

Some how the day three months ago when he had threatened her life still lingered with her. It wasn't as though he hadn't done it before, she knew from Harry and Ron that he had wanted her dead when the basilisk was running around wild, but she had never felt such hatred and evil come from someone like that. The closest she had ever gotten to someone with such intensity was last year at the Quidditch Cup.

When the Dark Mark rose into the air that night, Hermione had never known terror such as that. Not only did its sight strike her heart, but the cries of horror sprouting out around her didn't help with it at all.

And the only time that could have rivaled the fear in her other than Draco wanting her dead was Draco wanting her help. How scared would you be, if the person who would have nothing more than see your lifeless corpse lay at his feet suddenly trap you against a wall, show you a mark of evil and ask for your help. That day, which felt like ages ago, kept replaying in her mind. Along with it came a huge question, what did he want help with?

It couldn't be from the Mark, no way. Was that not the only thing Draco would have died to have? No, not a chance. He certainly did not want help from that...right? But if not, then what?

"Hermione, are you listening to me?" Harry asked, waving his hands trying to gain her attention.

"Hey-what? Oh, uh...yeah. Yeah-I'm listening."

"Then let's go, the bell just rang and we need to get to Hagrid's hut," Harry told her.

"All right then. Wait a second, where's Ron? If we have to go to Hagrid's then where is he?" Hermione asked, walking with Harry towards the Entrance Hall.

"Hermione, he left a few minutes ago to grab his books. He left them in his room in the rush of things, don't you remember? He said so just moments ago."

"I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention," Hermione apologized. "I was just lost in thought, that's all."

"No problem," Harry assured, pushing the subject aside. The two followed the crowd of Gyffindors out the doors and into the cool air outside.

Yes, it was a chilly afternoon, but the sun shone brightly in the sky and reflected off the white, cotton clouds. The last Care of Magical Creatures classes had been bathed in sunlight, and with the intense light came intense heat; but today was a wonderful day to be outside.

Also to their enjoyment it seemed as though the spell on Hermione had begun to tone down...a little bit at least. Walking next to Harry, Hermione chatted cheerfully with Parvati and Dean.

Parvati never once glanced at Harry, who found this as a good thing, and Dean stayed incredibly civil. He still gazed at Hermione with clouded eyes and a grin on his face, but other than that he remained dignified and pretty much normal.

"So where's the third part of the trio?" Parvati asked happily, looking around for Ron.

"He went to grab his books," Harry informed, but then their conversation was cut short by the rude interruption of a certain blonde-haired, grey-eyed someone.

"Get out of my way," Draco muttered, his eyes narrowed and Crabbe and Goyle standing to one side of him. Harry and Hermione only looked at him in anticipation, awaiting the usual insults that followed a command such as this. But none came, and he just glared at them, waiting as well.

"Be my guest," Harry mumbled back, and he pulled Hermione aside along with him. Without so much as a sneer Malfoy swept past them along with the other Slytherins.

"Just a little ray of sunshine that Malfoy, isn't he?" Dean commented, watching him walk off.

"No lying there," Parvati agreed. "Come on though, Hagrid is coming up over there." And sure enough there was the kind half-giant walking joyously up from the lake. As the four began to close the remaining distance between them and the hut, Harry and Hermione noticed that Ron still hadn't returned.

"What happened to Ron?" Harry asked, stopping in his steps. Hermione ceased her walking beside him but Parvati and Dean kept on.

"I don't know, but he should have been back now," Hermione said, glancing at her watch. Harry looked at the castle, debating on something,

"Should we go and find him?" he suggested. Hermione immediately disagreed with him.

"Not a chance! We're already going to miss classes in a couple of days, we have to attend as many as possible. Don't worry Harry, when the bell rings we'll check around the castle for him." With that said Hermione grabbed his arm and urged him to follow her so that they could join the rest of the Care of Magical Creatures class.

****

"Ginny! Ginny, hold on a second!" Hermione called, hurrying down the hall towards the fifth year girl. Harry was in close pursuit of her. Ginny on her own part halted halfway past their corridor, her arm full of books and her bag hanging from her arm. She was looking puzzled at the call of her name.

"Hermione, Harry. Shouldn't you two be at the other side of the castle?" Ginny asked as they came up to meet her. "What are you doing here?"

"We were looking for your brother," Harry explained. "Have you seen him anywhere?"

"Shouldn't he be with you two?" she questioned.

"He was, but at breakfast he left to get a book for class and never came back," Hermione informed her. "Have you seen him in the corridors?" Harry and Hermione looked hopeful, but Ginny didn't bring hope to their wishes.

"Sorry you two, but my morning has just been as Ron-free as yours," she answered, shrugging her shoulders. Crestfallen and having no idea where else to look, Harry and Hermione waved a goodbye to Ginny and turned to leave. Without any other words to say and having to travel a long way to her next class, Ginny shrugged at the thought of her brother missing and continued on her way.

Just when Hermione and Harry decided to give up on Ron a very jumpy Dennis Creevey called out to them.

"Hey Harry! Hermione, wait a second," The tiny third year tried to hurry past the other students, but his size did not help him at all. "Hey, could you move?" he asked, directing his question to the people around him. "I need to get to Harry and-what are you doing? Hey, wait. My bag's caught on your wand. Could you please stop? Please?! Stop! You're making me go the wrong way!"

"Dennis?" Hermione called over the heads of the students.

"I know where Ron is!" Dennis cried back, the origin of his voice lost in the flowing crowd of Ravenclaws, Gryffindors, Slytherins and Hufflepuffs. But at his reply both Harry and Hermione looked at each other and then dove head first into the fray.

"Dennis! Dennis, where did you see Ron?" Harry called, pushing past a seventh year. "Where was he?"

"He's in the-OW!" Dennis yelled. He must have hit the ground because not far off Harry and Hermione could see some people tripping over something.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked, concern flooding her.

"Yeah, just got hit but otherwise I'm fine. But I need to tell you about Ron before something else happens."

Then Hermione threw out a hand to stop Harry and pointed to the ground.

"Look, here he is," she said with a small smile. Confused, Harry looked down and saw a black robe on all fours crawling next to him. Laughing at the realization, Harry bent down and heaved Dennis to his feet.

"Thanks for that," he muttered, his eyes slightly crossed. "There were so many legs..."

"Er-right. Anyway, where did you see Ron, Dennis?" Harry asked hurriedly.

"Oh yeah, that. I went back to the common room a few moments ago to get something and I saw one of your books sitting on one of the tables. I went to go put it in your room and I saw Ron sitting on his bed. He was holding something in his lap. I don't know what it was, it was this really, really white cloth kind of stuff, like clothes I think. I don't know, but when he saw me he asked me to tell you and Hermione where he was if I ran into you. And that's it," Dennis explained, shrugging his shoulders.

"Wonder what's up," Harry said. He looked down to Dennis to ask him more, but the youngest Creevey brother had already been pushed somewhere too far for voice to carry.

"Well, should we go to him then? We've got sometime before Transfiguration begins," Hermione said, checking her watch.

"Yeah, I think there's something wrong if Ron is sitting alone in our room thinking," Harry said, both smiling widely.

"Okay then, let's be off."

****

Crystal suddenly sat up quickly in her bed, a cold sweat drenching her sleeping gown. Despite the cold wind blowing in from her always open windows, despite her thin sheets and cold stone walls and floor all around her, Crystal was burning to the core. She was breathing hard, looking all around herself and trying to make sure she was still in her tower bedroom.

She was in her simple bed, no posts, no curtains. Her white sheets were tangled around her and the sheer white drapes billowing from the windows on either side of her were still there. The oil lamp on the single wooden table across from her was still there and her gleaming white gown that she now wore everyday was laid out neatly beside it.

White. Everything around her was white. Her clothes, her bed, her drapes, her lamp...everything. There were no other colors for her, there never could be. If everything around her wasn't white then danger was not far away. Since she had discovered her powers the only color she could have was white. Everything white.

White was the only color she could see when her powers were in action, whether it be an intervention or if she was just casting a spell. All other colors dropped form her vision, from her memory all together. She always wore white, had her brother where white and had everything in her room white so she knew they were there if her powers unknowingly kicked in. And they had.

Though Crystal had tried to program herself to not use her powers, though she had been faithful to herself to not use them, her sleep had claimed a different role. Whenever Crystal slept her own control over her powers let go temporarily and they freely did what they wanted. Usually they never did much, being exercised daily by her, but now they had become restless from her lack of use for them. Lately she had done something that she fully regretted.

Even though an intervention took mostly mind intelligence and concentration of the body Crystal had accidentally done it in her sleep. She never had before because of all the mind work involved, but she guessed that her vow of powerlessness triggered its independence.

When she was sleeping she could unconsciously feel her astral projection of herself lift free and travel the trillions and trillions of miles to Hogwarts. She remembered seeing everything, the doors whiz by, the staircases flashing past and the portraits opening. It was like watching a movie go fast forward, zooming through the details though all were there. She remembered going into the Potter boy's dorm room, seeing him sleeping soundly in his bed. She had been drawn to him in particular somehow; the knowledge that something was different about him still tugging at her mind.

All indications of her powers made her assume that the intervention was to be for him, to let him see a future fate of destruction for himself, but somewhere along the line she was side tracked. Side tracked by Ron.

When Crystal first 'met' Harry, Ron and Hermione, she automatically found something different about Harry and Hermione. With Hermione there was a sense of ever-knowing knowledge. Sure the girl was smart, but there was something more about her, things that went on in her mind that were so great and wondrous that no one understood them.

With Harry, of course, there was the sense of a hideous past and agonizing future, yet the dear boy was the gentlest, bravest and simply kind-hearted person she literally had ever known. Those two stood out prominently in their trio, no doubt there; but the red-haired one did not.

For some odd reason Crystal knew there was something extraordinary about this boy, something that she had never seen before, but she wasn't sure what. Granger was the mind, Potter the cunning and this boy...? What was he? There was a certain quality he had that no one else in the known universe could rival him in, there had to be. Why else had Crystal created fate to bring them together as friends?

Since she had first seen them born their futures were decided, and she had altered fate to have these three wondrous humans meet and be friends, but she never did know what was it with Ron that made him special in the light of Harry and Hermione.

But she had gone to him and shown him the coming of what would happen at their meeting, not intentional or planned of course. But why? Why him? What was in him that made him great in comparison? And for several long hours Crystal did not sleep, the wind howling around her and the answers drifting away in the chilling air.

****

Harry and Hermione hurried up the steps to the boys' dorm room. When they reached the oak door they didn't even bother with knocking. Harry simply pushed the door open and rushed in, Hermione close behind.

"Ron, we were-" Harry began, but stopped mid-sentence. He was standing in the middle of the room with Hermione. It was oddly dark, and then Harry noticed the cause; the lamps were turned down and the drapes were drawn. Looking around for any sign of his best friend, Harry spotted that Ron's bed had their own curtains pulled closed, and he had a hunch that they broke off the sight of Ron.

Pointing this out to Hermione, Harry walked over to the bed and yanked back the fabric. Sitting there at the head of his bed, his legs crossed and his hands clasped over a gleaming white something, was Ron. It was as though he hadn't even noticed Hermione or Harry come in, he was just staring at the clothing in his hands, no expression readable on his features.

"Ron," Harry started, trying to look at him. Beside him Hermione came to stand, tilting her head and trying to decipher the contents in Ron's hands. Ron on his part said nothing, moved not once and never gave the notion that he could hear. "What are you doing?" Harry decided to just ask a simple question, thinking it best to not come out straight with 'Where in blazes were you this morning?! You had me and Hermione worried to high heaven you bloke!"

"I came up here, after breakfast," Ron answered. Harry let out a long sigh of relief. At least he was talking to him, which was a good sign that he hadn't gone crazy or had been put under a spell. But his voice was toneless, and he never looked up from what he was holding. "I came in here and opened my trunk. I saw the book I needed, and next to it was this," he indicated the soft fabric in his hands. He kept opening and closing his mouth, as if he wanted to say something but couldn't, or didn't.

"What is it?" Hermione asked quietly, her voice soft as a whisper.

"It's a tunic. A tunic and trousers. There were neatly folded next to my book. They aren't mine," Ron said, his fingers stroking the clothing.

"Where did you get them?" Harry asked, now knowing that there was something terribly wrong with Ron. The red-haired boy did not answer his question directly, but answered it nonetheless.

"I don't usually have white clothes, never really was fond of white, but I had some. Like maroon. I don't like maroon." He stretched out his legs and looked up at them. His face was blank, wiped of anything; but his eyes shone bright with horror. But of what horror Harry did not yet know. "They were neatly folded next to my book. They were very, very white. Bright against everything else. Harry, I don't fold my clothes." And no joke was intended with his words.

"Why are the curtains shut Ron? And the lamps turned down?" Hermione asked gently. Harry could feel her move from beside him and sit down at the foot of Ron's bed. Ron looked now to the window where a sliver of light was fighting to break in.

"I wanted to see how bright they were," he answered, his voice slightly high and filled to the brim with sincerity. "They were so bright and I wanted to know if I could see them in the dark. I could. They glowed so bright, very bright. But they've stopped now." He looked down at the tunic and moved it around a little.

Frustration and concern mounting higher and higher in his heart, Harry bent down and grasped Ron by the shoulder. He moved him so that he was staring him in the eye, his bright emerald eyes glowing themselves.

"Ron, what's wrong? Why weren't you at lessons with us? What's so great about a white tunic?" he asked, his voice forceful yet not harsh.

Looking at him, his eyes never leaving his, Ron turned the clothes over, so that the part that was hidden in his robes was revealed. Harry heard Hermione gasp at what she saw, and he looked down to see what was wrong. Ron kept looking at him, but in his hands now lay the radiant cloth, dark red blood splattered across the ocean of white.

****

Draco sat quietly next to Pansy during their study hour. He glanced around the library, seeing other students studying, working, whispering and chatting. He turned to Pansy sitting next to him, but she didn't notice because she was immersed, (rather strangely), in her book for Herbology.

"What happened that night Pansy? What did-"

"No," she answered, turning the page of her book and paying no more attention to him. Draco let out a long sigh.

Every now and then he would spring the question about that night to her, hoping to make her answer him directly on accident, but it seemed that her stubbornness to obey the Dark Lord and every other person present that night was holding on fast, making sure she was never off guard.

"Why won't you tell me?" he persisted, dropping his quill to the table and shifting in his seat so that he fully faced her.

"Oh, I don't really know Draco," Pansy breathed, scanning a page with her finger. "Maybe because You-Know-Who and my parents and your parents will skin me alive if I ever said anything. Not a big reason, I know, but a decent enough one for me." She glared at him for just a second before setting down her book and jotting something down on her parchment.

"How would they know if you ever told me?" he whispered, striving for some loophole for her to cross through.

"You know your Dark Mark?"

"Yes."

"That's how." Pansy flipped through a couple more pages before skimming through the text again. Frustrated, Draco pushed his seat back and stomped away to one of the aisles; Pansy said nothing and did nothing to stop him.

Wanting to be alone, Draco went to the back of the library. He hid at the far end of the line of bookshelves and leaned heavily against the wall.

"I just want to know what happened the night I got the Dark Mark," he grumbled, his hands balled into fists. "Why can't I remember?" With these words came small flashes of a memory of that night, tidbits of that tragic evening that he had already seen. The green light, a pale, cold laughter, luminous pain and darkness. But that was all.

Draco squeezed his eyes shut harder, hoping to fall back into his mind and find more clips of his memory. When they did not come to his calling he relaxed his lids a bit and sighed darkly.

"So what are our choices Lucius? We just perform a deadly ceremony like this on our own son and think nothing of it?" a voice asked, a voice slightly high pitched.

Draco snapped his eyes open and looked around himself. He saw two Gryffindor second years standing at the other end of the bookshelf chatting quietly with each other.

"What did you say?" Draco demanded of them, his pulse quickening and his eyes wide. The Gryffindors looked at him strangely, as though he were mad. They were a boy and a girl and seemed as though they had no idea what he was talking about.

"Pardon me?" the boy asked, his voice deep and nothing at all like the one that spoke just moments ago. "What are you talking about?"

"Didn't you just say something?" Draco questioned, not pulling himself from the wall.

"No," the girl answered, her voice high but too much so that it didn't match the one he had heard either. Casting him one last suspicious look, the two second years walked away to find a spot in the library where fifth years weren't hearing voices.

Draco breathed in once, then twice, then three times, just to get his heart beating like regular again.

"It mustn't have happened," he told himself, though he wasn't convinced at all. "Or maybe I've just finally lost it," he said, sliding down the wall and sitting against it. He closed his eyes once again and massaged his forehead, trying to clear his mind, to free it of any thought at all.

"What else can we do Narcissa? Draco knows just as well as us that what has to be done must be done, no questions asked."

Draco opened his eyes once again, hoping to see someone around once more who had said what he'd heard, but there was no one around and the voices continued to speak in his mind.

"Lucius! He is our son and I know darn well that you care about his welfare, just as much as I. This is dangerous, for his life and his magical stance all together! The spell isn't fully thought out and I hate to admit it, but He isn't even sure if it will work correctly."

Now Draco was certain he knew that voice. It was one that had been with him all his life, to comfort him since he was a child. It was his mother's. And if he was not mistaken, the other one was his father's, smooth as silk and dark as night.

"Narcissa! I would think it wise for you not to say that so loud. Though the Dark Lord's ways may be dangerous, I have high confidence in him that Draco will be perfectly fine after the ceremony."

"Perfectly fine? Perfectly fine?! Lucius, darling, you know I love you, but what you're suggesting is completely out of the question! Yes I agree, Draco may have been slipping, and yes he was losing his edge; but if we go through this it won't be my son in there anymore it will be-"

"Quietly Narcissa! Now you know I wouldn't do anything to harm my only heir, but with the plan our Lord is forming there is no other way."

Draco shook his head, his mind was pounding with the sudden remembrance of a conversation that had happened that night. He recalled being unconscious during the ordeal, and somehow it was coming back to him in a very peculiar way. He shook his head vigorously, trying to rid of his parents' voices.

Though he wanted to know what they had been talking about the recollection of the conversation was painful, sending sharp blades of fire through his brain. It was as though the memory was fighting a cruel battle to get out, to be heard.

"But Pansy had volunteered to do it! She wishes to do it willingly! Why not use a subject that is open to the spell and not one closed to it? I don't want that thing on our child yet; not until he is old enough to hold his own with it."

Narcissa sounded distressed, pleading with Lucius not to let anything happen to him, to Draco; and though his father never showed it, it was always hard for him to go against his wife's wishes. It was sometimes even hard for him to go against his son's.

I mean, the man was strict with Draco, no doubts there, and he certainly was harsh on the boy. But Draco had known it and seen it that, deep, deep down, his father had a vulnerable spot for his family.

"Narcissa," his father said quietly. "You heard Voldemort himself, there is something different about Draco. Something that could feed the spell unlike anyone else can."

"And what is that Lucius? What is it that can make our master so interested in Draco?"

Draco was breathing in hard now. At first he had wanted the voices to leave, but now he was fighting for them to stay. He wanted to know, he wanted to remember.

"What else Narcissa? What else could there be?" his father answered, his tone a low, venomous hiss.

Draco couldn't keep still, he kept moving on the floor, gripping at the air, slamming his hands against the stone floor, shaking his head and kicking his legs. The pain was increasing rapidly as he forced himself to keep the memory going, to at least hear the last words, so some light would be cast against his darkened past.

"Voldemort said it had to be Draco because he-"

"Draco!"

"What?!" Draco's eyes snapped open once again and his vision landed on a pale-eyed someone in front of him. "Pansy?"

"Yes you dolt," Pansy answered. She had been bending over him but now kneeled down beside him. She looked at him with worry etched in her every feature, her brow furrowed and her eyes slightly narrowed. "What happened to you?"

For a while Draco didn't say anything, he just stared back at her dumbly, trying to remember where he was and what he was doing.

"What?" he finally asked.

"Draco, what happened to you? You were gone so long so I went to find you. I walked past this aisle and heard someone moaning; and when I back tracked you were sitting here against the wall, squirming around and grunting in pain! What happened to you?" she repeated, looking him square in the eyes.

As he stared back, everything he had heard came back to him. His mother's concerned voice, his father's cold yet soothing one. The event about Draco they were discussing, the Dark Lord, and something about him. Something about him that made Voldemort choose him for a spell and not anyone else, not even Pansy. But she had broken his connection before he could hear his father's final answer.

"I-I..." he stuttered, his breath coming in deep gasps. He wondered whether or not he should tell her what he heard, what he recalled. But would she deny everything about it or worse, write to his father and the Dark Lord and say that Draco was coming closer and closer to the truth? If their master needed something done secretly, then he wouldn't take lightly to anyone invading into his secret.

"Yes?" Pansy urged, but Draco decided against her and chose not to explain anything.

"I-I got to go," he drawled, scrambling to his feet. Pansy stood up next to him, a very confused look surpassing her curious one.

"But what-"

"Forget it. Just forget," Draco replied. He pushed past her and walked out. Out of the aisle, out of the library and out of the castle. He needed to think, needed, once again, to try and figure things out; and behind him he left a very bewildered and highly concerned Pansy.

****

"Ron, where do you get that?" Hermione asked him again, her face chalk-white and her voice cracking. Her words spoke to Ron, but her eyes never left the gleaming white cloth, brutally stained by the crimson red blood.

"I already told you, I don't really know. But I do have a hunch of who could have made it appear in my trunk." Ron's voice had gone back to normal now.

The three of them had decided to skip Transfiguration in light of the recent events. Miraculously, Hermione did not protest but insisted on her part; more or so because things like bloody clothing weren't very common to them...unless it was the end of the year.

"A hunch?" Harry repeated.

He was over by the window, leaning one shoulder against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest. He cast a small glance to the white tunic which had left Ron's lap and now lay in the middle of his bed. Neither of them wanted to go near it now, the red too distinct for their own liking; too welcoming and joyous. Nothing about bloodshed made Harry think of joy.

"My dream," was all Ron said in answer. He sighed deeply and turned away from his bed. He stood facing the bed post of Seamus' bed next to him. He seized it with both hands and began banging his head repeatedly against it, groaning all the while.

From her own spot leaning against the warm rail of the furnace, Hermione rolled her eyes at him and withdrew her wand from her skirt. She pointed it at Ron's head, muttered 'Spongify', and then placed it back in her robes as Ron's head bounced forcefully back at him from the now soft post.

"So you're thinking that Crystal put that in there? But how? How could she put a solid, physical thing in your trunk?" she asked.

Ron regained his balance from when his head ricocheted off the bedpost before saying, "You sound so surprised Hermione. Would you like me to repeat my recollection of her past mishaps or can you remember them on your own?" He began pacing the entire dorm room, walking the circumference of the circular room. Hermione gritted her teeth at his remark.

"Okay, I'll wave that aside and blame it on the thought you were traumatized by the clothing. Anyway, if you do look back you'll notice that every time she's done something she never physically touched us, never came in person and never altered anything real here. Besides the boys!" Hermione added as Ron was about to open his mouth to disagree. "If you look at it she just messed with their minds with a spell. And she's never given us anything either."

"Except for a big, fat load of pain," Harry mumbled, staring out the window.

"Here, here," Ron agreed in a low grumble.

"But still Harry, how can she send something like that to Ron? Dumbledore said they were in a different world altogether, explain the science in that, I ask you," Hermione pointed out. Harry furrowed his brow, looking at her.

"Oh right, I forgot they weren't here," he said.

"But that was what I was wearing in my dream!" Ron cried, trying to pin some crime on the Oracles. "I died in my dream, with the whole mess of blood to go with it. Who else could have known about it besides us? Who else could be so stupid and pull a disgusting and disturbing prank like this? And what is my blood doing on it?"

Harry now gazed intently on the tunic. The white that had not been tinted seem to gleam even brighter than before, but the ruby red of the blood stood out among it. "How are you sure it's yours?" he asked, still gazing at it.

Ron stood still now, having stopped his pacing across the room. He wrung his hands together, trying not to look at his bed and what lay upon it. "I just know, okay?" he responded, walking over to Harry and sitting on the windowsill next to him. "I have this feeling, and I just know."

Hermione watched with a small smile as Harry gripped Ron's shoulder in comfort. As in relief at the touch of something human, Ron let out a deep breath that he'd been holding and relaxed his tense hands. As she looked at them, without really looking at them, Hermione suddenly had a feeling that there was something still there in Ron's trunk. She pushed herself off the rail and bent down in front of it.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked, letting go of Ron and walking to her. Ron stayed by the window, accidentally mistaking the warm beam of silver from the window as sunlight rather than moonlight.

"I've just thought of something," she answered, looking at the contents in front of her. There were Ron's books, a quill, some parchment and a tie; all huddled together in a small yet oddly neat pile to one side of the trunk. The other side of the space was empty, probably because the clothes had been laid there. But Hermione was certain there was something there that Ron had overlooked.

Harry watched her as she bent over the edge and inspected the space closer. "You're looking for nothing in there Hermione," he said. But when she straightened up she held a tiny object in her hand. It was small and circular, the color of nutmeg, deep and soft. "What is that?" he asked.

"It's," Hermione answered, staring at it in wonder. "It looks like a-"

But she was interrupted by someone opening the dorm room door. She hurriedly closed the trunk and stood up next to Harry, who, like Ron, now looked to the shining oak as it was cracked open the slightest bit.

"Ron?" Ginny called, peeking her head into the room. When she saw Harry and Hermione in there as well she pushed the door all the way open and beamed at them. "Oh, here you two are! Well, I guess you already found Ron." She nodded to her brother as she pulled a piece of parchment out from her robe pocket.

"Oh yeah, they found me Gin. Er-aren't you supposed to be in class?" Ron asked, trying to look like a concerned brother rather than a worried coward. Ginny only shook her head annoyingly at him.

"No you bloke, my last class ended just five minutes ago. It's supper now."

"Oh, sorry. I wasn't paying any attention to the time."

"Hey Ginny, what's that?" Hermione asked, indicating the parchment she was holding. Ginny looked down at it and then smiled before looking at them again.

"Oh yes! I was actually hoping to find all of you so I could tell you! I wasn't sure if you went to classes or not to get the announcement, but since you're here I'll tell you." She took a step forward and held out her hand with the parchment at them. All three squinted at it and saw a moving picture of maidens in flowing robes twirling and snow falling around them. "There's going to be another Christmas ball!" Ginny said.

Harry, Ron and Hermione's eyes widened and they changed their vision to Ginny instead of the flier.

"What?" Ron asked in his first reaction of outrage.

"Why?" Harry asked, also a bit astonished. Ginny shrugged.

"No idea. The teachers just told us that Dumbledore wanted to have one, for his reasons to know only. The other professors aren't to happy about it though. None of them want to prepare for it and arrange anything or the sort. And you don't have to have a partner!" Ginny added, seeing the suspicious look cross her brother's face.

"Good," all three said together. Ginny just laughed at them.

"Okay, well, that's all I wanted to tell you. It's on Christmas night, naturally, and it starts at seven o'clock." With that said Ginny, blessed them all with one last lopsided grin, (compliments to Ron for getting her into it), and then shut the door behind her as she sprinted off to the Great Hall.

"She's a lot more confident this year Ron," Hermione commented, looking at the spot where Ginny had been.

"I think it was the bonding thing. Honestly, I'm proud that she's not so shy anymore, but now it's like having Mum around me constantly."

Shaking her head, Hermione looked down at her hand, a small fist for within it she held the object she found in Ron's trunk.

"So, what is it?" Harry asked, nodding his head at her hand. She looked to him blankly.

"Don't know," she replied, holding out her palm. Harry bent down to look at it, lifting his glasses to have a better look; his glasses did not work well at such close range. The small circular something was minute, but just enough so as to fit on a finger.

Harry guessed it was a ring, and though he did not know then, he was right. The ring was intricately woven, as the circle was created by thousands of tiny braids. He picked it up from her hand and felt it with his. It was extremely soft and he noticed that it was not made of anything solid, but with very fine threads of brown.

"So what is it?" Ron asked, repeating Harry's own question. He then appeared at Harry's side and looked down at it.

"It's a ring. I don't know what its made of, but it looks like thread." Harry tried to break the ring apart, to see how strong the thread was, but it was as though it were made of steel, too. It did not bend or move in the slightest, but when he ceased the tugging it was as soft as a cloud in his hand. "Here," he said, handing it to Ron.

"What do I do with it?" he asked, holding it suspiciously.

"Wear it."

"Hermione, this isn't mine." But Ron put it on his ring finger anyway. "Strange," he whispered.

Harry turned to him. "What's strange?"

"This ring, it's rather warm."

"Well, it has been in your trunk for awhile and it's been bathing in the sun," Hermione told him. Ron just nodded, thinking that she was most likely right. "Come on, let's just go down to supper."

"But what about those?" Harry asked, pointing to the white tunic and breeches. "We can't just leave them there. Not with all that blood spilled on it, not at all." He walked over to them and held them in his hands.

"Wait a second," Hermione exclaimed, marching up to Harry and pulling the clothes from his hands. "Look! There's nothing! No blood, no stain. Not even a tiny speck of red. It's all completely gone."

"But how?" Harry and Ron asked, both looking at her in disbelief. But Hermione shook her head, not knowing the answer. This, Harry did not like one bit, because if so many things could render Hermione Granger speechless without a correct answer, it must be the work of a very powerful-or very evil-person.

****

"You look like death," Leo said, watching his sister as they ate their breakfast.

You've no idea, Crystal thought, but did not say it aloud. "I didn't really get any sleep last night."

"That's okay; just grab some sleep before we get to work today. I need you and all your strength so we can check this hypothesis on the spell. I was up late last night too, trying to figure out the diagram things. But I took a break from it and practiced my dueling!" Leo beamed at Crystal and she returned it five thousand watts brighter.

She was relieved to see her brother so happy. He certainly liked her when she was sane, being able to speak with him and work with him like a regular human; and it wasn't as though Crystal despised the thought either. You just don't realize that you're stinking filthy when your brain's all messed up.

"Did you do a Wizard Duel or an Oracle one?" she asked him, trying to prolong the subject, for she actually did enjoy it.

"Both," he said proudly, sitting up straighter and taller. "I combined both of them to make a really, really neat one! Here, I'll show it to you after breakfast. But we need wands for this one, like a Wizard's Duel; that's how they combine together."

Crystal had to hand it to him; Leo was getting to be one brilliant boy. To combine A Wizard's Duel and the Oracle one must have been quite a challenge. "Oh alright then. I'll grab a wand from your collection."

For years now Leo had been creating his own wands, as he had been fascinated with Hogwarts and all. He crafted them from wood by hand and used her hair and other magical things for their cores. He especially liked her hair because the magic was incredibly strong in her and it helped the use of the wand as well.

"Well, I'm finished with breakfast," she said, standing up from her seat. "How about you?"

"Me as well," Leo said, taking a last swig of his orange juice. "Do you want to clear the plates or should I?"

Crystal raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm capable," she muttered. "But I need to use my magic. It's getting restless now," she warned. Leo only shrugged his shoulders and left the room. He wasn't wearing any white that morning and he didn't want to take the chances with her powers.

"I'll grab the wands then," he called from the hallway and then sprinted up the stone steps. Crystal looked to the task before her and set her gaze to take in the entire table.

She did no more than flick her finger when all the dishes simply cleaned themselves and returned to the cupboard beside her. It wasn't a huge chore for her, and her enhancement of the Imperious Curse was hardly justified in it, but it felt good to use her magic again.

But as she left the dining room to find Leo, Crystal had no knowledge that her own astral self had left her body during the simple spell and had traveled the thousands of miles to Hogwarts to leave a little something special for one, Ronald Weasley.

****

Harry, Ron and Hermione trudged through the hallways to the Great Hall. Though they had skipped half a days worth of school, all three were extremely tired, both physically and mentally.

"I'm beat," was all Ron muttered, his eyes out of focus.

"Me as well," Harry agreed. He glanced at Ron. "You still got that ring then?" Ron lifted his hand and showed it to him.

"Still there," he remarked. "And it's still very warm. I'd have thought it would lose some of its warmth, what with this castle heading into winter and all that, but no. It's as warm as ever."

Ron just shrugged at the strangeness of it and kept on walking with his friends. Hermione hadn't even paid any attention to what he was saying, but just trudged lazily through the halls.

****

After escaping the interrogation of Pansy, Draco had hidden himself in an empty classroom to register what he had heard in the library. His father's quiet growl vibrated through his mind and his mother's full voice chilled his heart. The way the conversation had come to him was horrible; his head was still throbbing from it terribly. But his obsession with what happened that frightful night was growing larger, and the voices had only fed the obsession.

Draco knew one thing, however. He knew that he possessed no special powers whatsoever, that was a given. He could recall the disappointment in his father's face when he discovered that his son was no prodigy, that he was no carrier of ability such as Parseltongue or a potential Animagus.

But Draco also knew that something terrible must have been in him to make the Dark Lord choose him for his plans. He just wanted to know what, because even though he was partial to the Dark Side, the sacrifices, risks, and tolls that he had endured could make even the cruelest person think twice about it. This did not include Voldemort, for he was certainly not a person at all.

Breathing deeply and leaning against the stone wall of the classroom, Draco closed his eyes once again and took a few moments to hate him thoroughly. "Draco, you are truly an idiot," he muttered to himself. "To think that you could doubt your own decision to follow your family. I hate you." He let out a low grumble and slammed his fist into the floor. The impact left a stinging in his arm, but it was only something to take his mind off of his problems.

For quite some time Draco stayed in the abandoned classroom, not realizing that the day was passing by about him. It was close to dinner when he broke from his trance and he was angry that he desperately wished for someone's help.

****

Hermione began to fall behind Harry and Ron as they descended the final staircase. Her bag was hanging from her hand limply and she could have never remembered being so tired. She was very angry with Ron for keeping her up so late. Then Hermione noticed that her two best friends were already halfway to the Entrance Hall while she was still on the stairs. Lost in thought, she had accidentally been lagging behind.

"Wait you two! Wait for me," she cried, holding out a hand and hurrying down the steps. Harry and Ron turned around and stopped as they watched her run to them. But Hermione's body didn't have the strength to move in such a way and she stumbled down the last steps.

Her feet fumbling under already, Hermione was lucky enough to then trip on her robes, sending her careening to the side. She hit the door of a side classroom extremely hard and dropped her book bag as well. Hermione winced in pain as she slid down the wall.

"Hermione! Are, are you okay?" Ron asked, walking to her side along with Harry. He stretched out a hand to her and she took it in the hand that did not bang into the door.

"Not in the slightest," she answered, rubbing her arm vigorously. "But look at this. Now all of my things are scattered everywhere. This is ridiculous!" Her shoulders fell in defeat and she stared sadly at her books, parchment, quills and ink bottles thrown roughly around her and the door. She bent down to pick them up, and Ron and Harry knelt down to help her out as well.

****

Draco had just snapped back into reality and noticed the sun had left the sky and night was prevailing the world around him.

"How long have I been here?" he asked the empty space before him. Draco lifted his wrist to check his watch but never got the chance. A loud thud sounded from the door next to him and he jumped slightly at the sound. Staring at the blank side of the door, Draco inched toward it and heard voices speaking outside.

"Not in the slightest, but look at this. Now all my things are scattered everywhere. This is ridiculous!"

Draco knew that voice immediately and he automatically scowled at its invisible owner. Stupid girl was complaining again, and though he had no idea why she was hot-tempered, Draco inwardly decided that it was nothing big compared to his problems.

He heard the scraping of things moving over the stone outside and the now muffled sounds of whispers on the opposite side. Though he was not the spying type, (hey! This is Draco Malfoy! You probably think, 'duh, this dude is totally sneaky', but if you would know any better then you would realize that he always has someone else do something as petty as spying!), he pursed his lips at his juvenile decision and opened the door no bigger than a sliver.

****

"What happened to you?" Ron asked, stacking the parchment rolls together. He handed them to Hermione you stuffed them roughly into her bag.

"Nothing," she replied, her voice sounding very tired. "Just the lack of sleep and too much energy wasted has got me down."

Ron looked to the ground guiltily. "Sorry I kept you and Harry up so late last night. I was just a little spooked, I should have just forgotten about it and try to go to bed."

"No, not at all," Hermione assured, taking her quills from Harry. "You had a right to be worried. I'm still not used to this late night activity. You would think I would be, considering the past four years."

"And Ron should be used to his sleepless nights as I am. Never was good at sleeping with screaming," Harry added, earning a satisfied laugh from Hermione.

Ron looked surly. "Hey, it was your godfather that stood over me with a knife in his hand. I was tired and it was dark! How would you have taken it if that happened to you?" Harry and Hermione only smiled softly at themselves and the three continued to gather the things.

"Is that everything then?" Harry asked, handing over Hermione's Transfiguration book.

"Yes," she assured, looking around herself. "There's nothing else here. I really want to go to dinner though."

"Well, you can't at the moment," Ron replied eyeing her bag. The three did not notice the door behind Hermione opening just the tiniest bit.

"Why can't she?" Harry asked, standing up and dusting off his robes. Ron just pointed to Hermione's bag and they saw a very large tear from one side to the other.

"Oh for heaven's sake!" Hermione cried, throwing up her hands. "You two just forget it. Go on then, go to dinner. I'll be right behind you. Let me just fix this rugged thing." She shooed them away and the boys, who did not think it wise to simply protest, waved to her and then left for their meal.

"Nothing," Hermione complained, pulling out her wand, "nothing ever goes right!"

****

Draco's eyes fell to slits when he saw Potter, Weasley and Granger all crowded about his door, mumbling tiredly and picking up school books and the like off the floor. But when his eyes rested on the back of Hermione's head a thought suddenly struck him.

He remembered going to her one day not too long ago with his troubles. Surely it was because he was under some pathetic spell of hers, but he had to admit to himself that it had worn off a considerable amount before he went to her.

"If anyone knew I went to a Mudblood with my problems it would be the end of me," he drawled. But he couldn't help but think that it wasn't so bad. He had gone to her once in a begging state in the hype of his distress, why not live up to it once more? Why not just ask the cleverest witch in Hogwarts to help him? She would be of great help...

But what of his pride? What of his signature as the arrogant archenemy, of his place as the next greatest Death Eater for the Darks Arts? At this Draco chanced a glance at his Dark Mark, the jet-black shape looming at him from his pale flesh. He was already skeptical of what the Dark Arts were doing to him, so why worry what anyone would think?

"I need answers," Draco said. "And by all means I am going to get some."

Taking out his own wand, Draco pointed it through the space in the door and whispered the quietest spell through the crack. A long deep tear cut across Hermione's bag, stalling her leaving and getting her alone. Knowing that coming out and asking for her time would be useless, Draco swung open the door, yanked Hermione into the room by her arm and then shut the entrance closed before she knew what was going on.

****

Thoroughly frightened, Hermione tried to scream but couldn't. She simply felt herself being dragged from the floor and brought into the classroom behind her. She had her back slammed against the stone wall of the room and she heard the door shut beside her.

When she felt that she got her senses back, Hermione opened her mouth to let a yell, to call out to Harry and Ron. But a cold hand clamped firmly against it and shut her into silence once more. Out of the darkness of the castle, a face loomed out at her and her fear fell away to pure annoyance.

The grey eyes, blonde hair, pale skin and cold touch told that she was, once again, pinned against a stone wall by Draco Malfoy.

"Don't scream," she heard him say, his voice a mere growl. She rolled her eyes obviously at him and he let his hand fall to his side slowly.

"Like I would be afraid of you," Hermione shot back, pushing him away from her. "What do you think you're doing Malfoy?!"

"I actually don't know," he answered, and she found no hint of a lie in his tone. "But I heard you outside and I needed to talk to you."

"Well," Hermione said, exaggerating her words and giving him her most dignified look, "I really don't want to talk to you! Has something terribly wrong happened to you over the summer? Because it's like you've forgotten we're enemies."

"Look Granger, I'm coming to you in a hard time! It may not have been the most courteous way, but it was the only way to get you to listen to me!" Draco was yelling now, having lost his calm sense and had resorted to his usual tactics. But Hermione wasn't going to let hers down either. She just gritted her teeth and waited for him to finish. "I came to you once with the need of help and you ran away from me! Now our rudeness is even!"

"I don't believe you! What is the matter with you Malfoy?!" Hermione's voice rose higher than Draco's, and now the two were close to killing one another right then and there. "You think that we're even? Not a chance! All my years here you have ridiculed me and my friends and have found every way possible to make my life miserable! And now that you have a problem, one, petty little problem, you think that forcing me to help you is perfectly fine? How thick are you?!" She was throwing her arms around in emphasis, and this only heated Draco even more.

"Hey! I wasn't the one casting half the school under a love spell, or whatever you're doing! You corrupted me and it was your spell that drove me to come to you with help! You and you're pathetic friends pretend that you love to help people, but when I come to you with my troubles you turn away!"

"You've got to be joking me!" Hermione leaned back against the wall, her hand on her forehead and her anger slipping slowly into hysteria. "Malfoy, there is a reason for me not helping you! Did it once occur to you that I might, oh I don't know, hate you?! You're cruel and you're foul and someone like you doesn't deserve help!"

"Even with the Dark Mark burned into my arm?" Draco yelled back, his temper rising. He pointed vigorously at his arm.

"YES!" Hermione yelled back. Draco let out a sigh and threw up his hands in hopelessness and stomped to the window across the room. "Malfoy, I shouldn't help you especially if you have the Dark Mark! It's your fault you have the thing in the first place. Did I put it there for you? No! Did you want it in the first place? Yes! Now, why is it my duty to assist you with this?"

"You act like I wanted this," Draco replied, his voice a whisper again. He looked out the window at the star dotted sky.

"Oh yeah, because it's so obvious that you didn't," Hermione mocked, crossing her arms and leaning into one hip.

"Right again, Granger," Draco snapped whirling his head around to face her. "As a matter of fact, I didn't want any of this. Do you know what this thing does to me? The emotions I feel and the hatred I create is...I don't know..." He shrugged his shoulders and turned back to the window. "You wouldn't understand."

"Exactly!" Hermione cried, throwing up her arms again and looking to the ceiling in disbelief. "You do realize that you just proved my point?" She lowered her voice slightly at the silence from Draco. "Malfoy, the emotions and hatred you feel can't make sense to me, because ever since I've known you you've been nothing but a jerk to everyone around you. That's how I can't understand, and you just said so yourself. So why don't you just suck it up and try to get through your problems alone?"

Draco turned to her. "You think I haven't tried? Do you think I haven't attempted to hide all this? It's not as though it's easy to hide the Dark Mark. People are constantly watching you, the teachers, the students, everybody. The only reason I'm asking for your help now is because I already showed it to you before. If I hadn't then we wouldn't be in here." He fell back and sat on the sill of the window, his light head hitting the glass with a dull thud. Hermione just gazed at him.

"If I wasn't who I was, then I would be taking pity on you; but it just so happens I am me and I'm simply looking at a stuck-up brat who has hit one bump in his road and now needs help because he can't get up on his own. Malfoy, if you need help then I suggest you go to Dumbledore."

"And show him the Mark?!" Draco raged, his surprise apparent. "Are you mad? Granger, sometimes you can be pretty stupid. I am not going to that filthy Mudblood-lover for anything. Not until the world ends and I find out there is a God."

Forgetting who he was speaking to, Draco scowled at the thought of Dumbledore and shook his head. Hermione, on the other hand, was steaming at the ears and her hands were clenched tight into fists. Her knuckles were turning white but she tried to keep her voice from erupting.

"Well then, dear Malfoy, I guess there is no helping you. If you can't go to Dumbledore, a fair, honest and great Headmaster, than I guess you can't rely on me either. Seeing as I'm a filthy Mudblood." Spinning on her heel, Hermione turned and reached for the door knob.

"Granger, wait," Draco called, jumping from his seat and understanding that he had just opened his mouth and said the exact thing that would chase her off.

"Why should I?" she snapped. She pulled the door open but Draco ran to her side and extended an arm past her and shut the door again. "What is wrong with you?!" she wailed, glaring at him.

"I wasn't thinking when I said that," he explained, looking to the floor. Hermione was physically taken aback by his remorse. "What?" he asked, as she took more than one step back.

"You sound...sorry," she said, looking at him with narrowed eyes. Draco lifted an eyebrow.

"Aren't I supposed to be?" he asked. He then looked at her funny. She was looking at him strangely, as though debating something about him inside herself. "What are you doing?"

"I was actually considering helping you," she explained, looking him up and down.

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"Oh."

Hermione took awhile, looking him up and down and deeply arguing with herself whether or not to aid him. Draco Malfoy, on his part, felt thoroughly uncomfortable. First of all he was asking someone for help, and Granger for that matter. Then there was the feeling that he had felt and sounded sorry.

It was a foreign feeling to him and he didn't like it one bit.

"Well?" he asked, trying to sound obnoxious and cruel again, but was only able to get out a squeak. Hermione gave him a glance, and then opened the door. The light from the corridor spilled onto her face and he could see her usual matter-of-fact look staring at him.

"I hate my parents," she replied, still staring at him. This caught Draco a bit off guard.

"Er-" he said, narrowing his eyes. "And I care about that because?"

"Because they raised me right and I'm going to help you. Goodness I can't believe I'm doing this."

"Really?" Draco questioned, still caught off guard.

"But I can't now. Not until later on," Hermione said, pulling the door open wider and stepping out into the hallway.

"Why?"

"Because I'm leaving somewhere tomorrow," she answered. Then she was surprised to see Draco actually smile and then laugh a little. "What's the matter with you?"

"You, actually miss a day of school? That's rich," he said, shaking his head. Hermione wasn't humored.

"Well good fun for you then! But while I'm gone I have one piece of advice to give you, 'go to Dumbledore'! As much as you hate him, Malfoy, he'll help you. No matter what. Even if you have that-thing...on your arm. Simply go to him and tell him what you told me, and I assure you he'll help."

Draco just rolled his eyes and waved his hand, as if brushing the thought aside. "Whatever. But are you going to tell anyone else about this?"

"Of course," she said, as though otherwise would be out of the question.

"You are?!"

"I'm telling Harry and Ron!"

"Why?"

"You know you ask that a lo-"

"Why?!"

"Because," Hermione told him, "I still don't trust you! And though those two hate you to the brim, I know they'll help because I asked them too. Besides, it has to do with detective work and vanquishing the Dark Arts, of course they'll help. Plus, they could have loads of fun just humiliating you all day."

"Wait, I don't want to vanquish any Dark Arts!" Draco declared. Hermione only snorted.

"Yeah, sure you don't," she said, leaving Malfoy, once more for the viewers, with a lot of things to ponder later on.

****

"Hey, look," Ron said, spotting Dumbledore first and jerking his head in his direction. "Dumbledore's coming."

"I think he wants to talk to us," Harry suggested, shrugging his shoulders.

Hermione sat there watching the Headmaster glide to their seats. She had gotten to dinner late, due to Draco, but had finished her meal quite early. "About tomorrow, you think?" she piped in.

"Couldn't be anything else." And Ron was right, for Dumbledore politely asked them to follow him into the Entrance Hall to discuss their journey for the next coming sun.

Out in the hall, before anyone of them could take so much as a breath, Ron blurted out that Crystal had come to him the other night and then left him a present of white clothing and a peculiar ring. The Headmaster's expression actually changed on this; he looked a tad bit worried when Ron held up his hand bearing the evidence.

"Strange indeed," he said, twiddling his fingers. "Very, very strange, though I guess we shall figure that out later, I think. When we reach the Oracles, for certain. But for now let us press to more important matters. Tomorrow morning at seven o'clock I want you three to come dressed and ready to my office for a long journey. Traveling from this world to another so remote as theirs will not be quick. It will take no less than fourteen hours at the speed of thought."

"Don't you mean the speed of light?" Hermione injected, not understanding his term. Dumbledore simply smiled.

"Oh no, Miss Granger. If we were traveling that slowly it would take several years to reach them!"

The trio gulped nervously.

"That far, huh?" Ron joked, but he was just as uneasy about the trip as his friends.

Dumbledore only smiled behind his beard. "Yes, well-I just want to remind you three that we are dropping into their home unexpected. They still think we won't come until January, which for them feels like a thousand years from now. Let me remind you time does not exist there, yet the affects of their time and ours are very complicated. Be on your guard when we arrive."

"Yes sir," Harry, Ron and Hermione replied in unison.

"Very well then," the Headmaster concluded. "Remember, seven o'clock sharp. The portal opens at five minutes past and then will close exactly one minute later. We will be gone for the rest of the week before the portal opens from their side. That's all then, I think. Until the sunrise tomorrow then-" and with a slight nod of his head he left for his office.

****

"I actually can't wait for tomorrow," Ron yawned as the three friends headed up the stairs to bed before anyone else. They rounded a corner and traveled the last corridor to Gryffindor Tower.

"Can't wait?" Harry asked, a bit surprised. He looked around Ron to Hermione and gave her a quizzical look. "Did I just hear him right?"

"Yes," Hermione breathed, plopping her head down on Ron's shoulder as they walked. She was in a sort of stupor and just kept moving in that position.

"How can you not wait? I certainly don't want to meet either of them. I mean sure, they've got to be very powerful and everything, and yes I want some answers to what has been happening and all; but you among all three of us must be terrified to see Crystal," Harry pointed out, announcing the password to the Fat Lady and stepping into the common room before Ron and Hermione.

"There must be something nagging at her mind," Ron grumbled tapping Harry on the shoulder and shoving Hermione in his face. Harry waved a hand in front of Hermione's blanked out eyes. She shuddered a bit and came to a second later.

"What?" she asked lazily.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked, leading her up the steps and to her dorm room door.

"Yes. No. Yes. No...I don't know..." She shook her head. Harry raised an eyebrow at her.

"How about you just go to bed now, sleep for twelve hours, and then answer me in the morning?" he suggested, opening the door and pushing her in.

"But-" Hermione started, but Harry shook his head and gently closed the door on her face.

"She's become a lost cause."

"Shut up, Ron," Harry mumbled, pushing him back down the stairs.

"I'm just pointing out what's there!" he defended, laughing along with Harry. When the two boys reached the common room and fell into the armchairs in front of the fire the portrait hole opened and Ginny walked in. She spotted them both and walked over to join them.

"What?" Ron asked automatically, closing his eyes to the comforting warmth of the flames. Ginny narrowed her own at him.

"What do you mean 'what'?" she asked. Harry wasn't really paying much attention. He was trying to enjoy the last few hours before the next day, and before the fourteen hour trip to Enol.

"Don't be thick Gin, you want to know something," Ron explained.

Ginny only scowled at him and brought her feet up under her on the couch. "Alright, alright-I did want to know something. Everyone was worried when Dumbledore came to talk to you, Harry and Hermione. So was I, in fact, and I was wondering what it was all about. That's all though really."

"Worried? Gin, you got to be kidding me. Why would they be worried?" Ron only shook his head, but chanced one eye open at the silence from his sister. Ginny was only staring at him in a way that said 'you're a moron'. "What?"

"Oh don't start that again!" she exclaimed. "Why else was everyone worried? If the Headmaster speaks to you three, especially Harry, then it has to be something really big! We got scared, all of us thinking it had something to do with last year and You-Know-Who...it doesn't, right?" Harry could hear it in her voice that she was hoping so. Ron, however, just closed his eyes again and breathed in deeply.

There was a long pause between them, in which Harry felt very nervous. Ron couldn't tell anyone about their journey for the next day, or the about Oracles at all. It would be hard to explain the spooky voices and strange dreams without revealing who was doing them. And Ginny wouldn't leave until she got some answer that sounded like the truth.

He turned to them and saw that Ginny was leaning toward Ron hopefully, anticipating his answer. Ron, however, looked very relaxed, as if there wasn't some big secret he was holding.

"Gin," Ron said.

"Yeah?" she replied, bracing herself for the full on information.

"Second drawer on the left under your Weird Sisters shirt."

Ginny's eyes widened at this and she jumped to her feet in anger. "I hate you!" she yelled, and then sprinted away from them both and into her dorm room. Harry looked to Ron and without saying a word Ron opened his eyes to stare back, his face cracked in a grin.

"What was that all about?" Harry asked, confused beyond belief. "Why was she mad and why are you grinning?"

Ron's smirk transformed into a full smile. "Ginny's got another diary." But instead of smiling Harry looked worried.

"Not one that-"

"No, Harry. This one doesn't talk back. But she liked writing her thoughts down and she's kept one since summer. It drives her nuts when I know where it is. I read it once."

Harry shook his head. "That's not exactly something to brag about Ron. That was invasion of privacy."

"Oh come on Harry! I'm her brother, I'm supposed to do things like that. Besides, I just took a wild guess, I didn't know it was really in her drawer."

"You're starting to act like Fred and George," Harry stated knowingly. Ron scowled.

"You can insult me in the cruelest ways," he muttered back. Harry only nodded absentmindedly.

****

It was early morning. Birds were singing, the sun was slowly rising, no clouds were to be seen and Draco hated it all. It was the worst scenario for a day of confused thinking and horrible thoughts. It was thirty minutes past six and he had been awake since four. He had decided that he would skip classes today, because he had bigger things to think about.

"This thing is really ugly," Draco muttered to no one, lying on the leather couch and examining his Mark. "And it burns too." He laid a cool hand on his arm, hoping to relieve some of the heat. As he sat there with the minutes dragging past, Draco's mind traveled back to the advice Hermione had given him.

"I have one piece of advice to give you, 'go to Dumbledore'! As much as you hate him, Malfoy,

he'll help you. No matter what. Even if you have that-thing...on your arm. Simply go to him and tell him what you

told me, and I assure you he'll help."

Draco grumbled. "Oh great, now Granger's nagging me in my head as well. Go to Dumbledore, like that would ever happen! I may be skeptical about some things but trusting in that bloke? Not a chance. Like I said, until the world ends and I find there is a God, I am not going to that man. Never."

****

"Could you be any slower Ron!" Hermione hissed, leaning around the railing of the dorm steps. Harry was beside her, leaning casually against the wall. Ron was still in their room, searching frantically around his side table drawer. "Honestly, we're going to be late! Dumbledore said-"

"I know, I know! But I can't find the darn...oh wait. No, never mind, I found it. Come on you two, let's go." Ron straightened up from the table and turned to them, making sure he crossed the room quietly so as not to wake Seamus, Dean or Neville.

"What were you looking for?" Harry asked as Ron snapped the door shut.

"The ring."

"You want to ask the Oracle what it's for," Hermione piped in. It wasn't a question.

Harry pushed himself off the wall. "We better go. It's five minutes to seven, and we have to get all the way down to Dumbledore's office." He beckoned them to follow and the three sprinted out of the portrait hole, where the Fat Lady was leaning against her frame snoring rather loudly.

****

The lamp on the work table crashed to the stone floor in the Slytherin common room. Along with it went some rolls of parchment, a quill and quite a few bottles of ink, smashing to the floor and scattering black ink everywhere. Draco clutched the edge of the table violently, trying desperately to bring himself to his feet. He was surprised the noise he was making hadn't woken anyone up; but it seemed as though Voldemort was back in contact with him for his Mark was paining him once more.

"My lord," Draco gasped quietly from the floor. His speech was respectful, yet his tone nothing short of mockery. Whether Voldemort choose to ignore his sarcasm or not, he gave no indication.

"I have neglected you for quite some time, boy," his voice said, the chill words echoing in Draco's head.

"Have not a worry, my lord. I was not devastated in the slightest." Draco received an extra surge of pain for this remark, the sensation of knives pressing into him cloaking him from head to toe. His breath rattled and his body jerked involuntarily.

"I'd swallow your tongue if I were you, boy! You're new found courage is being put to the wrong use. I have heard your thoughts, and I do not appreciate my servants having their loyalty waver!"

"I haven't wavered," Draco replied through clenched teeth. No pain accompanied this remark, but a freezing chill ran up his arm and through the rest of his body. "I haven't wavered!" Draco repeated, his anger rising. Voldemort was not impressed.

"You're brave, kid," the Dark Lord whispered. "But your bravery is only an inch deep, I can tell. Lucky for you however, I have more important matters to deal with at the moment. My faithful Death Eaters are calling me. And don't think I'm forgetting this encounter, boy. I can see that you falter right before my eyes. You will be punished for your sass, though it won't be now. Some advice to you for the near future: Don't push you luck. Remember, I could kill you any time, Draco."

He had never used his name before.

"So why don't you?" Draco asked, all sense of sarcasm gone from him. There was a pause, and then a slow, small laugh.

"You don't know."

Not a question.

"You surprise me constantly. I will contact you again, very soon. And if you dare go near Dumbledore, I'll kill that little Mudblood friend of yours."

Then the contact was broken.

****

"So you're sure the teachers know that we're going to Enol with Dumbledore?" Hermione asked Harry for about the millionth time. Though it had become annoying, Harry decided to just humor her by answering once more.

"Yes and no. I guess they know Dumbledore is taking us three somewhere. But I suppose they don't know where."

"I'm getting a little nervous," Ron mumbled, taking wide steps to keep up with Harry and Hermione's fast ones. They cut around a corner and hurried down the flight of stairs waiting for them on the other side.

"And I'd have to admit that I can't blame you. Meeting the Oracles of Prodigy has got to be one of the most dangerous things in the world! And knowing that You-Know-Who has got some information on them doesn't help," Hermione told them. Harry led the way down the corridor.

"But think about it, if Voldemort knows about them, and you can be sure that he does, why doesn't he just get to them now? From my encounters with him it seems to me that if he knows about something he'll get all the information on it and then get to it before Dumbledore does. And also, why hasn't he done anything since last year? Don't get me wrong now. I don't want people dying in the streets and him plaguing the earth again, but why isn't he? What's he doing out there?"

"Harry," Ron started, "those are just a lot of questions that I really don't want the answer to."

Harry only shrugged.

****

"Enough," Draco said, snatching his cloak from his room and exiting as quietly as possible. He quickly descended the steps and was soon in the common room, his cloak fastened around his shoulders and a face of determination to go along with it.

"Enough is enough. Malfoy name or not, stubborn pride or none, Dark Arts or no Dark Arts. I am still Draco and when I say I don't let anyone tell me what to do then I abide that rule." His face was set and he lifted his sleeve to stare hard at the Dark Mark.

"I know you're not there, my lord," he spat, making sure his taunting voice could be distinguished. "But I want you to listen carefully. I may have wanted to be a Death Eater and I may have wanted to be your servant. I may have been as evil as I can be to everyone who isn't your supporter and I may have loved it before. I may hate Harry Potter with every ounce of my being and I may still hate him until the day I die; but that was then, and this is now.

"I could care less if you killed me the moment you find all this out, because as I see it I've been dead since the day you placed the Dark Mark on me. I don't know how your stupid system works, but torturing your supporters and possessing them is a sure way to lose 'em as well. You're sick, and I make my own decisions."

And with that he yanked open the door to the hallway...

***

...and there was Dumbledore, sitting at his desk and staring at the ceiling.

"Are we on time?" Hermione asked, walking into the office in front of Harry and Ron. Dumbledore smiled.

"Yes, yes. You three are exactly on schedule." He waved his hand to the seats before him and they each fell into one.

There were, of course, many questions buzzing around in their heads, but no one said a thing. Dumbledore glanced at one of his strange contraptions floating on the table near the entrance.

"Just a few more minutes to go," he announced. The Headmaster stood up and rounded the corner of the desk...

****

...then he began to run flat out down the corridor. He still had about three floors to go before he even got near Dumbledore's office. Draco had never really been to it, but there were numerous times when he saw Potter enter the stone gargoyle on one of the lower floors. He knew there really wasn't any hurry to get to the Headmaster, but Draco wasn't sure when Voldemort would re-contact him.

It wasn't as though he was changing sides, but then again it wasn't as though he wanted to stay on the side he was on. He was stuck somewhere in the middle, and if only he could really figure out what happened that frightful summer night and why the Dark Lord saw him fit for his evil deeds, then maybe a light would shine and show him the way. But for now he had decided to heed Hermione's advice and go to the Mudblood-lover for help.

He half tripped up the next couple staircases and then flashed down a corridor. He almost skidded against the ground as he tried to attempt a sharp turn past a corner, and then had to catch onto something to retrieve his balance. He stretched out his hand to grab the windowsill...

****

...and lifted it up to let some fresh air into the room. The Headmaster then returned to where Harry, Ron and Hermione were seated and stood in front of them.

"Alright then, three minutes to go and we'll be off. Would all of you please stand?" He indicated them to huddle close together in front of his desk, and his darting eyes couldn't help but notice each one of them shivering slightly.

"Fourteen hours," Ron gulped, and Dumbledore saw Harry and Hermione smile weakly.

Two minutes left.

****

There. At the end of the corridor. That stone gargoyle was staring at him, almost taunting him to go faster. Draco took in one giant breath and used the rest of his energy to speed down the hallway, the gargoyle's glare growing ever closer. He could almost feel the smallest tinge of heat from his Mark.

He pressed on.

****

Hermione tried steadying her breath. She glanced at her own watch. One minute left.

"Professor, will we be able to see one another while were traveling? Will we feel each other?" Hermione asked, her voice remarkably calm. Dumbledore shook his head.

"It'll be much too fast and mind blowing that it would be a miracle of you could decipher one figure from the rest of the things flashing past us."

Hermione could feel her muscles tense. Less than a minute left. She felt herself sway a little. She took a step forward...

****

... and onto the spiral staircase. Draco couldn't stand there forever and wait for the slow moving thing to reach the top, so he took the steps three at a time, his breath coming in harsh beats...

****

..."Ten seconds," Dumbledore said. He stood behind Harry, Ron and Hermione, all of whom were facing away from the desk and now were turned to the center of Dumbledore's circular room. Nine...eight...

Draco pulled himself up the last step...

...seven...

...and fell against the large doorway to Dumbledore's office...

...six...

Ron clenched and unclenched his hands in anticipation...

...five...

Draco turned the door knob to the office and stepped in...

...four...

"Malfoy!" Harry yelled as the blonde-haired boy half fell into the office. "What are you doing-you've got to get out of here now!"...

...three...

"What are you doing here?" Draco shot back, spotting Harry, then Ron and then Hermione.

"Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore exclaimed, his voice urgent. "You must leave now! I haven't the time to explain but-"

"But Professor, I had to tell you something! It's about the Dark Lord!" Draco took a step forward.

"What?"

...two...

"I didn't want to come before but Hermione told me to-"

"Hermione?" Ron questioned.

"Forget it Ron! Malfoy, this isn't the-"

"Granger, I need to say this!"

"Mr. Malfoy, I must agree with them..."

"Malfoy move!" Harry yelled. He dived across the room at Draco, hoping to push him out the door and out of the portal's way...but he was too late...

...one...

A mass of swirling color suddenly exploded in the middle of the room directly in front of Harry, a tremendous bang accompanying it. He dived right into it, but hardly anyone could notice for everyone in the room was suddenly lurched forward into the swirling mass of color and sound, and everything around them dissolved into the portal. They were on their way.