In the Midst of the Night

In the Midst of the Night

Chapter 18 - The Dark Gift: A Blessed Curse

Lucius eyed the man before him with a cool gaze. "Jem, I do hope you aren't forgetting my part in your trial."

Hr. Jemison Grant swallowed and shook his head. "No, no, of course not, Lucius." He paused and looked at his patient who twitched in pain and whose face was drawn in a grimace. "I just - it's the honor code. The spells may go off if I'm caught breaking it - if I lose this job, I won't ever have another chance."

The blonde headed man before him frowned thoughtfully. "You won't get caught. We've friends who will make sure of that." When Jem still shifted uncomfortably, Lucius tapped his cane upon the ground. Hr. Grant eyed it in fear and met his old companion's gaze. "All you are required to do is make sure the potion is slipped into his system. You will not get caught, you can rest assured."

Jem closed his eyes, his youthful face looking older with the burden he now held upon his shoulders. "All right, but after this, we're even - understand?"

Lucius smirked. "Perfectly," he replied, and handed the vial over. He turned and was knocked backwards into Jem. He looked down at the young woman who immediately apologized.

"I'm terribly sorry, sir," she said, giving him a sheepish look.

He waved his hand in dismissal and shot Jem a last glance. "I will be in contact with you later, Hr. Grant."

Jem watched him go, and then he turned to his assistant. "Was there something you needed, Skye?" he wondered.

She smiled, but it held a trace of concern. That's what he liked about her. She was one of those Healers that wasn't in the medical field for contacts in high places or the abundance of money that one acquired after long years, but because she had the desire to help others. Her thoughts were always concentrated on her patients and what she could do the make them better. "Er - no, sir. I just wanted to show you Mr. Potter's charts?"

"Oh, yes, of course."

Jr. Hr. DeMay handed him the folder and he looked over the parchments. She told him, "He's improving, if only at a slow rate, but I believe that if we strengthen the spell on his magical levels, the speed of his improvement may increase. It's apparent that he has a remarkable level of power for one so young and if we heal his magical output, it may help with his other injuries."

Jem nodded as he studied the charts. "Impressive - yes, I think that will do." He looked up and smiled. "Good job, Skye - you may be the next in line for a Senior promotion."

She blushed with pleasure and took the proffered folder back. "Thank you, sir," she said, then went on her way.

The Sr. Healer watched as she left and rubbed his forehead. If he had made a few better decisions in his life, he may have still retained the innocence he saw so clearly in his assistant's eyes. At one time, he had had the same passion for Healer magic as Skye DeMay, but when his parents were murdered his life had gone spiraling downwards. Lucius Malfoy and his friends had taken him under their wing and set him on the 'right' path. He hadn't regretted his following them into darkness as much before as he did now.

One of his patients' lives may be at stake now, because of his past.

He walked into the room and regarded the poor patient who had yet to awaken. Thaddeus Nott was his name, and every day, Hr. Grant had to watch as his wife and son came by to talk to him. It was a tragedy if Jem ever knew one. Mr. Nott had just adopted the boy now called Aden Nott. Jem looked at the vial containing a clear substance. He opened the medical pouch that contained the liquid food containing all the nutrients and vitamins necessary for his patient. After pouring the contents of the vial into the food magically transported into the patient's body, he sighed.

His biggest hope now was not that he wouldn't get caught, but that Mr. Nott would live to see his wife and son again.

~*~

He felt a sting in his chest and looked down at the band on his arm. "Merciful heavens," he whispered as it glowed crimson red.

"What is it, dear?"

His eyes were bright and watery as he glanced over at her. She was dark and ethereal and everything he knew that beauty was. "It's glowing - the - the band is glowing."

Her face lightened somewhat as she smiled, her red lips curving. She seemed to be smirking rather than smiling. "Of course it is. That man is trying to control you."

The young Necromancer closed his eyes. "I don't think he realizes that it doesn't work anymore."

She laughed. "That's the beauty of it all! But don't worry - he will soon," and he shivered at her dark and taunting tone.

"But..." he trailed off, more confused than anything else as something continued to sting something deep inside him.

Her smile became sinister. "Your brother is a bit...confident in his power - in the power he really has no claim to." The curve of her lips made her beautiful face darken. "And it's time he was taught a lesson about the Dark Gift." She turned her gaze towards the young man who stood before her, shifting uneasily as he looked intently at the ground. "My, dear, you're not worried, are you? Not about him..."

He slowly looked up, his handsome face troubled. "I've already killed him once, Mistress, and he is my brother."

"Jonas, love, there is nothing to worry about - Derrick will get all he deserves," replied Mistress Death with another deathly smile.

~*~

Severus was scowling as he slammed the front doors open and marched into the manor. He positively radiated fury which wasn't simply present because of anger, but rather because of embarrassment.

"Getting caught with a damned muggle book - a children's book at that!" he berated himself crossly and pulled off his cloak. He turned to his right and saw Baruch smiling serenely at him and it did nothing but feed the fire of Severus' anger. "What?" demanded the potions master.

"May I get your cloak?" wondered the elf, his eyes dancing in a miraculous shade of light blue. They seemed to pierce the oncoming blanket of evening and the darkness that seeped into the mansion through the transparent glass of the windows.

Severus turned a dark look at him before handing over the cloak. The elf's tone was oddly calm and the wizard, after long years of being in the magical creature's company, could just trace the faintest tinge of amusement and sarcasm in Baruch's voice. As he watched his long-time butler and friend fold his cloak neatly to avoid wrinkles, he felt the warmth in his heart fire up once again amidst the embers of anger that had yet to simmer. "Thank you, Baruch," he said softly, and his eyes were dark and clouded, filled with emotions that swirled inside him like gigantic waves just waiting to crash.

The elf's smile was slow and kind. "Of course, Master Severus." The weight of his tranquil tone made the professor believe that his butler understood every possible meaning of the simple words of gratification.

The wizard looked around the entrance way with something akin to unease before he said with a forced calm façade, "Please alert the house elves that I'm ready for supper. Just a sandwich will do - a few potions have yet to be made."

Baruch nodded once before bowing his way into nothingness.

After eating his dinner, an owl dropped by with a parchment tied to it's leg. Severus untied it before letting it nibble on his leftovers. He shooed the owl off and immediately went down to his laboratory. He threw some powder into the fireplace and saw Albus Dumbledore's head float in it after a moment.

"Severus? How good to see you!" exclaimed the elderly wizard.

"Unfortunately, Albus," said the potions professor acidly, "this is not a social call."

The wizard raised a brow. "Oh? Indeed?"

The younger man nodded in response. "I just received an owl from Lucius Malfoy. He told me to brew a Peredinare Magia potion."

"A tracking potion? Did he say why?"

"No, but he did say that he would inform everyone about a plan he has at a later date."

Albus nodded. "Well, I believe it would be best for you to brew it."

Severus nodded. "I'll make sure to tell you if I receive any information about this 'plan'."

"Thank you, Severus. Your help has been invaluable." They said their goodbyes and then Albus' floating head disappeared from Severus' fireplace.

Then the potions master began to brew.

~*~

Lucius eyed the man before him with a cool gaze. "It is necessary, Derrick. My Senior contact at St. Mungo's has already administered the potion into Thaddeus' system. There is no obstruction to this plan."

Derrick stood up abruptly, his exterior calm, but the depths of his glittering sapphire blue eyes were clouded with rage. "How dare you order me to do this? You've no grasp about the power and concentration this takes. One wrong move from anyone in this bloody plan of yours can put me in danger! Just one blasted slip and I'll be a gone and if you think I'll go down alone you'd better think again."

They stood like that, having a silent battle of wills, each gaze dark and angry. "I do believe that was a threat," said Lucius, one perfectly curved brow raising slightly.

"You are perfectly correct," was the staunch reply.

"Mr. Bane, you have been strung tightly all day. What, my I ask, is the matter for your attitude, if I may put it so bluntly, is scaring the living day lights out of the rest of our associates."

Derrick looked away and ran a shaky hand through his hair. "Have you ever heard of the Gift of the Mortals? It may also be called the Mortal's Gift?"

Lucius eyed him silently, thoughtfully, before shaking his head in dissent.

"Damn," the Necromancer swore. "God damn it." When he next looked up, his eyes were smoldering. "Possession is not an easy activity - despite those damned books you read. I may be watched from someone in Mistress Death's realm and can easily be thwarted if anyone decides to interfere."

"Well, no one would dare to do so - not with you, am I correct?" was Lucius' question.

The dark haired man scowled at him, his beautiful face contorting darkly. "Do you know nothing? You seem as bloody ignorant as the rest of the fools you call friends!" he exploded suddenly, before he seemed to gain control over himself. After a few deep breaths, he turned and looked out the window of the flat that used to be Jonas'. "Yesterday - I met with a friend of my brother's."

Lucius raised a brow in inquiry, but Derrick didn't see.

"She's a vampire - she was given a small bit of our Dark Gift. He fell in love with her, you see." He turned around and looked at Lucius, his eyes shadowed. "But she was a muggle, and she was dying. It was cancer, and it was eating her away. Jonas couldn't stand it - he told her all about what he was, what I was - and he asked her if she wanted to live." He turned away again. "We were sixteen."

"What happened?" wondered Lucius, his curiosity piqued.

Derrick laughed, but his laugh was bleak and there was an undertone of disgust in his voice, whether it was directed towards himself or his brother, it was hard to tell. "He couldn't do it - couldn't make her one of Mistress Death's creatures. He told me one night, crying like a damned child, that he didn't want to put her under the curse he had to live with himself. But I knew better - he loved her more than he loved father, and even me. He loved her like he loved Lorianna, our sister, and I knew that he couldn't live without her. I told him to do it - to just give her a taste of it, it would be enough..."

"A taste of what?"

And Derrick looked at him irritably. "The Dark Gift, you imbecile! Are you not bloody listening to me?" he exclaimed angrily, but his anger stemmed from pent up depression and grief. "Necromancers hold Mistress Death's power in their hands, and one taste, one Black Kiss of the Dark Gift can make a mortal immortal - but they would have to live a shadowed life. Jonas couldn't do it...so I did.

"I went into the forest where Jonas and Morgan always met," said Derrick, his voice a monotone now. He was looking out the window again, his blue eyes transparent as if he was seeing something a long distance away. "She thought that I was him at first - we had never met before that night. I kissed her, on the lips at first, and she pulled away. Some how she knew I wasn't my brother, and she tried to run. I told her - I told her that she already knew all about what we were...why did she run? Wasn't it she who told Jonas she wished she could live a bit longer, if only to be with him? I laughed and she - she," but Derrick was suddenly overcome by laughter. It was mirthless, and it echoed around the room like the voices of the shadows and specters that were now always in his presence. "Dear Morgan, she was always a feisty one, even as she wasted away from that damned Muggle disease.

"She slapped me, and then I bit into her neck. I let her bleed and all the while she tried to fight me. When she was almost dry, I forced her mouth open, and let her taste three drops of my blood. A taste of the Dark Gift gives a mortal immortality. She should have just been alive, immortal as Jonas and I...but she wasn't.

"Jonas had somehow found out what I had planned to do and he came dashing into the forest - but it was too late. I'd already given her the Dark Gift. He knelt by her body as it died, and he looked up at me in accusation." Derrick chuckled. "That was the first time he had ever looked at me that way. I think that was when he began to hate me." He shook his head and buried it into his hands. "When the pigment left her skin and her eyes began to glow with their own light, Jonas attacked me. It wasn't our first fight, but it was the first one that he had any harmful intent towards me. He was horrified at what had happened - at what I had done. Fangs sprouted from Morgan's canines and she sat up and latched onto his neck. I ran over and pried her off of him. His neck still bled, but he was all right.

"She stared at his neck, and then seemed to snap out of it. She herself screamed and screamed and then her eyes met the glow of the full moon. I didn't know what she was at first, but Jonas did.

"There's a reason he never gave Morgan the Gift himself. He knew things about Mortals that I did not. He knew the deeper distinctions between Muggles and Wizards and I did not - it was not only the usage of magic that kept the two apart, but the Awareness that one had with the magic they had inside of them. Wizards know about it - Muggles do not, but everyone has it.

"For Wizards, the Dark Gift works with their magic, and thus they are able to communicate with the Gift and the magic with their minds. They are able to think throughout the process as they become immortal. The drops of blood that run into their system usually go straight to their magic and the magic does the rest. It gives them eternal life - no one ever lasts for long, though. Life is hard enough already the first time, but to have many times to endure is too much for anyone to take.

"However, for Muggles, they lack the Awareness to think while the Dark Gift travels to their magic. The Black Kiss is Mistress Death's creation, and it works as such. Muggles, without the familiarity with their magic, are not able to resist the pull of the Dark Gift into the shadows. Thus, a dark creature is born. Morgan, a Muggle, became a demon of the night. The Gift took over her and, yes, gave her immortality, but at a price. She was not the innocent child she had been, nor was she a child of light any longer. She was now a child of Mistress Death - and that was the curse that Jonas had wished to spare her."

Lucius saw Derrick slowly pick his head up from his hands and look at him. The man's eyes were shining with unshed tears and the striking smile lacked the usual force of its damnable perfection.

"At the risk of sounding clichéd," said Derrick with a small laugh, "I created a monster."

"But what does this have to do with -," Lucius cut in, but the other man silenced him with a slow raise of his hand.

"What I had done was create an abomination - Morgan should not have been created. Mistress Death had been angry - a year later, I died, and I should not have. I'm immortal, Lucius, I can never die - yet I did. Those powers in the Underworld were furious at me for making someone with such a lack of Awareness of their magic one of Death's creatures. Most are told about it, about the roots of magic, about the blood that would invade their system...I never knew. Only certain people can control themselves and grasp their will with the strength needed to push away the pull of dark - that is why many are dark creatures and not merely immortal." He shook his head and looked angry at himself. "I was ignorant, and despite my brother's refusal to give Morgan the Gift, I went on to do it myself.

"I had thought I was invincible. I was one of Mistress Death's favorites - Jonas and I...we were born to rule...or so I thought. It - it seems that I was wrong about the Mistress..."

"How?"

"I've reason to believe that she is not the only ruling power in the Underworld," whispered Derrick brokenly, as he looked at the blonde man before him.

"And what reasons are these?"

Derrick looked away again and took on that faraway look once more. "I was banished from the forest in which I had created Morgan. Other vampires took her under their wing at Jonas' command - it was one of the only times I saw him exercise the power that we have over other, most other, dark creatures. I never went back to that wood, and Jonas never spoke to me about Morgan or the forest again. I thought that she may have died...but I was wrong. I saw her yesterday, with another being - one named Janeiro and..." he shivered involuntarily and closed his eyes, tears dripping past them. Lucius noticed that they carried a tinge of crimson red. "He wasn't one of Mistress Death's creatures...he looked me in the eye...I was going to attack him and he looked me in the eye. I was frozen - he had absolute control over me. I believe that, had he wished it so, I could have burst into flames on the spot and died as I had many years before."

"But, how is that possible? How is it possible for anyone to have such power?"

"Awareness of magic gives the being control. Wizards have Awareness and thus are able to wield the magic where as Muggles do not and thus cannot use it," was the reply.

"And Squibs? Mudbloods?"

Derrick looked up, a fraction of his old arrogance shining through. "Do you really think that the Awareness of magic within oneself is that simple? 'oh, I know magic exists - I should be able to use it'." He shook his head, looking at Lucius tauntingly. "It doesn't work that way, my friend. Awareness is a Gift - just like the Dark Gift...and it is as much a curse as a gift. You either have it or you don't. Mudbloods, Purebloods...there's no difference between them. It's not the blood, it's the Awareness. I myself really have no idea why you lot believe so deeply about that damned imaginary line between the two. It's Mortal ignorance that creates this prejudice."

There was a short silence during which both thought of very different things. Lucius regarded Derrick quietly before saying, "This Janeiro...you were talking about him earlier - what is he, if not a creature of Mistress Death?"

At this, Derrick's blue eyes swirled, not with anger, but with fear. "I'm not certain - but he was as close to being a demon as my soul-preying shadows and specters. He said something about the secret of going to the realm of death and back..." He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. "If there are really higher beings than my Mistress, I believe that he is one of their creations...if not one himself."

"And...you believe that one of these higher powers in the Underworld, as you call it, may deter you from possessing Thaddeus Nott?"

Derrick sighed softly before looking up at him. "It matters not anymore. If I'm to be damned, then I will very well do it on my own terms," he said, before smiling his trademark smile.

Lucius, however, did not smile back. "If there is going to be a problem during this plan, I want to hear it now."

"And I told you it matters not anymore. I will get this done - even if I have to fight my Mistress and all the possible superiors that exist. I will not go down weak, like my brother. I'm a Bane and I will act it," said Derrick, his tone low, but filled with fire.

The man before him nodded in satisfaction. "Good." He waited a moment before going on. "Thaddeus Nott's Healer is the same on as Harry Potter's. You remember the level of power that radiated from his magical outburst at Snape Manor?" At Derrick's nod, Lucius said, "Many of the others along with myself believe that it would be beneficial to our cause against the light and for the Dark Lord if we gain as much information about Mr. Potter as possible. The potion is a tracking potion I had Severus find. It will lead you to the correct patient."

Derrick was looking blankly at him, his chin resting on one hand. Suddenly, he snapped out of it and a smile lit his face. "I've a way to make sure we are not caught."

"Oh?" said Lucius, a brow raised. "And what way is this?"

"I will have Agnes report to me - she's a special specter of mine in Mistress Death's realm. She was...well, she was an imaginary friend of sorts of mine when I was a child."

"Just how will you make contact with her?"

"Oh, I'll have one of these lesser shadows fetch her for me." He looked over his shoulder and murmured quietly with something that Lucius could not see. There was a shimmer in the air and then Derrick turned to look back at Lucius with a smirk. "I will, of course, be there at times myself, but Agnes will be our cover. She'll never know. If we get caught - she'll be the culprit that our enemies will be looking for. If they search deeper than just a mere specter then...well...we'll be damned." He paused and looked Lucius up and down, a slow smile creeping across his face. "But what the hell? Aren't we already?"

~*~

Draco jumped out of the carriage and ran all the way back to the manor, not once looking back as his mother called out his name. "Draco!" First it was a surprised cry, and then it became a warning - one that he knew would make him regret his actions upon seeing her once again, but at that moment, he didn't care. All he wanted to was to be away from his mother's presence and away from any thoughts of his friend Remus being a bad man because he was a werewolf.

Suddenly, he hated the word.

Werewolf. Werewolf.

He hated how the disgust crept into his mum's voice as she spat out that one word and how her eyes narrowed with anger, but he noticed that past the revulsion and fury, the fear that laced her words was the driving force of her hate. As he raced through the gap between the slowly opening doors as the spells swung them out and felt the slight breeze whipping past him, making his blurry eyes sting.

Rushing up the steps, he made his designation his room in which he would lock himself up and cry and scream into his pillow. All he managed, however, was to...run into his father. Quickly, he stood up and scowled in defiance. He made as if to walk past the elder man but was stopped abruptly when the snake head of his father's cane stared menacingly at him. Draco turned his glare at it, refusing to meet his father's eyes.

He found that he now hated the word Mudblood as well.

...Stupid Mudbloods, fouling up the world with their filth...

"Draco, you will never associate with a Mudblood..." on and on and Draco soaked up every word like a child's first breaths.

"Of course, Father," he had replied, his eyes wide and watery with blind adoration.

Stupid.

The cane rose and met Draco's throat lightly. His head was forced upwards as the end of the ebony black rod touched his chin and his eyes slowly rose to meet his father's. He could feel the fire in his heart, taste the bitter tang of blood as it washed into his mouth because he was biting down so furiously upon his tongue - it wouldn't do to speak insolently to his father. He needed to wait, he need to calm his ecstatic nerves before he asked his father what was wrong with werewolves and Mudbloods.

But he hit you...he hates you...

No.

No...father would never hate me...

He does...of course he does. He raised a hand to you - do you not think that he will do so again if you dare to contradict his ideals?

And Draco found himself having to consider this very fact even as he stared back into eyes so alike his, yet so cold. Those eyes...they used to be so warm. Draco even used to think that he felt that very warmth radiating from this man he used to worship - but now that the idealistic way in which he had always looked upon his father was gone now, and so was the warmth. He felt cold all of a sudden, as if he was stripped bare. He felt it as plain as day, but it was as if no one else noticed, no one else cared - the only one who could see him so exposed was his father, and the icy gray stare made him shiver.

"What are you running in the halls for, Draco?" wondered Lucius, raising a brow.

The boy pulled his head away from contact with his father's cane and scuffed a foot upon the floor. "I just wanted to get to my room," he said and quickly added, "sir."

Lucius eyed him contemplatively. "A colleague of mine is on his way here. He is bringing his child and I'm leaving it up to you to set an example about what the Malfoy name signifies. Do you understand me?"

Draco frowned and glanced up at the elder man. "Who is it?"

His response was a stinging 'THWAP' to the side of his head. "Do you understand me, Draco?"

With eyes large and watery, the boy nodded quickly and at a second raise of his father's hand, he muttered quickly, "Yes, Father."

"Good," said Lucius. "Now go up to your room and don't make a sound until one of the house elves retrieves you, under stood?"

"Yes, Father," replied Draco quickly. With a last nod from his father, he walked up to his room and sat down on his bed, burying his face in his pillow so that his tears would never be seen.

~*~

Severus was sitting in Potter's room once more with Marty the Magician halfway finished in his hands, when an owl flew in through the open window. He took the parchment from the familiar owl with a feeling of dread in his stomach. He unfolded it and read its contents.

By the time he finished, the feeling of dread had transformed into fear.

Soon he was rushing into the owlery section of St. Mungo's. He took a piece of parchment and a quill and inkwell. Then he wrote to Albus Dumbledore requesting that the man come to St. Mungo's immediately.

~*~

"That's right, Agnes," said Derrick. "This is the favor I request."

Eyes like a cat's peered brightly and directly at him - red with slits of black running down the middle of the eerie pupils. Her brilliant white figure of light shimmered majestically before him. "Anything for you, darling," she whispered and her voice was melodious as it washed over him like cool summer breezes.

He smiled and her beautiful figure soon faded away.

Agnes was a Specter, a phantom of the night. She faded away into the realm of Mistress Death. She, like Derrick, was a dark creature of the Mistress and had the gift of traveling past the line from life to death and back again. Her eyes glowed from a light within as she soared through the darkness. And soon, she came upon a light.

~*~

Thaddeus stood up slowly from his seat at the empty ice cream parlor and looked at the woman who had suddenly appeared in the middle of the street. Her red cat's eyes peered absorbedly at him and he felt his breathing hitch in fear. The wind seemed to pick up and as it rushed by, he could have sworn he heard voices.

"...never going to wake up?" This voice was high pitched, yet male and most definitely familiar.

Thaddeus ran into the street and looked up at the dark grey sky. "Aden?" he called desperately. "Can you hear me?"

"Of course, love, of course he will. Then we'll that marvelous birthday party we had planned." That was Maura's voice, and it was filled with false hope.

"Maura! I'm here!" cried Thaddeus. He turned to look at the woman who regarded him coolly.

"Of course you know that you cannot be heard," she said and her voice was like music. Her eyes seemed to swirl with crimson clouds and his own were caught in her gaze. Her smile was taunting yet gentle all at once. "Keep praying, my dear," whispered the specter, "and maybe you shall see them again."

~*~

Adenwiped his eyes discreetly so that Maura wouldn't see. He hated the painful grimace that seemed etched upon his father's face and he gently picked up one of the older man's hands, marveling at how much bigger it was than his own tiny one. Another hand enveloped his for a moment and he looked up at his surrogate mother. "I'll get us something to eat," she said softly, a small smile on her face. "Do you want anything special?"

He shook his head and ducked his head as more tears fell. She kissed his hair before leaving and closed the door quietly as she slipped out. Adendidn't know where all these tears came from. He hadn't ever felt this terrible except for the time when Harry was taken away and he was to meet his new parents. It was a dreadful feeling and his chest felt like it would explode some time soon. Even when Mr. McKinnon had been angry with him, he had never felt this awful pang in his chest.

"Please, please get better," he whispered and buried his face into Thaddeus' shoulder. "M-Mum said that we'd have a birthday party." He pulled away and traced the lines on his father's hand. "I changed it, you know - I don't want my birthday on that day anymore. I'll have it when you get better. That way we can have a double party." He smiled slightly and tried to smooth the lines on Thaddeus' forehead with a gentle touch. It seemed to help slightly, and the man heaved a soft sigh. Adenfound himself wiping yet more salty drops from his cheeks.

"Mum said I can invite anybody I want to and I told her that I wanted you to meet my friend Harry. He's sick too - I think he's here. I think I'm going to visit him later, but I really want you to meet him. He's my best friend and we were both at the orphanage. Did you know that he's 'magic' too? And he also has another friend whose name is Draco and I hope that he can be my friend too - he's friends with Harry, you see. It will be wonderful. They can both come to our party."

Adensniffed and held his father's hand more tightly. "It'll be wonderful."

~*~

Thaddeus met the specter's eyes once more. That was the only thing this demon woman could be - a specter. Her eyes were the same blood red he had read about, and her figure was simply...white.

"...it will be wonderful..."

He swallowed as the specter's luscious lips curved into a smirk that seemed so familiar. "Mm, how...sweet," she said in a melodious tone.

"No," he tried to say, but his throat had somehow seized up. He cleared it loudly and stepped forward. "Don't - please, don't do it." His voice was nothing more than a whisper, but in it Agnes heard the sound of fear and desperation.

Her smile broadened. "Oh, but I must." She laughed and it sounded like silver bells ringing. "Derrick will be pleased."

Then her figure slowly faded away and Thaddeus found himself too late to stop her as white light shimmered through his fingers.

~*~

Draco's stomach dropped as the knob on his door turned slowly. He bit down on his lip and quickly wiped away his tears as he cast his eyes down to his stocking-ed feet. The door slowly opened and a small head peeked through. Then an imperious voice said quite haughtily, "Are you Draco Malfoy?"

He looked up in surprise and his grey eyes met light brown ones. He frowned, having expected his father. "Yes - and who are you?"

The girl opened the door the rest of the way and closed it behind her as she stepped inside. Her dark brown hair was neatly tied with a blue ribbon that matched her poufy blue dress lined with white lace. Upon her face was a curious expression as she regarded the blonde boy before her. Draco scowled when her nose wrinkled with a frown. "You're not wearing any shoes!" she exclaimed, and pointed at his feet.

"And you look like one of those ugly dogs!" he snapped and jumped off his bed. "Get out of my room!" He too pointed, but this time at the door.

She sniffed in indignation and looked around. Her expression brightened as she found what she was looking for. After she retrieved them, she handed the shoes to Draco. "Here, put these on," she told him.

Draco looked at the shoes for a moment before crossing his arms across his chest. "All right, but you have to tell me your name first."

This funny girl had the nerve to giggle. "Why, my name is Pansy, of course!" she proclaimed, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I'm Pansy Parkinson." She glanced at the door. "My papa is talking to your papa downstairs." Then she held out his shoes at an arm's length and looked at him in expectation.

The boy shrugged and sat down upon the floor to put on his shoes. Once they were firmly tied, he looked across from him at the girl who sat down in a funny manner. "Why are you sitting like that?" he asked, and this time it was he who wrinkled his nose with a frown.

She rolled her eyes as if Draco was a particularly dim person and said, "Because that's the rules, silly! Don't you know anything?"

Draco, insulted, jumped up and grabbed his wand. "Of course I do! I know magics!" He aimed the wooden stick at the dresser and cried, "Alohamora!"

The doors slammed open loudly making the girl named Pansy jump up as well. Her eyes were large and round as she turned to look at him. "Wow," she whispered, looking extremely impressed. "Only my papa and mama know how to do that! You must be one of the greatest wizards ever!"

This made Draco feel particularly proud of himself and he tried to twirl his wand, but failed miserably. He picked it up with only the tiniest of blushes upon his pale cheeks, but Pansy didn't seem to notice. "No, my - my father is the greatest wizard ever," he replied, but his heart wasn't in it as much as it usually was.

Pansy turned to look at the open dresser again. "Do you think I could do magics too?" she wondered softly, turning her eyes towards him.

He wrinkled his nose as she stepped closer and hastily moved backwards. "No, you can't. Only Harry and I can."

The tiny girl in the blue dress put her hands on her hips. "Who's Harry?"

"He's my best friend ever."

Pansy chewed her lip thoughtfully. "My best friend is Jillian."

"Who's that?"

She rolled her eyes again. "She's the best kitty ever, you silly boy! Really! She's black with very pretty white spots and she loves me more than anyone else. One girl named Millie tried to take her because she's bigger than I am, but Jillian came to me only!" Pansy's eyes were bright with pride, but Draco eyed her with distaste.

"A kitty can't be your best friend!"

Draco scowled at her as she glared back at him. "Of course they can!" cried Pansy.

"No they can't, you silly sod!" he yelled back.

Pansy, taken aback by this strange word puckered her lips, her eyes watering. "Y-Yes they can, Draco Malfoy! Y-Yes they can!" And she stomped her foot. And that's that!

But Draco wouldn't be defeated that easily. He jumped up saying, "They can't, they can't, they can't! You have no friends! You only have a silly, silly cat!" Pansy wiped her eyes. "Ha!"

The girl sniffed and wiped her eyes again before opening her mouth and bawling loudly. Draco jumped and stared at her as if she was the strangest creature on earth. "Stop that!" he told her, but she refused to listen and her wails became louder. "Stop crying! You can't cry! Men don't cry!"

Pansy paused in her screaming and looked at him with narrowed, watery eyes. "I'm not a men, I'm a girl!" Then she began crying again.

Draco made a frustrated sound in his throat before telling her loudly, "But men are better than girls!"

She stopped crying to stand up and wipe her face. "No they're not!" She paused and her eyes wandered to the wand in his right hand. "Are they really?"

"Yes, of course!"

"Do you think I could be one too?"

Draco looked at her doubtfully for a short moment. "Umm...maybe. Here, this is what you have to do." He looked through his dresser and took out some old clothes and robes, handing them to her. She looked at them skeptically for a moment, then took them. "The bathroom's over there, go change."

Pansy frowned, then shut the door loudly. Meanwhile, Draco rummaged through his desk and by the time she came out wearing his old clothes, he had found what he was looking for. Pansy looked down at her self and Draco sighed, helping her fold the sleeves and pants that were too long for her tiny frame. "Is this okay?" she asked him.

"Of course it is, now come over here and sit on this chair," he ordered. He felt more comfortable in her presence when she acted normal - like how house elves were supposed to act.

She eyed the scissors in his hands before complying. "What's that for?"

Draco sighed in exasperation. "To cut your hair with, Pansy," he said.

"Oh." A pause. "Do you have to? I kind of like my hair like this."

"Men have hair like mine, now be quiet," said Draco sensibly. Pansy bit down on her lip as she felt him pull the blue ribbon from her hair and howled loudly when it got knotted. "Hush!" commanded the boy. "Men don't cry!"

She quieted after a moment and asked, "If I'm a man, can I do magics too?"

Draco was silent for a moment as he cut the ribbon to shreds. Then he said, "I s'pose so." Pansy was silent after that, satisfied with the answer. The only sounds in the room came from the snippety snip of Draco's scissors. When he finished, he said loudly and proudly, "Done!"

Excited Pansy jumped off the chair and grabbed Draco's hand. Then she pulled him out of the room and down the steps. "Papa!" she yelled loudly. "Papa, look at me!"

They rushed into the lounge where Mr. Parkinson and Lucius were talking quietly. They both jumped up when Pansy rushed in her boy's attire and uneven haircut, with Draco attached to her hand.

"Look at me, Papa! I'm a man like Draco and he said that I can do magics now!"

Mr. Parkinson took in his daughter's bright face, Draco's frown, and Lucius' critical expression before he said casually, "You look marvelous, my dear."

Pansy laughed and let go of Draco's hand to wrap her arms around her father's waist. "It'll be fun, you'll see. Now we're leaving!" She took the boy's hand again and soon they were off.

Lucius turned to Mr. Parkinson who was running a hand through his graying hair. "A bit too much like her mother for my taste, but so long as we don't say anything negative about her - er - being a man, then we can expect less noise henceforth."

The blonde aristocrat said nothing, but sat down and sipped his tea.

~*~

Adenfelt a tingle run up a spine and quickly jumped away from his father's prone body. The man was twitching again. The child patted Thaddeus' hand before retreating from the room.

It was time to find Harry, he thought, and perhaps his friend was feeling better. There seemed to be an itch, somewhere inside him, but he couldn't be sure. He rubbed his chest half-heartedly and walked up to the counter where a witch with a funny hat sat looking at spelled monitors. "'Scuse me, please," said Aden.

The woman glanced up and smiled down at him. "May I help you?"

"Where is Harry Potter's room?"

Her smile was sympathetic as she pointed down the hall. "Three doors down on the right side."

He nodded and started off with a soft, "Thanks," to the woman. He soon arrived at the door and opened it slowly. He slipped inside and rushed to the chair beside the bed. Adenlooked at the pallor of his friend's face and felt his chest constrict again, and the itch was more pronounced. "Oh, Harry - whatever happened to you?" He tried shaking the other boy to wake him up, but it was to no avail.

Just then, the door began to open. Suddenly fearful, Aden jumped off the chair and dashed under the bed. He saw black boots clopping towards the chair he had previously occupied and scurried further beneath the bed.

"You owled saying you had urgent news," said one voice, and Aden saw another pair of feet come into the room as the door closed.

The potions master's eyes were dark as he looked at his mentor. "The Peredinare Magia potion was delivered with success," said the man coldly, "but I'm afraid its use is dark turn for all of us."

"What do you mean, Severus?"

"Lucius administered it to Thaddeus, Albus. Derrick Bane is using one of his dark creatures to possess Nott," was the soft reply.

The silence that resulted from this last statement was thick and made Adenfeel like choking. His father? They were talking about his father! And possession! Dear Lord, he hadn't known such a thing was possible! He rubbed his chest harder and suddenly felt dizzy. He rubbed his eyes so that he could see more clearly.

"Why is this being done?" wondered the headmaster, his eyes solemn.

Severus sighed and glanced at the little boy upon the bed. "Lucius said Thaddeus will be used to gather information about Potter."

"Then Mr. Nott will be awakening soon, I suppose?" said Albus, and Severus nodded. "We must keep a close eye upon him and speak little of Mr. Potter." There was another moment of silence before the ancient wizard said, "Thank you, Severus. Your information, as usual, is invaluable."

After that, all Adenheard were the parting words of the two men. Only a short while later, the black boots left the room as well. Once the coast was clear, Adenleft from his refuge under the bed and took one last glance at his friend. "Why is everyone after you, Harry?" he asked softly, before he turned and left to room to once again sit at his father's bedside.

He lay his head down on his father's shoulder and held the older man's hand. Soon, he found that his dizziness and chest pains were gone. He sighed as he fell asleep and just before his eyes fluttered closed, the glowed crimson red.

~*~

Derrick's smile was taunting as he watched Lucius try to control his temper. "There's no need to be angry, Lucius my boy, I thought you wanted to do away with him."

"But I never thought he'd be a bloody traitor!" roared the man.

Mr. Parkinson rubbed his face. "Are you certain that this - this Agnes character can be trusted?"

The Necromancer turned fiery sapphire blue eyes at him. "Are you questioning me?"

The man blinked in surprise. "No - of course not, I'm just making sure. We wouldn't want to accuse Severus on false information, now would we?"

"What we thought to be false information before may very well have been correct, as far as we can tell now," said Goyle, his voice rumbling with fury.

Lucius pursed his lips and told a house elf to fetch an inkwell, a roll of parchment, and his owl. When he looked up at the rest of the Death Eaters, his eyes were like an icy wall. "It is time that Severus got his just reward for his loyalty," he hissed, and sent his owl off with the letter.