Other Ends

OTHER ENDS

by Silverfish ~:

II.

It wasn't that Daniel didn't care, far from it in fact. If one could measure the amount of care Daniel did have for this current predicament, you could run rings around the circumference of the entire universe at least four times, with some extra jogging to spare. Daniel sank his head in his hands and groaned.

He was sitting in Snape's office, wondering where the thin, sallow Potions mastermind his most dear *personal* friend--was. The centinewt was happy enough to see him, but Daniel was too perturbed to give it anything more than a passing wave as attention. The pickled centinewt circled in its jar madly, the murky colours within every now and then shooting through with the barest flicker of its gold underbelly. It tied its many arms into complicated pretzel-like knots and then untied itself, arms splayed against the edges of the jar with a theatrical flourish. But even this display did nothing to attract Daniel's attention, and now in a more somber mood, the centinewt sulked in a muddy brown blob on the bottom of its jar.

Daniel checked his watch. Three o'clock, and no sign of Snape. He'd been punctual all year and now, the one time when Daniel needed to see him most, he was nowhere to be found. Daniel sighed, a sense of overwhelming depression addling his mind. He'd run out of his liquor at five to three, and even though he'd cleaned off the bottle of whiskey he'd kept in his desk drawer, he wasn't feeling all that happy or numbed.

Yesterday had been a nightmare of accusation from Minerva McGonagall, and he'd wondered if the woman was going to lay blows on him she was so angry. He had no idea what she was talking about, insisting he'd encouraged Dean Chalmers to feel up a female student. Poor kid, he'd apparently lost his hands in the process. Daniel mused the girl must like him just little bit because otherwise there'd have been something a lot more important missing. There was definitely a crag in this reasoning, but then, Daniel wasn't exactly an expert on female and male relations and had never bothered exploring the subject past the knowledge it somehow existed and procreation ensured the survival of the species--though science was certainly catching up. He wondered vaguely if Snape had ever had the misfortune of having a girlfriend, and then bit back on his own laughter.

Poor Snape. Most definitely not!

Daniel clasped his hands behind his head, and sighed heavily. He gave the locked cabinet holding the new coffee maker a covetous glare. He could really use a coffee to sober up a bit about now, he thought. He hummed and squished his mouth to one side considering how easy it would be to pick the lock, and in one split decision fueled by caffeine addiction, he got up from his chair, took a compass off of Snape's desk, and made his way to the cabinet. The padlock was a huge, clunky thing, and as was often the case with such old imposing looking antiques, it was incredibly easy to pick. Daniel bit his bottom lip as he maneuvered the sharp end of the compass in the lock, a lever pulled up here, a latch pulled down there, and...Success! The lock sprung open, and Daniel quickly opened the cabinet, his mind full of the glorious memories of yesterday morning's coffee, a memory that had not yet been repeated today.

Oh...No.

A huge tentacle sprung out of the Proctor Silex 2001 glass carafe, reaching angrily for whoever it was that disturbed the Something inside of its sleep. Daniel slammed the cupboard door closed, but the Something, having now had a taste of freedom, was pushing against it with its massive suctioned arms, and sliming up the edge of the door as it did its best to resist. With a few slams of the door, Daniel finally managed to get it closed, and with great effort got the padlock on. His hands were shaking too much to attempt to actually lock it, and the Something inside calmed once it was in its familiar lair.

"Dammit, Sev," Daniel said, and inhaled deep breaths in an attempt to regain his usual calm composure. "You're supposed to clean the pot out when you're done!"

Feeling a little better, he reached towards the padlock to properly lock it, but it slipped out of his reach as he fell.

Falling. Tumbling. From a great distance through the floor of Snape's Potions office.

When he landed, it was with a gentle thud onto wet concrete. He frowned, staring out into the darkness of night, on a street that while it was familiar, shouldn't have been--especially considering he'd just been at Hogwarts, in a slightly damp but nevertheless *indoors* office. The setting was too dark to be three o'clock, he realized, and when he dared to check his watch he could see that time had been speeded up, and it was now 1:00 am.

He wasn't entirely perturbed by this. After all, he'd had plenty of experiences where he'd lost a few hours out of his life and woke up in strange territory. He rubbed his hands over his face as he stood up, and wondered what combination of whiskey and coffee had done this to him.

***
While the hours might have passed at a lightning, forgotten pace for Daniel Deschamps, they didn't, unfortunately, have the same effect on the rest of Hogwarts. It was fifteen minutes past three o'clock and Snape was quite upset to find that someone had been tampering with his locked cabinet. His first thought was that it was Sirius Black, but he soon dismissed this as nonsense since the man wouldn't go so far as to steal the machine to get him into trouble.

Or would he?

After all, he'd nearly killed Snape with a prank once. Petty thievery couldn't be all that far behind. He handled the padlock and let it fall against the cabinet with a clang, not noticing the slight shudder of the wooden door. He didn't lock it, and instead paced his office room with grave agitation, and hoped Daniel hadn't given up today's usual meeting to do something stupid--like give Dean Chalmers more useless and ill-informed advice. He eyed the connecting door to Daniel's classroom with nervous hope, but even after ten minutes of this Daniel didn't show up. By the time three thirty arrived, and there was still no Daniel Deschamps, Snape was beginning to feel some very instinctual worry.

Snape had been late because of a horrible catastrophe that had occurred in Dumbledore's office, and he'd been ordered by the Headmaster to go to his Potions office and wait for Daniel to show up, and once found, to bring him upstairs immediately.

Daniel was still lost, obviously.

This wasn't good, not at all.

His potions class was filling up, but Snape had much more important things to attend to at present than the half hearted attempts at learning of his pimply sixth year students. His black robes billowed behind him as he walked through his potions office and into the classroom, small black eyes sneering at the collection of unhappy students as he passed.

"Today's lesson is canceled," he said, and gave no further explanation. He flinched only when he was out their sight and the class suddenly whooped and cheered in joy.

***
By six o'clock, things were definitely looking grim. So grim, in fact, that Dumbledore had even descended into calling up Daniel's old cronies at the Muggle precinct in London, asking them to hurry to Hogwarts immediately. He didn't wait for a train, once he'd received Blurty's confused consent he'd merely transmigrated them into his office. Blurty was still holding a delicately pink flowered cup of tea, and both McKinnon and McKnulty had someone else in their grip--a huge, HUGE Muggle who couldn't possibly be that big without it being some sort of genetic anomaly. The large man looked down on everyone in the room, saying nothing. He cracked his knuckles.

"I was about to finish my tea and pack," Blurty said, his large nose scarlet. He nodded over at McKinnon and McKnulty, "They were busy processing Ricki's public nuisance report on a fellow he had to toss out of the club last night."

There was a tense silence, broken intermittently by Ricki's knuckle snaps as they echoed through Dumbledore's office.

"I got a mind to meet me a wizard," he drawled in a thick Liverpool accent.

Dumbledore sighed, and stroked his white beard, his bushy eyebrows pursed together in worry. "This has proven to be a most vexing day," he began. "I've not only had to deal with the unexpected arrival of Lucius Malfoy this morning and his complaints against Professor Deschamps, I've also had to suffer the indignity of thievery." All of the other wizards in the room looked grim as Dumbledore eased himself unsteadily out of his seat, to hobble with ancient stiffness to a cabinet on the far end of the office. The portraits above it stared down at him in embarrassed solemnity.

"I'm sorry I fell asleep," the portrait of Sir Grizzald Kingsley, Dragon tamer of the first order, said to Dumbledore. A tiny dragon was in his palm, its tongue lolling playfully to one side like a happy Maltese puppy.

"It cannot be helped," Dumbledore replied, sadly. "It is my belief all of the portraits in this room were bid to sleep through the workings of a somnalescence spell." The portraits, which had a habit of sleeping 99% of the time, shook their heads sheepishly in response to this. A bit disappointed, Dumbledore pushed the cabinet door in and it swung open outwards, revealing a large ball of magical charges encircling a now empty wire pedestal. "The vial had been placed here, under careful guard and under many spells to ensure its protection. As you can see, it was taken without disturbing them--A work of genuine skill." He petted his white beard, thinking. "The only person who might have been able to break through such a barrier could be Voldemort himself. But still, I am not so sure that is the answer--I've received no warning from anyone that he is here, nor has anyone been found wandering the halls of Hogwarts who shouldn't be. There is no signature of magic anywhere to be found." He gave the portraits a pointed stare, and a few of them even mouthed 'sorry'. "This is why I've felt it best to call you in, Constable. I suspect the means by which this vial was stolen is Muggle in origin."

"To top it all off, Daniel is missing as well," Blurty noted.

Sirius Black sidled up behind him, his voice deadly as he spoke. "Yes. Interesting, isn't it?"

Snape, who had been very quiet up to this point, suddenly put himself between Sirius and Blurty, and practically spit in Black's face. "If you're suggesting Daniel is a thief, you're a fool! You and I both know he was instrumental in getting this vial out of He Who Must Not Be Named's hands!"

"That may be true," Sirius said, "but it can also be said that he brought it here purposefully to both take us off his trail and to steal it easily later."

It was Blurty who broke this small confrontation with a cough, and a wide grin at both Sirius and Snape. "Ah, you're both all wrong," he said. "Daniel doesn't work on anything that isn't in his own interests most of the time--This is no exception." He turned to Dumbledore. "Is there any way of seeing the usual comings and goings of this place? I think we might be able to figure your puzzle out, but it may take a while."

Dumbledore nodded his assent. He hobbled his way to his desk, McKinnon and Mcknulty getting out of his path. The two younger constables looked a little out of place in this much more formal wizard setting, but oddly enough their friend Ricki was in perfect ease. Ricki glared down at Sirius, and cracked his knuckles, a most disconcerting action to be sure since Sirius black felt himself actually shrink at the implied threat the sound appeared to contain. Dumbledore took out a familiar looking roll of parchment and handed it to Blurty, who unrolled it on the surface of Dumbledore's desk.

"It's a Marauder's Map," Remus Lupin explained. He was standing beside Sirius now, and smiling cheerfully on their Muggle company. "It shows you where everyone is. See, these dots represent us." He pointed to the cluster of dots and names collected in the area mapped out to be 'Headmaster Dumbledore's Office'. "This is Daniel's classroom, down at the bottom here, and this place labeled, 'The Foulest Room In The Universe' is Severus' quarters."

Snape's murderous glare at both Remus and Sirius was ignored. Ricki was looking over Blurty's shoulder, a grunt issuing forth deeply from his massive bulk.

"Lucius Malfoy. In the library," he growled. He cracked his knuckles yet again. "I think I'm going to have a talk with him."

"Oh, jolly good idea!" Blurty said. "Has he been at Hogwarts long today, Mr. Dumbledore?" He tapped at his very large, red nose. "A man who keeps the hand of a murderer has certain inclinations, I should think. Ricki, be sure to ask him where he's been lately, get as much detail as you can and tell me what he has to say."

Ricki was already heading out the door. "I'll be asking him about that right enough," he replied.

***
Just after midnight, Harry was jostled awake by a panic stricken Ron Weasley. He blearily opened his eyes and put on his glasses to see his good friend grimacing down at him, a bead of sweat on his brow. Frowning, Harry sat up, and then in further shock realized Hermione was standing directly behind Ron, a look of determined exasperation on her face.

"I don't think we should go," Ron said to Harry.

Confused, Harry rubbed his eyes with his fingers digging beneath his glasses. When he took them away, both Ron and Hermione were still there. "Don't think we should go where?" Harry asked.

"To Professor Deschamps' classroom to meet Draco Malfoy," Hermione clarified.

Harry swung his legs over the edge of the bed, all thought of sleep fleeing. "What the hell for?"

"That's what I say," Ron agreed.

Hermione shook her head. She passed Harry a neatly folded piece of parchment. He opened it to see neatly printed script on its surface, Malfoy's handwriting. It read:

"I wouldn't be asking if this wasn't important. I need you, Harry and Ron at Deschamps' classroom at midnight. This is of the utmost urgency. I will be expecting you.

Draco Malfoy."

"This has to be some sort of trap," Ron said.

Harry looked from the piece of parchment to Hermione's worried face. "I don't know," he said. "This is very unusual for him." He frowned, thinking. "Maybe if we used the invisibility cloak, just to see if he's alone?"

"That's *exactly* what I told Ron," Hermione sniffed. "You're absolutely right that this is not normal behaviour for Malfoy--And frankly there's been a *lot* of things not quite normal about him lately, haven't there? Like the fact he's been talking to us, and actually finding common ground in hating our English teacher. I find the whole thing very disturbing."

Harry brushed his hair with his fingers and got to his feet. He took out his invisibility cloak from its hiding place in his bottom drawer.

"You can't be serious!" Ron exclaimed.

Harry held the shimmering fabric in his grip for a long moment before speaking again. He kept his eyes averted from both Ron and Hermione, hoping they couldn't see the doubt that was niggling within them. "If he's in trouble, real trouble--We have a duty to find out," Harry said. "Whether we like him or not doesn't matter. If he's desperate enough to need to talk to us about it, well...It must be pretty terrible." He paused for a moment, and then in one swoop of decision held the invisibility cloak out wide enough to encompass all three of them beneath it. "Let's go," he said.

They made their way down into the dungeons using the express stairs, which left them all a little dizzy afterwards. They quickly got their bearings and passed the Potions classroom door to reach Deschamps' room a bit further down. The door was slightly open, and Harry held onto the hem of the cloak with a firm grip as he took a look into the plain confines of the room. Only one fluorescent style light was on, and it illuminated Draco Malfoy, who was sitting in the center of the classroom, looking every inch of miserable. There was no sign of anyone else. Swallowing back his apprehension, Harry let the invisibility cloak fall back. He neatly folded it up, and placed it in a schoolbag he'd brought for the purpose of concealing it.

The three of them entered the room, and stood near their English professor's desk. Draco Malfoy looked up, and to their mutual shock he was amazed that they had actually shown up.

"You're late," he said, and frowned slightly, but it was more confusion than anything else. "I was about to go back to the Slytherin dorm."

Harry crossed his arms, glaring at his old enemy. "What are we doing here, Malfoy?" he asked.

Draco motioned them closer, and, still on their guard they complied. Hermione sat at a desk a few rows away from him, and Harry and Ron sat in front. Draco, even in this half light, looked sickly pale. He swallowed, deeply, and with shaking, thin pale hands he took out a velvet cloth and placed it on the surface of the student desk before him. With deliberate care he opened the folds, to reveal the horrible thing it had encased.

Ron nearly jumped back in shock. Harry was confused and Hermione...Hermione's expression was so poker faced you could say it was 'unplottable'.

Before Draco Malfoy, on the surface of the desk, was a Muggle pistol.

"I've only heard about these things," he said, his words hollow in the dark blankness of the classroom. "I never would have known about them at all if Chief Constable Blurty hadn't told me." He gave a fleeting glance at Hermione and asked her, "Is it true...Do Muggles really use these things to kill people?"

Hermione was quiet a long moment.

"About two hundred in Britain alone annually," she said. "Worldwide, that statistic is much, much, much larger."

The sobering effects of this information weighed heavily on them all. Harry made a move as if to touch the gun, and Draco shot him a look that made him think twice. It was a warning glare, like he was about to dip his hand in pure acid.

"Blurty said it's just explosive pellets inside of it, that's how it kills people," Draco continued. "That it rips through the important organs, like the heart, or any other, and makes the person bleed to death internally, or it suffocates them, or severs the important nerves that make the body know how to live...." He visibly shuddered. "It's horrible."

Harry frowned. "How can you of all people think so?" he asked. "Weren't you bragging not too long ago that you owned a murderer's hand?"

Draco shook his head. "This is different. Blurty said it's different every time someone is shot--sometimes they die right away, sometimes they live for days and days or years and suffer and are in pain. A wizard death blow is just that--quick and easy and it never misses. This is just..."

"Messy," Hermione finished.

Draco flashed her a pained look, and she averted her gaze. "You say this kind of...Muggle Dark Arts...Is common? This is something you people have to worry about?"

"This and worse," she said, and crossed her arms, clearly waiting for the racial slurs he was about to hurl at her.

But Draco did no such thing. He merely shook his head at her in disbelief and shock. Harry watched this display with some curiosity, and wondered just how sheltered Draco's life had been after all.

"I'm sorry," he said.

With shaking hands he covered the pistol with the velvet cloth again. With it at least out of naked sight he seemed to calm a little, and he sat back in his chair, but not in any better ease. "A thing like that," he said. "You shouldn't find it in your father's suitcase."

"Give it to me," Hermione said in confidence. "I'll get rid of it."

Perhaps it was the commanding no nonsense sincerity of her tone that made Draco comply, but Harry was more sure it was the fear of the evil thing forged in metal laying within the folds of that velvet cover. The Dark Arts were full of gruesome images, but perhaps the reality of someone actually dying, someone coming to an end that wasn't easy--These weren't the kinds of things even a pureblooded wizard could easily comprehend. Hermione took the gun and tied the velvet around it tightly. She nodded at Ron, who practically bolted to the classroom door to get away from both Malfoy and the gun...Only to realize with some chagrin that Hermione was the one now carrying it.

"How are we going to get rid of it?" he asked her in a harsh whisper.

"I have an idea," she replied, but this didn't make Ron feel any better as he followed her out.

Harry and Draco were left alone in the classroom, the leftover fear of the gun coming between them. Draco refused to look at him, but Harry kept his old enemy keenly in his sight.

"You've seen someone die," Draco said to Harry.

Harry narrowed his gaze. "You made a sick joke about Cedric," he reminded Draco.

Draco reddened slightly. "Sometimes, when you don't have a clue about something, it's easier to make light of it."

"That makes it easier to accept, too," Harry said.

Draco's silence was broken by a commotion in the hall. Both he and Harry tried to get out of their seats to escape the room in time, but a brilliant white light blinded them both, and the figures of Snape, Remus, Sirius and Headmaster Dumbledore marched into the room, clearly in serious debate. The rest of the fluorescent lights had been turned on, and now the teachers and Headmaster stared dumbly at the two students alone in the classroom.

"What are you doing here?" Snape bellowed at them. "Fifty points off Gryffndor!"

***
It was one am, and Blurty had made a significant note of progress. He had Dumbledore and the rest of the wizards, along with McGonagall in the Headmaster's office. He had his hands behind his back and was happily rolling back and forth on his heels as they waited expectantly for him to reveal what he knew.

"Magnets," he said.

The wizards and witch blinked.

"Your thief used magnets to get the vial," Blurty further explained. He took out two large red and silver pieces of metal shaped like a miniature horseshoe and held them up for the company to view. "We found these in Professor Snape's office, on the floor underneath his cabinet, they'd obviously been tossed there. I didn't think magnets were something that would be found all that commonly in Wizard circles, especially not ones like these." He pointed to the tiny words imprinted on the silver surface of the metal objects--the words "Made in Korea" plainly visible. "Now," he said, holding them open ends out, "watch and learn about positive electrons meeting negative electrons." He brought the magnets to the protective bubble of spells that had surrounded the vial. With a significant amount of sparking the magnet connected with the surface, and to the room's utter shock the protective shield parted in conjunction with Blurty moving the magnets apart. A large, gaping hole appeared, and Blurty stuck his head in,taking the wire stand out of it with his teeth. He closed the shield and then tossed the magnets onto Dumbledore's desk. Minerva McGonagall gave him an emphatic 'Bravo!' and clapped madly.

"Yes, well," Blurty's nose got even redder in blushing, "it's all quite natural, really."

Out of all of them, only Sirius was unimpressed. "What have you got on Lucius Malfoy?" he asked. "It's been hours and we still don't know what he had to say."

Blurty frowned. "That's true. I sent McKinnon and McKnulty to talk to some of the students,and I haven't seen them since they ran into that George and Fred Weasley set. The last I saw, it was Ricki with Malfoy in the Potions office." Blurty took up the Marauder's Map and inspected it. "Ah, there's Mr. Malfoy, still in the library." Blurty frowned. "No...He seems to be in Daniel's classroom. How odd. And he's not alone, neither. He's with someone else by the name of Potter."

"Harry Potter!" Snape seethed. "How obvious!"

"Don't be stupid," Sirius barked at him. "We'd better get down there...Harry could be in danger!"

"I must remind you there IS a teacher still missing!" Snape shouted at him. "If anyone is in danger it's Daniel!"

"We all know that Lucius Malfoy has some serious connections to the Dark Arts and quite possibly to Voldemort himself," Remus Lupin replied. He glanced up at Blurty. "What's going on with that Malfoy in the library?"

"Oh, he's not moving," Blurty said, smiling widely. The positivity of his expression faltered as he looked at the map again. "Not moving at all, in fact."

"I suggest we get to the dungeons," Dumbledore said. "Minerva, you and Constable Blurty can stay here and keep an eye on the Map. Keep me appraised of any changes."

The express stairs were getting a lot more use than usual at this late hour, and they groaned as the entourage of wizards descended to the dungeons. They silently passed Ron and Hermione, who also failed to notice the group, a shaft of shadow from the overhanging gargoyle hiding everyone effectively. Sirius was ahead of everyone else, his wand held out at the ready to take down the evil man who had dared to cause his godson harm. The lights to Daniel's classroom were turned on by Remus, and the wizards marched in with Snape arguing in a high temper with Dumbledore over how much of a waste of time this was, especially with Daniel missing--A most important point which seemed to have been forgotten!

But there was no Lucius Malfoy in the classroom. It was Harry and Draco, and from the way they stared back at the wizards in confusion it was clear they weren't having an argument, but some kind of mutual understanding.

Very, very strange.

Sirius was about to point his wand at Draco anyway, and ask what the hell the little snot was thinking he was doing, when he noticed both Harry and Draco look up at the ceiling, their eyes rolled white as they were transfixed. Frowning, Snape was the one to look up first, and when he did he damn near fainted dead on the spot.

On the ceiling...Like a massive, watery cinemascope...was the image of Daniel on a damp inner London street.

Behind him, while Daniel was completely oblivious, was a dark figure. Light from a nearby lamppost brought his pursuer into clarity. The man was a wizard, wearing Muggle boots. He looked like he might have been of Asian background, or Moroccan, or maybe even neither.

Aristotle Crowley.