Fare Thee Well, My Love

~*~*~*~*~*~

Much that I sought, I could not find

Much that I bound, I could not bind

Much that I bound, I could not free

Much that I freed, returned to me

-Lee Wilson Dodd

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Fare Thee Well, My Love: Chapter 2

By: Vanessa

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The urn was rumored to be a parting gift from Salazar Slytherin to Rowena Ravenclaw, the day he left Hogwarts. It stands approximately a foot in height and is gallantly encrusted with a single, blood red ruby. Carved upon it were ornate scenes of an army preparing for war.

The urn was discovered over seventy years ago in a chamber deep in the dungeons of Hogwarts. Whoever found it thought the room had caught fire. The ruby, they said, glowed as brilliantly as the sun, and the images appeared to be moving, as if foretelling an epic tragedy.

When the people found it, they felt strangely enamored with a rush of emotions. All their memories came flooding back in a second. Some say it was just their imagination. Others believe that the urn holds a hidden identity, a secret to which is so spectacular that no living being can resist its overwhelming influence. It might even hold the greatest power on earth...

"Verbera!"

A satisfied smirk crept over Draco Malfoy's face as he viewed the destruction before him. On the grass, laid thousands of shattered pieces of what was once an urn he found displayed in the Slytherin Common Room. He had been using it to practice his hexes with. He walked across the mess, carefully studying each piece and noticing the tiny specks of red scattered about the place. Feeling exhausted, he picked one particularly sharp piece up and went over to sit by a tree.

He turned the terracotta fragment over and over, peering at the dark silhouette of a warrior's face embedded on its surface. The sun was setting now, basking his treasure in a golden haze as he sat by the rolling waves of the lake. A soft breeze flew by him. And he so curiously and suddenly, received an image of the worst night of his life.

~It was a year ago, the summer of his sixth year. A time when he spent most of the days hunting for kelpies in the forest with his father. Or otherwise going around the manor, torturing house elves. The sun was shining bright that day. There was no inclination whatsoever that something would go wrong. But something did.

"Father," he said, "father it's dead."

He looked anxiously at Lucius Malfoy and at the crumpled and bleeding body of the house elf in front of him. He was afraid that his father would lose his temper. That he might punish and scold him.

Lucius arose. "Get a house elf and have this cleaned at once."

Draco tried to speak. But barely a minute after Lucius had spoken, a house elf arrived, announcing the coming of guests. Draco followed Lucius outside, glancing only once at the mangled body of their servant.

"Draco," Lucius called.

Draco turned back to his father, preparing for his punishment.

"Draco, I'll be leaving today."

He caught a flicker of fear in his father's eye.

"Take care of your mother for me."

Lucius left.

Soon, the perfect day turned into a dark and stormy night. Draco sat by the fireplace, watching and waiting for his father to come back. His mother was sitting nervously beside him. She looked wretched in worry.

"I have to get your father back," Narcissa finally said, breaking through the doors and hurrying away.

Draco had no idea of what that meant, but he was patient. The rain went on and the storm grew stronger, still, he waited. For hours he stayed there, pacing back and forth and wearing out the carpet. He knew he had nothing to worry about, he knew it. He knew it but he didn't feel it. A tugging pain was ensnaring his senses. Something was happening out there. And he couldn't do anything about it.

He woke up the next day, sprawled out on his father's arm chair. The fire had been put out, and the curtains were drawn back, stinging his eyes with sunlight. He left the room, inquiring a house elf about his parent's return. The house elf looked back at him with doleful eyes. It bowed, dropping the Daily Prophet at Draco's feet.

He didn't have to pick it up. He knew what it said. Rage filling inside him, he slid down to the floor, feeling distraught. I'll never see them again, he thought, they're gone.

He moved his arm back, gripping the paper in his hands. As he did so the light caught at its title.

War Breaks Out

Lucius Malfoy buried under a heap of rotting bodies~

"Draco!"

Draco opened his eyes, releasing the broken urn piece which had caused his hand to bleed, and searched for the person who had called out his name.

"Draco, it's dinner time!" Goyle grunted.

He stood up, brushed the grass off his robe, and headed for the castle, thinking to himself.

"You killed my father, you killed my mother. I'll get you Voldemort, if it's the last thing I do."

~*~*~*~*~*~

"No...no...no...no."

Hermione was sitting on a chair in the library, completely ignoring the lovely scenery of the castle grounds in the window opposite her, and immersed in a stack full of the oldest and moldiest spell books she could find. She was currently looking for anything useful they can use in the event of a battle. Ironically, most she found were either too brutal or too difficult for seventeen year old witches and wizards to perform.

So far she had:

Ymber

A spell to call out the powers of wind and rain. Originated in South Africa. Banned after William Weary released his book entitled "Messing with Mother Nature" early in the fourteenth century.

Ventris

A spell to remove the abdomen of an opponent. Originated in Persia. Banned after a new abdomen recipe started appearing in cook books late in the thirteenth century.

Trunco

A spell to mutilate; to turn an opponent to chopped vegetable. Originated in Romania. Banned after thousands of hacked human bodies were unearthed in a pumpkin patch during the late seventh century.

Rabidus

A spell to turn an opponent crazy. Originated in Egypt. Banned in the middle of the twelfth century, after hordes of madmen claimed control over a village under the spell's influence.

Quinque

A spell to grow five heads. Originated in Egypt. Banned after the spell's receiver died of five brain cancers somewhere between the first and fifth century.

Ossis

A spell to remove bones. Originated in India. Banned under the order of the country's minister after he had witnessed the spell taking place.

Xiphias

A spell with unknown effects, works only on those who have an allergic reaction towards swordfish. Origin unknown. Has not been banned, but isn't being used anyway (people allergic to swordfish are hard to find).

All in all, these illegal spells were hardly useful. Hermione couldn't even imagine what Xiphias does, and a crazy enemy is worse than a sane one.

A faint tinkling noise was heard from the window. Hermione looked up from Wars of the Fifteenth Century to see what had caused it. The sound turned out to be breaking pottery. Somebody... Draco Malfoy... was out by the lake destroying pots. Hermione frowned.

"The first rule is to keep an untroubled spirit. The second, is to look things in the eye and know them for what they are."

Hermione turned her head. There, in front of her, was a student, clad in faded, black robes and smiling at her as if she were an old friend.

"Excuse me?"

"The second, is to look things in the eye and know them for what they are."

Hermione, still confused, asked again.

"Excuse me. But what do you mean?"

"Know them for what they are," the girl fixed her eyes on Hermione, "think. The mind is never right but when it is at peace within itself."

Just then, they heard the door to the library creaking open. Someone was coming in, and heading straight towards them. The girl smiled at Hermione, then turned away and walked over to the shelves, disappearing in their shadows. Hermione, not able to resist her curiosity, looked once at the figure of Malfoy (who now appeared to be sleeping by a tree) then dropped her book and started following the girl's tracks to the very back of the library.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry, after coming in to the library, looked questioningly at the empty chair of Hermione's usual desk. He had thought she might still be here, at least that's what she said when she left the common room this morning. Harry thought about it, perhaps she had gone to look for more books. Knowing Hermione, she'd want to prepare as much as she can for this war. And that would mean studying. Deciding to wait for her, he pulled up a chair and began reading a page of the book that was propped up on the table.

Auctus Ops Animosus

Cervix Animi

A spell that had been used for over three thousand years, it was considered by some as the "unforgivable" of light magic. Indeed, only exceptionally skilled witches and wizards were able to do it, and most claim they have not even released its full power.

Due to its procedure however, the spell is met with much skepticism by most magic professors. It concerns channeling one's strongest emotions and transforming it to a form of energy visible as a bright ray of light, concealing the source of it in an orb, and then finally shooting towards its predecessor. This is the first and only recorded spell needing the use of the heart. It's effects range from small blows to the stomach to exploding skulls, depending on the "strength of the invisible force" (as people used to call it). The spell needs years of practice. Once perfected, it may be potent enough to kill, even the most powerful of rivals.

It was banned in the late seventeenth century after the dark wizard Morgan used it to bring forth chaos in the tiny town of Westinglore which disappeared from sight (see the "Nusquam Esse" incident: 1692). Many then considered it's origin to be of a dark core. People realized that it was created, not for the protection of the good, but simply to destroy lives. The spell's history was erased ad nobody has performed it since then. Its usage may be punishable by the dementor's kiss.

In the words of Pallida Mors, "This magic is too brutal to be possible. Only a noble person, with pure intentions and a good heart, can ever be rid of its evil nature. And once again restore it to its truest form."

~*~*~*~*~*~

Hermione mazed through the shelves, turning every which way in pursuit of the girl. She ran as fast as she could, but to no avail. The girl ran faster, unlike anyone she'd ever seen before. Once, Hermione had come close to catching her, but the girl had rounded a sharp corner and went another direction. Another time, the girl had led her to a dead end, and it took her forever to go out. After hours of chasing, the girl disappeared from sight.

Hermione rested on the wall by the astronomy section, exhausted from the chase. She had gone to the library before to study. She had never seen it as with an air of mystery and age. If she had only taken the time to explore its many spaces, perhaps she would have caught the girl.

After finally regaining her strength, she stood up, and then decided to walk around figuring that, since she took all the time to get here, she should at least make use of it. There were thousands of books here that she'd never seen before. She looked around for awhile. But soon, her plans were abashed as she chanced upon a window and discovered that the day was slowly turning into night. So she headed back to her desk, somewhere by the entrance door.

~*~*~*~*~*~

As stupid and mumbling as Crabbe and Goyle were, Draco still spent nearly every second with them. He was never seen without them tagging along behind. They ate together, they talked together (barely),Draco would even help those two idiots out with their homework.

Sometimes, he would wonder what it felt like to have real friends. Even more times, he would wonder if he could ever have real friends. His Slytherin mates, they were more like pets than consorts. They were more like toys than confidants.

And so Draco's life was spent heartless and cold. He did not care because he was not cared for. He did not love because he was not loved. To him, people were mere possessions. He needed someone to show him love. He needed someone to show him that he was not alone, that somewhere far away a light shines, ready to give him hope, and a promise that will lead him to his fate.

~*~*~*~*~*~

"Wake up, Harry."

Harry stirred from his sleep, taking time for his vision to clear. Neck aching, he fixed on his glasses and started at the book he had been reading before he fell asleep.

"You can read that book later. We'll be late for dinner."

"No, I don't think I'll be eating dinner," Harry grinned at Hermione. "I want to finish this book."

Hermione looked out at the inky, black sky out the window.

"Eat first, Harry. It's getting late already."

He turned the page slowly, thinking. He had just been reading up on decapitation curses when he came upon a sleeping spell and dozed off. He really thought he was getting somewhere.

"We need this, Hermione. We need it for the war."

"We need you to eat too. What will we do without the boy who lived?" Hermione joked.

Harry smiled. "Fine."

They walked together through the door and out to the hallways, heading for the great hall. They went right by a corner, turned left by the rusty armor, and ducked by the dancing ghosts. All they saw was normal. Everything they found were things they'd encountered before. And yet, tonight, it all seemed so different. Tonight, their last night in Hogwarts.

Harry heard the faint cackle of Peeves somewhere. He remembered his first day here almost seven years ago. Could it really be true? Could he really be leaving the only home he'd ever known? It wasn't just the castle, and all its hidden secrets. It was his memories. He'd be leaving Hagrid, Dumbledore, his teachers, and his classmates. He'd be leaving Quidditch, wizard's chess, and days by the lake. He'd be leaving his parents' memory. He'd be leaving a

part of himself. That confused little orphan who sought out the truth, that timid student who saved the world, that young teenager, surrounded by the people he loved, disappearing in the paradox of time. His heart will never forget this place. Could it really be true?

"Do you think we'll ever come back?" Hermione wondered, obviously thinking the same as Harry.

"Probably not."

"Do you think we'll die?"

Harry looked at Hermione, fear evident in his eyes, "yes."

He opened the door to a thousand students, joyously talking about and stuffing their mouths with food. Not one knowing the future that was to behold of their three most beloved students. Not one realizing the danger of this perilous mission. Could it really be true? Could they really be leaving Hogwarts? Will they really die?

"Where's Ron?"

~*~*~*~*~*~

Ron, after eating a helping of chicken, had started to wonder where Harry and Hermione could be. And, after another helping, he had formally decided to go ahead and look for them. He first considered going back to the common room, but then remembered that Harry was going to meet Hermione in the library a few hours ago. So he headed for the library, assuming that his best friends had just lost track of time.

Upon arriving there however, he discovered that it was empty, except for a student with chestnut hair crouched over a book. Her face was scrunched up in concentration. And her robes were old, older than Ron's in fact. But the most striking thing about her was how she could make Ron so nervous just being in the same room with her. And he doesn't even know her yet. He approached her, carefully avoiding hundreds of crumpled parchment scattered all over the floor. On closer inspection, the girl appeared to be reading "Wars of the Fifteenth Century" whilst fingering a golden chain round her neck.

"Excuse me, Miss," interrupted Ron cautiously.

The girl looked up from her book. "Sandra," she introduced, apparently annoyed.

Ron felt his cheeks turn red. "Um, I'm sorry to disturb you, but have you seen Harry Potter here.... anywhere?"

"He left with a girl just a while ago."

From somewhere in his mind, Ron had this vision of Harry and Hermione strolling about the grounds, talking about how good it felt like to ditch him. And he was just about to freak when Sandra broke him out of his reverie.

"You're going to die!" she cried out, studying his eyes intently and looking terrified. Normal people don't act like that.

Ron started backing away. "That's great," he commented distractedly.

He turned the other direction, heading for the door. Maybe he could still catch up with Harry and Hermione before it was too late. He had no time to stay here and listen to some weird loner talk nonsense. Sandra fumbled over her books, trying to stop Ron from leaving the library.

"No wait," she called, "wait. Don't go..."

Her voice faded. Ron looked back and froze. She was gone.

"Ron, we've been looking for you everywhere."

Without moving his eyes from the spot, Ron replied, "Hey, Harry."

"... Is there something wrong?" Harry shot back, noticing the shocked expression on his friend's face.

"I think I just saw a ghost."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "That's it?"

"This one was different," Ron tried to explain, "there was this girl-"

"A girl?" Hermione piped in. "What did she look like?"

"Her name was Sandra. She had wavy hair-"

"Was it brownish? Did she have tattered robes?" Hermione asked impatiently. Ron might have just seen the girl that was talking to her earlier.

"Yes." Ron was curious. "She was reading books, over there on that desk."

"What happened? Where is she?"

"She disappeared, right after telling me I was going to-"

"WHAT is this all about?"

Ron, formerly preoccupied with his conversation with Hermione, stared dumbfounded at Snape and Malfoy who had somehow joined the three without them knowing it. Snape looked furious and annoyed. Malfoy looked confused. Ron thought they were there to give them detention for some reason. He threw his arms up in exasperation. They couldn't possibly punish them now, could they?

Snape opened his mouth. "Follow me."

~*~*~*~*~*~

After a few minutes, Hermione found herself sitting on a chair in the headmaster's office. Harry was standing behind her, waiting for Professor Dumbledore to come. Ron was pacing back and forth by the door. Snape was looming over them like some vulture. And Malfoy sat on another chair, looking more bewildered every moment that passed.

Hermione knew that they were there for a reason. They were there because they were about to leave Hogwarts to join the army. Snape was probably there to accompany them. But she couldn't imagine why Malfoy was there. Unless... he couldn't possibly be coming with them too? No, that was not possible.

At long last, a door opened and Professor Dumbledore came in. He walked slowly, exhausted, as if he dreaded what was to come. Or perhaps because he couldn't take the deathly glares being exchanged between Harry and Draco.

"Is everyone ready to go?" he reluctantly asked.

Ron looked like his eyeballs would fall out. And Draco nearly jumped from his seat.

"You don't mean with him!?!" Ron shouted, completely aghast, pointing at Draco who was too outraged to say anything.

Dumbledore started to speak. "All of you are working together now. You are all here for the same purpose. If you want to beat the dark side, you have to forget about these childhood rivalries and fight as one."

Ron was fuming. They all were. But Hermione knew that it was not the time to complain. If Malfoy really did want to help them, then they had no choice in the matter. Professor Dumbledore seemed to approve of it. She looked anxiously at Ron who, with a little shove from Harry, calmed down and proceeded to listen to the headmaster explain their situation.

Dumbledore sat down and began discussing. He explained that they were to meet Hagrid who was going to give them a portkey. The portkey will send them to the Victorian University in Manchester. They were to leave immediately.

He spoke of everything. But what Hermione wondered most about was why Draco Malfoy had decided to join. All their childhood she considered him evil and destined for the dark side. Now here he was, ready to risk his life for the sake of the world. She couldn't believe she was wrong about him.

Finally, Dumbledore ended, dismissing them with one last encouraging smile. These were his students, young, naive, and about to change the fate of this world, imprinted through time as heroes of history. For there is much in the world to make us afraid, but much more in our faith to make us unafraid.

~*~*~*~*~*~

I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me, to face my perils alone. -Thomas Merton

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