The Convict Trio and the Wings of the Heir

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/4|_3||+|||3'5 |4y |20x0|25!!!111

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"So what should we do now?"

"I say we forget it all ever happened. We aren't getting anywhere, anyway."

"And leave Harry in the line of considerable danger with no form of protection or retaliation?" the speaker snorted. "I think not."

"Of course not! I just don't see what we can do!"

"We can search for some clues as to where those potion ingredients were taken, for a start. I lost the list, but I'm sure I remember most of them..."

"Search for clues? Like what? A footprint of mud? The odds are against us with potion ingredients like that, you know!"

Harry sighed as Hermione and Ron bickered on and on relentlessly. He knew better than to interrupt their verbal sparring matches--they would both turn on him if he tried a bit of his own input. Besides, he had no idea what to do anymore, either. Sure, they took turns patrolling the corridors for an hour or two at night...but they'd found nothing as of yet to clue them in to Snape's and Black's hideout.

It was a rather suspenseful time. The trio had no idea when the criminals would strike, after all. But, today was a SPECIAL day! For it was Valentine's Day. :D

However, the only sign of there being a holiday at all was the girls' constant gabbing about who they sent cards to, Nad's hot pink robes (with the words "I Degnomed A Garden And All I Got Were These Stupid Robes" inscribed across the front in red), and the heart decorations (and foods in shades of red and pink) floating about here and there.

The mail arrived on schedule, as did the actual breakfast meal and Seamus's attempts at casting spells at the table (and blowing his magically-pink heart-shaped toast to smithereens). Fred and George were devising various pranks to play on the students and staff alike. Neville Longbottom was making every effort to remember what he had forgotten. Percy pompously went on and on about the importance of following the rules and earning good grades.

It wasn't until a Hufflepuff girl said "Isn't a famous wizard supposed to arrive at Hogwarts today?" when the doors of the Great Hall were swept open majestically.

A dashing man with wavy blond hair, sparkling blue eyes, and a killer smile stood at the door, his large pearly whites bared conceitedly for all to swoon over. He swaggered to the front of the room, happily greeting squealing females as he strode past them.

"MERLIN'S BEARD! IT'S GILDEROY LOCKHART!"

"Isn't he just the most handsome wizard you've ever seen?!"

"I can't believe he's here, of all places!"

Even Hermione got a starry-eyed look to her as she watched Gilderoy approach the staff table. Professor McGonagall, the Deputy Headmistress, gave Lockhart a wary look and cocked a single eyebrow at him as he stood before the students.

"MY LOVING FANS! Yes, it is I, Gilderoy Lockhart!" he began with a dashing smile, causing a few Hufflepuff girls to faint with adoration. "I would first like to assure you that I will gladly sign autographs for all of you today." Cheers erupted from all the females present, along with one girl who shouted "CAN YOU SIGN MY PANTIES, GILDEROY?!" Although most blushed at this request, Gilderoy simply chuckled and winked her way. She swooned and reseated herself with a triumphant grin.

"But for now, the point of My special visit: Happy Valentine's Day, students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!" he announced jovially. The females whistled. The majority of the staff glared, wondering just what this obvious braggart of a man had in mind for the day. Nad, however, simply looked as if he were forcing his normally relaxed, easy grin. "Classes are CANCELLED for the day in honor of this special event!"

This earned cheers from the entire school.

"WOW! We don't have to go to Sonores's class today, Harry! Isn't that great?"

"Uh...Ron...you were just asking me a minute ago how much I wanted to bet you that he still slept with his teddy bear."

"SO?" Ron snorted. "Anyone who cancels classes can't be all that ba--"

"HUSH!" Hermione hissed, awarding Gilderoy her full attention. "He's talking again!"

Lockhart had seated himself upon the staff table, that Irritating, Conceited Smile still plastered on his face. "And, instead, it will be a day of love! A day to declare your school age crushes! A day to open up your heart to the light in your life!" He grinned and motioned to the staff. Draco Malfoy scowled and muttered about all of 'this rubbish' and how he'd rather learn how to make a Dissolving Solution to rid of that awful grin on the man's face. "Please, feel free to ask your Potions Master to brew you up a Love Potion--"

"I don't brew Love Potions," Nad muttered as an excuse, smile still forced. He seemed to know the full extent of Gilderoy's evil and tried to stay out of it as much as possible. It looked like he was losing.

"--Or perhaps you would like to learn an Infatuation Charm! Learn how to transfigure a rock into a bouquet of flowers any girl would fall for! The possibilities are endless..." Another girl leapt up, interrupting the speech, and shouted, "KISS ME, GILDEROY! I'M HOT FOR YOU!" ("Ten Points from Hufflepuff!" McGonagall warned). Lockhart laughed heartily and winked once more. "I may be irresistible, but now is not the time, Miss, for this is worth a celebration, not just snogging!"

Ron groaned pitifully at the display. "Why do I have a bad feeling about this?"

Unfortunately, Ron's bad feelings were quite justified, as it had been proven. Lockhart looked around, obviously searching for a place to sit. Although many girls (and some boys) hurriedly rose and offered their chairs, his gaze fell on the high throne at the middle of the High Table. Swaggering casually over, he seated himself at Dumbledore's usual chair (it was empty, due to the Headmaster's absence), earning glares from the entire Hogwarts staff. Sonores rolled her eyes and decided to give her breakfast her undying, rapt attention. Nad's grin threatened to dissipate.

"Now that I've finally arrived, let's liven this school's decorations up!" To demonstrate, he calmly plucked a floating red heart out of the air before him. He pointed his wand at the offending heart and flashed another dashing smile. "Decoratum!" he intoned. A puff of lavender smoke engulfed he and the heart, making a noxious stink (akin to Nad's Stink Potions, but somehow worse). A few members of the staff (mainly, Sprout and Flitwick) coughed, spluttered, and waved away the foul-smelling end product of the spell Gilderoy performed.

When the smoke cleared, the students gasped in shock. A few females sighed with admiration. For Gilderoy was holding...

A red skull.

The Slytherins snickered. The Gryffindors were appalled (a few scared, even). The Staff was not happy. Gilderoy laughed nervously.

"Uh...I meant to do that! To show you all just how beautiful anything could be on Valentine's Day!" He hastily snatched a bouquet of flowers from the table and stuffed the stems into the skull's empty eye sockets. "Isn't it just lovely?" The Hufflepuff girls (along with the Ravenclaws) swooned in response. Apparently, they were hanging on everything Lockhart said.

Ron gaped at Lockhart. "...Can this guy be real?"

Harry gave his friend a skeptical look. "I don't think he meant to turn it into...that."

"My vote's that he's a fake."

"Hope he leaves soon."

"Nonsense!" Hermione butted in. "I'm sure he meant to do that. Besides, he's handing out signed copies of Magical Me, and I wouldn't mind some more reading material from an accomplished hero against the Dark Arts."

Harry and Ron gave their friend a dubious look, a sinking feeling developing in the pits of their stomachs. It was going to be a long day.

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In the staff room, a large, full-body poster of Gilderoy Lockhart had been set up. It grinned and winked like it always did, but that would change soon. Professor McGonagall, having nothing to do, had challenged Flitwick, Sprout and Sonores to a game of darts. The house heads were eager to join in the game of spear-the-git, and soon a vase of flowers had been sacrificed to make a variety of darts with the words 'Avada Kedavra' and 'Crucio' inscribed on them. The games began in earnest.

It turned out that both Sonores and McGonagall were considerable dart throwers, and their natural house rivalry sprang up, causing the Lockhart in the poster much consternation and discomfort. Sprout had given up after she sent a dart flying into the staff fireplace and another straight between the eyes of Mildred the Muddy's picture. She sulked in a chair, a large glass of Ogden's Olde Firewhisky clutched in her hand.

Flitwick glared at his darts, as though it was their fault that he couldn't hit the broad side of a barn with them. After watching the two teachers throw more darts into Lockhart's face for a while, he pulled out his wand with a huff and waved it at his darts, muttering, "Spiculum Leviosa." Half of his darts rose and sped towards the hapless poster, slamming directly into Gilderoy's paper crotch. A sympathetic wince came from Professors Nad, Hornsby and Jurne (Muggle Studies and Ancient Runes). More from the ingrained male sense of groinal sympathy pain phenomena than any concern for Lockhart himself.

Another incantation from Flitwick sent the rest of his darts running headlong into where the poster's heart would be. A brief, pained shriek came from the blond idiot and he slumped in his poster, dead. Sonores smirked wryly while McGonagall gave a small smile and a short nod to Flitwick. The little wizard blushed and bowed as the room erupted into applause.

Luckily, Filch cleared away the poster and disappeared down a secret tunnel just as the staff room door slammed open, revealing none other than Gilderoy Lockhart himself. He blinked as he noticed the prominent grins on the faces of each and every single one of the staff. "Did I miss something?" he asked blandly, looking rather put out.

Nad's grin grew, if possible, even wider.

"Nothing important, Gilderoy."

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It was lunchtime, and the students weren't enjoying the absence of classes as much as they thought they would. Just before lunch, Gilderoy Lockhart had gathered all the Hogwarts students to the Great Hall, followed by a gaggle of girls (including Hermione) who screamed for his autograph. The fraud was carrying a large cloth-covered box that occasionally gave a large tremble, nearly knocking the thing out of his hands. Those who hadn't been fooled by his manicured nails and rogueish grin eyed the box nervously. Anything that Gilderoy Lockhart thought was good must be either extremely dangerous or completely ludicrous.

Lockhart set the container on the High Table and looked around darkly, the sparkle in his eyes gone and the rogueish grin mysteriously absent. The girls gasped in horror; what could be so dangerous, so incredibly evil as to make the daring Gilderoy Lockhart, defeater of the Wagga-Wagga Werewolf (with a smile on his face) and possessor of the Order of Merlin, so serious? As if in answer to their unspoken question, he began speaking in a low, dark voice.

"I have, through various sources, managed to acquire a large supplies of one of the most dangerous creatures known to man. (The girls gasped, and three Hufflepuffs fainted. Again.) But fear not!" Here, his grin started to return. "For I, Gilderoy Lockhart, have managed to tame these terrible beasts! BEHOLD! CUPIDS OF LOVE!!!" He whipped off the cloth and revealed...

A horde of Cornish pixies.

They rose out of the box like a swarm of angry bees. In fact, they buzzed like angry bees, but they certainly were not yellow and black-banded. In fact, they weren't even their usual electric blue. No, Gilderoy Lockhart, colossal git, had somehow managed to dye them a fluorescent neon pink. They looked mighty peeved at the moment, as their exquisite, lacey dragonfly-like wings had been somehow horribly changed into leathery, clawed straps of skin. No doubt Gilderoy Fophart had been aiming for feathers.

The scariest part was that they had bows and arrows. As the pixies gazed around the crowd of stunned faces, they grinned evilly and drew an arrow each, nocking it and drawing it back. All arrows pointed straight at Gilderoy Lockhart. His eyes widened and he threw himself to the side (knocking over a few adoring fans) as a couple dozen arrows whizzed past the place he had been just a moment before. They stuck into the stone floor, demonstrating just how sharp they were.

The Great Hall became an absolute mess as the teachers stood up and began casting Deflecting Charms on everything within wand range. The pixies seemed to be aiming especially for Gilderoy, but their horrible aim insured that a stray arrow or two found its way into hapless students. Neville hollered, grabbing his bottom and hopping around like a kangaroo, his bum stuck with a pair of barbed arrows.

Making a desperate gamble, >D grabbed a vial from his robes and threw it up hard. It flew through the air and, incredibly, (saying a lot for Nad's arm strength) smashed against the ceiling. The moment it did, tendrils made of white thread burst out and wrapped around anything that moved: pretty much everyone in the Hall. Nad, who had stayed perfectly still, dispelled the lines on the students and teachers.

After the Cornish pixies were under wraps, Gilderoy grinned sheepishly (the girls didn't seem to care about the sheepish part) and sat once more at Dumbledore's empty seat. The boys, on the other hand, glared at him. He shifted uneasily, his grin faltering for a second, before his gaze shifted to the male students, who were mostly dressed in the drab, dark Hogwarts robes. Standing up with a flourish (and knocking his golden plate off the table and into a graceful parabolic arc that carried it through the air to collide with Professor McGonagall's cranium), he waved his wand through the air, releasing a cloud of pink gas. It spread through the Great Hall, dyeing everything it touched a deep shade of yellow and violet. Including skin, hair, and teeth. Let's take a moment to imagine that, everyone. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, with purple skin and sickly yellow teeth, wearing bright yellow glasses.

The teachers had managed to deflect the... dangerous gas, and were quickly obliterating the spell on the students, but Fophart was not deterred by their lack of enthusiasm. Noting Professor Sonores (who was dressed in solid black robes that seemed to say 'I hate pink. I really do.'), he grinned and pointed his wand directly at her (causing no small amount of consternation from the teacher in question) and started talking, "You know, my dear, those robes are so dreary and depressing. Induviae Eradico!" A flash of bright yellow energy suddenly burst out of his wand and enveloped Sonores, then slowly faded, leaving her...

Naked.

Gilly Fophart had evidently not learned his Latin properly.

Now, if Serena Sonores had not been an individual with an iron will and control of her senses, she would have screamed, killing everyone in the Great Hall and ending our story right here. Fortunately for us, she was an individual with an iron will and control of her senses, and she restrained her urge to scream and run out of the Hall as soon as possible. Instead, she instantly activated the charm on her seat that took her directly through a secret passage beneath Hogwarts and into her room, where she could fume and pout in peace.

Too bad for her she wasn't fast enough to prevent the boys in Hogwarts from getting an eyeful of extremely voluptuous skin. A few nosebleeds sprang up and a dazed, happy light filled the eyes of most of the third year boys and up. Gilderoy Lockhart was grinning, looking none-too-displeased at the spell he'd cast.

Nad was grinning, too. But it wasn't a really happy grin. It was one of them grins you have on your face when you finally track down your mother's murderer, and you find him bowing and scraping, whimpering pathetically for forgiveness. And you have a lightsaber. He seemed to be fiddling with his spoon.

Flitwick, who was sitting beside >D, hesitantly tapped his arm. "Knum? Are you alright?" he asked, looking up at the grinning wizard. The Charms teacher gave a startled jump as Nad suddenly whipped around and stared vacantly at him, a huge, smirking smile plastered on his face from ear to ear.

"Oh! Filius!!! Did you NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEED SOMETHING?!" Nad asked, a maniacal light shining dangerously in his eyes. Flitwick glanced at the man's hands and noted with a faint hint of disbelief that somehow, Nad had managed to compress his soup spoon into a perfectly smooth sphere of metal with his bare hands. >D followed the short wizard's gaze to the former spoon in his hands, then looked up at Flitwick again. "YEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSS?!?!?!?"

The Ravenclaw house head's eyes widened before he turned back to his plate (which had suddenly become indescribably interesting), muttering something that could be interpreted as "Oh my God the man isn't human" or "Nothing, Knum". Apparently Nad chose the latter and grinned widely, nodding. Abruptly getting to his feet, he started walking jauntily towards Sonores' living quarters, casually tossing the spoon-ball from hand to hand.

Nobody noticed this, as all the students were still either staring vacantly into space, occupied by thoughts of Professor Sonores au naturale, or transfixed by Gilderoy Lockhart, who was still grinning. The staff was glaring at him and more than one of them had their wands out and were ready to curse the git.

The timely intervention of lunch interrupted the staff before they could do unpleasant things to Gilly Fophart, and they started eating, shooting suspicious glares at Lockhart, who was completely unaware of how close he had come to an untimely death. The plates filled with (pink) food and the goblets were suddenly brimming with (neon pink) liquid. Nobody paid the pink beverage mind. After all, it was Valentine's Day. Everything was pink.

Oliver Wood had just taken a drink of his pleasantly tangy pink beverage when he spotted Harry Potter. The burly fifth year suddenly noticed how graceful the boy's movements were, how he laughed joyously with his friends. He looked so completely ravishing...

Across the Great Hall, Roger Davies and Cedric Diggory were starting to have similar thoughts about the Boy Who Lived. They started to move slowly towards Harry, who was completely unaware of the attention fixed on him. He hadn't touched his drink.

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Somewhere down the hallway, Nad stopped and tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Whatever did Gilderoy want with all that Love Potion? Nearly begged on his hands and knees for it, he did..."

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A general dogpile was starting to form in the Great Hall as all the students started snogging viciously. Draco, who hadn't eaten anything, was desperately trying to escape from the attentions of both Marcus Flint and Pansy Parkinson, both of whom were rather intent on dragging him into a dark closet and shagging his brains out. Forced to choose the two, Draco would rather have picked Pansy (who was, although certainly not pretty, at least female) rather than Flint (who had buck teeth and was ugly and most importantly, male). As it was, he wanted neither. Slowly backing away, the poor boy tripped on a fallen goblet and was soon snatched up by the pair and dragged into a broom closet. Poor boy. It seems the fates are out to get him. :P

Suddenly, Professor McGonagall jumped to her feet and, giving Lockhart a glare that would put Snape to shame, waved her wand through the air.

"FINITE INCANTATUM!"

The entire Hall stopped dead for a moment, gave a huge collective blink, then rushed back into their seats. Parkinson and Flint wandered out of the closet, looking ruffled but otherwise none the worse for wear. After them, Draco staggered out, his robes torn and multiple hickeys evident on his neck.

McGonagall glared at everyone in turn, as if it had been their fault for imbibing Love Potion. Her nostrils flared in that way she had of doing when she was mad, and her lips were nothing more than a thin line. She was obviously Pissed.

"Prefects! Escort the students back to their rooms! NOW!!" she shouted, shooting glares at the hapless prefects. They made like eggs and scrambled. *hides from pun-hunters* "Students will be served their meals in their common rooms!"

And so lunch came to an ignoble end.

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XD >D hummed happily to himself as he strolled down the corridors of Hogwarts castle. Life was great. Everything was going absolutely perfectly (save for the irritating appearance of Gilderoy Lockhart). It was just about time to go to bed.

But if this were so, why had Nad taken that strange detour? Why had he stopped by the staff room? Why was he wandering about the halls with that exuberant expression upon his face? He sure hadn't been heading to his rooms for beauty rest...

How peculiar, indeed.

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In Filch's office, the green darts labeled 'Avada Kedavra' and 'Crucio' were missing.

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Warning! Graphic Git Murder Ahead!

That was a wonderful success! Gilderoy Lockhart thought to himself as he packed up the remainder of his things. That cupid idea was especially genius material. Brilliant idea, Gilderoy! They love you, handsome fiend! He was busily giving himself a pat on the back for the day's work (despite the fact that Cupids were suggested by a rather frivolous woman he had come across before arriving at Hogwarts). Ah, the many advantages to fame and fortune! It was too bad he'd have to leave after dinner, which was approaching fast.

He slammed his case shut and locked it with a simple charm. He took one last look around the room, sighing appreciatively. Ah...the places fame gets you to, Gilderoy thought to himself as he took in the colorful, luxurious decor. Sure, all lodging at Hogwarts looked the same...but he didn't know that it wasn't a suite, did he? ^_~

The sound of approaching footsteps caught his attention. He hurriedly fixed his face into that of a dashing smile, glancing in the mirror to double-check that his hair was in place. "I'm sorry, but I'm no longer signing autographs today, wonderful students of Hogwarts!"

"I would hardly consider myself a student, Gilderoy," a cheerful voice rang out from the doorway. Gilderoy whirled around.

"Knum! What a wonderful surprise," Lockhart exclaimed as if the Potions professor were an old friend. "I'm still not handing out more autographs. You'll have to try your luck next time." The famous, dashing wizard grinned haughtily.

The purple and green-robed >D (evidently, he had changed from his pink robes) had the sense to pout mockingly. "Are you sure, Gilderoy? I do have a writing utensil you can use..." Nad baited, holding up the quill-like object (at one end, at least) in his hand. It had not taken much to convince Lockhart to relent.

"...I suppose one more couldn't hurt, right, Knum? My fan mail can wait a few moments!" His hot pink robes swished about him as he stepped over to the Hogwarts employee, holding his hand out expectantly for the quill. Nad grinned and let the blond man have it.

Gilderoy gasped and yelped in a rather feminine manner as a stream of blood seeped out of his sliced palm. He clutched at his wounded, once baby-soft, smooth hand and gaped at >D.

"Oops. I slipped," Nad declared cheerfully. He had meant to slice Lockhart's wrist, after all. The 'quill' in his hand had been revealed to be a green dart labeled 'Avada Kedavra'. Of course Lockhart would fall for that--the point of a dart could almost pass for a quill's point, after all.

"No, no... It's quite all right," Gilderoy replied in a distressed tone, trying not to sob pitifully at the pain and blood. He was busily scanning the room for anything to bandage his hand with (God forbid he stained his beautiful robes with blood), so, unfortunately, he hadn't noticed that Nad was holding a potential weapon. "I'll be more careful...yes..." he mumbled distractedly as he attempted to figure out how, exactly, to perform a healing spell. He formulated a quick plan and held his hand out to Nad.

"I want to see how well you can heal. Perhaps I can give you some good advice!" Gilderoy suggested, pain sneaking into the tone of his voice. "I don't always simply battle the Dark Arts. I've worked as a healer for wizards and witches in some of my spare time, among other things, and I'd love to show you better ways to perform a healing spell." Lockhart was obviously trying to convince both Nad and himself of his authenticity, what with his fast, panicked speaking.

>D's grin had only seemed to widen at the sound of Gilderoy's distress. "I'll fix that right up for you, Gilderoy." The Potions Master gently took the famous wizard's hand in his own and drew his wand (sneakily placing the dart in his wand's usual place for now). A reassuring, cheerful smile was thrown toward Lockhart--it worked wonders to make him relax. Wrong move.

"Diffindo."

Lockhart's eyes widened at this word. That wasn't the incantation for a healing charm--what in the name of Merlin was Nad doing? He opened his mouth to speak. "Wha--..."

The man never finished forming the word. He was abruptly cut off by the sudden, agonizing tearing sensation he felt as his slit hand was magically torn apart before his eyes. It landed with a meaty thump on the ground.

Gilderoy gaped with shock at the bloody stump that used to be his hand. His vibrant complexion paled considerably as his pink robes were stained with his own crimson fluid, mouth bobbing open and closed like a gaping fish. Nad grinned as the famous wizard emitted a choked, pained sob. How delightful.

>D's expression faltered as Lockhart fell to the floor in a dead faint.

"Oh, my. That was much too soon," Nad commented to himself as he leveled his wand at Gilderoy's prone form. "Time to wake up! Ennervate."

Gilderoy groggily opened his eyes once more, seemingly oblivious to his newfound injury. >D waited patiently as the blond man came to, grinning all the while as he sat up and reached up to scratch an itch in the back of his head.

Gilderoy shrieked when he saw the state of his right hand. He shrieked once more as he looked up and saw Nad grinning down at him. The man scanned the room frantically for the exit, only to find that grinning bastard standing between he and the door.

"Please, do scream all you want. I already placed a silencing charm on this room, after all," >D spread his arms apart with a flourish, motioning to the room. "No one will be able to hear us! Isn't that wonderful?"

All remaining color had drained from Gilderoy's face. "Knum...I'm sure I can get you a ...better a..autograph," he gulped in an attempt to compose himself and swallow away the pain, "Perhaps I can give you a free set of my books. Money, maybe?"

>D pretended not to listen to Gilderoy. He had pulled out five green darts from convenient robe pockets and juggled them about with a simple levitation charm. "You defiled my dear Serena with your carelessness, Gilderoy. I'm afraid that's rather unacceptable. Don't you agree?" Gilderoy clutched at his wound and backed himself against the wall in a panic, choosing not to reply to this new information. Nad nodded and continued as if Gilderoy had given his consent.

"I knew you'd see things my way!" he exclaimed. "Makes it so much easier than explaining why you have to die. Because, really, most of my motivation is the great fun of torture, besides the ordeal with Serena earlier today." With a smile, Nad leveled his wand at Lockhart. "Avada Kedavra."

Gilderoy gasped/wheezed and threw his arms over his head, curling up into a ball as if to shield himself from the Killing Curse. He braced himself, praying that he at least received the best luxuries (including Mirrors to stare at his beautiful angel self with) Heaven had to offer when he died.

However...the blinding flash of green never came. Instead, he felt...pinpricks. Painful pinpricks, stuck into his shoulder, armpit, thigh, shoulder blade, and...arse. He yowled much like Mrs. Norris had in the past and tore his eyes open, staring down at five green darts (each inscribed with the words 'Avada Kedavra') embedded into his skin.

Strangely enough, Gilderoy still had hope. Maybe Nad was finished with him. Maybe Nad would let him go...

These hopes were dashed when he looked up and found >D grinning gleefully down at him. "Do you like them? They were crafted especially for the staff. We all had a wonderful time playing a game of 'Pin The Gilderoy'." Nad leaned in closer to the shaken and pain-ridden Gilderoy (he never COULD handle pain or the sight of blood too well). "Allow me to let you in on a little secret," he whispered to the blond. "You see, my dear Lockhart, none of the staff here at Hogwarts will miss you once you're gone. You truly are only a bumbling fool in the end." With a chuckle, Nad yanked Gilderoy to his feet, much to the latter's pained dismay.

"You know..." He began once more in a conversational tone, circling about the swaying-drunkenly-on-his-unsteady-feet Gilderoy. "Most people assume the Cruciatus is the most painful curse there is." To prove his point, >D promptly leveled his wand at Gilderoy and demonstrated the effects of the Unforgivable Torture Curse. "But really," Nad grinned, tapping his wand against his left palm, "if you just use a few simpler charms and hexes correctly..." The Reductor Curse was promptly cast on Gilderoy's ... *ahem*. Well, let's just say it was cast on the parts >D's name refers to. :D

Gilderoy squealed in pain and clutched at his mutilated manhood with his one good hand, eyes widened and jaw slackened with his silent screams of pain and occasional choked gasps. It would have been quite humorous, if it weren't for the deadly seriousness of the situation. ...Aw, Hell, it was humorous either way. :D "...The results can be just as satisfying, if not more so," he finished cheerfully.

Nad hesitated for a moment to allow Gilderoy to gather his bearings and scrabble against the far corner, sobbing hysterically as his voice returned to him. "Oh? Gilderoy? Did you say something?" He noted the wizard's mouth moving soundlessly and put a hand to his ear, pretending to listen. "What's that, Gilderoy? I can't hear you...!" There was a choking sound from the fallen blond.

A look of comprehension spread across >D's face and he grinned knowledgeably. "You want more, is that it?" Nad ignored the frantic cries of protest and nodded, an expression of great understanding and concern on his features. "I wouldn't advise much more, but since you insist..."

And so, time and time again, Nad gleefully cast curse upon curse upon curse on poor Gilderoy. A Cruciatus here, transfiguring his leg into a tiger (and forcing it to eat the other leg) there, even a "Accio Gilderoy's Teeth!" was performed. Each hex and curse became progressively more painful every time Gilderoy tried to crawl/drag himself to the door. Pained screams and sobs reverberated throughout the room--Ironically, it had been Snape's former dungeon apartment (Nad had chosen a living space on an upper floor). Each time Lockhart threatened to faint once more, >D cast a simple Insomnus Charm to keep the wizard conscious.

It seemed like an eternity before the battered and beaten Lockhart collapsed in a heaving, quivering, whimpering mass of flesh, bone, and blood, no longer able to make an effort to move. He was greatly weakened by his missing limbs and the tremendous loss of blood, and he was hardly capable of breathing anymore.

"Well, dear Gilderoy," Nad announced in a voice that could outshine the sun. "I suppose I'll let you go now." Lockhart was swiftly going into the light, however, and the only sign he had given >D that he had heard the Potions Master at all was a twitch of an eyebrow, a gagging sound, and a pitiful attempt at inching toward the door. "...If you can make it to the door within the next two minutes. Otherwise, I'll be forced to slowly mangle what's left of your body into something resembling raw ground beef." :D Gilderoy weakly stared up at Nad (who seemed abnormally happy about the prospect), all glimmers of hope and life gone from his sapphire eyes.

Inevitably and quite unfortunately, the wizard couldn't even bring himself to tilt his head closer to the door. So, with a psychotic glint in his normally cheerful eyes, Nad stepped forward (deliberately splashing blood into Gilderoy's face) and yanked the blond's head up by his hair. The Potions professor reached into the amethyst folds of his robes and pulled out a tiny, swallow-able vial of a plum-colored substance. >D opened Gilderoy's jaw and shoved the vial down his throat, making sure he had, indeed, swallowed the bite-sized container. With a triumphant grin, Nad seated himself at Snape's former desk (now pink, due to Gilderoy's decorating) and watched Lockhart's prone form as if waiting for something.

"Now we need only wait for your digestive juices to eat through the thin material I used for that vial. Goodbye, Gilderoy!"

It did not take long for Lockhart's body to slowly melt down, then suddenly explode and become a bloody stain on the ground while keeping his head fully intact.

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Nad calmly walked over to the head of the late Gilderoy Lockhart, gently picking it up and placing it on the desk. He adjusted its position so that the first thing one would see when (s)he entered the room would be the head's blank, glassy stare (and its tongue hanging out of its mouth. Well, >D found it humorous, anyway...). He chuckled and glanced about the blood-splattered room. "Ah...Perhaps we should liven this up a bit, no?" Nad asked of the head, speaking as if it were a live person. After a moment he nodded; apparently he had received an answer. "Of course we should."

With a smile, >D happily ransacked the room, overturning tables, shattering random objects, clawing up a few paintings and pictures--all to make it look as if more of a struggle occurred. He stood back and took in the wrecked apartment. Something was missing...

"More of an artistic flair, I suppose!"

Now, the psychotic man dipped his fingers into a large pool of blood and wrote a message of 'Severs Snap Wuz H33|2' on the walls, accompanied by a rather crudely drawn symbol of evil: A snake protruding out of an angry skull's mouth. The Dark Mark.

Nad stood back and admired his work. "Perfect!" he exclaimed with a chuckle. A wave of his wand was all it took to clean off his bloodstained clothes.

With a final pat to Gilderoy's head and a satisfied nod, he strolled out, humming a cheerful tune to himself.

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After a mercifully Lockhart-free dinner, Draco Malfoy wandered the halls, deep in thought. He hadn't felt like eating much, not after the Love Potion incident at lunch (although both Flint and Pansy had apologized long and profusely for their... overeager advances). Unknowingly, the boy was heading towards the Potions classroom, his feet taking him to the place he had gone so many times before.

The lights were dim and dark, so it could hardly be called his fault that Draco slipped and landed with a muffled splash in a viscous liquid. Cursing slightly and standing up, he started trying to wring the stuff out of his robes, but it was starting to soak into them, staining them a dark color. His eyes widened as he tasted the stuff in his mouth. A strange, iron-like scent filled his nostrils and a morbid thought suddenly surfaced in his mind. It's blood. He noticed that the puddle was slowly spreading from beneath the door that had used to be Professor Snape's living quarters. Nobody was supposed to be living there... unless...

Draco staggered over to the door and shakily opened it, noting with no small amount of horror the splashes of blood that decorated the walls. His gaze wandered across the floor (which was a veritable carpet of crimson) and the ceiling, which was, incredibly, festooned with as much blood as the walls. I didn't know that the human body had that much blood, Draco thought faintly.

He stopped for a moment and stared at the grisly trophy in the center of the room. Gilderoy Lockhart stared unseeingly back, his toothless mouth open in a final gasp of pain and terror. It seemed to glare accusingly at him. "Why didn't you come a bit earlier, boy?" it seemed to say. Draco's rational mind told him that there was nothing he could have done, that the murderer could have easily dispatched of him as well...

Professor McGonagall was greeted by the most unusual sight of a bone-pale Draco Malfoy, his robes stained with a huge amount of blood, bursting into the staff room and screaming, "DEAD GIIIIIIIT! IN THE DUNGEONS!!!!!!" Before anyone could react, he looked McGonagall straight in the eyes and muttered, "thought you ought to know," and collapsed on the floor, unconscious.

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A while later, Draco meandered his way into the Slytherin common room in a new set of robes, pretending not to notice the chuckles and the sly looks that many of the younger Slytherins threw his way. The older ones knew of his father; if Lucius Malfoy got word that his son was being... mistreated, bad times would befall the git who dared to disturb his offspring. No one directly disturbed him as he walked down the dank stairs to the first year's dormitory, automatically taking a right turn to the boy's section. Once inside, he headed straight for his trunk and produced a small silver key, opening it and drawing out the black, battered diary of Tom Riddle.

The boy had been writing in the diary more and more since he had been utterly humiliated in front of the school. He sneered and scowled as much as ever, but his heart wasn't in it. Part of it was the insulting and taunting, granted, but the majority was the slow siphoning of magical energy that Tom slowly wheedled from Draco's body with every word the boy wrote in his diary.

Deep night fell, and one by one, the boys turned in for a night's rest. Flopping down on his bed and taking out a quill and ink, Draco opened the diary to a random page (it never mattered where he wrote anymore) and started writing.

"You know, Tom... Sometimes I'm convinced that the world hates me," he scribbled. The page almost tore from his rapid writing.

"Hmm? What happened today?" Tom's writing was as concerned as writing could get. "Tell me all of your problems, Draco. We'll see what Tom can do..."

Draco began writing extremely fast, not caring about his sloppy writing. From time to time, his quill ran out of ink and he had to dip it back into his ink bottle. Drops of ink dripped onto the immaculate covers, but Draco paid them no mind. Suddenly the sharp tip of the quill sunk deep into his finger, drawing blood. Crimson droplets joined the black ones on the sheet as Draco hissed in pain, flailing around in agony, and one found its way onto the diary's page. The book flared briefly before consuming the blood like it did ink. Draco didn't notice the diary's reaction.

Finally locating his quill, he dipped it carefully into the bottle and started to write. But before he could, Tom wrote first, the first time he had ever done so. The words appeared in strange green ink, not the recycled ink that always appeared on the pages.

"Draco?"

Staring at the words, the silver-haired boy cautiously wrote back, "Yes, Tom?"

"I'll be perfectly honest with you and say I'm not sorry for this."

"Hu-" was all Draco managed to get out before a huge emerald bolt of lightning burst out of the book's pages, striking him straight between the eyes. He jerked in place, riveted to his bed as tendrils of writhing light ran across his body. Then, as suddenly as it started, it stopped. The diary was a ruined mess on the bed, the burnt remains of its pages slowly fluttering to the ground around it. The body of Draco Malfoy slumped forwards in its bed, still.

The form on the bed stirred, and for a moment it seemed as though, instead of an eleven-year old boy with silver-blond hair, there was a sixteen-year old young man with raven locks kneeling on the bed. Then the image faded away like a mirage and the figure on the bed was once again Draco Malfoy.

The one who was once Draco lifted his head. His formerly silver-gray eyes were a blazing crimson, which slowly faded back into a light pinkish-red as the souls balanced. The boy grinned and raised his wand, pointing it at the ceiling. A small yellow arrow spurted from the tip of his wand and hit the top of the room, and a large, lighted chandelier sprouted from the point of impact.

He laughed. "All the power of a full grown wizard and more focus in your wand, Draco. Just like I promised. Too bad you can't use it."

"But I can." The boy laughed evilly, the very foundations of Hogwarts shaking from his insane cackling. The other youths in his dormitory shivered in their beds, all the pleasant dreams they might have been experiencing suddenly changing into horrid nightmares of death and torture.

The silver-haired boy leveled his wand at his own forearm and whispered, "Morsmordre."

Tom Riddle was born again.

...And then he went to sleep. Cos it was past his bedtime.

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