Chapter One - Bad Dreams  

And again, the same dream: death and blood and terror. He lay in the mud on a battlefield, and all around him were scenes out of nightmare: goblins with sharp swords ran past him, carrying the decapitated heads of wizards in their fists; screaming giants tore men limb from limb with the force of their arms, and scattered the severed parts over the field like ghastly confetti. Everywhere were the screams of the dying and the dead. And blood, so much blood, he was covered in it. 

A black horse reared up over him, pawing the sky with its hooves. It was riderless, but carried a banner: a silver dragon on a background of black. He covered his face with his arms as the sharp hooves came down--- 

Draco bolted awake, covered in cold sweat and feeling nauseated. He rolled over in bed and buried his face in his arms. It wasn't the first such nightmare he'd had; they'd been getting more and more frequent since he'd left Hogwarts for Magid school. He sat up in bed, letting the cold moonlight touch his face. If only there was someone he could talk to, could tell... 

Harry? No. Not Harry. His mother? She was about to go off on holiday with Sirius, this would just worry her. Sirius? He toyed with the idea for a moment. Sirius was usually full of good advice and was hard to upset. But he might tell Narcissa. 

And then there was Hermione. 

Draco sat up and reached for his wand, which was on his bedside table. "Lumos," he whispered, and a small light blossomed from the end of it. He could of course have gotten light without the wand, but untrained Magids weren't supposed to perform "wandless" spells, or so he had been told. 

He picked up a piece of paper and a pen and balanced the paper on his knees, thinking. He wrote her name, Hermione, and then stopped. What if she told Harry? No. She wouldn't do that. But what could he tell her? Hermione, I'm having nightmares, the same dream every night, I don't know why. She'd think he was going mad, and perhaps he was. As his father had told him, there was madness in his family. And considering that his father was now a patient in St. Mungo's Treatment Center for the Criminally Insane, he hadn't been far off. 

Draco sat there for a long time, staring at the blank piece of paper, unable to think of any words. Finally, he crumpled the paper up into a ball and tossed it out the window. Then he lay awake, staring at the ceiling until dawn. 

***** 

Dear Hermione, 

Thanks for writing me so soon -- it was great having a letter waiting for me when I arrived, and tell Mrs. Weasley that I appreciate the sweater she sent, even though it's boiling hot here, and the fudge as well, even though Draco ate it without asking. Did I mention that he and I are roommates? We're the only boys from England here for the program, so they stuck us together. I told them I'd rather be in with the guy from Transylvania who doesn't speak any English and won't go out in the sunlight, but it was no go. 

This school is a lot like Hogwarts, in some ways: it's in a castle, actually a fortress that used to belong to Godric Gryffindor. I guess Godric had a lot of enemies and didn't mind who knew it, there are cannon emplacements everywhere, as well as a moat and some huge cauldrons that he probably been used to pour boiling oil down on enemy forces. 

So far we've only had one class and nobody's said anything about teaching us how to use our powers, it's just all about control, controlling your emotions so you don't wind up lashing out with your powers and destroying a whole city block...or making it snow blue...but anyway, Draco already knows how to control his emotions, so I don't know what he thinks he'll be accomplishing here. I suppose he just didn't want to hang around the Manor by himself all summer, it's full of Aurors at the moment anyway. Sirius and Narcissa said he could go on holiday with them in Greece, but I don't think he wanted to do that either. Can't blame him, really, I wouldn't watch to watch them snogging all over the Greek Islands myself. I guess I'll just have to accept the fact that a Draco-free life is probably impossible, especially since we're going to be related soon and we'll have to see each other at weddings and funerals for the rest of our lives. Speaking of which, Narcissa and Sirius set the date for August 15th, so start planning to be there-it'll be the first time I'll have seen you in nearly two months. I can't wait; I miss you all the time. 

Guess who else is here, teaching? Professor Lupin! I guess it's not that weird, considering that Dumbledore runs this school and he's one of the few Headmasters out there who would give Lupin a job. It's great having him here, though; I'm actually looking forward to classes starting now. The only other person here who you would know is Fleur Delacoeur. Apparently she started manifesting her powers kind of late - she was already eighteen, and she's nineteen now, so this is her first year here. I guess Magid stuff is a lot more common among people with veela ancestry, which explains Draco as well. 

I hope you're having fun staying at the Burrow while your parents are on holiday. Give my best regards to the Weasleys, and ask Ron if that new broom I got him is working well, it's meant to be a good one. Is Ginny back from France yet? Tell her I said hi. 

Write me back, soon. 

All my love, 

Harry 

Hermione smiled to herself, folded up Harry's letter, and put it in her pocket to read again later. 

Ginny looked at her curiously across the table. "So? Any interesting news?" Pigwidgeon, who had been hooting madly all over the room ever since he had successfully delivered Harry's letters, hopped onto Ginny's saucer, sloshing coffee all over the Weasley's clean-scrubbed kitchen table. "Pig, no! Gerroff!" 

Ron reached out and caught Pigwidgeon in his hand. "No jumping in the coffee, Pig," he said, grinning at the twittering little owl. "Ginny doesn't like it." 

"Whereas you love owl-flavored coffee," said Ginny, making a face at Ron. Then she turned back to Hermione, who had her chin propped on her hand and was staring dreamily off into space. "What does Harry say, Hermione? Is everything all right?" 

"Of course it is, he's fine," said Hermione. "And he said to say hi to you." 

Ginny flushed very slightly. She still retained the vestiges of her terrible crush on Harry, although she was nevertheless quite genuinely happy for Hermione. That was the thing about Ginny, thought Hermione, she was such a very nice person that it would be impossible to dislike her, although the two girls had never been close. Ginny had always seemed to Hermione to be a girl's girl -- more interested in clothes and boys than Hermione could imagine herself being, although her year at Beauxbatons had invested her with an appealing new gravity. 

"Well, tell him hi from me when you write back," said Ginny, and became very interested in cleaning up the coffee Pigwidgeon had spilled. 

Ron was scanning his own letter from Harry. "He says Fleur's a student there," he said. "I think Bill did tell me something about that, actually. I'd forgotten." 

"Are she and Bill still together?" Hermione asked. 

Ron shrugged. "I dunno. They're on, they're off, it's hard to tell. I think they're off at the moment, actually." 

Hermione scowled. She did not like the idea of an unattached Fleur being anywhere within ten miles of Harry. Or Draco. Although Draco was part veela himself and could probably fight her off better than Harry could. Also, it was none of her business what Draco did, she thought to herself, but really...he could do better than Fleur, she just knew he could. 

With a mental shrug, she picked up the second letter Pigwidgeon had brought her. It was tied with a black velvet ribbon and her name was written in a slanting, almost-familiar hand. As she read it through, her mouth opened in surprise. "Well, that's odd!" she exclaimed. 

"What's odd?" asked Ginny. 

"It's from Viktor Krum," said Hermione. 

Now Ron looked up as well. 

"He's in London," said Hermione. "He wants to meet me for coffee at the Leaky Cauldron. He's staying there for a few days. He says he has something important to tell me." 

"Oh, Harry's going to love that," said Ron, grinning. 

"Don't be silly, Ron," said Hermione, putting down the letter with a frown. "I haven't even seen Viktor in two years. And last I heard, he had a girlfriend." 

"Are you sure he doesn't want to meet you so he can tell you he loffs you again?" said Ron teasingly. 

"Quite sure," said Hermione, still frowning. "Well, I wouldn't mind seeing Viktor...and Ginny, didn't you say you wanted to go shopping in London? We could go together." 

"Sure," said Ginny, and Ron added quickly, "I have to go to Diagon Alley anyway to get a kit for my new broom. We can all go." 

"Okay," said Hermione. "Just let me write a quick letter first." 

She ran upstairs to the spare room she was staying in. Although the Weasleys hadn't moved out of the Burrow when Fred and George's joke shop turned out to be so successful, they had added a number of extra rooms. From the outside, the house now looked more like a lopsided birthday cake than ever. Hermione's room was one of the new ones, and she liked it very much: it was round, with a stained-glass oriole window that depicted a weasel sleeping on a rock in the sun. 

She sat down at the desk, took out a piece of paper, and started to write Dear Harry... and stopped. She wasn't very good at writing love letters, but she wanted to be a bit more affectionate than "dear". Especially if he was hanging around with Fleur. Couldn't hurt to remind him exactly whose Harry he was. She tried Darling Harry, but that looked stupid. Then she tried Harry, my love, but that was awful, and she scrunched the whole letter up into a ball and threw it on the floor. She tried again, with a new piece of paper, Dearest Harry... 

Well, that looked all right. She scribbled the rest of the letter quickly, wrote a quick note to Draco, and bolted out of the room, nearly colliding with Ron on the stairs. "Hermione! Slow down!" 

"Ron, can I borrow Pig?" she said quickly. "I'm sorry I stepped on your toe," she added, as an afterthought. 

"I just sent Pig off to Fred and George with a letter. But you can borrow my mum's owl. Hey, Hermione, what's that?" 

"What's what?" 

"That," said Ron, and put his hand on her neck, where the collar of her shirt ended. It took her a moment to realize that he was fingering the thin gold chain around her throat. "You don't usually wear jewelry." 

"Oh," she said. "This," and drew out the pendant that hung on the end of the chain. "It's Draco's Epicyclical Charm," she said, a little self-consciously. "He gave it to me." 

Ron goggled at her. "Isn't that a little weird?" he said. "I mean, what if you dropped it, or forgot it somewhere, or..." 

"Ron!" Hermione glared at him. "Like I'd ever do that. Anyway, Dumbledore put some charms on it, so it can't be lost or misplaced or damaged. I can't even take it off, and no one else can take it off me except either Dumbledore or Draco himself. It's charmed that way." 

"I think you should just have given it to Dumbledore," said Ron, eyeing the Charm with mistrust. "Or Draco should have kept it. Can't he cart his own nasty little lethal object around with him?" 

"I tried to give it to Dumbledore. But he said it was Draco's to do what he wanted with. And I don't think Draco wanted to keep it, it probably reminds him of horrid things, like his dad." She shuddered. 

Ron took his hand off her neck and started to walk down the stairs. "Have I told you lately how extremely glad I am that you didn't end up dating Malfoy?" 

"Only about six zillion times," said Hermione, following him. "Honestly, I think you're gladder than Harry is." 

"I have my reasons," said Ron, and before Hermione could ask him to elaborate, he was yelling for Ginny to hurry up and bring the Floo Powder because it was time for them to get going. 

*** 

The brown barn owl swooped in through an open window and landed, hooting, on the table next to Harry, who was sitting in the Students' Hall, eating lunch. It had two letters tied to its left leg, both rolled into neat little tubes and fastened with different-colored ribbons. 

Harry glanced up and across the table at Draco, who was deep in conversation with Fleur Delacoeur. "Letters, Malfoy," he said. 

Draco looked up and grinned. "Toss me mine," he said. 

Harry unfastened one of the letters and threw it to Draco. Both of them knew who the letters were from; that went without saying. Hermione was an eminently fair girl. When she wrote, she always wrote to both of them, one letter for Harry, one for Draco. Harry's letter would be tied with a red ribbon, Draco's with silver. Harry occasionally wished that she would send him maybe two letters for every one she sent Draco, just to make a point, but that wasn't in Hermione's nature to do. She was a scrupulous sort of person. 

Harry watched Draco open his letter, read it, and stick it in his pocket, all without changing expression. Harry would have given a sackful of galleons to see what was in that letter, but he would rather have died than admit it. After all, he trusted Hermione. She was his girlfriend. She loved him. Right? 

Fleur looked from Harry to Draco with bright blue eyes. Harry knew she was probably nearly as interested as he was in seeing what Hermione had written to Draco. She had attached herself to Draco the first day they had arrived at school. Spotting him standing next to Harry, she had swooped over to them, crying, ""Ello, 'Arry! Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?" 

Harry had made the introductions, and Draco had shaken Fleur's hand while she beamed at him and tossed her shining silver hair. "Malfoy," Fleur had said. "I know that name, that is a French name. Is your family French?" 

Draco had admitted that at one time, they probably had been. 

"You are part-veela, are you not?" Fleur continued. "I am as well. I am sure we are related, I have brothers who look just like you. I take one look at you across the hall and think to myself, "That is a beautiful boy, he must be related to me!" 

Fleur said this with no shred of humility. She was just as conceited as Draco, which in Harry's opinion lent a certain credibility to her assurance that they shared family. 

"I think she fancies you," he had said to Draco once Fleur had gone, but Draco had shaken his head. 

"We're both part-veela, we're immune to each other's charms," he'd said. "She just likes me because I look like her." 

Whether or not they fancied each other, Harry thought, looking at them, they'd formed an effective mutual admiration society. Draco rarely went anywhere these days without Fleur tagging along at his heels. It was almost funny, Harry thought, after all he was the same age as Draco and it wasn't all that long ago that Fleur had considered him too "leetle" of a boy to be taken seriously... 

The owl hooted again, snapping Harry back to attention. He gave the owl a Knut, took his red-ribboned letter, and tore it open eagerly. 

Dearest Harry, 

I can't write much because I'm rushing off to London, but I'll send you another letter later, by Pig. Ron and the Weasleys are fine. Mr and Mrs. Weasley have gone off to the seaside for a romantic holiday, and Fred and George are in Hogsmeade at the joke shop, so it's just me and Ron and of course Ginny, who is back from France and sends her love. 

Guess who sent me a letter out of the blue? Viktor Krum, of all people. I would have thought he'd have been too busy to write anyone, he's been touring around with the Bulgarian team, but he's in London now, so I'm going to stop by the Leaky Cauldron and see him. I'll tell him you say hello. And please say hi to Professor Lupin for me. 

I can't wait to see you at Sirius and Narcissa's wedding. I'm glad that Sirius is going to be happy, nobody deserves it more than he does. 

All my love, 

Hermione 

Harry folded the letter up with a feeling of unease. When he glanced up, he saw Draco and Fleur watching him. "What's wrong, 'Arry?" said Fleur with cheerful concern. "'As your girlfriend left you for someone else? Is she pregnant?" 

The letter flew out of Harry's hands. "What?" he sputtered. "That's ridiculous. How would she be pregnant?" 

Fleur and Draco both grinned at him. 

"Perhaps now is the time to have that talk about the facts of life, Potter," said Draco, still grinning. 

Bugger, thought Harry, I walked right into this one. "Shut up, Malfoy," he said. "I already know all about sex, thanks." 

Fleur was giggling madly behind her hand. 

"That is reassuring to hear," said a voice at Harry's elbow. 

Harry spun around to see Professor Lupin standing behind him, a faint smile on his face. 

"Hallo, Harry," he said. 

Harry grinned at Lupin, who, he thought, was looking a lot better than he had three years ago. He actually seemed to have fewer lines on his face, although that could just have been the fact that he was very brown from the summer sunshine. They were all getting brown, including Draco, which seemed, in Harry's opinion, to go against all laws of nature. Surely it wasn't possible to be so very fair-haired and light-eyed and still not burn in the sun? But then again, Fleur was the same way. She and Draco were now both very brown, with bleached sugar-white hair. Harry himself had gotten darker, and had developed a row of freckles across his nose, which he had never known he had. He hoped they weren't too odd-looking. Hermione had freckles across her nose and he thought those were adorable, but it might be different for boys. 

"Professor Lupin," said Harry, wrenching his mind off the topic of Hermione and her nose. "It's good to see you. Do you want to sit down? Have you eaten lunch yet?" 

"Actually, I have," said Lupin. "I was just looking for you, Harry. And your roommate." 

He inclined his head towards Draco, who raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Looking for me? Why?" 

"Something Dumbledore told me," said Lupin, sounding a bit evasive. "I was wondering if we could go back to your room for a moment? There's something I wanted to ask you two about." 

Harry and Draco looked at each other, shrugged, and stood up. "Sure," said Harry. "Why not?" 

"See you later," said Draco to Fleur, who was looking mildly indignant at being abandoned. 

Lupin walked ahead of them as they crossed the Hall and went up the stone staircase that led to the boys' dormitories. 

"Did Hermione tell you she's seeing Victor Krum in London?" Harry asked Draco, and was rewarded by seeing him start slightly. 

"Big overgrown Bulgarian git," said Draco, "What's she seeing him for?" 

"He's not so bad," said Harry, feeling more magnanimous towards Krum suddenly. It was probably the fact that he had known something about Hermione that Draco hadn't. "Professor Lupin!" he called out, quickening his pace. "This is our room right here." 

Draco opened the door and they all went in. It was a large stone room, big enough to house six or seven boys, although Harry and Draco were its only occupants. It had two fireplaces, one at each end of the room, a large bay window with a stone seat, and two beds hung with velvet hangings. Harry's trunk rested at the foot of his bed; Draco's at the foot of his. 

Lupin sat down in a chair, while Harry and Draco each sat on the ends of their respective beds. Lupin, Harry thought, was looking oddly uneasy, although he smiled at Harry when he caught Harry glancing at him. 

"It's good to see you again, Harry," he said with a smile. "I don't know if I told you that." 

"I've been looking forward to having your class all week," said Harry, smiling back at Lupin. "We've only had class so far with Professor Emble, and he just says the same thing over and over again." 

"'There are three words every Magid must take to heart,'" said Draco, quoting Professor Emble. "'Control, control, control.'" He grinned at Lupin. "I told him that was one word three times, but he didn't care." 

"Control is important," said Lupin gently. 

"Yeah, I know," replied Draco, looking unrepentant. "But I'm already good at that, so..." 

"Which reminds me," said Lupin. "Draco, Professor Dumbledore wrote me to say that you were in possession of Salazar Slytherin's sword. He asked me if I would take a look at it. " 

Draco shrugged. "If you like." He frowned. "But your hands-" 

"The sword burns non-Magid humans," said Lupin calmly. "Being a werewolf, I should be able to touch it." 

"Oh, yeah, the werewolf thing," said Draco, with candid interest. "That must really suck." 

"DRACO!" said Harry in a warning tone. 

But Lupin, surprisingly, was smiling as he looked at Draco. "You remind me so much of Sirius when he was young," he said. "It's really uncanny." 

"So he was also charming and good-looking?" said Draco. 

"Sirius told me that when he was in school he was obnoxious," said Harry. 

"He was all of the above," said Lupin, still smiling. Harry had to admit it was nice to see Lupin looking pleased. It lit up his whole face and made his odd gold-green eyes shine. "Now, Draco..." 

"Right," said Draco, hopping out of his chair, and going across the room to his trunk, which he threw open. He took the sword out, and held it up for a moment to look at it. It its own way, it was a very beautiful object; the sunlight from the window slid down the blade like water, and the green jewels in the iron hilt sparkled. "Here you go," he said, walking across the room and handing it to Lupin. 

Lupin picked it up and turned it over, running his hand gently along the blade. "This is a very powerful magical object," he said. 

Draco looked pleased. 

"Do you mind if I try an experiment on it?" asked Lupin, turning the sword over and looking at it hard. 

Draco shrugged. "As long as you don't break it." 

Lupin turned the blade over, running his thin, flexible fingers along it. Then he said, "Indicio!"" 

Harry and Draco leaned over, staring, as writing appeared on the blade, carved into the metal. It was blackened with age and looked as if it had been there forever. Descensus averno facilis est. 

"What does that mean?" asked Draco wonderingly. 

Lupin looked as if he didn't quite understand either. "It's Latin," he said. "It means Easy is the Descent Into Hell." 

"That's cheerful," said Harry. 

"Are you sure it doesn't mean "have a nice day'?" said Draco hopefully. "Or "this sword is worth a lot of money'?" 

"Or "'I belong to a massive git'?" suggested Harry. 

"No," said Lupin. "It means what I said it means." 

Both Harry and Draco looked uneasy. "I dunno what that's about," said Draco. "But it sounds bad." 

"Salazar Slytherin was not the nicest man," said Lupin. He stood up. "With your permission, Draco, I'd like to take this sword back to my office and look at it more closely." 

"Go ahead," said Draco, who was now looking at the sword with suspicion. "But no running in the hallway!" he added as Lupin turned to leave. "That thing is sharp." 

*** 

As they neared the Leaky Cauldron, Ginny checked her watch. She and Hermione had promised Ron they'd meet him back at Flourish and Blott's at three o'clock, and it was already two, which didn't leave Hermione a lot of time to have coffee with Krum. 

Ginny cast a sideways glance at Hermione, who was looking very smart and pretty in a short red coat. She was looking slightly nervous, as Ginny supposed she would be too if she was going to meet someone she hadn't seen in two years, who had once been violently in love with her and for all anyone knew, might still be. Of course, as far as Ginny knew, no one had ever been violently in love with her. Not Harry, who she still loved...not anyone. 

"We're here," said Hermione, stopping under the sign of the Leaky Cauldron. "Come in with me, won't you?" she added, looking at Ginny hopefully. 

"Sure," said Ginny, and started up the stairs with her. They ducked into the dark main room of the Leaky Cauldron, which was nearly empty. Ginny was squinting around, her eyes adjusting slowly to the lack of light, when a huge shape suddenly loomed up out of the dimness. 

"Her-my-own-ninny," said a gravelly voice. 

Hermione caught Ginny's hand and squeezed it nervously. "Viktor!" she said. "It's so good to see you." 

The passage of three years hadn't changed Viktor Krum's dark, gloomy appearance much. If anything, it had made him slightly craggier; he towered over Hermione and Ginny, glowering down at them from under beetling black eyebrows. "Herm-my-own-ninny," he said again, "I vont to talk to you." He glanced significantly at Ginny. "Alone." 

Ginny looked at Hermione, who looked back at her in surprise. "I'm not going off and leaving Hermione here!" said Ginny indignantly. "She won't be able to get back on her own!" 

But Viktor was still looking at Hermione. "Please," he said. "Just five minutes. In there." He jerked his head to the side, indicating a smaller room off the main one. 

Hermione looked at Ginny, then shrugged. "All right. Five minutes," she said. "Ginny, if you don't mind waiting here..." 

Ginny shook her head. "Of course not." 

She watched as the towering Krum shepherded the much smaller figure of Hermione through the far exit, and closed the door behind them, and shook her head. She didn't know what Krum wanted to say to Hermione, but from his expression, it was hardly good news. In her opinion, Hermione never should have agreed to meet him, he hardly seemed trustworthy and then there was Harry to consider. If Harry was her boyfriend, Ginny thought she would never... no, she told herself, squelch that thought! Never going to happen. 

The far door opened and Hermione came out, looking flustered. She came up to Ginny and took her hands. Ginny nearly cried out; Hermione's hands were freezing cold. "Ginny," she said, "I've got to stay here and talk to Viktor. You go ahead and meet Ron. Viktor can drop me off at the Burrow later." 

Astonished, Ginny goggled at her. "Are you sure?" 

"Yes," said Hermione, very firmly. 

"But Hermione," said Ginny, dropping her voice, "I don't feel right just leaving you here. Can't he...can't he come back to the Burrow with us and you can talk there?" 

Hermione shook her head. "You'll understand later, Ginny," she said, and as Ginny still looked doubtful, added irritably, "I know what I'm doing, all right?" 

Ginny stared as Hermione turned on her heel, walked away, and disappeared into the room where Viktor was, closing the door behind her. Feeling slightly dazed, Ginny turned and walked out of the Leaky Cauldron into the bright daylight of Diagon Alley. 

*** 

Out of a dream of blood and fire, Draco awoke to find himself being shaken, hard, by the shoulder. He blinked, trying to see in the darkness. "Potter?" he croaked. "Ow! What are you doing -?" 

And broke off. For the eyes staring at him out of the darkness were not green, but dark red, veined with yellow. 

Draco yelled. And threw himself sideways off the bed, rolling across the floor. He fetched up against the side of his trunk and scrambled to his knees, staring. It was nearly pitch black in the room, but he could see the hunched shape of something, something the size of a dog, crouching at the foot of his bed, glaring at him out of vicious-looking red eyes. 

In the other bed, Harry bolted up and reached for his glasses. "Malfoy, what-" 

He broke off. Draco wasn't sure if Harry had seen the dark shape, and didn't much care either. Still on his knees, he fumbled for the lid of his trunk and wrenched it open. He plunged his hand inside, and then remembered, with a sickening lurch in his stomach, that he had given his sword to Lupin that afternoon. His wand, where was his wand- 

"Lumos," said Harry. 

Light blossomed out of the tip of the wand Harry was holding, and lit the room with a bluish glow. It illuminated Harry, sitting up in bed, Draco, crouched on the floor, and the creature, whatever it was, which gave a shrill scream and cowered away from the light. 

"Don't hurt me!" it shouted, in perfectly recognizable English, although its voice sounded less like a human voice and more like a bonfire crackling words. "Please don't hurt me!" 

Harry looked at Draco. Draco looked back. Neither of them spoke, but they were both obviously thinking the same thing: it couldn't be that horrible a monster if it was afraid of two boys in pajamas. 

"What is it?" said Draco, looking at Harry in astonishment. 

"No idea," replied Harry, getting out of bed. Draco got to his feet and stood next to Harry as they both stared, Harry holding his wand ready. 

The whatever-it-was was about the size of a dog, with gray, scaled skin and a perfectly round, earless head. It had no nose either, and its mouth was a long slit. It was holding up two gray, long-fingered hands in entreaty. 

"Okay," said Harry, staring at it, "We won't hurt you. Just...calm down." 

"The hell we won't," said Draco, who was still very shaken. "What d'you mean jumping on me in the middle of the night like that? What do you want?" 

The creature said, in the same crackling voice, "Hurt me if you will. I have come here only for what is mine." 

Harry and Draco looked at each other in bewilderment. 

"Come again?" said Harry politely. 

"I have come for what is mine," repeated the creature. "My other half!" It fetched up a dry sob and looked pitifully at Draco and Harry. "For many years, it was hidden from me. And then I began to sense it had returned to the world. I sought it over land and ocean. And found it here. It is mine!" screamed the creature, "and it has been lost these thousand years!" 

"What is it, exactly, this other half of yours?" asked Draco. "I mean, you look pretty complete to me, not missing any bits or parts, unless you count that you don't have any ears, I suppose. Is it an ear you're looking for?" 

The creature glared at him with contempt. "You are a very stupid mortal boy," it said, "and if I had my other half and my full powers, I would eat you." 

Draco looked furious. Harry put a restraining hand on his shoulder. "Nobody's eating anyone here," he said. "Can you tell us a bit more about this, um, other half that you've misplaced?" 

The creature looked livid. "I did not misplace it! It was taken from me by force by an evil wizard, and hidden from me; I have sought everywhere and it is HERE!" 

Harry was looking at the creature with his head cocked thoughtfully to one side. "You're a demon, aren't you?" 

The creature looked shifty. "I am not," it said. 

"Oh, yes you are," said Harry, gaining conviction. "We did demons last year in Defense Against the Dark Arts. I know how to banish them, too." He pointed at the creature with his hand. "Dispelle-" 

"Nooooo!" the demon shouted, banging its fists into Draco's pillow like an angry toddler, and Harry broke off. "I tell you, it is mine! You have no right to keep it from me! Thousands of years I have searched--" 

"Well, did you try looking under the sofa in HELL?" yelled Draco, who was looking fed up. 

The demon made a low, mournful, growling noise. "I do not search as you mortals might," it said. "I sense what is mine; it calls out to me and I hear it. For a thousand years it has been silent. Then, again, I heard the call and was summoned. And now--" It broke off, and looked around fretfully. "Now it is silent again. But it was here, I am sure of it!" 

Harry looked sideways at Draco. "You do know what it's looking for, don't you?" he whispered. "That sword--" 

"Shush!" said Draco warningly, and turned back to the demon. "There are no otherworldly or demonic objects in this room," he told it, which was true enough. "Unless you count Potter, I've always had my suspicions about him, but you're welcome to him if you want him." 

The demon glanced at Harry without much interest. "The Potter boy is of no concern to me," he said. 

"Hey!" yelled Harry, who was used to being the focal point of world events, and felt slighted. "Look," he said to the demon, "go on and have a look if you don't believe Draco that we haven't got any, um, demonic objects in here. You haven't, have you?" he hissed in Draco's ear. 

Draco rolled his eyes. 

But the demon, not waiting for further permission, had begun tearing through the room, overturning chairs, raking through the ashes in the fireplace, and ripping apart both boys' school bags before turning on Harry's trunk. Harry watched in shock while his personal possessions flew everywhere. Draco ducked as Harry's clothes flew over his head and hit the opposite wall. 

Finding nothing in Harry's trunk, the demon turned its attention to Draco's, and repeated the exercise of tearing it apart. Both boys watching in resignation as it scattered Draco's clothes and books all over the floor. "You know," said Draco to Harry in an undertone, "I always figured demons for more of the attacking, mauling and killing type. This going through our stuff thing...it's sort of...tacky." 

"I really agree," said Harry. 

"You could banish it," said Draco hopefully. 

"I think it's probably better to convince it we haven't got the thing, otherwise it'll just come back," said Harry. "It doesn't seem to be able to sense where it's 'other half' is any more. I hope," he added, thinking of Lupin. 

"Fine," said Draco. "But if it tears up any of my clothes, it's out of here." 

*** 

"This is all your fault," said Ron, glaring at Ginny across the table. His blue eyes were blazing, and his red hair was sticking up in wild tufts just like Harry's. "How could you just leave her in the Leaky Cauldron with that-- that--" 

"That is not fair!" Ginny yelled back, her eyes flashing. "You didn't hear her, Ron! You weren't there! She wouldn't have let me stay, she as much as told me to go away and leave her alone!" 

"It's midnight!" said Ron, who was looking both very angry and very worried. "Where is she?" 

"I know," said Ginny, sitting down unhappily at the kitchen table, "I know, but Ron, please try to have some perspective. Maybe they just got to talking and lost track of time." 

"She'd have sent an owl, or something. Hermione's not like that, she's--" 

"Not like what?" said Hermione, coming in through the screen door and regarding them both curiously. 

Ron and Ginny gaped at her. "Hermione," breathed Ron in relief. "You're all right!" 

"I told you she was fine," said Ginny, who was nevertheless extremely relieved to see her. She turned to Hermione. "You are all right, aren't you?" 

"Of course I'm all right," said Hermione calmly. "Now, if you'll excuse me for a moment, I need to go upstairs for a moment. I'll be right back." 

She turned, still very calm, and went up the stairs. Ron and Ginny watched her go with open mouths. 

"Do you think she's upset about something?" asked Ginny, when she could find words. 

"I don't think so," said Ron slowly, "She seems the opposite of upset. Weirdly calm. Maybe you should go up and talk to her," he added, unhappily. "Girl talk." 

Ginny shook her head. "She'd be much more likely to talk to you." 

Ron sighed. "I guess you're right," he said, stood up, and made his way towards the stairs, where he was stopped in his tracks by the sight of Hermione, who was coming towards him carrying her small overnight bag. She walked right past him down the stairs and into the kitchen. Ron hurried after her. 

"Hermione," he said, fighting a growing feeling of alarm, "are you sure you're all right?" 

"I'm fine," said Hermione, who was walking across the kitchen now. "I've just decided to spend a few days with Viktor, that's all." 

"What?" exclaimed Ron and Ginny together. 

"Hermione, you're not serious," said Ginny. 

Hermione turned and looked at them. She looked small, pale and determined. Stray wisps of hair were coming out of her bun and curling around her face. "I am serious," she said. "Why shouldn't I go? Why shouldn't I do what I like?" 

"Have you lost your mind?" said Ron. 

"What about Harry?" protested Ginny. 

Hermione shrugged. "He'll understand." 

"He most decidedly will NOT understand," said Ron. "Hermione, sit down, please. Are you angry with Harry? Did he do something? Are you trying to get back at him? In which case, I beg you to get back at him some other way. Ginny, help me out." 

"You could have an affair with Ron," suggested Ginny helpfully. "That'd upset Harry." 

"Thanks, Gin," said Ron, shooting her a look of death. 

Hermione shook her head, looking at Ron with wide, slightly glassy brown eyes. "This has nothing to do with him," she said. "This is just something I have to do. Will you two calm down? I'll be back in a few days." 

"A few...days?" said Ron faintly. 

"Well, if you're just going to overreact like this, maybe I won't come back at all!" snapped Hermione, turned on her heel, and slammed open the screen door. She stalked outside. Ron and Ginny looked at each other in horror, then Ron leaped to his feet and followed Hermione out into the garden. 

"Hermione!" he called. She was walking across the grass towards a tall, dark figure sitting astride a broomstick. With a feeling of intense foreboding, Ron broke into a run. "Hermione!" he called again, but without a backward glance, she climbed onto the broomstick, locked her arms around Krum's waist, Krum kicked off, and they were away, soaring into the air high above the Burrow. Ron threw his head back and watched as they shrank to a tiny speck over the treetops, and vanished. 

"But Hermione hates to fly," he said numbly, still staring after them. "She won't even fly with Harry." 

"Guess she rethought her position on that," said Ginny dryly, from behind him. 

"Something here is very, very wrong," said Ron, turning to look at his sister. "Get Pigwidgeon," he said. "We've got to send a letter right away. We need to contact Mum and Dad-- -- and Hermione's parents--" 

"I can't get Pigwidgeon," said Ginny. 

Ron stared at her. "Why not?" 

Her face was very pale in the moonlight as she returned his gaze with wide, unhappy eyes. "He's gone," she said. "I think Hermione sent him off already with a letter." 

"Oh, God," said Ron, with finality. "Harry." 

*** 

"I don't think we should tell him," said Draco in a hissing whisper. It was eight in the morning, and they were standing outside Lupin's office door. Having found nothing, the demon had eventually left their dorm room at 3 a.m., vowing to return at some future point to retrieve its "other half." Neither Harry nor Draco had been able to get properly back to sleep afterwards; as a consequence, they were both very tired and jumpy. 

"But he's a werewolf, Malfoy," protested Harry, running a hand through his hair, which was standing up wildly. "He's used to all this Dark Magic type stuff." 

"That may be," said Draco, "but he's still a grown-up werewolf. A teacher werewolf. If we tell him there are demons in our bedroom, he'll feel morally bound to do something about it." 

"We can't tell him there are demons in our bedroom anyway," said Harry. "We can tell him there was a demon in our bedroom. Just one." 

"I think teachers are required to regard even one demon in the dormitory as an administrative problem," said Draco. "Ten to one he goes right to Dumbledore." 

"So what if he does, Malfoy?" snapped Harry. "You're just afraid he'll take your toy sword away." 

"We don't know that that's what it was looking for!" 

"What the hell do you think it was after? Your socks? Your collection of hair care products? Oh, wait, it doesn't have any hair! You want to know why? Because it's a DEMON!" 

"Don't yell in my ear," said Draco, looking irritable. "You want to tell him? Fine. You go ahead and tell him." 

"All right," said Harry, feeling oddly deflated. "I will." 

And he knocked on Lupin's office door, which swung open. Both boys went in, Draco following Harry. 

Professor Lupin was sitting at his desk, reading the Daily Prophet. The cool morning sunlight filtering in through the window turned his hair to dark gold. He looked up as they came in and smiled, folding up the paper and shoving it into a drawer as he did so. "I was wondering if you were planning on coming in or if you were just going to stand outside the door and fight with each other all morning," he said. 

Draco and Harry looked at each other with guilty horror. 

"Oh, don't worry," said Lupin. "I didn't hear what you were saying." He glanced at Draco. "I'm glad you came by, actually, I--" 

"Did you get a chance to look at my sword?" said Draco quickly. 

"I did," said Lupin. He stood up and crossed the room to a glass case that was hanging on the wall. Harry saw that Lupin had placed Slytherin's sword inside it. He took the case down, and carried it over to his desk, where he laid it down and surveyed it calmly. "Draco," he said. "When the sword was in your family's possession, where was it kept?" 

"In a glass case in our fencing room," said Draco promptly. 

"And did anyone ever use it?" 

"No," said Draco after a moment, "it was always in the case, no one ever opened it that I saw." 

"Dumbledore told me that the case was shattered by a Whirlwind Charm produced by a demonic object of some sort," said Lupin, and Harry and Draco nodded. "A very odd combination of circumstances. I am fairly sure, though I have no proof, that that case your father kept it in was no ordinary one. For this is no ordinary sword." 

"Well, of course not," said Harry. "Dumbledore told us it was a Magid sword." 

"It's more than that," said Lupin, "This sword is what is known as a demon blade. You can kill absolutely anything with it: demons, vampires, immortal monsters, even the risen dead." 

"Great," said Draco. "That'll be a lot of fun at parties. 'Hi, my name is Draco Malfoy and I can kill absolutely anything, what can YOU do?'" 

"You will not be taking this sword to parties," said Lupin severely. "In fact, you won't be touching it again for a while." 

Draco looked at Harry as if to say I told you so. "But it's mine!" he objected, turning back to Lupin. "It's been in my family forever!" 

"When I say that it is a demon blade," said Lupin, "I don't meant that it is a sword made by a demon, or for a demon. I mean that it is a demon. This sword is very alive. It is also very evil." 

Draco had his arms crossed over his chest and was glaring at Lupin. "How do you know it's evil?" 

"I don't," Lupin admitted, "I'll need to learn more about it, perform more tests --" He broke off. "I'm sorry, Draco. I'll need to keep it at least until I'm done conducting the tests." 

"And is it less evil if you keep it in your office?" asked Draco, biting his lip. 

"It's not the fact that it's in my office," said Lupin. "It's the fact that's in this case. I might be mistaken, but I would imagine your father kept it in a case much like this one." Draco and Harry both glanced askance at the case, which looked to them like ordinary glass. "It's not glass," said Lupin, correctly interpreting their glances. "It's adamantine. A material that resists most types of magical interference and," he added, looking at Draco, "is very nearly unbreakable. Perhaps another very strong Whirlwind Charm might smash it, but I wouldn't recommend attempting it." 

"In other words, no point in my trying to steal it back," said Draco, with a crooked sort of grin. "Even if I used a Summoning Charm?" 

"No point at all," said Lupin cheerfully. "The sword can't be magically located while it's in the case." 

Draco and Harry looked at each other. No wonder the demon hadn't been able to find it. 

"You'll get it back when I'm sure it isn't dangerous," Lupin said to Draco, and turned to Harry. "Now, did you have something you wanted to tell me, Harry?" 

Harry glanced from Lupin, who was looking gently inquiring, to Draco, who was staring angrily off out the window. Harry knew that if he so much as mentioned that a somewhat hysterical demon had showed up in their room the previous night, claming that it was looking for its "other half"--which Harry now had no doubt whatsoever was Slytherin´s sword--that Draco would never see that sword again. 

Harry shook his head. "No, Professor Lupin. Nothing." 

*** 

"Oooh," said Draco, as they left Lupin's office and headed off down the hall, "You lied to a teacher, Potter. And with a totally straight face, too. Pretty soon you'll be turning into me." 

"Been there," said Harry. "Done that." 

Draco grinned at him. "Come on, you liked it, admit it--" and broke off, as a tiny owl swooped low over his head, twittering madly. 

"Hey!" said Harry, craning his head to look up. "Pigwidgeon!" He held out a hand, and Pigwidgeon landed in it, hooting tiredly. "Poor Pig," said Harry, "back and forth from Ireland twice in two days. D'you have a letter for me?" 

Pigwidgeon stuck out his leg, on which was tied a curl of white paper fastened with a red ribbon. Harry took the letter and released Pig, who flew up and sat on his shoulder. 

Draco was looking at him curiously. Harry wondered if he was bothered that Hermione hadn't sent along a letter for him as well. Admittedly it wasn't like her. She must have had something on her mind. 

Harry tore the letter open, started to read, and went suddenly very white. 

Draco looked at him curiously. "Everything all right, Potter?" 

"It's--it's from Hermione," said Harry. 

"I know," said Draco, his eyes betraying a flicker of alarm. "Did something happen to her?" 

"She's fine," said Harry in an oddly strangled voice. "She's... fine." 

"Then what's wrong?" 

"She's gone off to spend the summer with Viktor Krum," said Harry blankly, still staring at the letter."In Bulgaria. She says she realizes she's really loved him all these years." He looked up at Draco with the expression of someone caught in a horrible dream. "She's ... she's breaking up with me." 

References: 

1)      "Well, did you try looking under the sofa in HELL?" -- Buffy. 

Chapter 2