Year 2 Part 6

  … …

  I moved slowly through the trees, my eyes alert to anything that shifts in the various shadows around me that might signal potential danger. At my side, Xenocrates moved as well, his ears back slightly indicating his dislike of something he could sense that I couldn’t, though so far he’d not shown a hint that anything that might be prey or threat had come close to us.

  “We’re not meant to be in here, so why are we?”

  I glanced over my shoulder at the speaker, giving him and those with him a grin. “Where’s your sense of adventure? I thought all you lions were the type to dive headlong into trouble without question.”

  Andrew MacLeod grunted even as his fingers tightened around his wand. “Gryffindor is the house of the brave, not the stupid.”

  “Counterpoint: James Potter and Jason Ackles.” At Andrew’s side, Bradley chuckled, as did a few of the others with us.

  “Those two are idiots,” Andrew muttered, and, even though I couldn’t see him, I knew he was shaking his head. “That tosser Potter has cost us so many points that we’ve got no chance with the Cup this year.”

  “Like you ever did to begin with, you silly lion.” That came from Angus MacLean, another of the group that was following me as I led them down a faint dirt path on a calm, though not particularly warm, morning on Saturday in February.

  “Bite me, you dirty snake.”

  “Anyway, why exactly are we heading into the Forest, MacLeod?” Angus asked, choosing to ignore Andrews’ retort, which was probably for the best. While I had managed to reach a point where several of those in Slytherin who I considered friends were willing to interact with Andrew and Bradley, there were still issues to overcome.

  The biggest being preconceived notions of some, even the more open-minded in Slytherin and other houses, that muggleborns were little better than muggles. While I understood the difference clearly and carried a greater distaste for muggles than even someone like Amycus Carrow might, I knew that muggleborns were not the same as muggles. For one, they had been gifted with magic, and thus needed to be cultured in the ways of our world so that they didn’t become either a drain on our economy or blind fools who followed those who espoused either bringing the current system down or altering it to reflect muggle Britain.

  “Beyond the fact that something forbidden is just too tempting to ignore and that there was little else for us to do today, I felt this would be a good opportunity for us to see what we could do with our magic in an uncontrolled situation.”

  The other main reason, which I didn’t vocalise though I expected most understood, was that this was a chance to allow the group, which was a half-dozen strong, not including myself, to bond away from the prying eyes of others in Hogwarts. Simply getting Angus, along with Benedict Fletcher, Randal Milton, and Lowell Selwyn, to agree to move in a group with muggleborns was an achievement in and of itself, particularly for the latter two.

  In First Year, none had been supportive of my stance towards Bradley and Andrew, with Selwyn even making a bet with me at the end of the year to try and force me to stop tutoring the pair. That bet had failed, and by the Winter Break of Second Year, Lowell had begun to accept that Bradley at least was worthy of considering a decent wizard. That stance was why he, along with the other three, was joining me, Bradley, and Andrew today.

  There was another reason I was scouting the edges of the Forbidden Forest. However, that was not something I would be telling those following me. Certainly not until I was certain of my plans for the rest of this school year and how to respond to the attack against me. Thanks to Bella, I had the name of one student, Colin Gilbert, who was involved in the attack. For the first few weeks since we’d returned after the Winter Break, I’d done what I could to monitor Gilbert without arousing suspicion.

  Most of my observations had come via the use of the Fearann ????na Scáthanna, as while I could cast the Disillusionment Charm, I wasn’t great at it. Add in that I was tailing a Sixth Year, and I had to make use of methods he and others wouldn’t be aware of. So far, at least as far as I knew, Aífe Mac Uidhir remained unaware that I was using the Shadow Realm to move around Hogwarts, though that was likely because I was keeping my usage of the Realm to areas in or near the Slytherin Chambers.

  I’d also used the Fearann ????na Scáthanna to scout a few other places, but I was currently reluctant to exit the Realm into those places. There was no need to either be caught by the staff somewhere I shouldn’t be or place myself in danger by appearing in those locations. That said, I was using the Fearann ????na Scáthanna to scout out paths between the Slytherin Chamber and elsewhere in Hogwarts. So far, I’d not caught a hint that I might be attacked again, but I wasn’t going to, for a third time, make the mistake that I was safe simply because I was within the walls of Hogwarts.

  The first time with Aífe Mac Uidhir, I’d been lucky she hadn’t wanted to attack me. The second, I’d been lax in my security and almost paid dearly for it. If not for Xeno and others, there was a chance I’d have bled out from my injuries before another student, a school elf, one of the ghosts or a professor had found me. That I had, twice now, made such mistakes infuriated me, and I swore that if I was attacked a third time, I’d be ready to not just strike back, but destroy any who dared to apprehend or assault me.

  “Does that mean you want us to find something to fight within the Forest?”

  I stopped and turned to face the group, focusing on Randal as he was the one who’d spoken. “No. I’m not planning for us to try and take out whatever beasts and creatures live in the Forest. Given our current skills and the complete lack of coordination we have as a unit, we’d probably struggle to take down a pack of nifflers.” Perhaps a touch too harsh, but it made my point. “What we’re going to do today is practice fighting outside of the duelling halls. At first, I want us to see what we can do against one another, with the rest watching, so that we don’t go too far and injure each other. At least in ways that would see us have to head to the Medical Ward, and thus risk the wrath of Professor Morgan or Headmaster Dumbledore.” Those from Slytherin shuddered slightly at the idea of getting on the bad side of the Head Professor for our house. “From there, once we’re better, I hope we can start working in pairs and trios against others.”

  “Why?” The question came from Lowell. “I mean, the first part of training to duel away from the eyes of others, I can agree with. Even if much of what we might try out here couldn’t be used in the tournament, it will help us become better wizards. However, why should we learn to work in groups?”

  “Tell me, when the DMLE moves to capture anyone, do they send a single Investigator, Hit-Wizard, or Auror, or do they send teams?” The group was quiet in response, which allowed me to continue. “Before anyone wonders, I’m not planning to do anything that would draw the ire of the DMLE,” well, at least not for a few more years but there was no need to tell others that, “but I’m not foolish enough to believe that none of us might one day find ourselves in a situation where we either need to work with others or have to engage multiple opponents at once.”

  “What would cause that?”

  “The potential list of reasons why we might be attacked is quite high,” Benedict responded to Andrew’s question before I did. “Beyond the obvious, though highly unlikely, event where the DMLE and Ministry came after us, there are elements in our society that are less… reputable in how they conduct themselves. If such people tried to attack one of us, they’d do so in a group and with the element of surprise. Something like what happened to MacLeod last year,” I gave a small nod, agreeing with that point even if I didn’t enjoy the reminder of my mistake. Particularly when it came from someone other than myself. “There is wisdom in learning to prepare for such a situation. Besides that, trying to duel in uneven situations could help us get better at casting quickly and thinking on our feet, which will be useful at the end of the year.”

  “You do realise that none of us are expected to do well in the tournament, right?” Andrew commented. “I mean, Dòmhnall has a chance to reach the latter rounds, but even he’s not likely to get past the last-thirty-two.”

  I bit my tongue, not feeling the need to respond. Andrew wasn’t disparaging me. He was simply stating a fact. Even Bella and Lucius, who I considered the top duellists in their years, hadn’t managed to go beyond the Round of Thirty-Two. That was generally the limit for a Second Year, even with a good draw. Now, I was hoping to go further, using my fleshcarved arrays and other boosts to help me, but I wasn’t holding out hope. All I wanted to ensure was that I finished the year as the undisputed top Second Year with both wand and sword.

  I already had that position with a blade and was unlikely to be challenged by any in my year. Many of those in the sword-duelling club were good, but that was a place where the boosts from the arrays on my back were great enough to overcome any slight lack of skill I might have.

  “We are. But if we work to lay the groundwork now, then in later years we’d have the chance to do better,” Lowell stated. “I’d actually like to join the DMLE if I got the chance, so I’m all for this training,” He added with a wide smile, making clear his growing excitement.

  “Just remember that when I keep knocking you on your ass,” I remarked, drawing a chuckle from the others. “Now come on. Before we can start training, we have to find somewhere to do so.”

  I turned and resumed walking, already aware of where we’d be heading. I had, via the Fearann ????na Scáthanna, scouted out a few locations that should suffice for the training I wanted to begin today. The beauty of having the various sites was that I would be able to shift the group around if needed, and it would allow me the chance to create more than one group.

  My plan for tomorrow involved bringing the better duellists in my house, be they girl or boy, into the Forest and start training them as well. For the group today, the intention wasn’t so much for me to get better, but for them to learn to work together and see me as a leader. None of the purebloods with me today were in line to inherit their Clan or House, or even the head of the cadet branch they came from. As such, they had few prospects of being useful for the political power they might wield in the future. That didn’t mean they were useless, however.

  With the war I knew was coming, I needed soldiers. Ones that I could trust based on their loyalty to me, instead of either fearing me or tagging along because it might keep them safer than doing nothing. Beyond that, I needed officers for the force I wanted to build, and those had to be people I trusted.

  Now, the senior positions would likely go to those who held or would hold political power as well. However, I needed to show those whom I wanted to follow me that what mattered wasn’t simply a protection of the old ways, or that we needed to adopt more muggle-centric concepts, but that magic made right. I didn’t plan for any of those who would follow me, regardless of social or blood status, to die, but I wasn’t foolish enough to expect I’d be able to get through the coming war without suffering losses.

  I needed to begin building my force now while I moved to secure domination over, not just those in my year in Slytherin, but across Hogwarts. That was going to be hard to accomplish, but through Bradley and Andrew, I felt I had a good base. Already, they had others – mainly muggleborns and halfbloods of lower social status – in their houses that seemed to congregate around them.

  Some of them, such as Linden Wheatcroft and Franklin Weasley, came from the main lines of their families. Others, such as Jordan Wells and Jason Turner, were raised in the muggle world. All of them, however, could be useful to me in the coming years and decades, but for that, I had to ensure that not only were Andrew and Bradley continuing to improve under my tutoring, but that the pair showed themselves capable of leading others.

  The only danger I faced with trying to get so many non-Slytherins onboard – particularly those who were muggle-born or raised – was that my reputation for treating all who had magic as potentially worthwhile might cost me influence. That I intended to overcome by ensuring my position at the head of our year by the summer break, and by ensuring that those closest to me were mainly from Slytherin.

  The path I was walking was a balancing act. However, it was one that held the best chance for me to not just emerge from the coming war with Voldemort and Dumbledore as the victor, but be ready to move against others – the magical and muggle worlds – to enact a new vision for the planet.

  Yes, I was dreaming big, but it was the only way I could make the changes I wanted. Besides, what was the point of having power and not trying to use it to shape the world in your image?

  … …

  … …

  I leaned to one side even as my wand flicked around, spewing spells as fast as I could cast them. At the same time, the shield cast around my free hand – which had grown about twenty per cent bigger since the start of the school year – shifted angles to deflect a rather nasty-looking hex.

  Across from me, doing pretty much the same thing as I was, stood Vesta Malfoy. Her blonde hair was tied back, keeping it from her face, while her crystal blue eyes focused hard on both defending herself and casting spells to take me down.

  Time had slipped away as we duelled, as had those watching. I was sure there were many, as this was the challenge for the top spot in our year; something I had delayed making a play for until about two months after the term started.

  My rear foot slid around, shifting my stance even as I moved my wand, sending a barrage of spells at Vesta. Most were, as standard, the quick-fire bolt, though mixed in were as many charms, jinxes, and hexes as I could cast without slowing down the rate of casting too much. Each bolt I shot towards her carried a faint hue, the colour shifting depending on what subtle alteration I applied.

  While the use of elemental spells wasn’t allowed in the junior duelling ranks, it seemed that if the effects were applied to the quick-fire bolt, then it was accepted. In truth, it was more accurate to say it was a grey area within the rules. Vesta’s bolts also carried coloured hues as they raced towards me, and I knew she was doing the same as I was and using those hues to try and hide other spells from my gaze.

  My shield arm dropped slightly, blocking a trio of bright green spells that had been aimed at my groin. I didn’t know if she was aimed there on purpose or if the height difference between us – I had endured a recent growth spurt and thus had gained a few inches in height on her – was responsible. Regardless, I didn’t like someone trying for what amounted to a low blow.

  I barely heard the snarl that slipped from my lips as I increased the speed of my casting, deciding to push her further and see what her limit was. The one downside of the junior duelling club was that we couldn’t really move as freely as the seniors could. There had been, since the start of this term, a change so that we could duel on a wider area, but generally it came down to how quickly one could cast and defend, which determined a victor. Vesta’s brother was a far superior caster than her, not just in speed but variety, but Vesta was easily the best I’d faced off against in our year.

  I broke from my casting of offensive spells as I caught sight of something with an ominous red hue hiding behind a trio of quick-fire bolts from her. A flick of my wand saw me cast general counters, splodges of bright white light racing from my wand. The quick-fire bolts were easily intercepted and dispersed, but my eyes widened as the hidden spell, which was no doubt her real attack, burst through, seemingly having been overwhelmed by my counter-spells.

  With no choice but to do anything else, I shifted my feet and leaned away. Whatever the spell was, it raced past me, barely avoiding my robes. Even while I was dodging, my wand resumed casting, this time with me channelling my emotions into the spells more heavily.

  As half my mind focused on casting and defending, the other half analysed her reactions to my spells and her movements. I felt a flicker of amusement as I caught sight of a bead of sweat slipping down her brow. I didn’t feel that tired, though that was likely because of several reasons. Yet with her now displaying a hint of exhaustion, I felt it was time to go for the kill.

  Instead of avoiding her next barrage of spells by shifting my stance and angling my Shield Charm, I stepped forward. The sudden movement saw me pass by the spells before they angled towards me. I held back a smirk as I saw her eyes widen fractionally and focused on pushing more power into my casting.

  My body responded, and I felt as if both she and her spells were slowing down. My wand danced around the air, casting hexes, jinxes, charms, and quick-fire bolts in a string that flowed gracefully from one to the next. The regular training in the Forest with my friends and future allies was paying off today.

  My movement caused her to have to shift; her first few spells in her next assault sailed harmlessly past me because they were aimed at my former location. As she did, I kept up my casting, pushing myself to go faster without truly overdoing it even as I took a step to my left.

  The move ensured the rest of her latest batch of spells, which were a myriad of colours, showing she was capable of weaving her magic together as well as I could; again, she missed me enough that I wasn’t forced to concentrate heavily on defence.

  Vesta, on the other hand, was being forced back. The increased speed my spells were coming at her was making her focus more on defence, and as she broke off her latest volley of spells to cast counters that she couldn’t avoid or deflect, I sensed my chance.

  My wand moved as if I were conducting an orchestra, though without the extra arm movements. Bobbing and weaving in the air before me, the tip spewed forth a symphony of colours that raced towards the young girl opposing me. I swore I heard sounds from around me, but I ignored them. Unlike in the training, I now did in the Forest, this was a one-on-one clash and not a team battle or unbalanced duel.

  As the sonata of spells that I’d cast raced towards Vesta, I smirked. Coming to a stop, I watched as she attempted to counter the onslaught. She shouldn’t be able to do so, but just in case, I began preparing a handful of new spells. These ones were far more powerful, but it took me longer to cast them, and in the almost frantic chaos of this duel, I’d not had much chance to deploy them. Nor had I in previous duels.

  “Point, MacLeod.”

  The call from Professor Flitwick, who was overseeing the duel and was accompanied by the deep echo of the score bell. Vesta, as I’d expected, hadn’t been able to block, deflect, or counter everything I’d cast at her. At least one had struck her or caused her to cease her casting, granting me the point. That made it two-to-one in my favour, and it was time for me to end the duel – and claim the top spot in our year – with a flourish.

  From my wand came forth a large spear of orange. As it raced towards Vesta, I prepared my next attack, though I didn’t expect to need it. Barely a third of the way to its target, the spear broke apart, shifting into a half dozen smaller shapes.

  In the gap between the six newly formed arrows of light, I saw Vesta’s eyes widen. Be it from shock, fear, or other emotions, I couldn’t tell. Whatever caused it, she understood that she’d lost, yet as I watched, I saw a hardening of her features. I couldn’t help but smile at her determination to at least attempt to defend against my attack. That sort of resilience deserved admiration.

  Her Shield Charm faded away as her wand flew around, and she put everything she could into a defensive spell. While she did so, I kept moving my wand, intending to cast my next attack. Even if she shouldn’t be able to stop the orange arrows that now angled towards her from different angles, I wouldn’t besmirch her by assuming she couldn’t. She was powerful enough that she deserved that much respect.

  From her wand a spiral of blue light emerged, slowly widening as she cast. It moved outward, expanding rapidly as I felt her pour everything she had into whatever it was she was casting. It wasn’t a spell that we’d been taught in our first two years, nor was it something from Third Year. I had, after all, spent time over the Winter Break memorising those spells. Yet whatever she was casting was beautiful, almost ethereal, and it bathed her in a light that gave her an almost angelic sheen.

  As the spiral touched the first of my arrows, the blue light consumed the orange. The other five orange arrows were similarly consumed by the spiral, and I couldn’t help but be impressed as her spell ended. Yet as it did, and I saw her shoulder slump – indicating how much effort her defensive casting had taken – a new spell had already emerged from my wand.

  This time, the spear I cast was longer, and as her eyes found mine, the spear broke apart, revealing eight arrows. Even as she tried to cast the spiral again, I controlled the arrows, angling half high, intending to ensure they raced over anything she might cast in defence. At the same time, the other four move directly towards her.

  This was the end of the duel, as even though she had managed to protect herself against the last assault, I knew she couldn’t withstand a more powerful version of it. Even so, I wouldn’t underestimate her and was already casting a barrage of quick-fire bolts that would, in theory, strike her if she somehow managed to avoid the orange arrows.

  Through the haze of spells racing towards her, I saw her flinch. It was only for a moment, but it was enough of a move that she understood she was beaten. Yet she still worked to cast that spiral again, and I saw it emerge from her wand. It came out slower, and the colour was fainter, allowing me to see her through them, yet I was impressed that she was still trying to cast the spell.

  The spiral grew, again slower than before, and as I watched, it managed to strike the four arrows moving directly at her. Unfortunately for her, it wasn’t able to grow wider nor rise higher, and the four arrows that had angled upwards now fell down, streaking towards her.

  Just before they reached her, her eyes found mine, and she smiled, accepting her defeat. As her face vanished behind the orange light, I swept my wand horizontally across the air in front of me. Everything I’d cast spluttered out, though as the arrows returned to wherever magic awaited to be summoned, the light of it washed over Vesta’s frame.

  “Point, and match, MacLeod.”

  I took a step forward at the call, moving towards Vesta even as I holstered my wand. She fell to her knees, her hands landing on the floor to keep herself from toppling over. Around us, I could hear cheering and the general murmur of voices, but I ignored them, and before anyone else did, I was kneeling before my opponent.

  “You okay?” I asked her gently, offering my hand. I stayed there, waiting patiently as she panted heavily, struggling to recover, if not stay conscious.

  “Wha…” her voice trailed off before she could manage a single word. “Spell?”

  “That is something I’d like to hear as well.” I turned my head at the new voice, though, as it was the same as the one that had called out points in the duel, I already knew who it was.

  “A spell I discovered in the library of my home, Professor,” I explained honestly. “It doesn’t use anything elemental, and I’ve spent long enough to trust my control over it.” There was more I could’ve said about the spell, and far more it was capable of, but that wasn’t important.

  “I would like you to demonstrate the spell for me at some point, young one, but not today. If it is the charm, I suspect it is, the fact that you could cast it twice, and with so many arrows, as a Second Year, is an incredible performance.” Flitwick turned his head and smiled at Vesta. “The same goes for you, Miss Malfoy. That defensive charm was most impressive.”

  “Thank. You. Pro. Fess. Or.” Vesta’s words came out slowly, each syllable a sentence unto itself. After speaking, she reached out and took my offered hand.

  “Now, with the duel over, and given how long you were both at it, I would ask that you head to see the nurse simply as a precaution,” Flitwick said, a beaming smile on his face. “Twenty points to both of you for that exemplary performance,” He added before he stepped back.

  While he’d been talking, Vesta had stood, though she’d stumbled in the process, ending up leaning on my arm. “Sorry.”

  I smiled at her. “No need for that,” I replied, letting her lean on me for support. “That was fun.”

  She smiled back and allowed me to help her leave the duelling area. As we walked, two others stepped into the area. One of them was a cohort of mine, Damien Blackwood, while the other was Andressa Bloodwood. I didn’t know too much about her save that she was Damien’s cousin due to a shared grandmother, that her family was a vassal house of House Blackwood, and that her father, Lord Tristan, had suggested a match between me and her younger sister, who was in First Year and a Hufflepuff.

  What was interesting – or perhaps concerning, depending on how I looked at it - was that he had offered Andressa’s sister to me as a secondary wife. That interest/concern only grew because other Chiefs and Lords had offered up daughters of their Clans or Houses to me as secondary wives.

  I didn’t know who had leaked the information that I had the right to take multiple wives, but it seemed to be common knowledge among the members of the Wizengamot. Merlin, the offer brought to me by Arcturus over the Winter Break had carried a condition that taking Narcissa, Lyra, or Vega as a secondary wife was acceptable under the condition that if I failed to have children with my first wife, their firstborn would inherit Clan MacLeod.

  “I don’t know how you expect us to top that,” Damien stated as he came closer. “Though at least now I no longer feel bad about losing duels to both of you this year.”

  “You can try again next month if you want,” I responded, finding myself looking forward to duelling him. Given his lineage – his father was a former British Isles duelling champion and now served as a senior Auror – I found sparring with Damien helped keep me on my toes. That he had climbed to seventh overall in our house, and fourth among the boys, and I wanted to both keep having him push me, and ensure that he continued to improve.

  While not due to inherit House Blackwood, Damien was one of those in the growing circle that I felt had the potential to be extremely useful going forward. As such, I hoped he maintained his place and thus next year would be in the room for the second to sixth-placed boys. I didn’t plan to be there, as I had every intention now that I had claimed it, of remaining the top student in Slytherin. That would grant me a private room, and so long as she wasn’t overtaken by another female, Vesta would have such a room as well.

  “No, thank you. I will be restraining myself from here on out until the tournament,” Damien replied, “save for those brave enough to challenge me,” he added as he glanced at his cousin.

  “When have I ever not challenged you, Damien?” Andressa responded with a confident smirk. “Just because you’re a Blackwood doesn’t mean you’re automatically better than me.” She moved closer and whispered something. I didn’t catch what it was, but whatever she said caused Damien’s cheeks to darken.

  “Tha-” he paused and coughed to help calm himself. “That’s not settled,” He eventually stated, though I saw a wisp of a smile creep onto his face.

  “Not yet, but we both know it will be.” Andressa gestured with a finger at Vesta and myself. “Just as everyone knows how she wants things to fall.”

  “Bite me, Bloodwood,” Vesta snarled, though she was still a touch too fatigued for her words to carry any venom.

  Andressa laughed softly. “I have higher standards than that, Malfoy, and I have no idea if you might enjoy it.” Her gaze found mine. “Perhaps you could answer that?” My only reaction was the lifting of a single eyebrow, which made her shrug. “No matter.”

  Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!

  With that, she moved off, heading to the other side of the duelling stage. “You’ll have to forgive her,” Damien said with what sounded like a resigned sigh. “Ever since the break, she’s become rather confident. I cannot state why, as it is House business, but I suspect you can easily determine the reason.”

  I kept my face neutral, not letting any hint of emotion show on it. “Probably. Still, good luck with your duel, and I’ll see you later so we can review Professor Ellsworth’s assignment.”

  “Of course.”

  With our pieces said, I helped Vesta leave the duelling area. “You don’t have to do this,” she whispered once we were clear of Damien, but before we reached where the other students were gathered. “You haven’t accepted my father’s offer.”

  “No, I haven’t. Nor have I accepted any other,” I replied, letting slip a nugget I had no issue with becoming common knowledge. “However, I regard you as, if not a friend, then at least a housemate and classmate. It would be unacceptable for me not to assist a lady in need.” I glanced at her and smirked. “Particularly as said lady is only as tired as she is because of me.”

  Vesta grinned back. “Something tells me that you might wear me out regularly if given the chance.”

  “Perhaps.”

  She laughed gently at my single-word response. There was, as had been the case since the Winter Break in particular, a strong element of flirtation in her words and phrases. Nothing that might seem too out of place for teenagers, or at least those who had been trained to expect to be betrothed by our age, but enough that I found it oddly amusing to dance around.

  “That was awesome!”

  “Miss Greengrass,” Professor Knight said with a firm tone that cut in before anyone else could speak, “I would remind you to be careful of the volume of your speech when duels are ongoing within the chamber.”

  “Sorry, Professor,” Christine Greengrass replied without looking at the Professor. Because her back was turned to him, but we could see her face, I caught sight of the small grin she wore. I hadn’t had many interactions with Greengrass, though I had seen a group with Vesta at times this year. “Are you okay?” She asked, moving closer to Vesta, who was now able to walk well by herself, though she chose to still keep a hand on my arm. Not so much for support but almost as a possessive gesture.

  “I’m fine,” Vesta replied with a small smile. “Dòmhnall’s just trying to kill me so he doesn’t have to marry me.”

  “I wouldn’t do such a thing. I fear your father too much to consider it,” I replied, drawing laughs from the two girls along with others who were coming closer. “Which is why I insist we obey Professor Flitwick and let the nurse examine you,” I added. From around us, I heard a few giggles or appreciative sounds from other girls in our year. I ignored them, however, as I couldn’t care less about what they thought of my actions. I was simply ensuring that someone I considered, or hope to consider, a friend was looked over.

  “Yes, dear,” Vesta responded with such innocence that it had to be an act. Her words, as she no doubt intended, caused the giggles to grow stronger, and I heard a few groans from others; likely boys not liking the behaviour or fearing they’d be expected to act the same way around their betrothed.

  Already, about an eighth of our year had been confirmed as being in betrothal agreements with the most high-profile being those who were heirs or firstborn sons of heirs. Amycus Carrow was betrothed to a Third Year from House Bulstrode, and Godwine Suthsax was arranged to marry Adilene Pontius. Given that Adilene had become almost joined at the hip with Godwine since the Winter Break, the announcement last week in the papers of their engagement had hardly been a shock.

  The crowd around us, which included the latter pair I’d just thought about, parted. Godwine gave me a nod of respect, which I assumed was for my victory. As we moved through them, Vesta stayed at my side, her hand on my forearm and her presence close enough to be considered possessive. Part of me was irritated at her assuming that I would accept her father’s offer, but I could understand her reasoning for doing so.

  Because of my grandmother and Arcturus having overseen my training in the ways of our world, I was considered close to House Black, and with her brother arranged to marry a daughter of House Black – currently that was Andromeda, but I expected things to change in a year or two – I didn’t have to marry a daughter of House Black. Staking a claim for me early, when there were few other daughters of Lords or heirs in our year and house, was designed to both convince me to accept and keep others away.

  I couldn’t deny that it was working, as while there were a few girls who had tried to talk with me during the year, most kept their distance when Vesta was around. I wouldn’t say that I minded having her around. She was powerful and smart, and if she grew to take after her mother, which was probable, then she would be a refined beauty even in a world where the average physical appearance was higher than that of the muggle world. Magic, it seemed, not only made those who could wield it stronger and more durable, but it also ensured our looks were superior.

  The issue I had was that, while I wouldn’t say my heart was set on it, I wanted Bella. Forgetting that she deserved better than Rodolphus, or that being forced to marry that fool would see her dragged under the control of Voldemort, I found myself enjoying my time around her more than any other girl or lady. Save, perhaps, Aífe Mac Uidhir, though there I knew it was simply because I could only practice Shadow Magic with Aífe.

  In theory, if Bella could free herself of Rodolphus’s grasp – with or without my help – then I would approach Arcturus for her hand. The issue, beyond the fair chance I might already be engaged to another before then, was that Bella might not wish to marry someone four years her junior, nor be accepting of the position of second wife. She might also simply not wish to marry anyone or consider me unworthy of her hand.

  Regardless of all that, however, I would do all I could, whether she asked for help or not, to free her from the chains that bound her to Rodolphus Lestrange. Yet, I couldn’t sit around and wait for her to be free of him, and then maybe be interested in becoming mine. The longer I delayed sorting out my betrothal, the greater the odds that the choices available to me would both dwindle and, as horrible as I was to consider when thinking about finding someone to spend the rest of my life with, cost me influence with another Clan or House. I wanted to marry someone I enjoyed being around, and could potentially love, yet I understood that in this world, I didn’t have the luxury of waiting forever to make a choice.

  “A Sickle for your thoughts.”

  I looked at Vesta and saw she was watching me carefully. “Is that all they’re worth to you?” I asked, drawing what I felt was a warm and genuine smile from her.

  “No. I suspect whatever rattles around inside that thick skull of yours is worth less,” she retorted, and I couldn’t help but smile back. “However, if I offered less, it would offend you, and offering more would be a waste of Galleons.” She leaned closer, pushing her shoulder into my upper arm. “So, will you tell me what it is that has you so absentminded that you’ve not taken me to the nurse’s station in the duelling corridor, but seem to instead be taking me elsewhere?”

  I blinked and looked around. “Whoops,” I muttered as I confirmed that I had led her out of the corridor that contained the various chambers for duelling, be that wand or sword, and that we now stood before the staircase in this tower of Hogwarts. “Sorry. I was just… considering Clan business.”

  “So long as that business didn’t involve you doing anything untoward regarding me, then so be it.”

  “And if I was?” I shot back before I could stop myself. If that was, I wanted to stop myself.

  Vesta lifted her free hand to her face and covered her mouth as she giggled in what was a sickly sweet, and thus fake, manner. “But we’re not yet engaged, Chief Dòmhnall. What would others say if you took advantage of a pure and innocent maiden such as myself?”

  I snorted and shook my head. “Pure you might be, Vesta, but innocent? Never.” She slapped my arm, though there was no malice behind it. “Now, I think it best we head back into the chamber and have the witch look you over. I fear you are coming down with a case of pseudo-naivety that could only be the work of some vile curse.”

  “Probably something from the badgers,” Vesta suggested as she let me turn us around, “making everyone like everyone is the sort of dark magic they would deploy.”

  I laughed in agreement and started walking back down the duelling corridor and to the nurse’s station there. I didn’t know what path I would choose regarding Vesta, but I wouldn’t deny that she was someone I wanted to keep in my circle, even if that was only as a friend.

  … …

  … …

  “Could. You. Slow. Down?”

  I turned and looked over my shoulder, chuckling at the comment from Lauchlan McCaul. The boy was from a branch of Clan McCaul and was in Ravenclaw. I’d not had much interaction with him or his Clan as they were a lowlands Clan. Add in that their Chief was a member of the Progressive Builder faction in the Wizengamot – the faction that most heavily backed Dumbledore – and I had little need to engage with him. However, it turned out he was a friend of Bradley’s and, as such, I saw no issue with having him join the morning training sessions I ran.

  Well, saying it was a training session was a bit of a misnomer, but every morning that I could, I came out before breakfast to exercise around the grounds of Hogwarts. Normally, that wasn’t much more than running several laps around the castle to help improve my general fitness and stamina, but on the days I couldn’t get out, or when others were outside doing other things, I’d find an area and work out as best I could.

  Since the start of this school year, most of my training was adapted from what I’d learnt in Sparta, and as the year had gone on, more and more of my yearmates had begun to join me. The core group was around twenty Slytherins, along with Bradley and Andrew, though after my performance in the wand duelling club, the group had swollen to close to a hundred boys.

  Some girls had started coming out to exercise as well, including Vesta Malfoy, Adilene Pontius, and Enya Delaney, but they exercised separately and not to the level that I and those with me did. That was their choice, as it was with any who joined my sessions, but it seemed that some of the newer members were struggling to keep up. A common occurrence that never failed to amuse me.

  “This is just the warm-up,” I shot back at Lauchlan, “though as it’s your first time, it’s fine if you can only manage that.” I turned back around, focusing on where I was heading. As I did so, several of those in my core group – and thus those who’d been doing this the longest – smirked. At the same time, Lauchlan and others groaned.

  “New week, same thing.” The comment came from a Hufflepuff boy, Rupert Cockburn, who was running near my left shoulder.

  Rupert was one of the few others to not just keep up with my core group of Slytherins but surpass them in overall fitness. That said, he couldn’t keep up with me. My advantages came not just from the boosts of my fleshcarved arrays but from the fact I’d been exercising ever since claiming my title as the MacLeod of MacLeod.

  I’d met Rupert during the first month of First Year, as he had come out to exercise each morning as well. As we’d never interacted before Hogwarts, given the general reputation that most had of Slytherin, we’d taken time to get comfortable around each other, but over time, we’d become acquaintances.

  I wouldn’t say we were friends even now, but he didn’t have any issues with us exercising together, nor with the group that was out here with us. Overall, Rupert was an average student at Hogwarts, though I suspected he’d be one of the top-rated at one of the smaller magical academies that those who didn’t get into Hogwarts attended. However, what made him potentially useful, and why I’d done my best to stay on his good side – even diffusing a few small issues between him and several Slytherins – was that he offered a potential window into Hufflepuff.

  Many might look down on the house, which, considering it often ended the year at the bottom of the house cup standings and rarely produced champions in any major club or activity, wasn’t a surprise. However, the house still had a hundred of the top wizards and witches from each age group in it, and gaining influence there was worth pursuing. I didn’t expect Rupert to help me gain the ear of the majority of his house in our year, but even a handful would be worthwhile, and as we now had a dozen badgers joining us, it seemed my efforts were paying off.

  “Give them some slack,” I responded to Rupert. “Not everyone has great fitness, just as not everyone is great at every subject.”

  “I know, I just expected better. All we ever hear is how great Slytherin is, but that lot are pathetic.”

  I shrugged, letting the teasing comment about my house wash over me without bothering to respond. I’d known Rupert long enough to know that he wasn’t taking a dig at the house, but at those who considered themselves better than others simply because they were in Slytherin. To me, if one wanted to boast about being better, they had to back it up, and while I could stand above everyone in my year, I didn’t boast except to put down those who deserved it. I knew what I was capable of, and while I now sat comfortably at the top of the Second-Year standings, I wasn’t perfect.

  My position in both duelling clubs was secure, though I remained fourth overall academically in the year. I’d overtaken Christine Greengrass in Transfiguration for first place, while I’d sat there from the get-go in Runes, and held top-five positions in several other subjects. However, I was weighed down by Potions, Herbology, and Care of Magical Creatures. For the first two, I lacked the skill with them to truly excel, while for the latter, I wasn’t as interested in the subject as I could be.

  Now, that wasn’t to say that CoMC wasn’t enjoyable, nor that Professor Reed was a bad teacher. I just found myself less interested in the general care and upkeep of magical beasts than in considering how I might take them down if I were ever forced to fight them. Sadly, the creatures that might be more interesting were off-limits to Second Years, and I was uncertain about taking the subject into Third Year.

  As of now, outside of the base subjects of Charms, Transfiguration, DADA, Astronomy, Herbology, History of Magic, and Potions, I intended to take Runes, Arithmancy and Care of Magical Creatures. If this had been the other magical timeline, and Professor Binns was a teacher here, then I’d have found some way to get out of History. Thankfully, that wasn’t the case, and while the subject matter taught in the class lacked nuance, if not outright avoiding and rewording certain subjects that differed wildly from what I’d read elsewhere, it was wise to study History. Otherwise, we would be doomed to repeat the same mistakes as we move into the future.

  Still, I could take up to eleven subjects, so I might yet change my mind about CoMC and others I’d yet to be certain of taking, but I’d have to see how I felt in the coming weeks, as the choices needed to be made until after the April break, which was in a few weeks.

  There was one other class that I intended to take, and that was Wandless Magic. However, that wasn’t one selected from the list; instead, with places for that class limited, it was one that had to be offered by the Professors. To be offered a place in a Wandless Magic class, one had to be in the top one hundred students in Second Year and accept the offer. From those I’d spoken to, most seemed interested in the class, though it wasn’t unheard of for some to choose not to attend. Their focus or interests might lie elsewhere, and they wished to concentrate on those rather than attempting to learn Wandless Magic.

  Learning to cast wandlessly, while common outside of Europe, was rare within the Isles. According to the theory behind it, the older and more accustomed one became with a wand or other medium, the harder it was to cast without one. Because I’d taken a trait for it, I could already cast a handful of spells that way. All of them were weaker than if cast with one of my wands; however, the ability to cast certain spells without a wand, or even saying the incantation, was something I felt would be extremely useful in certain situations in my later years at Hogwarts and beyond.

  “Right, you lot!” I called out as we came into sight of the main entrance of Hogwarts once again. “One more lap. This time faster!” The groans that came from behind me brought a chuckle to my lips. “If anyone’s more than a minute slower, they can either run another lap or do fifty push-ups!” I added for my amusement.

  With that, I increased my pace, with Rupert and others nearby doing likewise. I knew I was pushing the newer members of this group, but if they wanted to be useful to my plans, they had to prove themselves. Even if they didn’t realise that was my primary goal behind this, it would help them become better wizards and students. From there, I could potentially gain influence with them that I could harness, I hoped, into making them more agreeable to my future goals. If not, and I faced them on a battlefield, so be it. I’d rather I had to work for the future I wished to shape than have it handed to me once Dumbledore and Voldemort were defeated and gone.

  … …

  … …

  (??? POV)

  As always, he woke up groggily, though, as his brain engaged fully, he realised that he wasn’t in his bed in Hogwarts. As his thoughts began to focus on that, he turned, wanting to stand and discover where he was. However, he quickly realised that not only could he not roll over, but that he was already vertical.

  Pushing down the swelling fear that rushed through his body, knowing that failing to remain calm would only cause him to miss something that might later be important. Shifting his head, he tried to look down at the bonds that held him, but wasn’t able to see what it was. Testing the restraints, he discovered that his entire body was secured, with only the bare minimum of movement available to him. Just enough for example that he could breathe clearly.

  Searching his location as best he could, the young man found nothing that might hint as to where he was. Everything was black, though, within the darkness, he swore he heard things shifting around. Things that, even with his understanding of magic, made no sense. It was almost as if the nothingness that surrounded him was alive.

  He looked inward and focused on Hogwarts, intending to apparate back. Yet instead of the familiar tug that began at the base of his stomach, he felt nothing. That caused a return of the fear he’d felt earlier, though with his mental training, he was easily able to silence the concern before it became anything more than a faint irritation.

  He tested his restraints again but still found nowhere near enough movement to suggest he might be able to slip free of them. As such, his thoughts turned inward, reviewing his memories to determine how he had ended up here. Wherever here was.

  He recalled heading into his shared room last evening, at least he assumed it was the previous evening. His routine had been the standard one, with his wand placed securely in its holster under his pillow while the wards he had crafted into his bed had been active. There should’ve been no way for anyone, not even a Professor of the Headmaster, to remove him from his bed without the wards waking him. Yet here he was.

  An attempt to summon his wand to his hand, as expected, failed. The next step was the casting of a wandless spell. He only knew a few, but if he could at least cast those, he had a chance to escape his restraints, discover where he was and who had taken him. The sense of dread that had lingered almost from the moment he had awoken returned when he failed to cast anything wandlessly. Even the most basic of charms, Lumos, failed to draw a response from magic.

  That was concerning, as he’d never heard of a way to suppress someone’s magic so effectively that the most basic of charms failed to work. At the back of his mind, the thought that he’d somehow lost his magic sprouted. It made no sense for that to be the case, yet it was a fear that any pureblood held. The idea of being worse off than a squib and comparable to a muggle sent a small shiver up his spine. He quickly suppressed that fear, knowing it served no purpose other than to distract him from seeking a method to slip free of his bonds and escape from wherever he was.

  He did what he could to examine his cage, for that was what it was, his mind processing everything logically, trying to make sense of his surroundings. Yet nothing did. He knew he was restrained, yet the bonds weren’t visible to him, given his current position. Nor was there any hint of the walls of his cage, with those replaced by the odd shifting darkness that moved without any discernible pattern or rhythm.

  He knew that as soon as his friends awoke, they would realise he was missing and alert the Professors. Perhaps they already had, in which case the Professors and those damned elves would be working to locate him. One of those creatures must’ve seen his abductor in action. They had to be at least as trained as those his family had, and he remembered all the times playing with his cousins when his parents, elders, or the Lord of his House was alerted to their actions whenever they stepped out of line.

  While from a cadet branch of House Packard, he was still important. His presence at Hogwarts and within Slytherin proved that. His parents would demand he be found; his Lord would force the DMLE – as useless as the Ministry was, at least that department seemed to act with logic – to search for him. All it would take was time, and he could be patient. Perhaps he might even discover who his abductor was and find some method of escaping his bonds and overpowering the fool that had dared to capture him.

  … …

  His mind ran through his memories, working to ensure that he didn’t lose himself in the continual nothingness that surrounded and he suspected, bound him. Without a way to determine time, he couldn’t be certain how long had passed. All he had to go on were the memories that he was reviewing and watching to alleviate the gnawing boredom and despondency. Yet even with his Occlumency, he could feel the numbness of the situation was beginning to chip away at his resolve.

  Just how long did whoever had brought him here expect him to wait? Why had they not come to at the very least reveal themselves? From that, he might have some idea as to why he had been brought to this shifting pit of nothingness and what it was those who had captured him sought.

  He wasn’t anyone major, though he was no weakling or muggle-loving fool. Not like those pitiful badgers or even some of the younger students in Slytherin. No, he was a pureblood who understood that the purity of one’s blood mattered in determining someone’s importance.

  He had plans to work in the Ministry, exploiting his family name and blood status to find a position of wealth. One that he could use to further pursue his goals and gain the attention of a witch worthy of carrying his spawn. Yet for those ambitions to come to fruition, he needed to find some way to escape his current predicament. Which required his captors to reveal themselves.

  “How much longer are you going to make me wait?” He asked, his voice calm and controlled. He doubted those responsible were present. After all, there had been no reply to any of the hundreds of questions, demands, and statements he’d brought forth in this strange place. Yet he would continue to ask them. It would show whoever was behind his abduction that he was far from breaking and that they would gain nothing from this assault against his character. “Do you lack the conviction to face me? Show yourself, you coward!”

  The demand was, as expected, unanswered. His voice dissipated into the void as if the walls around him absorbed the sound. Of course, since he had never seen a hint of the edges of his cage, never mind some form of exit, it didn’t help him at all to know his voice wasn’t carrying anywhere.

  All he could do was keep himself focused and await something happening. Though as the memories passed by, he wondered when that might be.

  … …

  “Show yourself, you weakling!” He snapped, his patience ebbing as his anger rose. He struggled against his bonds, attempting vigorously to escape them. They refused to ease no matter what he did. His head tried and failed to snap around, helping to further the image that he had lost control of himself and was slowly breaking.

  He wasn’t. This was just a show he had crafted with a partition of his mind designed to draw a reaction from his captors. He had reviewed every memory he had of his years at Hogwarts to pass the time, particularly those of the last few years. He remembered with glee the way he and others had coerced those filthy mudblood whores into serving them. They were unworthy of the magic they possessed and being at Hogwarts instead of good and pureblood witches, yet at least they served some purpose.

  None of the girls remembered exactly what had been done to them. One of his friends was highly skilled at the use of mind-altering charms. But he remembered. The sounds they made each time they felt they were first being forced to service him and his friends, the pitiful begging and whimpering to be let go, always served to amuse and arouse him.

  It was those memories, once he had enjoyed reliving them, that had helped him craft this plan. Displaying emotional responses to his confinement, letting anger slip out, and seemingly losing control of his manners might convince those behind his abduction to reveal themselves. If not, he would slip into a seeming melancholy and beg and plead for his freedom.

  Those responsible would have to reveal themselves eventually. There was no way they could continue to keep him here. Others would know by now that he was missing and be working to find him. His captors would’ve made some mistake that eventually would see the DMLE determine where he was being held. Yet, as much as he looked forward to the day he was free and could see those responsible for this heinous assault on his status brought to justice, he would prefer to gain his freedom himself.

  Having to rely on others would simply make people believe he was weak, and that was something he would not accept. He would confront and overcome his captor; of this, he was certain. However, for that to happen, they had to show themselves.

  “What’s the matter?” He shouted, the partition behind his outward behaviour raging against his restraints. “Are you too scared and weak to show yourselves? You’re not better than a muggle-loving, goblin-fucking ignorant fool. When My Lord discovers what has happened to me, he will see you sent to the deepest, darkest depths of Azkaban for the dementors to feast upon for the rest of your miserable lives!”

  … …

  He was unmoving in his cell, or what he considered his cell. Anger had failed to draw a response from those behind his confinement. Pleading and begging had also failed, so now he was projecting numbness. If he could convince them he had broken from the nothingness of his imprisonment, they would reveal themselves, and he could – finally – move on to working to escape from this hellhole.

  There was no way that his Lord and parents weren’t looking for him. Even that fool of a Headmaster had to be working to locate him. The damage to his reputation and that of Hogwarts would force the supposedly great and powerful Dumbledore to work with others to find and free him.

  He had accepted that his chances of escaping his prison were remote. There was nothing around him that might offer a chance to slip free. Nor had his bonds grown slack since he first woke here. His body ached, desperate for nourishment, yet he didn’t feel hungry, nor had he slept since he awoke. There was something about this place that ensured he remained unaffected by the normal restrictions of being alive, though how they worked, and what powered these charms, he didn’t know. All he did was that they ensured his torment continued without offering him the chance to seek solace in slumber.

  Time was something he had no certainty of. He was sure it had been days since his abduction, yet how many exactly he couldn’t say. The clock he had once used to control his thoughts felt unreliable. The lack of anything external to focus on, or the chance to rest and recuperate, convinced him that his understanding of the passage of time was broken. No doubt an effect of whatever strange magic was keeping him here.

  He didn’t feel he had lost track of time entirely, but he was so uncertain of the passage of time that it might well have been over half a month since he had awoken here. The lack of rest, sustenance, or hint of any passage of time, however, made it impossible to judge with any certainty.

  All he knew was that his captors were incredibly patient and restrained. While it was a small comfort to know something about them, it offered no insight beyond the fact that his ordeal would continue for however long they wished.

  All he wanted right now was to at least know he had a captor and hadn’t been forgotten.

  … …

  “NO! MERCY!”

  The scream, wherever it had come from, caused the boy to snap to attention. The false melancholy he had been displaying for what felt like days vanished from his eyes, though he was able to ensure his body didn’t stiffen and shatter the illusion of defeat he was projecting.

  “PLEASE! NO MORE!”

  The voice… he knew it. It was one of his roommates. The name took a fraction longer to surface than he had expected, but he had it easily enough. Colin Gilbert.

  Like him, Colin was from a cadet branch of his House. That was why they, and others, had gathered together and worked to gain power in their year. They were lucky in that regard, as there had only been one heir or firstborn son of an heir in their year: Rodolphus Lestrange.

  “I’M BEGGING YOU! PLEASE!”

  Lestrange’s position at the top of their year remained to this day, but he wasn’t the best in the year. Not in duelling nor any subject. Still, his position as heir of House Lestrange granted him a position of importance. By working with Lestrange and those close to him, he, Gilbert, and others had gained power and influence within Slytherin that went beyond their positions in their respective Houses. So much power that when issues arose with the younger years, or those in other houses who forgot their place in this world, it was he and his friends who handled the discipline.

  Perhaps that was part of why they were here, wherever here was. Had they made a mistake against someone and brought forth retribution?

  No. That couldn’t be it. None would dare strike at them. They made sure no one remembered anything about their punishment. All were either dealt with after being stunned and subdued or had their memories altered so they couldn’t reveal their faces. There was no way this was a retaliation for their actions in the last few years.

  “I’LL DO WHATEVER YOU WANT! JUST STOP! PLEASE!”

  While his face stayed blank, projecting the dejection he hoped would lull his captors into a false sense of security, in his mind, he snarled. Gilbert had broken easily by the sound of it. What secrets would that fool give up that would see him punished? What lies and drivel would Gilbert spew in an attempt to save himself from further punishment?

  “IT WASN’T MY CHOICE! THEY TOLD ME TO DO IT!”

  Behind the massive barriers protecting his mind, he grunted at Gilbert’s weakness. That fool was about to break and reveal everything they’d done during their rise to power within Hogwarts. Whoever had captured them – he was now certain that it hadn’t just been him but his roommates as well, as why stop at two when they could take all five of them – would learn their secrets. The question was how they would use it against them.

  Such information was enough to see them sent to Azkaban for life, if not earn a Dementor’s Kiss. Yet given how the information had been gained, it wouldn’t be usable before the Wizengamot or any Ministry court. None of them held a position of power in their Houses. Only James Richardson was of the main line, and he had two older brothers who would inherit before him, and the eldest had a potential heir on the way.

  “IT WAS COLIN AND JAMES WHO SAID TO ATTACK YOU! IT WAS THEIR IDEA! JUST STOP HURTING ME!”

  He grunted in the depths of his mindscape, cursing out Gilbert for dropping him in the flames in an attempt to save himself. Still, that at least gave him a hint of who it might be who was responsible for their abduction. Each of their group had different targets and goals, but they worked together to achieve them all. Since Gilbert had revealed that he was the one who attacked their captor, he could now work to determine who was behind this elaborate imprisonment.

  With that knowledge, he could devise a plan to ensure he survived this. Even if it meant scarfing everyone else, he would work to ensure he wouldn’t lose his rights and freedom.

  … …

  His head snapped up as he realised that, for the first time since rousing within this realm of darkness, he wasn’t alone.

  Before him stood a figure, one that seemed to be part of the shadows that swirled around and kept him restrained.

  “Sorry it took so long to speak with you,” the face said, though he couldn’t see the figure move as it spoke, “I had others that were more… forthcoming with information than yourself.”

  He stayed still, keeping his body still as his eyes tried to determine anything about the figure. Their voice was male, though it was distorted in ways that made it devoid of any hint of accent and hid the possible reveal of the figure’s age. There was a slight weariness to the words, suggesting the figure before them was tired. If that was with life, or the hassle of breaking Gilbert, he couldn’t say, but it was a sliver of information for him to work with as he began – finally – building an idea of who was behind their capture.

  “Ah, I see you’re going with the appearance of someone who’s given up,” the figure stated, a flicker of amusement in their odd tone. “Hardly a surprise, but we both know it’s a lie. You’re using your occlumency to keep yourself sane in the deepest corners of your mind while making it seem as if you’ve broken.” The figure shifted around, seemingly part of the darkness that surrounded them, without appearing to put effort into the movement. “I’ll give you credit. You went through the stages of breaking, as one would expect of a prisoner who came to realise they couldn’t escape perfectly. For that, I commend you.”

  He stayed still, keeping his thoughts in the depths of his mind behind the various walls he had crafted to protect his thoughts from others. Whoever this figure was, they were powerful, of that he had no doubt. Yet there was something off about the figure. As if they shouldn’t be as powerful as they were.

  There’d been no display of power that he might expect of someone looking to assert dominance. Nor was there a certainty in their actions that spoke to long-enshrined experience with doing whatever it was they were doing. Yet he was also certain that the figure was committed to following through; Gilbert’s screams, along with those of Dawkins and Sullivan, confirmed that.

  “If I had taken you somewhere more common for such discussions, I do not doubt that you and your friends, if you truly consider them that, would’ve managed to escape. Each of you is a powerful wizard. However, where we are isn’t somewhere where any of you have power.” A shadowy shape formed under the figure’s face, and he realised it was an arm. Or at least what should be an arm.

  The palm opened, facing upwards. As he watched, the darkness that was around the palm seemed to grow darker. In the depths of his mind, he worked to understand what was happening and realised that the shadow wasn’t growing darker, it was growing denser. The spectral figure was somehow making it have form and shape like a book or inkwell might.

  Whatever magic this was, he had never heard of it, but he felt a tremor race down his spine as he understood that this cell, his bonds, and perhaps whatever else lay nearby, was controlled completely by the figure in front of him. If he had his wand or could use what magic he could wandlessly, he felt he might have a chance to escape. Yet, even as he considered that, there was a dawning realisation that escaping his bonds wouldn’t grant him his freedom.

  “Where am I?” He asked, dismissing the fa?ade he’d held for what felt like weeks. “What have you done to the others?”

  The figure chuckled; the sound was ominous enough to cause him to tense as if expecting an attack, so that he knew his only chance of survival was to escape. “The others, or at least those I’ve spoken to, are… recovering. They were reluctant to provide me with the information I requested, and I was forced to get creative in convincing them.” He didn’t understand how it happened, but he felt his bonds tighten as the figure moved closer, floating towards him like a… like a dementor. “As for where we are, well, I’ll keep that answer to myself for the time being.”

  His mouth opened, a challenge on his lips. It never came, however, as the figure drifted closer and he could see its eyes. Twin pools of malignant yellow glowed in the darkness, drawing his focus even as they caused his body to still. The figure wasn’t projecting power, nor was there an intent to hurt or kill in those orbs of malice. However, he knew that this figure who had captured him would do whatever it took to learn what it wanted.

  He would break just as the others had; he was certain of that. No matter what he tried or how he resisted, he would shatter before this demonic figure that shifted in the shadows. “Wh-what are you?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

  The figure chuckled. The sound seemingly caused his bonds to tighten. “Who I am is unimportant,” the figure stated as he felt the bonds press against his skin, shifting to feel as if a million needles were preparing to sink into his flesh. “What I want to learn, however, is.”

  The bonds tightened further. The pricks against his skin sliced into him, forcing their ichor into his flesh. Externally, he didn’t react as he pulled back from his body, cutting himself off from the assault it was under. In the safety of his thoughts, he recoiled as fear – true, primal fear – raced through his mind. This figure… this monster, they would do whatever it took to discover whatever it was they wanted. He would resist, he knew that, but he understood that he couldn’t last forever.

  This place, wherever it was, belonged to the figure and no matter how long it took, the figure would get what he wanted. The choice he now faced was discovering what, if anything, he could do so that he emerged from his capture with some semblance of himself intact.

  … …

  … …

  (Dòmhnall’s POV)

  I leaned back and looked out the window of the Express. It was the end of the April break, and we were returning to Hogwarts. The holiday had been a quiet one for me. I’d spent most of my time either having friends over to relax or study or practising with the training equipment in Dunscaith. With the sword and wand duelling competitions due to begin their initial stages a week after we returned to Hogwarts, I wanted to prepare as well as I could for them.

  I expected to do well in sword duelling, though I knew there were limits to how I would perform that I couldn’t overcome. The benefits of growth, even when countered slightly by my flesh arrays, ensured an advantage that was almost insurmountable to overcome. At least when it came to taking on Fourth Years while only in Second Year myself.

  For the wand tournament, I had higher hopes. I wasn’t expecting to win the damn thing, or even make the last eight, but I wanted to match what Lucius Malfoy and Bella had achieved in the last few years. Being one of the last thirty-two combatants left would mark me out as the power figure in my year, and if I played things right, could see me swell my influence not just beyond my year but into those above and below as well.

  “Did you hear? Those Seventh Years are still missing.”

  The comment had come from Daimen Blackwood, who was one of several in the cabin with me.

  “Yeah, the Prophet’s still running with the story. They’ve been slating Dumbledore for the entire break on the matter,” Francis Bickerstaffe added while no doubt having a smirk on his face. Like many in our house, he carried some dislike of the Headmaster. “We might even see him challenged over continuing as Headmaster if things worsen.”

  I hoped it didn’t come to that, as while I would prefer to remain far from Dumbledore’s sight, if he were removed from Hogwarts, it would allow him to move more easily once Voldemort began to move openly. So far, there weren’t any hints in the papers of an increase in werewolf or giant attacks, or anything else that seemed out of the norm, but I knew the timer was ticking until he began to make his first public moves.

  “Didn’t they run a story on your attack as well, Dòmhnall?”

  I turned to face Godwine since he had spoken directly to me. “They did, though, without speaking to me about the matter. Suffice to say, my representatives spoke to them about that and ensured they would never do so again. It seems someone forgot that I’m The MacLeod of MacLeod and not just another student.”

  I didn’t enjoy having to pull my title into settling the matter, but adding that to my ownership of a small fraction of the paper, along with the backing of Arcturus and, though I only learnt of it yesterday, Abraxas Malfoy, had ensured the Prophet’s management made sure my name stayed out of the stories regarding the missing students.

  The two Lords had, for different reasons, backed my effort to warn the paper’s editors. Beyond the news being something that shouldn’t have been published without my consent, it raised questions about me, and when I’d been in Diagon Alley, I’d heard a few whispers of people suspecting me of being behind the disappearance of the five Seventh Year students.

  The DMLE had also called me to speak with them, though, as I had been asleep in my room the night the quintet had disappeared and had sworn under oath that I’d not used my wand that night nor entered the Seventh-Year corridor, I was cleared by them of any involvement in the matter. Dumbledore had, in the same article, helped clear my name before any serious accusations could be made. He had revealed, or perhaps reminded others, since many figures of power in our world had attended Hogwarts, that I couldn't enter the room in question without an invitation, with the same being true of the corridor containing the upper years in Slytherin.

  “Were any of them involved in that attack?” Damien asked, a slight glint in his eye.

  “I never saw anyone before I was assaulted. The DMLE has a copy of the memory, so if they discovered a link between the missing Slytherins and myself, they haven’t revealed it to me.” My answer was calmly delivered, though I allowed a hint of annoyance to slide into my tone. “Besides, the odds I could overpower any Seventh Year, never mind five of them, even if I got the jump on them, is so absurd to be suitable for a fairy tale instead of being passed around as news and gossip.”

  “Yeah, that’s true. Still, I expect the Headmaster and Professors will make some changes to the rules once we return,” Lasadh Astra, without lifting his head from whatever book he was perusing. “The disappearance of so many students so unexpectedly has cast a pall over the school. They would have to do something to reassure the rest of us, along with our parents and the Ministry, that they remain committed to ensuring our safety.”

  As the conversation continued, I turned back to the window, letting my thoughts drift. It was unfortunate that those Seventh Years had been abducted, but they no doubt deserved whatever punishments they were receiving.

  … …

  … …

  ...

  As always if you wish to join the community for the story and support my writing, you can find links here.

  Regardless if you join the discord or support my writing, I hope you enjoy the story and suggestions, valid criticisms, and ideas are always welcome.