18

Chapter 18: The Million Eyes

"Dear Lucius,

I thank you for your speedy delivery and consideration for venturing into such a dreadful place. As thank you, here are the answers to your three questions: 1) The ring has a separate significance for separate intents. For instance, it belonged to Marvolo Gaunt, a descendant of Salazar Slytherin. For him, it was an heirloom, a priceless testament to his heritage. To me, it is simply a tool. And to you, it is but a task on the rung. 2) Have I destroyed your memories? I thought I had covered my tracks well enough- apparently not. Your memories are still in existence, but not in my possession. They're safe enough. 3) A chance at getting them back? Perhaps, perhaps not. It all depends on how well and if you obey. By the by, have you ever heard of Slytherin's locket? It once belonged to the Gaunt's but a certain tragedy overthrew them. Perhaps some prying is in Order?

Happy Valentine's Day,

Altair" –from Chapter 16: Ring of Power

.oOo.

Well damn. Lucius was completely and utterly screwed...and yet, there was that condemning glimmer of hope at the end of the road. He was not as concerned about the ring as he was about his memories. Honestly! His seven years of life were still in existence, but not available to him! Though the solution was pretty clear: research Slytherin's locket, jump through a few more hoops, and he might possibly get his thoughts back!

Which was nice and all, except for the fact that the Gaunt House was not his ideal visiting location. It was downright eerie and his suspicions stirred up as to why this mysterious Altair would need them. If the diary belonged to Tom Riddle and the ring belonged to Tom Riddle, then how on earth were the Gaunt's involved, especially as the objects simply gushed with dark magic and the former was in the previous possession of the Dark Lord?

But the fact remained: he had to comply. He had, obviously, tried tracking the letter, tracking the owl, bloody pulling strings at the Ministry to search for an Altair Castell who was quite clearly marked as dead! The unknown was driving him insane, and if there was one thing Lucius hated, it was being at the mercy of somebody. Anybody. Or rather, just Altair Castell- and what was with his bloody son anyway? Yet, he had to admit that Altair knew how to play the game. He knew which buttons to push to get Lucius fetching like a lapdog. Namely, his family and memories of said family. And for this, Lucius had an inexplicable respect for the man, a curiosity, fascination almost...

"Dobby!" he snapped as the little elf appeared before him.

"Yes? What is Master Lucius be wanting, sir?" Dobby squeaked, looking up at him with impossibly wide eyes. He wore a clean white pillowcase with hemmed armholes and had an almost weary expression on his face, as if he had been caught in wrongdoing. Luckily for him, Lucius couldn't really be concerned about his elf's new attire, and immediately demanded for books to be brought from the Malfoy family library. There were innumerable dusty family archives in the Malfoy Library, and if Lucius was going to do his research, then there was no better place to start than right at home.

The Gaunts? The flicked his wand at the heavy leather bound tome, searching for passages relating to the name. Surely it couldn't have been that important because he would have heard of it before! Lucius Malfoy prided himself on knowing everyone within the Ministry, and if there was even a page by the name of Gaunt, Lucius would know. The pages swept back, rapidly as if someone were running across, and Lucius' jaw dropped.

Bloody fucking hell! He was face to face with a family tree of Salazar Slytherin! Which he really shouldn't have been surprised at, seeing as Altair had already told him, but it was a completely other thing to see it now, it writing. All the way at the bottom of the 10th page after Slytherin's heading, was the little magical addition of a small branch of Gaunt's. It was confirmed then- Altair really hadn't been lying. He had set foot in a House of Slytherin. And yet, it was the shabbiest, most pathetic shamble the Malfoy lord had ever seen! Glancing above the page for notes, he was also astounded to see how the family tree dwindled from 20 heirs at any given generation to the pitiful Gaunt shoot.

Pureblood inbreeding.

He shook the thoughts away, wondering why on earth he had thought of that, before concentrating on the dying branch of Slytherin. Marvolo Gaunt had been married to a Megaera Peverell, though her own family tree was only referenced with an asterisk. The name Peverell was only familiar to him through the Tales of Beedle the Bard, which of course, was a silly child's story. Even so, to see the name in relation to Slytherin gave him a jolt of foreboding. He quickly moved one, passing to the children Morfin and Merope. He recalled several bedrooms at the house, and so was not overly surprised that a small family lived there once upon a time. Morfin's line ended, but Merope had the most peculiar tie and drop down line to a single name. Because it was a Malfoy book, all muggles were promptly erased unless the incantation was given. Obviously curious, he tapped the book and whispered, "Nomen Revelio!"

Instantly, the name Tom Riddle Sr. appeared beside Merope's name, and Lucius nearly had a heart attack. Tom Riddle. The diary! Things were making sense now, but only just a little. He understood the connections, but not the why. And finally, the very last name was Tom Marvolo Riddle Jr. It was in bold. A little note marked him as the heir of Salazar Slytherin.

What the hell? The man was alive? If he was alive, then where was he? Why wasn't he pushing for legislation? Why wasn't he making a fortune writing books? Or running for Minister of Magic? Why wasn't he doing all these useless things that would make him rich, simply for the fact that he was the last living heir of Salazar Slytherin? And why did Lucius not know him?

Lucius sighed and stowed the book in his desk. Distantly, he heard Narcissa break through the wards.

.oOo.

Hasan sifted through the library shelves, anxious for any information. Draco had been eerily estranging himself from Hasan and the rest of the group, instead keeping to his room, and occasionally playing a game of exploding snap with Theodore Nott. When Draco spotted Hasan, anywhere, whether it was at the table, in the common, or during class, the blonde would immediately quiet and attempt to look the other way. All these things Hasan saw and knew with clarity, and Hasan couldn't bring himself to feel a single thing. Just thoughts. Many, many, interlocking, contradicting, webs and weaves of thoughts.

Was Draco mad at him?

Was Draco having a bad day?

Was Draco mad at something he had said?

Had Hasan done anything?

Did something else cause it to happen?

What was really happening?

Was it Draco's problem?

Did Draco expect help?

Was it Hasan's problem?

Was Draco expecting Hasan to ask for help?

And what the hell was this about trust?

The last time they had met, as in, actually welcomed each other's company was nearly a month ago in the Room of Requirement. Trust? What type of unspecific sudden unfair question was that? What defined trust anyway? And did Draco's definition actually match the accuracy of Hasan's or the dictionary's? The thing was, Hasan wasn't sure what to make of Draco's strange behavior, except that...Well the obvious. Draco didn't trust Hasan.

Were all people like this? Hasan wondered. Did all people demand mutual emotions or else those feelings were considered null? What type of idiotic system was that? But the point was, Hasan did know of something. Obliviation.

Luna had said that Lupin had obliviated the entire Dueling Club, and the Gryffindors and Slytherins in his DADA class. Why? Well, because Lupin obviously thought he was odd, or that Lupin wanted this under wraps, or that Lupin thought that Hasan thought he wanted it under wraps. Hasan ran his fingers through the S section of the shelf, scanning, searching...but Lupin wasn't the problem here. Neither was Draco really. It was him. All him.

It wasn't that outlandish to guess that Draco suspected he had been obliviated. It wasn't outlandish to guess that Draco knew something had happened in there to involve Hasan Castell. Hasan wasn't that open to begin with, and adding the overhanging possibility of multiple obliviations did nothing to help him. Well, that was a real shame, because if Draco was going to sulk and hide in the corner, then so be it. Hasan was not sad. He was NOT!

But he was curious...where had that voice even come from? The hissing? Was there another in this school? Another in the world? Or another snake?

"Hey, Hasan!"

"Wh-!"

He whipped around to be met with Luna's smiling face. Her silvery eyes blinked at him innocently as she held out a thin red book.

"Oh, hello, Luna." Hasan said with a slight sheepish smile.

"You're researching the Castle Beasts, right?" Luna asked cheerfully.

"Your Inspiration?" Hasas hypothesized blankly.

"Mmhmm!" She nodded happily and gave him the thin book. "It's by Trevenia Trew. I got it from the Restricted Section!"

Hasan accepted the book graciously but then frowned. "You got a pass?" If there was a spell on these books...if he was traced...if Luna was involved...if they knew why, if they knew, if anyone knew...

"Of course not, silly." Luna giggled. "I found it lying in the wrong section. It was checked out by someone else, I think, and they forgot to put it back."

"Aren't the books returned magically, Luna?" Hasan asked suspiciously.

"Oh! So they are!" she grinned. "Perhaps the reader was recent?" Luna brushed her blonde hair from her face and sighed. "Sometimes I think the Universe is timed and actions speak louder than words. Well, I'd check page 35 if I were you. Of course, I'm not exactly sure what you'll find, but I'm sure it will be good! I wonder where the books on Horse-ish are..."

Luna beamed up at him before turning away down the aisle, and disappearing behind the Magical Bestiary section. Idiot! Why didn't he think of that? He looked down at the book Luna had just given him for the first time. It was clearly old, but exceptionally thin, so thin, that Hasan wondered if the author didn't want anyone to chance across it. If that were so, then Hasan was pretty sure that this was the book for him.

"Beasts of the Castle by Trevenia Trew." He pulled open the cover and looked for the take out date. The last one was more than fifty years ago without a name. Well, that was odd. Who could have taken the book out then? Recent enough to have had it out, late enough for Luna to find, but short enough so that no one would even know. Whoever it was certainly knew how to bury their tracks, and the reason for that was...he regarded the book with apprehension, wondering what mysterious things he would find, and flipped to page 35, the number climbing along the bottom.

Basilisk.

"Its methods of killing are most wondrous, for aside from its deadly and venomous fangs, the Basilisk has a murderous stare, and all who are fixed with the beam of its eye shall suffer instant death. Spiders flee before the Basilisk, for it is their mortal enemy, and the Basilisk flees only from the crowing of the rooster, which is fatal to it." (CS16)

Hasan stared at the page for a long time. How was this even possible? A Basilisk? IN THE SCHOOL? Had Dumbledore gone barmy? What type of person let a snake live in the school! Assuming that there was truth to Luna's power. Assuming that he had heard a snake intent upon killing...Still, Luna's powers hadn't failed them yet, and really, what harm was there in being cautious? His thoughts roamed freely over the snake of Lord Voldemort's, but he quickly dismissed the idea of Nagini being the Basilisk of the school. After all, Nagini was at the Riddle House...

Hasan sighed. Snakes were supposed to be fun, nice! He loved Tina and the garden snakes outside the orphanage. But now, just the thought of the creatures made his mouth taste of blood. The cries! The sickening crack of bone beneath jaw...

"Hasan! Hasan!" Someone was tapping him on the arm, and Hasan glanced up, surprised.

"Hello Daphne." he uttered, putting away his book in one smooth motion.

She was out of breath, and her brown hair frizzing from the run. Whatever she had come here to say, it didn't seem to be anything that could wait.

"Have-have you seen Draco?" she panted. Hasan frowned.

"No. Why?"

"Because he's not anywhere!"

Hasan sighed. "And this concerns me because he is my friend."

"Well, yeah." Daphne said, giving him an odd look. "So have you seen him?"

Hasan shook his head.

"Oh, come on, Hasan! I know you had a fight but..." Her eyes were wide, innocent. "He's still your friend, isn't he? He gave you the dagger!"

Hasan shrugged. Did he have friends? "I- I am unsure. I haven't seen him in a few days, but I don't think we fought."

"Oh? Really?" Daphne glared. "Honestly, Hasan. Sometimes I wonder what Draco even sees in you. He shouldn't have wasted his dagger on someone who doesn't even know the power-"

"Daphne. Be quiet." Hasan commanded in a low whisper. "Don't you dare suggest I don't care about those I trust. I don't know why he gave me such a valuable artifact, but the truth is, he did. Now I don't understand emotions a whole lot, but don't take me for a fool. Draco's been missing, you say? Well, let him solve his own problems. It's something called growing. Have you even tried to owl him? I believe owls are more than capable of tracking a person."

Daphne had always struck him as a sweet, quiet, but very impressionable girl who had spent an unfortunate amount of time near Pansy Parkinson. Hasan, admittedly, was not someone you would go to for emotional support, but accusations. False accusations. Claims that cut across Hasan's very morals? Those were forbidden.

Daphne shrank back, wondering why Hasan was acting so forceful. He never showed emotion before...

"I-I'm sorr-"

"Actions speak louder than words." Hasan said, the proverb flowing out of him. "Perhaps you can go up to the owlery, yes?"

He wasn't sure where the rage had come from. The sudden, coolness of authority. And yet, he knew all at once. They came from Harry, and Harry came from him. And Voldemort? The snake had struck, soft flesh melting along the sides of his teeth...

Daphne nodded vigorously and sprinted out of the library. Even if Hasan had told her to jump off a cliff, she was sure she'd do anything at the moment. Hasan was left standing alone in the aisle, surrounded by dusty tomes of informative text. Perhaps he'd check the Marauder's Map one last time?

.oOo.

Severus Snape had many pressing matters on his mind. After the first few meetings of the Order of the Phoenix, it was clear that the others still viewed him as a Death Eater. The Weasley's would glance his way whenever they thought his head was turned, and Mad-Eyed Moody kept glaring at him with that swiveling eye of his. Augusta was a busy woman and so could only come every other month, but Mundungus Fletcher joined the party, and he was eyeing up the house more than he cared about the meeting. Finally, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Nymphadora Tonks brought up the rear of the Auror department, and it was almost expected that they regard him with caution as well.

But the mutt-er- Black and Lupin were alright. Black did his best to avoid the slimy bat, but Lupin would always set a gentle smile on his face when looking at Severus. It was the weirdest feeling: He was actually fond of the wolf. Dumbledore was happy, of course, that Snape had found a friend and Minerva was downright gleeful. Honestly, how did the woman find such joy in his life? In his boring, mundane, boring, boring life? Right. Because it was hardly boring anymore.

After much debate, he had contacted Lucius about his memories, if only to assure that Altair hadn't messed with anything during his absence, and his friend wasn't prying into matters that should really not be pried into! He received a short note within a week, reassuring Severus that all was well and he hardly even thought about it anymore. After all, what were seven years' worth of memories? Snape didn't buy it for a minute. But he had other pressing matters on his mind than just Lucius.

Today, Hasan was scheduled to come down for their second 'Quid Pro Quid' session, in which Hasan would hopefully create a patronus, and Snape would hopefully learn about the blasted boy. It started in December when Severus had first noticed Albus' sudden interest in the boy. It had scared Severus to death when Albus asked him one day if he found the boy particularly interesting. Severus had replied that he didn't care much to look into any one student, but that he found all his snakes rather interesting. Diplomatic. Slytherin. But it had alerted Severus of another variable, a much more active variable. The conversation dropped and was never taken up again.

Severus glanced at the clock: 6:56. Only 4 more minutes to go...He needed answers. This was no longer a wish, a bartering weight on his end of the agreement, no, he needed to know...something, anything. Why was Harry Potter his Boggart? Why did he have that Protean ring? Why had he gone outside with the dementors? Why was he able to talk to snakes?

And the final matter on his mind? His own godson, Draco Malfoy. He seemed withdrawn lately, entering class with little interest, and picking a seat next to Theodore Nott or Blaise Zabini. This left Hasan with Hermione Granger, the know-it-all chit, which wasn't much of a surprise. What was surprising was that they had never sat apart. Never. Not since first year! What had happened? A simple fight? A simple disagreement? Or had Draco discovered something about Hasan that Snape himself did not know?

Everything looped back around to Hasan Castell. He was tired of guessing.

"Professor Snape?" Hasan knocked thrice and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Professor- Oh!"

Snape had flicked the door of his office open lazily, revealing a rather tired looking Hasan Castell with hair reaching as long as his waist. Did the boy never get a haircut?

"Come in." Severus said curtly, waiting for the boy to extract himself from the doorway and follow the Potions Master into his private chambers.

Hasan walked behind nonchalantly, sitting when indicated, on a leather chair.

"I believe I have offered to instruct you in casting a Patronus in exchange for answers to my questions?"

Hasan nodded, dull jade eyes blinking innocently. "Yes. I agree to those terms. But how do I know you'll teach me? How do I know you won't receive your answers and leave me to struggle with my non-corporeal wisp?"

Snape fought not to roll his eyes.

"You'll know because I do not lie."

"Lying and finding a loophole are two different things, Professor."

Really? Did the boy not trust him? Well, Severus, he told himself, I wouldn't trust you either. Snape sighed and nodded.

"You have my word I will teach you before the day is out."

"Good." Hasan nodded, running his fingers over his thick brown braid. "You can begin."

Oh, can't I? Snape thought. "Why did you go outside on Valentine's Day? And I expect a complete answer, Mr. Castell."

Hasan shrugged. "I needed it."

"You...needed it." Snape repeated dumbly. "Let me repeat, you needed it?" His voice rose in incredulity. Hasan nodded.

"Yes, I needed it."

"And pray tell, why?"

Hasan stared at the table leg, not able to look his professor in the eye. "Because I was curious."

"One would think a simple curiosity would not leave you unconscious in the Hospital Wing." Snape told him glumly. "But I fail to see the connection. Surely Black had told you of his countless adventures in Azkaban? Do not go near the dementors!"

"Don't."

"Don't what?" Snape asked.

"Mr. Black has suffered a lot in there." Hasan brought his jade green orbs to meet his professor's. "I don't think one would use the word 'adventure.'" Snape's jaw cracked. Hasan got a move on, "But as for the why. Well, I can...I can hear things...when the dementors get near."

"Such as?" Snape pressed.

"I'm not sure." Hasan answered honestly enough. "Now, I believe that was a thorough enough question, don't you? Now how on earth am I supposed to cast a Patronus?"

Snape sighed. At the rate they were going..."Did you think of that happy memory I told you to think of?"

Hasan nodded. It was when his appearance had changed for the first time. The elation of knowing he was able to just disappear...

"Good, now try it."

Hasan took out his wand and slashed it through the air. "Expecto Patronum!" The silvery wisp shot from his wand, but nothing more. No shape, no form. Snape was inwardly cheering. The longer it took, the more questions he could ask!

"Not happy enough." Snape quipped.

"What?" Hasan exclaimed. "But-! I-! That was happy!"

"Apparently not. What was it?" Snape demanded.

"I-I'm not telling!" Hasan countered. "Unless..." he peeked up hopefully through his lashes, "that was your question?"

"You idiot boy! No!"

"Oh...so what is your question?"

Snape wanted to throw something right now! Preferably large and aiming at the boy's head.

"Why is your boggart Harry Potter?" Snape snarled.

Hasan would have taken in a sharp intake of breath if he were any other person; however, he was a Slytherin, and an unusual one at that. No way was he doing anything so indicative and melodramatic as alerting the other of his predicament.

"That's what I fear." Hasan answered simply.

Snape's lips thinned as he considered the answer. "Why do you fear him? You don't even know him." Severus knew he was treading a thin line, but at this point, he really didn't care.

"I fear him because I don't like what he stands for." Hasan replied tightly. He didn't feel a need to justify himself, but he was thankful to explain his mentality to someone! "Have you seen what Neville acts like now? Do you remember what he used to act like?"

What? They were talking of Harry Potter, not of Neville Longbottom! But now that he mentioned it,...Severus had noticed a rather prominent change in the Longbottom boy even from the summer. It was obvious now that it was not only Dumbledore's influence, but most likely the youngest Weasley girl who was constantly on his arm- coincidentally from the family of Dumbledore's greatest supporters.

"He blows up his cauldron less often than he used to." Snape admittedly begrudgingly.

Hasan nodded. "He's arrogant. He's smug." It sounded like James Potter... "Before he was always stuttering over words, now, he's confident, overly so. This is the Golden Boy mold. This is the beacon of light. If he believes he knows right, then others will follow him too. It's simple. And yet, I hate it."

It was more of a response than Snape could even dream to ask for. "And you still maintain ties with Mr. Longbottom?" Snape enquired lightly.

Hasan nodded. "Of course. He's the Boy-Who-Lived, isn't he?" Of course, so is everyone else...Snape remembered the boy saying. "But it's not Neville I dislike, it's the image. Harry Potter was the first, the original, to fit that perfect golden boy mold, and it makes me sick."

Snape understood now. A little. He understood how Longbottom had changed and why, and how utterly disgusting it was to make him change himself for the greater good. The idea of Harry Potter, the symbolism of stereotypical Light, was what Hasan feared, not Harry himself...even Snape related to this.

"I see." Snape said finally, regarding Hasan with a mixture of appreciation and understanding. He nodded twice before saying, "The problem with your last patronus was the memory. Once more, I am going to ask you to think of something different. Something so happy that you can't help but smile."

Hasan closed his eyes and thought...Draco, Luna, Tina, Altair, Tom...Harry, wizard...

"It's when I first met Altair." Hasan said as he reopened his blank green eyes. "He told me I was a wizard."

Snape blinked, thinking fast. The boy hadn't known he was a wizard? Wait, Severus should have known that! The boy was abandoned at an orphanage for Merlin's sake!

"Try again." Snape ordered, "Focus on it. Remember every detail and project it outside yourself. Your soul outside to protect you."

Hasan took a deep breath. "Expecto Patronum!" he wand swished through the air, the images of the fire, Tina, the feeling of the bed, heavy, soft beneath him. Wizard...wizard...wizard...A flash of bright silver light illuminated the room, and Snape blinked in shock. He hadn't expected such a reaction! The giant ball of light burst in an instant, almost fanning out until dissipating completely.

Inside, Severus was thanking Merlin.

"That was...that was certainly an improvement." Snape said slowly. Hasan nodded indifferently, not adverse to criticism and not addicted to praise. "How did you meet Altair." Snape asked eagerly, able to ask the question he always wanted to know the answer to. "You mentioned you were adopted."

He watched Hasan's face carefully with the keen eyes of a spy for signs of distrust and lies. Surprisingly, Hasan seemed to relax, protruding calmness even as his dark green orbs narrowed in suspicion. It was always the eyes...the truth was located in no other place. Not in the tone of the voice, nor the shake of the head, but in the spark of the eyes.

"Yes, but I ran away before we could meet at the orphanage. You see, he had talked to my caretaker and they had scheduled a meeting. He actually followed me to the Leaky Cauldron, did you know? Can you imagine," Hasan said contemplatively. "Someone going through all that trouble just to find a child?" Hasan laughed lightly, though he had to tear his eyes away from Severus' black ones.

Oh, the irony! Snape could imagine alright: Dumbledore had just organized for Hagrid to go to America in search of the Potter boy.

"How did he find you?" Snape asked mildly.

"Surely you can guess." Hasan drawled, glaring dully at the Potions professor. Wasn't he supposed to be an expert on it, after all?

"Your aura." Snape said, the answer flowing easily to his lips. Hasan nodded with a thoughtful expression on his otherwise blank face. "But that's impossible! There's only so many colors and to follow one trail through a Wizarding city? And I am correct in assuming there was a time gap?" Snape interjected.

"About six hours, yes." Hasan said, then paused. Altair had only just explained his aura to him two years ago. Could he confide in the professor? Did his professor deserve to know something so recently uncovered?

"Yes, Mr. Castell?" Snape prodded, with a slight impatience beneath his light tone.

"My aura." Hasan found himself explain. "It's different." The words tumbled out, and he paused, gauging his reaction before hurrying on at the look that crossed Severus' face. "Powerful. It was fairly easy to trace."

"Powerful..." Severus repeated, remembering faintly an event occurring two years ago. There's a powerful magical energy near here...I'm sensing a pulsating emerald. Somewhere...somewhere near here. "Indeed." Suddenly a burst of inspiration caught Snape and he found himself staring directly into dull jade orbs. "When you were alone, when you were on your own." Invisible. "How did you feel? When there was no one else to worry for you or about you, how did you feel?" Invisible. "Can you picture that in your mind? The emotion, just the emotion?"

Hasan nodded, chewing lightly at his lip. No one knew who he was. Safety. Alone, Strider. His lids shut over his jade green eyes and he remembered clearly, staring over the river, staring straight at his reflection...emerald...so beautiful..."EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

A brilliant flash of silver light erupted from his wand as a swirling mass of white magic shot forth from the mist, and fanned out from a single orb.

Severus gaped. Hasan blinked.

Before them, puffing out its chest proudly was a massive silver peacock, its head held high with a pointed beak, and large tangible feathers spanning out like the sun, with all the intricate details belonging to the plumage.

"Wow." Hasan breathed, never before having seen anything so magnificent in his life.

The peacock regarded them coldly, long neck stretching out and head tilting as it looked at Hasan and then Severus. Snape's eyes were wide, disbelieving black, flickering back and forth from Hasan's awestruck face to the regal Patronus. The peacock opened its beak to let out a trill, and a single note escaped before it faded into nothingness.

Hasan Castell's Patronus was a peacock. Severus took deep breaths to steady himself. A peacock. Hasan Castell's...

"Thank you, Professor." Hasan said suddenly, his voice holding a slight faintness in it. "Deals are fun, are they not?"

Snape could only nod dumbly as the boy walked out the door.

.oOo.

Hasan exited the office, his head feeling dizzy all of a sudden. His Patronus was a peacock? That was weird, wasn't it? When all Hasan wanted to do was fade away and peacocks stood for pride and extravagance.

But Hasan, don't you want someone to like you for who you are? But Hasan, don't you want recognition? Don't you deserve to be praised like Neville for ousting Quirrelmort from the school? Don't you want equal respect? Don't you want? Don't you want? Don't you-

No! he told himself. I will not be arrogant! There is no pride in stupidity!

But he couldn't shake the idea that his patronus showed him- the real him- deep inside. Was his pride-? Was his indignation-? Was his Harry coming out? Hasan couldn't imagine having to become Harry Potter. Harry was arrogant. Harry was the golden boy. Harry was better off dead.

But no, Hasan had to remind himself that he was all these things. That he shouldn't be allowed to play the saint of the two, even if the two were one in the same. Harry was not the devil and he was not god. There was no good. There was no bad.

Hasan would just have to accept that the pride and extravagance was a part of him. There was nothing to gain from cutting his personality up into categorized bits just to denounce them. Nothing at all.

But out of every animal...why a peacock? Why not a fox? Or a snake? Or even a bear? Honestly! If anyone was vain, it was Draco Malfoy, who was again missing from the face of the earth.

Hasan began the journey through the dungeons, determined to check the Marauder's Map once more. As he walked, footsteps echoing off the walls, a feeling of dread came over him like a mist, settling like a lead balloon in the pit of his stomach. The anxiety.

His chest constricted and he blinked rapidly as he scanned the walls on either side. This paranoia surely wasn't healthy. This questioning of character surely wasn't healthy...Where was Draco? What if he checked the map and Draco was gone? He told himself it was stupid, but what if? What if? What i-?

:Haassssssaaann.:

.oOo.

7:00pm.

"Tom?"

"What's wrong, Draco? Am I wrong? You can tell me."

"...No, you weren't wrong." Draco answered tentatively.

"What happened? You can tell me anything, Draco."

"He and I...started a conversation, but it's like all his conversations. No emotion whatsoever!"

"A sociopath, perhaps?" Tom asked.

"No, he's just...I know he's hiding something. I've been obliviated, twice, I think."

"It certainly makes sense..." Tom commented lightly. "He had mentioned something before..."

"What?" Draco snapped. "My godfather knows, I bet Lovegood and Longbottom even know! Why don't I?"

"So he hasn't told you?" Tom enquired. "Though it's not something you can really tell..."

"He doesn't bloody trust ME!" Draco raged at the book. "I bloody asked and he didn't bloody answer! What do you know? SHOW ME!"

"I don't know..." Tom wrote.

"Why don't you know? You know everything!" Draco scrawled.

"I know many things, but for me to show you...it requires a parselmouth."

"But Hasan's not a parselmouth!" Draco protested.

"And how would you know? You've been obliviated, haven't you?"

"I- it doesn't matter! The only other parselmouths are the Dark Lord and Slytherin!"

"-And me."

Draco froze. "You speak parseltongue?"

"Speak it, write it...But I'm afraid I don't have a voice and the door only accepts verbally given passwords."

"What do I have to do?" Draco asked recklessly, blood pounding in his ears. This was his chance, this was his chance to know Hasan, to really get to know him. And he wouldn't miss it for the world.

"Place your hand on the book and I can do the rest." The simple sentence sent chills up Draco's spine. Something wasn't right...his instincts were screaming out in protest...don't do it, don't do it, don't do it. But Hasan...

"What are you going to do?" Draco asked.

"Nothing you wouldn't agree to." the book answered.

Draco looked behind him at the closed door and then at the book. He couldn't hear anyone, no one would know.

"Draco, place your trust in me. I promise I will not fail. Don't you want to see what you've forgotten? What Hasan's hiding from you?"

What little reserve Draco had crumbled at those last words. It was all for the sake of their friendship. It was all for...the greater good. He placed his hand on the book.

"Perfect."

And instantly he knew everything was wrong.

A foreign presence slipped its way up his arm like a parasitic snake, reaching for his pulsating core. It was as if his heart had been disconnected from his brain and plunged into a bucket of ice where it shivered and sputtered and shriveled to blue. And his nerves, they were on fire! His vision blacked as the book snapped shut. Distantly he felt foreign hands close around the diary, foreign feet walking towards the door...

"Don't worry, Draco." Tom purred in Draco's voice...Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. He knew better! He knew better! "You've placed your trust in the right place."