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Rise of the Dark Angel	By : isabel88 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 61368 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 12
Disclaimer: I DO NOT own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling does, as such, I am NOT making any money off of this....

Chapter List
- 13
- 14
- 15
Title: Rise of the Dark Angel

Author: Izzyb09

Beta Reader/Co-Author: Tonks-is-Cool

Chapter: 14: Schedules, Warnings and Resolving Issues

Settings: AU after OOTP: It's canon up to the beginning of the battle at the DOM when they are in the veil room, after that, it's AU and mine.

Pairings: HP/DM; LV/SS; LM/RL; NL (CL)/LL; RL/BL

Warnings: This story will contain mentions of Violence, Child Abuse, Adult Language, Alcohol Use, Slash/Het Sexual situations and Death. Please discontinue reading if such scenes or themes are offensive to you.

A/N: Ok...so sorry for the really long wait. I’ve had the majority of this chapter written for almost two months now. But when it came time to write the final couple scenes, I had medical problems and then my sister gave birth to her baby (a boy! His name is Dionté). But, I was able to get back into writing and I finally finished the new chapter. So...I really hope you guys like this. Enjoy.

A/N 2: by the time I finished with this chapter, it was almost 30,000 words, so Tonks decided to split it up—and I agreed—so each added section will be its own chapter. (This is chapter 13, the others will be 14, 15, etc...) So, again...enjoy.

Disclaimer: I own nothing…if I did, Ginny would have died in the CoS, Dumbledore would have choked on his lemon drops and Harry would have stood up for himself against Molly and Dumbledore.

Disclaimer 2: this story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

"Talking"

'Thinking'

Letter or commentary/introduction and flashback

{Parssseltongue}

~…~ indicates scene change

O.P.D.: Friday 19^th August, ’11

Last time on RDA;

...Harry grinned as he read the paper before he wiped the smile from his face—though his eyes still held a triumphant look—and looked around. The horrified looks on both students and teachers filled him with joy as he had accomplished exactly what he has set out to do. His gaze rested on Hermione and he could see the horror and disbelief on her face and he couldn’t help but to shake his head; that’s why the girl couldn’t last a day as a soldier of the Dark side.

Hermione looked up and caught his eyes and he knew she caught the satisfaction in his features and he could almost see the indignation and rant build inside her and he knew she would be after him sometime soon—he couldn’t wait.

Harry tore his gaze away from Hermione and looked around at the students; he noted the ones that had a satisfied look on their faces and figured that they had served detention with the dead Umbridge and was happy that justice had finally been done to her.

He turned back to look at Luna and smiled when he saw the gleam in her eyes, one that was very similar to the look Bellatrix had in her own eyes when she was hexing someone.

“Perfect,” Luna whispered to Harry.

“I ever told you how much I loved your sadistic side?” Harry grinned as he wrapped an arm around the blonde’s shoulder.

“Harry,” Luna giggled, drawing looks from the others around them, some smiling at the obvious affection between the two.

Before he could respond, they were interrupted by the Ravenclaw Head of House, Filius Flitwick.

“Ms. Lovegood,” the short teacher spoke up, “here is your class schedule.”

“Thank you sir,” Luna smiled as she took the paper from his hand.

The professor nodded with a smile before he continued on his way to the Ravenclaw table. Both Harry and Cory turned to Luna, but neither one had chance to say anything as Professor McGonagall—Gryffindor’s Head of House—walked up to them.

“Here are your timetables Mr. Potter, Mr. LeStrange,” Minerva handed out the schedules to the two boys.

Harry glanced at it. As expected, he was signed up for five subjects; Transfiguration, Charms, Defence against the Dark Arts, Herbology and Potions. He looked up at McGonagall, beaming. “Everything looks alright. Thanks so much, Professor.”

Minerva nodded in confirmation, pleased and proud that the young teen was determined to be more studious this year and to continue with Potions to get a NEWT result that opened up the career of an Auror for him, allowing him to follow in the footsteps of his father and godfather.

“Now, Mr. LeStrange, about your schedule,” Minerva turned to Cory. “Herbology and Defence against the Dark Arts of course, with an Outstanding and an Exceeds Expectations, there is no question about that. Professor Sprout is very pleased with you. However, I must inform you that you cannot continue with Transfiguration, as an Average Owl result is really not good enough for the demands of my advance class.”

Cory nodded and looked up at her. “What do you suggest, Professor?”

“That you attempt a NEWT in Charms. You achieved the necessary Exceeds Expectations on your OWL examinations,” Minerva told him. “I already entered you in this class.”

“Alright,” Cory smiled, “thanks Professor.”

Minerva nodded and turned back to Harry. “Oh and Mr. Potter, the Headmaster would like to see you in his office after classes this afternoon but before dinner.”

“Did he say what it was about?” Harry frowned up at her.

“No,” Minerva shook her head, “he did not. However, I would suggest you see him to determine what it was he wanted.” She turned to leave, but then stopped, “by the way, he favours Acid Pops.”

“Yes ma’am,” Harry nodded and pocketed his schedule.

Minerva nodded and continued down the table, handing out the schedules to the rest of the Gryffindor students.

As he looked down at his schedule, Harry saw that for today, the first period was Ancient Runes and since he hadn’t signed up for that class and had dropped Divinations, it was a free period for him. Following that was DADA, which he honestly couldn’t wait for. After DADA, there was a break and then there was another fee period for him as Arithmancy was in that slot, followed by lunch. He hadn’t registered again for Hagrid’s class, which would be right after lunch, and the finally, a double dose of Potions.

Folding and pocketing his schedule, he turned back to his friends. “What do you have next Cory?”

“Free period because I don’t take Ancient Runes,” Cory answered as he looked over his own schedule, “after that, it’s DADA, then a break. Since I don’t take Arithmancy, that’s a free period again, then lunch and after that, free time again while you suffer in Potions.”

“Shut up,” Harry laughed and smacked his shoulder playfully. “Anyways, sounds good, that means we’ll have our breaks together then.”

“I think we all will,” Seamus injected with a grin.

The bell to signal the end of breakfast sounded and the students moved to their feet as they breakfast dishes disappeared by the elves. Harry stood next to Cory and Luna and they turned to walk out the Great Hall.

“It’s time the Beaver learns that not all rivers flow smoothly,” Luna turned slightly to Harry. “Some have Dams that help them, but others have Dams that need to be broken. The Dam on the Beaver’s river needs to be broken.”

Those who heard Luna’s words looked at her in confusion, but Cory smiled while Harry nodded.

“Harry!” Hermione called out as she hurried to catch up to him. She continued calling his name and caught up to him just outside the Great Hall.

“Is there something you need?” Harry stopped and turned to look at her, as did the few students that were in the hallway.

Hermione scowled at him. “I saw your reaction when you read what happened to Undersecretary Umbridge in the Daily Prophet.”

“And?” Harry raised an eyebrow and his eyes held amusement.

“Despite how she acted during her time as professor here last year,” Hermione started, “she didn’t deserve to be murdered so brutally and you should be ashamed of yourself for even feeling the slightest bit of joy! How could you even enjoy the thought of someone’s death?

Harry’s body tensed and the amusement faded from his eyes, only to be replaced with barely suppressed fury. The temperature dropped and a few students shivered from the coldness they could feel emanating from him.

Hermione, shocked and suddenly afraid, took a slight step back.

“You believe she did nothing that warranted her death?” Harry snarled at her. “That woman was a menace to all of us students last year, including you! She made my life a living hell, or did she almost getting me expelled and slanting my name in the Prophet mean nothing?” Harry took a step forward, his boring into Hermione’s. “Did you forget she admitted that she deliberately sent those two Dementors to Surrey that nearly killed my cousin and me? Or did you forget when she wanted to use an Unforgivable on me?”

Gasps echoed around them and murmurs of shock rose from the students. They couldn’t believe what he was saying; Dementors, Unforgivables? It was true though that Harry had been slandered by the Prophet and many of them had believed him to be a delusional, attention seeker last year.

Hermione looked away briefly.

“What?” Harry sneered at her. “You can’t stand to hear it? You were there. You were there when the bitch threatened to use the Cruciatus Curse on me and you dare to tell me she did nothing that warranted her death?”

Hermione flinched at Harry’s tone and the accusing looks she was getting from the other students. Her gaze drifted to beyond Harry and she saw the contempt on Cory’s Draco’s and Luna’s face. Her gaze turned back to Harry and she felt ashamed, terrified and a deep loss when she saw the disgust in his eyes; that—more than anything—hurt her.

Without taking his gaze from her, Harry raised his arm and showed his hand to Hermione. Retrieving his wand from its hidden location, he tapped it on his hand, revealing the ‘I must not tell lies’ scar that was left by Umbridge’s detentions.

“This!” he pushed his hand closer for her to see. “You must remember! This is what she did to me and countless other students last year; all because I spoke the truth about the D—about Voldemort.”

Harry ignored the flinches and gasps around him, scolding himself mentally for the almost slip in uttering ‘the Dark Lord’, because it had become so natural to him over the summer. He quickly continued his rant, “and because we were teaching ourselves some DADA when she refused to teach us anything useful. You yourself gave me the Murtlap essence to heal this when I came back on countless nights with a bleeding hand to the common room, for Merlin’s sake!”

Hermione squirmed under his intense gaze and the murmurs of the surrounding students. Some of them rubbed their hands where their own scars lay and looked at Hermione with confusion and displeasure.

Harry stared incredulously at her. “What the hell is wrong with you Granger? You’re the one that started our rebellion, our Defence Group. It was your idea and—though it pains me to say this—it was a brilliant idea. You were so pissed at Umbridge last year that you paid her back by leading her into the forest, or do you not remember?” Harry shook his head. “How could you forget what she is responsible for? Remember how I couldn’t talk to Padfoot anymore because the bitch controlled the post and Floo network? Hmmm? And what happened because I couldn’t check up him when it really mattered? I led us into a trap, one that nearly got us all killed and even worse, Padfoot died!” Harry stopped a moment to catch his breath and push down the painful memories of losing Sirius, before he sneered. “So I’m sorry if it’s not acceptable to you Saint Granger, but as far as I’m concerned, the bitch got exactly what she deserved,”

Murmurs of agreement echoed from the other students as they looked at Harry and Hermione and each other. They may not have understood all of what Harry had referred to, but what they did understood was enough.

“What is the meaning of this barricade? Snape’s voice stirred the students and many of them hurried away, but some daringly remained.

“Nothing sir,” Harry never removed his gaze from Hermione. “Just a little misunderstanding as Granger here tried to give a rebuke that was neither warranted nor appreciated, but I’m sure she understands that from this point forward, such actions from her part should be thought upon carefully before they are taken.”

The subtle warning wasn’t lost on Hermione and she felt tears prick her eyes. It was finally sinking in just how much she had lost by her actions.

Snape gave a minute nod and his eyes gleamed with satisfaction—though only if you truly knew what to look for would you see it—before he turned a dispassionate gaze on the surrounding students.

“Classes start in five minutes. It would be wise and beneficial to your health to be there on time.” His voice held a dangerous undertone, one that had the students immediately dispersing the area. Satisfied, he turned and walked away, his robes billowing behind him.

Pansy shook her head before she broke off from Draco and Blaise and walked up to Harry.

“Come on Harry,” she looped her arm around his and briefly leaned into him, “being around all these do-gooders is seriously unhealthy for my life. Be a gentleman and escort me to class.”

Harry glanced at Pansy. He turned to her, dismissing Hermione, and smiled at the girl, “only for you Pansy.”

“Of course,” Pansy smiled, happy that she had gotten his attention from Granger.

“I do hope she isn’t the only one you’re going to be a gentleman to,” Luna grinned as she walked over to Harry’s other side. “I’d hate to have to...remove her.”

“You know you’re my best girl Luna,” Harry pressed a kiss to the blonde’s cheek, delighting in the giggles he drew from the girl. “Let’s go. We wouldn’t want Pansy to become ill, now would we?”

“No,” Luna shook her head and the trio walked off. Cory smirked at Hermione and Ron before he followed his girlfriend and best friend.

Draco turned to follow them, but stopped when he got close to Hermione. His gaze slowly travelled her body before he met her eyes, sneering. “It goes to show that imbeciles attend this school if they refer to you as the brightest witch of our age considering we are shown you stupidity on a daily basis. Umbridge may not have given me detention and I may have been a component player in her Squad, but even I know she deserved her death.

With that, the blond walked away from her, the other Slytherins following him.

Hermione closed her eyes in sadness and humiliation. She opened them when she felt Ron’s hand on her shoulder. She looked at him. “I’m fine.” She then turned to head to her Ancient Runes class, which was with Draco and a few Slytherins, joy. As she was walking, she saw Seamus and Dean talking to each other, occasionally looking at her.

“I suppose you think Umbridge deserved to die as she did?” She asked the two.

“Really Hermione,” Seamus shook his head. “Of course she did. She was a right menace to this school. Harry had every right to be happy about her being dead seeing as how she loved picking on him more than any other student. Harry spent more time in detentions than anyone else.”

“And you scold him for being happy?” Dean looked at her. “In case you didn’t notice, Harry wasn’t the only student happy about her death.”

The two boys said nothing more as they hurried off, not wanting Snape to catch them in the hallway.

Hermione watched them go and wondered, not for the first time, if what she was doing was worth losing not only herself, but the one person she could’ve always counted on.

~...~

On that same morning, witches and wizards all over Britain opened the Daily Prophet. Most were shocked to read the headlines, some only surprised or mildly interested.

In a modest, sixteen and seventeen century manor house built from coursed and squared grey rubble near Selwood in Somerset, two elderly witches dressed in fine black robes, with cashmere shawls against the early morning chill draped over their shoulders, sat at the breakfast table in the dining room, silently nursing their second cup of tea.

Through the wooden mullioned windows they could see the garden and a row of bushes and trees that bordered the property. The house was no grand manor like Malfoy Manor, but adequate for a family, some servants and room for guests, with its two stories and attics, several bedrooms on the first floor behind the dormer gables to each side. Four brick chimney stacks rose above the Welsh slate tiled roof. The interior was comfortable, not lavish, with many exposed ceiling beams. The right ground floor room had a large fireplace in a moulded 4-centred stone surround, moulded cornice shelf, ornamental plaster over mantel with the arms of the Crabbe family.

They looked up when the delivery owl picked on their window. Before one of the old ladies could rise from the table, Narcissa slipped through the door from the hallway and rushed through the room to open the window. The blonde took the newspaper and just remembered to add a few knuts to the pouch the owl carried before the bird could pick her hand. The owl turned around, fluttered through the window and sped off again.

"Good Morning Mother, good morning Grandma," she belatedly greeted the elder ladies, whilst walking over to the table and taking her seat, completely preoccupied with smoothing out the rolled up Daily Prophet.

"Morning Cissy," her mother mumbled back.

"Oh, my!" she exclaimed, when her gaze fell on the headline.

"Cissy? What´s happened now?" asked her mother, a slender woman, with greyish blonde hair and heavy lidded blue eyes.

Her grandmother just held out a demanding hand with her wand and summoned the newspaper out of Narcissa´s hands. The haughty blonde regarded her with narrowed eyes and a tight smile, her irritation barely hidden. Irma Black, née Crabbe caught the newspaper and held it up close to her face, her old eyes weren't as sharp anymore as they used to be, but the blaring, and thickly printed headline screamed murder.

Her daughter-in-law, Druella Black, née Rosier, leaned over to snatch a peek; she could not rein in her natural curiosity. "Umbridge? Why was she murdered?" She asked.

"Wait a moment Ella, I´m still reading," snapped Irma.

Narcissa busied herself with pouring a cup of tea and started to butter a scone, burying her anger and resentment deep within her mind. She was the youngest woman at this table, in disgrace, forcibly divorced and stripped of her names and titles by Harry Potter. As Lady Malfoy, she would have been of high ranking, the one to read the Prophet first, but she was bitterly reminded of the old proverb, ‘Beggars should be no choosers, but yet they will’. She wasn´t Lady Malfoy anymore and had to be grateful that her relatives had taken her in.

Narcissa was quite angry at herself that she didn’t understand what had happened earlier in the summer and that she hadn’t noticed what had gone on in her own home. For some reason—one that she could not fathom—Potter had suddenly been in Malfoy Manor. She had seen him, with her own eyes, in a meeting room with many Death Eaters and it was obvious from his demeanour, that he was not a prisoner. As unbelievable as it was, he seemed to be in league with Lucius and Draco and tolerated by the Dark Lord!

Narcissa had no explanation for this or for why her husband—former husband—and son had turned on her as they had or why Draco had behaved so defiantly and cockily. She couldn’t help but to wonder if Potter was somehow responsible. Had he tricked her son with a Confundus Charm or a Love potion or did he place him under Imperius? But that couldn’t be; surely Lucius would have noticed something amiss with his son and he would never have allowed Potter to set foot in Malfoy Manor. Unless...was Potter capable of holding Lucius under Imperius as well?

Narcissa shook her head. That was not possible; the Dark Lord would have surely noticed. Potter couldn’t trick Him or could he?

Formally, Narcissa would have thought the assumption to be utterly preposterous. Potter was the epitome of Gryffindor, Dumbledore’s Golden Boy and the Light’s saviour; but, the amount of magical power and ferocious control that the blasted boy had suddenly commanded—it had been scary, terrifying and so completely unexpected, considering the last five years of Draco’s writing—or talking—spoke about an arrogant, mediocre, uncouth and uncivilized but lucky Potter, the Headmaster’s—and most teachers’—pet.

Narcissa sighed as her thoughts returned to the Ministry of Magic—as it always did—and not for the first time, she wondered what had truly happened there in May. She remembered what Bella had told her and Lucius afterwards. Bella had killed Sirius Black, however inadvertently, and then Potter had chased her through to the Atrium and cursed her. Bella had told them how h e had casted Crucio, for Merlin’s sake! Definitely something unexpected from the bloody Gryffindor.

Then Potter and the Dark Lord had duelled, then the Dark Lord and Dumbledore and then how the Dark Lord had somehow managed to possess Potter and using him, had spoken with Dumbledore before he Apparated away with Bella. Why hadn’t the Dark Lord killed Potter, if he was that close to him? Narcissa wondered if the Dark Lord simply could not kill the boy or if there was a good reason why her Lordship did not want to anymore. This was not normal, it was unnatural. If the Dark Lord wanted to kill somebody, he just did, like swatting a fly, period. She wondered what he had learned during the possession and what the thrice damned prophecy had said that created all the uproar?

All summer, she had searched the Daily Prophet for any hints that Harry potter had fallen out of grace, that the Dark Lord had killed the impertinent whelp, but had found nothing. Regardless of the cause, something drastic had changed about Harry Potter. The young man she had met, she hadn’t recognized him as Potter at first as he had looked so different; he was taller, stronger, healthier and astonishingly very handsome without his ugly glasses.

Even now, she still did not know how to evaluate the recent earth-shattering developments, but even she was not such a fool that she forgot the first Slytherin rule—self-preservation—and so, when she had been taken in by her mother and grandmother, she had kept quiet about what had really happened at Malfoy Manor. She had only told them that Lucius had divorced her on account of infidelity and had kicked her out of her home, cutting off all access to the Malfoy funds.

In regards as to why she was suddenly without a last name and dirt poor, she had told a half truth about the will of Sirius Black, the last Head of House of the main Black Family line, that her relatives had knowledge of; Sirius had died at the Ministry and had fallen into the Veil—according to Bella—and that Harry Potter, somehow, was the new Head of the Black family. She had claimed that in the will, Sirius had decreed that no other living Black could change it; however, should Harry Potter die without a will, then Draco would become Heir. She had no idea if she—as his mother—being disowned and cast out, would have any bearing on that.

After a mighty tantrum and much scolding, her mother had done a short ritual—a blood adoption—so that she was at least recognized as Narcissa Rosier, a member of an old pure-blood family again.

Now, she was positively ‘dying’ to read the Prophet for herself, especially after that alarming headline. Who would have had a reason and the means to murder the former Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge?

As her gaze drifted once more back to the paper, Narcissa couldn’t help but to have the idea that somehow, Harry Potter was behind it...and if that was true, then he was much more dangerous than she thought he was. If the Dark Lord had come to some kind of truce or agreement with Potter after the incident at the Ministry, then it was clear that he wasn’t Dumbledore’s puppet anymore and that filled her heart with happiness, regardless of her personal issues, for it bodes well for the outcome of the war.

~...~

The sixth year students were queuing outside the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom on the third floor in two groups; Gryffindors on one side and Slytherins on the other. Most of the students were whispering and shuffling their feet; they were nervous or simply curious about their new teacher. Depending on the view point, just how would the DADA class be, with a man of Lucius Malfoy’s questionable and/or distinguished reputation?

After Harry and Cory had walked Pansy and Luna to their classes, the two boys had headed to the library for their free period. They could’ve gone to Gryffindor Tower, but they decided against it. At the library, Harry had shown Cory secret section of the library that Madam Pince had shown to him a few years ago. The two boys had spent the time going through the books, comparing it to their school books and the books from Potter Manor.

When the bell had rung, the signal for them to head to their class, they had left the library and headed to the third floor where their DADA with Professor Malfoy was. On their way up, they had met up with Dean and Seamus and the four had walked the rest of the way together, with the other Gryffindors joining them along the way.

Now, Harry and Cory stood a few paces away from the rest of their house, casually leaning against the wall. Now and then, they would share a glance or a half smirk with their Slytherin friends on the other side of the wall.

Draco was surrounded, as usual, by Pansy on his arm with Crabbe and Goyle as bodyguards behind him. Millicent, Daphne, Lillian and Tracey were whispering and watching the interaction between the Slytherin Ice Prince and the two handsome, dark haired male Gryffindors with fascination while Theo leaned against the wall at the side of group, sulking as he shot covert glances at the Gryffindor group across the hallway from under his half closed lids.

Blaise himself was leaning casually and seemingly unaffected by the tension in the air, besides him on the wall and was observing everything with a smirk playing around his lips, barely holding back chuckles.

Theo keenly watched the dynamic between Potter and Long-no wait, LeStrange—it had been a huge shock the previous evening to know that Neville Longbottom was suddenly a LeStrange. How? Why?—and the other lions. Granger and Weasley were visibly separated from their house mates. He knew of the confrontation that the two had had with Harry last night and the one Granger had with him earlier this morning. Right now, Granger looked stressed, harassed and put out, but mostly sad. She kept sending longing glances at Potter, while Weasley gave off an air of being angry, sulking, jealous and betrayed? But of what? Theo wasn’t sure how to read the Weasley’s ugly face and tense body language. The other lions were huddled closely together; strange thing was, they weren’t acting as arrogant and confident as they usually did, but instead, they seemed somewhat unsure and uneasy, confused. Out of that group, only Finnegan and Thomas appeared to be the most at ease.

Shaking his head, Theo’s gaze drifted from the Gryffindors to covertly study the young man besides Potter. It was another mystery, an enigma, if there ever was one. Longbottom had somehow discovered he was a LeStrange during the summer, which could only mean he was either the son of Rodolphus and Bellatrix or the bastard son of Rabastan, all of whom are most faithful followers of the Dark Lord. Whichever of the LeStrange brothers was the father, must have accepted him or the family name wouldn’t have changed and his looks wouldn’t have changed either.

Theo clearly remembered yesterday evening, when LeStrange had announced to the entire Great Hall that he was no longer Neville Longbottom and how he had basically said he preferred being called Cory now as Neville was not his name. Even the Sorting Hat had recognized the change as it had called out Corvus LeStrange and not Neville Longbottom. What had Theo staring at Cory in fascination was that, anyone would expect the former Longbottom to be depressed and completely lost after finding out about his parentage, but the young man across from him was the complete opposite; he was handsome, confident, content and in high spirits, a far cry from the bumbling, scared, timid fool that Neville Longbottom had been for the past five years.

So, how could the former Gryffindor near-squib, the waste-of-space change so drastically and accept his world being turned upside down? The LeStranges were publicly known as Death Eaters, there was no doubt about their loyalty to the Dark Lord. They had been in Azkaban; their hateful, haggard faces were omnipresent on the most wanted posters of the Ministry that hung in the Leaky Cauldron and Diagon Alley. And how could Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, be suddenly estranged from his former best friends and be all chummy with Long—Cory LeStrange, the son of Death Eaters out for his blood?

Theo was miffed that his father hadn’t told him anything and from what he knew, Crabbe and Goyle’s fathers hadn’t disclosed any information either about the drastically changed relationship between Potter and Draco. Theo knew that he might be thin and stringy and definitely not the winner of a Hogwarts most-charming smile or beauty contest—those titles would no doubt belong to Draco and Potter—but he was no fool. To him, it was unthinkable that Lucius Malfoy, the Dark Lord’s right hand man, would allow his son to strike up a friendship or more with the Boy-Who-Lived without his complete consent. Which made him wonder; just how and why had Draco and Potter met and why had their relationship change so radically?

Draco had been unreachable all summer and as far as he knew, none of his friends had been allowed to visit Malfoy Manor during the holidays. Letters by owl post had been scarce and cryptic. The Malfoy Floo was blocked off to anyone without a specific password and his own father had refused—without explanation—to disclose the password to him. All of this together was very unusual because ever since their early childhood, there had always been opportunities of casual visits, or garden parties or midsummer balls and in previous summers, Draco had taken turns in visiting his friends. Which meant that something at Malfoy Manor had changed most dramatically; but what? Was it a matrimonial crisis between Draco’s parents?

‘No,’ Theo shook his head, ‘everyone in their circles was aware that the marriage was one of convenience, a union between two old families to ensure a pure-blood heir and steadfast or increased political power and wealth. It was the same with other marriages between the other pure-blood families.’ Theo’s brows furrowed. ‘Hmmm, even if there had been mounting tension or open strife between Draco’s mother and father, it would never be made public. They would keep up appearances, wouldn’t they? So there had to be another explanation.’

Theo came out of his thoughts and looked over at Draco. He saw the happiness on the blond’s face and did a double take. Happiness? Since when did Draco Malfoy show so much emotion—positive emotion? Yesterday evening in the Slytherin common room, he had looked just the same way when he was speaking about Potter. A second later, Theo watched as the haughty mask was back on the blond’s face, leaving only a smirk playing around his lips. But Theo had seen enough; he had seen the light in the grey eyes, the positively sizzling look between Draco and Potter, the latter who also looked so different to his usual bearings.

Before, Potter was scrawny, ragged, tired, worried, stressed and nervous, but now, now it’s as if a weight has been lifted from his shoulders and he knew that something happened during the summer to cause that. Potter was more handsome, positively gorgeous without the ugly glasses and ragged, horrible muggle clothing he used to wear when not in his school robes. His jet black hair was longer and looked good, in a just shagged way, not like the former unruly rat’s nest anymore. He was also taller and he moved with more grace, like a panther; he radiated power and self-confidence. His gaze shifted back to Draco and he saw that even though the blond had his mask back in place, he still couldn’t contain the positively glowing, radiant and healthier look. The blond looked more alive than he’d ever seen him. It was something he Theo had noticed right away when he had first laid eyes on Draco and Potter the previous evening during the Sorting feast.

‘What in Merlin’s name is going on?’ Theo asked himself. ‘Did Potter visit Draco at Malfoy Manor? Was that the reason Draco had answered our letter’s so evasively?’ Theo clenched his fists and shook his head slightly. ‘But if—then why hadn’t Mr. Malfoy kill Potter on sight or capture him to hand him over to our Lord? Lucius Malfoy was deeply loyal to the Dark Lord and he wouldn’t betray him for Potter’s sake...would he?’ Theo unclenched his fists, relaxed his body and scratched his neck absently, his thoughts moving furiously.

More often than not, he had wondered where the Dark Lord resided. Each day, his father would leave to go to work and elsewhere; sometimes he had been called in the evenings and stayed away half the night during the previous year. Of course his father never told him or his brother where he went or what he did exactly; only that he was working for the cause and fulfilling the Dark Lord’s wishes. He and his brother knew better than to press their father for answers as they understood the need for secrecy, even though they were curious, but then again, who wouldn’t be?

Theo himself knew though from the Daily Prophet—and what little titbits his father had told him and his brother—of the commotion that had happened at the Ministry of Magic back in May; that the Dark Lord had been spotted by former Minister Fudge in the flesh and that Potter was somehow involved and that suddenly, both Potter and Dumbledore were the good guys once more in the eyes of the public. He knew that Sirius Black, the escaped convict, had been killed, and that some of Potter’s friends had been in the hospital wing the next day. And the last few days of the term, Potter had been incredibly angry and troubled.

His thoughts drifted to the summer and everything that had happened. He recalled all the articles about the Dark Wizard attacks in both the Muggle and wizarding world, the election of the new Minister by the Wizengamont, and now, the death of Umbridge, despicable woman that she was. He knew the woman had been abducted from right in front of Gringotts and had been found murdered a few days ago with the unforgettable image of the Dark Mark and that cryptic inscription on her face, but what he couldn’t understand was how it was connected to everything else that had happened.

Theo looked up and once more looked over the Gryffindors; just who hated that woman with a passion. ‘Was it a Gryffindor? The only ones to come to mind are the Weasel terror twins.’ His gaze moved to Harry and his eyes narrowed slightly. ‘Potter? It couldn’t have been him. He couldn’t have been behind Umbridge’s gruesome death...but then, who else would dare to fake the Dark Mark on a corpse’s head?’ as he tried to dismiss that idea, Draco and Pansy’s words from last night came back to him;

...Harry isn’t as golden as everyone thinks he is...

...Potter is more like us than anyone thought...

‘It can’t be!’ Theo’s gaze widened slightly as he looked at Harry. ‘But, both Pansy and Draco...their words...could Potter really have done that? How could he do magic like that during the summer without getting caught? What did this mean?’

When he and the rest of the Slytherins had met up with Potter in front of the Great Hall, he had watched the way he and Draco had interacted and so he had played along and had been polite. What had shocked him was how polite, friendly, easy-going and completely relaxed Potter had been in the Slytherins’ presence. It was totally different from before when tension and hostility would be between them.

Theo sighed and shifted against the wall as he bit his lip. ‘But why? Why was it so different? It can’t be because he and Draco are now together...that can’t be the only reason. Something else is going on. But what? What could’ve happened that would let Draco’s father have no problem with his son being with Potter, why he would let him spend time at Malfoy Manor? Regarding the Boy-Who-Lived, Mr. Malfoy, as much he loved Draco, wouldn’t do anything without the consent of the Dark Lord...oh sweet merciful Merlin!’

Realization filled Theo’s entire being. Suddenly, everything made sense; the blocked Floo, the lack of the usual Malfoy parties, Draco’s behaviour, the increased confidence and hope of victory for the Dark side his father had started displaying over the summer, the Dark Lord’s changed stance on Muggles and mudbloods—the decrease of large scale public attacks, public Muggle baiting—and the now visible rift between Potter and his former friends and the unease and confusion the rest of the Gryffindors had towards Potter and Long—no, LeStrange now, add in Potter’s glee over Umbridge’s murder. It all led to one startling fact: Potter had changed sides during the summer. And when you add the actions from last night—the surprising entrance, the interactions between the four students and Snape—the former Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood had changed sides with him as well and Professor Snape—his Head of House—was in on it too!

‘So then, that detention,’ Theo mused, ‘wasn’t a detention at all; everything seemed a little too rehearsed, like it was planned. I mean, Snape hadn’t ripped into Potter as harsh as he usually did. Compared to other times, that was tame. So the detention was a ruse, which means, they’re up to something and they needed the cover of detention.’

Theo straightened up and a thin smile was playing around his lips, though he kept his face otherwise impassive. A Gryffindor would’ve whooped and jumped around, but not him. He was a proud Slytherin. Taking a glance to his side at Blaise, he saw that the dark-skinned Italian looked cheerful and giddy with happiness and amusement. Well, to be honest, it wasn’t visible to any casual observer or outsider, but he had shared a dorm and classes with the attractive boy for five years, so he’d notice the change last night in Blaise after seeing him again after the long summer months.

He looked over to where Draco and Pansy stood. His eyes took in Pansy’s stance against Draco, which wasn’t something new. What was new however was that unlike previous years, Pansy wasn’t acting like a simpering moon calf anymore, she looked content, in good spirits. No, it was more like she was filled with hidden glee and anticipation, similar to Blaise. In fact, she didn’t seem to be angry or jealous at Draco’s new relationship with Potter or the attention they paid each other. And then, he was hit with another realization.

‘They know; whatever is going on, Blaise knew and Pansy did too and,’ Theo’s smile widened just a tiny bit. ‘They are ok with it. They aren’t worried about Draco being manipulated by Potter or LeStrange.’

As if sensing his thoughts, Blaise turned his head and looked over at him; the Italian raised an eyebrow before looking over to Potter and LeStrange for a moment and then over Draco and Pansy.

Theo raised his own eyebrow before he nodded in approval and smirked back, pleased with not only himself, but the world. Now, he finally understood what Pansy meant when she said Potter was more like them than anyone thought and why Draco said he wasn’t as golden; Potter was a snake in lion’s clothing. The tide of the war had turned in favour of the Dark side.

A/N 3: and that was chapter thirteen. Really sorry it took so long to get it out, but we did. So, now that you’ve read, review so we can know what you thought. Next chapter will be out next weekend.

A/N 4: for the reviewers who tried to find Tonks' page, I don’t know why you couldn’t see it. It’s on Fanfiction (.) net, not this site. This will take you directly to it: www (.) fanfiction (.) net / u / 195 7989 / Tonks_is_Cool. Remove the spaces and brackets.

Much Love,

Kila & Tonks
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Rise of the Dark Angel