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The Prophecy of Absconditus	By : AndromedanQueen Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 1570 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 15
- 16
- 17
Penname: Page of Cups

AOL Screen Name: AndromedanQueen

Email: andromedanprincess@hotmail.com

Title: The Prophecy of Absconditus

Pairing: Ron Weasley/Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter/Blaise Zabini

Rating: R

Summary: Wherein Ryan makes a map, Draco�s got a fan club, Blaise doesn�t smoke, and Harry meets his �family.�
Disclaimer: I used all my wit on chapter fifteen. Not JK. If you can�t tell the difference, read Prisoner of Azkaban again. Why Azkaban? Because it�s the one I love best.
Chapter Sixteen: Gemma and the Furies

After yesterday's research Doris sat Maddock and the boys down for dinner. Ron kept their findings somewhat of a secret as they sat around they table; he didn't want anyone but the Mages knowing of the similarity between his and Ryan Alcor's handwriting. They instead discussed Cane Weasley's journal and the piece of the map.

As far as Maddock could tell them, there was no proof that the pieces of the map made up Absconditus. They were found and put together in the eleventh century, but as no one possessed the blood of the Mages until now, no one could get into the city.

"Blood," said Ron. "Do you think they mean actual blood? Not metaphorical in any sense?"

"Feeling queasy?" asked Blaise, smirking.

"It's your blood, too, you know," said Ron.

Maddock explained that the exact wording of the Prophecy suggested the theory of blood to enter into the city. When Absconditus collapsed, the city sealed itself, and the vault doors appeared, or at least that was the theory in use by the Mages' descendants. No one knew for sure. All they knew was Absconditus no longer existed, but had existed at one time. Four vault doors all similar in size, shape, and design led to an area of magic proven to be unbreakable over the course of sixteen-hundred years.

Ron crawled beneath the covers that night, spread his limbs out, and stretched. He rolled over. Pulling the covers up to his chin, Ron tried to trap his body beneath the shield. Through the dark, he looked to the other side of the room. Moonlight filtered in through the window creating thin lines toward the end of Draco's bed and running onto the wall behind it. A lump sat in Draco's direction, and Ron propped his head up on his elbow.

"Can't sleep?"

"How did you know I was awake?" said Draco.

"Intuition. And your breathing pattern is off. What's on your mind?"

"Absconditus. Same as every other night." Draco shifted beneath the covers, rolling over to face Ron. In the dark, all Ron saw were shades of grey shifting across the planes of Draco's features. "Why aren't you asleep?"

"My bed feels too empty."

"Slept fine last night."

"I was asleep before I laid down last night. I don't even remember climbing into bed."

"Me, either."

"Come lay with me?"

"What about your grandparents?"

"I'm a Mage. If they have a problem, they can deal with it."

Ron watched a large part of the lump shift beneath the moon rays. Long limbs stretched out from their prison and Draco crawled out of bed. Pulling back his own blankets, Ron shoved over. As Draco sank onto the bed, Ron caught him around the waist and pinned him to the mattress. Leaning over, Ron pressed his lips to Draco's and ran his tongue along the fullness of Draco's bottom lip.

"You're beautiful," said Ron.

"You're crazy," said Draco.

Shifting to his side, Ron spooned behind Draco, and pulled the blankets to mid-chest. He placed his palm flat against Draco's stomach, thumb scraping along the slight definition of his muscle. In fact, despite how slender he looked or how much Quidditch he played, Draco's body was a tad plushier than Ron would have guessed. Rubbing his hand down the skin to Draco's hips, Ron curled his fingers around Draco's hipbone and placed a kiss to Draco's shoulder.

"What's happening to us?" asked Draco.

"What do you mean?"

"As often as I go over it, this isn't me. This isn't you. I don't know who we are anymore. I lost my nasty streak."

"I wouldn't say you lost it. You channel it. For instance, you can't spend more than two minutes in a room with Harry without attacking him for something. You're making up for not being able to harass me."

"I'm too busy getting you worked up in other ways to insult you," said Draco.

"I know what you mean, though," said Ron. "I don't know what's happening but I feel powerless to stop it. I've never really believed in fate."

"Me either."

"Looks like we were wrong."

"Tell me about it. Our entire existence is ed bed by fate. At least if you believe all this Mage business."

"You mean that maybe you don't?"

"Oh, I believe it, all right. Every last word. I don't want to, but I have all these memories, and I'm not very good at lying to myself anymore. It didn't get me anywhere good."

Ron nuzzled his nose into the dip behind Draco's ear, snaked his tongue out, and licked the skin. Covering the wet spot with a kiss, Ron trailed across the back of Draco's neck. The fine hairs on Draco's skin tickled Ron's lips and he placed a final kiss at the nape before pulling back. The hand wrapped around Draco's hipbone fell away and snuck under the waistband of Draco's pants.

"Who said you could touch me?" said Draco.

"Since when do I need permission?"

Ron kissed Draco's cheek and felt a smile tugging at Draco's lips. Hooking his thumb into the band, Ron tugged the pants lower to expose the right hip bone and even further until the top of Draco's thigh was visible over the material. He dug his fingers into the space where the hip and thigh meet, causing Draco to squirm and throw his head back on Ron's shoulder.

"Gods, Ryan . . ."

Ron ripped his hand from Draco's thigh as if burned. In the low light of the room, Ron saw the outline of his hand, shaking, as it hovered above Draco's legs. Draco angled his head to meet Ron's lips.

"What? What's wrong?"

"What diu juu just call me?"

" . . . Ron?"

"You called me Ryan."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did."

"I couldn't have. You must have misheard."

"Draco, what's happening to us?"

For a moment, Draco didn't answer. He shifted further back into Ron, tilting his head to fit against the crook of Ron's neck. Light breath fluttered over Ron's skin and made him squirm. Wrapping his arms around Draco's waist, Ron tangled their legs and pressed into Draco.

"I don't know," said Draco, "but it feels right, and I don't think it's supposed to."
*
"Do you know what you're doing?"

"Of course I know what I'm doing," said Ron. He glanced back to the ledger, dipped his quill into the ink, and referred back to the parchment before him.

"Why are we doing this again?"

"Because Alecto said we need a point of reference to remember the city. Its purpose is to spark memory."

A piece of d had hair hung in Ron's eyes. He swatted it away, smearing ink on his forehead.

"You're a mess."

"Bade . . ."

"Ryan."

"You drew the south road backward." Ron sighed and raked his fingers through his hair. Bade winced, scrunching his nose looklooking at the disheveled, inky hair. "Ryan, love, maybe you should give it a rest. You look a fright."

"Just get me another piece of parchment, all right?"

Bade nodded, leaving the bedroom. Ron glanced to the candle, which sat on the top of the desk. It was growing low, wax trickling down the side. When the door reopened, Ron didn't notice until a fresh piece of parchment spread out before him. As he dipped his quill into the inkwell, a chair scraped across the floor, and Bade's fingers sunk into his hair, massaging at his scalp.

"I love you," said Ron.

"I know," said Bade. "I love you, too . . . You should see yourself. Your hair's getting as dark as mine."

"I'm worried, Bade. I don't understand what's going on."

"I know you're worried, love, but Alecto isn't the only one who can foresee what is to come. We don't know that this is even necessary."

"I know. You're right. Alecto isn't the only one who can foresee. Something bad is coming. We need to be prepared."

"For what? Alecto has you all worked up over some arrest that you know nothing about and may not even happen. She us ius in prison. She saw us reborn in the future. What does that prove? Nothing! How often are Seers actually correct, no offense. You're fine. I'm fine. Your father and brother are fine. My mother --"

"Bade!" said Ron, his quill falling from his fingers and against the cold, stone floor. Ron raked his fingers through his hair and took one of Bade's hands over his shoulder.

"You're really worried."

"How could you tell?"

Bade smiled and leaned forward, placing a kiss on Ron's temple. Reaching beyond Ron, he pointed to a place on the parchment by the palace on the map. "There. That's where the North road runs."

"Have I told you I love you?"

"Once or twice. What do we do with this when it's finished?"

"Divide the map, have Alecto charm them, and bury them somewhere near our birthplace."

"Does that involve actual digging?"

"A bit."

"Ryan, how are you going to handle it?"

"I'm not incompetent."

"No one said you were."

Bade rested his head on Ryan's shoulder, grinning like a small boy. Arching an eyebrow, Ryan pulled back to survey Bade. He shook his head, ran his fingers through Bade's satin black hair, and brushed a thumb along Bade's chin.

"You're beautiful."

"You're crazy."

The boys jumped at a sharp knock, and Bade sat a reasonable distance from Ron before the doorknob began to turn. Inching farther, a boy of Ron's similar height and build stepped into the room. He surveyed the area, frowned, and smoothed out the front of his jerkin.

"What are you doing?"

"What do you want, Starvos?"

Looking to Bade, a sneer curled Starvos's lips.

"Father wants you asleep soon. We have a gathering tomorrow and you can't be falling asleep."

"Thank you, Starvos."

"Ryan . . . What is in your hair?"

"Ink."

For a moment, Starvos's face twisted in horror.

"Call Ana to have it washed out. You can't appear in public like that."

"I know, Starvos. Good night."

Making an incoherent, disgusted sound, Starvos gave Bade one last look and disappeared from the room. Once gone, Bade gagged, and drew his chair back to Ron's side. Draping his arms around Ron's shoulders, Bade pressed his cheek against Ron's.

"It's amazing how fabulous you are when your brother is so revolting."

"We ought to get to bed."

"Want me to join you?"

"It's not a question of whether or not I want you to join me. I want you to, but it isn't a good idea. Ana will be here early and I do need to get this ink out of my hair."

"All right, but do me a favor before I go."

"What?"

"Promise not to call her Ana."

Bade stood from his chair and walked around the corner, heading for the far end of the room. He passed the double doors and instead walked to a portrait of Rilian Alcor. Pushing a small button next to the portrait, Bade watched as the portrait swung open, revealing a door. As he turned the handle, he paused and looked to Ron.

"Promise. It is not her fault of her position in life, and she is your friend. Call her by her proper name. No one has to hear you, but do it when it's just the two of us."

"I would, but . . . I feel so terrible."

"Don't fool yourself using a pseudonym. It's Hero no matter what you call her."

"I know. I promise."

"Good. I'll see you in the morning."

"Pleasant dreams."

"I'm sure they will be."

Giving Ron a final smile, Bade pulled the door shut behind him. The portrait swung back and clicked into place.
*
Ron hiked his bag higher on his shoulder and shook his head as if to clear all the debris that settled there. He looked past Draco to the busy streets. People gawked at Draco, whispered and pointed, but Draco didn't seem to notice.

"Got a fan club, Malfoy?" said Harry.

"This is what happens when a Malfoy walks through Malfoy City," said Draco. "It's best to pretend it isn't happening. You don't want to encourage them."

"What are we going to my Manor for?" said Blaise.

"To find your piece of the map. That's all we really need. Everything else we've found in Cane's journal," said Draco. "I would like to head to Town Hall once we've got Zabini's and Potter's pieces. I'd like more information about the city. Besides, that's where my father sent documents that he didn't want me to happen upon. Chances are Mother would know about them. Anything really important with the prophecy will be there."

"Ron, you okay?" said Harry.

Shaking his head again, Ron looked to Harry, trying to make sense of him.

"What?"

"I asked if you were okay. Seems bit of a stupid question."

"Oh. Yeah. I'm fine."

"You don't look fine."

"Ron, what is it?" said Draco. He moved closer to Ron and wrapped his arm around Ron's waist. Resting his head against Ron's shoulder, he grinned upon feeling Ron's own arm encircle his waist. Harry grimaced, looking away.

"Nothing, really. Just some stupid dream."

"Just some stupid Seer dream?" said Draco. "You know you're supposed to tell us about them? Was it a vision?"

"It was the past," said Ron. "As Ryan."

"And?"

"I dreamed we were making the map. It wasn't just a drethouthough. Now that I've Seen it, I remember it."

"Why did we make it? Is it of Absconditus?"

"It's of Absconditus. I remember I went to see Alecto because my Intuition told me something bad was coming. She agreed. Saw us in prison and reborn in the future. Said the prophecy to me for the first time. I think -- I think that's why it affects me so much more than the rest of you. I heard the prophecy before she repeated it at our trial.

"The map was to spark memory. So that we'd remember war way when the time came to go back."

"So much for that," said Blaise. "We're remembering everything without the bloody map anyway."

"Right, but Alecto wanted us to make it. That's why it's in my handwriting. I drew it."

"Over a thousand years ago at that," said Harry. "Freaky."

"No, what's freaky is how everyone keeps staring at us," said Blaise. "Would you get your hand off Ron's arse? It's bad enough people are staring at you because you're a Malfoy, but now you're a Malfoy with his hand on a boy's arse."

"I know," said Harry. "They're staring at him like he's some kind of God."

"It is Malfoy City, and I am a Malfoy. Put the two together."

"Does anyone else find that funny?" said Blaise. "Malfoy City? You're never going to hear the end of it."

"Don't you mean Perdere?" said Ron.

"No, I mean Malfoy City. Perdere isn't funny."

"Because Malfoy City is," said Draco.

"Yes." Harry nodded.

"Am I going to have to put up with this the entire time we're here?"

"Yes." Harry nodded.

"Fine. It isn't like I can stop you."

"Good of you to realize," said Harry.

Ron shook his head and captured Draco's waist.

"How are you feeling?" said Ron.

"Better," said Draco.

"I've been worried."

"You're always worried."

"We should get you to bed early tonight."

"I don't need to be mothered."

"But you've been sick."

"I'll deal with it."

A hill on the north end of Malfoy City led to Zabini Manor. As they walked, poor, ramshackle sheds replaced the fine shops, homes, and schools. Draco mentioned the poor side of town, grimaced, and glared at a little girl in rags digging through the dirt. Her big, protruding eyes stared out from beneath her curtain of scraggly hair. Nudging Draco in the side, Ron frowned.

"Leave her alone. It's not her fault."

Ron looked over but the little girl was gone.

They reached the base of the hill and began to cl Un Unlike Weasley Manor, the inclination was steep, and their faces were covered in sweat when they reachhe the top despite the November air nipping at their skin. Blaise looked to the others and Draco ushered him on. Approaching the door, Blaise lifted the heavy knocker and held it out. He hesitated, and Draco reached out to grab Blaise's side. Blaise shrieked and dropped the knocker, causing a loud, heavy clang.

"What was that for?" said Blaise.

"Call it a nudge in the right direction."

"It hurt."

"Good."

The large, oak doors swung open. A woman clad in emerald green robes stood before them, her long black hair cascading down her back. She looked from Blaise to Harry, Draco, and Ron, and then nodded.

"I thought you might show up here."

"Hello, Grandmother," said Blaise. "We're --"

"I know what you're here for. Come in before anything looks suspicious. It'll be all over town by tomorrow morning, Draco Malfoy walking through Malfoy City. What were you boys thinking?"

She ushered them inside, the entrance hall sim to to that of Weasley Manor. An adjacent corridor trailed off to the right, and she pulled Blaise in that direction. The other boys followed. After interweaving through the hallways, they came to a drawing room where a man already sat. Large smoke rings puffed from the pipe that hung between his lips.

"Blaise, son, come in," said the man. He motd wid with his arm, the sleeves of his large black robes swishing. "Have a seat. Cigar?"

"He doesn't smoke," said the woman. "Boys, please take a seat. Tea?"

"I'm fine, thanks," said Blaise.

"Me, too," said Harry.

"None for me," said Draco.

Ron shook his head.

"All right, then, let's get down to business. You know, ever since I saw the articles in the paper I've been waiting for you. Thomas and I always thought it might be you, Blaise. You're Isaiah's only child to have any direction. I'm Gemma, by the way."

"I'm --" said Ron.

"I know who you are. Suppose you're looking for our piece of the map. You won't find much else here. Maddock has what you're really looking for."

"How do you --" said Blaise.

"Know? Goodness, child, just because Isaiah is my son doesn't mean he inherited his inebriated state. You think there's a living Zabini who doesn't know we're fated to bear a Mage?"

"I didn't know."

"That's because your mother failed to tell you why you grew up with Absconditus as your bedtime story. Ever since this place was built the story's been passed down. It's quite an honor for our family, of course. It's the only thing we can be proud of."

"Everyone seems to know," said Ron. "About us being the Mages. Why don�t other people know?"

"The story's largely myth, isn't it? Except to those who come from the founding families. We have proof to back it up, not that we'd share. Not with people crazy to get their hands on documentation like that."

"Anyone who knows about the myth thinks you're one of them, Potter," said Thomas, coughing. He took the pipe from his mouth, letting it dangle from his fingers. "We knew for certain. Andise,ise, you're the only one who hasn't embarrassed us yet. Let's keep it that way."

"Have you been to see Maddock, yet?" said Gemma.

"We just came from there," said Ron.

"You have the first piece of the map?"

"We found it in Cane Weasley's journal."

"Good. That's more than we can ever give you. The Zabini line never documented much of anything. From Cane's journals, we know that Cronus Zabini was far too self-involved to worry about documentation. He built this manor for his own benefit. Improved his standing, being an ancestor of a future Mage."

"I'll take you to the library if you'd like but there isn't much there," said Thomas. "Anything you could find there you've probably already got from the Weasley Manor. And if Maddock doesn't have it, Lucius will, and I'm sure you can find your way around there, Draco."

"Malfoy Manor isn't the problem," said Draco. "We've got more than enough. The only other thing we need is the wording of the prophecy. And the map. But you've said you can help us out on that one."

"Aye," said Thomas. "We can. Potter Manor is going to be where you have problems."

"I had that feeling," said Harry.

"You aren't the only one," said Draco.

Thomas nodded, placing the pipe between his lips again. He stood from his chair and motioned for the others to follow. Gemma watched as they disappeared. She was out of sight, and they wound through tangled corridors again.

The library of Zabini Mawas was smaller than that in Weasley Manor. Books climbed to the ceiling, but the Zabini library was only a small fraction -- maybe a fourth -- as large as Weasley Manor. One long cedar table stood in the center opposed to the five than spanned the Weasley library. Thomas left them at the door, pulled a small, leather book from one of the shelves, and extracted a sheet of parchment. Holding a monocle to his eye, he scanned the paper and nodded.

"This is the map of the dungeons. The piece of your map should be somewhere along the crevices of the vault door."

"Like mine was before Cane removed it," said Ron. Draco nodded.

"Explore as much as you'd like," said Thomas.

"Thanks, Grandfather," said Blaise. He took the map from Thomas, rolled it into his palm, and turned to Harry. "Suppose this means we have an adventure ahead of us."

"This whole bloody ordeal has been an adventure," said Draco, running his fingers through his hair. "I'll be happy when it's all over and I can get away from you lot. I want to be normal again."

"Wishful thinking, Malfoy. You were never normal."

"Funny, Potter. The more you talk, the more I'm starting to see Hero Veriatice in you."

"And the more you talk, the more I�m starting to see why the kingdom disliked you so much."

"They don't know how to exercise tolerance very long," said Ron. Grabbing Draco by the wrist, he pulled him toward the door.

"Then you'd better get moving," said Thomas. "Don't let me keep you back." He smiled to Blaise, touched him on the shoulder, and left the room.

"That was the warmest I think my grandparents have ever been."

"They're very interesting," said Harry.

Blaise sighed, wrapping his arm around Harry's waist and pulling him closer.

"Shall we head for the dungeons?"
*
Moss covered the stairwell walls and crawled along the steps as they descended into the dungeons. Mice scampered along a floor down below in the darkness. With each step, light faded farther away, and Harry muttered a Lumos spell. The faith light that glowed from the end of his wand did little to pacify the darkness. Ron felt Draco's hand creep into his own, grip almost painful.

"Didn't anyone think of lighting the way?" said Draco.

"Who was going to come down here?" said Blaise. He pulled out his wand and said the Lumos spell. "Want to give us a hand?"

"Can't," said Draco. "Mine are occupied."

"I don't even want to know."

"You're right. You don't."

"It isn't like that," said Ron, pulling out his wand. "Lumos. Harry, you do know where we are, right?"

"Of course I do. I think."

"You think?" said Draco. "That doesn't sound assured."

"I'll find it." A loud bang resonated, echoing off the walls and into black. "Watch out. That last step's a killer."

Ron found the level ground and groped for Harry's hand. He closed around flesh, hoping it was Harry, and tried to provide a steady hand as he hoisted Harry to his feet.

"Thanks for that, mate."

"Don't mention it."

"Which way?"

"Er -- right. I think," said Blaise, who found the map in the dark.

"It's left," said Ron. He felt more than saw the others look to him.

"How do you know?" said Harry as Blaise said, "No, I'm sure it's right."

"It's left," said Ron. "Look closer."

"Well?" said Draco.

"It's left. I was reading the paths wrong. How did you --"

"He's a bloody freak is how," said Draco.

"I must've had a vision," said Ron. "I don't remember."

"You're starting to creep me out," said Harry.

"Starting?" said Draco.

Blaise pointed his wand to the map and moved to the left. Ron grabbed Draco by the sleeve and dragged him along. Burying his face into his shoulder, Draco coughed into the material and rubbed at his eyes.

"I thought you were feeling better," said Harry.

"I'll be all right."

Blaise moved his wand from the parchment and waved it around the corridor. "It should be somewhere around here."

Turning around, Ron squinted, trying to make sense of his surroundings. Mildew climbed along the walls like a bad dream (or vision). The air was bitter, acrid in his nose and mouth. Faint droplets of water plopped in the distance. Moving to the closest wall, Ron ran his fingers over the bumpy rock as he tried to ignore the slimy fungus that coated his fingertips.

The mucky surface changed to a coarse metal. Bits flecked onto his skin and crumbled beneath his touch. Ron stepped closer, examining the edges, and came upon what looked to be a circle, engraved into the metal. A second circle sat inside the first, and inside the second circle was a six-point star.

"I found something," said Ron. Blaise, Harry, and Draco rushed over, Draco pushing in front of Harry to stand by Ron's side. Ron pulled Blaise next to him and shined his wand over the crest. "What do you think?"

"I think you found the vault door," said Blaise. Reaching out, he ran his fingers over the surface. "That was my symbol. We all had one. Personal symbols Alecto had us make in prison before we were condemned."

"I didn't want to believe," said Draco. "I remember that, now. I didn�t want to make a symbol because I didn�t want to believe that I had to die. Not that I've changed much. I still don't want to."

"Alecto wanted to bind our souls long before we were ever accused,� said Ron. �I refused. It wasn't until I was dying and the city was collapsing that we were bound."

"And you're the only one foraging ahead now," said Blaise. "I'd just as soon give up."

"I realize that I don't have a choice."

"There's always a choice," said Draco.

"But there's only one right choice."

"I adore you."

"I know you do."

Blaise squeezed Ron's shoulder, not noticing the glare Draco gave him in doing so. He approached the vault door, fingering the engraving. His fingers ran over the metal and dipped into the carving of the six-point star. Tracing the star, starting at the top point and moving counterclockwise, he stopped at the bottom point. Following it over the circles, he ran along the crevice between door and wall. Wedging his fingers in, Blaise forced out a piece of parchment.

"Is it the map?" said Harry.

"Just a second, love," said Blaise. Standing to full height, Blaise unfolded the parchment and held the tip of his wand to it. "Ron, where's your piece?"

Ron fished aroun his his pockets and pulled out the first piece from inside his robes. Smoothing it out, he walked to Blaise's side and held it up. With the smooth edges of Ron's piece forming the bottom left corner, the torn top edge fit next to Blaise's. The left half of the map was complete.

"It's my piece," said Blaise.

"He's got everything on his, too," said Ron. "You know that building on mine? The one that's top was cut off?"

"Yes," said Draco.

"It's the palace. Look, Blaise's got the fountain, the other half of the palace . . . he's even got the prison."

Ron stared at his own handwriting which labeled the map. The bottom part of Blaise's piece extended past Ron's, and in the farthest corner was the fountain. Just as the stories told, it sat in the middle of the city. A market area surrounded the fountain, and the map showed two roads running off from it. One led to the palace; the other led to the prison. Even the execution dais was labeled on Blaise's piece. The letters that labeled it were shaky and uncertain, and Ron felt his insides twist as he stared.

"How do you know?" said Harry.

"What do you mean? It's all here on the map. Look. I've labeled it all."

"It's all in Latin," said Draco, taking the map. "I didn't know you knew Latin."

"I don't," said Ron, grabbing the map. He felt his jaw drop, looking at the foreign words that had seemed clear moments ago. "But . . ."

"I don't know why we're surprised anymore when you show some strange insight."

"But I could read this. I know what it says. This is the prison. This is the palace. I know it is."

"I don't doubt it. Come on. We have two more pieces of the map to find."
*
Ron was numb as they walked to Potter Manor. Holding the two map pieces together, Ron stared at the words. He didn't notice the walk through Malfoy City, nor the climb of the east hill. Potter Manor loomed before them looking dark and foreboding before he had time to register the movement of his legs. Ron stared at the shutters with gaping holes that hung off of the windows by single hinges. The steps squeaked as they mounted the porch, and Blaise didn't bother to knock. He threw his weight into the door, which squealed as it opened in protest.

The foyer was spotless. There was no furniture, but it was immaculate. A staircase ornamented in gold with scarlet carpeting stood to one side, and a balcony at the top looked down upon them.

"House elves?" said Ron.

�What else?" said Draco. "Those things breed like rabbits. Probably thousands of them living here, going crazy with no one to give them orders. Keep the place spotless in hopes someone will come along and play master."

"Sounds kinky," said Blaise. Harry frowned, elbowing him in the ribs. "That was not. Honestly, Harry -- that hurt. I think I broke a rib."

"You'll live."

"Did you hear that?" said Draco.

"Hear what?" said Blaise. "I didn't hear anything."

"I guess you wouldn't with the way you've been running your mouth. I thought I heard something."

"Maybe it was in your imagination."

"Maybe if you shut up, you'd hear it, too."

"I didn't hear anything, either, Malfoy,� said Harry. �I think you've gone para --"

A loud bang echoed from the corridor across from the doors. Draco arched an eyebrow, his hands on his hips, and glared at Harry.

"Paranoid, were you going to say?"

"It's probably the house elves," said Harry. "Something's got to be cleaning this place, right? Come on. Let's go have a look."

"A look?" said Draco. "Are you crazy?"

Harry ignored him, walking in the direction of the noise. Blaise followed after and Draco looked to Ron.

"I'm not letting them go alone," said Ron. He shrugged and headed in the same direction.

"Don't leave me," said Draco.

"Then come on."

Groaning, Draco followed as if walking to a Blast-Ended Skrewt. Every so often, Draco turned around and longed for the door. The way it got farther away with each step depressed him. When Harry found the door separating them from all the noise, he turned the knob and flung it open. Inside was a large kitchen, steam filling the room, and several dozen house elves milled around. A high buzz filtered into their ears, a by-product of simultaneous house elf chatter.

"What should we do?" said Blaise.

"We should leave them alone, find my map, and get out of here," said Harry.

"Good idea," said Draco.

Ron turned around to open the kitchen door when a shriek derailed his attention.

"Harry Potter, sir!" cried one of the house elves. The rest began to chirp it as a mantra.

It was almost comical watching the house elves look to Harry, begin to say his name, and then migrate over to where he stood. Draco stepped back, trying not to laugh as the house elves mauled Harry. They all spoke at one time and Harry's gaze dodged from house elf to house elf, not grasping what any said.

"How do they all know who I am?" said Harry.

"Maybe they know Dobby," said Ron.

"Dobby?" said Draco. "What's my old house elf got to do with anything?"

"Not the time right now."

"Maybe it's because your grandfather lived here. His name was Harry Potter, too, remember?" said Blaise.

"Harry Potter, sir, has come back to the house elves," said one, bouncing by Harry's left knee. The others nodded, repeating what he said.

"Does anyone else wish they could use the killing curse on all those house elves right now?" said Draco. Ron smacked his arm just above the elbow, stinging his own skin. Wincing, Draco rubbed at the red imprint.

"Why did Harry Potter leave the house elves, Harry Potter, sir?" said another.

"What is going on in there?" bellowed a sharp, feminine voice.

Heavy footsteps pounded down the corridor, coming to a din before the kitchen door flew open and banged against the wall. The house elves fell silent, retreating to a darkened corner. The door rebounded with inertia, it flew back at the intruder, and a grayish-green hand caught it. The skin appeared water-logged and the dark green veins that ran through the body shined. Snakes writhed and snapped atop her head, and she stared through those water-logged eyelids with obsidian eyes.

"Who are you?" she asked.

Draco whimpered and backed behind Ron.

"Who are you?" said Harry.

"Electra. I live here. Mind telling me what you're doing in my home?"

"She's a fury," said Draco.

"Actually, I'm one of the Erinyes," said Electra.

"It's the same thing."

"The furies were my ancestors. And you are?"

"Er -- You talk to her, Potter. She's your family."

"Family?" said Electra. She crossed her arms over her chest, the silky toga that hung from her shoulders bunching around her neckline.

"I'm Harry. Harry Potter. I -- er --"

"This is his Manor," said Blaise. "He has more of a right to be here than you do."

"Don't say that," said Draco.

Electra took no notice of Draco, her eyes barely brushing over him as she surveyed their group. At last, she dropped her arms to her sides and her fingers relaxed out of fists.

"Potter, did you say?"

"That's right," said Blaise. "Harry Potter. His father was James Potter, and his father was Harry Potter, senior. That makes him the heir to this Manor."

"No need to get so excited," said Electra. A hint of a smile twisted on those horrible, green lips. "What is your business here? Surely you didn't mean to move in. I see no indication of it."

"No, not at all. I'm here . . . well, we're here because we're looking for something. A piece of a map. It's supposed to be here, and we need it."

"What kind of map?"

"Of a city. Absconditus. It was sealed with the vault door down in the dungeons."

"The one with the Veriatice symbol?"

Harry looked to Blaise and then Ron.

"I suppose. How do you know . . ." "Ru"Rune."

"Right."

"You're talking about the Prophecy of the Mages."

"How do you . . ."

"Do you know what the Erinyes do, Harry Potter?"

Harry looked to Ron and Blaise. Both shrugged and Harry winced as Draco dug his knuckles into Harry's back.

"Furies pursue and punish sinners. They're called 'those who walk in the darkness.' "

"He's right," said Electra.

"But Hero -- I -- was innocent."

"Hero wasn't being punished. The Prophecy of the Mages isn't only legend in your culture. Anyone who played a part has their own story, you know. Ours just happens to focus on our part of the story."

"How do you know that Hero wasn't being punished?"

"Rune branched our world to the human world, and we, in turn, set the path for Hero to return and balance the karma. The Fates said you would come in my lifetime, but I didn't believe it until this moment."

"So you'll help us?"

"Ourseurse. On one condition, that is."

"Name it."

"I give you the piece of your map. You leave us to live inconspicuously."

"Not a problem."

"Good. Zangrid?"

"Yes, Mistress Electra," said one of the house elves, rushing out of the cowering group and into the light.

"Take Winifred and go down to the dungeons for me. Find the Veriatice door and retrieve the map piece. I want it brought back to me, do you understand?"

�Yes, Mistress. Zangrid will do good, Mistress. Come, Winifred. Come help Zangrid."

Another house elf scurried out and away with Zangrid.

"Would you like something while you wait?" said Electra.

"No, thank you," said Harry.

The next twenty minutes passed, Electra requesting things from various elves, which would run off to do her bidding. Harry, Ron, and Blaise stood near the kitchen door, shifting footing, and gazing around the room. It wasn't much to look at. Big, copper kettles hung along one wall. Tan, speckled paint peeled from the wall by the door. A large window overlooked the overgrown gardens out back.

Draco migrated from behind Ron to the spot next to the door. His fingers itched on his hips, his eyes gazing at the doorknob. Ron almost wanted to laugh, watching Draco's inner struggle. Just when his head felt woozy, and Ron feared for his health, the door creaked open and Draco jumped back, yelping.

Grabbing at his chest and heaving, Draco scuttled to Ron's side and put his arms around Ron's waist from behind. His chin trembled resting on Ron's shoulder. Draco's thighs shook from standing on his toes to reach Ron, and he peered at the house elves.

"Zangrid and Winifred found it, Mistress Electra," said Zangrid. "Zangrid and Winifred found Mistress Electra's map."

"Thank you, Zangrid," she said, waving the elves away. "Here you are, as promised. Is it what you were looking for?"

Ron watched Harry gaze at Electra's hand, the skin somewhat reminiscent of a mermaid's. Long fingernails stretched over the map. Harry fisted the fingers of his left hand while grabbing for the map with his right. Those nails were too much; you could kill someone with nails like that. For a moment, Ron supposed they could literally spoon the eyeball out with it, and as he thought so, his eyes began to itch and water.

"Blaise, let me see the other pieces?"

"I don't have them. Ron does."

"Right. Ron?"

"Oh. Right here." Ron stopped rubbing at his itchy, watery eyes to produce the Zabini and Weasley pieces of map. Harry's fit next to Blaise's, the bottom, right-handed corner still missing. Though all the words were in Latin, Ron was certain that the apothecary, a farm, an orphanage, the rest of town and market, and a forest -- Nazgenie -- were on it.

"That's it," said Harry. "And I suppose it's time to keep my part of the bargain."

"Would you like to stay for dinner? We could even fix you up for the night so that you don't have to travel."

"That's all right," said Harry. "We're close to our destination. Thank you, anyway. You've been an amazing help."

"No problem. Come by any time. Tell them Electra invited you."

"I will. Thank you."

Harry turned around, his eyes huge. He didn't breathe until they were outside again and on their way to Malfoy Manor.
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The Prophecy of Absconditus