Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

The Principle of Sympathy	By : heerayni Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 5831 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not Own any part or character from The Harry Potter series, Or The Master of Magics Trilogy, They belong to J.k. Rowling and Lyndon Hardy, i make no money from this.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
Author's Note:

Apologies for the late update.

Thanks to Unneeded, Delia and Lividfire for their reviews.

Chapter 9. Helping a Malfoy

I asked for a kiss you gave me six.

Whose pupil were you to become such a master?

Full of kindness, generosity...

You are not of this world. (Rumi)

"First of all…" he finally speaks. His complexion is glowing pale in the firelight, his long hair, untied and disheveled yet falling in silver waves across his black dressing robe. He is afraid I know, but I don't think it has anything to do with the fact that I am threatening to take him into custody. I think it's about me closing the physical distance between us. His rigid frame grows a little lax when I stop mid-stride.

"…I have no idea what you are speaking of. I only contacted McGonagall two days ago and she is yet to assign me a time in which I can visit the portrait of my Godfather, which is the only reason I would want to visit Hogwarts in the first place. There is no logical reason for me to be involved in such a heinous crime when I was just granted with a full pardon and the right to my assets just yesterday, so even if you won't admit it out loud Potter, you know I am not involved."

I know he has nothing to do with it. The magical signatures are too different even if the resulting ward is the same. Just like you know that a Golden apple and a green apple did not come from the same tree, but they are both still apples.

So why am I here? Because I am afraid of the magic that I do not know, and if Malfoy is the only person who knows what kind of magic it is and how to cast it and how to dismantle it, then I would get it out of him by any means possible.

I simply look at him. Knowing the fact that we both know the truth, wondering what he will do to stop me. Whoever is the culprit is too powerful and has targeted me directly. I already have too many deaths on my conscience as it is. Tonight another was added. I am getting too tired for this shite and I have probably made a stupid decision coming here like this and on top of that threatening Malfoy yet again when I had vowed not to do it again. The worst part is the fact that Malfoy is onto me.

"Secondly, as a magical citizen of Wizarding Britain with fully restored legal rights. I have a full right to ask you to show me a Warrant or permit signed by the Minister or head Auror before you take me into your custody…" he leans back against the pool table that he is standing in front of, in a gesture that is so reminiscent of old days that I feel like a strung out school boy again all of a sudden and for the first time I feel that I have just lost control of the situation as he continues to speak in that familiar drawl. The arrogant sod. Standing there in his silk dressing robe and being so dismissive of my red Auror robes that people shudder at when they see me wearing them.

"… And I know you have no such warrant or permit on you right now. I also know that the six aurors that are standing outside my wards also have no such warrant or permit on them…so you can't possibly take me into custody….BUT…"He straightens away from his perch against the pool table in a fluid movement that tells me clearly of his well oiled and perfect reflexes. He easily crosses the few feet that remain between us, the idea of me crossing which had just distressed him a moment ago. Oh yes, now I have done it. He looks fearless. He feels fearless. He breathes fearless.

"If you ask me nicely Auror Potter..." his eyes that are shimmering like liquid mercury as they trace away from my eyes for a moment before they come back to settle on mine with strength that I have never seen him display before. His voice lowers even more when he speaks next

"… and I mean really nicely Auror Potter… I might be able to help you out with the ward that you find impossible to penetrate and how to erect but not how to dismantle it as that is not possible."

Is he…flirting with me?

He is standing too close. Suddenly I am aware of his physical presence in all its aspects. It's as if my hand that had lain on his chest the day before has a flesh memory, starts to tingle slightly as if it has a life of its own. What is it that is between him and me and is growing every time we lay eyes on each other. Why did I touch him? Why did he make me react so violently? Why do I feel so many conflicting things when it comes to him? Why did I defend him when I did when nobody else would do? Why do I not trust him now when everybody else does apparently? Why does the friction between us never die down for a single moment? Why am I analyzing what is going on between me and Malfoy when clearly more important matters need solution?

I keep telling myself to do one thing and do the exact opposite of what I should be doing. I can't lose control like that. For all means and purposes whatever lies between us is too intense for me to fool about anymore without consequence. Consequences that I will be reviewing closely at a later time. Right now I need his cooperation and for that, I will have to stay on top of him. Knowing how easy it for him to just roll over and come on top, I have to change tactics.

"When it is a matter of life and death, I will do anything to solve the matter as swiftly as possible, even if I have to do something that is against the law. Life is above law and as it is, I was never a devout follower of rules so what makes you think I will follow any now?"

He looks at me in way that can only be described as contemplatively.

"Draco… someone who saved me once died tonight because of it, in a most brutal manner, let us not play these games anymore. I don't want to harm or threaten you, but I will not hesitate if that is what I have to do to get to the fuckers who did this." I know I am not a good actor so my best shot is honesty after all. Moreover it is the only thing that has the power of throwing Slytherins off their game.

"I know you can be a mean evil git, but you draw the line at death, it is the only reason I defended you at the trials, even if I thought you were dead."

He raises an eyebrow at me as a small smirk of accomplishment plays on his lips. It reminds me too much of him back at school, when things were black and white between us and I had no urge to strangle him and apologize at the same time.

"Now that was not so difficult was it Potter?" he says as he steps away from me gesturing at me to take a seat on one of the many easy chairs littered around the room that I notice for the first time is surprisingly decorated in warm colors.

I am still taking in my surroundings when he presents me with a glass which contains what I believe to be fire-whiskey. I give him a skeptical look and he rolls his eyes in a very Malfoy manner.

"you think I am foolish enough to give a senior auror a spiked glass of firewhiskey whilst half dozen aurors stand just outside my door?" really?" the ruefull smile and sarcastic comments are helping me ground down for some strange reason. Familiarity I guess has a way to put you at ease. I take the glass from his offering hand, sipping slowly and feeling the drink scald on my tongue before it slithers down my throat warming me up. I open my eyes to see him sitting just across the coffee table watching me intently.

"So, are you going to tell me what I want to know any time tonight?" I ask settling down deeper into the arm chair.

"Not until you send the remaining aurors away." He says plainly. I have no idea why every time our eyes meet I feel like I am in the middle of a battle of wills, will to do or not to do what? I have no idea.

After a few seconds of staring, flick my wrist as my wand slips smoothly into my hand from my wand holster.

I conjure my patronus and send the message out to the aurors that had accompanied me despite my refusal. Orders of the head-auror.

And then we sit staring at each other again. While sipping away from our respective whiskey glasses. Half a minute later a patronus in the shape of a beaver comes bounding in and informs me that the group is leaving before it dissolves. I have a sneaking suspicion that it was the patronus of the unfortunately named Harry Pontner. Another minute or two passes during which I look down into my almost empty whiskey glass.

"Now, that your little entourage is gone…"

"I need to know what this magic is? How you gained it? How you master it? And last but not the least, how you break it?" i know I sound hasty and desperate but I cannot afford playing his mind games tonight.

"This magic, which I am not sure is the same as the one that was cast around Dumbledore's grave, is an evolved form of Thaumaturgy."

"Thaumaturgy?"

"Yes, People usually only know its uses in spiritual healing magic, that is used by shamans and monks and church healers, the laying on hands? The spiritual channeling? Ringing any bells Potter? You were after all raised in the muggle world initially yes? Usually used in the muggle world."

"My relatives were not very religious Malfoy." I say snappishly.

"Never mind…" he says waving his hand dismissively "…what you need to know is that what is used in the muggle world is just a little earth worm in comparison to the basilisk real Thaumaturgy is. Thaumaturgy is way beyond simple spiritual healing magic that charlatans use. It is the magic of the will. Magic that comes directly from your core. The magic that is inherent in all of us, but never used. In its most raw and uncontrolled form it is called accidental magic that magical children display. Before they are pushed into making their magic obey by means of a crutch that are aiding magical objects, such as your wand. In our persuasion of mediocrity, we have made sure that the fact that magic comes from the wizard and not the wand is ignored thoroughly."

"Spoken like a true Slytherin Lord Malfoy." I sneer at him.

"Why Thank you Auror Potter. Any ways, before you start suspecting me of doing a Tom Riddle and fraternizing with Albanian Magjistarizis for seven years, I shall make clear that I learnt the discipline of Thaumaturgy during regaining my magic after losing it. I do not know why I survived the destruction of Voldemort. What I know is that it unleashed something in my magical core and for a while and whilst I thought I had lost my magic, it had only been destabilized. I had to travel as far as Japan to get my magical core healed in the shrines of Shida Miryo*. The sorcerer-monks there use Thaumaturgy not only as healing magic but also defensive magic. It was rather simple for me to pick it up since I had totally lost my way in the conventional magical practice. I was a somewhat blank slate. Though my newly healed core was as stable as any proper adult wizard's, my core was as pure because of its newness. So while I served them for healing me, they taught me the best and most effective defensive magic that can exist."

The Idea I have to admit is very intriguing. I can only imagine what an advantage it can be to not be dependent on one's wand. The theory he is telling me can challenge and revolutionize the way that magic is practiced in our world. NOW, to address the problem at hand. If this magic is such a unique and relatively singular ability, it can easily narrow down the list of suspects.

"Okay, I think I understand the basic concept, and I think such a unique kind of ability narrows down the lists of suspects, I hope you understand what I am getting at."

He looks at me with an expression I can only describe as exasperation.

"Potter, tell me anything peculiar that you saw at the… crime scene. Was there any sort of signature? Or anything peculiar."

"Dumbledore's coffin was perched up on the roof of the tomb, and on the ledge were the latin word in fire scrawl, Qui salvabo vos salvator Potter it said, and a magical mark was suspended up in the air. A huge horned dragon with a wand in its mouth wrapped around the letter 'M'"

Malfoy pales significantly at this. His jaw hardens and all of a sudden he looks almost as haunted as he did in the sixth year.

"well played…well played indeed. They just know how to play perfectly with the stiff british mentality regarding order and conspiracy. So very well played." He mutters under his breath.

"Do you know who did this Malfoy?" I ask cautiously.

"Well… the thing is, to most it will seem as if I have done it. I mean, I have a special connection with Dumbledore's death. I have the peculiar magic. The sordid history with you and also as a death-eater to boot, not to mention questionable whereabouts for past seven years and only my own solicitor as an alibi. I really appreciate the confidence you have shown me so far Potter."

"It is rather instinctual; you know what they say about gut feelings and law enforcers." I answer, feeling a little warm in the chest. Did I just make a joke? With Malfoy? A side of his mouth curves up in a half smile as his eyes sparkle.

I wonder if I have made progress with what I had resolved when I had lain in my bed a little while before. Even if the following events had done everything to throw me off track. It's as if the universe is against the idea of me being civil with Malfoy.

"So, what can you tell me about this whole…you know.."

"I know… but I am not sure if I can make any rapid connections here for you. Not unless I have seen the… crime scene myself. But I can assure you one thing, that whoever has done this, is a highly skilled wizard or witch and they are most probably not from Britain. Perhaps an up and coming Dark wizard looking for a challenge and arrogant enough to challenge the vanquisher of the last Dark lord. It was only a matter of time."

What he says does make sense. But as I recall the details of the whole scene, I feel as if I am missing a link somewhere. My mind keeps going back to the words etched in the stone skirting in fire.

"Who is going to save you savior Potter?" the words said.

And the murder of Firenze.

I wonder why no Centaurs had come forward from the forbidden forest demanding vengeance. One of their own was killed tonight most brutally. As for

"Who is going to save you savior Potter?" The words said. I wonder what the link is between the three things.

Firenze, threatening me, Dumbledore's coffin.

I was never awfully close to Firenze. Wizards and Centaurs have always had a strained relationship.

But…

Wait a second.

The night I had met Firenze for the first time, was the night I had come face to face for the first time with Voldemort in my first year as he was feeding on unicorn blood during detention with Hagrid.

Firenze was the first ever being who had saved me from the half dead form of Voldemort.

"Who is going to save you savior Potter?"

FUCK!

There are extremely few people who know about Firenze saving me from Voldemort in the first year as it is not common knowledge.

In fact, I am sure, I know exactly who knows or knew.

Dumbledore, McGonagall, Hagrid, Ron, Hermione, Firenze and Draco Malfoy…

But no, Malfoy shouldn't know what happened; he had run away hadn't he? But he had found Hagrid and had he come back with Hagrid, Ron and Hermione? Only he can tell. A feeling of dread fills me. The people who know and are still alive are the people I would trust my life with without a second thought, except Malfoy. Malfoy, who my gut tells me has nothing to do with this yet all things point towards. Is this an elaborate ploy to frame Malfoy? The perpetrator of the events tonight is not only an exceptional sorcerer but also a ruthless killer. And I know Malfoy is not a killer. He is different now than he was seven years ago, but it is just gained depth, not darkness. Had I not seen and touched his soul the way I had last afternoon, I might have not been so sure, now that I have, I am absolutely sure of my instinct.

But, I have to ask, I have to know.

I realize that I am staring into my empty whiskey glass. I look up from it to find Silver eyes trained on me.

"Do you remember our first year? When you got us all four detention from McGonagall for being out of bed after curfew and aiding Hagrid with the baby dragon?" I ask slowly placing the glass on the table that is between us.

He gives a little snort.

"Of course Potter, it was my first detention ever and first venture ever into the forbidden forest, and no matter what you say, it was extremely irresponsible of McGonagall to send a bunch of first years into the forbidden forest at night and even more irresponsible of Hagrid to split us up especially if you take into consideration exactly what we were looking for and what we encountered, a Unicorn killer. It really makes me wonder sometimes, and don't you even try to make fun of me for running away, you would have done the same had you quicker reflexes and even a semblance of survival instinct, which was proven time and time again afterwards, that you don't."

I do agree with him. Especially now that I think about it. It was in fact criminally irresponsible of Hagrid, but it was not deliberate. Hagrid just has a skewered sense regarding safety and danger. But if I really think about it neutrally, and from the point of view of perhaps a parent. For example, if what happened to me had happened to Teddy, I would have chewed on the bones of those responsible. But that debate was for another time.

"I was not going to make fun of you, I do agree with what you say to some extent. But what I really want to ask you is, do you know how I survived in absence of my survival instinct? Without a scratch?"

His expression grows thoughtful as he inclines his head asking me to continue.

"Do you even know what was it that was killing the unicorns?" I ask him quietly.

"I wondered, but I have never given it serious thought, I was too busy…. With other things.."

"It was Voldemort. He was killing and drinking unicorn blood to survive until he could get his hands on the Sorcerer's stone."

"Through Quirell."

"Yes, through Quirell."

"So how did you survive?"

"It was Firenze, the centaur, he intervened just as Voldemort was about to attack me. Though I am sure Voldemort would have been unable to really harm me at that point since I was still under the protection of my mother's ritual. The fact remains, that Firenze saved my life that night. Making him the first ever person to save me from mortal danger since my return to the wizarding world."

I can literally see the cogs turning in his mind behind those silver eyes, processing the information I have just given him. I am not wrong in expecting him to have a considerable ability of deduction.

"it is not common knowledge is it? If it was I would have known it…"he pauses for a moment before the Latin comes flowing out his lips"…Qui salvabo vos salvator Potter?" He says. His accent much more refined than mine.

"Who is going to save you Savior Potter…" I translate quietly nodding my head.

"I don't…" he pauses for a moment his wide eyes trained on me I see trepidation and disbelief.

"You don't think it's the Dark lord is it? Because with all the facts, it is either me or the dark lord, and even if no one believes me, I know it is not me. And if it's not me then it's him which makes me wish it was me!"

Despite his calm and rational demeanor I can see the storm in his eyes for a moment before he leans back against the backrest of the arm chair and rubs his eyes with the heels of his palms, his posture exhausted. I feel no different, I want to tear my own hair out. The mystery is more dangerous than I first thought. It is too close to home, too carefully thought out, too personal. I have not felt this frustrated in past seven years.

But, it must be worse for Malfoy. He has hardly returned home, struggling to get his bearings right, grieving for his parents, dealing with the media and Malfoy fortune, dealing with the ministry, dealing with my petty prejudice and now being framed for a murder. Thought, only I know the facts properly that point towards him. Seeing as I am the only one who can actually see the ward and recognize the similarity between the one at the tomb and the one at the manor. And if I keep Ron and Hermione distracted I can keep them from making the obvious connection. I still have all the cards in hand.

I realize what I am thinking and what I am about to do. I am once again going to defend Malfoy. Why? I refuse to think over that at the moment, deciding to brood over it at a later time.

"Voldemort is dead and I made sure there was no way for him to return, and I believe you, I know it is not you, after what I saw past afternoon…" his eyes snap towards me all of a sudden. A warning glint in there. Ah! So it is a sensitive topic. I would be fool if I did not think so, the deliberate mention of it would definitely distract him from the depression which I can see rapidly spreading above his head like a thunder cloud. I wonder why I am so concerned about him being depressed.

Because I am Harry Potter, with a sodding bleeding heart. And I am too Gryffindor to ignore innocence and feelings.

"I don't think anyone would be able to make the connections I made tonight, and I don't think those connections were meant to be made by anyone but me in the first place. I think the crime scene tonight was provocatively designed to lead me to you, which makes me wonder what mutual acquaintance do we both have that knows you and I both so intimately. Who is it that knows that Firenze saved my life that one time and who is it that is capable of casting magic similar to yours which in itself has never been seen here in this part of the world, if what you claim is correct. Because it is all too much for a coincidence."

"I agree. But potter, the fact remains, no one knows of my peculiar magic, which is just an additional skill in the first place, like a wizard being an occlumens as well, it does not dominate my magic in anyway. If it was that way the testing at the ministry would have proven so. I did not even know my own identity for a long time, I would probably kill myself for telling you this later, but I went by the name of Drachen Silbern for almost five years. Which is what they named me, because of the Dragon pendant in my neck and my hair while I was in a coma for four months."

"Drachen Silbern!?" is it just me or is it the night for silly names.

"Don't!" he snaps at me, but I can see the thunder cloud of depression receding. It is almost surreal that I am sitting here in one of the countless sitting rooms at the Malfoy Manor teasing the new lord Malfoy who is my until-recently presumed-dead arch-nemesis as well. And despite the grave circumstances I am feeling rather warm and open, as if anything is possible.

"What are you going to do then?" he asks me after a few second of comfortable quiet.

"I…" yes Harry? What are you going to do then? Asks my inner-Hermione voice.

"…am going to sit on it for now, but I definitely need your help in figuring this out, that is if you are willing, I can ask Robards and Kingsley, who is apparently very fond of you to enlist the help of the inexhaustible and invaluable source of information that is… The Malfoy Library in investigating obscure dark magics."

A single raised eye-brow is the immediate reaction of the plan that is apparently perfect and I have just improvised on the roll.

I AM BUGGERING BRILLIANT!

"The Malfoy library? You are going to enlist the help of the Malfoy library? And the Ministry would buy that?" he is genuinely intrigued and impressed; though I am sure it would kill him to admit it.

"I have inspected the Malfoy library seven times in past seven years Malfoy, the minister had me on the manor at least once a year under the illusion of looking for Dark magical artifacts. No one knows the resources the Malfoy library has better than me except perhaps you, believe it or not, i have spent seven weeks of my life in that library consolidated, and the excuse is better than any other. I can involve you in the investigation without really involving you. Of course your consent will be needed, which would make your cooperation with the ministry look even stronger. It's the perfect excuse."

"How very Slytherin of you Potter!" he says smirking deviously, eyes sparkling and mirthful. I can't help but smirk back, which surprises him for some reason.

"Why Thank you Lord Malfoy!" I say repeating his own words. He looks at me incredulously

"You would find Lord Malfoy that things have changed a lot in seven years. One of the Bravest and most formidable wizards I have ever known in my life was a Slytherin. You cannot anger me by pointing out Slytheriness in me, since I can only picture him when I picture Slytherin, and I would be more than proud to possess even a little bit of the metal he was made of."

"Is that so? I remember you calling us Slytherins sadists not very long ago…"

"And I was not wrong…" I say simply. He nods his head in acceptance. Taking no offence at all.

"I am glad to hear that my sadistic God father finally gets the respect he deserves, even if it is in death." he says solemnly, sadness clouding his expression again.

I take a deep breath, my eyes inadvertently move to the window to see the faint glow of sunrise and I know I should leave now. I really should. I slowly stand up. Straightening my scarlet robes running a hand through my hair, it is no use and it surely looks like a bird's nest. Am I stalling? The thought pushes me forward quickly.

"I have to go now, I will be wanted at the headquarters shortly. You will most probably get an owl from the Head Auror Robards in a few hours, asking for the permission to use the library, accept it if you will." He looks up at me for a few seconds, a strange look in his eyes before he stands up gracefully.

"I don't think that would be necessary, I have an appointment in the Department of Mysteries in a few hours and then Lunch with the minister, in celebration of gaining full possession of my assets and being officially declared sole executor of all Malfoy affairs. I am sure you can... intercept me." He says quietly as we walk out of sitting room.

"I think that can be arranged…" then it makes me wonder "…What do you have to do with department of Mysteries by the way?"

"You mean to say Granger hasn't told you?" he asks me with a certain nonchalance.

"Hermione? No, if its related to her job then she wouldn't, she is an unspeakable after all."

"An unspeakable that everyone speaks of…" he snorts derisively. As we stride in the direction of the reception hall.

"Indeed, but an unspeakable who speaks of, to no one…" for some reason I cannot find it in me to rise to the bait.

"If you say so, but as it is, I don't think it is any of your business really." He says shrugging his shoulders indifferently. For some reason it affects me more than the baiting.

Yea, you are stupid Harry. He cooperated with you because he is in a fix; don't read too much into his civility. It is not as if you are friends just because you are exchanging help.

"Oh right, sorry, not supposed to talk about department of mystery stuff." I say easily, acting indifferent by being sheepish, I see a little frown on his face before it's a smooth mask covers it again. Just as we enter into the reception hall and move towards the tall and wide floo place. An elf is already present by the Floo dropping a little floo powder to get things going.

"So, I'll be seeing you at the ministry in a few hours?" he asks me as I flick my wrist and hold out my faith full wand in hand, a necessity if I am flooing to my home from an unknown floo place. I look up at him to see that strange expression again.

"err… no, actually that won't be necessary, I will make sure that Robards catches you in the minister's office at lunch, he can get the permission from you then, in front of the minister. My presence is not necessary. I need to file in and review the paper work, and since this is my first day after a week off I will be too busy. Why don't you take the time and do a little profiling of possible suspects, people who might have the knowledge involved and all yea?" he wanted indifference, he will get indifference. I admit it is not satisfying at all, but it is a game he and I are cursed to play forever it seems.

I step into the floo taking the floo powder in hand before I turn to face him, his mask is up as I incline my head in a silent farewell and throw the powder in. Ignoring a certain uncharacteristic and out of place tightness in his jaw and my chest.

I like to think that I am private person. Despite the relentless tries of the outside world, I remain concealed in my own little world. Sometimes its solitude is overbearing but at other times it's safe. I like to think that within this world, I am free to do as I please. I have everything under my control. Even the mysteries that I allow in every other corner to come across me, I know that I can solve them easily, but I don't, knowing that I chose to keep them mine, my own, with full authority over their unfolding.

I think this particular quirk comes from the fact that my whole life was controlled by a prophecy. I never had a chance to make my own choices and had to rely on a pre-ordained path, set out for me in result of a Mad man's path to eternal damnation. I think that acute sense of not being in control of my own fate is what triggers this fierce indulgence now in keeping the formation of plebian things that keep me fascinated a mystery. One of such plebian things that I find fascinating and mysterious are 'glass marbles'. They have always fascinated me since I found the first one with blue and green swirls chipped and dirty just by the seesaw in the garden near The Dursley's house when I was hardly six. It was a peculiar little thing and I adored it, I kept it in the pocket of my large trousers and made sure to never take it out in front of Dudley. Dudley in turn had a jar full of them, but those were plain and ugly, nothing compared to my glass marble with its blue and green swirls that reminded me of the topping swirls that Dudley always got on his gigantic ice cream cones, only those were never in green and blue color.

I used to watch it in the dim light inside my cupboard for hours at end, turning it this way and that, wondering how the swirls got in there and if I were to touch them would they be soft or hard or, that glass marble was a mystery, inside it was a mystery world that I wished to visit, be a part of. And then it became true, and I did visit a world that was just as fascinating as the swirls in that chipped old glass marble and just as enclosed. But that world came with its own setoff problems. So the mystery of the glass marble remained intact. After the war I found a small store in Muggle London just as I was walking around aimlessly that sold special handmade glass marbles called 'Diana's glass art emporium'. It was as if a doorway had opened for me. I now have a collection of over three hundred glass marbles in different sizes and designs, but what I never did was learn how they were made. NO, I avoided that information like the plague. The first time the glass marble shop owner who made them as well invited me into his workshop I told him very plainly, that I did not ever want to know how they are made. I just want to buy them, hold them and admire them. He looked perplexed for a few minutes and was reserved with me after that, but I was not there for his friendly behavior, or to ease his curiosity, I was there for the marbles.

I roll one of my favorite marbles which is almost size of a golf ball in my hand. Its weight is a comfort in my hand. I watch it carefully and thoughtfully. It has been a birthday gift from the shop owner and the birthday card alongside it has said that the inspiration for this piece had come from my eyes and my mysterious persona. I had been extremely surprised by the piece itself as it was done in most brilliant emerald green and silver dust. It could have been a co-incidence that the piece was in exact slytherin colors and even the design where the silver swirls were the central core, the bottom was done in brilliant green snake skin pattern. A mystery, within a mystery.

The door to my office opening brings me out of my brooding. The afternoon light illuminating my office is enough to tell me that it is probably Ron with a query regarding lunch. It is Ron, but it is not regarding Lunch apparently, not if he is fidgeting the way he is.

"Harry! There you are! I have been looking all over for you, Robards has called an emergency meeting just now during lunch break and I figured the memos were stuck outside your door."I see a few hovering behind Ron's head

"He says he needs to discuss something about the tomb case in conference room ten in five minutes. So I think we better get going eh?" he fidgets some more when he notices the marble in my hand. I know he feels nervous when I am in a mood like this. Usually grieving.

At the crack of dawn, just as I was stepping out of a very hot shower at my home my magic had indicated that the observation wards I had casted around the transparent ward encircling the tomb were dissolving. It had taken me less than Twenty minutes to get there again kudos to my faithful Firebolt. The wards had gone down at the exact moment of sunrise. The scene inside the tomb was even more ghastly that I had imagined. A cutting curse which had almost decapitated the centaur. There had been no magical restraints, but only a dim magical residual from a paralysis curse. Once the centaur was dead, a very complex stasis charm had been placed on the dead body which had also dissolved at sunrise, in result of which when we had finally made our way inside to the dead centaur splayed at the altar like a sacrificial offering, the body had still been warm.

It was that warmth that had stayed with me like a shadow, all through morning as I went through the necessary motions, the warmth had remained, infecting me, haunting me, I wanted to freeze it off, but it would not go away. Even as I spoke with McGonagall and Hagrid and Neville. The warmth stayed in place.

Luna had been waiting for me when I had reached the Headquarters finally. To file in all the information. I don't know what questions she asked me and what answers I gave her on auto-pilot. I was only aware of anything once she was off to venture into the forbidden forest; to reach for the pack of Centaurs Firenze belonged to. Centaurs who were still a no show on their own at the brutal death of one of their own. It was common knowledge that they did not appreciate Firenze teaching Divinity at Hogwarts. They considered divinity a holy practice a way of life to be only preserved and kept with in centaurs. Still, he was accepted in the pack and ran with them during the summer vacations.

A mystery, within a mystery.

"Hmmm..." I put the marble back in its black lacquered octagonal case, lined with silver colored silk.

I get up picking the file and the copies of it underneath, I had prepared regarding the case. Information clearly classified and mentioned, keeping Draco Malfoy out of the loop at all costs.

I have explained earlier to Robards that I had gone to the Malfoy Manor to consult the library, and laid a good foundation hoping that the head auror has already asked Malfoy, officially.

"The word around is that about an hour ago a team of Common wealth magical law enforcers arrived at Robards' but you know how memos travel here, I would not be surprised if it's just some consultant from Belgium or something. I mean they say 'Intercon hit-wizard' when Krum arrives, so I don't know."

"Krum is an Intercon hit-wizard Ron." I say dismissively.

"Yea, but he is Krum…" I give him a sardonic look before I snort. He visibly relaxes after that.

"Speaking of Krum." I nudge Ron to look up from where he is fidgeting in his robes pocket to where Krum stands in all his Intercon Hit-Wizard glory, his ice blue formal uniform robes pristine and severely cut. Those ice blue uniform robes are one of the most coveted robes for any young wizard who wishes to become a law enforcer.

"Harry…Ronald, old friend! How do you do?" enclosing us both in that non-touching, shoulder squeezing side-hug that these Bulgarians do. Peculiar greeting methods. It still surprises me highly to hear how much the competitive Bulgarian's English accent has improved.

"Exhausted mate, absolutely exhausted." Ron answers while I am just trying to give him a smile that does not look like a grimace.

"I know, it is terrible news, but…" he is interrupted mid-sentence when the double doors of the conference room rolled open and Adrien Pucey who is the secretary to the head auror signals us in. We follow through the warded corridor towards the entrance of the main conference room. Conference room Ten, also known as Alastor Moody Conference room. Moody, another one who died in the name of Savior Potter. I am brought out of my thoughts as we enter the conference room to see more than twenty people already seated around the table a few are standing as well. My mind is already abuzz as I hand the file to Adrien and take my seat next to where Robards is already in place feeling more than seeing Ron and Krum taking seat next to mine. I shoot a look around the room taking in the few grey robes of the Unspeakables, spying Bill's long red hair, head is turned away from me in deep conversation with Hermione. Percy is scribbling down something on the other side of Hermione, two ministry arguers in beige robes and two square jawed and broad shouldered freckled and dirty blond haired men who look like really sophisticated club bouncers, with expressionless faces, their blue eyes fixed on me, clad in pitch black robes. So these are the Common wealth magical law enforcers the word around has been about. I shoot a glance at Ron who looks back at me almost at the same time with I am sure almost the same expression.

"Blimey! Look at the size of the muscles on those. What purpose are the muscles around your neck? Seriously?" I wanted to snort at Ron, before I notice the empty chair between the bouncers and Robards, facing me. I do not get the chance to look around for the designated occupant of the chair though, as severely cut and black robes with an endless array of buttons fill my vision as the Man pulls the chair back to be seated in.

I rarely react to people's appearance, but this one forces it out of you. He is what I imagine Norse god Thor to look like, not as bulky as the pictures I had seen of the deity suggest, but at Six feet four, this one looks formidable enough, even with the lean and toned build. Golden blonde hair are tied away from his face to show a proportionately broad forehead and slightly darker blond eyes brows which are a perfect frame to the most bizarre shade of penetrating ice-blue eyes I have ever beheld in my life and Dumbledore's twinkling blues had been legendary. These ones are piercing, calculating and devious. This is not a wizard to be messed with, I can tell by the amount of magic I can feel around him.

"Ah Harry, here you are!" Robards has finally noticed my presence, breaking me away from the staring match with Thor incarnate who is right in my face, a smirk spread subtly on that extremely structured and chiseled face, with those incredibly eerie ice-blue eyes.

"Sir." I inclined my head in deference.

"I would like you to meet Common wealth Magic Law enforcer Mr. Erik Stoltorm, Mr. Stoltorm; this is Auror Harry Potter… I am sure you have heard of him." I am glad that Robards has not gone with that boy-who-lived-to-be-the-savior-of-the-wizarding-world.

"I have indeed Auror Robards. It is an honor to meet you finally Auror Potter." His voice is softer than you would imagine on a man of his stature, but it is not wrong on him in any way. He puts forward a hand across the narrow end of the oval table. I reach out for his hand and grasp it firmly. His magic is muted for some reason, if the magic surrounding him just seconds ago was anything to go by. I am glad for no electric jolts or any such nonsense like what happened with Malfoy yesterday. No surprise here. That is before my eyes find the silver pin latched on the lapel of his robes.

Stoltorm… the name did sound familiar.

A coiled basilisk with fangs bared and yellow topaz for eyes.

Takes me to the oldest tome of genealogical records I had found in my home.

'And none more dark and proud than the mighty Stoltorms, from which Salazar Slytherin himself descended.'

Oh no…
- Shida Miryo* - Enchanted fern
A wizarding town in Japan and also home to the sorcerer-monks.(my own creation)
- 8
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The Principle of Sympathy