A/N :Summary: Hardly much romance in this once, Draco comes out of his "dark place" and makes an effort to talk to Herm in a conversation excluding insults. Ginny is caught up in a new kind of magic and Hogwarts is full of sin! Yes Sin… you'll know what I mean soon… Angst, angst, angst scattered all around the pages of Forbearance… hey, I'm thinking of changing the story title… I'm getting kinda sick of it…well. Harry sulks all the more and Seamus is Irish! Hey, we already knew that didn't we… anyway, on with the show!

If you have to look along the shaft of an arrow from the wrong end, if a man has you entirely at his mercy, then hope like hell that man is an evil man. Because the evil like power ... they'll talk. They'll gloat...

So hope like hell your captor is an evil man. A good man will kill you with hardly a word.

Terry and Lyn Pratchett,

Chapter Nine; Evil Befalls

Part One: Alchemy

Nothing can be gained if nothing is to be sacrificed, you must present something of equivalent value to gain something. Thus is the rule of alchemy.

"Of all the most unreasonable irresponsible things I have ever heard from the both of you!" Professor Mc Gonnagal's head was floating in the fireplace of the Brentenoux infirmary as upset and disappointed as if she had been done a great wrong. Instead of the fires gleaming green around her head, they retained their usual red blaze, which gave Hermione quite a vivid idea of how angry McGonnagal really was.

Hermione and Mafoy were in the infirmary both having the discomfort of hearing the most embarrassing sermon they have ever been through in their entire Hogwarts experience. Draco on the other corner of the room who was having his would dressed up by the nurse Francoise was certainly trying to hide his embarrassment at being fumed at by an evidently disappointed Professor McGonnagal. Unfortunately for Malfoy and Hermione, the incident outside the castle library was hardly ignored by Fleur as she promptly reported every single detail of it to Professor McGonnagal.

Hermione sat flushed in front of the fireplace with her hands interlaced not daring to believe that she had neglected her responsibility— the biggest responsibility she had obtained in her sixth year and the responsibility that had parallel effect on her head candidacy. In the back of her mind she thought of Harry and Ron who were waiting outside the infirmary office for her. They were probably done having their wounds tended to, though she doubted Malcolm Baddock would be up at once, after all she had made a big mess of him when she sent him hurling towards the stone wall.

"Professor…" pleaded Hermione meekly. Professor Mc Gonnagal immediately displaced her effort to apologize.

"No Miss Granger… I am most disappointed in you! You of all people should be adverse to this sort of childishness," she stopped to turn to Malfoy who looked at her squarely in the eye. One could faintly see his pale lips twitch. "And you Mr. Malfoy must at least have the sense to be civil, do tell me, where are all the proper graces your family prides itself in?"

Hermione took the moment to glance at Draco who seemed to be unfazed by the statement. In fact, she was fairly sure that Malfoy knew very well that the social graces being taught to him in the Malfoy household did not take effect by the looks of how he and his family regarded other wizards which they believed was lower them. Hermione grimaced suddenly; taking Malfoy's discourteous treatment of her for example…

"Not even doing anything to stop the riot, unbelievably irresponsible!" continued the Professor as she turned to Hermione "And Miss Granger hurling a fellow student into a stone wall!" Hermione looked down at her interlaced hands remembering the damage she had don't to Malcolm Baddock a while back. "And Albus keeps ranting about inter-house relationships…"

Draco snickered as he looked mockingly at Hermione, yet he could not hold his joyful stance long enough to enjoy it. For Professor McGonnagal glared at him immediately in annoyance. "Mr. Malfoy if you have the sense to laugh now would you mind giving me an explanation as to why you did not do anything much to prevent this from happening!" Draco's smile disappeared immediately to be replaced by a peeved expression. His lips curved into a deep frown at the words of the Professor. "Never in my all my Hogwarts years have I experienced the shame I do now, imagine misconduct in a foreign institution, utterly unacceptable!"

"I hope you both realize the precariousness of your situations…I would like you to know that this unprecedented state of affairs will definitely affect your head candidacies…" Her statement seemed to affect Draco and Hermione quite equally, as they both looked up simultaneously and gawked at Mc Gonnagal.

Malfoy frowned. He would certainly not like it if one of another house would snatch the title of head boy from him when he was the most likely candidate, especially so if it would be Harry Potter. A sudden anger flared up in his chest at the reminiscence of Harry… He was partly the reason why the both of them were in this mess. He raised his free arm to slightly brush the bruises Potter made on his cheek swearing to himself that Harry Potter would pay dearly for even daring to hit a Malfoy.

Hermione felt a sudden shock of selfishness plague her as Professor Mc Gonnagal said those very words. She did not wish to hog the head girl position all to herself, for she knew that there were other competent candidates to that prestigious position but then she had always expected to be head girl. He had always known that she would be chosen. It would be an enormous to her insult if she did not make it.

"Both of you will receive corresponding deductions from your points in favor of the Head Positions and your houses respectively. Fifty Points a piece to you and all of those involved in the little shenanigan you and the rest have made earlier." Said Mc Gonnagal firmly. Hermione could not restrain a loud gasp.

"Fifty? A Piece?" she repeated weakly. The expression of disbelief seemed to once again make reappearance on his face. Hermione glanced at him for a brief moment realizing that Malfoy was perhaps more conscious of his grades that she thought.

Professor Mc Gonnagal spoke once more. "I do not know whether I should trust you with the student body from now on, yet in the mean time, seeing as to none of the teachers cannot leave Hogwarts –" She broke off abruptly and her eyes held an expression of disappointment. Hermione's eyes squinted in concentration. She had indeed wondered why the teachers had all rushed back to England, not even considering the fact that the sixth year student body could possibly be unprotected when left in a magical creature institute… a bestiary. "The both of you will still be in charge, though I have sought out the help of Miss Delacour to be sure of things. That will be all," finished Professor Mc Gonnagal.

The Professor's head then curiously turned to Draco as he began to leave the room. "Mr. Malfoy," she said stiffly. "I would like a further word with you. You may go Miss Granger," Hermione stood up and bowed slightly to Professor Mc Gonnagal's head floating in the fire.

Hermione took one last glance at Professor McGonnagal and then at Malfoy who had his arm tightly bandaged in a curious blue fabric. His eyes were extraordinarily dull as he turned around and headed towards the fireplace. She glanced back at Malfoy's arm. Her mind suddenly drifted away from the shock she felt when she heard that Gryffindor would be loosing all those house points, but then she began to wonder once again why the wounds Malfoy had obtained from the Sirens talons had not yet healed. It had to be a week from that time they came back from the forests. Hermione turned towards the door, thinking why was she even fussing; it was only Malfoy after all.

Somehow, even as she thought those very words, her heart was slowly constricting in guilty denial.

Harry and Ron were waiting for Hemrione outside the door of the infirmary office, and as Hermione rushed out of the door. Seeing her, the two both hastened to her, defiant to squeeze out every detail of their talk with McGonnagal.

Ron was limping slightly and his face was covered in small strips of plaster and Harry had a few bruises on his face. Aside from that Hermione was thankful that they were both fine. Malfoy's earlier blow to Harry's face left a curious half 'M' mark on his upper jaw. Hermione noticed that it was probably from the signet ring that Malfoy wore. As Harry stood in front of her, she raised her hand to touch the fine red mark and examined it curiously.

"It'll leave a scar," she said absentmindedly. Harry raised his hand as well and grasped Hermione's wrist, pulling it away from his face. He looked at her with mock disappointment.

"I've got into much trouble with enough scars on my face thank you," said Harry with a small smile. Hermione smiled wearily back at him.

There was an odd snort and Hermione, startled turned to her left where she saw Malcolm Baddock who was sprawled across the bed beside the door of the infirmary office, unconscious and wrapped in bandages. He was also fast asleep snoring like a grizzly in hibernation. Hermione motioned to move away quite quickly as she could no longer stand the guilt of looking at an injury that she had induced. The trio made their way to the hallway outside the infirmary with Ron hanging on Harry's shoulder.

"So?" said Ron restlessly. "What did she say?" he and Harry turned to Hermione curiously.

"She was quite peeved," started Hermione. "She made quite a clear point how I neglected my responsibilities and how…" she stopped, remembering how McGonnagal told them that her neglect would affect her Head candidacy. "How I would have to work extra hard from now on," she said abruptly walking a tad faster ahead of her two best friends. Harry and Ron looked at each other and with extreme effort from Ron who was hobbling down the hallway caught up to her.

"What do you mean?" asked Harry calmly. Hermione stopped to turn to her two best friends.

"She said it would affect my Head candidacy, I can't have that! If it takes that grave an influence, I'll never get a shot at being head girl!"

"Hermione calm down," said Harry looking at her like she was an escapee from St. Mungo's.

Hermione certainly did not make an effort to show to them that she was not. "Calm down! My parents would be devastated! And If I'm not Head Girl then I'll get to see another girl with higher student authority than me! And that can't happen, it just can't! Being Head Girl is…" Ron immediately cut his hand in front of Hermione's hopelessly forlorn face.

"We meant to ask if we were to be expelled of punished for the incident Hermione," he said. Hermione drifted back to her less panicked state as she looked back at Ron. "Oh, yes of course…" she muttered.

"What!" said Harry and Ron simultaneously. Hermione seemed startled.

"Oh no, I mean no. Of course were not going to be expelled! How could you think of such a horrible thing Ron!" she exclaimed tugging at a curl that had fallen over her eyes.

Hermione's panicked expression returned when she told them the punishment that Gryffindor house would receive.

Ron looked hopeless. "That's a hundred and fifty,"

"Yes, quite a big number… I have absolutely no idea on how we can regain so much that is lost," mussed Hermione as they continued to walk down the hallway.

They turned a few corridors and found themselves right in front of the Grand dinning hall.

"There's nothing much we can do now. Perhaps nothing but to keep our noses clean," said Ron as he limped a few steps before they reached the door.

"Man, this ankle is killing me," said Ron as he took an unsteady step into the Grand Dinning Hall. Harry managed to balance his best friend before he fell flat on his face on the stone floor. "Baddock certainly got what he deserved," he smiled as he remembered the sight of the heavy Slytherin boy hitting the wall and falling unconscious. "You've got a pretty impressive wand aim Mione,"

Hermione smiled weakly. Her 'pretty impressive wand aim' was of course cost Gryffindor a hundred and fifty house points.

They headed towards the Gryffindor's table where Dean and Seamus were already sitted.

"Oi, Harry Ron," said Seamus coming to meet them as they came walking down the isle. Seamus looked down at Ron's leg and shook his head with sympathy. "The incident in the hallway."

"Unfortunately, it was Baddock's big lumpy knee that nicked it, glad Mione gave him what's fit," Ron continued with a laugh. Hermione was uncomfortably reminded once again of the trouble she would be in if Malcolm Baddock's mother would come storming into Brentenoux to curse her. She glared at Ron.

"Do you realize how much trouble I'm going to be in once Baddock's family gets hold of the information that a muggle-born put their son in the infirmary?" she exclaimed with a slight squeak in her voice. As the trio took their seats on the table, Hermione began contemplating once again of the consequences of her actions.

"I don't think she's going to even try showing her face around here… If I had a son like him, I would be embarrassed! Being rendered unconscious by a girl!" replied Ron as he shifted in his seat beside Harry.

"And what's wrong with being a girl?" said a shrill voice behind them. Ron turned around at the sight of his girlfriend's smiling face. He held his arms open and welcomed her in for a warm embrace. "Nothing Lav," Lavender assumed her place beside Ron at the table, she immediately looked up at the trio with questioning eyes.

"Now, who got rendered unconscious by a girl?" she asked eagerly. Hermione turned to her with an eye of seriousness as Ron grinned.

"Hermione. She sent Malcolm Baddock hurling towards the wall, in the library," said Ron observing Lavander's amused expression. She found it hard to believe that Hermione would do something like that without reason. "For what?" she immediately inquired twirling one of her blonde locks.

"Crushing Ron's ankle," said Seamus suddenly who was behind her. "Yep, saw the whole thing meself, and so did Dean, didn't you mate?" Dean nodded as he continued to discuss with Harry about Quidditch. Ron blushed as Lavander hurried to seek his injured appendage.

"My my darling, that Slytherin is indeed vile," she exclaimed as she reached under the table to stroke Ron's wounded ankle tenderly.

"It was irresponsible," commented Hermione briskly and a tad guiltily. She rose to leave the hall remembering all the unfinished work she left on the table of the study room in their headquarters.

"Anyway, How did Mc Gonnagal react?" asked Semus. Hermione shook her head slowly.

"She was furious, as expected." She said. "And Gryffindor lost a hundred and fifty…" she continued disappointedly.

Seamus and Lavender stared. "A hundred and fifty?" said Lavender weakly.

Ron wrinkled his nose disapprovingly. "It wasn't our fault to begin with, Malfoy started it…"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, It was rather foul. He did provoke Harry, but nevertheless it was irresponsible for all of us…"

Her simple statement made Harry turn away from his conversation with dean and react savagely. Harry looked up. "It was irresponsible for me Hermione?" he asked looking seriously at her. Hermione was having a hard time meeting Harry's eye. "He made fun of my mother!" Harry's voice was beginning to shake.

"No Harry, I meant… yes!" she was beginning to grow tired of denying things to her friends. "It was irresponsible of you, it was also irresponsible of Malfoy. You should be hardened to this Harry, all these years Malfoy taunted you ever since you refused his offer of friendship, shouldn't you have learned to ignore it?" Harry looked at her with a stunned expression.

"Malfoy was supposed to be civil, because he had responsibility like me but didn't use it,"

Ron eyed Hermione as well. "Whose side are you on?" he said rather critically. "You're saying that Harry was childish and Malfoy was just… irresponsible. Hermione, what's happening to you! Protecting that… that foul piece of scum?"

Hermione held back a sob in her throat. "So now you think I'm defending Malfoy!" the pressure was building up inside her. All of the Gryffindors sitting on the table were eyeing her either with curiosity or astonishment.

Hermione's heart began to feel that constricting pain it had felt as she had exited the infirmary a few moment's before. She felt like she was being accused, by the sound of how Harry and Ron addressed her with. She was beginning to think that she was defending Malfoy absentmindedly.

"No Hermione, I didn't mean…" started Ron as Hermione began to stand up, opting to leave the table.

"Ron Weasley! You haven't changed! You're as presumptuous as you have always been!" exclaimed Hermione as she fought back tears. Ron's cheeks began to burn again even as Lavender held his hand tightly under the table. "Hermione," Lavender started… but she wasn't listening. She was starting to walk away from the table.

Harry stood up at that moment, and reached out for Hermione's wrist, pulling her back gently to the table as she started to leave. Hermione turned back around and met Harry's deep green eyes and stopped. The sincerity and depth of those emerald pools of truth told her… she knew that he forgave her.

The Grand Dinning Hall began to grow silent as most of the people in the hall were eying Harry and Hermione with curiosity.

"He didn't mean it Hermione," said Harry quietly not even gesturing to Ron, neither breaking the eye contact with Hermione. He knew her, she would never think against him without reason, no matter how she spoke; he would always forgive her.

Draco left the infirmary with a heavy and bulky blue potion and his arm in a sling after both Professor McGonnagal and Françoise were both through with him. He walked out of the office infirmary after the Professor's head disappeared completely into the flames of the hearth mussing over her words of caution telling him to make sure that the dosage of the potion he had been given be completed. He didn't think that he had ever heard a more eerie warning from the old Professor.

As he trudged down the hallway from the infirmary, his thoughts whirled with the memory of the fight by the library. Draco's thin pale lips twisted into an expression of pure annoyance at the recollection. All the trouble it had caused him, an unbearable sermon, three hundred points off his house while Gryffindor only had a hundred and fifty off, and the relevance of his injury to the veela nurse Françoise. Yes, Draco knew she was or had to be part veela like Fleur to be that beautiful. Draco had veela blood in him as well, from his father's side of the family, so he was never affected by the desirability of the race veela. Draco was beginning to think that apart from Madame Mimuex, the entire Brentenoux castle was run by veelas.

Taking his mind off the nurse who had attended to him earlier, he continued to pace the stone floors of the hallway until he turned and found his way a few hallways nearing the Grand Dinning Hall. His mind reeled back to the irresponsibility that he had been convinced to have committed by Professor McGonnagal.

The fight itself seemed but a distant memory to him then. He could not remember what he had been thinking that time he had approached Potter and his two insufferable sidekicks. All he knew was that he had been annoyed, infuriated at the mere sight of the three friends standing there, laughing together as they walked through the hallway, so happy, seeming so insufferably content. His mind flared up on that fateful moment when he had been pushed, aggravated to the point that he had spoke against Potter immediately, determined to break their exasperatingly cheerful state of mind.

He couldn't help but mock Weasley, couldn't help but remind him that he was nothing but a piece of scum. Perhaps even the fungus growing beneath the scum as he was the lowest excuse for wizard there ever was. If he ever made a mark, it was probably because Potter had been with him, dragging him along with his nonessential fame, and if he had ever passed a class, it would have been because Granger helped him.

And oh Granger… Draco's teeth gritted at the thought of her. The sight of her clinging to Potter was the most intolerable vista he had ever witnessed. How she defended him so openly, so righteously. Malfoy's lips once again twisted into a bitter frown at the thought. How Granger had forced him to admit that Potter had no fault in his injury, when she could never know how much Potter had already wounded him. Yes, Harry Potter had left a permanent scathe on Draco's life ever since he dared refuse his friendship. Oddly, he could not help but think that his hatred of Potter had worsened gravely when he saw Hermione and Harry in the Grand Dining Hall doors together the other day. Looking so much like a perfect couple… At that moment, his chest constricted with something odd. Something not like the hatred he had always felt, but with a sharp pain… Draco's hand balled in a fist.

He couldn't stop. He was thinking about her again, Granger… as she looked intensely at him a few moments back and he knew that he could never lie. She held so much righteousness and purity that it was unnerving. He knew that those were just some of the things that that he could never have, nor ever hope to possess.

Perhaps that was what drew him to her that was what made him hate her and Potter for, that perhaps they would be happy together because they were alike. And he hated them because he could never admit that he was disturbed about Potter and Granger being together.

Draco's footsteps grew into angry trudges as he approached the entrance of the Grand Dinning Hall, struggling to convince himself that what he felt was not envy. Granger means nothing to you…

Somehow those words seemed to loose their resonance as he entered the dinning hall, catching the scene that almost everybody in the hall were focused on. Potter with his hand on Granger's wrist; pulling her back to him. At that very moment, there shot a pure white anger up Draco's spine.

A cold autumn breeze engulfed the Northern sky as she rushed through the forest, snagging leaves in her damp clothes and hair, branches among the bushes creating seams in her garments, wounding her painfully as well. The sordid ambiance of the weary night began to swallow the trees on their abysmal darkness.

She continued her flight, as she heard more and more footsteps crunching against the fire colored leaves of the forest floor, pursuing, chasing... threatening. Her breath was deathly close to running out as she continued dashing away hopelessly from her pursuers, craving nothing but safety in the walls of the great castle behind her. That however, was impossible at this point as she found herself carrying on a hopeless sprint growing dangerously away from the castle, unknowingly leading herself into a dead end.

It was not long after that she found herself in a part of the forest where the trees were so close together that it was impossible to go any further. Her heartbeat almost halted as she turned around and faced her captors. They were all masked, but somehow she was quite sure of the sneers that were underneath each porcelain visor of the Death Eaters.

"Quite adorable… isn't she?" said a shrill woman's voice that the girl knew almost too well. In the pocket of her robes, her hand was clutched around her wand even though she was certain that if she ever did try to draw it, any one of the horrible people before her would definitely beat her to it.

As if reading her mind, the man called Dolhov spoke. "Don't bother even touching your wand, don't even hope that you'll escape us.." he said with a sneer. There was a scratching noise among the masked wizards, the girl did not even want to think what was making the sound fearing it would be just as horrible as she thought the fate she would soon befall would be.

It was a hopeless case, yet she promised that she would never go down without a fight. Within a mere second, she drew her want into sight pointing it at the Death Eaters surrounding her.

"Stupe… Ahhhh!" The black haired woman had beaten her to it.

"CRUCIO!"

"There is an ancient branch of alchemy whose principles are reputed to be the roots of Transfiguration itself. It follows the rule of equivalent trade which states that: Nothing can be gained if nothing is sacrificed, you must present something of equivalent value in order to gain something, thus is the rule of alchemy."

Ginny rested her chin nonchalantly on her hand as her transfiguration class droned on. She took a few notes as Professor McGonnagal continued to lecture on her podium. Colin was busy scribbling beside her, she believed that at the rate he was going, he would probably be able to produce a fully furnished lesson plan of McGonnagal if he kept at it. His large peacock feathered quill brushed annoyingly beside her as he progressed, and she immediately pulled her hand away from its reach.

She glanced out the window for a moment and wondered how her brother and Harry and Hermione were doing a hundred miles south of Hogwarts at the moment. She twirled playfully at her auburn hair as she turned her attention back to McGonnagal and her lecture.

"The practice referred to in the old days as alchemy was practiced in some European countries, in Munich, for instance where the first traces of these were found. In the scriptures recovered, it was said to be practiced in a community in the ancient city named Loire. In the 14th century, wizards became aware of this practice and tried it out for themselves, and for a while marveled at the power of this magic. Anyway," McGonnagal tapped her wand on the blackboard and on it appeared an intricate circular design with various lines running across it's diameter forming a beautiful pattern.

"This," McGonnagal continued, "Is called or rather was called a Transmutation circle. It was required in performing what we would recognize now as our very own transfiguration. Yes mister Havoc?" McGonnagal turned to the Slytherin at the corner of the room who just raised his hand lazily.

"Professor, is it then for us to assume that wizards at that time could only perform transfiguration with the use of these circles…"

"I never said," the Professor cut Havoc away impatiently "that wizards made use of the transmutation circles, wizards most conveniently have their wands to cast and use as a medium for their power. The only people who used these transmutation circles were what we would call alchemists." McGonnagal looked sternly across her class as another hand rose in the air. "Yes Creevy?"

"How different are alchemists from wizards professor?" asked Colin.

McGonnagal adjusted her glasses amusedly on her nose as she answered. "Alchemists first and foremost are bound to a single principle, the one I have said earlier; the principle of equivalent trade. The concept of alchemy is merely to turn things into other things with equivalent value, as I were to turn a broken goblet into a fixed one or a bag of sand into a blocks of bricks…"

"Sounds rather boring if you ask me..." commented Havoc from the back corner once more.

"Or a field of dirt into a palace." McGonnagal finished evenly pretending Havoc had not spoken. The entire class became suddenly engrossed by the topic by the minute. "Alchemists do not practice charms or divination as wizards do and rarely practice potion making, but nonetheless, their advantage in their skills of transfiguration is great, they do not experience nothing of the difficulties in transforming what they want such that we wizards do"

"Professor McGonnagal? Do alchemists exist now, I mean in our generation?" asked Ginny.

"Surprisingly Ms. Weasley, yes they most certainly do. Then again there are may wizards whose skill in transfiguration prompt them to study alchemy, for it is a fine art, an in-depth study of transfiguration if you will," said the Professor.

"Can you show us professor, how is looks like to transfigure by alchemy?" asked Ginny once more. She had grown increasingly curious.

The Professor moved over to her desk and smiled. "Perhaps, for a little demonstration I could oblige. Now everyone look here if you are interested," Taking hold of her wand she tapped her front desk as another intricately crafted transmutation circle appeared upon it. "Raw objects which one wises to transform should be set within the bounds of the circle, transformation of great proportions therefore require larger circles, or circles with more intricate and powerful symbolism," She said as she placed random objects at the center of her desks with her wand. Perhaps it was rather curious that she was using magic before casting alchemy. As she began, a few objects were laid out in front of her; a large glass vase filled with water, a marble slab and some seeds. The professor then laid her wand on the edge of the table and placed both of her hands flat on the table within the circle.

In but a second, a bright blue light began to radiate from the pattern and obscured the objects laid our in front of her. A few of the students raised their arms in front of their faces to block the intense glare of the light. But the light had disappeared soon after, and there before the eyes of the entire fifth year class what had been a useless bunch of objects previously was now a miniature glass fountain with a marble base and a few blossoms of violets growing beneath. The class stared in awe.

"Bloody hell," said Colin amazedly at the sight. He immediately received a disapproving stare from the professor.

"There you have it, a demonstration of simple alchemy," said McGonnagal rather confidently. "Of course, greater alchemists could do greater feats…" she had been saying as she was suddenly interrupted.

"But shouldn't alchemists hate wizards," a quiet silence engulfed the room as all heads turned to the speaker. She was a thin blonde girl who wore on her hair a bright red barrette increasingly noticeable from any corner of the room. She was a Slytherin obviously from the colors she wore and she had that trademark Slytherin defiant gaze. "The rule of equivalent trade is a creed by which alchemists are bound, there is only one way that it is broken and that, even that is a myth. Wizards do transformations that brake the bounds of the principles of equivalent trade, they must think that magic is rather well, unlawful really"

The professor looked even more amused than before. "That is quite an insightful observation Ms. Hawkeye and I believe there is some… no rather…much truth to that matter. Several conflicts have been caused by, misgivings between wizards and alchemists. Wizards do not abide by rules of evenhandedness that as the alchemists do, yet then again nothing is fair in this world anymore, perhaps but only just. In fact there may be only one principle that wizards and alchemists commonly abide by, and that, not surprisingly is their belief that neither alchemy nor magic can be used to revive the dead. Necromancy is the term we wizards use to define the sort of magic used to revive the dead, for a fact it is known as the worse sort of magic in existence and counts as a capital offence in the books of law at the Ministry of Magic. It also has a punishment of at least six…"

"Seven," said Hawkeye politely.

McGonnagal continued on. "Yes, thank you Ms. Hawkeye, Seven counts of the dementor's kiss. Anyway, I believe that is the end of our period. Discussions on the history and functions of alchemy will continue on until the end of the term. You may all go."

Ginny pulled off the strap of her tote bag off her shoulder as she laid it down atop the table. The library had been if not for Elizabeth Hawkeye sitting at the corner of the room empty when she entered a few moments before. She sat down on one of the oak chairs cushioned with velvet and opened a book she had pulled out of her bag. It was entitled; The 10th Goblin Rebellion of Bedfordshire. And it was probably the most "interesting" book she had ever read. With an audible groan she began pursuing the seemingly endless array of barely enjoyable articles in the book. A few words of acknowledgement to her History of Magic teacher who gave her such an unpleasant assignment ran through her head as she turned the pages; Binns is a moron.

A few pages passed and she realized that the book could hardly grasp her attention if it had hands and could gouge out her eyeballs. She began looking up from it and looked around the library, silently telling herself that she'd later prod Colin with a spear repeatedly if she had to so he would let her copy off his essay.

Several people had poured into the library and filled the tables in-front of her. Some giggling Hufflepuff third years and a few Gryffindors. Dennis Creevy, Colin's brother was sitting with some fourth year Gryffindors apparently narrating the tale of Malcolm Mallory, the Mad Muggle to his companions. Hawkeye still sat at the corner where she had been previously and was continually pouring over a book that seemed to catch her attention so much. Good for her. Thought Ginny miserably as she pushed 'The 10th Goblin Rebellion of Bedfordshire' aside until it was positioned at the far corner of the table. She then decided to get a more sensible book to read.

The bookcases of the Hogwarts library were extremely old. Ron had once said that they had probably never replaced anything of the sort in the castle since the founders had lived within it's walls. Ginny passed across the magical monstrosities section and entered into the isle that the entrance of the restricted section was perpendicular to. The entrance had a gleaming gold plate on which in bold letters the words RESTRICTED SECTION was written. The plate was hung loosely on the great wooden door… the door, which was perhaps most curiously hanging partially open.

Funny, Madame Pince hardly ever opened the restricted section. And now to find it here practically gawking open, somehow beckoning enticingly at her, the feeling had been quite like a warm rush of blood as it pumped up her spine. Ginny looked around her for a moment and then without a moment's hesitation, she made her way quietly inside the dark room carefully checking to look outside to see if anybody had noticed. Satisfied, she seethed herself within the dim room and ran her eyes through the books with more incentive then she had ever thought herself capable of.

Do you weep once in a while?

Do you wonder why you dream and cannot remember?

He ran is hands along the lines of the parchment he had previously writing on a few moments ago, trying effortlessly to straighten the creases in it. His discontentment was shown unmistakably obvious in his hard-set features so intensely that his white-blonde hair seemed to be darkening along with his mood. Perhaps this was due to the evident mess the way the words on the parchment were written in; there were splotches of ink in all the wrong places and halts and scratches where it was so unsightly.

Draco somehow found it in him to look even more miserable at the moment. The tip of his quill had after all broken at least a dozen times all throughout the ordeal of writing the report for the godforsaken project so he could hardly expect a clean outcome, he thought as he tossed the piece of parchment across the table.

'Sirens are mellow musicians which grace the empty seas with their angelic voices…'

'Sirens are dangerous when they want to be'

'Sirens are rueful, horrible, vengeful creatures that tear their victims most savagely to pieces'

These words hung at the bottom of the parchment of the essay he had just written. For a moment he stared at the three last lines and could not help but think that they remembered a logical fallacy, or maybe a paradox… no, something was more appropriate… an irony.

He looked up from the parchment and observed the view of the early afternoon October sky. He was sitting in the common room of their headquarters and though he reclined carelessly on the black leather couches, he felt that agitation he had been feeling since he had trudged civilly into the grand dinning hall that morning and ate his breakfast, not even having spared the sight of those bloody Gryffindors exposing their attention-seeking selves to the world further. No… his raw white annoyance could have hardly died down… not after that. Not after a hardly ignorable pang of hate had rushed up his spine so viciously at that very moment when he saw…

Does your heart bleed when you breathe?

Does it pain you to live?

Are you cold?

Perhaps it seemed that the most reasonable thing to do after the marvelous fiasco earlier that day, was to continue on with his report. Though how pointless it seemed, it kept his hands busy possibly from wanting so much to wring a certain Gryffindor's neck. Free guesses for who could that green-eyed, tangly-haired, scar headed person that could be.

He could hardly reason with himself for feeling not only annoyance but also even more startlingly, anger. Why wasn't it true that if he were to find himself in the same similar situation three years ago, that he would feel not annoyance, not anger, but glee and mirth that it would be yet another chance to mock the Gryffindors for yet another embarrassing feat? Why would he be there wanting much more to hate Harry Potter for a reason that did not even concern Draco, for a reason that he was making excuses just to justify for, when he never did, not even for something that concerned his life.

Then of all circumstances why… why would he be in this one, asking himself desperately; 'Would it not have been different if it weren't for her?' for indeed she was a part of this, and she was the reason for all this.

Who was she, to force in him alteration not only in his mind but also in his very being? Who was she to invoke within him change he did not even want to yield to? He did not even want her, he was raised to want nothing but power… but then… there was always something else. The world was not created with a single path that one had to follow, that all would follow. Nothing is that simple. That is why life is so cruel.

He ran a thin hand against his fine hair taking a shallow breath though knowing he had little to relax about. A few moments passed as he sat in silence, wondering intently how he was to spend the next weeks that counted on him holding himself casually around her for it's success. He could not even look at her anymore without his mind throwing itself in a fit of rage… he felt that he hated her for some reason, and some curiously small voice in his head said it was because she attracted him in a way that no one other could, and somehow it was this conflict why it had to be her. Because yes, heaven knew that he was, even in the most miniscule way attracted to her. Heaven knew, perhaps he had to know it for himself.

Do you cry because your world is dying?

Do you ever hate?

And then suddenly, as if heaven had indeed been playing a trick on him, the common room's glass door opened perhaps even dramatically, and Draco found himself looking with equal curiosity at Hermione who held just a startled emotion as he. And coincidentally, he felt a surge of pain run across his injured arm at that very moment.

Perhaps as he faced her then, the same nagging voice in the back of his head asked told him that he would have probably stopped breathing at that moment if another instant passed without him being in her presence.

Is your breath short?

Do you feel anything at all?

Dark angel, with your sick, twisted beauty…

Are you mad because you love?

Well you are… for love is a mortal madness…

Ginny ran her eyes over the numerous books in the restricted section with increasing curiosity. It seemed quite amazing that every single book in that section had a hidden reason for being there, that each of them had something to conceal.

Walking quietly among the isles of the bookcases, she found herself among the 'Magical Malign' section. It was located at the far side of the room adjacent to a stonewall. She tugged nervously at her uniform collar, as if it provided the comfort of being able to breathe better, for no one could tell what punishment would befall her if she were to be caught. Yet Gryffindor curiosity got the better of her, and perhaps it gave her a tinkling urge to carry on.

A torch hung over the isle where she was in, casting eerie shadows against the stone floor. And then she looked up at the shelves to her right quite in time to see a heavily gilded book fling itself against the wall opposite it. Ginny jumped slightly startled. Harry had once told her that many of the books in the restricted section had chains attached to them because some of them literally ate human flesh, or caused unsightly boils or blisters on the reader. Ginny bent down and observed the book closely; it was thankfully, not one of the chained books she had heard of. No chains or restraints, it seemed just an ornately crafted book with old pages sticking out of its side. Ginny reached out to read its title, hesitated for a moment and the finally turned it over. On the cover, a familiar intricate pattern was drawn; it was a transmutation circle. And just below, a single gilded word shone brightly against the dim torchlight. Alchemy.

A chill ran up Ginny's spine as she lifted the book off the floor and opened the first page. A shuffling was heard in the distant library and she decided to leave. Quickly stuffing the book in the interior of her robes, and without little thought, she rushed out of the restricted section, with that same fervent chill running through her as she did so.

A dark shadow lurked quietly among the isles of books as the girl passed through. And then, as the girl left with a single book hidden in her garments it moved noiselessly towards the door and changed seamlessly into the familiar green and silver robes and the flowing blonde locks it boar everyday from that day six years ago.

She had passed through the halls and passages of the school everyday and they barely noticed that she was any different from them. Perhaps it was her characteristic scarlet eyes, or her nervously starling white complexion that hurled her away from popularity, but then again, perhaps it was because she knew that she wasn't exactly normal. And merely because she did not have other girls fawning over her like Blaise Zabini and the rest of the Slytherins back in the dungeons did, that did not mean she was not alone. She had him after all, though he was a dark violent and perhaps even mad creature much unlike herself, she still had him, and they would act together when the time was right.

Though, that did not matter now, she had been sent to accomplish a task that would destroy a certain girl, and, if all went right, she could say that she accomplished it perfectly.

She closed the door noiselessly and with a soft innocent deceiving smile to herself, she passed through the isles, out of the library.

Back at her table, Ginny reopened the book she had seemingly effortlessly snuck out of the restricted section and endowed herself in its old worn pages of surprisingly interesting facts. The Goblin Rebellion book lay forgotten on the side of the table as she continued to engross herself.

A small corner of her mind distantly noticed that among the new entrées in the library, Elizabeth Hawkeye was missing from the table where she had sat ever since.

Hermione's clammy hand tightened on the strap of her tote bag as she took minimal steps into the room. She had not expected Malfoy to be sitting so restful in the middle of the room with numerous paper work sprawled across the table facing him. In fact, she half expected him to be lying on his bed up on his room writing a letter to his father and asking him to have all the sirens in captivity obliterated for causing his injury. The other half of her expected him to be sulking off somewhere… anywhere, just not there; before her, looking at her without a single word with his eyes set once again in that misty gray stance. At that moment, she could have said that taunts would have been greatly appreciated.

She crossed the room quietly and sat down noiselessly on the couch by the far side of the table. It was the most space she could put between them. She quietly unraveled an enormous roll of scrolls that were perhaps nearly as thick as a cookie canister and set it on the table. And because the scrolls were so massive, a few quills of hers spilled out of her bags dropped to the floor and one found itself directly above Draco's black booted foot. Hermione began scrambling for the quills and looked up to see that Draco had also bent down to pick up that quill which had fallen near him, Hermione saw that it was the plump one that Harry had given to her in their third year. Malfoy looked at it as though it was the most revolting thing he had ever seen and placed it across the table.

"That, is perhaps the most unsightly plume I have ever seen," he said with an unavoidable tinge mirth in his voice. Hermione bit her lower lip trying to contain her urge to smile.

"It was a gift," she said, and then stopped herself. She was sure that he was one of the last people to want to hear Harry's name at the moment. Draco observed her closely with a cool gaze. Her hair was in its usual rumpled mess, though some curls were falling over her face. He looked away immediately and stopped himself from thinking once more of that want to brush the fallen locks away from her face. He closed his eyes and frowned deeply.

"It's done," he said quietly, still refusing to look at her.

Hermione looked up. "What?" she asked.

"All the final reports, all three hundred inches, they're done…" he continued with an uncanny deadpan voice.

Hermione looked over to the masses of parchment that were laid out before the both of them. The table was amassed with so many scrolls that contained referenced and comprehensive essays all written in Malfoy's slanted script. Hermione raised one of the scrolls to her eyes. That would mean that all their research and outputs were practically done. Hermione looked at the thick roll of scrolls, which she had compiled, if it was added to Malfoy's reports, they would be done, really done.

She stared with slightly maddening glee at the last pages of Malfoy's reports, but then frowned slightly. It was not that she had ever doubted he could accomplish such a feat but, that he would decide to do it all at once; at that very moment when the Gryffindors and Slytherins held themselves in a condition of turmoil.

"This is… excellent, we've completed the work of a month in two weeks time" said Hermione plainly. Draco looked back at her and surprisingly smirked.

"Of course it is." He said in a mock-offended voice. "I don't believe you would have expected anything less," Draco raised his chin haughtily and looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

Hermione, though sharing simultaneous feelings of amusement and annoyance clicked her tongue before speaking. "But then again, there is something…"

Draco once more put on a face as if he was being offended. "Something wrong with me Granger? For believe me, there's absolutely nothing wrong with me…"

Hermione smiled inwardly. "Your writing mood, it's too… morbid," She observed him coolly, the skylight above them cast delicate shadows on the smooth tendrils of his hair, his bright white hair against his white skin and his white eyes. It seemed so inhuman, god-like beauty that was concentrated into one being. No one should be created like that; many people have died for beauty like his. Have the deities blessed him so much that he possessed such an elegant eminence that seemed hardly mortal, did they bless him… or did they do exact reverse? Was it a blessing or was it a curse? (a/n: Hey! That rhymes!)

Draco smiled blankly, like she had seen him smile many times. It was not a real smile, no… she did not think that he could feel that genuinely happy, but it was a delicate gesture, like feeling amused yet on the verge of invoking sarcasm. "I was not raised to view life in a flowers and daisies, happiness and glee sort of way Granger," He then looked at her blankly. "No one is raised like that Granger, it is next to impossible…"

Hermione looked down as he spoke. It seemed that every time they decided to take a crack at a decent conversation, she was opened up more and more to the possibility that maybe Malfoy was hardly contented with his lifestyle, or his destiny. His destiny perhaps was the most unlikely to have manipulability, for old families ran like rivers, in a single path, a single flow, a single destination. Yes indeed, he was what he was maybe because it would be hard to stray from the flow of tradition, even though tradition in terms of the Malfoy was hardly moral.

"Especially for you," she said quietly. Draco looked up at her and closed his eyes briefly. Looking at her felt so infuriating. It was the feeling that a child has when he passes a toy store and sees a beautiful toy soldier, and at the same time expresses his want for it only to hear his mother say a numbing 'No'. There were things in this world that he could never have, and maybe that was a good thing. Some people are better off without things they want. Hermione… Did he even want her?

He opened his eyes and looked at her. It was to him now a sight indescribable by nature. The endless emotions… Desire, Delight, Delirium, Despair… Such was the pain of emotions that she so unwillingly caused him.

"Yes Granger, especially for me,"

Hermione felt a soft twinge of guilty delight as she heard her name, passing so quietly through his lips.

"I'm bored…"

Bellatrix Lextrange looked around at the interior of the Malfoy Fencing lounge haughtily as she played thoughtfully with the remaining peach martini in her wine glass as she sat on one of the long red chesterfield divan with her black booted foot positioned on the glass tea table.

"Then amuse yourself..." drawled Narcissa with a great twinge of hate evident in her voice.

Bellatrix laughed shrilly; it was like the madness had returned to her, as her bosom seemed to bounce fancifully atop her black whalebone corset. It would have almost looked funny or even attractive if someone else was sitting in Narcissa's place across her, fighting the strong urge to throw the ice bucket at her sister.

"Are you restless Cissy, the manor must hold many pleasures for you. What do you do to engage yourself?" Bellarix Lestange said lazily with her drunken drawl as she took another swagger of her drink. Narcissa in turn took a deep breath and continued to run a golden thread through her fine needlework in which was sewn the Malfoy family seal and under which the family creed;

Abyssus Abyssum Invocat; Hell calls Hell; one misstep leads to another.

"Oh, you know Bella, a few things. Sort jewelry, antiques, poison bottles, weapons… the like…" A grim shadow lurked under Narcissa Malfoy's pale azure eyes as she observed her sister closely. "And of course attend to Lucius, when he's around…" she added quite intentionally.

And to that Bellatrix laughed quite maliciously. Her pale bosom rose even higher above the black corset as she heaved her chest in amusement, she had gotten quite drunk in the length of the sisters' stay at the Fencing lounge. "Attend to, Cissy? He hasn't been in your bed for days… are you daft? Surely you must realize how he carries himself around you! Ha!" Bellatrix laughed some more as Narcissa shifted in her seat still bent on concentrating on the blanket she was sewing as if her sister had spoken minus her crude mocking tone.

She raised her blonde head and met Bellatrix' despicably dreary black eyes. The fact that she was drunk had even added to her portentousness and overwhelmed her already careless self-confidence. "Think what you want," said Narcissa plainly.

"What I want? Or what Lucius wants… he wants me, did you know? And he… he married you so you could bear the Dark Lord's dauphin!" she said in a slurred tone. "But then… you failed him still… the so-called dauphin can't even obey his father… anymore… And it's because you spoiled him…" once more malicious laughter rung through the air, that the wine glasses hanging by the bar were beginning to shake, procuring a tinkling resonance.

"You're drunk Bella, you don't know what you're saying…" Narcissa said with equal calmness as she had spoken before, though she had stopped sewing and was now looking at her sister with an intensity that reeked of distaste.

"Ha!" the black haired woman stood up now approaching her sister in clumsy uncoordinated steps. "He doesn't want you! I'm here and he sleeps in my bed, he ravishes me as never you… you are beneath—"

"He married me," said Narcissa viciously with a trembling hand on her waistband where her marble wand was inserted, just under her corset and petticoat. "He had a choice and he chose me! You know very well that you were unwed then as well and he gave me the ring… not you…" The calmness in her voice had unbelievably remained though she half hissed the words she spoke. For a few moments Bellatrix seemed to look like she had been slapped violently in the face. Narcissa secretly content at her silent victory continued on. "I'm not the one sitting sleepless almost every night wondering what was missing… why… WHY Lucius Malfoy never married me… I'm not that hopeless fool Bella. For truth, no matter how you desired him, you were never enough for him… face it, he 'wants' you only for the sex…"

At that Bellatrix lunged at her sister, in a few dramatic moments; her black hair seemed to cluster around her violently almost standing on angry ends; she briefly resembled Medusa. But Narcissa drew out her wand long before Bellatrix had moved and muttered incoherently to herself before pointing her wand directly at her sister.

"Obliviate!"

Bellatrix Lestrange blinked as she fell back on the black couch of the fencing room lounge. She looked curiously at her sister who cleverly sheathed her wand immediately between the numerous folds of her gown before Bellatrix opened her eyes.

Narcissa sat back down on the couch and continued her embroidery nonchalantly.

"What happened?" asked Bellatrix innocently with a perfectly sober tone. Narcissa smiled ingenuously.

"You had too much of the Goblin Vodka," she said as she motioned over to the half empty bottle by her needle box. "By the way, an owl came, Wormtail is calling you in France,"

"I was under the impression that I was having a peach martini…" she said as she looked over at the bottle which indeed had the words "Ciceronian Goblin Vodka" printed atop its vintage. Narcissa looked innocently over the bottle as well.

"Never liked Goblin Vodka myself Bella, makes me quite… unsettled at times… anyway, aren't you going to answer your call?" she said innocently.

Bellatrix, looking still disoriented stood up and straightened her dress out. "Right," she said quietly before she apparated, leaving Narcissa to crack a small mirthful smile.

'The homunculus is a flaw of alchemy, and it is perhaps its' greatest pain. It is the creation of being through sin. Humans are deemed weak because of their incapacity to accept loss completely, and those who have power over other humans are the most unrelenting beings, convinced that they can change what has happened, convinced that they can return what has been lost.

The homunculi are a forbidden species, created only through a failed human transmutation. A human transmutation is said to be impossible, that dead souls created from the fundamental material elements that make up a mature human body; carbon, phosphorus, nitrogen, sulfur, are not enough to resurrect someone who has passed on. But to the human mind, acceptance of death is difficult, so even though Alchemy has forbidden human transmutation, many anguished people who have lost still try to resurrect, unable to overcome their loss.

The result of failed human transmutation is said to be horrible. Those who have tried were doomed to even more loss, this time the loss of their body parts, their limbs and internal organs, sometimes their entire bodies, and even more horribly, in some unfortunate cases, their souls.

Dark alchemists who sense the occurrence of a failed transmutation, and take the inhuman results of those unfortunates who created them bind them to a 'twin'; a false body in the likeness of the failed human transmutation capable of unearthly feats, and thus the Homunculus is born.'

"Have you not tired of reading that boring scripture Lust?" said a heavy voice from beyond the shadows of the dungeon. The blonde girl turned and looked at the impending presence for a moment and then returned to the thin scroll she held in her delicate white hands.

She cocked her head and leaned against the wall of the chamber and closed her eyes. "Have you not taken to much to the fact that we're inhuman that you have to read it over and over and over…"

The girl called Lust turned to him. "Perhaps the question is, 'Have I not convinced myself to believe that once six years ago, someone wanted me, and missed me so much that he wanted me to live again,"

An eerie laugh rang throughout the dormitory as the Hogwarts clock struck midnight in the tower. The dark figure leered. "Or perhaps was stupid enough to even try human transmutation at all… Aren't you still submitted to the fact that we can never live human lives, the master…"

"The master created us to serve him, not for anything else. And I serve him, I serve him well, Envy," Her defiant red eyes seemed to shine even more intensely as she moved forward, revealing her face in the torchlight.

Envy stepped forward into the torchlight as well. He wore a long black cloak that went well with his black hair and bright yellow eyes. The mysterious ambiance about him was eminent and for some reason, Lust had never quite gotten over it. Envy leaned over to where Lust was slumped over on the floor by the wall, and bent to kneel in front of her. He placed a long white finger at the base of her neck and traced upwards until he touched her chin. "If you wish to return to that old alchemist that resurrected your weak, deformed body, and leave the master who restored your body and gave you so much power, then do so," He whispered cruelly. Lust closed her eyes as she leaned against the wall once more and touched his hand gently leading it away from her face. "If you return to him, if you return to your now crippled father as Elizabeth Hawkeye, he will run mad, for he knows you are dead. Trust me, he will run mad and he will die,"

Lust raised her gaze once more and met his eyes. "Do you not remember, who tried to resurrect you? Who loved you enough to—" Envy looked at her hatefully.

"No one could resurrect a dead soul without something of equivalent value. The old man tried to resurrect you lost more of his world than he did when you died; his wife, his land, his soul… his body is barely alive. Those are the effects of the failed Human transmutation. I do not care for those who tried to resurrect me! It would have been better for them and me if I had just remained dead…" Envy turned away from her, letting his dark hair fall over his bright yellow eyes. At the moment, he looked more inhuman than he really was. "I serve my master because he created me rightly, those monsters who tried to recreate me could not do it right, and if they knew they could not they didn't have to do it in the first place…"

Lust held her knees to her chest and hid her face. Envy would probably the only other one of her kind left; yet still he could not understand her. "The old man may die when he sees me, but I know I will make him happy even for just a moment before he runs mad, I will see him before my master calls, and you…"

Envy turned to her and looked at her viciously once more. "If you return to him, I will leave you… and you will never see me again,"

Lust looked at him defiantly, "You will not. You cannot leave me for you cannot return to the master just yet. We are yet to make an alchemist of the Weasley girl."

Envy frowned. "Drat."

Lucius opened his eyes as the dawn fell upon the French scenery seen atop the Captieux Castle. Brentenoux was not far off but then it seemed such a long time before he could accomplish the capture.

"Master Lucius," Petigrew stammered quietly as the small man stepped closer towards the blonde man on the flagstones of the castle tower. "The men are ready, the only one missing is…"

A soft pop echoed through the tower as a tall black-haired woman appeared aside Pettigrew. "Is everything in order?" asked Bellatrix in a light voice. Lucius turned towards her and sported a fine smile of sinister confidence.

"It is time, lead them now Bella, call upon your companions and race to Brentenoux," said Lucius.

"May I go Master Lucius?" asked Pettigrew timidly.

"No!" said Lucius and Bellatrix almost simultaneously. Pettigrew vehemently frowned and stomped off towards the stone stairwell.

"Lucius," sighed Bellatrix softly. "Shall I take her here?"

Malfoy's blonde long hair seemed to flow in the impending zephyr blowing against the tower. He turned to her. "No, Harry Potter must not be able to herald for help once we achieve capture… take her, take her to the Manor,"

"Yes Lucius,"

"Go now, and make haste, as we shall take what means the very most to Harry Potter,"

Ginny pulled the clasp of her robes closer around her neck as she sat kneeling over a large chalk-drawn circular pattern on the astronomy tower floor. A large old book lay open beside her, and in the center of the circle was a large pile of rocks. Ginny inhaled a deep breath and crossed her fingers for the last time.

"Here goes nothing," she whispered softly as she closed her eyes and set both of her palms within the circular emblem, and a blinding flash of red light emitted from the floor of the astronomy tower.

Part Two: Decadence

I have seen the results of love; pain and terror, conflagration and despair. Fate may be impartial and Justice blind, but Love hates mankind and knows well that the best way to make him suffer is to kiss him with her sickness."

Silver, not gray. Two liquid pools of silver, like two drops of mercury, like two frozen tears. Two silver eyes, sometimes blank, seemingly emotionless but surely he can't be like that on the inside.

Ivory.

Ivory strands of hair, flipping over a pale, pointed face. Doesn't look quite human, Veela perhaps? Or maybe vampire or elf? Hard to say but not quite human.
Handsome, no beautiful in a strange melancholy way. Cold, hard, cruel. Uncaring, unloving, unkind and unhappy. Always on the edge of falling over, either to the dark side to join the Death Eaters and Lord Voldemort or t-

Refer; Chapter 6, The French Castle "dark creature"