Кассандра Клэр - Draco Veritas

Harry took a step forward. "What happened out there?' he demanded.

Draco's eyes went narrow. The torchlight threw its flaring light across his face, washing out the color, making the lines hard and angular. "You won," he said flatly. "Go and bloody celebrate, why don't you?"

"I meant what happened to you. You gave up on that game, Malfoy — it's the only explanation — "

"I did not give up!" The words came out on a shout. "You won!"

"We didn't," said Harry.

Draco looked even angrier. "I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be above bloody gloating about this sort of thing — "

"I am not gloating," said Harry through his teeth. "Do you think I give a damn about winning a game you let me win?"

"I did not let you win!" Draco yelled. "That was the best I could do!"

"Well, it was pathetic!" Harry snapped right back, and immediately regretted what he had said.

"Why, thank you," Draco snarled, his voice gone flat and cold. "Thank you for that assessment, Potter, you self-righteous, stuck-up, unbearable bastard!" Harry took a step back — Draco looked almost feral in his rage, his shoulders set, even his silver hair seeming to crackle with angry energy. His hands were fisted at his sides. "You think you can come along and judge me — "

"If you let me win because you think I — " Harry began, but broke off as a voice exploded inside his head, with the force of a bomb going off — he felt as if his skull might shatter apart as he staggered back against the wall.

I DID NOT LET YOU WIN!

Harry gasped out loud, and put his hands to his head, which was aching now as if someone had struck him a hard blow across the back of his skull. "Ouch," he said weakly, and looked up at Draco — who was staring at him in utter astonishment, his hands slowly loosening at his sides. "All right, all right — I believe you, Malfoy, you didn't have to yell like that." He took his hands gingerly away from his temples and stared at them, almost expecting to see blood. "You trying to give me brain damage, or what?"

"I…" Draco began, uneasily, still looking surprised. "I didn't know it would

… I've never…"

"Well, now you have," Harry snapped, repeating something Draco had said to him not long before. Then he hesitated. "I'm sorry," he said slowly, his eyes on Draco's face now. "'For what I said…you weren't pathetic."

"Oh, no," Draco said, gritty-voiced, and very pale, "I was. I was pathetic."

Harry suddenly felt terrible, as if he'd kicked a kitten. He stared at Draco.

Over the months he'd come to be able to read the other boy's expressions, although they were subtle. And he could still feel a little of what Draco felt sometimes, if he was feeling it strongly. He felt it now, and saw it in Draco's face, bewilderment…and fear. Fear?

"Malfoy," he began — "Harry!" it was a breathless voice, one Harry recognized instantly; he spun around and saw Hermione, standing ashen-faced in the doorway. Ron was behind her, and so, he saw, was Ginny. And behind her was Seamus Finnigan. Hermione held a book in her hands, clutching it so tightly that her fingers were paper-white. "Harry…" she said again, and trailed off, and then her eyes went to Draco. Relief brightened them, lighting her expression. "Oh, thank God, you're both here. I need to talk to you." She looked down at the book in her hand, and then back at Draco and Harry.

"It's important. Can we go to the library and talk?"

Harry looked at her, trying to focus his eyes, but it was Draco who spoke.

"Not if he comes," he said, and pointed past Hermione at Seamus, who was standing beside Ginny now.

"Anything I can hear, Seamus can hear," said Ginny loudly. "I already told him everything."

Draco raised an eyebrow at her. "Everything?' he said.

"Everything," Ginny replied, raising her chin.

Seamus looked very much as if he wanted to be elsewhere, but he stood firm.

"Then you're a silly bint," said Draco coldly. "And untrustworthy."

Ron looked murderous, as did Seamus. Hermione frowned. "Draco, don't be difficult," she said. "This is important."

Draco folded his arms. "Either Leprechaun Boy over there walks away, or I do."

Harry cleared his throat. "Look, Seamus…" he began.

"Right then," said Seamus. "I don't want to cause any problems. I'm going." He leaned over and very deliberately kissed Ginny on the cheek.

"I'll see you later," he said, and walked away.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "If the immaturity contest is over…"

"The immaturity contest is never over," said Draco, with a sideways smile at her. She shook her head. "All right," she said. "Come on — let's go to the library."

"There are four Worthy Objects," Hermione said. "And they're very old.

There's a dagger. A scabbard. A mirror, that one in the photograph that was stolen. And a cup." She sighed and looked up from the parchment she was reading. "Draco saw every one of them in Voldemort's possession, in his dreams, except one. The cup."

They were all in the library, sprawled around a round table: Ginny and Ron, Hermione and Draco, and Harry beside Hermione. Hermione had books and parchments spread out on the table in front of her, and her silver-rimmed reading glasses propped on her nose. She'd been talking for a while, and her voice was beginning to sound scratchy.

"Each of these objects is very powerful, magically," Hermione went on.

"It's elemental magic, which is hardly ever practiced these days, but was pretty popular around Nicholas Flamel's time. Each object corresponds to an element — but," Hermione added hurriedly, seeing everyone's eyes glazing over, "that's not important. What's important is that these four objects are like four parts of a puzzle. They have to be brought together for the magic to work. And when they're together, then a ritual can be performed."

Harry cleared his throat. "I don't like the sound of that. What kind of ritual?"

Hermione bit her lip. "It's what the Objects were created for, to facilitate this ritual. It's called just that, the Ritual, and…and it takes five people to perform, four to manipulate the objects and a fifth…" Hermione wrinkled her nose, "to give his or her blood. It's totally unclear how the ritual works, apparently the instructions are contained in a set of four books, of which there is only one copy of each in existence. However, what is clear is the result of the ritual. When it's done properly, an image will appear in the surface of the mirror. That image is the Tetragrammaton."

Draco's eyes widened. Everyone else looked quite blank. "That's a myth, I thought," Draco said.

"Oooh, Draco knows about it," said Ron. "I'm betting it's a nasty thing in that case."

Draco yawned. "You forgot to call me Malfoy," he said. "You're slipping, Weasley."

"The Tetragrammatron," said Hermione firmly, "is a word. One word. But speaking that word aloud gives the speaker power over all living things, power over men and animals, and power over life and death. That's why Voldemort wanted the mirror, and that's why I'm sure he wants the cup. It was the only object that Draco didn't see that he already had, and anyway I already looked into it. The cup is in the Museum at Stonehenge, in the Antiquities section. If he he wants to perform the ritual, he'll have to try to get it. But he mustn't…he can't be allowed. We can't let that happen."

Ron looked shocked; so did Ginny. Harry wondered if he looked shocked as well. He didn't feel shocked. He felt a weary sort of oh, this again? The end of the world? Yippee! instead.

Draco didn't look shocked either. He looked resigned. "And what do we propose to do about it?"

"I don't know," said Ron dubiously. "This all seems like fantasy to me. I mean, some dreams, some photos, a myth…it might well be nothing."