Кассандра Клэр - Draco Sinister

"Accio," interrupted Ginny, firmly. The box soared out of Hermioneś hands and landed in Ginny's grasp. She glanced up, saw them all staring at her in astonishment, and smiled serenely. "This is mine," she said, with quiet conviction, and touched her hand to the side. The box emitted a single sharp musical note, and opened like a flower, the lid sliding back. Bright light shone from its interior, illuminating Ginnyś pale face as she reached into it and drew out something that dangled and shimmered on the end of a finely wrought gold chain…something shaped like an hourglass, something ornately wrought and carved…

"Oh," breathed Hermione, looking from the glittering pendant to Ginnyś startled face. "Itś a Time-Turner."

As the guard came towards them, Harry saw with shock that it wasn´t human, not a werewolf either, but something else entirely -

it had a wrinkled, piglike face with long tusks that protruded from either side of its mouth. It moved towards them swiftly, but before Harry had time to do more than step back, Draco had raised his sword and put the blade through its face. It made a noise like a bucketful of water being poured into a patch of mud, staggered back and collapsed to the ground, blood pouring from its head.

Draco looked ill. Harry, who had drawn his own sword, took a shaky breath and clapped him on the arm. "Well done, Malfoy."

"No!" cried Fleur, hurling herself off the wall she had been pressed against, "they are shape-changers, I told you-"

She was right. As Draco and Harry gazed in horror, the dead-looking guard on the floor wavered and blurred and became a squat, scaly creature that leaped to its feet and charged at Draco again. Looking startled, he dispatched it for the second time, and it became a many-limbed snaky thing. This time Draco chopped off its head, using another fencing move that Harry would have recognized, except by this point Harry had stopped watching, because a second guard had come into the room and leaped straight for him.

He swung the sword at it and managed to slice open its throat. This did very little good, as it immediately turned into a tall man carrying a longsword, and charged at him. Harry stopped thinking and let the sword in his hand do its work — he had already discovered that if he cleared his mind, it seemed to come to life in his hand, or, more likely, that the undercurrent of knowledge from Draco was able to work its way up and direct his arm. But every time he tried to analyze what he was doing, he lost his footing or missed a stroke, so he stopped trying to plan and let his instincts take over, catching at the unfamiliar names of the motions he was making as they fled under the surface of his mind: bind, double bind, circle parry, riposte.

He quickly slaughtered the longsword man-shape, which turned into a wolf, which turned into a large, fox-like creature, which turned into a petite beautiful woman in a leather breastplate. This last incarnation startled Harry so much that he staggered back and nearly lost his footing. He had barely a chance to blink when something silver whipped over his head and embedded itself in the shape-changerś chest. It was Fleurś knife.

The creature screamed, blurred, and folded like a rag doll; this time, when it crumpled to the ground, it bled inky green blood and lay still.

Heart pounding, Harry glanced at Fleur, who was looking down at the dead guard with a dazed expression. "Thanks," he said, and glanced past her to Draco, who was standing over the dead body of the first guard, white-faced, and looking just as shaken as Harry felt.

Feeling Harryś gaze on him, he looked up and quickly rearranged his features a look of bland amusement. "So," he said. "Did anything about that strike anyone else as… unusual?"

He grinned the smug grin that Harry always wanted to hit.

"Shut up, Malfoy," said Harry wearily.

Fleur meanwhile was bending down to retrieve her knife from the guardś chest. "More of them will be coming," she said, straightening up and turning — and then quite unexpectedly, she went white and pitched forward onto her hands and knees.

"Fleur-" Draco covered the distance of the room in a few strides and knelt down next to her. "What is it?"

In response, she clutched at his arm. Normally Harry would have thought this was some sort of ploy, but she really did look distressed — she was paper-white and gasping, her other hand pressed to her chest. Slowly her breathing slowed and she glanced up, her forehead beaded with sweat — and Harry saw the fear in her eyes.

Draco touched her shoulder. "You all right?"

She nodded, almost speechless. "Yes — just give me a moment."

Draco glanced up at Harry. Potter — go and see if you can get that door open. Use magic if you need to. We have to get out of here as soon as possible.

Harry nodded and headed off down the hall, still ruminating on the odd look of fear in Fleurś eyes. Well, they were in a very dangerous situation, it made sense to be afraid, but still… something about it troubled him.

What did she know that they didn´t?

Sirius stood in Snapeś workroom, strange smells tickling his nose.

They weren´t bad smells, in fact he thought of it as the scent of magic at work: burning pitch, charred stone, mysterious herbs.

Thick gray smoke rose from the cauldron over which Snape stood, twining up towards the high-raftered ceiling and smelling strangely of mint and cabbage. Fires burned along the table, crowned with fat-bellied cauldrons, glowing blood-red with heat. That, combined with the warmth of the rising smoke, was making Sirius sweat through his clothes.

Snape, by contrast, was looking almost cold, hunched into his robes and grumbling over his cauldron. "Adjustments will have to be made," he muttered.

"Adjustments?"

Snape glanced up and nodded. "The potion as I brew it is for administration to human beings. One of the key ingredients is wolfsbane. Obviously, some replacement for wolfsbane will have to be found in this case, as I doubt it would agree with your friend Lupin."

"Quite," said Sirius, feeling lost. Potions had never been one of his favorite subjects. He much preferred Transfiguration, at which he had excelled. He thought fondly back to one spring afternoon when he had turned Snapeś cauldron into a fat orange hamster which had bitten Snape on the toe. No, he told himself, mustn´t think about that…

"But then you always were far more interested in Transfiguration," said Snape, his beady black eyes glancing over Sirius, who jumped.

"Erm," said Sirius. "yes, yes I was," and he began prowling up and down the room, trying to look preoccupied. It wasn´t hard: there were diversions enough in Snapeś workroom to preoccupy anyone.

Cauldrons of all sizes, jars of dragonś blood too hot to touch, flasks of weeping willow tears, caskets of powdered mandrake, silver jars of powdered unicorn horn. Absently, Sirius paused to examine the books stacked haphazardly on a table. One caught his eye in particular: a heavy burgundy volume with a gold-stamped spine that read Demons, Demons, Demons. He picked it up and flicked it open. Everything You Wanted to Know About Hellś Denizens, and Several Things You Didn´t, read the flyleaf.

"What are you looking at, Black?" demanded Snape.

Sirius brandished the book in the air. "Demons, Demons, Demons -

what a title."

"Itś a book about demons. What would you call it?"

"The Book of Demons?" Sirius suggested, flicking idly through the pages.

"A name rife with single entendre."

"It was just a suggestion — " Sirius broke off, staring down at a page of the book, his eyes wide. He raised his head. "Hey — can I borrow this book?"