Кассандра Клэр - Draco Sinister

"I had a flashback in the middle of a delusion." Red Dwarf "That's just his teaching persona," Draco said, hoping he sounded like he knew what he was talking about. "Stodgy by day, perhaps, but at night it's booze, whores and flying fur." Buffy. From the episode

"The Dark Age", regarding Giles.

As they flew, Draco discovered that the Epicyclical Charm worked a bit like a compass. Every twenty miles or so he would have to pause and reattune it, and the others would stop and watch, hovering in midair.

Because he was the navigator, he flew ahead, with the others following him: Harry second, then Ginny and Ron behind. He was actually quite enjoying the flying. They had been flying low over a thickly wooded area for several hours, just skimming the tops of the trees, and the pull coming from the Epicyclical Charm had been growing stronger and stronger. When, after another hour, he paused and touched the Charm again, images came to him in a surge like a tidal wave: the forest, the burned castle, the round tower. And Hermione. He felt almost sure that the forest in the visions was the same forest they were flying over now.

He looked over at Harry, Ron and Ginny, who were hovering a little ways away, and felt just a bit smug. There's no way they could do this without me. Not even the great Harry Potter.

He was about to call out to them that he was sure they were getting close, when a flicker of movement below him caught his eye and he glanced down. And stared in surprise. It was difficult to see through the thick canopy of interwoven branches, but Draco thought he saw a line of dark figures, like a column of ants, wending their way between the trees. Were they people? It looked like much too orderly a column for animals — but it was hard to tell.

Draco leaned forward, trying to get a better look. And froze, as a searing wave of cold suddenly washed over him. He jerked upright, but the cold didn't vanish — it was cold like no cold he had ever experienced, cold that burned and slashed at his insides like knives.

Suddenly terrified, he tried to yell out for Harry, but he couldn't hear his own voice over the voices that suddenly began shouting in his head.

You're not my son. That was his father speaking, of course it was his father.

I am still young; I can have other children.

Draco clutched at his broom. I don't care, he said stubbornly to his father, I don't care, but Lucius Malfoy's voice was suddenly swept aside by a rising and howling tide of other voices, voices he didn't know. Voices screaming in pain, choked off in blood, voices he remembered from his dreams, crying out in agony…and a man's voice, rising above them all, hoarse and angry, You lied to me! You lied to me!

I never lied to you! A woman's voice, shouting her reply: You just believed it because it was what you wanted to believe!

You'll be sorry you ever said that. Don't think I won't hurt you.

Nobody can hurt you like I can.

No! NO! The unknown woman was screaming now. What have you done to him? Where is he? Salazar, what have you done?

Draco covered his ears, but the screaming went on inside his head, and worse than the screaming was the terror, pure terror washing over him like a thick black fog. Icy fingers of cold gripped him, prying his hands from the handle of his broomstick, pushing him over backwards. He saw the world turn upside down, the sky at his feet, and then, as he fell, everything went black.

"Harry? Harry! Everything all right?"

Harry glanced up to see Ron looking at him with concern.

"I think so," said Harry, aware that he probably looked pale and unhappy. "If I didn't know better, I'd swear there were Dementors around." He slowed his broom to a halt, put his hands up to his face, took off his glasses, and rubbed his eyes.

Ron paused beside him, and a moment later, so did Ginny. Harry shuddered. "I feel so — cold," he said.

Ron shook his head. "I don't feel anything."

"Neither do I," chipped in Ginny. Harry put his glasses back on. "It's probably — " He broke off, looking surprised. "Malfoy!" he called.

"You all right?"

Both Ron and Ginny turned to follow Harry's gaze, just in time to see Draco, who was bent double over his Firebolt as if he were about to be sick, let go of his broomstick and topple sideways. As they watched in horror, he tumbled downwards, vanishing into the treetops, his broom hurtling after him. Ginny gasped, her hand flying to her mouth, and spun to look at Harry — but Harry was already gone. Pointing his broomstick directly at the ground as if he were diving into the Wronski Feint, he shot downwards through the trees, vanishing from sight.

Without another thought, Ginny made as if to dive after him, but Ron clamped a hand on her wrist. "Ginny, no-"

"Ron, we've got to go after them-"

"Yes," he said patiently, "but neither of us is Harry, we can't fly like Harry. You'll get yourself killed."

With his hand still gripping her arm, he tilted his broom downward, and she followed. She soon saw what he meant. The trees were so thickly interwoven here that it necessitated some tricky flying to keep from crashing or getting tangled in the branches. She remembered the speed at which Harry had dived down, and shuddered. Please let him be all right, she prayed.

And Draco. Let him be all right, too.

"Let me tell you a story," Salazar Slytherin said.

Hermione looked at his face as he stared fixedly at the tapestry of the Hogwarts Four hanging on the wall. She couldn't tell if he was looking at Rowena or Godric, or even at the depiction of himself. His jaw was set.

"Rowena," he said.

Not knowing if he was talking to her, Hermione didn't move.

"We were children together," he said. "I knew her from the moment she was born. I saw her in her cradle. I was five years old. I knew her and loved her every moment of her life. I watched her as she grew in power and in wisdom. I had little magical skill myself, to speak of.

Until I was fifteen years old, I was the shame of my family. It was then that I told Rowena that I loved her. And she told me she loved me as well."

Slytherin began to pace.

"It unlocked something inside me. I discovered that not only was I capable of magic, I was in fact a Magid, of unmatched power and skill. I could speak the language of beasts and animals, I could control the weather, I could perform spells without a wand. But only as long as I was with Rowena."

He glanced at Hermione, his eyes fierce and sad, and she felt again the same flicker of pity for him that she had felt earlier. They were children together; they loved each other as children. Like Harry and me.

But he's nothing like Harry.

"She was my Source," he said. "You might not know what that is. It is magic at its most mysterious. Without Rowena, I was more powerless than an infant. With Rowena by my side, I could have mastered the world."

"But she didn't want you to master the world," said Hermione slowly. "Did she?"

"I did everything she asked me to do," said Slytherin hoarsely. "I agreed to start the school she wanted me to start with her. I let her bring in Gryffindor and Hufflepuff as founders, although they were both fools. I did what I could to make myself stronger…" He made a noise like a hiss. "I recruited young wizards of strength and ambition, and among them I looked for one who might be a Source for me, as Rowena was. But there was never anyone, never anyone but her. And the more I needed her, the more she drew away from me. I began to see how she looked at Godric." He stopped pacing and stared at her with furious eyes. "She looked at him as, when we were children, she had looked at me. Filthy Muggle-born fool that he was, I knew why she had turned to him. It was because I was weak, because without her, I could not perform the simplest Summoning charm."