Unofficial Portkey Archive

Title: Nox Noctis (1/?)
Author name: Rhea Summers
Category: Drama, Romance, Adventure
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers alert: All four books

Summary:
Power, Ambition and Dreams - the very essence of a riveting drama involving the lives of five students in Hogwarts. Draco Malfoy plays a game full of lies and betrayal as he baits his pawn, Ginny Weasley, closer into his embrace. The story unfolds further with Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley as deceptions threaten to shake the very foundation of their friendship. This is the story of five students with five entwined destines.

Disclaimer:
This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. However, this story is also based very loosely on JRR Tolkien's 'The Lord of the Rings' and it belongs to all parties concerned. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author's notes:
Nox Noctis means Darkness in Latin, and we shall see Harry Potter and the people around him embark on a journey of love, trust and adventure. Many thanks to my betas who are extremely patient with me, and without these great people, this story may never be here in the first place.

Bright emerald eyes stared fixedly at the low wooden ceiling. A small stream of light floated through the metal grill of the mouthpiece attached to the door, illuminating the narrow cupboard under the stairs which he called his room. Tousle-haired and silent, Harry Potter rested on his small couch with his hands under his head. His Potions assignment lay half-done on the tiny wooden table next to him.

Harry sighed despondently. There was no way he could write a good essay on Potions. He had never liked Potions. It might be because Snape made the subject so difficult for him to comprehend. To top that, Snape always favored students from his own house, Slytherin. Charms and Defense Against Dark Arts were a lot more fun.

Yes, especially the latter.

Harry's concentration broke when a series of comical exploding sounds went off. He recognized these loud noises as coming from Dudley's new PlayStation II upstairs. It was a new set that Dudley had gotten after he threw the original machine out of the window in one of his temper tantrums. Uncle Vernon never thought twice when it came to spending money on his son. Being the spoilt teenager he was, Dudley still bullied Harry at every opportunity possible, and it was all because he couldn't use magic outside Hogwarts. Magic was expressly forbidden for underage wizards; they couldn't even use it when with other wizards, much less in front of Muggles. Harry had no choice but to put up with Dudley's antics since the Ministry of Magic had once sent him a warning letter, and getting expelled from Hogwarts was at the bottom of his to-do list.

Harry gazed listlessly at the dusty ceiling boards. Summer vacation had never been this boring. Only a fortnight had passed since Harry came back from Hogwarts. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had been exceptionally civilized towards him after Sirius Black actually paid the Dursleys a visit before he came back to Privet Drive for his holidays. Harry grinned at the mental image of Uncle Vernon shaking from head to toe and Aunt Petunia screaming her head off after Sirius introduced himself as his godfather.

Yes, the man who killed dozens of Muggles in a single blast, the murderer who escaped from prison had turned up on their doorsteps. That should have been enough to scare the Dursleys out of their wits. Added to their intense dislike for the Potters, Sirius didn't face any trouble upon getting their written consent to transfer Harry's guardianship over to him. In fact, Uncle Vernon would be more than obliged to scrawl his ugly signature on that form Sirius had obtained with so much difficulty from the Muggle Home Ministry. Obviously, the welfare officers there didn't believe that the ex-prisoner was financially capable of feeding Harry after turning up in poorly chosen Muggle clothing.

Harry smiled happily. Merely weeks before, Sirius was finally acquitted of the murder charges that the Legal Department of Magic used to throw him behind bars in Azkaban, and that was after some Aurors caught up with Wormtail. How could Sirius murder someone who was still alive years after? As expected, Sirius Black appeared in the headlines of the Daily Prophet for a fortnight and everyone in the wizarding world was shocked by how the Ministry of Magic had conducted their investigations.

Cornelius Fudge didn't take that piece of news well at all. The Daily Prophet had reported every single detail of Wormtail's near-arrest and it had caused a minor uproar in the wizarding community. Editorial letters about the competency of the Ministry of Magic started appearing in popular wizarding newspapers and some wizards had even sent howlers to Fudge's desk when he blatantly refused to acknowledge the injustice done to Sirius. Finally, after a dozen cream pies and a dozen eggs hit Cornelius Fudge during an official speech, he broke down and issued a public apology to Sirius besides handing a rich sum of Galleons over to him.

Sirius is a free man now, Harry mused. Free from the Dementors and Azkaban. Being on the run for more than three years was hard work, but no amount of money would make that haunted and empty look in his eyes go away. It would never be the same again.

Harry wished fervently that Sirius would recover gradually. He was someone who had loved Harry as a son, and if there was anyone Harry would die willingly for, it was Sirius. He had kept his promise well. Finally, Harry had a home to call his own after 16 years. A smile lit up Harry's face. He would be spending his next summer at Sirius' place. Not this time, though. Sirius felt that Harry still needed protection from You-Know-Who, and the only way was to either remain in Hogwarts or live with a blood relative. No matter how tortured the boy seemed to be whilst spending time with the Dursleys, he was safe there. All the same, it was because of Harry's well-being and safety, which prompted Sirius to make such a decision. It was impossible to not feel touched by all those risks that Sirius had taken to ensure his safety.

At least Wormtail was already dead. Harry swore he saw pity flashed across Sirius' face when he stood there, looking at the bloody mess that was once Wormtail, that poor excuse for a wizard. Sirius was the type to be extremely loyal to his friends, no matter how badly they had betrayed him. True, Sirius wanted to kill Wormtail back then and would probably had if Harry hadn't stopped him, but there was a difference between wanting to butcher someone and seeing that person dead before you. After all, they had known each other since their schooldays and had gone through many adventures together as the 'Four Marauders' of Hogwarts.

Again, Harry thought he saw pain in Sirius' eyes at that very moment they walked into the sacrificial ceremony.

It wasn't a very nice scene when some Aurors found Wormtail's body lying in pieces in that secluded village in Wales. Apparently, Peter Pettigrew met his end with some violent and forgotten form of Dark Arts. The silvery right hand Voldemort gave him during the Resurrection was missing and Hermione even retched when she walked in with Ron. Harry squeezed his eyes shut in a feeble attempt to drive the gruesome memory out of his head. There was a lot of blood on the marble floors of the abandoned house. Wormtail's heart was torn out using a blunt instrument and Harry would never forget that terror etched on his still face. Only the Dark Arts would use a human sacrifice...

*What is Voldemort up to?* Harry wondered, his heartbeat growing faster. They hadn't encountered Voldemort directly over the past two years. Harry gritted his teeth. With every passing second, more and more wizards are drawn to the Dark Side, enticed by more power and wealth. Efforts to find Voldemort hadn't been successful and the Death Eaters had disguised their traces too well for Aurors to track them down. When they finally managed to catch the wind of the Dark Lord performing an ancient and forgotten ritual, Wormtail was dead well before they even reached the scene.

Voldemort... Harry shuddered involuntarily. For every year of his life since he was eleven, the Dark Lord had tried to kill him through numerous innovative ways. So far, the most terrifying attempt had been during the Triwizard Tournament, the same Tournament that Cedric Diggory had died.

Harry felt a stab of pain shoot through his heart. If Harry Potter hadn't suggested that both of them hold the Triwizard Cup together, Cedric wouldn't have been killed in the first place. If Harry Potter weren't at Hogwarts, Cedric wouldn't have died. If Harry Potter hadn't been born, Cedric and Cho would still be together happily. At the thought of Cho, he clenched his jaw. No doubt he had gotten over his crush on her since Cedric's death, but he still cared a lot for her. Cho was never the outgoing and popular Ravenclaw Seeker again. After the tragedy, she kept mostly to herself and hardly spoke to anyone else outside her small clique.

Harry wasn't sure either he or Cho would be able to get over Cedric's death entirely.

Thanks to Voldemort, the life of another innocent person was destroyed.

Sirius and Dumbledore's voices echoed in his head again. They said that it wasn't his fault that Cedric had died. It was all Voldemort's fault. Harry clenched his fists. Nevertheless, he felt guilty. Mr. and Mrs. Diggory's expression of heartbreaking grief and sorrow as they stood beside Cedric's coffin during his funeral would be with him for the rest of his life.

Voldemort's powers were growing, Harry was sure of it. His lightning scar throbbed dully every now and then. Professor Dumbledore was deeply concerned about these sensations and he made sure that Harry kept reporting back to Hogwarts via owl mail each Friday. Other than the occasional letter Sirius sent him, Harry had no news of the wizarding world outside. Subscriptions to the Daily Prophet did not cover Muggle residence areas for the fear of being picked up by nosy Muggles.

Harry inhaled deeply and held his breath. He would worry about that later. Professor Dumbledore had assured him that Voldemort would not be able to strike anywhere near the Dursleys, and of course, he was safe when he was at Hogwarts. Forcibly pushing that forlorn feeling aside, Harry sat up and concentrated again on his unfinished Potions essay.

"'Mandrake roots and Deadly Nightshade: An Analogy of Usages and Effects on Potions'. A typical Snape topic. Hermione may be able to help me on this..." Harry said wistfully and he reloaded his quill with black ink. Starting to scrawl a sentence on a new piece of parchment, his mind ran to and fro thinking about Mandrake roots and his best friends, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley.

Harry wanted to send Hermione a letter via owl post, but she hadn't returned from her trip to Bulgaria with Ginny, Ron's little sister. Ron hadn't been very happy when he heard the two of them were going to spend the summer with Viktor Krum and he made a lot of objections, but Hermione didn't seem to listen to any of his reasoning that Krum could be another Dark Wizard in making. Besides, Hermione had wanted Ginny to go along since Viktor Krum had extended an invitation for her to visit him. Harry still did not get what Hermione saw in Krum. No, the Bulgarian seeker couldn't be labeled as handsome nor dashing. In fact, he was even a little duck-footed and had round shoulders.

*Well, he 'is' a World Famous Seeker,* Harry concluded as he closed his eyes. Imagination was an easy way to pass time. Harry imagined himself flying on his Firebolt on the Quidditch Pitch, cheered on by thousands witches and wizards. He was wearing the navy blue robes of the English National Quidditch Team and his name was embroidered in gold on the back of the robes. With the long sleeves flowing in the crisp air, he waved at the crowd who greeted him with thunderous applause.

Blinking his eyes open, Harry smiled. Hermione would not be impressed if he were indeed a national Quidditch player. However, being Hermione, she had not forgotten to send Harry his birthday present in advance. Casting a glance at the floorboard, Harry couldn't hold back another grin. His presents were all hidden beneath some loose planks. With his birthday coming up in a few days' time, Harry would be able to see what she had gotten him this time.

Writing to Hagrid didn't make much sense now, since he was no longer at Hogwarts for summer. Reaching under his pillow, he picked up Hagrid's sole letter scrawled in his large and uneven script, and started to read the short note again.

Dear Harry,
I won't be at Hogwarts for a year now. Olympe has invited me to visit Beauxbaton and I have agreed to teach at that school for a year. Don't worry about your classes. I'm sure Professor Dumbledore will find a good replacement for your Care of Magical Creatures class before the term starts. Stay strong.
Love, Hagrid

Harry gave a small chuckle. He was happy for Hagrid that the half-giant had found someone to share his life with. Nothing would make Harry happier than to see his closest friends enjoying a meaningful life. *Who would be the new Care of Magical Creatures teacher then?* Harry wondered and scratched his messy mop of hair. Mad-Eye Moody had taken up the Defense Against Dark Arts position for two years in a row now after the ex-Auror decided that Hogwarts was relatively safer from attacks by his enemies than his home.

And the real Mad-Eye Moody was also just as super-cool as the fake Moody during classes. Harry snickered at the term Fred and George coined to describe Moody.

As for Ron, he had just sent a letter earlier in the day to say that Harry was welcome to visit the Burrow sometime next week when Bill and Charlie were due to return home for their annual leave. According to Ron, Mr. Weasley had finally promised him a well-deserved trip to his office at the Ministry of Magic. Being Ron's best friend, Harry would not be left out in anything like this. Besides, Harry was eager to visit the twins' newly opened joke shop in Diagon Alley.

Pulling out another leaf of parchment, Harry began writing a note to Ron, saying that he would love to go along and that he missed Mrs. Weasley's fantastic cooking. Harry's stomach clenched pitifully at the thought of food. Dudley hadn't been able to shed any weight and Aunt Petunia was still continuing with that horrendous diet of celery sticks and grapefruit, which everyone in the family had to follow. Harry suspected Dudley hadn't been adamant in losing weight since he caught the other boy sneaking in a chocolate cake the other night when he thought no-one was watching.

Satisfied with his short note to Ron, Harry leaned back on his small couch again and took of his glasses. It was half past two in the afternoon and the weather was getting warm and humid. Slowly, drowsiness began to smother him and he sank into a deep slumber.

Draco Malfoy gazed aimlessly around. His silvery hair brushing his cheek, he swept it aside in a frustrated movement. Crossing his legs, he leaned back into a chair and took a sip from his champagne glass. As usual, his mother had thrown him a grand birthday party and had invited a lot of guests.

The sad thing was, he barely knew half of the people milling around the ballroom, save for his Slytherin housemates and their parents. It had been the same for every year. Every morning on his birthday, he would wake up to a host of house elves that would then dress him up in his finest before walking downstairs into crowds and crowds of people. Later at night, he would open his presents alone with nobody to share his excitement with.

It was getting predictable, damn it.

Even the decorations were the same. The walls were draped with paintings of gory battle scenes from the last three Goblin Revolutions with moving figures of wizards getting hacked into pieces by evil-looking scythes commonly used by goblin warriors. Floating near the paintings were lighted black candles of every size imaginable in true Malfoy tradition. The only difference was that a huge crystal ball stood on a mahogany stand on the stage in the center of the hall.

Just then, a girl dressed in an elegant black evening gown walked up to him. Draco noticed that she was a Slytherin - Blaise Zabini, to be exact, who shared many of his classes. Holding up her glass, she took a sip and smiled seductively.

"Hello, Draco. How is the birthday boy doing?" she started and inched closer to Draco until their legs were nearly touching.

"Hello, Blaise," he drawled lazily and got up from his seat, taking a step away from the girl. "I'm doing fine, no thanks to that strong perfume of yours."

Blaise Zabini scowled and took another sip of her champagne. "So, what did you get this year? A Firebolt?"

Draco shrugged and flashed a sarcastic smile at her. "Maybe? Who knows? My birthday present might be that space-wasting crystal ball obstructing my view right now?"

"That is no ordinary crystal ball, Draco. Father says that it is the Orb of Nox Noctis," Blaise interjected and frowned, annoyed at Draco's impromptu display of ignorance.

"So what?" Draco shrugged again and started to walk away until he could no longer feel Blaise's glare boring into his back. On and off, he managed to catch some of the gossip and chatter flying around him. Standing casually in a small crowd of wizards, Draco busied himself with his cuffs as he listened to the conversation among them.

"So the Dark Lord is coming tonight? There are rumors going about that he's got an important announcement planned? Has anybody mentioned what it's about to you?"

"Well, I gathered some information that there are new developments on the Dark Lord's part. I think it is about the Heir of Slytherin, I heard," a second voice answered.

Draco looked up mildly with interest. That was something. It was always a topic for a heated debate on the Heir of Slytherin issue in the wizarding community. In Hogwarts, the Hufflepuffs once believed that Harry Potter was the Heir of Slytherin. Later, he overheard from Harry Potter and his pathetic friends that Lord Voldemort was the true Heir of Slytherin. Either way, Draco was not keen to know more. The Chamber of Secrets had been opened and the Heir of Slytherin would only remain as a title to scare off timid wizards.

Yes, timid and brainless wizards like Neville Longbottom would be good targets for a scare.

Draco then wandered aimlessly among groups of wizards, a few of whom who were actually shaking his hand to say 'Happy Birthday.' Sighing, he made his way towards his parents who were standing below the stage as he caught a glimpse of his mother's silver blonde hair. *There are advantages in having very light hair color,* Draco thought dryly. *Especially when it comes to the point of finding someone in a crowd.*

Standing next to his parents, Draco shifted his weight from one foot to the other. His father was busy talking to another wizard whom Draco recognized as Avery, a suspected Death Eater, while his mother was busy playing hostess. Draco sulked and folded his arms. He resented the way his birthday was celebrated. True, this was his 17th birthday, an important day for every wizard and witch in the magic community. After this day, he could practice magic outside Hogwarts and take the Apparation test, although he knew how to Apparate illegally since his father taught him how at a young age of fourteen.

This day represented his coming of age, yet his parents treated it as just another of their social events.

Draco frowned. This was getting pointless. As he turned to walk towards the staircase leading to his bedroom, the black candles were snuffed out suddenly and the room dimmed considerably. The only source of light was from the Orb and the chatter had died down considerably. Draco looked back, his legs rooted to the ground beneath him.

The large entrance doors were thrown open suddenly and a hooded figure flanked by another two wizards in black robes strode in. Every guest in the hall bowed at the figure.

"Master..." a low murmur swept through the room.

"Lord Voldemort," Draco whispered softly.

He saw himself standing at the edge of a huge ballroom. The spacious hall was decked with floating black candles were arranged meticulously by the walls and at the center of the room was a crystal ball the size of a football. Colors swirled within it strangely, and wizards and witches were milling around it.

Dark Wizards.

He felt a shiver force its way down his spine. Those are no ordinary magical folk. They were practitioners of the Dark Arts, as he could recognize several faces among the crowd. Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini, Parkinson, Avery and.... Malfoy! Lucius Malfoy! The tall man was standing on the small stage erected behind the crystal ball, flanked by several thuggish looking wizards. Lucius Malfoy's face was twisted into a smirk as the wizards around him erupted into mirthless laughter.

He looked around. Loud chatter was there in every corner of the room and the wizards were talking in an excited manner; he was confused. Why didn't anyone notice him standing there? He was Harry Potter and all Death Eaters loyal to Voldemort were eager to get at him.

Just then, three adult wizards strolled past Harry and he could hear the conversation among them clearly. The one with the dark blue robes mentioned something about the fact that a young heir to evil would be revealed and that rumors said he would be a child of a loyal Death Eater. The wizard standing next him then interrupted by saying that an important officer from the Ministry of Magic had deflected over to the Dark side to which the last wizard retorted by saying it was old news.

*Had someone important from the Ministry deflected? Who might be the one?* he wondered. For all he knew, it couldn't be Mr. Weasley. He was sure that there were many suspected Death Eaters working for the Ministry, but none of them actually landed in Azkaban due to 'the lack of working evidence.' That was another one of the Ministry's numerous botch-ups for failing to catch every Death Eater when they had the chance.

He was about to turn and walk away, the lights in the room suddenly dimmed. The black candles by the sides had been extinguished and the only source of illumination was from the crystal ball. In the darkened space, the orb seemed to glow even brighter than before, emitting a distinct evil aura around it. His eyes narrowed as a hushed silence dawned upon the large crowd in the room.

The ancient wooden doors swung open creakily at the other end of the room and a single hooded wizard walked in. Everyone in the hall bowed low and removed their hoods. The mysterious figure strode onto the stage and stood in front of the swirling crystal ball. Harry felt a stab of pain on his forehead but he refrained from making any sound or abrupt movement.

"Master..." a low murmur swept through the guests. Then the imposing figure spoke in a low baritone as the crystal ball changed color to a bloody red. Harry sucked in his breath. Master? Voldemort? It couldn't be. The Dark Lord had a shrill voice, not the one he was hearing at the moment. He looked straight at the hooded man, trying to catch a better glimpse.

Everyone kept their heads bowed as the dark figure spoke about the greatness of Dark Arts. Harry strained to hear more of the speech, but his attention shifted over to Lucius Malfoy. Standing beside his father was Draco Malfoy, his pale face contrasting sharply with his smart black robes.

Draco Malfoy? What was he doing in a congregation of Dark Wizards? Malfoy looked smug, he noticed. Suddenly, the deep baritone grew louder and he couldn't help but looked at the mysterious hooded figure again. Now, he didn't have to strain to listen. The words were floating to him in a very clear manner.

"It shall not be long before evil shall reign over the wizarding world. I am Lord Voldemort and I shall lead the Dark Arts back into its former glory! Pride yourselves for having the Dark Mark branded on your arm!" Clapping hands accompanied that bold statement and Harry cringed. It was Voldemort all right. Nobody but him would make that kind of statement to his loyal team of followers.

The hooded figure paused for the noise to die down before continuing. Harry had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He knew it. This was a gathering of Death Eaters and Voldemort was probably giving a motivational speech at this recruitment party.

"Tonight shall be rebirth of the True Heir of Slytherin and the Dark Mark shall command more terror and fear than before!" Hushed whispers began to spread.

*Isn't Lord Voldemort the last remaining heir of Slytherin? If so, why is there a 'true' heir? What did he intend to say when he claimed that a rebirth shall take place tonight?* Questions hounded Harry but for every possible solution he thought up, another twenty issues sprang in its place.

"Tonight I shall reveal who the True Heir of Slytherin is. He is standing among us now!" Voldemort shouted, his voice loud with rapture. The crowed suddenly went silent again and everyone bowed even lower. The entire hall was deathly quiet. For once, Harry thought he heard someone's lungs popping from holding his breath. Inching backwards, he was afraid to hear the name being announced.

"Come here, son of Lucius Malfoy," the Dark Lord whispered smoothly, barely loud enough to be heard across the hall. Harry narrowed his eyes as Draco Malfoy walked steadily towards Voldemort. With a flick of Voldemort's wand, Draco's robes dropped to the ground in pile, leaving him dressed in a white linen shirt and sleek black pants.

"Now stretch out your hands and lay them on the Orb of Nox Noctis," Voldemort commanded and Harry saw Draco Malfoy lift up his hands. In the dim light, he could see that Draco was trembling. Whether it was out of anticipation of being the Heir of Slytherin or just purely out of fear, he didn't know.

As Draco's fingers made contact with the crystal ball, the audience gasped. Nothing happened. The crystal ball was still swirling a blood red color. Draco's face burned with humiliation and the expression quickly changed from shock to anger. He looked up searchingly at Voldemort.

There was no answer. Voldemort only held up his wand and shouted, "Apertum Acclario!"

A ray of white light shot out from his wand and hit Draco on his chest. The boy stumbled backwards as he tried to steady himself from the charm's direct hit. Harry's eyes met Draco's for a brief moment but those gray eyes didn't seem to notice him. A loud gasp echoed through the crowd but silence quickly resumed its reign as every witch and wizard looked on with pure curiosity.

As if feeling the weight of the onlookers, Draco stood there panting heavily as his face contorted into a mixture of pain and pleasure. Suddenly, he let out an ear-splitting scream and doubled over, his hands clutching his chest. Draco tumbled onto his side and groaned aloud, his limbs jerking and twitching uncontrollably. Narcissa tried to rush forward to help Draco, but was held back by Lucius Malfoy. As he rolled on the ground with agony, Harry winced in spite of himself. Draco looked like he had been hit by the most torturous of all illegal spells - the Cruciatus curse.

"Stand up!" Lord Voldemort ordered and two of the Death Eaters stood forward to hoist Draco up. His breathing was haggard and he looked up at Lord Voldemort with fear.

"Now place your fingers on the Orb of Nox Noctis again."

Obediently, Draco reached out and touched the Orb shakily. As his fingers made contact with the glass surface, the colors within the sphere swirled green immediately, lighting the hall an eerie shade of emerald. The Orb began to crackle and sputter as static force surrounded it. As strong as a full-blown gale, a burst of energy swept through the room, toppling many of the people crouching in front of the stage. Instinctively, Harry raised his arms to block the impact and he could hear screams and shouts echoing in the hall. Leaning against the wall behind him, Harry braced himself for the full blast.

But it never came.

Tentatively, Harry lowered his arms. Instead of Draco looking exhausted and spent, he saw something else unexpected. A huge silver serpent was coiled protectively around Draco and Orb of Nox Noctis. Its gigantic head was reared and looking ready to strike. Draco smiled smugly as he took out his wand and pointed it towards the ceiling. Green sparks erupted from the tip and the silver serpent slowly melted into a mist as it spiraled upwards, growing smaller and smaller before coiling around Draco's left arm. Slowly, the serpent melted into Draco's arm and vanished from sight. The crowd was so awestruck that nobody made a single comment or budged a muscle, save for a few surprised 'ahh's.

"Roll up your left sleeve," came Voldemort's instructions once the ballroom became deathly silent again. Draco simply nodded and pushed up the linen of his shirt. Along the length of his exposed upper arm was a tattoo of a silver snake coiled around his limb. Harry couldn't help giving a surprised gasp. He had seen the Dark Mark before and it was nothing like this.

Draco's newly acquired tattoo was beautiful and majestic, very much like the serpent emblazoned on the Hogwarts coat of arms.

"True Heir of Slytherin is revealed and may Evil rise again!" Lord Voldemort declared and the entire hall swept down into a deep bow. Evenly, hundreds of voices, male or female, began chanting a pledge to uphold the Dark Arts and stay loyal to Lord Voldemort and the True Heir of Slytherin.

"And this shall be the beginning of the end for Harry Potter!" Lord Voldemort laughed and aimed his wand directly at the place where Harry was standing. A curse raced out from the tip and sped towards him at the speed of lightning. Before he had a chance to duck, the cruse hit him squarely on his chest, and blinding searing pain shot down his spine.

He screamed before darkness rested her black wings over him.

Draco Malfoy was stunned. He thought he saw the Dark Lord's curse penetrate Harry Potter, but logical thinking set in quickly enough. How could Potter be present at Malfoy Manor without his father knowing? For all he knew, Potter could still be at his Muggle relatives' house for summer.

Draco massaged his temples gently. He was still reeling from the Apertum spell cast on him. Unconsciously, a hand reached down to clutch his chest and he was relieved to find that the burning pain had died down to a dull pounding. The earlier wrenching sensation was still very much alive in his memory. It was as if.... as if something was trying to tear his heart out while he watched. Draco shoved the grisly mental image aside and tried to concentrate on the hushed whispering around him.

Draco didn't have to try for long. His attention was soon diverted by the gleaming new tattoo on his arm. It was beautiful, the way the serpent coiled around his arm. The serpent was the Slytherin magical creature and with it now branded on his arm, Draco felt somewhat.... different.

Bony fingers snaked around his wrist and pulled it up into the air. "Look, my loyal Death Eaters. This is the mark of Salazar Slytherin himself and only a direct pure blood descendant every seven generations will have the privilege of becoming a true heir."

"Why now, not earlier?" Draco muttered under his breath. "That would save me a lot of trouble from Potter if I know I'm the Heir of Slytherin and I could go to Dumstrang instead of Hogwarts, that mudblood-loving school."

The grip around his wrist tightened and Draco looked up in surprise. Lord Voldemort heard them and laughed. "Boy, don't you know that every Heir of Slytherin will only be able to demonstrate their true position and powers after their 17th birthday?"

"What about you? I thought you were the Heir of Slytherin..." the question and comment blurted out before Draco could hold his tongue. This contradiction had been disturbing him since Lord Voldemort had announced him as the Heir. He had overheard from some Gryffindor students that Lord Voldemort was the last remaining heir of Slytherin, so how could he be one when Lucius Malfoy was his father? Could it be....? He sneaked a wary look at his pale mother half hidden by his father's cloak. Peeling his eyes away, Draco hated to speculate more on this matter.

"Me? How could I be the Heir of Slytherin when my biological father is a Muggle? Slytherin and Gryffindor heir blood could only be passed on to sons whereas only daughters could carry the heir title for Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff."

Voldemort turned to face Draco upon seeing his confused look. "True, my mother had Slytherin blood which gave me the ability to speak in Parseltongue and the talent in Dark Arts, but I'll never be the true heir," Lord Voldemort laughed maliciously and released Draco's wrist.

"But Dumbledore..." Draco began but Lord Voldemort cut him off.

"What does Albus Dumbledore know? Perhaps he gleaned all information from 'Hogwarts: A History'. Always expect the unexpected, Heir." Draco could only nod submissively. Today was supposed to be his birthday, and look what he got for a present. Today, he was the Heir of Slytherin. *Life's a Quidditch pitch. You get hit by bludgers when you least expected,* Draco thought wryly as he replaced his wand back into the pocket of his trousers.

"Now, we only need one more Dark Arts artifact before we can gain control of the wizarding world. The One artifact which only the Heir of Slytherin will be able to wield at his command," said Lord Voldemort, addressing the crowd. Seeing that everyone's attention was on him, he placed a bony palm on top of the Orb of Nox Noctis and the different colors began to swirl again.

"One thousand years ago, Salazar Slytherin created a magical ring which is conjured out of pure evil; so powerful it is that no White Wizard has dared to touch it for the fear of being drawn over to the dark side. It is said that the ring has a soul of its own and exhibits only the ugly side of humans. Greed for power, wealth and fame; and the one ring can satisfy them all."

Draco sucked in his breath. He didn't know such object existed in this world. If so, why hadn't any books mentioned about it? Where was it kept then? Surely not at Gringotts, for Lord Voldemort had said that the lure of the ring was too tempting for any White Wizard to touch it, let alone those greedy goblins.

The steady stream of questions in Draco's head was broken by the sudden change of colors in the Orb of Nox Noctis. The swirling clouds had taken on a black and gold tinge. Slowly, those colors darkened and condensed into a circular shape. Within the next few seconds, an image of a simple gold ring was formed. Draco's keen sight soon caught a line of unrecognizable words carved onto the body of the ring and his eyes narrowed into slits as he strained to see the lilting letters traced across the outer edge of the golden band.

"This is the Ring. The One Ring which will rule them all."

At the mention of the ring, everyone in the hall went down onto their knees and touched the floor with their foreheads, their arms outstretched before them. Draco nearly jumped back when he saw that even his father was doing this ancient ritual. He had seen in some books concerning the Dark Arts that this was the highest type of respect any Dark Wizard would show. What else could the ring do other than fulfilling a man's desires? Draco was tempted to ask Lord Voldemort that question, but bit back his words. He knew better than to interrupt a serious ceremony like this one.

When everyone stood up again, Lord Voldemort continued in a low and sinister tone. "The One Ring does not only give powers. It brings out your heart's deepest desires. It brings out the animalistic side of each living human, wizard or Muggle alike. With the Ring, we can create armies of Dementors who will aid us in the rising of the Dark Empire. With the Ring, more wizards and witches will join us. With the Ring, everything is in our hands."

"And no, the Ring was not hidden away after Salazar Slytherin died. During the Dark Ages, the Ring belonged to Dark Wizard Aethelwulf who was the first Heir of Slytherin after seven generations, and terror reigned over the lands of England. It was then Great Wizard Merlin who finally halted the Ring from bringing more evil into this world. The owner was banished into eternal darkness; but Merlin knew that the Ring could not be destroyed by mortal flame. The Great Wizard himself could only keep the ring away in a secret place both near and far to each of us."

*Both far and near to each of us,* Draco repeated mentally. *Lord Voldemort can be so dramatic when he wants to.*

"And Great Wizard Merlin cursed the Ring with a prophecy. He foretold that any future Heirs of Slytherin who open the box containing the Ring shall mark the beginning of a great battle between the Whites and the Darks, the good and the evil. Finally, the victorious side shall rule the world with the Ring."

Lord Voldemort released his hands from the Orb and the image of the Ring dissipated in a burst of flames. Turning to face Draco, the Dark Lord spoke again. "And you, Heir of Slytherin, shall find the Ring as only an Heir can open the enchanted box which holds it."

"Where?" Draco asked, fascinated by boundless hopes the Ring provided. Amazed he was, but he had no clue on where to start.

"In the Heart of Hogwarts."

Heart of Hogwarts? Draco opened his mouth to ask more questions but Lord Voldemort raised up a hand to stop him.

"Ask no questions, Heir. It is your task to solve the riddle Great Wizard Merlin had given us."

Draco stepped back as Lord Voldemort turned around and started walking down the stage, flanked by two of his Death Eaters. Seeing that the Dark Lord had left, the crowd started pouring out of doors on both sides of the room, leaving Draco standing alone on the stage.

"Draco, I hope you are happy with this gift from our Master," said a feminine voice beside him. Draco turned his head and grinned smugly at his mother as realization kicked in.

"Which birthday boy wouldn't be? I'm the Heir of Slytherin," Draco answered with a laugh and walked down from the stage.

Bolting upright, Harry groped around for his glasses. His T-shirt was drenched in sweat and his breathing was fast and haggard. Harry forced himself to calm down and breathe evenly.

*It was only a dream... Only a dream...* said a voice in his head, but Harry wasn't convinced. It seemed too real, with Voldemort addressing the Death Eaters and Malfoy... Harry stopped himself. Malfoy couldn't be... He couldn't be the true Heir of Slytherin. Tom Marvolo Riddle was. Tom Riddle had Slytherin blood in him and he was the last descendant of Salazar Slytherin. Professor Dumbledore had told Harry that.

A million questions and worries swam in his head and Harry could feel the scar on his forehead throb painfully again. He wished there was someone he could talk to, not just Hedwig. The white owl crooned and shuffled around her perch, staring curiously at Harry.

Suddenly, the Sneakoscope on his desk spun wildly and Harry looked up in surprise. Before he could even gather himself to think properly, a loud booming voice rang out, "Harry! Get your face out this very moment before... before I decide not to give you dinner for a week!"

Uncle Vernon's face appeared at the grill of the door and growled at him menacingly. Harry shrunk back against his will and nodded. Uncle Vernon glared daggers at him and gave the wooden door a clumsy kick that made sawdust fall over Harry.

"Now, that is definitely not the way to speak to Harry Potter," another voice sounded discreetly behind Uncle Vernon with a soft cough.

Coming up next chapter:
Who is the mysterious person who wanted to meet Harry? What did he want from Harry? Who is the top-ranking officer in Ministry of Magic who defected to the Dark Side? What is in store for Draco and the Ring? Ginny will make her debut in the next chapter as we see a rather 'unique' dream through her eyes.