Note: Thanks to Chatwyn, who asked the question: "Why did Voldemort decide to ignore the Potters?" Well, I'm eventually going to answer that... sooner or later. As for if this is going to be a slash pairing or general (i.e. no real pairing), that remains to be seen. I do hint at a couple of things here, but as usual nothing is definite. Winoniel, you seem to want to see more Snape. He'll eventually become a more important character, but I need a little time to work on that part. I've pretty much set up the atmosphere of this world and while you'll probably have more questions than answers, I hope you enjoy this adventurous ride!

This has not been beta'd by me or Nenya as thoroughly as we would like, so pardon the mistakes. It's been more than a month since the update and we didn't think you wanted to wait any longer!

Also you can look at my PROFILE for updates on my progress. I update the word count and tell you how far I am.

FROM THE ASHES
by Yih + Nenya Entwhistle

3. Getting Closer to the Enemy

“If I may have all your attention,” Dumbledore said, standing up from his seat at the center of the Professor’s table, “I have an important announcement to make. As you will recall, I mentioned during the first day of school that we would be playing host to the Triwizard Tournament.”

Harry immediately stopped shoveling breakfast into his mouth, as had most of the others sitting at the Gryffindor table, and he turned to look at the Headmaster. Most of Dumbledore’s so-called announcements were often silly and insane, though entertaining. This was the first important one since the start of Hogwarts. Harry slid his eyes briefly to Hermione and saw that her attention was fixated on the Headmaster.

“I am well aware that there has not been a Triwizard Tournament in your lifetime or your parents’. There has not been a Triwizard Tournament in nearly a century and what you know of this time old tradition is likely rooted in myth and legend. I feel that is wise to inform you of what the Triwizard Tournament is truly about.

“It is not a battleground to prove whether Hogwarts, Durmstrang, or Beaubaxtons is the superior alma mater. The Tournament was established a millennium ago to showcase the best wizards and witches in the world in the ultimate test of magic prowess. You may argue, does that not also showcase the superiority of the schooling?

“I believe that a truly gifted wizard or witch could overcome the disadvantage of inferior education. Do you not agree? That if one truly wanted to acquire knowledge, to expand their horizons, to stretch their ability to the breaking point – they could, couldn’t they?”

Dumbledore paused and Harry noticed that every student was paying attention to the Headmaster. Even the Slytherins, notorious for their dislike of Dumbledore, were engrossed. Then again, it was extremely rare for Dumbledore to be this charismatic and this serious. Usually he acted a little off-kilter, a little peculiar, as if he wanted to throw everybody off – acting as if he wasn’t one of the most powerful wizards in the world when everyone bloody well knew he was.

“The Triwizard Tournament consists of three difficult, grueling tasks meant to test the limit of your magical ability and ingenuity. As you well know, each school will have a champion. There are no restrictions on age, on anything as to who will be named champion. Every student has the opportunity to put their name in the cup, but know this, there is no forfeiting if your name is called. You must finish your tasks and if failing, suffer the consequences.

“This is no game,” Dumbledore stated slowly and intently, “for children to play.”

And that was it, that was all they got. Dumbledore didn’t even but a rousing exclamation at the end of his speech, instead he sat down and picked up his eating utensils, getting down to the business of eating, leaving the entire Great Hall in a stunned silence. Harry resisted the urge to smile, Dumbledore knew leaving it like that would make a better statement than to push the issue. Harry shook his head ever so slightly, Dumbledore was a master at manipulation and he must never forget that about the Headmaster.

Dumbledore was just as dangerous as Voldemort, even if he was on the side of Light.

|-|-|-|-|-|

“Potter,” Draco said as he took his seat next to Harry.

“Malfoy,” Harry responded with a slight nod of his head in acknowledgement.

They were not precisely friends, but the first few weeks of forced interaction in the Theory of Dark Arts class had opened Harry’s eyes to the fact they were not entirely incompatible personality-wise. They both had a good deal of interest in ancient spells and were hopelessly addicted to Quidditch. If they had been in any other House than Gryffindor and Slytherin, they might have been friends.

As it was, they tolerated each other’s presence in the one class which they shared and Harry was only willing to admit privately that Draco made a good partner. While Harry couldn’t trust Draco like he could Hermione, Draco was a little more willing to work cooperatively where Hermione liked to charge forward and left Harry to follow in her wake. It was nice having someone who would not just march forward and leave him behind. It surprised Harry too when he discovered that aspect about Draco.

Draco, truth be told, Harry would have thought to be similar to Hermione in being a little too commanding. To find he was different than Harry expected was a pleasant surprise and it made him wonder if there were more incorrect assumptions he had made. Harry slid his eyes over to his partner and wondered what he would learn about the Slytherin today.

“You have issues,” Draco said softly in a tone that was not friendly, but not exactly unfriendly either.

Harry tilted his head to the side with inquiry.

It was a little scary that Draco understood what he meant when he did that. How could Draco read him so well after so little time? Granted Hermione had once told him that he was far too transparent for his own good, although she had also admitted that he had gotten better over the last year… he had been forced to by circumstance. He couldn’t keep wearing his emotions on his face. He had to keep himself in check, if only to protect himself.

“You’re too... obvious,” Draco stated and Harry watched as his gray eyes flickered back and forth before landing on Harry again. “People are starting to talk.”

“Talk about what?” Harry asked.

Draco rolled his eyes ever so slightly that Harry didn’t think anyone would see unless they were sitting next to Draco like he was. Draco looked like he was going to say something, but pursed his lips together in a way that made his face look far less attractive than it usually was. Harry wanted to say something, wanted to ask what Draco meant, but he didn’t get the chance when Professor Black strolled into the room with quiet grace that was less forceful than Snape, but no less impressive.

“Permission has been granted,” Professor Black announced to the class that was watching him with intent eyes either because they truly were interested in the subject or because he was actually a charismatic teacher, “although it was quite reluctantly granted by the Committee. I also managed to persuade them that it would be highly beneficial for you to acquire some practical knowledge. Of course, you are not exactly allowed to go performing any Dark Arts without restriction.

“I was given leeway to allow you to practice some of the darker aspects of protection spells with a partner. You are not permitted to undertake a spell that would duly harm you or your partner or to bind yourself to them in such a way that would be displeasing to either of you, and yet you are allowed to try your hand at some of the better aspects of the Dark Arts. These protection spells are very ancient magic and you should respect the difficulty and the craft behind them. Are there any questions?”

Draco raised his hand, which didn’t surprise Harry at all. For all that Draco made disparaging remarks about Hermione’s lack of wizarding blood in her heritage, they were remarkably alike in the fact they were both diehard fanatics about schoolwork and learning. In that regard, they should have been sorted into Ravenclaw, but their other characteristics had pointed them in their current direction.

Harry knew that Draco was clever, but he didn’t show it off like the Ravenclaws typically did. He didn’t glow in the knowledge of knowing for the sake of it. He wanted to slake his curiosity for things because there was gain to it and that was a decidedly Slytherin quality. Hermione’s interest in schoolwork was much less about what she could get from it and much more about knowing for the sheer want of knowing. It was her drive to get it, no matter the cost if it helped a friend, that separated her from Ravenclaws. She would brave a basilisk, and she had. Harry was eternally grateful to Hermione, for everything.

“Malfoy,” Professor Black said.

“You mentioned partners,” Draco said. “Are we allowed to choose our own or will they be assigned?”

“Good question,” Professor Black remarked. “I had not thought of that detail yet, although it is a definite that you will be working with another student. I believe…” his voice trailed off as he was clearly thinking abou which way he should proceed. “It would be best if I assigned the partners, just so there is no squabbling amongst yourselves.”

Harry felt Professor Black’s eyes on him and it was all he could do not to look away. There was something about the Professor that made Harry distinctly uncomfortable when Black focused on him, although in any other situation Harry liked the Professor very much. He really was a good and fair teacher.

“Potter,” Professor Black said, “you’ll partner with Malfoy. McDougal and Parkinson, Zabini and Carmichael, Pucey and Boot, Bulstrode and Carrow…”

At some point, Harry stopped listening to Black listing out the rest of the groups and instead he glanced at Draco to see that the blond was watching him via the corner of his eyes. He was being discreet, but Harry definitely knew Draco was staring at him. Why, was the first question, and what was the second.

What Harry wouldn’t give to know what Draco was thinking. Too bad he wasn’t a mind reader.

|-|-|-|-|-|

“Hey!” Harry called as he ran after Draco once class was dismissed for the day. “Wait up!”

Draco didn’t glance back, but he did slow his stride and Harry caught up to him. “What do you want, Potter?”

“What did you mean back there?” Harry asked in a whisper, realizing that Draco probably didn’t want to have this conversation in public, but when would they get a chance to talk otherwise?

They were supposedly notorious enemies, although Harry didn’t consider their situation like that. They simply weren’t friends and because they weren’t in the same house, they didn’t really get a chance to talk other than brief interactions in class and in the hallways. This was Harry’s best chance to figure out what Draco meant. Really, Harry thought wryly, if Hermione were here she’d know exactly what was up. He could be rather dense at times.

Draco, this time, blatantly rolled his eyes. “You’re thick in the head.”

“Just tell me.”

“Potter,” Draco hissed in a way that he hadn’t done all this year yet or even last year, but Harry remembered the less than friendly way Draco used to converse with him all too well, “you stare at me all through class. People are noticing. What is your problem?”

Harry blinked and looked around surreptitiously. He saw that a few of their classmates had straggled behind, obviously trying to figure out what was going on between him and Draco. Just figured that this would be interesting. There was going to be a Triwizard Tournament and he still couldn’t escape the notice of his peers. They loved gossiping about him.

“I don’t see what the big deal is,” Harry muttered.

“You wouldn’t, would you?” Draco mused, not sounding quite as agitated.

Harry tried to scowl, tried to convey he wasn’t happy with the turn of situation, but he didn’t really care. This was so small in the big scheme of things. “What are they saying?” he asked. “I hadn’t heard anything.”

“Mostly because Slytherins know how to keep their mouths shut,” Draco retorted.

“Then what were they saying before you shut them up.”

Draco looked away. “They say you look at me.”

“I do,” Harry admitted, still not seeing what the big deal was all about.

Draco ran a hand through his white blond hair. “They say you must be interested in me.”

“I am.”

Draco immediately turned his head until they were staring at each other. “Are you serious, Potter?”

“You aren’t what I expected,” Harry responded. “I guess I thought you’d be just like you were first year, arrogant and snooty. I know you’ve still got your blood prejudices, but you aren’t as bad as you could be.”

“You’re unbelievable,” Draco said, shaking his head.

“You can’t believe that I could change my opinion about you?” Harry inquired.

“You’re unbelievably dense,” Draco clarified. “You don’t get the ‘interested in me’ part, do you?” Draco sighed and Harry was simply bewildered. “People think you like me, Potter. They think you’re queer for me. Is that plain enough?”

Harry felt like his eyes were going to pop out of his head after Draco had finished explaining what he meant. He had been confused until Draco had stated it bluntly. He just didn’t think like that and he certainly didn’t like Draco like that. That was absurd. He was a boy and Draco was a boy. Boys didn’t do that with other boys… that was…

Harry suddenly blushed when he remembered that he had once walked in on Remus and Sirius embracing… like James and Lily did. It had made his cheeks all red and hot. He hadn’t really understood then, but when he’d asked Remus about it later he had been told he would understand when he found someone special for himself. There was nothing wrong with doing such things with someone you cared about deeply.

He hadn’t necessarily been taught by his parents or Remus and Sirius that it was wrong for two men to be together. It was just from what he had seen growing up, being queer wasn’t looked upon too fondly by the wizarding world. After all, two wizards couldn’t make any children and neither could two witches, but a wizard and a witch? Now that was a pairing the wizarding world was all for to keep their dwindling population from further dwindling.

“Earth to Potter!”

Harry blinked and his eyes refocused on Draco. “Yes?”

“You’re hopeless,” Draco declared. “How the bloody hell are you so good at magic?”

Hermione had once pondered the same question aloud, but that had been during first year when she had been annoyed at how easily and intuitively spells were for him when he was such a daydreamer. Harry knew he wasn’t as brilliant as Hermione was at theory, but even though he might not be as theoretically inclined that didn’t mean he didn’t understand how to work a spell. It was just like breathing, to perform a spell for the most part.

It wasn’t like he could do every spell so easy. After all, he was pretty much rubbish at Transfigurations.

“Innate talent?”

“More like sheer dumb luck,” Draco retorted.

Harry smiled and he saw the quirk of Draco’s own lips as he suppressed returning the smile. “Well, don’t worry,” Harry remarked, “your virtue is safe.”

Draco actually smiled a little at that. “You best be off to your keeper before she comes and tracks you down.”

The sad part, Harry thought, was that he couldn’t make a comeback to that when Draco’s words were rather accurate about Hermione.

“Oh and Potter?”

Harry glanced back at Draco. “Malfoy?”

“I know I’m gorgeous, but try not to stare so much? If we’re going to be partners on this project, it’d be a lot easier on me if you did your share of the work.” With that said, Draco turned and left Harry to watch him saunter off.

Harry grinned momentarily, shaking his head slightly before he too walked away.

|-|-|-|-|-|

“Are you going to put your name in the cup?” Seamus asked, the question directly clearly at his best mate, Seamus.

“I reckon not,” Dean remarked. “That speech this morning was bloody scary.”

“But wouldn’t it be awesome if your name was drawn?” Seamus said with excitement coloring his voice. “I wonder what mum would say if ‘Seamus Finnigan’ popped out of the cup. Bet she’d be proud of me.”

“I’m going to put my name in,” Ron declared.

“You’re only a fifth year!” Angela said, herself a seventh year.

Ron’s twin older brothers, Fred and George grinned to each other. “Dumbledore did say anyone would be allowed to put their name in the Cup, but he didn’t say anyone would be chosen,” Fred or was it George that said it?

“I have just as much chance as either of you!” Ron exclaimed, his face flushed with indignation.

“Ah, but we know advanced, upper year spells that you don’t,” George said.

“And we’re much more clever,” Fred added.

Harry and Hermione sat in the back of the common room, not joining in on the conversation that was currently taking place in the center of the room. Harry wondered if Ron didn’t see the twinkle in the Twins’ eyes. His brothers were teasing him. Fred and George liked digging metaphorical elbows into Ron’s side at any given opportunity, but they did care for their brother and they didn’t really stand for others picking at him – at least not too much.

“Are you going to put your name in?” Hermione asked quietly.

Harry shrugged. “I hadn’t really thought about it.”

He had been too busy thinking about Draco and what had happened earlier. For some reason, he still hadn’t told Hermione about the project or about the fact he would soon have to be spending quite a bit of time with the Slytherin to work on their project, which would invariably cut into the time where Hermione and him mutually studied together in the library. He was a little worried she would be miffed, but honestly he just didn’t want to tell her. He wanted to keep this to himself and he didn’t really understand why. It was unusual because he usually told Hermione everything.

“I think you should,” she said, her eyes flickering briefly to Ron and then back at him. “If he does, you should.”

“If he does,” Harry responded, “I shouldn’t.”

“He’ll forgive you one day.”

Harry watched Ron arguing with his brothers and boasting at the same time that in spite of the fact he was a fifth year, he had just as much of a shot of being named the Hogwarts champion. It probably looked like to the others that Ron had a big head, Harry thought, but he didn’t think that was the case. Ron just wanted some attention, some reason to stand out in the crowded Weasley clan. But was it so wrong to be mediocre?

Harry wished he didn’t stand out. He wished he didn’t have everyone’s attention. It wasn’t always good, didn’t Ron understand that?

“I don’t think so,” Harry replied, still looking at Ron. Not once did Ron glance his way.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“It was my fault.”

Hermione grabbed him by the wrist and he turned his head to her. “It was an accident.”

“Still my fault.”

“You didn’t kill her.”

Harry shrugged and yanked his arm from Hermione’s grip. “Can we stop talking about this?”

“You never want to talk about it.”

Her tone was accusatory and he instinctively winced. Harry didn’t like making her upset, not if he could avoid it, but he really hated talking about that incident. It didn’t matter if it had happened three days ago or three decades ago, instead of three years ago. He would never be comfortable talking about it and he found that if he didn’t think about it, all was relatively well. In the back of his mind, he knew one day he would have to confront the situation, but for now he was satisfied with suppressing the painful memory.

“Harry…”

“Stop,” he said. “Please?”

She looked reluctant at first, but eventually he saw the gradual acceptance that she would let it go for now. Hermione would bring it up again and again until he finally talked about it, got over it to her satisfaction. The only problem was he didn’t think he could ever get over it. Ginny Weasley had died and it was all his fault.

|-|-|-|-|-|

“My Lord Voldemort,” Lucius Malfoy said as he bowed low to his Master as a Servant should, “everything is set to motion as you wished.”

“Good,” Voldemort said in his darkly rich voice that held such power in words and spells. “Well done, Lucius.”

“My Lord, if I may but make an inquiry?” Lucius asked with slight trepidation for one did not simply ask the Dark Lord anything, not without the awareness one was an ant that could be stomped upon at any moment by a giant.

“Go on,” Voldemort said and it was impossible to tell if he was amused or annoyed.

This was imprudent of Lucius, but he had to ask. “Why such elaborate schemes for the Potter boy?”

“Are you questioning me?”

Lucius gulped, terrified inside, and yet not willing to back down, not when he had the Malfoy arrogance and pride. “I am curious as to the importance of the boy, for he must be important.”

“He is of some consequence,” Voldemort responded finally, much to Lucius’ relief. “I do not make plans for naught.”

“And his importance?” Lucius continued, knowing he was pushing things a little too far even if he was one of the Dark Lord’s most trusted servants.

“I allowed one question, Lucius,” Voldemort said, raising a finger up, “I have answered it and now you ask me of another? I think it is not wise for a Servant to question their Master.”

Lucius was paralyzed as Voldemort pointed his finger at him. He should not have been inpertinent. He should not have asked the question. He should have trusted his Master completely. For where was trust, if it was not given both ways?

Lucius dropped to his knees before the Dark Lord and said, “Forgive me, Master.”

“Lucius,” Voldemort murmured, saying his name like a caress, “I do not forgive mistakes, although I will take ammends for such foolishness. Do make sure everything goes to plan with your son. I would hate for Regulus to have to make unexpected adjustments and I am certain Severus would like to remain completely in the shadows.”

“I understand,” Lucius said.

Voldemort lowered his finger reluctantly instead of casting the Cruciatus Curse at Lucius. He still well remembered the lessons he had learned from Grindelwald. It was better to instill more respect and some fear in your subordinates than to instill less respect and more fear. It tended to make them more loyal and so far it had worked brilliantly.

“You are dismissed.”

Lucius rose to his feet, bowed once again, and then left – lucky not to be trembling in pain. If he had glanced back, which of course he did not dare, he would have seen the small smile on Voldemort’s lips as he contemplated his next move. Which piece should he use next? Regulus or Draco? Or was it time for Severus to come into the picture?

To be continued…

A/N: So we’re finally getting somewhere with the story, a few questions answered and many more questions arise. But that’s the fun in storytelling, isn’t it? I wasn’t exactly sure where I was going with the chapter, even though I knew the title of the chapter before I started writing. The title kind of gave me a guide and I followed it instinctively and let it guide me where it would. I really like how this chapter ended up being and I hope you enjoyed Draco’s characterization and also the snippet scene of Voldemort and Lucius. I’m trying my best to flesh the characters out true to form and yet at the same time make them my own in this AU world.

Thanks so much for reading and as always, I very much appreciate your reviews and suggestions. They make my day! And they definitely helped make this chapter possible, so for the 29 of you that reviewed the last chapter, you're the reason this chapter is here!

Released on June 14, 2009.