Chapter 13

I'm really glad that people like this story. Thank you all so much for the reviews! I make sure to read every single one of them :-)

Thank you to the people who left reviews on chapter 12.

DS2010 - Yes, I guess it is a pretty good hiding spot. No one would think to look there.

Guest - Perhaps… ;-)

M-chanchen - I'm so glad you like my story! I feel like there should have been a little more exploration into prejudice in cannon, which is why I wanted to write more about it in this story. Thank you for your review! :-)

Kittyhell - Yep, the story's starting to progress. You're right about Dexter needing help, but will he accept any help is the question.

Light and Dark

Most people, when they came to Hogwarts, believed that there were four types of people and depending on what kind of person you were determined the type of house suited you.

A brave soul with nerves of steel, a heart full of chivalry and goodness would be sorted into Gryffindor, house of the lions.

A kind being who thought the best of others, one that believed that loyalty and trust among friends was most important would be sorted into Hufflepuff, house of the badgers.

A thirst for knowledge, minds filled with curiosity and imagination, not to mention creativity and wisdom, would be sorted into the house of eagles.

Then there were the ones who were determined, filled with ambition and cunning, those who would do anything and everything to make ends meet. These people were sorted into Slytherin, house of the snakes.

As students matured, they would find that the name of the house and the colours of school robes could not define a person.

Like a certain bright, young witch who had been sorted into the house of red and gold, there were some Gryffindors with the intelligence of a Ravenclaw.

Like a certain traitorous rat who had once betrayed his best friends, selling them out to the darkest wizard alive, not all Gryffindors are brave, nor did they have hearts of gold.

Just like a blonde haired Hufflepuff who had taken to the maze of the Triwizard Tournament's final task, some Hufflepuffs had the bravery of a lion.

Like a dark haired, bespectacled Gryffindor who once begged the sorting hat for anything other than Slytherin, bravery, caring and determination could all come in a single package.

But what was beyond the halls of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry?

What happens when you become an adult?

Won't your views change? Won't you mature into a different person all together.

Some wouldn't think so, but others knew so.

Draco Malfoy knew that there were only two types of people, light and dark.

Harry Potter knew that there were far more than just four types of people.

Dexter Anderson didn't know who he was or what he would become. He didn't know who to believe, who to believe.

Children were easily influenced. If they were taught something from a young age, there was a high chance they wouldn't forget whatever it was they had been told.

Draco Malfoy had been told that he was to become a dark wizard, that the Malfoy's were one of the wealthiest and most powerful families in existence, that he was superior.

Harry Potter had been taught that you couldn't trust authority figures, that he was a freak, that he was different.

Dexter Anderson had been taught that he was special, that he had a choice between light and dark, that Slytherin was the best house to be in.

Over time, Draco had learned that becoming a dark wizard was inevitable. His father's influence was far too strong for him to break away from, even if he tried. The Malfoy's may have been a powerful and wealthy family, but watching his father bow down to his master like a house elf to its owner showed that the Malfoy's power was not theirs to wield. Not any more.

Harry had learned that although most adults in his life had let him down, there was always someone he could turn to. Whether it be Remus, Dumbledore or even the Weasleys, he would never be completely alone.

He knew that he wasn't a freak and while he may have been different, that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. If being normal meant being like his relatives, he would've much rather stayed different. Unique.

Dexter, as young as he was, had lost all trust in authority figures, despite growing up loved by his mother. He had been taught that he was special, but he didn't want to be. He had been brought up with the thought that he could choose a side, that the light would welcome him should he choose it.

He had been taught that he could be a good person, accepted and loved.

But then everything had changed. Everything he'd ever been taught contradicted with what he'd been told.

Now he couldn't choose between light and dark. The light didn't want him and the dark beaconed him.

Now he wasn't special because all Slytherins had been cast aside into the same category. Dark, slimy, evil…

Now he wasn't loved because he now lay in the cold, surrounded by owl feathers, alone and afraid.

Dexter had once believed that he would make good friends in Slytherin, but now he knew the truth.

Now he knew that friends were just known enemies.

Dexter's hands shook, his lips were tinted blue and although he couldn't see them, he could feel them, or rather, he couldn't feel them, just like he couldn't feel his fingertips.

His teeth chattered audibly, his head pounding as he tried to lift it.

How long had he slept for? Seconds? Minutes? Hours?

Judging by the orange light that shone through the owlery's single window, it was later in the day, afternoon maybe.

Dexter wasn't stupid. He knew he couldn't stay there forever, no matter how much he wished he could.

He'd be found eventually, if not, he'd die of hypothermia, dehydration or starvation,

His stomach growled at the thought of food and he held it tightly.

He looked up at the owl's, envious as they devoured their catches. Mice, bacon fed to them by their owners.

Dexter pushed himself to sit up, hissing as he stretched his sore muscles.

He leant against the wall, looking around for his new friend, Atlanta.

She didn't seem to be about.

Dexter pushed away the momentary feeling of abandonment, reminding himself that the owl wasn't his. It belonged to someone else.

He rubbed his aching hands together as he peered around the corner.

The owlery was void of other people.

Dexter wondered, not for the first time, why he hadn't been found yet.

Was anyone even looking for him?

A wave of exhaustion hit him like a landslide and he quickly found himself lying down once more.

He knew that his body temperature was far too low, but he could scarcely bring himself to care at that point and he allowed his eyes to slide shut a second time.

Harry's eyes scanned across the map for the seventh time in that same hour, yet once again, the name Dexter Anderson was absent.

He was sitting in the common room with Ron. Their Divination class had been let out early. It seemed Trelawney had finally cracked and had to go to the Hospital Wing after a particularly nasty 'vision' left her with a pounding headache.

Hermione was in Ancient Runes which didn't break up for another hour yet.

"He must have left the school somehow" Ron said, but Harry shook his head.

"The gates are always locked. There's no way he could've gotten out alone."

"But what about a secret passage? Remember when we first ran into him and he was leaving that passage? He probably knows his way around" Ron insisted.

Harry rubbed the back of his neck, leaning back into the couch cushion.

"Why would he've run away is what I don't understand" Ron mused.

Harry looked over at him, "well he'd just been attacked by his own house. I'd probably run away too if that happened to me."

Harry buried his head in his hands, knocking his glasses out of place.

"You didn't see him Ron. He looked dead. Merlin, it was awful."

The two of them were silent for a long moment, just staring ahead into the unlit fireplace.

"I'm glad I didn't," Ron commented and Harry looked up at his friend, who looked completely sincere.

"I probably would've gone after whoever' d done it to him if I had. You'd have to be a sick bastard to use the Cruciatus curse on anybody, let alone an eleven year old" Ron said, lip curled in disgust.

"Nobody's been expelled yet. Either they haven't found the attackers or Snape's got them off the hook again" he huffed.

"Well they'd better catch them soon, Dexter probably won't come back if they're still here" Ron said.

"They need to hurry up and find Dexter first. With the amount of injuries he had, it's not safe for him to be on his own" Harry sighed.

They went back to sitting in silence.

Draco's one comfort was knowing that despite the fact that Dexter was missing, none of the Slytherin's had anything to do about it.

One thing he'd learned in the snake pit was that Slytherins, most Slytherins, were braggers.

Unless keeping a secret was absolutely necessary, they would gloat and show off in an attempt to make themselves look better.

Draco knew. He'd been like that once.

He remembered a time when he'd brag to his friends about every time he'd got a one up on Potter, or each time he'd gotten a rise out of Granger and Weasley.

It could have been called an obsession at one point.

Provoking Potter had been too easy, much too easy.

And now?

Now, Draco just didn't care. He had bigger things to think about and while he still hated Potter and his friends with a passion, he no longer went out of his way to provoke them.

There was no time for petty rivalries now that he had a task to complete, now that he had a first year to protect.

'How can you protect him when you don't even know where he is?' he thought to himself, running his hand through his mused hair that was usually gelled to perfection.

Part of him wanted to be angry with Dexter for making everything so much more complicated, but he couldn't.

It wasn't Dexter's fault, none of it was.

Dexter was the victim here.

Draco wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. There was no reason he couldn't.

No one would see, the curtains around his bed were drawn.

No one would hear, he had become a master at silencing spells.

But no. Draco was a Malfoy. Malfoys didn't cry. They stood tall and proud, they were strong, they were superior.

Then why did Draco feel so weak? Why did he feel so utterly powerless?

He couldn't be strong, not when he had so much to worry about.

Draco lifted his wand and cast a 'Silencio.'

Malfoys may have been strong, but they were still just human.

He was still just human.

Humans had emotions.

They all felt happiness, they all felt sadness and at one point, they all felt complete despair, they all felt the need to cry, to scream.

So Draco did just that. He screamed.

I know this chapter is a little boring, but bear with me, it was necessary. Please review and let me know if there's anything you want to see in this story :-)