Harry and Draco both tried to get Holly to speak of what she had Seen in the fire, but she refused to talk about it. She knew if they learned what vision she had, they would try to change it, they would insist she not sacrifice herself, or worse, they would tell Severus. Holly knew enough about her Sight to know that the visions sometimes came true in the way you least wanted if you attempted to alter events leading up to them. But making a conscious choice to accept one possible future over the other was often enough to enable it to come to pass. As she had done that lonely winter's night.

The notes still appeared and vanished with distressing regularity, but she was no longer so wounded by them. Having made up her mind, her course was set, and even the vicious taunts in the notes no longer truly affected her. She had gone beyond them, to a place deep within where the words could not touch her.

Her new calmness and serenity fooled her father and Susan into thinking that whatever problem she had was resolved, and the adults quit eyeing her with trepidation and concern.

Harry, on the other hand, became increasingly irritable as the week wore on, for the notes continually nagged him to watch out for Holly, and sneered and belittled his efforts to do so almost every day, it seemed. Then too, not knowing the content of the vision Holly had experienced was also driving him crazy. He knew there was something in it that was not good, he had seen the way she reacted towards it. And her refusal to speak about it only confirmed it.

Severus was aware of his son's moodiness, but he was busy trying to teach two classes at once and get ready for finals before Easter break, and so he put it down to typical pre-adolescent angst, especially since he now had a rival of sorts in Draco. So he didn't pay attention the way he should have to what was causing his son's change in personality, a fact which he was going to regret deeply later on.

March 15th fell on a Thursday that year, and Holly awoke knowing in her bones that today was the day her vision would be fulfilled. But she did her best to try and act normally, greeting Severus and Harry before breakfast, eating with them, and then hugging Severus goodbye before he left to go to class. She did, however, hug him an extra long time, causing him to remark, "What's this? You're acting like you're not going to see me again, child. I'll be home the same time as always. Now be good, all right?"

"Yes, Severus," she said, her heart aching, for she knew this would be the last hug she ever gave him.

"That goes for you too, Harry," he called to his son who was still eating.

"All right, Dad. Have a good day in class."

Severus bit back a sharp laugh, for today was his most dreaded class, double potions with Gryffindor and Slytherin. "I will see you this afternoon. Mr. Filch mentioned he could use your help cleaning out an old cabinet in one of the storage rooms, so when you are finished here, perhaps you two and Draco could assist him? He says he will have lunch for you afterwards."

"Sure, no problem, Dad. We'll be glad to help." Harry said eagerly. There were often interesting finds in the old cabinets in the castle. "Right, Holl?"

"Of course," she answered. That would give her time to say goodbye to the steward and Mrs. Norris. She wondered sadly who would take care of Magik when she was gone. Perhaps Harry would keep her, for remembrance.

After fetching Draco, they spent two hours cleaning the rather old and dusty storage room with Filch. There was a rather large cabinet in the back of it that had tons of boxes with all kinds of old papers and scribbled cards from old detentions and other odds and ends.

"Tis time we had a go at sorting through this mess," Filch said, and that's what he gave to the children to do, while he dusted and scrubbed the floor.

Draco, Harry, and Holly each took a box and sorted the contents into piles-Junk, Important, and Not Sure. Whatever was illegible or so old it no longer mattered went into the Junk pile. Those papers that were current or had some bearing on school policy or were teaching notes went into the Important pile, and those which they couldn't decide on went into Not Sure.

They were at that for another hour before Filch called a halt and said it was time for lunch.

He had the house elves bring them quite a spread in his quarters, and they all ate hungrily. Even the cats ate cans of salmon, while their respective Squibs dined on deviled eggs, ham salad, cold chicken, various side salads, and several kinds of sweets plus tea, butterbeer, lemonade, and sweetened iced tea.

During lunch, Harry seemed pensive, not eating as much as he usually did after a morning of chores. He seemed to be mulling something over in his mind, until Filch cast him a curious glance and asked, "Something on your mind, lad?"

Harry took a gulp of his lemonade before answering. "Well, uh, I was sorting through those old cards in one box, the ones that list old detentions for students , and I found some with . . .uh . . .James Potter's name, and Sirius Black, and even Remus Lupin."

"Aye, they were known troublemakers back in the day, lad," Filch nodded. "Seemed like they were in detention every other week."

"Yeah, but I saw that . . .a lot of their detentions were for . . .for being smart to teachers, and playing pranks on you and . . .and my dad," Harry pointed out.

"Aye, lad. They didna cotton too much t'me, being as I was a Squib and death on smartmouthed brats, which Potter and Black were, no two ways about it. Not Lupin, so much, he seemed to get in trouble more by association. Pettigrew was the other one, a sly little rat, always creeping round the edges of things and spying. Potter and Black were the masterminds though. And they loved pranking Slytherins, 'specially your dad, Harry. Ah, that is, yer adopted dad."

"No, Severus is my dad. I don't even remember my birth one, and after looking at all those cards, I'm glad!" Harry said angrily. "They . . .they picked on my dad something awful, Mr. Filch! Like . . .like the way those bullies in Diagon Alley did to Holly or Cross did to you. Or the way some kids used to do to me at my other school, before Dad put a stop to it."

"You had problems with bullies, Harry?" Holly asked in astonishment.

"When I was little, yeah. I was seven and there was this group of five or six older boys that used to tease me every chance they got-trip me, push me, call me names, once they even banged my head into the cement and ripped off my glasses and buried them. They called me Freaky Four-eyes and Snape the Scaredycat. That one time, with my glasses, the Headmaster got involved and he called up Dad, and Dad came and he was like ready to kick some kid's arse. He called the bullies' parents, they had a big meeting, the kids got suspended for a couple days and after that they never touched me."

"Probably afraid Professor Snape would kick their arse," Draco said, smirking. ""Cause nobody messes with your dad now, Harry."

Harry still looked troubled. "No, but when he went to school . . ." He bit his lip, discovering that piece of information really upset him. Now he understood better why Severus never discussed James with him, and he felt somehow ashamed to be the other's son, the son of a bully who had hurt the man who raised him. "I don't understand, Mr. Filch . . .why would they do such things to my dad? What for?"

Filch sighed, steepling his fingers on the table. "Lad, that's a hard question to answer. Sometimes kids pick on other kids 'cause they're different or something, or just because they can. I wish I knew, it would explain a lot of what's happened to me . . ."

Holly listened for a few more minutes, thinking sadly, people fear the different, and what they fear, they hurt. She knew the time of the vision was growing closer and she was determined to be prepared. She waited until Harry, draco, and Filch were all engaged in the discussion before slipping off her chair and pretending to go and use the bathroom down the hall.

In actuality, she headed outside the castle, heading first to bid goodbye to the unicorns and then, after she had hugged them all farewell, went towards the forest to find Silver. She had just reached the edge of the wood, hoping that Silver would return from his hunting trip soon enough for her to tell him goodbye. The sky, which had started out overcast and a dreary gray color, darkened to an odd mist filled purple black.

She could feel something heavy in the air, rather like an impending storm, though she knew it was much more than that. The event she had seen in fire was coming closer, she could feel it creeping upon her like a cat stalking. Soon it would be upon her and then she would have no choice left but to run. She wrapped her arms about herself and tried to stop trembling. She was frightened, she did not want to do this thing. But neither did she want her brothers to die along with her. If it had to be someone, let it be her. She was expendable.

She felt the air stir about her and then she heard Silver howl, long and low, warning of some danger. Good old Silver! I wish . . .I wish I had time to grow up with you, to live a normal life. But I do have time to say goodbye.

She walked into the Forbidden Forest, breaking Severus's rule deliberately, she thought with a flash of shame. I'm sorry. I hope you can forgive me.

* * * * * *

By the time Filch had finished discussing the whys and wherefores of bullies, the Marauders in particular, Harry had nearly conquered the odd feeling of shame and empathy in his gut. Shame for what James had done and empathy for Severus, for he knew exactly what it felt like being a target. And Filch had said most of the pranks and bullying had gone unpunished by the teachers and even Albus had turned a blind eye, trying to laugh it off. But it wasn't funny! It wasn't, even if most of what they cast didn't really do damage, it still made Dad feel bad and people laughed . . .He could still recall the way other kids had laughed at him when he was knocked sprawling or was pushed into a desk. And it was the laughter that had hurt most of all.

Draco had remained a silent observer through much of the conversation, for he had never had to attend a school with other students, being privately tutored, and so had never faced any bullies. But the Marauders and the kids who had beaten Harry up didn't sound all too different, except one group had used magic and the others didn't. He thought with a flash of insight that Lucius had probably been a bully in his school days. He certainly had the attitude for it. Thinking of his father made him automatically think of his sister, and he looked over to see how she was taking this topic. It was then he noticed that Holly still had not returned from her trip to the bathroom.

"Hey, where's Holly gotten to?"

"What?" asked Harry, only then realizing his sister was not there. "She said she had to use the loo."

"That was like a half hour ago," Draco pointed out. "So, unless she got lost or fell in, she should have been back here by now." He took a quick peek about the room, to see if maybe she had fallen asleep on Filch's settle, or was playing with the cats by the hearth. No Holly.

"Where could she be? You don't think she's gone to pet the unicorns or something without us?" Harry cried, becoming terribly alarmed.

"She's not supposed to wander around on her own, wasn't that one of the professor's rules?" Draco said.

"Yes, after Cross' expulsion and those other three hurting Magik, Dad made us both promise to stick together and not go anywhere alone." Harry confirmed, his insides doing a panicked dance.

"Maybe she forgot?"

"With her memory, Draco? Not likely." Harry snorted. He pushed back his chair. "Thanks, Mr. Filch, for lunch, it was great. But we really have to find Holly."

"You do that, lads. 'Tisn't like her to go off alone. I hope she's all right." Filch said worriedly. "Good luck to ye. If I happen to see her, I'll send her straight home."

"Thanks, Mr. Filch," Draco replied, then he followed Harry from the room and up the stairs to the entrance hall.

"I hope she's just gone to pet the unicorns or visit Hagrid, then I can give her a piece of my mind for running off and scaring me like that," Harry said as he rushed out of the castle.

"Same here," Draco said. Then he frowned. "Harry, what if . . .this has to do with the vision she Saw?"

Harry was quiet, but he too had thought of that and he prayed he was wrong. But when they got to the corral, they found it was empty. Angrily, Harry swore. "Damn!" Perversely, he felt the need to blame someone, anyone for his sister's disappearance, so he spun on Draco and cried, "This is all your fault, Malfoy! If you hadn't made her try and see in fire, none of this would have happened!"

Draco took a step back, startled to be getting blamed at all. Then his own temper flared. "My fault? Oh, get over it, Snape! I didn't even think she could do it, half the time Squib talents don't work right. And how can you blame me for her vision? I don't even know what she bloody saw!"

"You were the one who made her See it!" Harry accused, his own guilt making him irrational.

Then he whirled around and started to run towards the forest, yelling, "Holly! Holly, where are you?"

"Bloody idiot!" Draco muttered, remaining where he was for an instant. "Totally cracked."

He watched in alarm as Harry drew closer and closer to the forest. Then, to his utter amazement, he saw the other boy run right into it. Draco smacked his hand into his forehead. "Brilliant, Snape! Trust you to go running off into a place we're not supposed to go."

He hesitated, knowing his mother would be furious if she ever learned where he had gone. Bloody hell! Ah well, might as well go after you, Snape. No telling what will happen if I'm not there to watch your back.

He took two steps forward, and suddenly a hard hand came and clamped tight around his mouth, and a voice hissed in his ear, "Be quite and be still, you little bugger!"

Draco struggled, but the arms that held him were strong, and before he could do anything, he found himself tossed over a broad shoulder and carried right into the Forest.

"Hey! What the hell are you doing?" he yelled.

"Taking you to someone," answered the other shortly. "Now quit that squirming and yelling before I give you something to really yell about, brat!"

He brought the palm of his hand down on Draco's bottom, hard.

Draco bit back a yelp, for the smack stung, though it was a great deal less than his father's hand or his cane.

"Now shut your mouth!" ordered the other.

Draco wanted to say something really rude, but his sense of self preservation kicked in and he reminded himself it wouldn't be wise to bait the man while hanging upside down over his shoulder. Instead he tried to catch a glimpse of the other's face as they walked deeper into the forest.

There was something eerily familiar about his captor, the voice, where had he heard it before? Because while he did not have Holly's photographic memory, Draco did have an excellent memory for auditory cues, and especially voices. He never forgot a voice.

He concentrated hard, thinking back.

"Where are we going, sir?" he asked, trying to get the man to talk more so he could place it.

"Somewhere, kid. You'll know when we get there. Now shut your mouth."

Draco gasped. He remembered where he had heard the voice before. In the Great Hall, during the Ceremony of Shattering. "You're . . .you're the kid who got expelled!" he blurted, then could have kicked himself. "Shelby Cross!"

"So? What's it to you?" grunted Cross.

"But . . .what are you doing back here?"

"None of your business. Now, for the last time, shut up!"

He landed another hard wallop on Draco's bottom.

"Oww!"

"Pansy-arse. Crying over a little tap!" sneered the other.

Draco seethed, for he most certainly wasn't crying. He was angry, and he wanted to punch Cross in the teeth for even implying that. But he remained still and silent, trying to puzzle out why Cross had returned and what it had to do with him.

They were quite deep within the trees now, and Draco felt very uneasy. He had never liked looking at the black oaks from the safe distance of Hagrid's cottage, much less entering them, but there was little he could do about it. There was something dank and dark stirring, it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Could this have been what Holly had Seen-him being kidnapped by Cross? If so, he wished she had told him, so he could have stayed inside the bloody castle.

Then he recalled that Harry and Holly were somewhere in here too, and he hoped they fared better than he was doing.

After about five more minutes he felt Cross slow and then stop. "I brought him, sir. He was easy as pie to snatch. Here you go, sir, safe and sound like I promised. Now can I have the money you promised?"

"All in good time, Mr. Cross. You have done well. Now let me see my son."

Draco felt himself set down and then Cross spun him around to face the one person he had hoped he would never see again-his father.

Lucius was standing before him, wearing nondescript gray robes and casual attire, his white blond hair loose and flowing, his ice blue eyes glinting. "What's this? No greeting, Draco?"

Draco swallowed sharply. "Hello, Father."

Lucius gave a half-smile, lifting the silver dragon head of his cane and putting it gently under Draco's chin. "So your mother stole you from the manor and brought you here. How fortunate that I had spies placed here to inform me if anything unusual came up. For she had no right to take my heir from me."

"What spies, Father?"

"A flawed one, since he was caught," Lucius said angrily. "But though he failed me, I have been merciful." He gestured to the clearing behind him, where a large fire crackled and next to the fire was a rather battered-looking, sullen, indigo-robed Throckmorton. "He still has his uses. For now."

Draco said nothing, he felt his heart quicken in his chest and fear settle in his breast. This was the stuff of his worst nightmares. He was tempted to run away, but he knew he would never get far. "Father, why are you here?"

"To retrieve you, of course." Lucius answered. "And to settle a few other debts that have come due. Your mother being one of them." He shepherded his son into the clearing and bade him sit in front of the fire. "I may yet grant her the divorce, but never will I permit her to take you away from me. A son belongs with his father."

"Lord Malfoy, may I have my money, sir?" Cross whined.

Lucius looked up at the young wizard, an annoyed look flitting across his face. "One moment, Cross. Don't be so impatient. I may have another task for you. Sit down." He gestured for Cross to be seated next to Throckmorton. Cross obeyed.

Lucius turned back to Draco. "I am glad Cross found you when he did, for now, my son, you are going to witness a powerful piece of dark magic, which will further your education in the Dark Arts."

Draco bit his lip, he wanted to tell his father that he didn't want to be a dark wizard, he didn't need to learn the dark rituals, but he was afraid to say anything like that to Lucius. Lucius did not tolerate sons that were rebellious, and he had wished Draco to be a Death Eater since he was born.

"Victor, shall we begin? You know the ritual spells." Lucius turned to his colleague, whom everyone had thought dead, dinner for a redtailed hawk.

Draco gazed at Throckmorton, carefully concealing the loathing he felt in order to ask a very important question. "How is it you're still alive? You were transformed into a mouse and a hawk grabbed you and flew away."

Throckmorton gave Draco a superior sniff. "I told you before, boy, I have friends in high places. Lucius was watching that day and it was he who took me away, right under the old wizard's nose!" He gave a small chuckle of satisfaction. "And now I shall have my revenge upon them all . . .all the Squib lovers and Mudblood supporters, especially that miserable shite Snape! Those notes were just the beginning. I hope they scared his brats good and proper!" Throckmorton rubbed his hands together gleefully, like a little boy about to get a present. "Oh yes! I will have my revenge for that bastard's humiliation. Just you wait!"

"Enough, Victor!" Lucius interjected sharply. "Gloat later! Begin the summoning, now!"

Throckmorton rose to his feet, shooting the elder Malfoy a glare when his back was turned. He removed a spellbook from his robes as well as several other pouches, and began moving widdershins around the fire.

"Father, what are you summoning?"

"An ancient host that has not been seen in Britain since the days of Arthur and Merlin, my son. It is called the Wild Hunt. For centuries untold, the Hunt has been bound, held asleep with runes of power and magical bindings, until now. Victor discovered an old text at Durnstrang hidden away in their library, and began studying it. With it we can break the bonds upon the Hunt and set it free to hunt again."

"Hunt what, sir?"

"Well, son, in the elder days the Hunt usually destroyed anything in its path, without mercy, it was led by one known as Herne the Hunter. But this time we shall give it a different quarry-Squibs, particularly one Squib, my darling daughter, Holly Amanda Sinclair!"

Draco was horrified. He could not believe his father would actually call up this . . .abomination . . .simply to kill a child who had never done him any harm. "No! You-you can't!"

"What's this?" Lucius glowered down at him, his face dark with disapproval. "Has your mother taught you sympathy for Squibs, Mudbloods, and half-bloods now? Pah! They were born to be our playthings, expendable."

"She's my sister!"

Lucius grabbed him by the collar and lifted him up off the ground. "Never say that again! She is no more your sister than a dog! She was a mistake that never should have been born, and now I'm going to correct it!" He drew back his hand and slapped Draco hard across the face.

SMACK!

Draco cried out, unable to help himself.

"Be silent!" Lucius ordered, dropping him abruptly.

He landed hard on his bottom and smothered another yelp, putting a hand to his burning cheek.

"Watch and learn, boy. This is for your own good, Draco Anthony Malfoy. No son of mine will ever be a Squib lover!"

He turned to assist Throckmorton and Draco caught Cross smirking at him before he turned away and looked at the trees, blinking hard to hide the tears in his eyes. He had thought he and Narcissa were safe at Hogwarts, but because of Throckmorton's betrayal, their sanctuary had been lost.

I hate you, Father. I hate all of you. He ducked his head to hide the swift burning tears. He prayed suddenly that Holly had returned to the castle with Harry, perhaps the castle's magic would protect them.

Throckmorton was throwing some foul smelling herbs into the fire now, circling and waving his wand and gesturing, chanting some strange words in a language that was not Latin, but something else, something older.

Draco saw the fire turn indigo, then crimson, then a clear color, and finally a sickly rotting green. There was a stench in the air and clouds of smoke began to billow up from the fire.

The boy began to cough, his eyes watering horribly, but he could not look away.

The smell was of rotting vegetation and the fetid odor of the grave, and Draco almost threw up. But still he was frozen, held in place by terror. The sky, what little could be seen through the trees' thick canopy, turned an alarming black shot through with streaks of silver.

Throckmorton was chanting loudly now, and he threw the last of the bag of herbs into the flames.

They roared and flared up to twice a man's height.

Throckmorton drew a sharp silver dagger from his robes, rolled up his sleeve, and cut himself. He squeezed his arm and blood dripped, sizzling and hissing, into the fire.

"Blood of the summoner, to open the way!" he cried in English.

He beckoned to Lucius, who approached and handed him a pale bone.

"Bone of the quarry, to set the track!"

Throckmorton tossed the bone into the fire.

Then Lucius was motioning for Cross to approach Throckmorton.

"What for? What do I know about this ritual?" whined the older boy, looking rather scared and awed at the same time.

"Just do it!" bellowed Lucius, jerking Cross to his feet and shoving him next to Throckmorton. He held Cross firmly by the arm.

Throckmorton whirled, his eyes shining with a queer intent.

Cross gasped, started to back away, but the other wizard grabbed his hair, bent his head back, and swiftly slit the other's throat with the dagger.

"Blood of a sacrifice, to give strength to the Hunt!" He made a gesture and then Cross's body was levitated into the flames.

Then Lucius stepped forward and linked hands with Throckmorton and chanted the final spell to awaken the Wild Hunt.

The fire began to whirl and spin, or perhaps Draco's head was doing the spinning.

Then came a huge explosion and suddenly Draco heard the insane shrieks and bloodthirsty wails of over a dozen doomed souls. From out of the smoke came a large man with a stag's antlers astride a roan horse. He was followed by a dozen white dogs with hellfire eyes and red ears.

"Who dares awaken me from my rest?" demanded Herne.

"We do," intoned the two wizards. "By right of magic and blood sacrifice we claim dominion over the Hunt, and bid you ride again, until your quarry is caught and destroyed."

Herne stiffened. "Thou art proud and impertinent. However, thou hast the book and the power, and so I am bound to obey. What quarry shall we bring down this night?"

Lucius tossed a lock of hair into the fire. "This. And anyone else you wish that tries to hinder you. Now go! I bid you ride, Lord of the Wild Hunt!"

Herne dipped his head a fraction, then turned his steed about and urged it away.

More spectral hunters burst from the fire, all armed with swords, bows, knives and other weapons, all of them with burning crimson eyes, they surged in a never-ending stream from the fire and followed Herne yelling and screeching.

Draco shut his eyes. He could do nothing now except pray. For if Holly was not in the castle, then she was doomed. Unless Severus could save her. And Harry as well, for Draco knew the other boy would probably be right beside his sister, wherever she was.

He tucked his knees up to his chest and buried his face behind them, trembling uncontrollably, silent tears of anguish and horror falling unnoticed down his bruised face. Mother, where are you? I wish you'd come and get me away from here.