In Hogwarts, there was a mail station of sorts. It had originally been intended as a place for the owls to leave packages and letters for the students, but that idea had been quickly abandoned when the owls began to deliver their burdens directly to their owners in the Great Hall generations ago.

While not used for its original purpose, the mail station in the owlery had not been forgotten by the students. Instead, the students used the mail station as a sounding board, anonymously writing letters using pen names and other identity concealment charms. The students had designated one side of the station for what they called "open letters." Open letters were letters which were not for a particular individual, a letter anyone could answer. Once the letters were addressed to a particular pen name, then they went on the other side of the station, and a little label floated above each reply, stating the intended recipient. No one but the owner of the pen name would be able to take the letter, which ensured security.

It was common for the Hogwarts students to use the mail station for any number of things, including gossip, advice, and simply the thrill of having a pen pal. There was a certain attraction in writing to someone you didn't know, someone who could be the person sitting next to you in the Great Hall, or someone you'd never actually met. Sometimes, even new friendships were formed through the mail station. And that was why none of the administration of the school had taken the mail station down, despite the failure of its original intention. It actually played a positive role in the relationships between the students.

These anonymous friendships were powerful things, more powerful than the magic the students learned in classes sometimes. You didn't have to know the name of the person you wrote to for that person to have a great influence on your life.

This is the story of how one such anonymous friendship changed the lives of everyone at Hogwarts, whether in a big or little way, changed the wizarding world, and changed the outcome of the second wizarding war.

Draco Malfoy was worried. It was his sixth year. He had a Dark Mark (which he prayed to God no one knew about), and was commissioned by the Dark Lord to murder Albus Dumbledore. Draco couldn't say he was ever overly fond of Dumbledore, but he wasn't a killer. Thus the pitiful attempts at Dumbledore's life, the ones that had gone awry. Yet if he didn't succeed in his mission, he would be the one to suffer, slow torture, followed by inevitable death, he was sure.

And that was why Draco found himself in the forgotten girls' bathroom on the second floor, more than one time, dealing with the panic attacks this knowledge brought on. He would either have to kill or be killed. He couldn't face either option, and it scared the hell out of him.

If only he had been born into a different situation. It was an accident of birth that he was the son of one of the most influential men in wizarding Britain, and it was a further accident that said man was also a powerful Death Eater who had gotten on the bad side of his master.

Why couldn't he have been lucky? Why couldn't he have been born to a peaceful couple, lived a good, quiet life, and never had to make a choice like this? Heck, why couldn't he be like Potter? Sure, Draco understood that Potter was an orphan, and it had to be pretty rough, not knowing your parents at all, but still, this was Potter he was thinking about. Potter was well loved, famous, rich. He had everything anyone could hope for, and never had to act against what he knew to be the right thing.

Draco's conscience never left him alone these days. Having been forced into joining the Death Eaters, and being forced to do these things, gave him nightmares and daymares alike. He was a monster. When his sixth year would be over, he would have a corpse to show for it, whether it be Dumbledore's or his own, neither of which was a pleasant thought. A whole year at school, and he would have nothing positive to show. Nothing. Not even a little thing that had made his life worth living.

It wouldn't redeem him, he knew, but if he could do one good thing this school year, Draco thought that perhaps he wouldn't hate himself quite as much. If he could help one person, his life wouldn't be a complete waste. Who would let a Malfoy help them, though?

It was then that the mail station occurred to Draco. His name would mean nothing there, because no one would know they were writing to a Malfoy. There had to be someone he could help, even if it was just to let some girl spill her guts about how her boyfriend had ditched her. It wasn't much, but it was something. Perhaps it would even distract him from thinking about his impossible choice in every waking moment.

Maybe he could do something good with his miserable life.

Draco climbed the stairs to the owlery, hands in his pockets, mulling over his mission and what a failure he was at life. Only a failure would have gotten himself into this bad a situation.

He approached the mail station, on the side with the open letters, and picked one up. He read it over. It was from a girl (presumably) talking about the party last night in the Ravenclaw common room. It was a very positive note, actually, except that she mentioned someone had stolen her shoes again. It didn't look like he could do this girl any good. He would keep his eyes open for shoes though. He rolled the parchment again and put it back.

The second letter he grabbed was from Ernie Macmillan (he had chosen to sign his name) complaining that he was bored. Well, if that was the full extent of what good he could do, looking for shoes and curing someone's boredom, Draco supposed he would. He had been hoping for something slightly - bigger - though. He rolled Macmillan's letter and put it back, opting to read a few more.

The next couple letters he read were of similar urgency. Fairly innocuous, not serious. Draco doubted that this would either distract him or ease his conscience. He sighed, and picked another letter to read. It was the last one he hadn't read, so it was either this one, or looking for some Ravenclaw's shoes.

Dear whomever, (this is so stupid)

My name is...no call me Id. I'm writing this because I am keep a promise to a friend. I promised that I would write down what's been going on, and that when it got to be too much.

Well, now is too much. I don't know how many more of these I can take. It just hurts too much. Why does it always have to be me? Why can't it be someone else for a change?

IS THERE ANYBODY LISTENING?! I just want to be left alone. This is too much!

I'm sorry. If you're reading this I shouldn't be taking this out on you. You don't even know me. Or who I am. If there is any good people out there, please. Please. I beg you. Help me. I know you don't know me, but please. I can't take it anymore. I, oh God, he's coming. No more. Please if your out there. Help ME!

Id

Draco nodded as he reread the letter a second time. This was the one he would answer. It was dated for that day, so there was a good chance the author would check back for a response soon. He stuffed the letter in his pocket and went to the Slytherin dorm so he could answer it properly.

Later that evening, after supper, Draco snuck back to the owlery to drop his response on the other side of the mail station. It hadn't been hard to write his letter, and he was already feeling better for having taken this course of action. Perhaps he could sleep a bit better tonight, knowing that he was trying to do something good.

Dear Id,

It's not stupid, to use the mail station, and it's certainly not stupid that you keep your promise to your friend.

What is it, exactly, which has gotten to be too much? Trust me, I understand what you mean. The feelings can just overwhelm you, to the point where you feel like you'll suffocate. I'm here to listen (read?), and to help, but I'm not sure I count as a good person.

Who is coming? Is there a threat to you here, at school?

I hope to hear back from you soon.

The Monster in the Dark

A small notice appeared above Draco's rolled parchment, announcing that Id had a message left for him.