The younger Albus led Harry, Ron, Hermione and Draco to the moving staircases. They waited patiently until one of the stairs made its lazy way toward them. As they stepped onto it Albus tapped the railing with his wand. "Sixth floor, please." With a grinding effort, the stairs moved and then rose upward.

"The stair is rising! How did you do that?" asked Hermione. None of them had ever seen a moving staircase directed by anyone, nor had they ever seen one rise up to the higher floors.

"It's a little known benefit of being a prefect or a head boy. It's much easier to be able to tell the stairs where you want to go instead of having to put up with their whims." The stairs finally locked into place and they stepped out into the corridor. "Over here," said Albus.

Just off to the left was a small hallway that led to a wrought iron gate. Taking out the copper key, he unlocked the gate. "There isn't much on the sixth floor. It's mostly storage now. Lots of armor, weaponry, odds and ends."

"What was the sixth floor originally?" Harry asked out of curiosity.

"The potions and defense against the dark arts classrooms used to be up here. That was a century ago. It's most famous, though, for Corabine the Mad Headmistress. Have you ever heard of her?"

Harry, Ron and even Hermione muttered that they hadn't. Draco spoke up. "I have." He flashed the others a quirky, smug smile. For once he was the one with the answer. "You're talking about Corabine Lockhart who ascended to the position of headmistress after poisoning her husband, Gelgarris."

Ron nudged Harry and whispered, "So that's where Lockhart got it!" Harry smiled and chuckled as Ron reminded them of the erstwhile and vain Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher, Gilderoy Lockhart, who was sadly spending his remaining days in St. Mungo's.

"That's her," smiled Dumbledore. He had not heard the exchange between the two boys. "Now, I warn you, it gets pretty close in here, almost claustrophobic."

They were walking down a narrow, windowless hallway. The walls stretched high above them. Carvings of dragons, battlefields, centaurs, and other wondrous and horrific scenes were carved deep into the dark granite walls. It was heavily shadowed and hard to see. "Lumos!" Dumbledore's wand tip glowed with amber light. The others lit their wands as well and most of the shadows retreated. For the moment, the story of Corabine the Mad was forgotten as they got used to their surroundings and looked at the many carvings.

"There's no rhyme or reason to these," muttered Hermione. She found the carvings, although beautiful in one respect, disturbing.

"They make me wish I hadn't eaten breakfast," gasped Ron as he tried not to look. Even Harry was looking a little green.

Albus instructed, "This artwork seems to disturb a lot of people. It's best to just keep your sight on the floor." They walked in silence a few more minutes as their eyes were either glued to the floor or their feet.

"So who was Corabine the Mad?" Hermione glanced over to Draco for a reply.

"She was from the early 1600s. Back then there was no ministry to interfere in the headmaster position. It was inherited. She took over as headmistress when her husband, Gelgarris Lockhart, died. She used a belladonna to kill him; very painful. Once she took over, she began spending money, mostly upon herself." Draco fell into his story just as the hallway began to curve. "Corabine kept an office in the tower, where it's always been, and also began tearing everything down on the sixth floor and then building a new interior. No one was allowed in during the construction. She built this hallway. It follows the outside of the entire sixth floor with no exit. The only doors are the gate we went through, and the gate at the end of the hallway."

"Why did she do this?" asked Ron who suddenly bumped into Harry.

"Ow! Watch where you're stepping, Ron!"

"Sorry, mate."

Draco continued his story. "The legend goes that Corabine trapped the soul of her dearly departed Gelgarris within the walls of the sixth floor. He had a secret power that she wanted that he could only reveal to her if he were a ghost."

"Dark magic?" whispered Hermione.

"Blood magic and dark rituals. Quite possibly the most evil of magic anyone could imagine. Darker even than Vol..." Hermione slipped her hand into Draco's and squeezed tightly in warning. He coughed slightly and continued. "Well, dark magic is dark magic. So, it was bad. And then..."

They had come to the iron gate at the end of the hallway. Hermione held her wand higher to get a clearer view of the ironwork that made up the gate. It was a ghastly, sinuous mass of snakes circling around dozens of victims. She shuddered. "That's horrible!"

"Must have been from Slytherin house," Harry muttered. He had just seen Hermione's hand in Draco's and didn't approve.

Draco removed his hand from Hermione's grip at Harry's dark look and matched it with his own. "As a matter of fact, Corabine was from Gryffindor!"

Harry balled up his fists and started to advance upon Draco, but he was stopped short by a curt look from the head boy. "Draco's right, Harry. Corabine was Gryffindor. Although, considering all that she did, well..." he gave Draco a sideways glance and chose, wisely, not to finish what he was going to say. "Shall we?" he nodded toward the entrance.

"Wait," said Ron. Albus stopped in the open doorway and waited. "I want to know what the rest of the story is, Malfoy, before we go further. And then... what?"

Draco grinned dramatically. "Students began to go missing. When the daughter of a prominent wizarding family, Tisane Black, disappeared, an aggressive investigation was finally instigated. On the sixth floor, just beyond this gate, they found the bones of twelve students decorating the walls. Corabine was arrested and hanged without a trial."

"That's creepy!" blurted Harry.

"That certainly wasn't in Hogwarts: A History," mumbled Hermione.

"Is that really true, Malfoy?" asked Ron skeptically.

Draco shrugged. "That's the legend I've heard. It's word for word how Sna... how Uncle Severus told it and I expect it's just the kind of thing he'd know."

"Bedtime stories?" sneered Harry. Draco just glared. "What do you say, Albus?" Harry turned to the head boy. "Is all that true?"

"Well, she did do the reconstruction on this floor and she did kill her husband with poison. For that she was hanged and record of her was expunged from the official history. Twelve children did go missing, but nothing was ever found. Not even bones." Albus pushed the gate open and ushered them through.

After the claustrophobic hallway, it was pleasant to emerge into a very large, open area. The windows were long and narrow and of clear glass. They were set high up into the walls, so it was impossible to look out them unless one stood upon a step ladder.

Just as Albus had said, the sixth floor was a storage area. Long shelves stretched the length of the room and were crammed almost up to the high ceiling with all manner of mundane to fascinating objects. Lining the walls and in some cases overlapping each other, were old paintings that didn't move, mirrors, tapestries, and banners. Also against the walls were racks of weapons. Almost enough to outfit an army of 300 men. Everywhere they looked there was armor, both metal and leather. The entire room itself was enough to be distracting and they almost forgot about what had brought them; the Odd Room.

It was Hermione who tore her gaze away from the amazing junk pile and asked, "Albus, what is the Odd Room. Where is it?"

The boy grinned and his eyes twinkled with mischief. "Well, this it. Everywhere, Hermione." Draco and Ron both glared. Neither was very amused. "Trust me, it deserves the name."

"So give, mate," said Ron. "What makes this so bloody odd?"

"Everything in this room, every shelf, stick of furniture, every tapestry thread came to this room by itself. None of it was ever brought here." Albus walked over to a shelf and picked up a magnificent scepter of twisted gold and silver encrusted with emeralds and rubies. Draco's eyes went wide at such a prize. Albus then walked over the threshold into the hallway and the scepter vanished from his hands.

Draco's mouth dropped open. "What happened to it?"

Albus shrugged. "Who knows? It's not back in that mess. Maybe gone back to where it came from?"

Draco snatched at something glittering, a small crown, and walked with it into the hallway. It faded from his hands. "That's wicked!" he marveled.

Draco's actions were immediately followed by Harry taking a goblet out into the hallway. Ron found a large ivory scrimshaw and was suitably impressed when it faded from his hands as soon as he stepped next to Draco and Harry. Hermione had found a large book. She didn't step into the hallway.

"C'mon Hermione," urged Ron. "Try it!"

Hermione cast a stricken look upon the book she held in her hands. "But, it's 'My First Century' by Nicolas Flamel." Harry groaned and Ron shook his head. Hermione replaced the book where she'd found it.

"Well, that was fun," muttered Draco. "So is that it to the Odd Room, Dumbledore?" He grinned at being able to call Albus just by his last name.

Albus shook his head. "Why don't you have a look around. You'll find out on your own what's odd about this entire floor."

One by one they drifted off into different directions. Draco headed for a rack of very dangerous weapons next to a large mirror with a heavy silver frame. The glass was etched with an intricate design of ivy. Of course, he was too busy attempting to remove a spiked mace from its secure perch to appreciate the artistry of the mirror and its frame.

Ron went down one of the aisles of shelves and was astonished to find himself the subject of jeers and insults, in English, Latin, Gaelic, French, Chinese and a dozen more languages. The voices were coming from dozens of chess pieces. He ducked just as a knight tossed a spear in his direction. "Woahhhhh!"

Hermione wandered past several dozen mirrors until she came across piles of pirate treasure just sitting on the floor as if it had all been recently deposited there. She knelt down and dipped her hand into the glittering treasure and drew up a brilliant handful of pearls, rubies, diamonds, silver and gold. A stack of silver pieces of eight fell and slid toward her knee.

In the distance there was a crash. Draco had wrested the mace from the rack and had swung it, lost his balance, and smacked the weapon right into one of the mirrors. "Oh bloody hell!"

"Not to worry!" Albus' voice filtered over toward Harry.

Harry was down another aisle and hadn't really seen anything to catch his eye. However, he was so busy looking back and forth between the shelves he bumped right into the tall figure blocking his path. "I'm sorry!" he automatically apologized.

"Not to worry, son. I think my foot will survive."

Harry's breath caught in his throat as his eyes rose from the shoes he'd been looking at and up to the face of the man he'd bumped into. It was like looking into a mirror, only a mirror that would show one the future. The man wore round framed glasses just like he did and had dark brown hair that also defied taming by a comb as his own did.

"Harry? I think you'd better breathe before you pass out." The man smiled and placed a hand upon his shoulder.

Harry gulped and made a great effort NOT to pass out. He had seen that face in a mirror before. In the Mirror of Erised. "Dad?" he whispered hoarsely.

James Potter smiled down at his son and tousled the boy's hair. "I wish your mother were here," he glanced around hopefully. "But perhaps some other day. She and I have both missed you. How are you?"

"Y-y-y-you can't be real, can you?" he asked, still in shock.

James shook his head sadly. "I wish I were, son, but no, I'm not real."

"W-what are you? A ghost, then?"

James chuckled. "I'm a memory. There are a lot of memories..." he tapped Harry's temple. "... in here."

Harry blinked. "Are there? I haven't been able to remember anything, nothing at all about you and mum. I only know what everyone else has told me."

James leaned down, took Harry's arms in his hands and looked at the scar on his forehead. "Trust me, Harry, they are there, but it may be awhile before you can access them. It will take... facing your destiny and patience."

"Dad?"

"Yes, son?"

"Do you know that we're stuck in the past?"

"I do know that."

"Dad, do you... have you any idea how we can get back home? Or if we will?"

James rose and smiled at his son. "You will get home, Harry. As for how to get back, I don't know the how, but the key is in this room." Harry's eyes widened as he looked around at all the stuff and junk on the shelves. His excitement fell. James drew Harry to his side and turned the boy back the way he had entered the aisle. He pointed at Albus Dumbledore.

Harry whispered. "Professor Dumbledore? But, how?"

"Don't worry about that now, Harry. You'll know soon enough." James took Harry's hand in his. "Why don't we make the best of this time we have and explore this place a bit, all right?"

"Yeah!" grinned Harry.

"Reparo!" growled Draco at the shards of the broken mirror all over the floor. It refused to obey his spell. "I know I've got this ri..." A child's laughter broke through Draco's frustration. "Who's there?"

"Can't find me, Dragon!" The laughter was that of a little girl. She began singing, "Dragon, dragon, full of fire!"

An unpleasant chill bit Draco sharply at the base of his spine. The palms of his hands went cold. He knew that voice. He knew of only one person who had ever called him Dragon. "Elydree?" Draco whispered. Looking at all the mirrors in front of him, he caught a flash of black in a mirror several feet away. He ran toward it. Looking into it, he could see his reflection, but he was also able to see the grounds of Malfoy Manor. "Elydree! Is that you in there?"

The face of a precocious seven year old with large, blue eyes and raven black hair popped up right in front of his face. Draco let out a yelp and fell backwards into a suit of armor. The armor shook precariously and Draco scrambled away from it. His eyes did not leave the face of the smiling, laughing child.

"Is everything all right, Draco?" Albus was still near the gate, but he was heading toward the Slytherin boy.

"I'm fine!" he snapped. "Just fine! Leave me alone!" The boy glared and hissed. "Nosey old man." To his chagrin, Albus was still heading toward him.

"It's all right, Dragon. He won't see me." The little girl smiled conspiratorially and put a finger to her lips.

"Pity about the mirror," said Albus as he stepped carefully over the broken glass.

"Why didn't my spell work?" asked Draco as he moved to stand in front of the mirror where the girl stood quietly.

"Just another oddity of this room, Draco. If something breaks, it stays broken, until... look." Albus moved to stand by Draco and pointed at the shards. One by one they began to fade away until every last bit of what had once been a whole mirror was gone. "Fascinating, isn't it?"

Draco nodded. It probably was, but at the moment he didn't really care. "Hey Albus, I think Ron just called you."

"Did he? Well, I'll go see if he needs some help." Albus moved back toward the door and went looking for Ron.

Draco spun round and stared at the little girl. "It is you, isn't it Elydree?"

She placed her little splayed hand against the invisible wall of the mirror. Draco touched his hand to hers. "Hello big brother."

Albus found that Ron was in a bit of trouble. He was under siege by a set of Conquistador chess pieces. "This way, Ron!" shouted Albus.

Ron was protecting his head after discovering that the chess pieces had resisted his magic, just as the broken mirror had resisted repair. Glancing through his arms that were crossed over his face, Ron saw where Albus was and ran down to the farthest end of the aisle.

"Well that was a mess!" exclaimed Ron. "What else is there to see?"

Albus was about to suggest something when Hermione let out a shriek. "RON!" Both Ron and Albus ran toward the sound of her screams. They soon found her near the treasure. A tall, red-bearded, fearsome looking pirate wearing a hat with an ostrich feather in it, had grabbed her around the waist and was holding a cruel looking dagger to her throat. As the pirate saw the two boys, he dropped Hermione and pulled a pistol upon them.

"There be no need for heroes here, me young hearties, so stop in yer tracks, or I'll be doin' it for ye!" growled the pirate.

Hermione had not yet discovered that magic didn't quite work the way one expected. She whipped out her wand, pointed it at the pirate's pistol and shouted, "Expelliarmus!" The only result was that the pirate turned slowly and placed the end of the pistol to Hermione's forehead.

A shot suddenly rang out and the pirate's eyes widened in surprise. He dropped his pistol to the floor and Hermione ran over to Ron. The pirate pulled open his coat and stared down at a widening red stain upon his chest. "I feel... cold." The pirate dropped to the ground dead, and then faded away.

"Well, there goes me last bullet." Hermione squeeked again as she found herself face-to-face with another pirate. This one looked like he had a run in with too much rum and an eyebrow pencil. "I'll be havin' that medallion, lass, if ye don't mind?"

Hermione gulped and looked down at the heavy, gold medallion she'd found in the pile of treasure. "I just... found it... over there," her voice was a hushed whisper. "W-w-who are you?"

"Captain Jack Sparrow, little missy! No doubt ye've heard of me?" He smiled and a gold tooth glinted. Hermione shook her head. He frowned. "Ye haven't?" He tapped his chin and then pointed his pistol at Ron. "You boy, ye've heard of me!"

"Uhm, no, sir," gulped Ron. "Sorry."

Captain Sparrow walked unsteadily toward Albus, eyed him warily, and just as he was about to say something else, he vanished.

"Pirates?" asked Ron. He hugged Hermione who was still shaking slightly. "Why were there pirates here?"

"I was just thinking of Treasure Island... b-b-but those pirates weren't from that story!" Hermione saw the medallion still in her hand and threw it at the pile of treasure as though it had burned her fingers.

"That second pirate looked like a poof!" snorted Ron. Hermione smiled weakly.

"Hermione! Are you all right?" Ron, Albus and Hermione looked over toward Harry and at the tall, dark-haired man in glasses with him.

"Harry?" asked Ron. "Who's he?"

"My dad." Harry spoke so matter-of-factly that all was quiet for a very long moment. It was James who broke the spell. "Harry, I don't have much longer. Why don't you introduce me?"

Harry was suddenly disappointed that James Potter would be vanishing, as had the pirate, but he'd never have such a chance again, so quickly he made introductions. Harry couldn't remember a happier time, but deep inside he wondered why his mother hadn't appeared in the Odd Room. Maybe if he came back later she might. For now they had a few minutes to visit. But only a few minutes.

"I have to go, Harry," said James softly and with regret. Without a word, Harry threw his arms around his father. James returned the tight hug. "Remember us, Harry. We're always with you." James faded away.

"Are you all right, Harry?" asked Ron.

Harry took a deep breath and smiled. "Actually, Ron, I am. I don't know why, but I feel like everything's alright." Harry shrugged. He thought to himself that it was best not to analyze any of this too deeply. "Where's Malfoy?" He asked only to change the subject.

"I can go look for him, replied Hermione. She wanted to get away from the pile of gold and jewels.

"Okay," agreed Ron. "We'll head back to the gate."

Hermione parted from the boys and listened for Draco's voice. His soft tone soon led her to where he was standing in front of a mirror. She was at an angle where she couldn't see what he was seeing. She wondered if he might be talking to himself. If he was, she didn't want to embarrass him so she coughed slightly to alert him to her presence.

Draco turned sharply. Blood rushed to his pale cheeks. "What do you want, Granger?" he snarled before he could stop himself.

"I'm sorry," she muttered as she took a step back. "We're leaving now. Are you ready?"

"Is that your girlfriend, Dragon?"

Hermione was startled to hear the childish voice. Hermione strode up beside him. "Who is she?"

"I thought you said no one could see you!" hissed Draco to the little girl.

"I lied!" the whimsical child smiled and giggled. She then smiled sweetly and waved to the bushy-haired witch. "I'm Elydree. Who are you?"

"Hermione Granger. It's nice to meet you Elydree." Hermione cast Draco a questioning glance, but he was not in the mood to provide an answer.

Elydree turned politely from Hermione and faced Draco. "I wish I could stay longer, Dragon, but the magic is fading." Draco placed his hand against the mirror and she smiled brightly and did the same. "Think of me always, big brother." She laughed in pure delight and faded. With her, the grounds of Malfoy Manor also faded until the only thing the mirror did was reflect Draco and Hermione.

Hermione was stunned by the little girl's last words. She wanted to ask, but a dark, warning look from Draco made her swallow her questions. She followed him quietly back to the gate where Ron, Albus and Harry waited. Draco pushed between them, snapped out his wand and cast the lumos spell.

"What's his problem?" asked Ron.

"Nothing," Hermione spoke firmly. "Just leave him alone." Lighting her wand, she followed after Draco. Ron followed her, then Harry.

Albus locked the gate and was soon bringing up the rear. "Would anyone like a sherbet lemon?"

"NO!" came the chorus from all of them.