Harry Potter and the Descent into Madness

Chapter 1: Doubt part 8

Draco and Harry have a confrontation that leaves Harry petrified and Benjamin unconscious, but things aren't over yet. Ginny's arrived, spells at the ready. Will she prevail? Will Draco beat her? Or will they all set aside their differences?

Or maybe, peace is impossible, not just between Draco's friends and Harry's, but in the hearts and minds of both wizards.

"Matthew, Malfoy, what was that about?" Ginny asks. "You just ..."

"There was something wrong with Benjamin's eyes," Matt replies solemnly.

"I don't need to answer to you," I answer, snappishly.

Ginny's wand lifts straight toward me. I flinch. I remembered her bat bogey curse. I close my eyes, but the horrible feeling of furry flying critters dripping out of my nose never happens. I open my eyes. Matt stands in front of me, stumbling backward.

I gape at him. He sways slightly, stumbling. Ginny aimed the hex at my face, but as a first-year, Matt was much smaller than me. How had he stopped the spell?

"Nicely done," Matt congratulates her, through his wheezing. "Now, if you don't mind ...?"

He grips me and throws me over his shoulder. "Hey!" I cry, struggling against his surprisingly firm grip.

Matt walks past Ginny and Luna, who is pulling off Harry's invisibility cloak. Ginny's lower jaw clenches, and she raises her hand again. Matt ducks as her spell hit right above our heads, before running in a zigzag, still crouching, away from the hall.

When he finally stops and sets me down, I note that we're close to the banquet hall. Matt coughs, into his hand, leaving blue, sticky bile. "Show me the mark,"

"I don't know what you mean." I clutch the sleeve of my left arm.

He pulls it up, examining the mark. "That must have hurt,"

"Shove off. You don't know anything."

"You look scared of something."

"It's not your business," I growl.

"If I tell you a secret of mine, will you tell me yours?"

"What?"

"If I tell someone else your secret, you'll be able to repay that by telling others about my secret." He fingers his scarf.

"So how is it a secret? If you're willing to tell me, I mean."

"If people knew, I'd be hated and treated as lesser." He replies solemnly. "I've only told Madame Pomphrey because she needed to know. A couple of others have figured it out on their own. Not many, though."

"Are you sure that people would hate you?"

"Hagrid has also received plenty of hate," He replies, "and I'm more ... rare, you could say."

I stare at him, pondering. It would be nice to talk to him. And if he was a half-breed, like he seemed to be implying, there were plenty of people who would be interested in his secret. Those who would make life difficult for him. "Show me your secret first, and I'll tell you mine."