Title: Eyes of the Chosen
Author: Emcee
Summary: Ron finds out about Harry's attack on Hermione, Harry talks about demons with Sakura and Draco is threatened by Lucius.
Author's Note: Thank-you to my muses, Rae and Fre and my beta and Pablo. This story is AU to "Order of the Phoenix". It is the sequel to Labyrinth of Illusion.

Disclaimer: "Harry Potter" and the characters, places and things related to it do not belong to me. They are from the brilliant mind of JK Rowling. They belong to her and her publishers. I am not making any profit from this fan fiction.

CHAPTER SIX
Alone

The Hospital Wing, surprisingly, had a better view of the grounds than Gryffindor Tower.

Ron supposed it was fitting, considering there was not much else to do while laid up, besides stare out the large, arched window. The lake was below, morning's early light sparkling on the surface. A long, suction-cupped tentacle broke the surface, causing the light to ripple. The sun had just barely reached over the horizon, the red and yellows of the morning spreading across the sky. The snow sparkled in this new day's light.

He resolved to make an effort to view the sunrise more often. It was quite beautiful at the time of day, so peaceful... Ron was almost able to forget that sparkling snow was marred with the gypsy's blood.

Jakhori... Her name had been Jakhori. The name had come to Ron during his sleep. He was sure Dumbledore did not need that information. The Headmaster had his own resources.

Ron got up from the windowsill, carefully padding across the floor. His stocking feet made no sound. The others in the Hospital Wing were still asleep.

Harry had been yelling out again. There had not been many days in the past year that terrifying dreams hadn't plagued him. Ron couldn't understand why Harry didn't go crazy all on his own, without the aid of Kitsune magic. So much pain had plagued him.

No one, not Sirius, or Hermione, or Mrs. Weasley, or even Dumbledore could help him.

This was going to end badly. Ron couldn't get that horrible thought out of his mind. Voldemort wouldn't be happy until it was Harry who was gutted on the ground, his eyes gouged out.

A shiver went through Ron as the image penetrated his mind. His best friend, dead at Voldemort's feet.

Even worse was the thought of Hermione dead at Voldemort's feet, Harry at his side. That had been his first vision, the one burned into his brain. The Labyrinth may have been gone, but the fear was still there: Harry serving Voldemort, a Dark Lord in his own right.

"Harry!" Hermione cried out from her bed. She began to thrash around. Ron felt his throat constrict. "Harry, no! Stop! Please!"

Ron was torn between anger and panic as he listened to Hermione cry out. He couldn't seem to move his feet. He couldn't call out to her, wrest her from her dreams. There was undiluted fear in her voice. She was terrified of Harry.

Hermione thrashed so hard, she threw herself out of bed. She hit the floor, her feet tangled in her bedding. "Ow...." She groaned. She brought a hand to her head, gingerly touching where her head hit the floor.

"Hermione," Ron was suddenly given back control of his body. He knelt beside her, untangling her. "Are you all right?"

"Huh?" She blinked. "I'm... I'm fine."

"You were dreaming," Ron croaked, "About Harry."

Hermione drew her lower lip in, nodding slowly. "I know. I was dreaming about... When Harry brought us to the Labyrinth."

"He tricked me. Used Petrificus Totalus on me." Ron looked up into Hermione's eyes. They were shining from unshed tears. He was afraid to ask, but more afraid of letting her live with the nightmare alone. "... What did Harry do to you?"

"I jumped her."

Ron turned his head to Harry's bed. He was sitting up in his bed. Despite not having his glasses on yet, he looked fully awake. "I assaulted her. Made her fear me. I tried to... I wanted to..."

"Harry, it wasn't you," Hermione insisted.

Harry laughed. "Funny, your subconscious doesn't believe that." He slipped his glasses on. "I wanted to rape you, Hermione." He laughed. It was mirthless; a bitter chuckle of self-loathing. "Is that what you wanted to know, Ron? I know you love her. I kissed her until she bled and tried to take her. How do you feel about that?"

Ron twisted the sheets in his hands. He stared down at the floor. He tried to ignore the writhing in his stomach. His knuckles were turning white with force. "It wasn't you."

"Are you sure about that?" Harry voice was a low hiss. "You know, I love her too. And you know she loves me. That's what's scaring you so much right now, isn't it, Hermione? I was ready to rape and kill you and you still love me. I feel really sorry for you, Hermione..."

Ron leapt up, whirling around. He grabbed Harry, slamming him against the wall. He was shaking as he held Harry.

Tears stained Harry's cheeks. He laughed bitterly again, a small smile on his face. "Come on, Ron... Do it. Someone's going to kill me, I'd rather it be my best friend. Just make it quick."

"Get out," Ron snarled, releasing Harry.

"I knew you would hate me," Harry rubbed his neck.

"I'm telling you to get out because I love you," Ron rasped, sitting back down to Hermione. "If you stay here I will kill you."

Harry scowled, slinking to the door.

"And Harry." Ron put his arm around Hermione. "Don't try to get me angry again. Next time I may not be so charitable."

"Wow," Sakura sat down in Dumbledore's office. "This is the first time I've been in here and Fawkes hasn't tried to poke my eyes out."

Dumbledore gave a tight smile, looking at the Phoenix perched at his side. "Yes, Fawkes doesn't really care for metamorphic dark creatures. And on that..." Dumbledore narrowed his gaze on Sakura. She was shifting uncomfortably. "How are you adjusting? This must be quite a shock to your system."

"It's different," Sakura admitted. "Very different. But... It's good. It was unnatural, having her inside me. But I can't help but... Miss her. She was part of my life for such a long time. I'm not used to not hearing her thoughts."

"Your bore a cross for such a long time. You must give yourself time to forget the weight." Dumbledore folded his hands on his desk. "I just hope you can handle some responsibilities while you adjust."

"Of course. I'm here to help, Professor. I got an owl from Sirius last night about the young woman--"

"Sakura, not the murder. I need your assistance in another matter." Dumbledore stood, quickly crossing the room to stand beside her. He placed a hand on her shoulder. "I would like you to take over teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts."

Sakura began to laugh. "Oh... That's very funny, Professor."

"I'm serious, Miss Tsukino."

Sakura stood up quickly, whirling around. "But Professor Dumbledore, I'm an Auror, not a professor."

"As I told Alastor, that makes you all the more qualified," Dumbledore gave her a gentle smile. "These students do not need a teacher. They need someone who understands what dark wizards will do. You can teach them that."

"But Professor..."

"Sakura," Dumbledore moved back to his desk, sitting down with a heavy sigh. "I'm rather in a bind here. The students will be arriving tonight. They have no Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, now that Gwendolyn--"

He stopped speaking when he saw her face cut. "I mean, you were doing a fine job as Professor under the guise of... Err..."

"Professor, that wasn't me." Sakura sat down again. "That was Yasha. I-- I can't be a teacher."

"Why not?" Dumbledore raised an eyebrow in question.

Sakura's cheeks turned a furious red. "Professor, children frighten me."

"These are hardly children, they are adolescents."

"All the worse!" Sakura exclaimed. "Adolescents are children with raging hormones and problems with authority figures! I didn't like teenagers even when I was one!"

"Sakura, please... I need someone I trust."

Sakura looked up at Dumbledore, shaking her head. "How can you trust me? After everything that's happened? I nearly turned Harry to Voldemort. I almost killed Sirius, Remus, Hermione, Ron and Hagrid... I shouldn't be given a job, I should be sent to Azkaban."

Dumbledore gave Sakura a pat on the shoulder. "Sakura, guilt is a terribly unattractive quality, especially when it is unfounded. You were a victim, not an instigator. No one holds it against you."

"You sound like Remus." Sakura laughed bitterly.

"Well, Mr. Lupin has always been very astute, particularly when it comes to you."

"And I'm sure his hormones never come into play." Sakura leaned back in her chair.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "I wouldn't know about such things. I don't give you leeway because I find you attractive. Quite frankly, you are not my type. I am giving you leeway because you deserve it. Please, Sakura-- I need you. I don't know anyone else who can teach Defence Against the Dark Arts. Not at this late a date."

Sakura put her head in her hands. "This is going to be hell."

Dumbledore smiled. "That's the spirit."

What was he doing?

Harry wandered through the corridors, is stomach tied up in knots.

He thought he was doing better. He, Ron and Hermione had been getting along. They had been working together on Ron's vision, trying to find out about the murder of the Gypsy girl.

But in the Hospital Wing, seeing Hermione's look of fear... She was terrified of him, deep down in her heart. Harry had shaken her to her core during their time in the Girl's Dormitory.

Harry was staring to get hazy about all of the events. He just remembered the want, the need... He needed to get Hermione into the Labyrinth. He wanted to scare her, use her feelings against her.

Use his own feelings against her.

Harry had told Ron he loved Hermione. Certainly he loved her as a friend, one of the only people he trusted implicitly. But did he? In his rational mind, he had never thought of Hermione as anything more than a friend who was very pretty and very smart and very fun to be around.

Good Lord, he did love her.

The past, when Harry realised he was in love, he immediately began to have fantasies about being fawned over after winning at Quidditch-- At least that's how it had been with Cho.

Right now he just felt like he had been punched in the gut.

The attack on Hermione was within him. Deep in his heart, with all morals stripped away, he would do it. Everything he felt under the influence of Yasha was part of him. The taunting of Ron, Hermione, Hagrid and Sirius, his own arrogance, the lust for power... It was all part of him.

He was never going to get his friends back. There were never going to be a trio like they were before. Hermione and Ron would pull away from him, they would fear him, eventually accept their hate of him. They would band together, being friends, eventually lovers... Leaving him behind alone.

Alone. That was how he was supposed to be, wasn't it? He was going to have to fight Voldemort. He knew that deep down. He didn't need to be a Seer to find that vision. Voldemort wasn't going to stop until one of them was dead.

Harry had hoped he would have Ron and Hermione by his side when his final battle occurred. He cursed Yasha for taking that luxury away from him. Maybe they would have found a way to fight together, if it hadn't been for her.

But Yasha was dead. Lupin had torn her down, while Hermione destroyed the source of her power. There was nothing, not even a corpse, to be angry at.

He couldn't be angry with Gwendolyn, the face of the betrayal. She had been a pawn in the game as he was. Besides, she was in St. Mungo's, locked up and tied down, mindlessly bemoaning her fate.

There was one face left... Someone Harry could hold responsible for everything. She had stood idly by, watching Yasha destroy Harry piece by piece. She hadn't done a thing to stop the deterioration of Harry's friendships.

And she was currently coming down the corridor.

"Harry?" Miss Tsukino stopped, clutching the tattered robes to her chest. "What are you doing up so early? I have to take clothes to Re--"

"It's your fault!" Harry bellowed, throwing himself at Miss Tsukino. He clutched his fists, pounding them against any part of the tiny witch he could find in his blind rage. Tears clouded his eyes and his nails dug into his palms. "They hate me! They're going to go on without me! You didn't do anything! You let her ruin us! You were there and you didn't do anything!"

Harry's feeble punches died away as he slid to the floor, hiccuping between sobs. "They're never going to forgive me... Never... I hurt them both...."

Miss Tsukino slid down, smoothing Harry's unruly hair. "I have had all of these thoughts myself, Harry... What Yasha did to us, it was her doing, her nature. She was a demon. She had no soul. She tried to take yours away from you. That's why you did what you did. She," Miss Tsukino began to get choked up. "She kidnapped your soul. And your soul is who you truly are."

Harry furiously wiped tears away. "How are you sure?"

"Because as you said," Miss Tsukino murmured, "I was there and I didn't do anything." She took Harry's hand. "I know what you're going through. Believe me. Yasha didn't just try to destroy you. What I did... What she forced me to do." She winced. "Who she forced me... I wanted to die. But I couldn't stop it. Neither could you. With Voldemort and Akkei by her side, she was more powerful than both of us."

"She didn't drive you from your best friends," Harry mumbled.

"She did." Miss Tsukino wiped tears from Harry's cheek. "She tried. Do you want to hear a story?"

"Not really," Harry sighed, "but you'll tell me anyway."

"When I was in school, I met a guy. He was sweet, funny, and very cute... I fell head over heels in love with him. And he loved me back. Well, Yasha didn't approve of the relationship. She wanted a stronger companion. And the more I loved him, the more she loathed him. She began to come out, taking control of me. She abused him, yelled at him, cheated on him... I felt sick every moment it happened, but I couldn't stop it. For a while, my lover wanted to hate me for all she did. But he couldn't. Because the bonds we had formed were stronger than the Kitsune. I can't believe you don't have the same bonds with Ron and Hermione."

Harry swallowed hard, nodding slowly. "That doesn't make me feel better."

"I know." Miss Tsukino stood up. "But it will help when you realise Ron and Hermione can never hate you."

Harry looked up at Miss Tsukino. "If your boyfriend loved you so much... How come you two aren't still together?"

Miss Tsukino clutched the robes in her hands. "You would have to ask him."

Harry pulled himself off the floor. "Will it get easier? The guilt?"

"I don't know." Miss Tsukino shrugged. "It hasn't for me... But you learn to live with it. To let it drive you. If you have something to atone for, you fight harder."

"I don't want to fight," Harry whispered, "I want to be left alone."

Miss Tsukino looked down. "I'm so sorry..."

Without another word, she left.

Draco clutched his luggage, holding his head up high. He stood completely still as students milled around him, waiting for the train to arrive.

There were dark bags under his grey eyes. He hadn't slept all night. Every time he shut his eyes, he saw Martja's corpse, gazing up at him with her hollow eye sockets.

"Draco," Lucius drawled, placing a hand on his son's shoulder. "Are you all right? You seem a bit peaked."

"I didn't get enough sleep last night," Draco replied truthfully. He still hadn't told his father he had seen Martja. That he had seen what he had done to her.

"Draco, is there something you would like to talk about?" Lucius' grip tightened. "Are you still bothered about what Martja said to you?"

"No sir. Why should I be bothered by the rantings of a crazy Gypo?" He tried to fill his voice with the revulsion and malice that was his trademark, but he was too distracted by the trembling of his hands.

"Draco..." Lucius' voice dripped with frigid severity. "Before you leave, I would like to ask you... What is the first rule of our home?"

Draco set his jaw, hissing through clenched teeth. "Never speak of what goes on within our home."

"Good boy," Lucius caught Draco's pointed chin in his gloved hand, tipping his face up to stare into his eyes. There was an odd spark in Lucius' usually cold eyes. "Now listen, Draco... I won't pretend I don't know what you think happened to Martja. You will mention it to no one. The business of our family stays within our family. I will not have you telling anyone about what has happened. If you hear rumours that spark something within your limited memory, you will keep it to yourself. Do you understand?"

"Perfectly, Father," Draco replied.

Lucius smiled tightly. "Good. Have a pleasant term."

Draco boarded the train, not looking back at his father. He could feel the cold grey gaze on him as he boarded.

Draco sat down in the Prefect's compartment. It was devoid of company. At least Crabbe and Goyle weren't allowed in here. He would be alone with his thoughts.
Heir or not, Lucius would see Draco dead before he would let his secrets out. He certainly made enough threats to it.

The look in his eyes... Lucius didn't trust him. Nothing would protect him from his father.

Unless...

Draco shut his eyes, trying to swallow the lump in his throat.

Well Father, you always wanted me to be a good Slytherin. A Slytherin protects himself, and only himself, by any means necessary.

Even if it means this.

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