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Hate, Prejudice and Secret Intentions by Rebekka
Chapter 2 : The Colour of Magick
 
Rating: MatureChapter Reviews: 62


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The Colour of Magick



”Do you know what he looks like?” Harry whispered to Hermione. They were standing tightly against a wall, waiting for their new teacher. All the seventh year students were gathered in front of their locked classroom door in one of the many towers of the castle. There really wasn’t enough room for all of them and they were getting agitated. Some people were already arguing.

Their teacher was late.

”No, I haven’t even heard of him. He’s not in any of my books,” Hermione answered. She had to lean closer to Harry, because the mass of students kept jostling around them. ”I have no idea what this course is about either. As you should know,” and this she said with a hint of preaching in her voice. ”There was no booklist and in the timetable, there was written only: ’Magick’ - with a k.”

”Maybe it's something to do with old magic,” Ron joined in their whispered conversation. ”Maybe he’s some kind of a shaman…” He didn’t have a chance to complete his sentence, because somebody pushed him hard against the other Gryffindor students and made him fall down to the ground, landing on top of a girl named Miriam. She screamed loudly and Ron, trying to get up, blushed from head to toe, feeling like all he had were arms and legs, tangled up all over her.

”Watch where you’re going,” was the only apology they got from the intruder. Malfoy and his goons passed them, grinning widely while pushing other people out of their way as politely as they had done to Ron.

Hermione was fuming when she gave Ron a helping hand and pulled him up. What right did that arrogant, spoiled little brat think he had, treating people like this. He was the Head Boy, for Merlin’s sake. Didn’t he know what it meant; how many people before him had cherished the honour. She absolutely hated the ferret.

”Malfoy,” she demanded. ”Come back here and apologise to them at once.” She sounded a lot like a teacher and looked even more so, hands on her waist and a grim look in her eyes.

He stopped in his tracks and turned around very slowly. His face was expressionless, but his hands clenched into fists, so tight his knuckles were getting white. She had broken their silent promise not to stir up anything between them ever again. She had managed to keep her mouth shut for two weeks, two freaking weeks. She was unbelievable.

”I think it should be you apologising to me for speaking to me in that tone of voice. Or actually, for speaking to me at all. Go freeze Hell, Granger.”

Malfoy turned and continued to walk away with his laughing friends.

”Arrogant, spoiled little ferret…” she muttered under her breath while cleaning Ron’s clothes in a ferocious manner. The poor boy was trying to apologise to the girl, Miriam, he had stumbled into and at the same time avoid Hermione’s violent expressions of affection.

Suddenly their teacher was there, standing in the furthest corner of the corridor, watching them, listening.

He was nothing that they had expected.

Where was that old man with a long beard, earthy clothes and wandering eyes? He was too young to be a teacher and his appearance lacked any kind of respectful propriety. He had long, smooth, black hair, he wore brick-red robes and his eyes and nails were painted black. He looked more like a trainee wizard with an over-developed sense of drama than a bona fide teacher.

But the weirdest thing about him was that he wasn’t completely there. It felt almost like you couldn’t see him, if you looked from a different angle, but still, he was there. Parts of him just seemed to be somewhere else as if he was too stretched, too thin for the eye to see. It made your eyes hurt, if you tried too hard to get a clear view of him.

He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed.

”Is that him?” Hermione mouthed to Harry and Ron, her hands still brushing off the non-existent dirt from Ron’s shirt. Both boys just shrugged and continued to stare at their teacher. There was something hypnotic about him.

The man pulled his hair back and tied it into a knot at the back of his neck. Then he walked past the staring eyes (people were more than willing to give him room) to the locked classroom door, which opened without any effort on his part, and stepped inside.

He left the door open, inviting them in with a gesture.

There was neither chairs nor desks in the classroom, only a huge chandelier in the middle of the ceiling and pillows and rugs to the sides of the room. Their teacher was waiting for them in front of a blackboard, on which he had written: Call me Amadeus.

Hermione felt immediately uncomfortable as she walked into the classroom. Her heart climbed up to her throat, her hands began to sweat and her legs felt like jelly. She was quite sure that there had been some kind of a barrier in front of the doorway - a magical barrier, which had read her aura or something. And it wasn’t just the room, their teacher was giving her the willies, too. How many bad apples had they had among their teachers over the past years, how many indeed.

She was going to watch him closely.

Finally, after all the Gryffindors, Slytherins, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs had gathered into the large room, Amadeus spoke. He had a very deep, soulful voice, which carried all the way to the back of the room.

”I have no intention of making you like me or my teachings. My only duty is to teach you how to survive, nothing else.”

He started to walk among them.

”Being here isn’t easy for me, so I expect you not to waste my time. I want your full attention, and if you cannot give me that, I wish you to leave now.” Amadeus eyed them all carefully, intruding their minds like they were open books for him to read. His gaze seemed to bore into their very souls, making them feel small and exposed.

”You two,” he pointed at two Ravenclaw boys. ”It seems like you would prefer to be outside flying, like the second years. You are free to go.”

The boys looked shocked and tried to object, but Amadeus just waited for them to leave. They walked out, tails between their legs, closing the door behind them.

Amadeus continued to walk among them like nothing had happened.

His eyes made Hermione feel like she was just a pool of knowledge to him and not a person at all. He roamed through her mind almost violently and when he finally released her eyes and continued to study his other students, she was barely able to stand still with her trembling legs. She needed a friendly shoulder to lean on.

Ron turned his concerned eyes to her when she grabbed his arm for support. She gave him the thumbs-up and to her relief, he relaxed a bit. Ron seemed to believe that she wasn’t one to be worried about, because she was so level headed and strong. Sometimes, even her friends didn’t know her that well.

After a few moments of 'getting to know one another’, Amadeus returned to the blackboard and pulled his wand out of his robes. He tossed it from one hand to the other a few times, letting all of them notice it, and then, broke it into a half.

With that he got their undivided attention.

Then he threw the parts to the other end of the room and watched them follow the shattered movements of his damaged wand.

The room seemed to get smaller and darker.

”What happens, if you lose your wand? What happens to your magic then?” His words echoed in the otherwise silent space.

Confusion dominated the room. Their faces were pictures of disbelief and shock, but nobody said a thing. Amadeus let the silence do its work for him, making them more nervous and perhaps even scared. They needed the emotions, the more they felt the better they would accept the changes. He listened to their breathing getting heavier by the second and soon the tension in the room grew almost unbearable.

He smiled to himself when he finally commanded:

”Sit!”

The power of the word hit them all at the same time, making them fall down to the ground with a soft thud - it was nearly impossible to maintain control over oneself in his presence.

They all felt dumbstruck, Hermione, Ron and Harry among the rest. It wasn’t easy to accept that somebody could push you around seemingly without any magic involved. But before anybody could do or say anything, something happened.

After a short moment of complete stillness, the room temperature dropped heavily, and it felt almost as if they had moved into a different place.

Hermione felt the whole room change. It felt almost alive, like it was pulsating, breathing, feeding on their energy. The air turned a dark fiery red and the ground beneath her started to move like a ship in the sea; her senses didn’t work correctly anymore. She felt the need to create some kind of a movement, to tap the floor with her fingers or swing herself back and forth, back and forth. Her brain was overloaded with information, which she couldn’t understand, and the place she was in was too full of strong memories, feelings, colours and ideas. Hermione was getting lost in it all.

Everything around her slowed down, but her mind and heart kept racing faster than ever. She was the only thing that was moving too fast. She heard whispers, words she didn’t understand, and saw faceless monsters of every colour and shape, but the worst part was when she realised that it was all in her mind. The real world was as real as ever and there seemed to be nothing wrong with it. All the wrongness was in her.

She tried to see how the others were reacting - did they see the things she saw - but they seemed to be so far away. She was left alone with her ever growing fear of falling.

And there was nobody to catch her.

”This is the Colour of Magick, the very place…no, the very state Voldemort himself is trying to understand, to control. This is your power, this is your words, your wands, your potions. This is the very essence of magick.” He pulled them back to the reality of normal life and sent the pillows and rugs flying through the air, landing them at his students’ feet.

”You need to rest now. That was the last time you will go there alone. Sleep fifteen minutes and wake up with fresh minds.”

There was no will left in them, other than the need to rest, so without a word, they wrapped the rugs around themselves and fell asleep immediately. Amadeus guarded their sleeping figures with a tired expression on his face. It really was difficult for him to be there.

Hermione dreamed of being a small, furry, pink ball surrounded by millions of other furry balls. If, as a ball, she could have felt something, she would have been the happiest ball in the world. Her life was full of bouncing, pink happiness.

And then she woke up.

There were sounds of people turning, yawning, getting up, but she felt like returning to her dream; it had been so warm and fluffy. But as always, she felt the urge to act properly, and stood up with the rest of the group.

They eyed each other bashfully, as if not sure how the others would react to their vulnerable state of sudden awareness. People rarely slept with strangers, and there was a good reason for that. Something happens when you fall asleep: all the barriers you have created over the years disappear and the child inside you takes over. In those waking moments, you can truly see into the hearts of others.

”There is no need to prolong this,” Amadeus said after everyone had settled themselves. ”Please form four lines and close your eyes. This will take only a second.” Almost all of them wanted to protest, but none did. Curiosity might have been the strongest reason, but then again, Amadeus seemed to get everything the way he wanted.

Before she closed her eyes, Hermione threw a quick glance at Harry. He was standing on her right, whispering something to Ron and to get his attention, she poked him in the arm. He turned to her, smiling widely and touched her cheek with the back of his hand. It was an unexpected gesture of fondness, and to his amusement she blushed.

Just as she was about to pay him back with a hug, she felt eyes on her.

Hermione turned to see, who was watching her and almost swallowed her tongue, when she caught him off guard. His cold, grey eyes were full of mixed feelings: anger, hate and - something else that he had tried to hide from her. But she had seen it. She didn’t know what it was, but she had seen it. For the lack of a better word, she would have described it as jealousy. She shivered at the thought and pushed him to the far rims of her mind.

The men around her had truly gone crazy.

She decided to ignore them, closed her eyes and waited for the strange man to begin his teaching.

”First and third line, please turn 180 degrees. Good. Now, grab the right hand of the person standing opposite you and push yourself away from him or her. You will stumble on to people, but do not stop until you cannot move. Let your movement guide you.”

Hermione did as she was told. She tried to grab the right hand of the person, standing in front of her in the first line, but it was quite difficult. Finally they were able to take one another’s hands and push themselves to movement. She managed to avoid the collision between her and the person standing behind her and started to whirl around faster than she thought to be possible.

She lost all sense of direction and time.

There were only invisible powers that made her spin, made her fly, made her feel exhausted, like she had been running many miles, for many hours. And then it all stopped. For the longest time, she could hear only her own heartbeats and ragged breathing. Finally she noticed that Amadeus had been talking a quite awhile, but she heard only his last words, ”…is your partner. Now, take his or her hand and open your eyes.”

She groped for the person in front of her, but couldn’t reach anybody. For a fleeting second, she was afraid that she had failed, that she had done something terribly wrong and there wasn’t a person there, but then she felt fingers tangle around hers. The smile that lighted her face was full of utter triumph.

She opened her eyes, only to realise that her least favourite person was standing there, holding her hand. The only thing that made her feel even remotely good, was the expression on his face; he looked way beyond shocked.

At exactly the same time, they let go of each other’s hands.

The effect was immediate: both of them lost their footing and fell down to their knees. Hermione was the first one to try to get up, but she couldn’t move a muscle in her body. She felt like her whole body had been locked down.

”Did I say anything about letting go? I think not. Pay attention, the two of you,” Amadeus said, when he got to them. He took their hands to his and united them. Again the effect was immediate and they could move normally; they both stood up quickly.

”This is ancient magick.” He sighed heavily and then continued, ”My people have inherited the knowledge from their forefathers, so I wish you to take it seriously. I will tell you everything you need to do or know. Do not overstep the boundaries.”

Hermione and Draco stood there, eyeing each other accusingly, knowing quite well that they were helpless against the situation. They could do absolutely nothing about it. But they could make the other feel thoroughly miserable about it, and that they were determined to do.

Hermione winced with pain, when Draco squeezed her hand, almost crushing her fingers. She really tried to ignore him, but was unable to do so, due to his childishness. Her hand was getting numb and with her remaining strength she dug her nails deep into his palm. Draco took the hint and released his grip a bit, but continued to hold her hand like she was the vilest thing he had ever encountered. She rolled her eyes at him.

”Your partner will be able to guide you, while you practise wandless magic. She or he will keep you safe, when you concentrated on taming the magical energy, both inside and around you.” Amadeus then explained to them why it was so important to keep the connection between them at all times. In the beginning of their training, they were vulnerable to tricks played by their own mind. Later on, it would all change. After a few warnings, he let the walls between the different worlds fall down again and sent them back to the Colour of Magick.

This time Hermione felt almost normal at first. As much as she hated to admit it, he was able to keep her in a better balance, and she suspected that she did the same to him. It was weird to look at it all. It was as if she was out of her own mind, watching it all with somebody else’s eyes. ’Freaky’ was the word she was looking for.

To Draco the whole situation was laughable. He was quite sure that there was a god and it definitely hated him. It was probably playing chess with him right now - he was just a pawn in an endless game of humiliation. He felt miserable, and so the scenery in front of him was a picture of misery. Draco was walking in a desert, so vast and so dead that it ached to watch it, but he didn’t notice anything. He was too busy pitying himself.

Hermione glanced at the blond boy and instantly, she was walking in the same desert alongside him. It nearly scared the wits out of her, because she most definitely didn’t want to explore his mind; she didn’t want to know his demons. Malfoy was too far gone (a lost soul as she might have described him to a fellow Gryffindor) to be good for her to know. What creatures would lurk in the corners of his mind - she really didn’t want to find out.

But as much as she tried, she couldn’t shake herself out of his mind. She was stuck with him, forced to follow him wherever he might lead her. The only problem was that he didn’t seem to know where he was going. It was as if he was blindfolded - or lost.

And then suddenly Hermione was standing in a dark street, alone. Malfoy was gone and there was nobody else in sight either; for the second time that day, she was completely alone. The rain was tap-tap-tapping on cold, hard pavement and it brought to her mind an old song she had heard as a child. She couldn’t remember its origins nor a name for it, just the melody that chilled her more than anything she had seen or heard so far.

There was no reason for her to be so scared. Sure, it was dark and mysteriously quiet, but she felt normal and there was nothing in the darkness. Nothing at all. There was clearly no reason to panic.

Her heart skipped a beat, when she heard the voices, coming towards her. She swallowed hard as she realised who they were.

”There is one family that needs a visit too. Maybe we’ll go there later tonight, but let’s deal with these people first.” A group of masked Death Eaters came to Hermione’s sight, dragging three people behind them; the poor Muggles looked like they had been tortured already. She wanted to scream, she really did, but all she could do was slide down the wall behind her and hug herself. They were going to kill them.

One of the masked men, the one who had spoken earlier, grabbed the first Muggle by her hair and pushed her to the ground. She was begging for her life, sobbing wildly, but it made no difference to the man’s actions. The words seemed to kill all the remaining light in the street.

”Avada Kedavra!”

Hermione screamed. She jumped from her hiding place, trying to find her wand, but couldn’t reach it. She didn’t mind, all she wanted was his eyes, those cold eyes that had no mercy in them. But as she got to the Death Eaters, she ran through them; they were ghosts to her, not there for her to attack. She tried to touch them, tried to kick them, but nothing happened. She screamed as loud as she could, hurting her throat.

Frustrated, she walked back to her watching place. She could do nothing, they weren’t real and they weren’t there. But it didn’t make her feel any better. This had happened.

The killer of the group motioned one of the masked figures to come to him and finish off the last two frightened Muggles. He seemed to resist for a second, but then took his wand out of his pocket and pointed it at the men kneeling in front of him. The wizard said the words ending the Muggles’ lives like he would have ordered a meal in a restaurant. Nothing special.

Tears were running down Hermione’s cheeks, but she was unaware of them. The only thing she noticed were the dead people lying on the pavement, her kind, her race, her future. And the more she looked at them, the more they reminded of her parents, her loving mother and father. She was on her hands and knees, unable to control herself anymore. She collapsed to the ground, unconscious.



”What ever you do, do not let go of her hand,” Amadeus ordered in the nick of time. Draco was just about to let go of Hermione’s hand, as she fell down to the ground.

Amadeus had brought them all back at the same time Hermione had fallen down and after a few seconds of recovery; they had surrounded the couple in question.

”What did you do to her?” Ron and Harry said at the same time, both ready to jump at him.

He looked up at them, annoyed, while kneeling beside her unconscious body. ”Nothing, she just passed out. I was minding my own business and she just fell. Crazy bitch.”

”Watch your mouth, Malfoy,” Harry said, pulling out his wand.

”Stop that, immediately,” Amadeus interrupted them. ”She needs you now, you have to find her. Her mind is in your hands.” He spoke directly to Draco, looking at him appraisingly.

Draco could see that he was more than serious, but he just wanted to laugh. The mind of the precious Mudblood. What would happen if he just let go? Would she be forever lost in some kind of a dark place, would she be alone till the end of the world, would she?

”Don’t you dare to let go,” Harry said quietly. His eyes were steady and the wand in his hand was aimed at Malfoy. ”If you do, I will chop you to pieces and feed you to Aragog.”

The blond boy looked at him carefully, but the smirk on his face was as wide as ever. ”Nah, wasn’t going to. I want to see what makes this girl tick.” His expression changed into a careless one, as he continued, ”Now, would you please shut up, so I can go save this damned girl.”

He closed his eyes and concentrated on her mind; on their united hands and with Amadeus’ help he was on his way.

Draco felt less certain about himself than what he seemed to be. Where was she and how the hell could he find her? And what was he supposed to do, when he did find her? It was a whole new territory for him. He had never saved anybody before, except probably himself – and even that he wasn’t sure about.

Draco started to walk down the street, unaware of the song playing in the shadows. He got easily lost into his own thoughts, as his father had noted. ”You will never learn to control your mind, if you let your thoughts get the better of you,” his father had said to him time and again.

What did his father have to do with any of this? He didn’t want to think about the loser, the escaped convict, the one who couldn’t keep his honour. But Lucius was there to stay, whether he liked it or not. So, he let him be there, let him walk with him.

Draco tried to keep his mind cool, steady, strong, but something was lurking in the shadows, something was after him and it was breathing down his neck. He turned to see if somebody was behind him, but there was only black emptiness there; everything real was in front of him. He wanted to turn around, leave the bint behind, open his eyes and say that he couldn’t find her, but something kept him going. He wasn’t sure what it was and he was pretty sure that he didn’t want to find out either. He wasn’t noble or anything, he just didn’t wish to lose the game.

Suddenly, he slipped on to something and fell to the ground on his back. He cursed loudly, holding his aching wrist and tried to see what had made him slip. When the realisation hit him, he almost screamed – not a manly scream, but a girly-girl I’m-oh-so-frightened! scream.

He was swimming in a pool of blood and the longer he stayed there, the deeper the pool became. But the worst part was that there were people there with him, dead people. And somehow he knew that they were all his victims, future victims of his cruel nature and blood-bigotry. And then, he just screamed, not caring if he sounded weak or womanly.

Still screaming, he pulled himself out of the pool, back to the pavement. He ran as fast as he could, not giving a second thought to anything.

Draco came to a sudden halt, as he noticed Hermione, lying there on her stomach. He hadn’t expected to find her that easily and at first, he didn’t believe she was real at all. She was some kind of a trick, she had to be. But then she moved slightly and her muddy face turned towards the streetlight, giving him the confirmation he needed. He could see nobody else though; there was nothing that could have made her fall unconscious.

Draco watched her still figure awhile and then threw her over his shoulder and started to carry her back to the realness of the real world. He didn’t have a clue what to do to her if that didn’t work.

”Hell, Granger. You’re heavy,” he muttered to her. ”I can’t believe a tiny person like you could weight this much. You should lose some weight.”

The scenery had changed yet again. They were now in a forest with huge trees and ground cover so thick he had difficulties maintaining his steady pace. She was still unconscious, but her eyes were moving, as if she was dreaming. He really needed for her to wake up, there was not much strength left in him and this world seemed to be more of hers than his. He needed her to guide them out of there.

”Bugger,” he groaned. ”Open your eyes, you stupid bint. I can’t carry you any further.” He dropped her to the ground awkwardly and then, sat down next to her, cross-legged. He tried to remember anything that might help him now, but there was nothing that fit the picture. He had got lost into her mind and she wasn’t there to help him out. It was the single most irritating situation he had ever been in. He had to wait for her to wake up.

It wasn’t long before he, too, fell asleep.

Not a good idea.

”Do you know which part of me is you?”

He lay beside her, aware of her scent, which had a touch of spring and freshly cut grass in it.

”Are you sure you want to leave?”

The more he breathed her in, the more exposed he felt. She was crawling inside his skin.

”You want to touch me, don’t you?”

He woke up, jumping away from her, breathing heavily. His eyes were wide with shock, when he looked at her. Then his eyes narrowed and an evil look clouded his face.

”What are you doing to me, bitch?” he snarled at her.

Hermione opened her eyes. It took awhile for her eyes to get used to the light, but then finally, she could see Malfoy, standing in front of her, an ugly expression on his face.

”What?” she mumbled. Her head ached and there was no feeling in her legs. She didn’t have any clue where she was. And why was he looking at her like she was some kind of a vile monster? She had been asleep. What could she possibly have done to him? Annoying immature idiot.

She stood up and took a few wobbly steps in his direction.

”Stay there, don’t come near me.” His voice was cold and his eyes even colder. He backed away a few steps.

There was something wrong with him, had he gone mad? How long had they been there, how long had she been asleep? Why did it have to be him? Of all people, why him?

She put her hands up in peace and said, ”Okay, okay, I’ll leave you alone, just tell me what happened. I don’t remember anything. Where are we? Where is everybody? What happened?”

He relaxed a bit. It was only a dream, nothing else, just a dream.

”We’re in your mind, Mudblood. The Colour of Magick, remember? You passed out; I had to come find you. Here we are.”

She said nothing for a moment as if she was pondering something and then asked, ”I remember being in your mind, how come we’re in mine now?”

”How should I know? I just know that in my mind, there are no forests and cute, little birds like that.” He pointed at a small, red-black bird on a tree branch.

”That makes sense,” she said more to herself than him and then continued aloud, ”I think this is the Forbidden Forest. I dream a lot about it, so it would be natural for it to be one of the challenges my mind throws at me. We are close to home, so we could probably find our way back with a bit of meditation or something like that.”

”You mean holding hands and mumbling stupid words? I’m not up for that.” He was annoyed that she had come around so quickly, but even more so, because he didn’t want to hold her hands. She was…well, she was a filthy Mudblood.

”Yes, I figured that out already. You can just stand there, I will get us home.” She kneeled on the ground, sat on top of her legs, united her hands and started to concentrate on the room in one of the towers at Hogwarts. It didn’t take long for her to find it. She saw herself first and then also Malfoy, kneeling beside her and holding her hand. He looked better, now that he wasn’t talking or watching her with disgust in his eyes. He looked almost normal, and very young.

Everybody had concerned looks on their faces. Harry and Ron were standing side by side, watching her intensely. Warmth flowed through her when she looked at them. Her two best friends.

Amadeus watched Hermione too, but not the person lying there on the floor, but the person she was as she watched them all. He startled her, but Amadeus just smiled and motioned her to move where her body lay. She did that and sat up, making them all jump.

”Are you all right?” everybody asked at the same time, but Harry and Ron just stared at her. For an hour, they had been waiting for this moment and now, it was too much. Ron was the first one to hug her and soon Harry joined them.

”Get a room,” Malfoy remarked and then continued with a mocking tone, ”And I would greatly appreciate it if the fine lady could let go of my hand now. You are safe, as you can see.”

She released his hand and said in an equally mocking tone, ”Oh, I must have been so confused earlier, when I didn’t notice you saving me. I apologise and wish to extend my most sincere thanks.”

”Shut up, you know I saved your neck. You owe me.”

”I wasn’t conscious enough to know what it is you did.”

”I guess you weren’t,” he said with an evil grin, which made her blush.

”Oh, go to hell, Malfoy!”

”Not before you, little girl. Not before you.”

Amadeus watched their bickering from further away. He was quite pleased that they had managed to pull it off on their own. But he was feeling tired and it was time to go, so he said, ”Amazingly well done, all of you. You should be proud of yourselves, especially the two of you. That was a very difficult task you just managed to resolve.

”Next time, we will start to practise wandless magic. I wish you to practise with your partner, but be careful. Only practice for short periods at a time and stay in the Colour of Magick only as long as it feels comfortable. It will become easier every time you do it, but don’t get too cocky. Your mind is your worst enemy; there are things you do not want to confront. And keep each other safe. Now, go to lunch. You are very hungry.”

There was a moment of silence. Nobody seemed to know what to do or say, but then, the magic faded and they all began to exit the room. Everyone was talking about the things they had encountered in their own minds. There were similarities between their experiences, but each one had unique qualities in their Colour of Magick, in their power of magick. It was fun to notice that the world hadn’t changed at all and the people in it were still the same.

It made Hermione smile. Her friends had had scary images in their minds too, they had gotten lost, they had suffered from their own weaknesses and still they were there, laughing with her. There was something very comforting in that thought.

But some part of her was still looking for something.

Her eyes searched through the group of Slytherins and as she caught his eyes, he smirked at her. It wasn’t a smile, it wasn’t a mark of a civilized relationship between them, but it wasn’t pure hatred either. She smirked back at him and made him stumble a bit. He really should watch his step.


After the door closed behind his students, Amadeus watched it for a few seconds, breathing unsteadily. Then, he stumbled and fell to the floor on his hands and knees. His eyes had lost their focus and he seemed to be in a lot of pain. It was never a good thing to stay away too long. His heartbeat was getting slower and his mind was turning into a black dot in the vast nothingness.

It was dangerous to go back unaware of himself, but this time he had pushed himself too far. He needed to go home, now.

Amadeus couldn’t hold himself on all fours any longer and had to let go. It was humiliating and degrading, just to wait there, unable to even sit. He wished for the cooling darkness to come and finally, it did.

His body lay there for a short moment and then disappeared, leaving behind only a whisper of his presence and a pile of clothes.


**********

A/N: Thank you for reading this story. It means a lot to me. :) I had many problems with this second chapter, but finally it's done. I hope you liked it.

I would like to add that The Colour of Magic is a book by Terry Pratchett. I haven't read it yet, but the name of the book just gave me this great idea.


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Hate, Prejudice and Secret Intentions: The Colour of Magick

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