The Sexual Education of one Harry Potter.

I know this chapter has taken a lot for me to write, and I have to admit I rewrote this same idea about four or five times. Mostly because my lovely betas pointed out the plot-holes in the story, thank you so much to them.

As always I hope you enjoy this chapter and I will be expecting your comments and critiques. Only through a thorough understanding of one’s errors can a human being hope to improve themselves.

The Sexual education of one Harry Potter.
Story by: Mistress of the Spoils.

Talking with Slughorn had been... interesting, to say the least. While the old man seemed to know more than he let on, Harry had been able to see a glint of determination in his eyes that almost put him at ease. He somehow felt that messing with the man’s idea of control was something no sane Gryffindor would dare to do, much less a Slytherin.

Most likely Malfoy was going to pay for his little take over.

Harry had to smile at the thought.

He was already looking forward to seeing Malfoy at dinner, he would most likely show signs of whatever had transpired in the Slytherin Common Room.

Merlin, he was almost rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

But, like any good feeling Harry had experimented so far, it was not meant to last. Specially as he was stopped on his way to the Quidditch Pit by none other than the boy he had been trying to corner all week.

“Seamus,” he said, surprised. The other boy was leaning casually against a stone wall, his arms crossed over his chest, an eyebrow raised flirtatiously. The very picture of male assuredness.

“Heya, Harry,” the other boy grinned. His eyes racking over Harry’s body slowly. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while, care to join me?”

It was an open threat, Harry knew. He could easily see the tight muscles in Seamus’ arms and the way his eyes narrowed at his open hesitance. Seamus would not be denied today. He was a man on a mission, and he could already guess who the mastermind behind said mission was.

“You are taking me to see your friend, aren’t you, Seamus?” he asked cautiously, his own arms crossed over his chest.

The Irish boy only nodded, his smile still in place.

“Follow me,” he said. “I know you’ll enjoy it.”

Harry rather doubted it, somehow, but was not about to tell an obviously imperio-ed Seamus as much. With as much reluctance as he could muster he followed the taller boy down the corridors. Inside, however, he had been eagerly waiting for an opportunity like this to confront his nemesis for days now, ever since he had witnessed that… appalling scene on the Slytherin dungeons.

He would finally stop Malfoy. Once and for all.

He only hopped the blond enjoyed Azkaban.

He had heard it was quite lovely this time of the year.

Seamus looked over his shoulder at his dorm mate and smirked lightly. He was excited, he could tell, just as the Master had predicted he would.

“This way, Harry,” he said as he opened the door to one of the many abandoned classrooms. “I’m sure you’ll love this place, I know I did.”

Harry scoffed unbelievingly as he entered the room, quite sure Seamus had enjoyed his time in the little classroom as much as he implied with his accustomed leer.

Once inside the room, the green eyed boy could see that, in fact, the little classroom had been turned into a luxurious bedroom plus a cozy sitting room, most likely where Malfoy held his little orgies.

“Oh, Potter. I didn’t think you would actually join us tonight.” And speaking of the devil himself, there was Malfoy, sitting comfortably in a black armchair while delicately sipping a glass of red whine, or at least what appeared to be wine, for all Harry knew he could be inhaling his victims’ blood.

“I’ve actually been trying to get you alone for a little talk, Malfoy. If you know what I mean,” he answered seriously, his eyes set into the other’s silver ones.

Draco laughed softly, setting his glass down and stood up, walking leisurely towards him.

“I do think I know, but I’m afraid your definition of talk and mine tend to differ quite a lot, Harry. May I call you Harry?” Ever the gracious host, Draco offered another armchair to Harry, and motioned for Seamus to sit to the black haired young man’s right.

Harry didn’t miss any of the boy’s gestures as he sat down, always aware of the other people in the room. Even though he could not tell who they were, due to the golden masks they wore, he guessed Neville must be one of the tallest by the enchanted window, and he could make out some girls. Most likely one of them was Daphne.

Draco seemed to notice his scrutiny as he chuckled lightly.

“Comparing our group to the Death Eaters, I would guess?” he asked as he sipped his wine. Harry narrowed his eyes, he had not thought about it yet, but those mask did look a little like Death Eaters’ masks, except maybe for the roman numeral on top of each.

“How did you guess?” he snapped, staring as one of the masked guests served him his own glass of wine.

“Well, I can guess because I thought the same thing when I saw them myself, dreadful things, aren’t they? Unfortunately I didn’t get to choose them,” he explained, still smiling fondly as he gazed at the group of black robbed figures. By then, Seamus had changed into his own black robe and was reverently putting on his own golden mask before joining the group.

Harry could say at least that he seemed really happy to be wearing his uniform.

“Why did you bring me here, Malfoy, what do you want from me?” he asked finally, a little tired of the mystery. Draco grinned.

“I just wanted to answer your questions. You have been our most annoying follower, I’m afraid, and it would be very nice for you to stop telling on us with our Professors.” Malfoy’s eyes had turned feral at that, and Harry was a little ashamed to say he felt happy he had told Slughorn.

“How did you know I’ve been spying on your meetings all week?” he asked, perturbed. Draco raised an eyebrow.

“I didn’t, you just told me now. I just thought you overheard The Emperor and had run to tell Slughorn I was planning something bad. Now, you spying on us, that changes everything.”

Harry gulped and was ready to smack himself on the head. Now he had revealed all he knew to the Slytherin Prince himself. Great move.

Draco stood from his chair and walked over to Harry’s, motioning for two robbed figures to follow him.

“Did you enjoy it, Potter? Watching your friends being pleasured and delivering pleasure themselves?” the blond asked sincerely, his eyes nailed to Harry’s.

Harry shook his head, already afraid of the answer clogged in his throat. He wouldn’t admit he had enjoyed it, it would be like giving in to Malfoy, and that would make the Slytherin win. He was not going to let him win.

One of the figures removed his golden mask, engraved with a cero (odd, he thought Roman numerals had no cero), and Harry had guessed correctly as he stared into Neville’s eyes.

“Harry, this is not about pleasure or pain or dominance or submission,” Neville said gently.

“Although we take it as an added bonus!” the second figure laughed, removing his mask branded XVI. Harry could recognize that voice everywhere and was already gapping by the time George Weasley’s mirthful eyes met his own shocked ones.

“George?! What are you doing here?” he demanded, standing up. Not only had George no plausible reason to be at Hogwarts since he was already or age. He, a Weasley, was at Draco Mafoy’s private party. Neville rolled his eyes at the redhead’s bashful smile and straightened his back.

“He holds a position in the maze, of course, just as I was awarded with the arcane of The Fool, he had the privilege of becoming The Tower,” he explained, while George himself took Harry’s glass and gave it a sip.

“Wha- How?” the black haired boy didn’t really know what to say to that. He hadn’t seen George since he had started school and a rebellious part of him insisted on pointing out how different he looked from the sullen man laying in his bed and still mourning his twin.

Had Malfoy and his group done that?

He shook his head.

‘Impossible,’ he told himself. ‘If anything Malfoy must have obliviated Fred from George’s memories.’ There couldn’t be any other explanation.

Neville seemed to read his train of thoughts, because in seconds he was by his side, whispering in his ear.

“Look at him, Harry. See how happy he is now, The Game Master and all of us in the Maze, we did that. Look at me!” he ground out, standing straight. “Did you ever know I was taller than you are?” he asked.

Harry shook his head, really staring at Neville. He was taller, actually. Almost a head taller than Harry.

How come he had not noticed before?

“I… No, Neville, I didn’t,” he said finally.

“Neither did I,” Neville answered, his eyes sorrowful. “I was too afraid to stand straight, the attention, the stares. It was too much. The Master has taught me since he took me in, I… I’m proud of myself now, I feel confident.”

Harry stared at him.

Draco smiled.

“That’s what we do here, Potter. We help you with exactly what you need to let go of whatever is burdening you.”

“By having sex?” Harry snapped at the blond, not really up to a nice chat with him.

“If it accomplishes our goal, then yes. You would be surprised to know how important sexual gratification is in the process of re-educating an individual.”

“Brainwashing them, you mean.”

Draco merely sighed.

“I believe you won’t change your mind so easily, so I’ll leave you to your friends. I still have some work to do with our young Temperance.” And with a little wave of his hand he left the room, followed by another man whose mask was branded XIV. Harry didn’t have to be a genius to know that was Terry Boot, as he had been there, much to his embarrassment, the moment he was initiated.

Neville sighed as he sat, snatching the glass of wine from George’s hand to drink it himself.

“You offended him,” he stated simply at Harry’s questioning stare. “He’s not going to be happy now.”

Harry frowned.

“Is that bad?” he really didn’t want to get his friends in trouble, specially with someone as vindictive as Malfoy. “Is he… going to punish you or something?”

George shook his head.

“Worse, he’ll start doubting himself and will most likely lock himself in his room. We won’t have any meetings for a while,” his bright eyes glared at Harry. “Thanks a lot, Harry.”

“You downsiders are such a whiners,” Seamus laughed as he wrapped an arm around Neville’s shoulders. “It gives us a perfect chance to cheer The Master up, we can all play with him at the same time, he will definitely love us for that.”

George and Neville seemed deep in thoughts for a moment, then both sported matching wide, lecherous grins, their eyes alight.

“I really don’t get it,” Harry sighed. “All of this, for Malfoy?”

“He’s not just Malfoy, Harry. He is The Game Master,” Seamus explained. “I guess it won’t hurt if we explain this further. I mean, The Master did leave you to us and I do have permission to answer any give question regarding The Game.”

Another robbed figure laughed.

“Very Slytherin of you, Emperor, you must be about to turn by now.”

Seamus beamed and gave a little mock bow.

“Proud of my progress, High Priest.”

“That’s Zabini, he and Daphne are the ones that guide The Master through The Game,” Neville pointed out.

“Guide?” Harry asked. “Where?”

“Outside of The Maze, actually,” Neville continued. “They are supposed to guide The Master so he won’t get corrupted, there’s a lot of power being handed to him, he doesn’t trust himself not to abuse it.”

Harry raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

“Right, so he trust two other Slytherins to guide him.”

“Wrong, he chose two neutral students to keep him from choosing a side,” a woman growled from her seat, her own mask was branded III. Harry guessed from his little knowledge in divination that it was Daphne, The High Priestess. He hadn’t really seen until then how much attention he had paid to Professor Trelawney.

“Even if it is the Light Side, the correct one?” he asked, quite annoyed.

Daphne pursed her lips.

“There is no right side in a war, Potter, not when The Game is concerned. We pledge ourselves to remain neutral even if it means most of our numbers will die fighting without us. We won’t take a stance.”

“Malfoy did.”

“He wasn’t The Game Master at the time. Now he is, and he will remain neutral until he dies, even if his family has to die because of it.”

“That’s sick!”

“That’s The Game, Potter, we are all making sacrifices here. Of course what we gain in the end is worth it.”

“What on earth would you get to sacrifice everything you stand for?”

“Ourselves, whole, sane, complete.”

Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“You guys are insane,” he said. “How can you be incomplete? I see you!” he complained, his eyes set on his Gryffindor friends.

It was George who answered.

“It’s not as if we are incomplete for real, Harry. It’s more like, we lack something, something we didn’t know we needed, but The Master sees it, he teaches us how to achieve whatever is we need and then we are free to go. That’s why we are in a maze, we are lost.” Harry sneered.

“How noble of him,” he snapped. “And what does he get back from this? Surely he must gain something.”

Daphne and Blaise removed their masks, their hard eyes pierced Harry’s own.

“We don’t get a thing, but ourselves. Actually, Draco is the one that gets the worst part of the deal himself. He is responsible for all of us, whether we make it out of The Maze or not. And he only gets the satisfaction of doing his duty.”

“That’s it? A thank you and a pat on the back? And he still does it? Malfoy? Right.” Harry really couldn’t believe the spoiled Malfoy heir would do something like his friends were describing, just out of the goodness of his heart.

He wasn’t that noble…

Because that would mean that Malfoy was doing something more noble, in Harry’s opinion, that what he himself had done.

Killing the Dark Lord had been one thing, but to stay behind and pick up the pieces left in battle, stick them together and heal them?

He hadn’t done that, he hadn’t wanted to.

Yet Malfoy had.

It wasn’t possible, he refused to acknowledge it.

“It’s an honor, Harry. An honor for Draco is what his family needs the most. Of course Mr. Malfoy was a Master before his son, and the only reason Abraxas Malfoy was not chosen was because Tom Riddle took the title and misused it.” Blaise said softly. His eyes never straying from Harry’s own. He was a man of convictions, Harry could see. He actually believed in Malfoy.

Harry frowned.

“So, this game of yours is not new,” he mussed. Blaise grinned.

“By Merlin, no! I guess we can share that little story with you. It will be quite enlightening if I say so myself.” With a grin in his handsome face, Blaise took Daphne by the hand and both sat comfortably one on each side of Harry’s, their eyes alight with memories.

“It happened during the summer, while you recovered from the Last Battle,” Daphne started. “Which might explain why you weren’t called, as one of the Gryffindor heirs yourself.”

“Let’s be honest, Daphne, dearest. He wouldn’t have made it anyway,” Blaise sighed. “No offense, Potter.”

“None taken,” Harry growled.

“Well, we were all called to Bowhill House, near Edinburgh. By us I mean all pure blooded heirs that were over sixteen and younger than twenty one.” At Harry’s confused frown, Daphne clarified. “The Master needs to be around the age of his or her subjects, in order to understand them.”

“I see, so you were all called into…” Harry paused. “You mean Ron and Ginny went there, too?” Daphne and Blaise looked at eachother.

“Yeah, they did, they didn’t get very lucky, though. Weasley fell into a trap at the very beginning and his little sister… well…”

“A trap?” Harry interrupted. Blaise nodded.

“As Daphne was telling you, Potter. We were all called to Bowhill House…”

Blaise covered his eyes with his hands as he walked to the lake by garden. He was not really surprised to see his classmates Malfoy and Greengrass there, he expected them as much as he expected the Weasleys when he received the sealed owl post regarding his attendance.

What surprised him, however, was the fact that Lucius Malfoy had been allowed out of Azkaban just for the occasion. Certainly the Malfoys had enough contacts for such a feat, but even if Mr. Malfoy’s time in prison had been greatly reduced due to The Boy Who Lived’s intervention, he still had around three more years to serve.

To his right the Weasleys were crowding around Madame Bones and her granddaughter, most likely all non-Slytherins were going to group together.

Blaise almost looked forwards their crushed expressions as they realized they were competing against eachother.

Maybe Malfoy’s proximity was affecting him already.

“Don’t worry, Daphne dearest,” Mrs. Greengrass was saying as she patted her daughter’s hair. “If you don’t get it, Astoria will be right behind you, us Greengrass will triumph anyway.”

The boy saw Malfoy roll his eyes at the Greengrasses and then turn back to his own parents.

“I’ll do my best,” he said slowly. Mrs. Malfoy shook her head and wrapped her arms around her son.

“Whatever happens in there, you will do whatever is needed of you. Don’t worry. Fate has already decided your position in this Game.”

Draco nodded then, a little unsure.

It was Lucius who surprised all attendants then, as he put a hand over his son’s head and smiled gently.

“The fact that you accepted the challenge is enough, you have been selected and that makes your mother and I proud, son. I’m sure you’ll do what you have been prepared to do. Whatever that is.”

Draco smiled.

“High Priest would be enough, Draco,” said Lucius then, a playful smile relaxing his face.

Draco pouted.

“Father!” he whinned as he swatted his father’s hand from his head.

All three Malfoys laughed.

Blaise stared at them for a moment longer, maybe seeing for the first time what made that family so alluring.

“Well then,” boomed a voice from the center of the lake. “If all the children are ready we will begin our most glorious selection. May the last Game Master approach with his High Priest and Priestess?”

Slowly Lucius Malfoy made his way towards the lake, his steps so light he seemed to float over the water, Madame Bones and Kingsley Shacklebolts following him ceremoniously.

From the corner of his eye, Blaise could see how Mr. Weasley was instructing his youngest children to stop gapping and pointing. He could guess it had something to do with two of the most influential officers at the Ministry following Mr. Malfoy like obedient puppies.

He would have been surprised too, had he not seen it before.

“Children of all families, we welcome you into the game,” Mr. Malfoy said giving an elegant vow to the crowd. “As the last Game Master it has been instructed I prepared the new selection, and that explains why we are all here.”

Slowly Madame Bones waved her wand and a glowing, golden maze appeared under the water. The Minister Shacklebolts handed Mr. Malfoy an ornate box from where the blond man retrieved a deck of golden cards.

“Inside the underwater maze there is a deck exactly like this one. The one that will represent each and every new player. All aspirants will dive at the same time and the one to approach the deck first must spread the cards in the altar, it will raise the maze to the surface, thus ending the selection,” he explained, spreading the tarot cards on his own deck with dexterity.

All adults eyed the cards eagerly. Most of their names were engraved in each.

“At the count of three!” The Minister yelled, raising his wand.

At a distance Blaise heard how the parents encouraged their offsprings to get the golden deck before the others could. Specially Weasley and his little sister boasted their habilities and how they would defeat the ‘junior Death Eaters’ like they had defeated them in the battle field.

Daphne, Draco and Theodore narrowed their eyes, theirs hands clenched, but made no sound. It would only be a waste of much needed breath for them to reply, Blaise knew.

Even though he had remained neutral during the war he was grouped with the Death Eaters when the Aurors appeared after the battle. And of course the younger Gryffindors didn’t let him forget about it.

Suddenly a spark had left the Minister’s wand and all the attendants had dived under the water. His father had pushed him with a hastily thrown underwater breathing spell and now, the boy could see that the Maze has trapped them all and was raising its walls over the water, so no one could cheat by swimming over it.

Clever, he had to give that to Mr. Malfoy.

He was still awed at the design of the maze when a pale hand grabbed his leg and pulled him down. Thanks god he was a wizard and he had gills or he would have drowned by then.

“What was that, Malfoy?!” he snapped, kicking at the hand that held him.

Some feet below, Draco Malfoy glared at him.

“Idiot, you’ll get caught by the jelly fish,” he answered simply, pointing at the multicolored tentacles that were reaching for them. “One of my father’s little traps for sure, they look harmless but I assure you, you don’t want them to touch you.”

Blaise kept quiet for a second, his eyes hard.

“You are welcome,” sighed Malfoy as he swam away. Blaise had to resist the urge to stick his tongue out at the blond. He was not falling for his tricks.

Later on Weasley had been caught by the same jellyfish and he had to be rushed out of the Maze with painful-looking boils all over his skin.

He still forgot to thank Malfoy.

As he kept wandering the maze, he could see that Mr. Malfoy had certainly outdone himself when setting his traps. Most of the attendants had triggered at least one, and it was by sheer luck he had not being killed in between. He was sure he had passed the same corridor for the fourth time when he was alerted by an anguished shriek.

Beaten by curiosity, he swam towards the source to find two grindilows holding Daphne’s and Astoria’s legs and arms as a third played covering their gills, obviously making them choke.

Part of him told him to grab his wand and help them, but another, more rebellious part reminded him that he had seen a shark swimming by the area and he had to hurry before he got caught.

“THE SHARK!!” someone screamed, and Blaise turned to see George Weasley kicking the animal away from his younger sister, but right into the way of unfortunate Astoria. He opened his mouth to warn her when a hand pulled him backwards.

“WEASLEY!” a voice commanded. “Grab this end of the rope!!! TIGHT!”

Blaise wasn’t sure what was happening, but he was finally able to notice that there was a rope tightened around the shark’s jaw, and while Weasley held one of the ends, Malfoy was tying the other one to an enormous rock.

“Hurry up!! NOTT!!” Weasley growled, wrapping the rope around his waist. Theodore nodded as he got into the shark’s back, his eyes wide and panicked as he directed the animal’s head towards Daphne and her sister, effectively riding it.

“DRACO!!” he shrieked, panicked but still holding onto the animal..

“COME ON!! FOLLOW ME!” Draco yelled, a smirk in his arrogant face, as he swam as fast as he could in front of the shark, occasionally turning around to wave at it.

“MALFOY!” Blaise yelled. “WHAT ARE YOU-” but he was in no way able to continue as the answer presented itself in the grindilows shriek of ‘DANGER!’ before the swam away from the Greengrass girls, just in time for Draco to catch one in his each arm and for the rope to run out, effectively halting the shark’s movements for a second. Just enough for Theodore to swim away before Weasley released the rope.

The shark, finally free, swam away before he could be tied down again.

Theodore, despite himself, let out a sound scream, a victorious one, Blaise noticed. Malfoy rested both sisters in one of the little algae banks and sighed.

“I think she’s unconscious,” he said, pointing to Astoria, feeling for her pulse and failing miserably.

“She is,” Blaise said finally as he took hold of her wrist. “I think she’s out now, of this game.”

All four of them stared at Daphne.

“One of those beasts broke my legs, I can’t swim anymore,” she said, her head downcast. “Mother is going to punish me for this.”

Draco and Theodore sighed.

Weasley approached them.

“I’ll stay with her,” he said.

All three Slytherins stared at him in shock. George, for he guessed it was him, shrugged.

“I never really wanted to come. My dad dragged me here, so I got out of the house,” he explained. “Believe me, I don’t want to be your Master.”

Theodore nodded respectfully.

“Let’s go then, the other two Weasleys went ahead.”

Draco nodded.

“If anything happens to you two,” he said, staring at George. “Anything at all, send as many red sparkles as you can with your wand. Head towards that corridor, the one encrypted with the lion head. If I know my father that’s the exit.”

George nodded, sitting by Astoria’s side.

“Well, Daphne,” Draco said, giving his back to the girl. “Hop in.” Blaise, Theodore and Daphne blinked at their dorm-mate.

“Are you insane?” Nott asked. “She will slow you down.” Blaise nodded.

Draco sneered at them.

“I will never leave another friend behind,” he snapped, his eyes determined. “I left one of my best friends behind and he died in agony, I still wake up to his screams, the smell of his flesh burning clings to my skin.”

Theodore frowned.

“No one is going to die here, Malfoy. This is only a game,” he said.

“Accidents happen, Nott,” Draco responded. “Gregory and Vincent were not supposed to die either, all we wanted was to burn the door before we were found, and guess what, they died.”

Daphne kept quiet for a moment before casting a feather-light charm on herself and wrapping her arms around Malfoy’s neck.

“This way, if you drop me I’ll just float to the surface,” she explained, her cheeks pink with embarrassment. Draco just nodded.

“I’d say, Theodore, you should take one of the roads, Blaise can take the opposite one and Daphne and I will take a third, that way we’ll cover more ground,” he explained drawing some lines on the sand.

Daphne snorted.

“Not very anxious to be The Game Master, aren’t you?” she said.

“I just don’t want Weasley to win,” he answered, his face grim. “If one of those two gets the deck, you can consider all of us outside of The Game, period. I can guarantee you, they will ignore the Slytherins.”

Blaise wanted to argue. Malfoy was being prejudiced again. He was trashing the Weasleys just like his father did.

But he couldn’t find in his head anything to say that could prove the other man wrong. Everytime Weasley had been noble and had helped them, he was following Potter’s example or Granger’s directions.

And now not Potter nor Granger were there…

“I’ll take the left road, the water feels colder there, most likely there will be no sharks,” he said finally, shrugging his shoulders.

Draco shook his head.

“Don’t be so confident, this is my father we are talking about. Avoid all forms of land, the surface of the water and always keep in mind that anything big enough to move and survive in that cold is certainly dangerous,” he warned.

Nott sighed loudly.

“I’ll take the middle road then,” he said. “It’s warm, most likely I’ll face the shark again and I know how to deal with it.”

“Then Daphne and I will take the left. I’ll need your eyes on my back, dear,” Draco grinned, winking at the girl. Daphne shook her head and sighed.

“I’m laying my life on your hands, Malfoy, if you kill me, my mother will castrate your father, no more Malfoys for the world,” she threatened. Draco just laughed and started to swim.

“What do I get if I get you out of this alive?” he asked smugly. Daphne just growled.

“Most likely my sister’s hand in marriage. Merlin knows she is popular in high society.”

Draco kept quiet for a few minutes.

“I’d rather have yours, no offence to your sister, of course.”

By the time Blaise parted from them Daphne had snuggled into Draco’s back, her cheeks flaming red. Draco kept a little smile in his face, his eyes determined.

Blaise had to admit that the blond had grown up, and somehow lamented the trials he had to go through in order to become a man he would be more than proud to call his friend.

“In the end,” Blaise surmised as he served himself more wine. “I think it was Susan who found the deck, but by then we had gotten most of the attendants out of traps, Susan included. By the time we got out of the maze, Bones has given the deck to Draco and stated that he had matured and was the best leader of all the group, worthy of the title, you could say.”

Daphne had laughed at that.

“He was so shocked he dropped me, it was so cute. Minister Shacklebolts explained then that it was the real purpose of the maze. Not to find the treasure, but to prove who was worthy of guiding the others out of it,” she said. “Draco had to go through a lot to get to where he is now, but just as Blaise said. His fate was decided for him the moment he was born.”

Just like himself, Harry couldn’t help but compare.

“So, Malfoy was born to be the leader in a game, I still don’t get what the game is about,” he snapped, his arms crossed. He was finding that the similarities he had with Malfoy were unnerving, and at the same time he was thankful he had not attended the game himself.

“Emperor,” Daphne said gently. “Be a dear and bring me the deck, please?” Seamus smiled widely and ran towards an ornate chest from which he removed a golden deck of cards, just like the one Blaise had mentioned.

With great care he handed it to Daphne who spread the arcanes one by one.

Harry could easily see that, while each card was a normal Tarot card, at the bottom of them they had an extra inscription in a neat and elegant hand writing.

Carefully he took the first arcane.

“The Fool,” he read out loud. “Neville Alexander Longbottom.” Neville nodded.

“That’s my card,” he said proudly. “It’ll turn over soon, I hope.”

Harry frowned, he had not noticed the card was upside down, when he tried to turn it himself he realized that while the object itself turned, the image on it kept its upside down position.

Blaise shook his head.

“You won’t manage, Potter,” he explained. “Only when The Fool is ready it will go back to normal position.” With practiced ease, Blaise pointed to arcane three and five, The High Priestess and Hierophant or the High Priest.

Harry frowned.

“Daphne Ophelia Greengrass and Blaise Antonio Zabini,” he read. “Both cards are straight. That means…”

Daphne giggled.

“We have been healed, therefore our cards fixed themselves too. Each one of us has one, even those who have not accepted the game yet.”

Harry tried to resist the temptation, he tried really hard, but he couldn’t. His eyes immediately scanned for his own.

“Everyone but Malfoy,” he muttered as he read. “I mean, he is the Game Master right?” Daphne giggled as Harry spluttered, he most likely had found Weasley’s card.

“Of course Draco has his card, it’s the one that came in the right position from the beginning, he was chose for it the moment he was born and it represents his past, his present and his future at once,” she said, caressing the cards with the tip of her fingers.

Harry’s eyes were glued to arcane IX, The Hermit, where the words Ronald Billius Weasley were written with that same elegant calligraphy.

“Look, here’s Harry!” George laughed picking a card. Harry’s eyes snapped to the card.

“The Hanged man?” he asked.

“Draco chose that one for you,” Blaise shrugged. “You’d have to ask him.”

Harry nodded a little, upset by the way the situation was turning and coiling around him, making him dizzy. Malfoy had chosen him to be The Hanged Man in the game, and Ron was the Hermit.

Slowly he took the card with his name in his hands carefully and frowned.

“I’m going after him,” he stated. “I’ll return this after I get some answers!” without waiting for an answer, the boy who lived dashed outside of the room, his mind only focused on the card he had in his hand.

That is, until he realized he had another card with him. Apparently he had grabbed his arcane and the following one by accident.

He sighed and stared at the card.

Yes, he was arcane XII, The Hanged Man, and he had also grabbed XIII, The Death…

Suddenly his rushed steps came to a halt.

“The card that marks his past, present and future…” he muttered to himself staring at the squelleton image.

And most importantly, the name the card had written.

The player marked by Death.

Draconis Lucius Malfoy.

To Be Continued.