A Confrontation of Sorts ;; Fabien Than open!!!

[HARRY JAMES POTTER]

So far he had found everything that his Mum and Remus had been teaching in the dueling club easy. And in his honest opinion, it was shaping up to be more of a defensive club than an actual dueling club. Sure, he understood that in order to attack, you first had to know how to defend. But for the older students (like himself) it was... wasteful. Maybe he should talk to his Mum about setting up times for different years like actual classes. That way she and Remus could focus more on what they needed to learn and not hold others back. It was almost insulting! Not to toot his own horn, but he'd been able to disarm someone back in his second year, having stumbled across the spell in one of his father's Auror Training books over the summer holidays. Of course, he'd stumbled across many spells in his father's books. He wasn't even sure that his parents knew he knew half the spells he did.

Like the Patronus Charm for example. Harry had never once done it in front of his parents; but he was able to produce a corporeal patronus. It was a stag, just like his father's. He knew his parents would be proud of him if he showed he was capable of it. But at the same time, he was frightened. In all actuality, half the spells he knew he probably shouldn't have. But he found Defensive Magic so easy to preform. He had attempted to look up reasons why; wanting to know if the spells were actually easier than adults were letting on or if there was another factor to consider. As it turned out, there was a factor. And a huge part of it was his wand; or rather what his wand was made of. The wood, Holly, was excellent at casting protective spells and charms. And the core, Phoenix Tail feather, was powerful with Defensive and Combat spells. So, as far as he could tell, his wand was extremely powerful. He had spend a few hours after reading up on the properties of his wand staring at it long and hard; studying it as if he were expecting something to jump out at him. He could easily remember when he had first got the wand; Mr. Ollivander scared the crap out of him. He had stared at Harry with his huge, misty eyes (Harry had been able to see his own reflection in them) and had probably given Harry every wand in the shop before they came to his. He had been told that the wand had chosen him. But why? Why would it choose him? If his wand was really as powerful as all the books he'd read on wand lore had said; why choose him as it's wielder?

Of course, Harry never once even considered the idea that he himself may have just been extremely powerful or that he was a natural at dueling in general. He had never really tried to duel anyone; not even in a mock duel. His parents didn't like it when he even mentioned about a wizards duel he had read about. Harry got the impression that they thought he would go around looking for fights or something. And it was because of this that he kept all the spells and charms he had learned a secret. Besides, if they found out he would get a lecture about putting that much effort into his school work. At least, his mum would lecture him. He was pretty sure his dad may actually give him a few pointers behind his mothers back.

Sighing, Harry stretched slightly, leaning back slightly to crack his back. He had slipped out of the Dueling Club while his mother and Remus' attention had been on the other students. He knew he wasn't to be walking around by himself, but honestly what was the worse that could happen? Okay, he knew what was the worse that could happen... he could join that petrified girl in the hospital wing as another silent companion. Than his parents would never let him out of their sight! And besides, he was just going back to the Gryffindor Common Room. He knew there was a nice little short cut on the first floor that would lead him straight up to the seventh floor. And then all he had to do was walk down the corridor, turn the bend, and BOOM! Portrait of the Fat Lady. Oh yeah, it paid to have his father's map.

Harry exited the stairs, turning to walk down the First Floor Corridor. He could still hear the bangs and what not coming from the Great Hall. It wasn't surprising. The door had been open, and he was currently right above the Hall itself. If he wanted to, he could have laid down on the floor and probably felt the vibrations from spells going off target and hitting everything besides the target. Maybe they should have imposed an age limit or something...

The Gryffindor fifth year came to a complete and sudden stop. The hair on the back of his neck had stood on end. He was being followed. His right hand grasped the handle of his wand tightly from inside his robes as he turned slightly to look behind him. “You know, it's not polite to follow people.” he said to the seemingly empty corridor. He didn't understand why they were attempting to hide. The person, whoever he or she was, had creepy vibes just pouring from their person.

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_{Word Count 926!
Inspiration Higurashi No Naku Koro Ni (Full English)?
Tags Fabien Lestrange, then Open?
Status Complete?
Template By Arro @ Caution 2.0
Picture By MOI!}
[/size][/blockquote][/i][/sub]

[FABIEN LESTRANGE]

Sliding out of the Great Hall to escape the monotonous revisitation of magic that he had mastered several years prior was, initially, a decision forged of his own selfish ways. Attending these club meetings was mostly a matter of propriety. Go to assess the aptitude of others, to show his face. To learn? Unlikely. Besides the faint possibility that he could improve his reaction time and movement, which seemed unlikely given the amount of people and rather limited spacing, there wasn’t much reason for him to stay. Perhaps it was merely an outlet to relieve the boredom that had assaulted him ever since he had returned to Hogwarts. The days were already dragging along, seemingly intent to remind him of exactly how differently he would be spending his time were he out of school with the opportunity to divert his attention elsewhere: namely in directions more important than this incredible waste of his time. He would come back and attend the following sessions. Fabien was rapidly coming to the conclusion that he would not be able to maintain this mask of sanity that had really become such a habit over his lifetime of immersion in the wizarding world... he had no hope of making it until the end of the school year without finding some way to express his rapidly growing destructive tendencies.

Abjectly he wondered if he was going insane. Ever since his mother had come back and had begun teaching him dark magic that he had never heard of before... it had became a constant battle of wills for him to not allow it to consume his life. They weren’t kidding when they said it was addicting--it was so addicting. No longer was he merely annoyed by many of his peers... while it may outwardly appear so, it was the inside that had changed in his case. He didn’t just simply hate Lawrence anymore--every time he saw him it was becoming increasingly difficult to stave the temptation to cast a well-placed Seta Consectus; the look on the Head Boy’s face would undoubtably be the most fulfilling thing that Fabien had yet to do in his life... part of the problem was that Fabien didn’t want to make these thoughts go away, either. He embraced them. This was how he wanted to be. But was it meant to be this torturous? Was he meant to have to exert this much self control? Hopefully it would get easier over time, once he got used to the difficulty of preventing himself from attacking himself... or maybe once he was out of Hogwarts it wouldn’t be an issue as he wouldn’t have to control himself. It would be perfectly acceptable to attack people like that... under the approval of the Dark Lord, of course (he didn’t have a death wish).

It rather quickly registered once he had left the great hall... that up ahead of him much farther down the corridor was a pair of shoes ascending a staircase and taking the male figure with them. Ah. He blinked, quickly scanning his recent memory. He had nearly forgotten the sight of Harry Potter slipping out of the loud room before himself, too occupied with his own considerations to make much note of what others were doing. Previous worries were forgotten about as his feet completely changed directions from their previous plan to retire to the dungeons... silently rotating... picking up speed in a faster-paced saunter. Ten and a half inches of ash returned to its unwanted rightful place in a loose grasp between his fingers. As he walked up the stairs his chin tilted downward, irises gazing out of the very top of his eyeballs. Fate had given him an outlet and he was very grateful. As chance would have it... although he could hear the explosions of ricocheting spells from the floor below, this was probably the best chance he would ever get to corner Potter. ...No one would be able to hear him, not with the loud noises--no one was around. The corridor around the bend that Potter had disappeared down had a few suits of armor... but no portraits. It was perfect.

Nothing would ever be perfect, it seemed, for the Lestrange heir. He had not yet turned the bend in the long stone corridors before he was startled into a pause. ’You know, it’s not polite to follow people.’ ...What? Had Fabien been loud? He didn’t think so--there was no way he could be heard above the constant sounds coming from underneath them. He hadn’t even done anything wrong... yet. His brow furrowed before he shrugged off the idle misgivings keeping him from finishing his, indeed, following of the Potter boy. He rounded the corner, fingers of his right hand raising to brush against the wall, pulling behind him as if he was using the stone for support. His face was guarded, poorly lit by the dimmed lighting of the very occasional lantern and moonlight entering from the single window in the corridor. Internally... he laughed. While the surprise of being expected had partially sobered the young man, nothing could really stay the initially underwhelming sight that Potter provided. He’d heard the boys name mentioned a few times, of course... from a prominent family, a family that had been a thorn in the side of many a dark wizard... a mudblood mother, he’d even heard that he was exceptional at Defense Against the Dark Arts. ...Admittedly grudgingly, as Draco did not have very many kind words to say about him. But seriously--had Draco been joking? He looked so... so... young.

He did not continue walking, content to merely keep his ground for the moment. Without the advantage of surprise which he had initially planned on... he supposed he would have to be more careful about this. Potter had seen his face. Was he willing to curse someone who had seen his face? ...He wasn’t sure. “I wasn’t trying to be polite, Potter.” What an utterly silly notion. No, he was at this very moment restraining himself from raising his wand--attempting to keep the bloodlust that he had planned on satiating more carefully under wraps as there was a large chance he would not act upon it now. This was, actually, one thing that he and his wand agreed on. His wand... which usually gave him grief... generally was alright with practicing the Dark Arts. It was a Lestrange wand, he supposed, which could account for the fact that it was the one subject the agreed upon... although it did irk him when he could sense the bloody thing having reached the end of its tolerance with him--like it could decide when he was done. Utterly useless piece of shit twig. One day he’d throw it into a bloody fire as kindling and be done with it. ...Once he was out of school. “And neither was I following you.” A lie, obviously. They both knew it--but who cared? He released his hold on the corner, pulling away from it with a controlled stumble and redistribution of his weight. He rolled his head to the other side, studying the younger teenager from the top of his eyes, face tilted towards the floor. “Slytherins are allowed to walk outside of the dungeons to think occasionally, aren’t we? Or perhaps we’ve been condemned and I wasn’t aware...” Control yourself, Fabien. Don’t cast. Control yourself. His wand hand twitched.

Tagged;;, Harry Potter
Wordcount;;, 1237
Lyrics;;, Cesse la pluie, Anggun
Notes;;,
Credits;;, Me.

[HARRY JAMES POTTER]

Harry had been more than glad to escape the Great Hall. Sure, he was pretty positive that the entire night hadn't been a disaster... nor a total embarrassment. Of course, he could have been speaking to soon as well. He had no idea how long his father was staying at the school. But seeing how the Ministry of Magic would want to boast security to make it look as if they were attempting to do something in the wake of all the fear, he could very well be stuck with his father for the rest of the school term. A small part of him was happy about that idea. He wouldn't have to wait until the Christmas Holidays before seeing his entire family whole again. Of course, they still were not completely whole. Not yet anyways. His mum had her Professor duties to attend to, and April was in Ravenclaw House and had her own group of friends to play and hang out with during the term. And then there was the fact that Harry himself had his own agendas and things to worry about. The Quidditch Season was upon them (if they were still allowing Quidditch that is) and he was in the most important year of his magical education. At the end of this year, he would be taking his O.W.L.s: his Ordinary Wizarding Levels. These test would determine what he could and could not continue to take after this year, and what he wanted to do with himself after Hogwarts. And undoubtedly, his father would be busy with Auror duties as well. No, so although he would be able to see his family, he wouldn't be able to spend time with them as a whole until the holidays.

And then there was the part that did not want his father there. Especially after what he had just done in the Great Hall. Harry was willing to bet his entire allowance that the back of his neck was still red from the... open displays of affection his father had just given. Of course, He had not been able to do anything at the time; having been to absorbed in shock to do anything besides tense his entire body. Of course, he had fought back slightly towards the end when he had been able to get the gears in his brain to function. They had been surrounded by other students! What was his Dad thinking!? Sure, Harry probably wouldn't have minded if it had just been Gryffindors (MAYBE a few Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws) but SLYTHERINS had been there. Slytherins had seen him being hugged and kissed by his father! He could already hear the sneers and comments that would undoubtedly be circulating through the entire school within the next few days. The jeers had already started, having been hissed at him behind the backs of both his parents and Remus Lupin. Of course, Harry was used to this type of behavior from the Slytherins. The hatred that brewed between their two houses was enough to make anything a weapon that could be used against the other. And the hatred level for Harry was nearly double than the rest of Gryffindor House combined where Slytherin's were concerned. If not for the simple fact that Harry had helped the Gryffindor Team win nearly every single game since he'd been on the team, than it was due to the fact that a lot of them had parents who had been Death Eaters during the first war. Death Eaters whom most had been locked up or 'stripped' of their power when Voldemort vanished after his fail attack on his family. Then there was the fact that Gryffindor's and Slytherin's hated each other on principle.

Harry's eyes continued to stare down the seemingly deserted corridor. Someone was there, he could feel it. His gut had suddenly twisted into what may have been considered a painful knot, not from a stomach ache, but from a warning born from instinct. It didn't help too that the corridor was so poorly lit, the candles in this stretch being far and few between. But even still, the lights provided by them were enough to allow him to see into the shadows, distinguishing them from the objects hidden in them as a form of darker black. His eyes than focused on the bend he himself had just turned, turning bodily to face the entrance. A tall figure began to lazily come around the bend, it's head bent forward so that Harry could just make out his eyes peering up at him through the lashes of his eyes. Even half submerged in the shadows, there was no mistaking the form of Fabien Lestrange. If there was one person who freaked him out (besides Professor Lestrange, his uncle) it was the seventh year Slytherin in front of him. Harry had no reason to really fear any student. But there was something about the young man in front of him that screamed for Harry to be weary. It wasn't so much fear, as it was the strong desire to make sure his back was never to the Eldest Lestrange child. Weariness. He felt just as safe with the Slytherin Prefect as he did with Professor Lestrange or Professor Snape. And let's face it, he didn't feel very safe with either one of them.

The two boys continued to stare at each other for a while, neither one moving. In the pocket of his robes, Harry's hand gripped the handle of his wand tightly, ready to pull it out in a moments notice. He could feel the thin piece of wood vibrate pleasantly in his grasp, emitting a warm wave of heat that raced up his arm, seemingly calming Harry slightly at it's familiarity. His wand was like an extension of his own arm, and it was as if it were connected to his own mind; acting sometimes before he even knew what he wanted to do. If Harry were asked to describe the feeling he got from his wand, he would have to say it was something compatible to the feeling one got when they were with their best friends. He wasn't sure how he was going to survive if he ever lost his wand. Surely he would die within a second if it were damaged beyond repair; and wands weren't the easiest thing in the world to repair.

A small snort escaped unbidden by the young Gryffindor. Well, if there was ever an ounce of truth that Harry could believe from a Slytherin, much less a Lestrange, it was from the comment the other had just made. Yes, there was no doubt that he wasn't trying to be polite. “Of course not. You're only 'polite' to those whom you've deemed worthy enough. I bet there isn't a lot of people that fall under that category, is there Lestrange?” he asked him. “I bet they'd have to be pretty high in Voldemort's inner circle to be even considered for your politeness. But I'm positive Mummy dearest as made sure you've already made those connections.” he said. Unlike most of the wizarding world of Europe, Harry wasn't afraid to see the Dark Lord's name. His parents, more so his father, had taught him early in life that there wasn't much to be afraid of. As a matter of fact, when and if Harry came face to face with a Boggart, it took the form of a Dementor.

One dark brow rose slightly in a questioning fashion. Did Fabien really expect him to believe that he wasn't being followed? Did Harry look that stupid? “Right, of course you're not following me. And I'm the most powerful wizard ever born.” he said in a sarcastic tone. But other than that, he was willing to allow Fabien to continue with his little lie. They both knew the truth, and Harry honestly couldn't see what Fabien expected to do when Harry was completely aware of him. There was enough space between the two that Harry could make out his entire figure, including the wand that was in his hand. When the older boy stumbled away from the corner in a controlled fashion, Harry quietly and carefully slipped his wand out of his pocket so that it was visible to Lestrange yet not in any immediate position that one could determine as 'dangerous'. Yet it was positioned so that on the first twitch of any impeding fight, Harry would be able to easily defend himself.

Shrugging slightly with a lazily roll of one of his shoulders, Harry continued to keep his eyes on the boy in front of him. “You're allowed to do what you want. Providing they are within the school rules, am I right? However... neither of us can deny that it is awfully suspicious that a Slytherin just happens to be walking behind a lone Gryffindor with a... what's the word I'm looking for... Killing intent so powerful, it wafts down the corridor long before you even make it there.” he calmly stated. Of course, there was really nothing Harry could do about his situation. He was trapped and he knew it. With the loud explosions coming from the floor below them, there was absolutely no way Harry would be lucky enough for a Professor to hear them on their floor.
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_{Word Count 1560!
Inspiration Welcome to my life?
Tags Fabien Lestrange, then Open?
Status Complete?
Template By Arro @ Caution 2.0
Picture By MOI!
Notes Harry's asking for trouble}
[/size][/blockquote][/i][/sub]

[FABIEN LESTRANGE]

Lestrange’s left pointer finger purposelessly slid up and down the ash wood beneath it as he listened to the Gryffindor’s reactions, watching his face which was well enough lit to show Fabien the disdain that seemed to be mutual. He wondered if the younger teenager was usually this verbose--he seemed to have such a fucking lot to say. So what if hi first statement was largely correct? No, Fabien didn’t respect very many people--it was largely coincidental, he supposed, that the majority of them were indeed in Voldemort’s inner circle. If that were the requirement then he wouldn’t dislike so many that were, would he? He didn’t really respect Rodolphus Lestrange, his own ‘father’, and he was in the Dark Lord’s inner circle wasn’t he? The Headmaster most assuredly had the enshadowed teenager’s respect, as well. Not that that was saying much as Professor Dumbledore had the respect of anyone who met him, filled with hatred or not. “Mother dearest at least has connections to be made, Potter. What sort of connections does your mudblood bitch have?” Fabien vaguely seemed to recall the potions professor’s face at that moment, although he wasn’t... quite sure why. He couldn’t put his finger on where he might have heard that Lily Potter and Severus Snape were associated, but it made no difference.

Grudgingly he was beginning to see why Potter was held in unwanted esteem by the Slytherins--boy had a fucking spine, didn’t he? Not only to speak the name of the Dark Lord but to mock Fabien to his face? Most people wouldn’t dare. Especially not this year. Not when nearly all of Slytherin knew what adorned his forearm. Not when he was more or less the top dog of Slytherin. Of course... over his years he’d never been much of a vocal member of his house, had he? He supposed it merely had to do with who his mother was and the air he gave off to those around him. It was all changing, changing, changing... he was being treated differently, Professors were giving him much more pointed looks, Professor Snape seemed almost... worried, or something, if the man was capable of the emotion. Or perhaps his mind was playing tricks on him. He wasn’t sure. He’d always received those odd looks from professor Dumbledore but they’d seemed to take on a much more... sad or even serious tone. His silent internal fumings of previous years had apparently worked; people actually seemed to take him fucking seriously like they should.

Fabien’s brow furrowed as he raised his visage, jutting his chin out in favor of looking down his nose at the younger boy. As a particularly loud explosion shook the floor beneath him he couldn’t help it; he started chuckling... perhaps a little too loudly. Within the school rules? Those rules didn’t mean a damn thing when it came to Fabien. “I’m able to do whatever the hell I want regardless of silly little rules, Potter. Such a juvenile concern--one I suppose I should have expected from you.” Perhaps once they would have, last year even... staying within the rules was something he tended to do by nature, staying as much under the radar as possible for someone who quite obviously clashed with the held values of the majority of his professors... of course they could tell, it would be hard not to, but he hadn’t particularly done anything that could implicate himself in a negative way. The black mark on his left forearm really changed everything, didn’t it? Ever since he had received it he supposed his sense of respect for the authority of the system had greatly diminished, perhaps shifting in favor of other hierarchies. Particularly his own, in fact. Not only was he breaking too many school rules to count (in fact, he was breaking a few right now by not returning to the Slytherin dormitories, but he wasn’t about to admit as much to the halfblood; he was the authority here not Potter) but he was also going against the unspoken rules that came with serving the Dark Lord.

Sickening feelings of danger that came of making and following through with his own plans was an instinct that Fabien was quickly learning to ignore and forget about. Intellectually he knew that it was probably detrimental to his health, no matter who found out and traced his actions to him... but he simply couldn’t bring himself to stop. It wasn’t a matter of what the correct thing, a matter of perspective in itself, was to do at any given point--it was a matter of solving puzzles. Finding a way to get the Death Eaters into Hogwarts... was a puzzle, one that he was far on, he thought. All he had to do was follow the tunnel system in the Chamber of Secrets until he found where it wasn’t guarded by the apparition wards. He was positive he would find an area, eventually, if he searched hard enough... whether or not he had been successful to this point. Finding and releasing the basilisk--a pleasant turn of events, but it fit into his agenda. And he’d be damned if he’d not partake in the opportunities available to him, detriment to the ‘cause’ or not. This was, after all, something that he could do--something that set him apart from everyone else, made him superior to even the other Slytherins. Fabien may not have been given the position of Head Boy but he was the bloody Heir of Slytherin and no one could take that away from him.

“But you are correct, Potter,” he acquiesced, muddy brown eyes filling with mirth in the pall of shadow. Inaudible footsteps fell in a slow perambulatory way as Fabien spoke. “I am able to do as I wish, suspicious or not. And let’s not be ridiculous, now. Do you really think I would kill you here, at Hogwarts? Don’t insult my intelligence like that.” Using the killing curse, at least, would set off far too many alarms to both the Headmaster and the Ministry of Magic in such a warded place... killing with less known spells? “I don’t plan on being sent to Azkaban any time soon. That’s the fate of those foolish and unwise enough to get caught.” Possibly, but he was sure authorities would be alerted if someone came to that much harm within the walls. Injuring students, especially with spells that may be... illegal, but not as terrible and powerful as the unforgivibles, would probably go completely under the radar. Moderately undetectable, and most assuredly untraceable and nearly impossible to pin on any particular law-breaker without the use of Prior Incantato. It was as if Harry’s words had reminded Fabien that he was being unnecessarily cautious--there was no reason to stay his wand! It was so... simple! He had stopped moving, no longer was he loosely holding his wand; his fingers clenched around it as he began to tense.

Tagged;;, Harry Potter
Wordcount;;, 1156
Lyrics;;, Cesse la pluie, Anggun
Notes;;,
Credits;;, Me.

[HARRY JAMES POTTER]

A dark look came over his features. He really hated that word. Mudblood. It was so foul and disgusting. His mother was a muggle born; not a Mudblood. The only 'dirty blood' Harry was able to see was in the form of the young man standing in front of him. At least his family didn't go around marrying cousins, all in the hopes of remaining 'pure'. Of course, Harry knew how the Pure bloods worked. They weren't really pure. There were Squib's and Muggle's thrown into the mix somewhere. They were just erased from Family trees; only there to breed more magical children and pass them off as Pure. But the Pure bloods were like a dying species. If wizard's didn't marry Muggle's and Muggle born's, then they'd die off. Every fiber in his being was telling him to attack Fabien for bad mouthing his Mother, to defend her. However, the more rational part of his brain was telling him that attacking right now would help nothing. In fact, attacking the older boy at all would probably help nothing. But Harry wasn't going to allow Fabien to just bad mouth his family like that. “Mum has all the right connections to be made. And if my Mum's a bitch, what does that make yours? Your Mum's beneath mine, so what's beneath bitch? Trash?” he asked.

One of Harry's greatest strengths, or was it a weakness?, was getting under or around barriers that others set up. If he saw an opening, or knew something that would irritate another, he would use it without guilt; turning the situation hopefully in his favor. Anger always had two reactions. Either the person being angered would attack without thinking, or they'd be just that much more dangerous. It was a fifty fifty shot of either going in his favor or backfiring and Harry was completely aware of it. However he wasn't an incompetent fighter that he would risk this move dangerously. And the one thing he knew got under most Slytherin's skins, was speaking the name of the Dark Lord. Especially when that Slytherin had a Death Eater parent. Of course, some were easier to get reactions out of and others weren't, masking their annoyance and anger better. Fabien undoubtedly fell under the category of better hiding his emotions.

A loud explosion sounded from down stairs, shaking the entire of the corridor they currently stood in; a thin layer of dust falling from the ceiling above. He took a few seconds to wander just what had happened now, and if the Professor's and his father realized that two students had just suddenly vanished. Harry was only able to remember his father's 'greeting' for the evening only to well, so he could easily hear the panic in his voice as he realized that Harry was gone. He had almost sounded serious when he told Harry to pay attention to the lessons. And his father was never serious. His attention was drawn back to Fabien as a loud chuckle escaped him; and for a moment, Harry was able to see a bit of Bellatrix Lestrange within the boy. They had the same laugh. And that laugh always sent a chill down his spine, although he stopped his body from shivering at the unease gathering in the bit of his stomach. Emerald green eyes narrowed slightly. Somehow, Harry got the feeling that they were referring to more than just the Prefect badge pinned to the chest of the older boy. For the five years that Harry had known Fabien in school, he had never once remembered the other acting out against the school system, choosing instead to just go with it and remain unnoticed. To just blend in with the other countless students who passed quietly through the school.

Harry didn't really care much about rules himself. He was always constantly breaking them (as he was doing currently by being out on his own after they had been given explicit instructions to always be accompanied by a Professor outside of class) however he always took care to make sure that he was never expelled. Fabien just seemed... to not care anymore. As if the school system couldn't hurt him... couldn't even touch him.

He tensed slightly, seeing the other walking slowly closer to him, the look in his eyes... inhuman. He listened to the words, attempting to find any underlying meaning to them. His words could have been been taken in any type of content. Innocent or otherwise. But Harry now had suspicion to believe that Fabien was above others. Or so he thought he was. There had to be something... a hidden meaning somewhere. And maybe it was in his next words... “Do you really think I would kill you here, at Hogwarts?” That line, that line in particular meant something. Something bigger... darker. “Well how about Hogsmeade then?” speaking as if they were scheduling they're next get together. Those foolish and unwise enough to get caught, huh? Harry... really didn't know what to make of that comment. However he was aware that Fabien had stopped walking; one full body length separating the two boys now. The very second he noticed that Fabien's wand hand was closed tightly around the thin strip of wood in his hands, and the tension in his body, his wand was up, pointed at the other. “Stupefy!” the words had left his lips before his wand was fully raised, the red jet of light flying towards the other. At the same time, Harry had taken a few more steps backwards, putting as much distance between him and Fabien as possible, and simultaneously casting quick glances around the corridor to see what he could use to his advantage.
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_{Word Count 958!
Inspiration Welcome to my life?
Tags Fabien Lestrange, then Open?
Status Complete?
Template By Arro @ Caution 2.0
Picture By MOI!
Notes Sorry for the late reply!!}
[/size][/blockquote][/i][/sub]