Author Note: So are Draco and Harry safe now? No… ;-)

oOoOoOo

Chapter 4: The Ring

Minutes later, Harry and Draco sat in an examination room at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Healer Lobalug had just finished examining them. He had purple hair and Harry wondered if he was part Merperson. He certainly seemed tired enough to be a fish out of water.

"I can't find a single thing wrong with either of you," he said, collapsing back down on his chair and slipping his wand back into his lime-green robe.

"Draco was possessed. I'm certain of it," Harry insisted.

Healer Lobalug looked at him under heavy lids. "He has no symptoms of possession whatsoever, Mr Potter. Are you wasting my time? Your story about the tunnels under Diagon Alley sounded rather fishy."

You should know, Harry thought. But before he could speak, Draco piped up.

"You haven't looked at my biceps yet." The Slytherin flexed his arms.

The Healer looked. "There's nothing wrong with your biceps," he said.

"I know, aren't they gorgeous?" said the Slytherin cheerfully.

An undignified snort of laughter escaped Harry's mouth before he could stop it. "I can tell you're feeling better, Draco," he said.

The Healer rolled his yellow eyes.

"I feel fine," Draco said and he did look it. Harry had never seen him so full of energy. "Now I just need another cleaning spell."

"You've had fifty spells already. Each." The Healer rolled his eyes again. "Another cleaning spell and your feet will dissolve."

"I'll risk it, I can still smell something," said Draco.

There was a knock on the door.

"Enter," the Healer blinked and looked up.

Kingsley Shacklebolt and Remus Lupin walked in and pushed the door shut behind them. Both were soaking wet with Muggle sewerage and the smell filled the tiny room.

Draco waved a greeting to them with one hand and held his nose with the other.

But Harry stepped forward. "You got my Patronus."

Remus nodded. "Yes, Harry. We found the Quintaped," he said, still looking shaken at the memory. "We saw where the Muggle bodies had been."

"But there's no sign of the dark magic you described," added Kingsley in his deep voice. "Can you tell me again what happened?"

Harry did so. He could see Healer Lobalug listening in.

"Unusual strength and red eyes," said Remus slowly, looking Draco up and down. "Sounds like a vampire."

Harry tensed. He'd been dreading those words.

"It was daylight outside," Kingsley pointed out. "Vampires aren't usually active during the day, even underground." He shook his head and went on. "The urge to hunt sounds like post-first-bite lycanthropy. You don't need a full moon for the first few months."

Now Harry felt really ill. "You think Draco is turning into a werewolf?" he asked.

"Impossible! I can't be a vampire or a werewolf. I haven't been bitten," said Draco. His face was turning brick red. "I was just ... angry. Really angry. That's all." He swung his legs under his chair and wriggled.

The Healer gave a cynical cough. "If there was anything actually wrong with Mr Malfoy, I wouldn't know what floor to send him. Spell Damage? Magical Diseases?"

"Voldemort?" suggested Harry quietly. Everyone stared at him. "The most powerful dark wizard in a thousand years died last night and today Draco has these symptoms. Could it be some sort of revenge that Voldemort implanted in all Death Eaters, just in case one killed him?"

Remus bit his bottom lip. "A wizard's spells usually fade after he dies-" he began.

"Some spells do last after death," said Harry. "If they didn't, that Quintaped would have been a Scottish man."

"Harry, intergenerational spells take an enormous amount of power," said Kingsley.

"Voldemort had power," Harry interrupted him.

"And they only happen once in a lifetime, if that, and generally without the conscious planning of the wizard or witch," Kingsley went on. "Vampirism or lycanthropy are the most likely explanations. Did Draco sprout hair when he was having his attack?"

Harry thought about it. "I didn't see any," he said slowly. "But it was dark and I wasn't really looking."

"There are NO symptoms," stated the Healer, in what he obviously thought was the voice of rationality. "Vampirism or lycanthropy don't just disappear. If Mr Malfoy was a vampire, he'd have an aversion to light." The Healer lit his wand and brought it near Draco's face. But the Slytherin didn't flinch, though he was still wriggling. "If he was a werewolf, he'd have the telltale pupil shape. He doesn't. I think you've had a little too much to drink and imagined things." The Healer scowled. "Like everyone else today. Now if you'll excuse me, I have hundreds more patients to attend to…"

oOoOoOo

While Remus and Kingsley were still cleaning themselves off in the Examination Room, Harry and Draco walked out into the waiting room hand-in-hand.

It was packed with wincing, steaming and occasionally screaming patients. Harry had never seen the room so full. He felt a bit guilty. The couple hadn't needed to wait. The receptionist had taken one look at the new Order of Merlin First Class badges and had allowed them to jump the queue. It was the first time Harry had been glad he'd had one.

A man near the counter was hopping about, pouring steam from every orifice.

"If you'll come into the examination room and bend over, I'll pull the bottle of Firewhiskey out," said a lime-green robed Healer.

The man followed, walking with his legs wide apart.

"I'll bet that wasn't an accident the bottle got stuck up there," Draco muttered. "I saw him checking me out."

A woman with so many pieces of fruit inserted into her face that she looked like a fruit salad bowl glared at them.

"We still don't know what happened to you, Draco," said Harry, avoiding her glare.

"I'm fine," Draco insisted. Then he paused. "Do you really think I could be…" He paused and muttered, "One of those things?"

"I don't think so," said Harry. A man with a green-dripping wound on one arm was sitting with a drooping head nearby. His face was as green as his arm. Magical bites were hard to ignore.

"What if it happened in my sleep?" said Draco, very softly. "I used to hear Fenrir Greyback prowling around all the time when I was a Death Eater. Maybe one night, I couldn't keep awake and he came in and..."

His hand squeezed Harry's. But though it hurt, Harry didn't mind. The magical strength Draco had had in the tunnels was gone.

Harry squeezed back and led Draco towards the double doors. "I doubt it. Remus used to talk about it all the time," he said. "It's one of the most painful things ever." He paused a moment. "That Healer wasn't much help."

"Busiest day for him in years, I imagine," said Draco, ducking under an arm that was stretched out like spaghetti. The woman who owned it was curled in a chair and looking very glum. "I bet he needs cheering up as much as I do."

Harry squeezed his hand again. "How about I buy you something?"

Draco spun around with a brilliant grin.

"Will that cheer you up?" Harry asked. He could already guess the answer and couldn't help grinning back.

Draco nodded enthusiastically.

"What would you like?" asked Harry.

Draco thought about it. Then he looked hopeful. "A ring!"

"Fine," said Harry.

Draco's eyes sparkled. "Really?" he blurted out.

"It's only fair. You're buying me a four-poster bed."

"Ooh! Yes, yes, yes, Harry!" Draco was practically dancing. Then he rushed forwards and gave his fiance a hug and a kiss. "I know just the place."

oOoOoOo

The place turned out to be called Mysterium's. Harry had seen the shop at the end of a short cul-de-sac off Diagon Alley but had never entered. Jewellery had never appealed to him and some kinds - Ron's ex-girlfriend's 'My Sweetheart' necklace sprang to mind - made him feel positively sick.

Mysterium's didn't look like the sort of place you could find a My Sweetheart necklace. The display in the window was understated and tasteful, but still managed to sparkle so much so that Harry found himself looking at the price tags in alarm. The rings seemed to range between fifty and a hundred galleons. Expensive, but nothing a man with a whole bank vault of galleons couldn't afford. Inwardly, Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't want to disappoint Draco.

Even the door jingle sounded expensive as they walked into the shop. Glass cases filled the room but they had a packed away and tidied look. There were hangers that should have contained necklaces, but only the rings were still on display. A bulging suitcase stood near the door.

The proprietor looked up from behind his counter as they entered. Though his expression was serious and in keeping with the rest of his shop, he was dressed as though about to go on a tropical holiday. He wore a Hawaiian shirt, patterned with waving palm trees in front of a technicolour sunset on a white beach. In true magical fashion, the palms swayed as though in a tropical breeze, waves rushed ashore and colourful parrots swooped in and out of the palm trees. Brilliant rays shone out of the red, sinking sun. The proprietor stepped out from behind the counter and Harry saw that the Hawaiian shirt was actually a Hawaiian robe. It ended just above his ankles, revealing leather sandals and socks.

"Good morning," said Harry. "Are you closing your shop?"

"My Portkey for Jamaica leaves in one hour," said the man. His voice was deep. "But I knew my presence would be required here. Good morning, Mr Potter and Mr Malfoy. I am Mr Mysterium and you are looking for a ring."

It wasn't a question. Harry frowned. "How do you know?"

"I know many things," said Mr Mysterium coldly. "We do not have much time. Mr Malfoy." He clapped his hands. "Choose!"

Draco didn't have to be told twice. He ran to the glass case with the rings and stared at them eagerly. "I should get you a ring too, Harry," he said.

"I don't wear rings," said Harry, with a thoughtful glance at Mr Mysterium.

"Why not?"

"They're dangerous. You can Summon a ring and take someone's finger off. You can put a heating spell on the ring and burn them. If you punch someone wearing a ring you can break your finger."

Draco cackled. "No Gryffindor would ever dare wear one!"

"Ha ha!" Harry gave Draco a nudge. "You fight too."

"Me?" Draco looked amused. "I'm a Slytherin, not a Gryffindor thug!" he teased.

"You fought Nagini and won," said Harry.

Draco fended him off Harry's tickling fingers with a grin. "Maybe I'm just good at fighting snakes? I think that was a fluke, Harry."

"That was an excellent bit of fighting!"

"I did it for Mother," Draco's face fell and he looked down sadly at the silver narcissus ring on his finger that he'd Transfigured from his mother's Inferi. She had been murdered by Bellatrix for refusing to kill Muggles.

Harry stopped tickling him and held him instead.

"I never knew I could lose a finger from wearing a ring," said Draco uncertainly. "Maybe I shouldn't-"

He was interrupted by a faint cough behind him. "Apologies for overhearing, but there is a ring that cannot be used to harm its owner," said Mr Mysterium. "The Etruscan wedding ring. I have one here." He reached into the display, took out a ring and handed it to Harry, who was immediately lost for words.

It was the greenest, most ALIVE thing he'd ever seen. The ring was refreshing to look at it, like a drink of water on a hot day. It was made of green stone in the shape of tiny, green, leafy branches. Among the leaves were silver charms. Amazed, Harry turned the ring to see them all but there seemed to be more every time he looked.

"It's a ring of powerful protection," said Mr Mysterium softly.

The charms were moving. A tiny, silver fist waved sword. An exquisite rosebud opened and closed again. A snake coiled through the branches and out of sight. Another hand held a flaming heart, the silver flames leaping but not consuming. A crescent moon smiled serenely through the branches at an owl that resembled a silver Hedwig. A rooster crowed silently and a raven flapped silver wings. Then a dolphin leaped over a branch, sending up a silver splash.

The magic from the ring made Harry's fingers tingle. He had never felt anything so powerful. Looking up, Harry saw that Draco was even more riveted by the ring than he was. He held it out and Draco almost snatched it. He brought it straight to his mouth, kissing it and kissing it.

Harry turned to Mr Mysterium. "We'll have that one, please," he said.

"Very good, Mr Potter. Your Gringott's vault number?"

Harry told him. Just as he'd finished, the door jingled behind him and banged against the wall. He spun around.

"Harry!" It was Ron. He was wearing a new black t-shirt and he was out of breath. Luna, Hermione, Theodore and Pansy piled into the shop after him, all panting just like Ron. They looked like they'd run for their lives.

"Rita Skeeter knows you're here," said Ron.

"A patient at St Mungo's told her where you were going. I was talking with the other journalists and overheard." Luna was even more out of breath than the others. "I came to warn you straight away."

"Oh no!" Harry peered out the window of the shop. A horrifying sight met his eyes. Crabbe and Goyle were lumbering up the street, slow as usual. But just behind them was the whole pack of journalists, tearing at each other like wolves in their battle to be the first one through the door. Even worse, Professor Trelawney was hurrying along behind them, trailing scarves and looking even nuttier than usual.

There was no time to escape. Harry couldn't Apparate as that would mean leaving his friends behind. Crabbe and Goyle were rudely thrust aside as Rita Skeeter emerged triumphant from the pack and charged through the door.

"Harry Potter, why did you tie up Draco Malfoy last night in the Leaky Cauldron? Are you secretly torturing him?" asked Rita. Her long, acid-green Quick Quotes Quill flicked on her parchment.

"Get out!" Harry swiped at the quill and knocked it sideways.

Rita shrieked and grabbed for her quill but found herself being jostled aside by the rest of the journalists, who were forcing their way through the door. Mr Mysterium's shop was suddenly a scrum of shouting, fighting people.

"I won't answer your questions," shouted Harry above the hubbub. "Leave us alone!" He glanced at Draco. The Slytherin was standing by the counter with Mr Mysterium looking appalled.

"Oh dear," said Professor Trelawney. She was fanning herself with a Daily Prophet. "I feel a little faint. Could someone get me a glass of water?"

"Professor Trelawney, what are you doing here?" asked Harry.

"The spirits told me it was time, at long last, to leave Hogwarts and visit Diagon Alley," Professor Trelawney replied. Her eyes were hugely magnified and bloodshot behind her glasses. Harry caught a whiff of cooking sherry. "I always obey the spirits," she added and hiccupped.

"Harry Potter, Portly Roger here. Do you approve of the actions of Lucius Malfoy that led to his arrest at the Ministry?" A huge man wearing a tweed jacket and clutching a quill shoved Professor Trelawney aside.

"What kind of question is that?" Harry was furious.

"You will be marrying his son. So you must approve of a Death Eater who tried to murder a number of students in your year. Weren't those students your friends?" Portly leant forward with what he apparently thought was an ingratiating smile. His left canine was gold and far too pointy.

"How dare you?" Harry choked on the words. "I hate Lucius Malfoy."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Professor Trelawney go rigid. Her eyes became unfocussed. Then she breathed in.

Harry spun around to face her, just as a horribly familiar, loud, harsh voice escaped her sagging mouth.

"Your doom is at hand!"

oOoOoOo

Author Note: Please review! Or I don't know what will happen! ;-)