Thank you for reviewing! Definitely makes me want to write more :D So, here's the longest chapter so far - it's a bit of a filler, but things in this one needed to happen before other things could. I hope you enjoy it, and as always, any constructive criticism is welcome!

Disclaimer: STILL not mine! Crazy that, isn't it? Everything belongs to JK Rowling, apart from the Dranias family :)

Chapter Nine: Give Me Answers

Tuesday's detention passed as horribly as Monday's had, but this time Harry and I did not attempt a civil conversation afterwards. Instead, we walked in silence, occasionally shooting glares at each other.

When I arrived back at the Gryffindor common room, I left Harry sitting alone, completing his homework so I could talk to Hermione in our dormitory, the thoughts of mine and Harry's less-than-friendly relationship having plagued my mind since that first Potions lesson.

"Hermione?" I whispered into the darkness as I pushed the door open.

"Yes?" She answered from her bed. I tiptoed over, so as not to wake Lavender or Parvati (the two girls had taken it upon themselves to be introduced to me in a very giggly manner earlier that day) and pulled back the hangings surrounding her four poster. She was sat cross-legged, reading a thick book by the light emitting from her wand. I smiled and sat opposite her.

"How was detention?" I shrugged nonchalantly. She frowned, brushing a stray piece of hair behind her ear as she watched me closely.

"What is it you really want to talk about?" Never one to beat about the bush, I thought. This time, I sighed and dropped my head to stare at the soft red bed linen embroidered with gold.

"I want to know… about Harry." Sudden interest flashed through her eyes, and she pushed the book onto the floor, where it landed with a soft thump.

"What do you mean?" Slowly, I raised my head to look at her.

"I know I've made it very obvious that I don't like him, and I know he doesn't like me, either. I just… I want to know why. Why he's like that." She raised her eyebrows, watching me as if I'd just grown a second head.

"Des, were you not listening to him at all yesterday?" I frowned and nodded. "Well then, you must have realised he's been through a lot, and this year is even harder for him because everyone thinks he's a lying, insane boy who's let his past get to him a little too much."

"What do you mean, 'his past'? It was only last year…" Hermione shook her had.

"No, not just last year. Des, I think it's time I told you about Harry, since he's obviously not going to."

"What do you-"

"When Harry was a year old, You-Know-Who performed the killing curse on both his parents and him. His mother and father died trying to protect him, but for a reason no one knows of, Harry survived. And that's where he got his scar. He's the only person ever to have lived to have survived the killing curse, and to add to that something happened to Voldemort that forced him into hiding. Harry became famous." I gaped at her. Harry was an orphan, and I hadn't even known…

"Dumbledore took him to live with his Aunt, Uncle and his cousin, who are all muggles and didn't tell Harry anything about the wizarding world until he was eleven years old and received his letter to Hogwarts. On his first year, he faced what was left of You-Know-Who for the first time, and survived for a second time. Then, in our next year, he killed a basilisk - a giant snake," she added quickly upon the confusion written across my face, "and saved Ginny's life. Third year, he was supposedly in danger of a mass murderer, who Harry then found out to be his innocent godfather and saved his life. He also fought off about a hundred Dementors with a single Patronus Charm, something only usually managed by full-grown wizards." I stared at her for a moment.

"You mean Sirius? Harry saved Sirius?" She nodded once. My eyes widened as I took it all in. I'd thought I'd had it bad when I was told I was a witch, dad had been killed and that I would have to start here. I couldn't believe Harry'd had it just as bad, if not worse. But that still didn't answer my question.

"But why does that mean he hates me?" I whispered.

"He doesn't hate you. He just doesn't know what to think of you. You're something new to this school this year, and so far every year there's been something new, it's been bad. I'm not saying you are, but Harry just doesn't trust you yet. He'll come round eventually. Well, he will if you start being nice back to him. You haven't been making it easier for him to figure you out, you know." I smiled slightly.

"Why don't you like him?" Hermione said softly. I frowned, contemplating my answer.

"I… don't really know. There's just something about him I can't stand. He's arrogant, and obnoxious. And if that's true, that he thinks he can't trust me - he hasn't even given me a chance."

"You mean… Like how you haven't given him a chance?" I shook my head furiously, sure she wasn't getting it as she sat with that same knowing look in her wide brown eyes that she had in every one of our classes.

"No, I- Nothing like that- I have given him a chance! I just…." She grinned at my stuttering and gave me a gentle shove.

"You just can't think of a straight answer because you know I'm right?" She chuckled lightly. "Go to bed, Des, we've got school tomorrow and I don't want a repeat of Monday." I sighed and stood up, leaving her alone and getting into my own bed after changing out of my school robes.

At least I wouldn't be left out of conversations relating to Harry and Voldemort anymore - I knew what was going on. And somewhere in me, maybe right at the back of my mind where I could easily ignore the thought, I knew Hermione was right. I should've given Harry a chance, been nice to him, let him see I wasn't all bad. But I'd already convinced myself that first night I met him that he wasn't worth it, and I was never one to be indecisive.

Somehow, I made it through the week. By Friday evening, my hand was throbbing with pain and the cut hadn't healed over, giving me the suspicion that it was going to scar.

Harry and I had grown to dislike each other more and more (to Hermione's annoyance) with each Potions class, and we were now using our last names to refer to each other whenever we spoke.

Hermione and I had become close friends, and together we spent Saturday morning catching up with homework and afterwards a bit of a tutoring session, whereby Hermione helped me finally manage to use Depulso and Accio properly for Charms class, since I had now passed copying out of textbooks in most of my lessons.

Ron had been exceptionally pleased since Friday afternoon, apparently because he'd made the Quidditch team. I had no idea what Quidditch was, and Hermione obviously expressed no interest in it either. Harry seemed to be the only one of us that could really understand the big thing about it, since he was also on the team.

On Saturday afternoon, Harry and Ron entered the common room, both carrying a broomstick over their shoulders.

"Oh, chores? Would you mind sweeping under the rug, then? Hermione's cat has been molting." I asked as they passed us. They stopped and turned, Ron looking uncomfortable and Harry glaring.

"We're going to Quidditch practice. It's played on brooms," Harry snapped. A sport played on brooms? Even if Harry was there, that didn't sound like something I'd want to miss. I turned to Hermione, grinning.

"Can we go? I wanna see this!" Hermione rolled her eyes and looked back down at her book.

"You can go, but I'm not. It's freezing out there." I shrugged, standing up and pulling the jacket that I'd left over the back of the sofa on.

"You're not coming." Harry said, scowling at Hermione for suggesting I go alone.

"Potter, you're not my mother. I'm coming whether you like it or not." He narrowed his eyes at me, but didn't continue to argue.

"Oh, and would you three mind checking if Hagrid's back? I'm a little worried…" Hermione muttered, with a look in her eyes that said she was more than a little worried. That was another subject I was oblivious to; Hagrid, who was obviously a friend of theirs, but they always spoke in hushed voices about him, making it hard for me to find out any more about him.

Harry and Ron both agreed to have a look for Hagrid, and then we left out of the portrait hole. I followed them both down the moving flights of staircases until we made it to the main doors, where we stepped out into the cold and windy September air.

We trudged across the grounds until we got to a muddy pitch, where five people in red and gold robes were stood, talking in a circle. Harry shot me a warning look (although I had no idea what he was supposed to be warning me about) before hurrying off with Ron to join the group.

Sighing, I looked around. Up in the stands were another group of students who I didn't recognise, other than the bright blonde hair of Draco Malfoy. I hadn't spoken to him much since Tuesday, but I got the feeling that there was some sort of animosity between him and Harry.

I climbed the wooden steps and approached the group. They were laughing loudly and pointing to the Gryffindor team.

"Weasley? You know, with Johnson captain and Weasley keeper, this year's going to be a cinch," Draco crowed, clicking his fingers on the final word. They all laughed loudly, and broke into a chorus of "Gryffindor are losers."

I raised my eyebrows and took a seat behind Draco, who had failed to notice me yet.

The team mounted their brooms and took off into the air. Ron flew to the three tall posts at one end of the pitch. Fred and George Weasley were both carrying bats and were flying around the other four players. One girl I didn't know was holding a large ball and was passing it between herself and two other girls, until finally they were close enough to aim it at one of Ron's posts, where they threw it and it flew through the shortest hoop.

At first, I couldn't see Harry anywhere. Then, he came to a stop in mid air and shouted something back to one of the girls. He follwed by braking into such a fast speed that he was barley visible.

My eyes widened, and I began watching the players and what they were doing much more closely. It looked natural, fun and difficult.

And I could feel that tugging in me that told me I needed to have a go.

"Weasley, what is that your riding? It looks more like my house elf's chimney sweep - could you not afford a proper broom?" Draco yelled. The black-haired girl sat next to him shrieked with laughter and tried to entwine he fingers with Draco's, but he pulled away. I grinned and chuckled.

Draco turned and saw me, a smirk settling on his lips.

"Destiny Dranias? Come to watch Potter play, have we?" He sneered.

"I couldn't care less about him. I'm here to watch Ron's first practice," I muttered, looking directly into his cold grey eyes. He surveyed me for a moment.

"And the point of that is…? Even you've got to admit he's crap." I frowned and didn't answer. He had a point, though - Ron had let in every shot taken by the four players (Harry had abandoned flying randomly around the pitch. Instead he was passing the ball and shooting it at the hoops with the three girls).

"That's what I thought. Don't worry, I won't tell Weasley what you think of his pathetic Keeper skills." I glared at him and wished he would start insulting Harry instead. At least if I joined in with that I wouldn't feel bad about it.

"So, you're new, right?" He asked casually. I nodded mechanically, unsure of what to make of the Malfoy boy.

"What school did you go to before Hogwarts, then?" And inside I flailed. What did I say to that? Hermione had pre-warned me of the Slytherins and their hatred to all things even remotely muggle. My whole life had been entirely non-magical until about a month ago.

"Uh… Well, it was in Greece… Don't know if you'll know it…" I stuttered. It hadn't been a lie, exactly. Just not very specific. He cocked an eyebrow and looked over me.

"Greece?" He said slowly. I nodded my confirmation. "By any chance, are you Athan Dranias' daughter?" I raised my eyebrows in surprise. How did he know my dad?

"Uh, yeah, actually, I am." His smirk widened.

"My father used to work with him at the Ministry of Magic." I frowned as I picked up on the use of the past tense. So he knew my father had been killed by Death Eaters.

"And your mother is a muggle…" He trailed off. I glared at him.

"Yes. Got a problem with that?" He laughed lightly.

"Your father could have done so much better. He was an almost decent pure-blooded wizard, even if he was a Ravenclaw, but he ruined all that when he married your mother." I gaped at him, unsure of what to say. I wanted to ask him more about my dad, even if he had just insulted mum. I'd had no idea he'd attended Hogwarts. I'd assumed, when I'd found out he was a wizard, that he would have gone to a school in Greece. I couldn't ask Malfoy about any of this, though.

"Bastard," I mumbled. He laughed again and turned to continue calling abuse at the Gryffindor team as Fred - or George, I could never tell which - hit another, slightly smaller ball away from Harry with his bat.

I didn't have that tugging feeling telling me I had to fly anymore. Slowly I stood up, leaving the pitch and heading back to the castle, where I found Hermione in the common room, still reading her book. She took no notice of me as I flopped into the armchair near the fire.

I needed to talk to someone who would know about my father, and Draco Malfoy was no option. I had so many questions swimming about in my head, and they needed answers. But I knew who would know, even though I'd never before spoken to him in my life.

I needed to see Professor Dumbledore.

Sunday night arrived, and I sat staring into the fire, awaiting Hermione's return from the library. Harry and Ron were sat behind me, playing a game of wizard's chess.

The portrait hole opened and Hermione walked in, looking slightly flustered.

"What's wrong with you?" Harry asked as she slumped into an armchair beside them.

"I was studying in the library, but then a group of third-years came in with one of Fred and George's portable swamps, and were planning to set it off. I just spent twenty minutes chasing after them for it." I grinned and turned to her.

"Thinking of turning in your prefect badge, Hermione? Too much stress for you?" She scowled.

"You should've let them set it off, I'm sure Umbridge would've been pleased," Harry added, smiling broadly.

"It's not funny! If the prefects don't set an example, how can anyone expect the younger years to behave?" She snapped, a look of indignation flashing over her flushed face.

The smile faded from my lips as I remembered why I had waited for her in the first place.

"Er… Hermione?" I mumbled.

"Yes?" She grumbled, looking up.

"Would you mind showing me to Dumbledore's office?" She sat up straighter, and both Harry and Ron snapped their heads to stare at me uncertainly.

"I'll tell you why after," I added hastily, keen to not have to explain myself in front of Harry. She frowned slightly and turned to the two boys, who were still watching me curiously.

"Harry? What's Dumbledore's password?" His cheeks burned a slight pink as he answered.

"I - I don't know…" She raised her eyebrows, but said no more.

"Are we going…?" I muttered, trailing off and turning my gaze to the portrait hole. I felt slightly desperate to escape this conversation. For some unknown reason, I didn't want Harry or Ron to know why I needed to see the headmaster. Well, it wasn't so much Ron, although I'd hate for him to know how much I wanted to hear and know about my father; it was mostly Harry. I didn't think he'd ever mention it to anyone, but I didn't want him knowing I wasn't as thick-skinned or independent that I made out to be. And it bugged me that he was affecting me this much.

Hermione shrugged and stood up, leading me out and together we descended the stairs until we arrived at the fourth floor. I followed her down a number of corridors, and eventually we arrived at a large statue of a gargoyle positioned in an alcove in the wall. Hermione sighed and looked at me.

"I don't know the password. I think we'll have to wait for him to come down…" I exhaled in a gust of air and leant against the stone wall, sliding slowly down it until I was sat, my knees drawn up under my chin. Hermione's arm brushed against mine. I looked around and saw her sitting beside me, smiling gently.

"You never did tell me why you wanted to see Professor Dumbledore." I frowned and looked back at the wall opposite us. I could see one small spider struggling to crawl it's way up.

"I met Draco Malfoy at the Quidditch practice yesterday." The spider was inching it's way up, almost halfway.

"And he said stuff… About my parents." Hermione said nothing. I looked up, and saw that there was a fly caught in a web just below the ceiling, and I realised the spider wasn't struggling; it was chasing it's victim.

"Seeing death as the end of life is like seeing the horizon as the end of the ocean."

Dad's past words rang in my ears. He'd used them one night nearly nine years ago, when Callie and I had stayed awake, afraid that dad wouldn't come back from his next business trip after he left for it the next morning. That was always a constant worry for us both: we'd had no idea what he did. For some reason, that had frightened us.

"Miss Granger? Miss Dranias?" A soft but wise voice said, bringing me back to reality. We jumped to our feet, my cheeks flushing a bright red.

Professor Dumbledore was a tall and elderly man, but somehow, he looked young, as if he had plenty of time ahead of him. His silvery white beard extended to his belt buckle, where he had tucked it in, and he was dressed in robes of deep purple, decorated with small gold stars. His blue eyes twinkled behind half-moon spectacles.

"Oh - Sorry, Professor. I just… Needed to see you…" I said hesitantly. He smiled and turned his gaze to Hermione.

"Miss Granger, I have important matters to discuss with Destiny and Calista. Would you mind asking Professor Flitwick to collect Calista Dranias from the Ravenclaw common room and for her to be brought to my office?" Hermione nodded her head quickly, and hurried off down the corridor. I stared after her until she had rounded a corner, and then turned my attention to Dumbledore.

"How did you know this would include Calista?" I asked abruptly. "Sir," I added as an afterthought. He chuckled lightly.

"I will tell you, but I think it best not to discuss such important topics here. Fizzing Whizbee." I frowned, about to question him about his last words, when I noticed that the Gargoyle had jumped aside, revealing a set of curved stairs. Dumbledore stepped up and I followed him.

His office was far more interesting than Umbridge's had been. His table and chairs were both made of a dark wood, with inticate designs of gold leaves and vines carved into the edges. Many trinkets and instruments of sorts were placed on the table and around the room, giving me much to look at, and a view of the grounds and lake were visible from the window.

Dumbledore sat in the chair behind his desk, gesturing for me to sit opposite him. A silence settled between us as we waited for my sister. Finally, we heard a soft knock at the door, and Dumbledore replied with a "Come in."

Callie stepped inside, looking rather confused. Dumbledore nodded to the seat beside me, and she hesitantly took it, her eyes flitting between both me and the Professor.

"Now, Calista, I suppose you do not know why you are here?" She shook her head.

"No, I didn't think you would… Well, your sister apparently has some questions for me. Destiny, if you'd like to ask them…?" He turned back to me, smiling kindly. For a moment, I forgot what I was there for - I was still slightly in shock that Dumbledore seemed to know everything going on in my head before I'd voiced them. Then, the conversation with Draco came back to me, and the questions flooded my mind again.

"Dad… he came here?" I said, slightly incoherent. Dumbledore, however, nodded slowly.

"Your father was a pure-blooded wizard born in Greece, but his family wished for him to be taught here. He was accepted, and was sorted into Ravenclaw." I glanced at Calista; her jaw had dropped, and she was gaping at him unattractively. Deciding she wasn't about to ask anything, I went on.

"Then how did he meet mum? And why did they go back to Greece?" He stroked his beard, thinking.

"After his seventh year here, he moved into a property of his own in London, where he met your mother and fell deeply in love with her. When they both became eighteen, and Faith did no longer need her parent's permission to marry, they had their wedding. Athan told Faith of his magical powers soon after, and she accepted him for it." He paused, allowing us to take in the information about our father. Inhaling, he continued. "Athan wished to move back to Greece, however. He had not seen his family for a few years, and wished for his parents to meet his new wife. Faith agreed, and they moved to Greece, where they settled down." Calista said nothing, apparently in shock, but I felt that I needed to know as much as possible. This was the first time either of us had ever been given any information about our father in the times before we'd come along.

"But what happened? I was told that dad worked at the Ministry…"

"Yes, he did. After your mother became pregnant with you, Destiny, Athan decided he needed to get a new job to support his growing family. He trained for a job at the Greek Ministry of Magic, and became an Unspeakable. I am unable to tell you what an Unspeakable does, since nobody other than they themselves know of that. Although I do understand that he advanced in the profession, as he was very skilled, and travelled often to different countries in order to learn and do… business with other Unspeakables. Which is what he had been doing for the last thirteen years." I waited expectantly, believing that as he was telling us all this, there had to be something else he was leading up to: a new lead on dad's murder, or why they'd wanted Callie and me. And suddenly I was hoping with everything in me that the Headmaster was about to reveal some much newer information to us.

Dumbledore sighed deeply.

"I know, Destiny, that you wanted to know more. If I myself knew, you two would be the first I would tell, and I'm sincerely sorry that we are no closer to discovering the reason behind your father's death." I slumped slightly, feeling deflated again. Without really thinking about it, I nodded and found myself talking.

"That's fine, Professor. Thank you for everything." My voice sounded strangely hollow as I stood from my seat and nodded a goodbye to him. He smiled sadly in return, and I pulled the heavy doors open to the curved stairs again, and was soon followed by Calista.

Neither of us spoke. I had a feeling that we had nothing to say. We'd learned plenty about Dad's past, but none of it would really help us find those that had taken him from us. I had wanted to know if he'd really come to Hogwarts too, but now that seemed less important. It had been a month, and still nothing had been found. It was starting to sink in.

Calista and I eventually split off from one another, and I climbed the staircases to the common room in silence.

"Mimbulus Mimbletonia," I mumbled. The Fat Lady groggily swung forwards to admit me entrance.

I couldn't see anyone in the firelight by the sofas. I sighed and headed to the entrance to the girl's dormitories, but a voice startled me.

"Destiny?" I jumped and wheeled around to see Harry; he was lying on the largest sofa, his head propped up on his hand. His hair was messier than usual, and his glasses were askew. There was a large red patch on one cheek, probably were his face had been pressed against his arm whilst he slept.

"Yeah?" I whispered. He sat up slowly and patted the space beside him, indicating for me to sit. I did so hesitantly, and he leant back.

"You went to see Dumbledore." It wasn't a question: it was a statement. I nodded though, and his gaze dropped.

"Erm… D-did Dumbledore… talk to you?" I frowned, but nodded again.

"So… Why did he speak to you? But not me?" He mumbled, apparently to himself more than me. I couldn't help it though - Harry always set me off, even at the smallest things. I'd felt deflated before, but now my anger was flaring.

"Is that not okay? For a Professor to prefer to talk to me than to the Great Harry Potter?" I mocked, the sarcasm thick in my voice and practically dripping from my tongue. He glared at me, suddenly on his feet.

"There's no point even trying to talk to you. You're so stuck in your own little world, assuming everything's meant to insult you. You're impossible!" I stood up too and faced him, shooting him daggers and wishing beyond reason that I hadn't left my wand in my dormitory.

"What was that, Potter?" I asked softly, my voice now laced with venom rather than sarcasm, daring him to say it. He didn't seem to notice though, or if he did, he ignored it.

"Sorry, did you not hear me? You. Are. Impossible," he hissed. I gritted my teeth and stalked off, making sure to shove into him as I passed. I would never normally let him get the last words in, but I was fuming, both at what Harry'd said and that I'd learned less than I'd hoped about my father.

I slipped into bed and ignored the soft snoring with ease, falling again into the dream of Christmas, one I had not had since I had arrived at Hogwarts.

Thank you! Hope it was okay? :D

Meg x