LEGIONS IN LEGENDS [PJO X HP]

TWENTY-SIX: THE FINAL SPIRIT

THE SLYTHERIN DORMITORY WAS COLD, as it always was. It was colder now because of the upcoming winter, and it felt like, inside, Draco Malfoy was colder, too.

He didn't even notice at first— months ago, when the school year had just started, he realised that Hogwarts had an eery feeling to it. However, the off-putting vibe was put aside and replaced with temporary happiness and temporary hope, what with the new students befriending him and all.

Then, Percy Jackson had to humiliate him in front of their classmates by calling Draco out for his prejudiced past, despite his tiniest effort to change. Not long after, an icy cold wrapped around his heart, and his mind.

He was a boy whose first instinct was to shirk the blame onto those who had wronged him. He was not a boy who considered other possibilities.

He would catch himself staring at his old friends/enemies in the Great Hall, confusing himself greatly because he had vowed not to seem like some sad, heartbroken ex of theirs. Obviously, he was not doing a very good job of keeping that self-promise, and his breakfasts were often ruined by his unintentional desperation.

The weirdest part of it all was Blaise's behaviour. When the previous school day had ended and students dispersed to take a break from their studies, Blaise Zabini had returned to the Slytherin Common Room a drastically changed man. He went back to his room wearing a suit of high quality, and he talked with extra charm in his voice.

Had he always talked like that? Draco didn't know.

Apparently, there had been some fight in Myrtle's bathroom, and Blaise was involved in it somehow. The other good-for-nothing Slytherins shared rumours that Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Percy Jackson, Annabeth Chase and Travis Stoll had all emerged from the toilet alongside Blaise.

"Oh, so they'll befriend Zabini, but bully me?" Draco muttered to himself as he slipped his robes off his body in his dorm room. The night was evident through the weary eyes of his fellow roommates and the late hour shown on his pocket watch. Yet, as he was preparing to go to bed, a voice sounded, "You're up, Malfoy."

He looked around, alarmed by the unknown voice that was speaking to him. Was he going mental?

"I am inside your head; there is no use looking for me."

He froze. Quietly, like a scared child, he whispered, "Who are you?"

"I am an Eidolon. I understand that you hold anger towards Percy Jackson?" The Eidolon spoke with a lull to its voice, words spoken so cleanly they were nearly as persuasive as that one time Blaise had stolen ten galleons from him.

"I do."

"Then I offer you one job: kill him."

He was a boy of shifting faces and fragile realities, waiting beneath the shadows. He could hear Harry and Hermione's soft voices from down the hall, but they were too far away for him to properly distinguish their words.

He took a deep breath and tried to ignore the guilt that swelled in his chest.

"They know this story already; I can't disappoint them any further," he murmured. Even though he was powerful and knew how to scheme, seeing Harry and Hermione— the very people he had looked up to when he was younger— made his morals waver.