He knew the end was near. Just what really told the young man this though, he wasn’t sure. It could be the suddenly hushed atmosphere that now surrounded him. Perhaps it was the calm, painless feeling he was now fully immersed in. Or maybe it was just the fact that he could scarcely feel the pair of arms that were now desperately holding on to him.

"No," he finally decided to himself, "This is not the end…Death is only but the next great adventure." As he quoted his former headmaster, a smile crept across his face and the young man shut his brilliant green eyes one final time…

"So… what do you think?"

A young woman was sitting at the head of a magnificent wooden table in the kitchen of number twelve Grimmauld Place. The large group of people that lined each side of it all had their heads turned towards her, awaiting her reaction.

"Syria…Syria…Ser-ri-ah!"

The girl awoke abruptly from her daze, breathing a little heaver then normally necessary. What had just happened to her?

"Oh, sorry… I was just..."

"Frolicking in a field with a bunch of wild pink Nargals? Yeah, we noticed," Mr. Weasley joked.

"Ron!" said his bushy haired wife as she gave him a playful shove. "Syria, your father was just asking what you thought of the birthday present he got you."

Draco Malfoy smiled faintly at his daughter as he repeated his question.

“So do you like it?”

Still quite bemused, Syria Malfoy looked down at the newly placed locket that lay delicately on her pale chest. It was stunning. The light from the nearby fireplace danced merrily on the locket's golden face, exaggerating its engraved design of vines and leaves. It was in excellent condition considering Syria thought the necklace looked over a hundred years old. All in all, it appeared to be a completely normal locket. Yet why, when her father had secured it around her neck, did Syria experience a weird vision of a man's final minutes?

"Oh, it's beautiful Dad! I really love it! But," she paused looking up inquiringly "who was the man?"

"The man?"

"Yeah the man in the vision. Or the memory I guess, whatever it was."

"The memory?" her father asked, incredulously.

Syria looked around the table at the current occupants. Her father, mother, Mrs. Weasley and Elisa were all looking concerned; the smaller Weasleys and Malfoys were starting to smile at her little "joke" and Mr. Weasley was staring attentively at her, as if she was about to tell an immensely interesting story.

"Yes, the memory," she pressed. Syria was starting to get frustrated on how thick her father and everyone were acting. She sighed.

"Well, isn't it one of those charmed necklaces you get from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes? You know," she continued, slightly annoyed, "the ones that replay a certain event whenever you put them on?" Though quite honestly, Syria couldn't see why her father would go to the trouble of getting his fifteen year old daughter a enchanted necklace that repeated a stranger's death scene. It was kind of morbid….

Some of the colour drained from her father's already pale face.

"No, it's not. I… I picked it up from a Muggle store in London." As he spoke these words Draco Malfoy grew even paler and Syria noticed that he wasn't quite meeting her eyes.

"A Muggle store?" she said doubtingly. "But it almost looks goblin made…." She peered closer at the locket before she smiled. "How many rich, stuck-up Muggle women did you have to bat away before you could lay your hands on it?"

"Ha. It was nothing." her father smiled slightly, quickly regaining his composure "Nothing's too good for a Malfoy, now is it?" Her father’s smile turned into a smirk as he glanced over at Mr. Weasley, whose ears were flushing. Mr Weasley glared intensely back at him.

Syria stared at the locket again. As beautiful as it was and as happy as she was to have it, she couldn't help but feel a little guilty. She knew very well that the girl beside her, Elisa Weasley, would never get something like this for her birthday. Syria wished her father wouldn't always rub it in that they were better off then the Weasleys. But she felt even guiltier when she looked up from the locket and made eye contact with Elisa. The faint glimmer of jealousy in her best mate's eyes was quickly replaced by genuine happiness for Syria's good fortune.

"Okay. Well then say it is just a Muggle locket. Then why did I see this…this vision or memory?" Syria continued anxiously.

"Per'aps you are just tired, dear. It eez, after all, nearly two in morning and you 'ave 'ad a long day," provided her mother in her low throaty voice.

"Is it really, Gabrielle? Oh my goodness!" said Mrs. Weasley, addressing Syria's mother as she looked down at her watch. "You children ought to be in bed!"

"Awww…but Muummm!" said Elisa, Harry, Gwen, and Danny all at once.

"No buts! Now off to bed, all of you. We wouldn't have been so late for the party in the first place if it wasn't for your father working late at the Auror's office again."

Ron Weasley grinned sheepishly at his wife as she glared meaningfully back at him.

"Same for you children, I theenk," said Syria's mum after a slight pause, glancing at each of her three children. "Off to bed."

Mutterings of 'Goodnight' and 'Happy Birthday' were directed at Syria as she and her siblings Arian and Lyra, joined the four Weasley children in rising from the wooden table. As she made her way across the basement kitchen to the door Syria overheard Mr. Weasley call out:

"Draco, could I have a quick word with you in the drawing room before we all turn in?"

Elisa was waiting expectantly for Syria at the doorway of the dimly lit kitchen of number twelve Grimmauld Place.

"No, you go on. I want to do something before I go to bed," Syria told her friend. Elisa shrugged her shoulders as if to say 'All right, whatever' and turned to continue out of the kitchen. Syria waited for a couple minutes before heading up the stairs herself. Quite honestly, she was glad the subject had changed so quickly from her ’vision’ to the late time of night. She just wanted some time alone now for a few minutes to think over what had just happened…and to not have everyone staring at her like she was crazy while she did it.

Why, when the locket was placed around her neck, did she fall into a sort of daze and then envision something that was completely unrelated to her? And she was so sure that she hadn't just dreamed or imagined the memory like her mother had suggested. It had felt so real to her….

A low noise suddenly disrupted Syria from her thoughts. She stopped and listened. There was no mistaking the muffled, angry voices filtering through the thick drawing room door.

"Listen Weasley, I will not have you talking that way to me in my house and telling me how to raise my children- "

"Your children?" said Mr. Weasley heatedly "Your children? You claim to care so much about your children, but yet somehow you seem happy enough to lie to them for the rest of their lives, Mal-"

"Syri! SYRI!" The angry shouts of Mr. Weasley stopped abruptly at the sound of little Lyra's voice calling Syria's name from down the hall. "Syri! Me and Mr. Pookles and Danny been looking all over for you."

"Really? What for?" whispered Syria distractedly as she quickly took a few steps towards her little sister and Danny Weasley, and away from the drawing room door. She was hoping to draw attention from the fact that she had been eavesdropping on her father's and Mr. Weasley's 'discussion'.

"Because Mr. Pookles never got to give you his present yet."

"Mr. Pookles got me a present?" the elder girl spoke as she vaguely wondered how a stuffed toy Puffskein could have possibly have known that it was her fifteenth birthday.

"Of course, silly! He picked them today from Mummy's garden all by himself." The door nearest to them opened, and Syria stole a side-glance at the two men now standing in the doorway of the drawing room. Her father's pale complexion was flushed and Mr. Weasley's ears were burning red under his flaming hair.

"Wow, they're very nice." she commented as she examined the purple flowers. "Thank you Mr. Pookles." Syria bent down and kissed Lyra's forehead and then turned to ruffle Danny's bright red hair.

"Syri, you forgot Mr. Pookles."

"Oh, right." Syria bent down again to kiss the little toy puffskein on the top of its head. "Sorry Mr. Pookles.” she remained bent down as she looked little Lyra in the eyes “Now you'd better get to bed before mum finds you still up and has a mooncalf or something."

The little six year old gave a little giggle and ran off down the hall with Danny trailing behind.

"Goodnight Daddy!" she said as she passed the drawing room door. Syria turned to face her father and she caught a rare faint smile on his face as he watched Lyra run away.

"Well, I better be off to bed now. Happy birthday Syria… Draco." added Mr. Weasley with a nod and a stern glance at her father before walking away. The two Malfoys stood watching him depart. Syria noticed there was an uncomfortable tension between them that usually wasn't there. She also couldn't help but observe that her father seemed to be avoiding eye contact with her again….

"Um… I guess I should go and help Elisa settle in then." she said quickly in hopes to break the silence as soon as possible. "Goodnight Dad."

Her father bade her a final goodnight and turned to enter the dim drawing room. Syria started up the long staircase to her room. Halfway up the flight of stairs however, she remembered she'd wanted to ask her father what Muggle store he had purchased the locket from. Maybe Elisa could then tell her if the shop sometimes dealt in wizarding goods. Elisa did, after all, seem to know everything. Not too mention her own grandparents were Muggles so she was practically an expert on them.

Syria turned and headed back down to the drawing room landing. She was just about to enter the room when she spotted her father through the open door. He was sitting on the edge of the drawing room couch with his hands over his face clearly in some sort of silent distress. Syria paused.

I think it can wait for tomorrow… She decided and silently tiptoed away from the door.

Syria continued her way quietly up the stairs, thinking all the while. She had always known there was something between her and Elisa's fathers, some sort of deep resentment. It had always been quite hard for her to ignore the subtle glares and snide remarks to each other. But never before had the pair ever been in a real fight like that. Yet Syria could think of no reason for either man to hate the other. After all, didn’t they only know each other through their daughters? What was more, if they despised each other so much, why did they even bother trying to get along? Both parties could quite easily just drop off their kid at the other's house and then leave instead of having to stay for tea or overnight. It would be a whole lot easier.

Syria had finally reach the topmost landing where her room was stationed. Pushing open the door directly in front of her, she smiled in amusement when she saw Elisa perfecting the appearance of her bed's duvet. She was glad her best mate was staying over with her for the last couple of weeks before term started.

Syria liked her room. It was quite spacious even with two full sized beds in it. She adored the portion of her otherwise blank, blood red walls that she had collaged with pictures of her friends, rock bands, and the Holyhead Harpies. Syria even liked how messy her room was. She looked around at the floor, desk, and other pieces of furniture that were completely covered with her belongings. She thought the mess gave her room character. And besides, Syria hated cleaning and throwing things in the rubbish (“Who knows when it might become useful again?”)

"What's the point?" Syria grinned as her thoughts turned back to Elisa's task of straightening up her bed covers. "I’m just going to mess them up when I crawl into them in a few minutes." Elisa looked up.

“If I fix them up now for you, then they'll only be slightly messy tomorrow morning. But if I just leave them like this, then they would be a complete and total wreck.”

Syria stared disbelieving at her friend for a few moments before saying,

"You are completely mental, did you know?"

"So you’ve told me." Syria and Elisa both stared at each other for a moment before bursting out in laughter at their own private joke.

They chatted mindlessly for a few minutes, before Elisa finally yawned and declared it time for bed.

"WHAT? Already? I haven't seen you in over a month!"

"Exactly, just over a month. But before that, you spent ten months living with me in a small room…a very small room," Elisa repeated to emphasise her point. "I'm thinking not much could've happened between then and now. And besides," she added, "it's nearly two-thirty."

"Yeah, but that's exactly why we need to talk! Do you have any idea how many dreams, heart breaks and temper tantrums can occur in just one month? And I'm pretty sure that I heard somewhere that it's not even healthy to keep your feelings bottled up like that. It can make you angry and go over the edge and stuff." Elisa started laughing again.

"Fine, I give up. But only for a couple minutes, okay?"

However, a couple minutes turned into a couple hours as the two girls talked about everything from annoying little siblings, to the results of last week's Puddlemere vs. Harpies Quidditch match. They talked into the wee hours of the morning before Elisa’s head finally collapsed on to her pillow in a deep sleep.

As Syria listened to the silence that now filled the room, her thoughts finally drifted back to the locket. She was quite interested in learning anything more that she could about the necklace’s ancient past. Syria carefully undid the clasp that held in on to her neck and let it fall gently into her hands. Curious to see if maybe the previous owner had left a picture in it, she slid her finger nails into the side and pulled gently to open it.

Nothing happened.

Syria tried again and again but with no prevail. The locket would just not open.

Well that’s weird,she thought to herself Why would Dad buy a locket that couldn’t even be opened? He must’ve noticed it didn’t even work properly when he bought it.

Syria yawned. Deciding she would worry about it in the morning, she placed the locket onto her bedside table. And then, without even a second thought to the previous night’s unusual events, she too fell in to a deep sleep.