Official Fine Print: Nope. Not mine. The brainchildren of the mighty pen of JK Rowling. Just playing with them. Honest.
Here With Me
Chapter 19
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"Hey, Scarface."
Harry looked up from the floor to find Draco Malfoy in front of him. The last effing person on earth he had any desire to see.
He'd ascended a few minutes before from his own private little hell of 'remedial' DADA with Snape and only just managed to hold off sliding to the floor until the door to the warded classroom had shut behind him. He was still breathing hard; a mixture of fury and loathing pumping adrenaline into his heart. Snape's likely intent, of course.
It had been worse battling him today than ever before, and Harry had a sneaking suspicion that was due in great part to Dumbledore's continued absence. No holds had been barred in this lesson, and Harry's eyes had been opened quite a bit to Snape's willingness to hurt him and his extensive knowledge about how to go about it. The only problem was that Harry already knew his enemy was capable of everything Snape had thrown at him and more. Harry also knew with a growing certainty he was in some truly deep shite, because fighting Snape ultimately only taught him that he honestly didn't feel himself able to go there. Snape had kept taunting and goading him, spells cracking like relentless whips. Harry needed to mean it even when the curse wasn't an unforgivable, he had to think like his enemy if he meant to win.
Harry just couldn't mean it like that. He could get righteously pissed off. He could manage a very personal anger, thinking of his Mum and Dad. He could feel his blood boil. He could sense disgust and loathing and revulsion course through him and seek a way out. He simply didn't have Snape's bent mind; Harry's creativity refused to flow when it came to punishing the one he fought against, wearing them down with psychological games and painfully maiming curses. Harry just wanted it to be over, honestly. Kill old snakeface and get on with his life. Snape had pretty much flailed him when that thought became apparent. The impertinence, the fatal ego of you, boy! Voldemort will wipe the floor with you, he'll make you beg for death. You'll never even get the chance to try for a killing curse if you can't handle this!
Bastard.
Harry was beginning to wonder if he could even hate Voldemort quite as much as Snape. He was desperately worn out as well, and so twice as vulnerable. A great part of that was his own fault; he knew he shouldn't have been with Hermione before facing Snape and he'd paid for it.
And now there was Malfoy, waiting to pick off the zebra his master had winded for him. If Harry wasn't mistaken there was hunger in those eyes.
"Go away, Malfoy." Harry dropped his own eyes back to the floor and focused on an image of Draco doing just that. "I'm not in the mood."
"I need to talk to you."
"Funny, I'm having a difficult time right at the moment coming up with a single thing you could tell me that I'd give half a rat's ass about."
"How about Dumbledore. Want to hear about what he's up to?"
Harry shook his head. "Not really. He does what he does, and he'll tell me if he thinks I need to know. After the fact, of course. The question is why would you care what he was doing?"
"Maybe this is my way of… proving to you that I'm not what you think."
"I already know you're a sneaky, lying ferret. There's no disproving that anymore. I know I owe you, don't get me wrong, but all the crap you've put Ginny through, no one with a shred of human decency could do that."
"Hmmm, attempting to deal with the affection of two girls…. Seems to me the Gryffindor common room's seen its fair share of that little human drama. Unconvincing, Potter. What about you? You seem to be having some trouble of your own balancing the feelings of your boy and your mudblood. Go both ways, do you? That was quite the little display of affection Weasley placed on your face the other morning."
Harry laughed. "See, you try so hard to convince me that you're an actual human being and then you put your foot in it with that kind of thing. You have no idea how someone with an actual functioning heart really feels, do you?"
Something was going on behind those icy eyes. Looking at them revolted Harry; the image of them floating in his own face in McGonagall's mirror would haunt him the rest of his natural life. However long that lasted. Come to think of it, it was well past time to ask to borrow Dumbledore's pensieve. Harry had some serious baggage to dump; his head felt like it was going to explode.
"Drop the act, Potter. Don't tell me you haven't been wondering where Dumbledore was."
"He told me he was going. I was there when he decided to. He'll be back. End of story."
"What if it's not?"
"You seem to be the answer boy. You tell me."
Okay, if the truth be told, Harry was starting to get more than a little nervous. Dumbledore out of the castle and Draco baiting him with information wasn't good, no matter what was really going on.
"Dumbledore's in trouble. Voldemort hasn't got him yet, but he knows where he is and he has inside information that will allow him to attack when Dumbledore least expects it. He needs to be warned."
"Maybe that's what Dumbledore wants Voldemort to think. He was right ticked off when he left; maybe he's trying something on." Even as he said the words they rang hollow; the wretched prophecy dictated the parameters of Dumbledore's actions against his old student. Why would he place himself in danger for a battle he thought Harry had to fight? Harry's heart gave an off-rhythm thump.
"I can't tell you how I know what I know, but why would I tell you if not to prove myself."
'Cause you're a slimy little wanker?' Harry so longed to say the words, but fear was definitely lurking around the edges of his mind now.
"Okay, well, thanks. I'll err, make sure someone who'll know what to do hears that. It should make sense to unh, someone."
Malfoy laughed his nastiest, most cutting laugh. "Are you really so feeble that you'll just turn that over to McGonagall? Buy yourself a clue, Potter. For whatever reason, and I do hope that you know what it is, the whole of Dumbledore's fogey old support group think you're the only one who can do anything. If you like being treated like light shines out of your arsehole Harry, you have to be prepared to be used as a flashlight now and then. Voldemort will get to him long before they do anything."
Cold sweat broke out over the whole of Harry's tired body. It was fifth year all over again, panic warring against sense. Harry swiftly came to yet another realization about himself. He was an instinctual thinker. Instinctual un-thinker, really. He wanted to do what his body told him, felt he had far less in the mental capacity department. His body so rarely failed him; his brain let him down almost hourly. He needed Hermione. He hauled himself to his feet, pushing off the wall behind him.
"It'll have to be a start, at least," he said. "Can you find out any more?"
"What more do we need? We can go now, Potter. We can probably save the old fool's life while the other old fools argue about what to do,"
"You're in need of some glory to take with you across the lines, Malfoy," Harry pointed out suspiciously. "Why come to me? Why don't you just handle it? Be the hero yourself, that would convince everyone."
"Dumbledore won't trust me, Harry. He'll believe you."
Ha. Dumbledore could probably flip through every treacherous thought in Draco's head in the time it took him to blink.
"You're okay, Malfoy. He can tell what you're thinking, you know."
Draco laughed. "You two aren't the only ones who play mind games, Potter."
Harry felt something cold and foreign at the edge of his consciousness. It snaked stealthily forward. He let it get its revolting head in what he always envisioned as the door to his thoughts and then slammed it. Hard.
Malfoy staggered back, swearing.
"That's a little warning, Draco. Try that again, ever, and I'll make sure it's your psychological dick that gets slammed. Your old friend Snape's got my reflexes nice and tuned in that department. And if that hurt, I can't imagine you'd get anywhere with Dumbledore."
"Not in. But I can lock the old fool out. He doesn't even try me anymore."
Harry suspected that to be far from the truth; he reckoned Dumbledore was just far more subtle about how he went about it.
"The more you argue, Potter, the less time we have to warn the old goat."
"I need to think about this."
"You wussy. You mean you need to go ask Granger if you can go."
"Umm, yeah, actually that's pretty much it. That a problem for you?"
"Why involve her? You're only setting her up to be Voldemort's voodoo doll. Before you know it he'll be sticking her just to watch you dance."
Why, look at that! Harry could still manage a step or two more in the mind-melting anger department. Snape would be so proud.
"Shut the hell up, Malfoy."
"Come the hell on then, Potter."
Harry's mind raced. Two trains of thought were heading through his mind at top speed on the same track. In opposite directions, mind you. Stupid-don't-make-same-old-mistake-same-old-mistake was just about to collide with Go-do-it-end-it-go-do-it-end-it.
His hand grabbed the baby dragon's tooth, nestled on its cord around his neck ever since the summer day Charlie's gift had arrived. It had become so much a part of him he'd forgotten he had it; it had even stayed on the night he'd bared himself to Hermione. Suddenly he somehow knew just what he could do with it; perhaps even what it was for.
He stared Draco in those menacing eyes and whispered a charm, more subtle by far then stupendo. Malfoy was briefly suspended without the slightest consciousness that time went on. It was a difficult one to hold, particularly wandless. Harry had a minute or two, maybe less. He quickly gathered his thoughts, focused on the tooth in his palm and pushed. It was hard; he'd never tried anything quite like it before, only with Hermione. If Riddle could manage it with a bloody book he could do it with this… Please, oh please, he needed this to work. He prayed she would find it and read its hidden message; she was the only other person who'd ever touched it without being burned. It had to work.
He pulled the tooth on its cord over his head and backed down the hall, trying desperately to keep his hold on Malfoy. His hand reached out behind him and scrabbled until it found one of the stone gargoyles that guarded Dumbledore's door. He stuffed it in the gargoyles' open mouth.
Pathetic, really, that he'd gotten so good at this sort of sneaky marauder magic when he just couldn't master the kind that might stop him from actually needing it.
He moved swiftly back toward Malfoy, just beginning to break through Harry's hold. Unfortunately Harry found himself even more drained. What he really wanted now was a nice nap.
"Alright, then." Harry said. "Let's do it."
Malfoy blinked, but seemed unaware of the missing time or what Harry had done.
"Follow me."
Follow me. Follow Draco Malfoy. And he was. What the hell was wrong with him?
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The two boys made it out of the castle undetected, walking along just behind a cluster of Hufflepuffs heading for Hagrids' but breaking off before they reached the hut.
"Malfoy, you're not seriously headed for the Forbidden Forest."
"There's an apparition point in there if you know where, you know. One of the reasons it's Forbidden."
"Hmm, fascinating, only I can't apparate yet, you know. My birthday's not 'til summer."
"I always thought you were a bit of a baby. Well, never mind, of course you can apparate, you simply haven't got a license. Not a problem considering we're not anxious for the Ministry to keep track of our movements anyway."
Harry stopped walking. "No, I mean I can't apparate. I haven't ever. Not a clue."
Draco stopped as well and stared at him. "You never just snuck out in the summer and…"
"Oh, I see… I get arrested and brought up in court for using underage magic to defend myself against a bunch of dementors, but you can sneak off and apparate in the summer. How fair is that?"
"What about your friends? Surely you…"
"Malfoy, I don't get to see my friends over the summer. I get stuck home with my magic-hating muggle relatives mowing the lawn with a push mower and trimming the shrubs with a cutter."
Draco's patrician nose wrinkled. "Explains so much, really. Not much help under the circumstances though. Can you make a portkey?"
"No. Can you?"
"Of course not. Why would I bother when I can apparate? Idiot." Malfoy seemed truly annoyed now. "As powerful as you're meant to be, you can manage a little apparition. All you have to do is envision where you're going…"
"Which would be?"
"The Shrieking Shack. Just outside Hogsmeade."
Harry sighed in relief. "There's another way. Go ahead if you want to, or follow me."
He set off again across the grounds towards the Whomping Willow. The Shrieking Shack held some powerful memories for Harry, but it seemed a highly unlikely place for Voldemort to ambush Dumbledore. At least it wasn't far. It was late afternoon, however, and drawing close to the shortest day of the year; this far north the light died early and it was well into dusk. Harry's breath blew dragons' plumes; he was glad he had his heavy cloak from earlier in the day.
He told Malfoy how to find the swirled knot that ceased the Willow's flailing and both boys waited just out of reach of the branches looking for an opening.
"Go!" shouted Harry, seeing a clearing. He was struck only by several smaller branches; they stung like whips but managed little more than a few scratches. He reached the knot and pressed hard. The Willow seemed to groan, straining to defend itself, then slowly stilled.
Malfoy walked coolly forward. He'd simply waited for Harry to do the hard part. Jerk. No, wait a minute, that would be me for falling for this.
"I take it you've been this way before," Malfoy said.
"Yeah. It doesn't have such pleasant associations though, so don't make any unnecessary sudden movements if you like your bits the way they're hanging. I really don't have such a good feeling about this, Malfoy. Why would Dumbledore be at the Shrieking Shack?"
"He's not, stupid. He's going to use it as a meeting point. He's been a good few places since he left, constantly on the move according to observation, but there must be one person he couldn't meet with wherever they were, and he's arranged to meet them here, probably to get them into the castle since you can't apparate into Hogwarts."
It didn't make sense to Harry, but since Dumbledore never told him anything about what he was doing it couldn't really not make sense, either.
The passage narrowed, and Harry made sure that Malfoy moved ahead first. He might be dumb enough to follow him, but he wasn't stupid enough to leave him his back. He remembered traveling this way with Hermione in search of Ron and wished desperately that both were with him now.
They reached the stairs up into the shrieking shack itself and Malfoy drew his cloak around him fastidiously, avoiding the swaying cobwebs. They crept upward. Harry could see a flickering light coming from the second floor and the soft murmur of voices.
"I had so hoped that she would be the one, but the invasions on the castle continue through him despite her… companionship. Alas they must be separated, or we will fail to discover the love that will truly protect him when we have need of him most."
Harry froze, stunned. That was Dumbledore's voice. And he was talking about … Hermione?
Alas they must be separated, or we will fail to discover the love that will truly protect him when we have need of him most.
He must have been ready to scream the "NO!" that his brain had already cried out, but Malfoy's hand clamped firmly over his mouth.
"Can you do that effectively at the castle, or will she need to be… removed?" came another voice. Moody. It was Mad Eye, Harry was sure of it. How could they do this to him?
"We have several options at hand. I believe her mind could be subtly altered to transfer her affections to Mr. Weasley with out too much difficulty, and such a change would require fairly little explanation given the frequency with which it occurs naturally at that age."
"What about Potter?"
"If we can identify the correct partner he should quite forget about her. Actually, he should be the easier of the two. Miss Granger is quite clever. If she suspects anything she will of course have to be handled appropriately."
Harry could stand no more. His first instinct had been to rush in and confront the two, now all he wanted to do was find Hermione and run. He turned to start down the stairs and suddenly found himself airborne, the force of a sharp shove to his back driving him over the edge of the rail. The last thing he knew was a promise to kick himself for turning his back on Malfoy. Assuming he lived.
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"Where's Harry?" Hermione asked Ron as she settled herself across from him at dinner.
"No idea," Ron said succinctly in between mouthfuls. "Maybe his DADA ran over. Did he say who was teaching him this week?"
"He was supposed to have Snape, but Dumbledore promised to send Tonks at some point while he was gone. Maybe he's turned out to have some metamorphmagus in him after all." Hermione said. She served herself, but found she had lost her appetite once her plate was arranged. Something wasn't right. She didn't want to seem paranoid, knew that Ron would think she was just being clingy and controlling, but she really had a strange, empty sort of feeling without Harry there. In fact, just thinking about him at the moment felt the same…
"I think I'll just run up there and see if he's on his way back," she said.
"You haven't eaten a thing," Ron pointed out. "Finish up and I'll go with you. We can have seconds when we find him."
Hermione pushed her dinner around her plate, thankful for once for the speed and alacrity with which Ron could put away his food.
"There. Let's go, then," she said as his last mouthful disappeared, handing him a napkin and ducking his wondering eyes.
"What's gotten into you? He's a big boy, he'll be fine. Any damage Tonks can do is less likely permanent than Snape's."
"Malfoy's not here, either," Hermione pointed out in an undertone as they exited the Great Hall. Ron turned to look and she grabbed his arm to keep him moving forward. "Take my word for it, Ron. Really."
"Could be a complete coincidence, that," Ron said with a disheartening lack of conviction.
They made their way to Dumbledore's office, and along the corridor. They knew that the classroom was somewhere close by, but even Ron could feel the flickering of extra wards warning them off. There was no sign of Harry. Hermione sighed.
"Let's go check the common room. Or your dorm. He was sort of tired this afternoon… Ron you don't think he forgot about the spell and fell asleep without it!" Hermione suddenly panicked.
Ron's face remained calm but she could see his eyes turn a little panicky as well. "Merlin, I hope not. Suppose we'd better check though."
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Forty minutes later real fear was starting to set in. Harry was no where to be found in the castle.. Hermione had even made the trip down to see Hagrid, which had yielded the information that Hagrid had seen Harry and Malfoy not far from his hut late enough in the afternoon to be after Harry's DADA class, but he had no idea where the two had gone.
"He thought they might have been working off the detention. He said it didn't seem like anything was too off, they were just waking along," she related, no longer bothering to mask her concern.
"Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were just walking along AND NOBODY THOUGHT ANYTHING WAS TOO OFF?" Ron raged.
"Dumbledore left Fawkes to contact him if he was needed. I think we should take Fawkes to McGonagall and tell her what's going on." Hermione set off determinedly toward Dumbledore's office. Ron jogged to catch up.
"Why bother with McGonagall? Can't we just send Fawkes ourselves?"
"No, Ron. We always try to handle these things ourselves and lately they've been blowing up in our faces. Luck has its limits. And if you don't think I'm going to hex young Mr. Potter within an inch of his sorry life when we find him you'd be sadly mistaken."
Ron winced and wondered again why his friend had ever worried about the Sorting Hat's offer to put him in Slytherin. Only a true Gryffindor could ever be in love with Hermione.
They reached Dumbledore's office and pronounced the password. Nothing happened. A second try produced no further joy and Ron kicked the door in frustration. "He's changed the password!"
"No reason to kick the door young man! Mind your manners!" snarled one of the pair of gargoyles.
"Murmph!" gargled the other in agreement.
"Oh, lump it, you bloody great downspouts," Ron told them both.
"Weasley, isn't it. Haven't seen much of you. The others were all Head Boys and Quidditch Captains except for those wicked twins. Blew one of my ears off and now I'm hard of hearing. You only ever come with Harry Potter," sneered the left one.
"Murpmh!" agreed the right one.
"Have you seen Harry today?" Hermione asked anxiously. "Did he come looking for Professor Dumbledore?"
"Oh, he came by alright. Not looking for Headmaster, he wasn't."
"Murump!" chorused the other. Hermione looked closer and realized that the second gargoyle had been muttering the whole time because something was stuck in his mouth.
"What's that you've got?" she asked it. "Ron, see what it's got in its mouth."
Being taller Ron could see the object at eye level, but he couldn't quite make out what it was. He reached out his hand to pluck it from the gargoyles' mouth but recoiled sharply when his hand came in contact with it.
"Bit me! The bloody thing bit me!"
"Murmf mot!" protested the gargoyle.
"Says he didn't. Never lies. Known him for centuries," said the other.
"What was it? Could you see?" Hermione asked, taking his hand and looking at the wound. The mark looked more as if the skin had been burned somehow than bitten. She took out her wand and healed it easily.
"Wow! Thanks. You really are good at that, you know. Hurts lots less than when Mum does it, anyway."
"So what did it look like?"
"Something white and black. The black bit looked sort of coiled up, like cord."
"Pick me up!" Hermione commanded, suddenly excited. "Ron, hold me up so I can see!"
Ron obediently picked her up and held her level with the Gargoyles' mouth. He couldn't believe how light she was. Or how soft, somehow; no, make that fragile. And she smelled good, all that hair in his face, silky and… Holy crap, was this what Harry was on about? Maybe he had a point!
"It's Harry's tooth, from Charlie!" she said.
"Well, whatever you do don't touch it. Burns like acid, it does. How d'you think it got there?"
Hermione reached out and plucked the necklace gently from the relieved gargoyles' mouth. Ron let her down quickly in his haste to be well clear of it.
"He put it there, didn't he?" she asked the gargoyle.
"That he did. Harry Potter himself. Glad to be rid of it," the gargoyle agreed.
Hermione had been holding the cord; she reached out then and enclosed the tooth in her other hand.
There was no burning sensation at all. The tooth felt smooth and warm to her touch, welcoming as Harry himself. Almost at once a flood of images began to make their way into her consciousness. The first were of herself down by the lake; she was seeing herself through Harry's eyes and felt tears prick her own. She could sense his tenderness toward her, his utter content when they were done. They walked to the castle door, kissed, and separated. Harry went on to DADA. She could feel his disappointment when he discovered Snape waiting for him, and then the twist and surge of anger and frustration that was his lesson, the sting of spells and the goading voice: The impertinence, the fatal ego of you, boy! Voldemort will wipe the floor with you, he'll make you beg for death.' She felt a flicker of fear for him, then Harry's realization about not wanting to have to wear Voldemort down with dueling and mind games, his desire to simply render him powerless once and for all and be done. Yes! She thought. Snape railed on in his memory. Harry slunk from the room when he was dismissed, slid down to the floor as soon as the door closed. She heard Malfoy's voice 'Hey, scarface." Hermione felt Harry's dislike and disbelief slowly turn to fear for Dumbledore. She clearly sensed the point at which Harry recognized the war between his instinct and intellect, felt with a swift surge of joy the strength of his longing for her then. Heard Malfoy call him names and Harry admit that he would ask her permission to go, until… 'Why involve her? You're only setting her up to be Voldemort's voodoo doll. Before you know it he'll be sticking her just to watch you dance.' The surge of fear and love and protective anger was so strong she gasped and opened her hand around the tooth, seeking release.
The next thing she knew she waking up on the floor. Her head hurt terribly and her limbs felt stiff and cold. Ron was shaking her.
"You're going to have all my teeth out if you don't STOP Ron," she told him irritably, and sat up.
"You just passed out. You were holding the tooth and muttering and then you made this awful sound and dropped it and passed out."
"Harry went with Draco. He told him that he knew where Dumbledore was and that Voldemort was going to ambush him and he needed to be warned."
"And Harry fell for that?" Ron said in disbelief.
"Yes," Hermione said sadly. "Do you know, Ron, he left me all his thoughts from the afternoon here, not just the last moments with Malfoy. He knew it could have been a trap, but he didn't know for sure and so he went. After the Department of Mysteries, after what happened in the Forbidden Forest, he still went. He's just always going to go, until it kills him."
"Well, let's go find out where he is so you can be the one to do it." Ron told her. "Up you get." He helped her to her feet. "I think we need to find out if a certain little ferret is back in his hole."
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Ron found the Marauder's Map in Harry's trunk. Sure enough, the moving spot marked 'Draco Malfoy' could be found down in the kitchens. He'd missed dinner after all. 'Harry Potter' was still nowhere to be found.
They borrowed Harry's invisibility cloak and made their way as swiftly as possible to the kitchens, tickling the pear and quickly slipping in through the door. Draco was waiting near one of the scrubbed work tables while one of the house elves put together a plate of food for him. Hermione could see Dobby sitting, no lounging, really, by the fire and studiously ignoring his old master. The bobble on his tea cozy hat was all that gave him away; it quivered with indignation and animosity.
They pulled off the cloak as Ron thrust his wand firmly into Draco's back.
"Where is he, Malfoy?"
"Where is who?" Malfoy asked. He was going for bored indifference but failed ever so slightly.
"Harry. Harry Potter. About so high, black hair, green eyes, hates your guts almost as much as I do… Ring any bells? You tried to kill him a couple of weeks ago."
"Oh, Potter. About so high…" Malfoy dropped several inches off Ron's estimation, "big ugly scar, that the one? He's still breathing because of me; by the way, I just have no idea where he's doing it at the moment." He looked at Hermione pointedly, "Or who he might be doing it with if you're here. Ever reconsider my advice?"
Hermione's wand work was so fast she even amazed herself. Draco was hanging upside down from a meat hook in the ceiling, hands neatly bound behind him before he knew what hit him.
"Get me down. NOW!" he howled, pale face flushed with blood from his inverted position. And rage.
"Tell me what you've done with Harry, NOW!" Hermione countered.
"You'll get bloody nothing from me unless you get me down this instant!" Malfoy retorted.
Hermione's wand began flicking. Cooking utensils, pots, pans all flew across the kitchen with Draco as their target. He was swinging and twisting, unable to avoid the onslaught. A cast iron skillet caught him a stinging blow and he screeched, "Alright! He's at the Shrieking Shack! In Hogsmeade!"
Ron held up his hand and Hermione ceased the bombardment. "What the bloody hell is Harry doing at the Shrieking Shack?"
"Let me down and I'll tell you."
Ron flicked his wand with a charm and Malfoy was abruptly released face down onto the brick floor. Ron leaned down and helped him to his feet, and when they were well and square under him punched Draco solidly in the face. Hermione reflected on Malfoy's taunt to Harry in the tooth's memory. What about you? You seem to be having some trouble of your own balancing the feelings of your boy and your mudblood. Go both ways, do you? That was quite the little display of affection Weasley placed on your face the other morning. She hadn't told Ron, quite on purpose, but his revenge was sweet none the less.
"You'll tell us anyway, you filthy little ferret. You'll take us there, because we're not near as trusting as Harry. And you'd better hope he's okay. Because if he's hurt and you did it any wizard's debt rubbish is out the window as far as I'm concerned. And then there's the little matter of my sister…"
Malfoy wiped his face and spit. Something that sounded suspiciously like a tooth hit the bricks.
"You are so dead, Weasley."
"You are so not in a position to make threats, ferret boy."
Hermione swiftly returned the kitchen to its pre-bombardment state and lured the little house elf who had been serving Draco out from under the table.
"Harry showed you the passage way to the Shrieking Shack, didn't he." she guessed. "So you know the way."
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A/N: Okay, where do I start on this one… I screwed up on the Gargoyles. There's really only one outside Dumbledore's office, but I liked them too much to kill one. Sorry! And a big reminder - this was written before HBP came out. Harry had no idea the diary was a horcrux when he compared what he was doing with his memories to what Riddle did with the diary. Lastly, there is a three chapter 'prequel' to this in which Harry receives the dragon tooth he wears and uses here. If anyone wants I will repost that too - I think I finally got the missing chapter back from Dell.
Thanks for reading! Have a nice weekend.