Harry potter and the Riddle's end by luna_in_disguise

Rating: PG13
Genres: Angst, Action & Adventure
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 7
Published: 23/07/2007
Last Updated: 21/03/2008
Status: Completed

While Harry potter is looking foreward to finally leaving the Dursleys, he cannot say he is
exited about his future of hunting the Horcruxes. While on this journey with Ron and Hermione, many
questions occur. Who is R.A.B? What do Harry's eyes have to do with Gryffindor? Do Luna's
Crumple-Horned Snorkacks actually exist? and why does the Mirror of Erised only show him his best
female friend? Also, whats up with Draco malfoy? my version of DH. Some things i might have
borrowed from it. Hope you like! WARNING: violence for later chapters.




1. Visitors
-----------



Rain splattered the windows of privet drive. Vast grey rain clouds obscured the darkening sky as
the cars and plants outside received a lashing of precipitation. Even the weather seemed to be
mourning the death of Albus Dumbledore.

In a small room in number 4 sat a young man with untidy black hair and brilliant green eyes
behind oval glasses. He was hunched up staring moodily out the window. He was wearing baggy,
hand-me-down clothes. However, they didn't hang off him as much as before, as he had lost his
scrawny, boyish look and developed rather nice muscles due to all the quidditch he had been playing
as he was captain.

Harry Potter walked to the other side of the room, his head still clouded over the death of his
former head master of Hogwarts School of witchcraft and wizardry. Harry Potter was a wizard, and a
unique one at that. His new found mission in life was to find all the horcruxs of Voldemort, the
darkest wizard of the time who killed Harry's parents, and destroy them. He also knew he would
eventually face Voldemort himself. It was because of this Harry had spent the last 16 years of his
life at his aunt and uncle's house, who hated wizards.

Harry kept reciting the four horcruxs left: the locket, the cup, the snake and something of
Gryffindor's or Ravenclaw's. Harry sighed. He couldn't concentrate on his book,
*Dealing with the Dark Arts,* because of his anger towards Snape. He had been Harry's
teacher, and had cold bloodedly murdered Dumbledore. He wondered where Snape was now and what he
was doing.

Harry looked at his clock. Half past five. He could hear uncle Vernon (who was a large,
moustached man) laughing obnoxiously at the T.V and his equally large son's equally obnoxious
laughter (though Dudley wasn't quite as moustachey). Harry wished he could leave this place
forever, and he could, when he was 17, but that wasn't for another two weeks. He hated it at
the Dursley's, always had. But lately his cousin had teased him for sleep talking, and his aunt
and uncle (as usual) had treated him like a slave.

There was a loud clap of thunder outside. Then another. Then another. Then- wait!

It wasn't thunder. Someone was throwing stones at his window. Harry looked out of the window
to see someone with flaming red hair grinning madly at him and another person with bushy brown hair
under an umbrella looking nervously around. It was his two best friends- Ron Weasley and Hermione
Granger. Harry panicked. What were they doing? If uncle Vernon heard he would never hear the last
of it.

He scurried as quietly as he could downstairs and opened the door.

“What are you doing?” he hissed.

“Well that's nice isn't it?” said Ron, but he was still grinning.

“Listen Harry, we've come to-” started Hermione, but she was cut off by Harry.

“We can't go! I'm not seventeen yet!”

“We Know. We're staying here until you are 17.” She said. Harry's jaw dropped.

“You can't! If the Dursleys-”

“Boy!” roared a voice. Too late. Harry gulped and turned around. Standing on the stairs were his
uncle, aunt and cousin, looking livid. “Who are you talking to?”

“I… err…”

Suddenly Ron burst through the door, dripping everywhere and hanging his soaking cloak. The
Dursleys took one look at Ron's long nosed, freckled face and uncle Vernon's moustache
bristled. Ron looked around the spotless room.

“Flippin' heck! It's a bit clean in here isn't it, mate?”

Hermione, instead of dripping everywhere, shook the umbrella and hung her cloak neatly. Ron
spotted Harry's aunt and uncle staring at him. “Hey” he said, eyeing them in disgust “are they
the muggles?”

“I think I'll handle this Ron.” said Hermione. “Hello, I'm Hermione Granger and this is
Ronald Weasley.” She said smiling politely and she offered her hand in greeting, though Harry could
see the dislike in her eyes. Vernon glared at her hand as if it was a snake before yelling “WHAT DO
YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING IN MY HOUSE?!”

Hermione put her hand down but continued to smile

“We have to visit here for-”

“OH NO YOU DON'T! HOW DARE YOU INVITE YOURSELVES TO MY HOUSE! GET OUT OR I'LL CALL THE
POLICE!” he yelled, spraying Hermione with spit. Uncle Vernon was really angry, his moustache was
bristling, the vein in his temple was throbbing and he was turning a horrible shade of puce.
Hermione closed her eyes, as though she was stopping herself from punching him in the face, and as
calmly as she could, said “I understand how you feel, Mr Dursley, but Harry needs us here-”

“Harry?” He glared at Harry. “You're H-Harry's friends?” he quickly changed from puce to
purple.

“HOW DARE YOU INVITE YOUR FREAKY LITTLE FRIENDS HERE! GET RID OF THEM!” the vein in his temple
was now pulsing terribly fast.

“Sorry, can't do that. We have plans to make” said Harry sternly.

“I'M NOT HAVING ANY MORE OF YOUR KIND AROUND US THIS HOLIDAY!”

“Oh, don't worry about that, we're staying somewhere near here.” Said Hermione
quickly.

“And we'll only be in my room, we won't bother you” said Harry.

“You are not keeping a girl in your room, normal or not” hissed uncle Vernon, eyeing Hermione.
She looked shocked and glared back at him.

“It's for your family's safety” said Ron coldly. Uncle Vernon stared at him.

“In case you didn't know, sir, we are at war.” Said Hermione seriously. The Dursleys looked
at each other confusedly. There was silence.

“If you expect me to believe this stupid rubbish about a war-”

“Don't you remember me telling you?” said Harry quietly “about how Voldemort is back?” more
silence. Aunt Petunia had turned pale.

“B-but-”

“Don't you realise we are needed here? Wizards (the Dursleys shuffled) could quite easily
attack you, you know.” Hermione stated. Aunt Petunia had been growing steadily paler, and she
pursed her lips making her face seem even longer.

“We're specially trained” said Ron in a boastful voice. Harry and Hermione glared at
him.

“What- but-”

“Well? Out of our way!” said Harry angrily, pushing past them to climb the stairs. Hermione gave
the Dursleys a curt nod and followed him.

“What was that about you being specially trained?” grinned Harry, locking the door.

“Well I had to say something.” Sniggered Ron. Harry sighed and sat on the bed wearily.

“How come you came?” he asked quietly.

“Like we said, Harry, we're not leaving you to fight Voldemort on your own.” said Hermione,
also sitting on the bed. Harry smiled. Truth was, he had been feeling slightly lonely when he was
only with the Dursleys, and had worried Ron and Hermione would change their minds.

“Thanks, you two. That means a lot to me”

“We're staying at Mrs Figg's across the road.” Said Hermione

“She's pretty weird. The house really smells of cabbage” Ron wrinkled his nose. “Good of her
to let us stay, though.”

“Doesn't she only have one room?” said Harry suspiciously. Ron turned away, but Harry saw
his ears redden and his hidden smirk.

“Yes, but fortunately, I sleep on the sofa.” Said Hermione, noticing nothing. Harry frowned at
Ron. He had had an inkling that Ron had started fancying Hermione for some time now.

“Good” said Harry. His voice didn't sound his own for some reason.

“So” said Hermione, folding her arms. “Have you thought about the Horcruxs?”

“No” admitted Harry “but I have a funny feeling that if we go to Godric's Hollow we might
get a clue.”

“Remember the wedding!” Ron chirped in, examining Harry's alarm clock.

Hermione sighed. “Yes, Ron can't forget that.”

*

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2. Malfoy Manor
---------------



Meanwhile, miles and miles away from where this was, a white-blond haired youth slumped on his
bed, burying his ghostly pale face in his pillow. The skull with its serpentine tongue on his wrist
burned just as it had been doing all day, making his whole arm throb in agony. Another hard day of
waiting to be given orders and tolerating the dark lord's temper.

Draco Malfoy groaned and peeled off his sweaty shirt, exposing his back. Red cuts and marks
stood out against the milky-white skin on his back. The Dark lord was a harsh master, and
punishment was severe. Aches and pains had kept him up many nights, and he had dark circles under
his eyes. Not only that, but dreams had too. Flashbacks of the night Albus Dumbledore died raced
through his mind, like a non-stop wheel of images.

He didn't care the old codger was dead. He was kind of glad actually. But … Draco had never
seen someone die before. Or tortured, and now he was a death eater it would be expected of him to
do that.

And that's what infuriated him so much. It was he, Draco, that had cornered Dumbledore, even
disarmed him. And yet when it came to killing … he couldn't do it. The dark lord had accepted
him disarming Dumbledore, so he wasn't punished (much). Severus Snape had killed him.

But why? Why had Draco been unable to kill?

“Is it because I'm weak?” he muttered to himself.

“Valuing life is not weakness.” Said a voice. Draco jumped as the voice echoed around the large,
empty room.

“Who's there?” he called into the empty room. He cautiously opened the door of his
wardrobe.

“Getting closer”

“Where are you? Tell me or my father-”

“Humph, your father.” Said the voice, mockingly.

He looked around. Everything was in order: the giant double bed, the leather sofas, the large
bookshelf, the picture over his bed-

Except it wasn't in order. Draco stared. Usually it was just a plain picture of a simple oak
tree against a vibrant blood red sunset. His mother had found it, dusty and old, in the attic and
put it up in his room.

But now there was a *person* in it.

“Oh well done, you've finally found me.” He grinned. The man was sprawled out on a branch,
grinning lazily, his hands behind his head. He was fairly young, and quite handsome (not that Draco
thought so). He had black hair that just reached his shoulders.

He was wearing fine robes, so Draco knew he was quite rich.

“Who are you?” Draco asked, sneering at him. Instead of answering the man looked around
Draco's room.

“Malfoy Manor is it?” said the man. “Hmm. I suppose Narcissa saw a pretty tree and hung it in
your room, did she?”

“How do you know my mother?” snapped Draco.

“Well, I'd be pretty thick not to know my own cousin's name” said the man, rolling his
eyes. But it was then that Draco realized he had seen the man's face before. It had been
everywhere in his third year, on posters, in the daily prophet. It was the face of-

“Sirius Black” Draco whispered. Now he recognised that long dark hair and gaunt face. Though the
painting must have been painted just before he went to Azkaban, there was no mistaking this was a
younger, healthier, less troubled Sirius black.

Sirius clapped his hands. “Hooray! You've worked out who I am!” he said sarcastically.

“*You're* related to *me*?” Draco glared at him in disbelief.

“Unfortunately. I'm your … 2nd cousin? Something like that.”

“Then how come mother never spoke of you?” said Draco, desperately trying to find some flaw in
this.

“Duh, I'm the Black family traitor, aren't I?” he said, as if to a five year old. This
annoyed Draco greatly. How dare this painting come into *his* room and treat him like a fool?
“Actually, I don't know why Narcissa even has this portrait…hey!”

Draco had taken the portrait off the wall, much to Sirius's protests, just to check it was
his portrait. But, sure enough, in tiny, smudged writing were the words *Sirius Black.*
Draco's lip curled, but he hung the portrait back up.

“And you and mom were *friends?*”

“Oh we weren't friends!” laughed Sirius. “No, she was too much of a snob for the likes of
*me*. (Draco narrowed his eyes) though” Sirius stroked his chin thoughtfully. “She was quite a
sweet little child, I must admit, before she went to Hogwarts. And then she went and married that…
that…” he waved his hands, searching for a word to describe Lucius. “That” he finally stated.

Draco felt his face burn. “What do you mean, *that*? My father is-”

“And then they had you” Sirius said as though Draco had not spoken. “And look at you! You look
just like your old man” Sirius chuckled. And then he frowned. “And what's worse, from what my
godson told me, you act just like him too. Very bad, Draco” he shook his head disapprovingly. “Am I
correct in saying he made you become a Death Eater? Pft, you don't want that” he waved his
hands and slouched back on his tree branch.” it's all killing and Azkaban, and trust me, that
ain't pretty.”

“Well, what if I like being a Death Eater?” spat Draco.

“Then you're a fool, boy! Mark my words, your father has made enough of a mess of his own
life; don't let him do it to yours.

Draco's jaw dropped. “Wha- but- you can't-” he spluttered. Sirius stretched lazily.

“Oh, come off it, you're not Death Eater material.”

“And what do you care if I am or not? Why are you here?” Draco snarled. Sirius paused, gazing at
him through deep, dark eyes.

“I was sent.” He muttered softly.

“By whom?”

“Someone who does care what happens to you. Someone who believes there is some good hidden in
that white-blond head of yours”

“Yes, but whom?”

“Alright it was Dumbledore if you really want to know” snapped Sirius. Draco gaped at him.

“It can't have been. He's dead.”

“Not recently! Last summer, he managed to find my other portrait, and asked me to spy on you.
How else do you think he knew about your little plan?”

“So. So you've been spying on me have you?” Draco muttered furiously.

“yes.” Sirius grinned cheekily. Draco glared out the window.

“And you're saying I shouldn't do what father wants me to, Black? Black?” he turned back
to the portrait, to find only the oak tree in calmness once more. With a roar of frustration, he
wrenched the painting off its hinges and was about to chuck it into the flickering fire, when
something stopped him. He looked at the painting in his hands. Then, he kicked the wardrobe door
open and shoved it into the back.

Draco clambered into bed, though it was only ten to six. Sirius's words repeated themselves
in his mind. “*Your* *father has made enough of a mess of his own life, don't let him do
it to yours**…”* and with that he fell asleep.

*

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3. Goodbye Dursleys
-------------------



*It was first year, and the giant chess queen struck Ron around the head and he tumbled to the
ground…Second year, Hermione was lying petrified in the hospital ward…Ginny lay stone cold on the
floor of the chamber of secrets…Third year, Sirius lay motionless by the lake as hundreds of
Dementers swooped down on him…Fourth year, they were in the graveyard and Cedric Diggory was hit by
Voldemort's curse…Fifth year, Ron was attacked by the brain … Sirius falling through the
veil…Sixth year, Dumbledore hurtling down, dead…Then it flashed back to fifth year again, and
Hermione was hit by Dolohov's silent curse, she fell to he floor, her eyes wide and glassy, not
moving, completely still…*

Harry woke with a start, panting heavily, and sweat dripping from his brow. He had been having
that nightmare ever since the death of Dumbledore, Harry's last protector. The last person who
truly cared about him. Harry had realised, shortly after his death, that that was what he really
needed, someone who *truly* cared about him. His parents, Sirius, now Dumbledore… Harry had
lost so many.

The dream always went from first year to sixth, but Harry didn't know why it always flashed
back to Hermione's near-death at the end…

He looked at his alarm clock. It was six o'clock. He could hear Uncle Vernon snoring
loudly.

As quietly as he could, Harry showered and dressed, so he didn't wake the Dursleys. Still
making as little noise as possible, he exited the house and walked down the road to Mrs
Figg's.

Privet drive was so much nicer early in the morning; not many people to stare and mutter. Plus,
the dew gave the grass a nice sparkly effect.

He pressed the black and white plastic doorbell and could soon hear the shuffle of Mrs.
Figg's carpet slippers.

“Harry! How are you?” Mrs Figg said. For the first time Harry stepped into Mrs. Figg's house
with a smile on his face. He stepped into the familiar kitchen. It still smelt of cabbage. Hermione
was sitting at the breakfast table, brushing her hair.

“Hi Harry” she muttered.

“Where's Ron?” asked Harry, taking a seat.

“Upstairs, snoring his head off.” Hermione grinned. Harry smiled. They had been doing this for
the last week and a half. Harry was surprised they would stay this long.

“Blimey Harry, it's too early” yawned Ron from the stairs. He looked like he'd only just
woken up; his hair was messy and he looked half asleep.

“Here, Ron, have some breakfast” Hermione got him a slice of toast as Ron slumped over to the
table. Eventually, after Ron got dressed and Hermione thanked Mrs. Figg once again for breakfast
they were able to go to the park.

They all had their wands out, though Harry still felt uncomfortable and vulnerable. Most of the
park had been vandalised by Dudley's gang, but there were still two swings left, and Ron
managed to untangle a third. Hermione gently rocked on the swing and pulled out the Daily
Prophet.

“Oh no… oh, how horrible!” she gasped.

“What?” said Harry, dreading the answer.

“Voldemort k-killed a little b-boy with the inferi of his dead parents” she said tearfully. Ron
surveyed the article with grim sadness. Harry closed his eyes mournfully. Another life lost at the
hands of Voldemort. If he, Harry, didn't do something soon it would mean more sacrifice.

“Oh, great” muttered Ron. Harry looked up. But Ron wasn't looking at the paper. Harry looked
to the other side of the park and his temper boiled. Dudley and his stupid gang were coming towards
them.

“Oi!” said one of them, who was clearly Dudley as he was the largest. “Get off our turf!”

“Don't see your name on it.” Replied Harry coolly. He was too angry at the world to care how
Dudley would react.

“Don't get cocky with me, Potter” growled Dudley. The goons cracked their knuckles.

“No, it might hurt your brain” said Ron. Harry and Hermione sniggered. Dudley scowled for a
minuet then smiled.

“You think he's brave, but he's only useful as a punch bag.” The goons laughed, but
Hermione raised her eyebrows.

“Strange, I'd have thought it was the other way round, seeing as you're the right shape
and all. Aren't punch bags large and lumpy?” Harry and Ron laughed and Dudley looked angry, but
Piers Polkiss looked Hermione up and down.

“Who's the tart, Potter?” he sneered

Hermione's jaw dropped, but Harry and Ron stood up and yelled “HOW DARE YOU!” the gang
members howled with laughter and Harry and Ron got out their wands. Dudley paled, but the other
boys laughed harder at the bits of wood.

“I'm warning you, don't you EVER speak like that about her again” said Harry
furiously.

“What's the matter, potter, you don't *fancy* that cow?”

A burst of green smoke issued from Ron's wand with a loud bang. Harry watched in awe as the
muggles flew into the air and landed face-first in the mud, unconscious.

“Oh Ron!” groaned Hermione furiously.

“That's it. We're gonna get your things, Harry, and then we're leaving.” said Ron,
storming away. Harry and Hermione glanced worriedly at each other.

“What, Now?”

“Now!” Ron said with the same furious determination Ginny sometimes had. They hurried after him
to the Dursleys. Harry quietly sneaked upstairs to get his trunk, although he knew he wouldn't
be going back to Hogwarts.

Carrying his things downstairs, Harry grabbed a piece of paper and quickly scribbled: *I'm
going now. You'll probably never see me again, but if you do, it'll be too soon. Goodbye,
Harry.*

*“*Harry?” he heard a soft voice behind him say. Aunt Petunia was standing in the doorway
in a dressing gown. “You're leaving now, aren't you?”

“Yes” replied Harry coldly. Aunt Petunia fidgeted with something in her hands. Harry had never
seen her like this; her eyes were full of concern.

“Listen, I- I wanted to give you something” Harry raised an eyebrow, and Aunt Petunia passed him
a little brown box, to find a beautiful silver ring with a fat, sparkling diamond in the middle. It
was engraved with silver vines and leaves, and at the bottom, in tiny writing Harry could hardly
read, was a short message: *A**ll my love, J.P to L.E.*

“It was your Mother's ring” Aunt Petunia sighed. “Your father gave it to her just before
they married.” Harry examined it. It looked valuable. He was surprised she hadn't sold it.

“How long have you had this?” said Harry quietly.

“Ever since she died. I just… I thought you should have something of hers, even if it's not
useful.” Harry stared at her. Where was the strict, unfair Aunt Petunia he knew all these
years?

“I… thank you.” Harry muttered softly, putting the ring back in its case and slipping it back in
his pocket.

He turned to leave when Aunt Petunia said “and Harry… I'm sorry.” And she did something
she'd never done before; she pulled him into a hug. It was quite short, and she let go of him
and walked away before Harry could comprehend what had happened. Aunt Petunia, who had always been
vile and cruel to him, had just hugged him? What was next, Lucius Malfoy announcing his membership
to the muggle lovers association?

He came out to find Ron looking fairly pleased with himself

“Oh, Harry, we're going to be apperating, so hold on to me” said Hermione.

“I can apperate my self, you know” grumbled Harry, holding her arm.

“Yeah, Hermione, we're not babies” moaned Ron.

“But you haven't got your licences yet.”

“We passed the test” said Ron. He and Harry had received a visitor to escort them to the
ministry a few days previously, and both had passed with flying colours, but the ministry
wouldn't issue those licences until next week.

“Yes, but if you splinch you'll have no licence to show them and you'll be fined.
Anyway, I'm not really apparating you, I'm just guiding you.” They bickered like this as
the three of them apparated to the burrow, Harry feeling the familiar tube- like squeeze.

*

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4. The Wedding
--------------



The burrow looked just as it always did; warm and homely, scattered with chickens and looking as
though it might collapse.

They walked inside the Burrow and headed straight to Ron's room (Hermione went to
Ginny's room) to unpack their things. Harry looked out the window, a giant white marquee had
been set up and he could see the fluffy red head of Mrs. Weasley fidgeting around.

“Mum's been going mad over this wedding” muttered Ron.

He, Harry and Hermione headed downstairs to find Mr Weasley at the breakfast table.

“Harry! Ron! Hermione! Have you only just got here?”

“Yeah. You know, I'm starving” said Ron.

“My goodness, did you see the Death Eaters?”

“Death Eaters?” said Hermione worriedly.

“Yes. The Aurors found a group of boys- one of them was your cousin, Harry- unconscious. We
recon he was attacked by Death Eaters.”

Ron paled.

“Bu-but they're ok aren't they?”

“Oh, yes, they're perfectly fine, but Death Eaters can't go around attacking muggles
whenever they wish, can they?”

“Definitely not” said Ron and he hurried outside, trailed by Harry and Hermione.

“Death Eaters, eh?” hissed Hermione, her eyes narrowed. Ron flinched.

“Look, they were perfectly fine weren't they? There's no harm done, and besides, they
deserved it. They called you a-”

“I know what they called me! But this is *war* Ron; we're supposed to be protecting the
muggles, not-”

“What, are you going to tell on me, then?”

“Of course not, but…” they carried on bickering until they got to the Marquee. Harry, from past
experience, had learned to stay out of it.

“Good job I didn't tell her about the camera, eh?” whispered Ron, after Hermione had stalked
away in search for Ginny. Harry gave him a true grin, which was rare these days. Ron had gotten a
video camera that Mr Weasley had got his hands on. Harry had been able to work it, and they had
secretly filmed Dudley smoking, drinking and vandalising. They had sent a copy to every house on
privet drive. Harry couldn't help but smile as he pictured the look of horror and utter shame
on the Dursley's face, feeling that they fully deserved it. He felt a minuscule twinge of
guilt, however, remembering that his aunt *had* given him the only possession of his mothers…
but he quickly shook himself out of that. One moment of kindness did not make up for 17 years of
neglect.

Harry and Ron caught up with Hermione and Ginny, who was trying on her bridesmaids dress. She
looked absololutely lovely in her robes of pale gold, thought Harry, as he felt a familiar, yet
much fainter, growling in his chest.

“Hey, Ron, Harry” said Ginny brightly. She looked at Harry as though she was trying to fight an
urge. This was because, Harry knew, they had had a brief relationship last year, but Harry had
broken it off temporarily because of her safety. He kind of wished he hadn't, because it was
very comforting to have a girlfriend, but he was convinced it was the right thing.

Suddenly he heard a rustling, and a plump, kind faced woman squeezed him in a hug.

“Harry, Dear!” said Mrs. Weasley. “So good to see you, are you ok? Have you been fed well?” but
she said no more as a beautiful woman floated in.

“'Arry! `Own good eet is to see you!” said Fleur Delacour-soon-to-be-Weasley. She brushed a
silvery strand of hair from her eyes and kissed him on the cheek. “Oh, la magnifique! Ginny, you
look seemply superb in zat dress!” and she blustered over to Ginny, who scowled.

It seemed they had arrived at the right time. The three of them had so much work to do to help
with the wedding Harry didn't have time to worry about Voldemort or horcruxes.

Finally the day came. The Weasley's garden had been expanded to fit the marquee, and Harry
watched as it filled up with many more red headed people, along with good-looking people talking
rapidly in French. The sky outside was deep blue, with few clouds, unusually good compared to the
weather they had been having recently. Harry was being introduced to Ron's second cousin once
removed or something when Fred pulled him into a seat on the third row.

“The weddings starting now. Just be thankful mum didn't drag you to sit by her, she'll
have blubbered all over your shoulder” he whispered as the wedding march started. Everybody gasped
at Fleur, who was gliding down the isle looking stunning, closely followed by Ginny and Gabrielle.
She was wearing some materiel that clung to her, yet was light and floaty, too. Bill, who was
looking at her with adoring eyes, was wearing something Harry thought was strange: dark, heavy
wizards Robes made of what looked like leather, an assortment of odd metal chains and medallions,
one white glove with three stones in between the knuckles (one white, one pink and one blue) on his
right hand, and a thick, black, velvety wizards hat.

“What's Bill wearing?” asked Harry.

“Wizards marriage robes.” Answered George, who was sitting the other side of Harry. “You
can't wear anything else on your wedding day, not even underwear!” he sniggered. “Mum even got
him to take off his fang earring.”

Harry had never been to a wizard wedding, but apart from Bill's clothes, it seemed just like
a muggle wedding (he'd never been to one of those either, but had caught glimpses of them on
T.V). They had a vicar, exchanged rings (Charlie was best man) and said vows. It was only just
before they kissed when everybody stood up, and pointed their wands (a couple of people who must
have been squibs just used their fingers) at the couple. Harry just copied everyone else, and
immediately a thin string of gold light soared out of his and every one else's wands and
wrapped themselves around Bill and Fleur, just as their lips touched.

The sky was darkening, a faint pink tinge on the Horizon and their was a definite chill to the
air, not that anyone noticed it much as they were too busy dancing, laughing and eating out on the
Weasley's back yard. Mrs Weasley had set up a large buffet table (with some interesting French
dishes) and the weird sisters were blaring from an unknown source. Bill and Fleur were dancing
slowly and even Ron had had a dance with Gabrielle, Hermione and a girl they didn't know. Harry
hadn't though, he'd mostly been quiet, occasionally talking to people or eating.

“Come and dance with me, Harry” said Ginny, flushed and breathless.

“But, Ginny…” Harry whined, but Ginny had already dragged him on to the dance floor. Fred and
George wolf-whistled, behind him, and Harry felt his face burn.

“Don't listen to them” whispered Ginny as they danced and twirled to the slow music. Harry
felt the chest monster raise its head again, and as the song came to an end, his and Ginny's
lips drew closer and…

Harry jerked his head away, and quickly ran until he got to the Burrow.

“*Oh, great job, blithering idiot!”* he thought sarcastically. He heard footsteps and a
voice softly calling his name. Heart racing, he emerged from the shadows and looked Ginny in the
eye.

“Are you ok?” he said softly, her eyes melting with worry. She reached up to touch his cheek but
Harry flinched.

“D-don't” he muttered. He took a breath. “Look, Ginny, you know how I feel about you, but we
*split up*. Voldemort…danger…”

“Look Harry I didn't mean to do that. Ok that's a lie, I did. But I know you're
leaving tomorrow, and I just wanted you to enjoy yourself for the last time before-”

“It's too late to enjoy myself.” Said Harry, slowly shaking his head “the last time, I felt
the tiniest bit normal was when I was with you, but I'm not normal. I have to save the world,
for Pete's sake!”

Ginny stayed quiet for a long time, looking at the ground. But then “let me come with you.” She
stated fiercely.

“W-what?” Harry gasped.

“You want an escape to normality, right? Well I can give you that” Ginny had pinned him to the
wall “and I want to help fight, and we both know we want each other”

He eyes were so full of hope and her face was so lit up with determination, Harry almost felt
bad as he took her hands off his chest.

“No.” he had meant to say it gently, but it sounded very harsh. Ginny blinked in surprise.
“I'm sorry Ginny, but it's too dangerous. I couldn't bear it if something happened to
you.”

“And you'd let Ron and Hermione go with you?” she questioned as he turned away from her.

“That's completely different.” He almost whispered. “They understand me.”

“And I don't? Harry, I know what it's like to be possessed by Voldemort, I know what its
like to be fighting death eaters, knowing it could only be a matter of time before they get you
too! And I know all about pain, Harry, I know what it's like to have the school against you;
people thought I was some kind of psycho after the chamber of secrets!”

Harry just stared at her as she let all this pour.

“You understand me to some point, Ginny, but this is something I need Ron and Hermione for.
It's hard to explain.”

“Well.” Ginny turned away from him, but not before he saw her eyes well up with tears. “I… I
suppose I'd just better let you get on with it, shouldn't I? After all, they are your
*best friends*.” But Harry could tell she regretted saying that. “Good luck Harry. You'll
be ok, I know you will” she gave him a weak, watery smile, and headed upstairs.

A breeze ruffled his hair, making Harry feel lonelier than ever. He hated making her cry, but he
couldn't have her interfering. After all, it was for the best.

“*For the best, huh? Who am I trying to kid?”* And he too headed for his restless night

*

-->



5. Godric's Hollow
------------------



Harry got up early the next morning, traipsed downstairs and found Hermione waiting with a
solemn expression on her face and Ron half snoring in his toast. He awoke with a start and looked
at Harry seriously through sleepy eyes. They nodded to each other and Harry pinned a letter to the
cupboard, explaining they would not return for some time.

As they set out Harry took one last look at the Burrow, hoping against hope he would live to see
it again. He noticed a figure with long red hair at one of the windows. Ginny was watching them,
sadness and worry reflected in her hazel eyes. She gave him a small nod and retreated back
inside.

They apparated to the train station and got a ticket to Tutshill.

“Well” said Ron as they sat on the compartment. “It's not the Hogwarts Express, but
it'll do” Harry and Hermione nodded in agreement as the train started moving. “By the way,
Harry” muttered Ron “happy birthday”

Ron and Hermione grinned as they pulled out presents. Harry shook his head and smiled. He
couldn't believe they'd thought of presents at a time like this.

Harry unwrapped Ron's present first. He gasped as he revealed a glimmering silver watch,
with lots of dials and buttons. “Thanks, Ron!”

“It's from all of us” said Ron, and by this Harry knew he meant all the Weasleys. “It does
loads of things. It stores things, it's got a blade that cuts through anything, it's got an
unbreakable wire, it takes photographs, and its got a brilliant anti-burglar alarm, look…” he
showed Harry the burglar alarm, witch resulted in the burglar having his hand burnt until they gave
back the watch. After thanking Ron, Harry turned to open Hermione's present. He expected it to
be something to use as a weapon or to protect him, like Ron's present, but found himself proved
wrong as he pulled out a beautiful glass pensieve.

“Wow!” Harry breathed “I- thanks, Hermione!”

“I thought you might need one of those” smiled Hermione.

“A pensieve!” gasped Ron, his eyes popping “but- aren't they really rare?”

Hermione just grinned and sat back in her seat.

*

*“**This is it**”* thought Harry and he took a deep breath. Hermione rubbed his
shoulder soothingly as they stepped into the presence of the Potter residence, Godric's Hollow.
They had got off the train at Tutshill and followed directions for Godric's Hollow. The village
itself was quaint and quiet, a half muggle-half wizard community, with a magical barrier separating
them, like at Diagon Alley. But they had headed to a lone house on top of the hill, overlooking all
of them. And this was where they were now, in the back garden- turned graveyard of Lilly and James
Potter. Harry's breath hitched in his throat as he spotted the two gravestones and he ran over
to them. He kneeled down to read the words.

*Lilly Potter*

*Beloved mother, wife and fierce friend*

*1958-1981*

Harry took a shuddering breath as he glanced at James's stone.

*James Potter*

*Adored father, husband and loyal friend*

*1958-1981*

*Marauders to the end, eh prongs?*

Harry had to laugh at that last bit, despite the emotion welling up inside him. So this was
where his parents were, lying 6 feet under the earth, instead of going about their daily lives,
living and breathing as they should be. “Hi Mum” he whispered “hi Dad.”

And then he talked to them. Just talked. He told them about his life; how his aunt and uncle had
never told him about magic until Hagrid showed up on his eleventh birthday, how he had been sorted
into Gryffindor, how he had defied Voldemort four times, how he had led the DA, how he had been
given the task of finding Voldemort's horcruxes. Ron and Hermione were watching, but he knew
they wouldn't judge him as mad for talking to those who could not hear him. They
understood.

A chilly breeze whipped his hair. Ron and Hermione had been waiting patiently behind him, and as
he got up Hermione put her hand on his shoulder.

“Harry?” she whispered. He took a long look at his parent's final resting place and turned
to the house.

“Come on” he muttered. They unlocked the door and stepped inside. It was deathly silent, and
looked as though nothing had changed since that night 16 years ago. Harry gazed in awe at the room
around him. There were pictures lining the wall. Harry went to look at these. One was of a pretty
woman with long red hair and brilliant green eyes, who was holding a baby in her lap. She smiled
lovingly at the baby, who had similar eyes but a patch of fuzzy jet black hair. Another was of four
people, Lilly, James and two others who were unmistakably Remus and Sirius, all laughing and
shouting. This was probably at New Year or Christmas, as they all had wine glasses and James was
wearing a paper hat and Sirius had a party popper. Harry smiled as he looked around the room. It
was very comfy looking; it had two leather sofas, a small coffee table and in the middle of the
room was a play mat, brightly coloured and even a few battered stuffed toys were scattered around
it. Harry picked up a stuffed lion with its eye hanging on a thread and knew instantly it felt
familiar. He set it back down and headed upstairs.

As he made his way up, he saw unmistakeable signs of struggle; an upturned table, a smashed
vase, huge, dirty footprints in the carpet….

“*This must have been where it happened”* thought Harry grimly, as he turned into a room.
There were many soft, cuddly toys on the shelves, though some had been knocked off in the fight,
and a cot in the centre of the room. The wall paper was bright blue with little snitches and brooms
flying around and there was another play pen in the corner. “*My room”* thought Harry, looking
behind the cot, half afraid he would see a dead, rotting body… *“I'm not going to think about
it”* he thought.

The next room must have been James's and Lilly's. It had a cream king-sized bed and
cream curtains, but the wallpaper was red and gold striped. Harry grinned as he looked around the
photos. There was a picture of them getting married, a picture of them in Hawaii… “*What's
that?”* thought Harry. He turned to look at a massive, aged piece of parchment behind a glass
casing, and gasped as he saw it was a family tree. It was similar to Sirius's, but beside the
names it had a little animal. On his (his stomach leaped at this) there was a little lion wrapped
around a G. *“Ah, it must stand for the Hogwarts houses”*. He looked around. Mostly there were
Gryffindor, but there were quite a few Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, and (Harry was displeased to
see) his own great-grandfather had been a Slytherin. He found he could remove the glass and take
the parchment out, so he sat on the bed hungrily taking in every detail.

He looked at a little character in the corner, like a stick man. It was waving a minute wand, a
bit like on the Marauder's map, and a speech bubble said “tap the name”. Harry took out his
wand and tapped on Lilly Evans. Suddenly the map started rubbing itself out, as though someone had
an invisible eraser. Harry panicked for a second, thinking he'd destroyed it, when it started
writing itself again, but this time the people were different. Where it had ended at Lilly's
parents before, it now had a family line of muggles stretching to the middle ages.
“*Brilliant!”* thought Harry as he tapped back on his own name. He studied the map carefully,
revealing there were Crouches, Longbottoms (Harry smiled), Blacks and Prewetts on the tree. His
stomach did a somersault as he found he was very distantly related to the Weasleys, But he groaned
as he saw he was also very distantly related to the Malfoys.

As he studied his own name, he saw there was a thin line, like the one used to represent two
married people, but it was extremely faint, as tough someone had drew it on and rubbed it off
again. He looked across the thin line to see five names, also as though they had been drew on with
a very sharp pencil and rubbed out.

*“Engorgio”* Harry whispered, pointing the wand at the paper, so he could read the names.
The family tree swelled so Harry could just make out the names. The first one read: *Ginny
Weasley*. Harry stared. What did this mean? Another three of the names were: *Cho
Chang**,* *Luna* *L**ove**good* and *Parvati Patil.* Harry was
confused. Did this mean he was going to marry one of them? And if he was, what were the others
doing here?

*“It must be all the possible girls I could marry!”* Harry realized. Ginny and Cho were
obvious; he had taken Luna to Slughorn's party last year and Parvati to the Yule ball. *“But
that doesn't mean I fancy them all!”* Harry thought incredulously. He noticed there was one
other name, but it was so faint he couldn't make it out. “*Engorgio!”* Harry whispered
again, and the tree swelled to a very large size. He could just about see the name now.

He choked on thin air. *Hermione Granger*.

“*Hermione?”* he whispered, stunned. Why would it have Hermione on the tree? It
couldn't… he didn't think of Hermione like that, did he? And why would it put her there?
And why was her name fainter than the others?

He shrunk the map and pocketed it, his mind pondering over what he had just read. He glanced
around the bedside table and saw a yellowing letter, fragile with age. It was unopened, and as he
took it he noticed it read *Prongs* in Sirius's writing. Heart racing, Harry gently pried
open the last letter Sirius had sent his father.

*Dear Prongs,*

*How are you? Lils ok? How's the sproglett? Well, hopefully you'll be able to answer
these questions when I come visit you at Halloween.*

Harry fought back tears. He knew that the Halloween Sirius was talking about would be the one
where, instead of trying to scare him with a Halloween mask, he would find his best friends
dead.

*But I have big news. It can't wait till we meet again; I have to tell someone… James, I
have a sister!*

Harry gasped and the parchment slid out of his fingers a little.

*Well, half-sister. She was born just before my parents dated. If my Father new about her, he
never told my Mother. Anyway, her name is Rebecca Alison. She has my father's last name.
I'll tell you more at Halloween, I want to find as much as I can about her.*

*From Padfoot.*

Suddenly he heard a scream. He stuffed the letter in his pocket and drew his wand.

“Harry! Ron! Death Eaters!” he heard Hermione shout. He and Ron got there just in time to see
Hermione dodge a curse and shoot a hex at the same time.

“*Stupefy!”* Ron got a Death Eater in the back, but now 2 of the six Death Eaters turned on
him. “Oh, crumbs!” he muttered as they chased him outside, the three of them firing off curses
spontaneously.

Harry levitated a chair until it collided with one of the Death Eaters heads, knocking him
unconscious. So now it was just the two Death Eaters against him and Hermione. Harry winced as they
managed to destroy some of his parent's furniture. He shot a curse at one of the Death Eaters,
making his legs twist above his head in an odd sort of back-flip, and they locked themselves around
his neck.

“*VULNEROS SOMNIUM!”* shrieked the other Death Eater, in a voice Harry recognised as
Bellatrix Lestrange's.

“Harry! Look out” Hermione cried as a streak of orange light shot at Harry. In a graceful kind
of leap she flung herself into his arms, but the curse had hit her and Harry was tackled to the
ground. Bellatrix shrieked with laughter, and Harry watched in horror as part of the ceiling fell
down. He barely had time to utter a *protego* when loads of plaster fell on him and
Hermione.

“Hermione?” he whispered squinting through the tiny amount of light. She didn't respond.
Although they were buried under what seemed like a ton of ceiling he could tell she was
unconscious. The plaster was heavy and he could hardly move, and he was lying directly on top of
her, literally nose-to-nose. “Hermione, wake up!” but she stayed silent.

“*Brilliant!”* he thought sarcastically. Bellatrix cackled madly.

“Ahaha! I've got them! Where's Draco? He should have been here with us!” But suddenly
there was a crash and Harry heard the yells of Remus Lupin and the crackles that indicated them
duelling. He heard Bellatrix let out a strangled cry and a pop that meant she had disapparated. He
finally felt the plaster being removed from on top of him and was never happier to see Lupin's
face. He staggered to his feet.

“Are you ok, Harry? What happened to Hermione?” He stared worriedly at Hermione's limp
form.

“I- I don't know, she got hit by one of the Death Eaters curses” he watched as Remus dragged
Hermione so he was supporting her.

“It's not safe. We need to get out of here.” Remus dragged Hermione outside.

“Err, aren't we apparating?” Harry asked.

“Oh no. we're using something quite different. We're using Sirius's bike”

*

-->



6. Harry the heir
-----------------



Harry and Remus carried Hermione outside, where Ron was sitting clutching his leg by two
unconscious Death Eaters either side of him.

“Bloody hell! What happened to her?” he nodded to Hermione, as they took her across the
garden.

“Tell you later. What happened to your leg?”

“Dolohov.” He lifted up his trouser leg and revealed a deep and nasty gash. “It should heal
though.”

He supported Ron and Remus carried Hermione to the end of the garden, and there it was. A huge
black motorbike, with more dials and buttons than a normal bike, stood majestically, leaning
against a wall. There was a small side car attached to the side.

“Is this it?” Harry whispered, brushing his fingers against the handle bars. “Sirius's
bike?”

“That's it. It's not meant to hold four people, but we've done some fiddling with
it” grinned Remus, fitting Hermione onto the saddle. Her head flopped to the side limply, and she
was only sitting up straight because of magic.

“She'll be alright, wont she?” said Harry worriedly.

“Hmm… I don't think she did much. What was the curse?”

Harry wracked his brains. “Err… *vulneros somnium”* Harry's stomach plummeted as he saw
Remus's horror filled wince. “What is it?”

“She's in a prolonged coma” he sighed looking at her “filled with nightmares and painful
memories.”

“How long will she be asleep?” asked Ron as he climbed into the side car.

“Don't worry; we should be able to revive her soon. The potion needs werewolf hair, which is
usually hard to get, but…”

Harry looked into Hermione's still, peaceful face. What terrible images were flashing
through her mind at that moment? The motor bike started with a roar, and soon they were flying
through the clouds, completely invisible. Harry looked at Ron. He seemed to be enjoying himself,
though looked uncomfortable in the cramped side car. Soon they landed in the familiar place that
was Grimmuald place. He looked at the gap between numbers 11 and 13, and number 12 squeezed its way
between them, shoving them to the sides. It loomed in front of them, and seemed to be leering at
the houses on the opposite street. Harry shuddered as he walked inside, his shoulder just brushing
one of the manky, grimy walls.

“Wotcher, Harry” Tonks grinned. Her hair was back to its usual shade of bubblegum pink, as it
had been brown and limp last time he'd saw her. She looked a lot healthier too, and he
hadn't noticed how ill and old she had looked before now. She still had a travelling cloak on
and her muddy boots were propped up at the table of the living room; she looked as though she had
just come in. When Remus and Ron carried Hermione in, however, Tonks frowned and sat up
straight.

“What's wrong?” she asked sharply, staring at Hermione with apprehension.

“Don't worry, it's just *vulneros somnium*. Nothing fatal” Remus explained. He led
the way upstairs and laid Hermione's limp form on a bed in one of the guest rooms.

“*Just Vulneros somnium*? Are you barking? It's a terrible curse! We'd better start
right away!” she rushed downstairs, toppling a statue as she went. In the short while she was away
Harry and Ron glanced nervously at each other, but she soon came bustling in, carrying a small
portable cauldron and several jars full of colourful, slimy things that he had defiantly seen in
Snape's office. She set up a portable blue fire (“*the ones Hermione is so good at”*
thought Harry, glancing at her lying on the bed) on the table and levitated the cauldron just above
it. She poured the slimy ingredients into the cauldron so the contents fizzed and cackled, and shot
angry glances at Remus as though it was his fault Hermione was in that state.

“Come on” he whispered to Harry and Ron, and they exited and went downstairs.

“Err… are you sure we should let Tonks make the potion?” Ron asked, catching Harry's eye. He
knew what he was thinking: Tonks was clumsy and was more than likely to knock something into the
potion and have to start all over, and they had limited time; or worse, she could knock something
into the potion and not realise she had, then give it to Hermione and poison her…

“Listen, she's gotten much better at potions since the war started. Do you think she'd
let Hermione just die like that?” he fixed them with a stern stare, but before they could say
anything he led them into the living room.

Harry was immensely glad they had cleaned and tidied everything up in their fifth year; the
curtains, which had once been moth-eaten and buzzing with Doxies, had been changed several times
since, and were now a cool and neutral light blue. The carpet was less shabby and the wallpaper
less scruffy, and the fire sparkled with flames instead of being cold and gathering dust.

“Now,” Remus sat in one of the rigid backed armchairs and fixed them with a piercing stare “what
were you doing in Godric's Hollow?”

Harry had been expecting this.

“I wanted to visit my parents' graves.”

“…Without telling anyone? Molly went spare when she couldn't find you. She thought you'd
been kidnapped.”

“Look, I knew they wouldn't let me. I can look after myself, ok? Besides, I had Ron and
Hermione with me, it wasn't as though I was alone” he jerked his head at Ron, who looked
away.

“Well, in case you haven't noticed, Hermione's not exactly ok, is she?”

Harry glared at him.

“How exactly did she get hurt?” Harry explained about Bellatrix's curse. “…and she just ran
in front of you?”

Harry nodded.

“Blimey,” he muttered softly “that was brave of her. I wonder if she knew what that curse
did?”

“She probably did, knowing her.”

“Hey,” said Ron suddenly “it's as though she tried to… sacrifice herself or something.”

“Yeah… kind of.” He glanced at the ceiling where Hermione's bed might be. He hadn't
thought of it like that… did she really care about him that much? Would she really put herself in
that much danger so he'd be alright?

“What else were you doing?” he showed Harry a piece of paper, and he realized it was the family
tree he had shrunk and folded in his pocket.

“How did you get that?”

“You dropped it.” Remus handed the parchment to him.

“We were just looking around. Actually” his eyes lit up and he took Sirius's letter out
“there's something I wanted to ask. Do you know who Sirius's sister is?”

He gave Remus the letter and he read it slowly. Ron was looking from Harry to Remus
intently.

“Rebecca” he smirked. “Sirius and she only met once, just before your first birthday.”

“How come he never knew about her?”

“She went to Durmstrang, not Hogwarts. Also, she was born out of wedlock and never put on the
Black family tree. But she had “Black” as her last name. Rebecca Alison Black.”

“Hey…” Ron muttered, but Harry had realized it too. Rebecca Alison Black…. R.A.B….

“You say she went to Durmstrang, did she have any experience with dark magic?”

“Well, from what Sirius said, she hated it. She did all she could to destroy it. But he
didn't speak about her much, so I don't know…” But Harry's heart had given an exited
thud. Was this the mysterious R.A.B?

*

They started tea later. Harry kept glancing at Hermione's empty place, feeling guilty that
she wasn't enjoying the shepherd's pie with them.

“Harry” said Remus curiously “what's that?” he was looking at the watch that Ron had given
him.

“Oh, Ron gave it to me for my Birthday.”

“It's your birthday?” gasped Tonks. She looked at Remus, whose eyebrows had shot up into his
hair.

“Merlin's beard, so it is” he said, checking the paper. Tonks was looking at him excitedly.
“I'm so sorry Harry, I didn't realise… its hard to keep track these days.”

Tonks had rushed upstairs, and when she came back she was carrying a square parcel and something
long in a cloth.

“Oh!” said Harry, surprised. “You didn't have to buy me anything!”

“Well, we did, so you'd better open it!” exclaimed Tonks. He opened the parcel, which turned
out to be a book about the uses of Patronuses. But when he removed the black material, he saw a
ruby-studded hilt that was familiar. He gasped as he uncovered Gryffindor's sword.

“Dumbledore wanted you to have it on your birthday. After all, it is your heritage.”

“…My heritage?”

There was a long pause.

“He never told you? He probably didn't want you to know that until you were seventeen,
either. But, Harry…. You're Gryffindor's heir.” Ron gasped and Harry dropped the sword.

“What?”

“Yes! From your mother's side, in fact” he smiled. Harry looked confused. “Well, Gryffindor
had two children: Godfrey and Cordelia. Now, Godfrey had a daughter, and that daughter married
Archibald Dumbledore” he paused as Harry and Ron gasped. Could Dumbledore have been
Gryffindor's heir? “And Cordelia Gryffindor had a son, but that son was a squib. Now, back in
those days, a squib was a terrible curse to have, so they sent him to live in the muggle world. And
somewhere along that line Gryffindor's descendants married an Evans, and your mum had the
wizard gene.”

Harry gasped. “My- my mum? I'm Gryffindor's heir through my *mum*?” he would have
thought any wizard inheritance would have come from his father. “But why would she have had the
gene after all those muggles?”

“Who knows? But you'll find lots of muggle-borns have wizard blood somewhere. Why, I
wouldn't be surprised if Hermione's ancestors were wizards!” he said with a furtive glance
upstairs.

But Harry didn't look so sure.

“I thought you might be like this. So I managed to get hold of…” Remus waved his wand and an old
painting appeared out of thin air “… this.” He passed it to Harry. It was of a strong and proud
looking man, with an auburn mane of hair. He had large arms and chest, and was dressed in
shimmering red and gold robes. Age had turned the portrait yellowish, but he could still see that
Godric Gryffindor had almond shaped eyes, brilliant green and sparkling….

*My mother's eyes* thought Harry, and he looked up at Remus and Tonks, who were
grinning.

*

-->



7. Breaking up a family
-----------------------



“I see, Rookwood. Well, if that's all there is…” long, skeletal fingers wrapped themselves
around a long, spindly wand. “*Crucio!”*

The hooded figure on the ground shrieked and writhed in agony, falling to the floor. Four Death
Eaters watched in silence as their colleague was tortured.

“That amount of information is nowhere near satisfactory” hissed a cruel, cold voice. “I
expected better. Now leave my presence!” Lord Voldemort's scarlet slit-pupiled eyes narrowed as
Rookwood scampered out, whimpering. He grimaced. His Death Eaters were such weak fools.

“Now, where is the boy?”

The door opened, and two more hooded men marched in, their hands clasped tightly around a pale
seventeen year-old. Draco Malfoy was struggling in their grip, but his arms were pinned to his
sides, and the beefy men were carrying him a foot off the ground.

“Crabbe, Goyle, drop him.” The men dropped Draco on the floor, where he continued to flail about
for a second until he realised he had been released. He gazed up nervously, but could not meet
Voldemort's eyes, and a shiver of terror ran through his spine.

Meanwhile, no-one noticed another hooded figure creep in the doorway and stand in the
shadows.

“Well, well, Draco… looks like you are in trouble again” Voldemort sneered. Crabbe and Goyle
snickered but silenced at a look from Voldemort. “It seems that simple orders do not matter to you.
It seems that you think yourself allowed to defy me.”

Draco closed his eyes. He was trembling, and a bead of sweat dripped from his forehead. What
horrific punishment was in store for him?

“I ordered you to go with your aunt to Godric's Hollow the day Potter went, and yet you were
no-where to be seen. It was your fault the attack failed, was it not?”

“I didn't- I couldn't- no- I - but…” Draco babbled. He took a deep breath and pulled
himself together. “I didn't do anything.” He knew this was the wrong thing to say at once, as
the surrounding Death Eaters gasped. Lucius looked terrified, Bellatrix had screwed up her eyes,
and Snape was making frantic hand-waving movements.

“Exactly!” Voldemort spat “you did not go to Godric's Hollow, you did not help with the
attack, and you did not do as I told you! You didn't do *anything*!” his deathly white
fingers were inching towards his wand. “You should be very grateful that I am not going to kill
you.” Draco's heart lightened, but just a tiny bit. Beside Snape, Lucius breathed a sigh,
apparently of relief. “But your punishment will be… severe.”

“NO!” shrieked a voice. Everyone turned as Narcissa Malfoy rushed out of her corner and flung
herself on her knees in front of Draco. Lucius, shocked, turned to Snape and Bellatrix, but she
just shrugged and Snape was looking as shocked as he was.

“My Lord, please, he is confused!” she cried, holding her hands above her head as though
shielding herself and Draco. “I beg your mercy!”

Voldemort sat back in his throne and glared at her coolly. “And why should Lord Voldemort have
mercy on your lazy, disobedient son?”

“P-please, it was not his fault… it was I who told him not to do it.” The five surrounding Death
Eaters gasped and Crabbe, Goyle and Wormtail started muttering immediately. Draco, who was still on
his knees, gaped at his Mother.

“*You* were the one who discouraged him from doing my bidding?!” Voldemort glared at her
through his fiery red eyes, boring into her greyish blue ones.

“I-I was a-afraid!” she sobbed. She seemed to have lost her nerve at the reaction of the other
Death Eaters and tears were now cascading down her face. “I d-d-didn't think h-he would be
r-ready for s-such a task, so I persuaded h-him not to go. Please, M-My Lord, have mercy!”

“Mum, what are you doing?” Draco hissed quietly. None of this was true, of course; he had stayed
locked in his bedroom of his own accord.

Voldemort stared at her in silence for a while, and then let out a mad cackle.

“So!” he swooped down on her. “You thought you could get him out of following my commands, did
you? You thought it would go unnoticed?” he was slowly circling them. Narcissa was crouched on the
ground, shivering and whimpering. “You deserve death, fool!”

“Narcissa…”said Lucius in a strangled whisper.

“Then again, I have a better idea…” he flicked his wand, and Narcissa was levitating a few
centimetres off the ground. It looked as though an invisible rope had tied itself around her neck
and was hanging her. She choked and franticly grabbed at her neck. “Crabbe, Goyle!”

Two hairy pairs of hands wrapped themselves around Draco's arms.

“You see, Draco, this is what happens when you disobey me and follow mummy…” he pointed his wand
at Narcissa's struggling figure and said, in a slow cruel way; “*Crucio!”*

Just as Rookwood had done minuets before, Narcissa shrieked with agony, writhing and twisting
while she was suspended in the air, so she looked like an oversized animal dangling from a
string.

Any fear Draco had had before was wiped out.

“NO! LEAVE HER ALONE! NO!” he bellowed, kicking and lashing out at his captors, but for all the
use it was he might as well have been kicking a stone pillar.

Lucius was frozen in horror, the writhing form of his wife reflected in his eyes.

Finally Voldemort lifted the curse. Narcissa hung, panting and gasping for air. Voldemort seemed
to have decided he didn't want her hanging there anymore, so he flicked his wand again and she
dropped to the floor with a sickening thud.

“Enjoying the show, Lucius?” he shot. Lucius stared from him to Narcissa. “How about you doing
the honours?” an evil glint had appeared in Voldemort's eyes, the one he only got when he was
tearing families apart. Or torturing Harry Potter.

Lucius shuddered and backed up against the wall. “My Lord… please… I can't…”

“Let me put it this way, Lucius. Either you do your wife a little favour” he twiddled his wand
in his fingers “or I make it a thousand times worse.”

“NO!” Draco yelled “DON'T MAKE HIM!”

“It's your choice, Malfoy. Either you do it” an evil, spiteful grin creeped across his face
“or *I* do it.”

Crabbe and Goyle chuckled stupidly. Bellatrix was glaring at her sister with a mixture of
revulsion and annoyance. But Snape's face was hidden in the shadows.

Slowly, unbearably, Lucius raised his wand. “*Cr-crucio.”*

Once again Narcissa seized up in agony. Draco struggled harder than ever against Crabbe and
Goyle.

“*Cru-crucio.”* Lucius' wand shook so badly he almost dropped it. His eyes snapped from
his screaming wife, to his struggling son, to his amused master, who was avidly watching them,
drinking in the pain he was causing… Narcissa's suffering was cut short as Lucius, with a
startling cry, flung his wand across the room, so it rolled to a stand still at Voldemort's
feet.

“No more? Pity. I do enjoy these dramatic fights between couples.” He lifted his foot and trod
on Lucius' wand, snapping it clean in two. “Get out of my way!” Lucius, who looked terrified by
his own daring, backed against the wall again. Rusty chains snaked out and clamped him in
place.

“My Lord… no…” he whispered, but Voldemort ignored him.

“*Crucio!”*

Narcissa's screams seemed to echo off the walls, and Draco couldn't stop the hot,
furious tears spilling from his eyes. Rage pounded through him like some insane wild animal caged
up and dying to kill.

“Let her go…” he choked. Why didn't anyone do anything? Could no-one stop this maniac?

On and on it went, his mother's screams stopping and starting as one curse finished and
another began. Voldemort was enjoying it immensely; dancing around and twirling his wand like some
evil, demented ballet dancer. He laughed mercilessly at her cries and tears, and every so often
flashed Draco an evil, gloating look.

“I suppose that will do” he said, after what seemed like hours. “You may leave!”

Bellatrix stalked out, Wormtail scampering after her. Crabbe and Goyle dropped Draco and stomped
out too. Only Voldemort, Snape (still concealed in the shadows) and the Malfoys were left. Draco
rushed to his mother's side.

“Mum?” he said quietly. She didn't respond. She was barely conscious, limp and unmoving.
Voldemort glided towards them.

“Liar” he whispered venomously, so only Draco and Narcissa could hear. “You lied, Narcissa
Malfoy. I know perfectly well you had no part in your son's disobedience.”

Narcissa, using her last ounce of energy, looked into his burning eyes, before her head hit the
ground, unconscious.

“Mother!” Draco tried to shake her awake, but she remained in a constant state of rest.

“How touching” Voldemort sneered. “Now, you won't be trying that again, or dear *Mummy*
here will be suffering much worse.” He turned to go, flicking his wand at the chains that bound
Lucius, so they released him. But it was only after Voldemort had disaperated that Lucius, who had
been embarrassed by his earlier outburst of emotion and remained incredibly still and emotionless
in company, flung himself on his knees at Narcissa's side.

“Narcissa” he breathed, this was one of the rare times Draco had seen him show extreme emotion.
“I'm… so sorry…” he covered his face with his hands and remained completely still. Draco
wasn't angry at him for turning on his mother; he knew he had only done it because Voldemort
had forced him to.

“You… idiot boy!” Lucius roared suddenly, and Draco narrowly ducked a blow aimed at his head.
“If you hadn't disobeyed the Dark Lord, your mother wouldn't be in this state!” But Draco
just stared at his father coolly. He could see the shame and insecurity behind the anger in his
eyes; he was ashamed for hurting Narcissa so badly, and he was trying to mask it by blaming Draco.
He raised his fist again, but it was grasped by Snape, who had been skulking in the shadows. “Let
go of me!” Lucius spat.

“No.”

Lucius struggled in Snape's firm grasp for a second, but then he clutched at his long blonde
hair, his fingernails digging into his scalp.

“Come on.” Snape gently lifted Narcissa's limp form and led Draco out through the doors the
other Death Eaters had left through. “*No, Father**”* he thought. “*This*
*isn't my fault. It's the Dark L**ord's**”**.* He glanced at his
mother's lifeless form and pictured Voldemort's face leering spitefully at him. Pure hatred
surged through him like white-hot electricity. Compared to this, his hatred for Potter and
Dumbledore felt like a childish grudge.

He had to get away.

*

-->



8. R.A.B
--------



Harry blinked as the sword's shiny blade reflected in his glasses. He was curled up at
Hermione's bedside, the family tree at his side and the sword of Gryffindor in his lap. He was
crouched on the ground, wedged between the wall and Hermione's bed so that if anyone opened the
door they wouldn't see him. He had been studying the map closely, and had indeed found, if he
traced Lilly's line many generations back, that he was the unmistakeable heir of
Gryffindor.

*“Ironic, really”* he thought “*Voldemort being Slytherin's heir and all.”* He had
researched Gryffindor and Slytherin's fabled duel in the Black's humongous library, but not
much was known about it. Seeing as Dumbledore had also been Gryffindor's heir he had read about
his duel with Grindelwald, and had confirmed that Grindelwald too had been an heir of Slytherin. He
was anxious to find out more about Gryffindor, and had even consulted *Hogwarts: a
history**,* much to Ron's exasperation. He looked up at Hermione, smiling as he
imagined her beam of triumph and pride if she knew he had been reading the book she had tried to
get him and Ron to read for so many years.

She looked so peaceful and gentle as she just lay there, but eerily so, as though she had
recently died a happy and painless death. Her skin was paler than usual, and her hair softer than
its usual bushiness. It was sprawled out against her pillow, so it framed her face. Her watched as
her thin stomach gently rose and fell as she breathed. No-one would have guessed she was suffering
inside her own mind, unless they touched her, as her skin seemed to be burning with heart-ache. He
wondered what she'd say about Harry's recent discoveries; about him being Gryffindor's
heir, about Sirius's letter, about Harry discovering where his sister lived…

Because he had found that out: Rebecca Alison Black was in *celebrated foreign Dark wizards
and Dark wizard fighters.* He had been searching for Grindelwald (who went to Durmstrang) and
had found a tiny paragraph on her as a Dark wizard fighter:

*Rebecca* *A. Black, Bulgaria, is known well for her research on the dark wizard Gellert
Grindelwald, her work in capturing rouge dementors and putting them in Azkaban and her dark path of
destroying items of greatest evil. She grew up not knowing her father, whose last name she has
nether the less, but her Mother, Helga Karkoroff, was sister of Igor Karkaroff, headmaster of
Durmstrang institute. She currently lives in South End cottage, Sheffield.*

*Items of greatest evil…*That had to mean Horcruxes, didn't it? The door creaked open,
and Harry heard Tonks and Ron's exited voices.

“You've done it? You've actually completed the potion?”

“Yes, yes, a million yeses! Just go and find Harry, will you, I'm sure Hermione will want to
speak to both of you when she wakes up.”

“I'm here” Harry stood up, forgetting he was revealing his hiding place “you mean
Hermione's going to be alright?”

Tonks was holding a steaming goblet, murky white in colour, like slightly off milk. Harry and
Ron sat Hermione up and Tonks tipped the potion into Hermione's slightly open mouth. For a
while they waited in tension, then Hermione's eyes fluttered open, and she let out a terrible
scream.

“NO!” she shrieked, covering her face and thrashing about “Leave them *alone!* Leave me
alone!”

Harry was completely taken aback “Hermione, it's us!”

She peeped a tear filled eye at Ron and Harry, who were staring at her in shock. She recoiled,
tears streaming down her face. She looked at them as though she could not believe her eyes. “Ron?”
she sobbed “H-Harry? You're alive?”

“Of course we're alive.”

“Hermione, it was just a dream” said Ron gently.

“J-just a dream?” he muttered softly, staring at them as though they were ghosts. Her lip
trembled, and she curled up into a little ball, shaking with sobs. Harry had never seen her so
scared and helpless looking in his life, and he stretched his arms out to comfort her. However, Ron
leaped up and engulfed her in an enormous hug.

“Shh, it's all right” Ron whispered soothingly, patting her back. Harry was very off put and
slightly hurt that Ron was comforting her all by himself, especially when Hermione buried her head
in his chest, and, for a split second, Ron smirked, but hid it very well. Seeing them curled up
together left Harry feeling strangely left out.

***

Hermione spent days recovering. Harry would often go and visit her, but she was never
predictable when it came to moods. Sometimes she would be curled up, not talking but staring at
Harry as though he were back from the dead, sometimes she would jump into his arms and not let go
for a long time, and sometimes she would just ask to be left alone, but always she was crying.

Crying, crying, the tears never seemed to end. Harry didn't know what to do, so he talked to
Remus.

“I know” he sighed sadly, his eyes filled with compassion “I know she's always upset. Do you
know what that spell does?” his eyes pierced Harry's “it traps you inside your own mind, there
is no escape while images of death, torture, betrayal and hurt for your loved ones and yourself
flash by in your own imagination. It's drove wizards older and wiser than Hermione into
insanity” he spoke in a hushed, solemn voice as though he'd experienced it personally.

“She'll be ok, won't she?” said Harry anxiously. He could not bear it if she was never
the same.

Remus smiled. “Hopefully she will be fine. It wasn't inflicted on her long enough to be
permanent… but don't let her be exposed to the cruciatus curse, Harry, or it might bring back
the memories.”

Remus's words were true, and gradually, Hermione was returning to herself. She smiled and
laughed again, and when Harry told her what he'd found out about R.A.B she couldn't wait to
get started. But there were still moments where she would drift off, her eyes misty and tears
forming.

Tonks allowed Hermione to go soon, and they packed three rucksacks, disguised themselves as
muggle university students with polyjuice potion, and apparated to a small shop in Sheffield that
Hermione had been to before. However, they were lost there onwards, as the book was not very
detailed. The most obvious thing to do seemed to be to go to the south end of Sheffield, but when
they asked if there was a South End Cottage at the local bar, the scruffy old barman was no
help.

“Ain't no cottages up here, laddy” he replied, scrubbing the glasses and breathing smoke
over Harry through his pipe.

Exhausted and frustrated, Harry joined Ron and Hermione at the table and slumped in his chair.
“Nothing” he said, delving his hand into a packet of peanuts Ron had bought “We've asked at
almost every shop, every bar and it doesn't seem to exist.”

“Well, we are asking at muggle places. We should ask a wizard place.”

“There *are* no wizarding places, Hermione. And if there are they're very well hidden.
What do you think we should do Ron? Ron?”

But Ron was staring at a point just past Harry's shoulder. Harry waved a hand in front of
his eyes.

“That person's done nothing but stare at us since we got here” he whispered. Harry casually
glanced around, seeing the person Ron was referring to. They did indeed look shifty: their face was
cast in shadow, so Harry couldn't see if it was a man or woman, by a black hood attached to a
trailing black cloak. The person sat in the corner, occasionally lifting a glass of shandy to their
hidden lips. Harry would have thought they were a dementor if it wasn't for the shandy and the
lack of piercing coldness that filled the air wherever dementors were. Neither did he think the
person was a Death Eater. He didn't know why, but they didn't have that aura.

“Harry” Hermione hissed, keeping her eyes fixed on her hands “Harry, lets go, we need to
go.”

“No, wait” the barman had just passed by them, and Harry tapped him on the shoulder. “Excuse me;
do you know anything about that person in the corner?”

The barman glanced over his shoulder to the shadowy corner, and leaned close. “I don't know
`er name, but she comes in `ere most days” he whispered in his thick Yorkshire accent. As he talked
the person drained her glass, and the light caught red lipsticked lips that defiantly belong to a
woman. “She's very mysterious, always wearin' that cloak thing, an' no-one knows where
she lives. `As a chat though sometimes. Sounds a bit foreign to me when she speaks, y'know” he
breathed a bit more smoke over them from his pipe and bustled back to the bar.

Harry pondered what he had just been told, staring at the reflection of the woman from his
spoon. She certainly looked like a witch… perhaps there was a wizard community here after all, and
they might be able to find South End Cottage and Sirius's half-sister.

“Harry, I really think we should go!” hissed Hermione desperately.

“Yeah, come on, Harry, we could go see if there are any other wizards” Ron muttered, eyeing the
woman wearily.

“Yeah, just what I was thinking” Harry muttered back. They headed outside, and out of the corner
of his eye Harry saw the woman get up too. He quickened his pace.

They wondered around the corner into a quieter street, and as they did, a man in a balaclava and
black clothes appeared from a shop doorway. He was looking over his shoulder anxiously and Harry
saw him hurriedly stuff a gun in his pocket. Through the open door Harry could see a muggle man
face-down on the floor, whimpering slightly.

When the man with the balaclava saw them staring at him he turned on his heel and fled. Harry
whipped out his wand.

“Put it away! Do you want to give yourself away?” hissed an angry voice in Harry's ear. He
snapped his head around to glimpse red lips, heavily lidded dark eyes and dark, wavy hair under a
black hood before the woman turned away and stalked down a dark alleyway.

Harry turned back to the shop. The man in a balaclava had scampered away, and the shopkeeper was
on the phone, probably to the police. Scowling, Harry followed the woman, trailed by Ron and
Hermione.

“What did you do that for? I could have got that burglar!” he snarled.

“Let the muggles catch muggle burglars. We have bigger issues on our hands” she whispered. Harry
recognised her as the woman who had been drinking shandy in the bar, and the barman was right; she
did have a faintly foreign accent.

“So you *are* a witch!”

“And one of you is Harry Potter.”

Hermione gasped. “How did you know?”

“Shh!” she looked round. Two muggle boys were playing football around the corner. “Not here.”
She darted further down the alley, beckoning for them to follow.

“Harry, how can we trust her? We don't even know her name.”

“We have to if we want to get anywhere. There aren't any other wizards.” Wands out, they
cautiously followed her. She let them through a brick wall, and they found they were in a small,
but comfortable little garden. It was just short cut grass, with a couple of weeds scattered here
and there. A trailing path led to a small redbrick cottage that looked out of place in between two
three storey flats. The black door had paint peeling, and there was a brass knocker in the shape of
a gargoyle. There was no keyhole.

“What you staring at?” sneered the gargoyle.

“The muggles can't see it” said the woman to Hermione, who was looking at the flats
confusedly. The woman ran a long fingernail down a crack in the door, much like the goblins at
Gringotts, and the lock clicked.

They stepped inside a living room. It seemed very humble: Two sofas, a simple coffee table,
burgundy carpet and pale peach walls. Harry didn't think this house belonged to the woman, who
seemed so dark and mysterious, while the house seemed cosy and humble.

“Err… nice house” said Ron uncomfortably.

She stared at him. “I like my home comforts.”

“Now, I know one of you is Harry Potter through these” she held up a pair of Fred and
George's extendable ears. “You shouldn't talk so loudly. This probably means the other one
of you” she pointed at the two boys “is Ronald Weasley and you” she nodded to Hermione “must be
Hermione Granger.”

“Wait, you were eavesdropping on us?”

“I eavesdrop on all wizards that pass through this area. You can't be too careful these
days.”

“Why did you bring us here?”

“I want to talk business.” She sat at the coffee table, telling them to do the same. “Now, you
are up to something, plotting against You-know-who, are you not?”

“It's really none of your business” said Harry coldly.

“It's someone's business if they can help you.”

“We can't trust you, we don't know anything about you” said Ron “you won't even take
off your hood.”

The woman sighed, and slowly pulled her hood back. Harry's eyes widened. She had eyes and
long dark hair that distinctly resembled Sirius, but her skin tone was a shade darker.

“What?” she raised an eyebrow, as they were staring at her.

“Who are you?” Hermione breathed softly. The woman shifted her gaze from Harry to Hermione to
Ron uncomfortably.

“My name” she said, painstakingly slowly “is Rebecca Black.”

They gasped, staring avidly, and she looked taken aback.

“As in Rebecca Alison Black? As in Sirius Black's half-sister?”

“Yes” she looked shocked “how do you know him?”

But Harry had given and almighty whoop and Hermione had shouted “Yes!” Rebecca was staring at
them as though they were mad.

“How do you know my brother?” she asked again.

“He was my godfather” said Harry, still ecstatic they had found R.A.B.

“Yes, he said he had a god- wait, what do you mean *was?*”

“Oh” Harry's happiness faded instantly “he died two years ago.” There was a shocked pause
following this sentence.

“I see” she sounded sombre. She looked down, her face drained of emotion.

“I'm sorry” said Harry, his throat dry. Rebecca shook her head.

“No, I should be saying sorry to you. When my mother found out she was pregnant she ran off to
Bulgaria. I only met him once, you obviously knew him longer.” There was silence again, Rebecca not
looking at anyone. “What about that other one… Regulus, was it?” she finally lifted her head
up.

“Dead too. He died long ago, when he backed out of being a Death Eater.” There was a sour
expression on Rebecca's face for a second. “But we need your help in fighting their master.
Tell me, do you know anything about…horcruxes?”

Rebecca's eyes shot up, and she gaped at him, her mouth moving but no words coming out. She
regained herself and said coldly “I know nothing of the sort. You may leave now.”

She stood up, signalling them to do the same. Hermione made a reluctant move to get up, but
Harry pulled her back down, staring at Rebecca defiantly.

“I don't believe you.”

“I have nothing more to discuss with you, Mr. Potter. Good day” she said formally, opening the
door.

“No, you have one of Voldemort's horcruxes. *You must tell us where it is!”*

“Good day, Mr. Harry Potter!” She spat, and legs suddenly sprouted from the sofa they were
sitting on. Harry, Ron and Hermione clutched their seats as it scuttled to the door, and, as though
someone had pressed an ejector button, one by one Harry, Ron and Hermione were flung outside,
landing face down. Staring at them coldly, Rebecca Black slammed the door shut.

“No!” said Harry furiously, flinging himself at the door.

“Watch it!” the gargoyle snarled. Harry saw one of the blinds being shut.

“Rebecca!” he yelled, knocking the glass “Let us in!”

“*Get off my property**!”* she hissed through the open window, before closing it.

“You said you could help!” Harry roared “Well you can! Show us where the horcrux is!”

“Do you know how your brothers died?” Ron yelled through the letter box “They died at the hands
of Voldemort! Do you want them to have died in vain? Because without that horcrux, they can't
be avenged. And you know that” Ron practically whispered the last part, but she seemed to have
heard it, as there was a long pause, but she finally opened the door a fraction. Harry was
impressed: not only had Ron managed to get her out, but that was the first time he'd said
Voldemort.

“You can't destroy it” she whispered, her eyes wide in fear “I've tried everything,
It's driving me crazy.”

Harry once again stepped inside the house. “Please, just tell us where it is.”

Rebecca's eyes nervously darted to a painting on the wall. Harry walked over to it, and
lifted it slightly. Sure enough, there was a steel safe underneath, in the wall. “*Well,
that's original”* Harry couldn't help but think.

Unwillingly, Rebecca ran her finger along a line, like she had with the door, and the lock
clicked. She pulled it open, and with a hiss, steam issued from the steel door. The inside looked
like a freezer, icicles hung from the top and frost covered the rest. It was especially frosty in
the area around a small black locket with an emerald encrusted snake in the centre.

“It's the horcrux” said Rebecca, her dark eyes terrified. “It's so *cold.*”

Harry took it out, and dropped it as the penetrating cold instantly numbed his fingers. His scar
began burning.

“*Harry…Potter”* A chilling voice, almost as cold as the locket whispered. “*You cannot
defeat me…”*

They had bought several books containing spells that might destroy the horcrux, but Harry could
not concentrate as the same words repeated in his head.

“*Finete incantartem!”* Hermione's voice floated through his mind.

“*Harry…Potter”*

*“Corrumpo maximus!”* This was Ron.

*“You cannot defeat me…”*

*“Iuguolo persona!”* Hermione again.

*“You cannot defeat me!”*

“Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!” Harry screamed, and with a *schwing!* noise, he whipped
Gryffindor's sword, which they had taken just in case, from its scabbard and drove it in the
centre of the locket. There was a blinding flash of light, and a terrible scream that sounded like
Voldemort rang in Harry's ears. Then, it was gone; all that was left were two pieces of the
locket, sending off foul-smelling smoke.

Panting, Harry looked up at Ron, Hermione and Rebecca, who were pale and deathly silent. It was
Rebecca who spoke first.

“When I first met Sirius and Regulus” she croaked “I got a peek of Regulus's Dark Mark. I
followed him to the Death Eater's secret meeting place, and that's where I saw *him*.”
She shivered. “I'd studied people who make horcruxes, but he… he was…” she shivered again.

“That's because he's made more than one” said Harry. Rebecca looked sickened. “It's
our job to find them, but we need help. We need you.”

After a long time thinking, Rebecca slowly nodded.

*

Back at Grimmuald, Harry was overjoyed. They had already uncovered the first horcrux, and Harry
felt he deserved at least a pat on the back.

“Phew!” he grinned, slumping down on the sofa, letting the Sword of Gryffindor drop to the
floor. “Well, I think we deserve a treat. I wonder if the takeaway's still open?”

“Harry, you can't let your guard down. There are still three more horcruxes out there”
Hermione sounded stern.

“Oh, come on, Hermione, give me a break!”

“No, mate, Hermione's right. We have work to do!” Ron said seriously. Harry was shocked. He
was sure Ron would side with him on this one.

“Thank you Ron!” Hermione beamed at him, and Ron beamed back. “Harry, go and get one of those
books Rebecca lent us.”

Grumbling, Harry stalked out of the room to get the books. He couldn't help but feel a tad
jealous. “*Stupid Ron, he's only agreeing with her because he* fancies *her.”*

When he got back, carrying a load of books, he saw Ron and Hermione sitting huddled up together,
his eyes closed and hers staring at him in shock. At first Harry thought he was whispering
something to her, but he realized his lips were not inches from her ear, but her lips.

They had been *kissing!*

Harry felt his stomach lurch and something sour tasting slip up his throat. He forced it back
down and, dropping the books, ran to his room and slammed the door. His heart was thudding so hard
against his chest he thought it might rip out. Ron and Hermione… his two best friends…*were
kissing…*there was only one word to describe it…EW!

Harry took a deep breath and pulled himself together. Wait a minuet, why was he so bothered? He
himself had predicted this. He had known for a long time they liked each other, he wanted his best
friends to be happy. This was what he wanted, wasn't it?

Wasn't it?!

Something in his mind, which might have been the chest monster's evil twin screamed “*No
you fool, go and rip them apart! RIP!”* But he ignored it. He curled up on his bed, wondering
what was wrong with him.

*

-->



9. Mirror, mirror
-----------------



Harry had thought, now they had Rebecca, that they would be progressing more quickly. However,
it seemed she, too, had no idea where the other horcruxes were.

For the next month they could do little more than research on horcruxes and inspect the locket
more closely. Plus most of the time Rebecca had other matters to attend to, so they were more
helpless than ever then.

Frustrated with having found out so little and with each other, Harry, Ron and Hermione had
taken to exploring more of Number twelve. Harry had had no idea how big the house was; though most
of the rooms were filled with dark and disgusting objects, so he wasn't surprised Mrs. Weasley
hadn't let them in.

Another thing that frustrated Harry was the fact that while he was trying to figure things out,
Ron and Hermione sometimes snuck off on their own, and when Harry went to look for them he heard
giggling and, to his horror, kissing sounds.

But that seemed to be the only time Hermione giggled around Ron; when they were alone. Their
arguing had become more intense, and about such stupid things, like putting the toilet seat down
and whose turn it was to look for doxy infestations. Even whether they should buy skimmed milk or
full fat (personally, Harry preferred semi-skimmed, but he didn't say anything).

Also, Ron had been acting very oddly. He had become suspicious and overprotective of Hermione
(this was another thing they bickered about).

He would sit in between Harry and Hermione as though to Keep them apart, and when Hermione got
fed up of not making any progress and Harry comforted her, Ron would glare accusingly at him. But
he just glared right back. Ron should trust her better than that, Harry thought.

He didn't know why Ron and Hermione being a couple bothered him so much, but when he saw
them together his instinct was to pull their hands apart. It felt as though Ron had stolen a
valuable and cherished treasure.

Remus and Tonks would often stop by, which led to them kissing and cuddling too. All this made
Harry feel strangely lonely. It seemed everybody was in a relationship except him.

After four long weeks of having done nothing, Harry slammed his book down and prowled around the
kitchen. He spotted a *Daily Prophet* lying on the table and snatched it up.

*Ministers and mudbloods murdered*

*As the Dark Lord's rise to power continues, as does his noble work of purifying the
wizarding society, even if it means a few sacrifices.*

*Rufus Scrimgeour, previous Minister for Magic, foolishly tried to fight against the Dark
Lord, and was found dead in his filing cabinet, his arms separated from his body and a look of pure
terror on his face.*

*Other deaths of mudbloods and blood-traitors have occurred constantly*

Harry stopped reading. So, Scrimgeour was dead, and that left the Ministry unprotected for
Voldemort to take over. The *Daily Prophet* obviously predicted this as well… “*His noble
work of purifying the wizarding society”…*It was obvious they wanted to get on the winning side.
It sickened Harry. They were such weak cowards, too scared to print anything anti-Voldemort, in
fear that he'd get them as he got Scrimgeor.

He opened the page to see his own face, looking dangerous and unstable.

*Potter Hunt*

*The hunt for Harry Potter goes on, and the public are warned that he is dangerous, and a
threat to the vision of a peaceful, non-muggle existence the Death Eaters portray. Most likely to
be seen in the company of mudblood Hermione Granger and blood-traitor Ron Weasley, there is a 2000
galleon reward for Potter's capture.*

Harry's blood boiled. Dangerous, was he? It was just like fifth year all over again. Fuming,
he put the paper down, grabbed an orange and began wondering the rooms of Grimmuald Place
again.

He walked down a hall and spotted a door he'd never noticed before.

“*That's odd*” he thought, frowning “*I swear that wasn't there
befor**e.”*

He stretched out a hand and cautiously pushed the door open, wand at the ready.

But inside it was a dark, windowless room. At first Harry thought the walls were covered with
thousands of amber eyes, watching him from everywhere, but once his eyes got used to it he realised
they were thousands of tiny mirrors, reflecting a single candle just beside the door. The room was
quite enormous, probably rivalling the Great Hall at Hogwarts, but in the corners, where there were
no mirrors, there was a thick, dense darkness that made the corners seem closer and the room seem
smaller.

He walked down a flight of narrow, round stairs, hundreds of reflections of his own face
watching him go.

As he got nearer , he saw there was a much larger mirror in the centre, and a figure was stood
gazing though it as though it were a tunnel. A figure with bushy brown hair…

“Hermione?” Harry called, wand still pointed in case it was a trick. She jerked her head
around.

“Harry!” for some reason she blushed and pressed her back against the mirror, as though trying
to hide it. “I- err… what are you doing here?”

“Just having a look round” Harry frowned “is something wrong?”

“Oh, no, no, nothing wrong” she squeaked and glanced nervously at the mirror.

“Then why are you… Hermione” Harry had just noticed the strange writing inscribed at the top “is
this the Mirror of Erised?”

“The what?”

“You know, the Mirror of E- oh yeah, you went home, didn't you” Harry said, remembering
Hermione had gone home for Christmas the year he and Ron had discovered the Mirror of Erised and
probably wouldn't remember what they had told her.

“What's the Mirror of Erised?”

“Well, it shows you what you truly want. Your heart's deepest and most desperate
desire.”

“That's my deepest desire?” Hermione had turned to face the Mirror and blushed even deeper.
She drew her eyes away from the mirror itself and read the inscription in silence for a while.
“*I show not your face but your heart's desire”* she recited.

“Huh?”

“That's what the inscriptions say, backwards” she pointed to the words: *erised stra ehru
oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.*

“That's amazing” Harry looked at her with wide eyes. She had now turned scarlett. “How did
you do that so quick?”

“Just reversed it and properly spaced it” she mumbled, trying to hide her smile “well, I suppose
you're right.” She looked uncomfortable and moved protectivly over the mirror.

Harry finaly understoodd why she was acting so oddly; whatever she could see in the mirror she
didn't want Harry to see.

“Don't worry, I can't see whatever you see” he said hastily.

“You can't?” she looked relieved, and stepped back, still staring at the mirror. Harry
studied her curiously. Her eyes were filled with wonder and longing, and she was biting her bottom
lip so hard Harry thought it might bleed.

“What *do* you see?” he asked, though he knew she'd never tell him.

“Um… me and y- er, someone else, with a… um… what do *you* see?” she shot. She glanced at
him then turned away quickly. She was now so crimson she faintly resembled a tomato. Harry raised
an eyebrow at her then stared at the mirror. But all he could see was his own reflection looking
puzzled and Hermione's reflection looking embarassed.

“Er… well, when I was eleven I saw my family besides me.”

“What about now?”

“Just us” he said blankly. Hermione made a funny squarking sound.

“And what are we doing?” she whisperd breathlessly. She had gone rigid, her eyes were wide and
she seemed to have stopped breathing.

“Just standing here. It's like looking in a normle mirror.”

“Oh” Hermione relaxed and breathed again.

“Maby it only shows one image at a time?”

“yeah… I, um, have some reading to do.” And with that she turned and climbed the stairs.

Harry watched her go, deep in thought. He knew it was none of his biusness, but *what* had
Hermione seen in the mirror? And why was she blushing so much? Was it embarrassing?

He glanced back to the mirror and did a double-take.

Hermione's reflection was staring back at him, leaning casually against the side of the
mirror, arms folded. Harry gaped from the mirror-Hermione to the door where the real one had just
left and back again several times. The mirror-Hermione watched him with an arched eyebrow and an
amused expression.

He could still see own reflection, but it was faint and whispy, like a ghost, but Hermione's
reflection was solid.

Mirror-Hermione grinned at him. It was an expression he had never seen the real Hermione wear:
sort of mischevious and daring, bbut there wwas also a spark of something different in her eye. She
was looking at Harry as though he were a delicious piece of meat.

They just stared at each other for a few minuets and then Harry slowly walked towards the
mirror. As he did so mirror-Hermione stood up straight and watched him intensly through eyes that
were brighter than the real Hermione's. He stretched his hand out untill his fingertips made
contact with the cool glass, and then his palm, so his hand was resting on the mirror.

Mirror-Hermione stretched out her hand too, so their outspread hands touched, her long
fingernails just visible over his fingertips. The glass suddenly became warm, as though she really
had put her hand on his. Harry took a sharp breath.

*“Or it could just be the warmth off my own hand*” he thought.

Mirror-Hermione looked from their hands, separated by a sheet of glass, to Harry's
astonished face. Then she raised her other hand to the glass, and Harry pressed his other hand to
hers, nervously.

Without warning, ten real, flesh-and-bone fingers slid out of the mirror as though it were a
sheet of water instead of glass, and entwined around Harry's.

He yelped and jumped back in surprise, taking his hands off the mirror. Breathing heavily, he
gaped back at the reflaction. All of her was back in the mirror and she just looked at him
innocently.

But that had freaked him out. Even the talking mirrors he had come across weren't like that.
He backed away, staring a the grinning mirror-Hermione, then ran up the stairs and flung himself
out of the door. But he couldn't resist having a last look at the mirror.

Mirror-Hermione was sitting down, leaning against the side of the mirror again and reading a
mirror-Hogwarts: a history. She looked up at him, smiled and gave him a little wave. The corners of
his mouth twitched and he ducked his head back out.

He couldn't sleep that night. His mind was too full of questions.

Everything about that encounter puzzled Harry. Why was the mirror-Hermione looking at him that
way? How had she been able to come to life? Then again, it had only been fleeting, had he only
imagined her fingers? And most importantly, *why did the mirror of Erised show him
Hermione?*

Maby it was because he wanted his best friends to come out of this war safe and sound. But that
wasn't right, why didn't it show Ron, or Ginny?

Wasn't the thing he wanted most his family? Maby he considered Hermione family. But again,
why didn't it show Ron, he was like a brother to Harry. And besides, something was a bit…
*off* about Hermione being his sister.

But he did know one thing, and that was that the mirror fascinated him. When they were supposed
to be reserching, he would spend hours just staring at the image in the mirror. It was like the
real Hermione, but very different, especially in the way she looked at him.

But this meant they were making less progress than ever, and Harry knew it wasn't good for
him to stare at a mirror all the time…

“It does not do to dwell on dreams, Harry, and forget to live” Dumbledore had once told him.

A week passed since he had first discovered the Mirror of Erised, and he lay down in bed to go
to sleep, thinking once again of horcruxes and mirrors..

Harry was in a dark room, an emerald green fire cackling in the corner, but it seemed to be
emitting cold instead of heat into the darkness.

“Enter!” He said in a high cold voice. Two hooded figures entered, holding a struggling person
he knew to be Mad-eye Moody. Moody was bleeding, numerous gashes littered across his face.

“Alastor Moody” he snarled. The Death Eaters dropped him, and Moody kneeled before him, hands
bound. He glared at Harry determinedly in the eye. Harry chuckled. Moody was known for his bravery.
“So, thought you'd rescue some Mudbloods, did you? How… noble.”

Moody stared at him defiantly, his magical eye whizzing round to stare st the Death Eaters.

“Crucio!” Moody fell to the floor in pain “where are they?”

“I'll- never- tell!” Moody grunted.

“Crucio! Who were they?”

“No! Not- telling!” Moody growled.

“CRUCIO! Who were you with?”

Moody was howling in agony, his eyes staring in opposite directions, foam frothing at his mouth
and beads of sweat cascading down his forehead.

“My Lord, there were three others. We managed to injure another, a Weasley I think…” said one of
the Death Eaters.

Harry looked deep into Moody's eyes… faces of nameless mudbloods Harry didn't care about
flashed by… and then an image of a small golden goblet with a badger engraved on it came into
veiw.

“What was that?” said Harry sharply.

“Your precious cup's gone…” said Moody quietly, a gleam of triumph in his eye.

“What?” said Harry disbeleivingly.

“It's gone!” Moody laughed “I don't know why you want it, but it's gone!”

“Avada kedavra!” Harry screeched furiously.

And then he was back in bed, covered in cold sweat and panting.

Moody was dead. The dreams were back.

*

-->



10. The double-double agent
---------------------------



Harry shot up and raced downstairs. Mad-eye was dead… a cold plummeting feeling settled in
Harry's stomach. Not brave, war hardened, slightly mad Mad-eye Moody…

He found Ron in the kitchen, wearing a dressing gown and making breakfast.

“Mad-eye Moody's dead” said Harry urgently. His skin crawled and he was shaking. His scar
was burning, white-hot pain searing through his forehead.

“What?” Ron blinked.

“Moody's dead, I saw Voldemort kill him.” Voldemort was angry, more angry than ever, but the
emotion that overpowered Harry was not Voldemort's; it was his own sense of greif as the
realisation that Moody was gone hit him. He had to sit down as his eyes stung with boiling
tears.

Ron had turned white. “You're having those dreams again?” he whispered. Harry nodded and
screwed his eyes shut.

Ron handed him a mug of coffee, wich he sipped gratefully, and patted his back. He then hurdled
upstairs to get Remus.

They came back a moment later, Remus looking irritable.

“What's this about a dream?”

“Voldemort's killed Moody, I saw him!”

Remus looked shocked. “B-but Harry, how do you know It wasn't just a dream-”

“NO!” Harry jumped to his feet. He needed an excuse to shout. Voldemort had just killed an other
person, though not as close as Sirius or Dumbledore, but still close to him. “Don't you get it?
They're REAL!”

Ron grabbed Harry's shoulders and gently lowered him back into his seat, muttering “calm
down, mate, calm down.

At that moment, an owl swooped in from the open window. Remus opened the letter attached to its
leg, and read, his eyes growing larger.

“Harry, I- I think you're right! It's from Dora; (by this he meant Tonks) she, Bill
Weasley, Elphias Doge and Moody went to rescue some muggle borns, but the Death Eaters caught them.
Bill got some serious injuries (Ron paled) and the Death Eaters got Mad-eye!” Harry closed his
eyes. This confirmed Moody's death, and perhaps Bill's too.

“They're at St. Mungo's. Ron, go and wake Hermione up.”

*

They stepped into the shiny floored room at St. Mungo's hospital. The entire Weasley clan
were there, including Percy, and even Fred and George were treating him like a brother again.

They and Tonks were waiting outside a door marked “private”.

“Harry” said Tonks tearfully “he's killed Mad-eye. I'm really sorry!” then she started
crying into Remus's chest.

“How is he?” Ron whispered to Ginny.

“Not good” she was as white as a sheet. “It was a *bardus caedo* curse, Ron, its
permanent!”

Besides her, Fleur, who had been listening, burst into tears. They waited for what seemed like
an age, until Mr. Weasley, trembling, stepped out of the private door. He was not wearing a good
expression.

“It'll get better” Fred and George's faces lit up “before it gets worse. Seven years,
he's got, until the curse kills him.” And he broke down and cried.

“NOOOO!” wailed Fleur, banging the door open and flinging herself across Bill's chest. She
was shortly followed by a sobbing Mrs. Weasley, and then the rest of the Weasleys.

They were all huddled around Bill's bed; Mr. and Mrs. Weasley taking each of his hands,
Fred, George and Percy all staring at him with tears rolling down their cheeks, Charlie standing a
bit nearer, looking stricken and Ginny crying on Ron's shoulder, Ron clinging to her and
shaking.

Harry, Hermone, Remus and Tonks were standing in the doorway to give the family some room.
Hermione had tears rolling as well, and Tonks and Remus were still grasping one another. Harry put
an arm around Hermione's shoulders and looked back at the Weasleys.

Looking at them and knowing they would soon lose one of their member broke his heart.

*

In the Burrow, he recounted his dream to Remus, Mr. Weasley and Kingsley Shacklebolt. They were
all wearing solemn expressions.

“So that's it, Alastor “Mad-eye” Moody is dead” sighed Kingsley in his deep, rumbling voice.
“The funeral will commence shortly, and the will reading- ahh!” he didn't continue as two
figures had appeared out of no-where, clutching a tattered old book, and crumpled on a heap on top
of him, knocking him unconscious.

Only as the figures stood up did Harry recognise that head of sleek white-blond hair and the
curtain of greasy black hair.

“YOU!” Harry roared, firing the first curse that came into his head at Severus Snape.

“Snape! What's he doing here?” said Remus as he and Mr. Weasley both fired stunners at him,
but Snape had managed to shield himself and Draco Malfoy from all three spells. Harry carried on
firing curses furiously at him until he yelled “the locket, the cup, the snake and something of
Gryffindor's or Ravenclaw's!”

Harry immediately stopped. “Wh-what?”

“Those are the horcruxes Dumbledore told you to destroy!” Snape's eyes darted between Harry,
Remus and Mr. Weasley.

“Horcruxes? What's he talking about, Harry?” asked Mr. Weasley. He, Remus and Malfoy looked
bewildered.

“How do you know?” snapped Harry. He was too confused to be furious.

“Dumbledore told me, Potter.” Suddenly he turned on Remus, Mr. Weasley and Malfoy.
“*Obliviate!*”

Their eyes slid out of focus for a second, and then Malfoy was looking as shocked and scared as
he had been, and Mr. Weasley and Remus shot stunners again.

“Snape! What's he doing here?” said Remus, as Snape blocked them.

“I need to speak to Potter alone!”

“Hell, no! You killed Dumbledore!” growled Mr.Weasley, shooting another spell at him.

“On his orders!” everyone looked stunned as Snape pulled a portrait from his bag. Harry's
heart gave a jolt as he saw the face.

“Sirius…”whispered Remus, his eyes wide.

“Hey! Get your filthy hands off my frame!” Sirius growled. Sirius glowered at everyone in the
room with a sour look on his face. “*Aww!* Do I have to?” he whined to Snape. Snape glared at
him. “Fine! It's true! It's all true! As much as I hate too say it, the slimy git was
acting on Dumbledore's orders all along.”

“What?” echoed Harry, Remus and Mr. Weasley.

“I was there” Sirius sighed “Dumbledore told Snape he was going to die anyway, so instead of
having Dr-” his eyes shot to Malfoy, who's eyes were wide, but only Harry noticed this “one of
the Death Eaters do it, he ordered Snape to kill him.”

A stunned silence followed this, in which Sirius nodded encouragingly. Eyes trailed from Snape
to Malfoy to Sirius.

“How do we know” said Remus quietly “that you haven't blackmailed Sirius?”

“Oh, come on Moony! If he was a baddun, I'd tell you straight away! You know how much I hate
the little-”

“Yes, thank you, Black” Snape's eyes narrowed.

“And I put a spell on this place to make it unplottable to anyone who isn't loyal to the
Order of the Phoenix” muttered Mr. Weasley, glaring at Snape curiously.

“But he *killed* Dumbledore!”

“And believe me, it was with utter regret” his eyes were filled with complete sincerity, and
Harry finally lowered his wand.

“Well, what's *he* doing here? I wouldn't believe he was working on
Dumbledore's orders for a minuet” Harry spat at Malfoy. He was standing in the corner, as
though trying melt into the shadows.

“Draco has seen the error of his ways. He seeks refuge and shelter from the Dark Lord.” They all
turned to stare at Malfoy.

“Ooh, ooh! That was me, that.” Sirius beamed “I told him it was a bad idea to become a Death
Eater! And then the little git shoved me in his wardrobe!”

Harry exchanged a look with Remus. He didn't think Malfoy had changed either.

“Potter, I need a private word with you!”

“Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of us, right Harry?” But Harry was already
leading Snape into an empty room. He locked it.

“How do you know about the horcruxes? Why did Dumbledore tell you to kill him? And what the HELL
is Malfoy doing here? It must have been hard for you to get away from Voldemort on your own, let
alone with Malfoy tagging along. Why's he so important to you that you took him with you?”
Harry felt that somehow Malfoy was the centre of the confusion. Snape held up his hand for
silence.

“Firstly, you are right; it has been a long and perilous journey to escape the Dark Lord's
clutches.” Snape's eyes darkened.

“And Malfoy must have been a burden.” Snape stayed silent. “Was that on Dumbledore's
orders?”

“My orders were to kill Dumbledore so that Draco wouldn't have to, fake my loyalty to the
Death Eaters and stay that way until I could get my hands on a horcrux and bring it to you.”

“But why did you bring Mal- you have a horcrux?”

Snape opened his bag and pulled out a golden object. Hufflepuff's cup. “*Of course”*
thought Harry as he took it, remembering his dream. It was vibrating with energy, and Harry's
scar burned.

Suddenly it glowed white-hot, and Harry felt his fingers instantly blister. He dropped it, but
before it hit the ground Snape had yelled “*Destructo pars partis ame sept*!” There was a
blinding white light and the room was filled with an odd heat. Harry heard a crack and a man
screaming. When the light dimmed Harry opened his eyes. The cup had split into halves, and the two
fragments lay there, smoking. Harry shoved his blistered hands under his armpits and stared at
Snape, who looked calm.

“I suppose you should know the full story” he said quietly “but it's hard to explain…”

Harry had an idea. He told Snape to wait and rushed downstairs to get the glass pensieve
Hermione had got him.

“If you can't tell me, show me. “He thrust the pensive into Snape's arms. Immediately he
raised his wand to his head and pulled a thin string of silver memory and placed it in the bowl.
String after string of glittering memory swirled in the basin, until Snape paused.

“You wanted to know why I bought Draco?” he twisted his wand in his fingers. “Well… I suppose…
yes…” He reluctantly drew a few more strings of memory from his greasy hair. Harry looked at Snape,
but Snape avoided his eyes. Then he plunged into the swirling contents of the pensieve. He felt the
smooth, cool memory around his face, but then he was falling…

-->



11. The prince's tale
---------------------



He landed on the floor with a thud. He got up and looked around, recognising his surroundings as
a compartment in the Hogwarts Express. Sitting alone, huddled against the corner, was a small,
greasy haired boy. He was very skinny and already wearing his school robes, and had a massive,
tatty trunk that looked bigger than his whole body. Mini- Snape's eyes were appreciatively
scanning the pages of a large book, hungrily storing all the information as his pale fingers
stroked each word.

Suddenly the door slid open, and a red-haired, green-eyed girl popped her head round. “Can I sit
here? Everywhere else is full” Mini-Lilly said sheepishly, reminding Harry wonderfully of Ron on
his first train ride. Snape was staring at her as though he'd never seen a girl before, and
nodded quickly. Smiling, Harry took a seat next to Lilly. She was quite a cute child, but Harry
wondered why Snape was showing him this scene.

Mini- Snape had turned back to his book, looking uncomfortable. Lilly was swinging her legs
excitedly, staring at everything in wonder; the seats, the scenery out the window, Snape's
trunk, her own tawny owl, Snape's robes, Snape himself…

“I'm Lilly Evans” she announced, beaming. Harry beamed too. Snape's eyes darted to Lilly
and then back to his book. “Are we supposed to change into our uniform yet?”

Snape shook his head.

“Oh, good. I don't know much, see, because no-one else in my family is magic. My parents
were thrilled when I got the letter. My sister wasn't though, she was grumpy. She'll get
over it though.” When Snape didn't say anything Lilly glanced out the window. “What's your
name?”

“Severus Snape” he croaked. Lilly's head snapped up.

“Wow, cool name! I've never heard a name like that before.”

Snape looked mildly pleased. “It's a wizard's name, they're a bit different to
muggle names” he said, louder than before.

“Can I call you Sev?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess.” Lilly beamed again. Harry got the impression she was a very happy-go -lucky
person.

“What's that you're reading, Sev?”

“Nothing” he hurriedly stuffed the book away, but not before Harry saw the title: *The Dark
Arts for minors.* “So, you're from a muggle family? Do you know any magic?”

“No. well, I can do some card tricks-”

“No, I mean *real* magic.” He pulled out his wand and a quill. “*Wingardium leviosa!”*
Nothing happened. Snape looked embarrassed. “Hold on, let me try again. *Wingardium*

*leviosa!”* he scrunched up his face in concentration and the quill fluttered above their
heads.

“Wow!” Lilly's green eyes sparkled with wonder and amazement. “That's incredible!”

Snape blushed, grinning.

Suddenly the scene dissolved and re-appeared as a corridor in Hogwarts. Students were walking
by, some right through him, and Harry spotted a vibrant red head of hair next to a greasy black
one. He followed his mother and Snape, who were chatting comfortably, outside to the Hogwarts
grounds. The talked about their latest transfiguration class as they sat down on the grass and
Snape pulled out a bag of sweets, offering Lilly one.

“Ooh, peppermint imps, my favourite” she said, taking one.

“You like peppermint imps, huh, Evans?” Harry hadn't noticed four first-year boys approach
them, and he recognised them as James, Sirius, Remus and Peter Pettigrew. “James can be your pet
imp, if you like” Sirius grinned.

“Excuse me?” Lilly blinked.

“He's got a question for ya, ain't ya Potter?” The other three sniggered.

“Shurrup, Siri” James muttered, and then turned to Lilly, grinning cheesily. “Wanna go out with
me?” Snape looked outraged.

“Oh!” Lilly looked surprised “oh, I'm sorry, but, err, no.” She said it politely enough.

James's smile faded slightly. “Why not?”

“Er, well, I'm sure you're really nice and all, but I hardly know you.”

“Aww, c'mon! You can get to know me.”

“Look, I'm really sorry, but-”

“Please! Just one chance!”

“Sorry, but no!”

“Go on! I'm really quite-”

“Are you deaf?” they all turned to Snape, whom they had been ignoring until now “She said
no!”

“And who asked you, you little Slytherin?” James spat. He said Slytherin as though it was an
insult. Snape puffed his chest out.

“So what if I'm a Slytherin?”

“It means you're nasty, and slimy, and greasy! You don't want to hang around him,
Evans.”

“Come on Severus, let's go.” Lilly glared at James furiously.

“See you later, Snivellus!” said Sirius, and the others roared with laughter as they stalked
away. Once again, the scene dissolved…Lilly and Snape were walking around the Hogwarts grounds
again, there were little groups of friends scattered over the grass where they were walking.

“Oh, I forgot, Professor Mcgonagall wanted to see me!” Lilly moaned. “Get that spot over there,
I'll see you in a bit.”

Snape sat down by a tree by the lake, right next to the water. Harry joined him and looked
around. A few yards away a group of giggly Slytherin girls were chatting, laughing at something a
girl with long, blond hair had said, and in the opposite direction (Harry groaned), James and his
friends had spotted Snape. Quietly, they creeped over to him and James whispered “Heyer Snivellus”
before pushing him in the lake. It wasn't very deep, but Snape was soaked and the other boys
laughed.

“What's going on here?” said a voice. Two of the Slytherin girls had come over. The one that
had spoken was the blond girl. She looked about fourteen or fifteen, and was very pretty. Her skirt
was shorter than the other girls, and the first three buttons were open on her shirt.

“Oh no!” Sirius groaned “go *away* Narcissa!” It was then that Harry recognised the girl:
she was a teenage Narcissa Black; Malfoy's future mother. Sure enough, her face contorted into
her trademark expression of having something nasty under her nose as he spoke.

“Oh, now, is that anyway to talk to your cousin?” she looked at Snape, who looked very
embarrassed and stood up “Is this little twerp causing trouble, Sev?”

“Why don't you shut your fat mouth, Cissa!?” snarled Sirius.

“Careful” Narcissa flashed her prefect badge. James, Remus and Peter looked scared, but Sirius
looked unafraid.

“Why have you got a prefect badge? You're not a prefect.”

“Draws attention to my cleavage, don't you think?” she smirked at Snape. Her friend, who had
the same pug face as Pansy Parkinson, shrieked with laughter. Snape, Remus, Peter and James turned
very red, and Sirius looked revolted.

“Ugh! *Narcissa*, go away, you're *e**mbarrassing* me!” Sirius whined.
“Besides, we have some business to sort out.”

“Oh, that's right.” Narcissa, eyes flashing cruelly, turned to James. “That Evans girl
rejected you, didn't she? So you're taking it out on Sev.” James blushed. “I thought
Gryffindors were *brave*? Four on one, how *noble.”* She smiled nastily. “Hey, Siri, I
wonder what Uncle Orion will say if I tell him you've been *bullying?”* She leant on
Snape's shoulder.

“Why don't you go and snog Parkinson?”

“Oh, wake up, Sirius, I dumped him ages ago” Narcissa snapped, and her friend smirked.

“Yes, Black, even *yo**ur* feeble mind should have comprehended that” drawled a voice.
Harry wondered what Malfoy was doing in Snape's memory, and why he could talk to them, but then
realised that this was not Draco, but Lucius Malfoy. Like James was with Harry, Lucius was a mirror
image of Draco with slight adjustments; his hair was longer than Draco's, his shoulders were
broader and his voice slightly higher. Either side of him was a Crabbe or Goyle sized boy, though
they were defiantly not Crabbe and Goyle's fathers.

“What are you doing here Malfoy?” growled Remus.

“Temper, Lupin, or I'll put you in detention.” When they stared at him quizzically he held
out his hand and Narcissa, a bit reluctantly, gave him his badge.

“C'mon” Sirius muttered to James, looking at Narcissa and Lucius, who were standing either
side of Snape protectively. “It's not worth it.” They slinked away. Narcissa's face
softened as she turned back to Snape.

“They're just jerks, Sev.”

“Yeah” Lucius leant against the tree, looking both lazy and superior at the same time. “If they
bother you again, I'll make them clean out the girl's toilets” he smirked. Snape, Narcissa
and her friend laughed, and Lucius's goons chuckled stupidly.

“Oh, that'd kill Sirius” cackled Narcissa.

“Haven't you got Potions now, Severus?”

“Oh, yeah. Uh, thanks” he beamed at them, turning slightly red as he smiled at Narcissa, and ran
off.

“Cissa!” whispered her friend as they watched him go, with amusement on their faces “I think
that kid fancies you!”

“Maybe” Narcissa's eyes glittered as Lucius casually swung an arm round her waist. “Poor
thing doesn't know I'm taken.” She entwined her fingers with his, and grinned, with an
arrogant and boastful expression that suggested she thought herself better than everyone for having
bagged such a boyfriend as Lucius Malfoy.

But her smirking face soon dissolved, and the next memory began. He was still in Hogwarts's
grounds, but Snape and Lilly looked a year or two older. They were having a conversation again, but
the sunlight was catching her hair and Snape was looking at her with a greedy expression in his
eye.

“…And *then* she said- Sev? Sev, are you even paying attention?” said Lilly
impatiently.

“Huh?” he replied dreamily.

“What's wrong with you? You're so…far away”

“Well, I…” he stopped, and pressed his lips to hers instead. Harry looked away. *Snape* had
kissed his mother! He'd never live it down.

When their kiss broke, Snape smiled at her. But when he saw her shell-shocked face his smile
dropped. They stared at each other in petrified silence, until Snape looked away.

“Sev?” said Lilly gently, putting a hand on his shoulder, but he flinched away, looking
horrified with himself. “Sev, I'm really sorry, I just don't…”

There was a long, awkward silence. Snape looked crushed.

“We can still be friends, can't we?” said Lilly in a small voice. Snape paused, and then
turned back to her.

“Yes” he whispered, trying to smile “sure we can.” The bell rang, and they got up and walked to
their next class in silence. When Lilly wasn't looking, Harry saw Snape's eyes darken with
rage and disappointment.

The scene changed again, and this was a place Harry had only been once before: The Slytherin
common room. It appeared to be empty, but Harry could hear someone sobbing and muttering, and when
he looked to the darkest corner he saw Snape curled up. He was muttering under his breath and
looked as though his birthday had been cancelled. He was lying on his side, staring into
nothingness; a single tear rolled from his eye. Harry heard a creek from the stairs, and a pale,
blond head peeped round.

“Narcissa!” Snape gasped, quickly wiping his tear away. Narcissa jumped the last three steps.
Though it appeared to be late at night, she hadn't changed her uniform. She was taller, seeming
to be in seventh year.

“Hi, Sev” she looked into his watery eyes “aww, have you been cwying?” she pouted, reminding
Harry horribly of her sister Bellatrix. Snape turned red and looked away. “Still lusting after that
mudblood?” she peered into the dim, dying fire thoughtfully.

“Don't call her a mudblood” Snape muttered, but it was so quiet Narcissa seemed not to hear
it.

“Yes…” her eyes narrowed and she scowled “I can see why you find the little cow so…
*attractive*.” She flicked her hair back and put on a horrible, squeaky voice. “Ooh, fall down
at my feet, I'm *Evans*, the Gryffindor princess!” she flounced over to Snape, who was
avoiding her eye and muttering furiously, but it was inaudible. Narcissa Black's mouth curved
into a crooked smile, and she leered at him through grey-blue eyes.

“I suppose she has some sense, rejecting my dozy cousin's best mate. How funny, a pureblood
being rejected by a mudblood!” she cackled. Harry, who'd been starting to think he'd got
the wrong picture about her when she was standing up for Snape, was now liking her even less then
before.

Snape looked torn between anger and awe. Narcissa moved closer to Snape on the sofa, and he
looked uncomfortable. “You know, Severus,” she inched closer to him “You don't need that
mudblood. There are girls much worthier of *you*” her face was slowly getting closer to his
“and of purer blood.” Snape looked amazed at how close she was. “Girls like me.” She fluttered her
eyelashes, and Snape closed his eyes, ready for the kiss. Narcissa smirked horribly, her eyes
slits.

When it didn't come, Snape opened his eyes and turned red, looking furious with himself.
Narcissa giggled. “Aww, sorry Sev, but I have a reputation to keep up.” She ruffled his hair,
discreetly wiping her hand on the sofa afterwards. “You shouldn't have a problem getting a
*Slytherin* girlfriend your own age, though.” She emphasized Slytherin.

*“Yeah, that's because they're all as greasy as he is*” thought Harry. Snape looked
doubtful as she walked back to the staircase. “You know, Sev, if you were old enough to get me a
case of Firewhisky from the three broomsticks, I'd go out with you in a tick.” Snape beamed,
looking smug, but he didn't see Narcissa roll her eyes and smirk unpleasantly.

The scene dissolved again. Harry was in the Great Hall, but there were lots of little desks
instead of the four house tables. Harry's heart sank. He had seen this scene before. He watched
his Father and his friends complete their O.W.Ls and go outside. He watched James and Sirius
picking on Snape. He watched Lilly go to help, and Snape uttering that filthy word:
*mudblood.*

Finally, the memory dissolved around him. This time he was in Dumbledore's office and a much
older Snape was slumped in a chair, swaying tipsily. He looked as though he'd died a thousand
deaths: his face was hollow, his cheeks tear-stained and there were dark bags under his eyes. He
was holding a cup of tea, which sloped over him as he rocked.

“Dead” Snape choked to Dumbledore, who still had a tinge of auburn in his hair “you said… you…
could…protect her.” He was struggling to talk, and his whispers were slurred. He seemed a bit
drunk.

“I gave them a fidelius charm. But Sirius Black has betrayed the Potters” said Dumbledore
solemnly. Snape broke his teacup, sending the liquid down him. All signs of his previous
drunkenness were abandoned.

“I'll kill that little rat!”

“If you hadn't told Voldemort about the prophecy none of this would have happened!”

With a wounded cry, Snape dropped to his knees and covered his head with his arms, lying face
down. His shoulders shook violently but no sound escaped. Snape's fingers uncoiled and he
clawed at the ground, looking simply pathetic as he wallowed in his own misery. Harry sniffed: this
was indeed a powerful scene, a scene Harry could relate to.

“The Potter's son lives. Lilly died to save him.”

“Why?” Snape bellowed suddenly, banging his fist on the ground hard enough to shatter his bones.
“How could someone as beautiful… as precious and pure… how could *she* die to save that little
brat? Why?! He'll be just like his father, I know it!”

“Lilly Potter loved little Harry!” roared Dumbledore “and you… you still love her.”

“Yes!” wailed Snape “more than life itself! I tried to forget her. I followed Narcissa's
advice, but I… I…” he looked directly at Dumbledore, his eyes filled with such a cutting sorrow
Harry was surprised Dumbledore didn't flinch. “I wish I was dead.”

Once again the scene changed, but Harry was in a place he'd never been before. It was dark,
and Harry could see an enormous and magnificent manor silhouetted against the moon. The grounds
around it had glistening fountains, and two pure white peacocks were strutting around majestically.
At the far end was a pair of solid-gold looking gates, with a large M in the middle.

A shadowy figure had knocked at the grand oak doors, and Harry recognised it as Snape. Lucius
Malfoy greeted him at the doors, and Harry stepped into Malfoy Manor. The hairs on the back of his
neck rose. It was very weird to walk into the house were Draco Malfoy was raised. It was large and
grand, and the colours were mainly green, gold and silver. Several expensive looking ornaments and
statues were placed here and there. Harry and Snape followed Lucius through the corridor, until
they came into a large living room. Narcissa was sitting on the luxury sofa. She looked much more
elegant and refined than the flirtatious, arrogant teenager she had been.

There was a one-year-old boy at her feet, playing with some toy dragons, and Harry smirked in
amusement as he realised he was looking at a baby Draco Malfoy. With a pang of hatred Harry saw
that Bellatrix Lestrange was sitting opposite them, smirking as her nephew attacked some toy people
with his toy dragon.

Harry flung himself on the Malfoy's sofa, grinning at the thought of their faces if they
could see him, until Snape sat on his head.

“Bah!” Baby Draco cried, dumping his collection of dragons on Snape's lap.

“Oh, um… thank you, Draco…” Snape muttered, inspecting a Dragon. Draco clapped his sticky little
hands happily.

“Draco! Sorry about that, Severus” Narcissa vanished the toys, making Draco squeal in protest.
“Dobby, take this child to bed.” Harry looked around for the elf, but his smile vanished when he
saw how scared Dobby looked.

“Yes mistress” he squeaked, taking the baby's wrist.

“Be careful with him!” Narcissa snapped, her eyes slits. Dobby loosened his grip, whimpering,
and walked out, Draco tottering along beside him.

“Now, what's this about a raid, Snape?” asked Bellatrix.

“The Aurors suspect you, Lucius. Ever since the Dark Lord's fall-”

“Do not speak of it!” Bellatrix hissed. “He has not fallen, he was merely stalled, and *I*
for one-”

“Bella, I think we can all agree he *has* fallen” said Lucius gravely. Bellatrix looked
simply furious. “The rumours are that that Potter boy used some incredible Dark Powers to overcome
the Dark Lord, when he killed his mother.” Snape winced horribly, but only Narcissa noticed. She
said nothing as Lucius spoke again: “It will be easy enough to convince them I was under the
imperious curse, Severus.”

“But you have many *dark* objects. If they find them you will be put in Azkaban.”

“I suspected this.” He sighed. “I have placed all the obvious ones on that table over there”
there was a large table at the far end of the room, and gruesome looking objects were placed on it.
“What exactly do you suggest I do about them?”

But Harry wasn't listening to their conversation anymore: Baby Draco had escaped from Dobby
and entered the back of the room through another door. He was looking at something shiny on the
table: the cursed necklace his future self had used last year that had almost killed Katie
Bell.

Harry shook Narcissa's shoulder, and then remembered she couldn't see, hear or feel him.
“*Now calm down, he doesn't die or he wouldn't have been around to annoy me all those
years**”* Harry thought. Draco couldn't reach the necklace, and sat down, staring at
it.

But he had caught Snape's eye too. He sat there watching the baby as the other three talked.
Draco had noticed the table cloth hanging down, and tugged at it.

“Whoa!” Snape rushed over to the table and tugged Draco away, just as the necklace fell off the
table and landed where he had been seconds ago.

“Draco!” shrieked Narcissa as he started crying.

“Good god! How did he get over there?” Lucius had turned even paler than usual.

“Wasn't that house-elf supposed to be looking after him?” said Bellatrix, joining Narcissa
as she fussed over her son.

“I shall thrash that elf so much he'll regret the day he was *born!*” snarled Lucius
viciously, loosening his belt. Harry felt enormously sorry for his elfish friend, but as there was
nothing he could do he turned back to Snape. His expression was intriguing. He was staring at
Narcissa as she cuddled a wailing Draco. There was a look of comprehension and understanding on his
face.

Again the scene dissolved, and the next memory was of just outside Dumbledore's office.
Snape looked almost as old as the present day Snape. He knocked on the door.

“Enter.”

“You wanted to see me, sir?”

“Yes, Severus. Take a seat.” Snape sat. “Firstly, I would like to thank you once again for
treating my arm.” He held up his withered arm and smiled pleasantly. “But, you see, I have knew
information on Voldemort's plans.”

Snape looked hungry. “How did you get them?”

“You remember Sirius?” Dumbledore pulled a smallish portrait out of a draw in his desk and Snape
groaned loudly. It was the portrait Snape had bought Harry.

“Whew! It was hot in there! Oh” Sirius looked at Snape, his lip curling “Hi Snivelly.”

Snape said nothing.

“By accident, it appears, Sirius has a portrait at Malfoy Manor. I have asked him to spy there
for me ever since he died.”

“Humph, right boring, too. All I've been doing is staring at that Draco kid's bedroom,
ducking behind my tree every time he comes in.”

Dumbledore ignored him. “Now, this new plot of Voldemort's involves… well, killing me.”

Snape's eyebrows rose. “He thinks he can do it?”

“Oh, he's not doing it. Young Draco Malfoy is.”

Snape sighed. “I feared he might do something like this.” He shook his head. “He does not think
Draco will succeed, this is punishment for Lucius's failure. He will be killed for sure.”

“Then you must do it.”

Snape spluttered and Sirius stared at him. “Wha- What?” Snape gasped.

“The only way to ensure Draco's life will be if I die.”

“No!” most of the portraits, including Sirius, yelled.

Dumbledore shook his head at them. “No, I know that I am not long for this world” he said
quietly “You may not be able to see it, but my bones grow weary and my organs weak. I can feel
it.”

“No. I will not be responsible for your death! There must be some other way” Snape hissed.

“Severus, I'm sorry to put such a burden on you, but I am going to die anyway, I may as well
make it useful.” Harry gaped at how calmly he discussed the subject of death, how well he accepted
his own life's end. “Now, once you have killed me-”

“NO!”

“Severus, it is ether an old man's life, or a teenager's, and possibly his
mother's”

“His mother's? Narcissa?”

“Oh, yes” Dumbledore's expression turned grave “I do believe you will be having a visit from
her. If you refuse to aid Draco, she will help him herself. Her husband is in jail; after all,
Draco's all she has left.”

“I might hate her for all she's worth,” piped in Sirius, “but if I know my cousin,
she'll do anything to keep her precious little prince alive.”

“It'll be Lilly and Harry all over again.” Dumbledore muttered softly, his eyes shiny with
tears. Snape looked helplessly from Dumbledore to Sirius's portrait.

“Ok” he breathed, voice thick “I feel like a dirty murderer, but I'll do it.”

“Thank you, Severus.” Dumbledore sounded satisfied. “That also puts you in Voldemort's good
books. You understand about horcruxes, I imagine?”

“It is a subject I have read about once or twice, yes” Snape sighed heavily.

“Voldemort has seven.” Snape gasped, almost sliding off his chair. “Now, I want you to retrieve
one, in the form of Hufflepuff's cup, from the Lestrange's vault at Gringotts. Mad-eye
Moody will help you in this mission. The instructions to get in the vault are…”

But Harry didn't hear the instructions, as the scene changed again.

This time Harry was in a dark, secluded room, and Snape had just thrust the door open. He was
carrying a limp figure which he lay down on the bed. It was Narcissa Malfoy: she looked in a bad
state, very frail, as if she had just been tortured. Snape bustled about with a cauldron, creating
a steaming potion.

Narcissa's eyes fluttered open.

“Narcissa!” Snape rushed over to her, holding her hand delicately and taking her
temperature.

“Lucius?” she whispered. Her eyes looked slightly unfocused.

“No. Severus.” He was breathing his words, as though speaking too loudly would damage her
somehow. “Where does it hurt?”

“Everywhere.” She looked like she was in pain. Snape went to the sink and wrung out a cloth.

“Is Lucius ok?”

“Yes” Snape dabbed her forehead. “Upset by his actions, but physically fine.”

“And Draco?”

“He's…very distressed.”

“I didn't want him to see that.”

“Why did you do it?”

Narcissa looked shifty. “Do what?”

“You and I both know it was Draco's choice to disobey the Dark Lord. Why did you say you
told him to?”

“Do you think I'd have let him put Draco in the condition I'm in?” Snape said nothing,
and gave the cauldron another stir. “Severus…he doesn't belong here. He never liked confinement
and taking orders. Everyone thinks he's just like Lucius, but he's not. He's not.”

“I know, I know.”

“Severus… you're leaving soon.”

Snape gasped. “How did you know?”

“You're clever. You've managed to convince even the Dark Lord of your loyalty. But
I've seen you when they're abusing mudbloods. You still think of *her**.”* She
smiled sadly, which Harry thought was odd. “Take Draco.”

Snape sighed, shaking his head. “He's safer here. I'm not even sure they'll trust me
again.”

“Please, Sev!” She sat up slightly, wincing. “He'll only end up hurting himself if he stays
here any longer!” she took Snape's hand, her eyes pleading. “I know if anyone can hide him, you
can.”

They spent a long time staring at each other, Snape chewing the inside of his cheek. Harry was
getting weary, but then Snape opened his mouth.

“I will do all in my power to find Draco a hiding place” he murmured. Narcissa's whole body
relaxed and a soft smile graced her features. “Now drink this. It'll put you in an enchanted
sleep.” He scooped a flagon of steaming potion and Narcissa sipped it. In seconds she was
asleep.

Snape was looking at her with a mixture of sadness and worry. He slowly raised her hand, and
brushed his lips softly against her fingers. He went to the door, took one last worried glance at
her, and then stalked away. “*Wow*” thought Harry, looking at Narcissa's restful face. He
had defiantly seen a new side to her. He hadn't really thought the Malfoys were the type of
people who really… cared about each other.

The scene dissolved, but didn't reappear. Instead, Harry landed back in the Weasley's
sitting room with a jolt. Snape was staring out the window, his hands behind his back. There was a
long pause until he spoke.

“I hope you understood some of the things I showed you.” He sighed, not turning from the window.
“I *loved* your mother. God, I loved her.” He rested his hands on the windowsill and bowed his
head. “But she didn't love me.”

Harry stood there awkwardly. He didn't know what to say. The man he had hated for years was
pouring his heart and soul out; what could he say?

“I pleaded with the Dark Lord to spare her. He nearly murdered me when I asked him to let a
muggle-born live. I was heart-broken when she died.” He turned to face Harry, and he saw
Snape's coal black eyes were sparkling with tears. “I regret that you'll never know her,
because you couldn't know what kind of person she was unless you did.” He sighed, staring out
the window again. “She always had time for anybody, especially those who needed her help.”

Harry smiled in spite of himself. Snape's description reminded him a lot of Hermione helping
poor, clueless Neville Longbottom in potions. A warm, fluttering feeling filled his stomach to
think Lilly had been as encouraging and patient as that.

“But, don't you love Narcissa Malfoy too?”

Snape froze, and rough chuckles creeped up his throat. “Yes it appears that way, doesn't it?
I never loved her like I loved your mother. I was… infatuated with her. Well, you saw what she was
like” the corners of Snape's mouth twitched “talented, popular and stunningly beautiful.” But
then Snape's smile dropped, and he looked deep in thought. “I don't know why, but she
seemed to take to me as soon as I first talked to her in first year. She… helped me out a lot” by
this Harry knew he meant she stood up for him against James, but was too embarrassed to say it “and
when Lilly rejected me she helped me rebuild.”

Harry stared. Was he talking about that scene between him and Narcissa where she had almost
kissed him? Harry remembered her unpleasant smirk at the end. Snape had caught Harry's look out
the corner of his eye.

“She might seem cruel to you, but at the time she helped me regain my confidence. She seemed to
understand me, somehow, and she's kept my secret all these years.”

“In other words” Harry raised an eyebrow “you *do* like her.” Snape didn't reply, but
gave Harry a shifty look. “If you like her so much, why don't you hate Malfoy like you hate me?
He looks just as much like his father as I do mine” Harry frowned. And Snape's lip curled.

“Don't you understand anything?” he snapped, sounding much more like the old Snape. “Lucius
was a friend to me; at least he treated me with respect! But your father” Snape's eye twitched
“oh no, he couldn't leave me alone, could he? Always the bully, always picking on me, I
didn't hear a nice word from him, not one!”

Harry's fists were shaking, but he forced himself to understand how Snape was feeling.

“And look at you” whispered Snape, his voice was suddenly racked with emotion. “You look just
like him. It's only when I look at your eye's I see *her*.” He stared out the window
again. “Isn't it obvious I expected both you and Draco to act like your fathers as much as you
look like them? Then again,” Snape smirked “Lucius would never disobey the Dark Lord.”

“Draco is not Lucius” Harry put a hand on the man's shoulder “and I'm not James.”

*

-->



12. where his loyalties lie
---------------------------



“Ouch! Watch it Malfoy!” snarled Ginny. She rubbed the shoulder which had collided with his.

“Shut up, Weasel” he grunted and turned away.

“You can't tell me to shut up in my own home, Malfoy!”

After much deliberation, Mr. Weasley and Remus had found Draco to be disloyal to Voldemort. They
had questioned him, used vertaserum, occlumency and all manor of dark detectors.

And he had unwillingly spilled everything: how Voldemort had ordered him to kill Dumbledore,
threatening to kill him and his family, how his father forced him to become a Death Eater, how
Sirius's portrait had visited him in the night, and, least willingly of all, how Voldemort had
ruthlessly tortured his mother. Snape backed him up on each of these stories, even giving
information Draco had wanted to keep secret.

Draco was utterly confused about Snape's loyalties; everyone was. He had thought Snape was a
Death Eater for sure, but it turned out he was loyal to the Order of the Phoenix. He would have
thought his mother, who knew, would be angry, but instead she urged Draco to go with him!

It had been dangerous to get away. Draco had only bought a little bag with a few belongings.
They had snuck out at night, almost having their souls sucked out by the dementors, and when they
finally got away they went in a different direction. Snape put Draco into a hiding place, muttering
about a cup or such nonsense, and Draco had waited until he finally came back, looking injured but
pleased. After all that, Snape told him they were going to the Weasley's home, the Burrow
(“What kind of a name is *that?”* Draco had sneered). Draco had gotten angry, and demanded to
be taken home. But Snape had managed to drag Draco there, where he was questioned like a
criminal.

This had gone on for days, until they finally accepted his story. But where to keep him? Snape
had bought him seeking refuge and protection; they couldn't just throw him out on the streets.
Besides, that was what the Order did, protect people from Voldemort.

So they decided to, reluctantly, keep him at the Burrow, where the argument between he and Ginny
was taking place.

“Oh yeah? Well, I just did” he sneered.

There had been a complete uproar the day he had arrived. Fred and George, who were visiting, had
yelled and shouted until their faces were red, and physically tried to throw him out. Mrs. Weasley
had looked appalled at the idea of cooking for a Malfoy, though she seemed to have calmed down. Ron
had almost had a fit, which led to Hermione trying to calm him down, which led to Ron snapping at
her, which led to more fighting. He, Hermione and Harry, who had helplessly tolerated their
fighting, had been staying the past week since Bill's injuries and left mysteriously again the
next day.

This meant that Ginny had been given the job of “keeping an eye on him”. There wasn't much
to keep an eye on, though, as he mostly stayed shut up in his room. She checked on his three times
a day, but he was either sleeping, reading, or sitting at the window, deep in thought.

“Well, you can't make me!”

You didn't need to make *him* shut up, though. He never said anything unless he was
spoken to, and he ate his meals in silence.

“Wanna bet?” he growled, stepping closer to her. He was almost a foot taller than her.

“Is that a threat?” she reared up to her full height (which wasn't much), and narrowed her
eyes.

“Whatever.” Sneering, he walked back to his room. Ginny followed him and leant against the door.
Draco slumped face first on his bed and stayed still.

“Is that it? Whatever? Oh, very witty, that's really put me in my place” she smirked.

He made a rude gesture with his fingers. Ginny's eyes crackled with anger. She stalked over
to him and heaved him around.

“What was that?”

“Ahgr, leave me *alone*, Weasel queen.” He flung his arms over his eyes. “I'm
tired.”

Ginny saw the Dark Mark printed on his forearm and scowled.

“Tired, my arse.” She stood up and looked around his room, which used to be Charlie's “What
are you doing in here?” She rummaged around in his bag.

“Hey! That's my stuff!”

“Are you a spy? Have you been leaking information about the Order to your Dad?”

“NO! I've left the Death Eaters!”

“Yeah, right, you might have fooled Dad and Remus, but I'm not stupid.” She checked around
the bookcase “Where's your communication device? It's probably something really small, like
a quill, or a galleon-”

“Get out of there!”

“Or-or a stone, maybe…”

Draco slammed the book she was looking in shut.

“Listen! I am not communicating with Death Eaters! My loyalties do not lie with them!”

“You have the Dark Mark” Ginny pointed out.

“WELL I'LL GET RID OF IT THEN!” he roared, and before Ginny could stop him, he took out a
long, shimmering dagger and slit the mark.

He yelled in pain as agony seared up his arm and filled his body. It was unbearable; he sank to
his knees, clutching his wrist, his hand slipping from the blood.

“Malfoy!” squeaked Ginny. She looked terrified.

Draco gritted his teeth and looked straight into her dark hazel eyes.

“Happy now? Is this proof enough for you, Weasley?” he snarled, but Ginny was staring at his
arm. She was as pale as him under her freckles.

“M-Malfoy… your arm…”

Something was not right. Blood was bubbling out of the cut, congealing and turning thick as it
frothed and foamed from his arm. Ink was seeping from the mark, mixing with the blood and turning
it a horrid blackish red colour. Draco panicked.

“Ohshitohshitohshit” was racing through his mind as he scampered up, waving his arm about
wildly.

“Quick- Malfoy- let me-”

“Get away from me!” he spat, retreating from her helping hand “I don't want your help, you
filthy scum!” frothy, black blood was seeping all over the bed. Ginny grabbed his wrist and pointed
her wand at the cut. “*Cleansius!*”

His whole arm was throbbing and aching, and her spell didn't seem to do any thing to relieve
the pain.

“What's happening?” Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had come to see what the commotion was about.

Draco couldn't take the pain anymore, and blacked out.

*

He opened a bleary eye.

“Ah, he's awake” came the voice of Mr. Weasley. Draco groaned. First he'd cut his arm
open, now he was being looked after by *Weasel senior**.* This day just kept getting
better.

He sat up, and a sharp pain shot through his left arm. It was covered in white bandages.

“What the *hell* were you thinking?” snapped Weasel Snr. “S+urely you knew the Dark Mark
has a very powerful curse! You can't just get rid of it!”

Draco avoided his eyes and kept his face blank, but inside he was seething. Oh just brilliant,
now Weasel Snr was having a go at him. Ugh. He could almost physically feel his pride
diminishing.

“We couldn't take you to St. Mungo's; you're supposed to be in hiding! You are
*very* lucky that we could get Snape to come and sort you out, or you'd be dead!” he
frowned at Draco and turned away.

Draco scowled and shot him a dirty look.

The fuzzy red-head of Mrs. Weasley popped through the door.

“Oh, you're awake” she smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes “would you like a
sandwich?”

“No thank you” Draco grumbled.

“Don't be silly, dear; you have to keep your strength up.”

“Thank you.” Draco scowled as she and Mr. Weasley left. He hated that she was pretending to be
nice to him, and then she'd ask about him with a bitter expression on her face. And why did she
insist on calling him “dear”? Did he have antlers?

He heard his door open again, but didn't bother looking as it was probably the Mother Weasel
with his sandwiches. She'd better have used granary bread, not that tacky, limp, white
stuff.

Suddenly he felt a hand collide with his head.

“Ouch! What the-? Weasel Queen!”

Ginny was glowering angrily at him. “You idiot! How could you do that to yourself, you gave me a
right scare!”

He was about to retort when he noticed her eyes were much shinier than usual; she had been
crying. There was a weird hot feeling in the back of his neck. He wasn't pleased that she had
cried because of him.

“Yeah, well… you shouldn't have said that stuff, should you?” Ginny's bottom lip
trembled slightly. That hot feeling grew stronger.

There was a horrendous silence, where Draco felt more awkward than ever before.

“I'm ok though, aren't I? Tough as anything I am” he smirked.

“Oh? I don't think that's what you were saying when you were being mauled by a
hippogriff” Ginny smirked back. She peered at his bandage. “What's it like?”

“D'you really think I should take it off?” Draco raised a thin eyebrow.

“If you shouldn't, we can wrap it up again.”

Draco slowly peeled the dressing away. They gasped. The skin was blackened with a slightly rough
texture, as though it had been burned. There was a smooth scar where the skin had been cut.

“*My skin, my beautiful porcelain skin*” thought Draco sadly. But the skull and snake
tongue was no longer visible.

Ginny ran her fingers tenderly across the blackened skin. Draco didn't know what stopped him
tugging out of the Weaselette's touch, but he just raised his eyebrows and watched her
curiously.

They jumped when they heard a cough. It was Mrs. Weasley, carrying Draco's sandwiches and
glaring at them suspiciously.

“I'm sorry” breathed Ginny, her eyes sparkling with tears again. She left the room, leaving
a confused and curious Draco sitting with his arm out, the place where she had touched him still
tingling.

*

-->



13. The chamber of secrets revisited
------------------------------------



They had waited patiently for her to come, ever since they had left the Weasley's.

They had been camping on the outskirts of the forbidden forest, as they could not penetrate
Hogwarts. So Harry, Ron and Hermione had contacted Professor McGonagall so that she could let them
in the closed school.

They stood outside the closed gates in the pouring rain. Freezing wind whipped at their faces
and rain as cold as ice lashed out at them like a child having a tantrum. But through the mist and
torrential rain they saw a tall figure walking towards them.

“In my fifth year, you were attacked by Umbridge while they were attacking Hagrid. How did she
injure you?”

“Four stunners to the chest” she replied grimly.

“Professor, how come you didn't answer our letter?” said Hermione under her hood. McGonagall
sighed and turned to Harry.

“Potter, I'm so sorry, but… They got your owl.” Sniffing, she pulled out a shoebox.

Harry got that cold, plummeting sense of loss in his stomach again. He didn't open the
shoebox, where he knew Hedwig's diminishing remains lay, but clutched the box sorrowfully until
his knuckles turned white. The only comfort he had had at the Dursleys, laying asleep forever in
her cardboard tomb… he felt Hermione rub his back.

“I'm sorry, Harry. She lived to a good old age, though… had a good life.” She muttered
softly. Harry nodded, a lump in his throat.

“Perhaps you'd like to bury her near the owlery?” said McGonagall sympathetically.

“Yeah, she'd have liked that” whispered Harry.

McGonagall took out a silver key and inserted it in a tiny keyhole, muttering strange words.
Harry heard clicks that indicated the locks were coming undone, and the gates swung open. Ron
conjured a shovel, and they walked towards the owlery to bury Harry's pet.

*

McGonagall's office was just the same as Dumbledore's had been, minus the weird
contraptions and Fawks the Phoenix. McGonagall had just gone somewhere and had told them to stay in
her office for 5 minuets, so they had had a look around. Harry was thoroughly disappointed to see
Dumbledore was not in his portrait.

Hermione had found two unsent letters, one addressed to her. She opened it to find a shining
badge that read:

*Hermione Granger*

*Head girl*

She stared at it with an unreadable expression on her face.

“I'm sorry” whispered Harry. But she shook her head.

“The school closed, Harry, I wouldn't have been head girl anyway”

The door creaked open, and professor McGonagall entered the room.

“Now, what are you doing here?” she barked, sounding stern as usual.

“Professor, we need to get into the Chamber of Secrets” said Ron calmly. McGonagall paled.

“There? What do you want to go there for?”

“Sorry Professor, we can't tell you that” replied Harry. All of a sudden, the hairs on the
back of his neck stood up. He felt as though he was being watched.

“Yes, Minerva, they are doing what I asked them to do” Dumbledore's portrait was in it's
frame, his eyes twinkling.

“Very well” said McGonagall wearily. Harry longed to talk to Dumbledore, but there was work to
be done.

They walked the silent halls of Hogwarts, their footsteps echoing. It was extremely strange to
see Hogwarts so empty and lifeless: it really emphasized exactly *how* big the castle was, and
it was a bit creepy. Harry couldn't shake off the feeling that they were being watched, and
kept twisting his head around.

“What's up?” said Hermione.

“We're being followed” whispered Harry “I can sense it.” Hermione looked around.

“I can't.”

When they got to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, she was floating around, wailing about death,
but stopped as soon as she saw them.

“Students? I thought the school was closed.” They ignored her and Harry whispered in
parseltongue to the tap. Immediately it revealed an enormous chute filled with grime. Hermione
jumped down first, Ron encouraging her, then jumped down himself. Harry looked suspiciously around
the bathroom. He still had that feeling, then hurdled down the slide.

When he got to the bottom Ron and Hermione were bickering again.

“Don't *push* me Ronald!” she snarled.

“I didn't! Stop making such a fuss!”

But Harry froze. He had seen the tiniest slither of movement amongst the clutter of the numerous
bones. *“Probably just a rat”* he thought, but the feeling was stronger than ever.

They reached the inner chamber, and as Harry opened the door a horrendous smell of rotting
wafted out.

“Ugh!” chocked Hermione, her eyes watering. Harry thought he knew what was causing the smell,
and sure enough he was right.

At the other end of the Chamber, the gigantic, coiled skeleton of the basilisk had been
decomposing for five years. Mould and maggots had infested all over the bones, and Harry could see
rats running around over the spine and chewing the remaining flesh. Its ruined eyes still stared
blankly, and its fangs were planted firmly in its mouth. Harry grimly walked over to it. He could
fit the Sword of Gryffindor in the hole in the roof of its mouth.

That wasn't all. There was dried ink stretching across the floor, and, with a horrific
sensation in his stomach, Harry looked closely at the floor and saw the faint imprint of
Ginny's tiny first-year body against the grime.

“Well” Ron looked disgusted “let's see if there's a horcrux here then.”

They inspected the walls, statues, and floor tiles for a crack or different coloured brick that
might lead to a chamber where the horcrux was kept.

*“Show yourself! ... Horcruxes! ... I am Lord Voldemort! …”* Harry hissed in parseltongue,
but nothing worked. They tried several spells.

*“Revealio! … Accio horcrux! ... Alohomorah!”* Nothing. Harry wondered weather you had to
give blood, like in the cave. But he wasn't about to smear blood on every inch of wall.
Hermione even got out the revealer she had gotten in second year, running it lightly along the
walls. Good thing it was charmed not to run out, as she ran it along the length of the grimy walls,
and it did nothing.

They were at it for a good three hours, and Ron and Hermione were growing weary.

“There's nothing here, Harry” Sighed Ron.

There must be!” Harry was so sure Voldemort had hidden a horcrux in his ancestor's chamber.
He peered through his glasses at the water-covered floor, and when he caught sight of his
reflection he reminded himself strongly of Dumbledore.

“Harry, I *really* don't think there is” said Hermione quietly. Defeated, Harry turned
to go with them.

Suddenly, they heard a low hiss, and turned around sharply. A pair of huge black eyes was
staring at them, and yellowish- white fangs glinted in the half-light. Nagini, Voldemort's huge
pet snake, had reared up, ready to attack. She was like a small basilisk.

“Don't- move” said Harry through gritted teeth “when- I- say” Nagini was slowly uncoiling,
moving steadily towards them “run- like- *hell*” vicious, foot-long fangs were drawing nearer
to them. “NOW!” The three of them sprinted to the door.

“Oh, no! Gryffindor's sword!” Hermione gasped.

“HERMIONE, NO!” Ron and Harry yelled, but Hermione had already darted back. Nagini changed
course and slithered towards Hermione, powerful muscles flexing.

“*Hey! Hey, snake!”* Harry yelled in parseltongue, while Ron chucked rocks at it, but
Nagini ignored them, still heading to Hermione, tongue flickering in and out.

Hermione had grabbed the sword, but the snake had got there and reared up again. Hermione
pointed the sword to the snake's neck. But it was too late. And two long deathly fangs had
pierced her flesh. …

Hermione scream cut through Harry like physical pain.

They stood there for what seemed like an eternity to Harry; Hermione's eyes unfocussed and a
look of surprise etched across her face, Nagini clinging to Hermione's shoulder by her teeth. A
silver bloodstained blade poking through the back of its neck.

Then, Hermione, with a furious cry, swung the sword around, and the snakes head came clean
off.

Hermione with a look that told Harry, she knew she was seconds away form death's cold jaws,
slowly sank to the floor.

“No!” Harry was frozen as her watched her head touched the floor. Sheer, cold fear was flooding
through his veins like an icy poison.

“Hermione!” Ron screamed, and Harry snapped back to earth. Hearts pounding, they rushed to
either side. She was still limply clutching the sword of Gryffindor. But he took her other hand.
His entire being shook with horror as he found it was cold.

“Ron…” she whispered, struggling to look at him as he scooped her into his arms and ran back out
the door.

He didn't know how Ron got them out of the chambers, or how Ron got them to McGonagall's
office so quickly, screaming for help. All he could do was run along side him, grasping
Hermione's hand feebly, not breaking eye-contact with her. The rest was a blur. Her eyes were
like windows to her pain, as her soul was slowly being ripped from her body as the snake's
venom spread. Harry felt as though his soul was being ripped from his body too, as he saw her,
lying in Ron's arms, helpless, hopeless, dying…

*She was dying… dying…*

No, it couldn't be… Hermione couldn't die, not *his* Hermione. To think of Hermione
dying at such a young age was impossible; in fact she was incapable of dying. She had so much to
live for, so many people to live for. She had *him* to live for…

“PROFESSOR!” Ron yelled. McGonagall was sitting, talking to Dumbledore's portrait.

“I'll get poppy” he said as he saw Hermione's limp form.

“Oh my goodness, quick, Weasley, put her down!” Ron lay her on a bed McGonagall had conjured,
and McGonagall pulled out a bottle of vivid green liquid, labelled dittany, and tore the shoulder
of Hermione's robe. There were two round holes where the snake fangs had sunk into her skin,
and they were like eyes to Harry, as scarlet as Voldemort's. And Harry pictured Voldemort's
eyes, leering, jeering…

*“I've taken her from you, Potter… your precious mudblood has little more than ten minuets
to live… she'll die soon, just like everyone else you ever loved…”*

“Harry…” Hermione's weak, trembling voice bought him back.

“Oh my life!” Madame Pomfrey had appeared at the office door. She bustled over to Hermione,
babbing dittany on the wound. Hermione sobbed in pain as the wounds smoked. It was hard to tell as
her robes were black, but blood had steamed all over her.

“There's something in this venom” said Madame Pomfrey in a hushed voice “Whatever bit her
has been tampered with. I- I can't…” she shook her head lightly, and tears flooded her eyes as
she pulled a thin white sheet over Hermione's body. Hermione's breathing was shallow and
terribly laboured and her eyes looked as though she wasn't aware of her surroundings.

“I've never had a student die before!” said Madame Pomfrey in a high, squeaky voice.

“NO!” Yelled Harry and Ron together.

“No, she's not going to die! She'll be fine, won't she Professor?” Ron looked
hopefully at McGonagall, but she was steering Ron and Harry pout of her office, tears flowing
freely.

“I'm so sorry, boys” she whispered.

Ron burst into tears and sank to his knees.

“No…” Harry looked at Hermione. Madame Pomfrey had closed her eyes, ,but she was still
breathing. The portraits had their heads bowed. “NO!”

He ran out, slamming the door behind him. Boiling, stinging tears streamed down his face but he
did not bother to wipe them away. He ran and ran, not knowing or caring where he ran. Tears blurred
his vision.

He found himself on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, and slumped against a tree. Grif and rage
engulfed him, and Harry began sobbing loudly, clutching his hair and falling to his knees.

There was a stich in his side, and his scar burned. Voldemort was angry that Nagini was dead.
But physical pain didn't matter to him anymore; it was distant, separate, insignificant. He
could feel every ounce of him screaming out: a part of him was dying with her.

Rage was consuming him, controlling him. He slashed the air wildly with his wand, and a few
trees caught on fire. The urge to destroy was incredible, and he thrashed about, creating a small
circle of destruction around him.

But he didn'y care; how could he, when his best friend was breathing her last breaths? One
of only two people who could comfort him in such times of hardship was leaving him forever, and he
was stuck, a living, existing wreck.

“WHY!?” he screamed, pounding the earth with his fists “WHY HER!?”

His knuckles were raw and bleeding, and he fell forwards, shaking and sobbing.

He didn't see the great pair of golden eyes watching the young man vent out his grief, or
notice as the eyes filled with tears, sharing his pain.

And he didn't look up as, with a flutter of feathers, the large bird flew to the topmost
tower, where McGonagall's office was, to pay a visit to the girl who was at the heart of all
this hurt.

*

-->



14. Break-ups and battles
-------------------------



Harry woke up to the feeling of frost against his skin. Good, maybe it would numb his pain.

“Harry! Harry!” he heard a familiar voice in the distance. Minuets later, he felt a hand turn
him over, and he had to squint his eyes from the glare of Ron's red hair.

“Leave me alone. I want to die” said Harry croakily.

“No, Harry, come on!” Ron was beaming. Suddenly, Harry wanted to rip his head off. How
*dare* Ron smile at a time like this? “Come on, you've gotta see!”

Harry didn't have the strength to argue, so he let Ron lead him back to the castle.

He froze. No, it couldn't be, not after all that fuss, he had seen her *die*… But it
was! Standing, perfectly healthy, dressed in white hospital robes, was-

“Hermione” Harry breathed. He suddenly noticed how unseasonably warm it was for December.

There was a beautiful red and gold bird perched on her arm: Fawks, Dumbledore's old phoenix.
She was stroking it softly, and when she saw Harry and Ron, her face split into the brightest smile
Harry had ever seen.

They rushed over to her and flung their arms around her in a three person hug. She beamed and
kissed both their foreheads. Fawks had flown off again, circling Hogwarts and singing his beautiful
song.

They let go for a second, but Harry couldn't help it; he embraced her again.

“You scared me so much” he breathed in her ear, a single tear sliding down his cheek. “I thought
you were a gonner.”

“I thought so too. But it was amazing, Harry; I was about an inch away from death, and that
bird, Fawks, came and cried on me!” she gave a tinkling laugh, and Harry smiled. He never thought
he'd hear that laugh again. “The wound's completely gone, look!” she pulled the shoulder of
her robe down, and Harry ran his fingers along the smooth, unmarked skin.

“Hey, let's go back, shall we?” Ron was smiling, but it didn't reach his eyes. He was
looking surly and suspicious, but thankfully Hermione didn't notice.

*

Harry couldn't believe Christmas had come so quickly. They really couldn't risk being
seen, so it had been too difficult to get presents, but they had had a small gathering with Remus,
Tonks and Rebecca.

For the first time in months Harry felt completely at rest: everyone was chatting, eating,
drinking or pulling crackers. Harry watched Hermione talking happily to Rebecca. Once again, he
remembered how close he had come to losing her. He remembered the imaginary Voldemort, and wondered
weather he *was* from Harry's imagination, or whether Voldemort had used occlumeny.

*“I've taken her from you, Potter… your precious mudblood has little more than ten minuets
to live… she'll die soon, just lik**e everyone else you ever loved…you ever
love**d**…you ever loved…”*

The words echoed in Harry's brain, and he had to take a walk outside.

He had suspected it ever since the dream he had at the Dursley's and his suspicions grew
stronger when he saw her in the Mirror of Erised, but he never admitted it, not even to
himself.

Besides, *Ron* loved Hermione, and he was supposed to love Ginny. Ginny was brilliant. He
couldn't help but think of the words Snape used to describe Narcissa Malfoy; talented, popular
and stunningly beautiful. Ginny was even good at quidditch. She was everything he could want in a
girl.

But she wasn't Hermione.

Oh, what was the point in denying it anymore? He was in love with Hermione. There. he'd
admitted it. Looking back over his life, there had been times when he'd felt the tiniest
flutter of the emotion: when she was hurt in the Department of Mysteries, at the Yule Ball, when
she was helping him rescue Sirius. But he had been too young and naïve (and stupid) to recognise
them.

But he did now. When he thought she was dead, he had never felt such an overpowering sense of
loss. Not when Dumbledore died, not even when Sirius died. It devoured him.

He had started noticing things about her too. Little things. Like when her eyes caught the
light, there was a glint of gold in them, and that there was a tiny scar on her little finger, and
when she smiled, she only showed her first six teeth, but when you *reall**y* made her
smile, you could see almost all her teeth, and-

You get the point.

But there was a terrible snag. Hermione was going out with Ron, and that made Harry a
treacherous friend for even thinking these thoughts. And a treacherous friend to Hermione too, who
probably didn't feel the same.

He looked at up the sky. As the clouds parted, twinkling stars shone down, their faint glow
making it possible to see the gently falling flakes of crisp snow. He wished Sirius was here more
than ever. Perhaps he might know what to do.

“Harry?” Remus's voice was half obscured by the crunch of snow under his feet as he trudged
over to Harry. “Are you ok?”

Harry sighed, breathing a puff of condensation into the air. “Well, I think I have a
problem.”

“Oh?” Remus sat besides him, handing him a cup of tea and sipping his own.

“I think I'm in love with my best friend” Harry blurted out. Remus choked on his tea.

“R- Really?” Remus sounded edgy “well, I- I don't quite know what to- erm- say…” he shifted
uncomfortably and looked embarrassed. What was wrong? It wasn't that bad.

“I didn't think you'd be that shocked.”

“W-well, I think, I mean, I suppose it is becoming a bit more, ah, accepted. I- I just
didn't think you were the, um, type.”

*What?*

“Look, I just need some help. I mean, you must know all about that kind of thing.”

Remus looked mortified. “W-what?!”

“I just mean you're in a relationship yourself.”

“I- that's completely different! I mean, Tonks is a woman, for one thing!” he spluttered.
Harry frowned; Remus had completely lost him. What did he think Hermione was? A boy?

“Look, what are you talking about?”

“Err, what are *you* talking about?”

I'm t- oh, not Ron! I mean Hermione!” said Harry, exasperated. Remus's eyes widened.

“Oh. Um, sorry” he blushed. Harry stared at him in disbelief.

“But Ron's part of the problem. See, he and Hermione are going out.”

Harry thought of Snape, lusting after both Lilly and Narcissa, who both got married and had
sons. What if Ron and Hermione got married and had a child? Would Harry treat it with as much hate
and resentment Snape had to him?

“Ah” Remus sighed. There was silence, then: “Well, Harry, I'd hate to encourage you into
doing the wrong thing, but you'll find true love can come out of the most unlikely, awkward
situations. Look at me and Dora!” he patted Harry on the shoulder “things will come out the right
way. If you and Hermione are meant to be, things will work themselves out. If not… you'll get
over it eventually, and be happy for your friends. It might be what's best for them.” Harry
smiled, but inside he was confused. He couldn't be happy for them. Why was his life so
complicated?

*

Boxing Day had not been as happy as Christmas. Remus, Tonks and Rebecca had left, and Ron and
Hermione constantly bickered. They were at it now.

“Oh, shut up, Ron. I know perfectly well you ate the last turkey sandwich.”

Harry peered out of his bedroom window to the grounds where they were walking and shoved the
offending turkey sandwich under his bed.

“It wasn't me, for Merlin's sake! Honestly woman, listen!”

“*Don't* call me woman! And it *was* *you*; I can tell when you're lying
to me!”

“You just don't trust me!”

“*You* don't trust *me*! You're always suspicious when I'm hugging Harry
or whatever…”

“Speaking of Harry, why aren't you blaming him?”

Harry heard her mutter something. He glared at the sandwich furiously. It was *its* entire
fault.

“I thought not. It's always about Harry isn't it? Harry this, Harry that-”

“He's our friend, Ron!”

“To me he is, but you see him differently, don't you? I've seen you looking at him, how
you're always *touching* him…”

“THAT'S IT!” Hermione screamed “WE CAN'T DO THIS ANYMORE, WE CAN'T!”

There was a long, painful silence, then;

“We're breaking up?” Ron croaked.

“I'm sorry Ron, I just-” Hermione sniffed “look at us! Our arguing's worse than ever.”
She put a hand on his shoulder, and Harry was surprised to see he didn't flinch away. “We bring
out the worst in each other. We're better off as friends.”

With that she let go of him and hurried back to the door. Ron just sat on a rock for a while,
apparently thinking.

Harry knew he should feel bad for his friends, and he did feel very sorry for Ron, but he
couldn't help it: his insides were doing the conga. He felt like a horrible, dirty person, but
he couldn't believe his luck.

*

Next morning, you could have cut the tension with a spoon. Ron wasn't very responsive, and
didn't always answer when Harry asked him something. When he did, they were short, simple
sentences. Hermione was teary and sounded as though she had a bad cold. They didn't speak over
breakfast but kept glancing at each other when the other wasn't looking.

Harry knew exactly what the matter was, but they didn't know that and if he didn't ask
he would seem ignorant.

“What's the matter?” he asked Hermione.

“We broke up” she mumbled.

“Oh… I'm sorry.” Hermione shook her head.

“It's ok. It wasn't meant to be.”

They continued to treat each other politely, but coldly for the next few days. Harry was glad
they had split up, as Hermione was right, they did bring out the worst in each other, but wanted
more than anything for them to be friends again.

He talked to Ron about the break-up, but he just repeated everything Hermione had said, adding:
“at least when we're just mates, you're not left out, are you?” to which Harry smiled, but
felt immensely guilty.

New Year's Eve in an empty castle wasn't too much fun, but Ron had got his hands on some
firewhisky, and it warmed Harry to the core.

Hermione didn't have any (she seemed to disapprove) but was content to read by the window
sill, glancing out occasionally. Harry and Ron, with nothing else to do, played wizard's chess
on the floor. Ever since the day Hermione had destroyed the third horcrux, they had had no idea
where the fourth might be.

They had taken a couple more trips to the Chamber of Secrets again, seeing Nagini's remains
now mouldering along with the Basilisk's. But there was not another one, and Harry was forced
to give up once and for all.

“What's going on?” said Hermione suddenly, peeping out the window.

Harry and Ron joined her. The village of Hogsmead was ablaze with flickering orange light, and
there was smoke rising thick and fast into the clouded night sky.

“Come on!” said Harry, adrenaline pumping. It looked like Hogsmead was being attacked.

They rushed out, a faint smell of smoke greeting them as they stepped into the frosty night air.
Harry had grabbed Gryffindor's sword, and Ron's broom, and Ron zoomed higher, his cloak
rustling against the wind.

“Yeah, looks like something's happening” he yelled from the sky.

Harry and Hermione glanced at each other desperately. How were they going to get there? They
couldn't all fit on Ron's broom, and Harry had foolishly left his Firebolt at the
Weasley's.

Suddenly they heard an eagle's screech. They snapped their heads around.

“Buckbeak! I mean, Witherwings!” gasped Hermione. The sharp outline of the Hypogriff was
tethered up by Hagrid's cabin, flapping its wings hysterically and pulling against its rope
with all its might.

“Do we have to?” Hermione pleaded. Harry nodded and they approached Buckbeak. They bowed, not
breaking eye contact, and when Buckbeak bowed back they mounted its handsome feather-coated back
and cut the rope. Buckbeak stretched its wings gratefully and soared majestically through the sky.
Ron swooped down to fly along side them and they headed to the village.

The sound of screaming and manacle laughter filled their ears, and they could see flashes of
coloured light that indicated spells being fired.

Harry could feel Hermione shaking as they flied and tightened his grip on her. She relaxed
immediately.

As soon as they landed, Buckbeak had to back kick a Death Eater who tried to leap on them.

“*Petrificus totalus!**”* Harry roared at another Death Eater. The place was swarming
with them: they were on buildings, tearing children from their mothers and generally causing
havoc.

Various Order members and Aurors were trying their best to control them, but they were slightly
outnumbered, and while some of the inhabitants of the village were trying to help, others were just
too scared.

There appeared to be some sort of battle going on.

*

-->



15. Sectumsemra!
----------------



Draco ducked as a blue spell shot past his head, hitting a house behind him and causing it to
burst into flames.

“Mudbloods here! Protection for your family if you give us the identity of a Mudblood!” McNair
was shouting, walking through the scene of the battle calmly. He was pointing his wand to a bunch
of people suspended in mid air by an invisible rope, like Draco's mother was when the Dark Lord
punished her.

“Come on lads, round those mudbloods up!” roared another Death Eater, as they scattered around,
shooting curses and breaking down doors. The sound of screaming was deafening, and the heat of the
fire was enough to melt stone. The sky was dark red and hazy with smoke, and there were dead and
injured bodies littered everywhere. Draco could almost taste the panic.

Why had he come here? He didn't want to be here. He didn't want to fight his former
allies or help his new ones.

Another spell shot past his ear, and hit a Death Eater with no mask, whose face erupted in boils
which burst into swarms of insects, which bit him.

It was all Ginny Weasley's fault. The Weasel Queen, who had been remarkably distant with him
since the “arm incident”, had “accidently” spilt tomato soup down his most expensive travelling
cloak. They had yelled at each other until she had turned crimson and he had gone rather pink
(which was a big change in colour for him).

Suddenly that Ragged Werewolf, Lupin, and flooed and requested to see Weasel snr, as there had
been a “spot of bother in Hogsmead”. The Ragged Werewolf and Weasel snr were just about to floo off
when the Weasel Queen, still red with anger, had told them she was coming too. The RW and Weasel
snr had not been amused.

“Ginny, you can't. It might be dangerous” The RW had tried to explain.

“Yeah, and what about my cloak?!”

“Oh, sod your cloak!” Or words to that effect.

“Ginny!” Weasel snr had scolded her, just as she jumped into the emerald fire with them.

“Oh no you don't” Draco had snarled, and jumped in seconds after, almost burning himself as
the flames started turning orange once again.

They ended up in the Hog's head, and rushed outside where the chaos was ensuing.

“Oh, my” whispered the RW, the scene of destruction reflected in his eyes “It's worse than I
feared.” And he rushed off to protect some mudbloods.

“You two” Weasel snr had shoved a pouch of floo powder into the Weasel Queen's hand and
pushed them back into the pub. “Get back!” and he ran off too.

“Hah!” muttered Ginny, pocketing the floo powder. There was a fire in her eyes that Draco
didn't think had been a reflection. “I've wanted to do this for ages!”

She darted to the windowsill, and discreetly aimed at a random Death Eater. Huge, green bats had
erupted from the end of her wand. Her face lit up in cruel delight as they attacked the poor man,
covering him with squelchy slime.

“Weasel” Draco whined “my cloak!”

“Oh, who cares? *Reducto!”* She blasted the door open and began shooting curses at Death
Eaters. “Malfoy, you are such a stupid-” she shot another curse “-spoilt-”

Another Death Eater fell down “-brat!” 5 Death Eaters at once flew into the air, landing with a
SMACK! And she shot away.

Draco had scowled at her, then at his soup-stained robes. Then he remembered he could do magic,
and with a quick *scourgify* his expensive robes were clean again. Hmm, quite embarrassing for
a pure-blood wizard.

So here he was, trying to keep as out of sight as possible and stay alive. Life had hit rock
bottom.

He needed to find Weasley, she had floo powder. Perhaps he'd be able to get out completely
un-injured.

“GERROUT O' THE WAY, ALL O' YER!” Draco heard the roar of an engine, and the monstrous
bearded head of the Care of Magical Creatures teacher, Hagrid. He was riding an equally monstrous
muggle contraption (a motor- cycle, Draco thought it was called) through the air, about half a
dozen people heaped on the back, unconscious. He flew wildly and at an alarming speed, zooming over
Draco's head and out of sight.

Draco moved, lurking in the shadows. What if his father was here? He couldn't face
*him**.*

He saw a flash of red hair. He turned the corner, but it was one of the Twin Weasels fighting
furiously with Dolohov, while his twin lay on the floor, with half an arm missing.

A mad cackle he recognised reached his ears and he turned to see his Aunt Bellatrix levitating
mudbloods, a cruel glee glinting in her eyes. Draco froze, heart pounding.

Suddenly a large stone came hurtling out of no-where, and hit Bellatrix in the stomach. Arthur
Weasley, who had sent the rock, caught the muggleborns she dropped and disapparated away.

Eyes flashing furiously, Bellatrix looked around. An evil smirk crept up her face as she raised
her wand at Ginny Weasley, who had just appeared.

The red-haired girl dodged the curse, looking terrified, and fled. She may be brave, but she
wasn't stupid: she knew she couldn't defeat Bellatrix. Still smiling cruelly, Bellatrix
stalked after her, like a carnivorous animal stalking its prey. Draco followed at a distance too:
Ginny Weasley had the powder, and it was his only chance of getting out.

She ran through the streets, shooting curses behind her back at Bellatrix, who deflected them
with ease. Ducking out of sight, she found herself cornered, and climbed the guttering of a tall
and extremely crumbly hotel. She climbed onto the roof, and clambered to the very top, which was
flat. She looked down, thinking she was safe, but didn't realize Bellatrix had apperated right
behind her until she cackled. Draco watched interestedly from the ground as they sized each other
up, his aunt smirking amusedly and Ginny pointing a trembling wand at her.

He saw Ginny's lips move, and Bellatrix hissed something back too. Ginny backed away
slightly and muttered something again. Bellatrix laughed loudly.

“Perhaps, he will come and get you, little girl, but what will Daddy do when he finds his little
princess's mangled remains?” she jeered.

Foolishly, The Weasel Queen shot a curse at Bellatrix, who deflected it and sent another spell
at her, which she almost dodged, but it caught the side of her robes, and something small fell and
rolled down the roof shingles to stop at the edge.

*The pouch of floo powder!*

He had to get closer, and like the Weasel Queen, climbed up the pipes running up the wall of the
hotel. It was extremely easy to climb, and he grabbed the little satchel, crouching on the sloping
roof as his aunt and the Weasel duelled.

Well, it was Ginny who was duelling; Bellatrix flicked her wand lazily, deflecting the
girl's curses with boredom.

“Enough!” she announced suddenly, and Ginny flew backwards over the edge of the roof, just
managing to cling on by the very tips of her fingers. She hung from the edge of the roof, clinging
on for dear life as Bellatrix slowly stepped nearer, a cruel smile still plastered on her face. She
raised a foot, ready to stamp on the shaking girl's fingers, but a small jet of light shot just
past her chest, and she looked round. Granger was standing on a nearby roof, the tip of her wand
steaming slightly.

Using magic, Bellatrix jumped over to the roof where Granger was, and they started duelling,
leaping and apparating from roof to roof while they shot brightly coloured spells at each
other.

Draco turned back to the Weasel Queen at the edge of the roof. Her feet desperately scrabbled on
the wall, trying to lift her up, and her fingers were going white with effort of supporting her. A
tiny part of the roof crumbled, and one of her hands lost their grip. With a little shriek, she
managed to grab a different part of the roof.

“Malfoy!” Damn, she had spotted him. Her eyes were wide, pleading with him silently. “Malfoy,
help!”

Draco shook his head. He had the powder, now all he needed was a fire and he'd be at the
Burrow, safe and sound. He could pretend the Weaselette had made him go back on his own, that
he'd tried to take her, but she'd pushed him through the flame. Yes, that's right…

“Malfoy, please!” she wailed. Her fingers were sliding slowly; she didn't have enough
strength to pull herself up.

Draco looked over the side. They were on top of a five storey hotel, and it was slightly
dizzying. If she fell, she would surely die, or at least break every bone in her body. If he
didn't do something…

No, forget her; he needed to save his own arse. He could be killed at any moment. He was an easy
target, he was on a *roof*! This was not the time to think Gryffindor.

“Draco!” she sobbed. Draco gasped. That was the first time she- or any one from Gryffindor- had
called him by his first name. She was crying now, glancing over her shoulder at the heart stopping
height. Her wand was in her pocket, but to get it she'd have to move her hand, and she
couldn't hold herself up on one arm. Her fingers, coiled around the edge of the roof, were
slipping, soon she'd fall, plummet to her death…

Aww, why did he have to care?

On his hands and knees, he clambered to the top of the sloped roof, to where it was flat. He
stood up, fearing he'd faint if he looked to the ground, which seemed a thousand miles away.
Ginny was literally hanging on with her fingernails now.

“No…” she moaned, tears spilling from her face as her fingers gave way, and she slipped from the
top of the roof…

Draco reached out and grabbed her hands, locking his fingers tightly around hers.

He was leaning over the side, but he tried not to look at the ground. Instead he looked into her
face, and smiled as she closed her eyes in relief, chest heaving and body trembling slightly.

He stepped backwards, pulling her up with him, and she put her foot on the wall. With his help,
she walked up the vertical wall.

But they hadn't counted on Bellatrix and Hermione Granger duelling on the roof just behind
her. Bellatrix shot a curse at her, distracting her for a minuet. She looked around, and, with a
scowl, saw Draco pulling Ginny to safety. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and he put his
hands on her back and waist, steadying her, making sure she didn't fall.

*Making sure she didn't fall?!**!*

*Her* nephew, the son of her highly respected pureblood sister and brother-in-law, helping
a *Weasley?!* She couldn't have that.

And they were looking at each other in an odd way, gazing directly into each others eyes, like
there was some unspoken bond between them. That wasn't on.

“*Sectumsempra*!” she screeched, just as the Granger mudblood got to her feet again.

Ginny let out a scream as a beam of light came soaring out of no-where and hit her arm. As
though a long knife had slashed her, her arm split into a deep, painful cut that ran from her
shoulder to her wrist.

She stumbled backwards, twisting her ankle as she fell over the edge of the roof once again. But
this time Draco, who was still holding on to her, couldn't save her; they tumbled over the edge
of the roof.

Screaming, they plummeted to the ground, Ginny clutching him tightly.

It seemed to be in slow motion, and as they neared the earth Draco wrapped his arms around her.
They jolted to a stop.

“*Well, dying isn't so bad*” thought Draco. He had expected it to be a lot more
painful. Even if death itself was painless, how come he didn't feel himself collide with the
ground?

“*Wait a minuet…”* he wasn't dead! He could still smell the smoke that polluted the
air, still hear the cackling flames and the thunder of screams. Plus, he could feel Ginny Weasley
wrapped around him, nuzzled into his neck, making it wet with tears, and trembling like a scared
puppy dog.

Aww, she was *trembling*! He suddenly had an odd urge to protect the younger girl.

He shook that thought from his head and slowly opened an eye. He gasped. They were literally two
inches from the cobbled path, nose to nose with the stones. Whatever was levitating them dropped
them, and, extremely embarrassed, they let go of one another.

He'd just hugged a Weasley!! Oh, his life really was the pits.

A man with light brown hair and a large belly came stumbling towards them. Draco's eyes
narrowed. This was a mudblood, he could tell.

“Are you alright? That was quite a tumble you took” he said anxiously. Draco glared at him,
*daring* him to come nearer.

“Mr. Tonks!” said Ginny. Her face was contorted in pain, and her breathing was shallow. There
were tears welling in her eyes, but she refused to let them flow. Hmm, Tonks, where had Draco heard
that before? “Was that you, who levitated us?”

“Yes”

“Ah, thank you so-” but he wasn't paying attention, two Death Eaters had appeared, and he
was fighting them. Draco was disgruntled. A mudblood had saved his life. Oh, the irony.

He looked at her, and she looked away, seething. Draco sneered at her, then at her arm.

“That looks bad” he muttered. The long gash running the length of her arm was bleeding; her
sleeve was almost as scarlet as her hair. He remembered when Potter had decided to slice him up
like a Christmas turkey with the same spell.

“It is” she sniffed. She rocked drunkenly, looking like she was about to faint. She had that
horrible expression of great pain and looked as though she were going to be sick. Draco didn't
understand why she didn't cry.

“You must have lost half a pint already, cover it up.” His stomach turned to see so much
blood.

“With what?”

He sighed and pulled off his cloak, wrapping it tightly around her arm and chest like a sling.
The same cloak he had had a go at her over a bit of soup was now covered in blood, blood he
considered almost as dirty as Granger's. Oh the irony, the irony!

“Son, I think you and Miss Weasley here aught to go to St. Mungo's” Tonks had returned and
placed a hand on Draco's shoulder. He felt a shiver go up his spine, but not because the man
was a mudblood: he felt a weird sense of family, as though this man were kin.

“I think I twisted my ankle, I can't really walk” said Ginny, as a few more Death Eaters
appeared and Tonks duelled them.

“Come on, I'll carry you” Draco grunted.

“You most certainly will not!” she said indignantly.

“What, do you want me to levitate you?” he sneered.

“No, but you're not carrying me!” But Draco wasn't listening: he was tired, irritable
and stressed. He couldn't be bothered to stay here and wait for someone else to carry her. She
squealed in protest as he picked her up in a piggy back; she was surprisingly light.

“Malfoy!” she shrieked, hitting him with her good arm. He ignored the blow. She wriggled about,
but with an injured leg and arm, she couldn't do much.

“So, its Malfoy again, is it? What happened to Draco?”

“Let- go- of- me!” she said as she struggled about. At least he was taking her mind off the
pain.

He hadn't really passed his apparation test. But he felt the semi-familiar feeling of being
squeezed as he apparated to St. Mungo's. He was five meters from where he had aimed, but ah
well.

He rushed over to the manikin in the shop window. “Let me in! It's an emergency!” he
ordered. Ginny's teeth were gritted and beads of sweat had appeared on her forehead. The pain
appeared to be really sinking in now. The ugly manikin nodded and let him through the sealed
door.

He stepped into the bright glare of the hospital lights, which were made worse by the reflection
off the walls, and looked around. Healers were bustling around, carrying trays of potions,
stretchers with gruesomely mutilated people on them and piles of bandages. It was berserk.

“Hey, you!” Draco turned to a Healer who was pushing a wheelchair with a man who had sprouted
feelers in it. “I need-”

“We'll be with you in a moment” she said irritably. Nobody seemed to be noticing him.
Draco's blood boiled furiously. Couldn't these people see someone was
*bleedin**g* to *death* in his arms?! Well, not quite death, but she appeared to be
in a lot of pain.

“HELLO!” he bellowed at a Healer “seriously injured girl here!”

“We'll be with you in a moment!” she snapped. He snarled at her. Didn't she *know*
who he *was*?

“Over here, son.” Tonks had appeared just behind him, and led him out of the hustle and bustle
of the corridor.

“George! George! Fred, what happened to him?” he heard the Mother Weasel's squeal from the
room Tonks was leading him to. With a sigh of relief, he plunged into the room. The Weasleys stared
at him.

“Malfoy? I thought you were at the Bu- Ginny!”

The twin Weasel, George, was lying on a bed, crying pathetically as his severed arm got bandaged
up. Draco laid his sister on the bed at the opposite end of his room, and, unable to hold her tears
any longer, they spilled down her face.

“Heal her!” he ordered the Healer.

“GINNY!” screeched Mrs. Weasley, seeing the girl's bleeding arm. “What have you done to her?
You- you-” she flung herself at him, and he stepped back from his attacker in alarm. A Healer held
her back, but he was looking livid too.

“HE'S KILLED HER!” screamed Fred, frothing at the mouth slightly “MURDERER!”

“How could you do this?!” Mr. Weasley hissed, grabbing Draco by the collar. “We've shown you
nothing but hospitality, given you food and shelter, put a roof over your *ungrateful* little
head and this is how you repay us?!”

“Hold it Arthur!” that Tonks man had finally come in “You *owe* him your daughter's
life!”

They gawped at him, Arthur's fingers loosening enough for Draco to slide out of his grip. He
cowered against the wall, fearing the Weasleys would attack him again.

“Tell them, son.”

He told them how his aunt had nearly pushed her off a building (“MY BABY!” wailed the Mother
Weasel), how he had saved her, but Bellatrix used the *sectumsempra* curse and they had
fallen, and then Tonks had levitated them to safety.

They all stared at him in silence, and he looked nervously from one to the other. The only sound
was the Healers muttering, Ginny's quiet sobs and the noise outside.

“Bellatrix Lestrange…” muttered Tonks, breaking the silence. “Where've I heard that
before?”

“She's one of You- Know- Who's inner circle” whispered Mrs. Weasley, tears shining in
her eyes as she gazed mournfully at her daughter “*terrible* woman…”

“Yes I know, but I'm sure I've heard my wife mention her a few times…”

“Who have I been mentioning, Teddy?” Draco gasped as a woman walked through the door, a woman
who could have been Bellatrix's sister. She had the same prominent features, same nose, roughly
the same height…

“Bellatrix Lestrange. Do you know who she is, Andromeda?” said Teddy Tonks.

“Ah” Her eyes, which were warmer and rounder than Bellatrix's, hardened, and her lip curled.
She seemed to draw all the warmth out the air. “Oh, yes, that would be my good for nothing sister
whom I asked you not to talk about.”

“Oh, ah, sorry.”

Draco gasped. So, this Andromeda woman *was* his aunt's sister. But that would
mean…

“Oh my word, what happened?” her expression softened as she looked over to Ginny
sympathetically.

“That sister of yours tried to slice her arm open.”

“Oh no!” she gasped, her eyes filling up with tears. “Oh, Molly, I'm so sorry!” she
whispered.

“It's not your fault Andromeda” said Mrs. Weasley thickly, stroking her daughter's shiny
hair protectively. “You're not to blame.”

“You've just missed the story, Andi. This lad was telling us how he saved her” Teddy nodded
to Draco. Andromeda's head whipped around, but when she saw Draco she stopped dead. Her eyes
pierced his. He felt like he was being analysed. “What's your name, son?”

“Unless I am very much mistaken” interrupted Andromeda before Draco could open his mouth, her
voice icy again. “This is Draco Malfoy.”

Her husband looked from her to Draco. “How did you know?”

“You are Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy's son, yes?” her eyes narrowed as she said the name
Narcissa.

“That's right” said Draco in a voice as haughty as hers.

“Yes… This” she turned to Ted Tonks “is my baby sister's son.”

Ted gawped from his wife to Draco. “You never told me we had a nephew!!”

Andromeda ignored this and continued to survey Draco through eyes riddled with loathing.

“You don't look a bit like her” Andromeda announced.

“Yeah, well, neither do you.” This was not entirely true: she had the same pale skin tone as his
mother, and her hair was a soft brown, a cross between Narcissa's blonde and Bellatrix's
black. However, she did look a lot like Bellatrix, and she seemed to understand that he was
implying this as her eyes flashed dangerously.

With a last look at Ginny, he stalked out, brushing his shoulder against his aunt's.

“*What is wrong with the world*?” thought Draco. It was only two years ago that he had
found out Bellatrix was his aunt, a few months ago that he had found out Sirius Black was related
to him, and only now did he know he had another aunt! Plus, if this woman was married, that
probably meant he had cousins. How could his Mother have kept all this from him?!

Then again, Bellatrix and Sirius were convicted murderers, and Andromeda was married to a
mudblood. Urgh, *he* was related to a mudblood. The irony was killing him.

*

-->



16. A Fighter Falls
-------------------



“Ron! MOVE!” Harry yelled, as the roof of a burning building collapsed where Ron had been
standing moments before.

Harry picked up the unconscious little boy, and he and Ron raced to the Three Broomsticks, where
they were evacuating people from the smoking, Death Eater infested village.

*“Enervarate!”* The little boy woke up and started howling for his mother; the woman Ron
was carrying.

They Ran outside again to look for more injured people. They had been at it for hours.

“Liar! You *are* a mudblood, I know it!” A Death Eater was holding a woman against the wall
by her neck.

“No!” she sobbed “my father is a Wizard, Malcolm Sterling, he works in the Department of Magical
Sports and Games- urk!” he had tightened his grip on her.

“*Levicorpus*!” thought Harry, and the Death Eater sprang into the air. The woman scampered
away.

*“Impedimenta! Stupefy! Petrificus totalus!”* Ron roared at several Death Eaters. They
could see Kingsly collecting injured people, Tonks fighting three Death Eaters at once and Neville
Longbottom duelling fiercely with a brawny Death Eater.

“Where's Hermione?” Harry yelled, as Ron went to help Tonks.

“No idea!” he yelled back, but Harry didn't hear him: a hand had closed around his
throat.

“Well, well” sneered a cruel, cold voice in his ear “I wonder how the Dark Lord will reward me
when I bring him Potter?”

Harry felt hot, exited breath hit his face, and the hand was closing in around his throat,
cutting off his air pipe. He could not breath, could not swallow…

“LET GO O' HIM, YER HYPOGRIFF MURDERIN' SLIME, YER!” The hand let go of him immediately,
and through watering eyes he saw Hagrid send McNair flying through the air.

“Hagrid!” Harry choked, gasping for air.

“C'mon Harry, lets get rid o' these ruddy filth” He punched a Death Eater, knocking him
unconscious, and used his limp body to shield them from other Death Eaters. “Take tha'… an'
tha'…”

They reached a large black object that Harry recognised as Sirius's flying motorbike.

“We have to find Hermione and help Ron” said Harry as they got on the bike. The tyres sunk a
little with Hagrid's weight, but with a roar they sped into the air.

Ron and Tonks, even with Neville joining them, were out numbered by the now five Death Eaters.
Harry stunned one from behind: sneaky but effective.

He could see Hermione bravely duelling Bellatrix Lestrange on top of a roof. Their wands were
blurrs, and the shooting flashes of light illuminated their faces; Bellatrix looked mad with
frustration and Hermione looked determined.

“Oi! Lestrange!” Harry yelled as he jumped off the motorbike, hoping to distract her. But she
just cackled.

“Well, look at that, it's your boyfriend!” she sneered mockingly to Hermione “come get your
pretty mudblood, Potter!”

“Yes, Potter, go and get her” hissed a voice that was more chilling than a glacier.

Harry's blood ran cold. His skin erupted in Goosebumps. *No, not him, not now…* He
turned around, and, standing about ten meters away, was the skeletal, unearthly form of Lord
Voldemort.

Bellatrix gasped and Hermione's spell hit her, causing her to fall off the roof.

Voldemort stared at Harry through his burning scarlet eyes, and walked so softly and smoothly he
seemed to glide, cloak trailing like a velvety black ghost on the floor.

“Well, well, Harry Potter, we meet once more” Wormtail was cowering behind him as he drew his
wand “but this time, you're dead.”

“NOOO!” Hagrid charged towards him like a raging bull, his mane of shaggy hair flinging about
and making him look savage.

“*Avada kedavra*” hissed Voldemort lazily.

“Hagrid, No!” yelled Harry, but it was too late. The jet of green light had hit him square in
the chest. He didn't die immediately, probably the giant's blood in him, but ran in slow
motion for a while, before keeling to his knees.

Hermione screamed and fell off the roof, but she had a soft landing: Bellatrix.

“Hagrid…” Harry whispered, eyes wide in horror. Voldemort chuckled.

“Well now, it's just us Potter, no more… distractions” he smiled cruelly “Avada
kedavra!”

“Expelliarmus!” Harry yelled furiously. Hagrid had been the first person to introduce him to the
Wizarding world, his first real friend…

“You killed Hagrid!” Harry roared “I'll kill you!”

The two wands were connecting again, and he and Voldemort were stuck in a battle of will. The
beams of magic cackled and danced wildly, sending sparks flying everywhere.

Harry's heart was filling with grief for Hagrid, and it was making him strong. His beam of
light was triumphing over Voldemort's, getting nearer to him.

“Wormtail!” Voldemort screeched “Wormtail, kill him!”

Wormtail raised a shaking wand.

“You gonna kill me, Peter?” Harry muttered quietly, not taking his eyes off Voldemort. “You
gonna kill me after I saved your sorry life?”

Wormtail trembled.

“Just kill him! You're even *weaker* than I thought!” Voldemort spat.

“No…” Pettigrew whispered, dropping his wand. He stared from his master to Harry, and, with a
tiny flicker of Gryffindor courage on his face, he scuttled into the beam of green light coming
from Voldemort's wand. He dropped down dead as the connection broke.

Voldemort gave an outraged scream, before Harry's expelliarmus hit him. More screaming, and
Voldemort disapparated away, along with all the other Death Eaters.

The only sound in the tense silence was the flames cackling. Harry took a quick look at
Wormtail's body, a look of pure terror etched permanently across his face. Hermione, shaking
fell to her knees at Hagrid's side. Harry joined her.

There was a tremendous cheer in the distance, as everybody realised the Death Eaters were
gone.

“Harry!” Ron ran excitedly over to them, beaming. “We did it, Harry! We won! The- oh” his face
fell dramatically when he saw Hagrid.

Tears were trickling into his fuzzy black beard.

“Yeh thought bravely, you three” he said faintly, his chest heaving. “Harry… Ron… Hermione…”

“You did too, Hagrid!” Hermione sobbed. Her eyes were red and puffy, her cheeks glistening as
tears streamed down them.

“Yeah” whispered Harry “you were brilliant…”

“I know yeh'll beat `im, Harry” Hagrid's voice was weak and trembling. “I jus' know
yeh will…”

Time seemed to stand still as Hagrid peacefully closed his eyes and eventually stopped
breathing.

Hermione broke down into sobs. Ron looked confused and stricken. Buckbeak, who had come to see
what the fuss was about, let out a horrendous noise, and flew off into the night, nearly deafening
everyone with his incessant, mournful screeching.

Silent tears were cascading down Harry's cheeks, but he stared at Hagrid's closed eyes,
waiting for them to open and for Hagrid to spring back to life again, even though he knew they
wouldn't.

Various people had gathered around in a circle, immediately stopping their laughing at the
tragic scene before them.

“Harry” Remus croaked “Ron, Hermione, what happened?”

“What does it look like? Ron snapped, before burying his face in his hands.

Remus, Tonks, Neville and McGonagall, who had been fighting too, stood behind Harry, Ron and
Hermione.

The circle of people gazed sorrowfully at them all, tears in some of their eyes.

Neville passed Harry Hagrid's pink umbrella, where his wand was concealed. Shaking, Harry
opened one of Hagrids enormous dustbin- lid sized hands, and curled his fingers around his
umbrella.

He *loathed* Voldemort with all his energy. He had taken another person in Harry's life
away from him.

*“I* *know yeh'll beat `im, Harry… I jus' know yeh will…”* Hagrid's last
words.

“Oh I will Hagrid” muttered Harry quietly, so only Ron, Hermione and Hagrid's unhearing ears
could hear him. “I'll beat him, definitely. I'll do it for Sirius, I'll do it for
Dumbledore, I'll do it for Moody and Mum and Dad and everyone else he's killed… and
I'll do it for you.”

And in his mind's eye, he saw Hagrid beaming proudly, slightly red with embarrassment at
Harry's speech.

And he pictured Hagrid walloping him on the back so he fell over, and Hagrid saying: “Atta boy,
Harry, make us proud. Don't give up yer hope.”

*

-->



17. Get well soon
-----------------



Draco Malfoy skulked along the halls of St. Mungo's, his hood over his face so people
wouldn't recognise him. He waited in line behind a sobbing mother demanding to see her son and
a man with a fish tank stuck to the side of his head. He was getting impatient.

“*Fina**l**ly**”* he thought when it was his turn to talk to the
receptionist at the desk, but as he opened his mouth he wished he were somewhere else. He stood
there biting his lip, thinking of what to say.

“Yes?” the receptionist raised an eyebrow. Draco pulled his hood further over his eyes.

“Erm… could you tell me which ward Ginny Weasley is in please?” he muttered softly.

“Sorry, what was that?” she tilted her ear towards him.

“Could you tell me which ward Ginny Weasley is in?” he muttered, a shade louder.

“What?”

He repeated it, conscious of the other people queuing. He hoped none of them recognised him. A
Malfoy asking to see a Weasley? It was unheard of. Plus he was supposed to be in hiding. He had
turned his eyes temporarily black, and his precious hair a ghastly brown for the occasion (well,
*he* thought it was ghastly. But then again, he thought every hair colour was ghastly except
blonde). But he hadn't done anything to his face.

“Jenny Wellesley? We don't have a Jenny Wellesley staying.”

Draco lost his temper. “Weasley! Ginny Weasley! Where is she?” he snapped.

“Ginny Weasley? Well why didn't you *say*?” and she gave him directions to Ginny's
ward.

Grumbling, he stomped up the stairs, wondering whether all Healers were stupid and ignorant or
whether he was just unlucky.

He could see his fringe turning white-blonde again. Oh well, no-one was paying him any attention
anyway, but he tucked his fringe out of sight just in case. One of the most distinguishable
features of a Malfoy was his perfect hair.

Only two days had passed since Ginny had been hospitalised, but he couldn't stop thinking
about her. What was the matter with him? It was as though he *cared* about what happened to
her.

He had, as usual, kept out of the way as much as possible, but the Burrow felt strangely empty
without the Weasel Queen around.

Draco pondered this, and came up with a conclusion: if he just went to *see* that she was
ok, perhaps his mind would be at ease. After all, he did save her. If something happened to her
while in hospital, it would have all been to waste.

Draco came to a corner. Ah, she was along this corridor somewhere. He hoped he could find her
soon. He didn't like staying in hospitals too long, they smelt unpleasant and were
uncomfortable.

These were private rooms, and Draco walked along, glancing through the windows until he saw a
girl with long red hair sitting up and reading.

Right, she was fine; his most expensive cloak had not been bloodied up in vain. He stalked off,
but stopped. Was that really her? It could be any red head. He'd better go and check.

Yes, it was definitely her. She had new bandages around her arm. It looked as though the wound
had not healed yet.

He turned to go again, thinking that two glances hadn't really been worth all that fuss. He
casually walked passed her window again, when she looked up.

“Urk!” he dived out of sight and pressed his back against the wall. She had seen him! Oh
brilliant, how was he supposed to explain that?

He put his fingers on the windowsill and peeped in through the window, only showing his eyes.
Ginny was staring back at him, looking bewildered.

He ducked out of sight again, wringing his hands hysterically. She wasn't supposed to have
seen him!

“*Well, now she has I suppose I can't hide. They may lead to questions*” he thought,
and strutted past the window, sticking his chin out.

She peered at him over the edge of her book, and they stared at each other for a while.

“Do something!” Draco's brain screamed at him. Not knowing what else to do, he did the most
childish, un-Malfoyish thing: he stuck out his tongue.

She blinked, and for a moment looked as though she would get up and cause him some personal
damage, but she slowly lowered her book and poked a small pink tongue at him.

He raised his eyebrows and smirked. She mimicked him, exaggerating her features ludicrously. He
waggled his eyebrows, and pulled a stupid face, until he noticed a shrivelled elderly woman staring
up at him as though he were mad.

“Dear?” she asked tentatively “would you like me to help you back to your ward?”

Draco had to suppress a scowl: the woman thought he was a mental patient here!

“No thank you” he sniffed “I am not a patient here.” The woman nodded and shuffled away, giving
him a sympathetic glance on her way out.

Sneering, Draco turned back to the window. Ginny was looking at him from behind her book, but
Draco could tell from the shape of her eyes that she was laughing.

He grinned, and, without thinking, opened the door.

He froze as he stepped inside. Ginny had stopped laughing and was staring at him, shocked.

“*What did I do* that *for*?” he thought wearily, and closed the door. Ginny lowered
her book.

“Erm… hi” he said breathlessly. She was staring at him, daring him to say something else.
Gathering himself, he stood straight. “I, ah, just came to see whether… whether you were ok.”

Ginny blinked. “Oh, well, yes, I'm on the mend, thank you.”

“Erm, good, I suppose.”

He just stood in awkward silence for a while, fidgeting with his watch. Oh, why did he leave the
sanctuary of the Burrow? Even if it was a smelly weasel hovel which he hated, it was better than
standing in a hospital doorway, not having anything to say and scared to leave so soon as it would
seem rude.

Draco wondered when he'd started caring about being rude to Weasels.

“You can sit down, you know” said Ginny softly. “I don't bite.”

As he couldn't think of a good reason not to, he strolled over to the chair facing her bed
and sat lightly on the very edge. It was very uncomfortable, but not nearly as uncomfortable as the
silence that settled between again.

“So… Ginny” he croaked, hoping to pull a conversation out of thin air. “Is that short for
anything?”

“Ginevra” she replied stiffly.

Draco let a small smile grace his features. Ginevra… he liked it. But the Ginevra in question
was looking a little dishevelled. “You don't like it?”

“It's not that I don't like it, it's just… never used.”

“Can I use it?” he said before he could stop himself. She raised an eyebrow, and he turned away
to hide the blush creeping up his cheeks. What was the matter with him today? Normally he was very
good at controlling his tongue.

“Aren't I the Weasel Queen?” asked Ginny coldly. Draco turned to face her again.

“Do you want to be?”

“Well, no.”

“Well, then, *Ginevra*.” They smirked at each other for a while, than drifted back into
that awful, suffocating silence. Perhaps he should leave now?

“Um, your cloak is on the chair behind you” Ginny muttered.

“My-? Oh yeah” he saw the midnight blue travelling cloak hanging from the chair. He didn't
particularly want to touch it.

“It's been washed.”

Carefully, Draco picked it up between his thumb and forefinger, as though it was diseased or a
dead animal. Inspecting it closely, he saw there were no traces of blood (or tomato soup) and it
smelt fresh.

He sat back down, clutching it at arms length.

“It's, um, very soft” said Ginny in a small voice.

“What? Oh yeah, the lining's 100% velvet.”

“Madame Malkin's?”

“Twillfit and Tattings.”

“Oh, Twillfit and Tattings, right.”

He hated small talk.

They were once again silent, and they both watched as a fly buzzed around the room, dancing
about in a jerky pattern, until it got itself stuck in a web and a fat, brown spider crawled over
to it hungrily.

“*What a stupid fly”* thought Draco. Ginny's arm twitched, as though she was going to
free the stupid fly, but she remained cross legged in her bed.

“What took you so long to do it?” she asked suddenly.

“Do what?” Draco mumbled, but he knew exactly what she was going to say.

“Save me. You almost left me there.” She was peering at him through her hazel eyes, unblinking.
Draco had the uncomfortable feeling that his head was a window and she could see his thoughts like
actions.

“Well, I mean, I did save you, didn't I? I didn't just let you drop and die, did I?
It's not something I usually do…”

“No... You don't seem to care about other people's lives much, do you?”

Draco was getting angry. “What, did you want to die? Did you *want* me to leave you?”

“Oh, no, I'm very grateful” she whispered softly, still not blinking as her eyes scanned his
face “I just didn't think you were the saving- people type, that's all.”

“Well, usually I'm not” he sniffed.

“No… you seem more of the person- who- needs- to- be- saved type, don't you?”

Draco opened his mouth angrily, but he saw that she was neither gloating nor smirking. Instead
she was looking at him inquisitively, searching his eyes for the truth about his personality.

“Perhaps you should leave” said Draco coldly.

Ginny blinked at last. “This is my room!”

“Oh… right. Well, I, um, I knew that!” cursing silently Draco got up to leave, hearing
giggles.

“Oh, wait, Draco, you forgot your cloak.” More giggles as he stomped over to snatch up the
garment and stumbled on its trailing hem. When he got to the door, he turned to glare at her, but
she was smiling good- naturedly at him. And he couldn't help but smirk back.

As he walked along the corridor it struck him what she'd said. She'd called him
*Draco* again.

*

Ginny was discharged from hospital two days later, and arrived back at the Burrow to a small
party, which Draco did not join in.

He decided that the Weasley girl was far more trouble than she was worth, and that he would keep
away from her from now on.

But his plan didn't last long, as, after two days of not talking to anyone, he found himself
unable to sleep.

His discomfort was not due to any deep emotional searching, however, but to hunger. He had been
offended when he overheard the Weasel Twins badmouthing the wizarding aristocracy, and was in such
a bad mood he didn't eat lunch or dinner.

He turned in his bed (which was much smaller than what he was used to). His insides ached from
lack of food and his silvery eyes snapped open.

“*It's no good”* he thought, and reached for his dressing gown. “*Humph,* *if I
was still in Malfoy Manor, I wouldn't have to creep around the house like a criminal. I'd
just get the house-elves to make me something.”*

Almost silently, the only sound being the swish of his cloak, he snuck out the door, treading
lightly on the creaky wooden floor.

The Weasleys wouldn't mind if he just had a sandwich, some fruit, some biscuits, a cake, a
glass of milk… not that much really. And if they did, ha ha, he didn't care. He had learnt from
a young age that ignoring his conscience was the best way to get what he wanted.

He crept into the kitchen, shivering slightly as his bare feet grazed the cold floor, and
didn't notice the dark silhouette of a small figure. He headed to the pantry.

“Malfoy?” Ginny switched the light on. Draco squinted through the sudden light, but her vibrant
red hair stood out, so he couldn't draw his eyes from her. “Are you stealing food?”

“…No…” he felt like a naughty school child as he drew his hands away from the pantry door. She
raised an eyebrow, and then sighed.

“You should have eaten your dinner, stupid.” She reached up on the top cupboard and stole him a
slice of carrot cake. He was ravenous, but with muttered thanks he nibbled it politely with a fork.
Ginny hoisted herself onto the work surface and watched him eat, him avoiding her eye.

“I don't think I ever thanked you for saving my life.” Draco's eyes flickered to hers
for a second, but then he stared at his half- finished cake again. “And apologised for, you know…
getting us both chucked off a roof.” She tittered nervously, but it died away in her throat.

Draco shrugged. “Wasn't your fault” he mumbled “my obnoxious aunt pushed us off.”

“Yeah, that must be pretty… crummy.”

Draco shrugged again. “She doesn't have a conscience. She just likes killing people.”

Ginny sighed and stared out the window, and Draco looked up at her, taking her in now that she
wasn't looking. His eyes scanned her features and body as hers scanned the crescent moon. Pansy
was right: she was, without a doubt, good looking. She had a figure most women would be jealous of,
for starters. Her face was naturally beautiful, not ton-of-make-up beautiful like most of the
Slytherin girls: bright hazel eyes, small, curvy nose, and though Draco thought pale, undisturbed
skin was prettier, her freckles seemed to complement her. Unlike most of her brothers and father,
whose hair was an orangey- red, her hair was a deep, intense blood-red, a colour she only shared
with Bill and her mother. Draco vaguely wondered why she didn't wear much green; he thought it
would look good on her.

She looked back at him, and he averted his eyes immediately, staring back at his now-finished
cake. “Wanna play chess?” she asked suddenly.

Draco blinked. “Why do you want to play chess with *me*?”

“Well, who else am I going to play with? The ghoul in the attic? Unless, you're scared of
*losing.*” She jeered playfully.

“Oh, yeah, I get it, this is the bit where I'm supposed to say “*oooh, lets play, I'm
not going to lose**!””* he sneered at her “well I'm not! Where's that board?”

Grinning, Ginny took the chess board from the shelf. “I'm being white!”

*

-->



18. Stars
---------



So, that was how it started. At night, Ginny and Draco would often creep out, catching up on
their sleep in the day. They would go downstairs and play Wizard chess or exploding snap, or
outside for a bit of night-time Quidditch. Or, they would simply sit and talk, always remembering
to cast a silencing charm on their surroundings.

That night was no different and Draco, who had been half asleep, felt his watch vibrate as the
hands hit midnight.

Yawning slightly, he got up. He hadn't bothered to get changed, but smoothed his hair down,
as it had tousled slightly.

“You look beautiful” grumbled the mirror sleepily “now stop being so vain and get to bed!”

Draco ignored it, and stepped outside his room, where Ginny was waiting for him.

“Grab your cloak” she breathed. He arched an eyebrow, but did as he was told. Perhaps they were
going to play Quidditch.

Once again, they crept downstairs, their steps feather light.

Ginny silently unlocked the door, and Draco allowed himself to be a little noisier as he stepped
outside. It was a cloudless night, and a chilly breezed played about in the air. He headed to the
broom shed, but Ginny caught him by the wrist.

“No” she whispered. “No broomsticks tonight.”

Draco looked at her confusedly, and she slid her hand down his wrist to entwine with his, and
with a jerk she tugged him in the opposite direction. They ran through the orchards where they
usually played Quidditch, and Ginny led him over a small muddy marsh near the stream. They
didn't stop until she had led him to the very top of a hill.

Panting, Draco snatched his hand from hers.

“Gin! Are you going to tell me where we're going?” he bent double, catching his breath.

“Here.” Not out of breath at all, Ginny sat down on the dewy grass and pulled out a miniature
telescope.

“Why?”

“To look at the stars” she pointed upwards “It's such a clear night, and this is a perfect
spot.”

Draco looked up. Twinkling, winking stars were scattered across an inky black sky, like tiny
shards of glass shattered on a sheet of slate. They were outshone only by tonight's full moon,
which cast an ethereal glow on the slumbering landscape.

He sat down contently next to her. She was looking up at them enthusiastically, her face bathed
in the moon's cold glow.

They gazed up at the star- sprinkled sky, breathing clouds of mist into the frosty air. A
shooting star occasionally streaked overhead of them, ruining the dense darkness with a line of
light that lingered, then shortly faded.

He heard a small clinking noise, and saw Ginny enlarge the telescope.

A whisper of a breeze pushed her hair out of her face as she peered up at the night sky through
the telescope.

“Hey!” she sounded shocked. “What on earth's that?”

He stared up avidly, searching for the thing she could see. “What? Where?”

“Wow, it's really weird- looking. But, I think it's alive.”

Filled with wonder, Draco swung his neck around. “What? What can you see?”

“Yep, definitely alive. What a weird specimen.” Draco glanced at her, to see she was peering at
*him* through the lens, grinning evilly.

“Oh, har, har” he grumbled. She rolled around, laughing. “I thought you were looking at
stars?”

“I thought Draco *was* a star?”

Draco grinned. “It is. Well, a constellation. Err…” he scanned the heavens “there it is.” His
finger encircled a bunch of dots from which his name originated.

“Oh… cool” Ginny squinted up, obviously not seeing it.

“It is! Look, there's the alpha star, Thuban.”

“Thuban.” Ginny smiled fondly.

“And, err… there's Orion, I think.”

“Orion.” Ginny smiled again.

“Uh, and there's Leo, Scorpius, Cassiopeia…”

Ginny smiled and nodded, as though they were somehow familiar to her.

“You know a lot about constellations.”

Draco let his hand, which had been pointing to the stars, drop. “Most of my ancestors were named
after them. Mother made sure I knew about them.”

Ginny nodded and lay back on the ground. “Can you see shapes in the stars?”

“Yes. Haven't we just been discussing that?”

“Not constellations. I mean, just… shapes.”

Draco mimicked her and lay flat on the grass, the cold earth pressed against his back.

“Look, there's a bunny!” Ginny laughed, drawing lines in the air. Draco's eyebrows
furrowed. He could only see constellations.

“Don't you see? And… there's a horse!”

Draco squinted, joining the dots she was pointing to to form a horse in his mind.

“Oh… oh yeah” he smiled weakly.

“And… a cat!”

“Yeah, yeah I see it! Hmm… that one looks like two wizards killing each other in a duel!” he
laughed, and Ginny shot him an apprehensive look. “Ha, I've never done this before.”

“Really? I and dad used to do this all the time. We'd just lie up here and look at the
stars.” She sighed happily. “It was especially fun when Fred or George or Ron came. They'd make
really random shapes and smuggle food.”

Draco smiled at her but stayed silent. He wasn't particularly interested in her brothers,
but she was happy, so he kept quiet.

“… And Bill or Charlie would take their brooms up, and we'd go flying. Oh and there was this
one time when Percy was being a real smart-arse, and Fred gave him a little shove and he went
rolling down this hill” she giggled. Draco smirked. Her giggles were quite pretty. “Draco.” She
suddenly turned to face him, looking inquisitive “what's it like, not having any brothers or
sisters?”

Draco slowly turned his head to face her. “What a peculiar question” he murmured. Truth was,
he'd never really thought about it. “Well, I've never known what it's like to
*have* siblings, so I can't really compare, can I?”

“I suppose not…” she sat up, cross legged. “But, didn't you ever get lonely, cooped up in
that Manor all by yourself?”

Draco frowned, and sat up too. Was she insulting his home, or his childhood? “Couldn't you
have asked Potter that, if you're so interested?” he sneered.

Ginny shrugged and fiddled with some grass, averting his eyes.

“Harry and I never really talked about that kind of thing” she muttered in a small voice

“I was scared of hurting his feelings, I suppose.”

Draco rolled his eyes. Oh, poor Potter. Who cared about his feelings? Well, she did, obviously,
so he let it drop.

“I wasn't cooped up. It's massive, the manor; not to mention the grounds. It was a very,
ah, *extravagant* place to grow up.” He chuckled. “But, I suppose it could be a
*bit…empty*, without any humans to be with.”

“Humans?”

“Oh, when I was a kid, I could get the house-elves to play with me. I remember that time when I
got them to pour water over the kitchen floor and freeze it so I could have my own ice rink.” He
sniggered at the memory. “Mother and Father went berserk.”

Ginny smirked too, and watched him carefully. His eyes were out of focus, lost in memory.

“Do you miss them?” she whispered.

Draco's eyes trailed to hers. If it were anyone else, he'd shun them coldly and rudely
tell them it was none of their business. But something about her made him trust her.

“A little bit” he whispered “I worry about them more than I missed them. Especially Mother. The
Dark Lord-”

He stopped, and stared at his hands that were clasped together in his lap, biting his lip.

“Yeah?” said Ginny soothingly, and lay a hand on his. She was unsurprised to find it was colder
than the average person's: apparently it was normally for him to have a low body temperature.
He stared at her small fingers against his for a moment, and drew a shuddering breath.

“When- when I first disobeyed the Dark Lord, he took it out on Mother. He tortured her.” He took
a handful of grass and tore it out, swallowing hard. “And- and he said if I did something like that
again, he'd punish *her*. Worse.” He shredded more grass, feeling his throat closing
up.

“He *tortured* her?!” exclaimed Ginny. “But- but he *tortures* his own
*servants*?!” Draco said nothing. Ginny stared at him, open mouthed. She couldn't believe
anyone could be so cruel. How could he torture people who were loyal to him? And poor Mrs. Malfoy…
tears sprang to Ginny's eyes just thinking about it.

“No, don't cry!” said Draco gently. “I don't care to see you cry.” He wiped a tear away
softly with his sleeve.

“Sorry” Ginny muttered, hastily wiping her eyes. “I just can't believe someone could be so
horrible!”

Draco looked grim. “I think… I think Father realises it was a mistake to join him. *I*
realise that.” He looked at the burnt patch of flesh on his arm where the mark used to be, and
kneaded his eyes with his palms. “Ack, *I'm* a mistake.”

“No you're not” said Ginny quietly. She stared at him through watery eyes. “You know what I
think?”

“What?”

“Methinks… *someone* needs a hug!”

The atmosphere lightened immediately.

“I… don't need a hug” said Draco, half- smiling unsurely.

“Oh, yes you do!”

“I don't *want* a hug!”

“Give me a hug, Draco.”

“No!”

“Wheee!” she flung herself on top of him, sending them both rolling down the hill, laughing.

They stopped, still giggling, and remained lying down. Draco became conscious of how close they
were, and his collar became rather warm. She was still giggling, her hand resting lightly on his
chest.

“Feeling better now?” she asked happily.

He chuckled but didn't answer. She began drawing lazy circles on his shoulder, and he raised
an eyebrow.

“Sorry.” She withdrew her hand, and then giggled again. “Oh, I can just imagine Fred or George
or Ron's face if they were here.”

Draco smiled weakly. She was talking about her brothers again.

“Yes. They do hate me spectacularly, don't they?”

Ginny's smile faltered a little. “Well, you know what they're like.”

“Not like you.” He stroked her fingers before lacing them with his. “You're like… a
beautiful flower that grew from a pot of dirt.”

Ginny's eyes flared and she snatched her hand away.

“That's a horrible thing to say!”

“Huh? You were the one complaining about them!”

“Yes, but you can't just call my family *dirt*!” she sat upright, furious, and turned
her back on him.

“Oh, *great.* Well, no wonder they hate me. Even when I'm complementing you, I insult
you.”

He sat up and tucked his knees into his chest, sulking, and turned away from her. “Now you hate
me too.”

She looked back at him and sighed. She was going to have to be *very* patient with him.

“Draco…” All his muscles tensed as she wrapped her arms around him again. Man, this girl was
affectionate. “I don't hate you.”

She sighed, breathing in his scent: an interesting mixture of expensive aftershave, tobacco
smoke, and (surprisingly) oranges.

“I know” Draco grumbled quietly.

“In fact, I like you.”

She was whispering, her moving lips tickling his ear.

“A lot.”

He turned to face her. Her eyes were clouded with sincerity, lust, and something he couldn't
define. She was drawing nearer… their noses were almost touching… he could feel her steady
breathing against his lips… he could count every freckle brushed across her nose…

*

A/n- credits to The Lion King, Potter Puppet Pals and The Simpsons

-->



19. Sleeping giant
------------------



The weather was strangely calm that day. There was little to no wind, though frostiness still
hung in the air. The sky was smothered in silvery grey cloud, not threatening- looking, but as
dismal as Harry felt.

Though it had been a week since the battle of Hogsmead, there was still a thick, smoky smell
clinging to the air. Harry leaned against Hogwarts' stony wall, looking into the distance and
the ruins of the village. Half of it was perfectly fine, with only minor damage done, while the
majority of houses… Harry wondered where exactly they were keeping all the homeless people.

Too many deaths had occurred that night, too much hurt had been caused. There had been losses on
both sides, though (unfortunately) it was the Order and the Aurors that had suffered most.

Amos Diggory had joined his son that night. Harry had seen his eerily peaceful body with his own
eyes.

Madame Rosmerta had also died, murdered cold-bloodedly by Mulciber.

There had been others, some Harry did know and some he didn't. Stan Shunpike had met his
untimely death, as had Elphias Doge, John Dawlish and someone named Gawain Robards.

Harry sighed into the cool air. Too much death…

“Harry?” Remus's voice drifted to his ears. He was in a smart black suit and highly polished
black shoes, wearing an expression as dark as his clothes. “Come on Harry. It's starting
soon.”

Harry stayed where he was, not even turning to face Lupin.

“Harry, come on.”

“I can't” whispered Harry, his voice cracking slightly. Today was the day of Hagrid's
funeral.

Remus tilted his head slightly, looking concerned. “Harry” he said softly “you've got to
come and say goodbye.”

“I've said my goodbyes to him.” There was a lump in Harry's throat, and his chest was
constricting. “I can't face another funeral, Remus, I *can't.*”

Slowly, quietly, Remus walked over to him and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. Harry felt
it, heavy on his shoulder. “I know-”

“No you don't. *Everyone* around me is dying, I can't take it! I don't want to
see him being buried, I just…” he ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “I want to cut my self
out from it. Maybe then people will be safe.”

“Listen to me: *It is not your fault*. It was like this before you were born, it's
Voldemort's fault and nobody elses.”

“But I can't say goodbye to him forever” Harry felt tears sting his eyes and he looked back
into the horizon.

“If you don't go” said Remus slowly “you'll regret it for the rest of your life.”

There was a twang of pain in Harry's chest, and he swallowed so hard it hurt his throat.
Remus had said the magic words. Harry knew he was right, but had tried not to think of it. No… he
needed to go, otherwise it would haunt him forever.

With a heavy heart, Harry followed Remus, so he could pay his last respects to Hagrid.

*

Harry clenched the inside material of his trouser pockets. The lump in his throat felt more like
a tennis ball. He adjusted himself in his rickety black chair to face the old man, speaking words
over the enormous coffin. They were in an enormous clearing in the Forbidden Forest, not too far
from Hagrid's cabin. There was only a small circle of white sky visible, as there were
intimidating-looking trees encircling them. The handsome wooden coffin was straining a little at
the sides, but they hadn't been able to find a bigger size: it was already three times as big
as a normal coffin.

Either side of him, Ron and Hermione were shedding tears. Hermione was almost breaking down: she
had managed to keep her sobbing and moaning under control, but she couldn't stop her rapidly
shaking shoulders and incessant tears. Ron had his face covered beneath his hands but loud snivels
and sobs were emitting from his throat.

Harry looked around again. A few seats back were the rest of the Weasleys, minus Percy. They had
only found out about his death yesterday, as there had been injuries: George had had his arm cut
off, Charlie had broken three ribs and Ginny had also injured her arm. They had managed to replace
George's arm with a metal one. He could move all the digits like a regular arm, but it was made
out of stainless steel, and looked robotic. Charlie had come out a little worse for wear, but
otherwise fine, as it was a simple charm to mend ribs. Ginny, however, was acting rather odd: he
had had a short talk with her, and she had seemed very distant. But he could swear he had seen her
talking to Draco Malfoy (whom the Weasleys had had to bring, as they didn't trust him alone in
the house), and occasionally catching his eye.

Grawp was at the far corner, his boulder-ish face a portrait of confusion. He didn't seem to
understand what was going on. All of the teachers who knew Hagrid were there. McGonagall was wiping
her eyes with a lace handkerchief, and Grubbly-Plank looked grave indeed.

Even the animals seemed to know that Hagrid was gone. Buckbeak was lying with his head on his
taloned feet and Fang, Hagrid's boarhound, was howling like a wolf at the moon.

There was a miniscule roll of thunder that wouldn't have been audible if everything
wasn't so quiet, and tiny spots of rain started spitting down on them. Finally, the little man
finished his speech, and Hagrid's gigantic coffin was lowered into the earth.

Harry remained silent and motionless as people gradually started moving, distancing himself from
the rest of the world. He stared, lifeless, at the hole in the ground that was being filled in.

How could he have lost Hagrid? Hagrid had been his ticket to freedom from the horrible life he
had with the Dursleys. He remembered all the visits to his cabin, all the times they had discussed
mysterious plots involving Voldemort, all those times Hagrid had comforted and reassured him.

One of Hagrid's rock cakes would taste so good right now.

Keeping his eyes on the mound of earth, he slowly stood and walked towards it. He conjured a
bouquet of giant dandelions- Hagrid had always had a fondness for dandelions- and placed it
carefully near the gravestone.

Rubeus Hagrid

1930- 1998

A small trickle of liquid ran down Harry's face, but it was his own salty tear rather than
the rain. He turned to go, but he finally glanced back, to take a last look at the resting place of
a gentle giant.

*

Harry leant against the windowsill, a habit he had picked up since the Battle of Hogsmead. He
was glad he had eventually gone to Hagrid's funeral, he had needed to say goodbye. But he
couldn't take back what he had said to Remus.

*“Everyone around me is dying, I can't take it!... I want to cut my self out from it.
Maybe then people will be safe.”*

He couldn't stay here, where there were people inhabiting a village just a few miles away.
Wherever he went, danger followed.

“What's up, mate?” Ron's voice jerked him back.

“I can't stay here, Ron” said Harry in barely more than a whisper. “We've got to go. Go
where people aren't surrounding us.”

Ron nodded solemnly and stared out the window along side him.

*

“Come *on,* you two!” Hermione's impatient hiss reached them from a distance.
Grumbling, Harry and Ron picked up their pace as they trekked through the forest together.

They were back in the woods where the Quidditch world cup had been held. It was convenient-
completely deserted, and muggle-repellent charms all year round. They trekked deeper and deeper
into the forest; Harry's back getting sweatier with every step.

“Ok for her” Ron muttered quietly, wiping his dripping brow “hardly carrying anything…”

Hermione had bought a charmed little bag that could carry things a normal handbag couldn't
without getting heavier. But Ron and Harry had two heavy rucksacks and walloping great swords to
carry. Ron and Hermione had disguised themselves and bought swords. Harry, who owned
Gryffindor's sword, wanted them to have the same level of protection as him, and insisted on
them having a backup weapon in case they found themselves without wands.

Hermione had finally stopped, and was making a small clearing with her wand, tearing up the
brambles and cutting the grass. Harry and Ron dumped their bags on the floor, and, groaning,
stretched their aching backs.

“Blimey” muttered Ron “those things must weigh a ton… I'm dead thirsty, you know, mate.” He
rummaged in his bag for water, but finding none he sat down and groaned again. “I'm
*dying…”* Harry rolled his eyes.

Hermione, who had finished her bramble-tearing, tossed him a flagon of ice cold pumpkin juice
from her bag.

“Cor, thanks, Herm.” Ron took a swig, wiped his mouth on his hand and smiled appreciatively at
Hermione, who smiled back. Harry smiled discreetly too. Even if it was just a drink, Harry was glad
they were acting like friends again. It had been very pressing to be in the middle of their
hostility.

They set up the huge tent, put various concealment spells and protection charms around it and
unpacked their things. When they were completely convinced that nothing could see or get to them,
they started training.

The Battle of Hogsmeade had made Harry realise how junior their magic was. He had seen Order
members perform spells on Death Eaters that he had never heard of. They practised curses that
knocked Death Eaters out, and completely paralysed them- simple stunners didn't last long, and
were easily countered. They needed spells that would get Death Eaters out of the way, but Harry was
determined- *he would not kill.*

They divided their time between brainstorming ideas as to where the next Horcrux was, visiting
those places (much to no avail), training and practising sword fighting. Harry felt this was
necessary, and he and Ron would often get up early to train, occasionally having Hermione join
them. As Hermione's arms were not as burly as Harry or Ron's, her sword was more like a
large knife, and not an equal match to theirs.

*

January soon turned into March and March soon turned into May, and Harry was getting restless
and felt useless. People were dying out there, and they *still* didn't have any leads as
to where the next horcrux was. They had looked in Borgin and Burkes, another place Riddle went on
holiday to as a child, even the muggle orphanage where he grew up, and nothing.

Meanwhile, Harry found his attraction to Hermione was not subsiding: it was growing stronger. He
couldn't help but feel his skin prickle and his collar grow hot when she touched him in an
intimate way, which was a lot of the time. Hmm. If Harry didn't know better, he'd have said
she was doing it on purpose.

That night they were up till way past dark, practising with wooden swords. Bones aching and new
bruises forming, they went in for supper: a fish which Hermione had caught and cooked.

They kept in touch with the outside world by the small radio Ron had kept. There was only really
one good radio station, and they tuned into it to listen to Lee Jordan's voice every night.

That night they were all cuddled up in a circle, snuggled up in their sleeping bags against the
cold.

“… Thanks for that.” Lee's voice blared out from the tiny speakers after a man promoting
anti-Death Eater activity had been on. “And now… wait…” there was a long pause. “Ah.” Lee's
voice turned solemn. “Ladies and Gentlemen, I regret to inform you of two more deaths amongst us.
Mr. Larry Gomage and Mr. Ted Tonks were both found dead today, killed by Death Eaters. Let us have
a minuet's silence, please.”

Harry felt terrible. He didn't know who Larry Gomage was, but he was sure there would be
people who missed him. And while he had never met Ted Tonks in person, he knew that he was
Tonks's father, and he felt terrible for her. Did she know?

Exhausted, they crawled into their separate compartments and settled down to sleep, laying their
pillows on the hard, earthy floor.

Eight hours later Harry was jerked awake by Ron's frantic whisper.

“Harry! Harry, I think there's something *out* there!”

Quick as a flash Harry whipped out his wand, which he kept under his pillow and snapped his eyes
open.

He rolled himself out of his sleeping bag and braced himself for the chill he knew would greet
him when he unzipped his tent.

A freezing shiver ran through his spine as he stepped outside, his bare toes on the icy dewy
grass. Mossy-smelling forest air filled his lungs, and he peered at Ron pointing his wand at the
trees.

“Through there” he whispered, looking nervous. Harry took a step closer, and sure enough he
could hear an odd humming noise joined with the crunch of twigs snapping underfoot. Something was
stepping nearer.

Harry gulped, and crept nearer, stepping lightly on the soggy grass. The humming grew louder,
and Harry and Ron braced themselves. The air was thick with tension.

Suddenly the noise stopped, and they stood in silence, straining their ears to pick up traces of
the weird humming sound.

“Aaargh!” A small, furry yellow creature had shot out of the bushes and jumped on Ron's
chest, licking his face with an enormous blue tongue. Ron swatted at the ball of fuzz, stumbling
about in the half-lit bushes. Harry watched, mouth open, and saw that the creature was attached to
a leash, and holding that leash was a girl.

“Hi Harry. Hello, Ronald!”

*

-->



20. So close
------------



“L-Luna?!” said Harry in disbelief. Luna Lovegood, a girl with wide blue eyes and waist length
blonde hair skipped over to him, smiling.

“I see you've met Herbert.” She smiled down at Ron, who was rolling on the floor, laughing,
as the fuzzy creature tickled him with its tongue.

“Please- stop- no- more-” Ron managed to gasp out. Luna gently tugged at the leash, and the
fluffy creature rose up into the air, making that odd humming noise again.

“What is it?” Harry asked curiously. The creature was cute to an extent: it had bright yellow,
daffodil coloured fur, and appeared to be a floating ball of fluff with two tiny knarled paws and
enormous black eyes. There was a gap where its mouth was, and two minuscule white fangs gleamed for
a second, then the creature started whizzing around Ron's head, buzzing as it did so.

“Herbert's a Blibbering Humdigner.” She watched excitedly as Ron nervously patted Herbert on
the head. “I think he likes you, Ronald!”

“Uh, yeah.” He got up, slightly sticky from all the Blibbering Humdigner spit. “Luna, what are
you doing out here? It's dangerous, there could be Death Eaters.” Ron's face was etched
with concern.

“Oh, but Daddy and I sometimes come here to take Herbert for a walk.” She patted the fluffy
creature. “I'm really quite fond of these woods; you can see all sorts of amazing things.” She
looked around, and spotted an odd-looking fungus on a rotten tree trunk. “Look! An Iggletlius
mushroom. Poisonous to humans, a cure for stomach ache to Dragons.”

Ron's eyebrows shot into his hair. “Cool! But, Luna, It's freezing out here, not to
mention early. Err…” he turned to Harry, wringing his hands slightly. “Shall we let her in?” he
whispered, but before Harry could answer, Ron had turned back to Luna. “Come to the tent, you look
cold.”

He led them back to the tent, boiling the kettle over the camping stove for a cup of tea.

“So, how have you been?” he asked Luna, handing her a mug and sipping his own. Harry felt
slightly put out that Ron hadn't done him one. Since when did Luna Lovegood come

before Harry Potter in Ron Weasley's life? Thinking he was overreacting slightly, Harry sat
down by them.

“Oh, I've been good, thanks.” She sipped her tea, allowing steam to warm her face. “I was
fairly disappointed when I got the letter saying Hogwarts had closed, but I suppose it's a good
thing, as there'd be attacks every other day. Daddy's been supporting your cause, Harry, I
don't know if you've been reading the Quibbler, but Daddy's done all he can to get
people to help you if you ever need it.”

“That's good,” smiled Ron, before Harry could mutter thanks. “But I hope he's not making
it too public: the Death Eaters'll be after you.” He looked very worried.

“Oh, don't worry about us. So, how's your secret Voldemort-killing mission going on?”
she asked, as though they were discussing Harry and Ron's gardening project. They froze, and
glanced at each other nervously.

“Err, who told you about that, Luna?” Ron tittered awkwardly.

“Oh, Daddy guessed it. Well, you have disappeared from the wizarding world, so it's kind of
obvious, if you don't mind me saying. Would you like a Christmas card?” she asked suddenly,
leaping from one conversation to the next.

Ron blinked. “Uh, what?”

“A Christmas card. It's at home, but I can summon it.”

Harry and Ron exchanged confused glances. “Luna,” said Ron slowly “it's nearly Easter. Why
would you give us Christmas cards?”

“Well, I didn't see you on Christmas, so you can have them now. I'd feel very rude not
to give you Christmas cards. I've got one for Hermione, too, but I presume she's asleep.
So, do you want it?”

“Oh, blimey, all right…” She summoned three white envelopes out of thin air, and passed two of
them to Harry and Ron.

“What's going on?” said a sleepy voice, and Hermione crawled out of her tent compartment.
“Luna?”

“Oh, goodie, you're awake, Hermione!” Luna beamed excitedly. “Just in time for Christmas
cards, too!”

“Christmas-?” Hermione looked bemused as Luna handed her her envelope.

“Uh, well, sorry Luna, but we haven't really got a card for you.” Ron grinned
sheepishly.

“Oh, that's ok. There'll be other Christmas's!” She drained her mug of tea and stood
up abruptly. “Well, it's been a nice chat, but I'd better be off. Herbert's getting
restless.” The yellow animal was sniffing around Harry's sleeping bag. “I'll visit soon!
Toodles!” And she floated out.

Hermione looked from the unopened card in her hands to the open tent door, and shook her head.
“I won't even ask,” she muttered as they slit their envelopes open.

Harry smiled at the cartoon snowman on the front, and inside it read:

“*To Harry,*

*Happy Christmas and a merry New Year! (Or vicey- versa!)*

*Don't let the Nargles steal your presents!*

*Love, Luna*

And there were a couple of kisses. Harry peered at Ron and Hermione's cards, to find they
were the same, but couldn't help noticing Ron had one extra kiss than Harry and Hermione. Oh
well, this was probably just a mistake.

Chuckling, Ron set his Christmas card on the table and put his fists on his hips. “Well,
that's made my day. I'm glad this war hasn't changed old Luna, she's always amusing
to talk to.”

Hermione chuckled a bit too. “Yeah, her craziness is fun.”

She hadn't meant it in an unfriendly way, but Ron frowned slightly. “I don't actually
think she's crazy, you know. She's just… unique.” He frowned thoughtfully.

“Don't you like unique?” Harry raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, no, no, I love it! I just don't like it when people call her crazy. There should be
more people like her, seriously.” He examined his card closely. “Hey, look at that tiny Blibbering
Humdigner!”

*

Luna became a regular visitor, and appeared to have no fear of being captured or killed, despite
Ron's warnings. He even offered to come and pick her up under the invisibility cloak, but Luna
kept insisting it was more dangerous for him than her.

Easter came and went, and it was nice having Luna buy them all intricately decorated Easter
eggs, which Harry gave her the money for, but Harry's feeling of being useless was stronger
than ever. It was now Easter, and they hadn't got a single Horcrux since just before Christmas.
They had no ideas of what to do next; no clues, no information, they couldn't go anywhere as
they attracted Death Eaters. Voldemort seemed to be getting desperate to have information on Harry:
he really seemed to be taking control more now, and he had ordered his minions to find even the
slightest trace of them. They had narrowly escaped several encounters with Death Eaters, all of
them resulting in Hermione having to wipe their memories, and they had had to change the location
of their tent a couple of times.

Someone had seen Harry casually buying a carton of milk from a village he had apparated to when
the polyjuice potion wore off accidentally. There had been a Death Eater raid, which they fought
in, but they couldn't visit that town again.

He was frustrated that they were confined by their lack of information, guilty that people were
dying because of him. Ron was definitely getting tired of this too: he had obviously thought Harry
would have a better plan than this when he suggested leaving Hogwarts.

Harry would sometimes catch him muttering his opinions to Hermione or Luna, pretending to be
working when he caught Harry's eye. Harry felt anger well up inside him. He hadn't actually
heard Ron, but had a pretty good idea of what he was saying.

Hermione tried always to be supportive, but even *her* patience was wearing thin. Harry
felt incredibly disheartened by this, and felt ashamed sometimes to look in her eye, seeing the
boredom in there. Now even Hermione was loosing belief in him. Argh, he was supposed to be their
*leader*! He was turning out to be a pretty crummy one.

And what about all those people who were dying or being tortured, and he was doing nothing? He
thought of poor Tonks, and Andromeda Tonks, who had lost their Father/ Husband just a few months
ago. He couldn't stand not being able to do anything…

“Oh, Harry…” Hermione's voice drifted through his brain, bringing him out of his reverie.
She had found him, huddled under the table whilst he brooded. It was a silly place to be, but it
was a confined space, and that was how he felt: confined. “What are you doing under there?”

“Thinking” Harry muttered.

“About?” She sat down on a chair.

“Me being useless.”

Hermione sighed with the air of someone who had been very frustrated for very long. “You're
not useless, Harry.”

“Then why haven't we found another horcrux?” he asked, looking into her chocolate brown
eyes. “Why is it, that Voldemort is still living and breathing and killing?”

Hermione sighed again. “We will beat him. Something will come along, and we'll be able to
find another horcrux. We *will*.”

“When, Hermione?” he raised himself onto his knees, facing her. “I haven't got a clue what
to do next, and it could be months until someone tells us where the next horcrux is. People are
dying and I don't know what to do!” He rested his head on her lap, his forehead on her knees.
“I've failed everyone.”

“Oh, Harry…” she stroked his messy hair once, then slid onto the floor next to him, so she was
eyelevel with him. “If there's something you're not, you're not a failure. You got us
this far, didn't you? Something'll come along; we just have to be patient. You're a
fantastic leader, really, Harry…”

He watched her lips move as she spoke, then looked straight into her eyes again. They seemed to
be drawing closer… they *were* drawing closer… her face was inches from his, her body pressed
up against his chest… In a heart stopping second Harry realised that in a moment their lips would
be *touching*…

“Hey, Luna's here, you two!” Ron's voice rang into the tent. With a small *thud!*
Harry and Hermione's heads crashed together.

“Sorry” they both muttered, rubbing the place where their foreheads had collided. Blushing
furiously, Hermione stormed out of the tent without another word.

Harry couldn't *believe* Ron's timing. If only he'd yelled ten seconds later.
What difference did ten seconds make? Well, obviously it would have made all the difference to him,
but Ron could have afforded it. Or, why couldn't Luna have spared that ten few seconds? It had
been *so* close…

“*Stupid Ron**”* thought Harry savagely, rubbing his bruising forehead. “*Stupid
Luna. Stupid Hermione. Stupid ME.”* And he walked outside, his scowl evaporating as he saw Luna,
though he was still seething. Hermione was determinedly avoiding his eye, and still rather red.

“*Oh, well*” he thought gloomily. They'd probably just forget (or pretend to forget, in
Harry's case) that little encounter by tomorrow. It was probably just a spur of the moment
thing anyway, at least on Hermione's part. They'd be perfect friends again in a day.

Just friends.

-->



21. Ravenclaw's hat
-------------------



As Harry had predicted, Hermione was her usual friendly self the next day, as though nothing had
happened.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat at the table, restless and bored. Luna was visiting again, but had
popped out somewhere to get a can of soup. Harry was just wondering whether they would *ever*
defeat Voldemort when Ron sighed.

“Oh, come on you guys!” he whined, clearly agitated. “We've got to think. Where could it
be?”

“Ron, we've been trying to think of places where someone would hide a tiny little horcrux
since we got here!” Harry snapped. “What do you think we're trying to do?”

“It's no use snapping at him Harry,” said Hermione wearily. “Come on, lets- lets brainstorm
some ideas, we haven't done that in ages.”

Harry felt this wouldn't account to much, as they'd already done it a thousand times,
but it would account to less if he stopped them.

“Right.” Hermione had a piece of paper and a quill. “Now, we've already got rid of the
locket, cup and snake, so, if Dumbledore was correct, we need to find something of Ravenclaw's
or Gryffindor's.”

“We've already been through this,” Ron grumbled, and Hermione ignored him.

“Now, the only known possession of Gryffindor's was this sword, and we've made sure it
wasn't a horcrux. But there aren't any known possessions of Ravenclaw's.”

“Possessions of Ravenclaw's?” Luna had come back, carrying an armful of lentil soup. “You
wouldn't be talking about the legendary indestructible hat of Ravenclaw, would you?”

The trio stared at her, then at each other.

“What legendary indestructible hat, Luna?” Harry could feel his heart rate quickening.

“Oh, you weren't talking about it.” Luna shifted uneasily. “Well, I shouldn't really be
talking about it, not many people know it even exists… Can you keep a secret?”

Harry, Ron and Hermione nodded eagerly.

“Well, legend says that when she was young, she bought a hat to practise spells on. It just so
happens she came across a spell to make it indestructible, and no spells can destroy it.”

“And this actually exists?” Hermione sounded keen.

“Oh, yes, it's kept in a top secret room in the Department of Mysteries. You see, my Mother
was an Unspeakable, and she trusted Daddy with this secret, and he's passed it on to me.” She
sighed dreamily. “Sort of like a heritage.”

They stared at her, dumbfounded.

“Um, excuse us a moment, Luna,” Ron croaked, and their heads snapped together.

“What do you think?” Hermione hissed. “Do you think it's real, or is she just being
Luna-ish?”

“No, my Mom mentioned it once when I was little,” Ron whispered excitedly.

“But do you really think Voldemort would use it as a horcrux?” Harry said quietly.

“I would have thought so, I mean, not only did it belong to Ravenclaw, but where better to hide
a horcrux than an indestructible hat?” The two boys nodded in agreement.

“Luna,” said Harry “Tell us more about this hat.”

“Well,” Luna put down the tins of soup and sat with them. “The Department of Mysteries keep it,
trying to work out the charm that Ravenclaw put on it. I mean it's not just a shield charm, it
is truly indestructible, and *nothing* can get it. Some say You Know Who once got his hands on
it, but they managed to retrieve it.” Harry, Ron and Hermione shared a look. “Hardly anyone can get
to it, just a few trusted Unspeakables, and my Mom was one.” She beamed proudly, eyes flickering to
the sky for a second. Harry felt his heart warm, then felt guilty about what they were about to
do.

“Luna,” he said softly “we need you to take us to the hat. You say Voldemort got his hands on
it? Well… we think he might have used it for some dark magic.”

“What kind of dark magic?” Luna's eyes narrowed, an unfamiliar look of sharpness on her
face.

“Well, there have been these objects, where Voldemort has… placed part of his soul in them.”
Luna looked horrified. “And we think Ravenclaw's hat might be one of them.”

“So you have to destroy it.” Luna looked sad, and then sighed. “Well, if it's going to help
you defeat You Know Who, I suppose it has to be done.”

“It's crucial to defeating him.”

“Yes, then, I'll take you.” She stood up, still looking disappointed. “It's a shame
though… such an ancient relic…”

Ron stood up and put an arm around Luna's shoulder. “Listen, we're really sorry,
Luna,”

“Yes, we are,” Hermione nodded.

“If there was a way to get the soul piece and keep the hat we'd do it,” Harry agreed.

“… But Voldemort's turned it into an object of evil. Won't you feel better, knowing
you've helped get rid of that manky old murderer?” The corners of Luna's mouth
twitched.

“Right, we need polyjuice potion if we're going to the Ministry of Magic,” she said
suddenly.

“Right” Hermione said. They had been able to raid the Hogwarts stock cupboard, leaving money and
an anonymous note of apology.

Early next morning, they got ready, bringing an extra flagon of potion in case they ran out.
They apparated to the entrance of the Ministry of Magic. They waited until an Unspeakable apparated
next to them, then knocked him out, took a few hairs and put a spell on him to make him realize he
had to stay at home for some reason. They did the same with three other Unspeakables, and strayed
into the Ministry building.

“Department of Mysteries,” said a cool female voice as the lift slid open. Harry, as Unspeakable
Josiah Weston, walked along the slightly familiar torch lit corridor, Ron, Hermione and Luna
following in hot pursuit.

They went through the plain black door again, finding themselves in the circular black room with
its flickering blue candles. The doors began to move, and Harry squeezed his eyes shut tight, but
the line of blue candlelight still burned through his eyelids, imprinting themselves in his
pupils.

“Hmm,” said Luna, who didn't seem to be affected much by the blue lines. “Let's try…
this one.”

They followed her into a long corridor with a row of barred wooden doors. “Hmm…” She peered
through one of them. Harry looked too. Inside there appeared to be some sort of tiger crossed with
an elephant, that kept changing the colour of it's stripes as it paced up and down.

“How odd…” Luna looked over to the other little rooms, then to a much larger one, and gave a
little scream of triumph.

“Shh!” Harry whispered, even though it was deserted. “What's up?”

“Sorry, but, but… look!” She pointed to the creatures in the cage. She looked practically dizzy
with happiness. *“Crumple-horned Snorkacks!”*

“WHAT?” Harry, Ron and Hermione's jaws dropped. They rushed over to the small room, and
gawped through the bars. Two purplish black creatures were prancing around. They were about half
the size of a person, and resembled pigs: they had short snouts, boar-like tusks and twisty tails,
but instead of stubby little legs they had clawed paws and broad, fuzzy bodies that resembled
bears. In between their long, furry ears were a pair of yellowish spiralled horns, thick and almost
lethal looking.

“Well I'll be,” said Ron, looking amazed.

“I can't believe they're real!” muttered Hermione, staring in determined disbelief at
the creatures.

Luna looked besides herself. “Didn't I tell you? Oh, my goodness, I had no *idea* the
Ministry were breeding them! Oh, my, Daddy will be so pleased, I can't *believe* this is
happening, it's so exiting!”

“Luna,” said Hermione gently, looking guilty “I'm not sure… I mean, there isn't anything
to say they *are* Crumple- horned…”

Luna's smile dropped. Hermione's guilty look increased.

“Don't be so sure, Hermione!” Ron pointed to a little plaque that read,

*The elusive Crumple-horned Snorkack (suidae crumpilius hornicus)*

*Origin: Sweden (?)*

*Greatest magical ability: ?*

*Life expectancy: ?*

*Discovered by: Zentavious Lovegood (1851- 1947)*

Hermione looked taken aback. Luna looked as though she could kiss him.

“Oh, they *are* Snorkacks! Wow, look! My great-great-great grandpapy discovered them! Oh,
isn't this exiting?! I wonder if we can get closer…”

“But we can't…” but Luna had already jiggled the handle.

“Identification, please” said a cool female voice.

“Uhh,” Luna checked her badge “Ann Marie Twycross, Unspeakable, regulation of Mysterious and
Elusive creatures office.”

“Voice identification confirmed.” The lock clicked, and Luna began petting the creatures
enthusiastically.

“Lucky Ann Marie Twycross was part of this office.”

“It sure is, Luna. I guess you proved us all wrong, huh?” Ron smiled fondly into her deliriously
happy face. Harry's eyes drifted from Ron's dopey smile to Luna's dewy-eyed beam, and a
little idea floated into his head.

But there was no time for that now.

“Come on, you lot. We need to check out this hat, the sooner the better.”

They dragged Luna from the Snorkack's domain, half-heartedly shutting the door.

“Ok, let's try again” said Hermione when they were back in the revolving room, putting a
fiery cross on the door.

Next they came to the room with the crumbling archway, and Harry thought he saw a flicker of a
shadow of a man that looked mysteriously like Sirius behind the veil, but knew it was just a cruel
trick of the room. After that they went back into the corridor leading out of the Department of
Mysteries.

“Ah, this is the way.” The next time they tried Luna led them into a room that seemed to be
completely made of stainless steel. It was extremely unnerving to be completely surrounded by your
own reflections.

There was a cat-flap sized door at the other end, and Luna crawled through it, the trio
following. They found themselves inside a corridor, large cobwebs stretching across the
ceiling.

“Third door…” Luna muttered. They went in. There was a huge tank, and a giant, slimy red lump of
muscle was connected to thick blue and red wires. It was pounding vibrations through the air, and
the whole room was moving with its thumps. It was a gigantic, working model of the heart.

Luna took another door, and then another and another, going through rooms filled with weird and
other-worldly stuff. Harry didn't understand why it was so deserted: where were all the
Unspeakables?

“How do you know where to go?” Ron asked suddenly. They had gone through at least 50 rooms and
corridors, sometimes passing the same room twice, and Harry was getting extremely confused. They
had to be deep in the heart of the Department of Mysteries.

“Memorised it from Daddy… ah, now, this is one of the most top secret corridors.” She walked
through a wall that appeared to be solid, and they came into a pitch-black corridor. Luna lit a
nearby candle, so the flickering green light half illuminated their surroundings. It was
museum-like: there were antiques and objects on display, all protected by some sort of magical
force field.

They walked along the corridor, the walls getting narrower and narrower, until Harry abruptly
stopped, Ron and Hermione bumping into him: the floor before them had crumbled away, leaving a
gaping hole in the middle of the hallway.

“Don't worry, it's just a precaution to deter intruders,” said Luna dreamily, and she
walked over the hole, apparently through thin air. Harry, Ron, and Hermione followed her, feeling
like they would fall.

They stepped on a red carpet, and the room literally turned upside down, so they were standing
on the ceiling and looking up at the floor. “Another precaution,” Luna smiled as they looked around
in panic. They walked off the carpet and the room spun back to normal.

“Precaution,” said Luna when Ron yelped in shock, as they walked straight into a wall of fire
and appeared to be burning.

“Precaution,” said Luna when Hermione screamed in horror as they passed a gruesome giant face in
the wall that wailed and moaned, its unseeing eyes rolling.

“Now these vaults,” Luna indicated the heavily bolted and chained steel vaults on the sides of
the walls. “Dad told me they contain some of the most precious magical items in the wizarding
world.”

She turned to the one second nearest the end, and drew a key from her pocket. “Mum's,” she
grinned, and inserted it in the lock. There was a rumbling noise, like two rusty hammers clashing
together, and the bolts undid themselves and the heavily knotted chains snaked loose. The heavy
iron door slid upwards, to reveal another iron door, which slid down into the ground, and then
another iron door slid upwards. A blast of hot air hit their faces, like opening an oven door.

Thick streams of dust came billowing out like smoke, and, coughing, Harry peered inside.

On a high table in the centre of the room, illuminated by a dim spotlight, was a patched and
frayed old hat. It was intricately decorated, even though it was faded: it was made with dark blue
silk, and black ruffled lace lined the hem. Strings of gold thread were weaved around it, giving it
the effect of being covered in a gold spider's web. It was bent at the top, so it pointed
outwards instead of up, and there was a little eagle on a string dangling from it.

Luna made a move to get it, but Harry held her back. “Don't touch: it could be a horcrux,
remember.”

Ron pulled out his sword, and stepped closer into the room. He hooked the hat up with the end of
his sword, and now it was up closer Harry could see something was wrong: it was pulsating slightly,
the gold thread had black strands creeping up it, and the miniature black glass eagle had a
skeletal look about it, its eyes glowing red. Not the shape of the eagle on Ravenclaw's house
emblem.

“Strange,” Luna's eyebrows furrowed, “it's supposed to be a bright blue, not the dark
blue it is.”

“It is a horcrux,” said Harry grimly. “But how do we destroy it if it's indestructible?”

Ron shrugged, shifting his feet.

Suddenly, there was a deafening noise like an alarm. Harry looked around, horrified. There was a
flashing red light in the corner, and when he looked at Ron's feet he saw he had broken a thin
red beam of light. There was a network of them lining the floor.

“Oh no!” Luna groaned “I forgot about the muggle laser system!”

They ducked under the door, which was shutting.

“Oh, boy” groaned Ron. About ten Unspeakables had apparated and shot spells at them. It was
lucky they were all huddled behind Ron, who was holding the hat. The spells deflected off it. Harry
shoved his hood over his face. They hadn't been able to make out their faces, and he didn't
want the people they were impersonating to get in trouble. Then they ran.

“INTRUDERS! INTRUDERS!” moaned the giant wooden face, its carved eyes no longer rolling, but
staring at them in fixation.

“*Aguamenti*!” Luna yelled as they ran. A jet of water shot at the wall of fire. “The
precautions aren't precautions anymore!”

They ran onto the red carpet, falling in a heap onto the ceiling as the room turned upside down,
then back onto the floor as they crawled off it.

“Jump!” Harry yelled as they came to the hole. They managed to jump, with a little help from
magic, and carried on running until they got to the dark corridor, where they hid behind a large
statue.

“Where are they?” came a gruff voice. One of the Unspeakables struck a match, and Harry's
breath hitched in his throat as the man almost brushed against them. He was tempted to stun him,
having gotten used to stunning Death Eaters, but remembered the man wasn't an enemy; he was
just doing his job.

“Hah!” Harry blinked as another Unspeakable shone a bright light in his eyes. “Gotcha!”

He felt Hermione tug his sleeve, and a there was a tugging feeling at his navel; she was
disapparating them both.

They appeared back in the room with the giant heart. They remained silent and still for a
moment, watching the heart pulsate grotesquely.

“Where are Ron and Luna?” Hermione whispered.

“I don't know,” he hissed back “they'd better not have gone too far away.”

“Is this the right door?” she opened a door to her right, and a loud roar emitted from it. She
closed it with a snap. “Err; actually, I think it was this one.” They went back into the stainless
steel room, where Ron and Luna were backing against a wall, an Unspeakable pointing his wand to
their hearts. The hat was still hooked over the top of Ron's sword.

“Now, give it to me,” said the Unspeakable “nice and calmly…”

Suddenly there was a loud grunt from the cat-flap sized door they had just come through. One of
the Crumple- horned Snorkacks had escaped from the regulation of Mysterious and Elusive creatures
office, and was lolloping towards Ron. One of its horns caught on the hat, and it raced out of the
room, wearing the hat.

“NO!” yelled Ron and the Unspeakable, and the five of them raced after it, back into the
circular room. They caught a glimpse of it opening the door by magic, and its curly tail was the
last they saw of it before it bounded into another room.

As soon as the door shut the room started revolving.

“Oh, great,” muttered the Unspeakable.

They opened the door, praying it was the one the Snorkack had gone through, but it wasn't.
Three more Unspeakables spotted them.

“Aha! Well done, Gerald, you've got them!”

“But not the hat! One of the Snorkacks made off with it.”

“The Snorkacks?! But how did they get out of the regulation-”

“No time!” snarled Gerald the Unspeakable, and all of them once again huddled into the revolving
room.

This time they chose a door that led to the room with the crumbly archway, and, huddled in the
corner, was the Crumple- horned Snorkack, quivering slightly and staring at the hat in
bewilderment.

“Aha!” Ron got to the hat first, but as soon as his skin made contact with the material,
something very odd happened. His jaw quivered and he turned a delecate shade of green, looking
sick. Every one stopped and stared at him. His irises clouded over, turning scarlet.

“Must… Kill… Harry… Potter…” His head snapped up, a mad look of ferocity on his features. He
blinked, and his eyes snapped back to blue. “N-no! Who are you?”

“R-Ronald?” said Luna tentatively. She looked apprehensive.

“Kirkby,” whispered one of the Unspeakables. “Kirkby, jot this down, it's never happened
before!”

“I'm your worst nightmare, Ronald Weasley,” Ron's eyes flashed back to red, grinning
dangerously.

“Ron, what-” Luna approached him cautiously.

“Ssssssssssss.” Luna jumped back at the odd hissing sound Ron made, his eyes looking wild.
“Don't come anywhere near me, little girl- NO!” Ron hit himself on the head, still clutching
the hat. He stumbled back onto the wall. “Leave her alone!”

“Ron,” whispered Hermione, looking scared. “Do something, Harry, he's being possessed!” Even
though this was a serious position, Harry felt a twinge of gladness that Hermione still cared about
Ron the same way she had done before they had started going out.

“Ok, Ron, calm down…” Harry calmly walked over to where Ron was struggling with himself.

“Harry Potter,” Ron hissed, his burning scarlet eyes alive with murderous hunger. “You must
die…” he stretched out a freckled hand. “No!” he snatched it back “you wont hurt him!... Oh, yes I
will… You can't!...Yes!- No!-Yes!”

“Ron-”

“AAAHHH!” Ron started attacking Harry, giving him a pounding of bruises as he viciously thumped
his back. “NO!” Harry straightened his glasses as Ron slammed himself hard against the wall, and
then ran down the stairs, tripping and splitting his knee on the stone. However, he didn't seem
to be in any pain, as he immediately scrabbled up and everyone watched in awe as, with a determined
roar, he threw the hat into the veil. Breathing hard, he backed away, and raced back over to
them.

“WHAT DID YOU DO?” screamed the Unspeakable Harry presumed was Kirkby. He flung his hands on his
head. “THAT WAS AN ANCIENT, PRICELESS TREASURE-”

But Harry was staring at the archway. It was vibrating, and a rumbling sound emitted from behind
the black sheet-

“Get back!” he yelled as smoke hissed from the sides “It's going to expl-”

BOOM! The crumbling old archway shattered into pieces, sending fragments of rock bouncing off
the walls, and showering everyone with a layer of white dust.

Harry opened an eye, and looked up from the pile of rubble to the people surrounding him.
Hermione was fanning the air, trying to clear it of dust. Ron and Luna were clutching each other
tightly, Luna looking shaken. The Unspeakables were cowering in a corner.

Harry rushed over to the door, indicating for the others to follow him. Luckily, it was the
first door they tried in the revolving room that led to the corridor out of the Department of
Mysteries. He could feel the potion wearing off and tugged his hood tighter over his face.

He led them to the corridor where fireplaces lined the walls, turning green as people threw floo
powder into them and disappeared off. Harry grabbed some glittering powder, and said the first
place that came into his mind.

“The Burrow, Ottery St. Catchpole!” He said quietly. He stepped in, felt the brief feeling of
whizzing around speedily, and arrived in the fireplace of The Burrow.

“Harry!” Mrs. Weasley yelped, sending her tea flying. Ron, Hermione and Luna arrived shortly.
Harry, feeling overwhelmingly excited, dumped his things, including his wand and Gryffindor's
sword, on the Burrow floor.

“Mrs. Weasley, I know its short notice, but can we please stay here for a few days?” he asked.
They had just got rid of the fourth and final horcrux. He couldn't get it through his head.

“But of course! What have you been doing, you're all filthy?” She wiped Ron's shoulder
of white dust, and then noticed his expression. “Ron? Are you ok? You look… odd.”

“I'm fine,” he whispered hoarsely. Hermione and Luna pulled him into his seat, identical
expressions of worry on their faces.

“Luna! Luna Lovegood! Are you ok, dear? Are you all ok?” She looked worriedly at them. “Where on
*earth* have you been these past few months? I've been worried sick…” She carried on
blabbering away as she made them all a pot of tea. Harry felt very guilty. It must have been hard
for her, having her son missing all these months. Ron had sent them small notes saying the three of
them were fine, but that was all. And, not fifteen minuets ago, he had been possessed by
Voldemort.

“Mrs. Weasley, we've been doing things for Dumbledore.” He sipped the hot tea, feeling
extremely grateful to her as it slipped down his throat.

“Oh, but it's just so *good* to see you all healthy and well!” She burst into tears,
and kissed the top of Harry's dust-covered forehead, giving him a bone-crushing hug. She then
did the same to Hermione, and finally Ron, planting kisses all over his face.

“Arthur's around, I'll go get him- and Ginny, Harry, get Ginny!”

Still brimming with excitement, Harry climbed the stairs.

He didn't take any notice of Malfoy's room being empty as he swept past the open door
and flung Ginny's open.

He was about to speak when he stopped abruptly at the sight before him. Two people were sitting
on Ginny's bed, so closely entwined with each other they hadn't noticed Harry come in.

Ginny Weasley was kissing Draco Malfoy.

*

-->



22. A shock
-----------



Harry could feel his tongue go dry as he stared, open mouthed, at them. He was glued to the
spot, waves of shock washing over him as he stared at the sight before him. It couldn't be
happening, yet here it was, in front of his very eyes.

They were lip-locked, and Malfoy's slender fingers were roaming along her back, while
Ginny's were tousling his hair.

Ginny's lips trailed down his jaw and he groaned as her teeth latched on to his neck. Harry
blanched as Malfoy's wandering hands snuck under her top, and shot out of the room, closing the
door softly in horror.

*

That night Harry sat at the foot of his bed, pondering what he had seen. It was too much for him
to take in, he couldn't believe it. No matter how he put it, it didn't seem right. Ginny
and Malfoy. Ginny Weasley and Draco Malfoy. Ginny- Malfoy.

He shook his head to rid himself of that thought.

Anger at Ginny flared up in him. How could she do this? He could only imagine the Weasley's
horror-struck faces if they ever found out. How long had this been going on? There he had been,
feeling guilty that Ginny was pining away for him, stuck at the Burrow, when all along she was
snogging *Draco- flipping- Malfoy*.

And what was wrong with Malfoy? How could he kiss *her,* after all those spiteful, hurtful
remarks about her family? But what if… what if he had only said that stuff because he had fancied
her all these years and tried to cover it up because… because his *father* didn't approve,
or something. More *what ifs* buzzed around in his head. What if Lucius Malfoy had found out,
and that's why his son had run away? What if Ginny had always felt the same, and they had
finally admitted it to each other when he came? What if this had been going on for longer, since
last year, or the year before?!

No. Even though he was well past angry, Harry knew Ginny would never betray him, or anyone for
that matter.

But the fact remained that she was with Malfoy. What did she *see* in him? How could she
like him?

He heard a bleep on his alarm clock. Midnight exactly. He really should get to sleep…

He heard the tiniest creek and a whisper from outside. Whipping his wand out, Harry crept to the
door and pressed his ear to the wood.

“…Go to your room, it'd be much easier than sneaking down here every other night.” It was
Malfoy, and he was speaking almost too softly to hear.

“We'll wake my parents, we *can't* get caught!” Ginny hissed back, barely audible.
Harry's mouth curved into a grimace. So, they were sneaking around the Burrow, now were they?
He made an angry move towards the door handle.

But wait, should he go and interrupt them? This *was* Ginny after all, she could look after
herself, and it wasn't *really* his business… he paused, thinking. No… why should he sit
there, letting Malfoy take advantage of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's daughter, under their noses,
when they had so generously took him in?

Almost silently, he opened the door and tip-toed down the stairs. He could see them in the
Kitchen, their lips once again glued together in a kind of tongue- wrestle. It wasn't hard to
spot them, as Malfoy's hair and skin were so pale he seemed to glow in the dark.

Harry silently cast the mufliatio spell on the door he had just entered through, so the
Weasleys, Luna and Hermione couldn't hear a thing.

Harry grimaced at them. They were kissing and running their hands over each other, whispering
occasionally, but they seemed more than content.

“Having fun?” said Harry in the most waspish voice he had ever used himself use. With an
unpleasant (in Harry's opinion) sound like a plunger their lips broke apart. He lit his wand.
They stared at him with a mixture of fear, horror and (in Malfoy's case) annoyance, but they
were still wrapped around each other, cemented in place.

“Harry!” Ginny whispered, looking scandalous.

“This is- err- exactly what it looks like,” said Malfoy bluntly. Harry raised an eyebrow. At
least he was to the point.

Ginny shot him an incredulous look.

“Honesty is the best policy, babe,” he muttered swarvely.

Harry scowled, his eyes blazing. How *dare* Malfoy, the scumbag, refer to Ginny as
“babe”?

He stalked across the room, tore them apart and threw Malfoy through the open living room door,
then slammed it shut with his wand and locked it.

“Harry!” Ginny exclaimed. Malfoy jiggled the lock about, shouting through the keyhole, until
Harry put a silencing charm on it.

“What are you doing? Let him go!” Ginny had stopped looking terrified and was glaring at him
furiously.

Harry blocked her way to the door.

“What am *I* doing? What do you think *you're* doing?” he hissed.

“What do you mean?” Ginny muttered, flushing scarlet and avoiding his eye.

“What are you doing with *him*? Why are you letting him see you like *that*?” Harry
had only just noticed that she was wearing a very tight strapless black nightie.

Ginny blushed, trying to cover herself a bit more. “It's really none of your business.”

Harry stared at her, and then started pacing the room, snarling under his breath.

“When did this start?” he shot at her.

Ginny hesitated, then said in a low voice, “about five or six months ago.” Harry felt like a
stern teacher lecturing a naughty child.

“You know he'll only end up hurting you.” It wasn't a question, but a statement. Ginny
glared at him, her eyes flashing, but said nothing.

“What do you see in him?” Harry spat.

“It's none of your business!” Ginny repeated. Harry stopped pacing.

“But it is your family's. What would your Mom and Dad say if they knew you were going out
with a Malfoy?”

“You're as bad as *Ron,*” Ginny sneered, disgusted.

“Ah, Ron, I wonder what he'll do to Malfoy when I tell him?”

“You- you wouldn't dare!” Ginny hissed. She had gone slightly pale and her eyes were
narrowed.

“Oh, wouldn't I?”

“No, you can't!”

“Your family have a right to know. If you don't tell them, I will.”

“Harry, you don't understand, they'll throw him out, he's got no-where else to
go!”

“Good riddance,” Harry muttered under his breath. “Then you've only got one choice,
haven't you? Either break up with him, or have him chucked out on the streets. It's for
your own good, Ginny.”

“I won't have to do either,” Ginny hissed, eyes fiery. “Because I'm not telling my
parents, and if you tell anyone, I'll- I'll… I'll tell Hermione how you feel about
her.”

Harry stopped dead. She wouldn't…

“How do you know?” he whispered, transfixed.

“I have my ways” she stared him defiantly in the eye.

“Blackmail, Ginny?” he breathed, softly but deadly cold. “You see? He's affecting you
already, poisoning your mind…”

“What do you care?!” Ginny yelled.

“I care because he will hurt you!” Harry roared back. He was glad of the mufflatio spell.

“You don't care about that, *you* were the one who broke up with *me*, it's
not like you still fancy me or anything…”

“Oh, oh, I get it! This is just to get back at me, isn't it? To make me jealous!”

Ginny looked as though he'd slapped her.

“Is that your opinion of me?” she whispered, genuinely hurt “That I'd just *use*
someone to get back at you?!”

“Ginny, Ginny I didn't mean that.” He took a step towards her, but she flinched away,
looking devastated. Why couldn't he keep his big mouth shut? “Look, I might have broken up with
you, but I still care about you very much. I don't want to see you get hurt.” As though to a
frightened animal, he stretched his hand out slowly and wrapped her in a hug.

“Who says I will?” she whispered against his shoulder.

“He's a nasty piece of work, Ginny. You don't know how horrible he can be.”

“He's different. He's changed.”

Harry shook his head sadly. “No-one like Malfoy can change, Ginny. It's the way he's
been bought up, he's never known any other way. You've got to leave him.”

“You don't understand.” She pulled away from him. “I can't leave him. Ever.”

There was something most un-Ginny-ish in her voice, so gentle and soft it was almost
unnoticeable. There was a long silence and Ginny appeared to be lost in thought, or memories. “I
think- I think I love him, Harry.”

“Wh- what?!” Harry spluttered. Did she really just say that? “What makes you say that?”

Ginny shrugged. “It's something I can't explain.”

“Look, perhaps you're having a little… romance. But it's just an infatuation. End it
now.”

“*You* were my infatuation, Harry.” She looked at him again, eyes blazing. “I'm sorry
Harry, but that's all you were. Whatever I had with you, it wasn't love. I had my dream. I
had a talented, popular and handsome boyfriend; I had everything a girl could want in a man.” Harry
was blushing so badly his glasses were steaming up. “But I had… a gap. There was something
*missing* in our relationship.” She looked out the window, the moon reflecting in her eyes.
“Draco fills that gap.”

Harry gaped at her in disbelief. How could Malfoy have something he didn't? But, putting his
arrogance aside, Harry knew she was right. She was in love. With Malfoy. How could he deny it, when
he could see it was the blatant truth? How could anyone deny it, when it was written all over her
face?

What had Malfoy done to her?

This was not the effects of any potion or spell, it was too pure. No, Malfoy had tricked and
deceived her, poisoned her mind, used someway to make her fall for him. *He* was the one using
*her.* He didn't care about her, he just wanted a companion. And as soon as the war was
over and he was free of the confinements of the Burrow, he'd forget about her, turn her away,
break her heart and move on to the next girl.

Harry *couldn't* let that happen.

“Wait here” he said, and before Ginny could open her mouth he had gone through the door, locked
it and put another muffliatio on it.

As soon as he turned around he felt a pair of strong hands around his collar and he stared into
furious grey eyes.

“What have you said to her?” Malfoy hissed dangerously, his voice filled with venom.

Harry pushed him off. “What have *you* said to her, you lying, deceitful little maggot?” He
spat back.

The moonlight was shining on Malfoy's eyes, making them go an eerie glowing silver colour,
but they clouded over with malice and hate. Harry hadn't really had a good look at him since
sixth year, but he was different. Slightly taller than Harry, he looked both healthier and
unhealthier than he had been in sixth year: healthier because he didn't look so fragile and ill
anymore, and he had a hint of muscles on his arms. Though he was still much paler than the average
person, there was more colour in him than Harry had ever seen in him before. However, he looked
less healthy because of the blackened scars on his shoulders from his Death Eater training. Also
because he wasn't as well groomed as usual; his white blond hair had grown from lack of
haircuts and he had pulled it back into a rugged ponytail, and his jaw was lined with fine
stubble.

“What are you talking about?” Malfoy drawled.

“I don't know what you've said to her, but you've made Ginny trust you. I know your
little game, Malfoy; you're just going to leave her!” For a moment Malfoy looked wounded, and
then he regained himself.

“You're even more barking than usual, Potter.”

“Oh am I? Well tell me,” Harry stepped closer to Malfoy “when did you start caring about this
family?”

Malfoy paused, glaring at him.

“It's none of your business, Pothead!” he spat. “Who do you think you are, Gin's
brother?”

“No, I just want to protect her from *you*!” he said nastily, poking him hard in the
chest.

“What do you think I'm going to do, bite her head off?” Malfoy jeered.

“No, you're going to break her heart, and you're not getting away with it. Why don't
you go back to the Death Eaters where you belong?”

Malfoy's eyes flashed malevolently. “I- shut up, Potter.”

“Go on, get out of here. Run back to Mummy and Daddy,” Harry jeered waspishly, forcing Malfoy to
back against the door.

“Potter, I'm warning you…”

“Why hasn't your Mother come to find her precious little prince? Hey, perhaps she's glad
to finally be rid of you, maybe that's why she asked Snape to-” WHAM! Harry felt blood trickle
down his nose as Malfoy's fist connected with his face. In a daze, Harry looked around the
spinning room and saw Malfoy's blurred outline raise its fist, and his breath was knocked out
of him as Malfoy punched him in the stomach.

Harry kicked out at Malfoy's kneecap, and he yowled, clutching it. As Malfoy jumped around
on the spot, Harry dove on him in a rugby tackle, and they scrabbled about, punching and kicking
and yelling, wands forgotten. Harry gave him a head butt and threw him across the room.

He lunged for Gryffindor's sword, which had been left on the floor, but when he grabbed it
he felt something cold and sharp on the back of his neck.

Slowly, he turned around. Malfoy was standing over him, blood pouring from his mouth, pointing a
sword he seemed to have conjured out of no-where at Harry's neck.

The sword was elegant and well-made, though a lot thinner and delicate looking than Harry's.
Harry could see there was a letter engraved on the hilt; a golden M against a green background,
encircled by a gold cobra with emeralds for eyes.

“Admiring my family emblem, Potter?” Malfoy hissed. He looked dangerous: he was shaking with
anger and (because of the Black in him) looked slightly mad in his fury.

Quick as a flash, Harry scooped up Gryffindor's sword and attacked.

*Ching! Ching! Ching!* The clash of metal on metal pounded in Harry's ears. It could
have been thunder it was so quick.

While the sword was slender, it was strong, and Malfoy was surprisingly skilful with it, much
more skilful than he was with a wand.

“Nice tricks, Malfoy, did Voldemort teach them to you?”

“NO!” Malfoy scowled, and then moistened his thin top lip with his tongue. “I'm a Malfoy; we
have a bit more class than you, Potter.”

Harry felt sweat drip down his eyebrows as they swung their swords relentlessly against each
other's, until, with a strained grunt, Harry overpowered Malfoy, and both he and his sword
dropped to the ground.

Feeling triumphant, Harry pointed his sword to Malfoy's chest. Malfoy looked terrified, but
then he laughed softly.

“You can't kill me, Gin'll kill you.”

“Stop calling her Gin!”

“Why do you care? It's not as though you're in love with her still!”

“And you are?”

Malfoy was silent, a gentle, faraway look in his eyes, similar to the one Ginny had.

“Yes,” he whispered, coming back to Earth “yes, I am.” He looked Harry in the eyes. “She makes
me the happiest I've ever been, and I'm not going to let *you*, or *anyone*, take
her away from me.”

“I don't believe you!” Harry yelled, but something in his heart doubted that. Malfoy gasped
as a bead of blood appeared on his chest where the sword was pointed.

“What would you know?!” Malfoy screamed “What do you know about love?! You don't understand.
You might be the Boy Who Lived, but you're doomed to be the Boy Who Never Loved! What's
happened to anyone who ever loved you, huh? Dead, aren't they Potter? Dumbledore, Hagrid,
Sirius Black, your Father, your dear Mother, they're dead!”

His words were poison, corrupting Harry's veins with their bitter coldness. The piercing
truth of his statement intoxicated him, and Harry had never hated Malfoy more. He would give almost
anything to plunge Gryffindor's sword through his chest, take the life out those jeering silver
eyes, wipe the smirk off that face once and for all…

Except Malfoy wasn't smirking, and his eyes weren't jeering. They were filled with
tears.

“And you just can't accept that *some* of us *can* love! Well, I'll prove to
you… I'll prove it to everybody!” And with more strength than Harry thought he had, Malfoy
pushed him away, wiped the blood from his chest and spat it from his mouth, fiddled with his hair
to make it more presentable, and unlocked the door with Harry's wand.

“Draco- what-?” Ginny, who had been sitting with her head on her arms at the kitchen table,
stood up.

“Ginny…” Malfoy breathed, taking her hand, and bent down on one knee. Harry, who was watching
from the doorway, raised an eyebrow. Malfoy looked into Ginny's confused eyes for confidence,
and then took a deep breath. “Ginevra Molly Weasley, will you do me the honour of becoming… my
wife?”

Harry's jaw dropped.

Ginny gasped and swayed a little.

“Ginny… Ginny don't you dare!” Harry said, but neither Malfoy nor Ginny seemed to have heard
him. Malfoy steadied her and she stood, gaping at him incredulously.

“Ginny, please, you can't!”

She looked like she was about to speak, but she covered her mouth with her hand and her eyes
overflowed with tears.

“Ginny, don't even go there!”

Ginny took a breath and turned away, hiding her face. “I don't think you're thinking
clearly, Draco,” she whispered. “We're sixteen and seventeen-”

“So what? My parents were engaged when they were fifteen,” Malfoy, who was still on one knee,
shrugged.

“We come from two of the most controversial families-”

“Well, we both know they all need a good kick up the-”

“We've been going out for six months.”

“Six *brilliant* months,” Malfoy breathed. He really had forgotten Harry was there. “And I
want the rest of my life to feel as good as those six months, Gin.”

Ginny let out a sob, and clamped her hand to her face, which was still hidden. “This is insane.”
Slowly, she turned around; showing her tear-stained face, which had a small smile upon it. “But I
always thought sanity was overrated.”

Malfoy swallowed, still not getting up from his kneeling position. “But then- does that
mean-?”

Ginny's watery smile widened. “Yeah.”

“Ginny!” Harry said furiously. Malfoy blinked.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I will! I'll marry you!” Tears streaming down her cheeks, she flung her arms around
him, and Malfoy, grinning idiotically, lifted her and spun her around. They didn't seem to be
aware that Harry, whose eyes were popping, still existed.

“As soon as we're both old enough to be out of Hogwarts,” Ginny whispered, caressing his
cheek.

“Oh,” Malfoy's smile faded a tiny bit, but he was still gazing at her mushily. “I don't
want to wait that long.”

“You will.” Ginny placed a kiss on his pointed nose “love lasts forever, doesn't it?”

Harry almost threw up.

He leant his forehead against hers, and they sealed their promise with a kiss.

“Ginny, Malfoy, you can't! Hello? HELLO?!” Harry felt as though he should rip them apart,
interfere, do *something*, but he couldn't. It was as though there was a barrier
surrounding them, and they were blocked off in their own little world, where just the two of them
existed.

And there was *nothing* he could do about it.

*

-->



23. Lucius Malfoy's capture part 1
----------------------------------



“You're joking!”

Ginny popped another crisp into her mouth and turned a page of her book. “I'm deadly
serious, Harry.”

Harry moved his chair closer to hers. “Eloping? You're thinking of *eloping* with
Malfoy?”

“It was just a suggestion. I mean, how else are we going to get married without our families
interfering? You know what my dad and brothers are like with the Malfoys.” She ate another crisp.
“Unless something really big happened, they'd never give us permission. Same with his parents,
I expect.”

Harry stared at her, slack-jawed with a look of exasperation on his face. “I can't believe
you're actually thinking about getting married to him!”

Ginny shut her book with a snap and a sigh. “You've already talked to me about this.”

“But-but you're too young, for one thing!”

“Like I've said, we're not actually getting married for another two years, not until
I'm out of school. Even so, I will decide whether I am too young or not, Harry, thanks for your
concern.” And she stalked off outside.

*

Harry continued to keep their secret, not only because of the fact that Ginny was keeping
Harry's secret, but also because they did truly seem *happy* together. As much as Harry
couldn't stand their dewy-eyes conversations and heated snogging sessions (that they managed to
keep from everyone else, yet somehow it was *he* who always walked in on them), he
couldn't deny they looked good together.

Also, Harry felt like a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. And, he thought, if he
was so relieved at having made Voldemort mortal again, how great would he feel when he was finally
rid of him?

But now he was really hungry for more, he wanted a bigger part. The only trouble was, no-one had
any idea where the Death Eaters secret hideout was.

“Mr. Weasley,” asked Harry over his sausage and eggs one breakfast, “what exactly *is* the
Order doing?”

Mr. Weasley smiled. “Lots of things,” he took a bite from his bacon, swallowed, and continued.
“For a start, we're providing comfort and shelter for all the people whose lives the Death
Eaters have corrupted. We all need to cop in; it's one for all out there. If only the Death
Eaters could understand that.” Harry noticed that Malfoy, who was sitting farthest away, not making
eye contact, stopped chewing for a millisecond. “Plus, we're trying to free all the muggleborns
they've captured.” He sighed. “It's gotten hectic. People are lying about their heritage,
and that causes so many problems in the ministry.”

“People should be *proud* of being muggleborn!” said Hermione hotly, voicing what Harry was
thinking. He smiled: he loved it when she was passionate about things. “*I* am. And if the
Death Eaters don't like it, we'll just trace their family tree: see how much muggle blood
*they've* got!” Oh man, he was falling face-first for her.

“Good for you, Hermione!” Mr. Weasley beamed. “Not only that, but we're doing Death Eater
hunts.”

“Huh?” said Harry, who was still gazing dreamily at Hermione “Death Eater hunts?”

“Yes. We're sending out little teams to capture Death Eaters. We need information, and
no-one knows wherever they're keeping the captives, poor folk, not to mention where the secret
hideout is.” He took another bite. “If we knew that we could bring them down from inside. Only
trouble is, the only Death Eaters we catch are junior ones, ones that have only just started or
ones under the imperious curse. They hardly know anything useful, let alone where their
headquarters is.”

However, Mr Weasley was to be proven wrong only later that day. They were having tea, one of
Mrs. Weasley's home-baked pies, and they were waiting for Fred and George, who had promised
they'd come. Mr. Weasley was reading the paper while they sat, stomachs grumbling. Harry bit
his lip as he saw one of the articles:

*Break in at the DOM?*

*Inside reporters have confirmed that The Department of Mysteries was broken into a short
while ago, and an old and valuable hat was destroyed, along with the fabled Archway of
Death.*

*The Unspeakables, however, are determined not to give information on who was there or what
happened.*

*“Mind your own business!” states Mr. Gerald Muntsley, 36, head of the Progressing Discoveries
office in the Department of Mysteries. “You know we can't tell any one, that's why
we're called Unspeakables! Honestly, can't you go and do a report on-”*

But Harry didn't read the rest as the Weasley twins came rushing in.

“Dad! Dad!” Fred Weasley's excited voice greeted them.

“You'll never guess what, Dad! You'll never guess who they've caught!” George
accompanied his brother.

“Caught? You mean they've got another Death Eater?”

“Yeah! Oh, this one's a good'un,” George shook his head, grinning.

“Who? Who is it?”

“Only Mr. Muggle-hater himself! They've caught *Lucius Malfoy!*”

Mr. Weasley stood up so fast he knocked his plate off the table. Behind him, Draco Malfoy gasped
and Ginny's arm twitched. Harry, who had ducked under the table to retrieve the knife that Mr.
Weasley had knocked off, saw she had placed a hand upon his wrist.

“Molly, get my cloak, I'm going over there,” Mr. Weasley said softly, a greedy, half-wild
delight in his eyes. Harry frowned. This was a new side to Mr. Weasley.

“Where are they keeping the captured Death Eaters?” he asked.

“Uh… Grimmuald Place, hope you don't mind, Harry,” Mr. Weasley smiled meekly.

“Not at all, but you're keeping Death Eaters in the Order of the Phoenix Headquarters?”

“Oh no, it's not Headquarters anymore, we changed location.”

“Then where is Headquarters?”

“An old house Rebecca Black provided for us. Very useful, she is, knows plenty of secret houses
and castles.” He roughly tied his cloak around his neck, still brimming with that disturbing
excitement.

“We're coming with you.” Harry Ron and Hermione stood up.

“Err, I don't think that's a very good-”

“It's Harry's house, Dad!” said Ron indignantly.

“I- err, well, yes, I suppose- ok, fine.” Kissing Mrs. Weasley, who looked disgruntled at having
to waste all that food, goodbye, he led them outside a few yards, so they could apparate.

“Wait!” Malfoy had hurried out to join them.

“Oh, no,” Mr. Weasley looked at Malfoy awkwardly. “You'd- you'd better stay here.”

“I'm not allowed to visit my own Father?!”

“Oh, all right, you can come too, but you two,” He pointed at Fred and George, who were
dithering about hopefully “are definitely staying here.”

“Awww!”

“We want to see you kick Lucius Malfoy's arse!” Malfoy let out a low hiss, his eyes
narrowed, but stayed put. Harry frowned again.

They apparated to number 12 Grimmuald Place, Harry grasping Malfoy's shoulder as he
didn't know where to go. When they landed, Harry walked right along side Mr. Weasley.

“Mr. Weasley,” Harry whispered “How exactly are you going to get information out of him?”

“Just a little interrogation.”

Harry didn't like the sound of that at all. “You mean, like,” he gulped “torture?”

“Good heavens, no!” Mr. Weasley looked shocked. “No, we're not inhumane! No, we'll use a
combination of vertaserum, occlumency and persuasion, no *crucio*s or anything.” Harry felt a
little more relieved, but then looked anxiously to where Malfoy was walking.

“Do you think it was a good idea to bring him?” he whispered. “I mean, it is his
*Father*…”

“Yes, well, it would have been more preferable if he hadn't known about this at all, really,
but I can't stop the lad speaking to Malfoy if he really wants, just to make sure he's ok,
you know… Poor kid, can't imagine what must be going through his head.”

As they walked down the all too familiar corridor, Harry spotted a pair of greyish bat-like ears
flapping around.

“Using this noble house as a place to imprison valiant purebloods such as Mr. Malfoy, oh, what
would Mistress say if she knew?” Kreature muttered to himself as he polished the grimy frame of
Mrs. Black's portrait.

“Oh, brother, Arthur,” muttered a man with a short furry black beard, whom Harry guessed must
have been a member of the Order. “I should have known you'd want to interrogate this one.”

“Well, you know how far Lucius and I go back, Leopold,” muttered Mr. Weasley darkly “he's
had it coming for years.”

Snickering, Leopold led them down to the cellars. Harry rarely went down there: it was dark and
damp-smelling, and stacked wall to wall with bottles of dated beverage. Sirius's parents must
have been alcoholics, or something.

Peering through the darkness, Harry saw that there were people walking around, muttering and
writing on clipboards. There were three figures sitting on chairs, hands appearing to be cuffed,
but the only one you could see was the figure of Lucius Malfoy, whose long white-blonde hair and
pale skin almost glowed in the dark. It was hard to tell what he must have been thinking: He was
sitting perfectly still, his face completely stripped of expression, staring straight ahead. If it
hadn't been for the steady rise and fall of his chest that signified breathing he could have
been mistaken for a wax statue.

Mr. Weasley ignored the two other captives and stepped over to Mr. Malfoy. He bent down so he
was level with Mr. Malfoy, freckled nose to pointed nose. “Lucius, Lucius, Lucius,” he muttered
mockingly. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”

Mr. Malfoy paused, glaring at Mr. Weasley hatefully. “Come to gloat, Arthur?” he said, his voice
hoarse. He sneered at Mr. Weasley, but it did not contain his usual haughtiness.

“*Is that it?”* Harry thought. He had expected something a little more scornful.

Mr. Weasley seemed to think so too, as he smiled in ridicule. “Losing your nerve, Malfoy?”

Mr. Malfoy did not answer, however, but stayed still and looked over Mr. Weasley's shoulder.
His eyes trailed along Harry, Ron and Hermione, but widened as he saw his son's pale face
looming in the darkness. Draco and Lucius Malfoy stared at each other through identical grey
eyes.

“Hello, *son,*” Mr. Malfoy muttered softly. Draco flinched, looking sick.

“Arthur,” the man named Leopold had joined them. “We're interrogating these others
first.”

“Well, if we must,” sighed Mr. Weasley. Harry was finding Mr. Weasley's obvious happiness at
Malfoy's capture pretty unnerving. But then again, Mr. Malfoy never missed an opportunity to
degrade the Weasley's. If he was Mr. Weasley, he'd be happy to bring Malfoy off his high
horse.

Mr. Malfoy had returned to his dead pan stare as he was led out of the cellar by his cuffed
hands. Draco tried to catch his eye, but he was determinedly staring blankly straight ahead.

“Harry,” whispered Hermione “I'm not sure I want to see this.”

She pointed to the trembling Death Eater that was being led out by Mr. Weasley and another
woman, Mr Weasley muttering, “It's ok, relax, we're not going to hurt you. We just want
some information…”

He took her hand and they and Ron climbed the cellar stairs.

“Malfoy?” Harry called. Malfoy remained frozen to the spot, staring at the door his father had
been taken through, a troubled expression on his face. He slowly turned and brushed past Harry,
climbing the stairs in a hurry.

*

Draco rushed along the corridors of Number 12, desperately hoping none of the Order members saw
him. He zig-zagged down the stairs and found himself in a dingy hallway, with a single torch
lighting his way. He was on the floor just above the cellar, where they were keeping the Death
Eaters.

He glanced at the row of blank brown doors and walked down the hall, peering through the small
barred windows. His boots made a loud clumping noise as he strode along the dusty bare floorboards,
and from the corner of his eye he saw a tiny rat scrabble into a chewed hole in the skirting
board.

“*Alohomora**,**”* he whispered, pointing his wand at the lock of one of the
doors. A thin spark of light shot out and hit the keyhole, causing the door to click open. He swung
it open easily.

On the small, rickety old bed sat a man with sleek white-blonde hair trailing to the small of
his back. His waxy face appeared to be oblivious to Draco's entrance, but the way his pupils
contracted into tiny black pinpricks told Draco he had indeed noticed his son, and was not a happy
man. Not happy at all.

“I told you he'd lead you into trouble,” Draco muttered softly “I told you that you should
give it up.”

Lucius did not respond, but stared through Draco as though through a pane of glass. Draco
swallowed, and took a step closer. His Father's shoulders tensed, but he did nothing other than
continue to stare in his dense manner, unblinking.

“I told you he'd make you go on some tedious mission when you were most vulnerable, and
you'd get yourself captured or injured or- or killed: I told you to get as far away from his as
possible, as fast as possible.”

Lucius continued to stare straight through him, not reacting to anything he said. He was like a
cat arching its back, the way his shoulders were all tensed up; Draco half expected him to start
hissing any moment.

“He's gone power-crazy, Father. I don't know what he was like at first, but he's
*dangerous*.” Draco inched nearer to his father, who was still not speaking. He was very aware
of Draco's presence, just chose to ignore it. He continued to stare blankly ahead as Draco sat
next to him. Draco was beginning to find this silence unnerving. “I did tell you, Father. Right
before I left, remember?”

Finally, Lucius moved. He gave a slow, barely noticeable nod. “You… left.”

His words barely escaped his throat, chillingly quiet. He was staring directly at the lone torch
just opposite his room, the flickering light dancing in his eyes and turning the usual silvery grey
irises a blazing red colour. Draco swallowed again. Lucius had not blinked once in the time he had
been in his room.

“You left, you ran away. To where, Draco? Please, elaborate. Some little hidey-hole the Order of
the Phoenix set up for you, no doubt.”

“Yes,” Draco whispered, hanging his head. He wasn't going to say exactly where; if truth be
told, his father looked on the brink of insanity; he might completely lose it if he knew his son
had been staying at the Weasleys'. And if he ever knew about *Ginny*… Draco shuddered to
think of it.

Lucius shook his head, still not taking his eyes from the torch. “I had no idea where you ran
to. All these months… I've been *so worried*, not knowing whether you were being fed
properly, not knowing if you had a roof over your head*,* not even knowing if you were alive.
And it turns out you were foraging off the… the Order of the Phoenix.” He gave a nervous, rather
high pitched laugh, which unnerved Draco more than anything else that had happened that night.
There was that prickling sense of guilt again.

Lucius stood up so suddenly it shocked Draco, started to walk to the closed door, and then
paused in mid-step, suspended in thought. “What about the Dark Lord, Draco? What about the cause
you swore to be loyal to?” He continued his walk to the door, never once removing his gaze from the
dancing torch, which seemed to be mesmerising him. He seemed to be brooding as he leant against the
wooden door, resting his forehead on the rusty iron bars at the top.

He suddenly broke from his trance and whipped his head round, his eyes no longer glassy and
staring but narrowed and furious. “What about this?!” He thrust the sleeve of his robe up,
revealing the Dark Mark etched across his forearm. The dark ink was made extra vibrant against his
ghostly pale flesh. “You took an *oath*, Draco! You are a Death Eater; it's carved into
your skin!”

“`Ere, `ere!” came the muffled grunt of the Death Eater next door.

“SHUT UP, O'NIEL!” Lucius roared at the wall, his icy gaze still fixed on Draco. He waved
his left forearm in front of Draco's nose. “How can you dessert your beliefs, after everything
I and your mother-” his breath seemed to catch in his throat, and he turned away.

“You should listen to your father, kid,” O'Niel shouted roughly through the wall.

“Yeah, `e's right, y'know,” yelled the Death Eater on the other side.

“BE QUIET!” Lucius screamed, thrashing his fists on the wall. “WHAT DOES IT TAKE TO GET A LITTLE
PRIVACY?!”

Draco cast a silencing charm on the walls, but that wasn't what he was bothered about. He
had noticed the way Lucius had stopped talking as soon as he mentioned Narcissa.

“What's wrong with Mother?” asked Draco sharply. “Why'd you stop talking?”

His Father was leaning against the wall, fists still raised in a pounding action. He turned his
head slightly to look at him through one steely grey eye. “She's weak,” he whispered, his voice
muffled.

“What?” Draco narrowed his eyes “Weak? You think she's weak? Are you saying you're
ashamed of her or something?”

“No…” Lucius dropped his arms, so Draco could see his face properly. He was wearing a very
troubled expression, slightly fearful. “Her health is diminishing! She's been so ill… for so
long…” his eyes snapped back to Draco “since you left…”

Draco felt slightly sick. “Why? What's wrong with her?”

“It's not a disease, it's just…” He leant his hand on the wall. “We've had no idea
what happened to you, we've been so worried. Your Mother has been *making* herself
ill.”

It was Draco's turn to look away now.

“She's barely been eating. She's had countless sleepless nights. She hasn't been
performing properly-”

“Urgh,” muttered Draco. “I really didn't need to know about that.”

“What?”

“Dad, don't ever talk about your sex life again.”

Lucius spluttered. “I meant her performance with a wand! She's not doing magic
properly!”

“Oh.” Draco felt himself flush. He stared down at his shoes as Lucius glared at him in
disgust.

There was an embarrassed silence for a moment, then, “That's why we need to get back. You
have to help me escape.” His tone was so commanding it was on the verge of desperation.

Draco shook his head. “No, Dad, you can't escape from here. There are all sorts of charms
and rubbish. This house had Dumbledore's protection: it was headquarters to the Order
once.”

“Then how do you propose we get out of here?”

Draco shrugged and sat back on the bed, staring into nothing.

Lucius was clearly agitated. “Draco! Do you not understand what your mother must be thinking
right now?! She probably believes I'm dead or horrifically injured, or worse- Oh, god,
how's she going to cope without us?!” He started pacing around.

“Dad, she's not going to drop dead just because she thinks you have.” Draco eyed his father
carefully.

Lucius didn't seem to hear him. “She's known me since we were six years old and you
since- well, since you were born,-”

“I think you're just saying this stuff because *you* can't cope without
*her*,” said Draco bluntly.

“What?” snapped Lucius “don't be ridiculous, Draco, I'm entirely independent- stop
smirking, boy!”

“Ok, Ok,” Draco straightened his face. There was a pause.

“Well?” Lucius breathed. “How am I going to get out of here?”

“I have a plan,” said Draco quietly, “but you're not going to like it.”

“Try me.”

“You could switch sides.”

It was worse than if he'd said “You could jump off a cliff”.

While most people turn red when they're angry, Lucius turned drastically paler, as though
all the blood was being drained out of him. He had returned to his wax-like state, frozen and
unblinking. Draco could have sworn a dementor had replaced his father; all the warmth had been
sucked out of the air by his icy, disbelieving glare.

“What?” his voice was dangerous, poisonous. If people's tones could kill, Draco would have
been stone cold.

“It was just a suggestion,” Draco muttered. “I really don't see any other way.”

“Switch sides?” Lucius's pupils had become miniscule black dots again. “Join the Order of
the Phoenix?” His hand shot out and clamped around Draco's left arm. “And what about-” he
gasped. He had pulled Draco's sleeve up, not to find the Dark Mark, as he had obviously
expected, but the patch of black, burnt skin. He stared at him, gaping, before letting go of
Draco's arm as though it burnt him. He backed away, slamming into the wall.

“When?” he whispered.

“Ages ago.” Draco shook his sleeve back down.

“You fool.”

“I know. Professor Snape saved me.”

“Snape? We thought he was dead!”

Draco shook his head. “No. He's in the Order of the Phoenix. He left the Death Eaters.”

“He was a spy for us!”

“He was a spy, for *them*. Mother knew this.”

“Your *mother*?”

“But he didn't know she knew. In fact, she told him to take me when he left.”

Lucius stared at him for a moment, and then started laughing humourlessly. “Oh, this is rich!”
he chuckled. “Your mother knew that Snape was in the Order, but nobody knew that she knew, until
she asked Severus to hide you, and now you're in the Order?!”

“What? No! I haven't joined the Order, I've just un-joined the Death Eaters!”

“Who's side are you on?!” Lucius hissed, abruptly stopping his laughter and turning icy cold
again.

“The one that's best for our family.”

Lucius stared at him through observant eyes. His jaw was clenched, as though he wanted to say
something but was holding it in. His eyes kept darting from one of Draco's eyes to the other.
His hands curled into fists, and he took a few deep breaths, his chest heaving.

“I *knew* we should have sent you to Durmstrang,” he hissed. “I told Narcissa, but she
wasn't having any of it, oh *no*… Too far away, she said. Don't want him picking up
any foreign habits, she said. Picked up some habits from that… *school*, didn't you? Under
the guidance of that *Headmaster.*” His voice was filled with venom. He shook his head in
revulsion. “Consorting with blood-traitors and filth. I'd never have believed it of *you*,
Draco.”

“You don't get it, do you, Father?” Draco breathed, staring back at Lucius with as much
venom. “That isn't relevant anymore, that's not what this war is about. It's about one
murderous maniac, who will hurt and kill *anyone* to get power, and whether you're with
him or against him.”

Lucius hissed slightly, eyes flashing.

“Think about it, Father. Think about all those times the Dark Lord caused you trouble.”

“There are no times! And I will not have you speak such ill of the-”

“How can you say that?!” Draco yelled. “How can you deny what he's done to us, blatantly?!
Mother was *tortured* by him! He forced *you* to torture her! She was half dead by the
time he'd finished with her.” Lucius turned away, hiding his face. “You spent six months in
Azkaban for him! Was he grateful? No! In fact, while you were away, he sent me on some dangerous
mission to try and kill me, all to punish you!” Lucius flinched. “What about your back, Father?
I've seen the scars.”

“Scars?” Lucius croaked.

“Yeah, don't pretend you don't understand. There are scars stretching right across your
back, Father, some of them eight inches long! I don't know what you did, Dad, but you must have
upset him pretty badly!” Lucius flinched again, and shuddered. “And you… you weren't even there
when I was born, because he'd called you.” Lucius gasped and turned around, face to face with
his son once more. Their eyes met, sharing the same sorrow. “You had to leave, right when Mum
needed you most, because when you are called, you must go.”

Lucius stared at him for a moment, and then swallowed hard. “You have no idea what it's
like, not to see your only child being bought into the world. It's something I wouldn't
deny any father.” His eyes roamed across Draco's face, taking in the features that were so much
like his own.

“I vowed not to let him get in the way of anything like that again. I vowed not to let him
control me.” He shook his head, his eyes misting over. He glanced down lazily at the Dark Mark on
his forearm. “But I was tempted, by the sense of power this thing offers. We all were. When I first
took it, I had no idea of the binding contract it carries.”

“Take it off,” Draco hissed, his eyes drawn to the hollow, staring eyes of the skull. “Cut it
off. I'm ok aren't I?”

Lucius shot him a twisted grin. “Yours was only a year old. I've had this since I was
seventeen, the same age you are now. The longer you leave the mark on, the more it becomes apart of
you.” Still smiling crookedly, he slowly pulled his sleeve down. “You are one of the extreme few
that have rid themselves of He- Who- Must- Not- Be- Named's mark, and lived to tell the tale. I
will not be so lucky.”

The grin slid off his face. “You knew how the mark binds itself to its wearer. How could you
take that risk? You must have almost died.” He was suddenly looking stricken. “I owe Severus Snape
my son's life. Aargh, Draco, how could you do that to yourself?!”

Draco said nothing.

“You knew it had a powerful curse! What had I told you from a young age? What about all the
“*don't mess with Daddy's Dark Mark”*s?! *How* could you even think of it?!”

“It's- well- I thought- I-”

“STOP BABBLING, BOY!” Lucius yelled over Draco's stutters. Then his expression softened, and
his thin tongue snaked out to moisten his lips. He gazed thoughtfully at Draco. He seemed to be
struggling with himself over something. “I'm just…” He sighed. “I'm just glad you're
safe.” He seemed to have wanted to say this for a long time, but held it in.

Then he did something he hadn't done in a *long* time. He embraced Draco.

Draco's eyes widened. It seemed kind of forced at first, as though Lucius didn't really
know how to show his affection.

“Merlin's beard,” came Lucius's muffled voice. “You're taller than me!”

“What?” Draco pulled away, smiling unsurely.

“You've grown! You're slightly taller than me!”

They both burst into laughter.

The laughter subsided, and again, Lucius's grin slid off his face. “How you've changed,”
he muttered. “The boy Draco I knew a few months ago would *never* have stood up to me like
that. I suppose congratulations are in order. You've caused me to change my views on something,
nobody's ever done that. Well, except Narcissa, of course. And the Dark L-” he stopped
abruptly. “Tell me, is there a certain person who has caused this change in you?” Lucius raised a
slender white-blonde eyebrow.

Draco felt his neck prickle. *He couldn't know about Ginny, he* couldn't *know
about Ginny…*

“No- Not at all,” he said, a little too quickly. His father looked suspicious. He needed to
change the subject. “So are you going to give the Order information?”

Lucius hissed slightly, and sat down on his bunk again. “This is such a conflicting option,
Draco.”

“Huh?”

“If I were to tell them where they're keeping the mudbloods, and lead them there, that would
be, as you say, the quickest and easiest way to get back to your mother. And,” his eyes glinted
mischievously. “I could get them to help me worm my way out of Azkaban. Oh, yes, what an idea!
They'd have to help me if they want this information. However,” he shuddered “to help the Order
of the Phoenix would be to display feelings of sympathy towards mudbloods and blood- traitors,
something that *revolts* me to the core. It's just everything I stand against.”

“Well,” Draco murmured softly, “You decide what's more important; your own pride, or
Mum's health.”

He got up, nodded to his father, and slowly walked towards the door.

“And how exactly am I supposed to get them to cooperate?” Lucius called, just as Draco was about
to shut the door.

“You're a Slytherin,” he replied coolly. “Use your initiative.” And he shut the door on his
father's smirking face.

*

-->



24. Lucius Malfoy's capture part 2
----------------------------------



Harry poked his head round the door, and slipped in quietly, Ron and Hermione following. Ron
looked cautious, not knowing what to expect, while Hermione looked uncomfortable. Harry had said
she could stay upstairs, but she insisted that she'd come, just to see they weren't hurting
the Death Eaters in anyway.

The room had been magically darkened, so you were barely able to see anything. There were four
other figures in there: Mr. Weasley, who was checking a small vile of potion, Lupin, who was
looking at a checklist solemnly, that Leopold person, and, of course, Mr. Malfoy.

He was in a hard backed wooden chair, cuffed in by his wrists. His long hair fell down over his
tensed up shoulders, and his eyes were staring and glassy again. His hands kept curling and
uncurling into fists. He looked like he was about to throw up.

“Right then…” Mr. Weasley turned back to Mr. Malfoy.

“Hold it, Arthur, we're waiting for one more,” said Remus solemnly. “We need someone to
record the information, don't we?”

At that moment, the door burst open, and Snape walked in smoothly.

“I beg your pardon for my lateness,” he drawled. “No questions asked, no lies told.”

“Weren't you on a mission with Rebecca Black?” said Mr. Weasley. For some odd reason, Snape
flushed.

“What did I just say? Now, who exactly are we-” he caught sight of Mr. Malfoy pinned to his
chair. He paled. “Ah. Hello Lucius.”

Mr. Malfoy was looking at Snape as though he were back from the dead, but quickly regained
himself. “Severus. Glad you could grace us with your presence,” Lucius drawled quietly.

“So, what'll it be first, Lucius?” said Mr. Weasley grimly, inspecting the vial of potion
closer. Mr. Malfoy was still looking on the verge of throwing up. “Veritaserum or Occlumency?

“How about,” Mr. Malfoy swallowed and his ill look vanished, to be replaced with a more
dignified one, “free will?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“How about I tell you what you want, of my own free will? And you save yourself some potion. I
heard veritaserum is very hard to come by these days.”

There was a stunned silence, where everyone's mouth had flung open. The small vial of
veritaserum slipped out of Mr. Weasley's fingers and shattered on the floor.

Mr. Malfoy rolled his eyes. “You see Arthur, that could have been put to good use.”

“Wait a moment,” Mr. Weasley looked dazed “are you telling me you're going to tell us
information without us having to do anything?!”

Malfoy's smile broadened. “Not quite. There is a little- favour- I want doing.”

Sensing this would be nothing good Harry shared a wary look with Mr. Weasley and Remus. “What
would that be?”

“When this war's over, *if you win*, I want to walk free,” said Malfoy, surveying their
reactions coolly. “What I am about to tell you is vitally important: it is the key to overpowering
u- the Death Eaters. All you have to do is ensure myself and my family are not forced to Azkaban.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Bit of a bargain, really.”

“Lucius,” said Snape quietly, “It is not up to us whether you are imprisoned or not. You know it
is the Ministry's choice.”

“Yes, but you could vouch for me.” He smiled pleasantly.

“WHAT?!” several people yelled.

“No way,” growled Leopold.

“Malfoy,” Lupin's face was plastered with a smirk that said he didn't think Malfoy was
being serious. “Do you really think we'd be that stupid? Do you *really* think we'd
let *you* just skip off home when the war's over?”

Malfoy sniffed. “For your information, Lupin, I do not *skip,* (Harry had to roll his eyes
at this) but yes, that is exactly what I expect.”

“*You**?!*” said Mr. Weasley angrily. “You, one of the most dedicated Death Eaters
there are? One of You-Know-Who's inner circle?”

“Yes, well, some things have changed,” said Mr. Malfoy darkly, hands becoming fists again, but
then he forced his mouth into a smile. “I'm willing to let bygones be bygones. I give you
information in return for my freedom.”

“We're not bargaining with you!” Remus spat. “Would that be justice, to free a
murderer?”

Malfoy's eyes glittered maliciously, and he leaned forward as far as his restraints would
allow. “How do you *know* I'm a murderer?” he whispered. “Have you ever seen me kill
someone? Are there any witnesses to that? No. You can't *prove* that I've murdered
anybody.”

Everyone except Snape glanced at each other grudgingly. “You're still a Death Eater, and
that's enough to put you in Azkaban for life,” said Mr. Weasley.

“Fine.” Malfoy looked away from them, flaring his nostrils haughtily. “Then I just won't
co-opperate.”

“Ok, fine. Then, as I say, what'll it be first, Veritaserum or Occlumency?”

Malfoy rolled his eyes and sighed. “Oh, come on, Arthur! Do you really think you can force it
out of a person, something as top secret and highly protected as that? The word- the name of our
headquarters- is jinxed! I can only tell you how to get it from my own free will.”

“I don't accept this,” stated Mr. Weasley simply.

“What's to accept? I can either tell you something vital, or I can't. All you have to do
is this little thing for me.”

“Why should we?” snarled Harry.

“Because,” Malfoy's eyes glittered again, and he sat back in his chair, looking down his
nose at them with a smirk. “I'm the only one who can tell you.”

“I'm sure we could get it from another source, if we wait long enough.”

“Possibly,” Malfoy shrugged. “But are you willing to let those mudbloods die while you wait? The
longer you take trying to figure it out, the more people die in captivity.” All the Order members
looked at each other guiltily. They knew he was right. “Your choice.”

There was a long pause. Mr. Weasley was looking at each Order member expectantly.

“Group discussion!” Remus said and everyone huddled into the corner, turning their backs to
Malfoy. “Should we make the deal with him?” he whispered, so Malfoy couldn't hear.

“Huh, I never thought I'd do *Malfoy* a favour,” Ron wrinkled his nose.

“But he's right. The fastest way to get information would be to just do as he says, or those
poor people that they've got captured will have to suffer longer,” hissed Hermione. “I mean,
one day could make the difference between life and death for someone. Who knows what they're
doing to them?”

“There must be some other way!” said Mr. Weasley desperately.

“But the quickest way,” drawled Snape quietly, “Is to cooperate with him. What's one person
out of Azkaban compared to what could be someone's life?”

“But- NO!” Mr. Weasley looked around at them incredulously, then pointed an accusing hand at
Malfoy. “This man belongs in Azkaban! I will not allow- he *deserves* it!”

“Tut-tut, Arthur,” drawled Malfoy, looking calmly at them. “You're being quite mean, you
know. What ever happened to forgive and forget?”

“It went down the plughole where you're concerned!” spat Mr. Weasley, taking a threatening
step towards him.

“Clearly,” Malfoy smirked at Mr. Weasley, inspecting him through his cool grey eyes. “Well? What
have you decided?”

Remus cast his fellow Order members a grudging glance, before turning back to Malfoy. “We're
going to agree with you,” Malfoy looked delighted and Mr. Weasley looked outraged, “but there will
be some …conditions.”

“Conditions?” said Malfoy sharply.

Remus narrowed his eyes. “Somebody write this down.” Snape stalked back to his seat and took out
a quill and some parchment. “We can't have you going back to the Death Eaters as soon as our
backs are turned; there has to be some restrictions. When the war's over, we can get the
ministry to have you tagged, so we know what kind of magic you're using.”

“Tagged?!” whispered Malfoy hoarsely, turning paler.

“There are other things we will do; we can ban you from certain shops, register every potion you
make. You won't have the liberty to use the Dark Arts anymore.”

Malfoy gawped at him, his pale eyes wide with devastation. “But I- you can't do that!
It's not fair!”

“Fine. We'll send you to Azkaban, where you belong-”

“Ok!” Malfoy said suddenly. His eyes swivelled to each person surrounding him, lingering on
Snape, who did not look up. “Ok- Very well!” he snarled, glaring dangerously. “Very well! Just-
just let me free.”

Remus paused. “Fine.”

He took the quill from Snape, slowly drawing it nearer to the parchment. His gaze snapped back
to Malfoy, and he paused, letting ink drip silently onto the paper. He seemed to be waiting for
Malfoy to say something, but he just sat in his chair, watching him silently with thin lips and
slightly flushed cheekbones. Remus turned back to the parchment, and slowly, almost reluctantly,
signed his name.

“Every one can sign this for now,” he said, passing it back to Snape for him to sign. “If you
betray us, Malfoy, then we can rip it up. It's better than the unbreakable vow.”

The parchment was passed round until it came to Ron.

“This doesn't feel right,” he muttered to Harry, but signed it anyway. He then gave it to
Harry. Basically, it was explaining how the Order was agreeing to give testimony to the fact that
Malfoy was going to give information against Voldemort, IF that information was satisfactory. There
was also the list of conditions Lupin had laid out, and a number of signatures. Only Harry, Mr.
Weasley and Malfoy hadn't signed.

Curling his lip, Harry put his signature to join the others. He then got up and placed it at
Malfoy's lap. Malfoy raised an eyebrow, and, sighing, Snape hurried over to them. He took out a
key and undid one of the steel cuffs binding Malfoy's wrist.

Instead of taking the quill Harry was offering, however, Malfoy snatched up a candle from the
wall just behind him. Harry thought he was going to burn the parchment, but instead he tilted the
candle slightly so a small amount of melted wax dribbled onto the parchment. He then stamped the
wax with a ring on his middle finger, which, Harry noticed, had the same cobra-encircled family
crest that was on Draco's sword. Surveying Harry through his silver eyes, Malfoy cleaned the
wax off his ring, and Snape locked his wrist in the cuff again.

Snape then passed it on to Mr. Weasley, who had watched stonily as everyone else signed. As
Snape tried to hand it to him, he pushed it away. “No,” he said dryly. “Never.”

Malfoy sighed, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. “Look, Weasley, do you want this
information or not?”

“Of course I do, but not if it means YOU get to run around free!”

“Arthur, try to calm yourself-” Snape held his sands up in a pacifying gesture.

“NO! This man- *this man* tried to kill my daughter!” Mr. Weasley snarled. “You expect me
to help him evade Azkaban?!”

Malfoy stared at him, eyes narrowed. “No, I just wanted to rid myself and my family of the
diary; I didn't know it would almost kill her! Honestly, if I had known what it was, do you
really think I'd have put it in the hands of a child? Besides, I figured if there was anything
wrong with it, she'd tell her Father straight away.” He tutted at Mr. Weasley. “Guess that one
likes meddling with things more than what's good for her.”

Both Mr. Weasley and Ron took a threatening step towards him, but were held back by Harry and
Lupin.

“Even so,” Harry managed to pull Ron back in his seat. “It's not right that you should be
let free when you almost killed someone.” He turned to Snape. “Don't you think there should be
some more *conditions**,* to do with Ginny Weasley, seeing as he almost killed her?”
Snape sighed and put quill to parchment again.

Harry walked right up to Malfoy. Now was his chance to make sure Lucius didn't hurt her when
he found out about her and Draco. “You have to promise that you won't hurt Ginny Weasley, no
matter what she does.”

Malfoy raised his eyebrows coolly. “Fine.”

“And you can't let your wife hurt her either!”

“Erm, Ok…”

“And- and you can't try to *control* her children!”

“Wait- what? What would I have to do with her children?” Malfoy looked confused.

“You'll see,” Harry said quietly. “Just promise.”

“…Ok…” Malfoy was still looking at him strangely. Harry flushed as he realised most of the
others were looking at him oddly too. But I didn't matter. He hoped that Ginny and Malfoy could
realise their mistake before it was too late, but just in case they *did* get married and (he
shuddered) have children, then at least Lucius wouldn't control them like he controlled
Draco.

“Ehrm, some strange requests, Potter,” Snape scanned the parchment before looking up, “But what
say you, Arthur?”

“Yes, Arthur, are you happy now your little brat's safe?”

“You shut up about her!” Mr. Weasley growled, lunging forward. Remus and Leopold grabbed each of
his arms just as he reached Malfoy. Malfoy shrank back in his chair a bit, glowering in disgust as
Mr. Weasley struggled to get at him. “Ginny almost *died* because of you! My only
daughter!”

“*Oh, poor little you,”* Malfoy sneered nastily, enraging Mr. Weasley further. “You're
not the only one whose family has been in danger, you know, so don't give us that rubbish.”

“Oh,” Mr. Weasley half laughed, “Oh, I suppose you're referring to that sob story about your
wife being tortured, are you? Don't bother, you're son's already told us the whole
tale. He said that you also took part in the fun.” Mr. Weasley snorted and looked at Malfoy with an
expression Malfoy usually used on him. “That's sickening. You'd torture your own wife just
because You-Know-Who asked you to? That's a new low, Malfoy, even for you.”

Malfoy looked like he had been punched in the gut. He sucked in a sharp gasp of air, his already
over- pale cheeks turning paler, his eyes wide in horror. “Say that again,” he said quietly, sharp
teeth wedged together as he spoke. “You dare- say that again!”

“It's true isn't it?” Mr. Weasley's glasses were sliding off the bridge of his nose
as he struggled against Remus and Leopold. “You hurt her just because He told you to. You're
dangerous, Malfoy, even your own wife isn't safe from you.”

The effect was scary: Malfoy lurched forward too, tugging fiercely against the steel cuffs
around his wrists so his long hair whipped across his white face. “How DARE you!” he roared at Mr.
Weasley, glaring at him with a loathing Harry had never seen in him before. Remus and Leopold were
now struggling to retain Mr. Weasley. “You- Don't you dare say that! You don't know
anything! He *made* me torture Narcissa! Do you know what it's like, seeing your *own
wife* in agony, and knowing you're responsible for it?!”

“No, because I'm not a murderous, pain-loving maniac like you!”

Snape's hand snapped to Malfoy's shoulder as he pulled even harder against the cuffs.
“You're wrong!” he spat, etching to get at Mr. Weasley. “You don't know what it's like-
seeing one of the only two people you care about in the world tortured to unconsciousness- You
don't understand- you don't what I've been through-” Harry thought he saw the tiniest
glimmer of a tear in Lucius's eye, but it was quickly blinked away.

Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy glared at each other directly in the eye, both breathing hard.

“Gentlemen,” Snape breathed. He had been watching Lucius with a weird sadness that Harry
didn't think was just sympathy. “Please- control yourselves. Look, what matters now is that
Lucius tells us what he's got to tell us.”

“Yes,” Malfoy snapped, still glaring at Mr. Weasley with a look that clearly wished he was dead.
“Right. Fine. What do you want to know?”

“Firstly,” Snape set down his quill to his parchment again, ready to write. “Are there any new
recruits we should be weary of?”

“Ok,” Malfoy sniffed. He moistened his thin lips and took a deep breath. “Well, there's
Humphrey Travers, that's Travers's younger brother, very well connected. And Eustace Pince,
used to be an Unspeakable, highly intelligent. Oh, and you'll have to watch out for Barabas
Cleaver, killed 20 people already, and he's only been in three months.” He paused to flick hair
out of his face. “And there's Barbara Smith-”

“Another female?” Snape raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, I was surprised too. Lets see… oh, and there's-” He stopped, his eyes flickering back
to Mr. Weasley. “Oh no, I don't think I'll tell you that.”

“Malfoy, you're withholding information,” Remus growled.

Malfoy's gaze lingered on Mr. Weasley. He smiled cruelly, and then looked back at Snape.
“Percy Weasley is known for his cruciatus curse.”

Everyone in the room gasped. Mr. Weasley stared at Mr. Malfoy, who was looking decidedly smug,
through wide, horrified eyes. There was a moment of unnatural stillness, before Mr. Weasley lunged
at him again and grabbed the collar of his robes.

“YOU LIAR!” he roared down Mr. Malfoy's ear. Malfoy, whose hands were chained to his chair,
could do nothing to stop himself being half-throttled.

Snape and Leopold took each took each of Mr. Weasley's arms and dragged him off, and Harry
and Lupin clutched Ron, as he had tried to leap on Malfoy too.

“Well,” Mr. Malfoy looked shocked, “now I see where Weasley gets his vicious streak from-”

“SHUT UP ABOUT MY BROTHER!” Ron screamed.

“HE'S NOT A DEATH EATER! HE'S NOT! He's not…” Mr. Weasley's voice cracked and he
slumped back in his chair, looking heartbroken. He covered his face with his hands, nails digging
into his head. “Oh, god, Percy…”

Mr. Malfoy's smug look dissolved as he stared at Mr. Weasley, chewing the inside of his
lip.

“My boy… no, he wouldn't…” Mr. Weasley groaned, still with his face in his hands.

“Mr. Weasley?” said Hermione tentatively, placing a hand on his back. Mr. Malfoy stared stonily
at them. He opened his mouth to say something, closed it and looked away. Could he be feeling
guilty? Harry wondered. The world really was going insane…

“What else do you want to know?” said Lucius hoarsely.

“Umm… Where are they keeping the muggleborn's?” said Snape. Even he looked shaken.
Malfoy's thin lips curved into a smirk.

“What did I say? It has a fidelius charm upon it. I cannot tell you.”

“Malfoy!” snarled Remus. “If you can't tell us, then why go to all that bother trying to
make out you can?!”

“There are ways of telling other than by speaking.”

“Well, who's the secret keeper?” asked Harry.

“The Dark Lord himself.”

“Crap.”

“However,” Malfoy leaned forward. “My wife has a piece of parchment with the name of the place
written upon it, written by He- Who- Must-Not- Be- Named. But that's back at the manor.”

“Oh great. Well, how are we supposed to get there?”

“Ah, well I'm afraid you'll have to figure that one out. You see, I've disabled the
floo system, you can't apperate there anyway, it's invisible from the sky, so broomsticks
would be useless…”

“So, you've basically made it unplottable to outsiders,” Harry sighed. “What are we going to
do?”

“Ahem.” They all looked up at the wall, to see Phenias Nigellus smirking down at them from one
of the deserted portraits.

“Phenias!” Remus growled. “Go back to your own portrait!”

“I'm sorry, I couldn't help overhearing,” he sneered. “But anyway, wouldn't I be
correct in saying my great-great grandson has a portrait at Malfoy Manor?”

“What?” Malfoy's brow furrowed.

“You're right,” said Harry quietly. “But even so, he can't bring the parchment back to
show us, can he?”

“It doesn't affect portraits,” muttered Remus quietly, “the fidelius charm doesn't
affect portraits! Harry, Sirius could go to Malfoy Manor, read the parchment, come back and tell
us!”

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Mr. Weasley, Remus and Leopold glanced at each other, and rushed out,
leaving Snape and Malfoy alone.

*

Lucius watched as they all bumbled out, Phenias walking through the wall too. He turned his head
to stare at the wall besides him as Snape undid his cuffs, furious with himself. He put a hand to
his brow, so he wouldn't have to look Severus in the eye.

“I've never seen you lose control like that,” Severus whispered, staring at Lucius through
his intense black eyes. Lucius made a noncommittal sound in his throat. “I never knew you cared
that much.”

“Of course- of course I care,” Lucius muttered, “she's my wife.”

Severus turned to take a step to the door. “You've never shown that before.”

Lucius's hand flopped to the arm of the chair, and he faced Snape directly. “There are a lot
of things you don't know about me, ok? Don't think- just because I trust you more than a
lot of people- You'd better not think-”

“Don't get angry with *me*,” Snape glared at him coolly. “I didn't tell Weasley to
say those things.”

Lucius let out a low hiss. “*Weasley*,” he spat, forcing the word from his tongue as though
it were a dirty swear word. “That *swine*, that filthy, lower-class, flea-bitten-”

“You did offend two of his children,” sighed Severus. “You don't *think*, Lucius… how
would you feel if he insulted Draco?”

“That's different,” said Lucius, a little sulkily, “Draco's worth more than all seven of
his children put together.” Severus had to turn away to hide his eye-roll.

“I suppose Draco paid you a visit? Is that what caused this sudden change of heart?”

Lucius gave a strained, tired smile. “He wanted me to switch sides. He wanted me to actually
*join* the Order of the Phoenix. I wouldn't go that far.”

“You did help us though.” Lucius grimaced. “I suppose you grilled him about running away?”

“Oh yes.” Lucius's eyes darkened, “I couldn't believe he'd do it. We've been
worried sick.”

“Narcissa never told you?” Snape tilted his head. “She asked *me* to hide him!”

“Yes, I know this *now!*” Lucius spat, rising up. “Now that Draco has decided to tell me.
She never breathed a word to me- the Dark Lord thought you were dead!”

“The Dark Lord- did he do anything?” Severus's eyebrows furrowed. “Did he hurt her when
Draco ran away?”

Lucius shot him a pained look, before turning away quickly, his fists clenched.

“Ah,” whispered Snape.

“How- how could you let him run away, after the Dark Lord *warned* him- he *warned*
him what would happen to Narcissa if Draco tried to do anything he didn't like.”

“I told this to her, but she insisted I take him. She also asked me to brew a batch of healing
potions.”

“Oh, that was you, was it? I should have known.”

“I assume she's still-uh- alive?” Severus asked warily, sucking in his breath.

Lucius pressed his palm to his forehead, his wrist pressing on the bridge of his nose. “Yes,” he
grumbled “the Dark Lord didn't actually do anything to her.” Severus raised a brow, clearly
confused. “I took a polyjuice potion. He tortured *me*, under the belief that I was
Narcissa.”

Snape stood in shocked silence for a moment, his mouth hanging open, before he stalked over,
looking at Lucius in amazement. “*You'd* do that? You'd put your life on the line to
help her?” Lucius made a throaty groan. “Wow, that's- I never thought you'd do something
like that!”

Lucius paled furiously. “What, did you think I'd just stand by and let him hurt her
*again*?! Curse you, Snape, you think I see her as- just as some *trophy wife* to be
latched onto my arm when I want to show off?!”

“Well, to be entirely truthful- uh- yes.” Severus cringed at his scornful look. “Lucius, why
didn't you leave too? You could have escaped…”

“We're not all brave risk-takers like you, Severus,” said Malfoy coolly, and Severus looked
embarrassed. “So is it true? You've been in the Order of the Phoenix all this time?”

Severus froze, looking at him warily. “Who told you that?”

“Draco. So- so you've never really been on our side?” Snape made an indistinguishable sound.
“Great. So I suppose you think I deserve to go to Azkaban too?”

Snape seemed to be struggling to think of something to say. “But-” he finally forced out. “But-
you won't have to if you stick to these conditions.” He removed the piece of paper and handed
it to Lucius.

Lucius's eyes roved over the writing, his scowl deepening with every one. “Do I really have
to do all of these, Severus?” he groaned. “No Dark Magic- and I have to be tagged?! Like an
underage wizard?!”

“I'm afraid so, Lucius. It's better than Azkaban, isn't it?”

“You mention life in Azkaban ever again and I will gouge out your oesophagus with a sharpened
spoon,” Lucius muttered calmly, and Severus sighed. Threatening to rip out people's body parts
usually cheered Lucius up. “But really, tagged? There must be some way around this! Severus,” his
eyes shot to Snape, “You must be able to do something, they like you!”

Severus sighed again. “Look, I'll see what I can do,” he muttered as Lucius turned back to
the parchment.

“All these requests about Ginny Weasley- strange.” Lucius stared at the paper suspiciously. “And
what on earth would I have to do with the silly little girl's children?” He shook his head.
“Potter probably hopes they'll be his own. Draco mentioned that they were courting-”

“Please,” Snape looked slightly sick “can we not talk about Potter's love life?”

Lucius smiled wryly. “Of course not. I forgot, you hate the little brat's guts, don't
you?” Severus's face remained solemn as Lucius chuckled. Still smiling, he began walking
towards the door, and Severus followed.

“You're being very trusting, Lucius,” Severus remarked. “Aren't you going to ask them
for an Unbreakable Vow?”

“I don't think that will be necessary,” drawled Malfoy, “don't take this the wrong way,
Severus, but you “good” people have that uncanny habit of keeping your word, even when it is to
your disadvantage.”

He stalked out of the room, Severus following and shaking his head in exasperation.

*

-->



25. Toujours pur
----------------



“So, let me get this straight,” the portrait of Sirius leant against his frame, cocking his head
like a confused puppy dog. “You want me to just waltz into Malfoy Manor, find the cousin whom I
haven't spoken to in about twenty years and just ask her to give up one of the most stubbornly
well-kept secrets of the Death Eaters, with no proof at all that she can trust me?”

Harry and Remus glanced at each other worriedly. “Well… yes.”

“Mmkay!” said Sirius with a bright smile. “Anything else you want to know? Anything else you
want to say to her? Do I have permission to annoy the hell out of her?”

“No!” Lucius Malfoy snapped, and then stared at the floor. “And would you tell her- that is to
say, would you let her know,” his voice had gone drastically quieter, “that- that we,” he pointed
to himself and Draco, “are, ah, in good health.”

“Yeah, yeah, you want me to give her your love.” Sirius rolled his eyes and Ron couldn't
stifle a snigger. Malfoy's face went slightly paler, and he scowled at the floor.

“And say a hello from me, too,” said Phenias Nigellus, who was in the portrait next to
Sirius's. “I always liked my great-great granddaughters better than *you*, you know.”

“Yes, thanks, grandfather, I'll remember that,” said Sirius through gritted teeth, glaring
at Phenias with loathing. “Well, if I've gotta do this, I'll be off. Cheerio!”

*

Concentrating hard, Sirius took a step into the wall. He felt the familiar feeling of walking
through a warm sheet of water as he walked through the nothingness.

He then felt himself re-appear in his other portrait, and stared into Draco Malfoy's
deserted room.

He took another leisurely walk through the wall, upsetting a portrait of one of Lucius's
ancestors. Luckily, the Manor was covered wall to wall with pictures and portraits, so there was no
room he could not go to.

He stopped at a portrait of Eckhardt and Galston Malfoy (Lucius's great grandfather and his
brother, or so it said on the frame), pausing to snatch the glass of elf-made wine from
Eckhartd's hand.

“*How big is this place?*” thought Sirius as he took a sip, “*and where is that stupid
cousin of mine?”*

As he strolled through the portraits, he thought back on his life. He did that a lot recently;
being stuck in a frame wasn't very exciting.

His relationships with his cousins had been largely negative, mainly on Bellatrix and
Narcissa's parts: Bellatrix couldn't stand to be in the same room as him, as though he
polluted the air she breathed, and when she did talk to him it was either insults or criticism.

Andromeda was the good one, the sensible one. She had been his favourite because she was fair,
and she tried to treat everybody equally. However, she wasn't put in Slytherin for nothing, and
had her occasional moments of cruelty, just as Bella and Cissy had their occasional nice
moments.

Narcissa, while no-where near as horrible as Bellatrix, was not a very nice person. She was the
one who had to spend most time with him and Regulus, as she was the youngest and closest to his
age, especially when both Bellatrix and Andromeda were of age. And she annoyed him. It was her
pride that annoyed him most. She was exceedingly arrogant and, as her name might suggest,
narcissistic.

Admittedly, she had been quite sweet to him when he was still young enough to be considered
“cute”, but when she was around Hogwarts age, that was when her nasty side came out…

1967

He was eight years old, and he and Regulus were having a puddle fight outside their Aunt and
Uncle's house.

“Sirius!” cried the shrill voice of his Aunt Druella, “Regulus! Come back here!”

Reluctantly, they went back inside, and stood in the foyer, shivering and dripping wet but
smirking.

“What were you thinking?” she scolded as she wrapped them in towels. “Do you two want to catch
pneumonia? Your mother will hear about this. Go and sit in front of the fire, you need to warm up
before I dry you!”

Sniggering, they went into the sitting room where the girls were. Narcissa, who was brushing her
hair, looked at them and sighed dramatically. Andromeda, who was reading a book intently, rolled
her eyes and continued reading. Bellatrix, who was writing a long (and probably threatening)
letter, acted as though they didn't exist.

“You two are fools,” stated Narcissa. “You're completely drenched.”

Regulus shrugged and sat by the fire, sniffing, but Sirius grinned.

“Give your favourite cousin a hug, Cissa!” he hugged her tightly, making sure to rub his soaking
hair over her shoulder.

“Aargh, Sirius!” she freed herself, and he burst out laughing. “Now *I'm* wet! And
you're *not* my favourite cousin!”

“Boo hoo!”

“Don't be so stupid. Andi, dry me,” she ordered. Andromeda pointed her wand at her sister,
not looking up from her book.

“Well, you're not my favourite cousin, either!”

Narcissa shrugged at him, and then began twisting her hair into an elegant plait.

“You know, if you keep messing with your hair, it'll fall out,” said Sirius smarmily.

Narcissa paused for a second, and then continued. “No it won't. You're lying. Isn't
he lying, Andi?”

“Huh?” Andromeda, who had returned to her book, looked up.

“My hair wont fall out if I keep brushing it, will it?” said Narcissa impatiently.

Andromeda's brow furrowed. “No.” Sirius sighed. He had hoped she'd play along.

“See?” Narcissa sneered smugly at him, “I knew you were lying. *I'm* clever.”

“Ok, miss clever,” Sirius grinned, “are zebras black with white stripes or white with black
stripes? What do you say when someone says your in denial and you're not?”

“Do you have *any* purpose in life other than to annoy me?” Narcissa glared at him with an
expression of disgust on her face.

“Where do circles begin and end? What number comes after infinity? And why aren't you named
after a star or constellation when the rest of us are?”

Her hand collided with his shoulder.

“Ouch! Cissa, that hurt!” He rubbed his shoulder. For a twelve year old so delicate looking, her
slaps were surprisingly strong. Andromeda glared at them disapprovingly and Regulus looked
entertained.

“That's for being an idiot. Why are you always this annoying? It's no wonder your mother
loathes you.”

“Mother doesn't loathe me, Narcissa. That's a horrid thing to say.”

“It's true though,” she shrugged. “She can't stand you.”

“That's enough, Narcissa,” Andromeda growled.

Sirius was fighting back tears. “Just because you're a Daddy's girl.”

“No, it's because she *does* loathe you.” He punched her, hard. He knew it was wrong to
hit a girl, but she was older, so to him it was even.

“Oww! Bella! He hit me!” she turned to Bella, who was oldest and therefore the authority
figure.

“Sirius!” she snapped, eyes pinpricks. “Do *not* hit your cousin!”

“Yeah, *Sirius*!” she hit him in the exact same place, so it stung twice as much.

“STOP IT! Bella! She hit me!”

“Nice one, Cissy,” Bellarix grunted. Narcissa giggled.

“Bellatrix!” Andromeda growled, and then fixed her younger sister with a stern glare. “Nar-Nar,
we *don't* hit, that is most unladylike. Now, what do you say?”

She pulled a face, and then turned to Sirius apologetically.

“I'm sorry.” Then she smiled unpleasantly. “That your Mum hates you!” Seething, he grabbed a
handful of silky blonde hair and tugged backwards.

“Bella! Do something!” squealed Andromeda, but Bellatrix held her back.

“Let them fight, it'll do them good.” She and Regulus watched them slap and shove each other
in amusement, while Andromeda stood, biting her nails.

It was only when Narcissa gave him a Chinese Burn that Andromeda pulled Sirius off her, and
Bellatrix, sighing, locked Narcissa's arms behind her back.

“Bella!” Cissa whined, “He started it! He hurt me! Waa! Waa!” She pretended to cry onto her
shoulder.

“There, there,” Bellatrix cooed as she hugged her sister, and, over her shoulder, Narcissa shot
him a scathing look…

*

“*Yep, She was pretty evil*,” thought the present-day Sirius's portrait as he wondered
through the wall. He was kind of dreading having to talk to her; he had only ever seen her when she
entered Draco's room, never talked to her.

He had noticed that age had preserved her quite well: she looked a lot younger than her 42
years. He guessed she had that kind of glacial beauty that didn't die with age. Apparently
beauty wasn't the only thing that hadn't faded. Her personality hadn't changed too
much, from what he could tell: sure, she had grown up more, gotten more mature (unlike Bellatrix).
Even her cute, cheeky giggle had been replaced with a more elegant laugh. But she was still the
arrogant ice-queen whom had been his cousin.

Then again, he was being a bit unfair. With a guilty smile, he remembered he had been as
bad…

1972

“Hey, James, wanna see something gross?” Sirius grinned. It was another Christmas holiday, and
they were bored. He wasn't allowed his friends around his own house anymore, as his mother
believed they were bad influences on him, but she had failed to mention this to her brother, and
every time Sirius went round his Aunt and Uncle's house he invited James, Remus or Peter
too.

“Umm, ok,” said James unsurely. Sirius smirked and led them upstairs, to Narcissa's room. He
pressed a finger to his lips and James nodded eagerly. Quietly, Sirius pushed the door open and
James clamped his hands over his mouth to stop himself sniggering.

Lucius Malfoy was sprawled out on her sofa with Narcissa on his lap, lips glued. They didn't
notice as Sirius and James crept over, and Sirius spotted the half-finished homework at
Lucius's side.

“What does snogging my cousin have to do with the protean charm?” Sirius asked, noticing the
title. They broke apart immediately.

“Sirius!” Narcissa slid off Lucius's lap, glaring. “What are you doing in my room?”

“Annoying you. Jeez, what does it look like?” Sirius said with a roll of his eyes. Narcissa
ground her teeth to powder.

“Anyway, is this a privet party, or can anyone join in?” said James, batting his eyelids
mockingly at Lucius.

“Sirius! Potter!” Narcissa grabbed Sirius by the ear and pulled him off the bed.

“Sirius Potter? Hey, cool! You're my brother, Siri!”

“Yeah, I wish!” Sirius tugged away from Narcissa, rubbing his ear. “Loads better than being
cousin to Narcissa Black, who will soon be… Narcissa Malfoy! Dun dun durr!”

“Are you going to have lots of little baby Malfoys, Narcissa?” asked James innocently. Lucius
paled.

“Get out of my room, if you want to live,” hissed Narcissa in a dangerously low voice, eyes
slits.

Sirius and James smirked, then simultaneously started singing, “Narcissa and Lucius, sitting in
a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G-”

“SIRIUS!” she made a grab for him, but missed. Lucius smoothed back his usually immaculate hair,
which Narcissa had ruffled, and watched half-amusedly half-embarrassedly as Narcissa chased her
cousin around the sofa, growing angrier and angrier. “Get out!” she furiously roared, and,
sniggering, James and Sirius scarpered.

Next morning Sirius, James and Regulus sat at the breakfast table (James had stayed overnight)
until Narcissa joined them in huffy silence. Bellatrix and Andromeda, being of age, now ate meals
with their parents, so Narcissa sat alone with the three boys.

“Hey, Cissa, where's your boyfriend?” Sirius smirked. Narcissa glared daggers at him, and
sliced her toast, artistically carving the bread into a skull. “Why do you like him?”

“Yeah, he's a git,” stated James, licking jam off the knife so some of it was smeared across
his lip. Narcissa looked away from him, revolted. “His whole family are; they're just arrogant
pretty-boys with more money than they know what to do with, my Dad says.”

“The Malfoys are respected in pure-blood society,” piped up Regulus, copying his father's
statements word-for-word.

“Whatever, Reg,” Sirius grimaced at his younger brother. “But I think he looks like a girl.”
They sniggered.

“Hey, Narcissa,” James said, “have you started calling him Lucy yet?” He and Sirius collapsed
into a fit of laughter, and Regulus snickered.

“No!” snarled Narcissa, speaking at last. A furious blush had crept up her cheeks, standing out
against her luminous white skin.

“I can't believe you were snogging him!” Sirius grinned. “And you were using-” He waggled
his tongue about, making slurp noises, “*t**ongues**.*”

“I'm warning you!” Narcissa pointed her fork threateningly at him. Sirius held his hands up
defensively, then grinned and waved them about.

“Narcissa has a *boyfriend*, that looks like a *girlfriend*! Lala lala laa laa-”
Narcissa gave a roar of frustration, and stalked away, leaving her untouched breakfast and three
boys in hysterics.

*

In the present, Sirius leaned over into another portrait and jabbed some old lady in the
shoulder.

“'scuse, could you tell me where Narcissa is?” he asked. The old woman looked down at him
through her monocle, her old, aristocratic face wrinkled with distaste.

“And how should I know where my great-grand niece-in-law is?” she sneered in a snobbish way.
“She hasn't walked down this corridor for months, no-one has. Couldn't you see that from
the inch-thick layer of dust on the floor? Honestly, Lucius should beat those house-elves more;
they're not doing their job properly, they've gotten out of line-”

“Look, just forget it,” Sirius muttered, and walked through her portrait, hearing her humph and
mutter “*riffraff”*. Sirius was just wandering whether she was even at home, when he felt
something heavy on his shoulder. Someone had placed the diamond-studded tip of a heavy ebony cane
there. He turned to stare into midnight blue eyes behind small oval glasses.

“I beg your pardon, but I don't think I've seen you before. Care to tell me who you are
and what you are obviously looking for?” The man was tall and thin, with the typical Malfoy
white-blonde hair.

“I'm Sirius Black, ok? And I'm looking for Narcissa.” Sirius sighed. “Do you know where
she is, Mr. - err-? Oh, yeah, right, Malfoy.”

“Magnus Malfoy. And she's in Lucius's study; straight through this wall, into a portrait
of Lucius- My cousin Lucius, that is, not my grandson, who was named after him- along the wall
then, at the last door, turn right and you'll find yourself in the study. I must warn you,
though; she seems fairly upset about something.”

“Ok, thank you,” Sirius said quickly before rushing off, thinking at least there was *one*
helpful Malfoy.

He followed Magnus's instructions, running through the portrait of Lucius Malfoy I, and
found himself in another portrait. It seemed to be an empty portrait, but instead of looking around
it, he looked around the room the portrait was in. It was stacked full of bookshelves with books
mostly on the subject of the dark arts, and in the corner was a rather large liquor cabinet. On the
other side, however, was a work desk, and amidst the piles of paper stacked around the sides, was a
person.

The person was undoubtedly Narcissa; she was resting her head on her folded arms, so he
couldn't see her face, but her long blonde hair was sprawled out across her shoulders and onto
the desk. She was wearing plain black leisure robes, but from what he could see she was awfully
thin, even for her.

He crossed the room via the bleak portraits lining the wall, until he came to the one just above
the work desk. He peered at Narcissa. She wasn't moving at all: she was either sleeping very
lightly or dead. He gulped. The latter could cause some complications.

He peered at the other things on the desk. At Narcissa's right there was a photograph in a
white-gold frame: It was of her's and Lucius's wedding day. The colour of the frame was
fitting to the picture, as almost everything was white: from the cloudy white sky to the elegant
pure white clothes they were wearing, to Narcissa's bouquet of white lilies, roses and narcissi
to the creamy paleness of their skin. They stood proud in their frame, like a couple carved out of
ice, only blinking or glancing at each other occasionally, their smooth smirks showing only frigid
arrogance, which reflected in their eyes. There was something so serene and celestial about the
photo that they didn't seem real, yet when you looked closer into their eyes, you could see the
sheer haughtiness that made them human again.

Sirius turned away from the photo, grimacing. He hadn't been to their wedding, and had no
intention of thinking about anything to do with it. Instead, another photo caught his eye. This one
wasn't in a frame, but was half tucked away under some paper. Sirius manuvered himself so he
could see it better.

The Narcissa in the picture didn't seem to be aware that someone was taking a photo of her.
She had a little fair-haired boy in her lap, probably a five-year old Draco, and was reading to him
from a book. His little eyes were wide with interest, and she was smiling and looking
…*motherly*, so much different to the way she looked in the wedding photo. She didn't
actually look that much older, though he knew there was a ten-year gap.

He glanced at the photo, then at the unmoving Narcissa on the desk. He smiled sympathetically.
It was difficult to believe the Narcissa smiling at her little son in the photo could be the wife
of a murderous Death Eater; she looked very… caring.

Sirius frowned. She could be caring when she wanted to be. He remembered the time when she could
even be caring to *him**.*

1964

The five-year-old boy woke with a shriek. Sirius had twisted and wriggled so much his blankets
were wound tightly around his legs, and he was drenched with sweat. Panting heavily, he looked
wildly around the dark room. He wasn't old enough to tell the time properly, but it seemed very
late. He glanced around into the dark shadows creeping around the corners of his room, playing
tricks with his mind. The heavy thrashing of rain against his window sounded like manacle laughter
to his ears, and the shaking tree branches sounded like hissing…

“*Sirius… Sirius…”*

He jumped as a flash of lightning illuminated the room with a roar, and flung himself under his
sheets. Quivering, he hugged his knees to his chest and pressed himself against the pillows, images
of his previous dream reeling through his mind. Sirius screwed his eyes shut for a minuet, gulped
and peeped out from his blanket. There was a branch outside that was being shaken by the howling
wind, casting a knarled, moving shadow on Sirius's wall. He stared at the shadow, feeling his
skin crawl. He didn't want to stay there on his own. He felt small and vulnerable against the
penetrating darkness in his room. He needed a hug.

Summoning all his bravery, he stepped out of the bed onto the surprisingly cold carpet.
Shivering, he crept to his door and stepped out into the freezing corridor. He wished someone had
heard his cry and come to him, instead of him having to go into the dark, scary corridor.

His cousins were staying over, as they did on a regular basis, and he hurried up towards
Andromeda's bedroom, keeping away from the shadows as much as possible, and grasped the handle
of her door.

*Locked.*

He tugged desperately at the door handle, and then slumped against it when it wouldn't open.
He hugged himself tightly, looking around the pitch-black house in panic. He wasn't going to go
back to his room all on his own; he wouldn't be able to sleep without someone to comfort
him.

He glanced back at Andromeda's door. Why wasn't it open? She'd be able to cheer him
up; she'd make him laugh. He wouldn't dare go to his parents for comfort, they'd only
be angry. Regulus would only cry. And he wouldn't even consider going to… *her,*
especially after his nightmare. There was only one thing for it. He'd have to talk to
Narcissa.

He padded his way like a small animal down to a flight of stairs, and crept up them, finding
Narcissa's temporary room. He opened the door, relieved that it was open.

“Cissy?” he whispered. Narcissa was fact asleep in her bed, not moving the tiniest bit, the
sheets pristinely smooth as she slept without movement. Sirius found it slightly creepy, actually,
and feared for a pulse-pounding second that she was dead, but it was probably just the after
effects of the nightmare.

“Cissy, wake up!” He shook her roughly by the shoulder, and she turned around, glaring at him
moodily.

“Wha- Sirius?” she rubbed her eyes daintily and looked at her clock. “Siri, it's two a.m!
For what reason are you awake so early?”

“I can't sleep,” he muttered, staring at his fingers.

“I gathered. Why?”

“I- I had a bad dream!” he sniffled. Narcissa closed her eyes in aggravation.

“Don't you usually talk to Andromeda when you have a bad dream?”

“I was going to, but her room was locked.”

“I wonder why,” Narcissa muttered irritably, then propped herself on her elbow, so she was
higher. “What happened in your dream?”

“Well,” he shuffled forwards a bit, “well, it- it was Bellatrix!” he shuddered. “She was being
evil, and she was laughing in this weird way. And I asked her what was so funny, and then- and then
she got out her wand and *killed* you and Andi and Reggie and Mother and Father and Uncle
Cygnus and Aunt Dr-Dru-” He paused to wipe the tears from his eyes “Aunt Druella! Who's her
Mommy!” He sniffled loudly. Narcissa's eyes softened and she tilted her head slightly. “And-
and then she pushed me through this black curtain thingy and I was dead!”

“Aww, Sirius…” She sat up, crossing her legs. “Look, you're shivering.” She patted the bed
and he sat down next to her, still rubbing his eyes. She took one of the fluffy blankets and
wrapped it around Sirius. “Siri, I know Bella can be a bit scary-”

“She's always scary!”

“-But she's not going to be murdering anyone, ok?” she rubbed his shoulder comfortingly. “It
was just a dream, that's all.”

“But it was real,” Sirius said quietly, shuffling closer to her.

“No, it wasn't. She might seem big and tough, but she's not going to hurt you, ok?”

“Promise?”

Narcissa sighed. “I promise. You've got nothing to be scared of, I swear.” She smiled at him
reassuringly. He smiled back. “So…What does Andi do when you wake her up?”

“She reads.” He got up, trudged over to her bookshelf, and pulled an interesting looking book
from the top.

“*The tales of the hairy heliopath*? You want me to read *that* to you?” She took the
book and glared at him questioningly.

Sirius put on his puppy dog face. “Pwease?”

Narcissa sighed, “Oh, all right…” Sirius smiled and sat back down next to her, snuggled up in
his blanket.

*

“Narcissa…” muttered the present-day Sirius. “Narcissa, wake up…”

She suddenly snapped into action, drawing a jewel-encrusted silver dagger from beneath a piece
of paper. Her icy blue eyes flashing, she looked around for the cause of the disturbance.
“Who's there?”

“Whoa! Calm down there, cous, it's only me.” Sirius held up his hands defensively.

“Who- Regulus?” She blinked at him disbelievingly, and gasped.

“No,” said Sirius through gritted teeth. “Sirius.”

She gaped at him, completely frozen. “Siri…” her voice died away, and her mouth curved into a
sneer. “What,” she said with forced calmness, “are *you* doing here?”

“Well, it appears I have a portrait hidden away somewhere. I'm not telling you where, as
you'll probably destroy it.”

“Get out of my manor!” She hissed, her long fingers tightening around the dagger.

“Not until I have what I want- whoa!” He jumped out of the way as the dagger flung towards him
and pierced the portrait. “Yikes! A bit melodramatic today, aren't we?”

“I have nothing to say to you! Get out!” She hissed, her voice deadly, and turned on her heel,
hair swishing, and stalked towards the door.

“Narcissa! I need something from you!” Sirius called.

“Well, you can forget it! I don't know what was going through your pathetic little mind when
you thought I would help *you,* but, in case you hadn't noticed, we're not even on
speaking terms anymore! Go away, before I have to remove you!” Eyes slits and glaring menacingly,
she took hold of the door handle.

“You'll help if you want to see your little family again!”

She shot him a despising look. “If you're talking about *her…”*

“I don't mean Andromeda, I'm talking about your husband and son!”

Narcissa froze, her hand still grasping the handle. Then she rushed over to him, half running,
and took the picture of the wall, clutching the frame with vigour. Her eyes scanned his tiny
painted face desperately. “*You* know where Lucius and Draco are?”

“Yeah, I do. Lucius wants me to,” he put on a drawling, high-society voice “let you know that he
is in good health. Draco too.”

She shook the portrait in vexation, provoking Sirius' motion sickness. “Where are
they?!”

Sirius clutched his head to stop it spinning. “First of all, put me down.” Curling her lip
impatiently, Narcissa set the portrait down on Lucius's desk. “And I'm not here to just
*tell* you. You've got to tell me where Voldemort's keeping the muggleborns.”

Narcissa stared at him as though he was insane. She choked back a laugh. “You jest! Never, in
your most demented dreams, did you think I'd actually *tell* you that?”

“Your husband seems to think so.” Narcissa narrowed her eyes. “Apparently, he's on our side
now. Claims he's going to help us.”

“I- you're lying,” was her immediate answer.

“Oho! So it's not true?” Sirius asked. Narcissa paled and bit her lip. “Woopsie. So, I guess
this means Lucius is busted? Made a little mistake there, haven't you?”

“It doesn't matter. So long as we own your portrait, you can't tell our secrets.”

“Hmph.” Sirius knew this was true, unfortunately. “Anyway, are you going to tell me?”

“No.”

“It's the only way to see your family,” said Sirius in a sing-song voice. Narcissa shot him
a withering glare. “Oh come on Cissa! You want to see your kid, right? And what about that hubby?
Are you just gonna leave him to rot? Honestly, the only thing that'll happen is you'll be
in big trouble with Voldemort and She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.”

Narcissa winced horribly, and lowered herself back to the chair, a troubled expression on her
face. She pulled out a packet of expensive cigarettes and a long, platinum holder and lit one.
Sirius watched a torrent of smoke rise into the air; spiralling and unwinding into hypnotic shapes,
then dissolve into the atmosphere.

“I thought you'd given that up.”

“Started again when Draco left for Hogwarts,” Narcissa muttered absently, smoke spilling from
her mouth. She didn't look up as she spoke, but her eyes were fixed and glassy, working
something over in her head.

“Not very good for you, y'know. I heard they make your-”

“Fine!” Narcissa stabbed it out angrily, causing it to make a hissing noise. “Can't you see
I'm under a lot of stress?!” this was true: there were dark semi-circles under her eyes, and
her hair didn't have its usual shine. She looked kind of ill.

Sirius clicked his tongue impatiently and Narcissa returned to her glassy stare. There was a
minuets silence, and then Sirius sighed. He needed that parchment off her. Hmm, maybe he could
annoy her into telling him…

“So, what irritated you when you were a kid?” Sirius stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Oh, I
remember! Rubbish jokes!” Narcissa didn't move her head, but glared at him poisonously. He
leaped into a portrait closer to her, grinning widely. “What do you get when you cross a horse, an
eagle and muggle music? A HipPOPgriff!” Narcissa groaned and started massaging her temples. “What
do you give a fish on its birthday? Fishcakes! What has four legs but doesn't walk? A table!
What's pink and fluffy? Pink fluff!”

“What's funny,” Narcissa spat, raising her head from the desk, which she had rested it on in
agony, “is that your humour hasn't changed since you were thirteen years old!”

“You remembered what I was like at thirteen? I'm honoured.” Sirius smiled sarcastically. “I
thought you hated me. I was the little shame of the family, remember?”

“I detested you, make no mistake,” Narcissa said emotionlessly. “And yes, you were indeed the
family shame. You know we were gutted when you were sorted into Gryffindor.” She scoffed, and
turned away, sneering in disgust.

“Yes, but Andromeda managed to accept me.”

“Well, we both know how *she* turned out.”

“Why don't you just say her name?”

“You won't say Bellatrix!”

“Andromeda didn't cold-bloodedly murder you!”

“Oh no, she only abandoned us for some mudblood!”

“She wouldn't have had to run away if you'd just *tried* to understand what she was
feeling!” They were screaming at each other now, breathing hard and glaring acidly.

“What was to understand?! She just deserted her family! She always had it in her to do that, all
she needed was a little egging on, and *you* provided just that!”

“I didn't egg on anything, I was protecting her! Didn't you see Bellatrix? She looked
like she was about to rip her face off!”

“Oh, yes, *protecting* her! That was the reason you ran away too was it? To protect
*her*?!”

“No, *I* ran away because I couldn't stand anymore of that family's stupid
prejudices!”

“Did you even think what it would do to *that family*? Do you understand how upset everyone
was when you two left?”

“Pft.”

“Don't you believe me?” Narcissa took a furious step towards the portrait. “You deserted
your family's beliefs. How do you think we felt?”

Sirius swallowed guiltily, glaring at her in abhorrence. “Family, family, family, can't you
just be independent for once?”

“Well, I'm sorry if I care about my kin!” Her voice went slightly higher. “Unlike
*some!* How could you just abandon us, how could you just forget everything you'd ever
been taught?!”

Sirius stared into her icy blue eyes, a small frown curling his lips. She glared back at him,
her breathing shallow, and he was very shocked to see she was fighting tears. He sighed. “Narcissa…
I'm dead. It's over. It's no use fighting about my life, when it's gone.”

Narcissa gave him a long, conflicting look, sizing him up. At last she sighed. “I suppose
you're right,” she muttered, looking down at her nails. She sniffed. “That's a little
sad.”

Sirius's mouth dropped. “Sad? You think it's *sad?* It's bloody
devastating!”

Narcissa glared at him in annoyance. “This is about as sympathetic as I'm going to get, you
know. You should be grateful.”

“Oh, yeah, *sympathetic,”* Sirius would start another yelling match in a minuet. “Like you
ever cared about me.”

He had obviously upset her: she glared stonily at him, eyes wide and dangerous, and she
completely tensed up. She flexed her fingers, and Sirius braced himself for more flying daggers.
“Care?!” she spat. “*Care?!!*”

Sirius got ready for the screamed lecture about how she could never care about an insufferable
little maggot like him, but what she said next completely took him aback.

“Of *course* I care about you!!” she hissed, still in that dangerously low, angry voice.
“You are, no matter what terrible things you've done, my cousin!”

A thick silence followed this proclamation. Sirius blinked once, twice, three times at the woman
who had “disowned” him all these years, while she stared avidly at him, once again close to
tears.

“I don't-”

“Did you think I could just give up a family member like that?” she spat. “Bellatrix, for all
the trouble she's worth, I still care about her! And Andromeda- stupid, treacherous Andromeda-”
She closed her eyes in aggravation, breathing hard. “I didn't like you one bit, Sirius, but I-
I never wanted you *dea**d.*”

She sat back in her seat, looking small. Her gaze turned away to the wedding photo.

“So- so you *do* care that I died?” Sirius asked incredulously. “Would you say… you regret
it?”

There were tears sparkling in her eyes. Biting her lip, she nodded her head.

“You know- you know why I died, right?” he whispered, leaning closer in his portrait. “For the
Order. For their cause. Fighting Voldemort.” Her eyes lingered on the picture of her wedding,
though they were unfocussed. “You wouldn't want your cousin's death to go to waste, would
you? Please,” he held out his hand, though he couldn't physically take the parchment. “The
parchment…”

Narcissa's eyes snapped back to him, and she looked half- fearful, half- angry. “But I- I am
faithful to the Dark Lord.”

“Why?” Sirius whispered. “What's Voldemort ever gotten you? Two dead cousins, an insane
sister, a captive husband and a runaway son!”

Narcissa winced at each of his words. “I can't! My family-”

“Lucius was the one who sent me, remember.”

Narcissa returned to gazing at the wedding photo, her eyes roaming over Lucius's coolly
arrogant face. “He doesn't really want to help the Order, you know. He just wants a quick

and easy escape.”

Sirius cursed the charm that stopped him giving away his owner's secrets. “You think
he'll betray us?”

Narcissa never looked up from the photo. “Oh, no. He's been growing more and more regretful
for ages. He won't join a side. Probably move us to another country.”

“You don't think he's loyal enough to stay with Voldemort?”

She smirked. “He wasn't loyal enough to spend thirteen years in Azkaban for him, what makes
you think he'll be that loyal to him now? No…” unconsciously, she lit another cigarette, and
took a long breath. “Survival was always Lucius's top priority. Loyalty comes second.”

“Well, if you want to help him survive, you know what you've got to do.”

Narcissa's eyes snapped back to him again, but this time she just looked fearful. Her hand
slid slowly along the desk, and Sirius's heart rate quickened as her fingers reached another
knife. “*Yeesh, how many daggers do one family need?”* he thought, but she snaked past the
knife and down until she came to a draw. She opened it, and removed a piece of parchment. She
unfolded it, never removing her eyes from Sirius, and slowly rose from her desk, to show Sirius the
paper. In spiky, black handwriting, was the word-

“Hogwarts?!” Sirius gaped. “They're using Hogwarts? Ten out of ten for being discreet!”

“Actually, it's very discreet.” Narcissa folded the paper. “No-one goes there anymore. It
was completely deserted when we first used it. Useful, too: all those rooms, all those charms
protecting it.”

“Right.” There was a pause, “Right, I'll be off then. Uh, bye.”

“Sirius!” Narcissa called him back just before he stepped through the wall. “Just so you know…
I'm not doing it for you, you know. I'm doing it for them. Lucius and Draco.” Sirius
waited. “Not you. I'm- I'm not…” but she didn't sound so sure.

Sirius grinned. “Not even just a little bit?” His cousin stayed silent. “What's that motto I
used to hate?... ah, yes. *Toujours pur**.”* A small smile creeped up Narcissa's
face, and he left, half-smiling too.

*

-->



26. The Battle Begins
---------------------



“Hogwarts?”

“Hogwarts.”

“*Hogwarts?”*

“Hogwarts!” Sirius's portrait snapped at Snape. Snape sneered, and turned to the group of
Order members surrounding him.

“So, what's the plan of attack?”

“Well, we need to get in, of course!” Rebecca Black slammed a hand on the table. “There must be
some secret passages?”

“Hmm. I wouldn't try using the one leading from Honeydukes, or the one from behind the
mirror. Those lead straight inside the castle, they'll be watched. No, the best one to use
would be the Whomping Willow.”

“Won't that be watched too?” asked Harry.

“Not as much, but yes. We'll need a distraction.”

“And that,” Remus clasped his hands together in a business like way. “Is where Lucius comes
in.”

Malfoy, who had been dragged along, looked up, his gaunt face a picture of shock. “M-me?”

“And how,” said Rebecca slowly, “is that going to work?”

“No! No!” Malfoy pulled against the cuffs binding him to the chair. “I'm not helping
you!”

“Oh?” Remus turned to him slowly. “We were under the impression you were, in exchange for
freedom?”

“Well- I- I never said anything about *doing missions* for you- I mean- come *on*…” he
looked around the room desperately, pale eyes darting from one person to the next.

But no-one seemed to care about Malfoy's protests. “So, how's this going to work?”

*

Harry proudly pulled on his Order of the Phoenix duelling cloak, tucking his wand safely in one
of the pockets. He glanced at the flaming phoenix symbol on his belt. He had taken the vow of
allegiance, and he, Ron and Hermione were now officially part of the Order. And now, they were
going to break the captive muggleborns free, perhaps fighting a couple of Death Eaters along the
way.

“You look great, kiddo,” Sirius grinned, looking at Harry's Order robes from his picture.
“Just like your dad.”

“Thanks, Sirius,” Harry grinned back.

He walked down the hallway to check on Hermione, who looked nervouse but determined, and Ron,
who was almost bouncing off the walls with pent-up energy. He then went to check on Ginny, who was
also going. He found her in her room, getting ready, Draco watching her sourly. They seemed to be
having a disagreement.

“…Look, I'm going, ok, Draco?” said Ginny irritably.

“Its *way* too dangerous!” snarled Malfoy.

“I can look after myself! Tell him Harry!” Harry blinked as Ginny suddenly rounded on him.

“Well, I guess it's true. She's a good fighter, Malfoy; I'd be more worried for the
poor bloke her wand's directed at.”

Ginny smirked at Malfoy triumphantly, and he glared at her and Harry, stumped.

“Well- well if you're going off to do something stupid, I'm going to go and be stupid
with you!” he announced, folding his arms.

Ginny's smirk faded. “Oh no, Draco, I know how you feel about fighting them.”

“Yeah, well, that was before I had you.” He flushed, and glanced at Harry, embarrassed.

Harry rolled his eyes.” “Oh, don't mind me. Pretend I don't exist, like you did when you
were *proposing* to her.” Malfoy stared at his feet.

“Draco…” Ginny wrapped her arms around him.

“Please, Gin, not in front of Pot-” But Harry was already walking towards the door.

“Get a room!” he called.

“We have. You're in it.” But Harry waited outside the room, until Malfoy stepped out.

“I want to talk to you,” he said, pulling Malfoy aside. He knew it wasn't really his place,
more like Ron's or Mr. Weasley's, but as they didn't know… “How far,” he murmured
quietly, “are you willing to go to protect Ginny in this war?”

Malfoy shifted uncomfortably, looking very embarrassed.

“For goodness sakes Malfoy, spit it out!”

Malfoy glared coolly at Harry, still looking embarrassed. “I'd die for her,” he admitted
proudly, then wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Oh. I sound like a Gryffindor. How horrible…” He
walked away, shaking his head. Harry stared after him. He sounded sincere. Perhaps he could accept
Ginny and Malfoy after all… eventually.

“Harry,” Ron's voice floated into his brain. “We're going soon.”

“Right,” said Harry. Butterflies were growing in his stomach.

“Lets *go*, Harry! Let's save the muggleborns!” Ron, whose eyes were bright, was
brimming with excitement. He ran off, and Harry followed him, shaking his head at his friend's
excitation.

*

Harry had followed the tunnel leading from the Shrieking Shack and poked his head through the
hole in the Whomping Willow, shivering with adrenaline. There was the castle, invisible to anyone
who hadn't been told by Voldemort, standing in all its sinister glory.

He ducked back inside, so Mr. Weasley could have a look. Harry felt his wrist being squeezed
softly and looked down to see Hermione peering worriedly into his eyes, silently asking for
confidence. He gave her a reassuring smile, and put an arm around her waist.

“We'll be fine,” he whispered into her hair. She nodded, hugging him possessively.

“Oh, yes, there are Death Eaters there,” said Mr. Weasley, wincing as he said Death Eaters. He
was obviously trying to not think of Percy. “Where's our Distraction?”

Lucius Malfoy looked in an extremely foul temper. He stood with Snape, glaring at everyone
exceptionally evilly. He was wearing an expression that clearly said he wished everyone would die a
very painful death.

“Come along, Lucius,” said Snape, and he led him away. Malfoy shot Harry a savage sneer, before
following.

*

“*Come along, Lucius*,” Lucius mimicked as they came out the Shrieking Shack. “Yeesh,
Snape, you sound like my father.”

“Mm, isn't that tragic,” muttered Snape lazily as he took Lucius's shoulder.

“I can apperate myself!” Lucius snarled. Severus raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, you think I'm letting you get away that easily?” And he began apperating them to
Hogwarts front gates. However, mid-apperation, Lucius raised a fist and punched Snape in the
stomach. As they landed, Snape fell to the ground, groaning, and Lucius started apperating away
with a smirk.

“*F**uniculus incantartem*!”

Something pulled him back, and he landed on his back on the forest floor. He looked to see a
thin black cord had wound around his ankle, attached to Snape's wand. Now both men were lying
on the floor, glaring menacingly at each other.

“Do you know what this is? It's an eternal cord. It means you're bound to me, and if you
do something I don't like…” Lucius jumped as a small fiery shock ran up his leg. Snape slowly
stood up, and Lucius did the same.

“Who did you learn that from?” Lucius stared at the cord.

“Miss Black.”

“Getting friendly with her, aren't you?” For some odd reason, Snape flushed. “Whatever. Let
me go.”

“No.”

“Let me go.”

“No.”

“Oh, come on, Severus. I am *not* doing this for the Order. You know I only came so I could
get my wife.”

“And what were you planning on doing when you got her?”

“I don't know, immigrate probably. I'm at my wit's end with this war. Yes, we'd
go to France, the name Malfoy could be passed off as French.”

“But then, however would you be able to pay me back?”

“Pay you… back?” Lucius narrowed his eyes.

“I've done a lot for your family, Malfoy.” Snape was slowly advancing on him, wand raised.
“I promised your wife I'd aid your son in his mission. I restored Narcissa back to health when
she was ill. I helped Draco run away. I saved his life when he cut his Dark Mark off.”

“Yes, and I'm eternally grateful. Now will you *please* let me go?!”

Severus smirked. “Don't be silly, Malfoy, this is your chance to repay me.”

Lucius looked from him to the cord to the castle. “Aww!” he whined. “Can't I just tie your
laces; stop you breaking your neck?”

“Very amusing Lucius, but no.”

Lucius paced in a circle, his scowl deepening. “How could you do this to me? I've got you
out of tricky situations, allowed you into my home, treated you like a family member on
occasions…”

Severus frowned. “Lucius, this is for your own good as well as mine,” he said gently. “If you do
this, you'll have less chance of going to jail, and you won't have to immigrate. You
wouldn't be able to do that anyway, I don't think Draco wants to go anywhere. You don't
want to be on the run from the Order forever, do you?”

“And how do you know the Order's going to win, Severus? How do you know it's not the
wrong side?”

“It's not,” said Snape with grim confidence.

Lucius glared at the cord around his ankle. “Fine,” he said sourly, “I'll go.” He turned to
leave.

“Wait! It has to look believable!” Lucius froze as Snape mussed up his hair a bit and put some
leaves in it. He then scratched his cheek with a twig and put some mud on his robes. “A
masterpiece.” Severus folded his arms. Lucius twitched angrily. “What? It has to look
believable.”

Malfoy swore at him and turned to the gates.

*

“Ok,” Remus breathed, “Ok, here he comes.”

Harry watched from their hidey-hole as a figure with long white-blonde hair strutted up the path
leading to the castle. Mr. Malfoy seemed to be wiping leaves out his hair.

Suddenly, Harry noticed another figure with long blonde hair had appeared at Hogwarts'
gates. He pulled out the omnoculars he had saved from fourth year (he had thought they would come
in useful, and had taken them just in case). The figure was Mrs. Malfoy, and now she was running
towards her husband. Harry heard Draco groan as his mother shot towards his father, kissing him
fiercely.

Several other Death Eaters had come to see him, and Malfoy looked distinctly embarrassed. He
made up for it by waving his hands about, probably telling some boastful story of how he escaped.
He then pointed in the direction opposite the Whomping Willow, and though Harry couldn't hear
him he knew he was telling them that there were Order members trying to get in there.

“Okay,” Remus whispered. “They're falling for it. Let's go.” In groups of three, half of
the Order ran stealthily to the castle wall. They were under the Disillusionment Charm, so they
were almost invisible in the dark. Harry pressed his back against the cold stone wall. He could see
someone had grafitied a glowing green Dark Mark on the wall, it's eyes beaming like search
lights, and he lowered himself so he could crawl in the mulchy grass to avoid breaking the
beam.

He looked around for others. The Disillusionment Charm was powerful; the only way he could tell
there were people with him was Hermione's soft breathing on his shoulder. He suddenly caught
sight of a tiny red light, and followed it. He could just make out Mr. Weasley's figure by a
window.

“Through here,” he whispered, and they clambered through the window, welcoming the warmth
instead of the cool night air.

“Right, I think that's everyone.” Mr. Weasley took off the charm and counted everyone's
heads. “Right, we search the castle in groups of five. If anyone sees a Death Eater, silence them,
then stun them. If there's serious trouble push your belts and someone'll come. Let's
move.”

Harry, Ron and Hermione, now joined by Remus and Tonks, scattered along the halls, cautious for
any Death Eaters. They first went to the Dungeons, which was the most obvious place in Harry's
opinion.

There were indeed people there. They blinked and squinted as Harry shone his wand over them, as
though they hadn't seen light for days. They were unhealthy looking, with sunken eyes, straggly
hair and sallow, pale skin. Many of them bore marks of being beaten.

“Harry Potter?” said one of them, a middle-aged man with a puffed-up purple eye. Many of the
people started chattering excitedly, crowding around them. There was Colin and Dennis Creevey,
looking very thin, Percy's friend Penelopy Clearwater, her face scattered with cuts, and Dean
Thomas, who roared with delight upon seeing his classmates. There were about 50 people crammed into
the Dungeon, adults and children alike.

“Have you come to get us out?” a little boy tugged on Hermione's robe. She looked down at
him, nodding and smiling tearfully. She then looked around at the gaunt, pale faces that were
peering at them hopefully. Harry knew she mst have been feeling terrible. All these people were
being abused beacause of their heritage, yet they had the same birth kind as her…

“Mel Gower!” Remus had recognised one of the people.

“Remus!” he whispered horsely, “I'm so glad you've come! It's been… nightmarish!” He
coughed wheezily into his fist, and Harry saw there was a purple hand-shaped bruise on his wrist.
“Some of us have been stuck here for months! They don't feed us properly… and they beat us,
sometimes to death.” He indicated something in the very far end of the dungeons, where no-one was.
Harry's stomach turned to mush as he saw there was a row of deceased people, layed out
respectfully. He felt sick. It was like a concentration camp.

“Well, we're getting you out of here,” said Tonks, and pulled a pile of wands from her robe,
and began handing them out.

People's faces lit up as they got their hands on wands, and Remus, Tonks and Hermione led
groups of five people at a time out, back to the Whomping Willow, where the rest of the people were
waiting.

“You two, go and search some more. There'll be others in other rooms,” said Remus.

Harry and Ron trooped along the castle, checking more rooms. It was only in Gryffindor tower
they found more people. They were in marginally better condition, as the tower had windows, and it
wasn't as cramped, but they still looked malnourished.

They led the people to the Whomping Willow, where they could get food and proper health care.
Harry was thinking that the mission was going well, when he felt a funny humming feeling in his
waist.

“The belts!” said Ron, lifting his robe to reveal the flashing belt.

Harry took a sharp intake of breath, then held his wand flat in his palm. “*P**oint
me,”* he whispered.

They followed Harry's wand's directions, speeding back up to the castle, until their
eyes were met with a light so bright it could have rivalled the aurora borealis.

“Harry!” Hermione pulled him aside, dodging a curse. “Ron! The Death Eaters have seen us!”

Harry peered through the bright array of lights, to see they were being caused by Death Eaters
and Order members shooting spells at each other with such ferocity it unnerved Harry.

There was Bellatrix Lestrange, deulling Molly Weasley and Neville Longbottom, Dolohov, casting
the cruciatus curse on Rebecca Black, before being paralyzed by Snape, Rookwood, who was being
attacked by Lupin, Greyback, who was trying to bite Professor Flitwick, but had just been knocked
out by Bill Weasley, and unknown Death Eater, who was duelling Kingsley Shackelbolt, and many
more.

Portraits were being knocked off walls, suites of armors being destroyed, the carpet was being
shredded, and part of the ceiling collapsed on Yaxley's head. Harry winced as he saw Mundngus
Fletcher fall down dead, and saw that Fred Weasley's leg had been snapped in three places, so
it was sticking out at a jaunty angle. Lucius Malfoy was skulking along in the shadows, trying not
to be seen, and Vincent Crabbe's arms had been charmed into snakes.

“Move!” yelled Hermione at Ron, as something large and glowing shot towards him. She shot a
spell at a Death Eater, causing him to be trapped in a suite of armor.

“Hermione! We need backup! Get anyone and everyone you can!” screamed Tonks, as more Death
Eaters started pouring in. Harry and Ron threw curse after curse at them, and Hermione ran out to
get moere people to fight.

Fizzing, whirring, cackling and crackling from the curses filled Harry's ears, along with
the mingled yells and screams from the people fighting and the thunder of footsteps. It seemed
every single Death Eater and Order member was shooting spells and fighting, everywhere you looked
there was duelling. It wasn't just along one corridor: soon, people were upstairs and
downstairs, darting in and out of classrooms, shooting jets of light just visible outside in the
grounds, leaving trails of destruction wherever they went.

Hermione soon returned with half an army of Order members, captured muggleborns, and people who
just wanted to help fight. With a frightening roar they charged in, brandishing their wands and
jumping on Death Eaters, screaming curses.

Harry felt exhausted. He was panting, sweat rolling down his cheeks, as he sent Alecto Carrow
soaring through the air. It was worse than the battle of Hogsmeade. With a plunge of dread in his
stomach, he wandered how many more people had to be killed, injured or hurt before it all
ended.

*

Hermione looked left and then right gingerly. No-one was noticing her, they were all too busy
duelling, but she wasn't concerned about that at the moment. There were some creatures who
weren't duelling, who were totally defencless. House-elves.

She snuk along until she came to the portrait of the fruit bowl, and tickled the pear with her
little finger. It giggled and squirmed like a faceless green baby, before the painting opened and
permited her entry.

There were no lights on in the kitchen, but through the dark a hundred pairs of orb-like eyes
stared at her in fear and fascination.

“Right, everyone out! You might not know this, but there's a war going on up there!” she
announced. None of the elves moved.

Hermione noticed they were all huddled up together, hugging and comforting each other. They kept
glancing up fearfully, and most of them were quivering violently. They were curled up together,
tears shining in some of their eyes. Apparently they *did* know there was a battle going on,
and they were terrified to death.

“Well come on!” Hermione shouted desperately, but that only scared them more. She lowered her
voice. “You're in danger here.” She could hear shouting and footsteps from up the hall.

“Miss is right!” said an elf with about a thousand hats, all towered on top of each other.
Hermione recognised it as Dobby.

None of the elves moved, until one nervously stood up. “Mistress Lestrange has told us we must
stay here at all costs, no matter how danger-y it is being.”

“*Mistress* Lestrange? Look, forget her! Your lives are in danger, if someone comes down
here they could accidentaly hit you with a spell! You're in the middle of a *war**,*
You have to leave!”

“Mistress said no.”

The fighting people were getting closer. Spells were ricocheting off the walls, they could hit
an elf easily… a small elf hugged itself to a bigger one. Hermione looked at the small creatures
helplessly. Why were they so stubbornly suicidal? Why couldn't they understand they didn't
have to do as humans told them all the time.

“We must go! It's not safe for an elf!” Dobby squeaked, stamping his foot.

“No, Dobby. Bellatrix Lestrange is in charge of Hogwarts now. If she is saying something, we is
doing it.” The elf glared at Dobby, and several others nodded reluctantly. “Even if it means we is
dying, we is good house-elves.”

“No,” said Hermione weakly, kneeling so she was eye-level with them. “It doesn't mean
you're bad elves if you save yourselves. And what about each other? Are you just going to let
your friends die?” The house-elves glanced nervousley at each other, fear written across their
faces. “House-elves have as much right to live as humans do. You can't just let yourselves die
because someone told you to. It doesn't make you bad elves to save each other, and whoever says
it dose is a *bad human.* Why should you be pushed around? You don't deserve to die,
you've done nothing wrong.”

There was silence. Brown, blue and green elf eyes stared at her, thinking. Then, a small elf
stepped foreward. It was Winky.

“Miss is right,” Winky squeaked, and vanished. They all looked at each other, gawping in shock,
but then Hermione watched in delight as another apparated away, then another and another, until,
gradually, they had all gone. Hermione sighed in relief.

“Oh, thank you, Miss! Thank you for saving my friends!” Dobby's hat's quivered. He was
overjoyed.

Hermione smiled. “You'd better be going too, Dobby.”

“Oh, no, Miss. Dobby is fighting with you, Miss. Dobby is kicking some arse!”

Hermione struggled to keep a straight face.

“You're a brave little elf, Dobby. Just be careful, ok?”

Dobby shreiked with joy, then hugged her around the knees. “Oh, Miss is valiant and noble and
just! Harry Potter is lucky to have such a ladyfriend as his Hermy Granger!”

“Oh! No, Harry's not my-” But Dobby had already zoomed off, leaving a beet-red Hermione with
her thoughts.

*

Arthur raced behind the Death Eater, following his trailing cloak.

“*Crucio!”* spat the Death Eater, but fortunately Arthur dodged it.

“*Expelliarmus!”* He roared, and the man's wand cannoned into the air, spinning around
until it landed with a smack in Arthur's palm. He glanced at it, then did a double take. He
recognised this wand, it had been his brother Bilius's before he died, then it had been passed
along to… No…

Slowly, he looked up at the Death Eater. He was just standing there, calm and cool as ice. Dread
intoxiating his veins, Arthur took a terrified step towards him. The man did nothing, but stared at
him through eyes concealed behind a mask. He walked tensely up to him, then raised an outstretched
hand. His whole arm trembling, his fingers curled around the edge of the mask. He swallowed, and
slowly, painfully slowly, removed the mask. His breath caught in his throat.

It was Percy.

“NOOO!”Arthur fell on his knees in front of his son, clutching his head and shaking with dry
sobs. “Percy…” he whispered, looking at Percy's blank face. “How could you?”

“I'm sorry, Father,” he said, his voice oddly emotionless. “It's your own fault. You
should have given me more support.”

Arthur gave a choked gasp and crawled backwards, not believing his ears. Percy was staring
straight ahead, not once looking at Arthur, but his blue eyes were glazed over, his face completely
and utterly expressionless. He was like one of those muggle robots, completely uncaring, appearing
to have no independent thought.

Arthur shakily stood up. Something was not right, aside from the obviouse. His behaviour was
strange, his voice was odd, it was as though he was being controlled…

Fuming, Arthur raised his wand, so it was pointing in his son's face, milimeters from his
nose. Glaring mercilessly, he took a breath, ready to curse this unforgiving Death Eater that had
replaced his son…

“*Confringo!”* He jerked his wand out of Percy's face, aiming over his shoulder at the
concealed Death Eater who had him under the imperious curse. The blasting curse sent him flying,
and Percy collapsed forewards, Arthur catching him.

“Dad?” Percy whispered, staring at his Death Eater robes in shock. “What am I doing?”

“It's ok, you were under the imperious.”

“Oh, oh Merlin, Dad!” Percy's eye's widened in horror. “What've I done? Who've I
killed?”

“Shh, no. It couln't be helped.” Arthur put a comforting hand on his son's shoulder.
Percy backed away, looking scared of himself.

“Oh man! I'm a murderer!” He fell to his knees.

“No, you're not!” Arthur squatted down next to Percy. “you just… You got too important in
the Ministry. Look, what matters is that you're yourself now. It wasn't your fault.”

“I should have listened to you,” Percy whispered. “Dad, I am so, so sorry.”

Arthur swallowed, tears forming in his eyes. He had waited *so* long to hear that. He
should have been berating his son for being too hot-headed to listen. He should have been lecturing
him on the importance of listening to his parents. Instead, he smiled weakly and said, “You're
forgiven, Perce.”

*

Neville adjusted his earmuffs, and chucked another mandrake at the group of Death Eaters.
Adreneline was rushing through his body, and he gave the thumbs up to Proffessor Sprout. He checked
the basket, frowning. There were no mandrakes left, so it was safe to take off the earmuffs. As he
did so, he heard a scream.

He looked around. Ginny Weasley had just cursed Rabastan Lestrange, causing him to writhe as his
face erupted in fat purple boils. She grinned at him triumphantly, before turning around, bumping
into Rodolphus Lestrange.

“Whaddid you do to my brother, wench?” he spat, grabbing her by the arms and lifting her off the
ground.

“Hey! Leave her alone!” Neville yelled. Lestrange shot a spell at Neville, and he found himself
bound to the spot. He grinned nastily, and turned back to Ginny, who was lashing out furiously at
him, but had no effect.

“GET OFF HER!” came a roar, and Neville was shocked to see Draco Malfoy jump on him. Lestrange
was a lot bigger than him, however, and shoved him to the floor.

“Hey, I know you! You're that nephew of mine.”

“Yeah, you were a pretty crap uncle, being in Azkaban most of my life, and all,” Malfoy
drawled.

“Cheeky little-” He shoved Ginny at another Death Eater, who held her still. “How would you like
a taste of my wand?”

“Malfoy! Get away from him, he's dangerous!” Neville shouted.

“You know him, huh, Longbottom? Well, here's a treat, why don't you watch me teach him a
lesson? I can use the same tecniques I and my wife used on your parents. *Crucio!”*

Neville stared in horror as Malfoy screamed in agony. Malfoy was one of his least favorite
people, but he'd never wish this on him. And the way he wa writhing made Neville think… was
that how his parents had been when the Lestranges tortured them to insanity? Was Rodolphus smiling
the same way as he had when he had crucio'ed the Longbottoms? Had Alice been screaming the same
way Ginny was when she watched her husband turn insane? If this carried on, would Malfoy become
mentally incapacitated too?!

He wouldn't wish that on anyone.

Freeing himself, he shot the first curse that came into his head, all his anger and fury towards
the Lestranges concentrated into this one spell. A powerful jet of purple light hit Lestrange
square in the chest, and he fell down, landing oddly on his neck with a sickening crack, and moved
no more. The Death Eater holding Ginny scampered away, scared, and she flung herself onto
Malfoy's chest.

“Draco!” She put a hand on Malfoy's sweat-covered brow, as he breathed harshly. “Wow,
Neville, that was scary!”

Neville gave a forced smile and looked down at Malfoy, who was now groaning.

“Still a brainless oaf, am I, Malfoy?” he whispered. “Still all those things you said I was?”
Malfoy avoided his eye, looking slightly ashamed. Ginny hadn't heard.

“Are you feeling ok?” she asked tenderly.

“No… my head… soldier down!” he groaned. “I need you to nurse me back to health.”

Ginny rolled her eyes and grinned.

“Um, hello? Is something going on between you two?” Neville looked from him to her suspitiously.
Ginny with *Malfoy?* Eww...

Malfoy's and Ginny's eyes trailed to each other. “Um…no…”

“Uh, um, Malfoy, is that you? I thought it was Ron…”

“Ugh, Weasley, get off me!” Neville shook his head at their pathetic attemps to convince
him.

“Look, Neville, *please* don't say anything, not yet.”

“But you're with *Malfoy?* Eww, Ginny, how could you?”

“I'm right here you know!” said Malfoy indignantly.

“Neville, please! We don't want anyone to know.” She looked at him with pleading round eyes.
He hated it when girls did that, he couldn't say no.

“I'll try not. But I can't promise something won't slip.”

“Thanks Neville,” Ginny gave him a grateful smile.

“You know, that part where you said you mistook me for your brother was quite offensive,” Malfoy
muttered. Ginny just rolled her eyes.

“But-but how did you two get… uh, close?” Neville looked from Malfoy to Ginny uncomfortably.

“I'll explain later,” Ginny smiled weakly, before helping Malfoy to his feet and then
shooting a vibrant orange spell at a Death Eater over his shoulder. Malfoy watched her with the air
of someone appriciating fine art, before raising his wand to help her. Neville took one final
glance at Rodolphus Lestrange, and helped them too.

*

“Harry!” Ron dived on top of him, pulling Harry to the floor as a shimmering beam of yellow
light shot over their heads, bright against the dark sky. The battle had been taken outside.

“Wow!” Harry wiped his brow. “Thanks, Ron!”

“Just looking out for you, mate!” Ron shot him a rougeish grin, before they both got back into
the action, shooting spells and firing curses.

“*Expecto patronum!”* Harry's stag pranced majestically at an array of dementors,
scattering them like a bowling ball scatters pins. It soared up to join a silver doe, and they
drove the dementors upwards.

The Death Eaters had also called for backup, and had arranged for a swarm of dementors,
werewolves, and even three giants, but the Order had more people, as anyone who wanted to fight
Voldemort had been recruited, bought as many weapons as they could, and come to fight. Many were on
the backs of hypogriffs or thestrals, if they could see them, and one of these was Luna.

Her thestral knocked a werewolf unconcious with one of its great, bat-like wings, and landed
with a squark.

“Luna! Look out!” Harry yelled. A burly, wide Death Eater had shot a crackling green curse at
her, which split the air with it's firework-like noise.

“LUNA!” Ron knocked her off her thestral, effectively getting in the way of the curse. It hit
him directly in the left eye.

“Ron!” Harry and Luna yelled, as he rolled on the floor, howling in agony. Harry jumped over a
fallen tree trunk, and slammed himself on the ground where Ron was screeching. He was clutching his
eye franticly, the other one wet with tears.

“Ron, Ron, let me look…” Harry gently pried Ron's hand away. He felt sick as he saw his
friend's eye. The spell seemed to have melted the eyeball in it's socket, and green liquid
oozed from the wound revoltingly.

“Oh my- What's that?!” someone screamed.

Harry tore his gaze away from his friend's face and looked to the sky. He froze.

Something, something black, bat-like and fast moving was rocketing through the sky towards them.
It was leaving a blazing green streak imprinted against the sky, cutting through the dark. It
soared to them at an alarming rate, and people were screaming: it was like a torpedo. It was like a
meteorite. It was like something that would cause a genecide. It was Voldemort.

His robes were billowing behind him, his skeletal face still in concentraition. Suddenly he
stopped in mid air, floating to the floor, his robes falling around him gracefully. No body moved,
no body dared even breathe, they were all waiting, watching, and Voldemort watched them back
through his scorching, fearsome scarlet eyes.

Somebody lost their nerve and dropped their wand.

“*Avada kedavra!”* Proffessor Pomona Sprout fell to the ground, dead.

The atmosphere was thick enough to cut. Everyone watched with baited breath as Voldemort took
one long step, his trailing cloak rustling the grass behind him.

“Harry Potter!” Voldemort's cool, high voice slashed through the compressing silence,
reaching everyone's ears. Harry stepped out, bracing himself for whatever Voldemort would throw
at him.

But all he did was say this: “You will meet me in one hour at the top of the Astronomy tower. If
you do not come, I will find you, and I will kill you. Remember, just one hour.”

*

-->



27. Memories of a Master
------------------------



Harry gulped and nodded. Voldemort's intense eyes glanced him up and down, before he turned
and stalked away, robe fluttering behind him. Every single Death Eater that was able to scampered
after him, forming rows.

The muttering erupted in a great wave across the grounds, as people started helping the injured
and searching for the dead. A wail came from a mother who had found her son's body, and soon
others formed a cacophony of mourning.

Harry looked down at Ron, who had been biting his tongue to stop himself crying out in pain on
Voldemort's appearance. He started moaning again, unable to contain himself any longer.

“Oh Ron!” Luna sobbed. “Oh Ron! I'm so sorry; you were trying to save *me-”*

“No, Luna, it's not your fault,” said Harry comfortingly. “Ron, come on mate, we'll get
you some help…”

“Oh my goodness!” Hermione had appeared. She seemed to have been in a struggle, as her robes
were torn and there were minor injuries on her face. “*Numbinus*!” The area around Ron's
eye swelled up, and he calmed down a little, still clutching his eye.

“What was that?” said Harry.

“Pain dimming charm.” Hermione put her wand away and helped Ron to his feet. “I can't do
anything for the actual wound but that looks terribly painful.”

Gently, they guided him into the Great Hall, half carrying him. Luna tagged along, sobbing and
holding his hand.

The dead were laid out respectfully, as they had been in the Dungeons. Harry's breath
hitched in his throat as he saw people he knew. Along with Professor Sprout and Mundungus Fletcher
were Cho Chang, Professor McGonagall and Dennis Creevey, all sombre and silent in their death. The
injured were being treated around the sides, the most severely hurt first. Healers were rushing
around franticly, and Madame Pomfrey looked out of her mind. The Malfoys were huddled up in a
corner, looking unsure of their surroundings, while their son bottled potions Snape had brewed.
Snape's patronus, the silver doe Harry's stag had teamed up with, was standing at the door,
a shining beacon to all the people who were carrying the injured. Tonks was feeding Remus, who had
transformed as it was full moon, some wolfsbane potion, to ensure he remained harmless. Harry found
what he was looking for as he spotted a group of red-haired people.

They staggered over to the Weasley family, conjuring a bed to place Ron on. Fred was lying on
one besides him, his leg still twisted in that strange way. Harry and Hermione aided their friend
down, Hermione half-dropping him as he was heavy.

“Ron!” Mrs. Weasley shrieked, looking hysterical upon seeing the green liquid splattered across
her son's face. “Oh, my little Ronnikins, what happened? How did this happen? Oh, Ron!”

“Mum…” Ron croaked weakly.

“Yes?” Mrs. Weasley put her face close to his. “What is it, Ronnikins?”

“Don't go mental…”

George, who was at Fred's bedside, sniggered. “That's it, Ron, keep up the humour!”

He smiled, and Mr. Weasley glared at him. Harry was surprised to see Percy standing next to him,
in Death Eater's robes, looking frail and shaken. Bill was comforting his little brother,
though he looked old and tired, and Charlie was mourning for someone he knew that had died. Ginny
was a few beds away, helping the healers by dressing people's wounds. Ron had once mentioned
she wanted to be a healer. Luna stayed by Ron's side, tearfully telling Mrs. Weasley how brave
Ron was.

“Blimey,” muttered Fred from his bed, as Healer Ginny came to sort her brother's eye out (as
well as a more experienced healer). “Our little bro's hurt too, eh? Well, apparently I've
got to have this leg cut off, it was a spell that broke it, and they can't heal it.” He sighed.
“First George looses an arm, then I a leg, and now Ron's lost his eye. We'll soon have
enough severed body parts to build a new Weasley brother.”

George sniggered, and Hermione shot a that's-not-funny look at his twin. Harry might have
laughed at Fred's joke had his mind not been so crammed with worry he didn't even recognise
it as a joke. He was going to fight Voldemort… now… he wasn't ready for this… it was far too
early; he hadn't been prepared… what if he lost? The whole Wizarding World would fall into
Voldemort's hands… wasn't it only yesterday that Dumbledore had taken him to find the
locket?

Dumbledore. He needed to talk to Dumbledore.

“Harry?” Hermione asked tentatively as Harry turned to go. “Where- where are you going?”

“I have to do something,” he whispered, not looking at her. “I have to find something out.”

“No.” She took his hand, forcing him to look at her. “Stay with us, stay with me. This could be
your last-” She caught herself, biting hard on her lip.

“-Hour.” Harry finished the sentence.

“No! I *do* think you'll do it, you *will!”* She seemed to be under the impression
he didn't think she believed in him. Harry was suddenly aware of the Weasley clan watching.

“I hope I do Hermione,” Harry sighed. “But I need to do something first. I'll come back, I
promise. I'll come back so you can- can wish me luck.” Slowly, his fingers slid from hers,
until only their fingertips were touching. Harry lingered, allowing the feel of his fingertips
pressed lightly against hers to consume him, before breaking away completely. As he broke contact
with her, he felt as though he had created some barrier separating him, and his only hope of
defeating Voldemort.

He gave the Weasleys a tiny smile, looked back in Hermione's eyes for a minuet, and turned
to leave. As soon as he was out of sight of everyone, his pace quickened into a run. He skidded
down the hallway, muddy shoes sliding on the floor. Evidence of the fight was everywhere: portraits
smashed, suits of armours wrecked, scorch marks on the carpet, walls knocked in, the occasional
dead body or limb. Harry raced through it all, his desperation to speak with Dumbledore growing
with every step.

“Uh… Dumbledore!” he yelled at the stone gargoyle, and, surprisingly, it moved. It made a funny
grinding noise as it did so, as though it hadn't been used in a long time. Harry raced up the
stairs three at a time, slamming the office door open.

Bitter disappointment flooded him as he realised Dumbledore wasn't in his portrait. He
looked around the undisturbed, dusty office helplessly.

“Looking for me, Harry?” said a voice he recognised. He whipped around, to see Dumbledore was
occupying Armando Dippet's portrait.

“Proffessor!” Harry looked up at him. “I need… I need advice.”

“But of course you do, Harry.” Harry wondered who had painted him, as they had captured the way
his sparkling blue eyes x-rayed you almost perfectly. It couldn't be as good as the real thing,
though; no artist was that good. “You are nervous, as is understandable.”

Dumbledore stepped through the wall until he arrived in his own frame. He then fixed Harry with
a contemplating stare.

“Here is what you should do if you seek guidance: You must now go to the Hog's Head, as
discreetly as you can. My brother, Aberforth, was the barman. There is something underneath the
bed, in a small blue box. An old, old family heirloom: a bottle containing Godric Gryffindor's
memories.”

Harry gasped. “So it's true? You are Gryffindor's heir, just like me?”

“Indeed.” Dumbledore smiled. “Now you are the sole surviving heir, who isn't a muggle, of
course.”

“What about your brother?”

“Killed by a giant a few months ago.”

“Oh… I'm sorry.”

“Oh, he's joined me now. I suppose that's good, I wasn't on very good terms with him
for the last few years of my life.”

“Oh… well, I'll just go, anyway…”

Once again racing down the corridors, once again skidding, Harry threw on his invisibility cloak
and crept out of the castle. He stepped into the night, hugging the invisibility cloak tighter to
him. He found a Thestral, licking blood unpleasantly off a dead carcass, and climbed upon it.

Digging his knees into the creature's bony sides, he got it to start flying. He rode it over
Hogwarts grounds, trying not to look at the blood-stained grass, over to Hogsmead.

The Hog's Head pub was, predictably, deserted. He easily broke in, trooped upstairs, and
carefully removed the blue box as instructed. He wiped an inch-thick layer of dust off a delicate
memory-bottle, peering at the contents. They were, indeed, swirling strings of memory, neither
liquid nor gas. They were, however, darker than usual memory, a waxy yellow colour, like paper that
had aged.

He flew back to Hogwarts on his Thestral, and got back to Dumbledore's office, mentally
congratulating himself on not getting caught.

“Got them? Good. My pensive is in the draw. You know what to do.”

Harry poured the memory into the stone basin, surprised to find it slid out easier than fresh
memory. He took a quick glance at Dumbledore, then plunged his face into the memory, feeling it
slither around his face, pulling him in…

*

Harry had expected his surroundings to be in black and white, or possibly sepia, but the bright
sunlight filtering through the clouds allowed the trees and grass around him to be as brightly
coloured as a normal summer's day.

Harry noticed a man equalled down, looking at footprints embedded in the sand. He was very tall,
with broad shoulders and tree-trunk legs. He had bright auburn hair that fell onto his shoulders
like a mane, and across his chin in the form of a beard. His facial features were strikingly sharp,
but sharpest of these was the pair of glimmering emerald eyes shaped like almonds.

Godric Gryffindor peered at the footprints with those eyes, concentrating intensely. He seemed
to figure something out, as he looked in the distance, eyes narrowed, and then jumped on his horse,
a powerfully built chestnut stallion. Harry felt himself being thrust forward, so he flew alongside
the horse as it galloped at an unnatural speed. They thundered along the gravely road, dust
streaming behind them in great clouds, for what seemed like hours, all the while Gryffindor egging
the horse to go faster. He seemed to be desperate to get somewhere.

They finally slowed down, and Harry saw they were approaching a small, dilapidated cottage. It
looked slightly foreboding, with its black painted walls and smashed windows, but Gryffindor just
waltzed right in.

Harry followed him into the dark house. It seemed to be one-roomed.

“Papa! Papa!” squeaked two voices. One belonged to a young boy with Gryffindor's auburn hair
pulled into a plait, and the other was a girl with the same emerald eyes. Both children looked no
older than six or seven years old, and were exceptionally small and vulnerable- looking when
compared to their father. They were chained by the wrists with a thick black chain that was
attached to the plane stone wall. The room itself was incredibly bare, and much bigger than it
seemed from the outside. There was nothing on the walls except a dusty mantelpiece and an unused
fireplace, and the floor was barely a few unpolished floorboards that had been scuffed and
splintered from the years.

“Cordelia!” breathed Gryffindor, his usually tough face melting at the sight of his children.
“Godfrey!”

He started towards them, but was suddenly cut off by an invisible wall, and a simply evil
chuckle from the shadows. He zipped around, and a widely smirking man materialized from the
shadows. He was dressed in dark green and silver robes, and had a dark goatee lining his chin. His
sleek hair, equally as dark, fell to just past his shoulders, and his eyes were narrowed in a
twisted leer.

“Give me my children back, Slytherin,” Gryffindor's voice was dangerously low, and he looked
like a lion stalking its prey.

Slytherin laughed in that twisted way again, but this time with an extra hiss. The hiss lingered
when he stopped chuckling.

“*Go to them,*” he whispered, and Harry thought he was talking to Gryffindor until a large
python slithered over to the screaming kids, and he realised he was speaking parseltounge.

“Give me my school back, Gryffindor,” he countered. Gryffindor drew his wand, a big, thick, log
of a wand. At the same time Slytherin drew his, which was, in contrast, extremely spindly and
narrow.

“When did it get to this, Salazar?” said Gryffindor, a little sadly. “Two great friends,
pointing wands at each other?”

“Since you introduced mudbloods to the school!” Slytherin spat. “Why you bother… though, I hear
you're good friend Miriam Merlin married a mudblod, yes?” Harry raised his eyebrows at the name
Merlin. “What was his name again?”

“Orestes Granger.” Harry choked on his own spit.

“And her son is a squib, am I correct?” Slytherin sneered.

“Yes, Heracles is a squib,” Gryffindor growled.

Slytherin's sneer deepened. “Pathetic.” Gryffindor looked even angrier. “Now, are you going
to ban filth from the school?”

“Never!” Gryffindor roared, and with a clash of sparks they began duelling.

Harry had to shield his eyes from the bright colourful lights that flashed before him. This was
duelling at a level Harry had never even dreamt of. Gryffindor, for such a burly man, moved with
unparalleled grace and ease, shooting two or three spells at a time, commanding his magic with
power, and Slytherin made his wand look like an extension of his arm.

The little house wouldn't stand much more of the spells, and sure enough it was soon ripped
apart by the sheer ferocity of the duel.

With a rising movement of his arms, Slytherin summoned great, trunk-like vines to tear out of
the earth, like a monstrous version of Devil's Snare. Brilliant, roaring golden flames erupted
around Gryffindor, disintegrating the plants as soon as they touched, and then turning to consume
Slytherin.

But the flames turned black as they made contact with him, and rose to form a giant, fiery
snake. The monstrous snake made a throaty hissing sound along with the crackling and spitting of
the flames, flicking its scorching black tongue so sparks spouted into the air. From
Gryffindor's wand shot a lion patronus, its lush silver mane stretching to the small of its
back, its broad, muscular limbs padding softly on the ground as it prowled.

The flaming black snake hissed in warning, spitting more flames as it did so. From the
lion's fang- lined mouth sounded a mighty roar, and those dagger-like white teeth latched onto
Slytherin's snake, and it began eating the flaming creature. As it devoured the dark serpent,
it grew bigger and bigger until it was as enormous as the snake had been before it had been
consumed.

It gave a deafening belch, spitting a few black embers, before giving Gryffindor a satisfied
look.

“*Extundo extremosis!”* roared Gryffindor. This was the only spoken incantation for the
duel, and Slytherin, who was not expecting it, was hit square in the stomach and sent flying
backwards, whizzing through the air.

Harry thought he would drop back to earth and start duelling again, but he flew higher and
higher into the air, screaming and cursing in rage, until he was a tiny speck against the pale blue
sky.

Panting, Gryffindor turned to his children. He must have undone the chains using magic as they
sprang free and the tiny children raced towards their father. He knelt on the ground, and tears of
happiness sprang to the old lion's eyes as his children hugged him, safe and sound.

*

Harry landed back in the office with a thud, breathing hard into the dusty carpet. That had been
exhilarating.

He got up, not just because he didn't like the taste of dust, but because he wanted to
talk.

“Wow!” he breathed. “That was- Gryffindor and Slytherin's duel!”

“Yes. Did you understand how Gryffindor beat Slytherin?”

“Uh, with that spell?”

Dumbledore sighed in exasperation, rubbing his brow wearily. “Oh, Harry, what did I tell you all
those years? Love!” Dumbledore swooped down into the portrait below him, looking excited.
“Gryffindor's love for his children drove him to keep fighting! It was the same love that kept
your parents together till the end! The same love that your mother had for you that caused her to
sacrifice herself for you! And it is the same love that runs through your veins, which will be
Voldemort's downfall. Love is a very powerful thing, Harry, and it is something you are
shrouded by, while Voldemort has none. I thought I'd taught you this.”

Harry's mind was reeling. He knew in his head that love was the power-Voldemort-knows-not,
but did he in his heart?

“Don't you think Gryffindor was as nervous as you are today, deep inside? He was going to
fight a man who was about as equal in his magic, a man who, being his former friend, Gryffindor
knew would be ruthless in his quest for power, with his children's lives at stake. Now, if
Godric Gryffindor could do it, what's to stop Harry Potter from doing it?”

“But I don't have the strength,” whispered Harry quietly. “I'm not Gryffindor- I need
longer to prepare. I don't have the power.”

“You'll find it,” said Dumbledore calmly, his penetrating blue eyes roving over Harry's
face, his nose, his eyes, his scar- “when the time comes, you'll find the strength you've
always had.”

Harry still didn't understand, still didn't quite think he was ready, but he knew he had
to trust Dumbledore's word. He had no choice. “You're right,” Harry muttered. He knew he
had to do this. Slowly, he turned to leave.

“Hey, Sir,” Harry turned back to the portrait, “you know Gryffindor's friend, Miriam Merlin?
Was she related to *the* Merlin?”

“I should imagine so,” said Dumbledore.

“Well, did I hear correctly? Did she marry Orestes *Granger*?”

Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling. “Yes.”

Harry took an excited breath. “Well- well aren't Orestes and Heracles Greek names? Because,
it could be a family tradition, passed down from generation to generation…”

“You must remember they lived over a thousand years ago; the chances of that are very unlikely.”
But Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling even brighter. “But not impossible.”

“You mean-?”

“It is not for me to tell you what you are obviously thinking, Harry. Perhaps a closer look at
your friend's family tree will answer your questions. But for now, Harry, you must face your
destiny. You must face him.”

*

Harry made his way back to the Great Hall, as he had promised Hermione. The hall was deserted
apart from the people lying in beds and the Healers quietly rushing around. Everyone had gone
outside, waiting for him to appear on the Astronomy Tower.

But there she was: Hermione, sat at Ron's bed, keeping watch worriedly over him as he slept,
half his head wrapped in bandages.

“Harry,” she whispered. Harry joined her at Ron's side, and squeezed his shoulder.

“Thanks mate,” he whispered. “You are- always were- *the* best friend.”

Harry tore his eyes from his friend's restful face, back to Hermione. “Walk with me,” he
breathed.

Hermione nodded, and together they strode along the familiar path to the Astronomy Tower, each
step causing Harry to become more and more aware of his surroundings, taking in every detail. If he
lost, would these walls only contain muggle-hating bigots? If he lost, would Hogwarts become
Voldemort's property? Who would be left to stop Riddle from taking over the world?

It didn't feel real, as he walked side-by-side with Hermione. It felt as though he was an
onlooker, a spectator, observing them from the sidelines though he was looking through Harry
Potter's eyes.

It was surreal, like a vivid dream, as though he would be pulled out of his body and thrust back
in his bed, warm and cosy.

This was, he knew, what his whole life had been building up to, this sacrificial hour which
would reveal at long last whether it would be Voldemort who died, or him, and the Wizarding World
as he knew it with him.

His journey had been a riddle; struggling to figure out the next step, trying anything to find
out the answer, *nothing* being as it seemed. And now he was about to discover the
riddle's end… but some part of him didn't want to.

Only the knowledge of Hermione's presence kept him from turning and fleeing, only the warmth
of her hand clasped gently around his. The sound of her footsteps echoing in perfect symphony with
his kept him from hearing the lonely silence around them. She was the bright light that drew him
into the darkness, the angel that escorted him to a room with two doors; one that led to a long
lifetime of happiness and one that led to death's open arms.

And if Voldemort were to push him through the second door, if he were to fail, what would become
of the people he loved?

The slight pressure Hermione put on his wrist told Harry they had stopped. They were in the
corridor leading to the Astronomy Tower. He looked up the stairs, at the door on the side. He would
never have thought that would be the door to his destiny.

“We're here,” Hermione breathed, her words vibrating in Harry's head. Her chocolate
coloured eyes were scanning his face desperately, moist from the unshed tears built up in them. Her
gaze delved deep into his, as though she would never be satisfied just looking at him.

“I know,” Harry whispered back. “And I'm- I'm afraid.”

Hermione entwined their fingers, and Harry was suddenly reminded of mirror-Hermione. “That's
perfectly normal, Harry. Perfectly fine.”

“I'm not afraid of death.” For this was true; Harry no longer feared dying, his fear
dissolving gradually over time. It had become a hostile companion in his adventures, always
watching, always waiting to take Harry away. Harry had occasionally brushed cloak hems with death,
but never bounded into it's waiting arms. “I'm afraid of failure.”

“Failure?” Hermione looked confused.

“If I were to die tonight, if I were to *fail*, then I don't know what would happen to
everyone who was on our side. A world where Voldemort reigns is unthinkable. That's what
I'm so afraid of, Hermione. Letting everyone down.”

A tear escaped Hermione's eye. “You won't. You could never fail us.”

Harry broke away from her and looked away. “I don't have enough.”

“Enough what?”

“Love. Dumbledore said the key to defeating Voldemort was love. But I don't have enough.
Sure, I know the Weasleys and everyone love me, but it's not the same as my parent's love.
But they're dead. I have no one who loves me!” Harry hadn't been aware that his voice had
gotten louder, and tears had formed in his eyes. He banged his fist on the wall, a sign of his
pent-up rage.

Hermione had remained stone-still as he spoke; her head bowed so loose strands of hair fell over
her face, covering her eyes. She looked smaller than usual, and very sad.

“You don't get it, do you?” she whispered softly, her voice cracking with something that
sounded like disappointment. “After all this time- *all this time-* and you never
realised.”

It was Harry's turn to look confused. Hermione raised her head, so Harry could see she was
crying, with such a strong sadness it made Harry want to cry.

“*I* love you.” And she pressed her lips to his.

Little fireworks exploded in Harry's mind. Every cell in his body had caught ablaze, and
tiny electric shocks were running along his nerves, except to his brain. It couldn't work,
couldn't think, except about how incredible it felt to be kissing Hermione. He was completely
frozen in shock. He couldn't move, couldn't breath, couldn't even remember his own
name…

They broke apart. Hermione took one look at his face and recoiled, breathing sharply as though
he had been shot in the heart with an arrow. She was clearly heartbroken. She seemed to have
mistaken his wide eyes and gawping mouth for signs that he didn't feel the same way.

Harry wanted to comfort her, wanted to tell her the truth, but he was stuck. Completely glued in
place, his limbs stiffer than iron.

Tears were now pouring down her face, and she looked completely stricken. She backed away,
destroyed, and a choked sob escaped her throat. “Good luck, H- Harry,” she whispered softly, before
fleeing, leaving Harry empty and alone.

*

-->



28. The Next Great Adventure
----------------------------



Harry stood there, gawping, until the feeling seeped back into his legs and he could move again.
A strangled gurgle escaped his throat.

The shock was overwhelming. *Hermione* had kissed him! His best friend of seven years, and
she felt the same way as he did! But he was completely engulfed in regret. He hadn't told her
how he felt.

He couldn't believe he'd just frozen up. Of all the times for Hermione to kiss him! The
shock of it had completely numbed him. And now Hermione hated him.

He stood, his lips still tingling. Hermione's tear- filled chocolate eyes were burned into
his brain. He took a hasty step in the direction she had left, wanting to run to her, wanting to
tell her what was really going through his mind, but it was time. It was time to meet Voldemort,
his hour was up. Hermione would have to wait.

Swallowing, he tore his eyes to the door. This was it. What his life had been building up to.
With a tiny smile, Harry reminded himself that if he succeeded, it would all be over. Voldemort
would be gone.

“*When,”* Harry thought impatiently. “*When I succeed.”* He had to come out alive; he
had everything to live for. Hermione had showed him that.

The image of their kiss still fresh in his mind, Harry stepped through the door.

*

Harry's skin prickled as he walked up the stairs of the Astronomy Tower, his fingers
scraping against the cold, damp wall. With each step his stomach muscles tightened, until he
finally opened the door at the other end.

He stepped out. The temperature had dropped several degrees since he had flown to Hogsmead on
his Thestral. Bitterly cold air stung his face, causing his cheeks to go red as he shut the door
softly. He took a wary step, his shoes echoing on the stone floor, before he stopped.

Voldemort was standing at the edge, by the wall, looking down onto the crowd of faces. From
where Harry was, he could see that Death Eater, Order member and average person alike were staring
up avidly at the Astronomy Tower, watching with as much fear and anticipation as they had when
Voldemort had made his dramatic entrance.

Voldemort's skinny form was completely still, only his silken black cloak fluttering softly
in a breeze. A satisfied chuckle slithered from his throat, and he turned his hairless, snake-like
head slightly so that Harry could see a glimmer of scarlet.

“And I was beginning to think you wouldn't show up,” He sneered.

Harry stayed silent, staring directly into Voldemort's crimson eyes.

“You were very brave to come, so alone… or very foolish.”

“I've just come to do what should have been done a long time ago,” Harry said quietly and
calmly, “to get rid of you.”

“And you actually think *you* can do it?” Voldemort's hairless eyebrows rose. “You, the
Boy-Who-Should-Have-Died? What power do you have, what makes you think you can defeat me? It is
only because you let your precious mudblood mother die for you that you stand on your two
feet!”

“That's where you're wrong!” Harry almost shouted. “She *chose* death; she chose it
so I could live!”

“Weak, foolish girl,” Voldemort spat.

“She loved me, Riddle, and that's more than what you could ever do!”

“What did you call me?” Voldemort said sharply. “How dare you use that filthy muggle name! I
suppose you're trying to be like Dumbledore, are you?”

“Ah, Dumbledore, there's another wizard you could only dream of being as powerful as!”

“Dumbledore is dead because of me!” Riddle screamed.

“Wrong again! He also chose death; it had been planned out with Severus Snape as soon as they
knew of your plan!”

“Snape?!”

“Snape had always been loyal to the Order, never you!”

Riddle stood, looking shocked, before it was wiped away from his face. “How can this be?!”

“My mother. Surely you realised how loyal he was to her?”

“He might have desired her. What does it matter?!”

“What does it…?” Harry shook his head in exasperation. “One thing you don't seem to realise
is that when you hurt someone a person loves, they generally won't stay loyal to you! I'm
surprised half the Death Eaters stay with you!” Voldemort's pupils contracted angrily.

“Well, look what happened when Snape did try to leave me! He tried to flee, but was killed in
the attempt!”

“Wrong *again*, Riddle! Snape is alive and very well! He even bought me a horcrux to prove
his loyalty.”

Voldemort gasped, his scarlet eyes popping.

“That's right, one of your horcruxes. I know all about them, Riddle, Dumbledore discussed
them with me, and he sent me on a mission to destroy them.”

“Y- You!? You destroyed my horcruxes?”

“No, not on my own. Professor Dumbledore destroyed one, and so did Snape, Ron Weasley and
Hermione Granger. I only destroyed two. But it doesn't matter who did what. You're mortal
again, which means you can be killed.”

“I'll never die!!” Voldemort screamed, and in a flash he had whipped his wand out and a jet
of green light was soaring towards Harry.

But he was quick. With a snap, Harry apparated to a spot behind Voldemort, whipping out his
wand.

“*Tarantallegra**!”*

As Harry had expected, Voldemort blocked it easily. Riddle then shot a horribly dark looking
spell at Harry, which he managed to block with a *protego* *horribilis**.* But Harry
didn't think he could keep ducking and dodging forever.

*

Below them, on the castle grounds, everyone saw that the Boy-Who-Lived and the Dark Lord had
begun their duel. Every one stood in silence, silently rooting for either Harry Potter or
Voldemort, craning their necks to stare at the Astronomy Tower.

Hermione stood, watching more anxiously than any other member of the audience. Harry, *her*
Harry, was fighting one of the most powerful wizards of the age, possibly to the death.

Hermione winced at the painful reminder that he probably wasn't her Harry anymore. He
probably didn't want to know anymore, probably too embarrassed. She knew she was. Why
couldn't she just keep her big mouth shut?

She watched as Harry ducked and dodged Voldemort's curses. She *had known* he
didn't feel the same way; he just didn't think of her like that. *“I've probably
ruined our friendship forever,”* Hermione thought gloomily, fighting back tears for the fourth
time since Harry and Voldemort had started talking.

“Hey,” Hermione felt someone creep close to her, brushing her shoulder. “How's he doing?”
Ron whispered.

“Ok so far,” she whispered back, not taking her eyes off Harry.

“Ron!” she heard Luna hiss. “You're supposed to be resting in bed!”

Hermione glanced at Ron. He looked very pale, and his head was still smothered in turban-like
bandages, but he was staring at the Astronomy Tower scene in fascination and fear through his one
visible eye. “Yes, Ron, you shouldn't be here, you're eye's not better!” Hermione
scolded.

“Come on, Herms,” he said quietly. “You think I'd miss my best friend's finest
hour?”

Hermione's lip trembled and she turned back to Harry and Voldemort's fight. His finest
hour… she was sure Harry wouldn't have called it that.

They watched in paralyzed fear as Harry was bowled over by one of Voldemort's spells.
Hermione's hand shot to Ron's wrist in panic, as fear for Harry clouded her mind. Voldemort
had taken a few steps towards him, and a huge gasp resounded throughout the grounds. It was then
followed by a Mexican wave-like sigh as he quickly apparated away, to a point just away.

“How is he apparating, anyway?” Hermione heard Tonks ask franticly. “What about the charm?”

“I don't know,” Remus answered. “The charm must have lifted itself. It's like Hogwarts
wants Harry to win, isn't it?”

More tense moments passed as Harry, who was nowhere equal to Voldemort in skill but seemed to be
twice as gifted in bravery, tried with all his might to knock Voldemort down and keep himself safe.
Despite his relentless efforts he had little effect.

“How can he win?” whispered Kingsley Shackelbolt hopelessly. “He is just a boy- he can't
expect to duel You-Know-Who and win!”

“He'll do it!” Hermione whispered, staring determinedly upwards. There are several people
who seemed to think otherwise, as they shifted uncomfortably.

“If I'd have known that the battle rested on a duel between the Dark Lord and Potter…”
Lucius Malfoy whispered nervously in his wife's ear.

“We should be up there!” said Mr. Weasley suddenly. “We should be helping him fight! How can we
just stand here and do nothing?” He tightened his grip on his wand.

“No, Dad,” Ron held up a pacifying hand to his father. “This is between Voldemort and Harry. He
wouldn't want us to help him; he's known for ages that it would be just those two.”

Hermione drew a breath, though it did not calm her. She was scared for him. She whished he would
let them help him. But no, she understood he wouldn't want anyone to interfere and put
themselves in danger. She accepted this, and there was nothing she, or anyone else, could do but
wait.

*

“*Avada Kedavra*!” Lord Voldemort spat, and a blinding green light protruded from the end
of his wand.

“*Serpentsortia*!” said Harry franticly, aiming his wand at the jet of light now rushing
towards him. A python shot from the tip, colliding with the green light and falling to the ground
dead.

“Once again, Harry Potter, you allow another creature to die in your place!” Riddle jeered
hurtfully. Harry looked down guiltily at the coiled creature, and in this split-second pause he was
thrown into a spasm as Voldemort knocked him to the ground with a Cruciatus Curse.

Pain filtered through his tired, sweaty body like white-hot currants of electricity. Harry could
feel all the hate and fury pouring from Voldemort, concentrated into this curse. Tiny flames
crackled along his nerves, like little fiery whips.

His teeth ground, his fingers curled, his eyes rolled and watered. This was by far the worst
Cruciatus Curse he had ever experienced, as he writhed and jittered on the ground.

Amidst his writhing he heard Voldemort laugh maliciously.

“Foolish boy. Hesitating because of a worthless animal.” He took the curse off for a second,
allowing Harry's muscles a second of recovery, before using the spell on him again. “This is
your weakness… you *care* too much.”

Harry's lungs were screaming for air, but he was too busy writhing on the ground to breathe
properly.

“Dumbledore never realised this… he always thought it was strength… hah….”

Agony was pulsing through Harry's veins like hot, fiery poison.

“Look at you! You are completely at my mercy and none of those traitors you call friends can
help you now… not that dumpy Weasley family…”

Suddenly images started flashing through Harry's mind. Memories, like photographs, whirred
through his brain, becoming all he could see. Images of red-haired, freckled people… watching Bill
and Charlie fight with the tables, showing Mr. Weasley around Muggle London, Mrs. Weasley giving
him a hug, listening to Percy give a lecture on Cauldron bottoms, sniggering as Fred and George
rocketed off into the sky on their brooms, yelling to Peeves to “take care” of Umbridge…

“None of the Order of the Phoenix… they have failed you…”

New images, now of Order members flashed through his brain: Seeing Professor McGonagall turn
into a cat for the first time, Remus and Tonks at Grimmuald Place, Mad-eye Moody warning him about
putting his wand in the back pocket, Professor Snape explaining what Harry's mother was like,
Hagrid rescuing him from the Dursley's, Dumbledore taking him to find a horcrux, Sirius telling
him how much like his Father he was…

“Those little school mates of yours? Hah…”

Now he was seeing people he knew from school: Dean and Seamus in the dormitory, Colin Creevey
bugging him about a photo, helping Cho with her patronus, Cedric Diggory telling him about the egg
under water, Neville, Ginny and Luna helping them at the Department of Mysteries…

“And what about your parents? Certainly not them…”

And now memories that Harry didn't recognise, that must have been locked away in the darkest
corner of his brain, were unravelling as he writhed in pain under the Cruciatus Curse: Memories of
a red haired pretty woman, and a man with black messy hair and dark, bespectacled eyes smiling down
at him, cooing and laughing and playing with him…

“And especially not those weak, stupid little friends you hang around with… The Mudblood and the
Weasley boy…”

Ron and Hermione, smiling, laughing, hugging him, the three of them just hanging out…

“You thought you could defeat me… you are far too weak for that…”

Harry writhed and screamed even worse. Voldemort was going to kill him… He would never get to
play quidditch with Ron again… He'd never get to tell Hermione how he felt about her…

“No…” Harry moaned.

Suddenly there seemed to be warmth spreading across his body, and the pain from the curse was
dimming. Slowly, gradually, his limbs stopped twitching, and the agony stopped searing across his
muscles. Though he could see through his blurred eyes that Voldemort was still using the curse, he
was completely numb.

On shaking, exhausted limbs, he slowly rose to his feet. Tired and sore though he was, he stood
up and raised his head. He took a deep breath.

“I'm not the weak one here, Riddle.” Voldemort's eyes had widened so much that the
whites were visible all around the red iris. He stared at Harry, completely shell-shocked, his chin
hanging below his gullet. He couldn't believe his eyes. “None of us are. We have been fighting
against you for so long, with our lives and the lives of our loved ones at stake, and you never
understood this. You never cared what you were doing to us, you never cared how many people's
lives you took. You never bothered to try and understand. Because you never bothered to try and
love, and you've lost out on the greatest power. You're the weak one, Riddle!”

“Never!” Voldemort screamed, gnashing his teeth in fury, “How dare you! I am the greatest wizard
of the age! Nothing can stop me!”

“No, Riddle,” Harry shook his head slowly, “you were a fool to think you could live forever.
Everything has an end, Riddle, and this is yours!”

“*AVADA KEDAVRA*!”

“*EXPELLIARMUS*!”

Once again two beams of light connected, as did Harry and Voldemort's eyes, green to red,
red to green, and their wands were vibrating uncontrollably as the jets of light feuded. Both Harry
and Voldemort struggled, each trying to overpower the other, and the longer they duelled, the
brighter and more powerful their magic.

Whatever spell Harry was using, it was no longer “*expelliarmus”*. The substance erupting
from Harry's wand was brilliant, pure white, like a patronus. It jetted out to join
Voldemort's black beam of magic, forming black and white flames, that curled together in their
own little grapples.

The heat given off by the two spells was unbearable. It was like standing too close to the
bonfire: scorching, burning, so hot it sucked moisture from Harry's eyes. Harry was struggling
enough against Voldemort's curse, without the added pressure of the heat.

The phoenix feather core of his wand was burning; he could see it glowing through the wood of
his wand. It sent searing pain through his hands, and Harry would give anything to let go, but he
couldn't; he had to keep fighting, keep burning.

Suddenly, Harry's white spell engulfed Voldemort's black one, and hit him with full
force. His wand rocketed into the air, and landed, glowing, with a thunk, while its master was
blown backwards, howling and screaming. He just managed to grasp the edge of the wall of the
Astronomy Tower, his pale, long fingers scrabbling on the rock, so fragile-looking they could
break. He couldn't pull himself up; he was hanging over the edge.

Harry looked at the distance between the ground and the Astronomy Tower. Such a long way… he
would fall to his doom…

Harry approached him, his hand still sizzling and his Crucio-weakened muscles throbbing. He
looked into the usually burning red eyes, finding there was fear in them. The tiniest hint of the
human being he once was was now peeping out, the last morsel of humanity.

“And now I speak to *you,* Tom Riddle, not to Voldemort. To the boy you once were, not the
monster you have become… try for some remorse… try to understand what you have done…”

The last scrap of humanity vanished. “Remorse is for weaklings!”

Harry had known in his heart that Voldemort would never co-opperate. But now what to do with
him? He wouldn't use the Avada Kedavra, that had been the same curse that had killed his
parents… He took a few paces back, not seeing Voldemort's fingers etching towards his fallen
wand.

“Then you can drop to your doom. You won't be able to hold yourself up much longer. Goodbye,
Tom Riddle.”

Suddenly Voldemort's wand flew to his hand, Voldemort just managing to hold on one handed.
“Goodbye, Harry Potter…*Avada Kedavra*!”

It was so unexpected that Harry had no time to react: The spell hit him directly in the
heart.

A roaring, whooshing sound, like a train, filled Harry's ears. Everything seemed to have
become slow-motion, frozen in time, even his heartbeat had stopped. He could just see
Voldemort's face, deliriously gleeful, before something unexpected happened. There was a
burning pain in his ribs, and the jet of green light flew out of his chest, instead striking
Voldemort right between the eyes.

Harry keeled over on to the floor, and the empty body of Lord Voldemort fell from the tower.
Finally he was dead, killed by his own rebounding curse.

Harry rubbed his chest, breathing painfully hard. He thought he might faint from exhaustion. His
hands and knees hurt from where they were making contact with the floor. He was shaking. He
didn't think his frail form could hold him up. But he was *alive*.

Shakily, he got up, almost toppling to the ground again. He was surrounded by a ringing silence,
as though all the sound waves had been extracted from the air. He walked over to the edge of the
Astronomy Tower, where Voldemort had fallen. Down below, he could see Riddle's shrivelled form,
quiet and still. And then, he looked across the grounds.

As he raised his head, that deafening silence was broken, as people started yelling, whooping,
screaming, cheering.

He looked down for faces he knew. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were dancing around wildly with each
other. Remus was swinging Tonks around. Fred and George were yelling and punching the air. Neville
was screaming “Wahoo!” Draco Malfoy beamed heroically, as though *he'd* just killed
Voldemort, and swung Ginny over his knee, kissing her fiercely. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy watched
their son with their mouths hanging open. Bill and Fleur were kissing passionately. Snape looked
almost light headed with relief. Ron was waving his fist about in the air with cries of “YEAH!”
while Luna seemed to have attached herself to his side, as she was hugging him so hard. And
Hermione… Hermione was smiling up at him, just smiling. Even from his distance Harry could see
there were tears in her eyes, but she just stood there. But Harry could tell from that smile what
she was thinking, and it meant more to him than if she'd been doing cartwheels. He grinned back
at her, and her smile broadened. His knees were starting to feel weak…

Wait, they really *were* going weak. His vision was starting to blur, and it felt like the
little energy that he still had was failing him. His exhausted body collapsed, and he was falling…
falling…

Darkness.

*

Harry felt lighter than a bubble. He drifted around in the darkness, wondering where he was and
what he was doing there. He couldn't see anything at all, and the silence was penetrating. He
felt as though he didn't exist.

It was a few minuets before he was aware he wasn't breathing. But he felt comfortable with
it, as though he didn't need to breathe. He put his hand to his chest. No heartbeat, just as he
had suspected.

From the corner of his eye he could just see a dim blue light. Whatever was causing it seemed to
be moving towards him, until he could see the shapes it was making. He gasped.

There, in a row, stood Hagrid, Lilly, James, Sirius, and Dumbledore, barely visible. But instead
of solid people, they were outlines, as though drawn with a glowing blue pen. The only thing solid
looking about them was there eyes, in perfect colour. Harry stared at them.

“I'm dead,” he whispered softly.

“Not quite,” said Dumbledore. “As a matter of fact you are only *half*- dead.”

“What does that mean?”

“Basically, you're in a coma. You seem to be dead, but there is a chance you will
recover.”

“Oh.” He peered into the unbreakable darkness. “Is that why I'm here, instead of- wherever
it is I should be?”

“Tha's right,” smiled Hagrid.

“Is- is Voldemort dead?”

“Yeah,” James grinned, “you got him good, kiddo.”

“We're *so* proud of you, Harry,” Lilly whispered. She put a hand on his cheek, so she
could look at him closer. Harry stared into the emerald green eyes that matched his own, searching
them as hungrily as they searched his.

“But- I don't understand. I know he hit me with the killing curse, but why did it take so
long to work? What was with the delayed reaction?”

“Erm, it wasn't the curse that killed you, Harry,” said James apprehensively.

“Huh? Well, what then?” The men shifted uncomfortably. Lilly carried on gazing at Harry.

“Mate, you can't fall 200 feet off the Astronomy Tower and come off completely unscathed,”
said Sirius gently.

“But why? Why did I fall?”

“Exhaustion,” James explained. “That was some serious bit of magic you did there, Harry.”

“But why did the curse rebound? No-one died for me this time!”

“No, but someone sacrificed something just as valuable.”

“What? Who?”

“It was Hermione!” Hagrid grinned.

“But- What did she sacrifice?”

“Her heart,” said Dumbledore softly, eyes twinkling.

There was more silence. “Her- her heart?”

“You see, she knew that you needed the confidence to fight Voldemort, that you needed to be told
how much you are loved. She also knew, or thought she knew, that you didn't love her back. But
she told you anyway, took the gamble and lost. She now thinks she has destroyed her relationship
with you, but knew it was what you needed to get you through this fight.”

“But- but it's not the same as sacrificing your *life,* is it?”

“Your friendship meant as much to her.”

“But then- doesn't this happen every time someone takes the risk and tells someone they love
them?”

“This is different. What gave you the courage and confidence to fight Voldemort?”

“Being told I was loved,” said Harry quietly. “That was what made me fight.”

“And what a fight!” Sirius's eyebrows were raised. “Blimey Harry, that was some duel!”

“Yeah, yeh really creamed `em, Harry!” said Hagrid. “And you shocked him. Did yeh see his face,
he didn't know what teh make o' the things yeh told him.”

“Well, *I* still can't! I mean, I still can't believe you arranged your own death,
Albus!” James nodded at Dumbledore, who smiled sadly.

“It was a price that had to be paid, James.”

“And blimey, what about old Snivelly fancying Lily?” Sirius shook his head. “I thought he hated
the both of you!”

“I always told you to trust Severus,” said Dumbledore quietly. “This was my reason. I'm
surprised he told you, Harry, I thought he'd carry the secret to his grave.”

“I should have known.” Lily was looking solemn, and James looked uncomfortable. “All those
years… I should have known.” James wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders.

But Harry's mind was still on Hermione. “So- so Hermione's been in love with me for a
long time?”

“You should have realised this, Harry, when you found the Mirror of Erised. The mirror version
of Hermione came to life, did it not? It was the same with the Philosopher's Stone. You wanted
it, and it was possible for you to get it.”

“How long has she realised this?”

“That is not for us to tell you, but for you to find out,” said Dumbledore calmly. “But for now,
you have a choice to make. You can either return to the living world, or come with us, and rest in
peace.”

Harry looked around at the smiling faces, especially at his mother. Resting in peace sounded
nice, after everything that had happened, but his mind was already made up.

“I'm going back,” he said blankly. “I'm going back to my body.”

“A wise choice,” said Sirius proudly.

“I must warn you, there will be a struggle to wake up. You see, your body already thinks you are
dead.”

“But I have to wake up. I can't just leave forever.”

“Then you must walk through that door.” Dumbledore pointed to a door, appearing out of nowhere.
“It leads back to your body.”

Harry nodded and swallowed, looking at them guiltily. “I'm- I'm sorry you all died. I
know you did it to protect me. You didn't deserve to die, any of you.”

And before he knew what was happening, they had all gathered around him, squashing him in one
gigantic seven-personed hug. Though they looked like outlines, they were all quite solid, and Harry
let them smother him, knowing it would be the last time he'd see them before he really did get
to rest in peace.

Eventually, they broke apart, and Harry saw there were blue tears glistening in Lily's green
eyes.

“Thank you, Harry,” said Dumbledore. “Thank you for ridding the world of this great evil, after
everything you've been put through.”

“No,” said Harry quietly, “thank *you.”*

“Well, we'll have to be off then,” said Sirius cheerfully. “Come on, James, we've got
that heaven-version of the Marauder's Map to finish.”

“Right-o, Padfoot,” James grinned. “We don't want Wormtail chewing it all up.”

“Pettigrew?” Harry said in disbelief. “You're friends with him?”

“Well, he did take an Avada for my only son; we've got to give him some credit.”

“See yeh round, Harry,” Hagrid raised a farewell hand.

“Good luck, Harry. We'll be watching you,” Dumbledore's eyes twinkled one last time.

“Bye-bye, Harry,” said Lily, wrapping her arms around him again. Then she whispered, so quietly
the others couldn't hear, “Give Severus my thanks, for looking after my baby.”

Harry nodded, and parted with her, to turn to the door.

“Professor,” he said suddenly, addressing Dumbledore. “Will I remember this?”

Dumbledore smiled. “It is all in your head, Harry.”

“Wait, you didn't answer my que-” but they had faded away, leaving Harry alone in the
darkness, only accompanied by a shining blue door. Gulping, he stepped through it, once again
falling, just as he had fallen off the Astronomy Tower, until he landed, with a jerk, back in his
body.

*

-->



29. Back to Earth
-----------------



Terrible, fiery pain seared through his body. Everywhere was hurting, aching, especially his
head, which gave a painful throb in time with his heartbeat. He could feel that his glasses were
missing, and that a large bandage was wrapped, turban-like, around his head.

“I- I'm afraid… I don't think he'll make it,” whispered Madame Pomfrey's voice
tearfully, from somewhere to his left. Harry opened an eye. The light burned his retina, and his
vision was blurred. However, he could see that he was in a hospital bed, with the screen drawn
around his bed. Beyond the white curtain Harry could hear the sounds of several people gasping in
horror, and someone shrieked. There was a scuffle of feet and the curtain rustled a little.

“Granger, control yourself!” Snape's voice was harsh, and the curtain stopped moving.

“No… Harry…Harry…” Hermione's words became too muffled to understand, and she began moaning
like a wounded animal.

Harry tried to get up, but he found that the slightest movement caused him pain. Ignoring it as
best as he could, he rolled over slightly, wincing, and moved the screen a fraction, so he had
created a spy hole for himself.

Mostly, the people around him were sitting in shocked silence, tears of grief flowing down their
faces. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were hugging each other tightly, silently crying. Snape was standing in
the shadows, the emotion on his pallid face unreadable. Ginny was staring at the bed in blind
shock, tears starting to leak from her eyes too. Malfoy was sat in the corner, an odd expression on
his face, eyes occasionally flicking to Ginny. Ron, whose skull was wrapped in an eye patch, was
hunched over, his face buried in his hands, his shoulders shaking, while Luna gawped at Madame
Pomfrey as though she couldn't believe what she'd said. Tonks was also staring at her,
mortified, while Remus was restraining Hermione.

“I don't believe it,” he whispered hoarsely, “Harry… dead?”

“No!” wailed Hermione, sobbing onto Remus's shoulder. Harry didn't understand. Why did
they think he was dead? He'd just woken up.

“He can't be dead… not after what he's gone through…”

Snape turned around slowly. “Are you sure he won't wake up?”

“Well I- I checked him, and he wasn't breathing, and his heart wasn't b- beating!”
Madame Pomfrey choked out, before bursting into tears.

Harry frowned as he listened to them, closing his weary eyes. Madame Pomfrey must have checked
him just before he woke up. Nobody seemed to be moving, and all Harry could hear was Hermione's
and Madame Pomfrey's snivelled sobs.

“This- This shouldn't have happened,” said Remus, seeming to struggle with his words.

“It wasn't fair!” Ron spat.

Hermione's wailing grew louder, and there was a shuffle of robes. Harry opened one eye
blearily, to see Snape awkwardly stretching a hand out to pat her on the back, his long, thin
fingers barely touching her back.

“Potter died,” said Snape quietly and slowly, “doing what he had to do. He defeated the Dark
Lord, and it drained him of his magic, resulting in this terrible accident, but he defeated him.
Now… I'll admit I didn't know him that well, but… he accomplished his mission. He would
have been proud to die having rid the world of such an evil, surely?”

“He deserved a better life!” Ron yelled. “He deserved more!”

Snape's coal black eyes roamed over to Ron, his face not yet betraying any emotion.
“Everyone who dies in such a way deserves more,” he almost whispered. Harry's other eye snapped
open. What was Snape really thinking about? “I am going now to tell the others of this… terrible
tragedy.”

“I don't think you want to do that, Professor,” said Harry groggily, his voice sounding
gravely in his throat. There was another loud gasp, and everyone's head snapped to him.
Summoning the little bit of energy he had, Harry sat up.

There was a long pause, where the people surrounding him gawked at him, mouths hanging on the
ground, until there was a loud, shrill shriek from Hermione and a roar of triumph from Ron, and
Harry's vision was obscured by a mass of bushy brown hair.

“Harry!” cried several voices, and everyone crowded around his bed, trying to peer at him
through Hermione's hair.

“Potter! You're alive?!” Snape spluttered.

Harry winced as Hermione hugged him even tighter, crushing his already delicate ribs. “Looks
like it.”

“Mate!” Ron roared, shaking Harry by the shoulders, “You did it!” and with that he clamped a
muscular, freckled arm around Harry's neck and ruffled his hair.

“Oh Harry, dear! Ron, don't do that, you'll hurt him!”

“Yes, you must get off him; he's just awakened from a coma!” Harry, who was being suffocated
by his two best friends, was very thankful for Mrs. Weasley's and Madame Pomfrey's cries.
Reluctantly, Ron and Hermione dragged themselves away from him.

“Oh Harry! You did it! You beat him!” Ginny shrieked.

“Harry! That was amazing!” Remus breathed.

“How on earth did you do it, Harry?” gasped Luna.

“Oh, Harry, thank goodness you're ok!” cried Tonks.

Harry's head was beginning to hurt, but the stream of chatter from his visitors was cut
short by Snape.

“Stand back,” he spat, “give the boy some air.” He peered at Harry, his black eyes narrowed in
confusion.

“Oh, this is wonderful!” said Mr. Weasley ecstatically, “Harry alive and You-Know-Who gone-”

“You're right, Arthur,” said Remus quietly, “this is wonderful.” His head snapped over to
Tonks, and he looked slightly nervous. “Dora, I- I said I'd wait until the war was over, and
now it is…” He got down on one knee, and Mrs. Weasley and Tonks let out matching squeals of
delight. “Dora, will you marry me?”

“Of course I will, you old duffer!” she cried and flung herself on top of him, earning a sneer
from Snape and catcalls from almost everyone else.

“You'll be best man?” Remus asked Harry happily, his face beaming brilliantly.

“Yeah- yeah, of course I will!” Harry replied, shocked.

“Oh, congratulations, you two!” cried Ginny, hugging them both.

“All this calls for a party!” cried Mrs. Weasley, also hugging them.

Harry felt very happy for Remus and Tonks, but now his head was *really* starting to hurt,
and Madame Pomfrey seemed to realise this, as she suddenly began ushering everyone out. He smiled
at everyone as they passed, but as he caught Hermione's eyes, he saw that she was close to
tears. The corner of her mouth twitched, a failed smile, and she quickly averted his eyes, as
though scared it would hurt her to look at him for too long.

Harry was about to call her back, but she darted outside, and Harry saw a tear snap to her
eye.

*

It was about two weeks before Harry was allowed from the hospital ward, and even then Madame
Pomfrey hadn't let him go without a fight. But he had eventually managed to convince her he was
healthy enough to go out.

Of course, he had had about a million visitors a day and his bedside table had been overflowing
with “get well soon” and “thank you for saving the Wizarding World” cards. Ron had visited every
day, which Harry was pleased about, but one person who hadn't visited was Hermione. Sure, he
had caught sight of a pair of chocolate brown eyes peering at him through the window, but why had
Hermione never come in to talk to him? They could have worked something out.

Even now that he was out of the hospital ward, Hermione seemed to be avoiding him. He had tried
to corner her numerous times, but she always scampered away, muttering some nonsense about
decorations for the wedding and never making eye contact. Harry was growing increasingly
frustrated. Why wouldn't she let him just *talk* to her?

“Hermione.” Harry had snuck up on her while she was reading in the Hogwarts Library, and gently
placed his hands on her shoulders so she couldn't get away. He felt her tense beneath his
fingers. “Hermione, why have you been avoiding me?”

“Not been avoiding you,” Hermione muttered, glaring down at her page stubbornly and flushing
red.

“Yes, you have! Look,” Harry sat down besides her, grasping her wrist, “if this is about when we
were at the stairs of the Astronomy Tower-”

Hermione stood up so violently Harry had to let go.

“No! Don't run away! *P**lease!”* He gave her a pleading look, which she caught
out of the corner of her eye. His eyes captured hers, and she froze, looking torn between wanting
to get away from him and wanting to kiss him again. She opened her mouth to speak…

“Hermione, Tonks wants you to come and have your bridesmaid's dress fitted!” Ginny hollered,
appearing at the Library door.

As much as he loved them, Harry decided Weasleys had the worst timing in the world.

“Yes,” Hermione whispered, wrenching her eyes from Harry. “Yes, I'm coming.” And she stalked
out the door without a backwards glance. Harry slumped down on the table in disappointment, his
head thumping on the cold, hard wood.

Ginny had just turned to leave, when she noticed Harry's slumping action. “Are things ok
between you two?” she said quietly. “I haven't seen you talking in ages.”

“No, Ginny, they are not ok,” Harry muttered, his voice muffled against the table top.

“What happened?” she said quietly, “did something happen the night when you duelled You- Know-
Who?”

“Look, I don't really want to talk about it.” He took his head off the table and
straightened his glasses. He searched for something to change the topic. “So, how's Malfoy
planning to explain to his parents that he's dating you? His Mom looked about ready to rip your
arms off when she saw you two kissing.”

Ginny smiled grimly. “Well, I was never expecting them to be jumping for joy-”

“Are you talking about *my* parents?” As though he had materialised from the shadows,
Malfoy slid through the door, his cool grey eyes resting on Ginny. He glared at them
suspiciously.

Ginny smiled at him, and his defensive exterior faded. “We were just discussing how your parents
reacted when they *found out.”*

“Oh, that.” Malfoy winced and absentmindedly rubbed his ear, as if in memory of being yelled
at.

Ginny sighed. “Well, at least we've got telling my family to look forward to.”

“That should be *fun*,” Malfoy muttered.

“Yeah. They're gonna be even *worse.”*

“Worse than my parents? I think not.”

“Oh, they will be, trust me. They're probably going to murder me.”

“Yeah, but no way are they worse than my parents. *No- one* can yell louder than my Father,
trust me.”

“Yes, but I have six overprotective brothers…”

Shaking his head, Harry slipped out unnoticed, leaving them to their squabble. He wandered out
to the grounds, where the marquee was being set up. The wedding was taking place on the castle
grounds, and due to the merriment Voldemort's downfall had caused, no-one had the heart to
disagree. For the past few days there had been nothing but bright sunshine, which gave everyone
high hopes for good weather on the wedding day.

Harry trudged down the stone steps, to where people were fumbling around, trying to construct
the tent. He spotted at head of long dirty-blonde hair, and plodded over.

“Hey Luna… oh.” Luna had just pinned a large poppy to the front of his shirt. “Umm… thanks.”

“No problem,” answered Luna dreamily. “It's for remembrance of the war. I heard muggles do
it.” Harry stared at the poppies on her shirt. There were several. “Oh, I didn't think it was
fair if I just had one. I mean, lots of people gave their lives, didn't they?”

Harry looked at his poppy guiltily. His mind had been so clouded over what to do about Hermione
he hadn't given much thought to the dead.

“Harry, why do you look so sad?” said Luna concernedly. “They died hero's deaths, fighting
for what they believed in. I'm sure they'd have been proud.”

Harry smiled sadly.

“And… is there something else, Harry?” Luna examined him with her misty blue eyes.

“Well… it's Hermione. See… she told me something very important, and I didn't react the
way she'd hoped- but I do feel the same, I just- I was shocked and… urgh, it's complicated.
Look, I didn't do something I should have, and now she's not speaking to me.” Harry ran a
hand through his hair in frustration. “I just don't get it. Why won't she let me explain?
Why didn't she say anything earlier? What's been going through her head?”

Luna sighed, and then took a deep breath: “Well, she thinks that she's ruined your
friendship with her because it'll be to embarrassing for you both to know what she's told
you, and even if *you* manage to pretend it never happened, she won't be able to cope with
the fact that you don't feel the same way. So she's very upset about all that. But
she's kind of glad that she got it off her chest, as well as the fact that it was your
motivation for killing Voldemort. She didn't say anything earlier because she was confused,
because for years she's alternated between fancying Ron and then fancying you and then thinking
of you both in a strictly platonic way, and then when she finally made a move on Ron she realised
it's you she wants, and she felt guilty because she still really liked Ron and didn't want
to hurt his feelings, but she knew it was you she loved. Then she felt like a traitor because she
knew Ginny liked you, and then when you and Ginny broke up and she and Ron broke up she thought
she'd leave it anyway because she didn't think you could possibly like her, and she was
also afraid of what Ron and Ginny would say. She also doesn't know what to feel about Ron,
because she thinks he might still like her, but she doesn't love him the same way she loves
you, and she doesn't want to lose him either. So there's a lot of heartache there. Oh, and
she's also upset because she thinks none of this is logical and she doesn't like things
that aren't logical.”

Harry stood in stunned silence, blinking a few times, before; “How do you guys do that? Is it
just you and Hermione, or do all girls have that- that special *mind reading* power?”

Luna smiled. “No special power. Just a little bit of empathy,” she said, a little bit
superiorly.

“But- but that's confusing…” Harry felt slightly dizzy.

“It *is,* isn't it?” said Luna, looking just as dazed, even though she was the one
who'd said it. “She has too many feelings. I hope she doesn't explode. Perhaps you should
talk to her; then she wouldn't be so depressed.”

Harry watched as Luna floated off, feeling she'd missed the point.

*

The wedding was drawing nearer, but in the hustle and bustle still no-one had forgot to
celebrate the liberation of the wizarding world. So, a few days before the wedding, a party was
held in the Great Hall.

It was possibly the biggest event Harry had ever been to. The Hall was magnificently decorated,
with streamers and banners slithering through the air, music so loud it could have been heard for
miles and the promise of a massive firework display, courtesy of Fred and George (it was raining
outside, but nobody seemed to care). The house-elves had really outdone themselves with the food,
much to Ron's delight, and it seemed almost everyone in the Order were there. Harry was being
treated like a king, with all sorts of strangers coming to shake his hand and express their deepest
gratitude, but he wasn't really paying attention.

This was the perfect time to try and corner Hermione again. He had hoped that in the noise and
chatter she wouldn't notice him, but she was being exceptionally perceptive and always managed
to get away, just as someone else came to shake his hand. He soon had to give up, feeling
thoroughly depressed.

“Excuse me! Excuse me; I'd like to make a toast!” Remus called out through the noise,
dinging his spoon on a glass. The music stopped. “To Harry Potter: Boy Who Lived, Chosen One,
Defender of the Wizarding World!”

“Harry Potter,” a hundred voices echoed rapturously, and everyone tipped their glasses back.
Harry smiled weakly, feeling as though he didn't particularly want to be there. He scanned the
area, his eyes seeking out Hermione. Of course, she had made the toast too.

Harry noticed that Snape wasn't at the party. A sudden thought struck him, and he excused
himself, glad of a reason to get out of the party. He started making his way to the dungeons, then
took a quick detour to the seventh floor, where the Room of Requirement was.

He rapped his knuckles on Snape's door, and, hearing a muffled, “*come in,”* he stepped
in. Snape was organising his horrible-slimy-things-in-jars, and he froze and his eyebrows shot up
as soon as he saw Harry entering.

“Err…” Harry didn't know exactly what to say. The two of them had not spoken one-on-one
since the day Snape had shown him his memories. “How come you aren't at the party?”

“I despise social gatherings.” Snape's eyes narrowed. “Is there a reason you're
here?”

“I have something of yours,” Harry said, passing him the Half-Blood Prince's copy of
*Advanced Potion-Making.* Snape's eyebrows rose further as his fingers flipped open the
battered, scribbled over pages. His lips curled upwards in a weird way, and Harry realised with a
jolt he was smiling.

“You keep it,” said Snape, pushing it back towards Harry. “Merlin knows you'll need it if
you ever brew any complex potions.”

Harry blinked in surprise, and looked down at the tattered little book. It might have once
belonged to Snape, but Harry had to admit, it would come in handy.

“It might interest you to know,” said Snape softly, eyes focussed on the book, “that it was your
mother who taught me to create spells.”

“Really?”

“She was extraordinarily gifted at Charms. She wrote a lot of her own in here… somewhere… here.”
He had turned to one of the very back pages, and amid Snape's spiky scrawl were words in neat,
curly handwriting, in bright orange ink.

Snape was wearing an odd expression. He was staring at the words intensely, his eyes taking in
every flick and curl of Lily's writing.

“Professor,” said Harry quietly, “She- my Mum- she wouldn't have wanted you to grieve
forever…”

Snape's head snapped up, his black eyes wide. He looked slightly threatening in his
shock.

Harry, who thought he was pushing his luck, went on: “She'd have wanted you to- you know-
move on.”

Snape looked flabbergasted. He looked Harry up and down, calculating something, before he
snorted, though not in humour. “I have things to do,” he said coldly, before turning around and
shunning Harry.

Harry picked up the old book, and, as quietly as he could, walked to the door. “Oh, and Sir?”
Snape froze, which Harry knew meant he was listening. “Thanks.”

*

Harry stepped outside.

The rain was a light drizzle, falling from the sky in miniscule droplets so small Harry hardly
felt it. This was the first rain they had had in days, so Harry didn't mind it too much, and
started roaming down to the lake, fists stuffed in his pockets, kicking mud as he went.

He hadn't had much time to himself, to think about all the things Luna had told him. He
needed to clear his mind, figure this mess out.

If *only* he hadn't stalled, hadn't frozen. This was so typical: he had always been
rubbish with girls. But this was *Hermione,* one of the closest people to him: he
shouldn't have acted that way around her.

The rain had become heavier. Thick drops were descending from the cloud-strewn sky, and soon
Harry was soaked. He watched as pebble-sized droplets bounced along the surface of the lake.

“You're going to catch your death of cold.”

Harry span round so quickly he hurt his neck. There had to be something wrong with his eyes.
What he was seeing was Hermione standing behind him, holding an umbrella. She had a sad look on her
face, and starting approaching Harry slowly.

“Hermione,” Harry began breathlessly, but Hermione cut him off.

“Harry, I'm sorry I've been avoiding you, I needed some time to think. But I came here
to say- I'm sorry about what happened the other night,” she said in a low, quiet voice, her
sparkling eyes fixed on the lake. “I- I just wanted to let you know how I feel. I understand if we
can't be friends anymore,” she whispered, and something trickled down her cheek. Harry
couldn't be sure whether it was the rain or tears. “I'm just- I'm sorry.”

“Well I'm not,” said Harry quietly, but fiercely.

Hermione gasped sharply, and swivelled on the spot to face him. She gaped at him for a moment,
and then slowly started shaking her head.

“No,” she whispered sadly, her eyes flooding. “No, Harry, please don't do this. Don't
pretend just to make me feel better.” She turned on her heel and started to walk in the direction
of the castle.

“No!” Harry, who had been waiting for days to speak to her, wasn't going to blow his chance
now. He rushed over to her. “That's not true! That's not what I'm doing!”

“It's ok, Harry. I know its Ginny you really want to be with,” Hermione whispered.

Harry closed his eyes in exasperation. “No, we split up, Hermione! Ages ago! Why won't you
believe me? Why do you insist that I don't feel the same way?”

Hermione chuckled dryly. “As if you could love me, the know-it-all bookworm.”

There was a silence between them. The rain splattered across the grounds, plopping into the lake
with miniscule splashes and plastering Harry's fringe to his forehead. He blinked the rain
away, and stared at Hermione who was facing away from him, though no longer walking. Harry let her
words echo in his head for a few more silent seconds, before swallowing.

“Hermione, look at me.” Slowly, her tear-filled eyes found his. “How could you think that?” he
said in barely more than a whisper. “You're intelligent, yes, the most intelligent person
I've ever met. But- but you're more than that, too. You're caring, brave, loyal,
beautiful…” Harry stopped to moisten his lips, which were dry despite the pouring rain. This was
hard for him. He'd never said things so deeply from his heart before.

Tears were now streaming down Hermione's cheeks, which were flushed bright red. “You've-
you've never-” she gasped, “shown any sign before!”

“Because I was a kid,” he said breathlessly. “A kid who didn't really know what love was.
How was I supposed to know what I felt?

“You've always been beside me, Hermione, whenever I needed you, you were there. When- when
that snake got you, and I thought you were dead… I never felt so… I couldn't…” he clutched at
his heart, to try and illustrate how he had felt. “I just couldn't go on. I don't ever want
to feel like that again, Hermione. Please… I love you.”

A sob escaped her throat. Dropping the umbrella aside, she flung herself at him, and they
kissed. Harry could feel tears starting to flow down his face too, as emotion after emotion
hurricaned through his head.

After the kiss broke, after an eternity, Harry wrapped his arms around her so tightly they
almost hurt, and they stood hugging in the rain. Harry buried his face in her hair, breathing her
in, while she sobbed happily at his shoulder. It seemed that only now could he appreciate the Dark
Lord's downfall.

Voldemort was gone. Hermione was his. He was free.

*

-->



30. The Second Wedding
----------------------



Hermione Granger looked down from her book to the sleeping form of her boyfriend, whose head was
resting on her stomach. There was a broad smirk plastered permanently on her face. For the first
time in her life she couldn't concentrate on reading.

It was a Saturday afternoon, and they were lazing around after the hard work of preparing for
the wedding. Harry, being Best Man, and Hermione, being one of the bridesmaids, had been very busy:
she helping Tonks with her wedding dress and he helping Remus choose a ring.

It had been two weeks since The Day in the Rain, two wonderful, fabulous weeks. Hermione played
with a lock of his hair, remembering. She couldn't believe it had taken her so long to work up
the courage to tell him, and even then it had been out of necessity.

She wasn't sure when she had started liking him- all she had known was that she hadn't
been very happy when he started dating Cho, and, though she felt like a horrible person to admit
it, had been rather jealous of Ginny, though she had successfully suppressed that, for both Harry
and Ginny's sakes (but she did suspect Ginny was a tiny bit jealous of her, too).

She guessed she had started to realise at the end of her fifth year, just after the incident in
the Department of Mysteries- and that was when she had gotten scared. Her and Harry? It didn't
seem possible. So, she focussed her attention on Ron. Don't get her wrong- she *did* like
Ron a lot- she just hadn't meant for it to go as far as it did. And then when Ron completely
ignored her and started going out with Lavender… well…

She felt Harry stir. She looked down to see him open his eyes and grin lopsidedly at her.

“Hi,” he yawned, and looked at the clock. “Was I really asleep that long?”

Hermione blushed and grinned. “I didn't want to wake you.”

Harry sat up, grinning too. He felt something small and hard in his pocket, and took out the
ring case. “Woops! I forgot those were there.”

“Remus and Tonks' rings?”

“Yeah.” He opened the lid with a little click, revealing a matching pair of glittering gold
wedding bands. Hermione smiled and nodded.

“Oh, I'm sure she'll love them. They're beautiful.”

“Yeah?” Harry rummaged around in his pocket, blushing slightly. “I, err… got you something
too.”

Surprised, Hermione took the little blue box he handed her. She opened it to find a gorgeous
ring, embedded with diamonds and miniature silver roses, and inscribed with tiny words at the
bottom: *Forever yours, H.P to H.G.*

“Oh, Harry!” Hermione gasped. “Its- it's so beautiful! But why?”

Harry grinned at her, and straightened his glasses. “No reason. I just wanted to buy you
something. I, err, kind of stole the idea off my parents…” He had shown Hermione and Ron the ring
his Father had given to his Mother.

Hermione kissed him and put it on, examining every detail with the attention she usually showed
for a good book. Harry relaxed, but then noticed her lips forming a frown.

“You don't like it?”

“No! No, it's not that, it's just… what are we going to tell Ron?”

Harry sighed. This had been a subject they had both been avoiding for two weeks.

“I know. We'll have to tell him soon… maybe at the Wedding?”

“I just don't know how he'll react. I mean, I don't think he's quite gotten over
our break up a few months ago.”

Harry felt a pang of guilt in his chest. “Hermione… I have something to tell you…” he hoped
Hermione wouldn't be too angry. “It was me,” he blurted out. “I took the last turkey
sandwich!”

Hermione blinked in surprise. “Huh?”

“Don't you remember? You were angry at him for eating the last sandwich!”

Hermione rolled her eyes and suppressed a sigh. “Harry, we didn't break up over a sandwich!”
she half-chuckled. “It was all the arguing and… well… it was a matter of time. But listen, this
doesn't solve the problem of telling Ron!”

“It'll be alright. He's our friend, Hermione, he'll understand. We might be
overreacting. He might not mind at all. But even if he does, he'll come round. I'm sure of
it.”

Hermione smiled and leaned in to kiss him. Neither of them were aware of their red-haired
friend, who was standing at the door, witnessing this scene with his mouth hanging open.

“*That curse must have affected my other eye, too,”* thought Ron. He couldn't believe
what he was seeing.

*

The day of the wedding arrived soon, and with it came hot, blue skies.

“Damn tie,” Harry hissed, struggling to loosen the strip of material around his neck. They stood
in the sizzling sunshine, sweaty and slightly drowsy as they waited for Tonks to arrive.

People in the stands whispered excitedly and impatiently, but of course the most

impatient of all was Remus. Harry had never seen him so fidgety, biting his lip

and dabbing at his brow. The heat was probably made ten times worse by the thick, heavy leather
Wizard's Marriage Robes he wore, which were similar to the ones Bill had worn on his wedding
day. Harry smirked at him, and then peered into the crowd.

Predictably, Tonks' mother and Remus' parents were there, as were many members of the
Order. The Weasleys sat in a line. Harry's eyes lingered on Ron. Unlike the rest of his family,
he looked slightly surly and unhappy about something. He was slumped back in his seat, arms folded
and trying to look as though he were enjoying himself.

Harry frowned. Ron had been strangely distant towards him and Hermione the past week. Harry put
it down to getting ready for the wedding, but even when he had not been busy he hadn't spoken a
word to either of them.

Harry started as the wedding march began playing. Tonks had arrived, and was walking down the
isle, looking terrific in her baby blue wedding dress. She had brilliant blue eyes to match, and
had turned blonde. She smiled shyly and walked down the isle, followed by her bridesmaids, which
included Hermione.

Harry grinned at her as they sat in their seats, and turned to watch the couple as the vicar
began the vows:

“Do you, Remus John Lupin, take Nymphadora Athena Tonks…”

Harry chuckled quietly as he saw Tonks wince at her name. He turned to see Hermione was already
tearing up, though wasn't surprised to find she wasn't the only one; Mrs. Tonks, Mrs. Lupin
and Mrs. Weasley were all dabbing their eyes with handkerchiefs.

“…Then I pronounce you man and wife.”

Once again, every person in the marquee stood up and raised their wand to the centre. As Remus
and Tonks kissed, those beams of soft golden light poured from the wands and surrounded them, just
like at Bill and Fleur's wedding. Harry glanced sideways at Hermione, wandering how long it
would be before he was wearing those heavy leather robes.

The ceremony soon ended. As Harry and Hermione made their way over to congratulate Tonks and
Remus, slow, romantic music started playing, and couples started crowding onto the dance floor.

“So, up for a dance, Harry?” Hermione smirked and wiggled her eyebrows, but Harry held her
back.

“If people see us dancing, they'll know we're a couple.”

“Oh, come on! Don't you think it's time we let them?”

“I think the first person we tell should be Ron.”

“Then let's tell him now!”

Harry looked around the crowd apprehensively. “Ok,” he sighed. Grinning, Hermione took his hand
and led him through the crowd, scanning the heads for a mop of red hair.

*

Muttering, Ron trudged away from the wedding party, glad to escape the noise, the couples,
*them.* He hadn't spoken to Harry or Hermione ever since he saw them, *together.*
Even now he could hardly believe what he saw; frankly he didn't want to believe. He just wanted
to be alone to brood.

He found a seat underneath a tree, and sat down in it, glad of the leafy branches above him that
provided a relieving shade. So, he had been right to suspect Hermione's feelings for Harry were
more than friendly. How could they do this to him? Harry was supposed to be his best friend. Best
friends didn't go out with your ex- girlfriend.

“Why are you sulking, Ronald?”

“I'm not sulking, I'm brooding,” said Ron waspishly, before realising he didn't know
who he was talking to. He turned round to see Luna Lovegood sitting besides him on the bench. He
hadn't notice her tip-toe through the trees to be with him.

“Oh, yes, there's a very big difference, pardon me,” she said in her laid-back, dreamy
voice. “So, why don't you want to be at the celebrations?”

Ron sighed. He didn't rally want to talk about it to anyone. But… he trusted Luna. He
didn't know why, but he felt quite comfortable talking to her about stuff he wouldn't
usually say to Harry or Hermione. They had spent quite a lot of time chatting when Luna had come to
visit them at the camp.

“Harry and Hermione are going out,” he muttered gloomily.

She seemed to read his thoughts. “And you think they've betrayed you.”

“Well- well- yeeaah!” Ron whined. “I mean- he can't- she- isn't there some rule about
going out with your best mate's ex? How could they do this, it's only been a few months
since I broke up with her.”

“Are you still in love with Hermione?” Luna whispered, a small sad tone to her voice.

Ron blinked. It was strange to see Luna looking sad. One of the things he liked best about Luna
was that she was always smiling.

He sighed. “I'm not upset because I'm still in love with Hermione.”

As though someone had lit a candle inside her head, her eyes brightened slightly. “No?”

“No,” he sighed again. “I guess… I miss that closeness that we used to have. It's going to
be strange, seeing Harry and Hermione… you know. Snogging and stuff.”

“So that's it? You're lonely?” said Luna softly.

Ron's ears turned red and he shrugged.

“Well, we can't have that!” Ron hadn't noticed how close Luna had been to him, and he
opened his mouth to say something, only to find he couldn't easily talk due to Luna
Lovegood's lips attacking his.

There were a few more heated moments, before Luna, beaming, pulled him up and led him by the
hand back towards the marquee, Ron still trying to figure what the hell just happened.

“Hey Luna,” George was approaching them, closely followed by Fred, whose artificial leg clunked
loudly as he walked. He was carrying a packet of mints, which Ron knew caused the consumer to
breath fire. “Want to try our new extra-minty dragonmints? Guaranteed to-” he noticed Ron's
dazed look, and his eyes wandered down to their clasped hands. “Are you two going out, or
something?!”

“I- I guess we are,” Ron muttered gormlessly, forgetting who he was talking to.

An evil, gleeful Cheshire-cat grin spread across George's face, and Fred's eyes
bulged.

“So- so you're in *lurrve,* are you, Ronnikins?” said Fred, struggling to keep his
voice level, while George gave a splutter of laughter.

Ron, snapping back to Earth, snatched Luna's arm and stalked off, his ears burning. Trust
Fred and George to make fun of him. There was no use trying to get them to keep a secret, they were
more loud-mouthed than Banshees, and probably everyone who had attended the wedding would know that
Ronald Weasley and Luna Lovegood were dating by tomorrow.

Of course, there were probably going to be a couple of pathetic jokes he would have to put up
with. Not everyone… understood Luna. But, he decided, he didn't care. If immature idiots like
his brothers wanted to make jokes, he would simply let them.

Besides, even Fred and George had to admit, Luna had killer legs.

*

“…As I say, *awfully* pleased to meet you both, *great* honour…” wheezed the over
excited little man, his watery eyes shooting from Harry to Hermione eagerly.

“Yes, same to you, Mr. Gillespie.” Harry smiled politely, feeling his hand would drop off it was
being wrung so fiercely.

Eventually, they managed to wriggle free of Mr. Gillespie's grip, bumping into Tonks, who
looked happy, but was trying to catch her breath. She and Remus had been swinging each other rather
wildly around the dance floor two minuets previously, and were now both quite red in the face.

“Wotcher,” she grinned at them. “Enjoying yourselves?”

“Other than the fact that my hand's been shaken so many times it's starting to swell,
it's great,” Harry joked.

“Well, you *did* save the Wizarding World, Harry,” Remus smiled, handing Tonks a drink.

“It's pretty lively,” Hermione noted. “I bet there's a least a hundred people here.”

“Hey, you only get married once, or so I should hope,” Tonks laughed, nudging Remus.

“You haven't seen Ron by any chance, have you?”

“Hmm, not since the dancing started.”

“Can't see him anywhere,” said Remus, looking round. “But I know who I can see! Xeno, how
are you?”

Remus began chatting to an extremely eccentric-looking wizard. He had shoulder-length fluffy
white hair, and was slightly cross-eyed. The brilliant yellow robes he adorned made him stand out
even more from the crowd of dark dress-robes and tuxedos.

After he finished talking to Remus he turned to Harry and Hermione. His eyes went wide as he saw
them, making him seem even more comical. Harry groaned. He should have seen it coming.

“Harry Potter! And Hermione Granger!” he said, wringing Harry's hand enthusiastically. Harry
was starting to wish he had took some Polyjuice Potion. “Xenophilius Lovegood. My Luna has talked
so much of you, of course. I know she's helped you in your You-Know-Who hunting scheme.”

“Er-” said Harry guiltily.

“Don't worry, I know my Luna loves to be helpful, and she's not one to turn down an
adventure,” he winked. “Do you know where she is, by any chance?”

“Here I am, Daddy.” A strangely flushed Luna appeared behind him, who was, to Harry's
surprise, holding hands with Ron, who was grinning dopily. She gave Ron a meaningful look, squeezed
his hand and led her Father over to the buffet table.

Harry and Hermione looked at each other nervously, Hermione moistening her lips. She turned to
Ron: “Ron, we have something to tell you…”

“Wait, I know what you're going to say.” Beaming, he grabbed Hermione's and Harry's
wrists and joined their hands. “Go ahead. You deserve each other.”

Astonished, they gawped at him. “But- how did you-?”

“I saw you two snogging,” he shrugged.

Hermione turned beetroot red. “Erm- err… oh.” Ron sniggered.

“Come on, Hermione,” Harry laughed, “let's go and do some of that dancing you were so keen
on.”

*

Happy and tired after two hours dancing, Harry and Hermione staggered half-drunkenly away from
the Wedding, laughing over a privet joke. They had once again lost Ron in the crowd, but had been
too busy dancing to notice. Of course, Harry had heard some exited muttering amongst the nosier
guests when they saw Harry and Hermione together, but fortunately they had been left relatively in
peace, aside from a few wolf- whistles from Fred and George.

Harry led a slightly tipsy Hermione (he had convinced her to try her first ever Firewhiskey,
and, surprisingly, she had liked it) over to the old beech tree by the lake, which had been one of
their favourite studying places. It was the perfect spot to view the lake, the Quidditch pitch, the
castle in the distance and the huge, red sun that was now setting against a saffron sky.

Giggling, Hermione flopped down under the tree, pulling Harry down with her, and pressed her
lips against his.

“Hey, that's enough of that,” a voice above them said, and they looked up to see their red-
haired freckle- faced friend smirking down at them. Ron slumped down the other side of Harry,
yawning.

“Mate,” Harry greeted. “Where's Luna?”

“Oh, she's off searching for Wrackspurts,” Ron chuckled. Again, he yawned. “Blimey, it's
been a long day.”

“It was a beautiful wedding,” Hermione sighed dreamily. There was a short pause, where they
watched the Giant Squid raise a tentacle lazily up out of the water, disturbing the reflection of
the fading sun that was cast across the lake, and then Hermione spoke again. “Ron?” she said,
slightly meekly. “Are you sure you're alright with- you know- us?”

Ron smiled and rolled his eyes. “Only if I get to take my black- haired, brown-eyed, know-it-all
seeker godchild to his first Quidditch match,” he teased.

“Aww,” Harry smirked, “I guess I'll have to settle for buying his first broom.”

“And I get to show him how to catch his first snitch.”

“Well, I'll show him how to do the Wronski Feint.”

“Honestly,” said Hermione, sounding quite flustered. She had reddened considerably at Ron's
mention of godchildren. “You're both getting a bit carried away, aren't you? I mean,
let's not be so hasty, for all you know there might not even *be* any godchildren,
it's *way,* *way* too early to even *mention* that, that's *far* into
the future, I don't know *where* you get these ideas, Harry, don't encourage him…” She
said all this very quickly, eyes fastened to her shoes, her voice gradually fading. There was a
short pause. “No child of mine is ever going within ten feet of a Quidditch pitch, let alone a
broomstick, Harry James,” she muttered hotly.

Harry laughed, while Ron shook his head and whispered, “Mental…”

“We'll be alright, won't we?” Hermione whispered. “In the future, I mean? Once all the
celebrations are over, and we get jobs and families and stuff. We won't drift apart, will
we?”

“'Course not,” said Ron. “We're the Golden Trio, aren't we?”

“Not even Voldemort could stop that,” said Harry softly. The east sky was dark now, the first
star of the evening glinting faintly, and they sat in peaceful silence, watching the sun disappear
beyond the horizon. And at that moment, it didn't matter that two of them were going out, or
that two of them were rebuilding after a break-up, they were three eleven year olds again, best
friends, even if only for that frozen, golden moment in time.

*

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31. EPILOGUE
------------



**Nine Years Later**

“Mr. Potter, there have been some complications. You'll have to wait outside.”

Harry was escorted outside by the Healers. He ran a hand through his long, messy hair, growling.
Couldn't they see his wife needed him?

He began pacing the corridor of the hospital, growing more and more worried with each step. What
if something bad happened? What if she didn't make it? Harry shook himself. Now he was just
being paranoid. She'd be fine.

A healer appeared from the door, but she stalked right past Harry before he could open his
mouth. It was a while before anything happened, and Harry continued pacing faster and faster,
growing more apprehensive, until the door creaked open once again.

“Mr. Potter?” The Healer's face was straight, but there was a gleam in her eyes that
signalled good news. “Your wife wants to see you.” Nervously, Harry stepped into the room.

“Hermione?”

Hermione was lying on the bed, looking exhausted and resting her eyes. Sunlight was filling in
through the window, sparkling on her skin, which was covered in a thin layer of sweat. Her brown
eyes flickered open as he approached her.

“Are you ok?” Harry whispered.

Hermione gave him a tired smile. “I'm fine.”

Harry beamed, placing his hand on hers. “Where is it?”

“The healers are weighing him and cleaning him up.”

Harry's grin broadened. “Him?”

Warmth filled Hermione's eyes, and she entwined their fingers tenderly. “Our son,” she said
softly. Harry swelled up with pride and joy, and he kissed her sweetly just as a healer walked in,
carrying a tiny bundle wrapped up in blankets.

Hermione suddenly seemed to be filled with energy, and she looked at the baby with a hungry
expression in her eye. The healer handed the baby to her, and Harry stared down at the newborn in
awe. He was perfect. Fine brown hair covering his head, five fingers on each hand that were curled
around a lock of Hermione's hair, and hazy blue eyes that were already turning brown…

“He's beautiful,” sighed Hermione happily.

“Yeah,” Harry whispered. “He is.”

“But Harry,” Hermione said with mock seriousness, “now we *really* do have to find a name
for him.”

Harry grinned. “I thought we agreed on Damien?”

“*You* agreed on Damien,” Hermione rolled her eyes, and then looked at the baby
thoughtfully. “What about Hugo?”

“Urgh,” Harry cringed, “definitely Damien.”

“How about… Terence?”

“How about Damien?”

“Marco?”

“Damien?”

“Joshua?”

“Damien's nice.”

“Reese?”

“Oh! I know! Damien!” Harry snickered as Hermione hit him playfully. There was a short
pause.

“William…” Hermione muttered thoughtfully. “Yeah… Harry, what do you think of William?”

“I like that,” said Harry slowly. “William… It goes with his brother and sister's names too,
doesn't it? Connor, Venice and William Potter… Kind of like a tribute to Bill, too, eh?”

“My little Billy,” Hermione sighed as she rocked the baby gently. William gave a tiny yawn and
closed his eyes. Harry watched his wife and newborn son contently for a minuet, before a thought
struck him.

“Hey, I need to owl Ron, tell him the happy news.” Harry rushed to the door, stopping suddenly
as he placed a hand on the handle. “Hey, Hermione, you know that dog we're buying the kid's
for Christmas?” Hermione nodded. “Can we name it Damien?”

Hermione rolled her eyes as her husband exited, grinning.

*

Ronald Weasley lay on his sofa, snoring. He and Harry had had a hard day in their job as Aurors,
and he had come back only to have Harry dump his kids on him, screaming bloody murder about
Hermione and babies and hospital. Ron had been exhausted, as he had also had to baby-sit Carlos and
Liam, Charlie's two youngest sons, as Charlie and his wife Michelle had taken the eldest Kevin
to St. Mungos earlier this morning. Not to mention Maggie, one of his and Luna's four
daughters, had been up crying all night. He was now having a well-earned kip on his sofa, while his
niece and godson were amusing themselves by gluing crisps to his face.

“Stop it, yous two!” hissed a voice. Four- year- old Venice Potter lay sprawled out on the
floor, glaring at her older brother and his friend through emerald green eyes. These, along with
her bushy raven- black hair, were why everyone said she reminded them of her dad, though most of
her facial features resembled her mother. She had also inherited her mother's famous
intelligence and loved to teach others about her skills: in fact, at that moment she was trying to
teach Danielle, the older of Ron and Luna's one- year- old quadruplets to colour properly. She
was very good at colouring; always stayed between the lines, like Mummy had shown her, but Danni
kept messing it up.

“But its fun!” giggled six-year-old Aren Weasley, sticking another crisp on her uncle's
nose. With intense blue eyes, long, dark red hair, a pale, clear complexion and perfectly straight,
white teeth, you could tell she was going to be very pretty when she grew up. But it was to be
expected, really; her mother had been a quarter vela, and Bill had been pretty good-looking,
too.

Her parent's deaths two years ago had hit Aren hard: Fleur had died in a tragic potion
explosion: she had been trying to find a cure for the curse Bill had. Bill had followed shortly
after, had died of the curse that had been afflicted upon him seven years previously, leaving his
young daughter in Ron's hands.

Shortly after that, Ron had introduced her to Luna Lovegood, whom he had been dating for quite
some time, and who he planned to propose to. Fortunately, Luna was something of a comforter to
Aren, as she had lost her Mother at an early age too, and knew what it was like.

“Poor Unkie Ron,” Venice pouted.

“Hey, Ven, would you keep a lookout for Auntie Luna?” whispered Connor, Venice's brother,
also six. He was a small, mischievous little boy, with a cheeky grin that Uncle Remus always said
reminded him of James. While he had the famous Potter unruly black hair, he had inherited
Hermione's warm brown eyes, too.

“NO! It'd serve you right if she knew, Connor!”

“Pft, don't be such a tell-tale!”

“I'm NOT a tell-tale!”

“You are.”

“Am not!”

“You are.”

“Am-” They were cut off by a loud screech at the windowsill. There was a handsome bird clawing
at the pane of glass- Horatio, the Potter's screech owl. He was neither as beautiful nor as
clever as Hedwig had been, but he did the job.

Ron snorted awake and rubbed his eyes blearily, feeling the crisps scattered along his nose.
“Hey, who stuck this gunk to my face?” he muttered groggily, crushing them away. Connor and Aren
stood up to point dramatically at Charlie, one of the girls, who was sucking a pen innocently.

Muttering, “Yeah, sure it was,” Ron opened the window and let Horatio hop in. There was a
hurriedly scribbled note attached to his leg.

*Hermione had the baby. We named him William. Bring the kids.*

“Blimey,” Ron muttered, and stood up, stretching. He peered down at the two black haired
children. “Come on, sprogs. Want to meet your new brother?”

Connor and Venice glanced at each other with wide-eyed curiosity, before quickly tugging their
coats on, chattering animatedly. Ron chuckled at their enthusiasm, before calling upstairs to Luna,
who was feeding Kathy, the youngest of the quads.

“Lu! Luna! We're just popping off to St. Mungo's, they've had the baby!”

*

“Daddy! Daddy!” Harry looked up as he heard a familiar squeal. His four-year- old daughter's
head had just popped through the door, and she ran towards him, her shoes squeaking on the polished
floor.

Harry smiled, and then put a finger to his lips. Venice jumped on his lap and clamped her hands
over her mouth.

“Why shh?” she whispered through her hands.

“Mummy's sleeping.” He indicated the bed, on which Hermione was sleeping. “And so's
Billy.”

“Who?” she asked, just as Ron, Connor and Aren entered.

“Connor, don't wake your mother!” Harry exclaimed as Connor raced over to Hermione's
bed. Too late. He had jumped on it. “Connor Sirius Albus Potter!”

Hermione opened her eyes groggily, and smiled down at her son. “Hello, you four,” she yawned.
“Have you introduced them to the new arrival, Harry?”

Harry gently lifted William out of his cot. “Here he is,” he said, showing them the baby. “Your
new brother.”

“He's red and wrinkly,” said Connor, gazing at the infant intently, “like Venice was.”

“Hey!” said Venice indignantly.

“How did you remember that?” Harry said, amazed. Connor shrugged, grinning.

“Aw, cute little fellah, isn't he?” said Ron, his (normal-sized) magical eye fixing on the
baby. “And how are you, Herms?”

“Ok, thanks,” Hermione peered at him. “Err, Ron, why have you got a crisp on your eyebrow?” Ron
hastily wiped it away.

“What's his name?” asked Aren, shying away from the baby and over to Connor.

“William.” Harry carefully placed him back in his cot, glad he hadn't woke up.

“I think that's a wonderful name for your son, Harry.” Luna appeared at the door, pushing a
four seated pram, the quadruplets fidgeting around inside it. “I also think that Laurence Percival
Augustus would be nice,” she added dreamily. Luna had come back to Earth a bit since she became a
mother, but still had her moments.

“Laurence Percival Augustus Potter? That, plus the two middle names? I think that's
bordering on child abuse!” Ron joked. Everybody laughed, but somehow Harry didn't think he
would be naming his next son Laurence Percival Augustus.

Once Ron and Luna had left, they had other visitors: Hermione's parents dropped by to fuss
over their grandchildren, as did Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, who treated them as though they were their
grandchildren, Remus and Tonks (who were to be William's godparents) bought little Teddy, even
Neville took some time off book marking to come and visit them. Finally, the Malfoys came.

As Venice was showing Harry a picture she had drawn at Unkie Ron's, the door clicked open,
revealing a pale, pointed little face.

“Leo! What did I tell you about barging into rooms here? It could be the wrong one,” scolded a
voice on the other side of the door.

“Sorry, Mother,” said Leo, rolling his eyes. “But it's not the wrong room, look, there's
Connor!”

He darted over to sit by Connor. He was the same age as Connor, and the two were close friends.
The door swung open, and Ginny Malfoy breezed in, beaming. She was clutching the hand of a small
three-year-old girl, her second child, Imogene.

“Hermione! Harry!” She bent down to hug Hermione, and then threw her arms around Harry. “Aw,
congratulations, you two!” A lot of things had changed about Ginny, but thankfully she was still as
friendly and fiery as ever.

Another figure appeared at the door. Draco Malfoy stood grudgingly in the doorway, looking as
though he would rather be anywhere but there. Slowly, he strode foreword, glaring around with
contempt. Ginny had probably had to drag him there by his pointy blond goatee.

“Sorry we're so late,” Ginny said. “Draco was having a little strop,” she added in an
undertone.

While Ginny was wearing robes of emerald green and the children white, Malfoy was wearing his
usual black work robes, and there was a small child in his arms, playing with his hat. This was
Serenity, the Malfoy's youngest and only red-haired child. As Ginny often said, she was the
perfect combination of both her parents: dark red hair, silvery grey eyes, and a pale, pointed face
beneath a coating of freckles.

Imogene definitely looked a lot like Malfoy. With white-blond hair, grey eyes, pale skin and
pointed features, she could have been a miniature female Draco.

Like his sister, Leo also favoured his father in appearance. He looked just like Harry expected
Draco had at age six, except his hair was tied back in a short ponytail, he had Ginny's warm
brown eyes and a cheeky grin instead of a haughty smirk.

Of course, Leo wasn't Leo's real name. Draco wouldn't have allowed that. His first
name was Xavier, but, like Tonks, he preferred not to be called by that name, as it was hard for
his little cousins and sisters to pronounce. Instead everyone called him by his middle name, Leo,
except his father and paternal grandparents.

Malfoy sat Serenity down on the carpet, and then nodded curtly to Harry. “Potter,” he sneered,
“Granger-Potter,” he said to Hermione.

“How are you feeling, Hermione?” said Ginny concernedly.

“Tired,” Hermione grinned, “but that little angel was worth it.”

“Aww, he's just adorable!” Ginny cooed to the sleeping baby in the glass cot. “Draco,
isn't he adorable?”

“Precious,” Malfoy scowled.

Ginny ignored him. “What does my little goddaughter think of her new brother?” she smiled at
Venice.

“He's really small, Aunty Ginny,” Venice giggled.

Harry felt a slight tug at his knees, and looked down to see Serenity pulling at his trousers.
Smiling, he lifted her up so she could see the baby. Giggling, she stretched out a sticky little
hand and was about to pat the baby when Ginny caught her.

“No, Reni, no touching the baby.”

“Ahh!” Leo had come to see what the fuss was about, and he pressed his face against the glass.
“Why's it in that box, Dad?”

“It's not a box, Xavier, it's…” but Malfoy trailed off. All three of his children had
been born at the Manor, and he had never seen a *glass* cot.

“It's a cot,” Harry explained, “it's what they use in hospitals to put the baby in.”

“Ohh…” Leo turned to Ginny. “Mum, when you have yours, can I put it in the fish tank?”

Hermione's head snapped up. “What do you mean, *hers*, Leo?”

Leo smirked.

“Leo!” said Ginny, exasperated. “I told you not to mention it! …Well, now the cat's out of
the bag…” she inched closer to her husband, “Draco and I are having another baby!”

“Ginny! That's wonderful!” squealed Hermione.

“Yeah, congratulations!” said Harry, silently wondering what on earth had possessed Ginny and
Malfoy to have four kids, especially since Leo on his own was quite a handful.

“What cat, Mum?” said Leo, puzzled.

Malfoy, who was smirking at Ginny proudly, turned to Imogene, who had taken one look at William
and ran behind her Father's knee. “What's the baby going to be, Princess?” he asked
softly.

“Boy,” Imogene replied shyly.

“Yeah, I always wanted a brother!” said Leo, his eyes lighting up. “I asked Dad for one, but
instead I got two *girl* brothers.” He glared at Imogene, and she glared back.

“Xavier,” growled Malfoy.

“And we could all play Quidditch… me and my brother against you and yours, eh, Connor?”

“Cool,” grinned Connor.

“And then we could pelt you with bludgers, Dad!”

“Humph, indeed,” muttered Malfoy.

“I don't know what I'll do if it's not a boy,” said Ginny quietly to Harry. Suddenly
Leo jumped up and walked over to the door. “Where do you think you're going?”

“Little boy's room,” mumbled Leo sheepishly. Malfoy opened his mouth to speak. “I can go on
my *own,* Father, I'm not a baby!”

“I'll go with him too,” said Connor, leaping off the bed.

“They'll be fine, Draco, it's just round the corner,” added Ginny.

Scowling, Malfoy nodded, and the two boys disappeared.

“So, thought of any names, Gin?” asked Hermione.

“Yes, Scorpius,” said Draco smugly before Ginny had opened her mouth.

Ginny gave him a quelling look. “I've told you time and time again, we are *not* naming
our son Scorpius, Draco.” She turned back to Hermione. “I was thinking of sticking with the animal
theme, what with Draco and Leo. I quite like Aquila, Falk, Gavin, or… Corbin's especially nice,
I think.”

“Scorpius is an animal-based name,” muttered Malfoy moodily.

“A *scorpion,* Draco! I mean, really-” but suddenly there was a small explosion noise from
directly upstairs. They all stared at the ceiling in shock, and William started crying loudly.

“What's that little menace done now?” growled Malfoy, and rushed off to find Connor and Leo.
There was an awkward silence, in which Harry had managed to calm William down, until Malfoy came
back, gripping the shoulders of two squirming boys. There was sugar in Connor's hair, and a
streak of ketchup across Leo's cheek.

“They were playing Exploding Snap in the canteen,” Malfoy sneered, glowering at his son icily.
“Sent food and cutlery flying everywhere.”

“Boys!” scolded Hermione, “that was wrong!” Connor giggled feebly and hung his head. Leo
cackled, and hid behind the bed.

“Sorry, Mummy!” he called angelically.

“Don't say sorry to me, it's the canteen staff you need to apologise to,” said Ginny
coolly. “Come on, I'll take you.”

“I'll take him, Gin,” said Draco hurriedly, obviously not wanting to be left alone with the
Potters.

“You go too, Connor,” Hermione told Connor, and he skittered over to join Leo and Draco.

“Hey, Ginny,” whispered Harry, “you don't think you could have Venice for a while, could
you? It's just we haven't been alone with the baby since this morning.”

“No problem.” Ginny winked. “Girls, how would you like to get some ice-creams?”

“Yeah!” said Venice and Imogene enthusiastically, and Reni clapped her hands happily. They
followed Ginny out of the ward, leaving Harry and Hermione alone.

William had settled down now, and was staring at Harry's ponytail as though he wanted to tug
at it. Sighing contently, Hermione sat back down on the bed, and Harry handed her the baby. There
was a minuets silence, and then Hermione spoke.

“Harry… did I ever tell you what I saw in the Mirror of Erised that time?”

“…No.”

“This. You, me… and a baby.”

*

Through the silent streets of Godric's Hollow walked a man with long jet black hair, emerald
green eyes and a lightning bolt shaped scar. He carried on trudging up to the outskirts of the
village, up a hill, his eyes set on a lone little house standing, solitary, at the top.

When he got there, he didn't knock on the door or go inside; instead he opened the creaking
wooden gate and stepped into the garden. There were two gravestones at the end of the lawn, to
which he advanced.

The man pulled out his wand, and from the end trickled a small fountain of water, which fell
onto the white flowers growing on the two graves. They were lilies.

“Hi Mum,” he whispered. “Hi Dad.

“Ron and Hermione send their love. She's had the baby, by the way. We named him William.
William Rubeus Alastor Potter. You'd have loved him.

“You can tell Sirius he's now an Uncle. Rebecca had twin girls. Lyra and Yvaine Black-
Snape. I suppose he'd have killed Severus by now, if he was still here.

“I'm sorry I haven't been to visit for so long. It's been hectic recently, what with
Hermione being pregnant and picking Venice's muggle primary school. She was showing her first
signs of magic the other day. Levitated a ruler. Hermione was ecstatic.

“Connor's doing really well in school, too. He wants to join one of those junior Quidditch
league teams, be a seeker, like his old man. He's really good, though, inherited the family
skills with a snitch, I guess. I think he could do it.

“I'm… I'm just sorry you couldn't be here to see any of this. You'd have been so
*proud* of them. They are of you.”

With one last look at the sky, the man walked away.

*

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