Unofficial Portkey Archive

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, it belongs to JK Rowling, etc, etc. Anyone who thinks I do own Harry Potter is an idiot.

A/N: Okay, so I lied. I wasn't in a good mood when I posted that Authors Note, and I allowed my annoyance to get the best of me. I will continue to write Harry Potter fan fiction, although I'm not going to update as fast. As I said, I do have other things I need to be doing. Anyway, I thought about it, and I don't want to punish the people who have stuck by me and who do review, so I will finish these fics at least. Although, I find it interesting, and pretty sad, to note that I got more reviews for that little Authors Note than I have been getting when I post my actual chapters. And to people who flamed me for not being a perfect little angel like them, well, I'm so terribly sorry I failed to live up to your high standards. Whatever shall I do with myself? Ah, sarcasm, my ever present love. To everyone else, I hope you can forgive my little temper tantrum, and enjoy.

Harry spent one night in the hospital wing before returning to the Slytherin dungeons. Malfoy and Zabini greeted him. They quickly ushered him over to a spot out of the way in the corner of the common room.

'I don't know how you do it Potter,' Zabini said, shaking his head. 'The whole school is talking about it. Lockerty tries to kill you, then Quirrell, and yet you still survive. You must be the luckiest bugger alive.'

'I wouldn't call it luck,' Harry argued grimly.

'How did you do it?' Malfoy asked curiously.

'I'd rather not talk about it.'

'Big surprise.' Zabini rolled his eyes. 'Well, as much as I'd love to stick around and listen to you say nothing, I've got a date.' Waggling his eyebrows and smirking, he left the other two Slytherins alone.

Malfoy watched him go with a bemused expression. 'I don't get that kid.'

Harry shrugged.

'So.' Malfoy focused his attention back on Harry. 'You were about to tell me how you survived fighting two significantly more powerful wizards?'

'Actually,' Harry said, getting to his feet, 'I wasn't.' He left the common room behind and headed further into the dungeons. He didn't want to think about how close he had come to dying and he definitely didn't want to tell Malfoy about it. Unfortunately, Malfoy was more stubborn than he thought. Soon, the other Slytherin had caught up to him. Harry tried his best to ignore him.

'Okay, so you don't want to tell me. Why not? Aren't we friends? I helped you out, didn't I? Got my father to buy you all those books… I stick by you and defend you to everyone… I tell them all Potter's not a bad guy… he's cool…'

Harry rounded on him. 'So?'

'So we're friends,' Malfoy said. 'Friends tell each other things. Yet friendship with you is like being friends with a brick-frickin-wall.'

Harry took a deep breath. 'Do I invade your privacy?'

'You can ask me anything, and I'll tell you the truth.' Malfoy made a frustrated gesture. 'Look, I'm not saying we should be like all those Gryffindor and Hufflepuff losers - hugging and kissing - the thought makes me sick, but…' He trailed off in exasperation, unable to give words to his feelings.

Harry looked at the wall. 'I almost died,' he said, 'so forgive me if I don't want to relive it.'

Malfoy sighed. 'Is that such a bad thing?'

Harry looked at him in surprise. 'What?'

'Dying,' Malfoy said, gesturing glumly. 'This world is nothing but pain on top of pain,' he went on. 'An end might be something I'd welcome.'

Harry couldn't believe the depth of feeling in Malfoy's words. They were so full of sadness, and anger, and hurting.

'I don't want to die,' Harry said, stressing the words. Yet, he thought.

Neither knew what to say next, so silence reigned for a few minutes. Harry turned and began to walk again. Malfoy followed him after a brief pause. They descended further into the dungeons.

'My father…' Malfoy hesitated. 'My father isn't a kind wizard. He doesn't tolerate failure. He… he… never mind.'

Harry kept walking.

'You don't care at all, do you?'

Harry didn't even look at him. He stopped walking by the same abandoned classroom they always used for practice and placed his hand on the door.

'You're a cold bastard.'

'So you've said,' Harry finally spoke.

Malfoy gave a snort of amazement. 'Whatever.' He turned to go.

'Hey,' Harry called to get his attention.

'What?'

'I performed a stunning spell,' he said.

'Aren't you clever.' Malfoy was obviously still annoyed with Harry.

'I'm not sure how I did it, but when I thought I was going to die, I guess adrenaline kicked in, and I tried, and it worked.' This was the only way Harry knew to keep Malfoy happy, which he very much wanted to do. The son of Lucius Malfoy was a valuable asset to him. 'Want to give it another try?'

Malfoy considered him, still angry, but interested. 'Fine,' he said, a bit stiffly.

He followed Harry into the classroom.

They practiced stunning for a while. Harry had better luck this time, and more times than not, he managed to perform the spell by reliving the moment he thought he was going to die in his head. Malfoy failed again, and grew more and more annoyed by this fact.

They finally called it a night, barely saying a word to the other.

A week later, Professor Snape called Harry over after the latest Potions class. He waited for the room to empty before speaking.

'Headmaster Dumbledore wishes to see you,' Snape said, standing.

Harry nodded. He'd been expecting something like this. He waited as Snape tidied up his desk, putting everything back into place slowly.

'This way Potter.' Professor Snape led him out of the classroom and up out of the dungeons. Harry followed. They finally stopped on the seventh floor, next to a stone gargoyle. Snape looked down at Harry. 'Nervous?'

Harry shrugged vaguely. He had been expecting this, after all. Although, in truth, he was a little apprehensive, though this was more from force of habit than any real sense of dread. He still couldn't shake the feeling that everyone would suddenly turn on him, despite having spent nearly a year at Hogwarts without such an event occurring. Not including his housemates, of course. Their reactions he understood perfectly.

'Cough drops.'

Cough drops? Harry thought.

His unasked question was answered as the gargoyle moved aside to reveal a stone stairwell. Professor Snape gestured him inside, but didn't follow. The entrance closed behind him as the stairs lurched into motion, carrying him up in a spiral. At the top he found an oak door, which he knocked on, and was then admitted.

'Come in Harry,' Dumbledore called from inside the room.

Harry entered slowly, using the time to take in his surroundings. Sunlight streamed in through a large window, bathing the room in a warm glow. Portraits of wizards and witches glanced at him with curious expressions. His eye caught sight of a bright object, which he quickly realised was a creature, rather like a bird, but no bird he had ever seen was this beautiful.

'A Phoenix,' Dumbledore explained. 'His name is Fawkes.'

'Guy Fawkes?' Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

Dumbledore smiled. 'Please, have a seat.'

Dumbledore waved his hand and a chair appeared. Harry was again impressed by the elderly wizards evident power. He wondered suspiciously if Dumbledore was showing off his powers. Nevertheless, Harry declined the seat, and remained standing. To be honest, he didn't feel comfortable accepting anything from another person, even an invitation to sit.

Dumbledore frowned. 'You still don't trust me.'

'It's not personal,' Harry said. 'If it makes you feel any better, I'm trying.'

He saw a shadow of something (Regret? Shame?) flash in Dumbledore's eyes, but it was gone before he could pin it down. Instead, the Headmaster pressed his fingertips together and regarded Harry over the rim of his spectacles.

'How are you feeling? I trust you are fully recovered?'

'I'm fine,' Harry said.

'Good. I thought you should know that Mr. Lockerty, the student who was forced to attack you, has been freed from the Imperius Curse. He will be returned to school in a few days.'

Super, Harry thought darkly. The guy had already threatened him, and Harry was sure he wasn't under any kind of curse when that happened. He didn't mention that to Dumbledore though. He only said, 'okay.'

'I'm sure you must have questions,' Dumbledore prompted.

Why does everyone assume that? Okay, so he did have a few, but he was more than capable of figuring the answers out himself. He had already deduced (successfully) how he had been able to perform a stunning spell, when under normal circumstances he couldn't. It was a simple matter of motivation. Maybe he didn't understand the specifics, but it was enough to know that he could perform the spell.

'No?' Dumbledore pressed. 'Very well. I have some for you. Are you sure you do not wish to sit?'

'I'm fine,' Harry repeated.

Dumbledore nodded, and waved the chair away. 'You say you wish to see Voldemort dead. How will you accomplish this? Have you thought about it at all?'

'Nothing specific,' Harry said, narrowing his eyes. He didn't like what Dumbledore was insinuating. 'I just know I will kill him.'

'How?'

'However I can,' Harry said.

'The Dark Arts? Is that your plan?'

Harry shook his head. He talks about trust, but he doesn't trust me. Is that what he's after? Reassurance?

'I'll do whatever needs to be done.' It might not be what Dumbledore wanted to hear, but it was the truth. He was pretty sure the Headmaster of Hogwarts wouldn't kill him.

'The Dark Arts aren't to be underestimated. I know you think this doesn't apply to you, but so have many others, and they all fell. I would not see that happen to you.' Dumbledore sighed. 'Just think about it Harry. You don't need to rush this. We do have time. Please.'

The old wizards earnestness was touching. Harry nodded, though he didn't completely agree. It was easy for Dumbledore to say. He already had the power. Harry needed to gain it.

And he would.

In the Slytherin dormitory, Draco Malfoy rummaged through Harry's things. His father demanded results and Draco was growing desperate. He poked through Potter's books, one by one, flipping them open, unsure what he was looking for. He just knew he needed to find something!

Then he did. It fell out from between the pages of Curious Charms. A picture. The young Malfoy studied it. The teenaged couple smiling at him had to be the Potter's. Harry's parents. The parents he doesn't care about. Then why…? He was lying.

Potter lied to him. Of course.

Draco smiled. He had something now. Harry Potter did care about his parents. He wasn't sure what it meant, but he felt it meant something.