Author's Note: Rated Mature for Mature Themes. Word of warning, this is a dark Harry fic, with dark themes. And sorry, no slash, it just wouldn't have worked with the plot. Enjoy!
Harry had witnessed Draco's visit in Borgin & Burkes, and had deliberated over what it meant…until an idea had struck him. Late one night, he had been staring into the dying fire, feeling depressed that he would never see Sirius' head appear there again, when he realised how ignorant he still was about the Wizarding World. He only had other people's guarantee that Sirius was gone. He had heard no mention of The Veil before they stumbled into the room, even Hermione hadn't heard of it! Which only followed that there could be more to The Veil than the members of the Order knew. It was in The Department of Mysteries for Merlin's sake!
Under the pretence of researching his task for Dumbledore – or rather trying to make sense of his meetings with the Headmaster – Harry pored through every book he could find with references to the Department of Mysteries or The Veil.
Tired of the suspicious, scrutinising gaze of Madame Pince, Harry snuck into the Library at night, determined to make some headway before they broke up for Christmas. He loaded up another batch and retreated – he knew better than to light a lantern in the Library – winding his way through the Castle, debating the merits of returning to the Tower over heading to the Room of Requirement.
Harry's instincts triggered, a second before he collided with someone, his books cascading to the floor along with his companion's. The thud thundered through the hallway. Harry barely took note of the familiar platinum-blonde hair, as he scrambled to pick up his load. Footsteps sounded from down a connecting corridor. Each boy scooped up the books closest to him, and they dived into the closest classroom, Draco quickly locking the door behind them.
They ducked into hiding places, and spent several tense minutes listening to the footsteps approach then recede after a perfunctory check of the doors lock. They breathed a sigh of relief once silence reigned.
Harry let out a soft laugh, soon echoed by the blonde. "Who knew this was all it would take for a truce?" he murmured softly.
"It might still prove temporary," Draco drawled, conjuring a small light. He lay his armload of books on the floor, soon followed by Harry, and each boy retrieved whichever of his books that the other had possessed.
"The Department of Mysteries?" Draco queried, eyebrows arched.
Harry inclined his head, then his own eyebrows arched at the titles the blonde possessed. "Intellectual interest or side project?"
"What about you, should I be worried?"
Several thoughts flitted across Harry's face. "I…am having difficulty attaining information I've been researching," he spoke slowly. "This is the last few books I can check – without checking the restricted section. I might find that I'm looking for, I might not." He let his silence settle for a moment. "If you're interested in maintaining our truce, we might be able to come to a mutually beneficial arrangement," he offered, before he scooped up his books and rose.
"And if I decide to?" the blonde retorted.
"Then I'll be waiting for you in the Room of Requirement two hours after dinner tomorrow. And Draco, I've learnt from my mistake last year," he added, making the blonde grin unrepentantly.
"Alohamora," Harry cast, and slipped from the room, content with the thought that even if the blonde didn't take him up on his offer, he wouldn't waste the effort trying to trap the brunet. Not much point, if none of the teachers would be able to find him.
HPDMHPDMHPDMHPDMHPDMHPDMHPDM
Harry was sprawled across a sofa adjacent to a roaring hearth when Draco entered the Room of Requirement. "Budge up," he ordered, tapping the brunet's feet. Harry pulled up his knees enough for the blonde to comfortably sit. The moment he had, he spread back out again. Draco huffed, but otherwise didn't react. "Why two hours?"
"Not too early to retreat up to my dorm, and enough time will pass before anyone comes up and 'finds me in bed'," he replied with a shrug.
"Done this before?"
"You get to notice patterns," he replied easily. "So?"
"Isn't my presence here enough of an answer?"
"No," Harry said flatly.
"I give you my word I plan to continue the truce and will not use any information gleaned in this or any future talks against you," he vowed. "Satisfied?"
"'In any capacity'."
"In any capacity," he repeated. "So?"
"So who are you trying to kill?"
Draco blinked. "Do you have no subtlety?"
"I don't like to waste energy. And before you ask, I need your answer before I can share my problem."
"Not worried I'll renege once you've offered your help?" he challenged. Harry shook his head with an expectant expression. "Dumbledore," he admitted softly.
Harry nodded unsurprised. "Personal vendetta or assigned task?"
"Assigned."
"Right-"
"You're taking this well," Draco interrupted.
Harry lifted a shoulder. "I thought it would be something of the type. Let's face it, if you were likely to want to murder anyone it would be me. At least before this week."
"You say that so nonchalantly."
"I've had someone want to kill me since I was one year old, you get used to it. Anyway, you might want to ask if he still wants you to kill him yourself, when he's likely to meet a slow, painful death in the near future." Draco blinked. "He won't survive much past summer, if that," he stated.
"How do you know?"
"Funny thing, I didn't find the information I was after, but I came across a great many…interesting titbits." Silence. "His hand," he stated. "It's a sign he came afoul of a powerful, dark curse. It's marked him for death, and by all accounts it won't be pretty. Some don't make it past three months, but given the Headmaster's magical power, that its progress was stopped at his hand, and his seeming good-health prior to contact, he is likely to have a year – though how much of that will be agony I can't say. That, and he's stubborn as a mule, so he'll do his utmost to see out his ongoing projects."
"I'll be sure to ask. And if it turns out I am to continue?"
"Then we can continue our conversation," Harry replied easily.
"Want to give him a quick end?"
Harry smiled, dark thoughts sliding behind his eyes. "Personally, I'd leave the curse to take its course, if I wasn't certain he'd made arrangements already."
Draco hummed. "So what do you need help with?"
"Collecting information about The Veil," he stated. "It's scarce."
"I personally only know a little about it, but I could easily get my hands on more."
"Tell me what you know?" the brunet requested.
"It's ancient, powerful. It's stored in the Department of Mysteries because people are afraid of it. Oh, and its 'veil' is only visible to those that have seen death."
Harry nodded as he assimilated this information. "It seems we'll need to have another conversation. Will two days be sufficient?"
"Better make it three."
HPDMHPDMHPDMHPDMHPDMHPDMHPDM
Harry was sprawled on the sofa once more, eyes closed. "So?"
"How do you do that?"
"I may be half-blind, but I have good instincts," he replied with a smile, retracting his feet. The blonde sat. "Doesn't always help," he added conversationally, replacing his feet. "So?"
"I am to maintain my course."
"Ah, his level of threat outweighs the satisfaction of his guaranteed painful end," Harry murmured.
"Yes, it was implied that he be removed as quickly as possible, though if an opportunity presented itself…"
"Make him suffer," Harry finished. "Any time line, stated or implied?" Draco's eyebrows arched. "Are you, or any others, at risk if you don't immediately comply, or do you have leeway to torment him first?"
"As long as the build-up or event itself is sufficiently unpleasant enough to warrant the delay at the attempt, it would be safe enough. Though, I would say it would probably be best if completed by Easter."
"Several months short of what he'd have otherwise, but time enough to make him suffer," Harry mused.
"Personal vendetta?" the blonde drawled.
"Yes and no," he replied honestly. "I have reasons enough to justify a personal vendetta, yet I could make a decent case for 'noble cause'."
Draco nodded slowly. "Here," he spoke, handing Harry a small drawstring bag. "There is no complete study of The Veil – or if there is it has been destroyed or hidden – but each book in there has a section devoted to it."
"Thanks," Harry replied, tucking it into his pocket. He sat up, and a quill, envelope and parchment appeared at his elbow. He scribbled out a quick note and slipped it into the envelope. "On the subject of suffering," he remarked, and held up a hand to forestall the blonde. "Dobby!" he called.
The big-eyed Elf appeared with a crack. "Master Harry Potter, Sir!" he greeted with a squeak, bowing deep.
"You could do something for me, without telling anyone else about it, couldn't you Dobby?"
"Of course, Master Harry Potter Sir! Dobby woulds be honoured, Master Harry Potter Sir!"
Harry held out the envelope to the quivering creature. "I need you to give this to Fred and/or George Weasley privately," he stated.
"Of course Master Harry Potter Sir! You can be trusting Dobby with this Master Harry Potter Sir!" he gushed earnestly, before disappearing with a crack.
Harry stretched lazily. "He's overly enthusiastic, and has a tendency to want to punish himself for the slightest thing, but he's a devoted sort."
"You didn't ask him to wait for a reply," Draco remarked.
"No, but if time allows, he will. If not, he'll let me know he delivered it, and I'll have to wait for a reply through the regular channels."
"Surely they wouldn't have anything too harmful," he drawled.
"In general sale, no. But there's bound to be items they wouldn't sell widely."
"And they'd sell them to you?" Harry tilted his head. "What makes you so special?"
"What do you think happened to my Tournament winnings?"
Draco laughed. "All those people slathering over the glory and gold, and you gave it away to the Weasley Twins?" he asked, still chuckling.
"One, I had no desire for the glory or gold. Two, I didn't need the winnings. Three, Fred and George had been swindled out of their savings by Ludo Bagman. Four, it was clear they would be successful, if they had sufficient capital to get started. Five, I'm fond of them. And six," he paused briefly with a fond smile, "it's the kind of enterprise I could see my godfather and father concocting if life had taken a different course."
Draco had no chance to reply, if he could have thought of a sufficient one, for at that moment, Dobby reappeared holding a package almost as big as he was. "This is for you, Master Harry Potter Sir!" the elf announced.
"Thank you Dobby," Harry replied, taking the box from the House Elf. "And thank you for waiting for a reply."
"It was no trouble, Master Harry Potter Sir, no trouble at all!"
"Dobby, you wouldn't tell anyone about the company I'm keeping, would you?"
"Of course not, Master Harry Potter Sir!"
"I knew I could count on you to protect my privacy, Dobby," Harry stated with a smile.
"Dobby is glad to do it Master Harry Potter Sir! Dobby owes Master Harry Potter so much Sir!" Harry smiled self-consciously. "Does Master Harry Potter need anything else?"
"No, thank you Dobby."
"Then Dobby will be getting back to his work Master Harry Potter Sir!" he declared, disappearing once again.
Harry's expression smoothed. "I…helped Dobby attain Freedom," he informed.
"There is more to you than meets the eye," Draco murmured.
"Isn't there always?"
HPDMHPDMHPDMHPDMHPDMHPDMHPDM
Harry arrived at the Headmaster's office, per appointment, and was quickly ushered inside by a pale, drawn Dumbledore. "Are you all right Sir?" he asked with concern.
"I'm afraid I didn't have a restful Christmas holiday, dear boy," he replied slowly.
"I'm sorry to hear that, Sir."
"How have you been doing with the task I set you?"
"No joy, Sir," he sighed. "I believe even the desire to 'collect' me is counteracted by his suspicion that you set me into his path for a particular purpose." The Headmaster hummed. "But surely it isn't that important Sir?"
"I would not have asked it of you, my boy, if it were not important."
"But surely you know what's in it, Sir?"
"I suspect," he corrected. "It's necessary to confirm, I might be wrong. And even if I am right, he may have mentioned how many-" he cut off abruptly. "Never mind that now, I have another memory to share with you my boy."
HPDMHPDMHPDMHPDMHPDMHPDMHPDM
Professor Slughorn opened his door to find Draco stood beside a nervous Harry, clutching a bottle of Ogden's Firewhisky. "Come in, both of you," he urged, opening the door wide and closing it behind them. "What are you doing here?" he asked, gesturing for the boys to settle on armchairs opposite his.
"As I'm sure you know, Professor," Harry began, tone deferential and just slightly nervous. "My Godfather is no longer with us. It was an important day to him, today, and as he was rather fond of a glass of this," he spoke, raising the bottle, "I thought we would have a drink in his honour, and wondered if you might join us?"
"You do surprise me," Slughorn murmured. "First, I believed that the two of you were at odds, and second, that you would think of me."
"You know how students love to gossip," Harry remarked with a negligent shrug.
"We're old enough to be able to put our past aside, and it seemed only fitting to join Harry since Sirius was my second cousin," Draco explained.
"As to the second, Professor, well," Harry broke off sheepishly. "No one else in our age group really knew him, and those adults that did would not approve, if anything they would be more likely to confiscate the bottle and give us detention."
"That is certainly true," Slughorn responded with a chuckle.
"And two just doesn't seem a fitting tribute," Harry entreated.
Slughorn smiled. "Well, as I doubt this would be the first time you had tried it – I know students well – and it is for a noble cause, I suppose I can at least join you for a glass. It does seem cruel not to mark his birthday," he added, producing a glass for each of them as Harry opened the bottle.
The brunet poured each of them a healthy measure, and lifted his glass. "To Sirius," he toasted.
"To Sirius," they repeated, and clinked glasses before drinking. The Professor was so busy savouring the swallow he had had, that he failed to notice the boys had only had a sip. Nor would he notice, through the stories both boys shared of the man, that neither of their glasses emptied, while his continued to be topped up. And by morning, he had no recollection of the evening.
HPDMHPDMHPDMHPDMHPDMHPDMHPDM
It was a gaunt Dumbledore that made his way to the seventh floor, at a far slower pace than his norm, following a missive he had received. Normally, he would have insisted that Harry join him in his office, but he was curious about the room he had only discovered a few years ago by chance, and found he could not resist the opportunity to find out more, while he still could.
A door appeared before him, and he walked through. "Harry, my boy," he greeted, not noticing that once he entered the door disappeared.
"Hello Headmaster," Harry greeted, from the only lightened part of the room, peripherally aware of Draco taking position behind the aged Wizard. "This is the Room of Requirement," he informed. "An exceedingly clever room, that creates whatever you need," he continued. "Within reason. For example, it cannot create food for you to eat, but it could create a passage to lead you to it." A flick of the wrist and Draco disarmed Dumbledore, the force of it sending him sprawling onto a specific patch of floor. "It cannot kill a person, but it can provide you with the means to do so," Harry continued as the room lightened, revealing the symbols at the Headmaster's feet, that sapped a Wizard of his magic.
"Why?" he asked, voice filled with betrayal.
"For the greater good," Harry replied, with the same level of sincerity and gravity with which Dumbledore had said them.
"We have no desire to strip you of you magic entirely," Draco assured. "Just enough to prevent any nasty surprises."
"And to make you weak," Harry added.
"But not enough to kill you."
Both boys watched as the symbols gradually lightened from black to medium grey. This time it was Harry who flicked his wand, and transferred the Headmaster to a waiting table. The moment the old man touched it, he found his limbs firmly adhered to it. "You don't want to do this Harry," he said gravely.
"Oh, but I do," he replied, letting all his fury and vindictiveness fill his expression. "And really, you should have expected this the moment you wrote out the address on my first letter; Mr H Potter, The Cupboard Under The Stairs, 4 Privet Drive."
"Ah," he sighed.
"But regardless of my personal feelings, just think what good you'll be doing," he continued, darkness remaining in his eyes while his expression cleared. "You'll be saving Draco and his loved ones, not to mention the scores of people that will be saved by your sacrifice," he consoled as Draco flitted about the room. "You see, Headmaster, I got hold of that memory, and Tom did ask about how to make a Horcrux, and he was planning to make seven. That would be far too great a number to feasibly destroy, even with two of them already dealt with, but luckily Draco knows another way."
"But you need a death-"
"And here you are," Harry interrupted.
"And a Horcrux," he gasped out.
"And he has me," Harry stated, noting that Dumbledore closed his eyes. "Did you really think I wouldn't figure it out? Or were you hoping that I wouldn't, until after I'd tracked down and destroyed the others, so that when I died at Voldemort's hand, someone else would be able to finish him off?"
"Harry-"
"No," Harry interrupted fiercely. "I don't want to hear another word about your 'greater good' that gets everybody except you killed. We are going to resolve things our way," he stated fervidly. "Ready?" he asked Draco as the blonde stepped up beside him.
"This is going to hurt," he warned.
Harry's eyes met Dumbledore's, a fury barely restrained in his emerald orbs. "I'm used to pain."
Draco pushed up Harry's top with one hand, while he drove the tip of the gleaming blade into Harry's chest with the other. A third sank through his skin, several inches away from his heart and lungs, but perfectly central over his magical core. It pressed where a magical malignance, such as a Horcrux, would latch upon a Host's core.
They both felt the vibration as the blade pierced it, and the quake as the blade absorbed it. The blonde quickly retreated from Harry and used both hands to plunge the blood-covered, shining blade into the Headmaster's heart.
A shockwave radiated out from the table, knocking the teenagers to the floor. They lay there for several moments, regaining their breath. "It's finally over," Harry breathed, turning his head to look at the blonde.
"Dumbledore's chapter is finally over," he corrected gently. "Ours is just beginning."