A/N: This chapter turned out to be shorter than I had intended, but the end of the chapter is right where I feel it should be anyway. It is mostly filler chapter, but I hope you enjoy reading certain parts in there just like I enjoyed writing them :p
Notation:
*speaking in French*
And I don't think it is proper to write in actual French, as the speakers percieve it as they would their own mothertongue, hence the words are English, but formatted to indicate that they are not.
It's lousy explanation, I know, but you'll get what I mean when you'll read the exact part which this explanation concerns :p
They have almost reached the Hospital Wing, when Harry stopped in his tracks, cursing softly and looking ahead. Malfoy, who was leaning heavily on him, raised his head from Harry's shoulder, where it was resting a moment ago, and tensed, looking in the same direction.
Harry unfroze and approached the entrance to the infirmary slowly, warily eyeing the man, standing almost in the door frame, blocking their path. The man, sporting auburn short beard and hair of the same color and dressed in purple robes sprinkled with yellow stars and green crescent moons, was talking with someone inside the doors, so he still didn't notice the approaching pair.
"Dumbledore," muttered Malfoy lowly. "I forgot..." he winced.
"I hoped we won't see him until later," Harry responded in the same low tone. Squaring his shoulders, he made last couple of steps towards the doors.
"Mind, if we pass through, sir?" Harry asked politely, after clearing his throat.
Dumbledore flinched and turned around with a surprised look, which turned into a frown at seeing the two of them.
"And who might you be, young gentlemen?" he inquired with a raised brow. "I don't think I have seen you before," he added pensively.
Instead of answering Draco swayed on his feet and Harry steadied him, gritting his teeth.
"Pardon us, sir, but could you allow us to be treated firstly?" Harry pleaded.
Dumbledore squinted his eyes in suspicion, but nevertheless stepped to the side, giving them the space to walk through.
"Effie," he called out, "You have patients!"
A plump woman in her mid-thirties with short sand-colored hair, dressed as a nurse, hurriedly came out from the door at the other end of the room upon his call.
"We will answer the questions you probably have as soon as we can, sir," said Harry over his shoulder, going further into the ward, when the nurse gestured towards the beds.
"Very well," pursing his lips in contemplation, Dumbledore followed them inside.
"What happened?" the nurse asked in a professional, but still caring voice.
"We sparred and got carried away a bit," Harry mumbled, his eyes downcast in fake embarrassment.
"Help your friend to this bed, young man. Are you injured as well?"
"A little," admitted Harry, seemingly even more embarrassed.
"Well, what are you waiting for?! Lay down yourself, will you, I'll get to you in a minute," the nurse ordered him sternly, taking out her wand. "I'm afraid, I need to remove those, gentlemen," she swished her wand in a brisk gesture, before either Harry or Draco could complain, leaving them both only in their trousers, their robes, shirts and sweaters flying off to the side, landing on the floor in untidy heap.
The nurse turned her attention to Malfoy's injuries, leaving Harry to shudder from the drought, before he remembered, that he was sitting on top of the blanket, and put it around himself.
While nurse bustled around Draco, Dumbledore came up to them, sparing a quick calculating glance to the heap of clothes on the floor with two neck-ties at the top it, one of them being in Griffindor colors, the other – in Slytherin'.
"Well, young man, I suppose, introductions are in order," Dumbledore said promptly, looking Harry in the eye.
Harry shifted on the bed uncomfortably under the scrutiny and rubbed his forehead, frowning. What he should tell Dumbledore? Telling the truth, of course, was out of the question. It was too dangerous to reveal, that he and Malfoy were from the other time, of that Harry was certain. But what should he tell then? All of this was so sudden! He was totally unprepared!
Dumbledore coughed, attempting to attract his attention and raised a brow in anticipation.
"State your name and House, young man," he said sternly.
"Harry," came the mumbled reply. "Just Harry."
"So, Mr. Just, from what House do you come from?" Dumbledore's next question was muffled by a loud snort from the second bed.
Harry paused for a moment, a cover story already forming in his head, his eyes alighting with mirth over it.
"Neither I, nor my brother were sorted yet," he replied. There was a groan from the other bed, when he mentioned the sibling bond. "I know it is already a bit late in the year, but we weren't going to come here at first. See, our parents taught us at home, but..." he trailed off, tremor lacing his voice at the end of the phrase. "They..." he scrunched his nose up, trying to fake tears and at the same time hold back his laughter from Malfoy's utter shock, boarding on disgust, when Draco heard the claim of them being brothers. Bringing his hands to his face to hide a smile, Harry continued in the muffled voice, "Our home-town was under attack. Grindelwald," he clarified. "We fled from Grindelwald's men by port-key that Father has made. I suppose, Mother and Father are dead by now," Harry finished with a dry sob. "We heard, that Hogwarts is the safest place, so decided to come here."
"I see," muttered Dumbledore, then patted Harry on the back awkwardly. "You made the right choice, Mr. Just. Hogwarts always welcomes those in need of a shelter. What about those neck-ties?" he suddenly asked.
"I tried to cheer Harry up a bit, so I've transfigured them," Draco piped in. "We talked of what Houses we might end up in," he explained.
"And what's your name, my boy?" Dumbledore interjected.
"Draco," wincing slightly, responded Malfoy. "Draco Just," he added with a sigh, sending a nasty smirk towards Harry, who simply showed his tongue behind the headmaster's back, quickly turning away to the nurse, who finally finished with Draco's wound and other injuries and came to him with a disapproving look in her eyes.
"We didn't really spar, ma'am," Harry admitted, "That was Grindelwald's troops. You don't really think I'd hurt my own twin so much, do you?" he smirked at Draco's distressed face, hardly refraining from winking at him. The nurse waived her wand around his mid-torso, muttering incantation after the incantation, her frown deepening.
"Mr. Just, I am surprised you are still conscious," she said surprised. "Several broken ribs are not 'a little' injury, and one of them almost pierced your lung. How are you still talking is beyond me. And this," her wand came into contact with Harry's bruised temple carefully, "can indicate a severe concussion. Do you fell nausea? Light-headed?"
"Hmm," Harry responded wordlessly and shrugged. "I might have high tolerance, ma'am," he muttered. "Or maybe too much stress," Harry supplied, sending an angry look at Draco.
"Fine. You need to stay here for a night. Both of you. Albus, I think their Sorting and other matters can wait till tomorrow," the nurse gave Dumbledore the same stern look, as she did to the patients, then turned to Harry again, "and it is 'Miss Kirk' for you, not 'madam'," she corrected.
"Pardon me, Miss Kirk," Harry smiled sheepishly. "I only arrived here, you see, so don't know anyone yet."
"That's okay, Mr. Just," Miss Kirk nodded at him with a kind smile. "Now rest, both of you. I'll bring your potions later, now let the spells do the works first."
Harry let out a careful contended sigh and laid down, trying to move as little as possible. He might have not shown it earlier to Malfoy, but his injuries too were taking their toll on him. He closed his eyes, hoping to sleep for a while.
"Potter, you idiot!" Malfoy's furious hiss brought Harry out of his slumber some time later.
"Wha..?"
"Why had you gone and told that we're twins?" Malfoy spluttered indignantly.
"Dunno," Harry mumbled sleepily. "What does it matter?" his tone a bit more awake, Harry inquired.
Malfoy let out a frustrated sigh, which sounded more like a growl.
"Idiot!" he confirmed, shaking his head. "We do not even look alike!"
"It happens," Harry responded with a yawn. "What's your problem?"
"Our cover-story," Malfoy whispered, then suddenly grabbed his wand from a table beside him to cast silencing and privacy spells around their beds.
"No need to be so paranoid," Harry noted, when Malfoy started to add the second layer of wards.
"It's a habit," Draco mumbled embarrassed, putting away his wand. "So our story..." he trailed off pensively.
"I have already told the most of it," Harry reminded him.
"It's all in details," Draco argued.
"Details?"
"Yes. For instance, what're our parents names? Were they pure-blooded? Where exactly we came from? When were we born?" Draco started firing questions at Harry. "Those thing tend to spoil everything, you know. And what's with that stupid family name?!"
"It was not on purpose," Harry snorted. "I was trying to come up with a name, which is neither Potter, nor Malfoy. We can get in trouble with both of those, so I was looking for something mediocre, less famous, when Dumbledore went and helped me with his assumption. And sorry, I just couldn't refrain from making us brothers," Harry snickered. "It's hilarious! You should have seen your face!" he shook his head.
Malfoy winced.
"I hope you won't slip, Harry," Draco sneered his name. "We can't go calling each other by surnames, which are supposedly not even ours," he smirked at Harry, who was muttering curses and something like 'I'm an idiot!' under his nose. "Well, back to business."
"I came up with a name and main story, now it's your turn," Harry interjected quickly.
"Well, I was going to suggest, that we're from France, but do you know any languages beside English?" Malfoy raised his brows.
"Yesss, I do..." Harry hissed in Parseltongue. Malfoy flinched, his face going white.
"R-right, forgot that one," he admitted. "And French?"
Harry shook his head in negative.
Draco rolled his eyes and sighed exasperated.
"Well, there is this spell, which will allow you to talk in French and even sound like French-man talking English, but you won't like it," Draco supplied.
"Hmm?"
"It's not a Light spell. And is based on Blood magic," Draco dead-panned. "It'll even help your stupid story about us being twin brothers," he added unsure.
"How?"
"I know French from when I was three, started speaking it even before English, if Mother's to believe. I'd share blood with you. So in case they check if we are truly brothers at some point, the tests will show that we do share blood," Draco explained.
"And are you okay with it?" Harry wondered. "Just so you know I already share blood with somebody else," he shifted uncomfortably. "Hope, it won't affect this," he murmured uncertainly.
"Who is the lucky one?" Draco frowned.
"Voldemort," Harry snarled. "Back in fourth year he took my blood for resurrection," he made a face.
Draco shuddered, but pressed on.
"I have said I'll assist you, and I am not backing down."
"What about Dumbledore? He has already heard us speaking. It will be suspicious for our accents suddenly change," Harry contradicted weakly.
Draco scowled and hummed in thought, then his face brightened.
"Let's say, we were born here, but moved to France. Only one of our parents can be French, hence we speak fluently both languages, and the accents can appear from time to time. I think, I'd be able to alter the spell accordingly," he continued thoughtfully, "And the part with the blood is still useful."
"Fine," Harry grumbled. "It's not that I approve in general, but desperate times call for desperate measures, right?"
Draco nodded fervently.
"If you please cut your palm? We need to mix our blood for this to work," touching his wand to his own palm, muttered Draco. "That Oath prevents me from harming you, even if it's to assist," he continued in a way of explanation, making a slicing motion with his wand and hissing, when the skin got cut. Holding up his slightly trembling hand to Harry, Draco winced apologetically, "you need to drink this, I am afraid. We don't have proper equipment or time for nice rituals and such."
Harry sighed and scrunched his nose, but obliged, then cut his own palm and threw a questioning look at Draco.
"Do you need to drink mine, to?"
"No," Draco gave a small shake of his head, then grabbed Harry's wrist and pressed his injured palm firstly to his own bloodied one, then switched hands and brought it to his temple, muttering incantation under his breath and weaving his wand with his good hand. Small puff of orange smoke emitted from its tip and went to Harry. "Breath in," Draco commanded softly. Harry obediently complied. "Hold it in," instructions went on, "and out," with the final swish of Draco's wand the smoke, which emerged from Harry's mouth, dissipated.
Harry felt light-headed for a moment, then all went back to normal.
"And now give me that," Draco grabbed him by the wrist once more and carefully glided his wand along the cut, closing it and healing, before he did the same with his own palm. "Here. All done! *How do you feel?*" Harry heard a strange lilt in his voice and his eyes went wide in surprise.
"*Is this French already?*" the corner of his mouth went up in a smirk.
Draco let out a short laugh, clearly proud of himself.
"You'll be switching to French, when addressed in the same language, just be careful, not to mix them. You'll learn how to distinguish after a bit. Unfortunately, it is not permanent," he frowned. "We'd need to renew it after a month or so. Though, we may not need to, if we succeed in our mission before that."
"I doubt that," Harry frowned. "One month is hardly enough."
"I agree."
They felt silent for some time. Then Draco started up.
"Let's go back to cover-story. What of our birthday? We need to agree on a date. Mine or yours?"
"Don't care. When's yours anyway?"
"The fifth of June."
"Let's make it yours then," Harry wave a hand in dismissal. "Mine's 'when the seventh month dies'," he recited.
"What?" Draco blinked in confusion.
"Don't mind it," wincing said Harry. "So, the fifth of June, then?"
"We may choose something entirely different," Draco suggested, but Harry shook his head in negative.
"No, we need at least some true facts to hold onto. This should help to memorise the story. What other things do we need to cover?" he mused.
"Parents," Draco reminded. "Names, origin. Blood status..." he cut himself off, seeing Harry's angry glare. "It's important! Slytherins value the blood purity," he argued weakly.
"Who said anything about Slytherin?" Harry raised a brow.
"Are you suggesting I end up in Lions Den?" Draco exclaimed indignantly.
"You might," Harry chuckled, seeing true horror on Draco's face. "We're twins after all."
Draco's mouth twisted in disgust.
"Not all twins end up in the same House," he muttered stubbornly. "The Patils..."
"Well, I may land in Snakes Pit," Harry admitted soothingly, "If I hadn't argued with the Hat last time, I'd be in Slytherin, you know," he smirked. Draco shuddered at the prospect.
"I don't know what's worse," he muttered.
"I'd say I even will be glad, if we both go to Slytherin," Harry confessed. "Our goal is there, after all," he sent Draco a pointed look. "And I am afraid my current ways are not entirely Griffindorish. Take our cover-story, for instance. If the Hat wanted me there even the first time, I think now it's almost definite."
"Right. So, blood status?"
"Half-blood," immediately responded Harry. "Firstly, Voldemort is one. And also it would easier fit into our story, if our Father was muggleborn. That family name is too plain to be from wizarding world," he observed.
"That's your fault," mumbled Draco darkly. "But you're right. Though, you've said that was Father who charmed the port-key..."
"What of it? Muggle-born can't be powerful enough for such complicated magic?!"
"Fine, fine, don't start now!" Draco threw his arms in the air. "They can, okay? Let's move on. I'd like to get at least an hour of sleep, before the nurse comes back with our potions."
Harry nodded.
"Agreed. What is left?"
"Too much," Draco replied. "Parents' names?"
"John and Emily Just," Harry suggested.
"Emily is so not French," Draco snorted. "Jeanette?" he offered.
"Fine. Her family name, then?"
Draco frowned pensively.
"Lavie?" he drawled, stressing the last syllable.
"Okay. What else? Urgent, I mean. I don't think we'd be able to cover everything."
Draco sighed tiredly.
"I am out of ideas, actually. And bloody tired to death. Let's sleep, before the nurse comes. We'll think the rest over tomorrow."
Harry nodded and slipped lower on the bed, trying to make himself comfortable, cursing and hissing, while he did it.
"Sorry about that," Draco's remorse sounded genuine. "I have gone overboard," he mumbled.
"I was no better," Harry admitted, closing his eyes, then opened them again. "Shit! Draco, the wards!"
Draco groaned and waved his wand in tired motions, removing privacy and silencing spells.