POV: Harry

Disclaimer: I only half own the computer I'm typing this on.

Chapter 4


I looked around me. It was all marble stone, cold floors, tinged with an oddly blue light. I was trapped, trapped between rows and rows and shelves and shelves cluttered with nothing but fog-swirled blue orbs of light. Some had cobwebs, some were gray, some looked like they would fragile, others glowed bright. But it didn't matter what I saw when I looked at the crystal globes. I didn't want to be here.

Anywhere but here.

A scream in the darkness, a loud hiss. "She won't wake," said the disembodied voice of the Ministry's elevator. And there lay Rachel, broken and spread-eagled, blood not the only thing pouring out of her body.

The green fog leaving her mouth and ears and nose swirled up into a form, the form of a beautiful girl now gone, and then disintegrated into a very solid snake.

"Harry?" It was Sirius.

"No, get out of here, Sirius! The snake —"

"Harry?" He took two steps towards me. "Harry Potter?" he repeated, in a voice that was his and yet sounded so different from his that I took a step back and faltered.

"Harry."

The snake, now at his feet, lunged. Not at me, but at his neck. And the only family I had left toppled to the floor, his grey eyes void of life.

The only thing that was alive now was the snake.

It wasn't a snake now, though. Its red eyes grew to human size, and there was Voldemort. Eyes of a serpent, slitted nostrils, a crimson fury growing in his eyes. "Hello, Draco."

He took his wand and pressed it against my chest, right where my heart should be. And I was suddenly on fire.


Draco was in a coma-like state, not asleep nor awake, not eating or drinking anything, and almost not breathing.

The demigods were not coming until late July, and it was a whole week before July even arrived.

And so I simply spent my time shut up in the Burrow with my two best friends. It rained — poured, honestly — for three days until the sun deigned itself worthy enough to show itself again. Ron seemed in a foul mood the whole time, and it wasn't hard to see why — with Malfoy currently residing in the Burrow, in Fred and George's old room, he wasn't too happy.

"What happened to him anyway?" Ron asked multiple times a day, but his tone was not concerned.

"Ronald!" Hermione reproached him.

But both of them turned their eyes to me whenever the subject came up. I, after all, had been the last person to talk to Malfoy before leaving Hogwarts. I had so far been quite successful at averting my eyes from my two friends' whenever they looked to me for answers. I had a dreadful feeling in the pit of my stomach, the kind of nervous ache that caused me to taste acid in my mouth for days.

I knew, or at least suspected, what had happened to Malfoy. And I didn't want to think about it, much less say it. Ever since the night after Malfoy had shown up, the dreams were just getting worse. I hadn't told Ron or Hermione about them; doing so would feel like I was telling another person's story for them without even knowing how accurate it was.

So we simply had to wait until Malfoy woke up now.


I thumped my way down the stairs. The rain had let up a bit, but the sky was still marbled with dark clouds. Ginny and Ron had wanted to play some Quidditch outside, but Mrs. Weasley had forcefully objected, claiming that with these clouds, they didn't want to get shot down by lightning now did they?

Ginny and Ron had both gulped and cringed at that. Percy's having been electrocuted by lightning while at a Quidditch match at Hogwarts was not a new story to either them or Mrs. Weasley, and after seeing the side effects of lightning, they weren't too eager to try it out themselves.

The soft pitter-patter of a slight misting rain outside rang against the roof of the Burrow as I entered the kitchen. I hadn't eaten since this morning; now that it was already two in the afternoon I was hungry again. I didn't — couldn't — blame Mrs. Weasley for being too busy attending to Malfoy to prepare a big lunch.

Instead, I heard voices — distinctly male voices — discussing something in the kitchen. It couldn't be Ginny, Hermione, or Ron, since they were all upstairs, and Mr. Weasley was still at work. I stopped right before the doorway and, hating myself, listened in.

"— only getting worse now. Word is that Voldemort has been terrorizing muggle neighborhoods and tearing through them all week, leaving nothing but dead bodies in his wake." I could recognize the voice, but it took me a minute to realize it was Lupin who was talking.

"Sounds like he's angry." Sirius sounded indifferent.

"No, Pads, it sounds like he's looking for something. Or more importantly, someone," Lupin insisted.

There was a pause before Sirius added, "Angrily."

Lupin made an audible huffing noise.

"Listen, Rem," started Sirius. "Whatever he's looking for, we've got the best wards we can possibly put up on this house right here. He's not going to get far over here."

"Be that as it is, I don't want you or Harry going anywhere near the Ministry right now. There are several Ministry workers under the Imperius Curse right now, and the Death Eaters are over there. No," Lupin said firmly.

My heart sank. Sirius and I had set a date to go back to the Ministry: he wanted to register as an Animagus and there was also the possibility of filling out adoption papers. So far, I had been avoiding discussing the topic with Sirius. There was a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach every time I thought about it, as if making Sirius officially adopt me would somehow be taboo. I couldn't explain it, but my instinct was warning enough these days.

"Harry?"

I had been so focused on my own thoughts that I hadn't heard Sirius and Lupin walking out of the kitchen. Now, Sirius' voice snapped me back to reality. His inquiry had sounded a little too much like that Sirius in my nightmare days ago, right before the snake struck him with its poison. "Harry?"

"How long have you been standing there, Harry?" Lupin asked worriedly.

"Not long at all," I stuttered.

Sirius looked me in the eye, faking seriousness. "Liar," he laughed. "What did you want from the kitchen? Remus and I are done in there."

"Oh, I just wanted to grab something to eat. It's been hours since breakfast." I internally sighed in relief when Sirius ignored the fact I'd just been eavesdropping. Lupin, however, eyed me suspiciously.

"What did you hear, Harry?" he asked.

"Why does it matter?" Sirius retaliated before I could say anything, his voice calm. "Harry deserves to know the truth about what is going on in the world." Lupin raised an eyebrow at Sirius. "What?" Sirius asked. "It's true!"

Just then, Mrs. Weasley appeared behind me, eyes wide and gasping. "He's asking to see you!"

"Who?" I asked, befuddled. "Ron?"

"No, not Ron, Malfoy! He's awake and he said he wants to see you!"

Even though I was alleviated at the news that Malfoy was awake, I only became more confused. "He wants to see me?"

Mrs. Weasley nodded vigorously. "Come on, Harry! He refuses to let me touch him!"

Bewildered, I followed her up to the twins' old room. He was there, wrapped up from head to toe in bandages, his blond hair still tinged with some brown from old blood. Both his feet were wrapped up with several layers of gray cloth, and though Mrs. Weasley had done an excellent job of cleaning him up and taking the blood away, his face was covered in ugly scars that were not yet healed.

"Finally decided to get your arse up here, then, Potter?"


A/N: Thanks for all the support and reviews and let me say that I am terribly sorry that the updates have been so infrequent! I'm working on it and trying to type chapters in advance, but life is always something that gets in the way. Also, I lost inspiration for this chapter and it took me forever to actually start writing productively.

I promise that the next chapter will be up in two weeks (next weekend is Labor Day weekend so don't expect anything) and it will be much longer! Don't forget to leave a review!