"Five points from Gryffindor for your tardiness, Potter," Severus said irritably. "Take a seat – beside Miss Bulstrode will do."

Potter shot Bulstrode a wary look, but he didn't look as displeased as Weasley, who was with Greengrass. Granger – who was over with Davis – was doing her best to stare a hole in the side of his head, but Potter didn't look at her. Or at any of them, and Draco decided they'd corner him on the way down to Care of Magical Creatures.

"Sir," Hydrus said for the fourth time, only this time, he was smirking at Potter's lost points, "are these assigned pairings really necessary-?" Beside him, Finnigan seethed, probably due – in equal parts – to his assigned partner, and also to Hydrus' continued complaining.

"If you ask again, Mr Malfoy, I will be forced to change your partner." Severus gave him a look to suggest that he'd like his new partner even less. Draco's money was on Longbottom; at the moment, Longbottom was sitting with a displeased Pansy. Draco had been paired with Zabini, and rather thought things could be worse… then again, Severus had a tendency to play favourites, even if he'd never admit it.

"Today, we will be brewing the Wiggenweld Potion – those of you that paid the slightest attention to last year will remember we covered its theory." Draco didn't remember, and could only assume they'd covered it when he was petrified. Still, Potions was one of his best subjects, so he was sure he'd manage. Severus tapped his wand on the blackboard, and the instructions appeared. "If you have any questions, ask them." He waited for a single second and then said, "You may begin, then."

"I'll grab ingredients," Zabini said, and went to do that while Draco sharpened his knife in preparation.

"Want to swap?" Weasley grumbled as he passed the desk, arms laden. He gave Greengrass – who was turned around in her chair and talking to Shafiq – a dark look.

"Absolutely not," Draco said, shaking his head.

"I'm flattered," Zabini said, returning with their ingredients. "Off you go, Weasley, I'm sure she's missing you." Weasley scowled, but left, passing by Granger's desk to gripe before returning to his partner. Zabini watched, amused. "So," he said, "partner." Draco rolled his eyes. "Did you want to measure, or stir?" Draco shrugged, but passed Zabini the stirring rod. "Brave of him," he said after a few moments.

Draco eyed him over the top of his beaker.

"Brave of who?"

"Snape. For all these cross-House pairs."

"He's trying to encourage House unity," Draco said. "All the teachers are. Haven't you noticed?"

"Do I look blind?" Zabini asked, looking amused. He moved his arm so that Draco could add the first lot of salamander's blood, and then began to stir. Draco checked the heat of the cauldron with a quick charm. "I still think it's brave." Draco shrugged again.

As far as lessons went, it was fairly uneventful; Longbottom didn't manage to melt anything – probably because Pansy declared him a fat, useless lump and didn't let him help at all except to fetch ingredients and read her the instructions – and Severus was quieter than usual; Draco thought he was probably trying not to provoke any incidents between partners.

… Or maybe there was something bothering him; several times throughout the lesson, Draco caught Severus staring rather intently at him, but Severus only looked away when Draco arched an eyebrow.

Draco and Zabini managed to produce what was – in Draco's opinion – a near-perfect potion to hand up at the end of the lesson. Better than Potter and Bulstrode's, which was almost as yellow as it was green, and better than Weasley and Greengrass', which was the right colour, but looked a bit lumpy, in any case.

As soon as Snape dismissed them, Granger and Weasley descended on Potter – who, if his wry expression was anything to go by – seemed to have been expecting it. Torn, Draco watched them go, and then approached Severus' desk.

"Mr Malfoy?" he said, without looking up from the class list.

"What was that about?" Draco asked.

"I beg your pardon?"

"The- staring and-"

"I thought perhaps you weren't feeling well." Frowning, Draco thought about it. "You're a bit pale." Draco was always pale, but he didn't point that out. "Are you feeling well?" Severus' dark eyes bored into his.

"A headache," he said, after a few moments. He hadn't really noticed it until then, though.

"No need for Madam Pomfrey though?" Severus was still watching him intently.

"No, it's not that bad," Draco said. "Probably just the fumes."

"Perhaps," Severus said, nodding. "As long as you're well…"

"I'll be fine," Draco said. Severus nodded again and turned back to his class list. Draco took that as his cue to leave, and headed for the door. He was only halfway there when he paused. "Sir?"

"Draco?" Severus asked, in the same tone.

"It's- been a while since you've had me arranging bookcases and playing those games." Draco hadn't seen all that much of Severus over the holidays, and before that he'd been petrified.

"You've outgrown them," Severus said, not looking up from his paperwork. "Well and truly." Draco tried not to feel too disappointed. "And," Severus continued, "even if you felt that that were not the case, I am pressed for time as it is."

"Yes, sir," Draco said, still unable to quash his disappointment.


It was oddly like déjà vu for Draco, as he walked into the hospital wing to visit his brother, only this time it was Hydrus' arm not his leg that was injured. And Zabini was not there, but Daphne was, and she looked about as impressed to see Draco as she had last time.

"Oh," Hydrus said, not bothering to even sit up in his pillows. "Remembered me, have you?"

Draco rolled his eyes and shoved his hands into his pockets. Daphne folded her arms, and moved her chair closer to Hydrus' bed. Her expression made it very clear he was unwelcome.

"How's your arm?"

"Excruciating," Hydrus said, and Draco believed him. "Madam Pomfrey's tried her best, but injuries like mine are uncommon-"

"That's because people are generally sensible enough not to loose savage beasts on their third year class," Daphne said scathingly. Draco had to admit, that when he'd first seen the Hippogriffs 'savage beast' was exactly what had popped into his head. In fact, he was sure that he'd whispered something along those lines to Weasley.

But Potter, who could probably find a way to injure himself in a room covered in cushioning charms, hadn't managed to make a disaster of their lesson. And, nor had anyone else, except for Hydrus.

"Wrong," Draco told her, in a tone he'd used Severus use on Longbottom in Potions. Her frown deepened. "It's because people are generally sensible enough not to go directly against a Professor's instructions and provoke magical creatures."

"You call that oaf a Professor?" Hydrus scoffed. "Please, Draco. And I didn't provoke it-"

"You did," Draco said.

"No, it attacked me," Hydrus said.

"Because you're were an idiot and insulted it," he retorted. Hydrus flushed angrily.

"It attacked him," Daphne said. "It's a savage beast and shouldn't have been allowed near students."

"Doesn't really matter now, though," Hydrus said, and exchanged a look with Daphne, who- Draco couldn't quite call it a grin; it was too sinister for that. Hydrus' expression mirrored hers.

"No," she said. "True."

"Father's going to sort it all out," Hydrus said. "He's already been notified by the school, of course, but once he reads my letter, I imagine he'll want to get involved. Ideally, he'll speak with someone and arrange a visit from the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures to deal with the beast."

"And the hippogriff as well, if they're already coming out to the school," Daphne added. Hydrus hooted.

Draco opened his mouth and closed it several times; each thing he wanted to say to them seemed ruder and angrier than the last, and so he closed his mouth and folded his arms across his chest, giving them both the most disapproving look he could muster.

He was a bit disappointed – though not surprised – by the lack of response from them, but they seemed to be feeling the same; Daphne looked particularly let down by the fact that he wasn't shouting or arguing.

"Hydrus!" that was Pansy, arriving with Crabbe and Goyle in tow, and Draco knew it was only a matter of time before Madam Pomfrey came to shoo someone away.

He turned to leave.

"Where are you going?" Hydrus asked him.

"If I wanted to spend time with Slytherins, I'd have been Sorted there," Draco said, though not with much venom; while he'd made his peace with his Sorting – and was glad of it – he knew it was still are sore point for his brother… Not that Hydrus appeared to be listening; he was rather enjoying Pansy's attention.

"Sure," Daphne all but hissed. "Then why were you with Astoria at breakfast?"

"Oh, she's a Slytherin now?" Draco asked her. "Odd of you to change her tie, if that's the case…" Daphne didn't flush, but her pale anger was just as impressive, and – Draco couldn't help but think – just as dangerous. She was silent; obviously, she was trying to think of a suitable retort. "I'd be careful, if I were you, Greengrass."

Pansy spun, eyes flashing and said, "Draco, don't you dare threaten her-"

"Sirius Black," Draco said, ignoring her. "Andromeda Tonks. Me."

"Blood traitors," Daphne said.

"Exactly," Draco said, and the Slytherins all looked a little surprised, except for Hydrus.

"Draco, you're well- odd, but you're not like Black," he said, looking a bit rattled. "He ran away, and Mother's idiot sister married that mudblood, but you haven't- wouldn't-"

Draco ignored him, and held Daphne's eyes. "Treat her like one, and she'll become one. Take it from someone that knows."

He did leave the hospital wing then, fingers curled over the old scar on his palm, and wondered why he'd even bothered.


"Suppose it shouldn't come as a surprise," Remus said, taking another sip of the firewhiskey Sirius had brought with him. "When Crouch broke him out, he didn't really have much choice but to go back to Voldemort… We'd assumed as much."

"There's always a choice," Sirius said curtly. He was sprawled on the couch in Remus and Dora's little flat. Remus only sighed and tossed back the rest of his own drink. "Besides, assuming and knowing for sure aren't the same. It's one thing to know he wanted us all dead and actually managed it with Lily and Prongs, but- well, this time it's not just that he's in over his head and trying to stay alive. As far as most of the public's concerned, Voldemort's gone. Peter didn't have to do anything, he could've just hidden, but he's sought him out; this time he's actively helping him-"

"I know." Remus was taking it hard too, though not quite as hard as he suspected Sirius was. Sirius, while not friendly with Peter, had spoken with him several times at Azkaban when he'd been on duty. Sirius finished his drink and scowled at the glass for several long moments.

"Were we that bad?" Sirius asked.

"What?"

"To Peter. I mean, we teased him, I know that, but- to want us dead, to want Harry dead… I don't remember being- he always knew he was our friend, didn't he? Do we deserve it, or is it just-"

"Peter's changed," Remus said. "He's not the boy we went to school with, Padfoot. Could we have been kinder to him… Probably, but should he want us dead because we were stupid kids-"

"By 'we' you mean me and James," Sirius said. "You were the smartest of the stupid kids."

Remus managed a weak smile.

"If by smart you mean sensible," he said. Sirius did manage a grin at that, and Remus gave him a wry smile back. "And, to be fair, you and James terrorised me just as much as you did Peter and I never joined Voldemort or tried to do you in… The world's not as simple as good and bad, I don't think, but Peter's not- he isn't good." Remus swallowed the lump in his throat. "Do you regret it now? How the trial ended?"

"What, do I think I should have bullied Fudge into having him Kissed?" Remus couldn't find his voice, so he nodded. "Sometimes. Mostly I just- What if I'm the one to find him again? On the one hand, I'd want to punch him or set him on fire, and on the other hand, I'd- there are so many things I want to say to him… none of them particularly friendly, but- yeah." Sirius barked a laugh, but it was sharp and lacked any real humour.

"Hopefully someone else finds him, then."

"Marlene again?" Sirius asked drily. Remus grimaced. "Or better yet; Harry?" He took a swig straight from the bottle.

"How is Harry?" Remus asked; he didn't think there was much left to say where Peter was concerned, and talking about it only seemed to be putting Sirius in a bad mood.

"Seems to have decided to believe that he's not Voldemort," Sirius said, sounding almost amused. He kicked off his shoes and put his feet up, then held the bottle out for Remus to take. "Spoke to him just before I got here; he's been looking into that story of Beedle's."

"Found much?"

"Nothing we couldn't have guessed; get the three magical objects, become Master of Death. Same story we all got read as kids, but apparently it's real."

"And Dumbledore said he didn't know?"

"Apparently," Sirius said. "Harry reckons he was lying, and I believe him; the Dumbledores have been wizards for a while, so his parents must have had a copy lying around the place."

"Unless it wasn't written," Remus said. "He's not young, Dumbledore." Sirius' mouth twitched.

"No," he admitted. "But he's a teacher. You'd think he'd have come across it once or twice. He's lying."

"Because you'd believe Harry over him any day," Remus couldn't help but point out.

"'Course I would," Sirius said. "Wouldn't you?"

"Depends," Remus said, and Sirius grunted. Silence hung between them, so Remus topped up his glass and Sirius', and then sent the bottle to the kitchen, where it would be less tempting. "But why lie? If this… title really is what Voldemort's after, then why wouldn't Dumbledore level with him? He always has before."

"Voldemort wanted the Stone and Dumbledore never told Harry."

"But he told you and you told Harry."

"You told me," Sirius said.

"Oh." Remus stared at his drink for a few long moments. "Weird to believe James' old cloak is the stuff of legends, isn't it?"

"And we used it to sneak food from the kitchens." Sirius shook his head. "Harry's thinking if sending it home; that way Peter won't be able to get to it, if he somehow gets access to Hogwarts or Hogsmeade-"

"You're still going to let Harry go to Hogsmeade?" Remus asked. "Sirius, is that a good idea?"

"There'll be dementors around-"

"Oh, good," Remus said bitingly, "that makes me feel much better about Harry's safety."

"They won't bother the students," Sirius said. "Not after the train and how furious Dumbledore was."

"Peter could get past them as a rat. He knows Hogsmeade like we do; he'd be in his element." From the unhappy set of Sirius' mouth, Remus thought he knew it. "Harry will understand, Sirius."

"He shouldn't have to," Sirius said. "He should be allowed to go and not have to worry about- well, anything except for if he'll be able to smuggle things past Filch, or if he's going to ask a girl to go with him, or-"

"I know," Remus said. "But he's Harry."


"Nice to see you've finally left the library," Draco said, as Harry sat down at dinner. Harry pulled a face at him. "Where's Granger?"

"She was staying up there." Harry glanced over at the Slytherin table. "I see Hydrus is out."

"Taken him long enough," Ron muttered. Harry watched some of the Slytherin girls help Hydrus load his plate, while he held his obviously bandaged arm against his chest. Ron was obviously watching too, because he said, "You'd think after three days he'd be completely fixed."

"Who says he isn't," Draco asked darkly. "I imagine he's doing it to play up to Father, to try to get Hagrid sacked and the hippogriff destroyed."

Hermione dropped into the seat beside Harry, and slung her book bag down with a heavy thud.

"I thought you had Muggle Studies to do," Harry said; that was what she'd said when he left the library ten minutes ago, in any case.

"Finished it," she said.

"Already?" he asked. She shrugged and filled her bowl with soup. "Why didn't you come down with me, then?"

"Because you're a big boy, Potter," Draco said, "and shouldn't need Granger to walk you to dinner." Draco was watching Hermione – who looked relieved at the interruption – closely though; Harry Ron and Draco had all noticed that Hermione was behaving- oddly, and being rather distant this year. While Harry and Ron were confused, Draco was of the opinion that she was entitled to space if she wanted it, though Harry suspected he was just as curious as the rest of them.

"Do you think you'll talk to Dumbledore?" Hermione asked, shortly after.

"He said he didn't know anything about it," Harry said. He knew it was a lie, but if the Headmaster hadn't admitted to it the last time they spoke, then Harry couldn't imagine that he would do so now.

"You could tell him what you know," Ron said, but he looked doubtful.

"Maybe," Harry said. "I-"

"Potter, Potter's friends." Wood descended on Harry, waving to the other three as he did so. "Got the pitch booked for tryouts tomorrow morning at six."

"Tryouts?"

"Yes, tryouts. Slytherin's got Malfoy as Seeker again this year, and Diggory's back for Hufflepuff. Ravenclaw hasn't picked theirs yet, but the competition's looking good, so-"

"You didn't make me try out last year-"

"This is the year, though," Wood said, clapping him on the back. "We want that cup, we need the best team, and that means I can't just pick you-" It looked like it was paining him to say that. "-much as I'd like to, because you're- well, a brilliant player, but-"

"Right," Harry said, amused. "All right, I'll be there at six."

"Fantastic." Wood grinned, squeezed his shoulder, and then descended on Fred and George, who were a few seats down, with Ginny and Colin.

"Boys," Hermione muttered.

Ron either didn't hear her, or did and spoke just to further exasperate her, saying, "So, want to go for a fly tonight, then, mate? Make sure you're not going to be too rusty-"

Harry'd agreed happily; he'd been wanting to go flying all week, but with the start of term and then his dream and then the last few nights spent poring over books about the three brothers and their particular items, he hadn't had the chance.

He and Ron finished dinner quickly, wrapped dessert in serviettes to eat on their way upstairs to fetch Harry's broom, and bid the other two goodbye. Draco and Hermione, already deep in a conversation about Ancient Runes, didn't seem too bothered.

"Ravenclaw's Seeker was a seventh year, right?" Ron asked, as they left the Great Hall.

"I think so," Harry said. "What-"

"Harry." The pair of them looked over at Dumbledore, who'd stepped out of one of the Entrance Hall's adjacent chambers. "A moment?"

"I'll grab the Nimbus and meet you down at the pitch, if you want," Ron offered.

Harry nodded and approached Dumbledore, who smiled kindly at Ron. Ron waved awkwardly and headed upstairs.

"Harry, will you walk with me?" Dumbledore led him through a door that Harry'd never used before, and down a corridor. "I'd hoped to catch you after breakfast but you never came."

"I was in the library," Harry said.

"Busy with study already?" Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.

"Not- no, I was- I've been reading about the three brothers," Harry said, watching Dumbledore's face carefully.

"Excellent," Dumbledore said, beaming, and Harry could smell he was being genuine, but that didn't make him any less wary. They were in a corridor that Harry vaguely recognised now; he thought it was near Dumbledore's office. "I'd hoped as much. Tell me, was it young Mr Weasley who set you on the right track, or Mr Malfoy?"

"Both," Harry said, a bit thrown. "You knew," he said, and couldn't help the accusing tone that slipped into his voice. "Why didn't you just-"

"Tell you?" Harry nodded, and Dumbledore sighed. "I feared that I might further bias you, if I explained it myself."

"What do you mean?"

"I sought the Hallows myself, once." Dumbledore's voice was barely a whisper, though they were alone in the corridor. "I feared if I was the one to tell you about them, that you might- well, begin to want them as I did, and as Tom does."

"You- what?" Harry could only gape at him. Dumbledore smiled, but it was a sad smile. "But-"

"I wish I could tell you I had a good reason for it," Dumbledore said, "but I fear I simply wanted the power. Lord Voldemort is not the first wizard to try to conquer death."

"Do you still- want them?" Harry asked, struggling to wrap his head around it.

"Yes," Dumbledore said. "And no. I like to think they'd be better in my hands than in Voldemort's, but…" He smiled at Harry, sadly again. "The Deathly Hallows – a name you've likely happened across in your research-?" Harry nodded – not, interestingly, from a book, but rather from an odd second year that was a friend of Ginny's. "-are not innately evil objects like Horcruxes are, but in the wrong hands could be used for great evil."

"I think they'd be better in your hands than his," Harry said.

"Perhaps now," Dumbledore admitted with a frown. "But not back when I sought them. Pumpkin Pasty." Harry jumped, realising they'd arrived at Dumbledore's office. The gargoyle stepped aside and Harry followed the Headmaster upstairs.

"Why couldn't you just give me the book?" There was an old copy of Beedle's book sitting on Dumbledore's desk, in fact. "Then I could have read it, but instead you-"

"Lied?" Dumbledore watched him for a moment, as if wondering how he'd known. He didn't ask, however, and Harry was relieved. "My reasons for not simply giving you the book are simpler; after your dream, and your fears that you had somehow become Voldemort, I thought you could use a distraction." He smiled, slightly apologetically, but Harry couldn't smell regret.

"It worked," he admitted, and Dumbledore inclined his head ever so slightly. Harry went over to Fawkes, who was watching the pair of them from his perch, and stroked his warm feathers. "So- so if you've looked for them, does that mean you know where they are?"

"You have the cloak," Dumbledore said, and Harry nodded; he'd guessed as much after speaking to Padfoot. Last Peter would have known, Dumbledore had had the cloak to stop James from using it to sneak out of Godric's Hollow, hence Peter wanting Dumbledore's cloak. "The wand-" He hesitated and then pulled his wand out of his sleeve. "The wand, I have."

Harry wandered back over to the desk to look at it, but it didn't seem like anything particularly special.

"No wonder Grindelwald lost," Harry said, after a moment "if you've got an unbeatable wand…"

"When we duelled, the wand was not in my possession," Dumbledore said. He'd gone very still. "I- took it from him, afterward."

"He had- then how did you-"

"I do not believe he wanted to kill me," Dumbledore said.

"But-"

"Now is not the time for this discussion, Harry," Dumbledore said gently, but firmly, and Harry took a tentative sniff and was surprised to find that Dumbledore's scent was- well, about as ruffled as Harry had ever known it to be. Harry sat down in the chair opposite Dumbledore's.

"The stone?" he asked instead, and the sweet, heady scent of relief washed over him.

Dumbledore opened the front cover of Beedle's book and pulled out a piece of parchment, which he passed to Harry. Harry unfolded it. On it, was a careful sketch of what seemed to be a ring. The ring's stone was large and square, and had the triangular symbol that Luna Lovegood had shown him the day before etched into its face.

"I've seen it," Harry said. Dumbledore looked startled. Harry racked his brains, trying to work out where. "It was-" Where had he seen it? "I've seen it," he said again, frustrated.

"Then it is not as lost as I had thought," Dumbledore murmured. "Seen it – the real thing? Or another picture?"

"I- I don't know," Harry said. "Where did you get this?" Harry waved the parchment at him.

"Someone I knew when I was just a few years older than you are now saw it on a visit to the Ministry, and recognised it for what it was. Unfortunately, the ring's owner was in the company of Aurors and my- the artist behind that parchment couldn't get close enough to identify the man." Harry nodded, still thinking hard. "Nor," Dumbledore added thoughtfully, after a slight pause, "do I think his English would have been good enough at that stage for him to have learned much anyway. That the ring got away was a source of great frustration for him… for both of us."

"I think the ring would be the best one," Harry said. "My parents…"

"The ring has always appealed the most to me as well," Dumbledore said quietly. Harry didn't ask why this time; that was an obviously personal question, and he didn't think Dumbledore would tell him. "Were it to find its way into Lord Voldemort's hands, it would not be- well, while we have the other two Hallows, there is nothing to fear, and I do not think the ring's powers would appeal to Voldemort as much as it does to us… Regardless, it would be best if all three were in hands on our side."

Harry nodded.

"Peter's knowledge of the cloak cannot be helped," Dumbledore continued, "and I believe he will try to take it-"

"I was going to send it back home," Harry said. "Wormtail can't find the cloak if he can't find the house."

"That might be wise," Dumbledore said. "As for the wand… I have placed a great deal of trust in you, Harry, by telling you where it is. I must ask you not to tell anyone of its location, or even that you know it is safely away from Voldemort."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, and then added hesitantly, "When you say not to tell anyone…"

"That does include Sirius, and Remus, and your friends," Dumbledore said. "Not because I don't trust them, but because the wand had been lost for centuries before I took it from Gellert Grindelwald, and I did not allow knowledge of it to surface then either. It is of the utmost importance that it remains 'lost'."

"Right," Harry said.

"If you cannot keep this from Sirius, or do not wish to be burdened with the responsibility of doing so, I can remove your memory of the wand-related parts of this conversation."

It was tempting; Harry had never kept anything like this from Padfoot before, but, then, this wasn't anything that Padfoot needed to know.

"I can," Harry said, swallowing. With what was at stake, Padfoot would absolutely understand.

Dumbledore inclined his head.

"I imagine Mr Weasley is expecting you about now," he said, with a faint smile. "Thank you for speaking with me tonight, and give some thought, if you can, Harry, to where you've seen the stone. I- do not tell me where, necessarily, if you do not wish to – believe me when I say I will understand – but if it can be secured and away from Tom, then that would be for the best."

Harry nodded slowly.

Dumbledore sent him on his way with a copy of the sketch, and Harry tucked it safely into his pocket and headed downstairs to meet Ron, very much looking forward to the chance to get up in the air and clear his head.