WIZARDS DUEL: SIXTH YEAR
by Patrick Drazen
a/k/a monkeymouse
3.10 No Looking Back
[If you found your way this far, you don't need me to tell you that JK Rowling created the Potterverse, and is still creating it.]
Author's Note: In this chapter Draco quotes from one of the oldest songs in the English language, "The Three Ravens"
xxx
"Professor."
"Yes, Harry?"
It was the end of another Dark Arts class. Dumbledore had lectured about vampires, with an aside on Professor Quirrell and how he was possessed by Lord Voldemort a few years earlier. Now, once again, Harry and Dumbledore were alone in the classroom.
"I, I've heard from someone. Someone who's been in contact with Voldemort."
"Harry, it does you no good to hold back that person's name."
"But that person's really not involved."
"Your sense of honour is admirable, but it's worthless if it puts you in danger unnecessarily. Who is it?"
Harry was silent.
"It's a curious thing," Dumbledore said, "but for this minute I've stopped being headmaster. Whatever you say will have no repercussions."
Harry still struggled with the truth, but finally said, "Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."
"That would have been an easy guess. What did he say?"
"That he passed my request to his father, who passed it on to Voldemort. I'll get an answer any time now."
"And what do you conclude from this? Why would he wait three months to answer you?"
"I don't know. Maybe he thought I wasn't worth it. Maybe he had other things to worry about."
"And what if he did? What have you gleaned from the Daily Prophet lately?"
Harry had to stop and think. He'd tried to follow the news of the wizarding world since the Battle of Hogsmeade, but articles in the paper were sometimes less than helpful. Dumbledore had to help Harry read between the lines of some of the clippings.
"Let me see. The Ministry announced that some travel restrictions were being lifted. They said it was because things have eased up since Hogsmeade."
"Do you think that's a plausible explanation?"
"Well, things have been quiet lately. Except . I'm trying to remember . something about the Misuse of Magical Artifacts Department. It . No, it wasn't in the paper. Ron said that his father was complaining that his department's budget was being cut for the second year in a row. Says he can't do his job properly."
"Then you think the Ministry's acted correctly in opening the borders?"
"No, not at all! Arthur Weasley was also saying that he thinks someone inside the Ministry is working for Voldemort. He'd plan raids on the homes of suspected Death Eaters, but by the time his people got there, the place would be empty."
"So back to the first article, then. What do you think the pieces of the puzzle look like?"
"That they've relaxed the borders because . because ." Suddenly, Harry could see it. "They're letting Voldemort back into the country! He was hiding out somewhere until now. That's why he didn't send for me sooner, and why it's seemed so quiet."
"Well reasoned. Harry. The most important question, is: Are you ready to face his summons?"
"Yes." Dumbledore was scrutinizing Harry over his glasses. "At least, I'm almost sure."
"Harry, we've already gone over this ground so thoroughly that there isn't much left to cover. There is, however, one question I've saved for last, and this seems to be the time to ask it. It concerns you and your parents."
"Because Voldemort killed them, you mean?"
"Indeed. I know that you spared Sirius when you had the chance to kill him, even though you thought he'd betrayed your parents. When you found out the truth and learned that it was all the fault of Peter Pettigrew, you were given the chance to kill him as well, and you didn't. However, you are asking Voldemort for a Wizards Duel. He will expect nothing less than a duel to the death. Are you prepared to take him on, even if it means killing him?"
"This, well, I don't know. Last time he caught me by surprise. I've wanted him dead often enough, but if it comes down to doing it myself."
"Believe me, Harry, this is not the time for play-acting. He will know if there is murder in your heart toward him. If he senses none, then he will be on his guard. He will be looking for signs of murderous hate in you; he will actually be hoping to see them. He will see your desire for death and revenge as a way to turn you. If he can use your strengths for his benefit or your failure, he will, Harry. While he revels in death and destruction, he also rejoices in perverting the good and the noble. That is a victory in his eyes.
"The long and short of it is this: you must be angry enough to want him dead, and yet control that anger, so that you can do what you need to do. This is your last chance to tell me: do you think that you can do this?"
"Yes, sir, I . I believe so."
"I don't like the hesitation. That's why I brought you this." Dumbledore reached into a pocket of his robes and pulled out a roll of parchment. "A report from certain Aurors in the Ministry with whom I've stayed in contact over the years. This is their investigation of a Muggle named Arthur Vincie, who set off a bomb last August."
Harry's hand shook as he reached for the parchment. He unrolled it and speedily read through it, until he found the words he was looking for. "'Evidence of Imperius.' Then he WAS acting under a Curse! Cho was killed by Death Eaters . trying to kill me." He let the parchment fall to the floor.
"Harry?"
It took a minute for Harry to answer. "Sorry, Professor. But I think I know how Sirius felt when Pettigrew betrayed my parents. He even said it was all his fault."
The old wizard put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "I hope you know better than to believe that."
"Well, Cho and I have talked about all that. But still, to actually know the truth of it."
"It's just another trial, Harry, but you need to pass through it. Your despair, like your anger, must drive you without getting the better of you."
"I'll be all right," Harry nodded.
Dumbledore held out his hand for Harry to shake. Harry shook it. "Then I pronounce you ready, Mister Potter. Send word to me when the message comes. And good luck."
"To all of us," Harry nodded.
"Class dismissed." Without another word or another look at Harry, Dumbledore strode out of the classroom.
A second later, the ghost of Cho Chang passed into the room through the shut door. "This is it, then?" she asked.
Harry nodded. "I . I think you should go now."
"Why not wait for the invitation?"
"Because I may have to be there on a moment's notice, and then where would we be? They can't see anyone but me if this is to work."
"Fine, then."
"Cho-one quick question."
"Yes?"
"What made Peeves a poltergeist, do you know? Did he tell you? Was it money? Was it love?"
"It was magic, actually. He got his Hogwarts letter, let me see, about ninety years ago, but, when he got here, he turned out to be a Squib. Couldn't do much magic at all. He got through Hogwarts, by cheating, by relying on friends, by working just enough magic to pass his NEWTs. When he got out, though, there was nowhere for him to get a job except among the Muggles. He couldn't do much there, either, as it turned out. He wanted to be a wizard but couldn't, and he eventually threw himself off of London Bridge. He came back here because he blamed Hogwarts for not teaching him what he needed to know."
"The reason I ask is, well, I don't care if something happens to me, but if something does happen, and we aren't in the same place, and I start looking for you."
"Don't worry. Nothing will happen, and if it does, I'll find you."
They looked at each other awkwardly for another minute.
"Cho, I was right. The bomb that killed you; it was set by a Muggle. But a Death Eater made him do it. They were trying to kill me." Cho spent another minute thinking about that. "Cho, I am so sorry this happened to you."
"Don't be," Cho smiled back. "It's just another one of their plans gone wrong, and that's always to the good. Besides, I meant what I said the day I came back here; I have always valued your life far above my own."
Harry was speechless for the moment. "Harry, touch the desk."
He put his hand flat on the teacher's desk. Cho put her ghostly hand partly on, partly through, Harry's hand. "I love you, Harry Potter."
"And I love you, and I know I'll keep on loving you, no matter what happens."
Cho removed her hand and passed through the classroom's closed door.
***
It took two days for anyone to miss Cho.
"Harry," Neville asked at lunch, "have you seen Cho anywhere about? I wanted to ask her about my Divination essay."
"No, come to think of it, I haven't seen her in a day or two. I'm sure she's around, though."
"That's not what Moaning Myrtle says," Hermione interrupted. "She said this morning that she spent all yesterday looking high and low for Cho and didn't find her."
"Well, it's a big castle."
"Stop denying it, Harry; she seems to have gone. She didn't say anything about leaving, did she?"
"Not to me. You figure she went on into that Great Mystery she talks about?"
Hermione looked at Harry as if she were studying him; it made Harry feel uncomfortable. Then, she abruptly turned back to her food. "I don't know, I'm sure."
xxx
Snow started falling again two days later; this time, it left only a light dusting on the ground. The chill in the air left most students and faculty eager and upbeat; for Harry, it was just one more factor, one more piece on the board.
The days were getting shorter and shorter. It was in near-twilight that the double Care of Magical Creatures class was returning from Hagrid's hut. The Gryffindor and Slytherin Sixth-Years had gone to see the shed skin of a Silkie. Malfoy loudly doubted that it was authentic, suggesting that it was the hide of some old cow.
"Well, I'd like ter see yeh try it on, then," Hagrid answered back. "Ye'd be livin' half yer life as a seal in the water, but if ye think ye're man enough ter do it."
Malfoy glared at Hagrid, but didn't say anything else.
As they walked back to the castle, though, Malfoy fell back to walk beside Harry. "Fall back to the end," he muttered to Harry.
Harry did so, becoming the last in line, and was joined by Draco a minute later. Before they got to the castle, they had broken off from the others and stepped just inside the Forbidden Forest.
"What is it?" Harry asked.
Draco wasn't looking at Harry. Even as he said, "I'm to give you this," and thrust a roll of parchment at him, he was facing away.
Harry unrolled it, and read one sentence: "The churchyard at midnight."
Harry had spent months preparing for this one sentence. Now that it was here, he felt as if his stomach would fall out. Still, he composed himself and walked away.
"POTTER!"
He had only walked about five paces from Draco when he heard the shout. He waited for Draco to say something else.
"I think . I think I've made my choice."
It took all his resolve to keep his back to Malfoy. All Harry said in reply was, "That's good for you, Draco, but I don't want to know what it is."
"Damn you, Harry Potter! Why are you treating me like this?"
Harry's resolve flew off into the sky as he turned on Draco. "You dare ask me why?! After everything you've said and done since the first minute I met you! I take back what I said about you and your father. You didn't want to be LIKE him; you wanted to be WORSE! For years you've hidden behind your father's power and influence and money and Pure Old Blood! People were getting HURT! People were DYING! And you didn't lift ONE DAMNED FINGER!" Tears of rage were blinding Harry; he turned on his heels and walked back toward the castle.
He didn't even hear it coming; Draco shouted: "PETRIFICUS!"
Harry was rooted to the spot. Even his eyes were fixed, unmoving, on Hogwarts castle ahead. He cursed himself for falling into an obvious trap- a trap he should have expected. He'd known for years that Draco Malfoy couldn't be trusted as far as you could throw a hippogriff.
Malfoy stepped in front of Harry. But unlike the tears of rage on Harry's face, Draco wept tears of sorrow.
"You were right, what you just said. I didn't care who got hurt, as long as I was on the winning side. I mean, it worked, didn't it? And I guess I was promised by my father, maybe not in so many words, that it would always be that way; that we would always be on top. And that's an easy opinion to hold when there's nothing to contradict you.
"Well, there's been a lot to contradict me. It was there all along, I suppose, but I closed my eyes to it. But lately I've looked at Crabbe and Goyle and Pansy and Blustrode and the rest, and they just seem to me to be the sorriest bunch of bastards on earth. None of us really have anything; none of us will ever amount to anything-not unless we can drag the rest of the world down into a pit. That's the only way we can pretend to stand taller than the rest."
These were the last words Harry expected to come out of the mouth of Draco Malfoy. He tried to look at him, but Draco kept pacing back and forth in front of him, passing in and out of his field of vision.
"You know what really made me think about all this? Not whether you can beat the Dark Lord in a duel. I'm still convinced you can't. Dumbledore may be that strong-maybe. But he's getting old and feeble. No, Voldemort will control the world, there's no stopping that. But it's a cheap, drab and unhappy world that we'll be taking from you, leaving only Unforgivable Curses as common as breathing, and rigged Quidditch matches, and nothing at all resembling love.
"Yes, you heard right, Potter; I've been thinking about love lately. Surprised me, too. Just comes with getting older, I guess. I've been thinking about life after Hogwarts, what I want to do, where I want to be. Mostly, though, I've been thinking about you and Cho Chang. Well, not about the two of you per se; honestly, your being with someone who's not white-makes my skin crawl. But she died, she was killed, and yet she came back and the two of you carried on like before. Made me stop and think. I thought about my parents; now there's a prize-winning pair. Probably had to put it on their calendars if they wanted to shag each other. And Pansy- to her I'm a Gringotts vault. Contrary to what you may think, I do not envy you your Quidditch prowess; you worked for some of that, and for the rest, it runs in the family. But you and Chang . It's like the old song says: 'God send every gentle man/Fine hawks, fine hounds and such a lovéd one.'"
There was a commotion just past the tree line. "Looks like we have company. I'll release the spell as soon as I'm clear of you. Just remember what we talked about; that's all I ask. Just . remember." And Draco ran deeper into the Forbidden Forest.
Ahead of him Harry could hear Ron and Hermione calling his name. The branches were rustling .
and suddenly he could move again. In fact, he still had momentum from when he was walking; Harry fell on his face, breaking his glasses yet again.
"HARRY!"
Hermione ran up to him and started to help him to his feet.
"What happened?" Ron asked as he picked up the pieces of Harry's glasses and handed them to Hermione to repair. "One minute you were right with us, and."
"I was stopped by Draco."
"WHAT! What did he do?"
"Nothing, Hermione, relax. He Petrified me, and then he started talking . some sort of rubbish about the Dark Lord. Nothing I hadn't heard before."
"You've got to be careful around him," Ron warned. "Types like him never change."
Harry put on his repaired glasses. "I suppose." And the three went up to the castle.
xxx
Harry wanted to eat something, but couldn't. It was an ample feast, as always, but the dishes included three that brought Harry up short: Caribbean jerk chicken, chunks of mango, and pineapple juice.
"This is FANTASTIC!" Lee Jordan shouted. "The house-elves never served it here before. I have to go home on holidays to get this."
"Any idea what the occasion is?" Neville asked.
Nobody knew; except Harry, and he wasn't talking.
After dinner, he went to the library, and sought out the table in the International Magic section, where he had spent so much time with Cho. He stayed there, remembering, until closing time, then went up to the Astronomy Tower. The night was cold and clear, with no clouds between Harry and hundreds of stars. He found, though, that he couldn't remember anything; he couldn't think at all. He simply let his mind turn off for a bit while he bathed in the vision of all those stars. After a time that could have been three minutes or could have been thirty, he went down to his dormitory room, got into bed fully clothed and drew the curtains.
At precisely half past eleven he opened the curtains again. The other curtains were drawn, and several kinds of snoring could be heard. Harry took a look around his dormitory room, knowing that, one way or the other, it would probably be his last look. He went into his wardrobe and drew out his dress robes, bought that summer at Madam Malkin's and never worn. He checked the pockets; the special device he had worked on with Dumbledore was in place. He placed his wand in his robe pocket, put his hat on his head, and walked out.
As he tiptoed down to the Common Room, he saw two figures sitting together directly in front of the fireplace. Ron and Hermione. And, no matter how much Hermione might deny it to Harry in public, the way they were sitting- facing each other, knees touching, foreheads almost touching, holding hands- showed that there was some kind of deep bond between them.
There wasn't much he could do with them in the room, but time wasn't going to stand still. He decided to head for the portrait hole.
As he did, Hermione and Ron saw him immediately. "There's something happening, isn't there?" Ron asked.
"Nothing for you to worry about."
"Harry, do I have to prove you're lying?" Hermione asked. "Because I can, you know."
"There's nothing to prove."
"Oh, really? This isn't the first time you've lied to us. Let's start with Cho's disappearance. She's been gone for a week; nobody knows where she is or when she left. You ought to be either frantic with worry or deeply depressed. But you've just carried on as if nothing was wrong. It's as if she spoke to you about leaving before she left. Yet you've denied that she spoke to you. Which makes me think that her disappearance is something that the two of you worked out together."
"Brilliant deduction, Hermione. You should go back to the Auror classes. I'm going now."
"Not yet, you're not," Ron said as he and Hermione stood shoulder to shoulder before the portrait hole.
"And why the dress robes at midnight?" Hermione asked. "It could be a date, but you would have to have gotten over Cho in a very short time."
"Speaking of dates," Harry said, desperate to change the subject, "you two look like you'd rather be alone."
"WHAT?" Ron and Hermione objected in unison.
"No use denying it; I know a couple when I see one."
"This is really not your affair-I mean, CONCERN!" Hermione sputtered.
"Of course it is! You're my oldest friends here. And I'm glad to see the two of you together."
"WE ARE NOT!" Ron objected.
"Have it your way, then, but I'm sure you'd rather be with each other than with me."
Ron and Hermione had a quick whispered conversation. This was making Harry nervous. He had to get to the meeting with Voldemort by midnight, and the time was getting close.
"Here's what we'll do," Hermione finally said. "Stay until midnight; then you can go."
This complicated everything. He'd have to keep them busy while trying to think of something.
Harry moved a bit to their left. "You really just want me to stand around here?"
Hermione eyed him warily, not moving at all. "What we don't want is for you to go off and get yourself killed."
"Doing what?"
"I don't know," Ron said, "but that business today with Draco has us on edge, and can you blame us? His family is in deep with You-Know-Who."
"Y'know, Ron, just once I'd like to hear you say the name."
"Stay here until midnight and I will."
"All this talk of Voldemort is boring." Harry saw Ron wince when he said the name. He also glanced above the hearth. There was a magic picture of a sundial that kept accurate time, day and night. Harry had twenty minutes to go. He settled into a chair by the hearth, and so did the others. "Let's talk about you two."
"Stop saying that!" Ron's face was almost as red as his hair. "We're not." He turned to Hermione and whispered, "What did you tell him?"
"Me?" she whispered back. "What did YOU tell him?"
"Hold it!" Harry said. "I figured it out; it wasn't hard, so don't go blaming each other for anything. I just want to say that I'm glad for you, and I hope it works out, because you two would get along great."
Ron and Hermione both looked at Harry as if he was crazy. "You DO realize," Hermione said rather archly, "that we've managed to annoy each other almost since the day we met."
"Can't always go by that, though. I think you work out fine when it comes to important things."
"Such as?" Ron asked.
"Ron, don't think I'm being obvious, but you're a Weasley. In a lot of ways, you're like your brothers and your dad. Charlie chases after dragons, Bill works spells for Gringotts, the twins have their joke shop. Percy's the only one who decided to have a family, and he's the most disciplined one of you."
Hermione was nodding her head as Harry spoke, and turned to Ron. "Haven't we had exactly this same conversation."
"Not now," Ron whispered back.
"All I'm saying is that, Ron, you're a great friend, but I don't know if I'd trust you to pay the bills on time. You need some help in getting your life organized, and I can't think of anyone better to help you than Hermione."
Hermione didn't say anything, but she blushed crimson.
Harry turned to her. "Now it's your turn." The blush left as quickly as it had appeared. "Hermione, when I think of Hogwarts in the future, I'll think of you. You're like all four Houses rolled up into one. You've got brains enough for Ravenclaw, a Hufflepuff's determination to get the job done whatever it takes, a Gryffendor's bravery regardless of the odds, and you're not afraid to break any rule once you're convinced it needs breaking. Call that your Slytherin side."
The blush was returning. "Harry . I don't know what to."
"Wait for it; I'm not done yet." Out of the corner of his eye he looked at the sundial: ten minutes. "What you told me on the train this year was also true. You don't have much of a sense of humour. You're not spontaneous. It's not something you can learn from a book, but you can get there, and I recommend taking lessons from Ron Weasley."
"Hold on!" Ron interrupted. "Are you saying that's all I'm good for."
"Of course not, you idjit. You're just as brave and just as determined as Hermione is; I'd probably be dead now if you weren't. We've come through some amazing times here in this school, but we'll have to leave it, and then what? Hermione will go on to University, I expect."
"That's always been my plan," she nodded, "and Professor Idylwyld said she'd help me when the time comes."
"Yeh, but that's where we go our separate ways," Ron said. "I doubt I have the brains for university, and I know my parents haven't the money."
Hermione turned to Ron with an exasperated look. "We've been over all this before. Your brains are a lot better than you give yourself credit for."
"As for money," Harry added, "you never know. Your father could finally get a rise in salary, if Fudge ever sees the light. Or the money could just come along."
"Fat chance of that," Ron snorted.
"Stranger things have happened. If Cho's ghost could come back to Hogwarts, anything could happen."
Five minutes.
"Those are all logical reasons," Hermione conceded, "but I don't think they're any basis for, well, what you said..."
"What, the two of you? Your feelings for each other are up to you; that's what you said, so I'm not going to say anything unless you tell me."
"Well, if you really want to know how I feel."
"RON!"
"Look, Hermione, it isn't exactly a secret anymore. Not to Harry, anyway."
"Not here and not now!"
"Well, you don't need me for this," Harry said, getting up out of his chair, "so I'll just."
He moved to the portrait hole. The others were out of their chairs in an instant, blocking the way.
Two minutes.
Ron folded his arms over his chest. "Look, Harry, we're just not going to let you out and that's that."
"If you say so," Harry sighed, reaching a hand into a pocket in his robes. He found what he was looking for, then quickly spun around, dashed to the fireplace, drew the pinch of Floo Powder out of his pocket and threw it in the fire.
"Little Hangleton Church!" he shouted as he jumped into the flames.
.and disappeared.
.to be continued.
3.10 No Looking Back
[If you found your way this far, you don't need me to tell you that JK Rowling created the Potterverse, and is still creating it.]
Author's Note: In this chapter Draco quotes from one of the oldest songs in the English language, "The Three Ravens"
xxx
"Professor."
"Yes, Harry?"
It was the end of another Dark Arts class. Dumbledore had lectured about vampires, with an aside on Professor Quirrell and how he was possessed by Lord Voldemort a few years earlier. Now, once again, Harry and Dumbledore were alone in the classroom.
"I, I've heard from someone. Someone who's been in contact with Voldemort."
"Harry, it does you no good to hold back that person's name."
"But that person's really not involved."
"Your sense of honour is admirable, but it's worthless if it puts you in danger unnecessarily. Who is it?"
Harry was silent.
"It's a curious thing," Dumbledore said, "but for this minute I've stopped being headmaster. Whatever you say will have no repercussions."
Harry still struggled with the truth, but finally said, "Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."
"That would have been an easy guess. What did he say?"
"That he passed my request to his father, who passed it on to Voldemort. I'll get an answer any time now."
"And what do you conclude from this? Why would he wait three months to answer you?"
"I don't know. Maybe he thought I wasn't worth it. Maybe he had other things to worry about."
"And what if he did? What have you gleaned from the Daily Prophet lately?"
Harry had to stop and think. He'd tried to follow the news of the wizarding world since the Battle of Hogsmeade, but articles in the paper were sometimes less than helpful. Dumbledore had to help Harry read between the lines of some of the clippings.
"Let me see. The Ministry announced that some travel restrictions were being lifted. They said it was because things have eased up since Hogsmeade."
"Do you think that's a plausible explanation?"
"Well, things have been quiet lately. Except . I'm trying to remember . something about the Misuse of Magical Artifacts Department. It . No, it wasn't in the paper. Ron said that his father was complaining that his department's budget was being cut for the second year in a row. Says he can't do his job properly."
"Then you think the Ministry's acted correctly in opening the borders?"
"No, not at all! Arthur Weasley was also saying that he thinks someone inside the Ministry is working for Voldemort. He'd plan raids on the homes of suspected Death Eaters, but by the time his people got there, the place would be empty."
"So back to the first article, then. What do you think the pieces of the puzzle look like?"
"That they've relaxed the borders because . because ." Suddenly, Harry could see it. "They're letting Voldemort back into the country! He was hiding out somewhere until now. That's why he didn't send for me sooner, and why it's seemed so quiet."
"Well reasoned. Harry. The most important question, is: Are you ready to face his summons?"
"Yes." Dumbledore was scrutinizing Harry over his glasses. "At least, I'm almost sure."
"Harry, we've already gone over this ground so thoroughly that there isn't much left to cover. There is, however, one question I've saved for last, and this seems to be the time to ask it. It concerns you and your parents."
"Because Voldemort killed them, you mean?"
"Indeed. I know that you spared Sirius when you had the chance to kill him, even though you thought he'd betrayed your parents. When you found out the truth and learned that it was all the fault of Peter Pettigrew, you were given the chance to kill him as well, and you didn't. However, you are asking Voldemort for a Wizards Duel. He will expect nothing less than a duel to the death. Are you prepared to take him on, even if it means killing him?"
"This, well, I don't know. Last time he caught me by surprise. I've wanted him dead often enough, but if it comes down to doing it myself."
"Believe me, Harry, this is not the time for play-acting. He will know if there is murder in your heart toward him. If he senses none, then he will be on his guard. He will be looking for signs of murderous hate in you; he will actually be hoping to see them. He will see your desire for death and revenge as a way to turn you. If he can use your strengths for his benefit or your failure, he will, Harry. While he revels in death and destruction, he also rejoices in perverting the good and the noble. That is a victory in his eyes.
"The long and short of it is this: you must be angry enough to want him dead, and yet control that anger, so that you can do what you need to do. This is your last chance to tell me: do you think that you can do this?"
"Yes, sir, I . I believe so."
"I don't like the hesitation. That's why I brought you this." Dumbledore reached into a pocket of his robes and pulled out a roll of parchment. "A report from certain Aurors in the Ministry with whom I've stayed in contact over the years. This is their investigation of a Muggle named Arthur Vincie, who set off a bomb last August."
Harry's hand shook as he reached for the parchment. He unrolled it and speedily read through it, until he found the words he was looking for. "'Evidence of Imperius.' Then he WAS acting under a Curse! Cho was killed by Death Eaters . trying to kill me." He let the parchment fall to the floor.
"Harry?"
It took a minute for Harry to answer. "Sorry, Professor. But I think I know how Sirius felt when Pettigrew betrayed my parents. He even said it was all his fault."
The old wizard put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "I hope you know better than to believe that."
"Well, Cho and I have talked about all that. But still, to actually know the truth of it."
"It's just another trial, Harry, but you need to pass through it. Your despair, like your anger, must drive you without getting the better of you."
"I'll be all right," Harry nodded.
Dumbledore held out his hand for Harry to shake. Harry shook it. "Then I pronounce you ready, Mister Potter. Send word to me when the message comes. And good luck."
"To all of us," Harry nodded.
"Class dismissed." Without another word or another look at Harry, Dumbledore strode out of the classroom.
A second later, the ghost of Cho Chang passed into the room through the shut door. "This is it, then?" she asked.
Harry nodded. "I . I think you should go now."
"Why not wait for the invitation?"
"Because I may have to be there on a moment's notice, and then where would we be? They can't see anyone but me if this is to work."
"Fine, then."
"Cho-one quick question."
"Yes?"
"What made Peeves a poltergeist, do you know? Did he tell you? Was it money? Was it love?"
"It was magic, actually. He got his Hogwarts letter, let me see, about ninety years ago, but, when he got here, he turned out to be a Squib. Couldn't do much magic at all. He got through Hogwarts, by cheating, by relying on friends, by working just enough magic to pass his NEWTs. When he got out, though, there was nowhere for him to get a job except among the Muggles. He couldn't do much there, either, as it turned out. He wanted to be a wizard but couldn't, and he eventually threw himself off of London Bridge. He came back here because he blamed Hogwarts for not teaching him what he needed to know."
"The reason I ask is, well, I don't care if something happens to me, but if something does happen, and we aren't in the same place, and I start looking for you."
"Don't worry. Nothing will happen, and if it does, I'll find you."
They looked at each other awkwardly for another minute.
"Cho, I was right. The bomb that killed you; it was set by a Muggle. But a Death Eater made him do it. They were trying to kill me." Cho spent another minute thinking about that. "Cho, I am so sorry this happened to you."
"Don't be," Cho smiled back. "It's just another one of their plans gone wrong, and that's always to the good. Besides, I meant what I said the day I came back here; I have always valued your life far above my own."
Harry was speechless for the moment. "Harry, touch the desk."
He put his hand flat on the teacher's desk. Cho put her ghostly hand partly on, partly through, Harry's hand. "I love you, Harry Potter."
"And I love you, and I know I'll keep on loving you, no matter what happens."
Cho removed her hand and passed through the classroom's closed door.
***
It took two days for anyone to miss Cho.
"Harry," Neville asked at lunch, "have you seen Cho anywhere about? I wanted to ask her about my Divination essay."
"No, come to think of it, I haven't seen her in a day or two. I'm sure she's around, though."
"That's not what Moaning Myrtle says," Hermione interrupted. "She said this morning that she spent all yesterday looking high and low for Cho and didn't find her."
"Well, it's a big castle."
"Stop denying it, Harry; she seems to have gone. She didn't say anything about leaving, did she?"
"Not to me. You figure she went on into that Great Mystery she talks about?"
Hermione looked at Harry as if she were studying him; it made Harry feel uncomfortable. Then, she abruptly turned back to her food. "I don't know, I'm sure."
xxx
Snow started falling again two days later; this time, it left only a light dusting on the ground. The chill in the air left most students and faculty eager and upbeat; for Harry, it was just one more factor, one more piece on the board.
The days were getting shorter and shorter. It was in near-twilight that the double Care of Magical Creatures class was returning from Hagrid's hut. The Gryffindor and Slytherin Sixth-Years had gone to see the shed skin of a Silkie. Malfoy loudly doubted that it was authentic, suggesting that it was the hide of some old cow.
"Well, I'd like ter see yeh try it on, then," Hagrid answered back. "Ye'd be livin' half yer life as a seal in the water, but if ye think ye're man enough ter do it."
Malfoy glared at Hagrid, but didn't say anything else.
As they walked back to the castle, though, Malfoy fell back to walk beside Harry. "Fall back to the end," he muttered to Harry.
Harry did so, becoming the last in line, and was joined by Draco a minute later. Before they got to the castle, they had broken off from the others and stepped just inside the Forbidden Forest.
"What is it?" Harry asked.
Draco wasn't looking at Harry. Even as he said, "I'm to give you this," and thrust a roll of parchment at him, he was facing away.
Harry unrolled it, and read one sentence: "The churchyard at midnight."
Harry had spent months preparing for this one sentence. Now that it was here, he felt as if his stomach would fall out. Still, he composed himself and walked away.
"POTTER!"
He had only walked about five paces from Draco when he heard the shout. He waited for Draco to say something else.
"I think . I think I've made my choice."
It took all his resolve to keep his back to Malfoy. All Harry said in reply was, "That's good for you, Draco, but I don't want to know what it is."
"Damn you, Harry Potter! Why are you treating me like this?"
Harry's resolve flew off into the sky as he turned on Draco. "You dare ask me why?! After everything you've said and done since the first minute I met you! I take back what I said about you and your father. You didn't want to be LIKE him; you wanted to be WORSE! For years you've hidden behind your father's power and influence and money and Pure Old Blood! People were getting HURT! People were DYING! And you didn't lift ONE DAMNED FINGER!" Tears of rage were blinding Harry; he turned on his heels and walked back toward the castle.
He didn't even hear it coming; Draco shouted: "PETRIFICUS!"
Harry was rooted to the spot. Even his eyes were fixed, unmoving, on Hogwarts castle ahead. He cursed himself for falling into an obvious trap- a trap he should have expected. He'd known for years that Draco Malfoy couldn't be trusted as far as you could throw a hippogriff.
Malfoy stepped in front of Harry. But unlike the tears of rage on Harry's face, Draco wept tears of sorrow.
"You were right, what you just said. I didn't care who got hurt, as long as I was on the winning side. I mean, it worked, didn't it? And I guess I was promised by my father, maybe not in so many words, that it would always be that way; that we would always be on top. And that's an easy opinion to hold when there's nothing to contradict you.
"Well, there's been a lot to contradict me. It was there all along, I suppose, but I closed my eyes to it. But lately I've looked at Crabbe and Goyle and Pansy and Blustrode and the rest, and they just seem to me to be the sorriest bunch of bastards on earth. None of us really have anything; none of us will ever amount to anything-not unless we can drag the rest of the world down into a pit. That's the only way we can pretend to stand taller than the rest."
These were the last words Harry expected to come out of the mouth of Draco Malfoy. He tried to look at him, but Draco kept pacing back and forth in front of him, passing in and out of his field of vision.
"You know what really made me think about all this? Not whether you can beat the Dark Lord in a duel. I'm still convinced you can't. Dumbledore may be that strong-maybe. But he's getting old and feeble. No, Voldemort will control the world, there's no stopping that. But it's a cheap, drab and unhappy world that we'll be taking from you, leaving only Unforgivable Curses as common as breathing, and rigged Quidditch matches, and nothing at all resembling love.
"Yes, you heard right, Potter; I've been thinking about love lately. Surprised me, too. Just comes with getting older, I guess. I've been thinking about life after Hogwarts, what I want to do, where I want to be. Mostly, though, I've been thinking about you and Cho Chang. Well, not about the two of you per se; honestly, your being with someone who's not white-makes my skin crawl. But she died, she was killed, and yet she came back and the two of you carried on like before. Made me stop and think. I thought about my parents; now there's a prize-winning pair. Probably had to put it on their calendars if they wanted to shag each other. And Pansy- to her I'm a Gringotts vault. Contrary to what you may think, I do not envy you your Quidditch prowess; you worked for some of that, and for the rest, it runs in the family. But you and Chang . It's like the old song says: 'God send every gentle man/Fine hawks, fine hounds and such a lovéd one.'"
There was a commotion just past the tree line. "Looks like we have company. I'll release the spell as soon as I'm clear of you. Just remember what we talked about; that's all I ask. Just . remember." And Draco ran deeper into the Forbidden Forest.
Ahead of him Harry could hear Ron and Hermione calling his name. The branches were rustling .
and suddenly he could move again. In fact, he still had momentum from when he was walking; Harry fell on his face, breaking his glasses yet again.
"HARRY!"
Hermione ran up to him and started to help him to his feet.
"What happened?" Ron asked as he picked up the pieces of Harry's glasses and handed them to Hermione to repair. "One minute you were right with us, and."
"I was stopped by Draco."
"WHAT! What did he do?"
"Nothing, Hermione, relax. He Petrified me, and then he started talking . some sort of rubbish about the Dark Lord. Nothing I hadn't heard before."
"You've got to be careful around him," Ron warned. "Types like him never change."
Harry put on his repaired glasses. "I suppose." And the three went up to the castle.
xxx
Harry wanted to eat something, but couldn't. It was an ample feast, as always, but the dishes included three that brought Harry up short: Caribbean jerk chicken, chunks of mango, and pineapple juice.
"This is FANTASTIC!" Lee Jordan shouted. "The house-elves never served it here before. I have to go home on holidays to get this."
"Any idea what the occasion is?" Neville asked.
Nobody knew; except Harry, and he wasn't talking.
After dinner, he went to the library, and sought out the table in the International Magic section, where he had spent so much time with Cho. He stayed there, remembering, until closing time, then went up to the Astronomy Tower. The night was cold and clear, with no clouds between Harry and hundreds of stars. He found, though, that he couldn't remember anything; he couldn't think at all. He simply let his mind turn off for a bit while he bathed in the vision of all those stars. After a time that could have been three minutes or could have been thirty, he went down to his dormitory room, got into bed fully clothed and drew the curtains.
At precisely half past eleven he opened the curtains again. The other curtains were drawn, and several kinds of snoring could be heard. Harry took a look around his dormitory room, knowing that, one way or the other, it would probably be his last look. He went into his wardrobe and drew out his dress robes, bought that summer at Madam Malkin's and never worn. He checked the pockets; the special device he had worked on with Dumbledore was in place. He placed his wand in his robe pocket, put his hat on his head, and walked out.
As he tiptoed down to the Common Room, he saw two figures sitting together directly in front of the fireplace. Ron and Hermione. And, no matter how much Hermione might deny it to Harry in public, the way they were sitting- facing each other, knees touching, foreheads almost touching, holding hands- showed that there was some kind of deep bond between them.
There wasn't much he could do with them in the room, but time wasn't going to stand still. He decided to head for the portrait hole.
As he did, Hermione and Ron saw him immediately. "There's something happening, isn't there?" Ron asked.
"Nothing for you to worry about."
"Harry, do I have to prove you're lying?" Hermione asked. "Because I can, you know."
"There's nothing to prove."
"Oh, really? This isn't the first time you've lied to us. Let's start with Cho's disappearance. She's been gone for a week; nobody knows where she is or when she left. You ought to be either frantic with worry or deeply depressed. But you've just carried on as if nothing was wrong. It's as if she spoke to you about leaving before she left. Yet you've denied that she spoke to you. Which makes me think that her disappearance is something that the two of you worked out together."
"Brilliant deduction, Hermione. You should go back to the Auror classes. I'm going now."
"Not yet, you're not," Ron said as he and Hermione stood shoulder to shoulder before the portrait hole.
"And why the dress robes at midnight?" Hermione asked. "It could be a date, but you would have to have gotten over Cho in a very short time."
"Speaking of dates," Harry said, desperate to change the subject, "you two look like you'd rather be alone."
"WHAT?" Ron and Hermione objected in unison.
"No use denying it; I know a couple when I see one."
"This is really not your affair-I mean, CONCERN!" Hermione sputtered.
"Of course it is! You're my oldest friends here. And I'm glad to see the two of you together."
"WE ARE NOT!" Ron objected.
"Have it your way, then, but I'm sure you'd rather be with each other than with me."
Ron and Hermione had a quick whispered conversation. This was making Harry nervous. He had to get to the meeting with Voldemort by midnight, and the time was getting close.
"Here's what we'll do," Hermione finally said. "Stay until midnight; then you can go."
This complicated everything. He'd have to keep them busy while trying to think of something.
Harry moved a bit to their left. "You really just want me to stand around here?"
Hermione eyed him warily, not moving at all. "What we don't want is for you to go off and get yourself killed."
"Doing what?"
"I don't know," Ron said, "but that business today with Draco has us on edge, and can you blame us? His family is in deep with You-Know-Who."
"Y'know, Ron, just once I'd like to hear you say the name."
"Stay here until midnight and I will."
"All this talk of Voldemort is boring." Harry saw Ron wince when he said the name. He also glanced above the hearth. There was a magic picture of a sundial that kept accurate time, day and night. Harry had twenty minutes to go. He settled into a chair by the hearth, and so did the others. "Let's talk about you two."
"Stop saying that!" Ron's face was almost as red as his hair. "We're not." He turned to Hermione and whispered, "What did you tell him?"
"Me?" she whispered back. "What did YOU tell him?"
"Hold it!" Harry said. "I figured it out; it wasn't hard, so don't go blaming each other for anything. I just want to say that I'm glad for you, and I hope it works out, because you two would get along great."
Ron and Hermione both looked at Harry as if he was crazy. "You DO realize," Hermione said rather archly, "that we've managed to annoy each other almost since the day we met."
"Can't always go by that, though. I think you work out fine when it comes to important things."
"Such as?" Ron asked.
"Ron, don't think I'm being obvious, but you're a Weasley. In a lot of ways, you're like your brothers and your dad. Charlie chases after dragons, Bill works spells for Gringotts, the twins have their joke shop. Percy's the only one who decided to have a family, and he's the most disciplined one of you."
Hermione was nodding her head as Harry spoke, and turned to Ron. "Haven't we had exactly this same conversation."
"Not now," Ron whispered back.
"All I'm saying is that, Ron, you're a great friend, but I don't know if I'd trust you to pay the bills on time. You need some help in getting your life organized, and I can't think of anyone better to help you than Hermione."
Hermione didn't say anything, but she blushed crimson.
Harry turned to her. "Now it's your turn." The blush left as quickly as it had appeared. "Hermione, when I think of Hogwarts in the future, I'll think of you. You're like all four Houses rolled up into one. You've got brains enough for Ravenclaw, a Hufflepuff's determination to get the job done whatever it takes, a Gryffendor's bravery regardless of the odds, and you're not afraid to break any rule once you're convinced it needs breaking. Call that your Slytherin side."
The blush was returning. "Harry . I don't know what to."
"Wait for it; I'm not done yet." Out of the corner of his eye he looked at the sundial: ten minutes. "What you told me on the train this year was also true. You don't have much of a sense of humour. You're not spontaneous. It's not something you can learn from a book, but you can get there, and I recommend taking lessons from Ron Weasley."
"Hold on!" Ron interrupted. "Are you saying that's all I'm good for."
"Of course not, you idjit. You're just as brave and just as determined as Hermione is; I'd probably be dead now if you weren't. We've come through some amazing times here in this school, but we'll have to leave it, and then what? Hermione will go on to University, I expect."
"That's always been my plan," she nodded, "and Professor Idylwyld said she'd help me when the time comes."
"Yeh, but that's where we go our separate ways," Ron said. "I doubt I have the brains for university, and I know my parents haven't the money."
Hermione turned to Ron with an exasperated look. "We've been over all this before. Your brains are a lot better than you give yourself credit for."
"As for money," Harry added, "you never know. Your father could finally get a rise in salary, if Fudge ever sees the light. Or the money could just come along."
"Fat chance of that," Ron snorted.
"Stranger things have happened. If Cho's ghost could come back to Hogwarts, anything could happen."
Five minutes.
"Those are all logical reasons," Hermione conceded, "but I don't think they're any basis for, well, what you said..."
"What, the two of you? Your feelings for each other are up to you; that's what you said, so I'm not going to say anything unless you tell me."
"Well, if you really want to know how I feel."
"RON!"
"Look, Hermione, it isn't exactly a secret anymore. Not to Harry, anyway."
"Not here and not now!"
"Well, you don't need me for this," Harry said, getting up out of his chair, "so I'll just."
He moved to the portrait hole. The others were out of their chairs in an instant, blocking the way.
Two minutes.
Ron folded his arms over his chest. "Look, Harry, we're just not going to let you out and that's that."
"If you say so," Harry sighed, reaching a hand into a pocket in his robes. He found what he was looking for, then quickly spun around, dashed to the fireplace, drew the pinch of Floo Powder out of his pocket and threw it in the fire.
"Little Hangleton Church!" he shouted as he jumped into the flames.
.and disappeared.
.to be continued.